Where Your Feet Take You

by Paul Hettinga

Last Thursday marked the 43rd anniversary of Joanna and me being married. Laughingly, we have wondered if we’ve had 43 years of growing, loving and enjoying each other…or has it been one year lived over 43 times?

Living with another person, sharing your life with another is of all gifts the highest gift of all - and at the same time the most challenging gift to fully embrace and realize in your life individually and together.

So, I wonder: how many of the 43 years were not simply repeats of the previous year or years? Gladly and with a modest amount of humility I can say that most, if not all the years we’ve had together, have grown on the experience of the past years and embraced the future with expectations of growing together and individually more with each new year.

Do I dare compare this to my relationship with God? I claim to have become a Christian when I was 22 years old and with that started a life long quest to discover who I am in this relationship with God. At 68 I ask the same question: is it 46 years or 1 year lived 46 times over and over? Certainly there have been spurts of growth and discovery in some of those 46 years - but when I read my journals from the past, I find myself struggling with the same things year after year.

My favorite writer, Fred Buechner writes about this in Alphabet of Grace:

“I say that if you want to know who you are, if you are more than academically interested in that particular mystery, you could do a lot worse than look to your feet for an answer. Introspection in the long run doesn’t get you very far because every time you draw back to look at yourself, you are seeing everything except for the part that drew back, and when you draw back to look at the part that drew back to look at yourself, you see again everything except for what you are really looking for. And so on. Since the possibilities for drawing back seem to be infinite, you are, in your quest to see yourself whole, doomed always to see infinitely less than what there will always remain to see. Thus, when you wake up in the morning, called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”

Sometimes, I seem incapable of “getting over” who I used to be and becoming the new person I imagine God imagines me to be. Letting go of the past me to embrace the future me seems unreachable—but I’m going to watch my feet.

If this is not a Place…

by  Paul Hettinga

Recently I have been listening to Ken Medema’s Podcasts “Inside the Songs” as I’m walking in the morning. Many of us know Ken and have seen and heard him in concert over the years. Like me, I’m sure most of you find him to be inspiring both in his life and his message through music.

On his podcast titled “Places” he plays this wonderful song “If this is not a Place” and for some reason this morning that brought me to tears. I should say that I get teary eyed pretty quickly these days, but that’s another story for another day.

It’s been nearly 9 months since I have retired – and during this time, I have tried to devote myself to answering the question of  “Who does God want me to be or what does God want me to do with this next chapter of my life?” I’ve read a number of things, I’ve kept a journal, I’ve tried to be quieter than normal and I’ve certainly prayed more fervently. I’m currently starting to meet with a spiritual director to give me a little life coaching with a spiritual perspective.

However, I don’t have much good news to report yet. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love all my free time and I use it to do things I’m interested in. But as for answering this question, I’m beginning to doubt the sincerity of my own questions at this point. I wonder if God is thinking the same thing.

And yet, I’m continuing to stay in this place and to be more present to God’s quiet nudges that come in many forms instead of filling up my life with lots of other places, responsibilities and activities. It’s a little threatening to my ego and there are days I just think I’m being lazy, unproductive and should get off my dead butt and get out there again.

But somehow deep within my heart, I know the place I need to be right now is this quiet listening place within the core of who I am, and it’s this place where God will dwell in me and gently transform me into the image he wants me to be.

Ken doesn’t answer the question “If this is Not a Place” – but he certainly suggests a whole lot of places that won’t help us to know ourselves and be known by God. Take a few minutes to listen to the You Tube of Ken performing this wonderful song.

May God bless you richly in your own pursuit of authentic living, 

If This Is Not A Place. . .

   Ken Medema

Click here to download a You Tube video of Ken performing this:

http://youtu.be/vn7xuHsJB8s

If this is not a place where tears are understood,

Then where shall I go to cry?

And if this is not a place where my spirit can take wings,

Then where shall I go to fly?

I don't need another place for trying to impress you

With just how good and virtuous I am.

I don't need another place for always being on top of things;

Everybody knows that it's a sham.

I don't need another place for always wearing smiles,

Even when it's not the way I feel.

I don't need another place to mouth the same old platitudes;

Everybody knows that it's not real.

So if this is not a place where my questions can be asked,

Then where shall I go to seek?

And if this is not a place where my heart cry can be heard,

Where, tell me where, shall I go to speak?

So if this is not a place where tears are understood,

Where shall I go, where shall I go to fly?

-- Ken Medema

artwork by Alicia Drakiotis, Marlborough, NH

Retirement: Growing Old or Growing Young

by Paul Hettinga

This picture of my parents has always inspired me. At nearly 70 years old they were on a trip to Colorado to see first hand what Young Life did with kids. One of the day trip options was this incredible raft trip. They jumped at the opportunity. Wow! What a great picture of a couple who expanded their lives as they grew older, who experienced more as they grew older and who felt that each day was a gift from God. Their lives hadn’t always been so. Maybe I’ll write about that another time.

Late in life they got involved in a number of mission trips, ministry projects, embraced a steadily broadening group of people they came to love and in general ‘grew their lives’ in ways that we’re counterintuitive to retirement. Instead of doing less, they did more. Instead of shrinking their circle of friends, they broadened it. Instead of narrowing their view of politics, religion, social and cultural issues, they broadened their perspective. They became more embraced by God’s spirit of love, of growth, of generosity and of open-mindedness and embraced others in these same ways.

My dad died 10 years ago and my mom is now in Assisted Living in Grand Haven. It is such a joy to watch her being loved now in these same ways by all the people who she and my dad loved so generously all those years. In fact there is one young man who spends nearly every Tuesday morning with mom, reading to her since she has lost her sight to macular degeneration. Earlier in her life, my mom had done the same for his grandmother for many years before she died and he is now returning the favor by reading to her each week. As Proverbs teaches us, life is circular. Throughout their lives, mom and dad sowed a life of love and gracious hospitality, and now my mom is reaping all the same love and generous care from so many family and friends.

I’ve been retired from my career now for 6 months and have tried to focus on who God wants me to be and who I want to be for the rest of my life. I’ve taken the advice of many friends who have retired before me and have not made any long-term commitments yet. I’m trying to give myself and God time enough to discern these most important questions before I start getting busy again.

The example of my mom and dad’s expanding version of growing old reaches deep into me and inspires me to do no less. I’m inspired by both of them to broaden my own viewpoints, to be more accepting of those who disagree with me or with whom I disagree, to be generously loving and to live generously – not ‘holding too tightly’ to the resources God has given me, investing them in the lives God brings to me.

Finally, I’m inspired to simply be more available to the day, to being where I am, to accepting myself as being good enough just as I am. I want to live towards others in the same way. God’s gracious and forgiving love makes it possible to live this way. And here’s another even greater point; once you start living this way, it’s both infectious and expansive to the point that it becomes hard not to live this way.

So for now – it’s enough to not do too much, to take time and to let God’s quiet voice and spirit embrace me. I hope that God will plant deeply within me many of the same qualities that I saw in my mom and dad. From that place, who knows what I might end up being and doing?

Let the adventure continue!

My Cathedral of Ice

by Paul Hettinga

Like so many other mornings, this morning I woke, grabbed a hot cup of coffee and went to sit down in my favorite chair to read, reflect, pray a little and generally try to be available to meet God in my own contrived ways. This morning however, I was delighted with the scene shown below. So simple - yet for me profoundly beautiful.  I stood looking at it with my coffee cooling for at least 3 or 4 minutes, which for me is an eternity. Then I snapped this quick picture - sat down to start the process of ‘meeting’ God in my chair with my own “Ice Cathedral” just outside the window.

I sold my company and began retiring from full time work on Jan 1st of this year. I have hopes that I will use this time to ask God what’s next for me…who does he want me to be in the later years of my life? Should I just assume to continue to be who I have been all those working years - retirement simply being a different place to be the person I was before? Or is there a new - generally undiscovered me within, that God would love to reveal to me? I’ve jokingly asked “So, who am I going to be when I grow up? 

Well, guess what: this is tougher than I thought. While I’m only about 6 weeks into it, I can see that I’ve hardly begun the journey so far. Partly, that’s due to some complications with the sale of the company, partly due to some family matters that I’m attending to but mostly, it's due to ‘ME'. ‘ME' is still in the center of the process and as long as that’s the case, it’s going to be tough for me to stop being ME long enough to sense the presence of GOD. I read, I write, I reflect and yet it’s all ME doing this. I intuitively know that silence and being in his presence is probably more to the task. Yet, this creates a kind of uncomfortable insecurity deep within me. I’ve got to get up, think, write in my journal; i.e. take control - be decisive - do something! 

Is it possible to stop centering around ME, and not feel so insecure? I recognize that many of the thoughts and behaviors that I dislike in myself come from this place of insecurity so I usually run from it pretty quickly. But perhaps insecurity of this sort might be a good place to start from on this spiritual journey. Being insecure enough in my own strengths, ideas, feelings, in me, might just create the kind of space where I can sense and be enveloped in God’s quiet presence right in the middle of my day - right where I am. 

Kind of like sensing the beauty of an icicle that’s been hanging outside my window for a couple weeks now. Today was the first day I really ‘saw’ it - so maybe my journey has just begun. 

Moving is Over-Rated

A Guest Blog by Alice Ling

One month ago today, I joined in a formal Liturgy of Farewell with the congregation I’d been serving, and in the next few days completed the process of saying good-bye: to parishioners I had known for too short a time, friends still adjusting to me being 3 hours away instead of next door, family who enjoyed having me within reach again, even a one year old grandson who was the light of my year. Since then, people who only reluctantly agreed to let me go out of respect for the quest I’m on have regularly asked if I’m getting settled, happy in my new home, or beginning to feel that elusive sense of joy or peace.  Really? 

I know it’s their way of expressing their hope this move is good for me, but I don’t work that fast. I’ve just started the arduous task of opening the zillion boxes of books, stacking piles in rings between me and the bookcases as a step toward eventually putting as many as I can on shelves. In the next few days, I will face into the trauma of a first haircut in a new place. All the while doing my best to hold off the question, what have I done?? Into the midst of all of that floated the gentle invitation to write something about being healthy while in full throttle transition mode. I could pretend I misheard the question and respond, I’m all ears. Or I can eek out an observation or two of what I’m trying and what seems to make sense from here.

While it doesn’t come naturally for me, I’m making an effort to be gentle with myself. Sometimes I have what it takes to tackle a project, sometimes I need to sit in a heap. I try to milk the bursts of energy for all they’re worth, and take a break when my psyche demands one. As I approach my goal at the end of a weight loss journey, I’m trying not to lose ground or my hold on tender new behaviors, but I also know now is not the time for rigidity. 

After a few days of affirming the exercise I was expending carrying boxes around the house, I resumed my walking routine. It’s a healthy thing to do, but more than that, this spirit needs fresh air, time to explore the setting of our house, and a chance to watch clouds moving over the lake, deer bounding across the road and turkeys scavenging on a hillside. Knowing that meeting people and forming friendships will be key to my life in this new place, I’ve followed the opportunities – church, a potluck supper, listening in as two people discuss a neighborhood newsletter, even a contentious wastewater meeting. Whether I ever go back is a different question than what I’m willing to try once. One of these days, I may even trade my slow start savoring of a cup of coffee for early morning yoga, but I haven’t gone that far yet.

Perhaps even more challenging than being gentle with myself is being patient with the process. I’m the sort who plants roots deep and builds a nest with care, and starting over doesn’t come easily. I have known since before the decision was made that it would take significant time for me to grow into this new reality. I have intentionally created a space for openness in which I expect to rest, heal and discern; and while it doesn’t surprise me that it feels more like emptiness and void than openness and space, they are two sides of the same coin. 

I need to live within the complicated mix of it all, and float as well as I’m able. I’m beginning to envision some in-depth exploration of the concept of patience. This is no annual cycle through winter and mud season, trusting the crocus will bloom and life will return. I have my doubts that it will even be a 9-month gestation period. The timeline, process and outcome are unclear, but here I am. In the midst of it all, I need to wait and watch, pray and wonder, trust and hope. I’ll bake some bread, sing some songs, write the poems I hear and do what I can with the books.