Talking Dirty

Two people can love one another deeply, but still be relatively ineffective communicating it. How?

You haven’t talked dirty enough.

Huh? Isn’t this a family friendly blog? Yep, it is. But we’re talking soil here. Let me explain.

Some while back, with some level of frustration that words weren’t doing the trick, I went out to the garage, got a flowerpot with holes in the bottom, and filled it with potting soil. Now imagine what happens when you pour water into such an arrangement. Any plant there would need lots of frequent watering, because the moisture is going to leak out quickly.

Porous soil. Leaky pot. That’s my heart. The imagery finally gave my wife a tangible picture. She who could go for a long stretch with just a little sprinkle – whose heart held on to small tokens of love without much leakage or evaporation. We had very different watering schedules, very different reinforcement needs – and, we didn’t speak the same love languages when it came to the best ways to show affection. What one thought was perfectly adequate was not, and vice-versa.

We had to talk dirty to really understand each other, and start learning each others’ “dialects.”

If you’re committed to your spouse, you soon find that plenty of your assumptions about what “works” in showing love are blown out of the water, and you have to communicate about what makes each of you tick. Is your soil dry and crumbly, needing lots of water, or does a little moisture go a long way? Does your pot have leaks? What makes your plant flourish, or wilt, or even drown? The sooner your spouse understands how (and how often) to water, the better it will be for both of you.

Because then you’ll probably talk dirty a lot more. But that’s another post…

(Image credit)

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Can the new iPhone Reawaken Creativity?

I used to take a lot of pictures.

When I was single, and in the days of marriage before kids, my camera (a 35mm SLR for those old enough to remember pre-digital days!) was a regular companion. I delighted in nature photography, often using slide film (farewell, Kodachrome!). Did some experimentation with black-and-white, and some macro stuff. It was a hobby, a creative outlet, and what developed was “the eye” – I’d always walk around thinking about how some scene would be composed as a photograph. I’d look for pictures.

All that changed once the realities of career and children set in.

Sure, I would now take pictures of the kids, and, on trips away, the creative urge might re-awaken. But by-and-large, the impulse to see and create photographs was submerged. I missed the outlet, but I was immersed in other, demanding priorities.

My cameras mostly languished, little-used, as the creative drive was temporarily replaced by functional picture-taking. And my ventures into video ended up the same way – it was a lot of work to bring equipment, set it up, download and edit, etc., and usage was mainly functional.

When digital photography came on the scene, the remarkable immediacy and ease of use help bring about a brief re-awakening. I remember well the day after the birth of our last son over 7 years ago, when a glorious morning led to a flurry of lovely pictures in the scenic lakeside area that is between our house and the hospital. Nonetheless, the demands of life kept the creative fires burning low, and the quality of digital cameras still had a ways to go – especially as cell phones began to make picture-taking and sharing drop-dead simple.

Fast forward to spring 2008. A first generation iPhone in hand, I began to fall back in love with taking pictures. It was all-in-one, it was convenient and sharable, it had crossed the threshold of easy. Most of my pictures we were more on the level of friends-and-family, however – quick shots to share. Because the quality was good but not exceptional, and there was no ability to focus. The camera did not inspire an artistic and creative sensibility.

All of that changed with the new iPhone 3GS.

For all of the many new and improved capabilities in the device, the most surprising effect, for me, has been a burst of photographic creativity. The camera is now higher quality, and allows focusing and close-up shots in an astonishingly simple interface. It now allows video capture, again with great simplicity and pretty good quality. And best of all, I now suddenly find myself walking around with “the eye” engaged, not on rare occasion, but every day and everywhere. Because I can compose quality pictures (and video) using an always-ready device, edit and share with ease and immediacy, and now I’m back to viewing the world the way I used to when I was a young buck with his Nikon.

I’m seeing pictures again. Eye and mind and heart are re-awakening to the world around me, which can be captured and viewed with a creative impulse unhindered by preparation and process. I get up in the morning, and often wander out in the yard, iPhone in hand, wondering again at dewdrops and flower buds, at shapes and sun and shadow. It’s not just an increase in technical capabilities. It’s a boost in happiness.

I knew I was getting a better iPhone. But I didn’t anticipate getting back something very important that had gone drowsy. A reawakening of creativity.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

The Love of Doing Nothing

I was talking to a friend today who is experiencing some family turmoil. In short – one aunt who married into the family has engaged, over many years, in a pattern of returning poison for love. What to do with such a person – how to show love?

Most of us have someone (or maybe that’s plural!) in our extended family who is a source of grief and trouble; someone who taxes our patience. Someone whom you’d just as soon see move to the other side of the world. The kind of relative that you leave behind after a family gathering muttering under your breath, marveling that you didn’t inflict grievous bodily harm…you know the type.

Sometimes, love means doing nothing. That is, you show the basic civility that you owe any human being made in the image of God, and you restrain yourself from doing all the things you’d LIKE to do. Subduing our impulse for vengeance can, itself, be a very high act of love. Even if it doesn’t feel like it!

“First, do no harm,” physicians are taught in the Hippocratic Oath. Many times, love is doing acts of positive good. Other times, it’s restraining your desire to do damage, even to those richly deserving it!

The apostle Paul, in the opening chapter of the New Testament book of Romans, details the corruption of the human race in the most plain and graphic terms. By the end of the chapter, you can almost feel the lightning bolt of God’s wrath tingling the back of your neck. Then, this remarkable phrase in the next chapter: “Do you think lightly of the riches of His kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?” Some mistake silence and patience in the provocations of sin as weakness, or indifference. But, in fact, it’s the love of holding back for a season, withholding due justice so that the offender might wake up and turn from folly.

When you’re provoked unjustly, show love. Even if it’s just the love of doing nothing…

Being an Obscure, Loyal Provider

It’s Father’s Day. I’m on the front lines now: my father has passed, as has my wife’s Dad. But their impact is not forgotten.

They were not well-known men in the wider world. Neither of them were college graduates, nor did they attain fame or notoriety. Both, ironically, were draftsmen, laboring away in relative obscurity in different parts of Connecticut for decades with companies that were neither sexy nor ground-breaking.

But what they WERE – they were both faithful, dedicated, stable providers. Mega-wealth creation was left to others more gifted or privileged – these men went about their work and their domestic lives in order to provide their children with a solid foundation from which to launch.

They didn’t shirk responsibility. They took what they had and toughed it out, staying faithful to their wives and families, working and sacrificing and saving. Their wives – our mothers – also worked when the kids were old enough, since draftsman jobs were not the highest-paying around.

They provided safety, stability, and the chance to grasp at opportunity.

All seven of their (combined) offspring graduated from college.

Three of us have, at one point or another, gone off on our own or started businesses.

All of us are homeowners, raising children who are now (in the oldest strata) moving into college and career tracks.

Many of us would like to leave a bigger mark in the world, a brighter trail across the sky. And that’s OK – I hope a lot of us do. But let it be said on many Father’s Days in the future, that underneath it all, we were loyal, faithful providers. And if our children are the ones to leave the brighter trails across the sky – what better legacy could there be??

Happy Father’s Day.

Hanging on

When I was little, like the rest of us, I knew I had to hang on to people and things as I wobbled uncertainly through the world.

Later, I imagined that I was strong, independent, capable of making it on my own without help.

Now I know that proud self-sufficiency is a delusion, one which only leads to poverty.

Part of the richness of life is being in a community, where limp meets lean, where weakness touches strength, where a rope or a branch or a crutch are offered by fellow travelers.

Like you, I have a long way to go. And I’m glad for the company along the way…

Is God Fair?

Reading in Exodus chapter 4 this morning, I couldn’t escape this question: Is  God fair? (in fact, any thoughtful reader of the Scriptures is forced to wrestle with that question all the time).

Let’s assume, for the sake of discussion, the general way we use the term fair/fairness on a human level in Western civilization: equitable; treating all sides alike; unbiased. It’s a noble concept when you think about courts of law, or good hiring practices. We all WANT to be treated fairly – we want to be viewed according to personal merits and given our due according to what we have earned/deserved. No-one wants to be on the wrong side of a discriminatory decision – we’re treating you differently because you’re (black/white/male/female/Hispanic/Jewish/short/blonde/whatever).

It’s hard to speak against fairness! But does that which we instinctively embrace on a human level apply to God? That’s a hard question to contemplate (and now I have to go off and teach on it!)

:: As Creator of all things, must He treat every aspect of what He has made in exactly the same way?

:: Is being just and wise the same as, or different from, being “fair”?

:: Would it be better for you and me, or worse, if God was “fair”?

What do you think? Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments…

Tugging on the Leash

Yesterday, we took our dog Mystic for a walk in Tourne Park, one of her favorite activities. She loves hopping in the van, curling up in a seat, and propping her head on an armrest, quietly enjoying the ride.

But when we get to our destination and put her on leash, placid “going along for the ride” is over. It’s sled dog time!

On some occasions, Mystic trots along contentedly, matching her relaxed pace to ours; but most of the time, she seems intent on self-strangulation, tugging mightily on the leash to drive her way forward, like a drag racer straining for the finish line with a permanently-deployed drogue chute.

The irony is, she doesn’t get there any faster. The leash doesn’t change its length, nor do we alter our pace. She simply wears herself out fighting against forces she cannot overcome.

It would go a lot better for you, I find myself thinking, if you’d just relax, get with the program, and enjoy the pace. Don’t fight the leash, or the one holding it.

But then, I realize Mystic is there to teach me, not vice-versa. Who strains against the leash of divine providence? Who needs to stop pushing and let someone else set the pace? Who needs to curl up and go along for the ride?

It’s Sunday, a day for rest. I think I’ll slow down the pace and cease tugging today. All that striving isn’t going to make the future arrive any faster…

Shattering Glass

I wish I had a picture of all the faces – especially Sandy’s.

We were having a nice, calm dinner last evening on the deck – all of us together, which is rare now that the oldest two are over 18 and working lots of hours. A beautiful, sun-filled day was winding down and the usual playful banter at the table was in full swing.

Someone noticed that my iced tea glass had a substantial crack in it. Not leaking, but clearly, this would be its final tour of duty. This particular glass carried no sentimental freight – it was merely functional.

Suddenly, in a gesture that very few of the female gender will understand (but all guys will!), I decided to heave the offending glassware to its doom, sending it sailing over the table, off the deck, and into a block wall, where it met its demise with a satisfying cascade of auditory tinkling.

Recovering from their momentary shock that steady ol’ Dad would do such a thing, the boys were quite delighted with this resolution to the problem. What I would give for a video or even a still picture of my wife Sandy’s reaction, however.

It was worth the 10 minutes of picking up shards, chuckling at the memory of dinner’s shattering denouement. You see, guys just have to occasionally smash things. We need to blow stuff up. We get into watching “Destroyed in Seconds.” It’s part of our psyche, and if you shake your head in wonderment why even an older guy sometimes needs to delightedly obliterate some wine bottles with a shotgun, or floor the accelerator up a highway entrance ramp – hey, it’s a guy thing. Now where’s that log-splitter…

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Not a Snuggie

The way some people speak and write about God, you’d think He was one big Snuggie – some fluffy Being whose sole function in life is to make us feel warm and comfy and better about ourselves.

Try telling that to Moses.

When it was time to get Moses’ undivided attention, we read in Exodus 3 that God caught his eyeballs with a bush aflame, one that burned without being consumed. A blaze is not the most comfy-cozy image ever conceived, but the words He spoke to Moses also demonstrated that God was no-one to mess with: “Do not come near here; remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground!”

In other words, I’m not your Snuggie.

Sure, there is much revealed about God’s kindness, His sympathy toward His people, His warm and gentle heart. But it is all in a larger context, that includes His purity, justice, holiness, and ultimate Other-ness. When He tells Moses his name, He says, ” I am that I am. Tell the children of Israel that I AM sent you.”

I’m Steve, and I’ve only been around for a few years. When a self-existent God reveals Himself as the I AM, His presence demands awe and respect. Egypt’s Pharaoh would soon find out how far disbelief and arrogance would get him – he discovered rather decisively that God was no Snuggie.

We’re all tempted to re-make God into some image that we’d prefer. A Snuggie idol sounds nice and cozy. Until you need unstoppable power and irresistible grace. Then only the real God will do…

Putting your Kid in the Reeds

What kind of mother would abandon her child in some reeds by a river? After 3 months bonding with her little boy, what woman could possibly package up a child in a wicker basket, float him in the weeds, and walk away?

A mother with great love for her son.

In Exodus chapter 2, we see just this event. The Hebrews had been charged by Pharoah to put all the male babies to death, since the Egyptians, owners of the land, were being outnumbered by the fecund visitors from the north, the sons of Israel.

Moses’ mother, as was the case with many at that time, was disinclined to acquiese. So she hid her baby for 3 months, then embarked on a bold, risky, and ultimately successful plan to preserve his life.

She shrewdly put Moses in a waterproofed wicker basket and placed him in a spot where she knew that the daughter of Pharoah came to bathe. She also planted her older daughter in the vicinity to watch what happened, and to provide some guidance at just the right time if the plan worked out.

The plan worked out. Pharoah’s daughter saw the baby, and though she knew it was a Hebrew child, her heart was stirred as she stared into the face of a real human being. Genocide comes about by classifying people as faceless undesirables. But a woman looking gazing into the eyes of a needy, abandoned baby – that’s a different story.

Conveniently, Moses’ older sister then approaches and volunteers to find a nursemaid for the little infant…of course, summoning her own (and Moses’) mother for the task. The mother is even paid to care for the child!

Of course, underneath all of this extraordinary drama is the reality that even by saving her son’s life, she’s going to eventually “lose” him – Pharoah’s daughter will bring him up once he is weaned. But for her mother’s heart, it is enough that her child is saved.

The irony is, that this act which appears heartless turns out to produce Moses, a prince in Egypt who eventually is called of God to deliver his long-suffering people, the Israelites. A mother’s sacrifice creates a world-changing result. You might well wonder what would drive a woman to risk it all and put her child in the reeds. Now you know.

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