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How to make a difference in 20 seconds

5/30/2017

This precious little girl was born blind and was found discarded on a rubbish tip. I met her in Burkina Faso when I visited a woman who is caring for rejected and discarded babies and children.

In a culture where giving birth to a disabled child is seen as a curse and when the burden of caring for such a child is more than most can afford, many children are thrown away.

When we met her the little girl was withdrawn and unresponsive. One of our missionaries sat her on his knee and gently hugged her. It took a while but in time she began to respond and finally a little smile slipped across her face. I wonder if she had ever been hugged … if she’d ever experience love expressed in human touch?

It was a beautiful thing to see the difference a hug made.

Research has discovered just how important human touch is and the many health benefits of hugging.

Hugging relaxes muscles, reducing stress and tension
Hugs boost oxytocin levels which help reduce loneliness and depression and promotes heart health
Hugs increase serotonin levels which can help mood balance, sleep, appetite and digestion
Hugging can increase the production of dopamine in your brain, and this can be seen in PET scans of the brain. Dopamine levels are low in people with conditions like Parkinsonism and mood disorders like depression
Hugs can lower blood pressure and boost the immune system.

That sounds like a lot of very good reasons to be a hugger and when you give a hug you receive the benefits in return! But it has to be a good hug! A good hug lasts at least 20 seconds.

A good way to make a difference in 20 seconds!

A hug is a gift ... a love offering ... often more powerful than words. We all need human touch and many people, those living alone, the elderly, the institutionalised, the stressed and children, need someone willing to offer that human touch that assures them someone cares.

Give your children more hugs and less things. When children throw a tantrum or scream uncontrollably its easy to be concerned that a hug will reward bad behaviour but hugging a distressed child during a meltdown is not rewarding his bad behaviour. You are giving him support while he learns to regulate his emotions, just as you hold his hand to support him until he learns to walk unaided.

Hugs are free and a beautiful gift to give another human being ... give them generously and often.

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The Solace of Fierce Landscapes

5/23/2017

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I’ve been reading The Solace of Fierce Landscapes by Belden Lane … a tough, deeply moving and challenging read. It parallels the desert landscape journey with his experience of coping with his mother’s time in a nursing home and her agonising battle with cancer. His insights are rich and I find myself stopping and rereading paragraphs again and again as the depth of the truths seep deep into the chambers of my heart and mind.

His words are real and raw and painfully honest … they touch deep into the ugliness of life from which we so often want to run.

“All theologising, if worth its salt, must submit to the test of hospital gowns, droning television sets, and food spilled in the clumsy effort to eat. What can be said without shame in the presence of those who are dying? At the time, that was my one test of theological method. I met a woman by the elevator each day whose mouth was always open wide, as if uttering a silent scream. In a bed down the hall lay a scarcely recognisable body, twisted by crippling arthritis—a man or a woman I’d never met. Another woman cried out every few moments, desperately calling for help in an “emergency” that never ebbed. Who were these people?  They represented the God from whom I repeatedly flee.

Hidden in the grave-clothes of death, this God remains unavailable to me in my anxious denial of ageing and pain. He is good news only to those who are broken. But to them he’s the Lion of the Tribe of Judah, lurking in the shadows beyond the nurses’ desk, promising life in the presence of death. This is the last place I might have sought him. I found myself wanting often to run from that gaping mouth, the twisted body, the cries that echoed through the halls. I resisted going to the nursing home. Yet at the same time, I was drawn there.  

I know why Francis of Assisi had to kiss the leper, why Mother Teresa reached out to those dying on the streets of Calcutta, why Jean Vanier gives himself without restraint to the handicapped. It has nothing to do with charity. It’s a concern to touch—and to be touched by— the hidden Christ, the one found nowhere else so clearly. It’s a longing to reach out to the grotesque, stroking the bloodied head of a slain lamb as its image gradually changes into the fierce and kindly face of a Lion whose name is love.” Belden Lane.

As I read that quote it reminded me of Vincent van Gogh as he ministered to the miners in the Borinage in Belgium (900 letters - August archives).

Vincent didn’t find Christ in the trappings of clerical garments or theological expositions, but in the coal dust and broken bodies and hearts of the miners and their families. He didn’t run from the ugliness of disease, the horrific wounds inflicted by mine explosions or the malnutrition so evident in the faces of women and children, but instead found the opportunity to live out Christ’s love in a ‘language’ the miners could understand … a love beyond language.

Many years ago I went with a friend on his weekly visit to an orphanage in his hometown. In one huge room there were row upon row of wooden cots and in each one laid a severely disabled child, incapable of doing anything for itself. It was eerily silent, no crying, not even whimpering.

My friend gave up a morning each week to love these children through human touch … to hold them, hug them and stroke them. Each one of them, no matter the severity of their condition, visibly reacted. It was a holy moment, these ‘forgotten” ones being touched with the love of Jesus.

I’m confronted with the need for my theology to step out of the church pew, out of its Sunday best and into the "nakedness" of compassion and self-sacrifice. That’s were theory becomes reality … the love of Christ most evident. “As you’ve done it unto the least of these my brethren you have done it unto me.” But it is also the place where emptied of myself, I can experience an intimacy with Christ beyond my imagining.

Belden Lane says, “The paradox of the grotesque is that it summons those who are whole to be broken and longs for those who are broken to be made whole”.

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Hidden colour

5/16/2017

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When one of my grandsons eats his dinner, he always leaves the best till last. I wonder if that's what God did when he created autumn. Its as if all that begins with the tiny new buds of spring and blossoms and flourishes in the warm, heady days of summer, comes to full harvest in an explosion of vibrancy and fruitfulness in autumn ... a grand finale!

Autumn transforms the ordinary into something quite extraordinary ... tumbling over buildings, cascading down walls and draping itself over lampposts and window frames ... carefree and nonchalant it 'paints' splashes of colour across the fading landscape of summer's end.

But here's the wonder of nature. As the tree anticipates the months of dormancy ahead, the veins of the leaves begin to shut down and the bright green chlorophyll production ceases … suddenly the other colour pigments, carotenoids and anthocyanins, which give the leaf its red and purple, yellow and orange tones, are set free to shine. They’ve been there all the time, hidden beneath the chlorophyll.

It's a season of anticipation ... of cool nights and chilly mornings, bluest of skies and air as crisp as a new season’s apple ... the fragrance of first fires ... hot soup and homemade bread ... of snuggling under doonas ... soft, mellow light and the joy of dancing in fallen autumn leaves.

It's a season of change and reminds me of the impermanence of things, in nature and in life. Just as the leaves must fall to make way for new growth next spring, I need to let go of the past in order to embrace the gifts of the here and now. Let go of hurts and disappointments … failures and mistakes … expectations and demands so I have a free heart and mind to accept whatever is being handed to me.

Accepting and embracing change is probably one of the most valuable and freeing lessons of life.

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Mirrors are everywhere

5/9/2017

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I love the complexity of an image reflected in another image … that moment of challenge as your brain tries to distinguish both images. Sometimes its whimsical, sometimes mysterious, but always intriguing. Here are some reflections I've taken over the years.

The stunningly beautiful buildings along the canal in Venice, reflected in the window of a baby wear shop.

After numerous efforts to take a photo of the Spanish Steps in Rome without hoards of people, I gave up and took a reflection of the Steps in a shop window opposite - The Spanish Steps in the Colours of Benneton. The next morning I arose very early, well before any self-respecting tourist should arise and headed for the Steps only to find cleaners busy at work! Photo below.

Sydney Opera House reflected in the windows of Peter Doyle @ The Quay.

An outdoor cafe in San Francisco reflected in the window of a gourmet delicatessen.

A French market town just outside Paris is reflected in a cottage window where a curious cat stares back at me.

Someone once said, “As water reflects the face, so one's life reflects the heart”.

I can measure my grace-levels on any given day by the way I’m driving. When I’m grace-filled I will see someone in a side street trying to break into a continuous line of traffic, feel their frustration and stop to let them in. On days when my grace is in short supply, I decide my urgency is more important than theirs and let them wait their turn. I’m quite within the letter of the law but it warns me that my attitude is out of sync with a heart of love … that I’m more concerned with self than the needs of others.

Living in a way that reflects my beliefs and values isn’t just about what I do but how I do it. I can see myself reflected through my friendships; my family interactions and the everyday moments of my days … mirrors are everywhere.

If I have the courage, I can ask the people in my life to reflect back the things they see in me. Sometimes the things they share are tough but if given and accepted in love they are pure gold. Recently a good friend told me I have a tendency to correct. Wow! I had no idea. I was horrified, but those honest words made me aware of something I want to try and change.

The funny thing about awareness is that it can't be undone. Once I become aware of something I can't then be unaware. It demands a choice ... ignore it or act on it. But that's the pure gold. I've been given a choice ... handed an opportunity to face something in my life that needs to change if my relationships are to be deeper and more loving.

Be alert the 'mirrors' in your life and next time you glimpse your reflection, take time to look deeper at how your life is reflecting your heart.

The Sydney Opera House forecourt in a clothing shop window at the Quay.

Sydney Harbour Bridge in the same window - you can even see climbers on the bridge.

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The tale of a boot

5/2/2017

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I love surprises. Those serendipitous moments that burst into my life like a bright ray of sunlight breaking through a leaden sky.

My birthday dawned like that this year, a glorious warm autumn day after weeks and weeks of rain. I grabbed my camera and took off on a fungi hunt … autumn and lots of rain are the perfect precursor for fungi to burst through the earth.

I wasn’t disappointed. From toadstools no more than half and inch in size, peeping out through leaf-strewn earth, to large, fleshy, beautifully coloured specimens that looked like something from Alice in Wonderland … I was enchanted.

And then I spied them; two amazing toadstools snuggled on top of a rocky outcrop. Not satisfied with the long shot, I climbed up to get a closer look. Climbing back down I encountered another one of those unexpected surprises. Slipping on the wet rock I lost my footing and fractured my ankle.

After establishing that my camera wasn’t damaged, I turned to untangling my decidedly twisted legs. And there began a six weeks journey that hasn’t finished yet … doctors, X-rays, physiotherapists and oh yes the boot … that amazing piece of medical advancement that gives me the ‘prepared for exploring space’ look, makes me walk like a wobbly duck and guarantees that I can’t do most of the things I normally take in my stride.

There’s something very revealing about being stopped in your tracks. Suddenly I was acutely aware of emotions and reactions I don’t usually encounter and didn’t like … acute frustration, irritation, impatience and anger at myself for causing it in the first place. Oh the if-onlys!

My solution was resignation … it’s happened, make the best of it and “it could have been worse”. I was indeed grateful that I didn’t break my hip or leg and end up in hospital. I was grateful for the boot, clumsy as it is, it’s a great improvement on a plaster cast or crutches, but none of those thoughts really dealt with the level of frustration that I fought on an hourly basis.

As the weeks passed and I resigned myself to endless inactivity, something quite miraculous happened. As I allowed myself to embrace the opportunity to read, reflect, imagine and write, imperceptibly my frustration gave way to a realisation of how precious this time was. I found myself reading more attentively and being stunned by the new insights that came to me. Time became irrelevant and I luxuriated in the space and time without structure.

I’d journeyed from resignation to acceptance and the experience of freedom was indescribable.

Freedom from the pressure to want to do what I wasn’t able to do, freedom from all those ugly emotions that kept me in a vicious cycle of negativity, and freedom to embrace the new possibilities that this downtime has demanded.

Acceptance unlocks the potential to learn through experiences … it’s not passive like resignation, its alive with possibilities. It comes hand in hand with gratitude, contentment and a peaceful mind and heart.

As I hand back my boot in 3 weeks time, there will be a sense of disappointment I could never have anticipated the day I strapped it on and stumbled awkwardly out into the car park. I can’t say I’m grateful I fractured my ankle or had to learn the interesting skill of moon boot walking but I can say that I am deeply grateful for this season of my life.

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How to make a difference in 20 seconds

The Solace of Fierce Landscapes

Hidden colour

Mirrors are everywhere

The tale of a boot

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