Digging Out

With each slash of the snow shovel, I freed up one more inch of space, making room for my garage door to open so I could determine if I could drive out.

In less time than I thought it would take, (and more back pain than I anticipated) I was ready to put the car in reverse and attempt a test run down my driveway. “Yes,” I breathed a sigh of relief as I successfully made it to the street in front of my house, “freedom.”

The fear of being trapped inside the house dissipated, at least for the moment, for more snow was in the forecast.

It had been a long time since Mother Nature had handed us a snow like this one, 12-14 inches, with drifts higher than that in some places. Snow seemed to be everywhere, hiding the roads and sidewalks, settling on the doorsteps, entering the house on the paws of my two Schnauzers, who didn’t know what to make of snow that’s deeper than they are tall.

 “I’m with you boys,” I assured them, “it’s a nuisance to me too.”

The snow was beautiful to the eyes, but restrictive to the body, limiting my ability to walk to the mail box, much less travel to the grocery store or office.

“Just look at that virgin snow, untouched by anyone,” my wife said later as we gazed at the open field behind our house.

I couldn’t resist the temptation to embrace it, to walk out into it, down to the fence row where my back yard met the farmer’s field. All alone there---soothed by the howling wind, lured by it as if it were Sirens compelling me to walk further out--- it was tempting to fall into a trance as I surveyed how the wind had formed rivulet like channels in the snow on the sides of the knobs, the gusts not stopping at the foot of the knobs but swishing across the fields, pushing the white stuff right up to my boot tops, encircling me, riveting my feet to the ground.

With each difficult and wanton step, I edged closer into my little wilderness.

And then I laughed out loud because my awkward steps reminded me of the scene in movie, Father of the Bride, where Martin Short is trying to carry Steve Martin, and Short has that halting, hilarious gait because of Steve’s weight.

Lent, a season of spiritual reflection for many Christians that begins in the dead of winter and ends in the freshness of spring, is about freeing ourselves from the weight, the heaviness of the stuff we accumulate that keeps us from running the race we are meant to run.

It’s about recognizing what those temptations mean, as attractive as they can be, and how they can encumber us. They are often not totally bad and even have the appearance of beauty.  When you walk in them, they mainly slow you down and can make you look pretty silly, like me attempting to traipse with some degree of grace through the snow.

It just doesn’t work: a measure of sin and a smidgen of grace.

It’s either sin or grace.

Recognizing the difference requires discernment and doing something about it takes courage.

It’s easier to watch snow accumulate at your doorstep.

But sometimes you just have to take a shovel and start digging your way out.

A little Lent this Valentine’s; a little Valentine’s this Lent

Valentine’s Day precedes Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent by only four days this year. What a contrast in these two days.

Valentine’s Day is a day when many couples celebrate their love with cards, flowers and gifts---gifts often in some form of chocolate. (If you eat equal amounts of white chocolate and dark chocolate, is that a balanced diet?)

Ash Wednesday is a day when religious people tend to give up something---often some form of chocolate.  And instead of celebrating, they engage in acts of penitence---maybe for partying (laissez les bon temps rouler) too heartily on Shrove Tuesday, the day preceding Ash Wednesday. 

Perhaps this Valentine’s Day, we should prepare for Lent by making February 14^th a day of sacrifice and likewise allowing our Lenten devotions to be accentuated by Valentine Day’s spirit of celebration.

Think about it: Do you have a habit that is detrimental to your relationship with your loved one? Maybe it’s something he/she has encouraged you to give up. It could be smoking, drinking, swearing, overeating, or certain rude or uncaring behaviors. (If you’re having trouble thinking of one, just ask your significant other.)

Maybe it’s a habit that you know has tremendous potential to damage and even destroy your relationship, something your partner knows nothing about, like your secret life with Internet-porn or privately spending money on things your partner would disapprove.

Maybe you could bring the Lenten spirit into Valentine’s by not simply giving something for Valentine’s, like a box of chocolates, but by giving up something, like a habit that can improve the quality of life with your partner.

Your Valentine gift of giving up becomes an act of discipline because you are relinquishing something you like in order to improve your relationship with someone you love. The result can be joy.

Giving up some of my rights or privileges for someone I love may not be convenient, but the result is often joy, for I see how my sacrifice has affected that person for the better. When I see something positive happening in the life of someone I love, I share their joy and happiness.

Christians practice spiritual disciplines to get closer to their Lord: There is deep spiritual significance in denying myself of something I find pleasure in so that I can go deeper in my love relationship with Jesus. Joy is usually the result.

Jesus modeled this for his followers: Hebrews 12:2 says that “for the joy that was set before him, Jesus endured the cross.”

Here’s the difficult part: It doesn't happen all at once but over a period of time, sometimes a long time. That’s why fruitful relationships are not made in one night stands. Nor are Christian disciples made in one effervescent, emotional moment.

Think of the relationships you know which have soured over time and have long ago settled into a mundane mediocrity, a life where two people, once lovers now just roommates, dwell together only because it’s more trouble to separate.  Somewhere back there, someone quit trying, someone took for granted whatever it was that drew them together.

Long lasting love relationships are as much an exercise of commitment and discipline as they that “Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada” feeling.

Lori and I made a commitment never to go to bed angry even if it meant staying awake for half our marriage. (It’s amazing how the desire for sleep can motivate you to kiss and make-up.)

The Christian’s walk with Christ during Lent is kind of like that. A commitment is made, and the joy at the end of the journey comes after saying “no” to many likable things along the way that are not so very pleasing to the One you love.

Lent is a journey beginning with Ash Wednesday and concluding with Easter Sunday. If you think your relationship with your partner is hopelessly dead, look to and hope in the resurrection power of Jesus Christ. Everyone had counted him out. But this year, we will celebrate his resurrection again, and he still transforms lives every day. And yes, he can resurrect your lifeless relationship, even if that relationship is with Jesus himself.

Our sacrifices of love can be celebrated along the Lenten road as we look to the finale, the celebration that Jesus is alive and with us, truly here among us in our struggles, and moreover he loves us with more love than any Valentine lover could ever fathom because he sacrificed more than his followers’ acts of devotion could ever offer him.

So give it up for love this Valentine’s and enjoy Lent a few days early.

Let love’s celebration of sacrifice begin.

Try a “stop day” for your get-up-and-go

“I’m tired,” my son, Dave, told me.

He was driving back from Cincinnati again after another long day.

“You’re too young to get tired,” I responded.

I’m sure he found about as much comfort in my words as I did when I, at about his age, told my dad I was tired.

“Oh well,” Dad nonchalantly said, “you’re young, you’ll get over it.”

But I wouldn't get over it simply because I was young and neither will Dave.

Dad didn't know about what some scientists call “sleep debt.” Sleep debt is the difference between the amount of sleep you should be getting and the amount you are actually getting. According to sleep studies, our bodies keep something like an internal bank account of the sleep we need and the sleep we get. Getting overdrawn on our account can result in health issues.

When I talked to Dad way back when, I was in graduate school, working a couple of part time jobs and accumulating some serious sleep debt. Let’s suppose I was getting 2 hours less sleep a night than I needed on any given week. Even though I may have slept an extra four hours on the weekend, I would still have had a sleep debt of about 6 hours.

That’s’ been years ago. There is no telling what my sleep debt is now. I would have to pull a Rip Van Winkle, find my own Sleepy Hollow, and snooze a couple of decades to catch up on my sleep.

I may as well declare sleep bankruptcy.

We are a sleep deprived nation. You likely hear those words, “I’m tired,” from people several times each week. Maybe you hear yourself saying them more frequently than that.

Today, about 20% of Americans report that they get less than 6 hours of sleep on the average, and the number of Americans who report that they get 8 hours of sleep has decreased.

And it’s not just adults. Teenagers, who need about 8-10 hours of sleep each night to function at optimum level, aren't getting enough sleep. One study found that only 15% are sleeping 8.5 hours on school nights.  Maybe they’re working off their sleep debt on weekends, but I doubt it.

Even children are getting on average 1.5 to 2 hours less than the recommended amount of sleep, according to a Sleep in America poll.

Much of the problem is the constant access to electronic devices, the use of which before bedtime, has been found to inhibit sleep.

We constantly want to be aware of what’s going on.

Most of my life I've been one of those who feared missing something.

Whenever my parents had a night out, my babysitter, Mrs. Francis, would try and get me to sleep. She would lie down, pretending to sleep. Certain that I had fallen asleep, she would ever so slowly put her feet on the floor--- anxious, I’m sure, to watch Johnny Carson or the Twilight Zone--- and at that moment I would pop up and ask, “Where ya going?”

Shaking her head in defeat, she would lie back down and start the process over. 

I didn't want to miss a thing and secretly wanted to watch whatever she was going to watch on TV.

The real deep down problem is that we don’t want to miss anything, we want to take it all in, 24/7, so we've created a 24/7 culture. We go, go, go, and fool ourselves into believing that constantly going and doing are virtuous and empowering. We’re like Frank Underwood, (Kevin Spacey, House of Cards): “I always loathed the necessity of sleep. Like death, it puts even the most powerful of men on their backs.”

Dr. Matthew Sleeth, a former emergency room physician, has addressed this issue in his book, 24/6: A Prescription for a Healthier, Happier Life.

“We go 24/7 now, and I think it's having health consequences. I think more and more, there's a consensus that it leads to depression and anxiety,” Sleeth said in an interview on CNN.

Sleeth takes us back to fourth commandment, the one in the Hebrew Bible that says we should “remember the Sabbath.” Noting that “Sabbath” means “to cease” from our labors, Sleuth recommends a “stop day,” a day when we do not work. He doesn't define what “labor” is for each person, but each of us should figure out what work is for us and not do that one day out of the week, he says.

Such a day when observed regularly could slow us down, refresh our spirit, and I would venture to say, increase our sleep patterns in a positive way, for we would be more in touch with ourselves, and others, and maybe even God.

We won’t mind missing some things, knowing that our “stop day,” enables us to experience life more fully than before.

It seemed to work for David, King of Israel, who regularly observed the Sabbath rest and said, “I lie down and sleep; I woke again, because the Lord sustains me” (Psalm 3:5).

Now that’s true rest.

I’m going to try it tonight.