Trust Factor

I have been doing some deep pondering lately about the idea of trust. Animals, by nature, are designed for distrust. They have sensors which allow them to always be prepared to fight or flee - they are wary that anyone, or anything, could be a predator. Some animals can't even trust their mates. Take, for instance, the praying mantis - imagine the male praying mantis spending his wedding night with his wife, they, in delirious joy consummate their marriage. He wakes up in the middle of the night and she is devouring his leg. He should have seen that coming. He should have put out a midnight snack for her. Alas, he just becomes part of the big circle of life.



Or what about certain crocodiles. The mother crocodile lays all the eggs, protects them from danger, watches them crack open and out spew the little crocodiles. Imagine her frustration when her mate comes round the corner whistling, "Boy, am I hungry," and grabs a few of his children for breakfast. Brutal. Animals are brutal. In a survival of the fittest world, most animals will go to extreme efforts to stay alive even if it means devouring the related competition.



There are certain animals that I don't trust. Take spiders, for example. The exterior of a spider is unappealing, for sure. Fangs, prickly legs, some of them even have the appearance of hair. Their fat, little bodies promise hidden grossness if they remain too long near me. Egg sacks hanging from the ceiling; spider webs drifting across my face as I go out to get the mail. Ugh. Some people would call my arachnaphobic lack of trust for spiders as irrational, but I find that almost all of my fears have a rational episode in my past for my lack of trust.



When I was ten years old, my family and I went camping with my grandparents. We had a glorious time running around in the outdoors; the trees smelled like dirty suitcases. The grass felt like a bed of scratchy softness. The air whisked through my hair as I ran, stumbling to play catch with my uncle and my siblings. It was so nice to get down and dirty.



At night, my parents told me to go to the bathhouse to take a shower. I grabbed my gear and gingerly crossed the gravel road in barefeet, the rocks seeming to poke holes in my soles. The cicadas were serenading me to the showers and I took my time - whistling, sometimes singing - looking around to see if there were any young ladies, you know how it is. I opened the swinging door, screeching, it slammed shut behind me. The showerhouse didn't have any lighting except the natural stuff that God creates. I showered, basically in the dark. Taking my time, I washed the grunge off the day and prepared to add more the next.



After the shower, I dried off and headed to the mirror to make sure that I had the part of my hair directly down the middle 80's style. Just as I was about to finish, I noticed something in my hair begin to move. Then, like a horror movie, I noticed that it was a daddy-long-legs spider dripping its way down my hair and then...then...it's... first...leg...hit...my...cheek...bone. I was revolted but I couldn't move a muscle - there this thing was taking its merry time going for a walk about my face.



The next thing that I realized was that my mouth was open and that I was screaming like a young lady. From that moment, I have learned not to trust any spiders and specifically those that want to use my face as a racetrack.



Our past informs our level of trust for things. I have a friend who was bitten by a dog when she was younger. Now she cannot even come near them. Another friend fell off a ladder; he cannot even stand near ladders now. Someone else I know saw the airplanes flying into the Twin Towers - she cannot even think about flying in an airplane.



Our lack of trust is not limited to animals or inanimate objects. Often, there are moments when we have been hurt emotionally, physically or spiritually by those closest to us. Whether intentionally or accidentally, our psyches and souls remember and carry scars and we are wary of repeating those incidents as coming close to a pot of boiling water. So I ask the question, "Why do humans trust at all?" If we are so prone to hurting each other, if we carry within us the ability and predisposition to harm others, why do we open ourselves to vulnerability?



That is the question I have been wrestling with lately. Someone once told me I had to earn their trust - they weren't just going to give it to me because someone else told them that I was trustworthy. So, I have taken that to mean that trust is somewhat of a commodity - something that is given away. Trust can be hoarded, kept to yourself. But what are the benefits of trusting someone else? Well, you are invited to write to me and let me know if I am way off base, but I view the benefits of trusting others are that four sets of eyes are better than two. When we trust others, we are trusting that they are looking out for our interests as well as their own. When we trust, we are allowing the other person to stand at our back and take care of us without fear of being stabbed. When we trust, we open up that box inside of us that allows others to become part of our being.



God created us to be in community. It is very difficult to be in community without trusting at least some of our fellow human beings. Without trust, we are individuals in a divided world. Without trust, our hearts begin to grow a hardened shell around them and some spark of life cannot light the fire - the ache to be special to, and protected by, someone else.



It is a hard thing, to trust. I invite you to pray about those whom you trust and those whom you mistrust this week and think again about the episodes in the past that don't allow us to trust and which create the hardened shell around our hearts.

Bugs

One of my co-workers has a bug. Physically, she is aching, sniffing, sneezing, stuffy-head (you can problably state the slogan with me.) If one were to look at her, one would see that she is having trouble sleeping; the bug is wreaking havoc with her emotions and that which has infected her, keeps her from concentrating on the task at hand. Her nose is red from blowing; her eyes are watery; her lungs rasp and ache and I feel sorry for her. I cringe every time I hear someone say, "Oh, it's just that time of year," as if that will make the ill person feel better that the earth produces germs at particularly repetitive times.

There are certain medicines that you can take to rid yourselves of the cold bug, flu bug and whatever other kind of insect you choose to adapt as a symbol of an illness. I often wondered why germs are called bugs - it seems somewhat derogatory for those poor defenseless germs that inhabit our airways and sinuses (I'm kidding of course.)

But there is one bug that has infected another one of my friends that is certainly welcome. The Love Bug (not the 1970's version of a VW Beetle that has a talking front end and is prone to driving itself around a racetrack) has found its way to Trina. Bit her hard, too. I can see the results of its infection. Her nose, at times, is red from crying with happiness (I think its happiness?), perhaps its just the scrambling of emotions when the Love Bug bites. Her eyes twinkle with happiness - she has placed a picture of her loved one, Dan, right next to her computer - it seems that she can't take her eyes off him; certainly, she may be having troubles concentrating and that is not a bad thing at all - no sirree - not a bad thing at all.

What's different about my friend Trina is that she's been married to Dan 19 years already. After a few rough years, Trina and Dan had found themselves inoculated against the beautiful disease - the disease that causes feelings and flooding of emotions to wash over them - to look at each other as if the time they spent together was the most precious possession on earth. They had, it seemed, become immune to looks and touches, a brush of hair, coquettishness, his wanting to impress her with his strength. Their eyes became dimmed of the light of love; the infectious laughter that once permeated their one-ness, had been eradicated.

After many months of trials and talking, emotions and encouragement, Dan found Trina again; Trina saw Dan the way he was but especially the way he is and found that they had wasted enough time avoiding love. Trina came to me a few weeks ago and asked if I would bless their rings for them - if I would help them reaffirm their vows, in a way, that they made 19 years ago. In the midst of God, in the sanctuary, with their son Brandon watching, they professed that love would once again be a constant in their life - that through their own blood vessels the Love Bug would do its incredible best.

I don't think that Trina an Dan are the only ones that suffer, or have suffered, through a time of numbness in relationship. Why do we become immune to our partner's love? Why do we starve the bug that seeks to infect us with amorous love from God? I think it comes from our willingness to set aside our priorities in life and deal with the pressures of the present - the stresses of life that need our immediate attention - and we lose focus on the big picture. All becomes blurry because of struggles at work, putting food on the table, disciplinary problems for kids and we forget the very first moment we saw the love of our lives.

The first time I met Christine is still crystal clear in my memory. I was returning from a fishing trip in Canada, my sister Vikki was driving; we entered the city of Minneapolis where I was to join a Youth Encounter band as the bass guitar player. My sister and I were very close, but she also had a endeared relationship with my current girlfriend at the time. As we stepped out of the car, I looked up and an angel appeared in front of me - it was almost as if I was a deer and the brightness of the sun caused me to pause - I felt run down by a train - WHAM! There she was, this tanned Venus wearing short shorts and a blue t-shirt, her bleached brown hair plaited, big brown eyes - She saw me too. The love bug took a chunk out that time. As I tried to pry my mouth off of the ground, my sister came and stood in front of me, grabbed my by the shoulders and said, "Don't you dare."

Well, I dared.

Throughout our married life, just like Trina and Dan have done, Christine and I continually search for new ways that we can invite God to infect us with the Love Bug. This sounds a bit schmaltzy, cheesy and all sorts of things that only Nicholas Evans could write about (or maybe Danielle Steele). But, I honestly think that we need to open our eyes anew every day and find ways to introduce the host into our system - be carriers of love - all sorts of pieces of the analogy can come to light. Love-sickness, it's a real disease, and a great one.

Find some time to talk with your loved one, or family, or whomever that is closest to you, to re-establish the things that you love about them and why they make you happy. Write lists including the memories that jump to your mind that are crystal clear when you were happy together.

Grow some bugs.

A Beauty Pageant

The other day I was perusing all of the movies that we currently own on DVD. An assortment of genres spring forth from the shelf in our basement: action, drama, comedy, of course children's movies - a tear jerker for myself when I need to pop the cork on my emotions (Armageddon). As I was running my finger across the top of the DVD's attempting to find something that would capture my interest, I came across a movie that I hadn't seen in a while - Little Miss Sunshine. For those of you who haven't seen this brilliant motion picture, it is a story about a family who must make their way across the great southwest to California where the youngest daughter is to be entered into a beauty pageant - a.k.a. the Little Miss Sunshine pageant.

As I watched this movie again, I noticed a great consistency with the plot line from another one of my all time favorite talkies - National Lampoon's vacation. The Griswald family, against all odds, wends their way across country to California to visit the Nirvana like destination of Wally World. Watch and see if I'm not the only one who sees the similarities.

Anyway, one line in the film really struck me as poignant. Dwayne, a young man whose dreams of becoming an Air Force pilot are shattered, is talking to his uncle outside of the pageant. Dwayne says, (and I'll paraphrase here because I'm not sure profanity would be a good thing for this blog) "All of life is a beauty pageant: Jr. high, highschool, college - job, home life. It's all one big beauty pageant, trying to outshine everyone else for some inane trophy or title that says, 'I'm number one!'" I agree with Dwayne on many points - Life, in its very essence, in its very fundamental core, is a survival of the fittest. It is incredibly easy to be sucked in to the inflow over us that tells all of us to strive to be at the top of the heap. Our very human nature screams, "Everyone - look at me! Remember me! I want the world to remember my deeds because if they don't, what was the point?"

I have seen beauty pageants before. Usually the television coverage shows only a few brief segments - the interview and the swimsuit competition. Listen to that: the swimsuit competition. Is it actually possible to compete while wearing high heels and a one piece swimsuit that looks like everyone else's? How are they judged? Are they critiqued on their ability to smile while being uncomfortable that everyone is viewing them as a sexual object? Why not have the television show the talent competition - I'd love to hear some great singers, actresses or see some incredible dancing. To me, Miss Wonderful would be a talented representative of the United States of America at the Miss Universe pageant (Don't get me started on what I think of a pageant called 'Miss Universe.') We compete to be beautiful. We compete to be beautiful by the standards of a sex starved society. Society says if you are thin, have straight teeth, nice hair and a taut body, you are one up on the rest of us slouches.

So, I have tried, at times to be anti-beautiful (it's not such a hard thing in my case.) I will let my hair grow to long. One such instance in high school, I had a Mul-hawk. For those of you who don't know what that is, a mul-hawk is half mullet and half mohawk. I know that you are all jealous and I will try and find a picture for my facebook page. When my brother first gave me my mul-hawk, I was an organist at a tiny country church in rural Iowa. One cold fall morning, I put my stocking cap on and drove the ten miles to church. The older ladies of the church greeted me warmly; they loved to have a young organist. "Good morning, Reid," they twittled as they reached out to shake my hand or touch my arm. I stood quite a bit taller than most of them and as I took off my cap, the reception was almost as if I had pulled a snake out from under my hat. Gasping, the ladies took a step back - I knew the reaction would be strange. They gathered in a corner while I took my coat off and placed it on a hook. Then, there was a tug at my sleeve, and Mary pulled me around to face her. She could not even look in my eyes; they were glued to the top of my head. "Reid, we have decided that you must wear your hat during the service." So, I wore my hat during the service even though I was in a room all by myself where no one could see me. I used to take naps during the sermon - fortunately I was a light sleeper and could hear the 'amen' at the end of the oration.

I have grown my beard long enough to braid it. My visage was so different when I returned from Europe 12 years ago, that my sisters and parents didn't recognize me when I stepped off the plane. Danielle later said, "I was sitting next to Vikki (my other sister) and I pointed to you and said, 'there he is, I think.'"

My other anti-beautiful that I shared at a service the other night was my first vehicle I owned by myself. My brother's first car was a 1980 white Camaro with T-tops - it looked like it was straight out of a Whitesnake video with scantily clad lady writhing on the hood. Maybe that's why he bought it. My sister Vikki's first car, I think, was a Honda - nice white one also. My little sister's first car, if memory serves me correct, was my parent's white Ford(?) maybe. Nice white cars. When I finished the tour with Youth Encounter, I had $800 to my name. It seemed like an exorbitant amount of money after earning $50/month as a volunteer for a year and a half. Of course there is no such thing as an $800 car at a used car lot, so I went into the megatropolis of Rake, Iowa and sought out a friend of the family who liked to fix cars up and sell them off.

He had two cars and they were nothing like the cars that my siblings bought. They were both Mary Kaymobiles - pink exterior (I like to think of it as a salmon color - much more masculine), maroon interior and manual windows. 1988 Buicks. He had two of them; one was non-dented, no rust that he was selling for $1000. Too rich for my blood. The other was well used; it looked as if someone had decided that a Mary Kaymobile was a good hunting vehicle and had driven it through the fields. Imagine your surprise, if you were a hunter, out in the bush waiting for game when a 1988 pink Buick comes ripping through the field on the trail of a deer. Anyway, Mr. Woodwick was selling her with an $800 price tag. Excellent. I was so proud to pay cash.

I packed up Pinky, as I named her - later we would trade her in for a 1983 F-100 brown pickup named 'The Brain.' So, I packed up Pinky pulling a 6 foot u-haul trailer that held all my belongings and headed for the Grand Canyon State (Arizona) where I would be holding a job as a youth director.

Funny thing - as a youth director driving a Mary Kaymobile, all the kids always new where I was. And, in fact, the cool thing for kids to do was to ride with me in the Pinkymobile on our way to youth events. The Anti-beautiful thing began to catch on. Soon, kids were asking me if, when they bought their first car, they should get a Gremlin or an Omni.

In some ways, there is something completely beautiful about not worrying about the exterior. Like Pinky, our exterior's all fade a bit after a while. The polish wears off, the rust begins to show. Perhaps the body become a little outdated, doesn't start as well in the mornings or cold - but cars are, at their core, simply just a mode of transportation. Our bodies, in some respects, are that also. What is important is not that they always remain shiny and nice-smelling (although I would think that would be imperative for upkeep), but that they bring our souls to people and places so that we can experience all that God has for us. So I say, enjoy the ride and stop worrying about the mode.

Well, I guess I mixed enough metaphors for the day. And perhaps I've delved a bit too far into an idealistic world. But, seriously, enjoy the ride today. Take a few minutes to not look in the mirror and take heart in the beauty of what God is doing in the world.

Relationships? Anyone?

I think all humans are egoists at some level. Human nature would dictate that we think much more about our own needs rather than the needs of others. We are so caught up in our own brains, trapped in our own skulls, linked to our own desires that putting ourselves in other people's shoes is a stretch in the least, and impossible at most times. There is an old Native American adage that says, "Do not judge until you walk another mile in his moccasins."

I think the new concept is, "if you walk another mile in his moccasins you will not only have his moccasins but a one mile head start."

It's difficult to be in relationship with other people. They aren't like me; they don't think like I do; they care nothing about what is most important - always putting my needs first. Much of our Biblical tradition encompasses this critical action of human nature - being in relationship. Humans are social animals; we were made to live with or near each other. But that poses the fundamental question, "How do I live with my neighbor? - especially when they are so... (fill in the blank).

Relationships, for me, sometimes will fail because of the other person, but usually because of some failing in myself. In college, I was in the jazz choir called the "Castle Singers." (perhaps a better name could be chosen, in my modest opinion, for a jazz choir, but who am I. Interesting side note, the name 'Castle Singers' was farcically changed to 'Cattle Swingers' then, on that same theme to 'Bovine Tossers.' It was an interesting, fun time in my life). The Castle Singers was a forty-plus member singing group backed by a five piece jazz ensemble. Throughout the year we would practice for specific events on campus and then once in the late winter/early spring we would travel somewhere in the States or abroad. Castle Singers was a mixed group, equal numbers of male and female and when equal numbers of males and females are thrown into close proximity, well, nature takes over.

I had my eye on Nicky for a while. She was smallish, with brown page-boy cut hair, brown eyes and small hands. She was a soprano in the Castle Singers - I a tenor. Every once in a while I would catch her looking at me out of the side of her eye, coquettish, you know the look, the one that says, "I'm watching you but trying to look like I'm not watching you but hoping that you are looking at me not watch you." I had talked to her a few times before I summoned up the courage to ask her out. The meal was fine but there was a subtle undertone of she wanting to become much more serious at that point in time. I, on the other hand, seriously avoided all serious dating relationships. The more we talked, the more I found out that we really didn't have that much in common, she was incredibly intelligent, I was, well, very social. After dinner, I walked her back home to her dorm room. In the dark, she reached out to hold my hand. Normally, this would be a big step in a relationship. I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I led her on, I guess. We walked hand in hand, every once in a while she would pull my arm closer and put her head on my shoulder, all the while I was recoiling because she was getting a little too close. I needed space - freedom; a ball and chain I needed as much as a second nose. We reached her dorm in the cool early autumn evening. The moment had arrived - the kiss. It's a big decision that has to be made. Is it a kiss on the lips promising future commitment? Is it a kiss on the cheek perhaps meaning a testing of the waters - wanting to appear wholesome? Is it just a hug basically meaning "You know what, I like you because you have such a nice personality."

The decision was made for me. I was only going to kiss her on the cheek but Nicky grabbed my head and kissed me right on the lips. I guess I knew where she stood, if only I could have told her what I was really feeling, what I was really thinking. If only in relationships we could just talk to each other openly and honestly with respect.

Instead, I ended up kissing Nicky, and telling her I would see her the next day, and telling her what a wonderful time I had. Nicky bounced into her dorm. As I was leaving, I heard some of her dorm mates shout out the window, "Nice kiss. Woo Hoo." They'd been watching us. Wonderful. Now their were witnesses to my lie.

Nicky and I didn't make it, obviously, since I've been married to Christine for eleven years now. Christine may be appalled that she wasn't my first kiss. I told her that she was, after our first kiss, but I don't think she really believed me. Anyway, the story with Nicky takes an embarrassing turn. Instead of telling Nicky the truth, that I thought perhaps friendship instead of a serious dating relationship would be best, I told my identical twin brother about a great young woman that I had met. I introduced him to Nicky. About five months later they were engaged. I guess Nicky was truly ready to get serious fast. In case you wanted to know, his relationship with Nicky ended in disaster also. Now I have that guilt monkey on my back.

Relationships. In order to be in relationship with someone else, we have to communicate openly and honestly, we have to establish ground rules. I have to learn to give in; I have to learn to "let love be genuine, hate what is evil and hold fast to what is good." I need to love others with mutual affection. Let others love me too, rather than just loving myself.

But not only do I seek relationship with other people, I desire relationship with God. So often, I treat God like one of my failed earthly relationships: I lie to Him. I am not open and honest. I don't seek to spend time with Him. I am constantly in the crush of succumbing to my own desires. Why doesn't God give me everything that I want?

If I truly was in relationship with God, I would seek to understand what God desires first and understand that God desires me to love Him with my whole heart, soul, mind and strength, not so that I can use Him to my own ends, but that he would use me to love others. It is much easier for me to love others when I love God. When I come to the realization that I trust God and God trusts me, I have no fear of jealousy, that God will fall for someone else more than (or instead of) me. God loves us so that we can love others without fear or reservations.

So, God established the ground rules for loving others. In the 10 basic commandments, God puts a fence around relationships to allow us freedom to communicate and love. Traditional understing is that the first three commandments organize our relationship with God. The last seven how we live in community with each other. I could go on and on about Lutheran understanding of the 10 commandments, but let's, at this point, leave that for a Confirmation lesson and live in the moment. Don't steal anything from God or each other. Relationships are about giving, not about stealing.

So, this week, wherever you read this, think about the relationships you have established over the years. How can you help fortify or even rebuild relationships knowing that God has loved you first?