#55 Off to the Races

Today Tess and I took Lanie to her first cross country meet. It was a special experience. Just a hint of fall chill cut through the air, so we bundled Babes up in a jacket and socks to protect her from the wind. As we passed from the parking lot to the course, Lanie squealed with excitement. She smiled and chattered as the boys took off for their 5000m race. Then Lanie and I trekked across the golf course to find another good spot to watch. Lanie looked around in wonder, soaking in as much as she could. As the runners approached the mile mark, raindrops began gently falling. I made sure Lanie's hood stayed up and pulled her in closer, and Tess brought one of our umbrellas over. Sheltered from the rain, we kept moving and cheering for the rest of the race. Lanie never fussed or whined; she just basked in the experience. I'm pretty sure she had fun. I know I did. Maybe Lanie will take after her dad and compete in a few of these meets herself someday. Now that would really be fun.

Grace and peace,
BMH

P.S. Happy birthday to Christopher Reeve, who would have been 65 today. I was born 13 years after Superman, but I clearly remember the first time I saw the movie. Reeve truly made me and many others believe a man could fly.

#54 Return of the Cranky Mathematician

Since I was a math major in college, I'm more sensitive to mathematical errors and numbers being used in ways that don't make sense. Every so often, I use my blog to rant about such things. This is the second installment of this feature.

We need to have a talk about percentages. Every so often I encounter someone who talks about giving 110% effort. When I hear this, I want to flip over some tables and slam my head against a wall. You cannot give 110% effort. That makes absolutely no sense. Your full effort is 100%. That's 100 out of 100. 100% is the limit. You are a finite person; you cannot go beyond that. You can't conjure more effort out of thin air. When you talk about giving 110% effort, I lose respect for you. Plain and simple.

And the same goes for your excitement level. You can't be 110% excited about something. You can't be more excited than you are capable of. That makes no logical sense. Such blatant disregard for mathematics makes me want to weep. It hurts me deep inside.

Now there are instances where percentages greater than 100% may be validly used. For example, if you had $50 last week and now have $55, you now have 110% of the money you used to have. But effort and excitement don't work that way. Think of yourself as a container for effort or excitement. You cannot fill a container more than 100% full.

But as much as misuse of 110% bothers me, it's still not the worst offense I've experienced. Sometimes I hear someone say that they are 1000% sure about some claim. At that point, you've made the poor numbers meaningless. I think people who say such things should be punished. Next time they go to the grocery store, their waiting time for check out should be 1000% of the average person's waiting time. (That's 10 times longer than normal, in case you were wondering.) Maybe that will be enough to discourge such ridiculous statements, statements that make me 100% frustrated.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#53 Excitement Around Every Corner

Almost everyday, Lanie and I eat lunch together. After strapping her into the high chair, I reach into the cupboard and pull out a tub of squash or peas or something like that and show it to Lanie. Once she realizes what's happening, she starts beaming. An enormous smile takes over her face. Pure happiness lights up her eyes. She makes satisfied noises as she gobbles up spoonful after spoonful. Sometimes she gets too excited and flails her arms with joy, inadvertently splattering a glob of food everywhere. I like to eat, but Lanie is on a whole other level. Who knew someone could be so ecstatic about vegetables? And bland, mushy vegetables at that.

But that's Lanie's life. Excitement is always around the corner. She squeals when I make animal noises as I bounce her toys around. She giggles when I drop out of sight and pop back up again. She grins from ear to ear when I make a whispering sound by her ear. She babbles blissfully when she finds some part of me to gnaw on. She does a happy dance when I come home.

One of my biggest flaws is that I think too much. Another is that I struggle with showing emotion. Lanie doesn't have those flaws—at least not yet. And even when I'm exhausted or preoccupied or overwhelmed, her joy is infectious. She just makes me happy. Who knows? Maybe after a continual stream of lunches and lazy Mondays with Lanie, I'll learn to think a little less and smile a little more. After all, there's no shortage of things to be excited about.

Grace and peace,
BMH

#52 The Ministry of Being There

Last week, one of our church members died. She had been fighting cancer since before I arrived, so I visited her and her husband several times over the last 15 months. Throughout the past seven days, I spent a lot of time with her family: in the hospital, at the funeral home, at the funeral and burial and lunch. Mourning the loss of a beloved wife and mother and grandmother is heartbreakingly difficult for the family. Ministering to a grieving family is certainly not the most fun part of my job.

But last week I had a strange thought: in a way, this is why I'm here. Visiting those around me and especially walking with those who are grieving is probably the most valuable thing I can contribute to a church and community. Let's face it: you can find sermons on TV or online, sermons delivered by preachers who are far more experienced and intelligent and eloquent than I am. Well-written and insightful Bible studies and Sunday school curricula are pretty easily available. When you really get down to it, the thing that I can do that a book or computer or TV preacher can't do is show up. I can be present. I don't always know what to say or what to do. I'm not sure I'm very good at dealing with death and funerals. But I can do my best to be with those who are hurting. And—praise God—that's often all God needs to use me.

Grace and peace,
BMH