Have you ever wanted something but weren’t willing to pay for it?

Apple’s new iPad costs between $499-$829.  2 tickets to see Ironman 2 cost about $24.  If you want to grab dinner at the famous Chez Panisse next Friday, it will cost $190 for two people without drinks, tax or tip.  You can have all these things if you’re willing to pay the asking price.

Everything costs something, and typically, the more valuable something is, the higher its price. Why is it, then, that we sometimes expect relationships to not cost us anything?

How much is a relationship worth to you? Is it worth your time?  Is a reliable friendship worth your energy?  Is it worth your availability?  Is a restored relationship worth your humility or forgiveness?

It’s tragic that we’re willing to spend lots of time and resources on stuff, when what we really long for (relationships) we never receive because we aren’t willing to pay the price.

Relationships are expensive.  They require our honesty, humility, sacrifice, forgiveness, time, patience, and much more. If you happen to be counting the cost of a relationship today, asking, ‘is this person really worth my ______?’ (you fill in the blank), remind yourself that there’s nothing more valuable than relationships.

Forgiveness, although seemingly expensive to you, is a small price to pay for friendship.  Humility, however embarrassing or revealing, can build the trust necessary for true intimacy. Patience, even if you’ve had to be patient before, is something we all need from time to time.  Relationships are worth the price we pay for them.

Everything costs something.  If you’re willing to spend your resources on things you merely want, then please, please, be willing to spend yourself on those things you truly need: relationships.

A majority of NFL teams recently sent this message to their players, fans and personnel: character trumps talent.

Not that you or I ever pay any attention to the NFL draft, (okay, I do, but most of the world doesn’t really care), but we can all learn something from what happened this past weekend. During this year’s draft, team after team passed on some of the most talented players available to them, opting instead to select less talented players because of their so-called intangibles – because of their character.

(If you’re intrigued, look up these names: Tim Tebow, Dez Bryant, Jimmy Clausen, Carlos Dunlap. There are plenty more examples, but most NFL analysts agree that these players were either drafted way too early or way too late.)

What’s the take-away? Who you are is more important than what you can produce. Sure, all of the players drafted had to have NFL-caliber talent to be selected. But the intangibles (character, integrity, personal responsibility) were more important to NFL teams than measurable talent (speed, size, physical strength).

In short, as teams were deciding on what kind of future they wanted for their franchises, they recognized character was a better indicator of a player’s future than stats.

What intangibles define you?

Memories are rich. I remember Lindsey’s forceful use of garden tools, John’s enthusiasm for the fragrance of lavender, and Dave’s face when he ate a whole ground cherry for the first time (it was a little tart…).

There are great opportunities to engage the ‘green movement’ in Berkeley. For me, this movement is wide-ranging. It’s essentially about taking care of the planet, including ourselves. This movement involves growing plants, being wise about resources (recycling), and appreciating and conserving natural habitat.

This past summer, we had several “Garden Days” at Berkeley Youth Alternatives where we helped re-plant and restore their landscape. In November, a group of us also planted a ‘peace garden’ for a friend in the process of healing. The mission of a peace garden is to create a relaxing environment through plants. Muted colors are preferred over loudness. The soft movement of feather reeds soothes. Witnessing a garden that develops, changes and evolves creates hope to this friend.

‘Grow’ is about fellowship, and service. Strong connections are created by working together, and there’s a specific satisfaction to turning soil, planting tomatoes, and smelling the earth on your hands.

We invite you to join us in this movement and these various projects Please contact us if you’re interested in participating, and if you have ideas of where this ministry can express itself!

Fabulous,
Michael

Mosaic Bay Grow: yongshang2@yahoo.com

The thing about Thanksgiving, is the inevitable question of “what are you thankful for?” that must be answered at least once during the holiday weekend. For many of us, this inquiry usually presents itself around a table of family and friends who have just stuffed themselves into a turkey and pie state of bliss. For normal people, this question is comfortable, familiar, eagerly anticipated. It is, after all, “The Thanksgiving Question.” For introspective, indecisive folks like me, this question is, freakishly challenging.

Don’t get me wrong, I have much to be thankful for, and my issue with this question is never a lack of something to say. The trouble is, I have so many somethings to say that I find it difficult to narrow down my options into an answer that isn’t so long it pushes everyone at the table over the edge from food bliss to food coma.

The truth is, I’ve always had this hang-up with options and indecision. I am not ashamed to admit that I fit the stereotype of the indecisive woman. The one who spends an irrational amount of time deciding which accessory might look best, which movie to watch, or which place to eat for dinner. Believe me when I tell you that my indecision is not meant to cause torture. It’s just who I am.

The other truth-and this is something I’ve realized only recently-is that while I often struggle to make up my mind, I LOVE having choices. Having realized this, I see now that my appreciation for options was evident, even as a child.

I remember one Thanksgiving, when I was around six years old. I was sitting at the kids’ table at my grandmother’s house, in eastern Kentucky, where I grew up. I had asked for a little bit of everything to be put on my dinner plate, even foods I had never tried before, because I thought they looked interesting. My plate, filled with tiny mounds in brilliant hues of orange, pink, green, and yellow, was, as you might imagine, a sharp contrast to the other plates at the kids’ table. My cousins looked at me and my smorgasbord with their big brown eyes and their sparse plates of white food items—“rolls and mashed potatoes and turkey with no gravy, please.” One of my cousins raised an eyebrow and asked (in a fierce Southern accent), “You like all that?” To which my reply was, “Uh, yeaah.” And my mother, taking her seat at the grown-up table, proudly assured us all, “Nattie likes everything.”

While liking “everything” might be an exaggeration, I can’t deny I do enjoy the idea of multiple possibilities. This is probably why I’ve chosen an interdisciplinary graduate program, why I’ve ALWAYS hated math, why I love hanging out with college students who can’t declare a major to save their lives, and why my search for THE ONE is frighteningly complicated.

Anyway, this year I don’t have a solid, tangible answer to the question, “what are you thankful for.” But my best, most honest response to the Thanksgiving Question is that I’m thankful for…options.

I am thankful that I not only have food on my table, but that I have my choice of food items, of pumpkin or pecan pie, of gravy or no gravy. I am thankful that I am graduating in two weeks, and that even though I am still formulating those ever requested post-graduation plans, I have no shortage of friends and family who have offered couches, guest rooms, storage space, resume advice and networking abilities to help me get to where I want to be. I’m thankful I can use the phrase, “where I want to be,” at the end of that last sentence, instead of “where I have to be.” I am thankful that, when posed the question, “What are you thankful for?” I have so many possibilities to choose from I struggle to pick just one. Though it might not look like it to some of my Marin County neighbors, all things considered, I live a life of privilege. A life of options. And for that, I’m thankful.

But the thing about being thankful is that I don’t think that it is enough.

One of my favorite childhood TV personalities, Fred Rogers of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, once said that “the greatest words in any language are thank you, thank you, thank you.” I believe those words are powerful, that there is something incredibly simple and beautiful about giving thanks. And yet I am convinced that gratitude in its highest form demands something more than just thanksgiving. I think those words of thanks, both when offered and received, should inspire some kind of action. This action should not come as some kind of repayment or means of settling up, but as a way of paying one’s thanks forward, as some form of thanksdoing, and not just thanksgiving.

There’s a passage in the gospel of Luke that describes a story Jesus told about a faithful servant. The story ends with the words, “From everyone who has been given much, much will be required.” As someone who considers herself both a follower of Jesus and someone to whom much has been given, I am compelled to take these words seriously.

Now, I wish I could say I have attempted to do something responsible and meaningful out of thanks for every single option in my life for which I am grateful. I wish I could say that my life looks like gratitude personified. But I can’t. I’m selfish and indecisive, and I spend way more time enjoying my options than exploring how others might have them. But I do have my moments. Helping a friend move, coffee with a college student who is freaking out about choosing a major.

Those are my moments.

And maybe my view is naive or idealistic, but I like to think that we all have our moments. Moments when we at least consider giving of ourselves so that others might have. I imagine it’s when we take advantage of those moments, when we practice thanksdoing, that humanity gets it right. I think in those moments Jesus puts down the gravy boat, looks at us across the table, and says, “thank you, thank you, thank you.” And then one of us picks up the gravy boat and passes it on to someone with a plate that looks a little sparse.

Natalie Gabbard
MosaicBay University Freeform

“Don’t waste your time on useless work, mere busywork, the barren pursuits of darkness. Expose these things for the sham they are. It’s a scandal when people waste their lives on things they must do in the darkness where no one will see. Rip the cover off those frauds and see how attractive they look in the light of Christ.

Wake up from your sleep,

Climb out of your coffins;

Christ will show you the light!

So watch your step. Use your head. Make the most of every chance you get. These are desperate times!”

- Ephesians 5: 15-16 (The Message)

In six short weeks, 2010 begins.  I can’t wait.  I love the start of things.  I love newness.  I love potential.  I love change.  I love hope.  I love opportunity.  In six short weeks, everyone everywhere will celebrate these things together.  In six short weeks…

But what about now?

It wasn’t long ago that we looked at 2009 as a year of newness, of potential, of change and hope and opportunity.  What happened to 2009?  Did you seize it as you had hoped?  Was it the year you longed for it to be?

If so, good for you.

If not, well, you’ve got six long weeks to do something new, to realize potential, to create change, to embrace hope, to seize opportunity.