Mountaineering and Marriage

The other day my friend told me he was going to climb Mount Rainier.  I took one look at him and said, "Are you serious?"  He is easily 100 pounds overweight, I never see him exercise, and he struggles with climbing the stairs, much less the tallest mountain in the Washington.  What should I say?  "Hey that's great!  Congratulations!  I'm so excited for you."  Or should I tell him the truth?  "Hey man, I think you should think about that.  Climbing Mount Rainier is serious business and you don't want to just rush into it."  

Actually, the other day my friend told me he was going to get married, not climb Mt. Rainier.  And he's not overweight at all.  In fact, he's totally fit, but I'm not sure he's fit for marriage.  Now what do I say?  "Hey, that's great!  Congratulations!  I'm so excited for you."  Or should I tell him the truth?  

Interestingly, the likelihood of successfully summitting Mt. Rainier is roughly the same as the likelihood of staying married: 50%.   So why do we always say, "Congratulations!" when someone announces their wedding plans?  When I was in my 20's, everybody was getting married, then in my 30's, everybody was having kids, now in my 40's it seems like I'm surrounded by divorce.  I'm sick of it and I think there's a lot more that I and my church can be doing to address this problem at the divorce end of the equation, but we should start by addressing it at the wedding end.  

At the risk of being the party pooper, the next time someone tells you they are getting married or better yet, they are thinking about proposing, take the time to give them some honest insight and feedback.  Marriage is like climbing a mountain:  possibly the most difficult and rewarding thing you'll ever do in your life.  If you are prepared, and go about it in the right way, it will be tremendously rewarding, but if you approach it cavalierly it will go terribly wrong and could very well kill you or at least your soul.   

I think one of the best things we can do to reduce divorce is to help people be more realistic about marriage upfront.  It's going to be tough and you may not be up for the challenge.  Look before you leap!

Photo courtesy of Jason Shipley of Uniquely Northwest Photography. https://www.facebook.com/uniquelynorthwestphotography/

Walking in the Dark

When I first moved to Bainbridge Island, back in 1998, I didn't realize how dark it could get living in the woods.  I had grown up living in the suburbs of Seattle and had never lived anywhere but suburbs or in town, where there are few trees and/or plenty of street lights.  Our first rental house on Bainbridge was at the far northern tip of the island, and to get to the house we had to go down a long rabbit warren of driveways through a thick forest.  Houses were sparse and trees were many and tall.  I should have taken a hint by the flashlights that every other bus rider was holding when they got off the bus at night, but I was young and clueless.  "I don't need a flashlight..."

So, when the bus dropped me off and drove away I was a little surprised to discover just how dark dark can be.  At first the headlights reflected off the trees and provided some light.  But as the bus rounded the corner a ways off behind me, it went to pitch black.  I've been in a super dark place before, and I just keep trying to open my eyes further.  It's as if I don't believe they're open because nothing is registering.  The weird thing was that I've never been in a place so dark outside.  Usually, there's light bouncing off the clouds, or the moon is providing some light.  But not in these trees.  

I put my hand out in front of me and could not see it.  So, I was walking slowly down the driveway that I knew was there, but I was wandering off course into the muddy ditch on the side.  It was so dark that I literally got down and touched the edge of the driveway with my hand to feel my way down the driveway.  Eventually I got to the part of the driveway where I needed to leave the pavement and go down a gravel driveway.  There was no more pavement to guide me and I didn't want to go into the ditch.  At that point, I looked up that I discovered a path to follow.  Where the driveway cut through the forest, there was a path of stars above, and if I just kept looking up, I could stay in the middle of that path and walk straight down the driveway.  Eventually, I got down closer to the house and a light from the house guided my path.  

Later I was thinking about that experience as a metaphor for my life.  I struggle to see where I'm going and I insist on finding a way to do it myself.  And a lot of the time that works well enough.  But is that any way to live...well enough.  I want to live a life that is full and rich and meaningful, and the path to that life is there all along.  I need only look up.    

"I am the way, the truth and the life."  - Jesus, John 14:6

Tangled

When I was in 6th grade, I knew a kid who came back from Singapore where his family had been missionaries.  His name was Steven, but everyone called him Stevie.  He had tons of really cool electronics that he had picked up during his time in Asia, and he was willing to sell me a Walkman knock off for $50.  It was made by Aiwa.  One of those brands like Thule that's so cool, only insiders know how to pronounce it right.  It was all black with some red and white details and it had two super cool features: Autoreverse and a three channel equalizer.  Hello!  It had an equalizer on a hand held tape player!  It was sooooo cool.  But there was one problem I experienced constantly ... tangled headphone wires.  

Tangled head phones, tangled electrical cords, tangles hoses, tangled christmas lights, tangled blinds pulls.  You name it.  If it could get tangled it did get tangled, and it all started with shoe laces.  Why were my shoe laces always getting tangled, and why was everything always getting tangled?  Or here's another question... why don't I have that problem now?    

It's weird.  I practically never have that problem anymore.  Either things don't get tangled in the first place, or if they are a little bit, I can easily undo it.  Why?  What's the difference?

The answer is probably a bit obvious, but it's worth looking at it and thinking about how it relates to the other parts of our lives that are still getting tangled.  The way I see it, it's a two part answer.  First, I am more careful about how I put things away.  Second, I am more patient about getting things untangled.  

When I was a kid, I just grabbed the thing and jammed it into a drawer or pocket or closet without thinking about what it would be like when I got it back out.  An interesting side note is that I also didn't think about whether that would be easy or hard for someone else to pull out.  It's no surprise then that when I tried to retrieve the item, that it would be a mess.  And of course, when I did pull it out, I was in a hurry to fix the mess and just started pulling on whatever end seemed to stick out the furthest.  

Now, when I put away an electrical cord, I plug the two ends together and wrap it up the way I learned to flake climbing rope when I was in college.  When I put away christmas lights, I wrap them around a paper towel core or at least put them in separate bags.  Basically, I've learned that if I put it away right, it's easier to get it out without getting too tangled.  

But, you know, some things just get tangled anyway, no matter what you do...especially those christmas lights.  So, now when I pull something out that is already tangled, I take a moment to look at it.  Usually, the easiest way to untangle it is to just let it fall apart.  Rather than pulling the one end you can find, go to the middle and just start opening up the knot, slowly pulling all the parts apart from each other.  In my experience, it will usually find its way open from there.  

I've found that applying these same principles to the rest of my life helps me get other things untangled too.  First of all, take the time to do things right the first time.  Then, when things still get tangled, take a breath, and go straight to the heart of the matter rather than pulling on whatever end is sticking out.  

What about you?  Is there some part of your life that's a tangled mess?  Would it be helpful to go straight to the heart of that matter rather than pulling on loose ends?  

A Saturday Peace

We use firewood to heat our home, and every morning I go out to the firewood shed to bring in firewood for the day.  I have to make several trips to bring in enough wood to heat the house for the next 24 hours (we burn 7 chords of wood per season).  When I'm bringing in those pieces of wood, I evaluate them to pick the right pieces at the right time.  For instance, I always try to grab wetter and more square shapes first to put on the bottom of the pile.  They make a steady base, and they'll dry out more before they get used.  Then I add the drier and possibly odder shapes near the top of the pile since they will be thrown into the fire sooner and they don't need to hold pieces above them.  

 There is one type of piece, however, that I avoid bringing in: the Saturday piece.  A Saturday piece is a problem piece.  It's too big or oddly shaped or wet to throw on the pile for a normal day.  I'm typically gone during the day on weekdays and I don't want to make my wife deal with the odd or inconvenient piece.  But on Saturdays I'm around and it's no big deal to wrestle with that piece on those days.  If it's particularly wet, I leave it right in front of the fire to dry it out, and if it's really big, I get the fire nice and hot, then make space for it.  The bottom line is that some wood is just going to be too much of a pain to deal with on an ordinary day and is best dealt with when I'll have time to address it without stress.  Do you see where I'm going with this?  It's not procrastination to identify a problem too gnarly to deal with right now and set it aside for a time when you know you can address it.  Procrastination is arriving on Saturday and wimping out and opting not to deal with those pieces when I know I can.  Knowing that I'll deal with those problems on the weekend gives me a Saturday peace all week long.