I've been running off and on since college. Of the many reasons I was excited to bring Filo home, one of them was the prospect of running with him. The breeder told us to wait until Filo was 18 months old before running with him, to give his hips the chance to fully develop first. On the very day that he turned 18 months old, Adam and I took him for a run. He loved it! Filo is fast and he loves to race along most any surface. When he and I run, he often looks back at me with a little grin, as if to say, "This is the best!"
Filo is a great running buddy. He is always ready, no matter the weather or time of day. He helps me to notice all of the squirrels in our path, as well as people, other dogs, and hidden treasures like the half-eaten cupcake he found this weekend. Sadly, I took it right out of his mouth.
Lately, Filo and I have had company on our runs. My neighbor is training for a half-marathon and asked me if I wanted to run with her. I said that I did, so we run together several times a week, and we bring our dogs. On Saturday morning, we ran 4 miles around Duke's East and West campuses, and I thought about how I was living a dream. I was running on Duke's campus on a gorgeously cool morning--a long held wish, helping a friend achieve her goal, and my beloved Filo was with me.
I just might register for this half-marathon. It's never really been a goal of mine, but why not? If I'm going to train for one, I may as well run in it. It isn't something that I would do on my own, but with the support of human and canine running buddies, I'm part of a tiny community. It is great.
Has a friend ever encouraged you to do something that you hadn't considered before? Did you do it? If so, did you have a "running buddy"?
Monday, September 30, 2013
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Story people
We are all people of stories...story people. "Story People" is the name of an art series created by Brian Andreas that captures poignant, powerful, and funny moments of life in brightly colored stick figures and carefully chosen words(www.storypeople.com). Through his art, he tells stories of life.
The stories of our lives are both familiar and hidden. There are family stories that have been told so often that they become legends: stories of how people met, births, Christmases, and ordinary days where something unusual happened. In my family, some of these stories include the Christmas that my brother and mom got my dad a puppy that he first thought was a stuffed bear, the story of my birth, and the day that we returned from vacation to discover that my cat had died while our neighbor was watching her. (On that last one, our neighbor was distraught about the cat's death, and the rest of us were...not so much. We were sad that the cat died, but we are definitely dog people. Good to know). Often when we tell these legendary, familiar stories, we tell them in the same way every time, so others who know the story can jump in and continue with the same words we would have used. Stories are foundational to life.
Although we shape our own stories, the stories of our lives also shape us. They help us understand our families, our identity, and what is important to us. Stories tell us important truths about faith, life, what we deem valuable, and how we come to view the world. They connect us with the past and give us hope for the future. Stories shape us as people, communities, nations, and people of faith. In a very real sense, we are all made up of the stories that we accept and reject, that limit and expand our lives, that tell us who we are and who we are not. Stories are a gift and a heritage, a warning and a promise, a way to understand life itself.
In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses shares the words of God that are to make up the story that that defines the people of Israel, both then and now. "Hear O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise" (Deuteronomy 6:4-7).
Israel's story says that they are God's people, that they are to love God with everything they are, and that they are to share this story with their children and among themselves, at all times and forever. This is a story that shapes human beings on every possible level. It has been told in the same words for thousands of years, becoming deeply ingrained in the very being of those who know and cherish it. This cherished story shapes both Judaism and Christianity, telling us who we are and whose we are. It is one of the very foundational Judeo-Christian stories that has been shared and become part of the heart of countless people.
What are the stories that shape your life: the ones that you know and tell, and the ones that are a bit more hidden? How do you shape your stories? Do you have some stories that you cherish more than the rest? What are they, and with whom do you share them?
The stories of our lives are both familiar and hidden. There are family stories that have been told so often that they become legends: stories of how people met, births, Christmases, and ordinary days where something unusual happened. In my family, some of these stories include the Christmas that my brother and mom got my dad a puppy that he first thought was a stuffed bear, the story of my birth, and the day that we returned from vacation to discover that my cat had died while our neighbor was watching her. (On that last one, our neighbor was distraught about the cat's death, and the rest of us were...not so much. We were sad that the cat died, but we are definitely dog people. Good to know). Often when we tell these legendary, familiar stories, we tell them in the same way every time, so others who know the story can jump in and continue with the same words we would have used. Stories are foundational to life.
Although we shape our own stories, the stories of our lives also shape us. They help us understand our families, our identity, and what is important to us. Stories tell us important truths about faith, life, what we deem valuable, and how we come to view the world. They connect us with the past and give us hope for the future. Stories shape us as people, communities, nations, and people of faith. In a very real sense, we are all made up of the stories that we accept and reject, that limit and expand our lives, that tell us who we are and who we are not. Stories are a gift and a heritage, a warning and a promise, a way to understand life itself.
In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses shares the words of God that are to make up the story that that defines the people of Israel, both then and now. "Hear O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise" (Deuteronomy 6:4-7).
Israel's story says that they are God's people, that they are to love God with everything they are, and that they are to share this story with their children and among themselves, at all times and forever. This is a story that shapes human beings on every possible level. It has been told in the same words for thousands of years, becoming deeply ingrained in the very being of those who know and cherish it. This cherished story shapes both Judaism and Christianity, telling us who we are and whose we are. It is one of the very foundational Judeo-Christian stories that has been shared and become part of the heart of countless people.
What are the stories that shape your life: the ones that you know and tell, and the ones that are a bit more hidden? How do you shape your stories? Do you have some stories that you cherish more than the rest? What are they, and with whom do you share them?
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Working like a Hebrew slave
I was standing in line at the post office when I overheard one man greeting another. "How have you been?" said the first. "Working like a Hebrew slave," replied the second. Wow. Talk about an unexpected response. I wonder what the man meant when he said that. The beginning of the book of Exodus tells of the 430 years that the Israelites (the Hebrews) are enslaved to the Egyptians. Exodus describes the slavery of the Israelites in this way. "The Egyptians became ruthless in imposing tasks on the Israelites, and made their lives bitter with hard service in mortar and brick and every kind of field labor. They were ruthless in all the tasks they imposed on them" (Exodus 1:13-14).
How many of us think of work as hard service that is imposed on us and has a tendency to make us bitter? Few of us would actually use those words to describe the work that we do, but there are responsibilities in every job that we don't choose, that feel imposed on us, and can make us feel bitter at times! I wonder about the relationship that we have with work in our culture. Sometimes it is portrayed as the be-all and end-all of our existence. When you meet someone new, the first question you are often asked after your name is, "And what do you do?" Meaning, how do you earn a living, how does your job define you, what assumptions can I make about you based on your job title? At the same time, work is also seen as a drag, something from which we long to escape. Think about movies like "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," how much productive time at work is lost to the Internet, and how much we love long weekends. We have a paradoxical relationship with work, and yet, God created us to be creatures who need to work in order to thrive.
In the book of Genesis, God created Adam, the first human, and gave him the responsibility of naming the living creatures that God brought into being (Genesis 2:19-20a). What a great privilege, to think of names for God's creatures! Work is not supposed to be the drudgery that it so often turns out to be. Work is meant to be a way that we partner with God in the ongoing creation of the world. When you engage in conversation with someone, fix something that is broken, make a meal, soothe a child, or teach a class, you are helping to create something that did not exist before you got to work. You are helping God with the continual work of renewing the world by creating what did not exist before you came.
This is a small snapshot of the way it is meant to be. God does not intend for anyone to work like a Hebrew slave, expending all of their efforts for a harsh, cruel taskmaster. Work should be part of our satisfaction in life, a way that we contribute to the world around us, as we are treated fairly and compensated justly for what we do. Obviously, there are relatively few people in the world who can describe what they do every day as matching up with this idealized picture of work. There are so many factors that contribute to the kind of work we do--our current life circumstances, whether we work inside or outside the home, if we work for pay, education, constraints on our time, obligations that we must meet in a variety of categories, and whether we are able to find work at all. And that only scratches the surface of the factors that go into our working lives.
I think about the residents of the prison where I am taking my Biblical Incarceration class. Last week, one of the women described the variety of job opportunities and work environments within the correctional facility. She works making license plates for the state DMV. Other women learn about horticulture or work in the kitchen. Some have outside jobs. The highest paid job that this woman mentioned was answering the telephone at the state visitors' bureau. For that, you can receive up to $3 a day, plus overtime, once you have worked there for a certain amount of time and meet specific conditions.
Three dollars a day. I consider those wages to be in the "working like a Hebrew slave" category, and most of the jobs described paid far less than that. Hearing about these kind of experiences certainly gives me a whole new perspective on my work life. How would you describe your working life? Does it allow you to make a positive contribution to the world? Is it a fair working environment where you are justly compensated--financially or otherwise? How do you balance the ideal description of what work should be with how you actually experience work in your own life?
What is the work that you would most like to do in the world? If you are not currently engaged in doing it, what is stopping you? How do you reconcile the ideal with the real when it comes to work?
How many of us think of work as hard service that is imposed on us and has a tendency to make us bitter? Few of us would actually use those words to describe the work that we do, but there are responsibilities in every job that we don't choose, that feel imposed on us, and can make us feel bitter at times! I wonder about the relationship that we have with work in our culture. Sometimes it is portrayed as the be-all and end-all of our existence. When you meet someone new, the first question you are often asked after your name is, "And what do you do?" Meaning, how do you earn a living, how does your job define you, what assumptions can I make about you based on your job title? At the same time, work is also seen as a drag, something from which we long to escape. Think about movies like "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," how much productive time at work is lost to the Internet, and how much we love long weekends. We have a paradoxical relationship with work, and yet, God created us to be creatures who need to work in order to thrive.
In the book of Genesis, God created Adam, the first human, and gave him the responsibility of naming the living creatures that God brought into being (Genesis 2:19-20a). What a great privilege, to think of names for God's creatures! Work is not supposed to be the drudgery that it so often turns out to be. Work is meant to be a way that we partner with God in the ongoing creation of the world. When you engage in conversation with someone, fix something that is broken, make a meal, soothe a child, or teach a class, you are helping to create something that did not exist before you got to work. You are helping God with the continual work of renewing the world by creating what did not exist before you came.
This is a small snapshot of the way it is meant to be. God does not intend for anyone to work like a Hebrew slave, expending all of their efforts for a harsh, cruel taskmaster. Work should be part of our satisfaction in life, a way that we contribute to the world around us, as we are treated fairly and compensated justly for what we do. Obviously, there are relatively few people in the world who can describe what they do every day as matching up with this idealized picture of work. There are so many factors that contribute to the kind of work we do--our current life circumstances, whether we work inside or outside the home, if we work for pay, education, constraints on our time, obligations that we must meet in a variety of categories, and whether we are able to find work at all. And that only scratches the surface of the factors that go into our working lives.
I think about the residents of the prison where I am taking my Biblical Incarceration class. Last week, one of the women described the variety of job opportunities and work environments within the correctional facility. She works making license plates for the state DMV. Other women learn about horticulture or work in the kitchen. Some have outside jobs. The highest paid job that this woman mentioned was answering the telephone at the state visitors' bureau. For that, you can receive up to $3 a day, plus overtime, once you have worked there for a certain amount of time and meet specific conditions.
Three dollars a day. I consider those wages to be in the "working like a Hebrew slave" category, and most of the jobs described paid far less than that. Hearing about these kind of experiences certainly gives me a whole new perspective on my work life. How would you describe your working life? Does it allow you to make a positive contribution to the world? Is it a fair working environment where you are justly compensated--financially or otherwise? How do you balance the ideal description of what work should be with how you actually experience work in your own life?
What is the work that you would most like to do in the world? If you are not currently engaged in doing it, what is stopping you? How do you reconcile the ideal with the real when it comes to work?
Thursday, September 5, 2013
On being a bike commuter
The last time I was in a car was on Saturday. I am very happy about that. Since we live so close to campus, I bike to school every day. I've also gotten in the habit of running errands on my bike. I've been to the pharmacy, purchased school supplies, gotten my hair cut, gone to the bookstore and the grocery store, all on my bike. I have a specific point on my ride home from school where I smile, take in the scenery, and think how great it is that I get to bike every day.
It has been a learning experience, for sure. Everything takes a little longer on my bike, and I am now always scanning for bike racks when I arrive at my destination. Although there are road signs all over Durham that remind drivers to share the road with bike, sometimes the cars whiz by awfully close. I think twice about what I bring with me or purchase on my bike. Everything that I bring along or acquire needs to go back with me, and I often need to pedal it up several hills. I have accepted that for this time in my life, I am just going to be sweaty a lot, or be rained on. I carry a towel with me everywhere.
And you know what? I love being a bike commuter. It is something that Adam and I have wanted to try. It would be great if we could sell one of our cars someday and use our bikes to replace it. I don't know if that will actually happen, but I am really enjoying it for now. I hardly ever have to buy gas, find a place to park, or wonder what the rattling noise on the car means. I like that I am being more environmentally friendly. I get some exercise every day, and I am getting to know a new city in a whole new way.
Instead of being enclosed in my car bubble, I pedal along the streets, and I'm in a position to make eye contact and say hi to the people who are walking or waiting for the bus. I notice street signs, restaurants, kids and dogs in a way that I haven't before. I feel like I am more a part of this new place, because I am literally putting in all sorts of energy to explore it. I am more aware of the many different life situations that people are in. I ride my bike because it is convenient and it works for my schedule, but I also know that I have a car that I can drive if I want or need to. I know that many other people don't have that option. I enjoy biking because it is fun and novel, the weather is nice right now, and I can make some choices about where I need to be and at what time. For others, biking, walking, or taking the bus for long distances is not a choice, but a necessity. I don't want to forget that. I hope that this experience, like so many others, will help me to live into being more compassionate and more informed about this world that we live in. There is always more to learn.
I'm sure that I will have days where bike commuting will be a pain. I'm curious to see what winter will be like, and how I will handle biking when it rains for days on end. It will continue to be a good learning experience, which is what this year is all about.
I am grateful that biking is one of my many teachers.
It has been a learning experience, for sure. Everything takes a little longer on my bike, and I am now always scanning for bike racks when I arrive at my destination. Although there are road signs all over Durham that remind drivers to share the road with bike, sometimes the cars whiz by awfully close. I think twice about what I bring with me or purchase on my bike. Everything that I bring along or acquire needs to go back with me, and I often need to pedal it up several hills. I have accepted that for this time in my life, I am just going to be sweaty a lot, or be rained on. I carry a towel with me everywhere.
And you know what? I love being a bike commuter. It is something that Adam and I have wanted to try. It would be great if we could sell one of our cars someday and use our bikes to replace it. I don't know if that will actually happen, but I am really enjoying it for now. I hardly ever have to buy gas, find a place to park, or wonder what the rattling noise on the car means. I like that I am being more environmentally friendly. I get some exercise every day, and I am getting to know a new city in a whole new way.
Instead of being enclosed in my car bubble, I pedal along the streets, and I'm in a position to make eye contact and say hi to the people who are walking or waiting for the bus. I notice street signs, restaurants, kids and dogs in a way that I haven't before. I feel like I am more a part of this new place, because I am literally putting in all sorts of energy to explore it. I am more aware of the many different life situations that people are in. I ride my bike because it is convenient and it works for my schedule, but I also know that I have a car that I can drive if I want or need to. I know that many other people don't have that option. I enjoy biking because it is fun and novel, the weather is nice right now, and I can make some choices about where I need to be and at what time. For others, biking, walking, or taking the bus for long distances is not a choice, but a necessity. I don't want to forget that. I hope that this experience, like so many others, will help me to live into being more compassionate and more informed about this world that we live in. There is always more to learn.
I'm sure that I will have days where bike commuting will be a pain. I'm curious to see what winter will be like, and how I will handle biking when it rains for days on end. It will continue to be a good learning experience, which is what this year is all about.
I am grateful that biking is one of my many teachers.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Captivity and freedom
[Jesus said,] "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because God has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.
Luke 4:18-19
Did you know that 36% of the Bible is written about or from prison? It's easier to see if you expand "prison" to include slavery, captivity, exile, and confinement. The foundational character of Christianity, Jesus Christ, was accused, tried, and executed by the Roman Empire for committing the crime of sedition--basically rabble-rousing. The book of Acts records at least nine stories of arrest. The Apostle Paul wrote four of his books from prison (Ephesians, Philemon, Colossians, and Philippians). The book of Revelation was written from a work camp. And the enslavement and subsequent exile of the Israelites are two primary themes in the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament).
Prison is an important place from which to read Scripture. I will be doing that this fall. I am taking a course called Biblical Incarceration. Half of the students are divinity school students, and half are from a local prison. We read the same books, complete the same assignments, and share more things in common than not. We are all women. We are all have hopes and dreams, fears and things we wish we hadn't done. We differ in where we live--some inside of a correctional center, others outside of its walls. We differ in that it might be possible for me to find information on Google about some very difficult times in my classmates' lives. I might be able to read about something of which they are ashamed on in a very public forum. They can't do the same about me. For one thing, they don't have access to computers or the Internet. For another, I, like so many of us, keep the things of which I am ashamed mostly shrouded in silence. My classmates who live in prison often don't have that option.
Last night was our first class together. It was hugely eye-opening, to say the least. I began to think about captivity and release, and freedom and oppression. My classmates in captivity live circumscribed lives. They must wear a certain color of clothing, and be present at particular places at specific times. They live within hierarchies and systems and levels of privilege that are earned in certain ways. They think in terms of the outside world. In contrast, I have an almost unimaginable amount of freedom. Every day, I choose what to wear and eat, where I will go and when, who I will see and what I will do. I have constraints on my life, like everyone else, but I also have a level of autonomy that is hard to fathom in many, many places, including prison.
In the past, when I have read the words of Jesus that are recorded in Luke 4:18-19, I have tended to spiritualize them. I have thought, well, we are all captive and blind and oppressed to some degree, aren't we? We all struggle with forces and situations within ourselves or in the outside world, so Jesus comes to liberate all of us. Yes, he does. But my "captivity" is not the same as literally being captive inside a correctional facility. The kind of release and freedom that I imagine is in a different category than freedom from prison walls. For the first time, I am looking at those words of Jesus in a more literal way. What does it mean to go to prison, to live there in a place and situation that is not of your own choosing? What does it mean to be released from that kind of captivity?
I don't know. I have lots of questions and no easy answers. But I am deeply grateful for the chance to learn alongside all of my classmates, those who live in prison and those who do not. Together we will listen and speak, learn and question, and hopefully, in some small way, be released from our own captivity.
This is the prayer with which we will end each class. May it be a comfort to you today, whether the captivity and freedom you wrestle with and long for is literal or figurative.
Visit this place, O Lord, and drive far from it all snares of the enemy; let your holy angels dwell with us to preserve us in peace; and let your blessing be upon us always; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
Bologna sandwiches and acorns
On Saturday Adam and I attend Elon University's opening convocation for first-year and transfer students, since Adam is serving as assistant chaplain there this year. It was a beautiful ritual, held under the oak trees on a gorgeous summer morning. It recognized an important transition in the lives of 1700 young people and their families. During his remarks, Elon University's president talked about the many opportunities that Elon students could take advantage of--athletics, studying abroad, conducting research with their professors, to name a few. At one point, he said to the new students, "You have arrived at a great buffet. Don't go make yourself a bologna sandwich."
What a great image! I've been thinking about it ever since. Don't get me wrong--I really enjoy a good bologna sandwich on occasion--but there is so much more to try in the buffet of life! I'm trying to identify the bologna sandwiches in my life--the things that I do out of habit, because they are comfortable, maybe without even really thinking about them. The TV show House Hunters is a bologna sandwich for me. The premise of the show is that you follow an individual or family on their search for a new place to live. You learn a bit about who they are, where they are house hunting, and some of the things they are looking for in a house/apartment/condo. You follow along as a realtor shows them three houses, and at the end, you see which place they pick and how they've made it their own a few months later.
It is a really fun show. I like trying to guess which house the people will pick, and I've actually learned a lot of real estate terms from watching. But the thing that makes House Hunters a bologna sandwich for me is that I can easily park myself on the couch and watch a few episodes in a row. Then the evening is gone and it's time to go to bed. I can get stuck in this routine for several nights, and then it stops being fun and starts to become stifling. I'm eating bologna sandwiches every night, when I could be trying something new from the buffet line.
The other night, Adam and I turned off the TV, stopped making our bologna sandwiches and ventured out to sample something new! We rode our bikes to a place called Fullsteam Brewery in Durham. Fullsteam doesn't serve food, but there are always food trucks parked outside. We had dinner at one of the food trucks and enjoyed it at a picnic table outside. (Instead of bologna, we tried something called duck fat tots. What's not to love about anything that is cooked in duck fat?) It was a fun and different experience. We met some nice people and learned a little bit more about our new city...including the fact that you can bring your dog inside Fullsteam Brewery! Filo will definitely have to come with us next time.
What are the bologna sandwiches that you tend to make out of comfort or habit? Do you ever want to try something different? I'm trying to pay closer attention to my own life, to see where it's okay to make a bologna sandwich, and where I need to take a risk and try something new...even if it is tiny. Small changes can be just as empowering as large ones.
At the conclusion of Elon's opening convocation, the new students leave the ceremony surrounded by their new professors on either side of the path on which they are walking. They are each given a wooden acorn, both because "elon" means oak tree in Hebrew, and as a symbol of the promise and possibility of their growth during their years at Elon. At graduation, they will be given an oak tree seedling.
From the habit of bologna to the choices of the buffet line, and from acorn to tiny oak tree...these can be metaphors of our own growth in life, too. What do they represent to you? How are you making new choices and trying different things, in small or large ways? I hope that you are mostly surprised and delighted when you take the risk to make different choices, because you never know--you might like bologna, but really love something at the buffet that you haven't tried yet!
What a great image! I've been thinking about it ever since. Don't get me wrong--I really enjoy a good bologna sandwich on occasion--but there is so much more to try in the buffet of life! I'm trying to identify the bologna sandwiches in my life--the things that I do out of habit, because they are comfortable, maybe without even really thinking about them. The TV show House Hunters is a bologna sandwich for me. The premise of the show is that you follow an individual or family on their search for a new place to live. You learn a bit about who they are, where they are house hunting, and some of the things they are looking for in a house/apartment/condo. You follow along as a realtor shows them three houses, and at the end, you see which place they pick and how they've made it their own a few months later.
It is a really fun show. I like trying to guess which house the people will pick, and I've actually learned a lot of real estate terms from watching. But the thing that makes House Hunters a bologna sandwich for me is that I can easily park myself on the couch and watch a few episodes in a row. Then the evening is gone and it's time to go to bed. I can get stuck in this routine for several nights, and then it stops being fun and starts to become stifling. I'm eating bologna sandwiches every night, when I could be trying something new from the buffet line.
The other night, Adam and I turned off the TV, stopped making our bologna sandwiches and ventured out to sample something new! We rode our bikes to a place called Fullsteam Brewery in Durham. Fullsteam doesn't serve food, but there are always food trucks parked outside. We had dinner at one of the food trucks and enjoyed it at a picnic table outside. (Instead of bologna, we tried something called duck fat tots. What's not to love about anything that is cooked in duck fat?) It was a fun and different experience. We met some nice people and learned a little bit more about our new city...including the fact that you can bring your dog inside Fullsteam Brewery! Filo will definitely have to come with us next time.
What are the bologna sandwiches that you tend to make out of comfort or habit? Do you ever want to try something different? I'm trying to pay closer attention to my own life, to see where it's okay to make a bologna sandwich, and where I need to take a risk and try something new...even if it is tiny. Small changes can be just as empowering as large ones.
At the conclusion of Elon's opening convocation, the new students leave the ceremony surrounded by their new professors on either side of the path on which they are walking. They are each given a wooden acorn, both because "elon" means oak tree in Hebrew, and as a symbol of the promise and possibility of their growth during their years at Elon. At graduation, they will be given an oak tree seedling.
From the habit of bologna to the choices of the buffet line, and from acorn to tiny oak tree...these can be metaphors of our own growth in life, too. What do they represent to you? How are you making new choices and trying different things, in small or large ways? I hope that you are mostly surprised and delighted when you take the risk to make different choices, because you never know--you might like bologna, but really love something at the buffet that you haven't tried yet!
Friday, August 23, 2013
You do amazing things
This week is orientation week for new students at Duke. Yesterday I sat in the Refectory (the cafeteria of the Divinity School) and watched a group of freshman wait in line for lunch. Their faces were a mix of so many emotions: from the elation of "I can't believe that I am really going to school at Duke!" to "I know all this stuff already," to "I am so nervous and I hope that no one can tell."
Walking around campus, there is a sense of freshness, of the beginning of something that has not been before. During opening convocation in Duke Chapel, Duke's president spoke of graduates who went on to pioneer life-saving medical procedures, make advances in law and business, and create new knowledge. We look at what they have accomplished and we are astounded, but as the president reminded us, none of those people knew that they would do such amazing things when they sat in the chapel on their first day of orientation.
This is so good to remember. I think that perhaps none of us really knows what we are capable of doing, or of the impact that we might have on another person's life. I don't mean that in an unrealistic way. Most of us will never become world famous, or fantastically wealthy, or be remembered in the history classes of the future.
But I truly believe that every single one of us has the chance to make an impact in the world for good. My mom is a prime example of this. She is humble and would not lift herself up as an example of someone who changes the world...but she does. (And since I am the one writing this, I will lift her up!) Yesterday, one of my mom's coworkers told her that she remembers the day they met. Over a decade ago, they met by the copy machine at work. Mom's coworker was having a difficult time, and mentioned it in passing. Instead of going on with her day, as many people would do, Mom stopped, listened, validated this woman's feelings, and shared some stories that this woman remembers over ten years later as being compassionate and helpful. My mom is not famous in the conventional sense, but she is changing the world by the choices that she makes and the generosity of spirit that she lives. By the way that she lives her life, my mom accomplishes astounding things every day.
I think about that when I see the wide-eyed freshman going through orientation, no doubt thinking about astounding things that they hope to do someday. I hope that some of them are famous and amazing in the conventional sense--that one of them finds a cure for cancer, or writes the next great American novel, or finds a way to disseminate technology that helps us to take better care of the environment. But even more than that, I hope that those freshman choose to be extraordinary in the way that my mom is, whether or not they are ever famous in the world's eyes.
A new school year openly marks the beginning of something that has not yet been. Whether or not you or someone you love is starting a new school year, this is the beginning of something new for you, too. This day has never been before, and you don't yet know what you are capable of as you live it out. So many things are possible for you. Even if you will never be a wide-eyed freshman again, even if the world will never know your name, this earth is not the same as it was before you arrived.
You make a difference in this world by your presence. The way that you treat people, the time you spend with them, the stories that you share matter. They probably matter more than you will ever know.
So go out into the world and know that you matter. You don't know yet how something that you say or do might make a difference to someone else. Trust that not a single day of your life is wasted. In ways that you might never know, you do amazing things that change the world.
Walking around campus, there is a sense of freshness, of the beginning of something that has not been before. During opening convocation in Duke Chapel, Duke's president spoke of graduates who went on to pioneer life-saving medical procedures, make advances in law and business, and create new knowledge. We look at what they have accomplished and we are astounded, but as the president reminded us, none of those people knew that they would do such amazing things when they sat in the chapel on their first day of orientation.
This is so good to remember. I think that perhaps none of us really knows what we are capable of doing, or of the impact that we might have on another person's life. I don't mean that in an unrealistic way. Most of us will never become world famous, or fantastically wealthy, or be remembered in the history classes of the future.
But I truly believe that every single one of us has the chance to make an impact in the world for good. My mom is a prime example of this. She is humble and would not lift herself up as an example of someone who changes the world...but she does. (And since I am the one writing this, I will lift her up!) Yesterday, one of my mom's coworkers told her that she remembers the day they met. Over a decade ago, they met by the copy machine at work. Mom's coworker was having a difficult time, and mentioned it in passing. Instead of going on with her day, as many people would do, Mom stopped, listened, validated this woman's feelings, and shared some stories that this woman remembers over ten years later as being compassionate and helpful. My mom is not famous in the conventional sense, but she is changing the world by the choices that she makes and the generosity of spirit that she lives. By the way that she lives her life, my mom accomplishes astounding things every day.
I think about that when I see the wide-eyed freshman going through orientation, no doubt thinking about astounding things that they hope to do someday. I hope that some of them are famous and amazing in the conventional sense--that one of them finds a cure for cancer, or writes the next great American novel, or finds a way to disseminate technology that helps us to take better care of the environment. But even more than that, I hope that those freshman choose to be extraordinary in the way that my mom is, whether or not they are ever famous in the world's eyes.
A new school year openly marks the beginning of something that has not yet been. Whether or not you or someone you love is starting a new school year, this is the beginning of something new for you, too. This day has never been before, and you don't yet know what you are capable of as you live it out. So many things are possible for you. Even if you will never be a wide-eyed freshman again, even if the world will never know your name, this earth is not the same as it was before you arrived.
You make a difference in this world by your presence. The way that you treat people, the time you spend with them, the stories that you share matter. They probably matter more than you will ever know.
So go out into the world and know that you matter. You don't know yet how something that you say or do might make a difference to someone else. Trust that not a single day of your life is wasted. In ways that you might never know, you do amazing things that change the world.
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