Who Gets To Do This? And Why?

Fourteen years ago when we first set foot on the five acres we now call home, we were smitten. Mt. Adams, the 12,281’ high volcano sat directly in front of what was to become the site for the house. Pine woods on three sides gave the property a tucked in feel, and would provide protection from the winds that can frequent our valley. Sitting at just under 2000 feet, we were guaranteed all four seasons. Standing together and taking it all in, we began to envision building the home that we had first imagined over a bottle of wine, on the back of a cocktail napkin, the year our youngest daughters went off to college.

It was hard to fathom that we might actually be able to realize our long held dream of building a rustic home, east of the mountains, where we could live and that we could share with family and friends. I mean who gets to do that? And why?

Slowly the house took shape as we split our time between the city where our jobs were, and this piece of ground where our hearts were.

Sitting on the porch with my coffee 13 years ago, I continued to wonder, who gets to do this? And why?

2008

Thirteen years later, sitting on the porch with my coffee, I continue to ponder, who gets to do this? And why?

2021

Living here, having created the place that we hope to call home for years to come, is an unbelievable gift. I’ve never felt that we owned it. It is ours to steward, share, and make use of for the good of many. A safe haven and refuge for all who come here, and a place from which to imagine and work for a more just, loving, and inclusive world.

After this past year, I am starkly aware of the immeasurable, culturally inherent privilege granted to us that has made this dream of ours possible.

And to whom much is given, much is required.

Time-Frame

A recurring thought as I look ahead to a new year is that it not get away from me before it even starts. It is so very easy to allow my days to be in charge of me rather than me of them. There is a distinct difference between being in charge of, and being in control of. In charge implies that I’ve built a framework within which life can organically play out, making room for both the planned and the unexpected. Control on the other hand, suggests attempting to desperately hold on to all the moving parts. Of which there are too many to count.

Having had the unexpected privilege of building a custom home, I was able to observe first hand the process of framing the house. This wooden framework is later hidden behind the walls within which we live and work and play, but it is what makes all that living and working and playing possible. It creates the shelter within which we live. It defines the different rooms and areas we inhabit, and creates a kind of order within even the most chaotic of days can occur.

Our time can be likened to a kind of home as well. It is the shelter within which we live, and to hold up to all that life brings our way, it too is in need of a solid framework. One that creates and defines distinct spaces for who and what we care about. A structure that both protects us from taking on too much, and enables us to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Which, I believe, is why any of us are on the planet in the first place.

Putting such a framework in place doesn’t happen by chance. First and foremost, it requires our intention. How do we intend to spend our days? What gifts do we intend to offer to the world? What and who matter to us, and based on that, what impact do we intend to make and how will we do that?

Along with intention, creating our framework requires our attention, not only to details, but to the bigger picture as well. How can we bring our attention to who and what are right before us, and yet not lose sight of the larger view? How can we commit ourselves to what is ours to do, and refrain from jumping in to what is not?

As Annie Dillard reminds us, How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. The timeframe of our lives is unknown to us, which is all the more reason to build a solid framework within which to live whatever time we have.



Traction

It’s been two weeks since I took on the challenge of becoming a better steward of my time. (See The Days of Our Lives ) By determining who and what matter to me, the end result was a framework for how I spend my time, and where I spend my energy. That framework is quickly becoming a platform for making decisions that are in line with who I want to be and what I want my life to be about. Taking the time to get clear about all of that is creating traction in multiple directions. Everything from getting more sleep and exercise, envisioning and crafting new work, connecting with people and getting time to myself, to getting the everyday necessities done. Before going through the process two weeks ago, I was having a hard time getting purchase in any of those areas.

Traction is important.

Traction is what keeps us moving in the right direction.

Traction is what helps us stay on the trail when the going gets slippery.

Traction is what helps us get a grip…and keep it.

No matter what chapter of life we are in, we all need traction to will help us keep on keeping on in the right direction.

Photo by Vedran Miletić from Pexels

The Days Of Our Lives

How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Annie Dillard

I have a love-hate relationship with time. I love that I have it and am grateful for every moment that is mine. I hate how hard it is to corral it, and to create a framework that enables me to spend those moments in meaningful ways.

There is no question that time is one of the most valuable resources entrusted to us, and like any other asset at our disposal, it is about so much more than mere management. It is about stewardship.

What will we do with the time we have?

It seems like a question worthy of some serious consideration, and today was my day to consider.

Taking different colored sticky notes, I created four categories, and the endeavors and activities that fall under each. Putting them up in separated columns on the wall, I began moving the pieces around to reflect my priorities. It wasn’t an exercise in creating a longterm plan. I was building a platform for creating a life.

When the picture felt complete, I began playing around with the calendar function shared on all of my devices. I use iCal exclusively for organizing my days, and so assigned a different color to each category so that my calendar visually mirrored the sticky notes on the wall.

While providing ample time for each category, I also built in margins. Times that provide a buffer and build in a sense of spaciousness. Looking at this newly emerging framework, I was reminded that just because there is open space on my calendar doesn’t mean I need to fill it. I began to get a glimpse of how knowing what matters will help me know what to do when, and make more clear what is mine to do. And, what is not. The further along in the process, the more I could see how I can better connect who I am at my core with how I live out in the world.

It’s still a work in progress, and hopefully will be until I run out of the moments that are mine to live. I can expect that for the rest of my days the unanticipated, good, bad, and otherwise, will show up and blow a carefully planned day out of the water, because time is meant to be fluid, not rigid.

Annie Dillard is right.

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Which means, of course, that to be good stewards of our lives, we must first become good stewards of our days.

In case you’re wondering, my categories were: Molly; People; Vocation; Everything Else. In that order.

What are yours?

Paris Clock Photo: Tom Pierson

Three Questions

As a new week begins, I want to share three questions I heard this morning in church.

The message was given by Mateo, a high school student, on the topic of climate change. An issue so complex, so overwhelming, and so fraught with powerful emotions from those on all sides, that it can be tempting to find ourselves stuck in an endless cycle of hand wringing. Which, as far as I know, has yet to solve a problem. This young man, however, suggested that there might be a more effective approach to this global issue, that as stewards of the planet, impacts us all. In a quiet voice, confident in his message, he encouraged us to cut climate change down to size by thinking locally. As he shared his own story of coming to grips with the challenges facing our shared planet, he suggested that it might help each of us to ask ourselves the same three simple questions that he asked himself when attempting to wrap his young arms around this global bone of contention.

1. How is climate change affecting me?

2. How is it affecting others?

3. What are we going to do about it?

Simple questions with no easy answers, but in contemplating a worldwide situation in his own neck of the woods, he found it easier to see opportunities to make a difference. And suggested that we might too.

Imagine if each one of us decided to be curious. To honestly assess the impact our changing climate is having right in our own back yard, to consider how it is impacting those in our community, to search for ways to address our common concerns, and then get to work.

Mateo’s words rang true not only in relation to our rising temperatures, but as a template to approach any problem that feels too complex to tackle. From global issues to those within the walls of our own workplaces, schools, and homes, a good place to start is with the same three questions.

1. How is this fill-in-the-blank issue affecting me?

2. How is it affecting others?

3. What are we going to do about it?

Rancho La Puerta - Photo by Tom Pierson