Difficult Seasons

As I walked out into the lobby, there on a table full of Christmas goodies was a big plate of fudge.

Suddenly I was flooded with memories of Christmases with similar plates filled with fudge and divinity.

Mom always fixed both. The fudge was relatively easy. The divinity was tricky. But for her, and I think for others of her generation, making candy was part of the extravagance of celebrating Christmas. My mother-in-law always seems to do the same. Maybe it came from growing up in the depression, where such things were luxuries, where meat was only part of a meal once a week. My wife and daughter-in-law from time to time continue the tradition.

I hadn’t realized that it’s been missing in recent years until I saw the plate. Mom’s been gone almost seven years, and Reba has been coming for Christmas at our house for the last several years, although she sometimes brings candy.

Maybe I need to see if I can whip up some fudge and/or divinity this year. Everyone will be here, and there are some new generations that need to experience having some homemade candy sitting around — and to hear stories about grandmothers and great grandmothers who showed extravagance through making homemade candy.

We live in a culture where we’re told “More is Better!”

More is Not Better ©2009 Jim Hughes

The slogan sells stuff, but often is just not true. In fact, more is often worse.

Take megapixels, for example. Camera manufacturers know that most people believe that the more mexapixels a camera has, the better it is. That’s true to a point. But beyond that point (generally between 10-12 megapixels), noise increases significantly, actually providing worse photos. You’re now seeing some high end camera makers reducing the number of pixels to improve photo quality.

In the 1950′s and 1960′s, more speed in jet fighters was assumed to be good. That was true until a speed was reached at which the fighters could no longer maneuver effectively to participate in a dog fight. So the push for more speed ended. Enough was enough.

There are so many areas of life in which, once there is enough, more can be bad. How about a little time this Christmas season thinking about where in your life less might be better, more might be bad?

Seeds

My 85-year old dad called this afternoon and read me a letter from his primary care physician.

In essence the letter said that the physician was now associated with a certain Medicare Advantage plan, and that his office would be happy to explain the advantages of this particular plan and answer any questions.  It also presented some of the benefits of the plan, along with other marketing information.

Since it came from his doctor, Dad was wondering if he needed to investigate making a change from his current plan. After all, the doctor was recommending it.

We talked, and agreed that he should stay with the plan he currently has.

To me, this feels like a breach of trust between a physician and his patients. The physician obviously has a financial interest in the plan or he would not be spending money to market it.

What do you think?

Light and Leaves

I haven’t posted on Difficult Seasons for a while.  It wasn’t something that was planned.  Rather it was something that just happened. Once it started, it continued.

I have been posting a lot of photos to my personal blog, and in truth, have been spending a lot more time working on my photography.  It’s part of my self care effort.  It helps me see. I find myself looking at things more closely, studying the light, looking for the beauty. I love the challenge of learning the skills. But even more, I enjoy the creative process of trying to capture an image, working to get it just right in the camera, and then fine-tuning it in Lightroom.

I’ve also continued to post frequently to Twitter and facebook.  Twitter keeps me connected to a fairly large group of folks, most of whom I’ve never met in person, but many of whom I’ve developed friendships with.  It also provides me a window into several of my interests (including photography), as well as exposure to a broader world than I encounter in my normal daily walk. Facebook is similar, except nearly all of the people I’m connected to are people that I’ve met face-to-face, including a large number from my church family.  I intentionally limit my facebook friends to people I know — it’s a more intimate forum than Twitter for me.  It allows us to keep up with what’s happening in each others’ lives and keep more connected than we otherwise could.

To be honest, though, I just haven’t felt like writing. There’s been a lot going on that would have provided material for this blog. I’ve attended four funerals for my friends’ parents or spouses, and there are stories that go with each. I have several good friends who are struggling against long odds with cancer, and there are lessons in how they are dealing with this part of life. My visits with patients at M.D. Anderson provides plenty to share. I just haven’t wanted to process all of this through writing.

But I think that’s changing. For the past week or so, I’ve felt the pull to begin again — as much for me as for those who drop by and read.

Maybe there are seasons to write, and seasons to be silent?

I’m just a work in progress.

Sometimes I forget that.  I get busy dealing with situations, trying to help others, and don’t work on Jim, or more accurately,  allow God to work on Jim.

That’s been happening lately.  What brings it to consciousness is usually a combination of emotional and physical symptoms: feeling tired, struggling to get things done, feeling overwhelmed, wanting to pull the sheets over my head, looking for things to keep my mind occupied.

When this alarm goes off and I become conscious of what’s going on, I know pretty quickly what the problem is and what I have to do to reverse course.

I have to very intentionally turn control of all of the things that are weighing me down over to God. It’s not that I haven’t prayed often about all of the situations and all of the people, or that I don’t have faith that God will provide exactly what’s needed. It’s just that I have unconsciously retained a portion of the responsibility for the outcome.  I haven’t completely given these things to God, robbing myself of the peace that comes from doing so.  And of the joy of watching how He works and allows me to participate.

So today I began the day intentionally by doing just that — naming names, and listing situations, verbalizing my trust in Him to provide and lead. And I feel more peaceful, more able to respond to His urges for these situations and these people.

I’m adding “Turn Over Control” to my daily calendar.  I need daily explicit recognition that I am not in control, but that the One I serve is.