Morrie on "every age"

Last week I read a short paperback, Tuesdays with Morrie. It is a true story about a professor named Morrie Swartz and a former student, Mitch Albom.

Mitch reconnected with Morrie in the final months of the older man's life. Their relationship resulted in another "class" with the dying professor teaching lessons in how to live. Morrie taught from experience. There was no exam but there was a final paper. Tuesdays with Morrie is that thesis, turned in after Morrie's death from amytrophic lateral schlerosis (ALS), Lou Gehrig's disease.

One of my favourite lessons is their discussion on aging. Mitch asked the seventy-eight year-old if he was jealous of young people. Morrie answered:

"It is impossible for the old not to envy the young. But the issue is to accept who you are and revel in that."

He added, "The truth is, part of me is ever age. I'm a three-year-old, I'm a five-year-old, I'm a thirty-seven-year-old, I'm a fifty-year-old. I've been through all of them, and I know what it's like. I delight in being a child when it is appropriate to be a child. I delight in being a wise old man when it is appropriate to be a wise old man. Think of all I can be! I am every age, up to my own."

Thanks, Morrie. Lest we forget to be childlike, when appropriate.

Lockup

I live in a city of fences, locks and guards.

The fences are cheap and strong…and often topped with barbed wire. Our fences serve as landmarks too. We say things like- “Come down to the third house marked 18. It is the one with the green fence.” We’re not worried that there are three number 18’s. It is OK if number 52 is next door. If we arrive at the number 18 with the green fence, we are confident.

Our fences are locked. We lock ourselves in at around 8 or 9pm and open the locks at around 6 in the morning. We don’t use a lock. We use locks. We multiply our protection.

Apart from the fences and locks we do guards. Some guard by night and have another job during the day. Some guard by day and study at university at night. Others do nothing else but sit, wait and hope that nothing happens.

In this city of fences, locks and guards, and important question becomes- who will I be locked up with? What language will I speak when I first wake up? Who will I see before I go to bed? There’s no choice about me being locked up. Who will I invite to join me?

Immersion

Immersion. Some friends used this word to describe entering back into the Asian country in which they work having spent time in their country of origin recently. The sounds, the smells, the language, the food….at once both familiar and foreign.

“Wherever you are, be all there,” goes the saying. Wherever you are, immerse yourself.

When in Queenstown in winter wear thermals under your jeans and five layers on top. Don’t forget the beanie because (as the advertisement said) “You lose 99% of your thoughts through your head.” Drink beer with your fish and chips. Learn all the snowboarding slang you can so that at least you can sound as though you can ride switch, work the box and land some sweet freestyle moves in the park.

When in Cambodia eat rice. Use your spoon in your right hand and keep your fork in the left. Greet your elders’ politely. Speak to strangers.

Immersion. I have crashed back into Cambodia these past ten days. It is as though there is everything to catch up on- relationships, current work, plans for future commitments. But there is a joy and energy in colliding into this foreign, familiar place. I’ve loved going out to different Provinces and helping to do training for youth involved in the Big Brothers and Sisters program. I’ve found fresh motivation for language learning. I’ve been given a new hunger for revelation truth, divine love, bold vision and for His joy to be my strength. Maybe I just needed a holiday. Maybe it is divine grace. Either way, bring it on!

travel

Yesterday we did a Big Brothers and Sisters training in one of the Provinces. We stayed the night in the village. This morning the four of us stood out on the main road at 8:30am to flag down a bus going back to Phnom Penh.

The first six were presumably full. They zoomed right by. The seventh bus stopped but the ticket guy explained, "We only have three seats left." I though that since we had been waving at buses for an hour we should take whatever was offered. We agreed and started to board the bus. The ticket guy told us to wait for a minute. He then opened the storage box under the bus and brought out the remaining three seats- kids' sized, plastic chairs that we could sit on in the aisle!

It wasn't exactly what I had in mind but I did get a seat.

and there are miracles

A parable from Anthony de Mello, a Catholic priest, states:

A man travelled halfway across the world to see for himself the extraordinary fame that the Teacher enjoyed.

"What miracles has your Teacher performed?" he asked one disciple.

"Well, actually.... there are miracles and there are miracles. In your country they consider it a miracle if God does someone's will. We consider it a miracle when someone does the will of God."

....and then there's the miracle of enjoying it too!

Back to it...

I'm back to blogging... after a break in which I didn't do much or think much at all. Feeling relaxed and surprisingly excited about life and work in Cambodia.