I had to call Fantasy into my office this evening.
He sauntered in, looking for all the world like he had just emerged from yet another wild adventure: clothing roughed up, face dirty, carrying some indistinct something inside his leather travel bag.
"Let me get right to the point" I started. "We've had a complaint."
He snorted a bit as he sat down and lounged a bit in the chair. "A complaint. I always had you pegged as a pansy, and I'm right. Someone has a single bad word, and you collapse like a popped balloon. Could you possibly be more gutless?"
I took a deep breath, like I had been practicing, and started again. "Not just a complaint. A FB complaint."
If he was reactive, he didn't show it. "You know I don't FB. How could you tie me to something that I never do."
I waited until his eyes met mine. "It wasn't against you. Originally. The original complaint was against Humor. I already talked to him. He says you put him up to it."
"Not consciously" I immediately put in as I saw him going red in the face. "Here. Look at this." I passed the file across the intervening space over to him. "Look through it."
He grabbed the file and flipped back the top page, obviously angry at the charge. I could see his face as he caught sight of the file photo, and begin to soften as he read the charge."
"I'm not saying you told him to do it" I said more conversationally (I hoped) as he continued to read. "It's just that you inadvertently gave him a direction, and he took it. You know the old adage: What sound funny in your mind is not always funny when you speak or write."
He sighed hard, then passed the file back. "So how's the complaint against me? Looks like Humor's the one that actually did it."
I gave the half grimace with lifting of hands to indicate my frustration. "He did, but he states that it was because of he thought he was being asked to do to support you. You know: get a false idea based on what you think you heard, act on it, suddenly you're involved."
He slumped a bit in the chair, letting the bag drop slowly to the ground. "So what's going to happen? Another of the ever popular 'Re-education' sessions?"
I sat for a minute, the words balanced on the tip of my tongue, saddened that they had to be there at all. "I'm sorry. We're going to have to reassign you."
His head shot up at that, eyes staring me straight on. "What?" he almost roared incredulously.
I sighed. "I'm really sorry. I've been trying to put this off as long as I could as well. You know, the classes, the counseling, the on-line stuff. But it hasn't made a difference - we keep coming to these complaint issues. We've got to do something before we both get fired."
He snorted. "What is it then - off to Logic? Realism? Maturity - is his hand in this?"
I shook my head. "No, no-one else is involved. Just you and me at this point. Trying to keep things as low key as possible. And no, I'm not exiling you to a living death."
I pulled out the revised org chart. "Look - after a lot of thought, I've decided to put you under Creativity. You guys both know each other - you've worked together a long time. It'll almost be like nothing has changed - you go off and do your thing, you will just have to check in with him before you do. If you look on the other side here, I've also got Physical Health reporting up to him as well. You three can do a lot together - you just need some guidance, and frankly I think that Creativity will be able to provide it in a framework that I can't."
He looked at the Org chart, sighed, and handed it back. "There are worse things, I suppose. We've had some good times together, haven't we? I mean, me reporting directly to you."
I smiled and nodded. "Of course we have. And it's not like you or I are going away - we're just transitioning to a different way of doing things."
He set his face with a curt smile, nodded, then picked up the bag and got ready to go. "Hey" he said as he started to turn to go. "I'm planning on going to 25th Century earth next week. You interested? I've got a line on an undiscovered facility. Should be entertaining."
I smiled and nodded. "You know, I've got some extra time now. Absolutely. I'll pencil it in for next Thursday."
He smiled again, started humming some kind of vaguely martial sounding air and strode off to the band playing in his mind.
I turned back and put the new org chart on the wall. That had gone better than I expected.
Then sighed. 25th Century. Undoubtedly I was going end up dirty and shot at again. I started digging for the blaster I always kept in my desk.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Something's Coming
I got a very kind and thoughtful e-mail from Le Quebecois this morning. I always enjoy his e-mails, because they are chock full of wisdom and good humor and the sort of bon homme that I wish could flavor my own conversation as well as my days more.
It's odd, because I actually have few men older than I that would consider founts of wisdom or mentors. Our church is fairly new (6 years), so we tend to be towards the younger end (I, of course, being on that younger end!); my father of course, but in so many ways we have had different lives (He commented to me last week that a layoff was something that he nor my mother ever had to even consider dealing with); my boss at my previous company, He Who Must Be Obeyed (HWMBO) in an industry and career sense. I've worked with lots of men who experience-wise might qualify, but they never had that thing that made you say "Yup - I want to be like them. I respect their opinions and wisdom."
As part of the response to his e-mail, the line suddenly came from my fingers:
"Now that I don’t have the flow of work constantly on the brain, with my gripes and crises there, I’m finding that there is a quiet underflow of something – although I’m not sure what it is. Writing for certain, but other things as well, things that I may have abandoned in my quest for biopharmaceutical goals. It’s different from when I lost the real estate company, more introspective, more a sense of this being a spork in the road, and having a chance to choose something."
One of those things you look at your fingers and say "Where did that come from?"
But upon reflection, it's true. It's not like last time with real estate: Yes, I had the same series of 24 hours periods; yes, I had essentially the same financial situation; yes, I was looking for work on a time basis; but with all of that, there is a sense of deeper things sort of bubbling up in a quiet way that have been there all along, but have been pushed aside by the things we think important, but in reality are ephemeral.
I made the comment to a friend on Wednesday that I was shocked to realize that I made (in the sense of "Made before I got laid off") almost as much as I could get as an assistant attorney. Lesson: I can work more and probably earn more, but wealth alone isn't going to get me where I want to go.
(Somewhere in the interstatial space that is the internet, both Songbird and Buttercup are nodding their heads and saying, "Yup, he finally got it - we've been saying this for how long?"
It's almost exciting - strike that, it is exciting. It's like this massive adventure of discovery, the book kind I like the best: John Carter charging across the dead sea bottoms of Mars under the two hurtling moons Phobos and Deimos, or Conan discovering the mysteries of civilizations long gone (in his case of course, with loot), or any of Andre Norton's journeys of people in the ruins of a civilization long gone.
It's like from West Side story, the song Tony sings, "Something's Coming". I found the lyrics, and they're so close to what I'm thinking, I'll close with those:
Could be! Who knows?
There's something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,
Gleam in its eye,
Bright as a rose!
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Under a tree.
I got a feeling there's a miracle due,
Gonna come true,
Coming to me!
Could it be?
Yes, it could.
Something's coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!
With a click, with a shock,
Phone'll jingle, door'll knock,
Open the latch!
Something's coming, don't know when, but it's soon;
Catch the moon,
One-handed catch!
Around the corner,
Or whistling down the river,
Come on, deliver To me!
Will it be? Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still,
It'll be there!
Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy,
Meet a guy,
Pull up a chair!
The air is humming,
And something great is coming!
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Maybe tonight ...
It's odd, because I actually have few men older than I that would consider founts of wisdom or mentors. Our church is fairly new (6 years), so we tend to be towards the younger end (I, of course, being on that younger end!); my father of course, but in so many ways we have had different lives (He commented to me last week that a layoff was something that he nor my mother ever had to even consider dealing with); my boss at my previous company, He Who Must Be Obeyed (HWMBO) in an industry and career sense. I've worked with lots of men who experience-wise might qualify, but they never had that thing that made you say "Yup - I want to be like them. I respect their opinions and wisdom."
As part of the response to his e-mail, the line suddenly came from my fingers:
"Now that I don’t have the flow of work constantly on the brain, with my gripes and crises there, I’m finding that there is a quiet underflow of something – although I’m not sure what it is. Writing for certain, but other things as well, things that I may have abandoned in my quest for biopharmaceutical goals. It’s different from when I lost the real estate company, more introspective, more a sense of this being a spork in the road, and having a chance to choose something."
One of those things you look at your fingers and say "Where did that come from?"
But upon reflection, it's true. It's not like last time with real estate: Yes, I had the same series of 24 hours periods; yes, I had essentially the same financial situation; yes, I was looking for work on a time basis; but with all of that, there is a sense of deeper things sort of bubbling up in a quiet way that have been there all along, but have been pushed aside by the things we think important, but in reality are ephemeral.
I made the comment to a friend on Wednesday that I was shocked to realize that I made (in the sense of "Made before I got laid off") almost as much as I could get as an assistant attorney. Lesson: I can work more and probably earn more, but wealth alone isn't going to get me where I want to go.
(Somewhere in the interstatial space that is the internet, both Songbird and Buttercup are nodding their heads and saying, "Yup, he finally got it - we've been saying this for how long?"
It's almost exciting - strike that, it is exciting. It's like this massive adventure of discovery, the book kind I like the best: John Carter charging across the dead sea bottoms of Mars under the two hurtling moons Phobos and Deimos, or Conan discovering the mysteries of civilizations long gone (in his case of course, with loot), or any of Andre Norton's journeys of people in the ruins of a civilization long gone.
It's like from West Side story, the song Tony sings, "Something's Coming". I found the lyrics, and they're so close to what I'm thinking, I'll close with those:
Could be! Who knows?
There's something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,
Gleam in its eye,
Bright as a rose!
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Under a tree.
I got a feeling there's a miracle due,
Gonna come true,
Coming to me!
Could it be?
Yes, it could.
Something's coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something's coming, I don't know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!
With a click, with a shock,
Phone'll jingle, door'll knock,
Open the latch!
Something's coming, don't know when, but it's soon;
Catch the moon,
One-handed catch!
Around the corner,
Or whistling down the river,
Come on, deliver To me!
Will it be? Yes, it will.
Maybe just by holding still,
It'll be there!
Come on, something, come on in, don't be shy,
Meet a guy,
Pull up a chair!
The air is humming,
And something great is coming!
Who knows?
It's only just out of reach,
Down the block, on a beach,
Maybe tonight ...
Dotting T's and Crossing I's
Yesterday I received a call from a consultant on a Quality position. We had a pleasant chat, and then she had a couple of questions. The first was on a phrase I used in my CV, one that she had not heard of. I pulled up my CV on the computer and looked and sure enough, I had "clinical supplying kitting" instead of "clinical supply kitting". I confessed it was a simple error, she fixed it, and then we moved on.
After the conversation, a sudden sense of horror struck: that was the CV that had gone out to everyone else for the last week. Hurriedly, I began hitting websites, swapping out that minor correction.
Now, I am a person of punctuation and spelling. I am what in other years and other places might be called a zealot. It's how I make my living. So how did this get through? Not a misspelling, and certainly not a thing that most people would catch (I, and an HR friend, missed it), nor would the infamous Word Spelling Tool of Death give its friendly "Hey! Loser! This is wrong! You want me to fix it?".
In explaining my job function to a friend last night outside of the industry, I noted that what I did was ensure that biopharm products were safe and effective, a sort of dotting t's and crossing i's. I didn't even catch the slip but she did. We both laughed about it, and went on to other things.
But in the comment, and now in this minor error, I find a metaphor, the metaphor for success or failure.
It's the second check.
The reality is, while I prize exactness in writing, I very much dislike to edit. When I am done, I want to be done - mostly, I think, to avoid the function of criticism by self or others. The reality is, success in whatever form you measure it is an output not only of effort, but of the second check: the catching of the small things that might be wrong or are wrong, the things that stick out perhaps only to you but make the difference between good and great, the time spent checking and rechecking to insure that everything is excellent and as close to perfect as possible.
Napoleon Bonaparte (I'm reading a book on him now) was apparently like this. For all his faults (and they appear to be a great many), he had both a prodigious memory and the ability and need to check and recheck his plans and calculations, apparently in meticulous detail. As a result, he only lost twice; unfortunately for him, one was Waterloo.
I think for myself, part of the issue is that I don't want to take the time. I don't see the time as well spent - the time of creation (like writing this blog) is well spent, but not so much reading it word by word. But in reality, it is time equally well spent: the first for creativity, the second for communicability and the impression that it gives others.
The CVs I cannot call back. My life I still can.
After the conversation, a sudden sense of horror struck: that was the CV that had gone out to everyone else for the last week. Hurriedly, I began hitting websites, swapping out that minor correction.
Now, I am a person of punctuation and spelling. I am what in other years and other places might be called a zealot. It's how I make my living. So how did this get through? Not a misspelling, and certainly not a thing that most people would catch (I, and an HR friend, missed it), nor would the infamous Word Spelling Tool of Death give its friendly "Hey! Loser! This is wrong! You want me to fix it?".
In explaining my job function to a friend last night outside of the industry, I noted that what I did was ensure that biopharm products were safe and effective, a sort of dotting t's and crossing i's. I didn't even catch the slip but she did. We both laughed about it, and went on to other things.
But in the comment, and now in this minor error, I find a metaphor, the metaphor for success or failure.
It's the second check.
The reality is, while I prize exactness in writing, I very much dislike to edit. When I am done, I want to be done - mostly, I think, to avoid the function of criticism by self or others. The reality is, success in whatever form you measure it is an output not only of effort, but of the second check: the catching of the small things that might be wrong or are wrong, the things that stick out perhaps only to you but make the difference between good and great, the time spent checking and rechecking to insure that everything is excellent and as close to perfect as possible.
Napoleon Bonaparte (I'm reading a book on him now) was apparently like this. For all his faults (and they appear to be a great many), he had both a prodigious memory and the ability and need to check and recheck his plans and calculations, apparently in meticulous detail. As a result, he only lost twice; unfortunately for him, one was Waterloo.
I think for myself, part of the issue is that I don't want to take the time. I don't see the time as well spent - the time of creation (like writing this blog) is well spent, but not so much reading it word by word. But in reality, it is time equally well spent: the first for creativity, the second for communicability and the impression that it gives others.
The CVs I cannot call back. My life I still can.
Ghost in the Machine
God is continuing to try to get my attention - and I, like a fool, continue to ignore Him.
Today, after having a delightful lunch with my pastor, I (in a moment of guilty pleasure) decided to run to my local used bookstore (I am the embodiment of the 16th Century Catholic Humanist Erasmus Desiderius, who wrote "If I get a little money, I buy books, and if I have any left over, I buy food and clothes.").
As I got turned off the freeway, I looked towards my right for the upcoming tight turn - and there, in the parking lot with two other people, was Himself.
Or someone that looked like Himself. But the truck was there. It was him. I knew him for 12 years, and I don't make mistakes like that.
I pulled around the corner and as I did, went to look again. Yup, still him, still the truck.
And for one brief moment, the though flashed into my brain "Just pull in. Just say hi."
Which, of course being me, I promptly ignored.
I got to the bookstore and mosied through - but found nothing partially, I suspect, because of what had happened. It played on my mind: I should have stopped. I should have said hi. What am I afraid of?
Bookless (I'll go back later - don't fear!), I got back in my car and headed back towards home. At the overpass, making the left turn to get onto the freeway, I saw the truck pull out towards the overpass as well.
Crud. If he goes over the overpass, he may end up next to me at the light. What will you do then?
He didn't, but I as I got on the freeway I continued to look behind me, to see if it was him - because if it was, and he was coming home, he would come this way. Sure enough, after awhile I saw the blue-green truck in the rearview mirror.
I don't think he would notice me - I've a different car than I had back then -so I continued to watch behind me as the truck pulled up, pulled into the fast lane, and passed me by. I followed, at an increasing distance as our speeds didn't match, until I got to my exit. Thinking that I should have stopped, should have said something.
And then it hit me: he just drove my exit. He knew where I lived. How often has that happened, that he has just gone by, and not stopped. Was any mind paid?
And then, having been led carefully into the ring, I got suckerpunched.
Why is it all about you, God seemed to ask. We've discussed this. You should have let this go years ago. You, you, you. Didn't I bring you out before the market crashed?
Yes Lord.
And didn't I provide you with employment after that, and with a support group in your church and work, and friends to replace those, and writing?
Yes Lord.
Then why, almost four years later, are you still milling around here? It's like you're the Israelites at the Promised Land: I brought you up, I protected you, I made you promises about my presence with you, and yet you still keep looking back to Egypt and saying "Why, O Why Lord?" They went around another 40 years in that desert: do you want the same?
No Lord.
Then stop it.
Even as I write this, those words ring in my head. Then stop it. How long have I carried things around that I shouldn't, ignored God's provision and looked back to Egypt, failed to move out in faith, made the center of the universe me instead of God?
If this is a problem for you, I have a message for you from Him: Stop it. Just stop it.
Don't make Him have to get your attention.
Today, after having a delightful lunch with my pastor, I (in a moment of guilty pleasure) decided to run to my local used bookstore (I am the embodiment of the 16th Century Catholic Humanist Erasmus Desiderius, who wrote "If I get a little money, I buy books, and if I have any left over, I buy food and clothes.").
As I got turned off the freeway, I looked towards my right for the upcoming tight turn - and there, in the parking lot with two other people, was Himself.
Or someone that looked like Himself. But the truck was there. It was him. I knew him for 12 years, and I don't make mistakes like that.
I pulled around the corner and as I did, went to look again. Yup, still him, still the truck.
And for one brief moment, the though flashed into my brain "Just pull in. Just say hi."
Which, of course being me, I promptly ignored.
I got to the bookstore and mosied through - but found nothing partially, I suspect, because of what had happened. It played on my mind: I should have stopped. I should have said hi. What am I afraid of?
Bookless (I'll go back later - don't fear!), I got back in my car and headed back towards home. At the overpass, making the left turn to get onto the freeway, I saw the truck pull out towards the overpass as well.
Crud. If he goes over the overpass, he may end up next to me at the light. What will you do then?
He didn't, but I as I got on the freeway I continued to look behind me, to see if it was him - because if it was, and he was coming home, he would come this way. Sure enough, after awhile I saw the blue-green truck in the rearview mirror.
I don't think he would notice me - I've a different car than I had back then -so I continued to watch behind me as the truck pulled up, pulled into the fast lane, and passed me by. I followed, at an increasing distance as our speeds didn't match, until I got to my exit. Thinking that I should have stopped, should have said something.
And then it hit me: he just drove my exit. He knew where I lived. How often has that happened, that he has just gone by, and not stopped. Was any mind paid?
And then, having been led carefully into the ring, I got suckerpunched.
Why is it all about you, God seemed to ask. We've discussed this. You should have let this go years ago. You, you, you. Didn't I bring you out before the market crashed?
Yes Lord.
And didn't I provide you with employment after that, and with a support group in your church and work, and friends to replace those, and writing?
Yes Lord.
Then why, almost four years later, are you still milling around here? It's like you're the Israelites at the Promised Land: I brought you up, I protected you, I made you promises about my presence with you, and yet you still keep looking back to Egypt and saying "Why, O Why Lord?" They went around another 40 years in that desert: do you want the same?
No Lord.
Then stop it.
Even as I write this, those words ring in my head. Then stop it. How long have I carried things around that I shouldn't, ignored God's provision and looked back to Egypt, failed to move out in faith, made the center of the universe me instead of God?
If this is a problem for you, I have a message for you from Him: Stop it. Just stop it.
Don't make Him have to get your attention.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
The Providence of God
This morning it was raining as I stumbled into consciousness. I just lay there awhile, listening to the rain (an all too infrequent sound these days), in that kind of bland state one enters when the decision to remain awake or asleep is available.
"Christmas Present" came the thought.
Okay. File away under "Random thoughts that occur to me at 4 AM" and continue on.
Later, when I got up, I went to look at my Christmas present from The Ravishing Mrs. TB. It is below:
The words you can't see in the picture are "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." It is Hebrews 11:1. The translation I prefer is "Now faith is the evidence of things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen."
The word hope, a derivative of Elpizo, is to "hope, to hope for, to hope in, to expect." The word hupostatsis is "substantial nature, essence
, actual being, realization. Likewise, the second half of the phrase is "pragmaton" ("thing", pragamatic anyone?) , and elegkhos ("verification or conviction"), and ou blepomenon ("not seen"). So the phrase, which runs only 9 words in the Greek instead of 16 in the English, most correctly says "Now faith (pistis) is the substantial evidence/essence/realization of things hoped for, things of which we are convicted of but are not seen."
So great. I've got time to translate Greek as well as search for a job. So what?
The so what is that suddenly a single thread of God's sovereignty became visible to me this morning. I got this back in December, long before I had lost my job, thought it was a great gift, but then filed it along with my other gifts waiting to be hung up/dealt with. Now, in the midst of a circumstance where I need my faith encouraged, this gift takes on a whole new meaning.
Never doubt the sovereignty of God. Never.
And remember that faith is not a thin reedy feeling, at least not to the Christian. It is a conviction, the substantial evidence of things we can't see yet - but will someday.
"Christmas Present" came the thought.
Okay. File away under "Random thoughts that occur to me at 4 AM" and continue on.
Later, when I got up, I went to look at my Christmas present from The Ravishing Mrs. TB. It is below:
The words you can't see in the picture are "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." It is Hebrews 11:1. The translation I prefer is "Now faith is the evidence of things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen."
The word hope, a derivative of Elpizo, is to "hope, to hope for, to hope in, to expect." The word hupostatsis is "substantial nature, essence
, actual being, realization. Likewise, the second half of the phrase is "pragmaton" ("thing", pragamatic anyone?) , and elegkhos ("verification or conviction"), and ou blepomenon ("not seen"). So the phrase, which runs only 9 words in the Greek instead of 16 in the English, most correctly says "Now faith (pistis) is the substantial evidence/essence/realization of things hoped for, things of which we are convicted of but are not seen."So great. I've got time to translate Greek as well as search for a job. So what?
The so what is that suddenly a single thread of God's sovereignty became visible to me this morning. I got this back in December, long before I had lost my job, thought it was a great gift, but then filed it along with my other gifts waiting to be hung up/dealt with. Now, in the midst of a circumstance where I need my faith encouraged, this gift takes on a whole new meaning.
Never doubt the sovereignty of God. Never.
And remember that faith is not a thin reedy feeling, at least not to the Christian. It is a conviction, the substantial evidence of things we can't see yet - but will someday.
A pictorial
Many have wondered what I actually look like:
In case it's not clear, that's me on the left....
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
In-N-Out-N-Gone
Having made my job search, the Ravishing Mrs. TB asked me if I would be willing to accompany her on a drive in Northern California to deliver a party kit. I checked my calender and confirming (once again) that I was still not employed, told I could manage to squeeze her into my schedule.
The day was one of those late winter/early spring days of Northern California where the weather is good, but you can see the clouds rolling in. The car is not quite warm enough without the heat on, too warm with it on. The filtered sunlight is enough to cast a light haze over everything, but sunny enough to remind you that spring is not far away.
We had a very pleasant conversation, probably the longest sustained one since we got back from Tucson (oddly enough, also the last time we were without kids. There's something going on there). I don't know that there was anything earth-shattering, just the pleasant patter of words and road noises that you kind of forget about when you're used to having others in car with you or driving alone.
Having made our drop (sounds spy-like, doesn't it), we decided to have lunch. Being as we don't get to eat by ourselves very often and that we had the time, we went to In-N-Out.
I like In-N-Out. I like their burgers, I like their fries, I like the fact that I can issue my own paper towels in the bathroom instead of having them allocated to me.
So we sat outside in the semi-warm, eating our burgers and fries and just enjoying the weather, each other, and the change of pace. We finished up, I almost licked the fry boat to get the last salty goodness out, and off we went back home.
Nothing's changed, of course: I'm still unemployed, Countrywide has still not called me back, and The Big Red Line is ticking down financially. But that's okay. I can honestly say I feel better than I have in years.
And I got In-N-Out to boot.
The day was one of those late winter/early spring days of Northern California where the weather is good, but you can see the clouds rolling in. The car is not quite warm enough without the heat on, too warm with it on. The filtered sunlight is enough to cast a light haze over everything, but sunny enough to remind you that spring is not far away.
We had a very pleasant conversation, probably the longest sustained one since we got back from Tucson (oddly enough, also the last time we were without kids. There's something going on there). I don't know that there was anything earth-shattering, just the pleasant patter of words and road noises that you kind of forget about when you're used to having others in car with you or driving alone.
Having made our drop (sounds spy-like, doesn't it), we decided to have lunch. Being as we don't get to eat by ourselves very often and that we had the time, we went to In-N-Out.
I like In-N-Out. I like their burgers, I like their fries, I like the fact that I can issue my own paper towels in the bathroom instead of having them allocated to me.
So we sat outside in the semi-warm, eating our burgers and fries and just enjoying the weather, each other, and the change of pace. We finished up, I almost licked the fry boat to get the last salty goodness out, and off we went back home.
Nothing's changed, of course: I'm still unemployed, Countrywide has still not called me back, and The Big Red Line is ticking down financially. But that's okay. I can honestly say I feel better than I have in years.
And I got In-N-Out to boot.
A Way Through The Storms
O helper of workers,
ruler of all the good,
guard on the ramparts
and defender of the faithful,
who lifts up the lowly
and crushes the proud,
ruler of the faithful,
enemy of the impenitent,
judge of all judges,
who punishes those who err,
pure life of the living,
light and Father of lights
shining with great light,
denying to none of the hopeful
your strength and help,
I beg that me, a little man
trembling and most wretched
rowing through the infinite storm of this age,
Christ may draw after Him to the lofty
most beautiful haven of life.
- Colum Cille (Columba) of Iona (521-97 Anno Domini), from the Adiutor Laborantium
ruler of all the good,
guard on the ramparts
and defender of the faithful,
who lifts up the lowly
and crushes the proud,
ruler of the faithful,
enemy of the impenitent,
judge of all judges,
who punishes those who err,
pure life of the living,
light and Father of lights
shining with great light,
denying to none of the hopeful
your strength and help,
I beg that me, a little man
trembling and most wretched
rowing through the infinite storm of this age,
Christ may draw after Him to the lofty
most beautiful haven of life.
- Colum Cille (Columba) of Iona (521-97 Anno Domini), from the Adiutor Laborantium
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
And Never is Heard a Discouraging Word
One thing I am finding on JobQuest 2009 (such a good title, I think I'll register the trademark!) is that oftentimes can make the most difference.
Example: Last night, if you see below, you will find that pretty much I threw up all over the computer keyboard. I could almost not feel more depressed than I did last night. This morning, I went to my e-mail and there sits a note from Songbird, saying that I was in her heart and prayers and that yes, sometimes it was hard to keep the long view in mind when the short view was less than desirable. That alone helped.
On top of that, I got a e-mail from An Dreahthann Ruadh out of the blue, saying how much she had enjoyed reading my blog, and lots of other really nice things. It was like my day had totally gone from night to day in the course of one hour.
Perhaps (and speaking only for myself) I have underestimated the power of the encouraging word in the lives of others. Words are funny things - they cost nothing, are constructed out of the same 26 letters, and of themselves have no physicality; but by words, we can move, elate, depress, encourage, discourage, create, and destroy the spirits of those with whom we talk.
And it strikes me as odd as well that so often (like say, when you leave your job) it is only when we leave a situation that we say the good things, the things we meant to say. Yes, I know I've written on this earlier, but it bears repeating because the power of it is so visible in my life.
Whether by e-mail, phone message (lest Otis become offended and forgotten), or even by a short verbal sentence, the encouraging word is not enough to make the problem better, but is a way to make it more bearable - because in the encouragement is the implicit understanding that yes, something bad is going on, and yes, I am thinking of you.
And that is an encouraging thought.
Example: Last night, if you see below, you will find that pretty much I threw up all over the computer keyboard. I could almost not feel more depressed than I did last night. This morning, I went to my e-mail and there sits a note from Songbird, saying that I was in her heart and prayers and that yes, sometimes it was hard to keep the long view in mind when the short view was less than desirable. That alone helped.
On top of that, I got a e-mail from An Dreahthann Ruadh out of the blue, saying how much she had enjoyed reading my blog, and lots of other really nice things. It was like my day had totally gone from night to day in the course of one hour.
Perhaps (and speaking only for myself) I have underestimated the power of the encouraging word in the lives of others. Words are funny things - they cost nothing, are constructed out of the same 26 letters, and of themselves have no physicality; but by words, we can move, elate, depress, encourage, discourage, create, and destroy the spirits of those with whom we talk.
And it strikes me as odd as well that so often (like say, when you leave your job) it is only when we leave a situation that we say the good things, the things we meant to say. Yes, I know I've written on this earlier, but it bears repeating because the power of it is so visible in my life.
Whether by e-mail, phone message (lest Otis become offended and forgotten), or even by a short verbal sentence, the encouraging word is not enough to make the problem better, but is a way to make it more bearable - because in the encouragement is the implicit understanding that yes, something bad is going on, and yes, I am thinking of you.
And that is an encouraging thought.
Master and Slave
Today I took the action thousands of other Americans have taken of late: I called my mortgage company. Countrywide - as if I have anything to lose by naming them.
I spent a good part of yesterday and today preparing the list of suggested documents they had on their website for the "Home Retention Department": a brief letter describing my situation, a list of assets and liabilities, monthly expenditures, tax returns, and paycheck statements. It was the frog I had to eat today: I did not want to call them, but I had too.
So I called the "Home Retention" line. Hesitantly (because I hate confrontation), I put in my loan number, said my task, and waited.
And got dropped.
So again I called the "Home Retention" line. Hesitantly (because I hate confrontation), I put in my loan number, said my task, and waited.
And got through to the customer service rep. We exchange information, then he asked about the purpose of my call. "I need to speak to the home retention department" I said. "I lost my job last week."
He didn't miss a beat. "I'll give you the number sir, and then transfer you. Have a nice day."
So I rolled over to the "Home Retention Department", where I ended up with a gentleman. We again exchanged information, and he asked the purpose of my my call.
"I need to see about restructuring my loan. I lost my job last week."
And then, like magic, out came the script.
"I'm very sorry to hear that Mr. TB. Are you looking for a job?"
"Yes"-
"And I'm sure you will find a job soon. Do you have any income coming in?"
"Well, I have a three month severance package."
"Very good."
"About my loan?"
"Countrywide has many options for loan restructuring Mr. TB; however, they require you to have an income. Once you have an income, give us a call back - here's the number -and we'll discuss it at that time."
"Okay." What else do you say to a man reading off a script?
"Mr. TB, I'm sure you will find a job very soon. Also, I see that you have not made your February 1 payment yet. Are you planning to pay that?"
"Well of course."
"Very good sir. How do you typically pay?"
"By mail."
"Sir, I would recommend that you mail it by the 10th to avoid additional financing charges."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Can I do anything else for you?"
"No, that'll cover it."
"Then goodbye sir."
My entire body slumps down in front of the computer.
No point in getting angry - the guy is reading from a script, and I'm sure that he's had people blow up at him before. The anger comes from a sense (completely self generated) that somehow this was going to make a drastic change in our situation. There is a somewhat laughable odd counterpoint that at the very point that I could use some assistance, you're told no, we can't do anything. The vision I have is jumping from a plane and on the way down realizing you don't have a parachute. You hit up the instructor to your right, but he says "I'm sorry - I can't actually give you my reserve parachute until we reach the ground."
The other thing that sticks out at me is the concern evinced (perhaps also in the script) by the gentleman about making payment. To the mind that didn't know better, it would sound like they were more concerned about their money than my situation.
Which of course is their prerogative. It is their money.
"The borrower is the slave of the lender."- Proverbs 22: 7. I'm feeling that quite keenly at the moment. I've no-one but myself to blame, both for the initial loan, and then for the hope (again, self generated) that somehow this was going to change things. A reminder, probably well deserved, that one should never confuse the desire to do business with the desire to care.
I spent a good part of yesterday and today preparing the list of suggested documents they had on their website for the "Home Retention Department": a brief letter describing my situation, a list of assets and liabilities, monthly expenditures, tax returns, and paycheck statements. It was the frog I had to eat today: I did not want to call them, but I had too.
So I called the "Home Retention" line. Hesitantly (because I hate confrontation), I put in my loan number, said my task, and waited.
And got dropped.
So again I called the "Home Retention" line. Hesitantly (because I hate confrontation), I put in my loan number, said my task, and waited.
And got through to the customer service rep. We exchange information, then he asked about the purpose of my call. "I need to speak to the home retention department" I said. "I lost my job last week."
He didn't miss a beat. "I'll give you the number sir, and then transfer you. Have a nice day."
So I rolled over to the "Home Retention Department", where I ended up with a gentleman. We again exchanged information, and he asked the purpose of my my call.
"I need to see about restructuring my loan. I lost my job last week."
And then, like magic, out came the script.
"I'm very sorry to hear that Mr. TB. Are you looking for a job?"
"Yes"-
"And I'm sure you will find a job soon. Do you have any income coming in?"
"Well, I have a three month severance package."
"Very good."
"About my loan?"
"Countrywide has many options for loan restructuring Mr. TB; however, they require you to have an income. Once you have an income, give us a call back - here's the number -and we'll discuss it at that time."
"Okay." What else do you say to a man reading off a script?
"Mr. TB, I'm sure you will find a job very soon. Also, I see that you have not made your February 1 payment yet. Are you planning to pay that?"
"Well of course."
"Very good sir. How do you typically pay?"
"By mail."
"Sir, I would recommend that you mail it by the 10th to avoid additional financing charges."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"Can I do anything else for you?"
"No, that'll cover it."
"Then goodbye sir."
My entire body slumps down in front of the computer.
No point in getting angry - the guy is reading from a script, and I'm sure that he's had people blow up at him before. The anger comes from a sense (completely self generated) that somehow this was going to make a drastic change in our situation. There is a somewhat laughable odd counterpoint that at the very point that I could use some assistance, you're told no, we can't do anything. The vision I have is jumping from a plane and on the way down realizing you don't have a parachute. You hit up the instructor to your right, but he says "I'm sorry - I can't actually give you my reserve parachute until we reach the ground."
The other thing that sticks out at me is the concern evinced (perhaps also in the script) by the gentleman about making payment. To the mind that didn't know better, it would sound like they were more concerned about their money than my situation.
Which of course is their prerogative. It is their money.
"The borrower is the slave of the lender."- Proverbs 22: 7. I'm feeling that quite keenly at the moment. I've no-one but myself to blame, both for the initial loan, and then for the hope (again, self generated) that somehow this was going to change things. A reminder, probably well deserved, that one should never confuse the desire to do business with the desire to care.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Tired
God,
I intellectually know that You are there, and that You are here,
Sustaining me through even this.
And that I should give rejoice always, give thanks in all circumstances,
and pray constantly.
And I even did that, this morning,
feeling strong in the strength of the Lord.
But now, at the end of the day, I feel nothing but a tired sense of defeat and bleakness.
I got some of what I needed done, but made no progress.
I proacted and made contact, and found nothing at the other end.
My children bickered, my dog took off down the street,
and almost surprisingly, there was no job I looked at that I was qualified for.
I feel alone, tired, useless; kicked to the side of the road along with the
McDonald's wrappers and cigarette butts and road dirt.
If there is a center of Your will Lord, I feel diametrically situated from it.
Help me even in this Lord to remember simply that You are Lord:
I don't have understand, I don't have to have it worked out,
I don't have to pretend to feel what's not there.
Remind me that You will carry me,
even when I cannot carry
myself.
I intellectually know that You are there, and that You are here,
Sustaining me through even this.
And that I should give rejoice always, give thanks in all circumstances,
and pray constantly.
And I even did that, this morning,
feeling strong in the strength of the Lord.
But now, at the end of the day, I feel nothing but a tired sense of defeat and bleakness.
I got some of what I needed done, but made no progress.
I proacted and made contact, and found nothing at the other end.
My children bickered, my dog took off down the street,
and almost surprisingly, there was no job I looked at that I was qualified for.
I feel alone, tired, useless; kicked to the side of the road along with the
McDonald's wrappers and cigarette butts and road dirt.
If there is a center of Your will Lord, I feel diametrically situated from it.
Help me even in this Lord to remember simply that You are Lord:
I don't have understand, I don't have to have it worked out,
I don't have to pretend to feel what's not there.
Remind me that You will carry me,
even when I cannot carry
myself.
Dreams of Going Home
I had the most amazing dream last night.
I was having problems sleeping last night (probably something I with just have to learn to deal with), so it was one of the those in and out kind of nights where dreams are short and end abruptly.
In the dream, Uisdean Ruadh and I were at Tractor Supply Company buying a truck for him (ask me not why we were buying a truck at Tractor Supply Company. We just were). We were trying to decide on taking a class about sheep, and he was going to roll it into his truck payment, but the salesperson insisted that I pay for it (not as much on the loan, she said).
We left, and we drove off to what I believe was a Circuit City. It was depressing - the store was empty, they were selling off the fixtures. We looked about a bit, and then headed home, where (apparently) he dropped me off.
Once I reached home, my phone rang. I looked at the screen to see who was calling.
And it was Jesus.
(No, I don't remember the number or what it said. In the dream, I looked and I just knew from the little scrolling line that it was him).
I picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said somewhat hesitantly.
The voice on the other end had a drawl, something I'd associated with an Oklahoma accent. "Hi Terry. It's Jesus."
And then I started to cry.
He said "I love you. I know what you're doing - I know you've made mistakes. I know you're making one right now. But don't worry about that. It's time to come home. I'm coming to get you now." And then He hung up.
I hung up, and suddenly had a vision in my living room of a stage where people had suddenly disappeared, and the two remaining musicians were trying to carry on.
And then I was physically moving up through the front of my house, through the intersection of the entryway and the living room into the sky. As I went up out of the roof, I saw a gathering of light - everyone else, I suppose, going as well.
And then I woke up. With as great a feeling of God's presence and peace as I have ever felt, and with tears.
We always get what we need, just when we need it.
I was having problems sleeping last night (probably something I with just have to learn to deal with), so it was one of the those in and out kind of nights where dreams are short and end abruptly.
In the dream, Uisdean Ruadh and I were at Tractor Supply Company buying a truck for him (ask me not why we were buying a truck at Tractor Supply Company. We just were). We were trying to decide on taking a class about sheep, and he was going to roll it into his truck payment, but the salesperson insisted that I pay for it (not as much on the loan, she said).
We left, and we drove off to what I believe was a Circuit City. It was depressing - the store was empty, they were selling off the fixtures. We looked about a bit, and then headed home, where (apparently) he dropped me off.
Once I reached home, my phone rang. I looked at the screen to see who was calling.
And it was Jesus.
(No, I don't remember the number or what it said. In the dream, I looked and I just knew from the little scrolling line that it was him).
I picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said somewhat hesitantly.
The voice on the other end had a drawl, something I'd associated with an Oklahoma accent. "Hi Terry. It's Jesus."
And then I started to cry.
He said "I love you. I know what you're doing - I know you've made mistakes. I know you're making one right now. But don't worry about that. It's time to come home. I'm coming to get you now." And then He hung up.
I hung up, and suddenly had a vision in my living room of a stage where people had suddenly disappeared, and the two remaining musicians were trying to carry on.
And then I was physically moving up through the front of my house, through the intersection of the entryway and the living room into the sky. As I went up out of the roof, I saw a gathering of light - everyone else, I suppose, going as well.
And then I woke up. With as great a feeling of God's presence and peace as I have ever felt, and with tears.
We always get what we need, just when we need it.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
A Visit with Depression
I was sitting at my computer tonight, trying to work on my lesson for Sunday, when Depression stopped by for a visit.
"I can see your heart's not in your study, so I thought I'd just, you know, drop in and talk with you for a little while."
I looked at him with that piercing glance I reserve for individuals who have taken my parking space, but he stared back and me with those big black eyes has has. I hate that stare.
I sighed, and closed down my lesson. "Yeah, I'm a little distracted. My heart's not in this tonight."
"I know" he replied in that silky, sort of soft undertone that sounds so sad and so vicious at the same time. " I tried to speak with you earlier, but you weren't listening."
"Look, I'm sorry. You remember today was my last day, right? I tend to try and put these things somewhere else."
"I know. It's almost scary when you consider the totality of it."
I shot him an annoyed glance. "You been talking with Fear again? Is he just out around the corner."
Depression laughed - one of the few times I think I've heard him laugh. "No no, he's got the night off - I think he said he was running out for a Jamba Juice and visit to Borders. He thought, given the situation, that it might be awhile before he could slip out again."
Fabulous. Even my emotions are taking time off to prepare.
I refocused my thoughts. "So what's on your mind? It's late. If I'm not going to get to this lesson, I might as well go to bed."
Depression looked at me with that silly smile I hate so much. "Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd check in. I figure we're going to be spending a lot more time together in the near future. You know, last day and all."
I stared back with as fierce a gaze as I could muster. "The heck we are. We've been down this road before, you and I, and a lot of other roads than this. Worse roads than this. You always promise me something, yet you never can seem to deliver."
Depression jerked his eyebrows up in surprise. "I? Promises? I never make promises - you know that."
"You absolutely do" I responded. "You promise me that following you and wallowing in it constitutes action. We both know that's not true. You're a liar."
The smile, I noted in passing, was gone from his face.
"Fine. Have it your way. You're heart's not in that lesson, and it's not in facing reality either. I'll be back. Say Monday - I figure the first day of being unemployed will make you want to have a more in depth conversation with me. I'll pencil it in." And with that, he swirled and almost stomped out of the room.
I sat in the stillness after his passing. A liar? I called him a liar? I never thought of that way before, but now that I did, that was right. Being depressed was a lie - it offered inaction and emotional torment as a way of taking action and solving problems when in fact, it was so self-focused and bent purely on feeding the emotional appetite of things which could not help me, but only harm me.
Feeling better, perhaps the first time in years, I settled back with a book. Sure, Depression was upset now, but maybe he'd come around. I could always see if he was willing to accept a job transfer.
It would probably beat dressing in black all the time.
"I can see your heart's not in your study, so I thought I'd just, you know, drop in and talk with you for a little while."
I looked at him with that piercing glance I reserve for individuals who have taken my parking space, but he stared back and me with those big black eyes has has. I hate that stare.
I sighed, and closed down my lesson. "Yeah, I'm a little distracted. My heart's not in this tonight."
"I know" he replied in that silky, sort of soft undertone that sounds so sad and so vicious at the same time. " I tried to speak with you earlier, but you weren't listening."
"Look, I'm sorry. You remember today was my last day, right? I tend to try and put these things somewhere else."
"I know. It's almost scary when you consider the totality of it."
I shot him an annoyed glance. "You been talking with Fear again? Is he just out around the corner."
Depression laughed - one of the few times I think I've heard him laugh. "No no, he's got the night off - I think he said he was running out for a Jamba Juice and visit to Borders. He thought, given the situation, that it might be awhile before he could slip out again."
Fabulous. Even my emotions are taking time off to prepare.
I refocused my thoughts. "So what's on your mind? It's late. If I'm not going to get to this lesson, I might as well go to bed."
Depression looked at me with that silly smile I hate so much. "Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd check in. I figure we're going to be spending a lot more time together in the near future. You know, last day and all."
I stared back with as fierce a gaze as I could muster. "The heck we are. We've been down this road before, you and I, and a lot of other roads than this. Worse roads than this. You always promise me something, yet you never can seem to deliver."
Depression jerked his eyebrows up in surprise. "I? Promises? I never make promises - you know that."
"You absolutely do" I responded. "You promise me that following you and wallowing in it constitutes action. We both know that's not true. You're a liar."
The smile, I noted in passing, was gone from his face.
"Fine. Have it your way. You're heart's not in that lesson, and it's not in facing reality either. I'll be back. Say Monday - I figure the first day of being unemployed will make you want to have a more in depth conversation with me. I'll pencil it in." And with that, he swirled and almost stomped out of the room.
I sat in the stillness after his passing. A liar? I called him a liar? I never thought of that way before, but now that I did, that was right. Being depressed was a lie - it offered inaction and emotional torment as a way of taking action and solving problems when in fact, it was so self-focused and bent purely on feeding the emotional appetite of things which could not help me, but only harm me.
Feeling better, perhaps the first time in years, I settled back with a book. Sure, Depression was upset now, but maybe he'd come around. I could always see if he was willing to accept a job transfer.
It would probably beat dressing in black all the time.
Last Licks
So today was my last day at my job.
For me, a somewhat atypical end (you know, as opposed to the ones where I didn't get laid off). Usually, I have slowly phased my work out to others, and spend the last day making the grand tour of cubes and offices, checking in and saying goodbye. Here, I was working literally up to the last hour I was there - partially a condition of company, which is new and still has systems in need of establishing, and partially a function of the fact that the work I do now will spare others later.
I have always hated saying goodbye, almost to the point of avoiding people. I'm not sure why - there's just an intense pain associated with it, that sense of everything packed in to 5 minutes that you never took the time to say while there was all time in the world: "You are a pleasure to work with", "You look great today", "I enjoy your company". Odd (and probably the subject of another post) that only at the end do we take time for such things which we view as vanities in daily life.
And so, card turned in and armed with coffee mug and pictures in hand, home I went.
God obliged me with a beautiful drive home, one that if I were Buttercup would cause me to deeply and eloquently reflect on God's glory (see Vintage Chick Blog to the Right; alas, I am no Buttercup). As I burst across the Benecia Bridge, the Sun was still high but it was cold enough that a slight haze of fog hung over the steel blue water and below the bridge, enough that the hills at the end of the Bay were submerged beneath a veil of faded white. The hills to the North were green in the sunlight and a sort of verdant purple where the sun no longer touched. I drove along, belting out Styx's Greatest Hits (a sort of full circle I have not yet completely grasped) as I headed out into the sunset, not knowing where I was going, but enjoying the view and the Author who had kindly arranged a spectacular natural sendoff on my last day.
For me, a somewhat atypical end (you know, as opposed to the ones where I didn't get laid off). Usually, I have slowly phased my work out to others, and spend the last day making the grand tour of cubes and offices, checking in and saying goodbye. Here, I was working literally up to the last hour I was there - partially a condition of company, which is new and still has systems in need of establishing, and partially a function of the fact that the work I do now will spare others later.
I have always hated saying goodbye, almost to the point of avoiding people. I'm not sure why - there's just an intense pain associated with it, that sense of everything packed in to 5 minutes that you never took the time to say while there was all time in the world: "You are a pleasure to work with", "You look great today", "I enjoy your company". Odd (and probably the subject of another post) that only at the end do we take time for such things which we view as vanities in daily life.
And so, card turned in and armed with coffee mug and pictures in hand, home I went.
God obliged me with a beautiful drive home, one that if I were Buttercup would cause me to deeply and eloquently reflect on God's glory (see Vintage Chick Blog to the Right; alas, I am no Buttercup). As I burst across the Benecia Bridge, the Sun was still high but it was cold enough that a slight haze of fog hung over the steel blue water and below the bridge, enough that the hills at the end of the Bay were submerged beneath a veil of faded white. The hills to the North were green in the sunlight and a sort of verdant purple where the sun no longer touched. I drove along, belting out Styx's Greatest Hits (a sort of full circle I have not yet completely grasped) as I headed out into the sunset, not knowing where I was going, but enjoying the view and the Author who had kindly arranged a spectacular natural sendoff on my last day.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Anger
Anger burst into my office this afternoon.
I working on a job submission, so I ignored him, hoping he’d take the hint and go away. Not my luck – he stomped about, realized I wasn’t immediately going to cater to his need, went out, and rolled a chair in. As my current office is my closet, he blocked the only egress.
Sigh. I was going to have to deal with him.
I hit the “Enter” button and made sure that I waited until I got confirmation on the screen. I was not going to mess anything else up with whatever the crisis du jour was.
“I know why we were abandoned” Anger blurted out, the words tumbling over themselves in their eagerness to escape and strike their target.
“Why were abandoned.” Darn. I had half a cup of coffee, slightly cold. Chances of that getting resolved soon were minimal.
“Himself. Why he abandoned us?” Again with the rushing words.
I sighed. Anger was always quick: spoke quickly, acted quickly. Trying to follow his reasoning was like trying to determine what kind of car had passed by the cloud of dust it left.
"Let's start back at the beginning."
"Himself. Abandoned. Us. Found. Out. Why."
My coffee was definitely not going to get a warm up.
"And we found this out how?"
"On the internet. You know I surf when you're busy. Keeps my mind distracted. Anyway. I did a search on The Firm, because you know that I'm always curious how things turned out, and sure enough, there was a new name listed, and he was the Senior VP, and obviously you were abandoned because you were now longer needed-"
5 seconds. He said the whole thing in 5 seconds.
I put up my hand and cut him off. "Okay. Back to facts. We left because things were not working out, and I needed a new job. I paid my debt and walked away. That company died and was replaced. Happens all the time."
"But the guy-"
"Yes?"
"It was a little after, and suddenly he appears and you go away."
"And it makes you angry?"
"Well, yeah! No one abandons us-"
"Blood pressure."
"Huh?"
"Your blood pressure. You've got to watch that."
I stretched out in the chair, leaning my back over until I heard the "Pop" of my ribcage. "You know we were growing apart anyway. If he found a person with better job skills, so much the better for him and the company. He has to provide for his family too."
"But-"
"And friends and associates grow apart over time as well. How do we know that this person did not fill a need in his life, a need we could not fill?"
"But-". Slower now. He was starting to think things through.
"And remember the conference in June. Didn't we write a letter dealing with all this and then cast it aside, putting it aside?"
"Well, yes." Anger looked reasonable now, much less offended. "We really can't control their actions, can we?"
I shook my head. "Nope, only our reaction to them. Remember: Be Better or Be Bitter - Your Choice."
He sat silently for a minute, looking down and away, looked at me, and then got up. "I feel better now. I think I'm going to go get some coffee."
I smiled as he left the closet, dragging the chair behind him. It had only taken us 3.5 years to get to this point. Maybe we were finally making progress.
And then it hit me: He was going to have coffee. Probably the last cup.
There went my warm up...
I working on a job submission, so I ignored him, hoping he’d take the hint and go away. Not my luck – he stomped about, realized I wasn’t immediately going to cater to his need, went out, and rolled a chair in. As my current office is my closet, he blocked the only egress.
Sigh. I was going to have to deal with him.
I hit the “Enter” button and made sure that I waited until I got confirmation on the screen. I was not going to mess anything else up with whatever the crisis du jour was.
“I know why we were abandoned” Anger blurted out, the words tumbling over themselves in their eagerness to escape and strike their target.
“Why were abandoned.” Darn. I had half a cup of coffee, slightly cold. Chances of that getting resolved soon were minimal.
“Himself. Why he abandoned us?” Again with the rushing words.
I sighed. Anger was always quick: spoke quickly, acted quickly. Trying to follow his reasoning was like trying to determine what kind of car had passed by the cloud of dust it left.
"Let's start back at the beginning."
"Himself. Abandoned. Us. Found. Out. Why."
My coffee was definitely not going to get a warm up.
"And we found this out how?"
"On the internet. You know I surf when you're busy. Keeps my mind distracted. Anyway. I did a search on The Firm, because you know that I'm always curious how things turned out, and sure enough, there was a new name listed, and he was the Senior VP, and obviously you were abandoned because you were now longer needed-"
5 seconds. He said the whole thing in 5 seconds.
I put up my hand and cut him off. "Okay. Back to facts. We left because things were not working out, and I needed a new job. I paid my debt and walked away. That company died and was replaced. Happens all the time."
"But the guy-"
"Yes?"
"It was a little after, and suddenly he appears and you go away."
"And it makes you angry?"
"Well, yeah! No one abandons us-"
"Blood pressure."
"Huh?"
"Your blood pressure. You've got to watch that."
I stretched out in the chair, leaning my back over until I heard the "Pop" of my ribcage. "You know we were growing apart anyway. If he found a person with better job skills, so much the better for him and the company. He has to provide for his family too."
"But-"
"And friends and associates grow apart over time as well. How do we know that this person did not fill a need in his life, a need we could not fill?"
"But-". Slower now. He was starting to think things through.
"And remember the conference in June. Didn't we write a letter dealing with all this and then cast it aside, putting it aside?"
"Well, yes." Anger looked reasonable now, much less offended. "We really can't control their actions, can we?"
I shook my head. "Nope, only our reaction to them. Remember: Be Better or Be Bitter - Your Choice."
He sat silently for a minute, looking down and away, looked at me, and then got up. "I feel better now. I think I'm going to go get some coffee."
I smiled as he left the closet, dragging the chair behind him. It had only taken us 3.5 years to get to this point. Maybe we were finally making progress.
And then it hit me: He was going to have coffee. Probably the last cup.
There went my warm up...
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Excursis: Automatic Paper Towel Dispensers
Yesterday, I stopped at my local upscale supermarket because their milk is actually cheaper than my local less than upscale supermarket. As part of the experience, I arrived at the bathroom sink station for the 13,0002nd time to wash my hands. I squirted soap onto my hands (this itself is a luxury not afforded me everywhere), placed my hands under the sensor in the sink which distributes water at a temperature which is precisely calculated, I am sure, to a fine balance between cleansing of bacteria and cost of heating/transporting the water, and advanced to the automated towel dispensing unit. For the 13,002nd time, I got one allocated length of towel, which was not enough to dry my hands. So, for the 13,002nd, time, I waved my damp hands under the sensor and was issued another unit. Voila, dry hands.
I am certain, with certainty of a man that counts pennies, that the precise amount of towel has been carefully calculated by accountants and engineers deep in a hidden bunker for the precise amount of towel required to dry someone’s hands – that is, if you have the hand size of a six year old. For anyone with normal sized hands it’s not enough, leading me to requisition another towel with the wave of a hand, thereby circumventing the very reason the allocated towel amount was created in the first place.
It’s maddening. Here I sit, with dripping hands as the towel dispenser silently mocks me in the bathroom and the Demi-Gods of Towel Dispensing (and their Overlords, The Gods of the Automated Bathroom and the Bottom Line) mock me from on high, crying out “Foolish mortal! Thou needest not two towels to dryeth thy hand. Be content with one. We have carefully considered the type and amount of hand drying, and if thou canst not use one towel, there is something wrong with thee!”
Nothing will change of course, except perhaps the towels will get smaller. But I will be there, one man in a bathroom with his fist clenched high, shouting “From Hell’s heart I spit at thee, O thou Demi-Gods of Towel Dispensing (and thine Overlords, The Gods of the Automated Bathroom and the Bottom Line)! Behold! I reach out mine hand and causeth thy servant to dispense not one but two towels to mine own hand which I will useth and then callously casteth in the refuse. I am the Master of my Bathroom Destiny!”
Right up to the point the Automated Door will not letteth me out…
Turn Right at the Spork in the Road
There are times I have gotten a sense this week of excitement, of life taking a direct right turn. I'm not sure what that means, just that it is.
It makes wonder as well as I job search. I am currently looking in my industry, obviously (I guess from my point of view) that this is what I have done for 11 years, so this is what I should do. It's been a good industry, and certainly financially rewarding.
At the same time, as anyone who has listened to me for the past 9 years, or even if I look at my writings, there is an intense unhappiness for what I do. Part of it is the fact that there is a sense in which it doesn't matter: for example, all the paperwork I've carefully assembled and worked on for the last 5 months will most likely go into a box and never again see the light of day. Even at my previous employer, I had the same sensation, especially with some types of records: we're completing, reviewing, and filing these so that they will never be seen again. It's the most frustrating sensation in the world.
Well, really the second most. Putting a dollar in a vending machine and not getting change is actually more frustrating, I suppose.
The other thing that strikes me as frustrating is the sense that I have no control. I did my job, did it well, did it completely - and it still got cut. I don't like being at the mercy of others. I especially feel for Otis in this regard - oftentimes he'll jump through all the hoops to set up a series of meetings and presentations, only to have the rug pulled out from him at the last minute.
Huh. Hadn't realized right up to this moment that it was such an issue for me. But it is.
I won't be in this position again.
It makes wonder as well as I job search. I am currently looking in my industry, obviously (I guess from my point of view) that this is what I have done for 11 years, so this is what I should do. It's been a good industry, and certainly financially rewarding.
At the same time, as anyone who has listened to me for the past 9 years, or even if I look at my writings, there is an intense unhappiness for what I do. Part of it is the fact that there is a sense in which it doesn't matter: for example, all the paperwork I've carefully assembled and worked on for the last 5 months will most likely go into a box and never again see the light of day. Even at my previous employer, I had the same sensation, especially with some types of records: we're completing, reviewing, and filing these so that they will never be seen again. It's the most frustrating sensation in the world.
Well, really the second most. Putting a dollar in a vending machine and not getting change is actually more frustrating, I suppose.
The other thing that strikes me as frustrating is the sense that I have no control. I did my job, did it well, did it completely - and it still got cut. I don't like being at the mercy of others. I especially feel for Otis in this regard - oftentimes he'll jump through all the hoops to set up a series of meetings and presentations, only to have the rug pulled out from him at the last minute.
Huh. Hadn't realized right up to this moment that it was such an issue for me. But it is.
I won't be in this position again.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Willing the Phone to Ring
Even yesterday, at the beginning, another reminder of what I am looking forward to, and what happened last time, and time to be ready for it.
The sense of not being involved anymore.
I remember this most vividly from The Firm. Suddenly, I went from 10-20 phone calls and 40-50 e-mails a day to virtually nothing. A little bit at first, of course, catching up with people, redirecting projects and so on, but then it rapidly falls away until you physically have to force yourself not to check your mailbox every 10 minutes because you know, in your heart of hearts, that there is nothing new.
Your first reaction to this void is to start calling and e-mailing your friends, following up with them – and then you realize that although they are your friends and although they do care, in fact they still have jobs and lives to attend to. They cannot fill the void left by coworkers or clients or projects.
Your need to talk, to be engaged and active and involved, is still there: it’s just that those things aren’t.
As I indicated, this already raised its head yesterday – and I had to reign myself in from calling one more time, or e-mailing one more time. That’s where, I suspect, the importance of a list is so critical: rather than fumbling about waiting in front of the screen as it refreshes your e-mail box, you go on to the next thing.
Probably too, it’s that we don’t like to spend a lot of time with ourselves. Too much self examination, that sort of thing. The irony is, that taking the time to go through the self-examination can be a project all its own, its discoveries as interesting (to myself, anyway) as any project I had going (filing, anyone?) and certainly more profitable in the long run.
The sense of not being involved anymore.
I remember this most vividly from The Firm. Suddenly, I went from 10-20 phone calls and 40-50 e-mails a day to virtually nothing. A little bit at first, of course, catching up with people, redirecting projects and so on, but then it rapidly falls away until you physically have to force yourself not to check your mailbox every 10 minutes because you know, in your heart of hearts, that there is nothing new.
Your first reaction to this void is to start calling and e-mailing your friends, following up with them – and then you realize that although they are your friends and although they do care, in fact they still have jobs and lives to attend to. They cannot fill the void left by coworkers or clients or projects.
Your need to talk, to be engaged and active and involved, is still there: it’s just that those things aren’t.
As I indicated, this already raised its head yesterday – and I had to reign myself in from calling one more time, or e-mailing one more time. That’s where, I suspect, the importance of a list is so critical: rather than fumbling about waiting in front of the screen as it refreshes your e-mail box, you go on to the next thing.
Probably too, it’s that we don’t like to spend a lot of time with ourselves. Too much self examination, that sort of thing. The irony is, that taking the time to go through the self-examination can be a project all its own, its discoveries as interesting (to myself, anyway) as any project I had going (filing, anyone?) and certainly more profitable in the long run.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Dias de los Muertos
My first day back for my last week.
The feeling here is one I cannot fully categorize, as it is one that I have never fully been through before, either not having been involved in layoffs or this being a special case as many of these people have worked together for 4+ years.
Simply put, it is the Day of the Dead.
There are brief discussion in the breakroom, but not much interaction - or for that matter, action-in corridors. People flit from office to office, or go into the labs. Senior management, except for floating by once, is not in evidence, apparently bunkered in preparing the next steps.
But even more than the relative lack of interaction is the sense of silence, the lack of conversation, or perhaps the conversation of the dead. There is a pall, unseeable, indefinable, but laying like a thick cloak over the area. It wanders the hall in a thick dense invisible fog, penetrating every crack of every room, flowing under doorstops and around desks - the cold fingers of reality, reaching through the illusion of normality seen in operating lights, dimly glowing computers, and even the ordinary sounds of laboratories in operation.
My only companions are the hushed pushing noise of the forced air as it surges through the diffuser into my office and the clickety clack of my keys as I type.
A sense of something being dead, but just not realizing it.
The feeling here is one I cannot fully categorize, as it is one that I have never fully been through before, either not having been involved in layoffs or this being a special case as many of these people have worked together for 4+ years.
Simply put, it is the Day of the Dead.
There are brief discussion in the breakroom, but not much interaction - or for that matter, action-in corridors. People flit from office to office, or go into the labs. Senior management, except for floating by once, is not in evidence, apparently bunkered in preparing the next steps.
But even more than the relative lack of interaction is the sense of silence, the lack of conversation, or perhaps the conversation of the dead. There is a pall, unseeable, indefinable, but laying like a thick cloak over the area. It wanders the hall in a thick dense invisible fog, penetrating every crack of every room, flowing under doorstops and around desks - the cold fingers of reality, reaching through the illusion of normality seen in operating lights, dimly glowing computers, and even the ordinary sounds of laboratories in operation.
My only companions are the hushed pushing noise of the forced air as it surges through the diffuser into my office and the clickety clack of my keys as I type.
A sense of something being dead, but just not realizing it.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Mazes
I had a mental picture last night of human relationships - one of those that the mental picture is so vivid that it stays with you, even when awake.
The picture is that of one of a form of a fun house glass maze, the mirrored ones that you keep running into reflections of yourself as you try and make your way through - except, like in The Gods of Mars (and there's an obscure reference), it's of clear glass, so you can see your way across to the other side.
In this case, the relationship becomes the room, with each individual on each side of the room. So often, over time, we erect these barriers, these glass walls - invisible but present. The first few aren't so bad -"It's right there in front of me" you say, "I know where it is and I can always get around it."
But as time goes on, you realize that the barrier has become a maze - you can still see across the room, but it is terribly difficult to get through. If you try to get through, even though you can see clearly, you keep slamming into the glass and whirling around, trying another direction, then slamming into the glass again. You make progress, but it is low and painful - or perhaps you realize you have ended up in a different part of the room entirely.
The part that has me wondering is when the glass goes up: do we realize it as a barrier? Or have we become so reliant on sight and physicality that we assume that if we see, we can always communicate?
The picture is that of one of a form of a fun house glass maze, the mirrored ones that you keep running into reflections of yourself as you try and make your way through - except, like in The Gods of Mars (and there's an obscure reference), it's of clear glass, so you can see your way across to the other side.
In this case, the relationship becomes the room, with each individual on each side of the room. So often, over time, we erect these barriers, these glass walls - invisible but present. The first few aren't so bad -"It's right there in front of me" you say, "I know where it is and I can always get around it."
But as time goes on, you realize that the barrier has become a maze - you can still see across the room, but it is terribly difficult to get through. If you try to get through, even though you can see clearly, you keep slamming into the glass and whirling around, trying another direction, then slamming into the glass again. You make progress, but it is low and painful - or perhaps you realize you have ended up in a different part of the room entirely.
The part that has me wondering is when the glass goes up: do we realize it as a barrier? Or have we become so reliant on sight and physicality that we assume that if we see, we can always communicate?
Tempting God
I am sitting yesterday morning, reading my first four chapters of Matthew (using the John MacArthur Bible Study method: take a book or portions of a book and read it for a month. You really do become familiar with what's there). As I'm reading, Nighean gheal squished in beside me and starts reading. She looks over my shoulder as I'm reading through Matthew 4, points to verse 7, and says "What does it mean to tempt God?"
"Well, let's look at the references" I replied. "I think it means to test Him, but let's look at the reference to give us the context of the verse." A brief journey back brings us to Deuteronomy 6:16, where Israel is commanded by Moses not to test God as they did at Massah. Okay, back to Exodus 17:17, where the children of Israel, three chapters after the parting of the Red Sea, are complaining to Moses because he brought them to a place with no water. They shout at Moses for water, saying that he brought them out for them to die, apparently almost ready to kill him. God provides, and water does come out. The key is probably in verse 7, where it says "...they put the Lord to the proof by saying 'Is the Lord among us or not?'"
"Is the Lord among us or not?" This, in the light of the fact that the pillar of cloud and pillar of fire are with them, day and night, at their head.
"Well, it seems to mean that we are not to presume on God or demand of Him. If we have a need, we need to ask Him - not demand things of Him, or argue that He is being unfair, or say that if He won't do something, He can't do something. He knows our needs - we just need to have faith."
"Like you and your job?"
Long pause. "Yeah, kind of like that."
I hate it when God makes things clear that I don't want to hear. Of course it means that too. I try to be conscious of demanding, but in reality, it always lurks just beneath the surface, the more so when I believe my demands are just.
The problem is, I, like the Israelites before me, fail to look around and already see the presence and provision of God in my life. Like the Pillars of Cloud and Fire, God's reminders are present everywhere: the peace I had on Friday, the reminders from others, the Spirit speaking through His Word and others. Yet, like the Israelites, I so often push my demands to the fore (and present them as demands) rather than having faith and presenting them as requests.
I've never gotten a drink in the desert, but I would imagine that water in oasises is muddy and particle laden, wet but not delectable. I would also be willing to bet that the water that came from the Rock was cold, clear, and refreshing. I'm sure the Israelites, when they thought of water, were thinking of an oasis watering hole like they knew, the only thing they had seen. God, in His grace (to rebels, no less) gave them far more and far better. How would it have been if God gave them what they expected rather than what He wished to give?
"Well, let's look at the references" I replied. "I think it means to test Him, but let's look at the reference to give us the context of the verse." A brief journey back brings us to Deuteronomy 6:16, where Israel is commanded by Moses not to test God as they did at Massah. Okay, back to Exodus 17:17, where the children of Israel, three chapters after the parting of the Red Sea, are complaining to Moses because he brought them to a place with no water. They shout at Moses for water, saying that he brought them out for them to die, apparently almost ready to kill him. God provides, and water does come out. The key is probably in verse 7, where it says "...they put the Lord to the proof by saying 'Is the Lord among us or not?'"
"Is the Lord among us or not?" This, in the light of the fact that the pillar of cloud and pillar of fire are with them, day and night, at their head.
"Well, it seems to mean that we are not to presume on God or demand of Him. If we have a need, we need to ask Him - not demand things of Him, or argue that He is being unfair, or say that if He won't do something, He can't do something. He knows our needs - we just need to have faith."
"Like you and your job?"
Long pause. "Yeah, kind of like that."
I hate it when God makes things clear that I don't want to hear. Of course it means that too. I try to be conscious of demanding, but in reality, it always lurks just beneath the surface, the more so when I believe my demands are just.
The problem is, I, like the Israelites before me, fail to look around and already see the presence and provision of God in my life. Like the Pillars of Cloud and Fire, God's reminders are present everywhere: the peace I had on Friday, the reminders from others, the Spirit speaking through His Word and others. Yet, like the Israelites, I so often push my demands to the fore (and present them as demands) rather than having faith and presenting them as requests.
I've never gotten a drink in the desert, but I would imagine that water in oasises is muddy and particle laden, wet but not delectable. I would also be willing to bet that the water that came from the Rock was cold, clear, and refreshing. I'm sure the Israelites, when they thought of water, were thinking of an oasis watering hole like they knew, the only thing they had seen. God, in His grace (to rebels, no less) gave them far more and far better. How would it have been if God gave them what they expected rather than what He wished to give?
Saturday, January 24, 2009
HWMNBN
I had coffee with He Who Must Not Be Named (HWMNBN) this morning. As always, it was a pleasure - the man's wit is drier than a martini. As he pointed out, "The last time we had coffee, it was right before my brother passed away. Now, we're having coffee right before you get laid off. Perhaps we should consider having coffee in between major bad events!"
Helpful, that.
Still, a great encourager none the less. One always needs perspective and a laugh in times such as these. And sometimes, it takes time such as these to make us willing to receive them as the gifts they are.
WMNBN) this morning. As always, it was a pleasure - the man's wit is drier than a martini. As he pointed out, "The last time we had coffee, it was right before my brother passed away. Now, we're having coffee right before you get laid off. Perhaps we should consider having coffee in between major bad events!"Helpful, that.
Still, a great encourager none the less. One always needs perspective and a laugh in times such as these. And sometimes, it takes time such as these to make us willing to receive them as the gifts they are.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Cut to the Core
"I long to accomplish a great and noble task, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble." - Helen Keller
The Fear
So the Fear showed up this morning. Actually, I'm a little surprised, as last time it took two to three days to make its appearance.
The Fear, you ask? It is that gnawing emotion which I assume is peculiar to the experience of being laid off - the "What am I going to do?" and "It's going to be impossible to get a job" sensation. Honestly, it makes me queasy just to think about it.
The problem with being laid off before, even by yourself, is that you remember. "Take no counsel of your fears" it is said, but do not believe for a moment that they are not there, real, and have powerful voices, no matter how insubstantial they may be.
On a purely practical level, one thing that is useful to combating them is simply being real about them. No, the chances of me landing a position next week is not great. No, that does not mean that I will not land one in two months.
Another thing is to use the time not worrying by finding other things to do. In reality, there is a big burst of activity the first week (and trust me -there was one today) followed by a decreasing amount of actual time as one becomes caught up with the opportunities at hand. Sure, there's always additional research you can do, another site to follow up on, but I know from past experience that it will be a decreasing curve.
So I've got to do it differently.
This an opportunity - yes, perhaps forced upon me, but an opportunity none the less. I started my Big Laid Off List today, and some of the things are not directly related to my job: write more, do some organization, some other projects that have been lurking in the background.
Another conscious decision will need to be what I read. I need to read uplifting and positive oriented material. The Bible, of course. But I need to make a concerted effort to ensure that what I'm putting into my mind is not material that will predispose me to think about failure.
Yes, it's a rough time out there. Yes, things are not good. But at the same, time, I can assure you that companies still have positions. People are still making money and thriving in this economy. How? Not sure, but I think at least one aspect will turn out to be thinking outside of the box. There are opportunities for me even right now, in front of my nose, if only I will take them.
The question is, can I adapt? Will I take counsel of my fears or something else?
The Fear, you ask? It is that gnawing emotion which I assume is peculiar to the experience of being laid off - the "What am I going to do?" and "It's going to be impossible to get a job" sensation. Honestly, it makes me queasy just to think about it.
The problem with being laid off before, even by yourself, is that you remember. "Take no counsel of your fears" it is said, but do not believe for a moment that they are not there, real, and have powerful voices, no matter how insubstantial they may be.
On a purely practical level, one thing that is useful to combating them is simply being real about them. No, the chances of me landing a position next week is not great. No, that does not mean that I will not land one in two months.
Another thing is to use the time not worrying by finding other things to do. In reality, there is a big burst of activity the first week (and trust me -there was one today) followed by a decreasing amount of actual time as one becomes caught up with the opportunities at hand. Sure, there's always additional research you can do, another site to follow up on, but I know from past experience that it will be a decreasing curve.
So I've got to do it differently.
This an opportunity - yes, perhaps forced upon me, but an opportunity none the less. I started my Big Laid Off List today, and some of the things are not directly related to my job: write more, do some organization, some other projects that have been lurking in the background.
Another conscious decision will need to be what I read. I need to read uplifting and positive oriented material. The Bible, of course. But I need to make a concerted effort to ensure that what I'm putting into my mind is not material that will predispose me to think about failure.
Yes, it's a rough time out there. Yes, things are not good. But at the same, time, I can assure you that companies still have positions. People are still making money and thriving in this economy. How? Not sure, but I think at least one aspect will turn out to be thinking outside of the box. There are opportunities for me even right now, in front of my nose, if only I will take them.
The question is, can I adapt? Will I take counsel of my fears or something else?
The Blinking Cursor
If you're a blog writer, you know the curse of the blinking cursor (sounds like a Hardy Boys Mystery Title: The Missing Cursor of the Curser. Lovable Chet will inevitably get lost or tangled up as the case comes to its dramatic denoument, but none the less the Hardy Boys will solve the case, get the girls, receive a rousing pep talk and pat on the back, and already look forward to the next case inadvertently: "The Boys couldn't imagine, but their lives were soon to become even more complicated in The Mystery of the Violet Fire Poker.")
(I have, apparently, finally cracked...)
The cursor just sits there, blinking at you on an empty entry page, on and off, saying "Hey! What are you doing? Why aren't you writing? I'm waiting!" Now, I admit that it is somewhat unusual to hear the voice of an electronically generated series of binary digits; however, the fact is that every day is exactly like that. No blinking cursor, of course (Although that would be something: get up in the morning, go outside, look up, and see this giant blinking cursor in the sky above you, or worse, see it typing) but we do get a blank sheet of paper called twenty-four hours.
But unlike my blog entries, there is no delete key. I can't go back and correct the misspellings and errors I find once I post it. I cannot write or rewrite something to change the impact it has on another: once something is done, it's done. It becomes another page in the book of our lives, added to the binder awaiting our final entry and subsequent turning in and grading.
Yet, like a blog, every day is a fresh page. Every day, I get to to make another entry.
Someone asked me once why I like to write, especially because I don't get (formally) reimbursed for it. I admit that I write a lot, both here and personally for my own consumption, but the point of fact is that I can't help but write. Even in my jobs, even for things that I was not necessarily schooled in, I write. For me, in a real way, to write is to live.
But really, to live is to write. We don't all put alphanumeric characters onto a page, but we do put our deeds into the lives of others, influence the lives of others by our thoughts, words, and actions, and create a book that will be read by those who come after us (your children take the volume with them) as well as in eternity (where, in the biggest bookshow ever, God will display everyone's volumes).
Yes, I write this in the context of yesterday, where I was able to have perspective and have a number of people comment about my attitude and in at least once case say "Yeah, I know God has a plan and will provide - I just don't know what it is yet." I can assure that yesterday at my company, that was a view voiced by precisely no-one else. But I also write it in context of explaining to An Clann that I was laid off yesterday, that I had a sense of peace and God with me, and that God would provide for us.
Every day in every way, we write. What did you fill your empty screen with today?
(I have, apparently, finally cracked...)
The cursor just sits there, blinking at you on an empty entry page, on and off, saying "Hey! What are you doing? Why aren't you writing? I'm waiting!" Now, I admit that it is somewhat unusual to hear the voice of an electronically generated series of binary digits; however, the fact is that every day is exactly like that. No blinking cursor, of course (Although that would be something: get up in the morning, go outside, look up, and see this giant blinking cursor in the sky above you, or worse, see it typing) but we do get a blank sheet of paper called twenty-four hours.
But unlike my blog entries, there is no delete key. I can't go back and correct the misspellings and errors I find once I post it. I cannot write or rewrite something to change the impact it has on another: once something is done, it's done. It becomes another page in the book of our lives, added to the binder awaiting our final entry and subsequent turning in and grading.
Yet, like a blog, every day is a fresh page. Every day, I get to to make another entry.
Someone asked me once why I like to write, especially because I don't get (formally) reimbursed for it. I admit that I write a lot, both here and personally for my own consumption, but the point of fact is that I can't help but write. Even in my jobs, even for things that I was not necessarily schooled in, I write. For me, in a real way, to write is to live.
But really, to live is to write. We don't all put alphanumeric characters onto a page, but we do put our deeds into the lives of others, influence the lives of others by our thoughts, words, and actions, and create a book that will be read by those who come after us (your children take the volume with them) as well as in eternity (where, in the biggest bookshow ever, God will display everyone's volumes).
Yes, I write this in the context of yesterday, where I was able to have perspective and have a number of people comment about my attitude and in at least once case say "Yeah, I know God has a plan and will provide - I just don't know what it is yet." I can assure that yesterday at my company, that was a view voiced by precisely no-one else. But I also write it in context of explaining to An Clann that I was laid off yesterday, that I had a sense of peace and God with me, and that God would provide for us.
Every day in every way, we write. What did you fill your empty screen with today?
Giant Flaming Sardines Crashing Through My Ceiling
"And so" asked the interviewer "how do you come up with titles and blogs?"
The writer sighed. "There's not really a formula. Sometimes you just start writing, sometimes you just make a title and see what it brings. Of course, I always hope I remember to change the title to match what I'm writing about. Nothing more embarrassing than a title that seems unrelated or out of place."
The interviewer laughed. "Does that happen often?"
"A lot more than you'd think.
The writer sighed. "There's not really a formula. Sometimes you just start writing, sometimes you just make a title and see what it brings. Of course, I always hope I remember to change the title to match what I'm writing about. Nothing more embarrassing than a title that seems unrelated or out of place."
The interviewer laughed. "Does that happen often?"
"A lot more than you'd think.
The Longest Day
or at least, that is what it feels like. The adrenalin seems to have worn off about two hours ago, and I think higher brain functions are shutting down quickly.
In a way, a very surreal experience - although the last time I got laid off, it was myself laying myself off and all I got were company debts. Now that someone is laying me off, I am actually getting money instead of debt. That's a plus.
There's also a sense, as I told some folks at work, that I could have gone to an office where a doctor could have told me "You have pancreatic cancer and three months to live". In the scheme of things, this is not the worst thing to happen.
Not the best either. And not the best time - but as much as those that laid off need prayer, so do those that are remaining behind. They are going to essentially get double the work with no added pay and no guarantee that it will pay off in the end.
And still, that feeling that God is in this and this is a Moment, one of those moments you look back and say that something different happened, something significant, a life changing sort of thing.
In a way, a very surreal experience - although the last time I got laid off, it was myself laying myself off and all I got were company debts. Now that someone is laying me off, I am actually getting money instead of debt. That's a plus.
There's also a sense, as I told some folks at work, that I could have gone to an office where a doctor could have told me "You have pancreatic cancer and three months to live". In the scheme of things, this is not the worst thing to happen.
Not the best either. And not the best time - but as much as those that laid off need prayer, so do those that are remaining behind. They are going to essentially get double the work with no added pay and no guarantee that it will pay off in the end.
And still, that feeling that God is in this and this is a Moment, one of those moments you look back and say that something different happened, something significant, a life changing sort of thing.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Hammer Fall
So today at approximately 10 AM, I was laid off. I can now check off the "Been laid off by someone else" column on my big list of things to do (the "Laid off by Myself" column is already provided for).
Not totally unexpected, but not what I was hoping for either. There is a package, and by my lights it is a pretty good one.
Sorry. My thoughts are a little disjointed at the moment. Go figure.
I know there's a purpose in all of this, there's a reason for this: This month, the nice Christmas we had, the getaway this last weekend, the fact I am being laid off today. God is here, even if I can't see Him or know why.
Lots of questions (hindsight being 20/20): Why did this opportunity open up? Why did I choose to take it? I'm supposed to have learned something from time here: what is it?
"Riddles in the Dark" , Gandalf's reference to the discovery by Bilbo of the One Ring. There is something here, even if I can't grasp it at the moment.
Not totally unexpected, but not what I was hoping for either. There is a package, and by my lights it is a pretty good one.
Sorry. My thoughts are a little disjointed at the moment. Go figure.
I know there's a purpose in all of this, there's a reason for this: This month, the nice Christmas we had, the getaway this last weekend, the fact I am being laid off today. God is here, even if I can't see Him or know why.
Lots of questions (hindsight being 20/20): Why did this opportunity open up? Why did I choose to take it? I'm supposed to have learned something from time here: what is it?
"Riddles in the Dark" , Gandalf's reference to the discovery by Bilbo of the One Ring. There is something here, even if I can't grasp it at the moment.
The Pinch Collar of God
Most of you know that we acquired a Black Lab in July: Syrah the Mighty (See left). One of the many joys having her in our lives is the discovery that she is not all that well trained. She sits right enough and I have even gotten her to lay a bit, but the stay and general calmness are not there. Cute in a 10 pound ball of fur. Not so cute in a 75 pound energetic thunderbolt that will bowl you over - and then lick your face afterwards.
My solution (as is my solution to all things was, say it with me, buy a book. So I bought two (my mother got me one as well - apparently I looked as lost as I felt). I've got something of a training plan together.
And then we came to the second part: actually training her - which is ongoing in a slow, meandering way, but which made realize that dogs are as trained or untrained as their owners. As I look at myself and read in my books, what I realized is that those owners that trained their dog would have other aspects of self-training in their own lives - not all to the same degree, of course. but more so than those with untrained dogs.
One of the things that made walking the dog more of a pleasure as part of the training program is a pinch collar - a metal collar which freely moves to contract but not to the point of choking, as is equipped with a set of relatively dull metal prongs to remind the dog (trust me, I tried the regular collar for walking first. My arms almost gave out trying to restrain her). We have done some more concentrated work with heeling, and it seems to work: she gets outside the zone, a tug, and she will come back into the zone. The goal, of course, is to get to where the pinch collar is not necessary at all.
And then I realized that I have the same issue. I am constantly trying to run off, do other things, be anywhere I need to be but at God's side, or the place where He would have me. I keep wondering why I feel like I keep getting tugged back to a particular point, reminded of where I need to be and what I need to be about. Now I know - I've my own pinch collar, placed there by the Hand of God Himself. He's training me, and I'm sure He hopes that someday we can move to a regular collar and leash or, glory be, to off leash entirely - that part, I assume, is up to me and how well I am willing to take the training. But training or no, He is there every day with the leash and collar as I walk, making sure I will do what He needs done, not necessarily what I think needs to be done.
I get so frustrated when Syrah won't listening. Does God get as frustrated with me?
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Stuffing in the Cracks
Otis' post (see below) is continuing to resonate with me - especially in the part about stuffing time with God into the cracks of our lives, rather than making time with Him at least a regular and fixed appointment, if not more regular than that.
Part of what screams at me is from Phil Vischer (see Me Myself and Phil Vischer) where he found himself doing so much for God that He forgot to do things with God. I say this in the context of trying to figure out a way to move forward in my life, do the things I think that I am called to do. I say it in the context of continually coming up against the wall of time: trying to do the things I want to do versus trying to do the things that are important to do.
Example:
Time with Family: Important
Getting enough Sleep: Important
Having a job to support said family: Important
Having some sort of physical exercise program: Important
- which after all is said and done, takes about 22 hours of my day. Out of 24. And then, if I gave God the attention He deserved (boy, is that a silly sentence looking at it), it drops more. But if I don't have that, what does the rest matter?
I always feel like when I think or write this, I'm so far behind the curve. I know so many others that seem to be doing more than I and appear to be balancing things far better than I. I know I can't see into the hearts of others, but Saints and Martyrs, am I just obtuse? Or just perpetually slow and behind the curve?
Part of what screams at me is from Phil Vischer (see Me Myself and Phil Vischer) where he found himself doing so much for God that He forgot to do things with God. I say this in the context of trying to figure out a way to move forward in my life, do the things I think that I am called to do. I say it in the context of continually coming up against the wall of time: trying to do the things I want to do versus trying to do the things that are important to do.
Example:
Time with Family: Important
Getting enough Sleep: Important
Having a job to support said family: Important
Having some sort of physical exercise program: Important
- which after all is said and done, takes about 22 hours of my day. Out of 24. And then, if I gave God the attention He deserved (boy, is that a silly sentence looking at it), it drops more. But if I don't have that, what does the rest matter?
I always feel like when I think or write this, I'm so far behind the curve. I know so many others that seem to be doing more than I and appear to be balancing things far better than I. I know I can't see into the hearts of others, but Saints and Martyrs, am I just obtuse? Or just perpetually slow and behind the curve?
A life instead of a lifestyle
Otis the Mighty has a fine post on Christians embodying their life style. Click below:
Fighting with God
Fighting with God
Change and Courage
I'm having one of those "I think something is going on inside of me" moments.
There are moments, few in my life, where I can consciously say that "yes, I changed. I really changed" and point to a moment in time. More often - even in this case to some extent - there is a feeling of looking back and seeing the trajectory of it: suddenly realizing that "Oh, this is where that idea came from" or "I can see where I started to do X". But the moments where things seem to crystallize almost immediately are rare.
The buildup, I think, is two events: 1) The conference the Ravishing Mrs. TB and I attended last June (link here and here), because it actually made me sit down and think about goals, goals I really wanted to accomplish, and give a time frame; 2) My job change (acceptance here) because (and much as I miss you, Songbird), it forced me outside of my comfort zone (which, I might add, it does every day). I got into the rut of being in a comfortable environment and not challenging myself to grow. Here, I have no choice.
But the change sees to have popped into place this last weekend: partially because of the trip to Tucson, partially because I am using this vocal program which has challenged me to use the voice of the person I am, partially through giving a name and time frame to my writing (and re-establishing that as the thing I want to do), and partially because I am being brought face to face to face with a much younger man whom I used to know: me.
If you had to ask me what is emerging from it, I would have to say courage. Which is an odd thing to emerge from the amalgamate of what I've listed.
Benjamin Franklin had a fine saying "What you seem to be, be really." We trot that around quite a bit - "Be true to thyself, and thou canst not be false to any man" - but we also are equipped (loaded?) with the expectations of others and how they view us, and therefore what we will do to be viewed correctly (ah, the dreaded peer pressure). It then seems like we spend the rest of our life learning to bring out those things that God gave us that we buried away.
I've seen this happen with others. Go read Buttercup (Vintage Chic Blog - it's on the right). I cheat in the sense that I've known her far longer than she has written, but even in her work you can see the parts of her that were buried for various reasons (her ability to write, for example) being fanned into flame - the thing that was always there, and that God has been waiting for her to be courageous about and do.
(And no, before you think it, there are plenty of things that are not good gifts or personality traits that are buried and should not be brought out, but put to death. That's sin. Not everything that is hidden should see the light. Another entry for another day.)
Because that is part of what the world needs to see - they can see plenty of self-actualized people, people following their goals and dreams - but do they see us as Christians having the courage to live out what God has given us and called us to in a God honoring way, who are not self centered in what we do but neither are pouring ourselves into the mold of what the world thinks Christianity could do?
My model again is Buttercup, an intelligent woman who is cheerful, bright, outgoing, tand talented, but is not these things because she self actualized or is choosing a better You, but because she has Christ -and would be happy to tell you about it. How countercultural is that?
I want to grow up and be like her.
There are moments, few in my life, where I can consciously say that "yes, I changed. I really changed" and point to a moment in time. More often - even in this case to some extent - there is a feeling of looking back and seeing the trajectory of it: suddenly realizing that "Oh, this is where that idea came from" or "I can see where I started to do X". But the moments where things seem to crystallize almost immediately are rare.
The buildup, I think, is two events: 1) The conference the Ravishing Mrs. TB and I attended last June (link here and here), because it actually made me sit down and think about goals, goals I really wanted to accomplish, and give a time frame; 2) My job change (acceptance here) because (and much as I miss you, Songbird), it forced me outside of my comfort zone (which, I might add, it does every day). I got into the rut of being in a comfortable environment and not challenging myself to grow. Here, I have no choice.
But the change sees to have popped into place this last weekend: partially because of the trip to Tucson, partially because I am using this vocal program which has challenged me to use the voice of the person I am, partially through giving a name and time frame to my writing (and re-establishing that as the thing I want to do), and partially because I am being brought face to face to face with a much younger man whom I used to know: me.
If you had to ask me what is emerging from it, I would have to say courage. Which is an odd thing to emerge from the amalgamate of what I've listed.
Benjamin Franklin had a fine saying "What you seem to be, be really." We trot that around quite a bit - "Be true to thyself, and thou canst not be false to any man" - but we also are equipped (loaded?) with the expectations of others and how they view us, and therefore what we will do to be viewed correctly (ah, the dreaded peer pressure). It then seems like we spend the rest of our life learning to bring out those things that God gave us that we buried away.
I've seen this happen with others. Go read Buttercup (Vintage Chic Blog - it's on the right). I cheat in the sense that I've known her far longer than she has written, but even in her work you can see the parts of her that were buried for various reasons (her ability to write, for example) being fanned into flame - the thing that was always there, and that God has been waiting for her to be courageous about and do.
(And no, before you think it, there are plenty of things that are not good gifts or personality traits that are buried and should not be brought out, but put to death. That's sin. Not everything that is hidden should see the light. Another entry for another day.)
Because that is part of what the world needs to see - they can see plenty of self-actualized people, people following their goals and dreams - but do they see us as Christians having the courage to live out what God has given us and called us to in a God honoring way, who are not self centered in what we do but neither are pouring ourselves into the mold of what the world thinks Christianity could do?
My model again is Buttercup, an intelligent woman who is cheerful, bright, outgoing, tand talented, but is not these things because she self actualized or is choosing a better You, but because she has Christ -and would be happy to tell you about it. How countercultural is that?
I want to grow up and be like her.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Soundless Conversation
I'm almost to the point of Facebook use that I will start interacting with people I don't really know. Up to now, it has been with people I know, or expanded to people I don't see regularly.
It's odd. I'm still not sure how I care for this new medium. I send e-mails and compose documents for a living. Part of what I have always lectured folks on is the importance of how your e-mail will be received - as words only, not with the inflection you intended, not with you to explain the meaning and nuances, not for them to observe your reaction. It's just the words.
In a way, this communication form presumes that. To truly work, it assumes that I know you, know how you are, know why you would kid or not, know a back history. I find it very hard to fathom that I could have anything other than a meaningful "chat" with someone with whom I had no frame of reference.
Ah, but you blog, I hear you say. True enough. But blogs - most blogs - are not conversations, they are complete thought sets (at least in theory). Over time, one gets to the "sense" of a blog and its author. The good ones, there is a sense that what they write and who they are inside are one.
The other part that truly bothers me about the communication form is its silence. I am a man that prefers silence to noise - true enough. At the same time, when I am talking, I want to talk: be in the conversation, engage in communication. With this format, especially carrying out a conversation at any length, there is just the clickety click of the keys as I type, the soundless wait for reaction, and then clickety click click of response.
It strikes me as odd that this form of "communication" is actually silent; almost a soulless kind of chat, conveying meaning without form. And without the form, without a way to frame the communication it becomes like a river, guided between banks and useful or out of it's dike and flood, ravaging the land and destroying life.
It's odd. I'm still not sure how I care for this new medium. I send e-mails and compose documents for a living. Part of what I have always lectured folks on is the importance of how your e-mail will be received - as words only, not with the inflection you intended, not with you to explain the meaning and nuances, not for them to observe your reaction. It's just the words.
In a way, this communication form presumes that. To truly work, it assumes that I know you, know how you are, know why you would kid or not, know a back history. I find it very hard to fathom that I could have anything other than a meaningful "chat" with someone with whom I had no frame of reference.
Ah, but you blog, I hear you say. True enough. But blogs - most blogs - are not conversations, they are complete thought sets (at least in theory). Over time, one gets to the "sense" of a blog and its author. The good ones, there is a sense that what they write and who they are inside are one.
The other part that truly bothers me about the communication form is its silence. I am a man that prefers silence to noise - true enough. At the same time, when I am talking, I want to talk: be in the conversation, engage in communication. With this format, especially carrying out a conversation at any length, there is just the clickety click of the keys as I type, the soundless wait for reaction, and then clickety click click of response.
It strikes me as odd that this form of "communication" is actually silent; almost a soulless kind of chat, conveying meaning without form. And without the form, without a way to frame the communication it becomes like a river, guided between banks and useful or out of it's dike and flood, ravaging the land and destroying life.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Back in the Saddle
So here I am. My apologies -when we went away, I found myself without Internet (at least, the free variety), so I had to store it all up.
Where did I go? Here:
Why did I go to this place (Oh Ye of multiple questions)? The Ravishing Mrs. TB went to see this lady:
It was interesting, because this was the first conference (or class, for that matter) that I have been to in a very long time where I truly was simply a guest, with no expectations or agenda to learn. Just an observer.
But fun none the less. The interesting thing to me, as an observer, was how different this was as a company meeting from other formats I am typically used to. Yes, I know that sales folk live a different life than us commoner (Otis, you may now bow), but there was a sense of bonding and purpose there, a sense of belief in the product, in the founder, in each other, and in what they were doing that was palpable.
As you probably know, I am always trying to take these experiences and integrate them into my Christian walk and commentary, because I really do believe that in many ways the Church (generic, please fill in denomination here) falls short of its ability to impact the world. One observation I have was that the (mostly) women that left this meeting were fired up, ready to go. I am hard pressed to think of a church service recently where the same could be said. (Otis, you?).
The other thing, special to this conference, was their motif of an Oasis. As part of the the presentation, they walked through an Anagram (no, I don't remember it and it's probably proprietary) of Oasis. But they were using essentially spiritual (not necessarily Christian) terms: make people aware of their thirst, show them where the water is, lead them by example, and equip them.
Funny - isn't that the Christian message? How come they got it and we don't?
Now now Toirdhealbheach (I hear you say), isn't that incorporating the world's methods into our message? After all, they're selling a product - we are talking about the eternal souls of men and women?
Granted. And you'll find no greater believer of not changing the message or watering it down than I. But at the same time, those women (and a few men) left with purpose, vision, an understanding of what was expected of them, and what the rewards were for their effort.
How about a more personal tone: If the church can't communicate it, why can't I?
Where did I go? Here:
Why did I go to this place (Oh Ye of multiple questions)? The Ravishing Mrs. TB went to see this lady:
It was interesting, because this was the first conference (or class, for that matter) that I have been to in a very long time where I truly was simply a guest, with no expectations or agenda to learn. Just an observer.
But fun none the less. The interesting thing to me, as an observer, was how different this was as a company meeting from other formats I am typically used to. Yes, I know that sales folk live a different life than us commoner (Otis, you may now bow), but there was a sense of bonding and purpose there, a sense of belief in the product, in the founder, in each other, and in what they were doing that was palpable.
As you probably know, I am always trying to take these experiences and integrate them into my Christian walk and commentary, because I really do believe that in many ways the Church (generic, please fill in denomination here) falls short of its ability to impact the world. One observation I have was that the (mostly) women that left this meeting were fired up, ready to go. I am hard pressed to think of a church service recently where the same could be said. (Otis, you?).
The other thing, special to this conference, was their motif of an Oasis. As part of the the presentation, they walked through an Anagram (no, I don't remember it and it's probably proprietary) of Oasis. But they were using essentially spiritual (not necessarily Christian) terms: make people aware of their thirst, show them where the water is, lead them by example, and equip them.
Funny - isn't that the Christian message? How come they got it and we don't?
Now now Toirdhealbheach (I hear you say), isn't that incorporating the world's methods into our message? After all, they're selling a product - we are talking about the eternal souls of men and women?
Granted. And you'll find no greater believer of not changing the message or watering it down than I. But at the same time, those women (and a few men) left with purpose, vision, an understanding of what was expected of them, and what the rewards were for their effort.
How about a more personal tone: If the church can't communicate it, why can't I?
All My Sins Remembered
Ah the Internet, that wonderful invention whereby we can meet those who we had lost track of, sometimes for years.
So I was brought into contact this weekend with an old voice, someone I had not heard from in 20 years. Friendship Interrupted, perhaps (or has this movie been done before?), or some such thing.
Which is odd, because speaking with those you haven't spoken with in years brings up all kinds of things you thought you had forgotten, wrongs you had not remembered, and the wrongs you have. All my sins remembered...
In some cases, they seem to have faded out over time, like the mellowing of harsh colors into a gentle pastel. In some cases, they stare back at you with hollow eyes and accusing fingers, pointing, eyeing you with the eyes of the wronged.
The eyes of the damned.
It reminds me of the importance (oh, how do I know it and hope to pass it on to my children) of thinking through what we do, of all the ramifications. We cannot undo all harms that we did, we can only lament and palliate them. Think, think think!
As the Germans say, why are we old too soon and wise too late? Something about youth and wisdom - or is it that we need to train our children better, to incorporate wisdom into their lives?
I don't know. And it's late. Still, I have the hollow laughter of the past to face me in the dark of my bed tonight.
All my sins remembered...
So I was brought into contact this weekend with an old voice, someone I had not heard from in 20 years. Friendship Interrupted, perhaps (or has this movie been done before?), or some such thing.
Which is odd, because speaking with those you haven't spoken with in years brings up all kinds of things you thought you had forgotten, wrongs you had not remembered, and the wrongs you have. All my sins remembered...
In some cases, they seem to have faded out over time, like the mellowing of harsh colors into a gentle pastel. In some cases, they stare back at you with hollow eyes and accusing fingers, pointing, eyeing you with the eyes of the wronged.
The eyes of the damned.
It reminds me of the importance (oh, how do I know it and hope to pass it on to my children) of thinking through what we do, of all the ramifications. We cannot undo all harms that we did, we can only lament and palliate them. Think, think think!
As the Germans say, why are we old too soon and wise too late? Something about youth and wisdom - or is it that we need to train our children better, to incorporate wisdom into their lives?
I don't know. And it's late. Still, I have the hollow laughter of the past to face me in the dark of my bed tonight.
All my sins remembered...
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Time and Eternity
A sudden realization about the nature of time.
The Ravishing Mrs. TB and myself are off tomorrow for a leadership conference through her work (I'm just along for the ride as a kept man). What hit me, as I was packing tonight, was that it only seemed like last week that we were talking about attending and now here it is. Which brought to mind the larger question, why is it as I get older that time flows more quickly?
The answer, in it's simplicity, astonished me: I am constantly living in the future.
The Firm really accelerated the process for me. Like any kind of sales, one was always looking out 90 days until a deal closed: what had to be done, where were we, how close are we. Likewise now in other parts of my life: I'm trying to plan, whether it be work or personal. Everything is always be worked toward a future date.
Contrast that with my childhood and even into my high school and college years, where time frames operated on the 9 month school/3 month summer schedule. Goals, such as they were, involved studying to get to the next level.
Is this inevitable? I've no clue. I'm not sure how one can both plan/work towards things that need to be done while truly savoring the present.
It makes heaven all the more enticing. Think: Being where every day that occurs only means n+1 more. Plans, if we are to make them, doing things, if we are to do them, will be lifted from the curse of too little time or cutting out something more valuable. Every day will be both in the present and in the future.
The Ravishing Mrs. TB and myself are off tomorrow for a leadership conference through her work (I'm just along for the ride as a kept man). What hit me, as I was packing tonight, was that it only seemed like last week that we were talking about attending and now here it is. Which brought to mind the larger question, why is it as I get older that time flows more quickly?
The answer, in it's simplicity, astonished me: I am constantly living in the future.
The Firm really accelerated the process for me. Like any kind of sales, one was always looking out 90 days until a deal closed: what had to be done, where were we, how close are we. Likewise now in other parts of my life: I'm trying to plan, whether it be work or personal. Everything is always be worked toward a future date.
Contrast that with my childhood and even into my high school and college years, where time frames operated on the 9 month school/3 month summer schedule. Goals, such as they were, involved studying to get to the next level.
Is this inevitable? I've no clue. I'm not sure how one can both plan/work towards things that need to be done while truly savoring the present.
It makes heaven all the more enticing. Think: Being where every day that occurs only means n+1 more. Plans, if we are to make them, doing things, if we are to do them, will be lifted from the curse of too little time or cutting out something more valuable. Every day will be both in the present and in the future.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Bee Quest 2009
Bee Quest 2009 is starting up.
This weekend, I ordered my bees for this year. We're doing something wrong, because we can never get them to live beyond one year. My father gently suggested that, as we seemed have sunk a great deal of money into them without any result, perhaps we might consider getting some additional training because we were doing something wrong.
Fair enough. Where does one beekeeping classes? Thank goodness for the web - you can find anything. Nice thing is, you get 7 hours of class time for ordering bees. I ordered two, so I can have a partner in crime - Daibidh Mor - to at complain to.
The second part of this is education, inspired by a most unlikely source. My great-aunt passed away in December, and her memorial service was early this month. As part of the memorial service, her pastor, grandchildren, and those that had known her gave some stories from her life - some I had known, some I had not. I knew that at one point she kept goats - what I did not know is that she had no previous knowledge of goat keeping but went on to attain some records for herd milk production that may stand today! Her sister, Aunt Emma, commented that their parents always taught them to try anything when given the opportunity and be excellent in it (which, I might add as a sidebar, their six daughters all did).
So along with the "I'm going to finish my book and get it published" this year goal, I've also got the "this year" I'm going to succeed in bees" goal.
Daibidh Mor and I also went to a beekeeping presentation at Rush Ranch on Sunday. It was a two part presentation: One by Dr. Robbin Thorp from UC Davis on Native Bees (Did you know there are 19,500 species of bees, about 4000 species in North America, about 1600 species in California, and 260 species in Solano County). The second was by Phil Hofland of Noble Apiaries with a general view of beekeeping from a commercial view. He said that it's been hard these last years with the advent of the varroa mite as well as a new kind of nosema protozoa - but his enthusiasm was incurable! For both gentlemen, besides the transfer of information, it was obvious that they really have a great love for bees and everything they do. On the whole, very interesting and encouraging.
So the bees are coming. The education is coming. I'm Ready!!
(I'm ready, get honey, I'm ready, get honey, I'm ready, get honey....)
This weekend, I ordered my bees for this year. We're doing something wrong, because we can never get them to live beyond one year. My father gently suggested that, as we seemed have sunk a great deal of money into them without any result, perhaps we might consider getting some additional training because we were doing something wrong.
Fair enough. Where does one beekeeping classes? Thank goodness for the web - you can find anything. Nice thing is, you get 7 hours of class time for ordering bees. I ordered two, so I can have a partner in crime - Daibidh Mor - to at complain to.
The second part of this is education, inspired by a most unlikely source. My great-aunt passed away in December, and her memorial service was early this month. As part of the memorial service, her pastor, grandchildren, and those that had known her gave some stories from her life - some I had known, some I had not. I knew that at one point she kept goats - what I did not know is that she had no previous knowledge of goat keeping but went on to attain some records for herd milk production that may stand today! Her sister, Aunt Emma, commented that their parents always taught them to try anything when given the opportunity and be excellent in it (which, I might add as a sidebar, their six daughters all did).
So along with the "I'm going to finish my book and get it published" this year goal, I've also got the "this year" I'm going to succeed in bees" goal.
Daibidh Mor and I also went to a beekeeping presentation at Rush Ranch on Sunday. It was a two part presentation: One by Dr. Robbin Thorp from UC Davis on Native Bees (Did you know there are 19,500 species of bees, about 4000 species in North America, about 1600 species in California, and 260 species in Solano County). The second was by Phil Hofland of Noble Apiaries with a general view of beekeeping from a commercial view. He said that it's been hard these last years with the advent of the varroa mite as well as a new kind of nosema protozoa - but his enthusiasm was incurable! For both gentlemen, besides the transfer of information, it was obvious that they really have a great love for bees and everything they do. On the whole, very interesting and encouraging.
So the bees are coming. The education is coming. I'm Ready!!
(I'm ready, get honey, I'm ready, get honey, I'm ready, get honey....)
Monday, January 12, 2009
Done!
The book is done - this morning, as of 0638.
Some of you will know that I have working on a book - in all fairness, since 2003. I dropped off the writing map once or twice, but finally last year got up the energy (and courage to face criticism) to finish it off and send it for editing help. The editing review came back, I revised and sent out again, and even have an offer to publish - but due to financial issues, decided not to at that time.
But, like every good artist that is not happy with their work, I went back again, as part of my New Year's resolutions, to re-edit the work. I did this somewhat, and was faced this morning with considering writing one more section.
I looked, I pondered, I even tried a desultory typing of a couple of lines once or twice - then I said "done."
Part of my finishing is simply that I am ready to move on to writing something else - as I indicated, I've been working on this for almost 6 years now. But part of it is that it is done. Truly, I've got an offer to publish - what is another chapter or section or major modifications going to do for it beyond know what they want? Besides, I really am ready to start a new project, but in a way can't because this is hanging around my neck.
The other part is that it now forces me to make a commitment to finish the publishing process. Simply put, as long as I put "finishing" the book off, I could not be expected to have to figure out how to get it published - a convenient excuse. Now, I no longer have that excuse.
How remarkably freeing and terrifying at the same time.
Some of you will know that I have working on a book - in all fairness, since 2003. I dropped off the writing map once or twice, but finally last year got up the energy (and courage to face criticism) to finish it off and send it for editing help. The editing review came back, I revised and sent out again, and even have an offer to publish - but due to financial issues, decided not to at that time.
But, like every good artist that is not happy with their work, I went back again, as part of my New Year's resolutions, to re-edit the work. I did this somewhat, and was faced this morning with considering writing one more section.
I looked, I pondered, I even tried a desultory typing of a couple of lines once or twice - then I said "done."
Part of my finishing is simply that I am ready to move on to writing something else - as I indicated, I've been working on this for almost 6 years now. But part of it is that it is done. Truly, I've got an offer to publish - what is another chapter or section or major modifications going to do for it beyond know what they want? Besides, I really am ready to start a new project, but in a way can't because this is hanging around my neck.
The other part is that it now forces me to make a commitment to finish the publishing process. Simply put, as long as I put "finishing" the book off, I could not be expected to have to figure out how to get it published - a convenient excuse. Now, I no longer have that excuse.
How remarkably freeing and terrifying at the same time.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
What to do
Daibidh Mor and I got into a conversation yesterday concerning the nature of practical holiness. The question initially revolved around a musical group, but branched out into other things as well. Why? A conversation related about a third party who had some other individuals say something to the effect of "There's no way a Christian should listen to/read/watch/do that."
Okay fine. So what does God's Word say?
His expectation is holiness - 1st Peter 1:15 -16"...but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, because it is written 'Be holy, for I am holy.'" (quoting Leviticus 11:44). What is holiness? Well, God is holy - perfectly so. Therefore, to seek to be holy is to seek to be like God.
Other hints? "Beloved, do not imitate what is evil, but what is good. He who does good is of God, but he who does evil has not seen God" (3rd John 11). "Test all things: hold fast to what is good. Abstain from every form of evil" (1 Thessalonians 5:21-22).
That "abstain from every form of evil" catches my eye. I don't have my Greek text in front of me, but I am willing to bet that the "every" there really means "every", not "some".
I'm to be holy - as one commentator put it, "Holiness is thinking as God thinks and acting as God acts. I'm not to imitate evil, I'm not to participate in evil in any way (semi-opposite of holding fast).
Based on that, I suppose my first question with anything then has to become "Is it evil?" Which then begs a larger question: Is it possible for something to be morally neutral in our lives?
For the sake of argument, let us set aside those important attributes of not doing something that causes a weaker brother sister to stumble (1 Corinthians 8:1-13) or something that they are personally convinced is sin for them (Romans 14:22-23) - although probably here is a hint in Paul's comment that " Do you have faith? Have it to yourself before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves (v.22)."
So if something is not causing a brother or sister to stumble, is not evil, is not something that one feels condemned before God about, is that okay? Kind of involves a discussion of what is evil - if an author is an excellent writer but writes books which either are not themselves "good" or "evil" or doesn't affect you but is leading others away from God, does that constitute freedom of conscious?
Or perhaps the question is moot. Perhaps the real though process we need to go through is "Life is short. Eternity is long. Based on the time I have here, is this the best possible use of my time for the cause of Christ?" Or said more eloquently by Robert Murry McCheyne "Not a trait worth remembering! And yet these four and twenty hours must be accounted for" and "My heart must break off from all these things? What right have I to steal and abuse my Master's time?"
It kind of takes the guesswork out of what I'm doing. Not is it allowed or not allowed, evil or not evil (although both of these things should be considered), but is it the best use of my time of which I am steward for God and for which I will give an account. If I more consistently filtered my life like this, what would my answer be?
Okay fine. So what does God's Word say?
His expectation is holiness - 1st Peter 1:15 -16"...but as He who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, because it is written 'Be holy, for I am holy.'" (quoting Leviticus 11:44). What is holiness? Well, God is holy - perfectly so. Therefore, to seek to be holy is to seek to be like God.
Other hints? "Beloved, do not imitate what is evil, but what is good. He who does good is of God, but he who does evil has not seen God" (3rd John 11). "Test all things: hold fast to what is good. Abstain from every form of evil" (1 Thessalonians 5:21-22).
That "abstain from every form of evil" catches my eye. I don't have my Greek text in front of me, but I am willing to bet that the "every" there really means "every", not "some".
I'm to be holy - as one commentator put it, "Holiness is thinking as God thinks and acting as God acts. I'm not to imitate evil, I'm not to participate in evil in any way (semi-opposite of holding fast).
Based on that, I suppose my first question with anything then has to become "Is it evil?" Which then begs a larger question: Is it possible for something to be morally neutral in our lives?
For the sake of argument, let us set aside those important attributes of not doing something that causes a weaker brother sister to stumble (1 Corinthians 8:1-13) or something that they are personally convinced is sin for them (Romans 14:22-23) - although probably here is a hint in Paul's comment that " Do you have faith? Have it to yourself before God. Happy is he who does not condemn himself in what he approves (v.22)."
So if something is not causing a brother or sister to stumble, is not evil, is not something that one feels condemned before God about, is that okay? Kind of involves a discussion of what is evil - if an author is an excellent writer but writes books which either are not themselves "good" or "evil" or doesn't affect you but is leading others away from God, does that constitute freedom of conscious?
Or perhaps the question is moot. Perhaps the real though process we need to go through is "Life is short. Eternity is long. Based on the time I have here, is this the best possible use of my time for the cause of Christ?" Or said more eloquently by Robert Murry McCheyne "Not a trait worth remembering! And yet these four and twenty hours must be accounted for" and "My heart must break off from all these things? What right have I to steal and abuse my Master's time?"
It kind of takes the guesswork out of what I'm doing. Not is it allowed or not allowed, evil or not evil (although both of these things should be considered), but is it the best use of my time of which I am steward for God and for which I will give an account. If I more consistently filtered my life like this, what would my answer be?
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Talking to Myself
I talked with Bogha Frois this evening, hashing out my feeling of reaching limits within myself and not understanding why or what was happening.
And, being Bogha Frois, she cut to the heart of it pretty quickly.
"Your subconscious is talking to you."
"My what?"
"Your subconscious. It's trying to get your attention."
"Okay...what is it trying to say to me?"
"It's time."
"Time?"
"Time."
Fabulous. I'm talking to a Croatian Yoda, who is making about as much sense.
She tried a different tack, apparently convinced that my apparent cud chewing was not an act.
"Did you make any goals for the New Year?"
"Yeah. Actually, I spent about three days doing the process. It was good."
"Then it is your subconscious talking to you. It's like when I had the fire and we lost everything. For a time, I had to concentrate on getting my life back together, getting stuff for the boys, finding a place to live, stuff like that. But at some point, I had to get out of the survival mode and get back into life. I felt a disconnect, a sort of barrier like your talking about. So I got new dishes."
"New dishes." Dear Lord, she's finally gone over the edge.
"New dishes. I didn't have a matching set of dishes, and at some point I finally said 'Enough. I'm tired of living like this.' And the way I stopped living like that was to go out and get some new dishes that matched. Plates and bowls for all of us. It was that taking action that allowed me to move on."
"Hmm. So really, what is going on is part of me is telling another part of me that it's time to move on."
"Exactly. It's your mind's way of telling you that it is time to stop holding yourself back, putting self-imposed restrictions on yourself that you cling to because you think they are still relevant. The rest of you is ready to move on, but you are putting up barriers about why you can't. Tell me this: In your goal setting, did set some goals that you really wanted?"
"Yeah, I think so. Some things I really want to do - in one case, I'm ahead of where I planned to be at this time."
"See, that's it. You're ready to go - just get out of your own way. I really envy you, actually. The times I've done that are some of the most exciting of my life."
"I suppose we should all bask in the warm glow of what is you and your thinking now."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes", I said begrudgingly, because I hate using that line for others - I'd rather use it for myself. "I really do".
And so home we drove, Bogha Frois basking in the warm glow of being right, me in the sinking sunlight with myself, trying to hear what I was apparently trying to say.
And, being Bogha Frois, she cut to the heart of it pretty quickly.
"Your subconscious is talking to you."
"My what?"
"Your subconscious. It's trying to get your attention."
"Okay...what is it trying to say to me?"
"It's time."
"Time?"
"Time."
Fabulous. I'm talking to a Croatian Yoda, who is making about as much sense.
She tried a different tack, apparently convinced that my apparent cud chewing was not an act.
"Did you make any goals for the New Year?"
"Yeah. Actually, I spent about three days doing the process. It was good."
"Then it is your subconscious talking to you. It's like when I had the fire and we lost everything. For a time, I had to concentrate on getting my life back together, getting stuff for the boys, finding a place to live, stuff like that. But at some point, I had to get out of the survival mode and get back into life. I felt a disconnect, a sort of barrier like your talking about. So I got new dishes."
"New dishes." Dear Lord, she's finally gone over the edge.
"New dishes. I didn't have a matching set of dishes, and at some point I finally said 'Enough. I'm tired of living like this.' And the way I stopped living like that was to go out and get some new dishes that matched. Plates and bowls for all of us. It was that taking action that allowed me to move on."
"Hmm. So really, what is going on is part of me is telling another part of me that it's time to move on."
"Exactly. It's your mind's way of telling you that it is time to stop holding yourself back, putting self-imposed restrictions on yourself that you cling to because you think they are still relevant. The rest of you is ready to move on, but you are putting up barriers about why you can't. Tell me this: In your goal setting, did set some goals that you really wanted?"
"Yeah, I think so. Some things I really want to do - in one case, I'm ahead of where I planned to be at this time."
"See, that's it. You're ready to go - just get out of your own way. I really envy you, actually. The times I've done that are some of the most exciting of my life."
"I suppose we should all bask in the warm glow of what is you and your thinking now."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes", I said begrudgingly, because I hate using that line for others - I'd rather use it for myself. "I really do".
And so home we drove, Bogha Frois basking in the warm glow of being right, me in the sinking sunlight with myself, trying to hear what I was apparently trying to say.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Seed boundaries
I am coming to the beginning or the ending of something: I'm not sure which.
I have had the feeling for the last two weeks of being constrained, almost the sense of existing inside an emotional, intellectual, and personal shell of myself - as if I were feeling the non-physical boundaries of who I am.
To what end? I am not sure of that. For example, career: I have tried and tried to mentally "push" myself up into the next level of interest and process in my job field, but I can't seem to muster the enthusiasm to do it.
If I had to characterize how I feel, it's the sense of being a seed, straining against the hard outer walls of the shell - and more annoying is that, like the seed with sun and warmth and water, it is being caused by factors over which I have not control and which I have no knowledge of. I cannot remember having this experience before - the sense of being on a precipice of having to grow or die, of being conscious that I am at the limits of myself - and not understanding where it is coming from or why.
I have had the feeling for the last two weeks of being constrained, almost the sense of existing inside an emotional, intellectual, and personal shell of myself - as if I were feeling the non-physical boundaries of who I am.
To what end? I am not sure of that. For example, career: I have tried and tried to mentally "push" myself up into the next level of interest and process in my job field, but I can't seem to muster the enthusiasm to do it.
If I had to characterize how I feel, it's the sense of being a seed, straining against the hard outer walls of the shell - and more annoying is that, like the seed with sun and warmth and water, it is being caused by factors over which I have not control and which I have no knowledge of. I cannot remember having this experience before - the sense of being on a precipice of having to grow or die, of being conscious that I am at the limits of myself - and not understanding where it is coming from or why.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
The Eyes of the Lord
"For the eyes of the LORD run to and fro throughout the whole earth, to show Himself stirring on behalf of those whose heart is loyal to Him." - 2nd Chronicles 16:9
This is what I get from God at 0415 in the morning - one of those moments where the verse pops into your head, you have no idea where it is in the Bible except that it is there. And then, when you re-rouse yourself from slumber later, it is still there.
I'm pegging this to my post yesterday, especially concerning aligning ourselves with what God is doing, rather than what we want to do. Things that stick out to me include:
- God is actively searching and looking, not just waiting until someone makes the grade.
- He is willing to act on behalf of individuals.
- But there is a condition: He will stir on behalf of those whose hearts are loyal to Him.
Okay, fair enough. What does loyalty mean?
Loyalty (per Merriam-Webster): "The quality or state of being loyal."
Helpful, that. Okay, how about loyal?
Loyal: 1: unswerving in allegiance: as a: faithful in allegiance to one's lawful sovereign or government b: faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due c: faithful to a cause, ideal, custom, institution, or product
Notice the words there: unswerving, allegiance, faithful, fidelity. Oddly enough, concepts God uses towards our salvation: "I will never leave you nor forsake you."
Okay, now I get it: God looks for and acts on behalf of those who are unswerving in their allegiance to Him and faithful to Him. Note that it does not promise how He will act, only that He says He will act.
Fine. Now the part that grinds me down: Am I unswerving in my allegiance to God? Am I faith to Him to whom fidelity is due? Do I seek in everything that I do to demonstrate these qualities? Do I plan my life and my goals around them?
If not, why am I surprised if He does not act on my behalf?
This is what I get from God at 0415 in the morning - one of those moments where the verse pops into your head, you have no idea where it is in the Bible except that it is there. And then, when you re-rouse yourself from slumber later, it is still there.
I'm pegging this to my post yesterday, especially concerning aligning ourselves with what God is doing, rather than what we want to do. Things that stick out to me include:
- God is actively searching and looking, not just waiting until someone makes the grade.
- He is willing to act on behalf of individuals.
- But there is a condition: He will stir on behalf of those whose hearts are loyal to Him.
Okay, fair enough. What does loyalty mean?
Loyalty (per Merriam-Webster): "The quality or state of being loyal."
Helpful, that. Okay, how about loyal?
Loyal: 1: unswerving in allegiance: as a: faithful in allegiance to one's lawful sovereign or government b: faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is due c: faithful to a cause, ideal, custom, institution, or product
Notice the words there: unswerving, allegiance, faithful, fidelity. Oddly enough, concepts God uses towards our salvation: "I will never leave you nor forsake you."
Okay, now I get it: God looks for and acts on behalf of those who are unswerving in their allegiance to Him and faithful to Him. Note that it does not promise how He will act, only that He says He will act.
Fine. Now the part that grinds me down: Am I unswerving in my allegiance to God? Am I faith to Him to whom fidelity is due? Do I seek in everything that I do to demonstrate these qualities? Do I plan my life and my goals around them?
If not, why am I surprised if He does not act on my behalf?
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Me Myself and Phil Vischer
Last night I came home feeling like the poster child for making bad decisions. News again from work that best may be rate limiting, at worst could be much more. Reflecting on the buyout of the previous company for which I worked, doing those numbers (if you've ever left a company that had stock options worth something, you know - you've done the same numbers). The whole thing left me feeling as if I once again failed to make any semblance of a good decision.
Fortunately God, in His grace (or humor) provided me with a resource last night that showed up in the ever popular, ever ready to make me smile Amazon box: Me, Myself, and Bob by Phil Vischer. He is the creator of Veggie Tales, an ostensibly children's oriented set of videos teaching Christian values ( I say ostensibly, because I actually love the things - and as Vischer points out, part of their early success was actually college students with odd senses of humor). The book is a sort of business biography about himself and the business that he created, grew, and then lost in 2003 over a 14 year period.
In a nutshell (and it is a super small nutshell - you should really get the book), he had a dream: to build a world class Christian entertainment and media group rivaling that of Disney (Walt was his hero). However, what he found, after the collapse of his dream, was that God's point is never the dream, it is our relationship with Him.
I quote Vischer (ironically, quoting someone else): "'If God gives you a dream, and the dream comes to life and shows up in it, and then the dream dies, it may be that God want to see what is more important to you - the dream or Him. And once he's seen that, you may get your dream back. Or you may not, and you may live out the rest of your life without it. But that will be okay, because you'll have God.'" (p. 235)
or here (quoting Henry Blackaby): "' If you start something and it does not seem to go well, consider carefully that God, on purpose, may not be authenticating what you told the people because it did not come from Him, but from your own head. You may have wanted to do something outstanding for God and forgot that God does not want that. He wants you to be available to Him, and more important, to be obedient to Him.'" (p. 239)
or here (this is actually Vischer): "The Christian life wasn't about running around like a maniac; it was about walking with God. It wasn't about impact, it was about obedience. It wasn't about making stuff up, it was about listening." (p. 243)
and "What is 'walking with God'? Simple. Doing what he asks you to do each and every day. Living in active relationship with him. Filling your mind with his Word, and letting that Word penetrate every waking moment." (p. 243)
As I said, get the book.
So what does this have to do with questioning my life decisions? Simple. What is my dream? what do I have to have instead of God, or am using to do "for God" because I think I need to? (Vischer: "Because God is enough. Just God. And he isn't "enough" because he can make our dreams come true - no, you've got him confused with Santa or Merlin or Oprah." (p. 250)).
Well, the one that leapt to mind based on last night was money. Security as defined by the money in the bank, rather than my relationship with God (Somewhere on the East Coast, as you read this, Otis is nodding his head and saying "Yup. I've been trying to get him to ask this question for weeks now"). This was even true at The Firm. Question: If I had succeeded at the Firm - If I had gone either stayed at my previous job or violated a principle and borrowed money - and I had a modest sum of money sitting in the bank right now, would I be feeling that God is enough? Or would I be feeling confident in my bank account to weather the storm, planning things that I wanted to do and buy (and trust me, there's a list at the back of my mind), maybe planning to do even "bigger" things to "glorify" God?
Don't answer that. I already know the answer.
And that's just one. There's more. I just need to dig deeper.
I've added Vischer's blog to my list there. As a man that has failed and come out on the other side, he's got a lot to say.
Did I mention read or buy his book?
Fortunately God, in His grace (or humor) provided me with a resource last night that showed up in the ever popular, ever ready to make me smile Amazon box: Me, Myself, and Bob by Phil Vischer. He is the creator of Veggie Tales, an ostensibly children's oriented set of videos teaching Christian values ( I say ostensibly, because I actually love the things - and as Vischer points out, part of their early success was actually college students with odd senses of humor). The book is a sort of business biography about himself and the business that he created, grew, and then lost in 2003 over a 14 year period.
In a nutshell (and it is a super small nutshell - you should really get the book), he had a dream: to build a world class Christian entertainment and media group rivaling that of Disney (Walt was his hero). However, what he found, after the collapse of his dream, was that God's point is never the dream, it is our relationship with Him.
I quote Vischer (ironically, quoting someone else): "'If God gives you a dream, and the dream comes to life and shows up in it, and then the dream dies, it may be that God want to see what is more important to you - the dream or Him. And once he's seen that, you may get your dream back. Or you may not, and you may live out the rest of your life without it. But that will be okay, because you'll have God.'" (p. 235)
or here (quoting Henry Blackaby): "' If you start something and it does not seem to go well, consider carefully that God, on purpose, may not be authenticating what you told the people because it did not come from Him, but from your own head. You may have wanted to do something outstanding for God and forgot that God does not want that. He wants you to be available to Him, and more important, to be obedient to Him.'" (p. 239)
or here (this is actually Vischer): "The Christian life wasn't about running around like a maniac; it was about walking with God. It wasn't about impact, it was about obedience. It wasn't about making stuff up, it was about listening." (p. 243)
and "What is 'walking with God'? Simple. Doing what he asks you to do each and every day. Living in active relationship with him. Filling your mind with his Word, and letting that Word penetrate every waking moment." (p. 243)
As I said, get the book.
So what does this have to do with questioning my life decisions? Simple. What is my dream? what do I have to have instead of God, or am using to do "for God" because I think I need to? (Vischer: "Because God is enough. Just God. And he isn't "enough" because he can make our dreams come true - no, you've got him confused with Santa or Merlin or Oprah." (p. 250)).
Well, the one that leapt to mind based on last night was money. Security as defined by the money in the bank, rather than my relationship with God (Somewhere on the East Coast, as you read this, Otis is nodding his head and saying "Yup. I've been trying to get him to ask this question for weeks now"). This was even true at The Firm. Question: If I had succeeded at the Firm - If I had gone either stayed at my previous job or violated a principle and borrowed money - and I had a modest sum of money sitting in the bank right now, would I be feeling that God is enough? Or would I be feeling confident in my bank account to weather the storm, planning things that I wanted to do and buy (and trust me, there's a list at the back of my mind), maybe planning to do even "bigger" things to "glorify" God?
Don't answer that. I already know the answer.
And that's just one. There's more. I just need to dig deeper.
I've added Vischer's blog to my list there. As a man that has failed and come out on the other side, he's got a lot to say.
Did I mention read or buy his book?
Monday, January 05, 2009
New Blog
Am Polleaneach has a blog! Yay! You should go there now. It's very good:
http://songbirdsrandomnotes.blogspot.com/
You should go there now.
You. The one reading this. Stop reading. Click above.
http://songbirdsrandomnotes.blogspot.com/
You should go there now.
You. The one reading this. Stop reading. Click above.
Dream
I had one of those dreams last night, one of those puzzling ones that make you go "Huh, what did that mean?"
I was on the campus of my old Alma Mater. For some reason, it was a combination of dorm/library. I was looking for something - some secret thing, I'm not sure what. I knew it was there, but it was not anywhere I could get to. Someone with me - no idea who -walked in, through the dorm, and into some kind of passage through a room. Going through this room, and down a staircase, and into a library (books -what did you expect from me?), walls and walls of books.
We eventually emerged into the light, and apparently had broken something up - official looking folk, wandering about and going into the library.
And then I woke up.
I gave it not a lot of thought today until Am Polleanach noted "So you sound a little more cheerful in your posts. I think maybe you have resolved some issues somewhere deep in the old subconscious?" I hadn't thought about it that way, but it made sense: I had finally come to a conclusion about some goals, and all of a sudden it was like having pushed my way into a place that I had never been before - or at least couldn't find.
I think I did turn a corner - I'm not just conscious of what it is.
I was on the campus of my old Alma Mater. For some reason, it was a combination of dorm/library. I was looking for something - some secret thing, I'm not sure what. I knew it was there, but it was not anywhere I could get to. Someone with me - no idea who -walked in, through the dorm, and into some kind of passage through a room. Going through this room, and down a staircase, and into a library (books -what did you expect from me?), walls and walls of books.
We eventually emerged into the light, and apparently had broken something up - official looking folk, wandering about and going into the library.
And then I woke up.
I gave it not a lot of thought today until Am Polleanach noted "So you sound a little more cheerful in your posts. I think maybe you have resolved some issues somewhere deep in the old subconscious?" I hadn't thought about it that way, but it made sense: I had finally come to a conclusion about some goals, and all of a sudden it was like having pushed my way into a place that I had never been before - or at least couldn't find.
I think I did turn a corner - I'm not just conscious of what it is.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
New Year, New Goals
A Happy (and somewhat belated) New Year! I had the luxury this year of taking some time off before and after the New Year, which allowed me (for the first time ever, perhaps) to sit and do some serious thought planning about goals and resolutions for the next year.
This became an interesting process, as I suddenly discovered another fabulous web service: scribd (http://www.scribd.com/) which allows one to upload various written documents. On a lark, I looked, and sure enough, many of the modules from my roleplaying days 30 years ago were there. I ended up taking a walk down memory lane for an hour or two, and left feeling somewhat disturbed as well.
Disturbed? For two reasons: 1) I can see in the fairly innocuous games of the time the groundwork being laid for the relative acceptance of evil and occult in entertainment today; 2) One of the reasons that I got out was that "I would never make a living at it", as was true of video games as well (if you were of the era, you remember "How come you keep spending so much time and money on those things? You'll never get a job playing games!") - yet there is now a huge industry in both.
I'm not arguing for the fact that I should have remained in them - the subtle deadening of one's morals to the terrifying reality of evil should be enough. Still, it did give me pause as I went to look at my goals and resolutions this year. Why? Because they involved things that, if I can do them, will help me succeed but which, I fear, I have trouble keeping myself on track - as well as arguing for the benefits of them.
In this area, work is a terrible downfall: it mercilessly tends to focus down to the narrowest of all denominators, that which affects our work and (if we don't like our job) that which we would like to do instead of our job (which, being cast as a fantasy, has as little bias in reality). Part of this process over the weekend was addressing the fact that I find my imaginationatory and intellectual muscles hardening - I make excuses for not doing things instead of trying them because "I don't have the time" or "I don't have the money" - but more correctly, "I don't have the will."
So this year, on top of my goals and resolutions, there is one other: to escape what is becoming evident as the perilous thinking of middle age: it's too expensive, it's not time wise, and it's outside of my job category. This kind of thinking will end up in the very thing I have always feared: a petty paper pushing bureaucrat, marking time for retirement.
This became an interesting process, as I suddenly discovered another fabulous web service: scribd (http://www.scribd.com/) which allows one to upload various written documents. On a lark, I looked, and sure enough, many of the modules from my roleplaying days 30 years ago were there. I ended up taking a walk down memory lane for an hour or two, and left feeling somewhat disturbed as well.
Disturbed? For two reasons: 1) I can see in the fairly innocuous games of the time the groundwork being laid for the relative acceptance of evil and occult in entertainment today; 2) One of the reasons that I got out was that "I would never make a living at it", as was true of video games as well (if you were of the era, you remember "How come you keep spending so much time and money on those things? You'll never get a job playing games!") - yet there is now a huge industry in both.
I'm not arguing for the fact that I should have remained in them - the subtle deadening of one's morals to the terrifying reality of evil should be enough. Still, it did give me pause as I went to look at my goals and resolutions this year. Why? Because they involved things that, if I can do them, will help me succeed but which, I fear, I have trouble keeping myself on track - as well as arguing for the benefits of them.
In this area, work is a terrible downfall: it mercilessly tends to focus down to the narrowest of all denominators, that which affects our work and (if we don't like our job) that which we would like to do instead of our job (which, being cast as a fantasy, has as little bias in reality). Part of this process over the weekend was addressing the fact that I find my imaginationatory and intellectual muscles hardening - I make excuses for not doing things instead of trying them because "I don't have the time" or "I don't have the money" - but more correctly, "I don't have the will."
So this year, on top of my goals and resolutions, there is one other: to escape what is becoming evident as the perilous thinking of middle age: it's too expensive, it's not time wise, and it's outside of my job category. This kind of thinking will end up in the very thing I have always feared: a petty paper pushing bureaucrat, marking time for retirement.
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