Musings

What Kind of Christian Message Are You Sending Others?

It was the kind of behavior that made us angry, and embarrassed Christians.

On our return flight from Seattle, where we spent ten heavenly days visiting our twenty-something cherubs, my husband had an encounter with the woman occupying an exit-row seat next to him. She had the middle seat, while her husband languished at the window. My husband relished extending his six-foot, one-inch frame in the aisle seat. I, however, was enjoying life in first class, where my selfless spouse had deposited me after cashing in one of his bucket full of available upgrades.

As the other passengers boarded the plane, the woman’s controlling personality immediately emerged.

During boarding, a flight attendant made an announcement that the plane had the new, roomier overhead luggage compartments. Fliers were instructed to put their luggage in them wheels first and then turn the bags sideways, so they rested on their sides. That allowed for more bags to be placed in each compartment—side-by-side.

 

There were two problems: The announcement was made only once, so not all of the passengers heard him; and I think most of the boarding fliers were so pre-occupied with finding their seats that they only half-heard, or half-understood the instructions.

But never fear! My husband’s eagle-eyed row mate appointed herself the luggage compartment-inserter inspector and corrected every passenger’s improper loading technique within her crosshairs. After a half-dozen such instructions, my husband said, “It’s okay. I think it’ll get worked out.” To which she vehemently disagreed. He repeated himself more firmly and told her the flight attendant would make sure it would be done correctly. After all, that is one of their jobs. She quieted down but was not pleased.

She went back to her big Bible, which she had pulled out and opened up to read as soon as she sat down. Her husband was busy reading his Bible too. Chris couldn’t tell if he was oblivious to her behavior or trying to ignore it.

Then, during the special instruction time all exit-row occupants must receive per FAA regulations—where the attendant asks each of you whether or not you would be able to assist in the event the doors need to be opened and are willing to help others exit the plane, this woman brushed off the flight attendant trying to get her attention with a dismissive hand wave, so she could stay focused on her Bible.

 

To get this Bible-reading woman’s attention, the attendant had to lean across my husband and get in the woman’s face and sternly say, “No, you’re going to stop what you’re doing right now and pay attention to me and give me a response, or I’m going to have you move to another seat.”

The woman harrumphed in irritation but complied.

Then, not long after takeoff, she reached up and turned off my husband’s air conditioning vent. After several seconds of stunned silence, he said, “That’s my air vent.”

The woman practically sneered at him, as she replied, “No, it’s not.”

“Oh, yes, yes, it is. You see,” my husband pointed to each vent as he said, “this one is mine and you have one and your husband has one. You can control yours.” He reached back up and swiveled the air nozzle to open.

This woman’s domineering behavior would not be suppressed. She reached up and shut of my husband’s vent again. My husband has a fuse a mile long, but he’d had enough. He leaned over and said in his most authoritative tone: “If you do that again, I’m going to call the flight attendant.”

Clearly unaccustomed to people standing up for themselves, she leaned back and responded with an elongated, exaggerated “Welll!”

But the air vent stayed on, and Chris rode home in comfort, with no additional problems from the Bible-reading row mate.

 

Until just prior to landing in Phoenix, when the Bible reader patted my husband’s arm and said, “You just don’t understand how we choose to live.”

My husband grinned. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Her mouth flew open.

 

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first sorry interaction we’ve had with self-righteous Bible readers. We have plenty of stories just like it on our bad behavior examples list. That kind of behavior—and worse—drove our two boys away from gathering together in weekly worship at a congregation, and still keeps them away. They could no longer stand the hypocrisy within the church doors. I don’t know if they’ll ever go back.

 

It angers me.

 

Now, this woman might not have been a Christian. She might have been a Jehovah’s Witness. They’re notorious for carrying their Bibles with them wherever they go, making them visible, and spending every available moment reading them together. They don’t usually have much friendly interaction with those around them, either, unless they have to.

Or they might have been Mormon, but the Mormons are usually the friendliest, most polite apples in the barrel, so I’m going to guess they weren’t Joseph Smith devotees.

 

I’m going to sigh, and guess that they count themselves as true believers and the woman as someone who needs to control everyone else to feel in control. I can only imagine how she’s kept her husband and kids in line.

It’s a lesson to all of us to follow Paul’s admonitions to:

  • Err on the side of love;
  • Consider others as more important than yourself;
  • Be slow to speak, slow to anger; and, as Jesus said,
  • Be as sly as a serpent but as harmless as a dove.

 

Of course, I could fill pages with other Biblical instructions that say pretty much the same thing: Remember the One you represent, be filled with the Spirit (love, joy, patience, peace, long-suffering, etc.), and do not grieve the Holy Spirit by your words or actions.

Certainly, we can’t all be patient and perfect at all times, but it’s a lesson to all of us Christ-followers that others are watching, and so is the Lord.

Be careful that you don’t do anything that might bring shame upon Him, or drive others away from Him.

 

But there are other things about this that niggle at me:

Why does it always seem to be the women that are the most controlling? Where did we learn such behavior, who taught it to us, and why do we feel a need to be that way?

Thoughts to consider and make a personal evaluation on.

 

Hope you’re enjoying your summer! We’re breathlessly awaiting the monsoon rains here in the Southwest. The clouds are building, so we should be enjoying heat relief soon!

Until next week,

Andrea

“Certainly there was an Eden….We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien

How to Avoid Becoming a Lazy Eagle

I’m on holiday right now, enjoying some welcome respite with my beloved and two sons. As the Southwest desert heat sores to a miserable level this time of year, I—as well as many other Southwest dwellers—find some way to escape it, as we anxiously await the July, August and early September monsoon rains that nourish our parched home and bring relief to our lives.

We did get a wonderful, early monsoon prelude last Monday, though, when an unexpected thunderstorm cooled the temperature and lightened our hearts. We’re hoping this year’s monsoon bring s much moisture.

 

The Lazy Eagle—

I did want to share with you this parable an acquaintance sent me a few months ago. As you read it, think about how much like the lazy eagle you might be right now in your life.

 

“The king of a village was gifted two small beautiful eagles by one of his assistants. The two eagles were immediately handed to a very well-known trainee to teach them the art of soaring very high, and several months later, the trainee came back to the king and said, “One of the eagles is now soaring very high in the sky, while the other one still sits on the branch of a large oak tree and never leaves the tree.”

The King called all birds’ specialists in the village to coax the eagle to leave the branch, but none of them succeeded. Then, an idea came to his mind to seek the advice of a wise man who lived in the far corner of the village. The next morning, the king saw the eagle flying happily, and when he asked the wise man what he did to make the eagle fly, the man said, “I simply broke the branch where the eagle has been sitting.”

 

– We find ourselves sitting on the branches of fear, hesitation, and unwilling to change in just the same way. Unless we break such negative branches within us, we’ll never discover the tremendous energy that enables us to soar very high in the open sky of success.

 

Meditations—

Are you like this eagle right now, fearful, hesitant and unwilling to change to make your life better, prosperous or more fulfilling?

Does anger, pain, past hurts, or self-doubt hamper your courage or focus, holding you back from achieving your God-given potential?

 

Remedies—

Take some time to get out of your regular (comfortable or stuck) element, to think, to day dream, to make notes about what you’d like to accomplish, and why you think you haven’t, can’t or won’t. Jot down your thoughts. Keep them simple. Become more self-aware. As we move forward this summer, we’ll do more exploring on how we can overcome our lazy eagle habits and mindset and get off that branch we’ve attached ourselves to!

 

But next Monday I’ll be winging my way back home, so Meditation Mondays will pick up again July 1.

 

Until then,

Enjoy your first official days of summer!

Andrea

“Certainly there was an Eden….We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien

How to Make the Most Out of Life (Part 1)

A recent Guideposts magazine story (June/July 2019) talks about what’s important for a happy fulfilling life in your senior season of life: mental stimulation, spiritual nourishment, financial stability and good friends.

But my question is: why wait until the senior season of your life to pursue, seek out and enjoy those life components?

Aren’t they critical for a satisfying, well-balanced life in every season of life?

 

How did we get to this point?

I believe all of these components are critical and that only since the Industrial Age and now the Technology Age have we managed to compartmentalize ourselves in such a way that our life scales are thrown out of whack.

 

What quality of life do you have if you don’t have mental stimulation, spiritual nourishment, financial stability and good friends to share joys, pain and laughter?

 

Mental stimulation—

Some of us our over-stimulated mentally by our work schedules and job demands. To prove that truth, work or job “burn out” has recently become an official medical diagnosis. It isn’t always our fault—technology and a company’s demands that the employee always be connected, reachable and ridiculously overloaded—fuels the depression and burn out pattern. I really think employees need to start pushing back on that one, or do some serious self-analysis on how important that job or career is to them.

Plenty of millenials are doing just that—choosing to ditch the nine-to-five-plus rat race and opt for a richer, more stress-free life and fewer belongings. Kudos to them for prioritizing a little better than our generation or generations before us have.

 

Spiritual nourishment—

At any season of life we need spiritual nourishment. Study after study shows that people who worship regularly in a corporate setting and indicate they have a religious affiliation are happier and more satisfied with life. They also have better connections with others and are healthier mentally.

Unfortunately, this is an area many younger people have abdicated, adopting the erroneous belief that religious life is unnecessary, or eschewing church-going as old fashioned or believers too hypocritical.

I say they should get involved and be the instruments of compassion, kindness, and change they want to see. I believe they will eventually pay a steep price for abdicating this critical life component.

 

Financial stability—

Honestly, due to economic ups and downs and unpredictability, I’m not sure financial “stability” is ever achievable. But good goals are to always live below your means, within your means, save all you can, spend all you can, and give away all you can. And to live as debt-free as you possibly can. Being, and feeling like a slave to a lender is physically, emotionally, and spiritually exhausting and depressing.

The common adage is that older adults live on a “fixed income.” But most people I know live on a fixed income of some sorts throughout their lives, unless they’re salespeople that depend on sales quotas, or company managers that enjoy yearly bonuses based on company performances.

Otherwise, you get the same paycheck week after week after week. And then maybe you get a raise. Even seniors get a yearly social security raise every year, even though it’s tiny and usually swallowed up by apartment or housing rent that increases accordingly.

 

Good friends—

How many good friends do you have? I mean really good friends. Not just friendly co-workers, classmates or acquaintances, but people with whom you can share your deepest thoughts?

People you can pray with, people who pray for you. The ones you can call in an emergency and who will be there for you.

 

I’m working on the friend component this week.

I’m visiting a friend who was by my side as we raised our children together. I was heartbroken when her husband transferred to a new job in a new state, MANY miles away, but I was determined to keep our friendship nurtured in spite of the physical distance that now spreads between us.

I didn’t want to allow our friendship to dissolve into infrequent text messaging or once-a-year Christmas card sending, so, as soon as they moved into their sprawling new home, (lots of bedrooms and no kids left at home), I told her to get the guest room ready for me to visit. Lucky me, she was happy to comply! (And I bought the airline ticket before my pragmatic brain told me no.)

 

And Chris and I did some friend nurturing Memorial Day weekend, too.

For my naturally-introverted husband, socializing can be taxing and stressful. To re-energize, he likes to spend time alone, or with just me, doing something we enjoy together, or just sitting on the couch enjoying Friday night movie time.

I, on the other hand, swing from lets-have-a-PARTY! extrovert, to I-desperately-need-some-time-alone, to hovering between the two extremes. Sometimes I re-energize through crowds and people contact; and sometimes I just have to be alone.

So when I expressed to Chris my desire to pack duffel bags and head 500 miles west to celebrate our friends’ daughter’s wedding, I didn’t exactly get a rousing “Yahoo!” response from him. I pretty much told him that I’d already replied with a yes. After several weeks of wrapping his brain around it, he warmed up to the idea.

And we had a blast!

Of course, I threw in a surprise two days post-wedding for us to spend on the beach in San Diego, not far from where we lived in a 32-foot fifth-wheel trailer when our older son was born. It was a walk down memory lane. And he couldn’t stop thanking me for both the wedding enjoyment followed by relaxing, no-stress down time. He returned home rejuvenated and happy. We both got the best of our own worlds!

 

I’m doing this trip alone, for some serious girl time. My friend says she has the week scheduled with outings, hiking, sightseeing, swim, sun and rest time.

 

The engineer and I have a couple other trips planned for this summer, to nurture our relationship and the family ties. Yes, taking them is going to cost us more than a financial counselor would advise us to spend, but we’re banking on the relationship, love building and joy out-weighing the financial burden.

 

Great motto to guide your life—

As John Wesley advised: Gain all you can, save all you can, give all you can.

I think it’s pretty wise advise for life investment.

I’m just praying my trip East doesn’t come with tornadoes!

 

How about you?

What friendships will you nurture this summer?

 

Until next week,

Blessings,

Andrea

“Certainly there was an Eden….We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien

Andrea Arthur Owan is an award-winning inspirational writer, fitness pro and chaplain. She writes and works to help people live their best lives—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Memorial Day—Remembering (and Thanking) a Great-great Grandfather

Life in the Owan household has been tumultuous the past couple of weeks. Confronting my 97-year-old mother’s cognitive decline has been eye-opening and heartbreaking. What makes it even more difficult is that her personality is contributing to the, well, difficulty of managing her care.

But through it all, God has been faithful to provide, sustain, quiet our hearts and provide a path. It is amazing and humbling to see how He has orchestrated the process and provided extra measures of faith, trust, strength and peace. Yes. PEACE!

And today I am enjoying peace and a respite with my beloved after celebrating a wedding and gathering with old, dear friends.

Yet even though I am enjoying the respite of walking along the seashore, feasting on the predictable and soothing rhythm of undulating and crashing waves, my thoughts have been drawn back to the men and women who have given their all—their precious lives—for my country.

And one of those men was a great-great grandfather of mine who wore Union blue, lined up as an Ohio serviceman, and died on some bloody battlefield and is buried somewhere in some state east of the Mississippi.

He fought to save our union. Our Union, which, thank the Almighty, was spared.

Did he get “just one more hug and kiss” from his wife before he marched off or boarded the troop transport train? Did the family envision him alive even though he was no longer? How many months limped by before the heartbreaking death notice was received? Did his family have to peer at some deceased list posted on a main square building, or listen to names read aloud from a list.

Did he promise unequivocally to return to them?

Dear God, how did the family survive after his death?

They must have survived, because my mother is a product of their survival.

This day—Memorial Day—is for his memory and others just like him, killed on home or foreign soil. Lives all sacrificed for freedom and our way of life. To preserve our democratic republic.

All the thousands of men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice so that I can stroll peacefully along a beautiful beach and enjoy living without looking over my shoulder.

Thank you, great-great grandfather, and all of you who stood and fell beside him!

Don’t ever forget them.

Andrea

Mother’s Day 2019: Kids, Flowers and Quail

It was a busy Mother’s Day around the Owan homestead.

My younger son drove down from Phoenix to celebrate the day with me and spend the night; the three of us enjoyed worship together (ALWAYS a thrill to have my children join me again at a worship service—for some reason, it’s when I feel most like a mother), and listened to popular Christian speaker Cynthia Heald speak on discipleship.

Then we enjoyed a lengthy brunch at one of our favorite local restaurants (First Watch—their Million Dollar Bacon is to die for!) before returning home, grabbing my Shetland sheepdog, Dolly, and heading down to the rehabilitation facility where my mom’s currently recovering from her broken collarbone. Later that evening I enjoyed a lengthy phone conversation with my older son who lives 1,538.1 miles away.

 

And then there was the new motherhood spectacle erupting (literally) in a pot on our front porch.

 

Ten new babies—

About twenty days ago, a female Gambel’s Quail inspected the neighborhood and decided the large pot housing a Norfolk Island Pine tree tucked in the corner next to our front door would make a splendid protected location to set up a maternity room.

As a quail lover, I was thrilled and honored at her decision!

For ten days after her selection, we watched spellbound as she laid one, two, three, four…ten dappled eggs—one egg each day over the course of those ten days. Then she stopped laying and started warming. (We contributed to the effort by refraining from watering our tree!)

While Momma quail provided most of the incubating, her male partner put in his share of time (while mom took a well-deserved break) and was the major sitter and warmer when time came for the residents of those adorable eggs to emerge.

 

Mother’s Day morning the brood started making their grand appearance.

 

Evidently the chipping and emerging process starts a couple of days prior to the actual eruption, but we weren’t able to detect any of that until Sunday. But by Sunday afternoon, cracked shells, withering shell linings and thimble-sized quail lay discarded, or scurrying around the dirt inside the pot. Dad continued to keep the new hatchlings warm while their siblings continued working their way out and into the world. One egg that had rolled to the other side of the pot in the frantic hatching process was rescued and re-nested by Dad. When Dad “flew the coop” (when we attempted to take a peek from afar), the quail babies wedged themselves under the pot lip for warmth and protection.

When our black Labrador ran his big, snoopy nose in the pot to inspect the nursery, several babies took flight, plopped onto the porch and had to be corralled by Dad or scooped up by my husband and re-deposited into the pot.

It was, indeed, a grand Mother’s Day all around: Kids, worship, fellowship around food, white roses, pink and yellow tulips, and the cycle of life playing itself out in magnificent form on our front porch—we had a delightful, ring-side view to God’s marvelous design for replenishing and renewing. Why we work so hard to find other things to obtain and amuse ourselves with is beyond me.

 

What provides more true and pure joy than fellowship with the Lord and the basics of life?

 

The aftermath—

The eggs are broken and discarded, the quail have vacated, and I’m left a little melancholy at their absence.

I felt so blessed to be a daily witness to this spectacle of nature, of God’s creating and re-creating plan. Instead of just dumping the evidence and resuming the watering of my pine tree, I’m going to pluck all of the shells from the pot and display them in a glass jar, a reminder of that blessing, and of all the blessings yet to come in my life.

A reminder of the dedication of a feathered mother to warm and protect her brood until it was their time to arrive, and to make sure they arrived safely. (Honestly, may I say that it was a stark contrast to the haphazard and flippant way many human mothers incubate and prepare for their offsprings’ emergence.)

Now she and her mate are scurrying around the neighborhood somewhere with ten offspring. They’re still protecting and watching over them until they reach adulthood, (quails are phenomenal at protecting their covey), when the offsprings will seek mates and continue the cycle of life—of being fruitful and multiplying.

 

I hope all of you who are mothers rejoiced on your day; that all of you with loving, nurturing mothers were grateful for your blessing; that all of you awaiting the birth of a child feel blessed by the process and are excitedly anticipating your baby’s birth; and that those of you who have lost precious babies during pregnancy or delivery remember your babies as priceless members of your family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Until next week,

Blessings,

Andrea