A Story About an April

My daughter was born last week.  Her name is April.  It wasn't in our minds when we chose her name, but I rediscovered this short piece which I wrote a long time ago.  The main character is a girl named April, though April also refers to Autumn in New Zealand

An Autumn Scene
Falling leaves and a carpet, of yesterday's offerings from the trees, underfoot. Picture a scene of a long suburban street with trees lining the side of the road and a small grass strip between gutters and the footpath. Black iron fences on the other side of each footpath from the road.

April came and went. Nobody really cared because they didn't like her that much. This was sad. They didn't know her. April was a person inside a person. Outwardly she was quiet, antisocial, and reclusive. Inside this shell April observed the world she passed by in great detail. While the kids in her classes stood on the street corner and watched her pass with little interest and a lot of disdain, April was noticing things.

She saw a crisp red-brown leaf from a maple tree. Within that leaf was a network of white veins that had carried the life of a tree to the extremities of the leaf-tips. Between those veins were smaller veins that created borders between hills and valleys and flakes of dead skin. The intricate crackle as she stepped on that leaf and killed it again. The sound of white noise and harsh material rubbing. The sensation of a fragile, thin surface being harshly folded by a thick plastic heel, and muted by that same thick sole. The thought of the tree that this disowned and destroyed leaf used to belong to. Does the tree feel the parting of the sibling? Does the independent leaf have sensation of falling, drying out gradually, and being crushed?

And then it was gone, along with the unnoticed misunderstanding of the cool kids from school who lived in a skin deep world.

11th November 2003

April and Doughnut - Oh so cute!

This piece also appears in my free e-book.

Interpret my Zombie Dream

The start was less relevant than the end. 

The end saw me with time on my hands to pass and wanting to go train and challenge myself (parkour) while in a strange city (which may have been a mixture of some major world cities I’ve been too). As I was looking for a place to train, I started noticing people. Some noticed me back but others did not. 

These people wore suits and expressionless faces and were tall and imposing but at the same time real enough for me to know they were real people just like me. They were in the system and they were loveless. I tried to get some of them to wake up out of their single minded, zombie like, determination to maintain their lives and their relentless onward walk.

Then I ended up with a group of people in front of me listening to me passionately telling them to LOVE!!!

Feel free to speculate about the meaning of my dream!

Speaking “To” Versus Speaking “With”

Do you see other participants in a conversation as and audience for your ego? Or do you listen with intent?

Quite a while ago I came to the hard conclusion that I was often seeing myself as the main person involved in the conversation. I became concerned that I wasn’t listening to the other person in a way that was meaningful. Instead of trying to understand the meaning of their words and their feelings behind the words, I was listening for key words that I could use to jump in and speak my opinion.

What I do now is to try and follow what the other person says, repeating back to them in my own words and with my own experiences in order to ensure that I understand what they are saying and how they feel about it. This creates strong links with the person you are conversing with, and even if you don’t have an experience that is similar to them you can still show that you value what they say.

The trick is to really value what they say. If you fake it, they will know. Two things that are helpful to remember in this “real” valuing:

1. You don’t have to value something that is not valuable to you. There is a difference between understanding what someone else values and valuing it yourself. You will not typically form any lasting friendship with someone in whom you do not share much in the way of values. In practice, there are very few people who do not share something with others though. We are all human and seeking answers on one level or another.
2. Someone may be further ahead, or further behind you, in their experiences. You can see your role in listening to them as an encourager to keep them inspired, or you can draw inspiration from them. It can be hard to listen to someone excited about something you discovered yourself some years ago, but if you apply the right mindset to the situation you can forge a positive link with the person.

At the heart of all of this is love. Do you care enough for others to take the time to listen to them? Or would you rather say your piece and then move on to the next person - cold marketing style that is no different from email spam that nobody wants to engage with?

“To” is a one-way process.

“With” is communication together, on a journey, sharing strengths and overcoming weakness.

Even if you see this as splitting semantic hairs, I hope you can see the value of real listening and collaborative communication.

A Romantic Effort (and Contemplation)

4:30am, alone in the middle of nowhere, below freezing point temperature, pitch-black visibility, loose gravel and 17 kilometers to travel on foot before 7am.  Those were the conditions that I willingly and joyfully endured for the chance to hear my wife’s voice and to say to her “Good morning.  I love you!”

I am a bit of an unconventional romantic and always keen for a realistic but demanding physical challenge.  That was why I found myself shuffling along at a slow jog, following a winding gravel road on a moonless morning, with only a scattering of faint starlight filtering through the overhead canopy of leaves to guide my way.  I was helping supervise a school camp in the middle of winter and we were staying at the Ngatuhoa Lodge which was over eight kilometers from reliable cell phone reception in the Kaimai ranges of New Zealand’s North Island.


There were a number of aspects of this challenge which I remember clearly
It was really, really dark.  For much of the journey I could see more light from glow worms than from the stars above.  With trees growing thick and high, and bending over the one lane loose gravel road, there was not a lot of chance for light to get through even during day time.  There was just enough light for me to be able to make out a narrow path of gravel compressed by the very few vehicles that travel the road.  But not always.  A lot of the time I had to rely on the feel of the gravel through my Nikes to tell me whether I was still in the right position.  Thankfully it was pretty obvious if I was getting closer to the edge of the road.  I did stop once or twice to make sure that I was making the correct decisions about direction as there are more than one intersections for logging trucks out there.

It was really, really quiet.  I was making the only sounds that I could hear.  Crunch, and scatter of gravel.  Fabric of my shirt rubbing against the synthetic material of my backpack.  The steady intake and exhaust of my breath keeping a sort of rhythm with my heart in my ears.  No animal sounds, and not even wind rustling trees until I neared the top of the 3 or four hills along the way.  The only other man-made noise was a logging truck that passed me while I was on the phone out at the “main” road where I was talking to my sleepy wife at 6am.  The bugger didn’t even stop to check that I was okay out there in the middle of nowhere.  He probably didn’t see me since I was hunkered down avoiding the chill of the wind.

It was really, really cold.  In one of the pictures I took you can see the frost that had formed on my beanie.  Inside my fingerless gloves I had to keep changing position every few minutes to allow sensation to return to the latest fingers that had gone numb.  My nose was too cold to feel that it was running and too cold to feel more than the general pressure when I wiped it on the back of my glove from time to time.  I stepped in the occasional puddle that had become ice, but thankfully my backpack had enough thermal protection to keep the water in my bottle in liquid form.


I had a few carefully thought out items in my backpack.  Some simple first aid bits (wide strapping tape and pocket knife), some home-made chocolate fudge emergency rations, my water bottle, my phone, a polar fleece jumper, and finally some water proof matches if my memory serves me right.

I remember a lot of my thoughts also.  I was concerned with the time I had available and I didn’t know the distance I had to cover, or how close I was to the main road, until I was within about 300 meters of it.  I kept checking my watch every 10 minutes or so for something to do.  I would occupy myself for part of the time by working out the latest possible time I would have to turn around so that nobody would worry if they got up around 7am and found me still gone.  I had told a few people what I was doing so they would know where to come and find me, but it was a nice little bit of pressure to add to the mix and force me to keep moving when I felt like stopping.  My thoughts were also on Psalm One which I was in the process of studying in order to preach on at church in the near future.  I would recite it over and over, getting into little side-tracks of thought and consideration of the meaning and application of the verses.

What occupied my thoughts the most, and drove me to maintain a good pace on the way out to the gate, was the thought of being able to talk to my wife on the first day that I would not see her since we had gotten married a little over a month ago.  I had to make it out to the gate, an unknown distance, in less than an hour and a half and despite all of these challenging conditions.

A little before 6am, I made it.  I stopped for some water so that I could talk without my dry throat betraying a steady voice, and to put on my polar fleece to keep warm while I waited within the zone of reception.  Then I took out my phone, turned it on, and rang my love.  The phone rang, and rang, and rang again.  Then it was answered... by voicemail!  I was horrified!  I left a suitably loving message for posterity, and then tried again just in case.  This time I heard the sleepy voice of my wife on the other end.  It turned out that she had rejected the call before (by accident) and it had sent me through to voicemail.  Being a little more awake the second time, she answered and was pleased to hear my voice also.  We chatted for a bit, expressing our great love for each other, and then I let her get back to sleep while I took a couple of photos of me at the gate as evidence of my success and then made a start on the journey back to the toasty warm lodge.

Contemplation
The mental side of the journey was most fascinating for me.  I am quite a reflective person, so I wasn’t surprised to find myself in a deep philosophical contemplative mode as I ran.  What was fascinating were the subjects of my thoughts.  While I do a lot of thinking, I don’t really do a lot of thinking about thinking.  Out in the wilderness, and perhaps being newly married, I had turned my thoughts inward a lot more than usual.  I remember observing my own thoughts in a very distinct third person point of view, almost watching them form and run their course in my mind while they took care of themselves.  

I remember deciding that this crazy task I was doing, running through adverse conditions to tell my wife that I loved her, was not so far off a parallel of everything that Christ had done to show his love for his bride, the church.  He lived a perfect life, suffered much pain and eventually death on the cross, leading to resurrection and bodily ascension into heaven, and is now guiding his bride into holiness via the holy spirit.  His acts should inspire us to feel abundant gratitude towards him and to love him and change ourselves to be more pleasing to him as some small way of showing these inspired feelings.  I was hoping to demonstrate my own love for my wife in this, and by that I hoped to inspire her to love me more and to show her love for me more by being grateful that I had gone through this for her.  

Every gift I give and sacrifice I make for my wife should be aimed at inspiring her to be a more godly woman.  In doing so, I will become a more loving husband and a more godly man.  Above all, God will be glorified in our attitudes and intentions as we do this.

So, a few months down the track, the most memorable thing isn’t the cold, it isn’t the dark, it isn’t even the strange contemplative process that took place while I ran.  What I remember the strongest is the sound of my sleepy wife’s voice causing my heart to leap in my chest and the blood rush in my veins for joy as she said, “I love you too, babe.”

May we blokes always be willing to put ourselves through a bit of a hard time for our women.

-Sam

Love Languages (by Gary Chapman)

As a wedding gift from my new parents, my wife and I received a copy of “The 5 Love Languages” by Gary Chapman.  As so many others have already said, I think that this is a great book.  I don’t totally buy into it for a couple of reasons though, but before I get into those reasons, let me give a brief overview of the theory.

The Theory
There are five categories (languages) in which you can show (or be shown) love.  These five languages are: Words of affirmation, Quality time, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch.  I won’t get into exactly what these involve, but it should be pretty clear to anyone with a little thought and research skill (try googling “love language words of affirmation” for instance).  There are a lot of areas of overlap between the five, for instance a gift of your time to perform a service involves three of the five in a loose way; so the five shouldn’t been seen as limiting.

Why I Don’t Buy Into It

1. The key seems to me to be more about making the effort to understand your spouse than in learning a particular love language, though I have to admit that the 5 languages are a good framework to reflect on how you show love.
2. It seems wiser to me to develop your ability to give and to show love in as many different ways as possible.  Focusing on one or two particular languages out of the whole is almost inevitable for the casual reader and this is very limiting.  I know that I don’t want to be boxed in such a way, especially when my tastes and passions shift depending on a much more complex set of variables.  I would hate for my spouse to expect a gift that worked on one day to work exactly the same the next.  It might, but the thought process behind the gift is more important and I think it is a real danger (of shutting off the thought process) when instantly and permanently categorising a person’s love language.

Why I Think it is Still Well Worth Reading
This is a book that is well worth reading for one main reason, and that is to get ideas for how to show your love.  Of the many experiences shared in the book, there is bound to be something that will make you think of your spouse (or yourself) and give you ideas.  Linked to this is the excitement you get from hearing about troubled relationships that have recovered.

I haven’t yet finished reading the book so, to be fair to Gary Chapman, he may deal with some of the concerns I’ve raised.  Even if he doesn’t, I heartily recommend this read to anyone.  After all, if you are reading without really engaging your mind to weigh up the validity of the content, you won’t get anything out of it anyway.

Happy reading, and happy loving!