Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Scar tissue: the twinge of something real...

How can it be that I haven't blogged in 2 months?
Strange.
I really miss it.
But obviously not enough to stop all the other stuff I'm doing to make more of a habit of it.
It's nearly the end of November.
My tiny scar behind my left eyebrow twinges and I remember an awful "THWACK" I received August 15th at the Edmonton Wave Pool when my brow bone collided with Weston's skull.
Funny that, the little twinge of scar tissue.  A tiny 'zzzt' to remind me to be more careful, that I am fragile in some ways.
So what have I been doing instead of blogging?
Reading
Sitting at a computer looking for voice over jobs for the entire family
Reading Facebook updates and going on rabbit trails through the internet
Watching a tv series on dvd: Pushing Daisies
Journaling
Teaching (or rather facilitating) a Faith and Art class
Coaching two finely talented acting students
Recording, editing, emailing from above 'found' voice-over jobs
Thinking
Drawing

I long to write, but I think it's time to admit I've gotten intimidated about the time I think I must have as a window before I just begin.

Just beginning is the key.

I don't have to have a whole cute story with a spiritual metaphor planned out before I just begin.
I just have to start telling the truth and then the air around me feels fresher and before I know it, I inevitably discover a metaphor and perhaps a charming story, once I start to write and breathe the fresher air.

Ahhhh

The scar twinge reminds me again of my fragility and my fear of dying early and leaving my family.  It makes me want to churn out all the huge ideas in my head and heart that I've been carrying so they could perhaps benefit others before I die. -But those are big ideas that take a lot of work to make ready.

Why don't I at least tend to the little things better - more carefully...?

One thing was special, Weston and his favorite stuffie Brown Bear helped host a tea with toast and friends event.  We sampled various tiny loaves of bread and sat with friends at the same table.  Good thing.

And on another night we filled Samaritan's Purse (Operation Christmas Child) shoeboxes with shoes, pens, candy, socks, gadgets and hand written cards - longing for this box of "stuff" to convey some sort of meaningful connection other than just Western Consumer habits and breakable junk.  That longing nearly made me stop and not participate.  It's hard to have faith in something so big and systematic - so materialistic and lacking in genuine connection, at so little cost to the giver... really.  So, what do we do?  We make it cost a little more, but still wonder whether we're putting our time and resources into the best outlet.  So we buy shoes that cost a little more, try to buy Canadian made things, write a note telling the truth about ourselves and what we hope for... and do it on a night where we gather with a few others and eat only rice, one night out of the year.  -I'm still left wondering.

We also just gave a whack of money to World Vision Canada online.  But it didn't hurt in the way you might think.  You see, we  made a substantial amount of money this year, on the side, through voice overs, -and through hundreds of hours of my time (by choice.) It was fun to watch the boys select their "good cause" giving from the easy-to-use catalogue.  Supposedly freeing young boys from soldiering, buying fruit trees for a needy, smiling family, and even sponsoring their own child.

But now what?

That was still too easy.

I know it can be good, but it's not nearly as memorable as my friend Paul who picked up and went to Africa for two weeks.  It's not nearly so hard as trying to forgive that man in my church who is hard to love because I always think he's selling me something with his winks and grunts.
It's not nearly so important as me just taking time to listen to my child tell me a story.

Catalogue giving - and buying I suppose... takes the personal out of decisions by making them ready-made and easy as the click of a button.

Still some good, yes.

But I'm thirsty for meaning.

I want to be changed toward goodness in a way that sticks.  In a way that costs me something.  In a way that I can register and remember and not worry about getting credit or a free bracelet.

I'm not very proud of myself when I don't remember how I gave.  It's almost like not giving at all.

It's like I need a little scar to remind me.  A little wound showing where I made a sacrifice and for months later I feel little twinges of healing.  A scar I could tell a story about because it revealed to me what it means to be human by uncovering my fear or deep desire.

The twinge of something real.

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