Sun, Clouds, Love

Deep pink at the horizon,

      Burnt orange above,

That one pointed out,

                  More of a peach color

                  In the next layer in the sky,

And finally darker colors

High in the sky

                              As we run along the harbor

        Early on a cool but not cold

                              Mid-fall morning. 

As the sun comes up

And the air warms,

      The colors turn

      To shades of baby blue

                Streaked across the sky,

As another observed.

Our conversation was as warm

As the rising sun

      And as varied

As the colors across the sky.

And throughout the morning

      There were wispy clouds,

      As the third noticed.

Early on, small clouds on the horizon

Like the bodies of little bugs

With many legs under them.

Later, spanning the entire sky.

Light and airy clouds,

Not bringing rain,

But making art in the sky.

Out conversation was light

And carried the art of life

Like the clouds.

A beautiful morning

For beautiful friendships

And wonderful conversation

About our many colored

Sometimes wispy lives.

But one thing is not wispy

But serious as all get out—

How we treat friends and family

With the love like the sun and clouds show

For life on the earth.

Counting Down Some "Lasts"

I am counting down the "lasts" toward the marathon in Philly.  There are a lot of lasts.  Today was the last "track" workout, although the "track" workout was actually on a treadmill.  I have to say it was one of the most boring treadmill workouts ever.  (I realize that some people think that all treadmill workout are boring.)

Why was it extra boring?

First, the space that the hotel at which I was staying for a professional conference had a fitness center with only three treadmills in a relatively small space.  So, there weren't many other people to look at.  For more than 20 minutes of my 52 minute workout there was no one else.  Eventually there were two other people--who were walking.  The fact that there were only three led to my decision yesterday to run outside rather than inside, and I got to run along the River Walk in San Antonio--although it was dark, and, I'm sure, less spectacular than seeing it in the light.

Second, the treadmill faced a wooden wall.  Not much to look at there.  Many places--even hotels these days--have mirrors next to the treadmills.  That would have been more exciting to see.

Third, I was exercising in the pre-dawn hours.  There were wooden blinds next to the treadmill I was on.  But there was not much going on in the section of San Antonio where I was staying, at that hour.

Fourth, as you can see in the picture. I was sweating like crazy when I was done.

Did I need the workout?  Yes. It is a part of my preparation for the Philadelphia Marathon.

Did I struggle with the workout?  No.  I was able to hit 6 one-half miles in 3:00 each without feeling overly taxed.

Do I feel ready?  As ready as I'll ever be.

The transformative moment?  At some point, I will return to all of the transformation topics I mentioned last week.  But for today the transformative moment was just the realization that this is it.  This is the end.  This may be my last marathon.  It will at least be the last marathon that I give this much training time--this many miles per week.  Hopefully it will be a crowning achievement.  At the very least it will be the end of the line for a specific type of goal.

That led me to the music I listened to on the way home from San Antonio today.  I have always liked the music from Rocky.  In fact, I had the sheet music for Gonna Fly Now when I took piano lessons as a kid.   Today, I had the album on random shuffle.  The two songs that can still give me chills when I listen to them and they come to their rousing conclusions are Gonna Fly Now and The Final Bell.  I don't always get chills when I listen to them.  But I did tonight.  I know when the most amazing parts are coming.  I can anticipate them.  Yet, I still feel the chills.  The sense of triumph (although Rocky lost the fight in the first movie).  I know I have reflected on that before, but it is a recurring theme.  Not that my entire life is a triumph, but I love seeking that feeling.  The sense of accomplishment.  The sense of completion.  This is what I hope to feel as I finish the race on November 23.  And I'm sure that The Final Bell will be running through my head.

And then we will see to what I transform my energies next.  Other than finishing out the year with as many miles as possible.  I'm at 1941.5 now.  Closing in on the goal.

So many goals.  So much achievement.  What will next year bring for me, my running, my family, and my career.  I cannot say.  But I am looking forward to finding out.  Continue to persevere and continue to love.  And the rest will fall into place. 

You can find the podcast at: http://www.buzzsprout.com/34388

Connections and Mortality

So, the last time I blogged was on Wednesday evening.  I have only run once since then.  I did a seven mile tempo run with three great friends and fellow runners on Thursday morning downtown. That put me up to 1202.2 miles total.  That is a nice accomplishment and if I continue to run the same average number of miles per day I will actually achieve over 2100 by year's end.  We will see.  And if I do go over 2000 we will also see what aditional spiritual places I can find on my virtual pilgrimage to the southwest.

But running is not what I want to talk about today.  Yesterday was a rest day.  Yesterday was the second time Sherry convinced me to go to something I had not otherwise planned to recently.  A few weeks back I went to the concert in which my oldest son performed as part of a brass ensemble and we supported The Uganda-Baltimore Alliance (TUBA).  I wrote about that on July 16 in "Family, Runner, Connector, Encourager."  Yesterday we attended a memorial service for a young man who passed away just prior to turning age 21 who was a member of the Church of Jesus Chirst of Latter Day saints.  I had a work commitment.  I ended up skipping the work commitment and going to the Memorial Service for a young man whom I barely remembered as part of the Maryland State Boychoir.  My middle son was singing as part of the memorial service.  I could have titled today's entry the same as I did on July 16.  Each of those four things came out yesterday as an observation as part of the service.

First--family.  Choosing to go with Sherry was the right thing to do.  I should have gone without question.  I should not have even needed to think about it.  It was to go with Sherry and to go with Joshua, too.  He chose to sing.  It was not required.  Being part of the Maryland State Boychoir experience is like having a very large extended family.  This was the second unexpected early experience with mortality for the boychoir in the past year.  A parent not long ago.  Now, an alumnus.

Second, runner.  Why is runner relevant.  The young man whose short life was being celebrated was not a runner.  But running (and writing about it) is my therapy.  My outlet.  How I choose to take time to think through issues so I can deal with them.  The older sister and father of the young man both gave talks.  The sister gave the official eulogy.  The father had an opportunity to provide extra remarks.  The sister was strong.  She talked about so many good things.  But she was also very honest about the issues that the young man faced including bipolar and substance abuse.  She referred to what he had done as self-medicating.  She was brutally and entirely honest about how hard it was to deal with him.  She was clear about what led up to his death.  The father commented on this as well.  He made four statements that he considered absolute.  This was instructive to me to see.  He even preceded some of what he said by talking to those in attendance who are not members of the Church of Latter Day Saints.  He basically said, "Outside this service we can be friends and accept the uncertainy of whose faith is correct.  But until I am done, please accept my beliefs as truth."  He probably even made it stronger than that.  But he was also brutally honest.  He said don't do drugs.  He also added alcohol.  We may differ on the alcohol, but he pointed out how they cloud judgment of the choices that we are here to make and how it can drive a wedge between and separate us from those whom we are here on earth in our mortal lives to love.  He also implored us not to cause contention.  He was brutally honest about how his certainty of the moral correctness of what he had told his son had also driven a wedge and pushed him away.  He said that only recently in his life had he reached a point at which he believed it was possible to have moral certainty but to show compassion for the person in his life who was absolutely wrong on a moral issue.  Again, all of this is relevant to me as I think about how I deal with the issues in my life and in the lives of those around me.

Third, connector.  Knowing as much as I know about the Church of Latter Day Saints in advance of last night (which is not really all that much but a lot more than I did a decade ago) helped me to put things in context much better than I could have otherwise.  The fact that they referred to parts of the service as talks.  The difference between a ward and a stake.  The importance of no drugs and no alcohol.  The terms bishop and president.  The importance of family and family for eternity.  The concept of being a spirit who chooses to come to earth to experience a mortal life.  Also, my musical interests.  As part of the service, the individuals on harp and cello played Bring Him Home (from Les Miserables).  I don't think there was a dry eye there.  It was an incredibly combination of instruments for an incredible song of longing.  And the belief that the young man is home.  I had a connector experience earlier in the day as I met with a colleague whom I had not seen in person in several years and we realized how interestingly our personal lives paralleled each other (not exactly but similar) and how much our professional lives overlapped.  One way for me to enjoy life is to find those connections and to make the most of them. 

Finally, encourager.  The older sister when she was done talked about how so many people have asked what else they could have done.  She turned that around and reminded everyone in attendance to focus on what they can do for people who are still alive.  Be the friend who is needed.  Help others out.  The father in the third of the four things he implored everyone to do said, "Do not despair."  He added in one of the most powerful expressions of the night, that if anyone ever felt so much despair that he or she felt that they were at the end of the line and that they wanted to end to call him.  Then he would find the person.  Then he would give the person the relentless hug that he could no longer give his son.  Everything is turned to a positive for the future for those who are still here. To try again to correct mistakes made in the past.  To correct mistakes made because of a combination of temptation and weakness as part of the free will that we have as humans.  So, why is all of this relevant. 

Am I the perfect encourager of family and friends?  No, sometimes I make the wrong choices and cause contention (thinking back to the second point the father made).  But I see myself as someone for whom encouraging is an important part of my calling.  (The calling is another aspect of life in the Church or Latter Day saints as the bishop of the ward talked about his calling to that ministry.)  In any case, yesterday for the third time recently a friend or colleague shared something very personal.  Asking for my opinion.  Asking for my judgment.  Asking for my wisdom.  I jokingly asked her, "Why do I get all these?"  She said it was a function of my emotional intelligence.  My approachability.  She didn't add this aspect, but I think the fact that I can offer an opinion without offering a judgment of the person.  She called me mentor.  This was the second person who had voluntarily called me mentor in an informal mentoring situation in the past several months.  Each time that happens it makes a big impression on me and it means a lot to me.  

Could I be a better encourager?  You bet.  With my sons.  With my wife.  Certainly with friends and students and colleagues in some cases.  But I like to think that I am already on a path of being "the friend who is there" or the one who helps those who have issues.  Perhaps not the despair that the father mentioned last night.  I had not had to deal with anything quite that strong.  But certainly have had to help people straighten themselves out and their situations out.

The father asked that if we have successes to share them.  Offering advice to each of my three friends recently is a success in giving them hope.  In helping them to move forward.  Small compared with what his son faced, for sure.  But each is a step in the right direction.

And so, as I move forward from last night, I will think about how to make less contention and more support (two things I think I already do a lot) even bigger parts of my personal mission.  First, with family by blood.  Then, with others around me.  

After the service, we went to eat cupcakes.  The young man's 21st birthday would have been this weekend.  The family has a tradition of singing a "Second first."  Same tune.  Same timing.  But added "'Tis love brings us here."  Love brings us to this earth--the love of our parents in most cases.  Love brings us together each week.  Love brings us to celebrate birthdays.  And love for the young man, for the family, and for those who supported all of them brought people together for the memorial service last night.  

If I can lead a life led by love to cause less contention and to support those in some type of despair, I will have led a successful life.  

Love is where my blogging began.  Love is what it returns to often.  Love is the root of all good in my life.

Crazy Week

I last wrote three days ago.  I ran on the 16th and 17th but not on the 18th.  The 16th was another easy 5 and the 18th was a wonderful 8 miles on a cooler and less humid day.  I have now accumulated 1156.2 miles total putting me near the corner of Hawaii Rd & 2600th Street in La Harpe KS.  When I switch to a sattelie view it looks like there are mostly famrs on either side of where I am running on my virtual pilgrimage.  For a while it looks like I will primarily be on long stretches of fairly open road.  Marathon running can feel that way sometimes--not knowing where the road will turn or end.  Life can feel ttat way sometimes.  But most of the time my life is very dynamic and not just a long and straight road.  

For example, this week has brought some amazing things.  First, Sherry and I purchased a new car for the first time in 10 years.  A very basic manual transmission car.  Pretty cool.

Second, a friend posted that it was the four year anniversary of her husband's passing.  I count the passing of Gerry Paradiso as an important event in my life for a number of reasons.  First, it brought me to marathon group training rather than the individual training I had been doing.  Second, it brought me to think about the importance of specific Bible stories and a much deeper symbolism.  The story of the five smooth stones that was shared at Gerry's memorial service has stuck with me ever since.  Finally, I recall Gerry being described as someone who found ways to do what he loved and to take chances. My blogging is that.  My running is that.  Even my tattoo is that.  My change in jobs is that.  Marriage is that for all of us--being with someone we love and taking the chance that they will love and stay in love with you.  Most of my life is that.  And it was amazing to hear how happy someone else had been trying to do that in so many ways.

What I have come to realize is that I have lived my life and shared my interests in a very public way since then.  My blog.  My social media.  And people notice.  

In the past week two people have confided in me about things that took me off guard.  One person mentioned feeling the need to be careful about what is stated about faith on social media.  It seems unfortunate to me that we have reached a point like that.  But I was someone with whom this other person trusted and felt comfortable speaking about faith.  Everyone knows that I have taught in the religious education program at St Pius X, that I have enjoyed it, and that I am now looking forward to serving on the Mission and Planning committee for the parish.  Everyone knows that starting with 1313 for my first marathon (1 Cord 13:13) and continuing to this day, I will at times seek to find ways to write about my bib numbers and race times in a religious reading context.  There are few secrets.  And maybe some people do think I am crazy.  But this opens doors into deeper insights I an have of others.

Second, someone came to me to ask about my tattoo.  Who did it, where, and how did I come up with the design.  While the kids were doing spin art at the end of week Bible School activity last night, I typed up what turned out to be a VERY long description of my thought process, what I descirbed to Emily Sloman when I first had a consultation with her, what she did to bring together the set of ideas I described, and how amazed I was at the whole process.  The person (who shall remain nameless until this person chooses to share with others the idea for a tattoo or gets one) indicated a feeling of being speechless reading the long description and that I was the only person that this person felt comfortable asking.  Again, almost everyone whom I know is aware of my tattoo and the fact that it has some significance (a large tattoo on the calf that includes a guy shot with arrows chained to a gas streetlamp and being rescued by a woman with a pink dress must mean something, right?).  And my willingness to have an idea, get the tattoo, be so open about it, and share makes an impression on people.  Maybe ther eare peple whom it turns off.  But there are also people for whom it opens the door.  

Tying this all together, I don't think I had mentioned that I recently read an article about having an "inner C-suite".  Chier executive officer--vision.  Chief financial officer--analytic.  Chief operating officer--get it done.  Chief people officer--work with, support, encourage, build up, and manage people.  Of all the parts of my job, I enjoy the last the best and I have proven to be pretty good at it.  It shows in my life as well.  Being willing to share has opened many more doors than it has closed.  And those doors have led to some incredible insights.  in the context of this week, Gerry Paradiso's life was an example that got me to be more willing to express myself and to share.  Seeking ways to express it brought me to working with Emily to get the tattoo.  

In memory of Gerry's passing and remembrance, I paste below a section of my first personal blog (as opposed to professional blog) entry from 8/1/10 when I was writing about Physical and Spiritual Running: 

During the service, someone shared an incredible story. While the story-teller’s faith and Gerry’s faith were different they shared a bond through faith. And when she took her family to Israel for her son’s bar mitzvah, she asked Gerry what he would like her to bring back. Gerry asked for five smooth round stones. Remember that David had five stones when he went to face Goliath although he needed only one. The five stones were at the memorial service today. 

I don’t necessarily plan to carry five physical stones 26.2 miles [although I did eventually] while I run in October, but I could have five “figurative” stones in my pocket representing love, strength, perseverance, ambition, and focus. Each could help me achieve my goal in the way that any of the stones could have helped David. But, as David needed only one, I really need only one; the others are just backup. The one I need—love. Love for my friends, colleagues, and family members who have been touched by cancer. Love for my children as I show an example of setting and achieving a goal. Love for my wife who has endured the extra time I’ve spent training this year. Love of and thankfulness to God who has given me so many gifts. Love will guide my way, and everything else will just fall into place. I should not even need the other “stones”—even if having them does provide reassurance.

Last Boston Marathon Entry for a While

On the day of the Boston Marathon this year, I just ran 6 general maintenance miles.  Nice and easy.  Just above an 8:30 pace on average.  Puts me at 641.4 miles total.  Leaves me in Bloomfield, IN, on County Road 400 N on my virtual pilgrimage.

Then, I followed 13 runners.  When I wrote on Saturday, I had only realized I knew 10. In the end, I actually new at least 16.  In any case, I followed 13.  All 13 finished.  All 13 were safe.

Yesterday, it was great to see an American win one of the great American races.  I rarely get so "Go America" but this was a great day for running in the US.  It was an even more exciting day for older runners in the US as the winner, Meb, is 38.  I was 40 when I ran my first.  Just amazing to see what a 38 year old can still do.  The last time an American won--when I was 13.  

Two 13's.  Where does that leave my pondering.  Back at the start of my finding meaning in numbers in running.  My first marathon when I was runner number 1313.  When a cousin encouraged me to think of a Bible verse, and I came up with 1 Cor 13:13:

So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Yesterday was a day for runners in general to show their brotherly love for each other.  Yesterday was a day for non-runners to show runners their love and compassion as so many dealt with memories and emotions from last year.  Yesterday was a day for runners to show their love of facing a challenge and having a winning human spirit. 

Of the runners I followed, I know at least one was very happy with his race.  Others had very splits that simply reflected either the warm weather or how challenging the second half of the race is.  The runner among the 13 I followed with whom I have done the most miles had the worst time.  (I hope that the miles we have run together was not a jinx.)  The app I had gave me updates on everyone's times passing every 5K and the half marathon mark.  Early in the race, the runner I eventually had to wonder about was running side by side with another teammate from Back on My Feet.  Their times suggested that they were strong.  Then, the one I was following most closely began to fall back and ended finishing in over four hours, complaining of serious cramping around the hamstrings.  That would not be good.  

I thought out how I would have reacted if my finishing pace was not just 56 seconds too slow to requalify and about 6 minutes over what I was shooting for, but at a pace 2 minutes per mile above what I was hoping for.  The answer?  I honestly have no way of knowing.  The answer I would like to think I would have?  "At least I finished.  And now I know how long it takes to get from Hopkinton to Boylston Street.  I worked to qualify to prove I could do it.  I did it.  And if I ever return, I'll have something to compare with.  But I proved to myself and I proved to the world, that I can do this.  And that is all that matters."

Maybe easier to say when I was only about 10 seconds per mile slower than planned last year.  But life is full of lessons.  And I'm sure this is one of them for my friend who called me mentor.  I'll eventually ask the other runner what the lesson was.  I just know that this runner should be proud regardless.  Job well done.  Mission accomplished.  Sure the outcome can be refined and impoved. But the mission was accomplished.     

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 3, Week 4

The final day of Advent.  The third day that I comment on the theme of Love.  Christmas Eve and I am up early to run a track workout.

Today, I think I will talk about my children.  

They were part of the focus in the week of hope.  Hope for their future.  Hope for a positive future regardless of whether I am here or something happens to me as something happened to the gentleman whose memorial mass I played at in early December.  

I thought of them in the week of preparation. So much I prepare for.  So much they prepare for.  So much to help them prepare for.

I thought of them in the week of joy.  The do so much to bring me joy (and sometimes to bring me grief).  They are examples for others--usually in a good way.  They show how much Sherry and I have done to influence their lives.

And I think of them in the week of love.  Love for three sons that Sherry and I brought into the world together.  Love for seeing the awesome things they do most of the time.  Love for teaching them responsibility and accountability.  Love for having them around.  Love for doing things with them.

A great example was, is, and will be the preparation for Christmas Eve.  Yesterday evening, I took my son Joshua with me to the stores at Mt Washington at Whole Foods. We first went to the wine store there.  After looking for just a moment myself, I spoke to one of the two gentlemen working there.  I told me I needed a white to cook with Chilean Sea Bass and then to drink afterwards.  I also told him that Sherry prefers sweet.  He gave me a gewurztraminer that I very much look forward to trying tonight.  It will be great to have it with the fish (bought at Whole Foods), some lemon juice, and dill.  Joshua learns about cooking with wine--that is sharing--that is love.

Then we stopped at Starbucks and used up a gift card I had gotten from a Sunday School student.  He got a salted caramel latte.  Sharing the experience of Starbucks.  That is love.

Then we shopped at Whole Foods.  Joshua had taken care of calling them in advance to make certain they had the sea bass still in stock for the day.  They did.  We had a very nice shopping trip together.  Sharing.  Talking.  Teaching.  Learning.  Love.

Finally, we met another mother and daughter from the school Joshua goes to on the way out of the store.  We didn't get too close as they were both admittedly not feeling well.  But we had a great conversation about many of the things that this mother and daughter and our family do for Christmas.  Sharing.  Love.  

Then, we came home.  Joshua helped some with dishes by his choice after I scolded his younger brother for having failed to complete tasks while we were out.  That is love.

Then, I kept Sherry company while she made the dough for the poppy seed and nuts rolls we will have with dinner tonight.  That is love.

While keeping her company, I read my 17 year old's college essays (three more).  That is love.

Then, I warmed some German spiced wine for Sherry and I.  That is love.

This morning I woke up and am planning to run a track workout.  Love of the sport.  Caring for my friends.

The rest of the day afterwards will be a day of cleaning and preparation of our dinner that will include split pea soup with sauerkraut (how many words have the letter sequence "rkr"),  semolina bread, cranberrry sauce, and sea bass, then both cheese and prune pierogies, and finally the rolls.  All with our entire family and Kelsey--who has become like a member of our family after 2 1/2 years with Christopher.  That is love.

That will be after Christopher, Kelsey, and I play keyboard, flute, and bass at our church's Christmas Eve mass.

Love is so many ways.  I remember learning of four types of love in a lesson in school.  Between my wife, my kids, and the friends we support that is three.  And the fourth is agape or spiritual love whih is what my reflections during Advent have been about.  All crammed into 24 hours.  The last 24 hour before the celebration of how God's love for humanity was born on earth. 

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 2, Week 4

So yet another perspective on spirituality and love at the time of Advent. Today, the reading in church was what the priest described as the annunciation for Joseph. There is the standard “annunciation” to Mary that we celebrate in the Catholic church. What the priest pointed out was that today’s reading, where the angel of the Lord appears to Joseph to tell him not to divorce Mary and to marry her and accept the child to whom Mary will give birth. This was the first mass at which I recall a priest pointing out that before the dream, Joseph would have gone from a guy who was excited to be getting married to suddenly thinking that his wife-to-be had cheated on him. On top of that, the normal penalty for adultery was to be stoned. That put the “Joseph was a just man” in a completely new light. Just divorcing her (his plan before the angel appeared to him) would have been a gift. Love. Part of something bigger even before the angel appeared to him.

I heard the story three times this weekend. First, at the Lessons & Carols celebration on Saturday evening. Then at mass this morning with the wonderful interpretation of Fr. Ray Chase. Finally, again at the Lessons and Carols this afternoon. And, much to my surprise, I did a much better job paying attention during the afternoon/evening Lessons and Carols celebration.

I mentioned yesterday that God sending the Son is a manifestation of Love for humanity and shows “something bigger.” The story of the “annunciation” to Joseph put him in something bigger. Taking in Lessons and Carols is something bigger. Hearing my son read the first lesson about God finding Adam and Eve naked in the garden the first time they recognized that they were naked before God is a part of something bigger. Hearing him read it with a sense of surety, purpose, enunciation, and decisiveness was a wonderful gift. I almost chose not to go see Lessons and Carols a second time, but it was wonderful seeing it a second time and seeing him read in a way that rivaled the purpose and the clarity of many of the adult readers.

Fr. Ray in his homily talked about how the annunciation to Joseph was representative of an annunciation to each of us. That really hit home. A reminder of God showing his love not just for Mary through the annunciation to her, not just to Joseph through what was essentially an annunciation to him, but to each of us. God’s love for each of us. God’s desire to save people from their sins. To save Joseph. To save each of us. Emmanuel means God is with us. God is with each one of us. More love. More “bigger picture”.

And one other thing that I thought about today was during the song “In the Bleak Midwinter”. This song always connects with me as when my kids were much younger, I sang in the community choir for the Festival of Light at the school. I wrote about the Festival of Light previously as I shared my version of the interpretation of the Advent Wreath this year. This year there was no community choir. That is unfortunate, but it is just a sign of the times and how busy people are. Regardless, I don’t think I have heard “In the Bleak Midwinter” at a Waldorf Festival of Light in a while. Although I believe they sing it most, if not all, years at the Lessons and Carols for boychoir.

Today, thinking about the “bigger picture” and the annunciation, and love, I thought about the last line.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a wise man
I would do my part,
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

How do I read this? I read this with the following meaning.

I am not “poor” in a purely financial sense. In a purely financial sense I am lucky enough to be at a high level of income and have a lot saved for retirement even at age 43. But we have a small house. And I have so little to give when it comes to time. So, I don’t feel like I have a lot to give. And I recognize that in the sense of the Beatitudes, I am poor in spirit.

With the statement, “If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb,” I think of the things I can do being a function of the things I do well. What do I do well? I share my story. That seems to touch some people. I run. And I offer my running to God. I bake and cook and I offer those to God. I try to be there for friends and family. And I offer that to God. I offer what I have.

The line about “If I were a wise man, I would do my part” is just a reiteration of giving what you have.

And the final phrase, “Yet what I can I give him him?/I will give my heart.”  This sums up the theme of love at the close of Advent. I give God all my love. I give others my love. I give it because it is what I have to give. Love can mean many different things in different contexts. But the key is that if I have nothing else to offer, I can offer caring, listening, adapting, adjusting, perceiving, and being there. 

That is a cool lesson to take from a combination of mass and two performances of Lessons and Carols. I give what I can when I can to whom I can. And it all comes down to love to be shown in many different ways. And the message comes from all that God has done and all that God shares with each of us about his plans for each of us and the relationship of his son with each of us.

(Final note—I’m agnostic as to whether God is male or female, but it is just simpler to use “his” to refer to something belonging to God than to try to split the difference here.)

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 1, Week 4

Today is the fourth Sunday of Advent in the Christian churches.  We light the last candle.  All of the light that the world needs to see the way.  All of the light that the world needs to experience hope, preparation, joy, and love.  All of the light to bring joy to a season in which we have just passed the day with the least natural light during the year.

Today is also a very warm day.  Numerous apps suggested that the temperature was either 70 or 71 degrees Fahrenheit when I awakened this morning.  That is crazy.  That has little to do with the spirituality theme, but is just an interesting fact.    

Last night, I put the goal of 6-7 miles out there.  In the end, I slept a little longer (to try to be at full attention during the day today), I did a little work (my boss had made a request that I wanted to answer), and I had issues with my contact lens.  By the time all that was said and done, I had only 20 minutes to spare before needing to shower and get ready to take my 14 year old to a skating lesson.  So, I just went out and enjoyed 2.2 miles.  Enough to get my legs moving and to work out some of the stiffness form yesterday's run.

Why stiff yesterday?  I found myself working to keep up with my fellow trainer for the first time in a while yesterday.  And, the second half of the run was mostly up.  My training partner, as seems to almost always be the case, despite comments about the hills, just goes up them just the same.  I have long since overcome the feeling of being completely unable to keep up (as I did in the first summer we were in the same training group and I watched as she and a few others just took the hills at Loch Raven reservoir), but the effort yesterday was noticeable.  Probably because of the things I mentioned yesterday including a couple of weeks since I ran over 6 miles and because I had a crazy week.

So that does all this say about the fourth theme of the Advent wreath--love?  

A number of things.  Let's begin with the love of running.  Some might say that only keeping time for 2.2 miles suggests that I don't care so much about it.  Others might say that making sure that I got in the 2.2 rather than just blowing off today suggests a true love for the sport.  It is all a matter of persepctive.  And my perspective is always to look for the positive.  My positive for today and running was--it's better than doing nothing and I wouldn't have missed what is likely to be the last opportunity to run at a temperature like this for a while.

What else do I think about for love and advent?  Many of the songs at this time of year are clearly songs of joy.  Bright.  Happy.  Big sound.  It is easy and obvious to feel love when there is joy and happiness in the air and in the sounds of the music.  

But there are other songs that are songs of sorrow or at least songs that have a sad sound to them.  The mandolin and banjo are instruments that have a generally bright sound but that can be used to play minor chords in songs that are slow and that bring lots of emotion.  I think that the combination of things that are sorrowful but bring happiness is a manifestation of love.  I first thought of this when trying to pick out songs from Emmet Otter and thinking about minor chords on a bright instrument.  And thinking about traditional songs that give me happiness despite their sorrowful sound.   

If I think of love as caring.  If I think of love as "investing" myself in something.  If I think of love as "putting some skin in the game."  If I think of love as being willing to make changes and adaptations and adjustments for someone or something.  Then those are all things that can sometimes bring sorrow but after which I am ultimately happy or feel serene.  And that is a manifestation of love.

In Christian tradition, God sending a Son to later die for forgiveness of the sins of humans--love.

Making sure that I do not put myself first--that is love.

Do I ever put myself first?  Yes.

Do I do things that sometimes fail to put those closest to me first?  Unfortunately, yes.

But do I try to invest in being a part of something bigger and making that a guiding theme in my life?  Well, yes.  

And as I approach the end of this writing season, I am finding that the biggest thing that I have gotten out of this series of blog entries is a sense of recognizing the "bigger" in ways that are more explicit and more clear than I have ever done before.  Ways that connect me to the bigger.  Ways that make me think about the bigger.

I've had to state what the meaning of the Advent wreat is.  Not just in a blog but in front of people at my kids' school.

I have led children in song.

I have run a race I never ran before.

I have returned to music--but making careful notes not to get too involved right now as there are so many other things to do.

I have recognized the many communities I am a part of.

And I return, as always, to the one thing that is bigger than me but closest to me--the importance of family.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 6, Week 2

Today's entry is about preparation in a way that I had not been prepared for.  This goes to show that despite the best and most explicit plans (like writing at the start of the week what I had intended to write about for the whole week) sometimes there are spiritual connections made that come from places we never expect.

In some ways, today's entry will sound like it could be used as a motivation for the entire series or spirituality of Advent writings.  In other ways, what I will be writing about tonight will read like it could be a summary of the entire spiritual experience.  However, I have arrived at this point in the middle of this spiritual exploration of Advent.

Today was the annual Festival of Lights at the Waldorf School of Baltimore.  This is a festival each year that celebrates the many festival of lights that occur at this time of year.  This includes Advent, Hanukah, and Kwanzaa.  Each year a family gets to light the Advent wreath and the Hanukah candles.  This year, the small eighth grade class lit the candles for Kwanzaa.  This year, my family was chosen to light the Advent Wreath.

In the middle of the afternoon, my wife wrote me an email to remind me that I should have my "speech" ready as the spokesperson for the family.  I had thought about what I would say, but this was a clear reminder to me to be prepared for the evening.  Nice to fit into the theme of the week of the candle of preparation.

As the time for the start of the Festival of Lights, I wrote the following on the program for the event:

Pre-Christian
Christian
My Evolution
Prophecy-Hope
Bethlehem-Preparation
Shepherd-Joy
Angel-Love

For this list, I was borrowing directly from http://livinghopeomaha.wordpress.com/about-living-hope/bible-stud/the-meaning-of-the-advent-wreath/http://livinghopeomaha.wordpress.com/about-living-hope/bible-stud/the-meaning-of-the-advent-wreath/.

And here is a paraphrase of what I said:

Tonight, my family has been asked to light the Advent wreath.  If we look at the history of the Advent wreath, there is at least some evidence suggesting that it originated in pre-Christian times.  People lighting fires to bring back the light at the darkest time of year.  Then, Christianity adapted it with symbols of Christ rather than simply avoiding darkness.  

The evolution of the Advent wreath through history reminds me of the evolution of my own understanding.  The wreath here has candles that are all one color.  But sometimes they are two colors.  When I was Daniel and Joshua's ages [they were at the table with the wreath with me and Sherry] all I knew about the third candle which is a different color was that it meant that Advent was almost done.

When I was a little older than my oldest son Christopher, who is not here this evening, and I began to take my faith a little more seriously, I had the experience of the third week of Advent with the entire Catholic community where I attended college being brought together in a single mass to celebrate the joy of the week. 

As I got even more mature and took my faith even more seriously, I realized that there is a rhythm to the meaning of the candles.  There are many different interpretations to what the candles mean.  One that I find useful is the following:

The first candle is for Prophecy and Hope.  The hope for something new and something better as Christians wait for the celebration of the birth of their Savior.

The second is for Bethlehem and Preparation.  Preparation for the birth of the Savior in Bethlehem.

The third is the Shepherds and Joy.  A reminder that the joy was first shared with the shepherds--among the least of those who worshipped God [I felt like I was channeling Father Sam Lupico who loves to point out that most of Jesus's positive interactions with individuals other than his apostles was with those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder at the time.]

The final candle is for the Angle and Love.  The angel who announced the birth of Jesus.

And whether Christian or non-Christian, the unifying and universal truths of Hope, Preparation, Joy, and Love are things that are worth all of us pondering.

Numerous people told me they liked what I shared.  The mother in the family that lit the Hanukah handles told me that my description of my own experience inspired her to talk about her family's experience.  The one thing that really made an impression on me was that she comments on a blessing that thanked God for the miracles of old and miracles of today.  And she invited all of us to think of a miracle in our lives right now.  I had not realized that I would inspire a second story about the universal nature of the positive values that come through the celebration of the various celebrations of light at this time of year.

Are beliefs interchangeable?  No.

Can everyone possibly be right?  No.

But everyone probably has some kernel of the truth.  And everyone can benefit from the interconnectedness.

The key for me is that spirituality is separate from religion.  Spirituality is driven by the sense of interconnectedness.  Spirituality is driven by the sense that I am a part of something much bigger.  Some call the higher power God.  Some just refer to it as a higher power.  I'm not one to worry about what each person around me calls it.  But I am a person who believes that the interconnectedness that I feel is something special.  A blessing.  A challenge.  And something that helps me to move forward in the most productive manner.