A gentle day...

Today was a gentle day in the Berkshires: the weather hit 60 (F) - we raked pine cones and old leaves and took everything slow. Well, there was one errand that involved getting new phones. On our last night in Tucson my cell phone was stolen - and two nights before that Dianne's decided to take a jump into a glass of water! Fortunately we were both eligible for upgrades so we spent part of the day making the switch.

The only glitch is that we have no access to the old numbers of friends and family (save a few) so... if you'd like to email yours I would be grateful. And while I sound like a dinosaur saying this: I was glad to get a phone with a camera - not a blackberry or smartfone or droid - just a nice little camera. Two weeks ago, while wandering around New York City, I kept thinking how much fun it would be to have a small camera for candid shots... and now I do.

Tomorrow is supposed to be equally gorgeous outside so I will do a little more yard work, knowing all the while as my neighbor just told me, "We're not out of the woods yet, man, remember there is still April!" How could I forget? Three years ago in April I preached here for the first time and there was a blizzard. And now it feels natural...

I'll also get to stop by the house of my young friend, Ethan, for a guitar lesson and supper. This third grader is hungry to play the guitar and I've been sharing riffs with him on and off for a few months. I may actually commit to teaching him - and creating a music/mentoring ministry, too - as I have had a 20 year passion for helping boys and young men become healthy, gentle warriors. As I've noted before, I am intentional about both words - gentle and warrior - because there are times when a man's strength and passion need to be used in a protective way, yes? (Not that this isn't true for women, too, but how that comes to pass is not for me to say.)

At lunch yesterday with my spiritual friend, we talked about "the sibling society" - a term Robert Bly lifted up - in which there are no mentors or novices - everyone is just a sibling - with nothing to share or learn or pass on. The result is often unformed and soft men who never become elders - a loss to everyone - women, men and children. I am grateful that there are more and more women's groups reclaiming rites of passages for girls. Perhaps it is time for me to join with other men - I have some great resources - and explore what it might mean for us to start acting like mentors on the way to becoming elders. I know that I have grown and been helped by 3-4 key elders in my day - and all but one have now passed from this life - so I'll see how this shakes out.

Sam Keen once observed that men in their 50s often have one last chance to grow deeper and more compassionate or else become a cynical and cranky old fool. Some of us go nuts in these times - buying red sports cars, leaving our loved ones, caving into lust and acting like we're back in college - which is mostly a sad and immature projection of our fear. And if we keep projecting we will miss the chance to grieve - and go deeper - so that when we're in our 70s we are just mean-spirited, resentful and stupid. The alternative - to go into our fears like Christ into Jerusalem - means death and pain - as well as gravitas and resurrection.

Henri Nouwen experienced both the stupidity his fear created as well as the sorrow, death and deepening he encountered by embracing that fear in his later years. He wrote: "The first stage (of going deeper) is much like the man who, after years of living with open doors, suddenly decides to shut them. The visitors who used to come and enter his home start pounding on those doors, wondering why they are not allowed to enter. Only when they realize that they are no longer welcome do they gradually stop coming...

Meanwhile, I have leaves to rake, gardens to till, guitars to tune and prayers to share as this Lent wanders ever more quickly into Holy Week. (Love the way these old dudes get it...)