No Place . . . No Table

She stood quietly to the side as others gathered around with their questions or personal stories or parting greetings. As the others left the room and I turned, her eyes clouded and she carefully chose her words.

“I understand that I have an obligation to make peace with others. But what if,” she faltered a bit, “the others won’t allow me a place at the table?”

I had heard the question before from at least a dozen people. And at least a dozen other times, I listened carefully and asked questions to see if I could catch a glimpse of an understanding of why there was no room for the questioner at the peace table.

There are various reasons that arise. Most common are those that surround relationships that move too fast. Words are said that aren’t heard. Or meanings are heard that weren’t intended. In those cases, the prescription for the problem revolves around the idea of slowing down.

With this woman, I explored that possibility. “No,” she said. “You don’t understand. I’ve tried that. And we did have some conversations. But now they say they’re tired of talking. More specifically, they are tired of talking to me.” Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m no longer welcome. I’ve seen their peace table and there’s no chair for me.”

I asked more questions. As she told her story and as her passion for the conflict grew, I could almost see the scene. She stood at the door and watched as they pulled away the one empty chair and announced that her place was gone.

“Why do you think they did that?” I asked.

At first, she said she didn’t know. But as I drew her story out, she suddenly straightened and stopped breathing. When she finally opened her mouth, her tears started again and she gasped for air.

“They don’t want to talk to me any more because I told them I didn’t believe anything they said. I refused to listen to anything I didn’t agree with,” she stopped for a breath. “I lost my place at the table because I wouldn’t hear their story.”

We talked a while longer and her emotions overcame her. “What have I done? How will I ever regain my place?”

I never have any specific direction to give at this point. Instead, we talked about things she shared in common with them. Perhaps, I suggested, there is something there that would cause them to invite her back.

“But what if there isn’t? What will I do?”

“Then you must set a new table with places for them,” I replied. “And you must explain that the table is meant for them and their story.”

“Do you think they’ll come to my table?”

I really don’t know how to answer that question. What I do know is that each of us needs to have a peace table set and waiting. In all likelihood, it will be filled with a few guests we expect and many more we don’t.

Is your table set?

Road Trip

It’s a line I borrowed from someone else, but it’s true.

Abilene, Texas is centrally-located — it’s right in the middle of nowhere!

And that’s why I often find myself in the car and moving down the road toward a meeting or a conference or a consultation. Even though we have airline service here, most of the places I need to go are driving destinations. For by the time you show up an hour or so early for your flight, fly to Dallas, then connect to another flight and/or get a rental car, you can just about drive where you’re going.

My general rule is drive if it’s less than seven hours. For Texas destinations, that puts El Paso, Brownsville, and a few eastern boundary cities outside my reach. But, come to think of it, I usually drive to those places, too.

Most of my trips are 3-5 hours, one way. And I’ve been known to make those in a single day, round-trip. Like my trip to San Antonio a few weeks ago for a four hour meeting. Four hours down, four hours there, four hours back. I’ll make a similar trip tomorrow to Austin. The meeting could be as long as six hours. And, I’ll call my son, Justin, just as it ends to see if he can meet me for a visit over coffee or a coke, before I head home. So tomorrow could be 16 hours of road trip action from the time I open the garage door until I put it down.

With cell phone coverage being what it is, there are only rare moments when I will be unavailable. I’ll talk to my office once or twice. And I plan to call the West Coast late in the day to discuss details on a training session that will be scheduled next fall. Of course, there’s also the call to a prospective student that i didn’t work in last Friday. I’ll fit it in between Brownwood and Lampasas tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow’s trip will start off a little easier than the San Antonio trip. Peet’s Coffee should be just opening as I’m making my way out of town. By the time I reach Cross Plains, I will be one with a medium Major Dickinson brew. And about that time, the coffee will be signaling its desire to become separate again.

With travel mercies, I’ll be home at this time tomorrow. Weary from the road. Wondering how far behind I’ll be for missing a day at the office.

Yet, as glamorous as all that sounds, there’s something comfortable about a road trip. A definite place to go, with a purpose for being there, and a home coming to look forward to.

A good portion of life doesn’t always seem that comfortable. Not everything is so definite. And for some folks, coming home doesn’t hold that much promise. But as I think more and more about why I’m here, the more every day seems like a road trip. A lot of territory to be covered, things to do, and a promise of home.

Heavenly Bamboo

Not bamboo at all, it seems. Although the sturdy bush hails from Asia, it thrives under the official name of Nandina Domestica. And tonight was my night to bring it under control.

Earlier in the spring, we brought in a professional to clean out the flower beds and bring the flora of the back yard into some semblance of regulation play. The worker was fantastic. He trimmed and raked and brought order to the wilder regions of our eastern territory. But we noticed soon after he was gone, the bushes — particularly the Nandina — grew with a vengeance. Up, out and across the bare expanses separating them, the bushes spread and flourished.

I attacked them with my old electric hedge trimmer. And while the carnage was great, I could tell that the war wasn’t over. Fairly extensive collateral damage was sustained during the fracas. Yet another extension cord was badly nicked from — shall I say — “friendly fire?”

That engagement led to the purchase of a new cordless hedge trimmer. This one with 22 inches of cutting capability. As soon as I had it home and charged, I waded into the jungles that had become our backyard beds. Trimmings flew. I stepped back about thirty minutes later feeling pleased that I had brought things back to what I consider to be normal.

That was two weeks ago. Last night, as I was mowing, I noticed that the Nandina had resurged. It’s no wonder they call this “Hitler Bamboo” and “Nandina Megalomania.” Some bushes had grown as much as a foot in all directions.

So, with my new trimmer at the ready, I plunged in again tonight. As I swung that reciprocating sword around and through the bushes I had visions of Edward Scissorhands. My shadow played against the back fence and, with the trimmer out before me, I saw more of a figure from a well-played game of Guitar Hero.

Back and forth and over and through. Carefully dodging the little teeth as they swung by my jeans, I expertly worked my way through the dense forest. And once again, I triumphed. Clippings collected in the big rolling trashcan, I headed back toward the garage satisfied. But a small voice floated across the lawn behind me.

“We’ll be back.” My confident stride lessened a little. I knew they would be back. Along with the bermuda grass that grows with great gusto in the same beds, even though it struggles not four feet away in the lawn under the tree. And the weeds and the red oak that sprouts from the acorns that drop.

Nandina, like most hardy and persistent things, will come back. And, its growth seems to be hastened when it is given a little attention. It’s not unlike anger, jealousy, and discrimination. When pushed down and cut away, these sinful behaviors find new ways to surface. The only way to get ready of those little pests is to eliminate them completely AND replace them with something else.

That’s the ultimate answer to Nandina conquest. Root them out, systematically. Plant something else in their place.

Yet, I find I like the hardy bushes. They have a nice color and beautiful berries. Socially redeeming qualities, perhaps? So they’re not coming down. And, I have to become content with their less attractive behaviors. That’s the price I must pay, I suppose.

I do wonder if moments of anger, jealousy, and discrimination continue to flourish in my life for much the same reason. Perhaps I just like them a little too much. And I’ve become accustomed to the price.

Where in the world is …?

So, I was able to pull together all of my material to teach the introductory letter on the book of James last night. Since I’ve taught the series before, it was simply a matter of reworking outlines and reconnecting thoughts. The folks who showed up were gracious and kind. In short, I came home last night looking forward to the remaining weeks.

I think a part of my good feeling had to do with my expectation that I will have time to continue my study and preparation. Things have been so busy the last two years, I feel like I’ve been away from some important things. But now, things have lulled a bit. Yes, I know that another storm is coming in mid-summer. Now. Now things are smooth and calm.

I’ll be returning to my regular schedule of work-related travel soon — working with individuals, businesses, nonprofit organizations and churches in conflict. I look forward to the work, although being away from home is hard. And the travel itself can be very taxing.

My wife, Nancy, is a big fan of the Today Show. That’s an accurate statement. Although you could narrow the field a bit and say that she’s a big fan of Matt Lauer. Hardly a week goes by when she doesn’t tell me about something Matt said or somebody Matt interviewed. The last few days she’s been telling me where Matt is. This is “Where in the world is Matt Lauer?” week.

So far, the way I understand it, he’s been to Argentina, the Netherlands, Laos, and today he’s in Istanbul. Because of his extensive travel, Matt claims that he has no time to shave. So added to the travel log today was Nancy’s comment that Matt’s beard looks pretty scraggly.

As I was about to leave for work, Matt was telling his adoring audience about his rough travel schedule. Since last Friday, he’s spent 53 hours in the air speeding to all of these exotic locations. And, he gave out a key bit of information. He said, “After the show, we’ll do a little sightseeing and then get back on ‘our’ plane and head to our next location.”

Aha! That’s how he does it. A private plane. Because I know that if I were sent out on a similar business trip, this would be the listing of locations for “Where in the world is Joey Cope?”

Day 1: Stuck in Abilene because of bad weather in Dallas forcing flight cancellations.
Day 2: In Dallas, but on standby waiting to get on planes because of the problem with yesterday’s cancellations.
Day 3: Now in Cleveland, Ohio, because of rerouting due to problems at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport of an undisclosed nature.
Day 4: In Dallas, waiting on a connecting flight to the original undisclosed location.
Day 5: Because of bad weather at the original undisclosed location and at Dallas, stuck on a plane on the tarmac in Abilene. And because this is not the regular airline that serves Abilene, FAA regulations forbids passengers to deplane — even if you live here and your car is only a couple of thousand feet away accumulating parking fees.
Day 6: Even though I’m supposed to be back home in Abilene now, I’m in Dallas standing at a car rental counter. No flights back to Abilene until the FAA okays the maintenance reports for my airline.

No, all of that hasn’t happened to me in one trip. I’m just saying that if I was to undertake a globe-trotting jaunt like Matt Lauer, this is what it would look like.

Next year, I would like to see Matt make his swing across the continents on commercial flights. That would be a real adventure.

As we talked about James last night, I think that we see that life is really more like a trip around the world in coach class than it is by private jet. Things happen. Some good things are a part of the mix. Yet, disappointments abound. Yet, if you’re ever going to make the journey, you just keep showing up. Oddly, if we place faith in a being greater than we are, we primarily remember the good things.

So, if anyone asks you “Where in the world are you?”, just tell them, I’m right here where God can find me. And I’ll get where I’m going on His good time.