58. Black and White

March 28, 2013January 20, 2016 / Apple Hill Cottage / 9 Comments

I’ve had black and white on the brain lately.

Everywhere I look, I see black and white together. Dark and light. Absorbing and reflecting. Hot and cold. Opposites. Contrasts.

black and white in nature Today, stopped at a stop light in the burbs of Pittsburgh, I saw a bald eagle. My first thoughts were, I must be wrong. What other kind of bird looks like that? Some sort of hawk? I may have misidentified it; but there it was — huge, flying out of the treetop, thirty feet above me. I got a good look: white head, black body, curved yellow beak, very large. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology tells me that it could be a turkey vulture, but I definitely saw a white feathered head. I’m sticking to my story.

black and white in the world
I was marveling at the sight when twenty yards down the road came two black and white police cars racing to a somewhere scene, lights flaring, sirens blaring. Yes, that was more like the city — powerful, forceful, a place full of opposites — street lights illuminating the dark, sirens piercing the silence of the night, churches and rescue shelters — havens in the midst of desperate neighborhoods.

Black and white in design is a study of contrasts. The design blog Hongkiat.com calls black and white a “stark dichotomy,” which makes the design impossible to ignore. It is clean and simple, yet it can be complex as well. Black and white together have “…endless opportunities that other color schemes just don’t manage to generate. It all just balances itself out.” I especially like the word balance.

I love old black and white films, and black and white photography fills me with a longing that color just doesn’t satisfy. (See post 30. A Stillness in Time). Wikipedia says, “Since the advent of color, black-and-white mass media often connotes something nostalgic, historic or anachronistic.” Yes, that’s me — nostalgic, anachronistic, and yearning.

Black and white together — it is bold. Courageous. Balanced. Stunning. It takes a stand. Bald eagles, police cars, photography, design… and our new kitchen floor.
Armstrong VCT tile

It is bold. I generally believe in hardwood floors or muted rugs. This stands out. It shouts out. I love it!

I have never been bold or courageous, though as I get older I discover I am gaining on them. Arguments still make me squeamish; heated discussions still often silence me; and I usually just want everyone to get along together. My walls are white, and my wardrobe consists of neutrals, though I occasionally wear an emerald scarf, a bright red sweater, a purple t-shirt. I have always admired boldness in others, while secretly thinking that bad things always happen to those who stand out or stand up.

In a world that needs boldness, I want to stand.

In a world that needs the saving grace and redemption of Jesus, I want to shout of His power to save.

Happy Easter! May we be bold in speaking of His love.

No, the issues that are fracturing us are not black and white. But what we must all take to heart is His love; His redemption; His power. Written over both the black and the white is His love — written in His blood — written forever, no matter who we are, what we do, or how we dis-grace Him. His love covers us all, and it’s free.

51. Perfectionism, Part 2: the blessings

February 20, 2013July 9, 2014 / Apple Hill Cottage / 3 Comments

Last night I was reclining in bed, surrounded by pillows, books, notebooks, and reading glasses, writing a blog post on my IPhone. These phones are very handy when one has a thought and doesn’t want to lose it in the quagmire of daily living (or nightly dreaming). I was about to save the post when my finger accidentally hit the publish button.

…and where the update button usually is was the PUBLISH button!

There’s something very ironic (and humbling) about accidentally posting a post on perfectionism… It wasn’t ready. I hadn’t said it all yet. Hmmm…well, maybe I had, but I certainly hadn’t gone over it twenty three times to make sure it was as perfect as I could write it.

Hence, this Part 2 — more thoughts about perfectionism. But this time I’m thinking about the blessings of it — because God does require our best and our best can be a blessing, not only to those around us, but also to ourselves.

Artists and writers and musicians and craftsmen particularly know the struggle here. How does one know if the piece is finished and finished well? Madeline L’Engle says that inspiration usually comes as you are working, not before. So if one keeps working, one will continually be inspired. Perhaps when the inspiration stops, the piece is finished well?

That works for pieces of music or writing or art, but it doesn’t hold up so well for paint or wood or refinishing windows. The wood of those windows we refinished isn’t perfect. It’s old. It’s got dents and nail holes.

We all have our imperfection tolerance limits, and the more talent one has, the higher the limit. That’s as it should be. Mr. H.C., the contractor has higher expectations for his carpentry skills than I do for mine. (Ahem…maybe part of my frustration?)

Except…

God, the perfect one, should have absolutely no tolerance for our human imperfections; yet he does. Rather, he loves us for them. And no amount of our own striving can make us achieve that perfectionism that is God. He has given us that striving, made it part of us, so we would desire to be like him. In that way it is a blessing, his gift to us.

It only becomes bad when — dare I say it? — the devil (or the world, if you prefer) keeps whispering in our ears that we aren’t good enough or didn’t do it well enough. That’s when it becomes a curse.

And so I say, EMBRACE your perfectionism! It is a God-given gift. Just draw the line when you no longer see the blessing or feel the inspiration. And say the words that Jesus said, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.” (Matthew 16:23)

Window in need of repair

38. Fighting the Lesser Gods

December 11, 2012July 9, 2014 / Apple Hill Cottage / 6 Comments

We spent too much on a kitchen faucet two weeks ago. I am suffering from Buyer’s Remorse.

Our beautiful new brushed stainless steel kitchen faucet

I’ve been trying to excuse it. I’ve been rationalizing it by telling myself that we have saved $$ on so much else for the kitchen by buying at restores, redoing old stuff, and repurposing other stuff. Hmm, the key words here are much and stuff…

I’ve been telling myself that it is a quality faucet, and it will last forever. After all, it has a ceramic cartridge, it is made of stainless steel, and it won’t rust. Hmm, the key words here are quality and forever.

It’s difficult to be rehabbing a kitchen and trying to fight that impulse of materialism. The two just don’t go together. I can get caught up in the look I want; the colors I want; the type of flooring I want. The key words here are pretty obvious…I want.

I want much quality stuff forever…

We’ve been trying to be thrifty and balanced — nothing outlandishly pricey or ostentatious. Simple even. After all, there are people living in tents in Haiti; in huts in Malawi; in tenements in this very city. (Remember those starving people in China who would have eaten those peas I wouldn’t eat as a kid?)

Last week I was cleaning out my home library and found this:

I don’t know where it came from, but I saved it. And I found it again at a time when I needed to be reminded.

In this time of gross materialism (I mean Christmas, but it could just as well be any time here in 21st century America) we all need to be reminded. It is not about stuff, even quality stuff, even quality stuff that lasts forever. Because as Jesus reminds us, the earthly treasures rust and get moth-eaten — yes, even stainless steel faucets. The forever treasures are what we need to want; those are what last.

I was ~~reminded~~ convicted again yesterday when I read my morning devotions. Sarah Young writes in Jesus Calling:

I carefully crafted your longings and feelings of incompleteness, to point you to Me. Therefore, do not try to bury or deny these feelings. Beware also of trying to pacify these longings with lesser gods: people, possessions, power.

God carefully created us to long for Him. There is a hole in our human hearts that can only be filled by Him. And instead we fill it with stuff, work, family, lovers and mates, hobbies, eating, shopping, sports, even church — you pick one (or two or three…)

These things are not necessarily bad unless they become replacements for God — Lesser Gods. I don’t know about you, but I fight those lesser gods all the time.

When I win, I can feel Jesus smiling on the person who struggles to be like him and sometimes manages a shadow of His presence.

When I lose, He gently reminds me how imperfect I am. And His gift of grace that covers me is the softest blanket on a cold night.

Yes, it is a beautiful faucet. We own it. I will be happy with it. I will touch it every day, and it will shine as a reminder of my imperfection. And in return, it will remind me to give graciously and joyfully to someone in need. I can’t make up for my greed; I can’t be vindicated for my materialistic sin, but every time I look at that faucet, I can remember.