Life changes. Constantly.
I didn't say these were going to be profound observations...
So, I'm constantly trying to figure out those changes. In life.
I didn't even promise coherent observations, just for the record...
I'm wondering this morning why the Lord seems to delight in making sure I don't feel stable. (Do I need to pause here for the usual snickers, chuckles and eye rolls relating to "Cal" and "unstable?" Let me know... Thank you...) He brings things into life, things that would (at first glance) seem to be great opportunities for income, meaningful work and a chance for me to feel less "lost" and more like I "belong."
And as fast as those things come in, they go right back out again. Temporary gigs, part-time participation. Never enough to allow me to put down roots and settle, but just enough to leave me clueless and confused as to what the HECK I'm supposed to be doing in this world.
(My counselor, who I honor and appreciate, would correct my wording here - it's not what am I supposed to do - the phrase should be, what do I get to do? Not obligation, but freedom to enjoy what the Lord has for me in any given day. Obviously, I don't quite get it yet. But I'm workin' on it...)
Am I saying that my Father delights in leaving me twisting in the wind? No no no no. Alright, so what then?
Thus beginneth the observations...
1) The Lord has been repeating a lesson over and over to me... give us this day what we need for this day. He used a sermon from Pastor Craig to point my attention in this direction, and since it takes a long, long time to get my attention and even longer to keep it, He's been steadily nudging me along until I finally get the point.
And that is?
That all I need for today is what He supplies today. Tomorrow? Nope. I can plan, speculate, consider, schedule, accommodate and prepare. But what I need for tomorrow will come tomorrow. Not today.
Which means...
2) He will be faithful to provide for the day's need. Every day. He will not fail, He will not forget, He won't go off on vacation and leave me stranded. He will provide. Every day.
Now here's the kicker...
3) I can't receive what I need for this day if I only see Him once a week. This was the one this morning that really smacked me alongside the ol' noggin.
I'll openly admit that a daily walk with God is a huge struggle for me and always has been. I can spout Christianeze all day, quote little pithy phrases from songs and verses, and know all the lingo to be accepted in Christian circles. But a daily passionate walk with Him? Not so much.
But I know He wants that for me.
How can He give me everything I need for this specific day if I only see Him once a week? Show up on Sunday, back my van (if I had one) up to the door, load up a week's worth of supplies, smile, wave, and say "see you next week!"
Anybody else feeling like they just got smacked with a 2x4 upside the head? Yeah, I feel your pain.
So, a little of the mystery becomes plain...
I feel unstable (snicker, grin, guffaw) because I don't come to the One who gives stability each day, to receive what I need today to be stable today.
I don't feel like I belong, because I don't come to the One who gave all that I could belong to Him.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do (or get to do) because I need to talk to the One who gives my agenda for the day.
I feel lost because I only get a map for today's journey. I don't get the whole road atlas with expanded views of major cities - just the route for today. And if I never come and pick up today's map, I have no direction.
One thing this temporary job has taught me is how bad a "regular" job is for me, mentally. The "get up, go to work, come home, repeat" thing so clouds my mind that I lose sight of all of the small graces and everything that He is weaving together all around me. Other folks are more noble than I and can handle these things without losing sight of the One who holds it all together.
Me? Not so much.
(And no, that's not just an excuse for my in-law's when they wonder when I'm going to actually go out and get a "real" job. At least, I don't think it is... If it is, it's not a very good one, really...)
My daily existence, my temporary sojourn, no chance to put down roots? It keeps me aware of Him, right here, right now. What is He working on today? Where is His hand so clearly moving today? And how can I point to Him today and give Him the glory for all He is doing, for everyone, everywhere?
My job? To be faithful and wise with what He trusts me with, so that we can live within the means He provides. Don't hoard stuff - get rid of it. Keep things free and open, because I never know where He'll be sending me next. Be a faithful husband, a loyal friend, a willing servant. Be ready to go wherever, do whatever, and be exactly who He asks me to be.
And daily, every daily, receive what I need for this day. Resources, purpose, direction - everything necessary for what He has in store.
Father, give me this day what I need for this day. Yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
Random Fluffy Foto!
Writing in bed, and Beka editing by ear. Really. The ear typed some letters. Really.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Friday, May 06, 2011
Familiarity Breeds Mundane
So, I've been doing this temporary gig. Job. Thing. It's been both fun, and good for our bank balance (if you know what I mean). Some steady work for a few weeks, helping to pay off Big Blue, the new trike on the block.
First couple of weeks, it was the honeymoon. New routine, new stuff to learn, new new new. Getting up at 3:45am - new and exciting. Riding the trike up Leonard Street at 4:30am - new and VERY exciting. Getting the groove of running a shift live 6am to 10am - new, exciting and a little scary.
But now we're beyond the honeymoon. 3:45 snoozes its way into 4:15, the trike gets left because it's raining/too cold/too late 'cause I didn't get up on time; making an egg sandwich moves over to a dash through McBreakfastWorld, which is not the best choice for me; and because I'm getting used to the mechanics of the shift, I relax and don't sweat the details as much as I should. The bright shiny new starts to fade into the background, and instead of being different and wonderful, it all starts to look the same.
The mundane. Where everything gets reduced to sameness. Instead of seeing the small graces of God's hand, painting the bright colors of His presence all through each day, they get lost in the grey of "life." I lose my awareness of how He is so active, each day, each hour, each moment.
I said to Vicki, I feel directionless, pointless, and have no idea how I got that way. As always, time to get out the iPad and keyboard, get to writing, trot things out there to see the patterns, identify the truth and the lies, and refocus.
The only thing that's changed in the last few weeks is the addition of the temporary job. It's not going to be around all that long, but it is a litmus test of sorts to see how I respond to something like this in my new life and my new body. I haven't had a "regular" job since I was laid off in 2006, so Vicki and I have been interested to see how I would do with this.
First observation: I'm more than capable of holding down a job, physically. I've stepped up to the demands of this gig, including the very early schedule, and done well with it.
(In fact, once it ends I'll probably stay on a morning schedule - I seem to do well being up early and going to bed early. I'll probably sleep in until, say, 5am, but I'll stay on this side of the day.)
Second observation: I'm a much nicer employee and person now than I ever was when I was working full-time. No surprise there - when you become Tabula Rasa, everything changes. A lot of old crap got left behind with the pounds and, while some of it tries to climb back aboard, the Lord provides the strength to toss it off when it tries to grab on.
OK - so if everything seems to be groovy, what's up with feeling directionless? The only thing that I can make of it is that as things become routine, the mundane clouds my eyes, blinds my senses and blends everything together. It's like a wagon that's traveled the same path over and over. The ruts in the road are worn so deep that the wagon couldn't turn to a new direction if it wanted to. Just the same deep grooves, over and over.
So? That's life, isn't it? Go to work. Come home. Earn daily bread. Keep your head down, nose to the grindstone, hiney to the... something. No one gets to just flit around, thinking, writing, dreaming, and observing. Who has time for that? Got to get out, make a living, keep going, provide for the family, GO GO GO GO GO GO GO!
Believe me - I get that. The guilt and angst I've wrestled with over the past years that I wasn't contributing anything to our family financially tore a hole in my heart that I'm still filling in. (ok - the Father is doing the filling - I'm just holding the shovel.) Having to rely on Vicki's paycheck alone, while feeling that I'm just sitting around, spending resources and bringing in none? That tears me up. And still would, had God not intervened and whispered to me,
"My chains are gone, I've been set free..."
So, here's the refocus... I'm never allowed to just wander through a day, never looking around, never really seeing. When God has brought such grace into your life, remaking you from the inside out, you can never just wander through a day and ignore all He is doing.
Well, you "can," but you shouldn't. I shouldn't. I can't.
Lemme 'splain. I don't mean to sound churchy, hyper-spiritual, judgmental, preachy, condescending, holier than Swiss cheese, or anything else along those lines. But God has made it so clear what He has done for me and why. I've been given this gift for a purpose - not out of obligation, like He expects me to pay Him back for it, but He has remade me in every way for a reason...
My direction, my point, my purpose is to be a signpost. I point to myself and I point to Him. I say to any and all, "Look! Look what God alone has done. Look at what He can do in one life, for someone who does NOT deserve His grace, who has NOT earned His favor, and who is NOT worthy of His attention. See how He still is in the miracle business, as He has always been. Look at me, not as an example (good heavens NO!) but as a recipient of unmerited, unrestrained overflowing grace from the hand of our Father."
"Now look in the mirror, and see someone who is a recipient of that same grace. I am no different than anyone else - God loves all of His children without reservation. And His hand moves in all of our lives every day, every hour, every moment. Look around and see Him weaving and molding things together - His hand on all things at all times, nothing out of His grasp or falling out of His notice."
"God moves. Right now, right here."
Father, thank You for showing me what I was missing. Thank You for the gift of a job, however long or short it lasts. Thanks that You already know what will come after it ends. And thank You for showing me that whatever I am doing, the routine of a daily gig or the endless variety of whatever You bring my way, I have to keep my eyes out of the ruts in the road, and up to You. I can't point to You when my eyes are down on the mundane in front of me. Lift my eyes to You.
"I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." (Psalm 121:1-2)
Up to the hills, away from the mundane, up to You, every day, every hour, every moment.
First couple of weeks, it was the honeymoon. New routine, new stuff to learn, new new new. Getting up at 3:45am - new and exciting. Riding the trike up Leonard Street at 4:30am - new and VERY exciting. Getting the groove of running a shift live 6am to 10am - new, exciting and a little scary.
But now we're beyond the honeymoon. 3:45 snoozes its way into 4:15, the trike gets left because it's raining/too cold/too late 'cause I didn't get up on time; making an egg sandwich moves over to a dash through McBreakfastWorld, which is not the best choice for me; and because I'm getting used to the mechanics of the shift, I relax and don't sweat the details as much as I should. The bright shiny new starts to fade into the background, and instead of being different and wonderful, it all starts to look the same.
The mundane. Where everything gets reduced to sameness. Instead of seeing the small graces of God's hand, painting the bright colors of His presence all through each day, they get lost in the grey of "life." I lose my awareness of how He is so active, each day, each hour, each moment.
I said to Vicki, I feel directionless, pointless, and have no idea how I got that way. As always, time to get out the iPad and keyboard, get to writing, trot things out there to see the patterns, identify the truth and the lies, and refocus.
The only thing that's changed in the last few weeks is the addition of the temporary job. It's not going to be around all that long, but it is a litmus test of sorts to see how I respond to something like this in my new life and my new body. I haven't had a "regular" job since I was laid off in 2006, so Vicki and I have been interested to see how I would do with this.
First observation: I'm more than capable of holding down a job, physically. I've stepped up to the demands of this gig, including the very early schedule, and done well with it.
(In fact, once it ends I'll probably stay on a morning schedule - I seem to do well being up early and going to bed early. I'll probably sleep in until, say, 5am, but I'll stay on this side of the day.)
Second observation: I'm a much nicer employee and person now than I ever was when I was working full-time. No surprise there - when you become Tabula Rasa, everything changes. A lot of old crap got left behind with the pounds and, while some of it tries to climb back aboard, the Lord provides the strength to toss it off when it tries to grab on.
OK - so if everything seems to be groovy, what's up with feeling directionless? The only thing that I can make of it is that as things become routine, the mundane clouds my eyes, blinds my senses and blends everything together. It's like a wagon that's traveled the same path over and over. The ruts in the road are worn so deep that the wagon couldn't turn to a new direction if it wanted to. Just the same deep grooves, over and over.
So? That's life, isn't it? Go to work. Come home. Earn daily bread. Keep your head down, nose to the grindstone, hiney to the... something. No one gets to just flit around, thinking, writing, dreaming, and observing. Who has time for that? Got to get out, make a living, keep going, provide for the family, GO GO GO GO GO GO GO!
Believe me - I get that. The guilt and angst I've wrestled with over the past years that I wasn't contributing anything to our family financially tore a hole in my heart that I'm still filling in. (ok - the Father is doing the filling - I'm just holding the shovel.) Having to rely on Vicki's paycheck alone, while feeling that I'm just sitting around, spending resources and bringing in none? That tears me up. And still would, had God not intervened and whispered to me,
"My chains are gone, I've been set free..."
So, here's the refocus... I'm never allowed to just wander through a day, never looking around, never really seeing. When God has brought such grace into your life, remaking you from the inside out, you can never just wander through a day and ignore all He is doing.
Well, you "can," but you shouldn't. I shouldn't. I can't.
Lemme 'splain. I don't mean to sound churchy, hyper-spiritual, judgmental, preachy, condescending, holier than Swiss cheese, or anything else along those lines. But God has made it so clear what He has done for me and why. I've been given this gift for a purpose - not out of obligation, like He expects me to pay Him back for it, but He has remade me in every way for a reason...
My direction, my point, my purpose is to be a signpost. I point to myself and I point to Him. I say to any and all, "Look! Look what God alone has done. Look at what He can do in one life, for someone who does NOT deserve His grace, who has NOT earned His favor, and who is NOT worthy of His attention. See how He still is in the miracle business, as He has always been. Look at me, not as an example (good heavens NO!) but as a recipient of unmerited, unrestrained overflowing grace from the hand of our Father."
"Now look in the mirror, and see someone who is a recipient of that same grace. I am no different than anyone else - God loves all of His children without reservation. And His hand moves in all of our lives every day, every hour, every moment. Look around and see Him weaving and molding things together - His hand on all things at all times, nothing out of His grasp or falling out of His notice."
"God moves. Right now, right here."
Father, thank You for showing me what I was missing. Thank You for the gift of a job, however long or short it lasts. Thanks that You already know what will come after it ends. And thank You for showing me that whatever I am doing, the routine of a daily gig or the endless variety of whatever You bring my way, I have to keep my eyes out of the ruts in the road, and up to You. I can't point to You when my eyes are down on the mundane in front of me. Lift my eyes to You.
"I lift my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth." (Psalm 121:1-2)
Up to the hills, away from the mundane, up to You, every day, every hour, every moment.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
A conversation
This is a conversation that was rolling around in my head this morning. And yes, conversations do actually roll around in my head. Thus, when I say “that’s how I roll,” now you understand where that is coming from.
“Thank you Lord, for my new job...”
“Temporary.”
“What?”
“Your temporary new job.”
“Well, duh - yeah. I know that.”
By the way - I am not, nor am I usually in the habit of saying “duh” to the One who I usually have these conversations with. Really. Bad things happen when I do.
“Your temporary new job.”
“Yeah - that. I know that, you know that, so why make a fuss about it.”
“It’s important.”
“How so?”
“Have you forgotten some of the lessons we’ve been over? The roads we’ve traveled? If so, you’ve just lost your “roll your eyes at the forgetful Hebrew children” lifetime pass...”
*sigh*
“Shall we review, my son?”
*sigh*
“Let’s roll that beautiful bean footage, shall we?...”
January, 2005 - Working full-time at CU Radio, specifically at His Kids Radio. Coming up on 19 years there, pretty well finally finding my “calling” and settling in there.
“Ahem...”
“What?”
“Let’s switch to the real version, not the idealized, rosy glasses version.”
January 2005 - Although I was working full-time, thought I was settling and happy, nothing was ever “settled” about me. I weighed somewhere around 380, having come down from 480 through 2 medical fasts, but that new weight didn’t resolve some issues. I was still unsure, had poor self-image, and never felt that I fit anywhere. The exterior of the house was improved, but the interior filled with rot and despair. All my striving to be “normal,” to find balance and peace, to be at a place where I belonged was for nothing.
January 2006 - I was laid off, just short of 20 years there. Slight insanity follows for about 4 months, and lingers for years after. Vicki is married to someone who shoots up to 480 lbs, wanders through life lost, emotionally wrecked, filled with all the self-loathing and doubt that comes with this kind of path.
January 2009 - through the kindness and care of Weigh To Wellness, about 50 pounds come off. In the meantime, God reveals some of the purpose of the wrecking ball...
“Remember, son, what I told you? That I wanted to rebuild you - make you new. But I would not start until the foundation was clear. I would not restore you building on the rubble of the past. It had to be bare, new, clean and ready for the work I wished to do. Everything had to go.”
“Why? Was it all that bad? Was it all awful, without value? Was there no good part of me?”
“You know better than that, son.”
“You’re right. I do.”
January 2010 - The path comes into view, where the final walls will fall. Obedience. Place one foot on the path and watch the waters part in front of you.
March 30, 2010 - “My chains are gone, I’ve been set free...”
January 2011 - A month of writing and thinking. A time to allow the dust to settle, and to see just where we’ve come from and where we’ve arrived at.
February 2011 - At just the right time, a chain in my mind falls. Where was chaos is now clarity. The middle ground is granted, balance restored.
March 2011 - Opportunities for work, in limited quantities, to at least bring our noses above the waterline, financially. And to show me that I am capable of it.
April 2011 - The temporary job.
“Alright, so what did we learn?”
“My worth is not in what I do, but who I am in You... No “job” ever gets my heart - my heart belongs to You alone... I am Tabula Rasa, all things are new... I’ve been given so much grace, shown so much of how Your hand moves in every life, every day in huge ways, that it’s wrong to waste it in the mundane. Every day that I don’t reflect on, talk about, or point to Your grace is a day I’m not functioning as You intended.”
“So, want to try again?”
“Thank you for my temporary job. And thanks that when it ends, the path with You is just beginning.”
“Amen.”
“Thank you Lord, for my new job...”
“Temporary.”
“What?”
“Your temporary new job.”
“Well, duh - yeah. I know that.”
By the way - I am not, nor am I usually in the habit of saying “duh” to the One who I usually have these conversations with. Really. Bad things happen when I do.
“Your temporary new job.”
“Yeah - that. I know that, you know that, so why make a fuss about it.”
“It’s important.”
“How so?”
“Have you forgotten some of the lessons we’ve been over? The roads we’ve traveled? If so, you’ve just lost your “roll your eyes at the forgetful Hebrew children” lifetime pass...”
*sigh*
“Shall we review, my son?”
*sigh*
“Let’s roll that beautiful bean footage, shall we?...”
January, 2005 - Working full-time at CU Radio, specifically at His Kids Radio. Coming up on 19 years there, pretty well finally finding my “calling” and settling in there.
“Ahem...”
“What?”
“Let’s switch to the real version, not the idealized, rosy glasses version.”
January 2005 - Although I was working full-time, thought I was settling and happy, nothing was ever “settled” about me. I weighed somewhere around 380, having come down from 480 through 2 medical fasts, but that new weight didn’t resolve some issues. I was still unsure, had poor self-image, and never felt that I fit anywhere. The exterior of the house was improved, but the interior filled with rot and despair. All my striving to be “normal,” to find balance and peace, to be at a place where I belonged was for nothing.
January 2006 - I was laid off, just short of 20 years there. Slight insanity follows for about 4 months, and lingers for years after. Vicki is married to someone who shoots up to 480 lbs, wanders through life lost, emotionally wrecked, filled with all the self-loathing and doubt that comes with this kind of path.
January 2009 - through the kindness and care of Weigh To Wellness, about 50 pounds come off. In the meantime, God reveals some of the purpose of the wrecking ball...
“Remember, son, what I told you? That I wanted to rebuild you - make you new. But I would not start until the foundation was clear. I would not restore you building on the rubble of the past. It had to be bare, new, clean and ready for the work I wished to do. Everything had to go.”
“Why? Was it all that bad? Was it all awful, without value? Was there no good part of me?”
“You know better than that, son.”
“You’re right. I do.”
January 2010 - The path comes into view, where the final walls will fall. Obedience. Place one foot on the path and watch the waters part in front of you.
March 30, 2010 - “My chains are gone, I’ve been set free...”
January 2011 - A month of writing and thinking. A time to allow the dust to settle, and to see just where we’ve come from and where we’ve arrived at.
February 2011 - At just the right time, a chain in my mind falls. Where was chaos is now clarity. The middle ground is granted, balance restored.
March 2011 - Opportunities for work, in limited quantities, to at least bring our noses above the waterline, financially. And to show me that I am capable of it.
April 2011 - The temporary job.
“Alright, so what did we learn?”
“My worth is not in what I do, but who I am in You... No “job” ever gets my heart - my heart belongs to You alone... I am Tabula Rasa, all things are new... I’ve been given so much grace, shown so much of how Your hand moves in every life, every day in huge ways, that it’s wrong to waste it in the mundane. Every day that I don’t reflect on, talk about, or point to Your grace is a day I’m not functioning as You intended.”
“So, want to try again?”
“Thank you for my temporary job. And thanks that when it ends, the path with You is just beginning.”
“Amen.”
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Dear Chicky...
Dear Chicken,
My. That seems so cold and formal... do you mind if I call you Chicky? No? Thanks much...
Dear Chicky,
You are gone, dispatched, shipped, cooked, packaged and now removed from my fridge for the final indignity - deboned. I truly hope that your brief life was pleasant, and that your departure from this world was humane and kind, but since I didn't know you then or have any control of that, let's move on...
As I... um... remove your non-tasty bits and place your um... tasty bits into a storage bag, I wanted to express my appreciation. I'm a post-surgical patient who depends on creatures like you and some of your feathered relatives to supply me with lots and lots of protein, so without your contribution to my life, I'd soon become malnourished, my hair would fall out, and I'd wind up taking a vacation at St. Mary's. You help prevent that, and I thank you.
In addition, I'm one of those poor souls who gags every time I try to eat Tofu, certain beans no longer work with my new physiology, and one can only swallow so many protein shakes. So again, the place you have in my day-to-day existence is important, and once again I say thanks.
The Creator who made us both and decided where our place would be on the... um... well, let's just say it, the food chain, He chose your particular rung, and He chose mine. And although at first glance that would appear to place me on a 'higher' rung than you, the truth is that with a higher rung comes more responsibility. He reminds me to be mindful, to be caring and compassionate, to be a good steward of His creation, and above all to be thankful.
So, rest assured that the portion of your existence that has come into my home will be treated with respect. The parts that are useful will be used to benefit myself, my wife, and, should some scraps fall to the floor, our dog. The non-useful parts (which is another discussion entirely) will be disposed of with proper care and dignity. (Although what happens to them after they make their way to the big blue plastic thingie is out of my control - sorry...)
Your useful parts will find their way into a number of wonderful places, such as the Ramen noodles I am presently enjoying. Indeed, they have added some wonderful flavor and texture to the noodles, for which some grain gave up its existence, as well as the most mysterious substance in our world, the bright yellow powder in the silver packet. (Oh so tasty, but I really don't want to know what that stuff is...) In a few hours, more of your tasty parts will join some Roma tomatoes and flatbread to make a lovely sandwich, anointed with that other mysterious substance, Miracle Whip, that I love so very much.
I guess the point of these random thoughts while engaged in removing the non-tasty bits from the tasty bits is this: to be mindful of God's good gifts, from the creatures, to the grain, to the mysterious substances, as He again provides what we need for this day. So, with a grateful heart and a full tummy, I thank Him. And you.
*belch*
Sorry you had to hear that. It must have been the noodles - certainly not you. Really. No, really.
*burp*
Alright - that was the dog. You can't pin that one on me. Nope. See? She's licking her chops. Sure sign of... um... something. Yeah.
Until we meet again, in a couple of hours, I remain,
Your friend, ever so briefly,
Cal
My. That seems so cold and formal... do you mind if I call you Chicky? No? Thanks much...
Dear Chicky,
You are gone, dispatched, shipped, cooked, packaged and now removed from my fridge for the final indignity - deboned. I truly hope that your brief life was pleasant, and that your departure from this world was humane and kind, but since I didn't know you then or have any control of that, let's move on...
As I... um... remove your non-tasty bits and place your um... tasty bits into a storage bag, I wanted to express my appreciation. I'm a post-surgical patient who depends on creatures like you and some of your feathered relatives to supply me with lots and lots of protein, so without your contribution to my life, I'd soon become malnourished, my hair would fall out, and I'd wind up taking a vacation at St. Mary's. You help prevent that, and I thank you.
In addition, I'm one of those poor souls who gags every time I try to eat Tofu, certain beans no longer work with my new physiology, and one can only swallow so many protein shakes. So again, the place you have in my day-to-day existence is important, and once again I say thanks.
The Creator who made us both and decided where our place would be on the... um... well, let's just say it, the food chain, He chose your particular rung, and He chose mine. And although at first glance that would appear to place me on a 'higher' rung than you, the truth is that with a higher rung comes more responsibility. He reminds me to be mindful, to be caring and compassionate, to be a good steward of His creation, and above all to be thankful.
So, rest assured that the portion of your existence that has come into my home will be treated with respect. The parts that are useful will be used to benefit myself, my wife, and, should some scraps fall to the floor, our dog. The non-useful parts (which is another discussion entirely) will be disposed of with proper care and dignity. (Although what happens to them after they make their way to the big blue plastic thingie is out of my control - sorry...)
Your useful parts will find their way into a number of wonderful places, such as the Ramen noodles I am presently enjoying. Indeed, they have added some wonderful flavor and texture to the noodles, for which some grain gave up its existence, as well as the most mysterious substance in our world, the bright yellow powder in the silver packet. (Oh so tasty, but I really don't want to know what that stuff is...) In a few hours, more of your tasty parts will join some Roma tomatoes and flatbread to make a lovely sandwich, anointed with that other mysterious substance, Miracle Whip, that I love so very much.
I guess the point of these random thoughts while engaged in removing the non-tasty bits from the tasty bits is this: to be mindful of God's good gifts, from the creatures, to the grain, to the mysterious substances, as He again provides what we need for this day. So, with a grateful heart and a full tummy, I thank Him. And you.
*belch*
Sorry you had to hear that. It must have been the noodles - certainly not you. Really. No, really.
*burp*
Alright - that was the dog. You can't pin that one on me. Nope. See? She's licking her chops. Sure sign of... um... something. Yeah.
Until we meet again, in a couple of hours, I remain,
Your friend, ever so briefly,
Cal
Thursday, April 14, 2011
I Have A Dream
I have a dream...
Now, it's nowhere near as lofty or inspiring as the most famous uttering of that phrase... Not even close, just to be clear.
And it's not a dream I would have uttered a year ago, even if it was deep within my unspoken hopes, desires, or dim aspirations.
But it's a dream. 'Lemmie 'splain...
My favorite blogger of all time, all dimensions, all alternate universes, world with out end, alleluia, amen, is P-Dub. The Pioneer Woman. Ree Drummond. She whose encrusted boots I am not worthy to clean off. She writes with the quirky kind of humor I wish I had, is an amazing photographer, actually knows how to use Photoshop to produce beautiful results, is a fabulous cook (she beat Bobby Flay in a throwdown, for corn's sake), and has a Bassett hound named Charlie who is my hero.
That last shows that I have many, many issues.
If you've never experienced the joy and mayhem that is the Pioneer Woman, surf off this very instant and find her. And if you never return, it's ok - I totally understand. Godspeed and much laughter, my friend.
Oh, the dream? Sorry - got lost in the awesomeness.
P-Dub lives on a ranch. And on this ranch is a place called The Lodge, which is a place for gathering and guests and is amazing.
So here's my dream: I get an email from her people, since getting an email from her herself would pretty much render me into a babbling pile of goo.
Which isn't that much of a change, I'll grant you. But even more so. Yeah, that bad.
Anyway, her peeps say, "Cal, we happened to hear this obscure little song from an obscure little album called 'Angelica's Waltz,' and we were surprised and shocked to find that we actually liked it, and were thinking that this sort of thing would be perfect background for a gathering we have coming up at The Lodge."
At this point, I'd be expecting the next words to be, "so we were wondering if we could play your CD at the event. Oh, and could you send us a few dozen copies to give as party favors." After all, if you turn them over, they make a great mirror. Or they work well for target practice, so who would't like a practical gift like that?
My response would be, "uhbabblegarblegookumbeeblewokawokawoka... Sure. Great. Would you like fries with that?"
But no. In my dream, the next words are, "so we were wondering if you'd be available to come to The Lodge and play at this event."
See the aforementioned reference to "goo" for my reaction.
And even if the next words were, "of course, you'll need to provide your own transportation to Oklahoma for you and your stuff, cover all your meals and other needs while you're here, and pay us a hefty fee for the privilege of playing at The Lodge. But we will graciously provide accommodation for you - a pup tent in the back with actual pups for your edification," my response would be, "ebblebeebleglorkgulpwokawokathud... Uh huh, sure, yes."
I want to play at The Lodge. Not be a guest, not take advantage of the hospitality, not intrude in any way - just to use my feeble offerings of music to enhance a gathering for someone who has enriched my life by her writing.
Now, P-Dub has no knowledge that I even exist, much less that I play whistles and thingies. I'm not on her radar in any shape or form. I don't drift in her circles, exist in her world, or anything like that. It's not that she's snooty or inaccessible - she'd laugh at the thought of it. Just that our worlds don't connect.
So what's the point? One year and 175 pounds ago, such a dream would have filled me with depression and hopelessness, something that would have caused longing and self-loathing, reminding me just how impossible the thought was and how very sick and lost I was.
But now? I could see this happening. No, I'm not having delusions of grandeur, or becoming a creepy blogger stalker. In my new life and my new body, I could imagine that if an opportunity like this came up, I'd have the strength, the confidence, and most of all the grateful heart to accept it, do it, and give God the glory for it.
And that, dear friends, is a dream with a happy ending - not the unlikely chance of playing at the Lodge, but where I realize just how far we have come and how much grace has been given, and how truly thankful I am.
I have a dream, and it's a good one...
Now, it's nowhere near as lofty or inspiring as the most famous uttering of that phrase... Not even close, just to be clear.
And it's not a dream I would have uttered a year ago, even if it was deep within my unspoken hopes, desires, or dim aspirations.
But it's a dream. 'Lemmie 'splain...
My favorite blogger of all time, all dimensions, all alternate universes, world with out end, alleluia, amen, is P-Dub. The Pioneer Woman. Ree Drummond. She whose encrusted boots I am not worthy to clean off. She writes with the quirky kind of humor I wish I had, is an amazing photographer, actually knows how to use Photoshop to produce beautiful results, is a fabulous cook (she beat Bobby Flay in a throwdown, for corn's sake), and has a Bassett hound named Charlie who is my hero.
That last shows that I have many, many issues.
If you've never experienced the joy and mayhem that is the Pioneer Woman, surf off this very instant and find her. And if you never return, it's ok - I totally understand. Godspeed and much laughter, my friend.
Oh, the dream? Sorry - got lost in the awesomeness.
P-Dub lives on a ranch. And on this ranch is a place called The Lodge, which is a place for gathering and guests and is amazing.
So here's my dream: I get an email from her people, since getting an email from her herself would pretty much render me into a babbling pile of goo.
Which isn't that much of a change, I'll grant you. But even more so. Yeah, that bad.
Anyway, her peeps say, "Cal, we happened to hear this obscure little song from an obscure little album called 'Angelica's Waltz,' and we were surprised and shocked to find that we actually liked it, and were thinking that this sort of thing would be perfect background for a gathering we have coming up at The Lodge."
At this point, I'd be expecting the next words to be, "so we were wondering if we could play your CD at the event. Oh, and could you send us a few dozen copies to give as party favors." After all, if you turn them over, they make a great mirror. Or they work well for target practice, so who would't like a practical gift like that?
My response would be, "uhbabblegarblegookumbeeblewokawokawoka... Sure. Great. Would you like fries with that?"
But no. In my dream, the next words are, "so we were wondering if you'd be available to come to The Lodge and play at this event."
See the aforementioned reference to "goo" for my reaction.
And even if the next words were, "of course, you'll need to provide your own transportation to Oklahoma for you and your stuff, cover all your meals and other needs while you're here, and pay us a hefty fee for the privilege of playing at The Lodge. But we will graciously provide accommodation for you - a pup tent in the back with actual pups for your edification," my response would be, "ebblebeebleglorkgulpwokawokathud... Uh huh, sure, yes."
I want to play at The Lodge. Not be a guest, not take advantage of the hospitality, not intrude in any way - just to use my feeble offerings of music to enhance a gathering for someone who has enriched my life by her writing.
Now, P-Dub has no knowledge that I even exist, much less that I play whistles and thingies. I'm not on her radar in any shape or form. I don't drift in her circles, exist in her world, or anything like that. It's not that she's snooty or inaccessible - she'd laugh at the thought of it. Just that our worlds don't connect.
So what's the point? One year and 175 pounds ago, such a dream would have filled me with depression and hopelessness, something that would have caused longing and self-loathing, reminding me just how impossible the thought was and how very sick and lost I was.
But now? I could see this happening. No, I'm not having delusions of grandeur, or becoming a creepy blogger stalker. In my new life and my new body, I could imagine that if an opportunity like this came up, I'd have the strength, the confidence, and most of all the grateful heart to accept it, do it, and give God the glory for it.
And that, dear friends, is a dream with a happy ending - not the unlikely chance of playing at the Lodge, but where I realize just how far we have come and how much grace has been given, and how truly thankful I am.
I have a dream, and it's a good one...
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