Lent

Day 6: Temperance /  by Jeff Tacklind

I’ve been eating clean for the last few weeks.  It is my wife’s doing.  Patty has me stuffing food into little containers all day long.  Green for veggies, red for protein, yellow for carbs.  Everything is measured out, proportioned just right.  No more randomly grabbing a handful of something whenever I feel like it.

And so much water!  All day long I’m drinking.

At first it felt like a constant slap on the wrist.  So often I reach for some little comfort food.  A little more cream in my coffee, a handful of chips, a glass of wine at the end of the day.  All that is gone. 

You’d think I’d be struggling, but I’m not. Soon you realize don’t need all that sugar.  Your body starts burning food like fuel.  It feels really, really good.

It takes work.  It requires a bit more prep time.  It takes self-control.  It takes vision.  Vision to be healthier, leaner, stronger.  But even that isn’t really it.  It is something deeper.

Classically, it has been called temperance.  It means “going the right amount and no further.”  At first all those containers can appear confining or restricting.  They tell me I can’t have whatever I want whenever I want it.  But the truth is, I don’t really want it. Those foods make me slow. They hold me back. They make me tired.  They definitely aren’t what I need.  Temperance draws a line and says, “this much and no more.”

Our bodies know this already.  We’ve been designed.  We know what we actually need.  I read that our taste buds lessen in sensitivity as we near that point of being full.  It is the rule of diminishing returns.  Gluttonous eating means we’re stuffing ourselves with food that has lost its flavor.  Yet we keep on eating.

Temperance is knowing when to quit.  It sees past the illusion that if some is good then more is better.  Saying no can be so empowering.

Eating right is a window into abundant living.  When I eat right I feel alert.  My attitude is more positive.  I feel more active, creative, inspired.

No, food isn’t some sort of cure all.  And yes, you can become way too legalistic about this stuff.  But temperance is something that our world is in desperate need of.  Now if we could just find containers for social media, politics, entertainment, news, work, sports…

Day 5: Quiet Days /  by Jeff Tacklind

Mondays are my quiet days.  At least that is the goal.  And by “day”, I actually mean about a 3-4 hour window.  My favorite thing to do on Monday is to throw my board in my truck and head down to Trestles to surf.

Surfing at Trestles requires a bit of effort.  The walk alone takes about 30 minutes.  You can choose to take the trail that crosses under the freeway or follow a paved bike path, but both end up at the same place.  I’ve skated down a few times, but speed wobbles with a surfboard under your arm can be unnerving.

Besides, I like the walk.  Especially alone.  Especially on quiet days.  The introvert in me craves the silence.

Because so much of my life involves words.  Words to my kids, my wife, my friends, my church.  I love words, I love teaching, I love communicating.  But after too many words I feel empty.  Henri Nouwen compares speaking to leaving the sauna door open.  After a while, the temperature inside is the same as it is outside.  The heat has left.

Silence is like shutting the door to our sauna.  Allowing the temperature to rise again.

As I get to the sand my phone rings, followed by a text from the same number.  It says 911.  I check the message.  A first name only…who is this?  Then I remember the man I talked with yesterday at church.  I feel his expectations rising and the increasing need behind the request as the responsibility shifts to my plate.  But this isn’t a crisis.  This can wait.

Something starts to rise in me emotionally.  What is it?  Panic? Anxiety? Claustrophobia? I’m clearly overwhelmed. But I’m learning to recognize the emotions before they have a hold on me.  I carefully text back, politely but with strength, “I’m not available.  I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

The fact is, I hate saying no.  It makes me feel selfish.  It makes me feel like a fraud.

As I sit discouraged on the beach I feel a nudge.  It’s as if God is saying, “time to surf.” 

There is a fun crossed up wind swell and only a couple guys out.  A few waves into it and I’m finding my rhythm. I keep splitting peaks with the guy next to me.  I surf until my arms ache.

As I change out of my wetsuit on the beach, waiting for the feeling to come back to my icy feet, I feel the warmth of the sun and the familiar smells of the beach.  My heart feels warm and full.  I feel joy, and with the joy, strength.  I savor this moment.

Day 4: Community /  by Jeff Tacklind

            Today is parade day in Laguna!  Every year the city hosts the Patriot’s Day Parade which begins at the high school and ends in front of city hall.  It just to so happens to conveniently pass by the end of our street.  We’ve lived here 16 years and have been almost every year. 

            It is your classic small town parade where there are more participants than spectators.  Practically every group or organization from town participates from the Sawdust Festival to the Laughing Yoga crew.  It includes the little leaguers, the Indian Princesses, the Pageant of the Masters people, and, of course, our local middle and high school bands.

            Gabe and Mia both marched today.  I was the embarrassing dad running alongside them with my phone, recording.  I may have accidentally yelled out, “smash those cymbals, baby!” to my daughter as she passed by, red faced.

            This year Lila chose not to march.  She could have gone with her tennis team or with her dance class, but instead she wisely chose to catch the candy that gets thrown to the spectators.  I mean, someone’s gotta do it.  She came home with more candy than she gets at Halloween.

            As I watch the parade I am reminded of how much time we’ve invested here in this community.  I am reminded by each familiar face that passes by, waving and bursting into smile at that moment of recognition.  I am reminded what a gift each of them is to me.  Every face reminds me of a story.  Every face has added to my journey, to who I am, and to who I am becoming.

            I am also reminded of those who have moved on.  The parade will never be quite as good as when we used to sit with Brad and Margy Coleman.  Margy is one of the best hecklers I know, but also one of the very best encouragers, applauding every obscure marching band that passed by. 

            The fact is, relationships are what gives our life its depth and its meaning.  They are the greatest gifts.  Friendships are a reason to stay where you are.

             I want to savor these moments, knowing that each one marks my life like the ring of a tree.  Community is an intentional gift from God.  Relationships are messy, create friction, and yet are ultimately the thing that matters most.  Happy parade day, my friends!  I sure love you guys!

Day 3: Pace /  by Jeff Tacklind

             I love coffee.  It is what gets me up early, when it is still dark outside.  I love the aroma, the warmth, the dark bitterness of the beans and the richness of the cream.  Until recently, my prep time has been right before I go to bed.  Grind the beans, pour the water, set the timer.  I wake up and there, magically, is a full pot of coffee.

            That is until a couple weeks ago, when Patty bought me a beautiful Chemex coffee maker for Valentine’s day.  Now, I know pour over coffee is all the hipster rage…but seriously, it makes the most amazing cup of coffee!  Everything about it is richer and deeper.  So much more aroma, flavor, aesthetic.  It just takes way longer and is much less convenient. 

            Instead of waking up to a fresh pot of coffee, I must begin by first boiling the water, followed by measuring and grinding beans. Then I wait, and wait, until that little thermometer hits the red zone.  And then I pour.  Slowly.  Patiently.  Swirling the beans.  Pouring again.

            Sometimes impatiently.  This is taking too long!  I’m barely awake!  Suddenly my Cuisinart 12 cup drip maker sounds wonderfully convenient.

            But the aroma pulls me back in.  It smells so rich.  It builds anticipation.  And as I wait, I find myself with moments to breath, to pray, to be pulled into the present instead of rushing ahead to the fury of the day.

            It has become a bit of a calm within the storm.  Soon my kids are swirling around me, getting ready for school, packing lunches, stuffing backpacks, munching cereal.  The slow pace of my morning allows for gentler responses, non-anxious presence, and peace.

            The slow cup of coffee has become a wonderful metaphor for the contemplative pace of life.  There is an invitation in the slowness.  The moments I so quickly rush through each day become some of the deepest and most meaningful. 

            Lent invites us to slow down.  We enter into the desert, which is the time for listening, for reflecting, for looking inward.  It is in the desert that we hear the still, small voice of God.  As the pace of our life slows, there is an increase in clarity, in sensitivity, and in presence.  We begin to notice, to savor, and to cherish the goodness of what we have and the anticipation of what is to come.

Day 2: The Wonder of Reading /  by Jeff Tacklind

 

           Today is one of my favorite days of the year.  Dr. Seuss’s birthday!  Not that I am such a huge fan of the doctor, but it happens to be the day where our elementary school celebrates reading.  For the last 9 years, my wife and I have participated in going to a classroom at El Morro and reading a favorite story for the kids.  We get asked because one of my favorite people in the world, Mary Blanton, hosts the event and does a fabulous job in celebrating the wonder of reading.

            I read today in my daughter Lila’s classroom.  That girl!  She is one of the warmest and friendliest people I know.  I love seeing her interact with her friends and teacher.  She loves to be involved and helped me hold up the book so her classmates could see the illustrations.

            I read Finding Winnie, which is one of our favorites.  It is the true story of the bear that inspired Christopher Robin Milne’s father to write his endearing childrens books.  Not that the Winnie the Pooh books are strictly for children.  His books and poetry are so brilliant and delightful and at the top of my favorites list.

            Today, amidst the goodness and delight of the classroom, I saw that glimmer that is so close to the heart of God.  I saw wonder in the eyes of these wonderful children.  I loved their fascinated questions, their wide eyes (“You mean he was a real bear?!), their desire to share their own stories, and especially the little girl that came up afterward and proudly, but shyly, showed me her Winnie the Pooh shoes that she just happened to wear that day.

            Childlike wonder!  It is one of the most beautiful gifts.  Our world is filled with it, if we have the eyes to see.  During this Lenten season, I hope that we can create the space for it, to read books to our children, to remember those moments where our own hearts were filled with delight, and to discover new glimpses of God in the brilliant and creative world around us.  Go read something today that delights your heart.  It is Dr. Seuss’s birthday, after all!

 

Lenten Glimpses /  by Jeff Tacklind

            Often for Lent I give something up.  It is a way of creating space in my life.  It is a way of restraining impulses, learning temperance, and practicing freedom.  I’ll often choose that thing that is becoming larger than it should be and lay it aside.  Comforts that have become too comfortable, too familiar, and too important.  Laying aside dessert or coffee or wine for 40 days has that perfect blend of difficulty and do ability. 

            Sometimes I add something that I wish did more of.  Letter writing, for instance.  One year I hand wrote a letter to a friend for each day of Lent.  Not simply for the sake of self-improvement.  It is practicing those deeper passions of the heart.  Things that have become stifled, or that the stresses of life are choking out.  These additions to my life during the Lenten season have proven so life giving. 

            Many people I know are fasting from social media.  I love this idea. What a wise way to protect the heart from anxiety and the dreaded fear of missing out.  To replace social media with prayer sounds brilliant.

            But not me.  This year, for Lent, I’m going to increase my social media presence.  Why?  Because it terrifies me.  I’m going to do my best to blog something for each day, a simple glimpse of a holy moment.  Something sacred in the midst of the ordinary. 

            It is my way of exercising that shadow side of myself.  That part of me that loves to design and create is so often overruled by the insecure critic; the one who tries too hard to sound profound.  I’ll do my best to offer a glimpse of where I see God shining through the cracks.  And I invite you to join me.  Unless of course you’re fasting from social media for Lent.  If that’s the case, let me tell you, you’re going to miss out.