Perfect Attendance Lessons

It’s been awhile since I’ve put up a post here at About POPS. My promise to myself when I started this blog was that no more than a week would pass without a post. I have no excuses but this:

Do you ever have those moments when your commitment, or at least your good intentions break down, and you think, “What the heck, I’ve blown it now, so what does it matter.” You know like those times when you’re faithfully following your disciplined eating lifestyle, then you get invited to the all-you-can-eat-fried-catfish-with-hushpuppy place. “I’ll just have a salad,” you say to yourself on the way there. Then after your second plate of fried amazingness, you’ve passed the point of what-does-it-matter-now. So you stop at Dairy Princess on the way home for a chocolate dipped cone with nuts.

There’s a larger lesson for me here. I’m not trying to moralize all of this, hinting that there may be a lesson for you too. Just saying that for me…

When I was a kid, we went to Sunday School. Every Sunday. I don’t remember how old I was, but I remember it like it was yesterday: getting my copper-colored Three-Month Perfect Attendace pin. I was now a decorated little Sunday School soldier, with my eye on that silver Six-Month pin, learning not to hide my little light under a bushel (hold cupped hand over the raised index finger of the other hand, then rapidly move it).

Another six months pass. During a ceremony in the Sunday morning worship service I was awarded with my "gold" One-Year pin. The next level for us little Sunbeams was more lofty: the Two-Year Wreath that would encircle our One-Year pen.

Sometime during that second year I contracted measels or mumps or malaria, I don’t remember which. My perfect-attendance track ended. When it comes to pursuit of perfect attendance pins in the Baptist Church there may be “Amazing Grace” but there are no “excused absences.”

I probably had thoughts like, “What difference does it make now if I go to Sunday School or not?” That square on the Perfect Attendance Chart with no gold star haunted me and there was nothing I could do about it. But there were other; let’s call them motivations, to continue attending.

I’m reminded of a passage from a really good old movie called, “Kitty Foyle.” It goes like this:

Tom Foyle: From now on, you’re going to Sunday School every Sunday. Rain or shine, you’re going.
Kitty Foyle: But why, Pop?
Tom Foyle: Well, it’ll be giving you a little Christian upbringing. A sense of values.
Kitty Foyle: Oh. And then you mean I won’t ever sin or anything.
Tom Foyle: Well, it might not keep you from sinning, but by Judas Priest, it’ll keep you from getting any fun out of it.

So while there will be a few blank weeks on my Perfect Blog Post Writing Chart, know this:

I’m back baby.

BTW: the image of the little Sunday School family is from a poster project done by our oldest son, Corey. You can see the project HERE. This particular poster is called: Abby | Artifact 78 of 366 | June 10, 2011

In a book about the project, Corey writes: “I work in the church nursery from time to time and found this young family among the toys. Church toys have a pretty cushy job since they only work one day a week.”

Let's Be Honest

Several weeks ago in a post called “Finding The Knot”, I wrote about the value of having a group we are connected to; like what C.S. Lewis called “a little knot of friends who turn their backs to the World,” referring to his Knot, The Inklings. I continued to explore the idea: What are these groups like? Do I have a Knot of my own? Would anyone want me in their Knot? Who would I want in mine?

The Inklings

I promised in another post that I would identify some people I would love to have in the Knot, that I would interview them, and then report back. This has proven to be a real challenge. Not so much the identifying part, but the interviewing part and then reducing that down to a reasonable length for a post. So, I’ve cogitated, formulated and procrastinated, but have not yet articulated. Until now.

Doug Manning

If I have a Knot, in the strictest sense of the definition, it would be My Amazing Missus and our friend Doug Manning. We meet fairly regularly, go out to eat, many times trying out new places. Then we usually go back to Doug’s place and talk. There is never a spoken agenda, but discussion is always lively, meaningful (to us) and occasionally spirited. We talk about family, current events, music, religion, faith, art, and Tulsa. You see the journey for the three of us began in Tulsa. We were newlyweds, and Doug became our mentor and sage and pastor.

[NOTE: You need to know that I am using the term “pastor” here in a very traditional sense of the latin word which means “to shepherd”, as in Jeremiah 3:15, “Then I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will lead you with knowledge and understanding.” I am not using it in the more modern sense of an authoritarian, arrogant, fundamentalist, czar-like potentate-wanna-be.]

I’ve been very fortunate to have mentor/sage/pastor type people in my life: Doug, a man named Chalon Meadows, and my Dad. My Dad taught me by example to value spiritual disciplines, to be a lifetime learner, to pay close attention. What I didn’t learn from my Dad was just how mean and ugly “good christians” could be. You see as a pastor, my Dad lead humbly and joyfully. He didn’t sit around our house talking about how conniving and destructive powerbrokers in the church could be. So I learned it first hand.

I came out of the experience bitter and disillusioned and done with church. Weirdly enough, I had a conversation with a guy who was old enough to be my parent, in fact, he and my Mom had been high school classmates. His name was Floyd Craig. In this conversation I told Floyd about my newly-formed disdain for the church (at least my perception of it). He gave a knowing and understanding laugh, and said, “I have someone you need to meet.” That person was Doug Manning.

Not only did Doug help me find my way, but an enduring relationship began—not just for me, but for Arlene and I as a newlywed couple. As for Chalon Meadows, his grace and loving leadership along with a wonderful crustiness, allowed me a way back in to church. Chalon is gone now, but I count it one of the grandest blessings of my life to still have my Dad and Doug. All three of us are veterans of the “ministry” (they, much more decorated than I), and we are all navigating anew the transformation of “church”.

I hope that gives you a sense of why the Knot is so tight for Arlene, Doug and me. The nature of our little Knot gets me to the first key ingredient in Knotdom: it is a place of honesty and the freedom to be vulnerable.

[NOTE: When I speak of vulnerability here, I have in mind the amazing work of Brene Brown. “Thank you” to two more of my knot-mates, my muse, Kathleen, and our friend Trudy for introducing me to Ms. Brown. If you haven’t seen her Ted Talk, watch it here: BRENE BROWN ON VULNERABILITY  It’s 20 minutes long. Only click to watch if you can watch it in its entirety.]

In the next post, I will share the results of my interview with Doug and My Amazing-Missus.

P.S.: I hope I haven't sound too old, cranky and bitter in this post. While I am old and often cranky,  I'm really not bitter. So don't feel like you necessarily have to add me to your pray list; yet.

Celebrate!

WE NEED TO CELEBRATE MORE. Sometimes you just have to find a cause, and decide it's a worthy one.

So Saturday, March 14 at 9:26:53 AM, and PM for that matter, have some pie and celebrate Pi Day. You know Pi: 3.141592653, right?

What pie could be eaten at 9:26 AM? One of our favorite brunch places is Kitchen No. 324 in Downtown Oklahoma City. Their Chicken Pot Pie is amazing. You will know it buy the fried chicken leg stuck right in the middle.

When it comes to traditional pie, my personal favorites are pecan and apple. My favorite pizza pie is Uno's in Chicago.

But to celebrate Pi Day this year, I plan on the ultimate pie: The Frito Chili Pie. Yum Yum.

Help I've Fallen Back And I Can't Get Up

I'M NOT SURE I HEAR AS WELL AS I ONCE DID, or if it’s just that I don’t pay attention. Actually you can look at teacher’s comments on my earliest report cards and know that “not paying attention” is not new for me.

Someone asked the other day, “Are you a perfectionist?” 

“Why, yes, yes I am,” I replied, thinking they had said “percussionist”.

I am a percussionist, but not a perfectionist. I’m not sure us humans have seen perfection, at least with our own eyes. But that’s for another day; another post.

Percussionists value rhythm. The older I get, the more I appreciate it, and need it. I’m speaking here about the rhythm of life. While I love jazz and it’s characteristic syncopation, I find life as a senior adult to be more peaceful when the rhythms are constant. (For example, seniors all celebrate “regularity”.)

Tonight, before I turn in around 9:30p, I will be forced by some kind of law, to throw my routine into chaos. I, and you, will have to “Spring Forward” turning our clocks ahead one hour. Just the other day, I felt like I had finally adjusted to last Autumn’s “Fall Back”.

I don’t know if “fracking” is at the bottom of Oklahoma’s current plague of earthquakes, but I do know that these full-hour adjustments in time itself shift the tectonic plates of my life’s rhythms.

But it’s not all bad. Springing forward is like the first promise of Spring time. On this Saturday morning, the sun is shining bright, but snow still sits in shady corners. In the poetry of Paul Simon:

Look around
Leaves are brown
There’s a patch of snow on the ground

Here are the complete lyrics of the song “Hazy Shade Of Winter” by Simon & Garfunkel. I recommend going to iTunes to buy the song. For a buck-29 you’ll have a soundtrack for this seasonal transition, making rhythm out of chaos. Oh, and it’s also a thought-provoking look at life’s seasonal rhythms.

Time, time, time, see what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities
I was so hard to please

But look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Hear the salvation army band
Down by the riverside, it’s bound to be a better ride
Than what you’ve got planned, carry your cup in your hand

And look around
Leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Oh hang on to your hopes, my friend
That’s an easy thing to say but if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again

Look around
The grass is high, the fields are ripe
It’s the springtime of my life

Oh seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won’t you stop and remember me at any convenient time?

Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme, drinking my vodka and lime

I look around
Leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Look around
Leaves are brown
There’s a patch of snow on the ground

If you’re intereste in a few more thoughts on life’s rhythms, I’ve written a couple of other posts on the subject. You can find them by clicking these links.

About Time
Aequus Nox