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Right now, somewhere in Ethiopia, I have a niece or a nephew.

She hasn’t been born yet, probably still about three months from exiting the womb. Her mother might not even know that she’s going to give her up for adoption.  But in about 90 days her mom will give birth, then leave the child at the hospital, or the front steps of an orphanage.

There’s a 50% chance this child is the result of rape. In Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, that’s a horrendous part of how beautiful little lives enter the world.

But in less than a year, this little child will be living in Gap, Pennsylvania, with four doting brothers and sisters. Between relatives in Lancaster and England, this baby will have five fascinated cousins, six aunts and uncles, and parents who couldn’t be happier.  This baby will be welcomed into a new community, halfway around the world, and that little one will grow up here, in Amish country.

It’s amazing, how the thread of a life can twist and turn its way into a completely new story.

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This Sunday at 3:00pm at the Gap Family Center my sister and brother-in-law are hosting a ping pong tournament to help cover the costs for the adoption of this precious child, whom none of us know…yet. The cost to enter the tournament is $25 – there will be two age brackets (under 14, and 15+).  There will be lots of great food and all kinds of fun.  Plus there’s the challenge of seeing if anyone can defeat my brother-in-law, Ben – he’s a tennis instructor and the ping-pong world’s equivalent of Roger Federer.

We would love for you to join us.

I am excited that the community is coming together to help out financially with this – wouldn’t you feel pretty special if, once you grew up, you found out that your adoption had been partially sponsored by the community in which you live?  That everyone had banded together to ensure that you could find a better place in this world?

Somewhere in Ethiopia I have a niece or a nephew.  This Sunday, ping pong will help bring them here.

Some days are better than others.  Some days I wake up early, feel motivated, breakfast routines for four children go well, and I’m showered and out of the house and writing by 8:30…other mornings, not so much.  These are 10 things that tend to make for a good day:

1) My wife and I roll out of bed (before the kids are awake) and she makes her awesome pancakes which I devour with real maple syrup and butter we buy at the local dairy

2) It’s not a bath morning for the kids so they haven’t used all the hot water and I get a nice, piping hot shower

3) I don’t get all hung up on the computer in the morning and actually enjoy breakfast with my four kids

4) I get 2-3 solid hours of writing in before lunch

5) I get to eat lunch with Maile, preferably curry or something else delicious that she made

6) I write for 2-3 hours  in the afternoon and feel good about life (as opposed to feeling frustrated and distracted, both of which lead me to spend too much time on Twitter and Facebook)

7) A late afternoon that consists of an hour or two working outside, mowing or gardening

8) Some sort of epic sports battle with my older two kids, usually soccer (the goals are created with flip flops or tricycles that our younger two, Sam and Abra, eventually carry off or ride away on)

9) A dinner where all six of us get to sit down and eat together

10) An evening with my wife when the kids go to bed (and actually fall asleep), and the two of us talk about important things and the house is quiet and we listen to music and fall asleep with the ceiling fan on and the windows open.

What are the best things that happen in your days?

If someone made a movie about your life, what would the plot be like? Would there be a plot, or would it just be a never ending succession of dull days?

What’s the major conflict in your story? Is the main character (you) fighting to get through, or has that person given in to living a quiet life of desperation?

If you’re not satisfied with the story you’re in, you should read Donald Miller’s newest book, “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years”:

If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it, you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers.  You wouldn’t tell your frinds you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen.  The truth is, you wouldn’t remember that movie a week later, except you’d feel robbed and want your money back.  Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.

But we spend years actually living those stories, and expect our lives to feel meaningful.  The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either.

11 months ago circumstances (or an author) conspired together and forced me to jump out of an everyday sort of story and into a new adventure.  Be ready.  Your new story might be right around the corner.

When I was a kid I hated mowing the yard. One of the worst things my dad could ever say on a perfectly good Saturday was, “Well, we should probably mow the yard today.” I always thought he was too eager to mow – the grass didn’t even look that long!  I’d much rather spend the day practicing wrestling moves on my sister, or blowing up my GI Joes, or playing football with Johnny, Jeremy and Dustin.

Now I love to mow the grass. The humming of the John Deere tractor drowns out even the loudest setting on my cell phone.  Sometimes our one year-old son Sammy joins me, trying to take over the wheel.  One and a half hours of meditation and driving in circles.

On Thursday I was just getting started, mowing the line along the horse fence behind our house. It’s a long stretch, about 150 yards long, and I was staring intently at the line I was creating (if my dad drilled anything into me when it came to mowing, it was straight lines!).  I did a few laps back and forth when something caught my attention, and I looked up.

Two horses wandered along beside me.  The August sun was bright as can be, without any hint of heat, and sent long shadows over the short grass.  The pastures stretched out to where the forest began, a deep gray-green. Then the forest-covered hills, rising up around me on all sides.

What a beautiful sight.

I could have spent the next 90 minutes staring at the line, striving for perfection, and I would have missed out on that view.  Of course, once I saw the view, I also could have completely disregarded the line (and probably drove into the horse fence or a tree).

This tension reminded me of life – we can spend every minute trying to get it perfectly right, all the while missing out on the beautiful things around us.  Or we can totally disregard the line and run completely off the tracks.  None of us gets the balance just right.

If you’re anything like me though, you overemphasize getting life just right – life and death hang in the balance of every decision.  Where should I live? What job should I get? How will I make sure my kids’ lives turn out perfect?

Stop your mower this weekend, take a deep breath and look up.

Are you ready to downshift?

Today’s guest post is brought to you by Sara Eiser.  I’ve met Sara and her husband Keith on Twitter (Sara goes by @smola04 ; Keith is @organeiser ).  Sara came by the house about a month or so ago and rescued us from an overabundance of cucumbers, and since then we’ve chatted on Twitter from time to time.  The other day I tweeted about Henri Nouwen’s phrase “Downward Mobility,” (which I blogged about HERE), and Sara wondered if I had heard of Downshifting.  There are a lot of similarities.  Anyway, take the time to read this thoughtful post and let us know of any areas in your life where you’ve deliberately “downshifted.”  Enjoy.

* * * * *

Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.
Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy.

Simon & Garfunkel, “59th Street Bridge Song”

My dreams were so complex in college – I had a Plan (notice the capital “P”). I was going to be a career woman. I thought that stay at home parents were unambitious and dull – I craved the prestige of a challenging job and clever discussion and had no desire to “sit at home and watch kids all day.” Sure, I was getting married out of college, but I was young, had a college degree, my work and lifestyle was important, and I wanted that nice house in the ‘burbs, where I could invite my classy friends for wine & cheese parties on late Friday nights. Eventually kids would work into it – as part of my status as a “liberated careerwoman.” I was going to have it all.

Now, four years into my marriage and after having two children, my life and priorities look very different. My family and I are now a part of a growing movement of downshifters, people who are voluntarily getting out of the rat race, bailing from the consumerist mindset, and leaving mainstream America’s “values” behind. There are many ways to downshift, but we’re all united in a few basic values:

1. The belief that our most precious commodity is time, which is finite.
2. A desire to declutter our lives of possessions which frequently own us.
3. A desire to devote more leisure time to our family and friends.
4. A desire to slow down the pace of post-modern life.
5. A desire to not be ruled by money or the work force.
6. A desire to live life well within our means.
7. The belief that only through balancing these elements can we achieve a meaningful existence.

Downshifting in practice looks different to each family. Ours has downshifted in many different ways, each shift happening gradually over time. You may recognize some of these choices in your own life, without knowing you were downshifting.

Shift: My husband is working a blue-collar job that has little to do with his college degree (computer engineering). I work part-time in my field (music).

Benefit: My husband and I, though in possession of (expensive) college degrees, have chosen to work jobs that people love reminding me are “beneath” us. Though we each make a very small salary and have little to no monetary flexibility, we are in control of our jobs, and therefore in control of our leisure time. My husband works four 10-hour days each week (by his choice), leaving his evenings and 3 days each week to devote to our family and also allowing him to pursue his primary love – playing the organ. He loves the fact that when he leaves work each day, he never has to take work home, so he can be fully present in the rest of his life.

I make my own schedule, mostly working from home. This allows me the flexibility to stay at home with our children, not having to work to pay for daycare, and time to spend with my friends who are home during the day. I also love being able to help out my friends who are at work during the day if a babysitter is sick or something is forgotten at home.

Shift: Moving out of the city onto our 1.25 acre rural plot.

Benefit: We are investing our time and money in what we love – the land that we are stewarding, our garden, and our forever house. These things are the parts of our life which give us the most pleasure and provide not just a house but a home, instilled with the values we wish to pass down to our children. We have given up a lot of material things to be good home/land owners, and have reaped the rewards over and over.

Tactic: Doing away with consumerist-driven holidays and instead giving gifts of experiences rather than things.

Benefit: Our kids will hopefully understand the benefit of experiences. Toys are easily forgotten or broken or lost and often kids have no respect for their own property because they have so much and are always getting more. Experiences, on the other hand, last a lifetime. We get family gifts (like board games or cookbooks or road trips), go out to dinner together, and celebrate our holidays in a way that focuses on the meaning behind the holiday instead of stuff.

Shift: We eat real food.

Benefit: This sounds silly, but much of what we call “food” nowadays is chemicals or fake hyper-processed soy or corn. Check out your bag of chips tomorrow, or your store-bought bread. Look at the additives listed in your hot dog.

We’ve shifted to spend LOTS of our time in the kitchen, because we do most of our cooking from scratch now. This originally came about because of my son’s battles with food sensitivity, but is something we’ve embraced. Gone are the days of freezer dinners, drive-thrus, microwaved boxed veggies, and cellophane-wrapped treats. Though we sometimes indulge, our budget, health, and ethics no longer allow us to eat that way with regularity.

My husband has found a love of gardening, and his garden is flourishing. We spend lots of time canning – saving that fresh, unprocessed flavor for the winter doldrums. We have found so much joy in growing and preparing healthy, real food for our family, and feel good that our values are reflected further in the way we eat and nourish ourselves.

Shift: We regularly say “no” and stay away from scheduling our free time full of activities and classes.

Benefit: Our weekly schedule reflects our priorities. We work hard during our work time (and only for the amount of time we need to do a good job) and play harder when we’re out of work. We spend lots of time spontaneously getting together with friends or volunteering or going on walks; playing with our children or cooking or working on the house. These are the things that give our life meaning so these are the things that we spend the most time on. We try not to feel guilty (it’s tough, I know) saying “no” when it’s something that would clutter up our time together. When we do find ourselves over-scheduled, we prioritize and cut what we need to in order to get back to a healthy balance.

Downshifting is a process; a way to reclaim your life and your time. It is important to understand that there will never be enough time for the things you love – family, friends, other things that give your life the most meaning. You have to make time, and sometimes that time comes only by making great sacrifices.

Every day, we have a chance to choose our priorities. Every dollar we earn, we have a chance to choose to spend it on a specific thing. Will you spend your money and your time creating the life you want, aligned with your ideal priorities? or will you go along with the pace of society and the path of least resistance, further in debt and guilty about the time you’re not spending with the ones you love, doing the things you love?

It’s always possible, no matter how impossible it seems. It just takes one baby step at a time. If you never have enough time for what you love, it might be time to shift.

All of my life I have been told that happiness is found by moving up: more education will open up more opportunity; more money will make my giving more effective; a bigger house will help my family feel more fulfilled; more friends will expand my influence; more power will enable me to do more good; a higher position at work will lead to more of the aforementioned.

And while I don’t think there is anything inherently evil in having more of these things, “more” is not the way of Jesus.

“Upward mobility” is not the way that he chose.

Henri Nouwen writes that “In a society in which upward mobility is the norm, downward mobility is not only discouraged but even considered unwise, unhealthy, or downright stupid. Who will freely choose a low-paying job when a high-paying job is being offered? Who will choose poverty when wealth is within reach? Who will choose a hidden place when there is a place in the limelight? Who will choose to be with one person in great need when many people could be helped during the same time?  Who will choose to withdraw to a place of solitude and prayer when there are so many urgent demands made from all sides?”

But why choose less? Is this just one of those silly contradictions that people spout because it sounds wise in its enigmatic nature (ie, less is more)? Just because it’s a contradiction, does that make it a proverb?

Nouwen continues: “…the way of downward mobility, the descending way of Jesus…is the way toward the poor, the suffering, the marginal, the prisoners, the refugees, the lonely, the hungry, the dying, the tortured, the homeless – toward all who ask for compassion.  What do they have to offer? Not success, popularity or power, but…joy and peace…”

That is what downward mobility has to offer.

As always, I am given a choice: will I follow everyone else as they fight and scratch and claw and work to get to the top, where the prize is money and power and stress and, in the end, emptiness?

Or will I follow Christ, downwardly mobile, “toward all who ask for compassion?” The upwardly mobile fight against each other – the downwardly mobile, at first, fight only themselves and the longing that have been imposed on them by their culture.  But in the end the downwardly mobile will have joy and peace.

“The joy that compassion brings is one of the best-kept secrets of humanity” – Henri Nouwen, Here and Now

***If you’d like to read about someone who has had downward mobility imposed on him, and is making an even bigger difference in our community just by his example of perseverance and joy, please read my friend Ryan’s blog from yesterday where he tells the story of his uncle Gordie who is suffering from ALS.