Thriving

Two days into my 4th decade (holy buckets!) and so far so good. We celebrated with a bang (really poor pun intended) by going out to the trap shooting range. This was my first time out, and it was so obvious. The kick back nearly knocked me over the first time, there are pictures of me with my front foot off the ground following the shot, and my shoulder is bruised from the butt of the shotgun. That, and I missed every clay the first round. It took Kelly telling us--after hitting about 5 out of her first 6--that you're just supposed to line up the sights with the clay. Oh, of course! Why didn't we think of that! After that my hit rate got much higher and my foot started staying on the ground. Overall I'd call it a success.

The family that shoots together...

Not the best form, but I got better as I went along

Before that we had thoroughly embarrassed ourselves on the tennis courts, and I have yet another thing to work on the next 30 years of my life.

And after that we had a Zapapas-style dinner and board games. The "Zapapas" version involves interruptions during grace, lots of cheese and sour cream, craft beer being spit out laughing (cough, Michelle, cough), multiple dessert options, and cheating at Mexican train (cough, Kelly, cough).

Birthday cupcakes!

Regardless of my age, I know that my life has been very blessed, and I'm grateful for the occasion to reflect on that. I can't even tell you how I've seen God's hand in my life over the years, and I know that He has great plans for the future, so I'm looking forward to it. And looking forward to the real celebration--IRELAND! More posts to follow when I get back.

Animal behavior

Most of the time I can't sit at my computer for longer than five or ten minutes without being interrupted by the dog wanting in. Or out. Or back in. Or to be paid attention to. Or let back out. Like I don't already have enough things distracting me. He doesn't seem to understand my well-intentioned rants about how he just went out (or in) and how I'm not at his beck and call (I am). He also doesn't seem to respond well to yelling. He thinks "No!" means "Run up here and whine closer to my face so that I will be more motivated to let you out."

It's not his fault. From what I can tell from all the latest biology (and my one animal behavior class in college), animals are just that. Animals. They have no higher order thinking. They are motivated by food, water, safety, and instinct. If that instinct tells them they must bark incessantly at the truck that has been parked outside the neighbor's house all week long, they must. do. it. If there is a treat in my hand, you can forget whatever is coming out of my mouth, even if it's a command Kolbe has known for years (he will occasionally do a perfunctory "sit" or "shake" if he thinks it will get him the treat faster, but it's half-hearted at best and he quickly returns to begging position).

My parents' dog is even worse. She has no concept of restraint. Just because you just kicked her skidding across the entryway hardwood floor does not mean that she shouldn't jump up on you a sixteenth time. Because. she. must. If you even think about interrupting her 56 seconds of inhaling her food...well, I actually don't think we've tried that yet, but I bet it wouldn't be successful.

All this to say that I'm glad we're not like animals. At least, not the non-verbal, soul-less kind (don't tell my mom dogs don't have souls). We have intellect and will. We can assess a situation and choose how to act. I am (usually) capable of forgoing the nap if I know I need to do laundry, or the third cookie if I am already ransacking the house for Tums. You can't reason with a dog. You can train him. You can try different styles of motivating. But if you're not appealing to something quite at the base of his hierarchy of needs, forget it. Sometimes if you're not appealing to one of my little sister's higher needs, you can forget it also--she will always go for the instant gratification.

Back to the point...It's why I get so furious when people whip out the argument of "they'll just do it anyways" in response to preaching abstinence or modest dress or responsible drinking or any such thing. Okay, yes, teenagers do not have fully developed frontal lobes and cannot always fully comprehend the consequences of impulsive action. That does not mean we have to abandon all boundaries of acceptable behavior. If you set expectations and give them a reason to tame their animal passions and desires, they are capable of it. Form the intellect and the will. Appeal to something greater, like virtue, instead of settling for the lowest common denominator. It's why fasting is so important (and why it's so hard). We are denying the body something it wants (be it food, or something else, like music, warmth, sleep, etc) because the mind is capable of controlling it. If it can work with the Dove promise sitting on the counter, maybe it can work with even greater temptation. But only if we work at it.

It's my hope that as Lent winds down, I can take the fasting spirit and move forward, taming the shouts of my body--"I'm hungry! I'm tired! I'm cold! I'm bored! I'm uncomfortable!"--in order to do what I know I am capable of. Also, I'm going to try not to yell at the dog so much. Maybe.

Dandelions

We've been blessed to have Fr. Scott Traynor doing our parish Lenten mission the last few weeks (actually, it's not just our parish; we just get to host), and amazingly, I haven't had to work for most of it. This last week, he introduced us to "Dandelion Theology", which is not a new concept, but a unique way of looking at things. Hopefully they'll post the April 2nd talk here soon, so you can get a better understanding, but here's the basics:

Imagine a little boy wanting to show his love to his mother. He cannot afford an expensive bouquet, so he gathers up a handful of dandelions from the yard and proudly presents them as if they were roses. Of course, his mother, knowing that they are not just weeds, but a token of his love and himself, which he is giving to her, effuses over them--"Thank you. They're beautiful. I love you too."

It's easy to imagine us as the boy, offering God the weeds of our work and praise, wishing we could give him something more. But in this analogy, we are the mom; God is the boy. If he were to offer the fullness of His love, we would be so overwhelmed and unable to take it all in. Instead, He offers us small tokens of Himself--in flowers, phone calls, sunsets, hugs, bread and wine--so that we might say "Thank you. They're beautiful. I love you too."

In the last few days, I've taken to recognizing the dandelions in my life and naming them as such, thanking God for those tokens: a toddler's warm hug after bath time, beautiful snow decorating the tree branches, a way out of an awkward situation, laughing out loud, an enthusiastic greeting from a coworker. Lent is a perfect time (although there's not a bad time) to stop and smell the dandelions. They are always there, but I think too often we're so busy that they are brushed aside as easily as weeds, left to wilt instead of bear fruit.

To every thing...

Just got home from my first visit back to KC since July. I fell easily back into conversation and finding my way around town, but I was also very aware of being a visitor. The three years that I had in Kansas City hold so much. Mercy is where I came into my own, away from family and familiarity, learning to take care of kids, stretching my boundaries, and sharing myself. I miss that. I miss being a part of their lives. And yet, I know that it's not the same as it was 9 months ago. Faces have changed, jobs have changes, kids have ticked off their developmental milestones. And that's okay. Every season of life comes to an end. There is growth awaiting me here and now too. It didn't exactly feel "like old times" and that's okay. It felt like this time, right now, visiting friends and catching up. I'm grateful for all of them still being a part of my life, and excited for the next season. Now if only I could get better at using the phone...

Angels watching over me

"God only knows the times my life was threatened just today...near misses all around me--accidents unknown--though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home."

Missed the 104-car pile-up by about 10 minutes on Saturday, driving just ahead of it. Feeling very fortunate and remembering that for everything that goes on in my life, I have no idea (and may never know) all that things that don't. Harmful intentions swayed by a kind word or a change of heart, a little voice saying "now's a good time to swing in to church and say a quick prayer", even sleeping through my alarm and running late--all of it ends up being part of my reality, and part of God's plan for me, if I'm open to it.

Listen to the voices. Look for the good in things. Accept what comes. And maybe even thank your Guardian Angel the next time you hit that red light.

Zombie attacks on a Tuesday afternoon

Yesterday I had the distinct privilege of teaching second-year medical students the pediatric physical exam. In a set-up that is as crazy as it sounds, there were 20-some exam rooms each staffed with a pediatric practitioner (+/- a 4th year medical student) and a child ranging in age from 6 months to 10 years (+/- their guardian). Teams of 5 medical students would rotate through the exam rooms, each seeing an infant/toddler and a school-aged child, practicing the physical exam and learning tips and tricks for that ever-elusive view of the tympanic membrane. We had four teams rotate through over the course of about 3 hours, meaning that each child was subjected to 20 exams--hey, we've all gotta learn somehow. God bless the parents who agreed to this!

I had an enthusiastic 10-year-old who was in his 4th year of this mad house. He spent more time standing on the exam table or jumping off of it than he did actually sitting down, but somehow we managed to get through the afternoon. The highlight for him was blowing snot at the students when they looked up his nose with the otoscope; so much so that in the final session, he managed to blow so hard that he gave himself a bloody nose, which promptly put an end to the nose exam. He also enjoyed pelting the students with spit balls and telling "Yo' mama" jokes. He lamented at the end, "Now I have to wait a whole year to do that again!"

Many of the students had never examined a child before. I had to remind myself of this as they all stared at me blankly when I said, "Go ahead." One student said, "How do I do the throat exam?" (Really?) I said, "I don't know, how do we do the throat exam?" and my "patient" grabbed the tongue depressor, mashed his tongue down and gave a big "Ahhhhhh". I hope the student doesn't expect all kids to be that cooperative.

The grandfather of my patient was actually a retired pediatrician who had more experience than I will probably ever gain, and he seemed to think I had done a decent job (bloody nose notwithstanding), so maybe the students won't be so afraid to examine kids in the future. It makes me grateful for the awesome teachers that I had during my training and even now, who are willing to impart a small piece of their knowledge. It also makes me grateful that my job involves ducking spit balls and cleaning up bloody noses (or as the patient preferred to call it, "a zombie attack") instead of pushing papers and sitting in meetings. Is your job this fun?

Ever upward

Last night's Theology on Tap featured Olympian Rebecca Dussault talking about the similarities between training to be a world-class athlete and training our hearts, minds, bodies, and souls for "athletics" of a different kind. As we marvel at the Olympians right now in Sochi and the sacrifice, dedication, heartache, and triumph, it's amazing how many of these lessons apply to our daily lives.

First of all, there are many different types of athletes. I liked this distinction. As an athlete, I appreciate the perseverance, sacrifice, and dedication required of reaching physical goals. But I know not all people relate to that, and the more out of shape I become, the harder it is to identify as an athlete. Rebecca reminded us that you can be a spiritual athlete, mental athlete, emotional athlete. Merriam-Webster defines an athlete as "a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina". Take just the underlined part. An athlete is someone who is trained or skilled in anything requiring strength, agility, or stamina. Taken that way, almost anything can become an athletic pursuit. Not only can, but must. Prayer, fasting, altruism, selflessness, learning, mastering a new skill, ingraining a habit, anything requiring discipline. As someone who hates to lose (and knowing that God has instilled that in me), I can turn any pursuit into a "sport".

That being said, we can apply the principles of athletic success to these pursuits. The awareness of what gifts and resources we have (as Rebecca said, she wasn't built to be a gymnast or a swimmer), the enlisting of support from those around us ("coaches", "teammates", "trainers"), the endurance of hardship for a higher goal, not taking the easy road, picking yourself up after defeat, humility in success, inviting God along for the journey.

I will never stand on an Olympic podium (unless Sudoku becomes an Olympic sport), but I can be victorious over the obstacles in my pursuit of a higher goal--heaven. I can defeat laziness, selfishness, gluttony, comfort, shyness, fear, doubt. With my Heavenly Father and the Communion of Saints (both in heaven and on earth) on my side, I figure I'm a favorite to win.