I don’t expect much more snow. Not around here, anyway. Because I just bought a snowblower.

            Over the New Year, we had two massive dumps of snow. Over two feet deep – about 60 centimetres, the weather office reported. Too deep to drive through. But we had to get out for medical appointments and groceries, so I shovelled the driveway. By hand.

            I’m getting too old for shovelling.

            Joan and I talked about hiring a university student to clear the driveway. It would certainly cost less than a new snowblower. But I hated to admit that I needed help.

Obsessed with independence

            In a sense, my snowblower symbolizes our social obsession with independence.

            It starts young. We encourage our children to do things for themselves, instead of depending on their parents. We expect young adults to earn their own way, to plot their own course. We expect older adults to keep on looking after themselves, despite disabilities.

            A group of us guys get together, occasionally, to talk about growing older. We don’t have any choice about growing older, short of expiring. But we agree that we don’t want to grow “old.”

            “Old” implies weak. Helpless. Unable to cope with credit cards or iPhones. Forgetful. Needing someone to supply the word we knew perfectly well when we started that sentence. Needing help to carry bags of groceries out to the car. If we have a car at all. Tripping. Falling.

            “Old” means losing our precious independence.

Becoming unlovable?

            Society has made independence an icon, a fetish, a sacred cow. From childhood on, we prize independence. To walk by ourselves. To earn our own incomes. To carve out our own career. To climb the ladder of success, without riding on anyone’s coattails.

            Paul Anka wrote, and Frank Sinatra sang, the secular anthem, “I did it my way!”

            Members of a seniors’ society in Calgary told me they had only one rule: no mention of driving in the second half of their meetings. Once people started venting about losing their licences, which implied losing their freedom, their independence, meetings could run an hour past closing.

            The rational side of me says that independence is over-valued.

            When we were infants and utterly dependent on our parents, we were loved just as much as – and probably more than – when we were teenagers.

            Evolution is about the survival of the most co-operative. Ecosystems work together. Sponge cells – possibly the ancestor of all multi-cellular life – clustered so that some could filter, some digest, some excrete – each depending on the other to do its job.

            In a memorable lecture, the apostle Paul compared a Christian community to parts of a body – each part dependent on other body parts to survive, let alone thrive.

            Despite these examples, we seem to hate the idea of becoming dependent on others. Somebody – our children, our spouses, institutional staff – will have to do things for us that we used to do for ourselves. Dress us. Feed us. Bathe us. Advocate for us.

            And apparently, we fear that will make us unlovable.

            I know that’s nonsense. I keep telling myself, there’s no shame in needing help. In asking for help. In receiving help.

            But apparently I don’t really believe it.

            Or I wouldn’t have bought a snowblower.

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Copyright © 2017 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.

            To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca

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YOUR TURN

I wasn’t too kind to California Quail in last week’s Soft Edges.

            Frank Martens responded on their behalf: “I am with you on the quail thing.  However, over the years I have acknowledged their stupidity in trying to cross the road, and instead of simply trying not to kill them, I put a ground feeder out for them in the winter, as one would with chicks.  It is in sight of my window and I enjoy their company immensely.  I also help with the local bird count every December and the quail, the sparrows, the Juncos and all add to the numbers gathered throughout the Okanagan.

            “What I miss are the pheasants which used to run and fly around my orchard.  Where have they gone?  It has to do with the change of the large trees we used to grow, the method we used for irrigation, and perhaps the influx of predatory cats.  Skunks are also gone from where I live, but marmots and rats seem to be on the rise.  Things have changed over the 50 years we’ve lived here.

            “I agree with your concept of having come from stardust, but unto stardust you shall return.”

Tom Watson liked the same line: “Coming from the same stardust and headed for the same future...I like it.”

Bob Rollwagen: “Almost all flying birds that hit my windows fall to the lawn lie for a few minutes, then get up and fly away. Maybe the quail has too large a mass to survive such a collision.

            Bob also asked, “Why pick on the quail? How do we rank the intelligence of birds? This leads one to consider how valuable is any ranking of intelligence. This is not a comment on all creation, just a musing about why so many are confused…”

Cliff Boldt liked the column too: “Yep, we are in this together.  So best we suck it up.  A favourite quote of mine, related in some way to your words, comes from naturalist John Muir: ‘When one tugs at a single thing in nature, one finds it attached to the rest of the world.’”

Jim Henderschedt called the column, “a beautiful testimony to the spark of the divine that resides not only in humans but in all of creation. Even the lowly California Quail -- who, by the way, reminds me of some people I know.”

Laurna Tallman “had a reversal of your quail epiphany. I went from having one schizophrenic in my sites [websites] at a time to a whole flock of them appearing when one of my early blog posts was quoted on a much busier blog than my own.

            “Schizophrenics are individuals in many different kinds of circumstances: loving homes, jails, locked facilities, more open caregiving residences, living on the street, and welcomed into soup kitchens and shelters.

            “Our schizophrenic is no longer schizophrenic, because we discovered a therapy that healed him. He relapsed and we healed him again with that music therapy. And he relapsed and he healed himself pretty much on his own that last time. Now, he has a better sense of when he has put too much stress on his ears and he puts on headphones (blocking the left earpiece) and turns on the high-frequency sound. He still has an addiction or three, but he is getting over them, too. He can move safely and confidently in the community.

            Anything I have to offer to the flock started with our one dreadfully disabled quail and a refusal to stop caring about him. His tenacity on life and ours is raising the chances for the whole flock. Thank you for spreading the word: schizophrenia (and all mental illness) is a treatable condition of the ears. Schizophrenics are people who can be healed -- made fully normal -- with music. For more information, contact me.”

            If you want to join Laurna’s “flock,” write rtallman@xplornet.ca

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PSALM PARAPHRASES

I suspect that the writer of Psalm 62 (here, verses 5-12) wanted to tell everyone to just go away and leave him alone. Ever feel that way?

5          I don't want to see anyone.
I want to stay in bed and pull the blankets up over my head. 

6          People are unfaithful two-faced phonies.
I don't want them.
I just want God with me. 

7          I can't trust anyone else, any more.
No one has any honor, any loyalty. 

8          The only one I can trust is God. 

9          People today have no standards, no enduring values.
They flit from fad to fad like butterflies.
The upper crust are all sham and show;
the highly educated are windbags, inflating their egos.
A breeze could blow them all away. 

10        Don't try to beat them at their own game.
Don't stoop to their methods. It's not worth it.
You'll only drag yourself down to their level. 

11        Do things God's way, instead.

12        God doesn't compete, and God doesn't seek revenge.
God simply loves.
That's all that God expects of you and me, too. 

There! Now I can get up and start the day!

For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

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TECHNICAL STUFF

If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.

            To subscribe or unsubscribe, send an e-mail message to jimt@quixotic.ca. Or you can subscribe electronically by sending a blank e-mail (no message or subject line) to softedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca. Similarly, you can un-subscribe at softedges-unsubscribe@lists.quixotic.ca.

            I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca

            I’m leaving out some of the links to other blogs and pages, to see if those links have caused the recent blockages, preventing some of your from receiving the columns at all, and preventing others from sending responses. We’ll see.

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PROMOTION STUFF

To use the links in this section, you’ll have to insert the necessary symbols.

            Ralph Milton ’s latest project is called “Sing Hallelujah” -- the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at wwwDOTsinghallelujahDOTca

            Ralph’s HymnSight webpage is still up, http://wwwDOThymnsightDOTca, with a vast gallery of photos you can use to enhance the appearance of the visual images you project for liturgical use (prayers, responses, hymn verses, etc.)

            Wayne Irwin's “Churchweb Canada,” an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://wwwDOTchurchwebcanadaDOTca>

            I recommend Isabel Gibson’s thoughtful and well-written blog, wwwDOTtraditionaliconoclastDOTcom

            Alva Wood’s satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town -- not particularly religious, but fun; alvawoodATgmailDOTcom to get onto her mailing list.

            Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” -- ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at tomwatsoATgmailDOTcom or twatsonATsentexDOTnet