A Hard Love

This is last week's "Five Minute Friday" assignment from here. In my first attempt, I learned that I am a hopeless editor at the keyboard. The instructions say, just write, don't edit. I'm not sure anyone would understand what I type without editing, let alone enjoy it. I type faster than my thoughts can gel and have to go back and fix things. However, I do much writing with pen and paper which doesn't lend itself to editing. I decided to try that approach. The next step of publishing those inky words has taken a little longer. But here we go:

START

He needs money. Again. He always needs money. He has no job. What he has is a temper that interferes with steady employment. I think I understand the source of the temper. Life has never given him a fair shake. I wish I could fix it for him. I love him. I want better things for him. But charity isn't the answer. I've helped him out financially in the past, until every encounter started revolving around money and I said I wouldn't give him any more.

Now he's here again with his live-in girlfriend. Her dogs were turned in to the town by her mother as part of a fight between them. Unneutered dogs. $100 needed for registration to get them back. Can I please, pretty please, pay the $100 so they can have registered, unneutered dogs in their impoverished home? They can pay me back next month when her disability check comes in.

Love is hard.

STOP

On writing -- again

The days are full. I consider the idea of writing here much more than I actually do it. It seems that when the ideas come there is no time. When I finally grab some time, the ideas are gone. If I write them down as they come they grow stale. The things I pondered yesterday seem uninteresting to me today. How can I return to yesterday's mindset?

I think I have a lot to learn about writing.

On Distance

Five minutes to write about distance for this contest. I have already messed up the logistics of one entry -- no writing, only stumbling through the entry process. And now for the actual writing.
----------------
She's married now. Four hundred miles from home. Not many from around here could make it. Her father and I (her mother) and brother and sister were there. My mother and two of my brothers were there along with a sister-in-law and two nephews. We closed the geographical distance that generally separates us and came together for a day -- from Indiana, Florida, and Virginia to Missouri by plane and minivan. We sat together and, amidst the joy, were aware of those not there. Yet, it was good.

And that's how much I can write in five minutes.

On writing

As I am subscribing to more blogs, I run across posts directed toward wannabe writers. One such post talked about the hard work that goes into being a published author. I believe it. Even a blog is work. I could put much more time into my posts. Pictures and links would make them more attractive but would also add to the time required. So I just have text. Joining blogging networks would bring me readers, but that would require more time investment than I want to make. So I settle for those who happen by. It's obvious that I need some sort of theme and consistency, an identity for my blog. But I don't have one and just drift from subject to subject.

As I pondered the post about writing being hard work, I realized that I can probably add being published to the list of dreams that aren't likely to be realized in this life. The desire simply isn't strong enough to trump other demands on my hours.

And so, dear reader, I think you will not have any difficulty fighting off the crowds to make comments here. Like much of my life, this place is a low-traffic area, off the beaten path where few find it.

Yet, I upgraded my counter yesterday so I can see more than a small snapshot of the traffic going by. Even out here in the sticks, it's nice to see people stop by now and then and it's tempting to look for ways to attract a few more this week than last week. I'm pretty sure I'm not headed for the big time, but I think I'll at least keep posting now and then.

Thanks for reading.

Strengths and Weaknesses

Someone asked recently in a forum I read if I know my strengths based on the Clifton StrengthsFinder [tm] assessment from Gallup. I do not. I have had my "spiritual gifts" assessed several times. (My "spiritual gifts" have an uncanny resemblance to my natural talents.) I have also done personality assessments. But I had nothing to contribute to a discussion about StrengthsFinder[tm] results.

It turns out there is a book associated with the StrengthsFinder[tm] assessment. No problem. I am a librarian. I'll simply borrow the book and discover my strengths. But, no, the Gallup people are way ahead of me. Each book comes with a single-use access code for the online assessment. There will be no free results for this exercise. If you want results you have to buy a copy of the book.

Still, I have a used library copy of the book and have read the part up to where I'm supposed to take the assessment. There is angst in this book. The author describes a world that sniffs out and treats weaknesses rather than recognizing and capitalizing on strengths. In the view of those behind the book, this approach is far too common, almost universal.

I have somehow missed this anxiety-producing part of life. Or maybe I'm blocking painful memories. I can't remember a single instance where someone said, "Marsha, you are not good at this. You need to undergo training to boost your skills in this area. You can do anything if you set your mind to it!"

A few samples of the many areas where I am weak:

1. Art -- drawing, painting, sketching. I took general art in school and was required to draw so many sketches a week. I did. They came out better than I expected. I guess I learned something in art class. But they were never good. Still, I got an 'A' for effort and was allowed to move on without notice. No one pressured me to become an art major so I could develop my stunted talents in this area.

2. Cooking. I can bring my scientific, mathematical skills to this task and follow a recipe, but I lack all sorts of basic skills for cooking. The most basic of those skills is interest. When I am stuck cooking, I turn on the kitchen television. This serves two purposes: First, it combines two tasks I would never choose so I at least feel like I'm multitasking and not wasting my time on just one of them. Second, when I lose my focus and start to wander away from the kitchen, the need to turn off the television before leaving the room serves as a reminder of why I'm there, that perhaps I'm supposed to be stirring constantly, not wandering off. Yes, there has been pressure over the years to be a normal wife and mother who can whip up delicious meals for her family and for sharing, but the food industry has offset that pressure by offering an increasing variety of alternatives to cooking.

3. Sports. My lowest grades in school were in physical education. Besides have very little spirit of competitiveness, I also have no natural athletic talent. Other than in PhysEd in school, I have never been pressured to develop athletic skills. When we play slow-pitch softball at church, I suggest that I would be an excellent choice for either team. I throw like a girl with no athletic ability, can't catch, and don't run very fast, but I have a glove for the proper hand and can almost always hit the ball -- usually straight to first base thanks to a poorly-timed left-handed swing.

4. Asking others for help. I used to be very bad at this. I lived by the philosophy that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself. I'm sure people noticed, but no one ever pressured me to take classes on delegation. I had to figure out for myself that there is value in sharing tasks with others -- multiplying the resources available while perhaps saving on the time invested.

5. Making telephone calls, particularly to ask others for help. This is the stuff of nightmares for me. I can't imagine a worse job than telemarketing. It has about the same attraction as dying and going to hell. I turned down many requests when my children were in school to accept a calling list to recruit parental involvement for various projects. Now, I try to include a disclaimer every time I accept the task of making a phone call. It goes, "Never believe me when I say I'll make a phone call. The chances of this call being made are almost zero." I don't remember anyone ever suggesting that I focus on strengthening my calling skills. Usually, they just take their chances because I'm the obvious candidate to make the call. And I guess I actually make those calls often enough to keep getting the assignments, but it's still a definite area of weakness.

I'm left-handed. Back in the dark ages of internet communication, I once subscribed to a "newsgroup" for left-handed people and discovered all sorts of scars among those who had encountered the "hand police" when young. They experienced various levels of persuasion to use their right hands.

There were no "hand police" in my life. Rather there was accommodation. My mother bought an iron with the cord out the back instead of on the side. My utensils were always on the left side of my plate at the dinner table. I'm the one who got piano lessons because I started picking out melodies on the piano with my left hand. I have always experienced left-handedness as something that makes me just a little bit special, never as a handicap that needed remedial action.

The StrengthsFinders[tm] author and associates with their wounds from those trying to fix their weaknesses remind me of those wounded left-handed people. I find their stories interesting but can't identify with them. I was one of the lucky ones. I was given piano lessons so I could develop my natural talents rather than signed up for tennis clinics where I had no hope of success.

I still don't have an official list of strengths to share. I could come up with a list similar to the list of weaknesses I have shared above. My list wouldn't correspond with the terms used by StrengthsFinders[tm]. The descriptors would be more concrete. For example, I am analytical, logical, detail-oriented, and have a natural talent for music. I tend to step into leadership vacuums, leading most easily when people offer to follow. And in this, my sixth, decade I find myself spending substantial time in that sort of environment and voluntarily working on my ability to delegate tasks I'm tempted to do myself.

Still, my analytical nature finds the StrengthsFinder[tm] assessment attractive. Maybe even attractive enough to buy the book just to get an access code. We'll see.

What is a good length for a blog post?

I have been reading a lot of blog posts lately. One thing I notice is that I go into skimming mode when someone gets too wordy. When I look at my own posts, they meet the criteria for too wordy.

I know a preacher whose sermons are too long. He says he doesn't pay attention to length. How long a sermon lasts is simply how long it lasts. I use the same philosophy for my blog posts. I write until I've said what I want to say. That usually ends up being enough to fill a full page in a word processor. Just as my preacher friend ends up with too many words for his listeners to absorb, I end up with too many words for people to read.

Maybe I need to think in smaller chunks, corral the loose thoughts, trim out the fat.

New goal: for today, for this one post, I will not create a scroll bar in my posting window.

You can tell a lot about a person ...

I have heard multiple times over the years that you can tell a lot about a person by looking at their checkbook. These days I would guess that for those under 30 you can mainly tell from their checkbook that they are under 30 and don't write checks. Maybe that goes up to 40. Actually, I am 53 and don't write many checks. You'll have to look at my Quicken files to find the information that used to show up in my checkbook.

Rather than my checkbook, what you really want to see is my blog feeds to find out what I'm like. I might even be finding things out about myself. I just deleted a couple of blog feeds. Too much doctrine, too long, too frequent, not enough personal observations. The benefit per word just wasn't there. I also added a couple of new ones -- chatty blogs by young adult Christians observing life. I actually read several posts from one and then closed the window in which it was open before realizing I would like to see more from that writer. I tried to follow the path back from current subscriptions to the new candidate and couldn't remember how I got there even moments after making the first trip. I had to look at my browser history to get back to it. I think the original path included a random post from a blog collective, a profile for the writer of that post linking to another blog with comments linking to the third. Or something like that.

The blogosphere has been particularly active and interlinked lately with reaction to a new book by megachurch pastor Rob Bell -- Love Wins. Much of the reaction is negative. (The book's current #1 ranking on Amazon on the subject of faith and #4 ranking overall would support the maxim that there is no such thing as negative publicity.) The comments and comments on comments and links to other comments are good for weaving one's way through the jungle of blog entries. Those who respond with thoughtfulness, grace, and good humor to the negative comments catch my interest. I'm interested to read not only what they write but also what they read.

I haven't ordered the book yet. I will probably read it eventually but have no sense of urgency. I may even wait until I can borrow it from a library rather than making the choice to own it. After all, do I want such a controversial book in my personal collection? What if someone judges me by the books I read?

Okay, that last part was a joke. Anyone looking for evidence on my bookshelves that I might appreciate the writing (and preaching) of Rob Bell wouldn't have to look far. Although I don't see any of his books in my line of view at the moment, the half dozen books by his friend Brian McLaren might be a clue. I may have given away the only Rob Bell book I have purchased and not bothered to replace it. Along those lines, my reasons for not buying the book have more to do with concern that it might not contain enough groundbreaking material to earn a permanent spot on my shelves than fear of what others might think to see it there.

I see from recent posts and responses that a few of my Facebook friends consider Rob Bell a heretic. This is one of the reasons I don't feed my blog into Facebook. Back in the old days, I didn't publish my checkbook register for all to see. These days, I publish thoughts such as these in public places such as this but try not to wave them under the noses of those who see them as evidence that I'm straying from the faith. Fortunately, my profile is low enough that not many of those trying to rid the church of all Rob Bell influences will bother including me in their sweep.

She's plenty able to do what she WANTS to do!

So I'm lying around pampering my body with its closed-up incision and doing only what I either feel like doing or want done enough to do it. And I keep hearing an echo in my mind of the words in my title. There is definitely a huge "want to" factor weighed in to my choice of activities.

What I'm finding is that I have little tolerance for stress and unpleasant tasks. And it doesn't take much activity at all one day to put me off my feet the next. If I force myself to take on unpleasant tasks, I end up quickly exhausted. But I'm sure it looks selfish and inconsiderate from an outsider's point of view.

Scene #1
"Are you interested in going to Walmart to pick up some groceries?"

"No," I reply in a weak voice, "that would be way too big an outing. I'll just stay here on the couch and focus on getting well."

Scene #2
"The sun is out. Would you like to go walking?"

"Sure! Let me get my pillow and walking stick and shoes and socks and I'll be right with you. I'm thinking I can do two miles this time out."

Obviously, I'm able to walk. Why is it so refreshing and healing to walk two miles on our country roads but exhausting to ride to Walmart and walk through the aisles there? Why did I go back to church twelve days after surgery and enjoy two hours there but a couple of days later walk away from less than an hour back in my work environment with less physical activity completely exhausted?

There's a lot more than physical stuff going on here. Fortunately, the words in my title are only echoes in my mind. Less than three weeks after surgery, people aren't applying pressure for me to make their priorities mine. It's just interesting to notice how much the "want to" affects the "able to."

Listening to my body

Yesterday was two weeks after surgery to remove my kidney. I have been wearing a pedometer constantly other than the two days in the hospital when I didn't have a waistband on which to mount it. And I've been doing a lot of walking. Walking is refreshing, particularly when soft spring breezes start to blow.

Monday I walked 5,800 steps, some inside the house while doing very light housecleaning, others outside, strolling along at my slow post-operative shuffle. It was a good day.

Yesterday, I also walked 5,800 steps. But it was a very different day. I made an outing in a vehicle. It was a short outing. I was never more than two miles from home and wasn't gone much over an hour. The two stops along my route mainly involved pick up and delivery. I declined to be involved in a third stop which was a social gathering. Too much, too soon. I could see that. What I didn't anticipate is that when I said no to the social gathering and mentioned my plans for the day, it would prompt a couple of people from the social gathering to meet me at one of my destinations. Oops. Now I was dealing with well-wishers while upright rather than while sacked out on the couch at home. And for some reason, that didn't work out well. It wasn't according to my plan. I hadn't signed up for that level of interaction in that setting. Plus, the pick up and delivery involved more load than I anticipated. I had to deal with two eccentric door locks I didn't expect to find locked. And, okay, I drove two miles to my destination and the two miles back home. Which wasn't bad in and of itself, but was definitely an extra challenge. Together, those things added up to more energy expended than I expected. Then I took a walk with a companion and ended up walking faster than I would have on my own.

Now it's Wednesday afternoon. I have logged 350 steps today. I'll likely do more before the day is over, but, obviously, I have barely moved for the past eight hours (actually the last 18 hours). And I'm just now to the point where moving seems like a reasonable thing to consider.

Such small things. Locked doors. A pile of mail. A slightly faster pace while walking than the day before. Social interaction that tapped my energy while away from home in an unanticipated manner. A heavy car door to open and shut multiple times. I don't think it's so much that I overestimated my energy level as having so little reserve for unexpected drains. Thankfully, all activity is optional for today so I don't have to push.

Incentives to take a walk

Before my surgery I had this wild idea that if I couldn't drive to work afterward, maybe I could work up to walking the two miles to get there. The idea made me laugh. Then I had the surgery and discovered that walking really is an option. Both my body and my doctor agree that there's no harm in it as long as I exercise some moderation.

Still, exercise for the sake of exercise is always less than compelling to me. I came home from the hospital to a promise of spring and was taking a couple of walks a day. When the weather went back to February dreary and cold and my temporary walking companions weren't exactly signing up for the long haul, it became more difficult to get myself out the door.

Tonight I walked a little less than two miles.

What drove me to it:

1. Someone said, "It is warm out there! You should open a window!" (Warm? That sounds good for a walk.)

2. A good nap that made me feel properly recovered from a couple of strenuous car outings in the past few days and ready to add an activity to my rest/move cycle.

3. Continued encouragement from my doctor for walking.

4. Seeing someone who consistently recovers from serious health issues more quickly and more fully than expected. He's an inspiration to me.

5. Telling someone I was walking less and hearing the "I knew it!" tone in her response as she noted that she had wondered about my initial burst of energy. Who wants to be identified as a "flash in the pan" with no ability to sustain what they start? I am NOT a "flash in the pan"! I'll prove it by grabbing my raincoat and walking stick and heading out the door into the warm misty weather.

6. My trusty ol' PDA and earbuds that make walking a musical encounter with some of my favorite music of all time. (Fortunately, traffic along my walking route is almost nonexistent and, even with the earbuds, cars have no excuse for running me down as long as I pay some modest level of attention to what's happening around me.)

Ah, a good combination. A medical professional giving me full permission to go walking, inviting temperatures outside, a good walking route, and a friend to tell me, "I knew you couldn't get back on your feet this quickly."

The Thrill of Accomplishment

OK, I think I'm done with this sitting around stuff. There is huge satisfaction in accomplishment, and walking just a little further today than yesterday isn't quite doing it for me. Nor am I going to find any satisfaction in the "word search" puzzle book someone sent me. It's time to see what trouble I can get into around here.

I'm not even close to being a workaholic. Rather, I am fully capable of filling my hours with activity that looks like work but actually contributes almost nothing to the overall good of the world. Still, when I am able to accomplish worthwhile tasks, there is certainly great satisfaction in it. I'm thinking it's time to conjure up a "lite" to-do list and do it in the name of mental health.

Right after I take a nap.

The power of discontentment

I had a cancerous kidney removed a week ago. When I posted to Facebook that I was taking a vacation, checking into a place with full service amenities -- breakfast in bed, uniformed staff available at the push of a button, etc. -- a friend said she was jealous. She was joking, of course. Still, it's amazing how discontentment with what we have can make another person's lot seem so very attractive. Even the idea of having major surgery can seem like a treat to someone who has to get up every morning and trudge off to another day of work. 

 I'm lounging at home right now, with a to-do list to die for. 1. Nap. 2. Heal. 3. Recover. That's it. Oh, I should probably take care of a few physical needs. Eat. Toddle off to the bathroom now and then. That sort of thing. But it's still a pretty short list. And I hear that people pay good money for the pills I have sitting beside me. Ah, mine is the life of luxury. And all it has cost me thus far is one kidney, some pain, and a pittance of copay for drugs and lab work. (I'm sure the bills will start showing up soon.) 

 There is huge power in both contentment and discontentment. I am truly blessed. I have no complaints with life. But I could if I chose discontentment. Contentment is definitely a choice. When I choose it, it's not difficult to count my blessings. When others choose discontentment, they discover they have drawn the short stick in terms of blessings. Then they see me and all my blessings and are truly envious, regardless of my actual lot in life. If I were homeless and living in rags but able to count enough blessings to be happy, there would be discontented people who would look at me with envy, wishing they could chuck all the burdens of responsible living and join me in my carefree lifestyle. 

 A number of years ago, I was serving time in my least favorite room in the house while others were lounging in the living room waiting for me to produce food for them. I was highly displeased with this arrangement and railing against it in my mind. After all, I was as tired as those people. I deserved to relax as much as they did. 

 The question that came to me was: Are you really so overworked? 

 Overworked? Well, compared to everyone else around here ... 

  NO! Not compared to everyone else. Compared to an absolute scale of exhausting physical demands. 

 Uhm... well, no, not really. Not when you include the physical demands that come with slavery or other types of servanthood on the scale. It has actually been a pretty easy day. And life. I could expend much, much more energy in a day if I worked up to it and kept myself at full physical capacity. And if the people in the other room were swinging pick-axes and carrying rocks, I would feel quite blessed here in the kitchen. 

So why are you complaining? 

 Hmm... it's amazing how things look different when those lucky others are taken out of the picture. I am blessed to have discovered the secret to being content with the lot I am handed. I wish I could pass that secret on to others who are sure they could also be content with my lot but are not nearly to blessed by their own.

Agh! When was my last back-up?

So I'm convalescing on the couch, laptop on lap. Life is good. But one can only spend so much time staring at a computer screen. I close the laptop. It heads into suspend mode as I lower it to the floor beside the couch. My arm doesn't quite extend far enough. One end of the computer is on the floor, but the other end drops a couple of inches. The hard drive heads are still engaged. End of hard drive. Gone. Dead. All my lovely files. I notice the drop and wince, but don't realize the significance until next time I open the computer, at which time it starts making little whimpering sounds.

I wait for the panic. This is far from my first hard drive crash. I have been through this before with all the classic steps of grief.

1. Denial -- it can't be. Maybe it's not really dead. Surely someone can bring it back for me.

2. Anger -- in this case, at myself. Why did I drop a valuable piece of electronic equipment on the floor? Why didn't I have a decent backup?

3. Bargaining -- HOW much does it cost for data retrieval on dead hard drives? Can I pay someone to bring back my lost files?

4. Depression -- The pictures I will never see again. The data lost. So devastating. So hopeless. So valuable and yet not worth the money to bring them back, even if it were possible.

5. Acceptance -- yes, my data is gone, but life will go on. I won't pay for resurrection. I will accept the loss and start a new collection of data on a new hard drive. I will survive.

So I wait for the panic. Arghh! My hard drive is dead. My data is lost. Let's see. What did I lose?

Uhm... well, I did a new blog post earlier today. Yes, and it's safely stored at blogspot.

Uhm ... mail files. I have lots of AOL mail files and this computer is the official storage spot for them. Yes, and the most recent ones are still on the AOL mail server. Is there really that much value in the old ones?

Data, surely I had valuable data on here. On a laptop? Why would you store your valuable data on a piece of equipment that can walk away in a moment? All the most essential files are stored other places, remember? Haven't you started storing most stuff in dropbox?

Pictures. I have pictures on here that may not exist anywhere else. Maybe, but aren't most of them pictures someone sent you via email? It's not as though you have the only copy in existence.

But always before I've missed most the little things, the files not worth backing up. The applications with no supporting media. What about those? Name one.

Hmm... so, still, I'm convalescing. I can't be expected to sit at a desktop during my time of need. So bring your work laptop home and use it.

That's it? No grief other than the value of the hard drive and the Windows license? This is certainly a change since the last hard drive tragedy.

(Placeholder for summary last line -- I'm still on my mental break.)

Taking a mental break

My surgery is over. The growth on the kidney was a non-typical cancer. It's now gone -- the cancer (hopefully), the growth (for sure), and the kidney that was hosting it. I'm recovering quite nicely. The blessings are many. Despite my last post, I'm not listing them. That would require organizing my thoughts, lining things up, managing my thought processes, prioritizing my goals for the day. I'm taking a break from all that. This is a stand-alone post, not one of a series, not part of a plan.

I'm surprised. I arranged to take some time off from life while recovering from surgery. I have 22 staples holding things together northwest of my navel (if north is up and west is to the left). That's the part I can see. I have no clue what lies beneath the surface. There's some pain involved in all that. No surprise there. What surprises me is the message I'm getting from within and without that it's fine to stretch the limits on my physical activities. The only restrictions I have involve driving and lifting over ten pounds. Walking is fine. Climbing steps is fine. The way to return to full health is to be as active as possible physically while getting plenty of rest and not ignoring the messages my body is giving me.

It's the mental process that is surprising me. It was around 18 hours after I arrived home from the hospital and was settled comfortably on the couch with my laptop when someone suggested a little project I could take on while convalescing. It was a project that wouldn't require a lot of mental energy. Gather some information, make a phone call, or maybe just send an email. Nothing much. And it could result in a $50 refund for an event my husband and I will miss this next week. Little effort; tangible reward. What's not to like?

Except my brain declined the assignment. No, I'm taking some time off. I'm not doing research and gathering information. I'm not focusing on completing a task. Not this task. Not the thousand other tasks that would fit this same model.

Here's a short list of things I could do while convalescing:

1. Catch up on email for home and work. Read the new stuff, sort through and delete the old stuff. All from the comfort of my couch.

2. Organize files. Grab a couple of folders out of a drawer and take as long as I want to sort through them.

3. Make a list of topics to research in Google. Spend just one hour a day doing that research.

4. Make some progress on the pile of books and magazines waiting my attention.

5. Learn something new.

6. Write thank you notes for all the many kindnesses coming my way.

The pattern here is tasks that require almost no physical exertion, just mental exertion. After all, it's my body that has had surgery. Why would my mind need time off? It should probably be kept active so I stay sharp.

But no. I don't think so. Life is far from stress-free for me. My various to-do lists for work and home and outside activities regularly threaten to overwhelm the time available for doing them. I think I need a mental break. I can't afford to take a lot of time off, but I think I can afford another week of letting go of my mental focus and giving my mind a vacation. Then perhaps I can ease my way back into regular life while considering ways to perhaps settle at a slightly lower level of stress.

People hear about my surgery and encourage me to lie on the couch for as long as needed for recovery. Taking a mental break while recovering physically is a little more of a challenge, but I think it will be worth the effort.

I would wrap this post up with some summary thought, but that always requires significant mental energy. So I'll just quit.

Blessing in the Thorn

Phillips, Craig, and Dean sing a song called "Blessing in the Thorn" that has been a blessing to me. Having encountered a thorn in my life, I am once again seeing the beauty of the blessings in the thorn. To briefly state the "thorn" (so scholars won't have to spend centuries trying to figure it out), my left kidney has a lesion on it and is scheduled to be surgically removed the day after tomorrow. I'm not sure I can even begin to catalog all the blessings I am encountering in this thorn, but thought I would record at least a few of them. 

1. Symptoms. Thinking back, I wonder how many I ignored before some showed up that drove me to my doctor. What a blessing that they escalated to where I couldn't ignore them any longer. Yet, once I had appointments made and was committed to getting to the bottom of them, they subsided almost completely, allowing me to resume my normal schedule between doctor visits. 

2. Modern medicine. I won't even try to be more specific than that. What amazing miracles of healing happen every day in medical facilities around the world. 

3. Timing, both the big picture the small. On the big side, it looks like I'll be able to make it to my daughter's wedding in five weeks. It wouldn't have had to work out like that. On the small side, I do bookkeeping for two organizations. My surgery is on the 15th of the month at the start of the least intensive time for bills. In between there are multiple blessings in both the timing of the surgery and how that timing all came together. 

4. Friends. It's great to know people care. 

5. Prayer. What a gift it is to have people remember me in their prayers. 

That's just a start. Maybe I'll find time to add more in the next days and weeks.

Missed Moments in Time

Tuesday I joined the church ladies group at the local restaurant for lunch. I arrived a little early and stopped to chat with a man sitting by himself at a table that could have accommodated the entire ladies group. It was the first time I had seen him since he had taken a public tumble and become a topic of our small town news. His arm was in a sling. I stopped briefly to chat. He has medical tests scheduled for next week. I would have enjoyed learning more and catching up in general but wasn't sure he would appreciate being joined by a bunch of women so I moved on to claim an empty table. I was then sitting by myself for several minutes and he was still sitting by himself. As I gazed across the room, I pondered the options that would have allowed me to chat with him a little longer. He was a member of my church years ago before moving out of the area and then to a nearby town. It's always nice to catch up with him.

That was Tuesday. His 38-year-old daughter was pronounced dead of a heart attack on Wednesday morning. My husband and I are going to the funeral home for visitation tonight. It will be a tragic scene. No parent should ever have to bury their child. And for reasons I won't go into, this is, if possible, even worse than most cases of daughters dying too early. (Perhaps all cases are worse than most cases in one way or another.)

Ever since I heard, I have gone back over that scene from Tuesday. There he was, sitting alone, dealing with his own health issues, unaware of what lay in his immediate future. There I was in the same room, sitting alone, waiting for other companions. It could have been one of them who met with tragedy in the hours to follow. It's not that I made the wrong choice, the curtain was simply drawn on the future and I didn't know it was the last chat I would have with him before unfathomable grief moved in to become a permanent fixture in his life.

Still, it's a terrible reminder of how precious our moments with people are.

Life -- The Database

I like databases. They're wonderful ways to organize things. My favorite example of something begging for a database is a baseball card collection. You can organize your actual cards by only one method. You might sort them by team, by date of acquisition, by value, by field position, or any number of ways, but they can have only one order. If you choose a different criteria for sorting them, you lose the order you already had.

A database, on the other hand, allows unlimited sorting options. And filtering options! You can make a list that includes only pitchers and sort them by their statistics. Or you can list only the cards above a certain value. Or only the rookie cards sorted by year. Oh, the fun you can have organizing your baseball cards once you have entered them into a database!

What I want is a database for life. I just got back from a library conference and am pumped up with new ideas for things to do in the library. Right now they're banging around in my head or on a couple of pages of notes and some handouts. I added a few of them to my standing to-do list for the library -- at the end.

What if a had a database for all these ideas? I could assign each task a value, estimate the time investment needed, put them in categories, give them a start and finish time. I could do the same for my home to-do list. When I got up in the morning, I could run a report ranking my priorities for the day. I would have a field for date of completion and run a report of completed tasks at the end of the week. New ideas would be entered in and given a place among existing obligations. Tasks that went beyond the time available could be reviewed to see if they could wait or needed to bump another task off the list. I could customize each day's list to reflect my schedule for the day -- work tasks for work hours, home tasks for evenings and weekends.

I could also use my database for memory assistance. I could record the news from someone today that he just had cataract surgery. Next time I see him, I could pull up the record of the surgery and ask if the operation on the second eye went well.

I could use my database for a diary and calendar, recording tidbits from all aspects of my life -- diet, exercise, menus, recipes to try, service contracts purchased, schedule for auto service, for health check-ups. Sure, I have ways to do these things now -- calendars, journals, reminders here and there -- but wouldn't it be wonderful to have them all in one place?

Of course, if I'm going to use my database for memories, I would need to add a "fade" factor similar to the one my brain uses. After all, I don't want the memory of the stupid thing I did today to be just as sharp and painful two years from now. It needs to be softened around the edges. Good memories need to sweeten with time. Bad memories need to blur. I would simply build this into the database.

Ah for such a database. How long would it take to develop it? How much maintenance time would it require? Would I have time for living with all the time investment needed for data entry and manipulation? Let's see -- get up (record rising time); check breakfast menu; eat breakfast (record food consumed, update household food inventory and shopping list to reflect food used); watch the news (record the days' news items and my reaction); etc., etc. Something tells me this isn't really going to work out too well. I need some sort of automatic data entry system.

I guess this is what my brain is for. If only it were better organized and let fewer things slip through the cracks.

Oh well, one can always dream.

Gratitude

So ... a friend has a laptop that had slowed down to a crawl, to the point of being almost worthless, particularly if the wireless card were turned on. My husband had looked briefly at it and didn't want to mess with it any more. He figured it was a virus and recommended finding a good computer repair shop.

I was only vaguely aware of the problem until the discussion of repair shops came up. I volunteered that if our friend couldn't find anywhere to take it, I could take a look at it. He was leaving town without the laptop for a couple of days and took me up on the offer.

Several hours later, I had eliminated a bunch of background processes, cleaned up the registry, uninstalled some extraneous programs and had it running like a top. (No sign of a virus, just junk processes eating up the CPU resources.) Although it required a significant time investment and I had to reinstall the printer with driver software that wasn't quite a match for his printer, I was generally pleased with the outcome and returned it with the satisfaction of having done better than I expected with it. I figured I could tweak the printer driver later if he came up with software for it.

Next time I saw the laptop owner, I asked him if it was running all right. He didn't know yet, having not returned to it, but made a comment about me knowing all his secrets. Huh? I told him I knew he used to have a weather desktop utility, that I had simply been interested in the running processes on his computer, not his files.

A few days later, I happened to see him with the laptop and asked how it was doing.

Fine.

Just fine?

Yeah, it's doing all right, even starts up quickly.

Fine? That's it? If his car had been coughing and sputtering and would barely start and someone took it and tuned it up and returned it starting and running flawlessly would he say in an offhand tone it was running fine? Would he ask if the generous mechanic had rummaged through all the stuff he kept in his trunk?

I think I'm going to add up my time and send him a bill.

Nah, not really. I'll just make a note that the gratitude one receives for a gift is not necessarily going to reflect its worth in the general marketplace. And continue to give gifts as I am able.

Sometimes it goes the other way. A simple act of service requiring little time or effort will be received as a precious jewel. This wasn't one of those times.

Lessons from the garden

Saturday evening I was out in my garden. As often happens, Charlie the cat inserted himself between me and my plants with a need for attention. I gave in to his demands for petting and ran my hand down his left side. With a snarl, he turned and bit me, just barely breaking the skin. He bit me! It was totally unexpected. Charlie is an old cat and not given to playful wrestling. Something was seriously up. After attacking me, he lay where he had fallen in my garden bed, claws extended, mouth open in a snarl. I walked away to bind up my wounds.

Sunday evening, I ran across someone at church wearing full body armor. I could find no cracks. When I tried to discuss some scheduling she informed me that anyone could work with the current calendar if they had sufficient desire, that participating was a choice that might take some sacrifice but could be done. No surrender, no quarter. Take it or leave it. Leaving it seemed like a pretty good choice in light of the hostility being displayed, but I saw no need to stir up any more defensiveness by saying so. I let it go, thinking it would be easier to work with the other parties involved.

Monday morning, back in the garden, along came Charlie the cat. I said, "I'm not petting you. You bite!" and continued with what I was doing. Not offended at all, Charlie rubbed his head against my elbow. When I ignored him, he moved a little closer and kept rubbing against me. I put my hand toward him and he rubbed against my fingers. I went ahead and petted the part of him that he offered to me. Rather than biting, he purred.

I think there's a lesson here. Apparently, Charlie has a sore spot on his side. If I touch it, he communicates his pain to me by causing me pain. If I play a more passive role, he will let me know what parts are all right to touch. I wonder . . . how can I apply that lesson as I interact with the wounded people around me?

Under lock and key

I have been locked out. Somebody messed with the settings on the church sound board. Maybe it was children. Or maybe it was the musicians.

I am a musician.

The musicians come and practice during the week and insist on using the sound system during practice. Come Sunday the sound board is messed up. Knobs have been turned that should not be turned. Or maybe sliders have been slid. I'm not sure. No one has ever clearly pointed out to me which parts of the sound system are off limits.

In frustration, the sound man built a wood box, installed a lock, took one key for himself, and entrusted another to the pastor in case of emergency. Everything is set. All the musicians need to do is flip the switch on the outlet strip. No adjustments are needed. Thus, there is no need for the musicians to have access to a key. Problem solved.

Enter an additional musician needing an additional microphone. The sound system is locked. One microphone is available for one singer. If another singer is needed, the musicians are welcome to contact the sound man and he will come and turn on an additional microphone. After all, the musicians are prime suspects as the ones twisting the forbidden knobs. They are not to have access to a key.

Oh, brother.

With great effort against strong resistance, the musicians now know where one of the keys is stored. With greater knowledge comes greater responsibility. They will be held directly accountable for any knob-twisting that happens. The very fact that they insist on knowing where to find a key to the sound system implicates them as knob-twisters. People with respect for knobs that should not be twisted would not insist on having access to those knobs.

There are two people behind the lock-and-key decision. There are no more than a dozen people ever involved in music or sound for the services. Did the two people ever consider gathering together everyone who is ever in a position to need to adjust the sound and sharing the secrets of the sound board? How weak does a person have to be to deny access to responsible adults rather than communicate important issues to them? Are the musicians incapable of understanding even the most basic elements of the sound equipment?

I have a secret. The musicians also adjust the thermostat during their practice sessions. Sometimes the church is too cold for the musicians' delicate fingers. Sometimes it is too hot for their frenzied preparatory musical celebrations. The musicians have been known once or twice to forget to return the thermostat to the "unoccupied" setting. Thus far, these occasional lapses have been tolerated with a simple reminder that we need to be more responsible. But now that it has come out that the musicians are compulsive knob-twisters controllable only by blocking access to the knobs, I suspect the thermostat is in line for locking. A programmable thermostat can be installed and programmed to temporarily adjust the temperature for the regular practice schedule. Rescheduled or extra practices will need to be cleared with those holding the keys.

Long ago I figured out there are two rich sources for learning that can never be fully tapped. One source is those who provide positive examples to be incorporated into one's life. The even more prolific source is those who provide negative examples to be avoided. As I have been locked out of a system for which I have had almost no training and which I seldom touch, I am struck by the message behind the lock. It says I am a person who is unteachable and untrustworthy. Rather than insisting that I (and the other musicians) either learn to use the sound system properly or quit messing with it, those making the decision to lock us out swept us aside as hopeless knob-twisters. Not exactly the most edifying message I have ever encountered.

I wonder ... how many responsible adults (or children) am I locking out in mistrust rather than giving them the tools and opportunity to act in a trustworthy manner?

Thought to remember #7: "Life is reflective ... choose your source."

Only my commitment to Christian living prevents me from making a strong negative response to this message of mistrust. My baser self makes such helpful suggestions as locking up the musical instruments and walking away with the keys. Or maybe locking the door to the room where the music is stored so that only the "official" musicians have access to it. Or bringing in our own amps and bypassing the locked sound system.

In my experience, the pull to treat others the way they treat you never quite fades away. The thing to remember is how much better it is to treat others as you are treated by the most loving people in your life (and by a loving God) rather than as you are treated by those who are weak and have few resources for communicating and building relationships.

It's worth repeating and remembering. "Life is reflective ... choose your source." I refuse to reflect this attitude of mistrust and disrespect for the learning ability of others which could so easily spread through the entire church. I will acknowledge the weakness which the lock and key demonstrates and respond with compassion and grace.

How fortunate I am to have encountered grace in my life that operates at a level worth reflecting. O to be able to consistently reflect that grace to those who lock me out.