Category: Communication

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“If I could talk to the animals…”

gregoryjoel

Just a couple of more days of triple digits. The weather folks predict a ten percent possibility of rain today. In Texas that means nothing is coming but cloud cover and more humidity. The Monday forecast of fifty percent chance of rain is more realistic. I’m sure the ten percent is just a ‘cover your butt’ caveat for local meteorologists. Weather people and baseball players are the only folks I know of who are financially rewarded for doing their job correctly thirty percent of the time. Just saying…

I was scanning the newsfeed this morning and came across a story that tore at my heart strings. According to researchers observing the orca (what we called ‘killer whales’ growing up) population near British Colombia, a female orca bore a new calf. The calf didn’t survive, and the grieving mother was seen carrying the dead calf on her back for the next two days.

The story stayed with me as my wife and I shared coffee on the porch this morning. We are pet parents, and like most pet parents, we ascribe human behaviors and emotions to our animals. Some would say we’ve lost our minds. In fact, my son told me I needed to get a friend after hearing me talk to our ‘Coyotahula’ (she’s half coyote and half Catahoula), Maggie. I’m lucky enough to have a friend already. In fact, I have several, but Maggie is part of the family. Pet parents will understand what I mean.

Margaret and I often put words in our dog’s mouth. We joke about the stories we come up with for the conversation that must be going on between them. We’ve thought about creating a video, but that’s another story, and you’d probably have to be here to get the humor.

I guess the point I’m trying to make, is that we aren’t that far off when we ascribe human traits to the animal kingdom. When I was growing up, the line between animals and people was more distinct. That line has dimmed as I’ve gotten older. I may be a bit anthropomorphic, but I find our friends in the animal kingdom to be more human than some humans…

The ancient Hebrew writings talk about our original relationship with the rest of the animal kingdom. I tend to forget that, though humans have a higher intellectual ability (and I’m not always sure of that – after all, look who is President…) we are still part of the animal kingdom. In the Book of Enoch, which wasn’t canonized into what we know as the Hebrew Old Testament, we’re told that we shared a common language with the rest of the animal kingdom. The whole “Doctor Doolittle” thing makes sense to me. After all, we share ninety-eight percent of our DNA with the greater apes. Why not the rest of the animals?

It seems to me that the Book of Enoch is a metaphor for our interconnectedness with all things. I’d like to believe that there will be a day when I can communicate clearly with all the denizens of the Earth. I have some questions I’d like to clarify. Do horses really sound like Mr. Ed (this may be lost on my younger readers – “Willlll-bur”)? Do donkeys sound like Eddie Murphy? I often wonder if snails and turtles could talk, would their speech be as slow as their movements? “Goooooooooooooood mooooooorrrnnnniiiiing…”

Since that day isn’t here yet, I’ll have to rely on personal observation and experience. If I ‘listen’ and pay attention to what they’re trying to tell me, my dogs, the horses, and I seem to communicate just fine. Maggie says ‘good morning the same way each day. Once it’s daylight I can count on her to jump on the bed, lick my face until I get up, and wait for her dose of morning loving.

When I remember how interconnected we are, I understand them better. When I remember how interconnected we are, I treat them better – more like I want to be treated. When I treat them differently, I begin to fulfill my intended role as a human – one of stewardship rather than domination – and act appropriately.

I guess that’s why the orca’s story made such an impact on me this morning. The mother orca was grieving, just like you and I do when we suffer a loss. I felt sad for her. I felt sad that the numbers of orcas, like so many species, are declining because we humans have failed as stewards and excelled at domination.

If we ever do develop the same language as the rest of the animal kingdom, I doubt I’ll find the words to tell them how sorry I am for the way human beings have treated them and their habitat. Like Dad always told me, “actions speak louder than words”. If I start acting differently, maybe I can start apologizing now…

Christian Mysticism, Christianity, Chronic Illness, Communication, Dogs, Emotional Health, Faith, Freelancing, Gratitude, Growing Up, Health, Hope, Horses, Listening, Love, Patience, Prayer, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Writing

Straight From the Horse’s Mouth

gregoryjoel

Relief is in sight for the beleaguered! The forecast for the day is for cooler temperatures, at least for the next two or three days. Only in Fort Worth would we be excited by temperatures in the mid-nineties. Such are summers in Texas…

The last few days have been hectic, so I thought I’d take a break and catch the online sermon from church last Sunday morning. I’m still questioning the idea of worship in the corporate setting, so my ‘attendance’ remains online. I value the thoughts of our preacher, even if I’m still uncomfortable with how we do ‘church’ in our culture. Unfortunately, the livestream of the sermon kept disconnecting. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I can relate to that. For the last two or three days, my prayers have been few and far between. I’ve been feeling a little low and my connection with my Higher Power is in a constant cycle of cutting out and reconnecting. I’ve felt like I’ve been in a constant ‘buffering’ state and I can’t quite reach 100%.

Connection problems can and do happen. God’s end may always broadcast a strong signal, but my reception gets spotty from time to time. The connection difficulties are always on my end. When it happens I often have to stop and clean out my ‘antennae’. Occasionally, I get far too busy, over-tired or just plain lazy and my mind gets clogged with self-pity, resentment, and self-centeredness. I begin to sound much like Eeyore in A.A. Milne’s, Winnie the Pooh – “Woe is me, I can’t find my tail…”

I’m not unique. Some of the most spiritual people I know feel a disconnect from their Higher Power on occasion. The sixteenth century Spanish mystic, St. John of the Cross, called this disconnect, “the dark night of the soul”. For those of us who pray, who converse with the Spirit of the Universe, we know what he’s talking about. There are times when it feels like prayers fall on deaf ears. We listen intently for answers that don’t come. God is silent. We feel alone, left to our own devices.

When I feel isolated and disconnected, I begin to wonder where God is. I start to question my faith. I’m filled with doubts: little ones at first that multiply into crisis of faith. I used to think this was anathema to me. My upbringing had taught me that questioning one’s faith destined me to the fires of hell. That haunted me for many years, but today I know that faith without questioning is not much of a faith at all. God is much bigger than my doubts. If I continue to pray and listen I will hear God’s response in the most extraordinary, yet simple, ways.

I do some work at a stable not far from my home. Don’t tell anyone, but I’d do it for free just because I love being there. There are three horses, Dollar, Lightfoot, and Trooper (‘the boys’ as I call them). Dollar is the oldest, at seventeen. The other two are two or three-year-old rescues; adopted wild mustangs from herds in Arizona and Utah.

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Now I am no ‘horse whisperer’ by any means, but I’ve developed quite a relationship with Trooper and Lightfoot. I was warned they were skittish around people, but that hasn’t even been close to my experience. They have loved and ‘hugged’ on me since the day we met. When I pull up to the stables, they amble over to say hello and let me love on them.

They are one of the ways I find reconnection with my Higher Power. I leave the stables with my spirit more in tune with the universe. There’s a buzz, a vibration, and I begin to hear God whisper. Decisions come easier. Heck, life becomes easier. My mind is free to explore the realm of possibilities, to work and play again. Most importantly, I begin to feel a sense of belonging, of being a part of something far bigger than I. My gratitude grows, and my doubts are erased. All of this happens by simply allowing God to love on me through others, whether they have four legs or two.

I’m basically an introvert. I find the company of my dogs and the horses to be my safe, comfortable place. My beautiful wife, on the other hand, is extremely social and extroverted. She loves to be on the go and around others. I often joke that I’d been more places in the first year of marriage than I had in the previous ten. For that reason, the last almost three years since her back surgery have been hard on her. I’m thrilled when she’s able to get out. I know it’s her way of reconnecting, of hearing God’s voice.

God’s voice becomes clear through our relationships with people and the world around us. When I’m aware of the beauty of creation, I strive to be a better steward of God’s world. I believe that God’s silence is simply His way of reminding me of the importance of relationships, whether they be with dogs and horses or the people in my life. His silence reminds me of the spirit of all things that connect me to the universe. His silence reminds me to be grateful, to be awestruck, and to drink in the beauty of all things.

Most importantly, His silence is a reminder He’s still there, loving me through ‘the dark night of the soul’. Those days, whether measured in weeks or years, will come for all of us. Feelings of doubt and even futility, but they will pass eventually, and probably do so in the most unlikely of ways. It might even come straight from the horse’s mouth…

Chronic Illness, Communication, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Gratitude, Letting Go, Listening, Marriage, Patience, Relationships, Uncategorized, Writing

One Man’s Trash…

gregoryjoel

It’s a bit warm out here on the porch this morning. We’ve been under an excessive heat warning for the last week and the forecasted high today is 110 degrees. The answer to ‘how are you doing?” is, simply put, HOT. I feel like all I do anymore is complain about the heat. Still, I’m grateful I’m able to get the things done, especially outside, that need to be done despite our heat wave. At least I’m not one of the ambulance statistics I hear on the news each night that has succumbed to the high temperature…

Margaret is doing much better after her procedure last week. I got up and made coffee this morning and she came in the kitchen and made breakfast. That probably doesn’t sound like big deal to most folks, but it is for us. Her mobility has been diminished by the pain in her hips and back and she’s really been struggling the last few weeks with the pain. Prayer, a great pain doctor, and an even greater God has worked wonders. It helps that Margaret is one of the most persistent, patient, and courageous people I know. After five-and-a-half years of marriage I still wonder how I ended up sharing life with such an incredibly wise and wonderful woman. She married me so maybe I need to rethink the ‘wise’ part…

Our normally quiet life has been somewhat upended over the past week. Our granddaughter has been here for the last week, along with our friend who is our ‘adopted’ granddaughter. Our son is moving out of his house and thought he’d have to move in with us, so I’ve been clearing out the third bedroom we use for storage. That may not sound like much, but believe me, it is. There were boxes (and boxes and boxes…) of stuff that haven’t been opened since we moved in five years ago. Once I had almost everything out of the room and started to go through them, he announced that he’d found a house and wouldn’t be moving in after all.

I was relieved he wasn’t moving in. He’s a grown man and needs to be in his own home, for his sake and ours. However, I’ll tell you I was a bit pissed that I’d spent all weekend going through the endless stream of boxes coming from the bedroom. I swear they were reproducing in there. Still, I tackled a project I’d been putting off for the last five years, waiting for my wife’s decisions on what stays and what goes. Because we rarely go in that bedroom there hasn’t been any urgency in getting it done, at least on her part. I get antsy, but, hey, ‘Out of sight, out of mind…’.

The third bedroom has served as a reminder that even though Margaret and I are united in marriage, we still have our unique personalities and sense of self. I am a minimalist in many ways. Margaret is not. While she’s not a hoarder by any stretch of the imagination, she and I differ on keeping things. My approach to stuff is that if it hasn’t been used, worn, or looked at in the last year, it probably needs to find its way to the trash, recycling bin, or be donated – unless it’s tools, music, or books. I’ll give away tools I haven’t used in twenty years only to need one of them the next day. I have a few things that have sentimental value, but for the most part, stuff is an annoyance. Maybe it’s simply a reminder that so much has been lost to my bad decisions and personal demons…

One of my shortcomings is that I tend to organize my surroundings to fix what’s going on internally. Let me get ‘writer’s block’ or become frustrated and I have the most organized and dust-free office you’ve ever seen. I guess keeping a minimal amount of stuff helps me to be more introspective and stay the course, wherever it may lead. She reminds me that even shortcomings can become assets that allow me to grow.

We’ve accomplished a lot this weekend. The trips to the donation station and the stuff on the curb speaks volumes (although my trash service probably wishes we were a little quieter…). There’s still a way to go before we’re finished, but life feels a little less cluttered. We accomplished it together. That’s what’s most important.

Children, Christianity, Communication, Community, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Friendship, Grace, Gratitude, Growing Up, Hope, Listening, Love, Movies, Neighbors, Patience, Prayer, Recovery, Simplicity, Spirituality, Texas, Uncategorized, Writing

An absolute must see!

gregoryjoel

Last week’s rain was a welcome guest during the hot Texas summer. Unfortunately, an obnoxious high-pressure system chased away the unstable air that brought lower temperatures and cooling rains. Thus, a week of triple digit temperatures and heat advisories lie ahead. It was a noticeable difference on the porch this morning, but the coffee and conversation with my beautiful wife made up for any discomfort due to the temperature I may have felt. I wish likewise for all of you…

It’s been a great weekend here in Fort Worth. I’ve been so busy I haven’t had much ‘desk-time’. Margaret had a procedure done on her back on Friday morning and the results have been good so far. She felt enough relief to get out and about Friday night and hasn’t paid dearly for the experience as usual. We’re cautiously optimistic…

Friday night, our son Paul came over and we went to see “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”, the documentary about Fred Rogers and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.  I wrote about him recently, so I hope this isn’t too redundant. We’d been looking forward to seeing it since its release. I don’t pretend to be a movie critic. I know what I like when I see it. I don’t look for entertainment as much as I look for an emotional connection. That’s what good stories do. They reach somewhere inside and connect deep inside. If that appeals to you then this is a “must see’ film. Be prepared to be touched…

I was a latecomer to the whole Mr. Rogers thing. The Public Broadcasting System, of which I later became a huge fan, didn’t start broadcasting until 1969. I was in junior high school by then, but my sister, who is six years younger, would be watching Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. I was too old for such nonsense and just got ticked-off that she got to control the TV programming…

The only thing I knew of Mr. Rogers were the parodies of Eddie Murphy and The Firesign Theater. Even Mr. Rogers himself thought some of them were funny so long as they weren’t mean-spirited. It wasn’t until I became a parent that I began to take Mr. Rogers seriously. The simple message of kindness, of being special, and of being loved just as you are resonated with me. I wanted my own children to hear and internalize his message. Now that I’ve been down the road a bit, I find myself wishing that everyone, including myself, could feel that message deep inside.

I spent yesterday evening with a close friend who is going through a major struggle right now. I won’t bore you with the details, and it’s a private affair. What I can share with you is how I felt. It’s said that men are ‘fixers’ by nature (although I’ve known a great many women who have tried and tried to ‘fix’ me in the past… believe me, I needed fixing…). I can get with that. As I listened to his struggles and frustration with where he’s at, I wanted desperately to find the ‘right’ words that would miraculously make things better for him. I thought about the film and one of the children’s questions to Mr. Rogers, “What do you do with mad?” I still don’t have a good answer. The harder I tried to find the words, the more powerless I felt. I can’t take away his pain, his frustration, or his anger, but I can be present and walk through it with him. Sitting with him in my truck, I remembered a part of the movie I saw Friday. Sometimes we just need to be silent. Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes we just need to be there and ease the burden for one another.

We sat there in silence for a while. Finally, we said our goodbyes and we went our separate ways. I don’t know if he felt any better, but I know he felt a little more loved than he did when we first started talking, and when I talked to him later in the evening, he was going to bed so he could get up and do it again tomorrow. I said a prayer for my friend. Tomorrow’s another day…

I guess that was my take away from the movie. Be kind. Be loving. Be there and don’t try and fill the space between those you love with the constant buzz of words. It’s okay to feel your feelings, to walk through them and walk through them together. Above all, you’re loved and special just as you are. A pretty good message if you ask me, for adults as well as children.

There was a book by Robert Fulghum called, All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, that was popular many years ago. It was a reminder that all the life skills I would ever need I learned when I was very young. I was reminded again as I watched “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”. It saddened me to reflect on how much I’ve lost since childhood. I came to worry about what others thought of me early in life and stifles the child I was. The loss of innocence sounds so cliché but it’s true. Somewhere along the line I, like most of us, traded in that childlike wonder and innocent spirit for worry, self-importance, and all that comes with being grown-ups. I used to accuse my dad of entering his second childhood when I’d see him do childlike and silly stuff, especially with his grandkids. Now I wish I was like him…

Maybe I’m entering my second childhood? (Margaret says I am. She asks me all the time if my voice is going to change when I reach puberty.) I hope I’m more okay with being a kid than I was all those years ago. Back then it was so important to ‘keep up appearances’. One of the blessings of getting older is that you just don’t care what other people think as much. Such is the wisdom of a child. I find that I take things far less seriously and much more wondrously than I did in the past. I don’t feel a need to ‘fix’ someone else, but I can be present to walk alongside them today. Jesus said that to enter the kingdom of heaven, you must become as a child. I think you also should become a lot like Mr. Rodgers…

One of the most striking things to me about Fred Rogers is that he was an ordained Presbyterian minister. He may very well have been one of the first televangelists. He was ordained for the television ministry. Yet, he never preached a word (or asked for a “donation in order to receive God’s favor….”). He lived it instead. Talk about attracting others rather than promoting one’s self. No wonder kids flocked to him just like the poor and marginalized did to Jesus.

To paraphrase Fred Rogers, love is at the root of everything, or the lack thereof. I’ve seen what happens on both ends of the spectrum. All I need to do is read my newsfeed and the lack of love is apparent. So, I strive for the former rather than the latter. The Teacher I follow says that if I just love God with all my heart, mind, spirit and then love everyone else like I do myself, I can’t go wrong.

I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but there’s a line in the movie that left me with incredible hope. One of Fred Rogers’ friends said that many people think that Mr. Rogers was one of a kind, maybe like a fluke I guess. His opinion filled me with hope and gratitude when he reminded us all that there are a” lot of people out there just like Fred Rogers”. Yes, there are. I know some of them and for that, I’m so grateful.

If no one has told you today, please remember you’re loved – just the way you are. Pretty good words to live by. Thanks Mr. Rogers…

 

Activism, Christianity, Communication, Community, Faith, Freelancing, Gardening, Hope, Listening, Neighbors, Non-Profits, Patience, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Service Organizations, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Writing

Como

gregoryjoel

A couple of days ago I mentioned I had been sleeping late the last couple of weeks. I know 8:30 doesn’t sound late to some people, especially my kids (to whom noon would still be early), but I prefer getting up and getting on with my day. I can still hear my father say, “Get out of bed son, you’re burning daylight”. Apparently, his spirit has entered my dog Maggie, because she has limits on sleeping in as well. By 8:30, she decides I need a morning bath. She jumps up on the bed and licks any exposed skin – usually my face – until I get up and get moving. My father would be proud…

Margaret went back to bed after I got up. She’s had a rough week. We were out and about for several days and she worked on her quilting with her friend Mary. I love to be able to go places with my wife and I really appreciate her spending time with friends. The unfortunate consequence to that occurs in the following week. She pays for her time going places with a week in bed. Anyone who deals with chronic pain or fatigue knows what I mean.

So, my time on the porch was spent in solitude this morning. It was already beginning to get too hot to linger there, but I stayed for quite a while. There are days when the thoughts dart across my head like the squirrels chasing each other across our front lawn. I have difficulty focusing, my prayers seem stale, and it’s hard to listen for His side of the conversation anyway. I used to get really upset when this happened. Today, it’s God’s way of telling me it’s okay, relax and simply enjoy the morning. It took me a long time to learn how to do ‘nothing’. The irony is that by relaxing and letting the wandering thoughts be is that I become centered and begin to gain focus. Go figure…

I’ve been working on a project I’m truly passionate about. The initial research has been both rewarding and extremely frustrating. It deals with the problem of ‘food deserts’ and the lack of good food in low-income neighborhoods. Food availability truly is a class issue. Working toward a solution and food equality is something I’m proud to be involved in. I guess that’s why I got to thinking about a community garden project I was worked on several years ago for Dr. Brown in the Como neighborhood.

The Como community grew up around Lake Como, which was built in 1889. It was originally a thriving resort area. By the 1940s it became a predominantly African American community. It had its own ‘downtown’ which became the center of life for the community. However, decades later, downtown had disappeared, the local theater was torn down and an old beer and barbeque place was all that was left. It was on these vacant lots that Dr. Brown and his community organization, B.U.R.N. Ministries, decided to put a garden.

I went to work for Dr. Brown and the various groups of volunteers that came to help. Much of the initial labor came from the kids enrolled in the B.U.R.N. Ministries mentoring programs, the Mighty Men and Women of Grace, that came to help prepare the hard-scrabble soil for planting. Neighbors would walk by periodically and comment on our progress – usually telling us that nothing would grow there. We told them we were going to try anyway.

There was one gentleman that rode by on his bicycle and stopped to comment on a regular basis. Most of his comments weren’t positive – at least at first. He said to me,

“You white church folks come down here with all these big ideas without talking to us and finding out what we need. Then you go home and pat yourselves on the back for being of service to us poor black folks. We’re left to clean up the mess. Nobody asked us if we wanted a garden.”

 I didn’t have much of an answer for him, except to say that Dr. Brown lives and works in the community and this was part of a long-term plan. Eventually, the garden would be replaced by a school for the community. I finished the stuff I needed to take care of and went home. I thought a lot about what he said. The harsh reality is that he was right. Too often, we think we know what’s best for someone without ever asking the people we’re trying to ‘help’. We don’t like to listen to their needs, their opinions, and their visions

Despite what everyone said, the garden was successful, and I spent a lot of quality time with the kids. Even the gentleman on the bike changed his mind about the project when he saw us there daily, weeding, watering, and harvesting. It wasn’t a one-and-done weekend project. By being there daily, we formed a relationship and an understanding. My planting became based on the neighborhood’s wishes. I stayed and listened…

Learning to listen is not easy. It takes patience, something I’ve never excelled at. It’s much easier to plow straight ahead, believing that I know what’s best. My experience in Como gave me pause and made me look at my motives. Do I want to show up for a couple of days or weeks and take a lot of selfies with the local community or do I want to build on-going relationships? Am I trying to help others or trying to feel better about myself? Do I listen, really listen, or do I think I know what’s best?

In my professional life I work with mostly non-profits and faith-based organizations. I’ve noticed that the most successful organizations are those who listen and build relationships. Personally, I’ve found everything to be about relationships. My personal success and growth depends on the relationships I have with others. Those relationships develop by listening. I might hear you, but I can’t listen if I already know the answer…

My friend Edgar has taught me two valuable life lessons. One is “watch and listen”.  The other is that “self-sufficiency is a lie”. I’ve learned just how right he is. I need all the relationships I have in my life today. Some set an example of who I want to become, and some show me what I want to avoid. It’s only by listening and having relationships that I find out which is which.