The Meaning of Interesting

"What do people thank you for?"  Oddly, it took me some time to answer the question for myself this past week.  That is not to say people never thank me.  It is a result of my typical response to their comment, which is to sidestep the compliment.

If I listen carefully, I can hear myself brushing off the compliments as if they were burrs that might mat my fur if I allowed them to get near me.  When someone says, "Thank you for dusting the banister," I say, "You're welcome!  But it's just part of my job."  When someone thanks me for my insight on dealing with people in a particular situation, I assume they would have come up with the same idea if they had time to think about it.  If someone credits me with doing the tedious people-wrangling involved in a group, it brings to mind how I got the job through my lack of experience with Excel.

Caveat: I have not actually read
this book, but it looked
interesting . . . .

There is one compliment, however, that I can never quite refute.  "Thanks, Tish!  You make our life interesting."  I got that one the other day, and it helped me realize that people thank me and compliment me all of the time without my even noticing.  You see, this time I was so busy trying to decide whether the modifier interesting represented praise or an insult that I had no time to brush the thanks away.  And it got the heart of a big problem--my ignoring the things that people really find helpful, that change the world in small ways, that make life interesting.

So what is interesting, really?  As some of my friends know, I can use the single world interesting to signify anything from high praise to absolute disgust--the difference comes from intonation and expression.  But the true meaning of the term--the definition used by my literalist sister--is something that catches our attention and interest.  I am a curiosity to her because I am so different.  Being interesting means I have the power to bring joy and laughter to her life.  It means I have a contribution to make.  And, despite the amount of time it took me to decide this, it is a compliment!

Just Me

Tonight, I'm in a really weird mood.

I'm just me--for all the world to see.

It's been a long time since I've been just me.

Usually, I'm in character.  A character that is like me, of course, but not all of me.  There is a proper mask in the appropriate character painted for every occasion and sort of company.  But all of them are at least three shades more pale--more boring--than just me.  That's not an accident.  It's only possible to avoid notice and fit seamlessly into the setting if we are painted perfectly for the part at hand.  So there is a proper character for giving a speech or singing a solo or teaching a class or writing a blog post.

And then there is just me.  Me is the one that pops out around true friends--sweet or dorky or snarky or convicted.  But now me is just tired down to the core and content, but not really sure how to describe that weird feeling that comes from watching a pink and purple sunset over tree-covered mountains and more than a little disgruntled at the unusual lack of words.

And so
to bed I go.

Why Anger?

Earlier today, I received a writing prompt that asked, "What really makes you angry about the world?"  Having recently returned from a successful and fulfilling day at work and reveled in the beauty of the weather, I felt myself to be at peace with the world.  So the first question on my mind was, "Why anger?"

Is anger supposed to be the emotion that first moves us or the one that moves us the farthest?  Why not love (of which I have already written quite enough for a long time)?  Or joy?  Or beauty?  Or peace?  Considering our sinful human nature, I have no doubt that anger is one of the hottest passions in our souls.  Occasionally, that anger might even be right and productive if it is carefully directed and controlled (John 2:14-17 ESV).  But the Scriptures urge us to temper our passions rather than feeding them.  "Whoever is slow to anger is better than the mighty, and he who rules his spirit than he who takes a city" (Prov. 16:32)

There is a reason that we are directed to temperance.  Oftentimes, our anger is not the pure sort directed against evil or injustice for the sake of others' good.  My own anger frequently results from hurt.  That might also be a productive sort of anger if it were directed toward removing the cause for the would, sometimes merely by stating my hurt.  Yet is is also in those times that we can choose to hide our hurt from others by cloaking it in anger or even try to remove the supposed "cause" of our wounding by locking others out of our hearts and lives.  Often I choose this route only because I have no idea how to communicate my hurt effectively.

And so I will finally answer the question above.  Nothing can make me angry at the world.  Sometimes, I choose anger at particular circumstances where wrong has been committed if I hope to effect a change.  Other times, I choose anger in order to hide my own weakness or pain.  But here is how I find peace: by giving my pain and anger and guilt to the only one who really does really know what to do with it.  God.