In Vancouver there is a little boy named
Dov, 18 months old. He is very good-natured, grinning far more often than
crying. Like all toddlers he’s
funny and cute and wins hearts everywhere he goes. He loves books and cookies
and playing ball, but what he deeply does NOT love is being forced to change
what he’s doing. If he wants to run toward the road, only physical force will
divert him. If he’s watching the screen on Daddy’s Iphone, you’d better put in
your earplugs before you take it away. If it’s time to put on snow pants when
he’s happy in the livingroom, good luck. Dov doesn’t always embrace change. He doesn’t like to be changed, either.
Why am I still like a toddler?
If “the only constant in life is change”
shouldn’t we be used to it by now?
Why do we often react to change with fear
and loathing? Why do we assume change will be for the worse?
Weird.
Researching the source of that quote, I found that from
Heraclitus to Huxley, thinkers have discussed the instability and
unpredictability of human life on planet Earth. Shouldn’t change feel like the norm instead of catching us
off-guard?
You’d think that our life experience had
been like the movie “Groundhog Day”, each day exactly like the previous one.
We’re so shaken when familiar landmarks
fall or new circumstances arise. I park at a favourite restaurant and groan at
the “Out of Business” sign.
Instead of imagining the fun of finding a different favourite, I whine, “Can’t
anything stay the same?” As soon as my husband and I get the basement floor
re-tiled, our furnace humidifier springs a leak and we rant at the irony. Why are
we so surprised? We’ve been on this planet for decades!
Maybe your older child had the skilled and
friendly Grade 4 teacher so you’re shocked when your younger gets a new teacher
nobody knows. Or just when you’re feeling comfortably confident in your current
job, a tempting position is posted. Out of the blue a difficult decision is plopped
in your lap. Why so unsettling?
Maybe it’s because we prefer to sleepwalk
most of the time, like driving the route home on auto-pilot while we focus our thoughts
elsewhere.
Although I often give thanks for the
predictability of the Creator’s natural laws (spring always follows winter, and
water always runs downhill in our furnace room), I guess I need to be thankful as
well for surprising changes. No matter how common, change affects us like an
alarm clock buzz. When we're startled awake, what if we could respond not with dread, but with
excitement about new possibilities?
Recently I heard an interesting snatch from
a video sermon. An athlete told about the football tackle that ended his
professional sports career. He explained that instead of the natural tendency
to cry, “Why did this happen to me?” he has learned to ask with anticipation,
“Why am I suddenly here?” Why am I on this two-hour bus ride to an emergency
room with my football trainer beside me? What unexpected opportunity or benefit
might have suddenly arrived?
One of my favourite names in the bible for
God is, “My Rock”.
Let’s see - how can I fit together a rock
and an alarm clock?
