Aligning With the Truth
On Walter Mitty, riding motorbikes, and being aware of the stories we tell ourselves.
I arrived home from Texas Monday afternoon, after a visit that included grandsons and plenty of time enjoying local botanicals and birds (furry plantain! cardinals!). My daughter and I bonded over a stomach bug that kept us from heading out for any adventures, but Tom and my son in law used the time there to build a chicken tractor from scratch.
While there, we watched the movie The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. It’s not a perfect movie (some scenes were unnecessary and too long, a few OMG’s), but I resonated with the dry humor and the understated theme of being PRESENT. Not only to what is right in front of Walter, but to those longings in his heart. Walter’s daydreaming eventually gave way to Real Life once he took the courage to do so.
Took the courage, I say. Not “found”. One is action oriented, the other a wistful wish of a hope that maybe, someday, in some other life, we too might find the time or means to do or say or write something, when the motivation suddenly appears and we get around to it.
Except that we all have the same amount of time as everyone else. Twenty four hours. And while our means are unique, we do have them. It may not be monetary; it may be other resources such as our faith, our education, our youth, our strength, our drive, our interest, our ability to read, our two feet, our health, our friends, our talents.
I have my own personal daydream (another asset: our dreams), and it is this: to live in a community with friends I can easily walk (or ride a sweet horse) to, to pick my own produce outside of my kitchen door for lunch, to sit outside in morning sunshine and warm myself with my Bible and journal while listening to birds overlap in birdsong and watching the sun lift for the day. I desire my children to live nearby, and to each have long and happy lives in the Lord their God, joining me for suppers at my home on Sunday evenings with grandchildren running around staining their fingers while picking berries around my property. I want to be the older, wiser woman who regularly has the kettle going and the oven baking for friends and clients who need herbal and nourishment advice and help for whatever ails them, from a Christian worldview. And then, perhaps not surprisingly, to write and create with my hands until the day I die.
I spent some of the flight over catching up on letters to my pen pals and friends. It’s what I have right now: a community of friends I have to either drive to, or meet with via the United States Post Office. Not exactly my dream, but a flavor of it which is palatable and I’m grateful for. Although we could text and do, we generally choose to sit at tables with hot mugs in hand, either in person or with sheets of paper full of inked handwriting.
I noticed that, a couple seats over, a gentleman sat with a white ball cap with three red nails stitched on in the form of a cross. Had I been sitting next to him, I would have said something. Something profound such as, “I like your hat.” We may have had a wonderful conversation, fellowshiping in the Lord at 40,000 feet. Or, maybe, he would have just nodded and went to sleep.
It’s one thing to decry the extinction of conversation. It’s another to take the courage to greet another human being and try to have one. Most of us are too busy avoiding even the checkers in grocery stores these days.
Journal prompt #17
Sometimes it is difficult to make changes if we are burdened with guilt, regret, or cynicism. Do you struggle with any of that when trying to make changes? Make a list, beginning with “I feel badly that I...” or “I’m sorry that...” or “I can’t makes changes because I always….”
This was the prompt I left my paid subscribers this week. Every week, we consider with journals in hand what it means to be “present”, and how to go about actually getting to a place where we are comfortable being so. These were the types of questions I wrangled with before I made many changes in my life and wrote about in my book, Present.
I remember journaling over that very prompt, about the struggle of making changes that I said I wanted but in actuality continued to live out of the stories I made up in my head. All of the reasons why this or that couldn’t be, wouldn’t be. So much of looking backwards and living in the past, or peering forward into the future with anxiety. Blaming others for why I couldn’t do what I wanted, as if flogging them in my mind would change anything. Blaming myself, as if flogging myself would motivate me in any way. Feeling trapped and anything but hopeful that things could change. As if God had nothing to do with my life, in my life, or for my life. As if I didn’t have a mind, a heart, and all of the assets and resources I in reality did have. As if grace didn’t exist.
Sometimes it’s easier to just keep making excuses in order to keep believing whatever stories we keep telling ourselves about the way things are. Easier, certainly. But deadly, just the same.
Sometimes it’s hard to face the truth. We’d rather drown.
While flying home, I caught the lastest Highwire show (episode 368). It was fascinatingly horrific, reporting about AI. I couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was demonic, but then I also recalled that all new technology were probably considered likewise at some point. Still. I came away pondering it all in my heart and mind, this question it begs: what is it, really, to be human?
I thought back to Walter Mitty’s photographer friend, and how that character reflected the epitome of “presence” and the deep seated enjoyment in life that comes from living in it. Watching the scene of the two of them interact over whether to photograph the elusive ghost cat, and then play soccer with other people at sunset, filled me with such a longing for a more present life, a more human life. The interesting thing about movies that touch my heart in this way is that they aren’t full of people, even extras, onscreen craning their necks down and scrolling their lives away. Not like the reality I see in my world today.
I want to stay in the moment(s).
The same gentleman with the cross on his hat was a few rows behind on the flight home. I smiled. I thought about the time to come, the remnant, the renewed world, sin and death and distraction forever vanished.
When I got home, before I even unpacked, I planted tomatoes. I enjoyed hugging my children and watching the massive amounts of apple blossoms gently coming down in drifts from the breeze. The story in my head now goes like this: I am here right now, enjoying the grace of God in everything He’s given and allowed and even with what He’s withheld. I don’t need to analyze or document or manage everything. I don’t have to understand everything. It can just be. All I can do is what I can do, and I can have peace because my God is my strength and my song.
In front of my desktop, there is a photo postcard of Georgia O’Keeffe on the iconic motorbike, looking back with a broad smile. I think of Mitty’s photographer friend, beckoning him to come. It’s so good to be alive, I think about jumping onto my own motorbike of sorts, wondering what friend I could coax to join me and hang on. We have this one life, friend!
Take (not “find”) courage. Your God goes before you. Nothing surprises Him and nothing will derail His good plans. He knows where you are (in all ways), has left with the believer His Word and His indwelling Spirit, and has blessed you with many assets and resources. Let the Truth be told in your heart and mind, and may the stories in your head be ever faithful to align with it all.
Miss Pamela wrote back to me. The lady in Scotland. Last year she went to Israel and the Baltic. Amazing. She wants me to fly to Edenborough and she'll pick me up there. I can't, but if I could, I would. My life is here.
Well now I'm going to have to find The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and watch it. My husband and I love watching old movies. "It Happened on 5th Avenue" is our favorite Christmas movie. We watch it every year.
Every day I put a new flower picture on my monitors, take a picture of the monitors and put it on facebook as a "Good Morning, World". Tomorrow's flower is going to be an apple blossom.
Kerimae, when you wrote about wanting to have a conversation with the man on an airplane, I stopped reading, went to my email and sent a note to "Miss Pamela". We met on an airplane. She was visiting Juneau and headed to Seattle like I was. We sat next to each other. Miss Pamela lives in Scotland. By now she is pretty close to 90. That's if she is still with us. It's been a year since we last communicated. Miss Pamela had just purchased an iPad. She was struggling with getting some things set up and asked me to help. The young man sitting in the window seat next to me was about 17 years old. I took the iPad out her hands and gave it to him. "Here. Help her out." "Oh mine is just like this". He showed her how to do lots of fun things with her iPad while I sat in the middle seat and watched. She set up her Facebook page and put me in as her first friend. It was by far, the most enjoyable flight I've ever been on. Miss Pamela is a world traveler. She said she saw a young lady on her street in Scotland walking a dog. She went out to say hello and found out the lady was from Juneau. The woman told Miss Pamela "If you ever want to see Alaska you can stay with me". A year later Pamela called her and said, "do you have room for two of us?" She was such a delight. Before she got off the plane, she somehow made it to the cockpit and got a picture of herself wearing the captain's hat. We are getting our house ready for old people. Us. We have a big, deep tub in the master bath that has got to go. This 5 ft 1 granny is having trouble getting in and out of it. It's a big step. We're going to put in a walk-in shower sooner than later. Trying to stay safe. This is a sad week for me. For my family. Yesterday was Joey's birthday and Friday is Sid's birthday. Both boys/men are gone from us. Joey would be 43 and Sid would be 40. Joey is gone 13 years and Sid 1 1/2 years. Life just doesn't turn out how you think it will. I'm thankful for the revelation given on how life is REALLY going to turn out. It keeps hope alive. I know I will see my boys again. They both loved the Lord. For now, we keep on. It's all I know how to do................ Sandy