Decades ago, I wasn’t a bad Ping-Pong player. We had some pretty aggressive games as I recall. Some of these matches even involved the destruction of property. I speak of the simple and normal, run-of-the-mill ‘accidents’ leaving their marks: A foot crashing into a door and maybe a paddle tearing into a ceiling panel.
I thought of those games the other day when getting on the scale. (For the sudden shift of topic, I apologize and will happily make a whiplash appointment for you with your Chiropractor.)
The connection explanation below is followed by the required commentary.
My current scale has an app. Of course, it has an app. Today, e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. has an app.
For a couple of years now, when I would step on the I-wish-I-didn’t-own-one device that apparently determines how my weight compares to a Mack truck, a signal was sent to record the number on my phone with a resounding ‘DING’. This was, you know, just to inform me that all calculations were complete, recorded for posterity and that yes, I was still heavy. I will never buy a scale that speaks!
This past week, I was confused. The app had been updated. Unfortunately, the release didn’t have any more mercy than the original, so it continued to record the accurate weight but now, there was no ‘DING’. I kept thinking something was wrong. I had always hated the noise, but now it was missing, and something felt well, off.
The Ping-Pong connection involves expected noise.
While playing in the late ’60s, all used traditional wooden paddles. There was an available color choice, but the construction was basically the same: A wooden oval shape covered with some thin, bumpy rubber-like material attached to a handle.
This paddle was used to bat a small 1.57-inch nitrocellulose ball back and forth across the net transecting the table. When this ball met the paddle, it made a noise. When the ball collided with the table, it also made a noise. And when it was returned, the noises continued. In fact, while playing, it was amazing to note how the rhythm became almost a song. “Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.”
But one day, that changed.
Being matched well with one of my regular opponents, I was suddenly surprised when overnight, I became the guaranteed loser. Something was rotten in Denmark!
There was one clear change. The sound rhythm had been altered. Somehow, everything was good until my adversary hit the ball. There was no sound. Nothing. No little click. No evidence that the ball had been struck at all. When I expected to hear the click, I heard nothing. I was defenseless.
Then, I found out there were TWO changes. Not hearing the click of the returning ball was a clear problem but I also noticed that when this white orb smacked my side of the table, it went crazy with the spin. Where did THAT come from?
Reflecting on my humiliation, I'm guessing game scores looked something like this.
- 11-1
- 11-4
- 11-0
- 11-0
- 11-2
My Ping-Pong foe had bought a new paddle. It had a thicker, more ergonomic handle. It was enveloped with a very smooth rubbery material but was much thicker than mine due to the foam between the wood and the covering. That foam ruined me. The ball was no longer hitting a wood surface and the sponginess was extremely effective in placing a spin on the ball as it was returned.
Eventually, I was able to overcome the spin. But the rhythm of sound took a bit of concentration. Well, it took an enormous amount of concentration to speak truthfully.
The promised commentary.
Our experiences, cultures, positions, relationships, education, status, and well, you name it defines who we are. But these same things can trap us in expectations that prevent growth and understanding. We learn to live in the “Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.”
When the rules change, or the circumstances change, or the sound rhythms change, we are faced with the need to adapt - sometimes quickly. If we fail to do so, the upgraded paddles of life will destroy us.
This might beg the question, “How might we avoid this ‘trappiness’ then?”
I've been thinking that it might boil down to just two words.
- Expectation begets disappointment in so many areas. We expect something of or from someone and when they fail to deliver, we see anger. We expect the noise of life to keep the same rhythm.
- Anticipation allows for surprise, for delight. It encourages growth. It inspires open hearts and hands. It applauds hope. Maybe think, "Jazz Music."
May you be blessed with the delight of anticipation this week. May the zigs and zags of life, yes even those dreaded gaps in the rhythms that you've considered comforting and normal, be delightfully jazzed up for you and those around you during the upcoming days.
"Do not conform to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will." Romans 12:2
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