Places You've Lived that Live in You ~ Part One

 

Iowa…Minnesota…New Hampshire…Wisconsin…Florida.  Those are the five states that I have called “home”.  Those are the places where the soil of that space has left a lingering impression on my soul.  During the summer, I invite you to listen to the story you tell yourself about yourself.  We are meaning-making people, and we do this through story.  From the stories we tell, which evoke and provoke emotions, we form conclusions that we believe are based on facts.  Often our conclusions have been shaped by our experiences and encounters…which are limited by the places we’ve been and the people we’ve met.  For example, I have never been to Asia.  My best friend in high school was from the Philippines, but that doesn’t make me an expert.  Sure, he shared with me about his life, travels, and the racism he endured, encountered, and experienced.  Too often, we take our encounters and form strongly held opinions based on what we believe is the truth. (Or you could re-read that sentence, substituting the words “my truth” at the end.)  When we sprinkle our limited experiences with a bit of education through podcasts, books, or Facebook posts that often confirm our already tightly held convictions (because what you click online persists and insists we stay hooked to our devices), we might start believing we are just a bit below Einstein on the IQ scale.  As Anne Lament says, “Of course we believe our opinions are correct!  Otherwise, we’d get new opinions.”  It is true…and heartbreaking.  Sometimes, the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves, others, God, and the world reflect where we’ve been, what we’ve encountered, and who has left their fingerprints on us.  No one is “self-made”; it is biologically impossible, psychologically dangerous, and theologically contradictory.  The “you” that stares back from the mirror is a messy mixture of places and people.  Plus, all the other voices we explored last week that want to tell you what to think, do, act, and believe. 

 

This week we will explore the locations we’ve lived in that still live inside us.  Over the next several weeks, we will break down components of the recipe of your life that come from the past, guide the present, and will shape the future.  Today, get a large piece of paper.  You can tape two 8x10 pieces together, or if you have 12x18, that will work too.  On the left-hand side, in the top left corner, write the year you were born.  Drop down a few lines and draw a rectangle, leaving space around that shape.  Inside the rectangle, write where you were born.  For example, I would write, “Cedar Rapids, Iowa," the proud home of Quaker Oats, where you can smell that factory for miles!  Continue along the timeline of your life, drawing a rectangle for each move you made.  When I was a teenager, we moved to Des Moines, Iowa; then I moved to Pella, Iowa (where I experienced Dutch culture) for my first year of college, and then back to Des Moines.  Eventually, I moved from Minnesota to New Hampshire (where our children were born) to Wisconsin, and now to Florida.  You should now have a wonderful row of rectangles denoting the many places that still live in you.  Next, around each rectangle, draw circles to represent people who were part of your life.  For example, around Cedar Rapids, I would draw a circle for my mom, one for my dad, one for my older brother, and one for my maternal grandmother, who lived with us.  I could also draw a circle for my uncle and his family, who lived nearby.  As I move along the timeline of rectangles, I can add circles for friends in Cedar Rapids, then Des Moines, where I met my high school friend, and onto seminary, where I met my wife.  In New Hampshire, I would add two circles for my children.  Some of the circles persist over time and regardless of place; other circles fall away and now are Facebook friends only.  Please note that this is NOT about perfection or exhausting every circle possible.  I encourage you to spend a few minutes doing this, then set it aside; we will come back to it this week.  May you discover prayerful and playful ways in which where you have been is still part of the soil in your soul, growing in the garden of your life.  Amen.