Advice for Life.....for Free

I will never forget the first time I heard a most unusual and unique Pop hit called:

EVERBODY'S FREE (TO WEAR SUNSCREEN) 12/06/1999

I was in my car when I first heard it and found it so catchy. I had no idea who the artist was and like every other time I have heard a great song on the radio, the DJ's didn't announce the name at the end! (Ever happen to you?--drives me nuts!!) I remember how distinctively some of the words and concepts in the song immediately felt "right on" to me. I found myself trying really hard to listen intently while trying not to get in a wreck at the same time. It was hard...

When I finally found out it was Baz Luhrman I was thrown for a loop. I only knew him from his first movie "Strictly Ballroom" which is one of my favorites. (*Highly recommended)

So, hearing a tune by him was odd and out of place, but yet at the same time, it wasn't as he is such a versatile and creative individual. In fact, I am not sure if he ever released any other record since, although he is extremely musical and weaves it into all of his work. (Moulin Rouge was incredibly interesting and his noveau modern interpretation of Romeo+Juliet was another eccentric brilliant piece *Not for all).

I am not sure what hit me today that reminded me of this most interesting little record, but as I pulled it out of the "cold storage" for the first time in many many years I was hit by how much of it still resounded in my bones.

There are nuggets of truth here, at least for me and I see lots of application in my life. In fact, I found myself mentally highlighting particular words and/or phrases that have meaning for me. In ended up doing so in RED. Ironically, I must admit that I have actually taken and pondered much of his advice, which he openly acknowledges as "worthless", which is probably why I listened a bit more carefully from the onset.

I encourage you to click on the link above and see the video for yourself. I have posted the words below. I may elaborate on some highlighted sections over time. Some now and some later..... Still need to think about that.

I hope you enjoy as much as I have and if you don't, maybe it will still make you think and do a self check on your own life.....are you close or far? Noone says you have to be one or the other, but for me, I want to be "close", so I keep checking in on myself to see if I am still dancing.......no matter where I am.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’97Wear Sunscreen

 

"If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth, oh never mind, you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now, how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked, you are not as fat as you imagine.

 

Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you

 

Sing

 

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Don’t waste your time on jealousy, sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind, the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults, if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life, the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

 

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, Maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary What ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

 Enjoy your body, use it every way you can, don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Brother and sister together we'll make it through. Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there. I know you've been hurtin', but I've been waitin' to be there for you. And I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings, they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard, Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel....

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

 Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, Maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

........But trust me on the sunscreen

Baby M

 Is this for real......?  Can't be!!

How......?   

Where.....?  

Who is this most delightful visitor?

What is it about this tiny little person that can melt the hardest heart, bring the mighty to their knees and create an immediate reverance amongst beasts or mankind?  

How can she do this...?  How can she emotionally destroy us without making a sound?  I do not know other than that she is not of this world.  The world can create many beautiful things, but it can't create the unique and special aura and heavenly awe of a newborn baby. 

No....this gift only comes from one place, and it isn't here.

How does she capture  my gaze so instantly and intently.  She isn't even trying..... She knows not what she does.  If she is in the room all living things are drawn to her like a powerful magnetic draws metal.  We turn off the TV. We find soft music, We drop what we are doing because all other tasks become irrelevant when this little princess shows up. We want to change the environment to suit the royalty that she is.

Completely helpfless......, yet commands control completely!  What is this power that she wields so innocently that affects all.  She is no respecter of persons, she is willing to share it all with anyone and willing to absorb any affection and love from anyone as well.  She depends upon it.  It is her nourishment, and she reflects it back in spades!  We, the observer gets the best part of that trade for sure.

One single little coo can send her mom into the stratosphere!  What happens when she figures out her first smile..... game over! It's like a little heart attack that jolts ones' heart.

To think that our Father in Heaven would grant this unexplainable experience that only He understands the totality of, with us.  Maybe this is one of the only ways that we can relate to Him, by sharing a tiny glimpse of how He feels about each one of us..... times a trillion!

What do I see when I look at Miller......

She is selfless.........she is pure light..........Yes, she is perfection personified

In the prettiest package that could ever be presented.  

Pink suits her just fine, no?

Miller, you have already done what you were supposed to do -- completely change our hearts and remind us of who we are and why we are here.  

All hail to Baby M.

Growth, the Past, and the Stories We Keep Negotiating

I spend a fair bit of my time thinking about—and trying to live—the idea of a growth mindset.

In my work, it shows up everywhere. If someone doesn’t believe they can grow, they usually don’t. Or at the very least, they don’t grow at the pace of their potential. On the other hand, those who do believe it tend to move differently. They stretch. They take feedback. They evolve. They never really “arrive”—because they’re always becoming.

There’s an entire science dedicated to understanding potential—how to define it, measure it, and unlock it. But one question always seems to sit underneath all of it:

Potential… for what?

Organizations struggle to define it.

And if I’m being honest, so do we in our own lives.

Because more often than not, the limits we experience aren’t external—they’re internal. They show up in quiet, almost reasonable ways:

• “I can’t do that job.”
• “I’m comfortable where I am—why push it?”
• “I’m successful enough.”

I’ve had those thoughts. More than I’d like to admit.

And for me, they were often tied to something deeper—how I handled feedback, how I saw myself, and how much I let my past shape my present.

There were seasons in my life where my confidence was low. I didn’t really want honest feedback—I wanted confirmation. I would ask for it, but not really receive it. And when I did hear something hard, I’d deflect it, minimize it, or quietly dismiss it.

Not because I didn’t care… but because I didn’t yet have the capacity to face it.

Looking back, I can see how much that stalled my growth. It’s hard to move forward when you’re not willing to see clearly where you are.

At some point, I came across this idea:

“You can’t fix your future if you keep negotiating with the past.”

That one stuck with me.

Because I realized how often I was doing exactly that.

It didn’t feel like I was stuck—it felt like I was being thoughtful. Careful. Even wise.

But in reality, it sounded more like this:

• “I’ve always been this way…”
• “Last time didn’t work, so this probably won’t either…”
• “Given what happened before, I should probably play it safe…”
• “People like me don’t really do that…”

It felt like logic.

But it was really just old data overruling new possibilities.

I wasn’t learning from the past—I was asking it for permission.

The past is incredibly useful for lessons, but it’s a terrible source for limits.

If every decision we make has to be approved by what already happened, we end up living in a very narrow lane:

• Taking only the risks that feel familiar
• Avoiding anything that once led to discomfort
• Repeating patterns without realizing it

In that way, the past quietly becomes a governor on our lives instead of a teacher.

And sometimes, it goes even deeper than that.

For me, there were moments when “negotiating with the past” wasn’t about events—it was about identity.

I had become loyal to a version of myself that I had already proven.

Letting go of that felt risky.

It meant:

• Losing certainty
• Letting go of a story I had told myself for years
• Risking being seen differently by others

And if I’m being completely honest—it was terrifying.

There is one moment in particular that stands out.

In my 40’s, I made a decision that, at the time, felt like it might quietly end my career.

I changed industries.

I went from high tech to a non-profit Church

I stepped down 3 grade levels from Director to Individual Contributor.

And I didn’t receive a raise for three years.

Everything in me was negotiating with the past.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“This isn’t how careers are supposed to work.”

“You’ve already built something—why risk it now?”

"Did I just throw away my resume?"

It would have been easy to stay where I was and justify it with logic that sounded responsible.

But underneath that logic was fear.

Not fear of failure—but fear of letting go of the version of myself I had already proven.

And yet, there was something else there too.

A quieter voice. One that didn’t have proof—just possibility.

So I took the step anyway.

And nothing I feared actually happened.

In fact, the opposite did.

That decision didn’t set me back—it set me free.

It stretched me. It reshaped how I saw myself. And over time, it led me to a place where I feel more aligned, more capable, and more fulfilled than I did before.

Not because the path was obvious—

…but because I finally stopped asking my past for permission.

Maybe growth mindset isn’t just about believing you can improve.

Maybe it’s about deciding that your past—while real, valid, and often instructive—doesn’t get to define the boundaries of your future.

I’ve started to think about it this way:

The past gets a vote, not a veto.

I still catch myself slipping back into old negotiations from time to time.

But when I do—and I choose possibility over precedent—that’s when things start moving again.

So here’s the question I’ve been sitting with:

Where in your life might you be asking your past for permission… instead of giving your future a chance?

Miller Elizabeth Slavens

We just welcomed the newest addition to our amazing family.  Miller Elizabeth Slavens.  7lbs 7 oz.  19" and healthy.

We knew something was special about this one because she made her mom work so dang hard for her to come.  

Noone worked as hard as Alexa did on a clean, health ridden pregnancy.  She had great plans for no meds, no extra chemicals or medicines... she was hoping for a clearn birth.  This time the Lord has something else in store for her.  The situation called for a twist, not one that she wanted, but she willing submitted to what was best for Miller.  A strong jagged pill to swallow for sure and a few questions for heaven did come to her mind.... 

My prayer is that the look on this girls face right now, will be etched in my memory for ever. The wry little smile, and the knowing spirit your face emanates......It is one for the ages.  A new exhausted mom, who probably has already forgotten the painful journey that she had to travel and doesn't even know how beautifully sweet and peaceful her gaze is.  A sense of contentment that is only known to those who go through this process.  Something that women only know. Something that Moms know that only God knows.

She is already looking ahead....wondering what this means and yet at the same time knowing that nothing will ever be the same.

Welcome little Miller....Can I say Millie already?  I haven't even met you yet but I had to share this story now.

The tender mercy of the Lord to have such capable and prepared professionals to help guid them both towards this amazing moment!

Well done Lexi Lu!  My eyes are full, my heart is pounding and I am so proud of you.  You have always wanted to be a Mom and now you are.  It is real, it happened and now you can realize all your childhood dreams.

Thank God for the miracle of life. The nobility of Motherhood is your new mantle.  You will rise up to meet it and wear it like a favorite pair of shoes.  

Now let's get both of you home so we can see what this girlie is going to do.......

Meeting in the Middle

 

Parents are being punished and cut off making mistakes.  This is not new, but it seems to be happening more.

I would say most of the time Parents can say the wrong things with the right intention. They step in when they should step back.  

We do this because our hearts are louder than our judgement.

Parents are afraid of losing their children, they are afraid of watching them get hurt.  Fear makes even the most loving parent respond in ways they regret.  How can one expect a child to understand that?  How can angry kid ever really know that a Mother's heart will always move first before logic.  This makes her human in every possible way.  The messy parts come from a place that's trying to love and protect the best way she knows how. 

One of the most important lessons you can ever learn is that your parents may never be who you wish they were.  Years and countless hours are spent on replaying the past over and over in your mind. "I wish my Dad hadn't manipulated me".  "I wish my Mom cared more about me."  The problem is that wishing does nothing, it doesn't change them.  It only keeps you stuck in the pain and past of what never was...  This isn't about allowing for abuse or pretending their mistakes didn't hurt. It's about releasing the weight of constantly I wish and letting them be who they are.  With acceptance comes peace.  Learning to understand them and meeting them where they are and finding ways to heal instead of letting anger keep the distance alive and ever present in every conversation.  Because once you understand your parents not as the perfect figures you once needed them to be, but as human beings with their own wounds, their own pains and their own limitations you see them differently.  You can't pretend to acknowledge this but keep stoking the fires resentment of what should have been from your perspective.  This is not true acceptance, and lasting peace will be elusive.  You may see the cycles they never broke, the love that they might not have known how to give. The ways they tried but fell short and in that understanding it's like your heart starts to soften.

My friend was an estranged child.  They helped me understand that it was safer for them to cut their parents off then stay in the conversation, but then they never healed. They stay stuck carrying unresolved anger and grief into every relationship.  They explained to me that while they were in that state, every effort her parents made to reach out was ignored, dissected or used against them.  She couldn't trust anything her parents did.  So, any progress or movement towards maturity was never acknowledged.  There was never a chance for them to correct or clarify the why they did or said certain things.  So, time passed, their parents were moving on, but she was not.  Until she realized that if she met her parents in the middle, realized they were actually trying to understand her and be supportive of her path, she was going to be stuck with permanent pain.  She thought that reaching back into the past she could justify her anger and why she was estranged.  She narrowly escaped a slippery trap.  

She realized that her motivation of searching the past was to validate and justify her actions and personal choices 

vs that of understanding her parents with empathy.  She didn't want to take responsibility for her own choices.  She felt like placing blame would be the answer.....it wasn't.

There is a story of a group of people that needed to stoke hate of their "parents" or forefathers for generations for moving them from their homeland to across the ocean to a new place.  The homeland was conquered and destroyed.  Some of the kids of this family felt like it was a blessing, others did not, so they clashed big time.  The one's that were ok with it moved away and progressed.  The ones that stayed couldn't bear the thought that the others could live in peace.  How dare they?  They decided to make a conscious choice to teach hate for generations and that it would be better to wipe them off the face of the earth then to just live peaceably apart.  What an interesting problem, "if you don't agree with me, then I can't accept you."  Can you see this in our society today?

Why can't an estranged kid live the way they want and still be happy for the parents to be who they are?  Why would a kid decide to "save" all his siblings that still have great relationships with their parents by getting them to see how manipulative and wrong they were.  Why isn't it possible for to be happy in their own sphere?  Why not?  What's the big deal?  If you are truly that angry maybe it isn't about your parents after all.... What if you are just mad at yourself?  What if you are the problem?  Is that too hard to even consider?

We decided awhile back now that we aren't going to chase down a child who doesn't want us back, 

who resents us, and doesn't respect us parents who did their best.  We know that doesn't actually bring them back, that is not right.  There is no "back".  There is only support for their happiness going forward.  But if they don't acknowledge that then any attempt is an irritant to their spirit.  We aren't going to lose ourselves in that pursuit.   It would be disrespectful to both us and the kid.

So, I ask you, what if the story shifts.... from "they failed to where they were carrying their own pain too".

That may not erase the pain, but it creates space for compassion 

 Sometimes that compassion is what opens the door to healing.

Can there be permanent healing....?  I believe so and it doesn't have to be in a religious way.  It can come from a simple decision.  A choice. One first has to want to heal.  They may not know how to reach that point.  Because what if the people that love them the most could be part of that solution but are kept at arm's length from doing so?  That would be the ultimate tragedy.

Parents, what are you doing to change?  Are you mature enough to stop wasting time worrying about what you could have, should have done or hoping your kid "comes back" and find a way to make is safer for them to meet you in the middle?  

Kids, what are you doing to change?  Are you mature enough to stop wasting time, accept your parents for who they are as well as yourself and heal by finding a way to meet them in the middle?

What a Privilege

"What a privilege to be tired from the work you begged the universe for..."

"What a privilege to feel overwhelmed by the growth you used to dream about..."

"What a privilege to be challenged by a life you created on purpose..."

"And what a privilege to outgrow things you used to settle for..."

To be tired from having done things you dreamt about is a beautiful blessing.  What an amazingly refreshing concept to simmer on.

I came across this and experienced a powerful sequence of reflections—it reads almost like a mantra for gratitude in motion. Each line reframes exhaustion, overwhelm, challenge, and change not as burdens but as evidence of answered prayers, focused intentional living, and personal evolution and progression. It’s a reminder that the very things we sometimes complain about are the fruits of what we once longed for.

There are many layers to consider and points of view.  The only way I can welcome these points into my mind and heart is through an elevated mindset and spirit.  These are not to be quickly scanned and understood, at least not to me.  I liked how I felt when I was able to let them sink deeper into my being as they caused me to look at my trials, my proclivities, my progression -- my life differently. I immediately felt wiser and more grown up when I finally acknowledged the truth that I found in them.  What helped is when I could actually recognize that maybe I had progressed a bit.  I still have so far to go, I know... but it was a nice moment of reflection.  

• Privilege of effort:  fatigue becomes proof of meaningful work, not meaningless toil.

• Privilege of growth:  overwhelm signals expansion into spaces you once only imagined.

• Privilege of challenge:  obstacles confirm you’re living deliberately, not drifting.

• Privilege of evolution:  outgrowing old compromises shows you’re stepping into higher standards and truly progressing into a new maturity.

It’s almost a four-step gratitude ladder: work → growth → challenge → evolution

I was curious if these “What a privilege…” reflections mapped to Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet, especially his meditations on work, growth, challenge, and change.  I was so pleased to show how beautifully they correlate!

Here is what I found:

• “What a privilege to be tired from the work you begged the universe for…” Gibran’s chapter On Work insists that labor is not a curse but a blessing. He writes that “to work with love is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart”. Work, when embraced, connects us to ourselves, others, and the divine. The framing of fatigue as privilege echoes his idea that toil is ennobling when it springs from love and purpose.

• “What a privilege to feel overwhelmed by the growth you used to dream about…” Gibran often pairs joy and sorrow, showing that expansion comes with weight. In On Joy and Sorrow, he says they are inseparable: “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.” Growth, even overwhelming, is proof of life’s unfolding. This statement mirrors this duality—overwhelm as evidence of realized dreams.

• “What a privilege to be challenged by a life you created on purpose…”               In On Freedom, Gibran reminds us that true freedom is not escape but conscious choice. To live deliberately is to accept challenge as part of self-authorship. This resonates with his insistence that intentional living brings both responsibility and meaning.

• “And what a privilege to outgrow things you used to settle for…”              Gibran’s On Reason and Passion and On Self-Knowledge emphasize evolution—shedding old compromises to embrace higher truths. He portrays growth as a continual rebirth, where leaving behind lesser things is necessary for becoming more fully oneself.  “Outgrowing” aligns with his vision of spiritual ascent.

I really lost myself in this meandering...  I loved reading and rolling in these expressions over and over again. 

I wonder what your take was......?

Here I am: A Soul Awakens

 

💔 Here Am I: A Reflection on Tragedy, Faith, and the Courage to Love

In the days since Charlie Kirk’s murder, something has shifted inside me. Not just grief—but a soul-level ache. It feels as though we’ve lost something sacred in this country. A reverence for truth. A shared moral compass. A willingness to lift our spirits toward something more enlightened, more loving.

Instead, we’ve degraded into our worst selves. We’ve traded grace for grievance. And I find myself asking: How did we get here?

Is it the erosion of family structure? The rise of ideologies that teach our youth to justify violence over disagreement? Or have we simply tried to replace God with ourselves—believing we know better than He?

I’ve felt embarrassed by my own silence. My own reticence to speak truth in love. I’ve tiptoed around my conservative values, afraid to offend, afraid to stand. But this tragedy has awakened something new in me—a courage to profess my faith in Christ. To testify of His example. To follow Him, if ever there was One worth following.

🔥 A Nation in Mourning, A Soul in Revival

Across the country, I’ve seen people moved by something unseen. Drawn to church pews. Opening dusty Bibles. Whispering prayers they hadn’t spoken in years. It’s as if Charlie’s death cracked something open—not just politically, but spiritually.

Isaiah 6:8 has echoed in my heart:  “Here am I; send me.”

It’s no longer about asking what God can do for me. It’s about asking what I can do for Him. That seemed to be a posture Charlie embraced. And now, I wonder how I can do the same.

🌿 Gibran’s Wisdom in the Wake of Violence

Kahlil Gibran once wrote:

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.”

This moment is a scar. But it can also be a seed. Gibran’s poetry reminds me that love is the only answer. The only universal truth that transcends ideology, race, and creed.

“You can do no wrong by me.” What if we saw our enemies through that lens?

🌍 Remembering My Roots, Reclaiming My Voice

I grew up as a minority in foreign lands.  My parents taught me that we were always guests.  They could always see the best in everyone first.  I felt so blessed to have so many friends from all walks of life.  Thank goodness we weren't the same.  Diversity wasn’t a slogan—it was my reality. I learned to welcome different thoughts, to wrestle with hard questions about my faith. And in that struggle, I found strength—not because I had all the answers, but because I knew what I believed. And I knew that He knew. That was enough.  

Today, I’m reminded that love is not passive. It’s inconvenient. It demands service, humility, and consistency. If I can reflect the Savior in my countenance, then it will never be about me. It will always be about Him. And maybe—just maybe—others will see Him too.

🕊️ The Altar of Forgiveness

Perhaps Charlie’s legacy will be measured not in political impact, but in our willingness to lay down hate. To purge our hearts of contention. To forgive ourselves first. To make space for the redemptive power of the Atonement to burn us anew.

But what will we do with that empty space? How do we keep it from filling with resentment again?

We must choose love. We must see through the lens of charity. We must ask God, trembling but willing:

So, I ask you—what burden are you still carrying that love could lift? And what would change in your life if you simply said, “Here am I; send me”?  Maybe for you it isn't my God, but whoever you believe in. Does the question still haunt you sufficiently like it does me?  If so, then I am glad.....for the both of us.

Let's speak again in one year and take stock of our collective response.  

Hands

 

Today at church a very wise man got up and shared some of his thoughts and feelings he was experiencing.  He immediately started talking about hands.  He started by sharing how grateful he was that he had just been sitting with his wife holding hands after 42 years of marriage.  He talked about how nice that was.  

He mentioned that we often greet others with hands, touching connecting, flesh to flesh.  Sometimes it might be a hug.

He continued by saying how important it is to have hands.  He asked us how life would be different if we only had one.

I thought about that.  What would service look like without hands?  It can certainly be done, but it did make me think...

He spoke about hands of service.  How important service is and how often we associate service rendered to others with hands.  I Googled "Helping Hands" and was amazed at how many organizations, foundations, NGO's, non-profits etc... had these words in their title.

It caused me to reflect on my own hands and their service.  I felt as if I were lacking... My hands have been too idle.  I can't say that they have been too busy, too tired or too worn out in the service of others.  Have I asked Heaven how they could be more helpful?  In what ways? Could I write or text an uplifting message to someone?  Could I use Zoom or Teams to connect with someone that could use remembering a great memory from the past?  Could I pull a few weeds from my neighbor's lawn as I walk by it each night?  It struck me that my brain does the thinking work, my heart feels the compassion, but ultimately my hands execute those thoughts and brings those feelings to life.  Whether they be loading the dishwasher, replacing a light bulb or maybe playing the guitar to make beautiful music, making food to share with someone, or when they find themselves on someone's head needing a special blessing of comfort. Have I done many of these tasks?  Yes, but has my heart and mind been involved or just my hands? Have I missed the mark by finding myself only feeling good about checking the boxes?  I still reflect even more as I go deeper.... have my hands been as helpful as they can be?

 In many spiritual traditions, hands symbollize compassion and healing.  Hands are incredibly spiritual... they can do so much good to lift souls and brighten spirits.  I believe Helping Hands are Healing Hands.  

This good brother then mentioned Jesus' hands...  How he looks forward to seeing those hands in a coming day.  Hands with the marks that bear witness of his ultimate sacrifice and service of all possible service in this world and the next.  Those hands that did nothing except bless the lives of countless lepers, diseased, sick, lame, mute, deaf, maimed and even brought forth the dead.  Those hands that had to lift and bear His own cross.  Yes, these are His hands.  The Hands that will never rest in serving and making sure all that were His will come back to God's presence.  

If you don't think you are spiritual you might be wrong...  Maybe your church isn't a building, or a mosque or synagogue.  Maybe it is wherever your hands are helping someone else?   Have you thought about that?  Maybe that is the best church of all.... where everyone is a bit more concerned with using their hands to help someone else besides themselves.

Speaking of church, I am so glad I went there this day.  What I heard sparked something inside me, a certain amount of unrest and wrestle.... a hurts good struggle as I realized I can do more with these hands of mine.  It caused me to remember a day so many years ago, when my hands were in such pain with carpal tunnel and my brother laid his hands on my head, and gave me a blessing of comfort and healing.  He said something I won't ever forget.....  "Aaron, your hands are not yours, but the Lord's.  Use them in His service and your pain will be forgotten."    

What a powerful thing to consider and it made me think about how I use them, for Him.

I am grateful for the hands I have been given.

Oh! how I have been wanting to sit with you giving you just enough space to ask:

"What lessons have you learned in the past few years?"

I would listen for hours and my heart would be filled, no it would runneth over....

I know it would involve tears, laughter, madness and joy all mingled together

What I would give for that...without thought of ought else.

Sounds of the Night Vendors

 

"Saaapuuuuuh!" I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night wondering where I was.  I was in a strange bed, in a strange place and there was moonlight flickering through the window casting dancing light onto the floor and walls.  What was that noise...?

I heard it again...."Saaaaapuuuh!" I gripped my sheet more tightly and turned my head quickly towards the window.... It came from outside.  I had never heard a sound like that before. It didn't quite sound like an animal so I was confused.  I wanted to see out the window but was too afraid to move from my bed.  Thirty seconds went by like an eternity...... "Saaaaapuuuuh!" rang out again through the night air but this time fainter. My eyes were wide awake...

My eight-year-old imagination went wild.  I had just moved to Indonesia and it was still the first couple of days in this mysterious new country.  I could not figure out what that cry in the night was.  I didn't know whether to go wake up my parents or not.  I sat, just listening to the quiet night wondering if I would hear it again....

After what seemed like an hour I laid back down and started to relax.  It had been quiet for a while now... somehow it seemed like a dream. 

Before I had a chance to fall back to sleep I heard another loud cry: "Jagung!" "Jagung!" This was higher pitched then the other.  I jolted back up with my heart racing.... wondering all over again what in the world was happening.  It repeated just like the one before every few minutes but with each new chorus, it became softer as if it were disappearing into the darkness.

After a restless night I awoke and ran into my parents room to tell them what had happened.  My Dad laughed and said "Oh!  Those are the calls of the night vendors."  I was still confused.  I didn't know what night vendors were and if that is what they did I didn't like it.  My dad explained to me that there were many different vendors that would walk through neighborhoods selling their different wares and instead of knocking on each door, they would call out the product or service they were selling out loud so people could hear and then run out and flag them down to buy what they were selling.  

Once I saw them during the day outside going past our house I finally understood and then paying more attention to the different calls of each vendor after that.  It became a really cool thing to me. I remember I couldn't wait for bedtime so that I could wait and listen for the different vendors that would pass by.  It was like clockwork.  They always came and there were so many different calls.  I tried to keep track of each of them. I would echo their calls out loud trying to imitate what I was hearing.

It was fun to hear their cry and then run to the window to see who they were and what they were selling.  I remember watching the 'Sapuh' guy the first time rhythmically balancing on his shoulder a long bamboo strip called a pikulan that is strung with brooms, mops and a multitude of kitchenware. He would walk with this perfect gait like learning to ride a trotting horse without busting one's behind.  The perfect rhythm of his bare feet slapping like leather against the asphalt roads.  His one arm holding the pole and the other swinging in perfect synchronicity maintaining the necessary balance. 

 I learned later that many of them would do this their entire adult lives.  I was witnessing the micro business of Indonesia in the 70's before that term existed.  The street vendors were, and I believe still are an integral part of Jakarta's landscape; one that separates Jakarta from other boring, even sterile-looking cities.  A thriving underground economy, street vendors reflect a resourceful entrepreneurial spirit that delivers good and services directly to the consumer using some ingenious forms of transportation. There were all kinds of bicycles and carts and other modes of transportation. 

This whole nighttime culture of selling one's wares became part of my life.  It was a bit intoxicating and wondrous as I would fantasize about being one of them.  I would imagine which one would be the best to be and then put myself in their so called "shoes" or feet rather and wondered what one night would be like.  For an eight-year-old, tired didn't factor in.  These folks seemed tireless, never stopping, working hard to make enough to eat that day.

What started out as being so scary and haunting, became familiar and surprisingly comforting.  I came to count on those interesting nighttime noises like little friends in the dark, letting me know that they were out there, that all was well.  Many nights I drifted off only after I started hearing their cries which was a very different place from where I started those first days of arriving there.  I became keenly aware of the difference when I came to the U.S. for summer vacations.  It was difficult to fall asleep to a completely quiet night.  That was when I knew I was "all in" with respect to this amazing culture and land. It was reminiscent of Beryl Markham's remarkable stories of Africa which were so incredibly immersive and impactful on her life.  These were for me.

Over the years I have fondly thought about them, their calls, their lives and how they completely captivated the imagination of an eight-year-old boy. The nostalgia is very strong and deep when I let myself fully remember.  Even now as I write my memories down, I am drawn back to that hot, humid, mysterious place.  It was like being dipped into an old story to a place where books have not been written yet.  A secret place with secret sounds and smells.  Its' pungent aroma fills the senses metaphorically as I take in a deep breath.  A story that a young boy can forever live off of and return to forever....

Oh, how amazing it would be to hear one more "Saaaaapuuuuuh!" reverberate through the night to lull me back into a deep sleep of exotic and dreamy experiences of my childhood.

Yes.......These are the Sounds of the Night Vendors.......