3 things plus one more: Limits

So much energy.

Below, we start limited meetings at BIC again. Everyone is glad to hang out. Carefully.

We haul things there and back. My handbag shreds, the leather letting go of its support in strips. It is fine when I pull it out of the closet. It is rubbish by the time we get home. I give it away.

Walking past this 4-storey new construction is not fun. The wall towers over the narrow lane where everyone walks, rides, and drives in and out of the neighborhood.

When it's patched and plastered over, it will look sturdy and unshakeable. Those who have watched it go up with small bricks and rough mortar - between big holes and atop uneven footings - know better. I'll be walking on the far side of the street, that's for sure.

If you keep your eyes open, you'll see strange and wonderful things, like this caterpillar, partly encased in glo-green mesh. It better toddle off the road before it gets run over.

This week I snag a few light aluminum cake pans and clip them to a grid board. I'm tired of dragging supplies out and back during projects. This temporary holding ground is near my desk.

Someone asks for copies of a Psalm study that another friend is using with her group. I wrote it 20 years ago - but some things don't need to be reinvented. You can revise and replicate.

Another odd resource is Penaten baby cream. It's the best deodorant you can imagine, killing smells upon application (zinc ointment magic.) We disburse it to our helpers when their small packs run out.

One lives with her grandkids and great grandkids. "Great for baby bottoms!" she enthuses. Yes. That's its original design.

This week I find 5"x7" dot-grid notebooks online for $2.50. Goodbye Moleskin's $20 version.

So much to do.

IbuS gathers ferns and dill from the garden and replaces spent leaves and old water in the vases. Small things make me happy. But I don't want to do everything myself anymore.

So little time. We huff and puff.

And still, outside in the garden, the plants keep growing, the sun and moon mark the seasons, and the wind and rain keep blowing to make things stronger. Day after day.

Our 20s and 30s are decades of limitless possibilities. You really can do this or that. Even without money or between jobs, the future stands open before you. "Use your strength to serve God well," Scripture advises.

If you're healthy, your 40s and 50s are seasons of peak energy and drive. You have enough respect to have a voice in making decisions. You have enough experience to consider alternatives. "Pass along what you know and do good work."

And near the end of your 50s, you start to think, "Hey, no. I don't have to do that; it's not a great fit." 

When you scrape away what no longer works - like this faded poster glued to a big wooden frame ... you suddenly see new possibilities.

Things may seem chaotic and be a total mess in the middle of shedding the past.

Even though it's early days, the canvas starts to take shape. With gesso on fiberboard, I like it already. If there was a bit more contrast, I'd leave it alone. Perhaps the shadows can be the outline for shapes of paint.

Well, whatever your age, here are three observations plus a bonus - and some questions for you.

1. Limit "I have to"

Actually, after a while ... no, you don't have to. In early adulthood, you absolutely must try new things, listen to your boss (or get fired), and do things the way they're prescribed. You're gaining experience and skills. If you set out randomly without learning how things are done, you'll waste a lot of effort. You can learn by watching, doing, and exploring. You do have to until you have a basic skill set.

After that, not so much. You find shortcuts, start pushing back at others' expectations, and begin to design a life that suits your relationships, circumstances, and gifting. Even if you feel stuck in a job, you can find other ways of fulfilling the need to be significant by serving - whether that's fixing cars, carving wood, knitting, helping a neighbor, writing a book, or ... 

There are 1000 ways to keep growing outside of what you have to do.

In this big house, with many people coming and going, we hired a helper. She cleans and sometimes cooks, too. It's a great relief in the current season of work.

It's not just good for me though. It provides work for someone who needs income. That frees me to set the rhythm of life beyond my former chores: "Oh oh, if I don't wash and iron, the bugs that landed on our PJs will roam our closet." Or, "If I don't clean behind the stove and fridge today, the rats and roaches will probably take over." Even, "If I don't dust the fans we're going to have dirt dropping on our heads." (I was raised on German rules of housekeeping.) She cleans house while I lead other things. 

I find a lamp in an unused room and dust off the spiderwebs. It casts a warm glow over my reading seat. She'll dust it next week.

2. Limit "I want to"

Dad turned 40 and starting flying small planes, scuba diving, and traveling the world. As a 16-yr-old, that looked like the right sort of life for me. I told myself, "Wait until I'm 40, then ..." I had all kinds of things I wanted to do.

I did a lot of them in my 40s. Education, art, mentoring relationships, travel ... 

But flying and scuba diving? Nope. Those dropped off my bucket list. For one thing, I no longer loved swimming as much I did in my teens and 20s - the water was too cold. If there were plants in the water, I got creeped out. ("What fish could be lurking down there?")

I grew out of being a musician by stepping back for others to play. The first two years after I quit, I had to learn to sing. I also had to learn to clap rhythms through a whole song. Why? I'd been on stage, playing an instrument since my early teens. Now I rarely touch an instrument; I don't even know where my hard-won performance certificate got filed away.

I'm a different person. Letting things go makes room for who I am now and where I'm the best fit.

There are good and ugly stages in the same project, and sometimes in the same season. 

You can't stop in the middle unless something is a very bad fit. Leaving partway is unsatisfying. (More of this painting, as it develops.)

3. Limit "I should"

Many obligations are driven by what others expect of us:

• Parents. spouses. children, aging relatives
• Colleagues, friends, peers, neighbors
• Bosses, religious leaders, authorities
• Your internal voices: "This is what I think everyone expects of me ..." (Remember, you may be delusional on this one.)

Some tasks land on our calendar because we refuse to say no. We become the dumping ground for what others don't want to do. "S/he will do it." Um, really? Is it your job - or are you a convenient default for lazy people? Or a pack-mule for those who don't bother doing their own work? (Stop enabling bad character.)

Other things have to be done whether we do or don't want to do them. Perhaps there truly is no one else - and they need to be done, like:

• care for orphans or the abandoned without family or friends
• tasks dropped by others that define or limit our own work
• urgent safety items; hospitality; generosity that depends on a flow of our resources

This week I"m thankful for W and G, who emptied the prayer room back into the storage area ... that's something I happily delegated.

An observation: get out of the way. You don't have to do everything. You shouldn't do everything, either.

> Sometimes when you feel you should do something, you're acting out of habit. "We've always done it this way." Yeah, well, we used to have to run into the next room to answer the phone, too.

> Sometimes you're on default. You don't even think about a task that no longer serves its purpose. Do you still set the alarm for 5:30 a.m. after accepting a new job that ends late at night. Why? Reset. Reset.

> Sometimes - and this is especially true for perfectionists - you take work from someone else to "get it done right." Handing tasks off could teach others a skill set, mature their character, or push them onto the next rung of their career path.

No, you don't have to drive the ice truck. Someone else does that; you'll still get iced tea if you order it from the server.

Let mistakes happen. (Remember when failures happened to you - and you learned from them? Remember when you had to ask others how to fix your messes?) Give someone else the chance to do new things, even badly.

Sure, there are things only you can do, like spraying on bug repellent to keep mosquitoes from giving you tropical fevers. (Malaria or dengue, anyone?) But many common tasks are negotiable, once you have your feet under you.

A few vital questions for you at the beginning of 2022:

• What are you doing that you could drop right now?
• What are you doing that someone else could-should-would do if you let it go or handed it off?
• What would letting go of "have to," "wanted to," and "should do" open up for you? What else could you do - and who would you become?

Read more:

*Psalm 23 is our prayer for today:

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen. 

Born messy

I was born messy. My hands sometimes look like this. Argh. And that's after a good scrubbing.

 

It takes a few minutes with a canvas, gesso, and black acrylic paint

To cover this fading poster and partly broken frame.

"I try to stay clean, Mom. Really I do." She, Waldemar, and our daughter Kirsten always have clean hands, even if they're slurping noodles. (Oops. Mom never slurps, either.)

The same strange thing happens to me when I garden. I'm naturally a hands-on mess. It's probably because I don't want to break momentum by pausing to pull on gloves. When in motion, let's go.

I haven't decided if I'm done with the canvas. The oranges and blues are coming through - and I like that. It may sit for a few days or months. I might even turn it on its side a few times. W looks at it and says, "Oh my." HA ha. That's no compliment. But I like it. There might even be some faces in it. Who knows?

I play with lines and colors on the phone, tipping it this way and that. Coloring, erasing. For now, it stays as it is.

I took my first adult art class in my 40s. Session One: which brushes were used for what? The instructor let us use only black and white paint. I was quickly and completely absorbed in play.

I pulled the car over on my way home and cried because it was so much fun that it was overwhelming. (I was a musician since childhood, not a painter. How could a brush in the hand evoke such energy and emotion?)

And I cried because I regretted the years that I hadn't known to pick up a paintbrush. Junior high school art class left me cold. It was so much of a nothing that I never considered drawing or painting until we needed something on the wall of our new house. How about a painting?

We were out of money and I didn't have a clue where to start, so I signed up for that community center art class. I didn't expect to like painting or even learn much. I just hoped to find out what paint and brushes to buy for one big painting for that tall blank wall.

I never painted that picture, though. Instead, I fell in love with paint, paper, canvas, and brushes. Once in a while, when I have a blank or broken surface, I still go crazy. Like today.

A friend drops by to pick up a few copies of Alkitab for her study group.

Thursday

I wrenched my knee yesterday but go on the mountain walk anyhow. It holds up just fine. Look at what I would have missed ... 2 waterfalls, tea plantations, and good friends. We start by avoiding the watery ruts that the dogs love to splash through.

We're very hot to start with as the sun beats down but soon the clouds roll in and it cools down. Good. There's no shade in the tea. The workers wear big woven hats to shade head and shoulders.

The tea is cut and bundled up with burlap drop cloths at the ends of the rows of shrubs.

The first waterfall ...

We wade through the stream below going one way,

and scramble over the stream lower down, returning.

The second waterfall is a short climb down a steep path stitched with tree roots for less slip-and-slide.

The moss and lichens glow along the path.

And the dogs are happy to cool off in the pools below.

We all stand back in wonder. What a gorgeous country.

Afterward, the dogs are dirty but happy as they jump into the car for the ride home.

But first, lunch. Down2Earth is closing later this month - it's off the beaten track for us so we don't get there often. The food is delicious as usual. I have a fajita.

Friday

6:00am-8:15, the first meeting kicks off with decades-long friends. After that, we talk to granddaughter Makenna on her 4th birthday. And to my mom. That's a lot of visits, first thing in the morning.

Angela and I try some new routes through the neighborhoods, down to the river. The steps are uneven and steep. Some treads are 15" high.

The old dirt path has been nicely paved. If it weren't for the steep drop-off on the canal side and the rotting ropes on the river cliff side, it would be disability-friendly. The pavement is smooth, which is rare in the city.

There are new educational activities like koi ponds, with signs promoting environmental care and consequences of littering and pooping in the river.

To get around the dam, we used to hang on to the dam machinery and shuffle around the side on a 1' concrete ledge, holding on tight not to fall into the water. Recently someone has made a bridge across. We cross one at a time, but the woven bamboo sinks with every step. Angela wonders how long it will last. It's already worn and cracking.

As we wind our way back through the stairs and paving up the hillsides, we spot a tennis-volleyball-and-what-else? court below. (The man is knocking an ants nest out of the door he has taken off its hinges. Ants swarm in every direction as we walk gingerly by.)

The court is well-maintained though you'd have to climb down another way to get there.

We spot a beautiful series of star-shaped weed flowers. What do gardeners say? "A weed is a good plant in the wrong place." This one's gorgeous and elegant.

I'm not sure where this 12' bridge leads (besides "to the other side") after you climb down the steep bank to the drainage canal. Would you cross it? It made of woven bamboo strips with a few bamboo poles top and bottom. No railing.

When I get to our place, I circle the garden. Papayas grow in two kinds: fruiting and flowering. You can see both edible versions - the flower is bitter and cooked with other leaves. I love the taste. W doesn't.

On the other kind of tree, the fruit ripens before being split open, seeds scooped out, and enjoyed.

The monster plant is blooming in a back corner. The flower is about 3' tall.

The thick stalks are 5-7'' long and the leaves on top are the same. For scale, the nearly daylily leaves are about 2' long.

The green wall that borders our property is in its best season. 3-5' fern fronds droop to catch the rain. Beside it, the tropical fish pot and grasses frame a statue found next door.

In the bathtubs holding the goldfish, the lotus blossoms are opening, one after another.

After some work in the office, I walk back to find the groomers are almost finished with the dogs. The poodles are frisky and love to play once they're done. Here Bailey whirls around to tear his bag apart - it's full of his favorite toys so he works hard to get them all out.

Cocoa is a princess who needs time to relax after.

Meanwhile the shaggy boy Gypsy barks and growls as the groomers come and go.  He never likes to let strangers into the gate and warns them off. Good boy. He hates to be trimmed and today's his day off. Lucky dog.

The Bandung Book Group discusses a fairy tale about American life and slave history, expectations and exploitation. It has all the elements of a good super-hero tale, including fantastical powers and rich narratives, action figures and villains, dangers and rescues. (Ta-Nehisi Coates' The Water Dancer)

We meet once a month and the conversations are always lively. If you're a reader who wants to read with a group that doesn't mind controversy and disagreement (in a polite and respectful way, of course) get in touch with me. Next month we read Kazuo Ishiguro's Klara and the Sun.

A 5.7 earthquake off the west coast of Java is noticed by friends in Jakarta. 100 miles further away, we don't feel it in Bandung.

Read more:

*The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced. Psalm 126:3

*For in many dreams and in many words there is emptiness. Rather, fear God. Eccesiastes 5:7 NASB

*Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places. Ephesians 1:3

*Do not allow yourselves to be condemned by anyone who claims to be superior because of special visions and who insists on false humility and the worship of angels. For no reason at all, such people are all puffed up by their human way of thinking and have stopped holding on to Christ. Colossians 2:18, 19 GNT

Moravian Prayer: Oh Lamb of God, we are faced with moments of pride, ambition, and selfishness in this life. When those moments arise, remind us of your generosity and grace, so that we may offer these blessings to others and follow you humbly and selflessly.

Thank you, loving Father, for all the many blessings that you have bestowed upon us, especially your Son, Jesus Christ, for Christ is our joy and our life. Amen.