Fantasy Happiness

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Tonight I’m breaking stride, writing the blog from a miniature table in a tiny Starbucks, warmed by a tall cup of herbal tea. Floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows look out on a Christmas scene: well-decorated store windows, traffic lights “blinking a bright red and green” and a brick sidewalk on which a steady parade of shoppers pass.

Just outside the windows is a long line of trees laden with tiny white lights, making the street look every bit like a page from a fairy tale. Christmas carols are playing on the Starbucks speakers, and as if on cue, snow has begun to fall.

The counter top nearby is lined with cheery red bags of “Christmas Blend” coffee, and the menu posters overhead are coordinated with the same red, along with pictures of alluring cups of whipped-creamed-topped hot drinks. This scene couldn’t be more perfect. It’s a combination of “It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” and “Let it snow.”

All of us envision a similar perfection when we look toward the holidays. But even though I’ve not exaggerated my description of the scene, I’ve left out some of the details.

A mother and two elementary school boys just left the Starbucks with three cups of hot chocolate, but before they did, the mom had to grab each of them, point out my computer and yell a reminder that liquids and laptops don’t mix.

At the next table a husband and wife argued about where they’d eat dinner, one wanting hot dogs, the other a gourmet meal. When six middle school girls came in, the catty gossip flying between them nearly colored the air blue, and because of their dilly-dallying, the woman behind them eventually stormed off saying, “I don’t have all day to get one cup of coffee!”

A boyfriend and girlfriend became stressed when he decided nothing on the Starbucks menu interested him. Outside  people hoped to stay warm by hunching forward as they walked through the bitter cold.

Scenarios of holiday strain dotted the Christmas-y atmosphere, destroying the fairy tale ambiance and reminding me life isn’t, nor ever will be, what it seems.

Lately I’ve noticed couples seated together in restaurant windows (including Starbucks), and feel a sense of self-pity. I’m not part of a couple anymore, and as I look through the windows, especially now with Christmas lights and music adding to the attraction, I long to be part of that picture. But I ought to remind myself things aren’t always as they seem. What looks idyllic may not be, and being jealous of a fairy tale picture is silly.

This principle holds true in the spiritual realm, too. The promises of this life are just like a seemingly beautiful scene. “Through the window” they look satisfying and delectable, and we project ourselves into those pictures. But if we go there, we learn it’s often just “smoke and mirrors.”

Most things aren’t as they seem, and spending time wishing or hoping when in truth we might not want them anyway, is foolishness indeed.

“You need to become a fool to be truly wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness to God.” (1 Corinthians 3:18-19)

Smiling through a Funeral

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Tears and crying are part and parcel of most wakes and funerals. That’s logical. But I’m learning that the funerals of people who have lived their lives well include hearty laughter and many smiles, too.

Today John Welch had such a funeral. Although his grandchildren, most in their twenties, had difficulty talking about their grandpa without crying, they also found themselves joking through their tears. Grandpa’s death caused sadness only because he was such a powerful presence in their lives, which was a good reason to smile.

The pastor turned to these “kids”, nearly twenty of them, and said, “I hope you realize how fortunate you all are, to have had a grandfather like yours, a man who prayed for you every day and told you he loved you every time he talked with you.” When the magnitude of blessing is that great, a funeral brings joy to its mourners along with their tears.

Those of us who attend such a funeral as secondary mourners, i. e. not part of the deceased’s family, find ourselves taking our cue from the primary mourners. We gain courage from their smiles and enjoy conversation with them and other dear friends we’ve not seen in years. Funerals are important events, and caring people gain courage from grieving together.

Something else positive happens at the funeral of a person who finished strong. We in the audience leave the event with a fresh resolve to live better ourselves, because the one being celebrated did so well. John Welch’s relatives described this man as one who prayed volumes, found good in everyone and steadily grew in his faith. After hearing this, I want to do the same.

Several speakers mentioned John’s attitude of humble servanthood and his gift of helps saying, “No job was beneath him.” As I listened, I asked myself if that was true of me. Was I willing to step into any set of circumstances where there was need? All I could see was massive room for improvement.

Joy and sorrow are closely linked. The old expression, “I might as well laugh or I’ll cry,” has a world of truth in it. Although John Welch had reasons to cry during his life such as having to bury both of his beloved wives, he practiced his hearty laugh on a daily basis and encouraged others to focus on the good in their lives.

He consistently testified that the only reliable source of true joy was his relationship with Christ. And because of this, he could laugh with gusto at his own troubles, and we could smile throughout his funeral.

“Even in laughter the heart may ache.” (Proverbs 14:13a)

A Throwaway Culture

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The 20th century was characterized as one of over-consumption, particularly in the United States.

For instance, I remember when disposable diapers came into being. Although Pampers were on the market in the early 1960’s, Nate and I didn’t try them until 1977, when we had three little ones. We used disposables as a luxury when taking our babies to the church nursery or friends’ homes. Cloth diapers had to be rinsed in the toilet, then packed in plastic and taken home for washing.

These days disposable diapers are big business, and very few parents use cloth. On the plus-side, they’re sterile enough for the most sensitive bottom, and of course they eliminate the need to stand over a toilet bowl. On the down side, disposables have become difficult to dispose of, filling landfills and producing strange gasses as they decompose.

But diapers aren’t the only thing we throw away these days. Hospitals are also famous for their volume of waste. For example, delivery room drapes used to be made of cotton, washed and returned to the maternity floor in neat stacks looking much like any homemaker’s laundry. In the 1980’s disposable drapes arrived, and waste volume grew. The list of hospital disposables is lengthy, but they aren’t the only culprits.

Statistics prove we throw away nearly half of the edibles available to us, too, and the packaging they come in keeps our garbage trucks rolling. Recycling has helped as we’ve slowly learned how to do it, although in Michigan where we live, the programs are still “haul-your-own.”

What does God think of waste and recycling? He might say, “I gave you a beautiful world to enjoy, chuck full of riches. Take care of it with excellence.”

In the Garden of Eden, he gave Adam and Eve dominion over everything he’d created, which didn’t mean they could neglect or ruin it but should care for it with wisdom. I wonder if Adam and Eve had to guard how they viewed the earth and its animals. Being as involved as they were, naming them, tending the gardens, living off the fruit of the land, did they ever ascribe higher status to the creation than God had intended? All of it must have been a wonder to them.

Today it’s not difficult to get off track. In our desire to conserve natural resources, we’re liable to elevate the elements to idol status. God created everything, but God is not in everything. His influence can be seen in all parts of the natural world, but nature is not to be worshipped. Once in a while the line between appreciation and reverence becomes blurred.

A good question is, “How much thought and time do I spend on caring for the earth, compared to thought and time spent with the Lord?”

I’ve decided not to worry about the mountain of diapers in our trash can. We’re just working to care for five little bottoms, and all of them are part of God’s creation.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it. The world and all its people belong to him.” (Psalm 24:1)