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Fully alive

12/25/2018

Christmas greetings from my house to yours. I hope this Christmas you will experience a fresh reality of the truth of the Incarnation, Immanuel, God with us in the midst of the everydayness of life.

"I have come that they may have life, and have it abundantly."John 10:10

This verse has been on my mind a lot over the last few weeks as I've been reflecting on a question Anne Lamott's asks, “How alive am I willing to be?” A challenging question.

Over the same few weeks I’ve received a number of Christmas letters, catching me up on what friends have been doing throughout 2018. Its good to reflect on the year about to end and realise all we’ve fitted in, the highlights as well as the struggles we’ve come through. It's a way of recognising God’s faithfulness through it all and our own contribution to life. But I wonder how all that doing has changed our being?

What have I learned through having lived 2018? Am I still the same person I was at the beginning of the year or have I allowed this year to change me? Am I more alive than at the beginning of this year … more alive to life, to those around me, to God?

Or am I still clinging tenaciously to safety and security, to the familiar and known way? Its comfortable and it works but its hardly living life to the full.

My cousin and I spent 5 glorious days in Venice. While I took hundreds of memorable photos this one has a special place in my heart. I captured her reflected in the window of an art shop and it brings back beautiful memories of being together and how precious our relationship is.

Anne’s question has challenged me to be more curious, to ask more questions and inch open a little more the doors of my inner world. That will involve courage and willingness to risk but it's the only way to wade deeper into relationship, which is the scary, beautiful purpose of life … to know another and to allow myself to be known, because we were created for relationship.

I want to let go of the grip of perfectionism, to sing more, even if its off key, to dance more, even if its only in the kitchen, to worry less about my flabby arms and out-of-shapeness and embracing the moment. To be more self-aware and alert to my reactions and what they are telling me about myself; to be open to the lessons they have to teach me.

There’s something very compelling about reflections, in nature and in life, they are an echo of reality. We don’t always like what we see in the mirror; maybe we don’t want to face the truth.

When Winston Churchill turned 80, the government commissioned a well-known artist to paint his portrait. After numerous sittings the work was finally finished and when it was unveiled at a public event in his honour, Winston was furious. He hated it. He railed against the fact that it made him look old and frail, which of course he was, but he couldn’t face the truth about himself. His reflection was more than he could accept so he had it destroyed.

As we reflect this Christmas on the One who came to give us life and give it to us in abundance, how alive are you willing to be? How open and vulnerable, curious, risk-taking, fun loving and passionate? How will you live 2019 differently?

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The halfpenny tale

12/18/2018

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image from Wikimedia Commons - Retroplum

She sat at the back; a lone figure amongst the passion and exuberance of that African church service … women in their brightly coloured dresses, singing and dancing as they brought their offerings to the Lord.

She couldn’t dance. It was clear as she rose slowly and struggled to the altar that her body was wracked with pain. She pulled out a knotted handkerchief and fumbled to untie it, her arthritic fingers refusing to hurry. Finally she retrieved a single copper coin, held it for a moment or two before placing it on the altar and inching her way back to her seat.

Nik Ripkin* was present that day. Now thirty years later he says, “I can still see that old woman in my mind’s eye today. I recall the way she limped, and the difficulty she had unknotting her handkerchief. I remember the shock I felt after learning about her sacrifice”.

“What she had given was a British halfpenny. It was her life’s savings and retirement fund. It was all that she had. What she did not know was that this coin was taken out of circulation in 1967. It had no value. It could buy nothing. Knotted in a handkerchief, stored in the front of her blouse, this coin had measured her hope for the future.

Still, she gave it all to Jesus.”

Image from Wikimedia Commons - Daria Shevtsova

Her story moved me to tears. Where have I ever given so sacrificially of what I have or of all that I am?

In fact I often struggle with the whole concept of giving wholeheartedly. It’s what I want to do, what I endeavour to do, but over and over again I find my desire sabotaged by feelings I desperately don’t want … expectations, disappointment, even resentment and sometimes a sense of injustice. They creep in uninvited and it's a monumental battle to refuse to let them rob me of the joy of giving. Sometimes I feel like the Apostle Paul when he says, “I can will it, but I can’t do it”.

Why is it so hard to give wanting nothing in return… no thanks, no appreciation, not even justice, just giving with an open heart. I think the problem is that sometimes the gift is more about me than about the gift. That’s certainly not my conscious motivation but at some level I want to be valued and appreciated for who I am and what I do but that effectively undermines my gift of love.

It feels so paltry alongside the British halfpenny placed on the altar … a gift of inconceivable love … the sort of love God demonstrated in the giving of his Son. It was undeserved and unconditional love, the sort of love I long to be able to give freely from my heart.

At Christmas especially, gift giving can so easily become another thing to fit into our hectic lives, an obligation, a tradition or a stress as we try to decide what to give the person who has everything. I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking something has gone terribly wrong.

The incarnation came wrapped in obscurity and the simplicity of a manger and yet as we celebrate the greatest gift ever given, it’s easy to get caught up in the materialistic extravaganza that the world has created. It’s easy to lose sight of the sacrifice that cost both Father and Son. Does the shock of that sacrifice still fill us with awe and wonder, or have we become anaesthetised by the wrapping and the glitter of this thing we call Christmas?

The widow’s halfpenny reminded me that true giving is a sacrifice, a sacrifice of myself for another, a gift of great love … the sort of love demonstrated in a manger one night in the little town of Bethlehem.

*Nik Ripkin and his wife Ruth, with 3 children, served for over 32 years sharing Christ across Malawi & South Africa, they moved to Nairobi, Kenya to begin work among the Somali people. Along with their their teams they served throughout the Horn of Africa within famine and war zones; resettling refugees, providing famine relief, and operating mobile medical clinics.

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Inspiration

12/11/2018

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Wikimedia Commons image - Dick Thomas Johnson

I love the unexpectedness of inspiration. That spark that leaps into awareness and sets fire to passion. It’s the thing that keeps us alive to life.

I found it recently in an 81 year-old woman who refused to give up on her dream even when no one else believed she could succeed. She’s a woman who inspires me to believe that with perseverance you can achieving anything you want to accomplish. At 75 she got the inspiration to write, direct and produce her first ever feature film.

Not that she was new to the film industry; she’d made a number of documentaries and been the wife and mother of Academy award winning directors. She is Eleanor Coppolar.

She married the now famous Italian film director, Francis Coppola, over 54 years ago, and despite raising three children and supporting Francis throughout a lifetime of his creative endeavours, she managed to carve out for herself a career as a writer and documentary maker. She was a quiet observer and loved being behind the camera so documentaries were the obvious choice, so why decide to try and direct a feature film?

The inspiration for the film came, as many of the best stories do, from her real life experience. It was a great story but getting financial backing proved to be a major problem. She was a woman, a first time director, she was in her 70s and the story had no guns, violence, sex or superheroes. It took her six years to get the finance and cast together. It was a lesson in determination and belief in what you can accomplish. By the time the film debuted she was 81 years old. I wonder how many times over those six years she was tempted to give up?

“There were disappointments, but also surprises that were caused by the difficulties. All of these are things you learn when you just don’t give up. In your most desperate moments, you figure out how to be as creative as possible, it’s a part of the process.” Eleanor.

But her determination wasn’t the only thing that inspired me. The story is about what Eleanor calls, “The art of the everyday” … making whatever life brings to you a masterpiece of art, making it beautiful and worth remembering, whether that’s creating a home or a life, raising children or building a career.

Eleanor calls the theme of the movie, an 'Ode to slow' ... a snapshot of the way southern Europeans celebrate life and food. And its not just savouring the taste and the presentation of food, but the opportunity for unhurried time for relationship around the table, something that had been quite foreign to her American way of life.

The story is set in Paris. Diane Lane (Anne) is an American, goal orientated and used to having a purpose for everything. Frenchman, Arnaud Viard, (Jacques) has a passion for being present in the moment and open to all of life, enjoying everything around him. The two go on what should be a seven-hour drive to Paris, which in reality takes several days, and along the way Jacques shows Anne how to be open and alive to life, spontaneous and receptive to the moment.

Its a pretty film, a visual delight ... the beauty of the French countryside, picturesque restaurants, exquisitely presented food, architecture, history and textiles. The film is called Paris can Wait. Despite its lack of positive reviews, I loved it. I loved that it began in the mind and heart of someone of an age that society so often considers finished with life. I love that she made that dream a reality because as CS Lewis reminds me, “You are never too old to set another goal, or to dream a new dream.”

The story is a reminder that life run by timetables and calendars, achieving goals and success alone is an empty and exhausting way to live. The beauty of the moment is lost in the feverish race for achievement.

Eleanor, like Anne learnt that life is to be savoured, seen, tasted and enjoyed. While the film is lighthearted and romantic, for me it asked good questions, thought provoking and challenging ones. Eleanor inspires me to slow down and cherish the moments and to keep persevering even when I face all sorts of difficulties, even age.

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A love story

12/4/2018

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This is a story about love, the sort that seems in short supply today.

It begins at the movie theatre where boy meets girl and boy is smitten at first sight. He asks her name and where she lives but when the movie ends she disappears into the night.

He can’t get her out of his mind. She’s made an indelible impression and he’s determined to find her again. He goes to the public phone box to search the phone book. Unfortunately her surname is Smith. He wades through page after page after page, not once, not twice but three times. With his frustration and desperation levels rising rapidly he begins again and this time with microscopic accuracy. Every page he doesn’t find her, he tears out and soon the box is littered with discarded Smiths lying helplessly on the floor.

On the very last page he finds her.

They begin to date. Times are tough and the boy doesn’t have a great deal of money, just sufficient to take his lady to the movies or a dance, but not enough to allow for train or bus fares, so he walks there and back, the 7kms from his home to hers a number of times each week to spend time with her, and their love grows and grows.

There was no doubting his commitment or his love. Once when she went on holidays to the Blue Mountains, he rode his pushbike, the sort without gears, the 124kms up the steep mountain passes just so they could spend time together.

They longed to get married but it was the middle of the Great Depression and there were few jobs and even less money. He was determined to buy her an engagement ring and earn enough to pay for a wedding so he headed to Central Western NSW to the little wheat belt town of Caragabal and got a job on the railways. It was mid summer, the heat intense, but he refused to give up until he had saved what they needed.

On his return he proposed and the following year he finally married the woman he’d come to love so dearly. She was my mother. They were married for 55 years.

This story came back to me last week when I heard about a man texting the woman he had been dating for some time, to break off the relationship saying it just wasn’t working for him.

She was absolutely devastated and although it was best she discovered the caliber of the man sooner rather than later, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard about this happening.

Is this what love has been reduced to in a digital age? Are online dating, speed dating and social media chipping away at the very essence of love, of loyalty, commitment and perseverance? Is love becoming easy and dispensable? And is communication being reduced to a handful of letters on a screen rather than the tough face to face discussions that build strong foundations for a relationship?

My parent’s love was tested in the furnace of adversity. It was neither easy or dispensable but persevering and stronger for the struggle. And it stood by them in the hardships ahead, ones they couldn’t have contemplated including the loss of a child.

Love, in all its complexities is the most powerful force in the universe but it comes at a price … the cost of self-sacrifice … the cost of giving up ourselves for another.

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Fully alive

The halfpenny tale

Inspiration

A love story

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