Friday, July 25, 2008

Hush My Mouth

I was reading James 4: 11-12 in The Message paraphrase of the Bible this morning. Eugene Peterson sees James as connecting how we speak of others with their destiny. Somehow, our 'bad mouthing each other' affects our future, where we're headed, what we're able to become: our destiny, as I said.

All the little comments we make about co-workers, friends, enemies, whomever, affect their destiny? Destiny is God's job, James believes. Who are we to mess with it by our mean words?

For me, this puts all kinds of things in a new light, from 'closing the door and hocking up a hairball,' what my co-worker calls venting, to the snide comments we make about the way someone else is living their lives. When I complain about someone, or criticize them to another, somehow that shapes who they become. It's as if, even for a few minutes, their path is blurred, or they are truly hurt, even if they don't know it's happening.

One of my co-workers, Kristen, proposed that everything we say should meet three criteria. It should be true. It should also be kind. Finally, it should be necessary. We'd certainly talk a lot less, and do a lot less harm, if we followed that advice.

No wonder James says the tongue is the most powerful thing! Now, dear God, today hush my mouth, until I can process what I say through your ears and heart. You are in charge of others, be in charge of me.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Summering in Indiana

There are far sweeter places, some say, than Indiana. It's true we have more than our share of flat in this part of the world. The winter's gray skies sour our spirits by February, and there's not much lovely to see unless Lake Michigan gives us another snow storm to cover the slush.

Summer in Indiana, though, treats us to glory. This morning I awoke to the ringing of the phone and my friend Mary Ann inviting me to pick blueberries. Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, I hurried into her van and off we went to the Blueberry Ranch, hoping to beat the thunderstorms and the birds. 40 pounds of berries and some great conversation later, Mary Ann dropped me off at home in time for lunch. Maia invited Kenzie, James invited Patrick, and Randy and I drove the crew to Ideal Beach.

Randy says it's not a real beach, it's only a lakeshore. On a warm summer day, the difference isn't all that significant. The kids played in the shallow, sandy water, dug for shells and rocks, and retreated to the play area occasionally. Randy and I waded too, for a while, then we walked and talked and watched.

Hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill were our supper, followed by the first blueberry pie of the season. Not the last, I hope. Most of the berries are nestled in the freezer for winter, but I have enough for one more pie stashed in the fridge. Weather permitting, I'll pick again this week or next, or both. Somehow, picking and preserving feeds my soul as well as my body and my family.

Could I give it today, I would offer to anyone and everyone the taste of Indiana blueberry pie, made with berries still warm from the bush. Savor it, let the berries burst open and fill your mouth with their sweetness. Taste the soil and the sun and the grace of God. If you can, eat it outside, in the equal sweetness of an Indiana summer evening, accompanied by lightening bugs, skeeters, and a gentle breeze. Hide this day in your heart, for those gray February nights when, light-starved, we long for a taste of joy.