It's Just the Kind of Day I'm Wanting

There are three things, lately, that I've noticed about myself. And that is that I place high value in these things: beauty, wonder, and contentment. Beauty includes not just the physical beauty of some people (we are inundated with that by the media), but beauty in nature, in art, and in music, for instance. Even fragrances. I try to stop myself and literally "smell the roses" (i.e., any fragrant blossom that I come across)--and if I'm too busy for that, then I'm too busy!

And the wonder of it all. To take the time to be amazed by things, to ponder the intricacies of things, and to see God's hand in wondrous things.

Contentment, however, is a little more tricky. Discontentment plagues us when things do not pan out like we'd hoped--when expectations and reality do not overlap. The way I see it, there are two ways to combat our discontent: we can either reduce our expectations, or we can be philosophical about our disappointments.

An extensive scientific study was done several years ago by some sociologists who wanted to know who were the most happy, contented people on the planet. They studied diverse cultures all over the world--urban, rural, rich, poor, sophisticated, backward, first-world, third-world, etc. The conclusion was that the most happy people were those who had almost nothing, but who expected almost nothing. These were third-world people who first-world people would pity--for their lack of prosperity--but were none-the-less more content than others. Most were in poor, tropical countries like those in Central America.

The key, the researchers found, was that their relatively poor "realities" best matched their relatively low expectations of life. In our 21st Century USA, having genuinely low expectations is not realistic, what with our culture, our media marketing machine, etc. For Americans, contentment is probably more attainable by mentally "taking it all in stride". By putting things in context--in perspective--we can re-orient our thinking so our attitudes do not suffer from the little things that go awry, while forgetting the big things that are still on track. That's why a funeral now and then is good for the soul (someone else's funeral, that is!). Also, why a trip to a third-world country (not the tourist spots) is also good for gaining perspective.

Thanksgiving (focusing on all the good parts of your life), too, is a great means of promoting contentment.

For the Christian, regularly focusing on what the Gospel means to our future is a powerful attitude adjustment. The Apostle Paul told his protege, Timothy, "But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it. But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that." And to his friends in the town of Philippi he wrote, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

Of course, lack of things or money or food are not the only sources of discontent. It could be our situation (family circumstances, family individuals, job, where we live, etc.). Many of these are things we can't change anyway. Like the weather.

My dad, the late Dr. Charles K. Holland, loved "the people's poet" of his generation, Robert W. Service. He passed that love on to me. Here's an appropriate one for you to chew on. Don't mind the ol' timey language with the Scottish brogue; and don't worry, Service wrote light verse, not the deep, incomprehensible kind.

Contentment

An ancient gaffer once I knew,
Who puffed a pipe and tossed a tankard;
He claimed a hundred years and two,
And for a dozen more he hankered;
So o'er a pint I asked how he
Had kept his timbers tight together;
He grinned and answered: "It maun be
Because I likes all kinds o' weather.

"For every morn when I get up
I lights me clay pipe wi' a cinder
And as me mug o' tea I sup
I looks from out the cottage winder;
And if it's shade or if it's shine
Or wind or snow befit to freeze me,
I always say: 'Well, now, that's fine . . .
It's just the sort o' day to please me.'

For I have found it wise in life
To take the luck the way it's coming;
A wake, a worry or a wife--
Just carry on and keep a-humming.
And so I lights me pipe o' clay,
And though the morn on blizzard borders,
I chuckle in me guts and say:
'It's just the day the doctor orders.' "

A mighty good philosophy
Thought I, and leads to longer living,
To make the best of things that be,
And take the weather of God's giving;
So though the sky be ashen grey,
And winds be edged and sleet be slanting,
Heap faggots on the fire and say:
"It's just the kind of day I'm wanting."

-- Robert W. Service (1874-1958)

Life Is A Fight, But Then . . .

Life on earth is a fight. There are three things about life on earth that we must battle continually: gravity, ecological succession, and human nature. Gravity stoops, creases and sags our bodies; succession erases our efforts for tidy yards and gardens; and human nature degrades our best efforts to live at peace with each other. Heaven is eternal release from all three.

Whatever humans erect or lift up, gravity will eventually bring down--be it a satallite or a house. If it weren't for gravity we could run a marathon and not feel winded. Gravity is why plastic surgeons get paid so well for lifting and tucking the bodies of wealthy, vain ladies. It is to take a break from gravity that we sit down to rest and lay down flat to sleep. When we breath our last we will be lying down with only the earth's surface holding us up. That will be the end of our fight with gravity.

Then there is succession. Back in the 1940's, my grandmother used to keep a formal garden at her 11-acre estate in eastern Mississippi. It was the English-type garden with intricate designs made from manicured boxwood hedges. By the time I was in high school in the 1970's, it was smothered under the local native vegetation. It was located to the left of the driveway near the top of the hill. If you didn't know any better, you would drive by and never guess a formal garden was ever there. All you can see now is a tangle of native grape vines and fallen branches with native trees growing up through it all.

My grandparents loved to travel in their car. Everywhere they visited, they collected a few rocks to remember that place. After many years of this, they used the rocks to build a beautiful waterfall next to their patio. They regularly had friends and their "supper club" visiting on the patio and admiring the water as it cascaded down all those interesting rocks from all those interesting places from all over North America. Today, the ivy and other vegetation has grown thickly over the rocks and--just like the English garden--no one would ever guess what once was there. Now it looks just like the wild brambles at the edge of the field.

I must admit that the thought of this is somewhat discouraging to me as I pull the weeds in my garden beds. A friend of ours who, as far as I know, has no formal training in the science of ecology put it well. She said, "I'm tired of trying to hold back the Ozarks." That's layman's talk for ecological succession.

Before someone cleared my pasture (probably many decades ago), it was Eastern Deciduous Forest--oak, hickory, black gum, red maple, sycamore, dogwood, etc. As long as I brush hog it with my tractor two or three times each year, it remains a tall fescue pasture. But if I hold off for even a few months, I see the blackberries coming in, and the buck brush, and the ash trees. These are all early-succession woody plants in the Ozarks. As they fill the space, they change the conditions so that red maples and other trees come in, until finally it is a deciduous forest again.

So, everytime I pull weeds in my garden or mow my lawn or brush hog my pasture, I am trying to "hold back the Ozarks". I can show you a whole host of tree species growing as volunteer seedlings in the cracks of the vast parking lot of your local shopping mall. In fact, the more artificial we try to keep the land, the more effort it takes to keep it that way--be it a formal landscape or a soybean field. Left alone, ecological succession will inexoribly lead--like gravity--to where it "wants" to go. It's like keeping a heavy ball up in the air trying not to let it touch the ground. That's our fight with succession.

Ahh . . . and then there is human nature! Possibly the strongest force we have to contend with. Human nature makes me selfish, and prideful, and impatient, and worrisome, and demanding, and . . . miserable. It causes me to let other people down and get purturbed at me. It makes me to forever want more things and to be discontent with what is. On the other hand, the Bible says that the Spirit of God empowers us to see these kinds of qualities in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Because human nature is so strong, experiencing these "fruits of the Spirit" is almost like defying gravity. It ain't natural. It's a miracle of God when we experience it in ourselves. But someday, it will be the norm, the routine. In heaven, there are no wars, no lawsuits, no arguments, no jealous rages, no revenge. Like gravity and succession, the fight with human nature will be over.

Perhaps there is one more fight to consider. Perhaps I should add: time. Time gets away from us and stresses us and ages us. We say that “time is of the essence” and “time is money”. Time is the currency used by the other enemies—gravity, succession, and human nature. Given enough time, all three will undo us. But heaven is eternal because God’s nature is eternal and transcends time. The Bible says that, to God, a day is like a thousand years and a thousand years are like a day—both are true at the same instant. So time has no meaning or relevance in the context of heaven. Heaven is a release from time, and from everything else that wears us down or binds us up. Look forward to it! And make your arrangements . . .

Just The Right Word

I value beauty in the things around me, including really good writing. I aspire towards writing this blog on a regular basis, but tend to shirk it because I don't want to publish anything that is written badly. And good writing requires, not only inspiration, but a lot of work . . . and time.

Here’s a good quote about writing from an email I received last fall from Stephen Caldwell:

"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter--it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning." Mark Twain

Some final advice for my readers: Never turn a cold shoulder to a new word … LOOK IT UP!

God of the Clouds

"Listen to this, Job:
stop and consider God’s wonders.

Do you know how God controls the clouds
and makes his lightning flash?

Do you know how the clouds hang poised,
those wonders of him who is perfect in knowledge?”

Job 37:14-16 NIV

The last six chapters of Job point out--using the wonders of nature as illustrations--that God is in control and we are merely humble participants of His creation.

(photos looking north on 1st Ave, near our farm in Elkins, AR)