Pollyanna's Weapon

  "Oh, yes; the game was to just find something about everything to be glad about – no matter what ’twas", rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. 

I have always liked Pollyanna.  Maybe growing up at boarding school without my parents, I identified with her.  When I first read the classic story to my daughters, I was delighted by her “just being glad” game.  Do you remember?  When Pollyanna is disappointed that she receives crutches in a missionary care package instead of the doll she requested, her father teaches her the game, how to always find something to be genuinely glad about—“Why, just be glad that you don’t need ‘em”

Since Eleanor H. Porter created her 100 years ago, Pollyanna has, unfairly I think, been the subject of cynical ridicule, the portrait of naïve, denial-based thinking.  But throughout the story we see Pollyanna both acknowledging her negative feelings and then engaging in the discipline that her wise and Godly father taught her—that one can always find something to be thankful for, even in the most miserable of situations.  That’s not naïve…it just matches the New Testament instruction to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1Th.5:18).

Over the years, I have come to see thankfulness as a powerful yet often underestimated weapon against despair, dismay, and despondency.  Living in a fallen world tempts us to become cynical, to harden ourselves against disappointment, to believe the worst so that we will not get hurt, to protect ourselves by holding on to resentment and bitterness, to lower our expectations so that we will not have our hopes dashed yet again.

Thankfulness, however, softens the heart.  It opens us to each other when, like Pollyanna, it allows us to see the wonder and beauty in difficult people and situations.  Thankfulness is the natural antidote to envy.  In thankfulness, I focus not on what I lack but on what I have.  Thankfulness humbles me, since I recognize that I am indeed the recipient of gifts that I have not earned.  Thankfulness humanizes and energizes me to engage more fully and vigorously with the people God brings into my life, because I feel richer, blessed, and secure in what I have been given.  When I engage in thankfulness, I am inevitably recognizing what is deeply important to me rather than focusing on the superficial details that I am tempted to complain about.  On a personal note, when I shift from self-pity to thankfulness, my family says that I begin making sense to them again—I am refocusing on what I always tell them is important. 

There is a fascinating, dramatic shift in a person’s whole attitude when he or she begins to look for things for which to be thankful.  It seems in thankfulness we shift mental gears, and begin using different parts of the brain.  Researchers have identified that the parts of the brain activated in thankfulness are associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which both makes us feel good and also helps us initiate action.  Research has also shown that simply increasing a person’s thankfulness results in lowered depression, improved sleep, decreased anxiety, improvements in exercise patterns, and an overall reduction in general aches and pains.

Whatever the biological operations that are involved, when we engage in genuinely giving thanks, we are naturally required to let go of attitudes of entitlement, and to relinquish cynical expectations of harshness, stinginess, and meanness.  The paradox is that we actually become strong through weakness—as we relinquish our “high standards” we receive better and more rewarding results. 

Here are four ideas to prime your thankfulness this season.  Pick one or try all four:

1.       Three Things:  At the end of every day write in a notebook (or on your smart phone) three things that went well today, interactions that brought you joy or satisfaction, specific things you are thankful for that you experienced today.  The key to this exercise is to be detailed and specific, not general.

2.      Seek Delight:  As you proceed through your day, be intentional about looking for things to delight in, especially as you talk to your loved ones.  When you are tempted to be critical, shift your attention slightly to look for something for which to be thankful.  If you have enough information to be critical, you have enough information to be thankful.

3.      Be Glad:  Teach your family to play the “Just Being Glad” game.  Maybe read the section in Pollyanna to refresh your memory (you can find excerpts online).  Have fun laughing and playing the game, helping each other to genuinely “be glad”.

4.      Stir It Up:  Make a list of ways that you can stir up thankfulness spontaneously in your loved ones and coworkers.  Do surprising acts of generous selflessness that catch people off-guard.

Thankfulness takes practice, but actually doing it may change your heart and your brain.  Or as Pollyanna says, "…lots of times now I just think of them without thinking, you know. I've got so used to playing it. It's a lovely game.”

Blessings this Thanksgiving,

Gene

“Gratitude bestows reverence...changing forever how we experience life and the world.”  John Milton

“I will rejoice and be glad in your steadfast love, because you have seen my affliction; you have known the distress of my soul…” Ps. 31:7

Embracing Grief

I have been reading Anne Lamott recently. In her reflections on grieving she states "...the lifelong fear of grief keeps us in a barren, isolated place...only grieving can heal grief; the passage of time will lessen the acuteness, but time alone, without the direct experience of grief, will not heal it." (Traveling Mercies)

Change is a constant in life--good, bad, and neutral. With each change, even good change, comes loss. That is why exciting events such as an engagement, a move to a new home, or the birth of a child end up high on the list of key stressors. Positive events, and certainly negative ones, all introduce stress and change, and grief because what once was, is no longer. After a recent move to a new home, a child told me that she preferred her old, small apartment. In the face of a big new house, she missed what was small and familiar. Even at a young age, she needs to grieve her losses while, at the same time, delighting in all that the new home has to offer.

Often we "...fall for the great palace lie that grief should be gotten over as quickly as possible and as privately." (Lamott). Or we ignore that we have indeed experienced loss and we distract ourselves with busyness, becoming preoccupied. Grief feels so out of control, so helpless, so interminable, so useless--and we seek to deny it, avoid it, and skip to the end.

Sometimes the weight of grief descends upon us, but often our tendency is to herd it into a compartment as quickly as possible and lock it away so that we can get on with life. But as Lamott so eloquently expresses it, we can end up in a "barren, isolated place," cut off from vital parts of ourselves and from the very comfort for which we so deeply long.

In addition to Ann Lamott, I have also been reading the Psalms. In the Lament Psalms, the Old Testament sages embrace their grief honestly and genuinely. They "cry and writhe and yell and then keep on crying….”   Sometimes their mourning gives way to hope, but sometimes, as in Psalm 88, they have to wait with darkness as their only companion.

Some of us know the grieving we have to walk through, others are still in denial. I know that, for myself, grieving means becoming vulnerable and acknowledging that I lost something or someone I cared for. Most importantly, it means trusting more in God and his love, and relying less on my ability to deny, minimize, repress, rationalize, and pretend.

A good way to begin healthy grieving is to make a list of losses you have experienced. Be detailed and specific. Ask a trusted confidant to add to your list--sometimes, in our denial, we can miss the obvious. Then pick a Lament Psalm--say Psalm 6 (or perhaps 22, 38, 88 or 102)--and rewrite it, inserting your own feelings and experiences. Then read it aloud. Cry, writhe, yell, and pray.

Grieving work is paradoxical. As another writer well acquainted with grief has put it, "The soul is elastic, like a balloon. It can grow larger through suffering. Loss can enlarge its capacity for anger, depression, despair, and anguish, all natural and legitimate emotions whenever we experience loss. Once enlarged, the soul is also capable of experiencing greater joy, strength, peace and love." (Jerry Sittser,A Grace Disguised).

As we allow ourselves to experience grief, not only do we grow emotionally and spiritually, but we can more easily walk with others who find themselves in similar places.  Our capacity for empathy, faithfulness, and love grows. And that is a very good thing.

Blessings,

Gene

On Doing Things Slowly

A mother recently shared with me that her young daughter had been diagnosed as being a "slow processor".  She worried about the effects of this "slowness" in a world of speed math drills and quick response times.  Our conversation got me reflecting on how much our society values speed and efficiency, and mourning the loss of value and even our humanity when everything has to be done rapidly.  The drive to cram more into less is, I am convinced, a major contributor to our sense of alienation from each other and from ourselves, and results in hopelessness and despair..

One writer quipped, "Anything worth doing is worth doing slowly."  There is much truth to this, whether describing a meal, a conversation, a kiss, or a prayer.  These things, and others, are worth doing not just slowly but mindfully.  We discover hidden layers of value when we pay attention to every aspect, every moment, as we move through them; when we notice each sensation as we experience it.  One might even ask:  if you worship mindlessly, is it even worship?  if you kiss quickly, without paying attention, is it truly love?  Doing things slowly and attentively enables us to appreciate the magnificent gifts that we are given day by day.  Doing things mindfully reconnects us with the people, things, and experiences we enjoy.  And it lays the foundation for true worship.

As we move into summer, I challenge you to slow down.  Sit to eat, pay attention with thankfulness to each bite of your food.  Slow down and converse, even "commune" with your loved ones, savoring each moment, welcoming, receiving, delighting in their uniqueness.  Read a good story aloud, play an old-fashioned board game, slowly.  Be in nature, breathe deeply and be present with God, with yourself, and with those entrusted to you.  Grow in love this summer. 

There is much wisdom that flows out of slowing down, paying attention, and truly listening with your whole being.

Peace to you,

Gene

"Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit.  Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset."

St. Francis de Sales

"One of the great disadvantages of hurry is that it takes such a long time."

G.K. Chesterton

Reclaiming Memory

In my garden, early spring is for preparation--digging up the ground, pulling weeds, adding compost, getting my beds ready for new growth. I never know what I will find when I begin digging.  Sometimes it is a grub; sometimes a forgotten potato; once even an intact, amazingly pungent, very rotten egg--a gift from my compost.

In the same way, the seasons of our lives unearth memories.  Some are sweet, but others are painful and difficult--things we would rather stay buried.  How do we reclaim our memories?  Recently, I ran across the following from Fredrick Buechner:

The sad things that happened long ago will always remain part of who we are, just as the glad and gracious things will too, but instead of being a burden of guilt, recrimination, and regret that makes us constantly stumble as we go, even the saddest things can become, once we have made peace with them, a source of wisdom and strength for the journey that still lies ahead. It is through memory that we are able to reclaim much of our lives that we have long since written off, by finding that in everything that has happened to us over the years God was offering us possibilities of new life and healing which, though we may have missed them at the time, we can still choose, and be brought to life by, and healed by, all these years later. (Telling Secrets)

Making peace with sad and painful memories is hard digging but often produces surprising possibilities for new growth--even years later.  

In this Easter season, praying for Jesus' new life and healing.

At last.  A blog.  From a man who needs his teen daughters to help him operate his phone.

So don't expect snazz and jazz, just some simple thoughts.  My hope is to let them roll around in my head until I can make sense of them, and only then let them out onto the page.  We'll see.