There was a nice surprise when I woke this morning. As I made coffee, I glanced out the crack between the blinds and the window sill in my kitchen and noticed the white stuff on the ground. My initial view was through that small gap at the bottom edge of the shades but when I opened them, it was as if I had been transported to another place. I was amazed how during the night, while sleeping, my world had been transformed. The drabness of winter had taken on a new aspect. The sleeping trees with shades of gray that all seem to run together were more distinct now, the snow sharply outlining the differences between them. That monotonous color of the trunks and limbs were given depth and character that were of course there all along but hidden to my view somehow. The white carpet covering the lawns in my neighborhood seemed to reflect light upward enhancing the contrast. It all seemed so pure and clean. Like a fresh start in life after so many mistakes. As if I had been forgiven and blessed.
Snow is so rare here. It’s like finding a gem stone in a mountain of slag. I know there are many people who have it for months at a time, and have a hard time appreciating its inherent beauty. I have lived in places where it must be shoveled and driven in and dealt with. Even when I’ve had to work at negotiating snow, I have always loved it for some reason. To me, it’s like a gift from God. It causes me to stop and look and listen. It brings me peace and an awareness of its power. As I sat on my porch this morning drinking coffee and watching it fall, it struck me as manna softly descending from heaven.
When I was a child, we had snow every winter. For 12 of my 20 years in the military, I lived where snowfall was common. These days, I feel like a stranger in a strange land most of the time. I feel as if I’m living an unfinished life. There’s a troublesome notion that I need to go home. As if I belong in that Ansel Adams photograph and won’t ever be truly at peace until I go.
Today though, it feels right in a small way. The large and small flakes continue to fall. There is an incredible cleanness in the air and the sheer beauty of it all fills my senses. I have so many good memories associated with snow. Rosy faces, cold hands, warm fires all make my heart smile. It makes me happy and brings me peace.
It’s time now. Writing about it all is a good way to remember when the days become unbearably hot but no substitute for being in it. I need to go back outside for a while and take it all in.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Road Rage
Like many people, I like to think of myself as a safe and efficient driver.
Lately though, in the last few months, I’ve noticed myself becoming increasingly irritated at others and the way “they” drive. Somewhere in my consciousness I have been hearing this little voice that tells me to not be so aggravated with other people in traffic. Some voice of reason that says there is most probably a reason for that stupid behavior I see in others. I have tried to listen to it and believe in it but invariably I get caught up in the same thought processes while engaged in what, on the surface, appears to be a simple task. Driving.
In my job, the company I work for provides a vehicle for me to drive. They are very serious about safety and for the slightest safety infraction they will not hesitate to let you have the day off without pay. Anyone that saw my work vehicle would know immediately what I’m all about. Is that why the person ahead of me is driving so slowly? Are they intentionally driving slower than the posted speed limit just to irritate me? Surely they realize that I have appointments to keep, places to go and an important function to perform for the populace at large. I see them looking at me in the rear view, hoping for a reaction. The voice in my head tells me to calm down. Even when it appears that some folks accelerate at intersections just to keep me from making a turn across their paths. Hey man, my making the turn doesn’t hurt your drive at all! It’s easy for me to reject the voice of reason and become mildly enraged. As I make the turns, pass the slow ones, clear the congestion, I feel more free, less confined. I feel more righteous.
The bad thing about turning off the voice of reason is that it gets easier and easier to let the siren song of road rage have sway. Lately I have found that it’s not just in the city where I work, while in my company provided ride. The Interstate, oh man, I just can’t believe these people out here! How can so many drivers get caught up in the brain dead mentality of putzing along in the fast lane? Again, I’m feeling righteous. Indignant. Offended. I know in my mind that there are speed limits and these laws are there for good reason but the siren song is very seductive and speaks to me of my rightness in attitude. What? The state police won’t stop me if I’m doing 75 in a 70. Just gotta keep below 80 so if I do get stopped, the ticket fine won’t jump another hundred bucks.
Up until about a week ago, the voice of reason seemed to have all but given up. I remember clearly when it spoke again. A driver in a minivan attempted to cut me off at an intersection. Of course I accelerated and made the turn first, which was definitely my due. Though the traffic was fairly heavy in this urban area, I felt that I just had to look at the driver of the offensive minivan. I wanted that person to see me looking at them. I wanted them to know that I was offended and that I felt they should be shameful of such rude and inconsiderate behavior. While involved in my self-righteous thought process, the car in front of me made a sudden stop. Providence, I suppose, got my attention. I saw the stopped vehicle just seconds before I would have plowed into the rear of it at about 40. There was no time to look into the lane beside me. I just snatched the wheel over and was fortunate that there wasn’t another car in it. No accident. Praise God. I drove safer the rest of the day, believe you me. Of course, it didn’t last. A couple of days later on the Interstate, I just couldn’t understand why all of those people were driving so slow. I know it was a construction work zone but hey, I had to get to work. I was running ahead of schedule for a change and was going to actually be at work 5 minutes early. Didn’t want to screw that up. That’s when I saw the State Trooper. Just as I passed him, he started rolling. I knew that I was busted with a probable fine in the range of 500 dollars. I pulled over. The Trooper fussed at me for driving 71 in a 50 and asked for my license. The whole time he was back there in his patrol car, I’m thinking about how I can’t afford a fine like that. When he came back to the passenger’s side window, he starts asking me all these questions about which agent I use for insurance, where he’s located, what I do for a living and I answered them all, politely, humbly. It was odd that he seemed to be suppressing a smile. That’s when he handed me the warning ticket and told me to be more aware of the construction zones. Bless that man’s heart. I cannot tell you how thankful I was. Providence.
When I got to work, I noticed on the ticket that there was some information for all drivers on it. I want to share that with you.
“Somewhere in America tonight a little child will be killed. With him will die the happiness of a Mother…the pride of a father. He will be killed by the carelessness of a thoughtless driver. That driver may be someone who is reading this right now. For in this country a human being is killed in an automobile accident every 10 minutes. Most of these tragedies don’t need to happen. They are caused by human acts. They can be prevented by human caution.”
My personal vehicle weighs about 6000 pounds. I can imagine what it might do to a compact car. More so, what it might do to a 150 pound human.
In light of that, it helps me to see what a deceiver the siren song of road rage really is. Most of the time when I get past “those driver” that are irritating me with their intentional delay tactics, I can see that it’s an elderly person or a mom having to deal with rambunctious children or I see a look on the person’s face that is one of deep thought or sadness or worry. Sometimes that person is happily singing along to some song on the radio. Blissfully unaware of my existence. I hear the voice of reason say, “See, I told you”.
I believe that many of the situations I’ve been annoyed by are mostly my own doing. Most of it stems from an unwillingness leave early enough to be where I need to go on time. Rushing with minutes to spare. I realize that it’s just a bad habit.
I’m thankful for the voice of reason. It is my intention and promise to listen to it and to remember that we are all just human. Taking the time to think rationally about driving, I can see that the person, who seems so stupid, is really me.
Lately though, in the last few months, I’ve noticed myself becoming increasingly irritated at others and the way “they” drive. Somewhere in my consciousness I have been hearing this little voice that tells me to not be so aggravated with other people in traffic. Some voice of reason that says there is most probably a reason for that stupid behavior I see in others. I have tried to listen to it and believe in it but invariably I get caught up in the same thought processes while engaged in what, on the surface, appears to be a simple task. Driving.
In my job, the company I work for provides a vehicle for me to drive. They are very serious about safety and for the slightest safety infraction they will not hesitate to let you have the day off without pay. Anyone that saw my work vehicle would know immediately what I’m all about. Is that why the person ahead of me is driving so slowly? Are they intentionally driving slower than the posted speed limit just to irritate me? Surely they realize that I have appointments to keep, places to go and an important function to perform for the populace at large. I see them looking at me in the rear view, hoping for a reaction. The voice in my head tells me to calm down. Even when it appears that some folks accelerate at intersections just to keep me from making a turn across their paths. Hey man, my making the turn doesn’t hurt your drive at all! It’s easy for me to reject the voice of reason and become mildly enraged. As I make the turns, pass the slow ones, clear the congestion, I feel more free, less confined. I feel more righteous.
The bad thing about turning off the voice of reason is that it gets easier and easier to let the siren song of road rage have sway. Lately I have found that it’s not just in the city where I work, while in my company provided ride. The Interstate, oh man, I just can’t believe these people out here! How can so many drivers get caught up in the brain dead mentality of putzing along in the fast lane? Again, I’m feeling righteous. Indignant. Offended. I know in my mind that there are speed limits and these laws are there for good reason but the siren song is very seductive and speaks to me of my rightness in attitude. What? The state police won’t stop me if I’m doing 75 in a 70. Just gotta keep below 80 so if I do get stopped, the ticket fine won’t jump another hundred bucks.
Up until about a week ago, the voice of reason seemed to have all but given up. I remember clearly when it spoke again. A driver in a minivan attempted to cut me off at an intersection. Of course I accelerated and made the turn first, which was definitely my due. Though the traffic was fairly heavy in this urban area, I felt that I just had to look at the driver of the offensive minivan. I wanted that person to see me looking at them. I wanted them to know that I was offended and that I felt they should be shameful of such rude and inconsiderate behavior. While involved in my self-righteous thought process, the car in front of me made a sudden stop. Providence, I suppose, got my attention. I saw the stopped vehicle just seconds before I would have plowed into the rear of it at about 40. There was no time to look into the lane beside me. I just snatched the wheel over and was fortunate that there wasn’t another car in it. No accident. Praise God. I drove safer the rest of the day, believe you me. Of course, it didn’t last. A couple of days later on the Interstate, I just couldn’t understand why all of those people were driving so slow. I know it was a construction work zone but hey, I had to get to work. I was running ahead of schedule for a change and was going to actually be at work 5 minutes early. Didn’t want to screw that up. That’s when I saw the State Trooper. Just as I passed him, he started rolling. I knew that I was busted with a probable fine in the range of 500 dollars. I pulled over. The Trooper fussed at me for driving 71 in a 50 and asked for my license. The whole time he was back there in his patrol car, I’m thinking about how I can’t afford a fine like that. When he came back to the passenger’s side window, he starts asking me all these questions about which agent I use for insurance, where he’s located, what I do for a living and I answered them all, politely, humbly. It was odd that he seemed to be suppressing a smile. That’s when he handed me the warning ticket and told me to be more aware of the construction zones. Bless that man’s heart. I cannot tell you how thankful I was. Providence.
When I got to work, I noticed on the ticket that there was some information for all drivers on it. I want to share that with you.
“Somewhere in America tonight a little child will be killed. With him will die the happiness of a Mother…the pride of a father. He will be killed by the carelessness of a thoughtless driver. That driver may be someone who is reading this right now. For in this country a human being is killed in an automobile accident every 10 minutes. Most of these tragedies don’t need to happen. They are caused by human acts. They can be prevented by human caution.”
My personal vehicle weighs about 6000 pounds. I can imagine what it might do to a compact car. More so, what it might do to a 150 pound human.
In light of that, it helps me to see what a deceiver the siren song of road rage really is. Most of the time when I get past “those driver” that are irritating me with their intentional delay tactics, I can see that it’s an elderly person or a mom having to deal with rambunctious children or I see a look on the person’s face that is one of deep thought or sadness or worry. Sometimes that person is happily singing along to some song on the radio. Blissfully unaware of my existence. I hear the voice of reason say, “See, I told you”.
I believe that many of the situations I’ve been annoyed by are mostly my own doing. Most of it stems from an unwillingness leave early enough to be where I need to go on time. Rushing with minutes to spare. I realize that it’s just a bad habit.
I’m thankful for the voice of reason. It is my intention and promise to listen to it and to remember that we are all just human. Taking the time to think rationally about driving, I can see that the person, who seems so stupid, is really me.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Chistmas Conflict
Christmas seems to be one of those holidays that moves most people to a place of joy. That in itself is really quite commendable as personal joy is something that is often projected outward and in it’s own way reminds others that they have reason to feel joy also. A casual observer would be moved by the inherent happiness and well being exuded by a joyous person without really understanding why. In the United States, a predominately Christian nation, we associate Christmas with the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus. Someone that knew nothing of Jesus the Christ but witnessed the behavior of someone that did, in this season, would certainly feel and share in that person’s joyfulness just because it is there. Being human, we relate to the feelings of those around us.
I’ve always liked the Christmas holiday. When I was a child, it was such a wonderful thing that I looked forward to all year. My parents always had a traditional sort of celebration with Christmas dinner, a decorated tree and the exchanging of gifts. We always did this on Christmas Eve and in the innocence of my youth, I had the gifts of Santa Claus coming the next day. What great stuff for a child. So much candy, homemade sweet treats, Christmas music and often enough, snow.
When I grew up, the holiday still had most of the charm I’d experienced as a child but I did become more aware of the supposed real reason for the season. The birth of our Savior, right? In that light, the commercialism of Christmas seemed kind of wrong somehow. I still celebrated all of it in the same ways but it did seem to have less luster for me. I didn’t look forward to it throughout the year like I used to.
I got married along the way to where I’m at now. My wife and I had the sort of holiday that most people have. For a few years anyway. At some point I felt like I needed to live my life as a Christian and that’s when I met her grandfather. He was a devout Christian man and during a long visit with us we talked about Christmas, among other things. His take on it was that Christmas had nothing to do with Christianity. Though I respected and admired him, I still wanted to celebrate Christmas in the way that I always had. My wife didn’t and insisted that we should no longer recognize Christmas as a holiday that stood as a reminder of the birth of our Savior. Her take on it was that Christmas had pagan roots and to be involved in it was an affront to God himself. I really did need to research the history behind Christmas. It didn’t take much digging to see that the holiday does indeed have pagan roots. Traditions we follow today were instituted by the Christian church to take the place of pagan rituals. This all in an effort to convert the pagans to Christianity. The decorated tree, holly, mistletoe, caroling, gift giving, Santa Claus. All originate in paganism. Many historical scholars, and quite probably many theologians, affirm that the birth of Jesus was most likely in the month of September, not in December. The date 25 December comes from pagan celebrations that apparently start with some god named Mithras and that was eventually converted to celebrations of the Roman god Saturn. Saturnalia supposes that the sun dies on the 22 of December and is resurrected on the 25th. Three days. Note the difference between sun and Son. Saturnalia was an exceedingly wicked celebration by the way. Oddly, the woman that was my wife put me on this path of understanding but is today an avowed pagan herself and denounces Jesus as the Son of God and as any type of Lord and Savior.
I lived my life for approximately 25 years in rejection of Christmas celebrations. Today in my intelligent mind, I understand that Christmas isn’t really about the birth of Christ. The bible does not tell us to celebrate His birth. If anything, it tells us to celebrate his death. That’s where the real hope is.
All that being said, I can tell you that today I’m okay with Christmas. It may have pagan roots but how many other things in our lives do we go with the flow on and have no idea about their origins? Tooth fairies. Easter bunnies. New Years Eve celebrations. Halloween. Step on a crack……
I talked to my mom once about the whole pagan/Christmas thing. She told me that Christmas is for children. How true that short answer is. Life is hard on planet earth for the most part. How can it be so wrong to allow a child (or the child in our adult hearts) to have a few days of joy in the celebration of a good meal, a decorated tree, the giving and receiving of gifts, songs of praise for our Savior, peace and goodwill toward our fellow man? I love my Lord and am here to serve Him in whatever small way that I can. I just don’t believe that he is so harsh as to condemn us for celebrating this holiday.
I say to you Merry Christmas. May the knowledge that a King was born and ultimately died for you, that there is hope for us all, bring joy to your heart. Peace on earth and goodwill toward men.
I’ve always liked the Christmas holiday. When I was a child, it was such a wonderful thing that I looked forward to all year. My parents always had a traditional sort of celebration with Christmas dinner, a decorated tree and the exchanging of gifts. We always did this on Christmas Eve and in the innocence of my youth, I had the gifts of Santa Claus coming the next day. What great stuff for a child. So much candy, homemade sweet treats, Christmas music and often enough, snow.
When I grew up, the holiday still had most of the charm I’d experienced as a child but I did become more aware of the supposed real reason for the season. The birth of our Savior, right? In that light, the commercialism of Christmas seemed kind of wrong somehow. I still celebrated all of it in the same ways but it did seem to have less luster for me. I didn’t look forward to it throughout the year like I used to.
I got married along the way to where I’m at now. My wife and I had the sort of holiday that most people have. For a few years anyway. At some point I felt like I needed to live my life as a Christian and that’s when I met her grandfather. He was a devout Christian man and during a long visit with us we talked about Christmas, among other things. His take on it was that Christmas had nothing to do with Christianity. Though I respected and admired him, I still wanted to celebrate Christmas in the way that I always had. My wife didn’t and insisted that we should no longer recognize Christmas as a holiday that stood as a reminder of the birth of our Savior. Her take on it was that Christmas had pagan roots and to be involved in it was an affront to God himself. I really did need to research the history behind Christmas. It didn’t take much digging to see that the holiday does indeed have pagan roots. Traditions we follow today were instituted by the Christian church to take the place of pagan rituals. This all in an effort to convert the pagans to Christianity. The decorated tree, holly, mistletoe, caroling, gift giving, Santa Claus. All originate in paganism. Many historical scholars, and quite probably many theologians, affirm that the birth of Jesus was most likely in the month of September, not in December. The date 25 December comes from pagan celebrations that apparently start with some god named Mithras and that was eventually converted to celebrations of the Roman god Saturn. Saturnalia supposes that the sun dies on the 22 of December and is resurrected on the 25th. Three days. Note the difference between sun and Son. Saturnalia was an exceedingly wicked celebration by the way. Oddly, the woman that was my wife put me on this path of understanding but is today an avowed pagan herself and denounces Jesus as the Son of God and as any type of Lord and Savior.
I lived my life for approximately 25 years in rejection of Christmas celebrations. Today in my intelligent mind, I understand that Christmas isn’t really about the birth of Christ. The bible does not tell us to celebrate His birth. If anything, it tells us to celebrate his death. That’s where the real hope is.
All that being said, I can tell you that today I’m okay with Christmas. It may have pagan roots but how many other things in our lives do we go with the flow on and have no idea about their origins? Tooth fairies. Easter bunnies. New Years Eve celebrations. Halloween. Step on a crack……
I talked to my mom once about the whole pagan/Christmas thing. She told me that Christmas is for children. How true that short answer is. Life is hard on planet earth for the most part. How can it be so wrong to allow a child (or the child in our adult hearts) to have a few days of joy in the celebration of a good meal, a decorated tree, the giving and receiving of gifts, songs of praise for our Savior, peace and goodwill toward our fellow man? I love my Lord and am here to serve Him in whatever small way that I can. I just don’t believe that he is so harsh as to condemn us for celebrating this holiday.
I say to you Merry Christmas. May the knowledge that a King was born and ultimately died for you, that there is hope for us all, bring joy to your heart. Peace on earth and goodwill toward men.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Birthdays
Today is the birthday of my dearest friend. Though I suspect she isn’t all that excited about it, I’m glad that she is here in this life for me to be close to. I believe that we basically feel the same about birthdays but I’m not so sure how deeply she thinks about such things. It seems odd sometimes when you’re with someone that thinks so much like you do. Has the same sort of perspective about life. Has the same sort of likes and dislikes. Is moved emotionally and spiritually by the same kind of things and places that bring that special inner peace and comfort. I’m pretty thankful that we can be together and it makes me happy to know that she is who she is. I’ve got some of my own thoughts about getting older that I’d like to talk about here but in the end, I want her to know that she is first in my thoughts on this day.
I wish that I could say lots of great stuff about birthdays, as an adult. I’m not so sure they mean that much to me anymore though. As I’ve gotten older, they seem to be just another day. Not some occasion to celebrate. I think some people look at them with optimism and see it all as another year of growth, wisdom and even survival. On the other end of the spectrum there is fatalism. One year closer to the ultimate dirt nap that everyone takes eventually. Body is breaking down with weaker eyes, stiffer joints and the realization that youthful vigor is a thing of the past. I suppose that much of how we see life, birthdays or any other day for that matter, depends on how well we have made decisions about our lives in the past. People are so diverse and individualistic that there is no accounting for why someone chooses their steps in the way they do. Most of us really don’t think about the consequences of our actions in day-to-day living. We just do what we feel because it’s seems right at the time. Looking back on my life there were decisions that I made which seemed innocuous at the time but had long-term effects, some good and some not so good. I suppose that’s part of what shapes us into our own unique, individual selves.
One way to see it is that birthdays are like mile markers on the highway. Traveling on life’s journey, those markers reflect the passing years. We become smarter about the trip but understand that the farther we go, the less chance we have to go back and take a different course. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The open road is before us with all of its potential adventure, anticipation and hope. You never know what’s around the next bend and it could lead to more fulfillment and happiness than you have ever known.
The last few years, on my own birthday, I’ve had the distinct sensation that I’m still here. It’s as if I wake up on that day and realize that I’m still alive and for whatever reason, I still have some earthly purpose. Time is calling me into a continuation of life. The problem I have though, most of the time, is that I don’t know what that purpose is. Once upon a time, I thought I knew but things changed in my life and I had to come to grips with the realization that I was on a different path. Of course, the decisions I’ve made put me on this road but often it feels as if the turn was sudden and abrupt. Like an instantaneous left that changed everything that I thought I knew about life. Dreams that seemed so real and so attainable at one time are like misty memories that are so far in the distance. As time goes by, I’m realizing that there aren’t enough years left to travel that far. Sitting here, writing this, I long for answers about destination and purpose. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the questions are that would frame the answers I seek. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where my understanding about my existence has narrowed a good bit. All I know now is to do the best I can with what’s left. Love one another. Be kind to one another. Be a good steward of the earth and the things you are given. Understand that life isn’t random. There is a time to give and take. A time to stay put and a time to move. Just do the best you can with what you’ve got and hope for the best.
All that being poured forth out of my heart and mind, I’d like to visit my friend’s day again. This is her day and as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing too good for her. She raised a fine young man that is both fair and bright, on her own. If you knew this young man, you would be proud to claim him as yours. Though she possesses a college degree, she never made a lot of money. Somehow, she managed to provide everything they needed and gave that child a safe, secure and comfortable upbringing. There are lots of personal things that make her a truly remarkable woman but you wouldn’t need to hear them if you knew her. I think her daily existence speaks for itself. In the end, I’d just like to say to you dear heart:
Thank you for being there all of the time.
Thank you for listening to me.
Thank you for understanding my, sometimes woeful, existence.
Thank you for the wonderful back rubs.
Thank you for the great lunches that you insist on making for me.
Thank you for the morning coffee.
Thank you for just being who you are and for being my friend.
Love.
I wish that I could say lots of great stuff about birthdays, as an adult. I’m not so sure they mean that much to me anymore though. As I’ve gotten older, they seem to be just another day. Not some occasion to celebrate. I think some people look at them with optimism and see it all as another year of growth, wisdom and even survival. On the other end of the spectrum there is fatalism. One year closer to the ultimate dirt nap that everyone takes eventually. Body is breaking down with weaker eyes, stiffer joints and the realization that youthful vigor is a thing of the past. I suppose that much of how we see life, birthdays or any other day for that matter, depends on how well we have made decisions about our lives in the past. People are so diverse and individualistic that there is no accounting for why someone chooses their steps in the way they do. Most of us really don’t think about the consequences of our actions in day-to-day living. We just do what we feel because it’s seems right at the time. Looking back on my life there were decisions that I made which seemed innocuous at the time but had long-term effects, some good and some not so good. I suppose that’s part of what shapes us into our own unique, individual selves.
One way to see it is that birthdays are like mile markers on the highway. Traveling on life’s journey, those markers reflect the passing years. We become smarter about the trip but understand that the farther we go, the less chance we have to go back and take a different course. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The open road is before us with all of its potential adventure, anticipation and hope. You never know what’s around the next bend and it could lead to more fulfillment and happiness than you have ever known.
The last few years, on my own birthday, I’ve had the distinct sensation that I’m still here. It’s as if I wake up on that day and realize that I’m still alive and for whatever reason, I still have some earthly purpose. Time is calling me into a continuation of life. The problem I have though, most of the time, is that I don’t know what that purpose is. Once upon a time, I thought I knew but things changed in my life and I had to come to grips with the realization that I was on a different path. Of course, the decisions I’ve made put me on this road but often it feels as if the turn was sudden and abrupt. Like an instantaneous left that changed everything that I thought I knew about life. Dreams that seemed so real and so attainable at one time are like misty memories that are so far in the distance. As time goes by, I’m realizing that there aren’t enough years left to travel that far. Sitting here, writing this, I long for answers about destination and purpose. Honestly, I’m not even sure what the questions are that would frame the answers I seek. I guess I’ve gotten to the point where my understanding about my existence has narrowed a good bit. All I know now is to do the best I can with what’s left. Love one another. Be kind to one another. Be a good steward of the earth and the things you are given. Understand that life isn’t random. There is a time to give and take. A time to stay put and a time to move. Just do the best you can with what you’ve got and hope for the best.
All that being poured forth out of my heart and mind, I’d like to visit my friend’s day again. This is her day and as far as I’m concerned, there is nothing too good for her. She raised a fine young man that is both fair and bright, on her own. If you knew this young man, you would be proud to claim him as yours. Though she possesses a college degree, she never made a lot of money. Somehow, she managed to provide everything they needed and gave that child a safe, secure and comfortable upbringing. There are lots of personal things that make her a truly remarkable woman but you wouldn’t need to hear them if you knew her. I think her daily existence speaks for itself. In the end, I’d just like to say to you dear heart:
Thank you for being there all of the time.
Thank you for listening to me.
Thank you for understanding my, sometimes woeful, existence.
Thank you for the wonderful back rubs.
Thank you for the great lunches that you insist on making for me.
Thank you for the morning coffee.
Thank you for just being who you are and for being my friend.
Love.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Veteran’s Day
This evening after work, I went into a grocery store to buy something. It’s a small, nice place and just feels local when you walk in. The cashiers are all young, school aged girls with nametags that tell you who they are. Complete with hand drawn hearts and smiley faces on them. They’re always friendly, polite and respectful and I appreciate that. As I checked out, I asked the young lady if she goes to church. When she said yes and told me where she goes, I said to her that she could go to any church she wanted to. I mentioned that she could choose any denomination or faith she wanted without any real retribution or recrimination from anyone that mattered. She looked puzzled and I told her that she could thank a Veteran for that freedom. I honestly don’t think she really understood that. What a shame that many of our young people (and older people for that matter) can’t really appreciate what it means to live in an open and free society. That the very freedoms they take for granted were bought with a price. Men and women throughout our nation’s history have sacrificed their own personal freedom, their psychological well being and their lives for their fellow countrymen. How can anyone not be grateful and thankful that there are those who would do such a thing for them? I believe that this too is grace.
Some questions I’d like to ask are:
Like English as your primary language?
Like the church of your choice?
Like the right to vote?
Like to know that crooked politicians can be held accountable for their actions?
Like the freedom speech?
Like to just get in your car and drive wherever you please, when you please?
Like to decide whether you're gonna work a particular job or not?
Like being able to live wherever you want?
Like the freedom to own a gun?
Like the freedom to have as many kids as you want?
Like having ultimate say in where or how your children will be educated?
I suspect you can come up with a few other freedoms, that are so easily taken for granted, if you think about it.
The odd thing about most vets is that they don’t exalt themselves. They’re not braggarts. They served their country selflessly and didn’t ask for anything in return. Things like Honor, Duty, Commitment and the understanding that someone had to do it are enough for them. These people are quiet heroes and they deserve our respect and admiration. If you know someone that has served this great nation in that capacity, please tell them you appreciate it. Thank them for their sacrifice and service.
Freedom. What a great thing this is. Be thankful for it.
Thank a Veteran for it.
Some questions I’d like to ask are:
Like English as your primary language?
Like the church of your choice?
Like the right to vote?
Like to know that crooked politicians can be held accountable for their actions?
Like the freedom speech?
Like to just get in your car and drive wherever you please, when you please?
Like to decide whether you're gonna work a particular job or not?
Like being able to live wherever you want?
Like the freedom to own a gun?
Like the freedom to have as many kids as you want?
Like having ultimate say in where or how your children will be educated?
I suspect you can come up with a few other freedoms, that are so easily taken for granted, if you think about it.
The odd thing about most vets is that they don’t exalt themselves. They’re not braggarts. They served their country selflessly and didn’t ask for anything in return. Things like Honor, Duty, Commitment and the understanding that someone had to do it are enough for them. These people are quiet heroes and they deserve our respect and admiration. If you know someone that has served this great nation in that capacity, please tell them you appreciate it. Thank them for their sacrifice and service.
Freedom. What a great thing this is. Be thankful for it.
Thank a Veteran for it.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Working for a Living
I’ve got a pretty good job and I like what I do for the most part. I’m thankful that it’s a part of my life and that it takes care of my needs. I guess that when it really comes down to it, I’m just doing time on earth and need to be gainfully employed at something but it’s more than that. When my day begins, the boss gives us a little pep talk; I get in my company provided vehicle and head out, giving service to those who need it. There is a lot of inherent trust on the companies part to just turn me loose and not be concerned that I’ll do the best I can for them. I like that and I try to give them 100% everyday. There is a certain amount of freedom in the fact that there is no one looking over my shoulder. I’m not being micro managed. I’ve been trained and given all the tools I need to complete my daily tasks. It’s really a pretty great job.
I like people and during my day, I’m always meeting someone new. The interesting thing is that there’s so much variety in the individuals that make up my customers. I’ve laughed with some. Shared stories of life with some. Prayed with some. Though there is the occasional crank, most folks are glad to see me when I show up. I’ve had some of my customers try to feed me, asked me to come back as a friend, even asked me out on a date once or twice. Though the technical aspects of my job are interesting and sometimes challenging, it’s the freedom of going place to place unsupervised and the interaction with others that make it most worthwhile.
That all being said, I wonder sometimes what daily living might be like if I didn’t require a job to survive. What would I do if the need for financial resources were already met? What if I had the freedom to do what I wanted with each day? I think most people understand that work is a good thing and that all of us need to be doing something productive. Why can’t it be in the pursuit of things we love? Like I said, I like my job but in all honesty I’m not in love with it.
There are lots of things that interest me. Natural resources, people in need, caring for the elderly, woodcraft, food and art to name a few. What it must be like to have the financial resources to contribute to worthy things, helping others and our planet. Living life from a philanthropic perspective. For me, helping the park service maintain hiking trails would be a wonderful thing. Volunteering clean up help on spoiled shorelines, saving whales, visiting old people and listening to the stories they have to tell, lending a hand in a soup kitchen, contributing what skills I have with Habitat for Humanity. These things are all work too. Yes?
I’ve always loved woodwork. Most of the things I’ve done though have come about because of a need, my own personal requirements or those of others. It would be great to have the freedom to create some beautiful or functional thing just because you wanted to see the fruits of your own hands labor. Having the time to learn and grow at some craft that gives you pleasure and possibly brings joy to another person. Just the idea of helping a child see that there is more to life than video games and the internet. Helping to open young eyes and minds to the possibility that they can have vision and purpose outside the limitations of the high tech world we live in today. That life need not be lived at breakneck speed. That there is peace and comfort in doing simple things that bring joy to themselves and to the world.
I suppose that some of these designs can still be accomplished while working the 9 to 5 life that most of us are in. It’s time that limits me mostly, that and money. More accurately, the absence of those things. Though I like my job and am thankful for it, I wish that I had the freedom to pursue things that might do some real good. There are many aspects of our lives that are truly blessings and that alone is much to be thankful for. I just sometimes see the world today with all of it’s armed conflicts, politics, starvation, homelessness, orphans, divorce, drugs, gangs, social disfunction; you name it and wonder what it could be like in my little corner had I the resources to make a difference. Wouldn’t it be just beautiful if you could start helping by having the time and finances to expand your mind and encourage just a little oasis of peace and joy?
I like people and during my day, I’m always meeting someone new. The interesting thing is that there’s so much variety in the individuals that make up my customers. I’ve laughed with some. Shared stories of life with some. Prayed with some. Though there is the occasional crank, most folks are glad to see me when I show up. I’ve had some of my customers try to feed me, asked me to come back as a friend, even asked me out on a date once or twice. Though the technical aspects of my job are interesting and sometimes challenging, it’s the freedom of going place to place unsupervised and the interaction with others that make it most worthwhile.
That all being said, I wonder sometimes what daily living might be like if I didn’t require a job to survive. What would I do if the need for financial resources were already met? What if I had the freedom to do what I wanted with each day? I think most people understand that work is a good thing and that all of us need to be doing something productive. Why can’t it be in the pursuit of things we love? Like I said, I like my job but in all honesty I’m not in love with it.
There are lots of things that interest me. Natural resources, people in need, caring for the elderly, woodcraft, food and art to name a few. What it must be like to have the financial resources to contribute to worthy things, helping others and our planet. Living life from a philanthropic perspective. For me, helping the park service maintain hiking trails would be a wonderful thing. Volunteering clean up help on spoiled shorelines, saving whales, visiting old people and listening to the stories they have to tell, lending a hand in a soup kitchen, contributing what skills I have with Habitat for Humanity. These things are all work too. Yes?
I’ve always loved woodwork. Most of the things I’ve done though have come about because of a need, my own personal requirements or those of others. It would be great to have the freedom to create some beautiful or functional thing just because you wanted to see the fruits of your own hands labor. Having the time to learn and grow at some craft that gives you pleasure and possibly brings joy to another person. Just the idea of helping a child see that there is more to life than video games and the internet. Helping to open young eyes and minds to the possibility that they can have vision and purpose outside the limitations of the high tech world we live in today. That life need not be lived at breakneck speed. That there is peace and comfort in doing simple things that bring joy to themselves and to the world.
I suppose that some of these designs can still be accomplished while working the 9 to 5 life that most of us are in. It’s time that limits me mostly, that and money. More accurately, the absence of those things. Though I like my job and am thankful for it, I wish that I had the freedom to pursue things that might do some real good. There are many aspects of our lives that are truly blessings and that alone is much to be thankful for. I just sometimes see the world today with all of it’s armed conflicts, politics, starvation, homelessness, orphans, divorce, drugs, gangs, social disfunction; you name it and wonder what it could be like in my little corner had I the resources to make a difference. Wouldn’t it be just beautiful if you could start helping by having the time and finances to expand your mind and encourage just a little oasis of peace and joy?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
A Vacation for the Weary
I’m really a cool to cold weather kind of person. Though it’s uncomfortable to work in the heat of summer, it has never been much relief to take a week off during that season. That’s why I wait and suffer through the terrible humidity. The sweltering heat of the southeast, that seems to go on forever. Really, it starts getting hot here in March and continues through September. Even into October sometimes. Though I’m from the south and love many things about this part of the country, it’s just too hot most of the year.
Today is the last day of my coveted time off. It’s peaceful here in my house. The heat is off and the window fan is running quietly. No television on this day. Reading and reflecting. Resting. I have somewhere to be this evening but for now I get to enjoy the last threads of a wonderful thirteen day respite from the grind.
In the past, I haven’t done much of anything during this time. Sit around the house mostly. Maybe visit family for a few days in another state. This year was a little different though. I took the opportunity to spend some time in the mountains with my dear friend. The place we went is my home state and it felt like I had come home. It’s been about a week since we returned and I have that feeling of lose again. Pining away for someplace I’d rather be. I’ve traveled all over the earth and seen many wonderful and beautiful places but the old saying rings true with me. There’s no place like home. Maybe someday it will be my place again.
I did visit with my family some. My dad has long since past away but my mother is still there. She doesn’t live in the family home anymore. With the onset of dementia it was safer for her to stay in an assisted living facility. It is quite sad to see someone you love lose his or her cognitive ability. A vague remembrance in the eyes, the obvious mental struggle to put the pieces together of who this person standing before you is. I love my mother dearly but I hope that I don’t end up in the same place. I honestly believe that I’d rather pass out of this life than to end up in that way. Though my time there was brief, I did get to visit with two of my brothers, my brother’s wife and my sister. It was really a joy to reconnect with my siblings. Their lives are so interesting and I am so very proud to be a part of our family. I wish there was some significant thing that I could do for them all. Some unequivocal thing that would always bring them peace, warmth and joy when they thought of me. I miss them already.
When I returned, it was time to pick up my own kids for the weekend. We always have a good time and I think all of our hearts ache when we part again. My youngest daughter, who is ten, has been bugging me to take her roller skating. When I was young and in school, I used to love skating. In the little town where I grew up, the man that owned the rink would drive an old school bus, that was painted white, around to pick kids up and then take them back home. It was like a dollar to get in and a dollar to rent the wheels. Though my dad gave me a small, weekly allowance I’d rake leaves, cut grass or collect bottles for the deposits so I’d have a little extra money when I went. It was good to buy a cheeseburger and have enough to buy the girl of interest a cherry coke. I’d skate my heart out and smooch with most any girl that was willing. Good times and mostly just clean fun. Well I took my daughter. It was the first time I’d been on skates in probably 30 years. Honestly, I was surprised at how well I was doing. Frontward, backward, even spinning around in a circle to stop. That’s when my girl wanted to hold hands and skate together. Now she does okay by herself but flails those arms around a good bit to keep her balance. I thought, no big deal, she’ll settle down if holding my hand. Right. We were probably in our third or forth go round when those little arms started to swing. In my effort to settle her down and keep her from falling, we both ended up on the floor. The one thing I didn’t remember about skating was just how much it hurt to land hard on that rink floor. Man, I could hardly walk for two days. My hip still hurts a bit and it’s been nearly a week.
Well, it’s been a good vacation. I really do feel rested and rejuvenated in heart and mind. I’m not looking forward to going back to work. I guess that’s pretty common with most folks. I am thankful that I do have a good job that is providing for my needs. God be praised. Its just time to start that long wait again.
Heavy sigh.
Today is the last day of my coveted time off. It’s peaceful here in my house. The heat is off and the window fan is running quietly. No television on this day. Reading and reflecting. Resting. I have somewhere to be this evening but for now I get to enjoy the last threads of a wonderful thirteen day respite from the grind.
In the past, I haven’t done much of anything during this time. Sit around the house mostly. Maybe visit family for a few days in another state. This year was a little different though. I took the opportunity to spend some time in the mountains with my dear friend. The place we went is my home state and it felt like I had come home. It’s been about a week since we returned and I have that feeling of lose again. Pining away for someplace I’d rather be. I’ve traveled all over the earth and seen many wonderful and beautiful places but the old saying rings true with me. There’s no place like home. Maybe someday it will be my place again.
I did visit with my family some. My dad has long since past away but my mother is still there. She doesn’t live in the family home anymore. With the onset of dementia it was safer for her to stay in an assisted living facility. It is quite sad to see someone you love lose his or her cognitive ability. A vague remembrance in the eyes, the obvious mental struggle to put the pieces together of who this person standing before you is. I love my mother dearly but I hope that I don’t end up in the same place. I honestly believe that I’d rather pass out of this life than to end up in that way. Though my time there was brief, I did get to visit with two of my brothers, my brother’s wife and my sister. It was really a joy to reconnect with my siblings. Their lives are so interesting and I am so very proud to be a part of our family. I wish there was some significant thing that I could do for them all. Some unequivocal thing that would always bring them peace, warmth and joy when they thought of me. I miss them already.
When I returned, it was time to pick up my own kids for the weekend. We always have a good time and I think all of our hearts ache when we part again. My youngest daughter, who is ten, has been bugging me to take her roller skating. When I was young and in school, I used to love skating. In the little town where I grew up, the man that owned the rink would drive an old school bus, that was painted white, around to pick kids up and then take them back home. It was like a dollar to get in and a dollar to rent the wheels. Though my dad gave me a small, weekly allowance I’d rake leaves, cut grass or collect bottles for the deposits so I’d have a little extra money when I went. It was good to buy a cheeseburger and have enough to buy the girl of interest a cherry coke. I’d skate my heart out and smooch with most any girl that was willing. Good times and mostly just clean fun. Well I took my daughter. It was the first time I’d been on skates in probably 30 years. Honestly, I was surprised at how well I was doing. Frontward, backward, even spinning around in a circle to stop. That’s when my girl wanted to hold hands and skate together. Now she does okay by herself but flails those arms around a good bit to keep her balance. I thought, no big deal, she’ll settle down if holding my hand. Right. We were probably in our third or forth go round when those little arms started to swing. In my effort to settle her down and keep her from falling, we both ended up on the floor. The one thing I didn’t remember about skating was just how much it hurt to land hard on that rink floor. Man, I could hardly walk for two days. My hip still hurts a bit and it’s been nearly a week.
Well, it’s been a good vacation. I really do feel rested and rejuvenated in heart and mind. I’m not looking forward to going back to work. I guess that’s pretty common with most folks. I am thankful that I do have a good job that is providing for my needs. God be praised. Its just time to start that long wait again.
Heavy sigh.
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