Wholeness Does Not Mean Perfection

Wholeness Does Not Mean Perfection

I guess I am not a whole person. You see, I’ve had some body alterations. Toes amputated on my left foot, three heart bypasses in one surgery, a broken left arm and other scrapes, dents, flaws, and weaknesses.

So, I guess I’m not perfect either. Hmmm. This idea strikes me tonight as I write.

Parker Palmer said this: “Wholeness does not mean perfection. It means embracing brokenness as an integral part of life.”

Whew! That kind of takes the pressure off, doesn’t it?

Wouldn’t it be grand if we were perfect? Life would be a breeze if everything we did, or sought, or thought, or talked about was perfect.

So, what do we do?

Looks to me like we embrace our broken places. We accept our flaws, our impurities, or proclivities, our weaknesses, our less-than-righteous tendencies. We accept the cracks that occur in our lives, our goals, and dreams, and do life anyway. Sometimes that means getting over ourselves,

Oh, I want to be perfect. People like me when I am perfect. When I balance to a zero difference in banking, I’m perfect. And you should see me on the days when I’m off balance. Ouch. That is not a pretty sight.

When I write a really great blog, or produce a great podcast, that’s amazing. I’m approaching near perfection. And when I don’t, I write and do podcasts anyway.

We keep going. We keep trying. We keep doing life.

In Brennan Manning’s book, Ruthless Trust, he tells a story about a cracked pot. Here is my re-telling.

Once upon a time there was a water bearer who had two large pots. Each hung on opposite ends of a pole that he carried across his neck.

One of the pots was perfect. The other had a crack in it.

The perfect pot always delivered a full measure of water to their master’s table, while the cracked pot leaked and arrived with only half a measure. Needless to say, the cracked pot was discouraged. He was ashamed of his performance because of his cracks. He didn’t feel useful.

One day, the cracked pot spoke to the water-bearer. “I am ashamed of myself. I only deliver a portion of what you expect of me each trip to the well. You see, I have cracks and I lose most of my measure of water all the way back home.”

The water-bearer smiled and replied, “My poor cracked pot. As we walk home today, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

And sure enough, there were dozens and hundreds of beautiful and colorful flowers on his side, all along the path home.

The water-bearer pointed out, “Did you notice that there were flowers only along your side of the path and not on the side of the perfect pot? I know about your flaws. Every day for two years, as we have walked this path, you have been watering the seeds on your side and they have grown into beautiful flowers. Without you being just the way you are we would be looking at brown dirt, not graceful beauty.

Maybe, my dear cracked pot, you need to embrace your imperfections. You are whole, nevertheless, despite your imperfections.”

You see ... the cracked pot was useful after all. Sure, he leaked, sure he was considered less than, because he delivered less than the other pot. However, he had his purposes to fulfill, and he learned to do just that.

Wow! This gives a whole new sense of wholeness and perfection to our lives, doesn’t it?

If you need a spiritual application to this analogy, here it is.

God takes our imperfect cracks and weaknesses and teaches us a new sense of purpose, a new way to be whole and complete. We are useful, even in the middle of our imperfections.

Will we allow that to happen? I am. And I hope you are too.

P Michael Biggs 

Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration

It's Never Too Late

It’s Never Too Late

If you think life is passing you by or the parade is over and you’ve missed it, think again.

This post is for those of us who are in the second act of life. You know, in some ways we are just now getting a good start, and we’re perhaps over sixty years of age. How about that!

This quote speaks to me on a lot of levels.

It’s never too late 

to be who you might have been.

I’ve written and talked of wanting to be a writer for over forty years. Oh, I wrote a lot of stuff earlier in life:

   Checks
   To-Do lists

   Grocery lists 

   Christmas wish lists 

   Assignments for work

I even wrote a few serious pieces – like my first published article at age 29. I was paid $22 for that epic work. Later, I had a series of articles published in a now-defunct magazine called “Bookstore Journal”. I wrote video scripts, marketing copy, commercials and a whole passel of other writing projects but never felt qualified about calling myself a writer until after publishing my first book – The Letters.

That book was published when I was sixty-three. At last, I could call myself a writer. And the writing continues.

My friend Paulette Woods is in her eighties, and she just published a new book – I See You There. It’s good and insightful, and I’m going to borrow a few ideas in the days ahead for my own blogs, and she knows this.

In Texas I knew a man in my Toastmaster’s Club who was seventy-six and he was learning to play the flute. A lady in that club was eighty-two and was taking sky-diving lessons. Heavens to Betsy – what was she thinking?

I’ll tell you what she was thinking. She didn’t want her life to pass her by without attempting some of the dreams she had held onto for a very long time. She realized that the parade was not out of sight, and she could still catch up and play her part.

The one regret of people in nursing homes that is repeated time and again is this.

I Wish I Would

Have Taken More Chances

Our opening quote bears repeating.

"It’s never too late 

to be who you might have been."

I once was a broad-jumper in track-and-field events. I can’t do that anymore.
I once ran the 50-yard-dash.
I loved biking all over Albuquerque. I can’t anymore without the help of an e-Bike.

But look at what I can still do. And look at what you are still able to do.

In these days, LA Fitness has become one of my places to go to for exercise. I’m not the most muscle-bound participant there. On some days, I turn in a disappointing session. I fatigue quickly. My muscles just won’t make another turn of the bike pedals, and yet I go. I go because I see subtle differences in the little bit that I do. My strength is returning, I’m feeling better, sleeping better, breathing better. I had the privilege of telling two of my doctors recently that I felt better than I’ve felt in seven or eight years.

They were amazed.

The meds are still a part of my daily routine. Protein is still a vital element in my diet.

I’m not a spring chicken anymore, but I am a wiser and more mature and healthier version of myself because I have a goal and dream of who I want to be and I’m moving at my own pace in the direction of those goals and dreams.

Here’s a funny incident. Just yesterday Carolyn and I were in our favorite bookstore in Fairhaven, Washington. I was doing my usual browsing when a seven-year-old boy come up to me and said, “Do you want to arm-wrestle.”

What boldness. 

What brashness. 

What spunk. 

What guts.

What an unusual young man.

I politely declined. Frankly I didn’t want to be embarrassed because he just might have won that arm-wrestling match. He went on to say, “I just beat my friend Charlie in arm- wrestling.” I mumbled politeness and we went our own way.

A huge part of this philosophy of “It’s Never Too Late” is the ability to know our limits, for there are limits in what we can do.

I don’t subscribe to the philosophy of “You can do anything you believe you can.” I will never be a ballet dancer. I don’t want to be one. I don’t desire to be one, and even if someone convinced me I could become one, it ain’t gonna happen.

But look at what I can do.

Here’s the thing.
It’s never too late to be who you might have been.

P Michael Biggs

Hope Encouragement Inspiration

Our Dark Days Make Us Prove We Are Strong

Our Dark Days Make Us 

Prove We Are Strong 

I once thought I was not a strong person. My self-esteem was almost non- existent, my self-confidence was in hiding, and I suppose my mindset was one of ‘I’ll coast through life and see what happens. After all, I’ll take what comes and I probably deserve what comes.’

Oh my. What a lousy way to approach life. Trouble comes, so do nothing, say nothing, assume you deserve it and that’s that.

No way. I say NO WAY.

I’ve had a few dark days in my years of living. And with the living I’ve done thus far, I can look behind me and see those dark days.

And look what I learned and look how I came out.

You don’t know the inner strength you possess until you really must dig down and use it. Oh, my friend. You have strength inside of you. I hope you believe that. What you must do now is let that strength, that intestinal fortitude rise to the surface and show us that you may be down, but you’re not out.

That bears repeating.

“You may be down, but you’re not out.”

Many of us have experienced divorce, or bankruptcy, job loss, loss of a loved one, horrible surgeries, and the list goes on.

The great news is this ... some of us have found the strength to rise from the ash-heap and make a new start. We’ve found the strength from somewhere within us and pulled ourselves up by the bootstrap. We’ve determined that this too shall pass, and this situation is not going to be the end of us.

It is not the end.
It is not even the beginning of the end.

It, however, could be the beginning of a new beginning. That’s not double- speak. That is what it is – a new beginning. Every beginning has a starting point. Where is yours?

A personal story:
When I went through toe amputation surgery on my left foot three years ago, I had dark days. I wondered, questioned, and worried over my ability or inability to ever walk at a normal pace. And I thought pain in walking was going to become the norm for me for the rest of my life.

Look at me today. I can walk. I do the treadmill at the gym. I work a 40- hour week. This past summer I discovered I can ride a bicycle again, and the weekly improvements keep on coming.

My first steps after surgery were not a pretty sight. I was in pain with every step. When I came home from the hospital, I was fearful of having to climb eight steps up and then eight steps down into our condo.

I’m way past all that.

Along the way, with Carolyn's help, I found my inner strength, my intestinal fortitude to persevere, to be persistent and to keep doing what I knew needed doing, for I was not going to let a little thing like missing five toes stop me from living a good and full life.

They were dark days. And guess what. They made me prove just how strong I already was.

I found the strength within. How about that.

Now, I’ve used a lot of “I” words to tell my story, and I trust you will forgive me for that. The point is this ... we all have that measure of inner strength. Sometimes, we never see it until the hard places come, the seemingly unsurmountable experiences in life. And when those times do come, we have a choice.

Will we wallow in our self-pity and doomsday mindset? Or will we rise, take up our bed and walk.

Just to be clear, I am a man of faith. I have no doubt that the God of my understanding was by my side through all that I have experienced in life.

And I do know that He will not do for us what we can do for ourselves.

What can you do for yourself? Sometimes we can only do small acts, and those small, somewhat insignificant acts lead to more small acts, and muscles that start firing, and neurons and nerve endings that fire, and mindsets that start changing from a can’t do to a CAN DO!

Dark days are no fun, granted. And look what they teach us.

P Michael Biggs 

Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration

Never A Good Time to Stop

 Never a Good Time to Stop

I don’t want to bore you with my medical history, but I need to use a part of it to illustrate a point.

I had complete toe amputation on my left foot three years ago. Between that surgery (actually four surgeries) and my open-heart surgery 6 years ago my body has taken a beating. Just in the last few months have I rounded a corner and have started to feel better than ever, even before heart surgery.

I’m going to LA Fitness, working on my own and with a personal trainer, and have been doing very well.

I’ve missed working out for the last two week. TWO WEEKS. And I can tell a difference. Climbing steps had been getting a bit more difficult. The simple act of getting out of a chair had become more of a challenge and a few other muscular observations of note. All because I took two weeks off.

Oh, I could rationalize and say I’ve been busy, which I have, or we’ve been out of town, or I’ve been too tired to go for my personal training session, which I missed two weeks in a row.

And I have paid a small price for all of that.

Happily, I returned to the gym today. I was able to pick up where I left off and believe it or not, I can already tell that my body is responding. Rising from a chair has suddenly become easier, and other movings and motions of my body have become easier again.

Can you believe all this? If I want to live a longer life than others with similar medical experiences, then I must keep up with my weekly gym visits, my treadmill walks, my weight machines and all else.

I can never ask, “Can I stop now?” No, not now. Not ever!

Is that a depressing prognosis?

Not on your life. Do you know the euphoric feeling I sense after working out each time? Some of you do. It is like a special kind of drug that is good for you – it’s all good for you.

I felt that way this morning. I’ve felt it before.
And I will continue to feel it every time I pay the price and go to the gym.

Even when I’m ninety-two, which is a long way off, I’ll be doing something in the way of physical activity, for I like the differences I feel in my body.

I wonder where else in life I can apply this idea? And I wonder about this for you, my loyal and faithful readers. When you reach 75 might be considered by some a good place to stop. Probably not. Perhaps curb your activity some but never stop.

I’m already curbing some activities. The weights are a bit lighter than twenty years ago. Some of my personal trainer activities must be modified specifically for me, and Monica, my trainer, is perfectly okay with that.

Changes happen. Adjustments must be made. Stopping because I’m too old or too weak? Not today.

Take a break occasionally if you must.

That’s called sharpening the saw, thanks to Stephen Covey

But keep doing something, some level of activity as you can.

     Your body will thank you. 

          Your heart will thank you. 

               Your family will thank you. 

                    Your mind will thank you.

And you just might find time to write about your own experience sometime and let us all hear of your health successes at your ripe and good age, whatever age that may be.

P Michael Biggs 

Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration

What Will I Accomplish Today?

 What Will I Accomplish Today?

Mary Oliver once said,

“I wonder what it is I will accomplish today?

I am 73 years old. Some might say I am in the sunset years of my life. I suppose death could overtake me at any moment. I hope not.

You see, I still dream dreams, I still have blogs to write, podcasts to produce, new friendships to court, and old friends whose lives I’ve not yet completely explored.

I can do things, I can think thoughts, I can speak and meditate on the good in this world, and I can still love. I’m not through loving Carolyn yet. I still enjoy holding her hand, having light and fluffy conversations, and when we have those heart moments when we go a bit deeper – well, it’s simply the best. We talk about each other, and about our kids and grandkids, our siblings, and all others close and dear to us.

I want to live and keep living. Life is good, despite what we’ve faced these past five years ago.

Heart surgery was no fun, but we’ve gone way beyond that.
Three amputation surgeries were horrible to endure, and thankfully we’ve moving beyond those as well.

I’m seventy-three. I can still see some distant horizons that excite me. There are places I want to go. There are skills and experiences yet to be brought to the light of day.

Can I accomplish anything with my life at seventy-three? Oh my, you better believe I can. And so can you.

A friend of mine posted the following on Facebook recently. I shared it on my page and have received an unusual number of likes and hits.

"A study in the U.S.A found that the most productive age in human life is between 60-70 years of age.
~The 2nd. most productive stage of the human being is from 70 to 80 years of age.

~The 3rd. most productive stage is from 50 to 60 years of age.
~The average age of NOBEL PRIZE winners is 62 years old.
~The average age of the presidents of prominent companies in the world is 63 years.
~The average age of the pastors of the 100 largest churches in the U.S.A. is 71.
~The average age of the Popes is 76 years.

This tells us that the best years of our lives are between 60 and 80 years. A book review published in NEW ENGLAND JOURNAL OF MEDICINE found that at age 60, you reach the TOP of your potential, and this continues into your 80s."

For those of us above the age of 60, we are in the greatest and most productive time of our lives.

How about that!

Let’s go accomplish something today.

Morning Notes Blog Site

P Michael Biggs Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration

This is my morning reflection.

Your Inner Voice Speaks

Your Inner Voice Speaks

Before he became Randy Travis, Randy was rejected by every major record label in Nashville twice.  Can you imagine that?  He heard more “no’s” than he ever thought a person should hear.

So, what happened in the meantime to turn little-known Randy into Randy Travis, winner of seven Grammy awards, eight Dove awards, and a whole string of other awards and accolades.

Randy believed more in himself than he believed in the naysayers of the music world.  He knew he had the stuff within to become a super star, and he persisted, he honed his craft, he practiced, and practiced some more, until his break came.  He became a super star because he believed in himself.

He didn’t let the “no thanks” and the “we don’t need your type” slow him down. 

He listened to his inner voice that kept saying, “you can do this”, “you have something unique that the world needs to hear”. 

What is your inner voice saying to you about you? 

That is a critical piece of the equation in our search for the top.

This is my

morning reflection.

Morning Notes Blog Site

P Michael Biggs

Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration

Tom Sawyer Still Teaches

Tom Sawyer Still Teaches

There is a story in Mark Twain’s classic book, Tom Sawyer that I think can teach us lesson today.  Here it is:

~ ~ ~

Tom is headed to Sunday School, against his will of course.  And so he goes anyway.

As he and Aunt Polly, Sid and Mary approach, Tom begins to lag behind a bit and he addressed a Sunday-dressed comrade.

“Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?”

“What’ll you take for her?”

“Piece of likrish and a fish hook.”

“Less see ‘em.”

Tom exhibited.  They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands.  Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys (marbles) for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones.  He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. 

The tickets were usually earned in Sunday School by successfully reciting passages of Scripture. 

Blue for two verses

Ten blues = one red ticket

Ten red = one yellow

Ten yellow = well that was the jackpot – the possessor of ten yellow tickets was awarded a very plainly bound Bible, worth forty cents in those easy times).

Tom’s sister, Mary, had acquired two Bibles in this way.  It took her two years, and yet she had earned two Bibles.

Well, they gathered all the children into the church building for they had a ceremony planned.  And it was some fine ceremony, let me tell you.  They even brought in a special guest.  

“The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage – not less a one than the county judge – altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon.  He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away – so he had travelled and seen the world.  And he had looked upon the county courthouse – which was said to have a tin roof. 

Mr. Walters, he was the Sunday School Superintendent, he was

flittering around, acting busy, acting important and all and probably trying to impress the Judge – Judge Thatcher. 

There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walter’s ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy.  Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough – he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. 

And now, when all hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible.  This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky.  Mr. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years.  But there was no getting around it – here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face.

The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow ‘s instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light.

Tom was introduced to the Judge.  The Judge put his hand on Tom’s head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was.  The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out.

“Tom.”

“Oh, no, not Tom – it is –“

“Thomas.”

“Ah, that’s it.  I thought there was more to it, maybe.  But you’ve another one I daresay, and you’ll tell it to me, won’t you?”

“Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas.”  Said Walters, “and say sir.  You mustn’t forget your manners.”

“Thomas Sawyer – sir.”

“That’s it!  That’s a good boy.  Fine boy.  Fine, manly little fellow.  Two thousand verses is a great many – very, very great many.  And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it’s what makes great men and good men; you’ll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day,

Thomas, and then you’ll look back and say, “It’s all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood – it’s all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn – it’s all owing to the good superintendent who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible – a splendid elegant Bible – to keep and have it all for my own, always – it’s all owing to right bringing up!  That is what you will say, Thomas – and you wouldn’t take any money for those two thousand verses – no indeed you wouldn’t.

 And now would you mind telling all of us some of the things you’ve learned -  no, I know you wouldn’t – for we are proud of little boys that learn.  Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples.  Won’t you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?”

Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish.  He blushed, and his eyes fell.  Mr. Walter’s heart sank within him.  He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question – why did the Judge ask him?  He felt obliged to speak up and say:

“Answer the gentleman, Thomas – don’t be afraid.”

Tom still hung fire. 

“Now I know you’ll tell us.  The names of the first two disciples were …”

“David and Goliah!”

Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene.

~ ~ ~

The point of this story …

Sometimes we accumulate prizes, gadgets, titles, banners and diplomas, yet did real learning and effort go into the gathering of those “awards”?

I could go out and buy a degree on line, or so I’m told, but for what end?  

I could be promoted to a high position, or I could run for an elected office and win the challenge, and then what?  Oh my, there are honors and accolades in such an accomplishment, but is there an increase in knowledge to go with this sudden windfall? 

This is a funny story from Mr. Twain.  Now, what is your take-a-way?

That is for each of us to consider.

This is my

morning reflection.

Morning Notes Blog Site

P Michael Biggs

Hope~Encouragement~Inspiration