Best Laid Plans (Burns Day Edition)

It's Burns Day, when people the world over gather to celebrate the life and writings of the gret mon ;-)
Even though I didn't know this when I wrote this piece, it seems like today is the day to post it. Enjoy, Steve

Best Laid Plans (a slightly longer than usual Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)


"The best laid schemes of mice and men go oft astray" says the Robert Burns quote, and my experience certainly agrees.  It hasn't put me off scheming, completely, but there ARE times I wonder why I bother.  You plan, organize, time-manage, equip, assemble, deploy, and, in some case, accessorize; not to mention hurry, fret, placate, rearrange, orient, and clock-watch (which is different than time-manage ... really).  But, it just doesn't QUITE work out.  To paraphrase Field Marshall Moltke: "No plan survives actual contact with the enemy."


In case this sounds defeatist, let me stop you right now.  Moltke was just warming up his argument that strategizing for battle must ALWAYS include contingency planning; the consideration of every possible iteration.  


And Burns was apologizing to a mouse.


No, I don't think either of these men would want their thoughts misconstrued.  Moltke, in brief, was saying "fret not;" rather, plan WELL, all the time recognizing you just cannot anticipate everything.  Have enough contingencies that you can be creative in your response when the inevitable breakdown occurs.  In fact, he not-so-famously also said, "Strategy is a system of expedients."


And Burns recognized the fact that disappointment (and disappointment is, perhaps, putting it too mildly for some of us) often accompanies the realization that our plans are not unfolding as we intended them.  Burns is sorry that his plowing has destroyed the mouse's home, but he a little envious that the mouse can focus only on the present, while he is subject to worry about both the past and future.


I've had good reason to reflect on the philosophies of these two men, recently.  I had a scheme go astray, a plan expire in the face of reality.  I had made careful arrangements for a successful appointment with my new trainer.  Having set the appointment later in the evening, I still left work shortly after five to ensure I had plenty of margin in travel time.  And, despite the torrential downpour that slowed traffic and made driving difficult, I still made it to the gym in plenty of time.  I had already carefully packed my gym bag so I wouldn't have any last minute concerns about essential clothing, lock for the locker, shampoo, etc.  I even packed a pen to use in capturing my workout plan for future reference.


There was, however, one little thing.  


I arrived timely, I met my trainer, we agreed on a rendezvous point on the gym floor, and I headed off to the locker room to change.  I selected a locker, started changing, set my bag into the locker, and slipped the lock into the hasp ... except, it wouldn't GO into the hasp.  I focused on the situation.  Perhaps something was blocking?  Maybe I was coming at it from an angle?


No.  It was, of course, the unanticipated thing; in fact, the almost unanticipatable thing:  the diameter of the lock's shackle was just THIS much too wide to fit through the hasp.  My first reaction: WHAT?!  Then, I had one of those little moments where you tell yourself not to panic, to apply some logic.  Of COURSE my lock would work.  I just needed to find a different hasp; something was wrong with this one, the odd narrow opening.


Nope. I tried my lock on every available locker.  No luck.  Somehow, the shackle of my ordinary Master Lock was just a few microns too thick, and no amount of calm logic was going to change that.  


These things happen to us, don't they?  Frankly, all the planning in the world can't prevent them.  Yes, we can and should make plans.  But we need to be ready to "roll with the punch" because the punch is going to come.  We WILL have to make a course correction, to put it in nautical terms.  And beyond the "what" of that creative response is something perhaps even more important: the "how."


We are free to choose any solution that satisfies us.  We could just throw up our hands and leave.  Let's face it: if you don't feel angry at the unfolding events, the other go-to choice is self-blame and then surrender.  And speaking of anger, we can, as my Great Aunt Vera used to say, "throw a hissy fit." It's emotionally gratifying and, conveniently, usually shifts the blame from ourselves to someone else.  Most of us think all our options lie on a continuum between these two poles: surrender or strike out at someone else; flight or fight.  Most people don't care to consider another response, to step outside the usual.  And freedom allows them to leave it at that.


But, as 1 Corinthians 8 says, "God does care when you use your freedom carelessly," especially as it affects those who may not be as strong of will or certainty as we are.  And how are we to know who is "strong enough" to not be impacted by our choices, actions, statements?  


As for me, well, there was no solution from Burns.  I'm old enough not to fret in disappointing situations ... at least, those that don't threaten my ego ;-)  And while I had already applied Moltke's strategic approach to planning the night, now seemed to be the moment for some of his creative response to the inevitable.  So, I went back out and made new arrangements with my trainer.  We will meet another night.  


In the meantime, I will buy a different lock.


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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany (January 29, 2012)
Deuteronomy 18:15-2
Psalm 111
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
Mark 1:21-28


Join us at 8:00 at Cafe Cappuccino (downtown on 6th, near the Courthouse) if you are in Waco Friday morning.  Good food and great discussion of this week's Lectionary passages.

Blessings, 
Steve

Sent from my iPad

Passing Away

Passing Away (a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

I have never been very good at endings.

I remember reading a comment one author made about his craftwork where he indicated he thought he wrote good beginnings and great middles, but that he had trouble with endings. Man! Do I get that! When I am in the flow of it; when my characters are doing interesting things, going interesting places, speaking interesting dialog ... it is SO hard to shut the door on that.

But it is not just in the realm of writing that I have this challenge. I hate to come to the end of the books I'm reading. Orson Scott Card, opining on the craft of writing, claimed the sad ending is not the opposite of the happy ending. He reserved that dishonor for the unsatisfying ending. And I agree.

I am coming to an ending of something that has given me great joy for several years, and I am very reluctant to be done. Some years ago I decided to read all of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct novels, in order. Just so you have the picture: he wrote almost 60 of these, starting in 1956 and continuing until just a few years ago (I think he published his last in 2008). This was a tall order.

Since I wanted to read them in order, I needed to start with books first published in the mid-1950's. So, part of the fun was the hunt! My family can testify that I have haunted every used book store in my path, be it in Seattle or San Diego, Boston or Kennebunk, Sitka or Quebec, Texas or DC. And, yes, I even made a point of going to 84 Charing Cross Road when I was in London. You never know where you will find that next book. And, little by little, I did find them.

Over the years, I have been with these fictional people through good times and bad. I have watched them become parents and struggled along with them as they attempted to raise their kids they best way they knew how. I was there when some of them met harm in service to the greater good, and was saddened when some of them didn't recover. [Little plug here: If you ever enjoyed an episode of Hill Street Blues, Law & Order, or NYPD Blue, you may want to take a look at these. All of those trace their roots right back to the 87th Precinct.]

But now, after all these years, I have come to the very last book. I had to skip this one, initially. I found and read the two on either side of it, but I could never locate this particular one (it came out in 1976). Oh, I could have ordered a hardcopy from one of those websites, but that was not part of the game at the time. Now, because ALL of them have become available on Kindle, I am going to read it electronically.

And I am reluctant to start. But I am going to start. And I am going to read it. Partly because I just can't stand to not know what happened. But it is also partly due to the fact that I have learned something important about endings: they aren't really endings.

They are transition points.

True; this particular thing is ending, but it leads to something else. That is the reality. What we have to do is stop looking at endings like they are stopping points, find a way to see where they lead. Because there is always a "next." There's a reason graduation is called "Commencement." It says in 1st Corinthians: "the present form of this world is passing away." And that is true. But it is only part of the truth.

There is something else coming to replace it.

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READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Third Sunday after the Epiphany (January 22, 2012)
Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:5-12
1 Corinthians 7:29-31
Mark 1:14-20

Jumping the Green

Jumping the Green
(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

My Dad was unable to teach me to drive.  I say unable; but perhaps "unwilling" is a better description of the matter.  

This was way back in the dark ages, before schools included Drivers' Ed in the curriculum.  Driving was not considered a very complicated process, so instruction was left to "a responsible adult driver" to accomplish.  On top of that, we could not obtain a learner's permit until one month before our 16th birthday.  Do that math any way you want: it comes down to having to learn to drive in 30 days.

When the magical day arrived, Dad drove me to the courthouse so I could get my permit.  In Kentucky, this required interacting with some pretty scary-looking State Police officers.  I was asked how I had come there that day.  I couldn't seem to find my voice, so I just pointed to my Dad.  I was issued a driver's handbook along with an admonition to not operate a vehicle, alone, until after I had obtained my license.

My younger sister had already learned to operate Dad's VW Beatle (a manual transmission) on some farmland near our home.  It was an unending source of glee for her, and embarrassment for Dad, that I could not master the "stick."  So, I had to learn to drive in Mom's Barracuda (an automatic transmission).  On our first (and only) outing (taken on country roads to limit exposures to other vehicles), Dad spent most of the drive clinging to the passenger door and hissing through his teeth.  While he never spoke to me about it, apparently my every action frightened him.  Because when we got home, he told Mom she would have to teach me.  I was not sad about that development.  Who can think with a hisser in the car?

Since Mom's Barracuda was blue with white interior (my high school colors!), I was happy ... several less things to have to think about, and a little bit of cool in case any of my friends saw me.  After a few more country road outings, Mom decided I was ready for the surface streets in our town.  Much of this is a blur, but I clearly recall one incident from that month.  We stopped at a red light, my first.  Mom looked over at me and said, "Don't go when it turns green.  Give it a second." 

I remember thinking that was an odd thing to say.  I had read my driver's handbook.  I knew we were supposed to stop on red and go on green ... yellow is still up for debate ;-)  In fact, not only was it expected, it was my right.  When the light is green, I have the right of way.  But, being the dutiful son, and having no desire to be cast off to some other relative for the balance of my training, I obeyed her.  Imagine my shock when, shortly after the light turned green, a car ran the red light, cutting straight through the space we would have occupied if I had asserted my rights!

I learned a lesson that day, and not only one about driving.  I call it "jumping the green," those actions we take simply because we can.  They are allowed, so we do them.  But, as was so stunningly demonstrated to me that day late in my 15th year, such actions may not always be the wisest.

Something to think about.

"Just because something is technically legal doesn't mean that it's spiritually appropriate."  (1 Corinthians 6:12 MSG)

http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/

READINGS FOR THE COMING WEEK
Second Sunday after the Epiphany (January 15, 2012)
1 Samuel 3:1-10, (11-20)
Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18
1 Corinthians 6:12-20
John 1:43-51