Developing Genius

Taken from Ann Voskamp's blog A Holy Experience:
Geniuses make it look effortless only because they’ve faithfully practiced. Anders Ericsson, a professor of psychology at Florida State University, posits that “extended deliberate practice” is the ultimate key to successful use of a gift. “Nothing shows that innate factors are a necessary prerequisite for expert-level mastery in most fields,” he says. Ericsson’s interviews with 78 German pianists and violinists discovered that by age 20, the best musicians had spent an estimated 10,000 hours practicing, twice the average 5,000 hours the less accomplished group practiced.

Genius is a long faithfulness.

So fingers stretch across ivories here, shoulders hunch over Latin, brows knit in mathematical quandary. Just two hours a day of concentrated practice over a decade stacks up to 7,000 hours of faithful stewarding.

What would happen if every Christian used the 4 hours daily spent in front of the television a day (more than 126 hours a month!) or the near hour a day the average American surfs the internet and spent two of those hours developing their skill in a particular domain ( woodworking, quantum physics, photography) and one hour more on the spiritual disciplines that lead into a deeper relationship with God, (prayer, memorization, Bible meditation, fasting) – only repurposing three hours a day from the five we spend on passive entertainment — and in one decade, our entire culture – and the world at large – would be entirely revolutionized. How are we being faithful stewards of our 10,000 hours?

Why not tenderly unfurl a gift?

We waste so much time on fruitless pursuits. I've taken Ann's admonishment to heart and hope to practice more to hone my gifts. Here's my quandary; I'm interested in many things. Do I narrow it down to one thing I want to pursue or do I practice each thing a little bit each day? If I do the latter, I'll only get a little bit better. BUT I'll be able to do all the things I like. Any thoughts out there on what the best thing to do would be?

A Pretty Quilt

I've changed the heavy winter comforter for a lighter quilt. Mama copied an antique quilt for this pattern. It's all hand-quilted. We don't know the name, but it has nosegays or bouquets all over. I loved the late afternoon sun shining on the heart pine floors and quilt. Thought you might, too.

Understanding the Lenten Season

I don't remember where I found this quote, but I like it. I'm trying to understand Lent better and this helped.

“As we begin it,” he writes, “as we make the first step into the ‘bright sadness’ of Lent, we see — far, far away — the destination. It is the joy of Easter, it is the entrance into the glory of the Kingdom. And it is this vision, the foretaste of Easter, that makes Lent’s sadness bright and our lenten effort a ‘spiritual spring. [...] Paradoxically, Easter necessitates Lent. “For we may then understand,” says Fr. Schmemann, “that the liturgical traditions of the Church, all its cycles and services, exist, first of all, in order to help us recover the vision and the taste of that new life which we so easily lose and betray, so that we may repent and return to it.”

The Soul's Longing

I read one morning in a Psalm (I can't remember now which one) the phrase 'Deep Calls Unto Deep'. I thought, "That'd be a great name for a book." Then on someone's blog (I can't remember which blog either) I found this poem. It made my breathe catch in my throat. The deepness of it is almost too much for words, but the author of this poem somehow managed.

The Call of Deep Unto Deep

by John Wright Follette

Down in the depth of my nature

Where the issues of life are born,

From that unknown mystical realm,

Surviving through ages of storm,

A call is forever rising -

But its language I cannot speak.

It was born ere I had being,

'Tis the call of deep unto deep.

Our mother tongue here is awkward,

For no words can fully express

The needs in the depths of nature,

In bondage to sin and distress.

Our hearts in their depths surely ache;

They hunger; they call; and they seek -

Then silently wait an answer

To the call of deep unto deep.

Down deep in the heart of our God,

In mystical regions sublime,

In the Godhead's holy council

Long before our world or our time,

An answer was fully prepared

Every pain, every ache to meet,

In Christ, God's only begotten,

Is answer to deep unto deep.

The Answer indeed was the Word,

The Word when expressed was the Son.

Oh language of God how profound!

In answer what more could be done?

The heart of our God is hungry,

His portion, His people to seek.

"I thirst," was cried by the Answer -

'Tis the call of deep unto deep.

Pat Conroy's My Reading Life

Pat Conroy's done it again; written an engaging, heart-wrenching book chronicling his life as a reader and writer.

I adore books about books and the reading life and he doesn't disappoint. He gives much more than a list of books, although he does do that.

Flowing through his life like a discordant melody is his father's influence, The Great Santini. Larger than life and scary as all get out, Pat still deals with the demons caused by this sadistic fighter pilot.

Also present is his gentle mother who would read along with her son every book assigned to him in school. Embarrassed by her lack of education, she was driven to improve herself through books. This mutual love of the written word was in many ways a saving grace for them both.

One chapter is called The Old New York Book Shop. Pat frequented this shop in Atlanta for many years and became best friends with its owner. While keeping the store one afternoon for his friend, he had a most unusual customer.

Mr. Conroy writes: Though I was reading O'Neill's most accomplished play, he wore me down in gloomy rain forests of dialogue that seemed both exhausting and fruitless. But the moment froze when the front door opened and three large, muscle-bound men walked into the store like an offensive line breaking out of a huddle. The largest man signaled someone outside in a limousine and a lithe, watchful young man with a terrific hat and expensive sunglasses entered the store. When he asked me a question, he appeared shy as a mollusk.

"Do you have any books on freaks?" he asked.

"We specialize in freaks here," I answered. "You ever met the owner?"

"Cliff, isn't it?" the man said, looking at me sidelong. "I bought some books from him last time I was in Atlanta."

"First room on the right after the bathroom," I said, pointing. "I know he bought a collection of circus books last week."

"Circus freaks?" the man asked.

"I haven't checked them out. He's got a couple of books on the Elephant Man."

"I bet I own them,' the young man said. "I tried to buy the skeleton of the Elephant Man last year in England. They refused to do business with me. It upset me very much."

"Those uptight limey bastards," I said.

I then went back to reading O'Neill, thus missing any further opportunity to meet Michael Jackson. When Cliff told me who had just bought several hundred dollars' worth of books from me, I remembered the man's hauntedness but also his innate sweetness. Michael Jackson was simply another celebrity who proved that fame could damage a human soul without even breaking a sweat.

Can you imagine selling books to Michael Jackson and not knowing who he is?

Pat Conroy's writing makes me want to swoon and cry at the same time. I've never met an author that moved me so. If I ever do meet him on Fripp Island, heaven help me! If two old people are seen running down the beach, one chasing the other, it'll probably be us!

Tim Keller Writes on Counterfeit Gods

The human heart’s desire for a particular valuable object (human affirmation) may be conquered, but its need to have some such object is unconquerable. How can we break our heart’s fixation on doing “some great thing” in order to heal ourselves of our sense of inadequacy, in order to give our lives meaning? Only when we see what Jesus, our great Suffering Servant, has done for us will we finally understand why God’s salvation does not require us to do “some great thing.” We don’t have to do it, because Jesus has.

A Tribute to Stay-at-Home Mothers

The occasion was the 80th birthday party for my Aunt Carolyn. She's the one in the black & white photo. My Aunt Louise is the one laughing, and my own mama is the middle lady in the other photo. A small get-together to celebrate the life of one of my aunts.

I grew up down the road from Aunt Carolyn's family where three of my first cousins lived. Another set of first cousins lived between us. Mama's parents lived across the road from us, so I really had four mamas within half a mile. Sometimes I found that oppressive. Especially when I was up to mischief, which was often.

I remember one conversation with my Aunt Louise (who lived in Atlanta and was therefore much more knowledgeable about life) when I was in college and knew everything. It went something like this: Aunt: What are you going to do when you get out of college?

Me: I'm not sure yet. I don't want to be a housewife.

Aunt: Why not? (laughing)

Me: I wouldn't have anything to do. Don't you get bored?

Aunt: (Really laughing now) I don't have time to be bored.

I went away from that conversation a little shaken, partly because she was laughing at me, or so I thought at the time, and partly because I was afraid she might be right. I wanted a career. I didn't want to be 'stuck' at home.

I think that conversation was pivotal for me in opening up an avenue I had never before considered; that of a stay-at-home wife and mother. For the next few years, God brought different people into my life to show me what that would look like. They were also grace-filled women who were well-educated, created peaceful homes of beauty, and stayed home full time. My eyes were opened to the realities of this most important calling.

I saw that women could be appreciated and loved within the context of their homes. That children could be well-behaved and not little monsters, and that disciplined children were happy children. Thank God for these examples in my life. I think things would be much different if I hadn't known them.

This quote by George Elliot is what got me thinking about women in the shadows. It's from Middlemarch and is speaking of Dorothea: Her full nature, like that river of which Cyrus broke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name on the earth. But the effect of her being on these around her was incalculably diffusive; for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half doing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life and rest in unvisited tombs.

So this post is for the aunts in my life, and I have many more than the two pictured. You helped my parents raise me when I was a hateful, mischievous little girl. You loved and guided me into young womanhood, and you are still leading me into the unknown paths of middle and old age.

And when this world plays its siren song of You Can Be and Do Anything, you help give me strength to say back, "It's enough to be a stay-at-home mom. I do have it all. It's enough."