Crafting around: Modpodge glue

I have just discovered and love Modpodge glue. It sticks virtually any paper material onto any surface: ceramic, glass, etc., and dries clear. For mothers' day, we stuck photos of ourselves onto tiny glass bottles, decorated with coloured paper and smeared Modpodge all over. Voila! 

Another time, I Modpodged shiny Japanese print paper onto a plain glass bottle. The result's not bad either.

Crafting around: painting on foil

Crayola manufactures wonderful felt-tip pens and papers that produce all sorts of special colour effects. My old favourite were the "Over-writers" that let you write one colour over another. There are colourless pens that magically colour in a picture in all different colors when rubbed against the picture. Our latest purchase 'Colour Explosion Metallic' create metallic colors on special black paper.

I don't know the chemistry behind the special effects but have found a fun and (cheaper) way to approximate the effect by painting on foil. Simply paint a thin layer of poster paint on the foil, wait till it is semi-dried, then use a cotton bud to scratch out a picture! You can also use toothpicks or more pointy objects so long as you are careful not to puncture the foil. 

Modelling happiness for our children

How often do you hear parents of grown-up children say, "I just want you to be happy"?

Last week on SBS's "Insight" (a discussion forum with audience participation), the topic of discussion was "Pushing for Success". On stage was a mother and her 15 year old daughter whom she was grooming for academic success; a father with a 12 year old daughter whom he was grooming for tennis success; and Liesel Jones, swimming gold medallist. The host of the show, Jenny Brockie interviewed a number of youth (and their parents), some who lauded their parents' push for success and others who have been seemingly burnt by it.

There was the usual debate on what "success" means, what "pushing" means and the cost of pushing children towards this success. But one comment that caught my ear was from the psychologist in the audience. She said,

"[A]ny time you have a child carrying the responsibility of fulfilling the adult in the room's happiness, or trying to meet that perceived expectation, I think that's completely debilitating. A child is not equipped to make other people happy and my own personal belief, as a mother, is that my role is to role model being happy. (emphasis added)"

My role as a mother is to role model being happy. Interesting. Is that an oxymoron in today's society, when books like "All joy and no fun" tell us that a child's happiness is at the expense of a parent's happiness? That after a child's birth, marital satisfaction declines?

Before we ask whether parental happiness is possible, let's put the claim to the test by imagining the results. I think there are few who would argue that children learn through modelling. For example, we don't have to teach our boys to like noodles. They love noodles because Daddy loves noodles and Daddy's delight when he crams in a mouthful of noodles is contagious. On the flipside, have you noticed the more you demand of a trait from your child that you yourself don't have, the less inclined they are to produce your desired results? If you truly desire your children to be happy, then role modelling happiness is important. It is also why post natal depression is not just bad for mothers, it is bad for children.

It has often been said that the best gift you can give your children is a happy marriage. When children experience love and happiness outside of themselves, they have a secure place to base their world on. We do our children a great disservice when we tell them that life is only ever as good as they are.

It is not a long stretch then to say that the best gift to your children is your own happiness. Parents, it is squarely back in our court to inhabit a happiness that is independent of the enjoyment we receive from our children. That happiness can be founded on many things of course - our marriage (as discussed already), our friendships, our work, our hobbies, our faith. It is no help to our children to neglect all these things if we become miserable and visit our resentment on the children.

Isn't it liberating to know that our happiness is good for ourselves and for our children?

City to City Conference (Women): a postlude Part 2

Kathy Keller is irreverent - not towards God, but towards what she calls "pious babble" - the religious jargon of the Christian sub-culture. She is funny, down to earth and, like her husband Tim, delivers hard-hitting truth with understatedness.

She speaks on suffering and the chosen text is Psalm 23, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want." Notice that it is the shepherd who leads the sheep. The shepherd who leads the sheep to green pastures is the same shepherd who leads it through the valley of the shadow of death. He sets up picnic, not by green pastures, but in the presence of its enemies. Probably the highlight of the entire conference came when Kathy recounted her counsellor's advice to her, "He is the good shepherd. You are His sheep. Just bleat!"

One choice quote from John Newton: "If we seem to get no good by attempting to draw near to Him, we may be sure we will get none by keeping away from Him.”

Kathy reminds us that in suffering we rejoice, not in the suffering, but in God who is there in the suffering. God is not immune to suffering.

But C.S. Lewis says "God whispers to us in our pleasures... shouts in our pain." The counterpoint is that prosperity poses a greater danger to our faith. The greatest test comes, she says, when there is no test at all. Can you then desire God just for Himself and not for what he can do? Proverbs 30:8-10 is instructive here, "Give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise I may have too much and disown you and say, "Who is the LORD?" Or I may become poor and steal and so dishonour the name of my God."

Kathy says there comes a tipping point in a Christian's life when they trust so much in God's character that their faith is not called into question with every bump in life.  The best way to prepare for suffering is "practise, practise, practise" - borrowing from the joke about how you get to Carnegie Hall. Practise reading his Word, hearing His voice, and speaking His word back to him. Ramp up your prayer life, and bring your heart to him unedited.

This reminds me of something C. Michael Patton of Credo House said, "Having good theology [of suffering] is like exercise. It is preventative. You do exercise before you fall sick. When you are already sick, exercising then is not going to help/ be that much harder." (to the effect of).

I agree with the observation that there is such a "tipping point" in a Christian's life but there is no telling with oneself whether you have reached that point. I think of many saints who have struggled in their very last days with God's goodness. The Biblical warnings against apostasy will always apply to me and a fear of my propensity to wander is ever real. There is great assurance of faith but that assurance is always in Him, which is why Kathy is right - there is no secret to it, just practise, practise, practise.

City to City Conference (Women): Flourishing Faith in Dangerous Places: A postlude Part 1

Today a few hundred women met at Angel Place Recital Hall for a girly chat. That’s right, I was very blessed to have attended the City-to-City Conference for Women with Kathy Keller as keynote speaker. I use the word “chat” intentionally because the subject and the tenor of our conversation was exactly that – intimate, personal, emotionally wrought. The guest speakers each spoke their personal life story – on work, on loss and suffering – their personal testimony was as much a part of the communicated message as well as the Bible teaching. So with hearts resonating with the sweet timber of Chelsea Moon’s voicings to the Lord, and under the warmly lit timber of this hall of refuge midst our city, we settled down to a program that consisted of:

- Bible talk on Romans 5 (Cathy Tucker)

- Work and faith (Kathryn Leary Alsdorf)

- The panel (on suffering)

- Suffering (and prosperity and comfort) (Kathy Keller)

Work and faith (Kathryn Leary Alsdorf)

I particularly wanted to jot down my thoughts Kathryn Leary Alsdorf’s talk (the second of the day) because her topic is one I have been thinking a lot about. What are the dangers of work, she asks. Her points were clearly set out:

Danger 1: We are incompetent or fruitless

Danger 2: The environment is hard

Danger 3: That it’s pointless

Danger 4: That it brings out our “ugly”

This seems to be a fairly comprehensive summary of the struggles of work. And the antidote to each of those dangers...

In response to danger 1: We can fail at our work. We don’t need to prove anything. Our failures do not define us. Therefore we are free to take much greater risks for Christ.

In response to danger 2: We should not be surprised if the work environment is hard because the world is broken. Our task is to go into that brokenness and to join in God’s work in redeeming it.

In response to danger 3: The gospel is the only and perfect antidote to meaninglessness. To be able to join in God’s work of redemption gives us meaning.

This is probably the one issue I struggled most with when I was in the paid workforce – not just the meaninglessness of the inconsequential task I’m made to slave away at 4am in the morning but the bigger task that my small task is connected with that is ultimately also meaningless. (Actually, I just realise that the situation reflects dangers 1, 2 and 3 all wrapped in one.) Kathryn said something quite applicable to me, which is that people often work to get something out of it for themselves – even if it is something as abstract and intangible as meaning – rather than enjoying the work itself.

Calling is something that is realised in retrospect. When you have lived each step of your life in faithfulness to God, you look back and realise that has been your calling. 

In response to danger 4, worship God. We are idol-making factories. If we are not worshipping God, we are worshiping something else. 

The gospel gives us a new story for work, a new vision for work, a new compass for work.

A new story for work. If we don’t know how the story ends, we don’t know how to interpret our present (e.g. missing Malaysian airline plane). But if we know how the story ends, then life is vastly different. And we do know how God’s story ends. That gives us hope, a confidence and assurance of our ending. She aptly used the example of her marriage at aged 58. She had no assurance she was going to get married but if she knew that she was going to get married at 58, that would make a difference to her earlier life wouldn’t it? 

 I like that she explains the bottom of the work issue as a story. Meaning is ephemeral; meaning demands answers. But story is the way God has revealed himself. It is a story that has been completed in Christ (and it’s a rollicking ride up till then) but it is a story that is continually being unfolded, retold, heard, loved, mined for its riches. So the story of work begins in Genesis 1, takes a dramatic turn for the worse in Genesis 3, and ends in Revelations 21.

A new vision for work

Kathryn says, let our imagination and creativity soar to see how we are part of God’s world.

A new compass for work

The difference the gospel makes to work is not just to make us more ethical. We need wisdom. In Matthew 11:28, Jesus says, "Come to me all you who are weary an burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon me and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls." Why then, isn't it easier? Kathryn challenges us to take off some of the burden of the task.

Flourishing faith is not grabbing the golden ring; it is not control; it is not escape. Flourishing faith is humble. Forgiving. Faithful. Joyful. Loving.

End of part 1.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Found an old book review of "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" while dredging through old files. It reminded me of what a lovely story it was, so here it is again.

* * *

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly
Jean-Dominique Bauby
Harper Perennial 2004

I heard of “The Diving Bell” the film before I heard of the book. The film was an adaptation of a memoir by a "locked-in" patient -  someone who is paralyzed but lucid. The author, a former fashion editor, dictated the entire memoir by blinking his left eyelid - the only part of his body he could still control. A therapist would point to each letter of the alphabet one by one (A to Z) until he blinked at the one he wanted. The process was repeated again, and again, to form words and sentences.

The film, like the book, is a collection of stories, memories, sounds and images. It was stunning and bewildering to watch – the whole film was shot through the perspective, literally and visually, of the memoirist, Jean-Dominique Bauby or “Jean-Do”, as his friends called him. Each blink, each tear was replicated, down to the frightening moment when his limp right eyelid was sewn up.

Reading the memoir years later was something else altogether. For one, the words themselves bear witness to the labour that had gone into producing them. It is as if words formed so painfully carry an exaggerated meaning, more love, more sorrow, than mere “love” and “sorrow” would imply. In the least they merit a second, perhaps third and fourth reading; and certainly a slower one.

I have always been drawn to narratives of the voiceless – like the fictional Fish Lamb in “Cloudstreet”, retarded in life, but in an act of literary resurrection, revealed as the novel’s lucid and omniscient narrator. So too Jean-Do in “The Diving Bell”.

I often find it difficult, when reading a memoir, to separate the writing from the circumstances in which it was written, so that you are left wondering whether you are marvelling at the life lived, or the life as presented on the page. In the case of “The Diving Bell”, there is a further dimension – it is the life imagined, the life Jean-Do would have liked to have lived, but could not.

It is in this realm of imagination that the memoir truly gets me – say for example, his private joke with the Empress Eugene, the hospital’s patroness whose marble bust inhabits the main hall. I love the humour and delicateness with which Jean-Do describes these flights of fancies – and the fact that these flights of fancies were born of an absolute stillness.

Sadness is rare in this memoir. Even though Jean Do mentions his past life, the memoir is very much about the present – petty annoyances like his inability to change TV channels and pleasures like the simple foods he imagines himself lovingly prepare, salivates over, and eats. Funny things happen. He has a keen sense of irony and can be endearingly sarcastic. He speaks of the richness of everyday emotions that are often neglected by ordinary, busy people who tend to focus on the activities rather than the meaning behind them.

It is tempting to draw moralistic conclusions about quality of life in suffering but I believe Jean-Do never intended to, nor should I regard this book as anything other than a story about himself, an expression of that which he cannot voice, a gift to his children and ultimately, a thing of beauty.

6 March 2010

Toronto

Ten years ago I didn't have any family in Toronto. Now I have two.

The first I gained through adoption, or more precisely “god-adoption”. Back in 2001, after I finished my exchange semester in Berkeley, I made a trip to Toronto to visit my childhood friend who had emigrated there with her family. Growing up, I had always loved spending time with her and her family. They were fun and generous people and threw the best sleepover parties. And her parents had an inexplicable fondness for me that one has for young people you've watched grow up, a fondness I can only describe as, parental.

This trip was no different. They drove me everywhere, encouraged us to go visit Quebec. One day, my childhood friend jokingly said, 'why don't you “kai” Susan?' (“Kai” is the Chinese word which means to 'make a godchild’ but it does not have religious connotations.) We laughed it off, but sure enough at our next meeting, they presented me with as gold necklace (a tradition) and asked my dad to grant permission. And so I became their “kai-daughter” or goddaughter. They take my children as their god-grandchildren. This year, when I was staying in Ohio for a month with my family, they drove six hours from Toronto just to see us.

The second family in Toronto I married into. Remember the boyfriend of the long-ago Canadian trip? As it happened, his grandmother and aunt live just a few minutes’ drive away from my godparents. I have since spent many happy weeks staying with my husbands’ aunt and grandmother, always with extended outings and meals with my godparents. Each time we go to Toronto, we are overwhelmed by the love and hospitality we receive from these two families.

When I reflect on the rich relationships I have in Toronto, I cannot but marvel at the providence of God in putting these two dear families in the same suburb so we can reach them. More than that, I see a parallel with my spiritual adoption into God's family. Perhaps you, like me, struggle to understand why someone who aren’t your biological family would choose to love you, for no other reason than that 'now, you are family.'

And God knows the hardness and the unloveliness of our hearts and still chose to love us. He loves us like He loves his own son. Loving us is a delight to him. Next time I doubt why on earth God should love me, I can take him at his word: because you are family.