On Friday, I saw a FB post about children being killed in Newtown, CT. The first thing that entered my mind was BELK (y'all know who you are), who live on New Town Road in a different CT town. After rummaging through my duplicate phone and pc contacts, I finally got hold of B and determined that, although E's mom has some health issues, the kids are ok.
The day went on, full of its own unrelated tragedies. By midafternoon, I didn't feel like going to a holiday party, even though it was to have been one of the increasingly rare (for me now) midtown overindulgent fetes; I just wasn't in the mood to celebrate. A few hours later, I called BELK back on some invented excuse. As I told B, I just wanted to hear the kids' voices. I was in the mood for an evening workout and now, 48 hours later, I'm down 4 lbs and my abs still hurt. That's good.
Part of the reason I'm down some pounds, of course, is that I lay in bed all day yesterday. Despite dozens of papers to grade and a house that has not seen a thorough cleaning since I let my housekeepers go (because they weren't really cleaning it, they were just organizing my clutter. Of course, there may be something to that...) -- despite all that, I stayed in bed all day. Early in the morning my legs were too cramped to try to swim, and as the day wore on -- I guess my body needed the rest.
I had the TV on for much of the day, flipping, as usual, between ID, MSNBC, and NatGeo. MSNBC often held my attention: the governor of CT came out and made a statement, as did the first selectman and as did the medical examiner. They all tried to express and sum up and quantify an indescribable horror that has been visited upon their quaint New England town.
It is horrible. It's horrible whenever a child dies; it's horrible whenever anyone's life is taken away in an untimely manner. It's equally horrible when our young inner city kids have their lives taken away suddenly and tragically. Who mourns for them? Where is the national outcry for them? It's horrible that our mentally ill are no longer able to receive the treatment they need, and end up out on the streets or incarcerated, neither of which is a truly viable alternative. Who mourns for them? Who assists them? Where is the national outcry for them? It's equally horrible that we, a nation built on the idea of rugged individualism, appear to lack the critical facilities to recognize that the second amendment to the Constitution, the one which preserves the right of the people to keep and bear arms (presumably as a corollary to the fact that a well regulated milita is necessary to the security of a free state) may not have the same social context and, by extension application, it did when it was written. It's as if we have lost the ability to contextualize that statement, and cannot recognize the prior, but no longer existing, interdependencies between a well-regulated militia, maintaining the security of a free state, and the right of the people to keep and bear arms. Who mourns for our lack of critical interpretation? Where is the national outcry over that?
Whether I share in my father's emotional traits, or whether I have succumbed to the overstimulation of the city in which I live, I don't know. What I do know is that my reaction to this horror is similar to my reactions in the weeks after 9/11. In the early 2000s, I worked on Manhattan's Fifth Avenue, within sight of St. Patrick's Cathedral. For weeks after 9/11, it seemed that every day there was at least one funeral. There they came up Fifth Avenue, with the kilts and the drums and the bagpipes, walking rhythmically, bagpipes wailing, carrying their dead, uniformed officers lining the streets, and all traffic coming to a halt. There were sometimes one, sometimes two, and sometimes more each day. And there was the overwhelming emotion -- strangers stopping to hug, cry, and pray with one another. Just as there were more and more random acts of kindness, there were also more and more seemingly unprovoked outbursts of tears or other emotions. It just got to be too much for me. My emotions were frayed, and I began to seek solace in the church and in the gym. Each place helped me to channel the emotions until I thought I could control them.
When I first heard the story of the Sandy Hook principal, Dawn Hochsprung, losing her life as she sprang to take the rifle from the gunman's hand, the emotions welled up again inside me, and a trickle seemed to break through the dam. Having become fairly good at dam maintenance, I switched the channel, did some Bible studies, turned off the tv, and/or went to sleep. I didn't make it out of the bed, though. And while I wanted to at least do planks and pushups, I couldn't summon the motivation. Later in the day, when I saw the handmade sign saying "Our Hearts are Broken. Our Spirits are Strong," the dam burst, and the emotions flowed uncontrollably.
I weep for the children who lost their lives and who lost their innocence, and not just those in Newtown, CT. I weep for the children of Harlem and the Bronx who, at the age of 6, know the difference between a firecracker and a gunshot. I weep for the children of New York City who know that even if they are sitting in their homes doing their homework, that they cannot escape the violence of a random bullet. I weep for the people who suffer from mental illness. While I am happy to say I can serve some of them, there are far more whom I cannot serve, and who, falling in between the cracks of our healthcare support system, roam the streets tilting at imaginary windmills, battling imaginary aggressors, until they are either incarcerated, killed, or visit unimaginable horror upon others. I weep for the youth who sincerely want to change their conditions, but have neither opportunity nor direction. I weep and moan that we, a nation, as I said before, built on the idea of rugged individualism, seem to have lost not only the ability to critically review the Constitution, but the simple ability to recognize that assault weapons are instruments of war and have no place in civilian hands. Ever. I weep for our spirits, that in our diversity we appear to have lost our authenticity. Instead of being a place where everyone can come, coexist, and celebrate the beauty of their cultural, ethnic, and religious traditions, the US seems to be headed into a Dali-esque not-quite-melted pot were everyone's cultural, ethnic, and religious traditions are re-molded and re-shaped to fit into some politically correct dynamic that has nothing to do with their genesis. In that remolding and reshaping, we are losing the boundaries of fundamental cultural, ethnic, and religious identities -- as well as the values shaping those identities. We are also losing our collective sense of belonging and our sense of a collective self. I weep that we are becoming, not a nation of individualists so much as a nation of isolated individuals.
Mostly I weep from fear. I fear that we, as a nation, appear to be afflicted with some sort of mass Attention Deficit Disorder. I fear that this, combined with our lack of critical facilities, our lack of values, our lack of opportunities, our lack of care, and our lack of sense of self -- all this lack in the land of plenty -- I fear that this will ultimately derail or detour our conversations for positive change. We may talk about gun control for a couple of months; we may even pass a law banning assault weapons. But will we take a look at our mentally ill? Will we take a look at our cultural celebration of violence? Will we take a look at the systems in place that offer so little in the way of remediation or alternatives for people who aren't part of the homogenous American model? Will our outrage over the Sandy Hook tragedy survive the latest celebrity gossip? Will we still press for gun control or healthcare for the mentally ill if it impacts our bottom lines? Will we ultimately be able to put our partisan differences aside to work together towards solutions for America?
I weep because I'm not sure we can. I pray that I'm wrong, but lately it seems we are degenerating from those things which have made America great. We're experiencing a cultural shift, one that appears to value the payoff of the individual over the good of the many. I pray that we can work together to keep America a great nation, but I'm not sure we can. If we are unable to make this better, that would be the real American tragedy. Because this is the Advent season, because Jesus gives us Hope even in the midst of despair, and because God has promised to keep us even in seasons such as this, I have to end this post with the Hope that America can avert that national tragedy. My hope and faith far exceed my rational beliefset, so perhaps the time for my weeping is done, and the time has come to walk on in hope.
In the meantime, I'ma go do some ab work.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Another WOW Moment
Sometimes I see God working in my life, and all I can do is go “Wow…” Today was one of those sometimes.
I stayed in bed a bit longer than I should have. While I pray upon first waking, I didn’t do my morning devotions when I got up. Instead, I went to the dark place, the place where I can’t think or speak about some people without wanting to use the word “stupid,” or “deceitful,” the place where I entertain revengeful behaviors, and the place where I know I’m not supposed to be because it’s so toxic.
But I was there, and I lingered there longer than I should have. When you’re in your head and when you’re in the dark place, the toxicity builds exponentially, so that by the time I saw the guy whose car had disappeared, I decided he’d been parked there too long and it had been towed. (I have no idea what happened; I’m simply commenting on my lack of compassion).
I remember a conversation that went something like this: “God, I’m not doing this because I love Your people. I’m doing this because You called me. When you first called me, I invoked the whole free will thing and chose not to be responsive. After you let me go my own way and allowed that way to beat me into submission, I finally decided to try obedience to You. It’s not cause I love the people. So I’m at that point where I’ve given all I have to give, and I’m still hurt and wounded. I don’t have any great love or compassion to fall back on God, it’s just obedience to You. God, You know me. I need some help here, please? I don’t know how I can keep doing this.”
So that’s where I was. All in my head, angry, and on the dark side.
And then, my jam played. It’s “What’s Coming is Better," by Deon Kipping. The words are:
Here’s the video. It’s a great song.
By now I’m feeling like I got a Word from the Lord. The song ministered to my spirit, you know how when something hits you way down in your belly, sends tingles all through your body, and floods your eyes with tears? It was one of those times. So I drove around with it for a while, did my car happy-dance, and thanked God.
That would have been enough, but remember I didn’t do my morning devotion. So I come into the office and while the computer is turning on, I turn to today’s Bible reading. I note that the title is “Making Known the Wisdom of God,” so I’m like, OK, God. I’m listening and I’m hearing you. The passage is Ephesians 3:7-13. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but that wasn’t what I read. For some reason, I read Ephesians 3:14-21 (which is actually tomorrow’s reading, about Spiritual Power). But it was incredibly appropriate for today, and certainly DEMONSTRATES both the Power and Wisdom of God. I’m pasting it in here:
A Prayer for the Ephesians
"14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family[a] in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
(this is from the New International Version, copied in from BibleGateway)
At that point, I decided just to post this. There’s nothing more to say – in my spirit, I was down for the count. Christ came and met me right where I was, and strengthened me in my inner being.
No words, really; just Another WOW moment….
I stayed in bed a bit longer than I should have. While I pray upon first waking, I didn’t do my morning devotions when I got up. Instead, I went to the dark place, the place where I can’t think or speak about some people without wanting to use the word “stupid,” or “deceitful,” the place where I entertain revengeful behaviors, and the place where I know I’m not supposed to be because it’s so toxic.
But I was there, and I lingered there longer than I should have. When you’re in your head and when you’re in the dark place, the toxicity builds exponentially, so that by the time I saw the guy whose car had disappeared, I decided he’d been parked there too long and it had been towed. (I have no idea what happened; I’m simply commenting on my lack of compassion).
I remember a conversation that went something like this: “God, I’m not doing this because I love Your people. I’m doing this because You called me. When you first called me, I invoked the whole free will thing and chose not to be responsive. After you let me go my own way and allowed that way to beat me into submission, I finally decided to try obedience to You. It’s not cause I love the people. So I’m at that point where I’ve given all I have to give, and I’m still hurt and wounded. I don’t have any great love or compassion to fall back on God, it’s just obedience to You. God, You know me. I need some help here, please? I don’t know how I can keep doing this.”
So that’s where I was. All in my head, angry, and on the dark side.
And then, my jam played. It’s “What’s Coming is Better," by Deon Kipping. The words are:
I see you cryin,
And you’re about to lose control
But you can’t give up
Just because your future’s not worth letting go.
Let go Frustration,
Soon it will all come to an end.
Just endure what you’re going through –
What’s coming is much better than what’s been!
(repeat)
There has been pain
And you can’t describe
Something inside speaks to your life
And it’s saying
What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,
What’s coming is better than what’s been
(repeat)
What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,
What’s coming is better than what’s been
(repeat 4 x)
So I’ll endure
I know what’s coming
I won’t move
I know what’s coming
I’ll believe
I know what’s coming --
What’s coming is better than what’s been
(repeat 3X)
What’s coming is better, What’s coming is better,
What’s coming is better than what’s been
(repeat 4X)
Here’s the video. It’s a great song.
By now I’m feeling like I got a Word from the Lord. The song ministered to my spirit, you know how when something hits you way down in your belly, sends tingles all through your body, and floods your eyes with tears? It was one of those times. So I drove around with it for a while, did my car happy-dance, and thanked God.
That would have been enough, but remember I didn’t do my morning devotion. So I come into the office and while the computer is turning on, I turn to today’s Bible reading. I note that the title is “Making Known the Wisdom of God,” so I’m like, OK, God. I’m listening and I’m hearing you. The passage is Ephesians 3:7-13. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but that wasn’t what I read. For some reason, I read Ephesians 3:14-21 (which is actually tomorrow’s reading, about Spiritual Power). But it was incredibly appropriate for today, and certainly DEMONSTRATES both the Power and Wisdom of God. I’m pasting it in here:
A Prayer for the Ephesians
"14 For this reason I kneel before the Father, 15 from whom every family[a] in heaven and on earth derives its name. 16 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
20 Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, 21 to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen."
(this is from the New International Version, copied in from BibleGateway)
At that point, I decided just to post this. There’s nothing more to say – in my spirit, I was down for the count. Christ came and met me right where I was, and strengthened me in my inner being.
No words, really; just Another WOW moment….
Friday, November 23, 2012
THANKFUL
So many people are "counting their blessings" at this time of year. I've declined, not only because it seems a bit contrived, and not only because we should always be cognizant of our blessings and not only when there's a national holiday of overindulgence; no, I've also declined because it sometimes reeks of a tad of self-righteousness. Someone recently wrote a post on "being blessed" versus "being a blessing;" it evoked feelings and I attempted to write them out, but was ultimately unsuccessful.
But here's the deal. I'm a cancer survivor. Every day above ground is a victory. I can't begin to "count" blessings; what may not look to me like a blessing today may, in the overall scheme of things, actually be one. So I'm not going to engage in the spiritual self-gratification games.
But I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have shared this past week with so many friends and family. From the Holy Spirit Conference a week ago in Delaware, to the safe drive (drive, as in "inside a car, a car of which I have exclusive use and for which I did not have to pay) home, to all the friends and family with whom I've shared this past week.
I was at the graveyard this morning talking to my grandparents and my mother and aunt, part of that Great Cloud of Witnesses that has gone on before me. I expressed my gratitude to them, and found myself telling them they'd be pleased with the woman I've become. At that point I realized that I am pleased with the woman I've become. Sure, I have flaws and issues and all, and sure I screw up on a regular basis, and anyone who knows me knows my temperament and moodiness -- but it's all part of who I am, and the overall person, complete with warts, is one with whom my ancestors would, I hope, be pleased, and one with whom I hope God will ultimately be pleased.
There's a certain peace that comes from being comfortable with oneself, and I'm grateful for that. I ain't tryna prove nothing to nobody; ain't tryna be nobody except for who I am, because who I am is -- who I am.
Anyway. I'm a bit high on all the love and joy I found at home this week. It is simply overwhelming. I'm so grateful for these people who have known me and loved me all my life, and who continue to love and support me, even to this day. Not sure if it's a contrast to the anonymity of the big city, or if ti's just such a profundity of love and affection, but some wonderful things happened in Durham and Chapel Hill this week. I'm thankful for those wonderful things, I'm thankful for the wonderful people, and I'm thankful that, in the midst of everything, there is still a place called home that always awaits with love and comfort and open arms.
So while it is a bit cliche, there was definitely "Good News from the Graveyard" this morning. For that I will be eternally thankful.
But here's the deal. I'm a cancer survivor. Every day above ground is a victory. I can't begin to "count" blessings; what may not look to me like a blessing today may, in the overall scheme of things, actually be one. So I'm not going to engage in the spiritual self-gratification games.
But I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to have shared this past week with so many friends and family. From the Holy Spirit Conference a week ago in Delaware, to the safe drive (drive, as in "inside a car, a car of which I have exclusive use and for which I did not have to pay) home, to all the friends and family with whom I've shared this past week.
I was at the graveyard this morning talking to my grandparents and my mother and aunt, part of that Great Cloud of Witnesses that has gone on before me. I expressed my gratitude to them, and found myself telling them they'd be pleased with the woman I've become. At that point I realized that I am pleased with the woman I've become. Sure, I have flaws and issues and all, and sure I screw up on a regular basis, and anyone who knows me knows my temperament and moodiness -- but it's all part of who I am, and the overall person, complete with warts, is one with whom my ancestors would, I hope, be pleased, and one with whom I hope God will ultimately be pleased.
There's a certain peace that comes from being comfortable with oneself, and I'm grateful for that. I ain't tryna prove nothing to nobody; ain't tryna be nobody except for who I am, because who I am is -- who I am.
Anyway. I'm a bit high on all the love and joy I found at home this week. It is simply overwhelming. I'm so grateful for these people who have known me and loved me all my life, and who continue to love and support me, even to this day. Not sure if it's a contrast to the anonymity of the big city, or if ti's just such a profundity of love and affection, but some wonderful things happened in Durham and Chapel Hill this week. I'm thankful for those wonderful things, I'm thankful for the wonderful people, and I'm thankful that, in the midst of everything, there is still a place called home that always awaits with love and comfort and open arms.
So while it is a bit cliche, there was definitely "Good News from the Graveyard" this morning. For that I will be eternally thankful.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
After the Storm
This isn't a real blog post, it's just too long for a status update.
First of all, THANK YOU to all of you who've reached out with calls, emails, chats, etc. I have literally been contacted by people from all over the world checking on me. Thanks, everyone. I love y'all and really appreciate your checking on me.
So. I made it through the storm just fine. I'm watching tv, cuddled up with grapes and cheese, looking at pictures of all kinds of devastation, and seeing the power cut off in lower Manhattan. I live uptown, and the worst that happened was the lights flickered a few times. I am so grateful!
By this morning, it looked better than it looked yesterday morning, so I prepared to go out for the morning java run (yes, of course I have food in the house. I bought an espresso machine to save money on coffee....). I'm talking to someone who says "Going out for breakfast? Why aren't you cooking breakfast?" To which I laughed, and was chatting with someone who wondered why I would go out unless it was Divinely directed, to which I LOLed. The sister has a point, though.
Toni, I did stop on the first floor to check on the drunk guy. He was asleep, and I let his wife know how sweet I thought it was that he came by. She looked embarrassed and explained that he's enchanted with the idea of a hurricane. I let her know that it was still very sweet, thanked them for being so neighborly, and wished them well.
I didn't park on the street because I have the privilege of living on a tree-lined street. I did see some branches where cars had been yesterday, and I saw even more trees with limbs ripped off, but mostly I just saw lots and lots of leaves on the ground. It was clear Sanitation had been by, and still there were LOTS of leaves left -- more than I've ever seen in NYC.
Going around the corner, I'm wondering if the garage door opener will work, but of course they keep the door open in inclement weather. It starts to rain or something, and I wonder why I'm outside without an umbrella. Of course, by then I'm at the car with the umbrella in the back seat. So I go off to Dunkin.
The streets have people in them, but not nearly the number one would expect. The city's not quite a ghost town, and as I get further on the east side, I see the fellas hanging out on the corner by the few stores that are open. Bodegas are open, some liquor stores are open, most fast food stores are not; some grocery stores are and some are not. I'm assuming alternate side parking is suspended, and park just behind a building awning that's been ripped off.
Inside Dunkin, the line is longer than it is on most weekdays, and all the tables are full. As we wait for our coffee, we chat and everybody is like, "Man, I just couldn't stay inside any more." One woman had to leave because her roommate was watching Nickelodeon and she thought she'd go nuts; one guy wanted to go to work but there's no transpo; but of COURSE the coffee shop would be open, so that's where we all headed!
In very good times or very bad times, New Yorkers always pull together. We may or may not be polite when we're rushing to get a train, but if one of our teams wins a national championship, or if there's anything that affects our collective wellbeing, we New Yorkers are incredibly good and kind to each other. Remember that next time you hear somebody talk about rude New Yorkers. We may be a little self-consumed sometimes, but when things get tough, New Yorkers will always pull together. So we all wished each other well and went on our way.
I drove around for a bit, noticing that, aside from the occasional downed tree limbs or awnings, that the City doesn't seem to be too much worse after the hurricane. Of course, Michael told me that the subways are submerged in salt water and the news says that most of the bridges are still closed.
I stopped in the little BP gas station/bodega, mostly because I can park there and the guys are nice. They didn't have a lot of business, so I asked the guy how things are. He said their credit card machines are down and their computer systems are down. I said, "so why are you still here? Do you make that much on cash sales?" He said, "How I gonna go home? No subway. No train. We stuck here three days now. No shower, No sleep, nothing."
I asked if I could help, but a) it's a bodega, and b) it's run by his family, so I knew he'd be ok. But he's a nice enough young man, and I wanted him to know I cared. So I told him to get some rest, and promised to come see him later.
While driving home, I got another text inquiring after my wellbeing and praying for me, Since I wiped my phone, I don't know who it's from, but I'll call them back soon. I came home and as I parked, the rain started again. This time it feels like it might be the beginnings of sleet or hail if that's possible.
I'm back in the house now. The worst thing that happened was that the top on my coffee cup slipped off, and now my car will probably smell of coffee. That's not meant to sound cavalier or flippant; I am very grateful to have a roof over my head. My clients and their buildings are all intact, and, as I said to someone this morning, we in NYC ain't running nothing. The God who can calm the winds and the waters has shown us that He is still in charge, and that we go through our busy-ness, if not with his permission, only through his assent. In the midst of all that's going on (or perhaps "After the Storm," since that is the name of this post), we are well-advised to recognize, respect, and submit to the Power of God.
First of all, THANK YOU to all of you who've reached out with calls, emails, chats, etc. I have literally been contacted by people from all over the world checking on me. Thanks, everyone. I love y'all and really appreciate your checking on me.
So. I made it through the storm just fine. I'm watching tv, cuddled up with grapes and cheese, looking at pictures of all kinds of devastation, and seeing the power cut off in lower Manhattan. I live uptown, and the worst that happened was the lights flickered a few times. I am so grateful!
By this morning, it looked better than it looked yesterday morning, so I prepared to go out for the morning java run (yes, of course I have food in the house. I bought an espresso machine to save money on coffee....). I'm talking to someone who says "Going out for breakfast? Why aren't you cooking breakfast?" To which I laughed, and was chatting with someone who wondered why I would go out unless it was Divinely directed, to which I LOLed. The sister has a point, though.
Toni, I did stop on the first floor to check on the drunk guy. He was asleep, and I let his wife know how sweet I thought it was that he came by. She looked embarrassed and explained that he's enchanted with the idea of a hurricane. I let her know that it was still very sweet, thanked them for being so neighborly, and wished them well.
I didn't park on the street because I have the privilege of living on a tree-lined street. I did see some branches where cars had been yesterday, and I saw even more trees with limbs ripped off, but mostly I just saw lots and lots of leaves on the ground. It was clear Sanitation had been by, and still there were LOTS of leaves left -- more than I've ever seen in NYC.
Going around the corner, I'm wondering if the garage door opener will work, but of course they keep the door open in inclement weather. It starts to rain or something, and I wonder why I'm outside without an umbrella. Of course, by then I'm at the car with the umbrella in the back seat. So I go off to Dunkin.
The streets have people in them, but not nearly the number one would expect. The city's not quite a ghost town, and as I get further on the east side, I see the fellas hanging out on the corner by the few stores that are open. Bodegas are open, some liquor stores are open, most fast food stores are not; some grocery stores are and some are not. I'm assuming alternate side parking is suspended, and park just behind a building awning that's been ripped off.
Inside Dunkin, the line is longer than it is on most weekdays, and all the tables are full. As we wait for our coffee, we chat and everybody is like, "Man, I just couldn't stay inside any more." One woman had to leave because her roommate was watching Nickelodeon and she thought she'd go nuts; one guy wanted to go to work but there's no transpo; but of COURSE the coffee shop would be open, so that's where we all headed!
In very good times or very bad times, New Yorkers always pull together. We may or may not be polite when we're rushing to get a train, but if one of our teams wins a national championship, or if there's anything that affects our collective wellbeing, we New Yorkers are incredibly good and kind to each other. Remember that next time you hear somebody talk about rude New Yorkers. We may be a little self-consumed sometimes, but when things get tough, New Yorkers will always pull together. So we all wished each other well and went on our way.
I drove around for a bit, noticing that, aside from the occasional downed tree limbs or awnings, that the City doesn't seem to be too much worse after the hurricane. Of course, Michael told me that the subways are submerged in salt water and the news says that most of the bridges are still closed.
I stopped in the little BP gas station/bodega, mostly because I can park there and the guys are nice. They didn't have a lot of business, so I asked the guy how things are. He said their credit card machines are down and their computer systems are down. I said, "so why are you still here? Do you make that much on cash sales?" He said, "How I gonna go home? No subway. No train. We stuck here three days now. No shower, No sleep, nothing."
I asked if I could help, but a) it's a bodega, and b) it's run by his family, so I knew he'd be ok. But he's a nice enough young man, and I wanted him to know I cared. So I told him to get some rest, and promised to come see him later.
While driving home, I got another text inquiring after my wellbeing and praying for me, Since I wiped my phone, I don't know who it's from, but I'll call them back soon. I came home and as I parked, the rain started again. This time it feels like it might be the beginnings of sleet or hail if that's possible.
I'm back in the house now. The worst thing that happened was that the top on my coffee cup slipped off, and now my car will probably smell of coffee. That's not meant to sound cavalier or flippant; I am very grateful to have a roof over my head. My clients and their buildings are all intact, and, as I said to someone this morning, we in NYC ain't running nothing. The God who can calm the winds and the waters has shown us that He is still in charge, and that we go through our busy-ness, if not with his permission, only through his assent. In the midst of all that's going on (or perhaps "After the Storm," since that is the name of this post), we are well-advised to recognize, respect, and submit to the Power of God.
Friday, October 26, 2012
From the Plantation
So I'm at a family reunion in the Brunswick Plantation and Golf Course in Calabash, NC. Not sure why, but I'd calendared this for 8 am this morning. So yesterday I'm all stressed out thinking I have to pack and, because I'm going to the airport on public transpo, be up at the crack of dawn to catch the bus to make an 8 am flight.
Around 10-ish, having accomplished absolutely nothing, I decided to check my flight and discovered that it left at 11:40. I only had to get UP at 8 am. So I promptly went out.
But I got packed and everything (it's really just an extended overnight), and found that I don't have to preach until tomorrow night, so I crashed around midnite, 1 am. Got up this morning and got out. I'm now doing planks in the morning and in the evening, and taking note of the way they make me stand up straighter and keep my gut sucked in. I also noticed that even with my HUMONGOUS camera/laptop backpack (which easily weighs twice what my clothes weigh), I still had no problems walking the few blocks to Dunkin to get my morning java fix. Walking West to take an eastbound bus also put me earlier on the bus route, which increased my chance of getting a seat.
Got the bus, got to the airport and through security with no problems (although I think my camera pack scares them. TSA scanned it like they used to scan my CPAP when I carried one, and more than one TSA agent has asked if I'm a professional photographer. No, I always tell them, just a geek....). Got to the gate with no problems, and decided to pay the extra money to take my luggage on board with me. At least that way I didn't run the risk of Spirit losing it. It's nice now to be of a size where having to sit in the middle seat is not an issue.
I sat beside a 22 year old named Jamie. She was quite nice, and actually gave me her Otterbox for my iphone because she said mine was ripped (I thought it had character, silly me.). She also wanted a drink at 11 in the morning. The flight attendant told her she had to wait until we were airborne. Jamie is from Long Island, drives a Mercedes, her sister drives an Inifini, and their parents drive a Lexus, and I think all three have been in accidents recently. She just lost a cousin from a drug-related incident, and is still quite upset by it. She's en route to Myrtle Beach to attend a Marine Ball with a former boyfriend. She was a sweet girl, but I didn't get to sleep.
Got off the plane and went to the rental car desk, where I am reminded that I'm in the south. I love the south, but everything moves in slow motion. I tried to breathe deeply and not be annoyed, but am not sure it worked. The guy on the desk was very sweet, and handled me quickly. I had asked for a compact car. He gave me a Chevy Impala.
It's interesting to see how my little Nissan has spoiled me. At first I thought the Impala was not good on acceleration. Then I learned how to punch it. It's an American car, built for American sizes. Everything is out of place to me -- it's built for bigger people. But it looks good, and in South Carolina, the highway speed limit is 65. Took me a few minutes, but I've got this baby purring now!
So I'm at this place called Brunswick Plantation. Not sure how I feel about being on a plantation, but it's cool. Here's a pic of the car outside my little villa thingie place:
I think it's kinda cool,
So I'm sitting here enjoying the silence. It's a family reunion, and I guess they thought they were being helpful by giving out a list with everyone's room number on it. IT ALSO HAS EVERYONE'S PHONE NUMBER, but in the last 5 minutes, I've had two people knock on my door, both of whom want to take me to the meet and greet. My Dad is one of the seniors of the family, I think. And I think that as his firstborn daughter I probably have some sort of rank or role or something (I'm preaching tomorrow). So I'm gonna stop here and go do my meet and greet.
I love the south. I love my people. This is a beautiful place. I'm just having feelings about being on a "plantation."
Around 10-ish, having accomplished absolutely nothing, I decided to check my flight and discovered that it left at 11:40. I only had to get UP at 8 am. So I promptly went out.
But I got packed and everything (it's really just an extended overnight), and found that I don't have to preach until tomorrow night, so I crashed around midnite, 1 am. Got up this morning and got out. I'm now doing planks in the morning and in the evening, and taking note of the way they make me stand up straighter and keep my gut sucked in. I also noticed that even with my HUMONGOUS camera/laptop backpack (which easily weighs twice what my clothes weigh), I still had no problems walking the few blocks to Dunkin to get my morning java fix. Walking West to take an eastbound bus also put me earlier on the bus route, which increased my chance of getting a seat.
Got the bus, got to the airport and through security with no problems (although I think my camera pack scares them. TSA scanned it like they used to scan my CPAP when I carried one, and more than one TSA agent has asked if I'm a professional photographer. No, I always tell them, just a geek....). Got to the gate with no problems, and decided to pay the extra money to take my luggage on board with me. At least that way I didn't run the risk of Spirit losing it. It's nice now to be of a size where having to sit in the middle seat is not an issue.
I sat beside a 22 year old named Jamie. She was quite nice, and actually gave me her Otterbox for my iphone because she said mine was ripped (I thought it had character, silly me.). She also wanted a drink at 11 in the morning. The flight attendant told her she had to wait until we were airborne. Jamie is from Long Island, drives a Mercedes, her sister drives an Inifini, and their parents drive a Lexus, and I think all three have been in accidents recently. She just lost a cousin from a drug-related incident, and is still quite upset by it. She's en route to Myrtle Beach to attend a Marine Ball with a former boyfriend. She was a sweet girl, but I didn't get to sleep.
Got off the plane and went to the rental car desk, where I am reminded that I'm in the south. I love the south, but everything moves in slow motion. I tried to breathe deeply and not be annoyed, but am not sure it worked. The guy on the desk was very sweet, and handled me quickly. I had asked for a compact car. He gave me a Chevy Impala.
It's interesting to see how my little Nissan has spoiled me. At first I thought the Impala was not good on acceleration. Then I learned how to punch it. It's an American car, built for American sizes. Everything is out of place to me -- it's built for bigger people. But it looks good, and in South Carolina, the highway speed limit is 65. Took me a few minutes, but I've got this baby purring now!
So I'm at this place called Brunswick Plantation. Not sure how I feel about being on a plantation, but it's cool. Here's a pic of the car outside my little villa thingie place:
I think it's kinda cool,
So I'm sitting here enjoying the silence. It's a family reunion, and I guess they thought they were being helpful by giving out a list with everyone's room number on it. IT ALSO HAS EVERYONE'S PHONE NUMBER, but in the last 5 minutes, I've had two people knock on my door, both of whom want to take me to the meet and greet. My Dad is one of the seniors of the family, I think. And I think that as his firstborn daughter I probably have some sort of rank or role or something (I'm preaching tomorrow). So I'm gonna stop here and go do my meet and greet.
I love the south. I love my people. This is a beautiful place. I'm just having feelings about being on a "plantation."
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Waiting for Strength
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their
strength. They shall mount up on wings
like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31
By the time I got to the office, I realized something was wrong. Not sure why I didn’t take oscillococcinum before I left, but by the time I got to the office I realized a cold was coming on. I did what I could – I’m in the midst of evaluating and signing contracts and responding to RFPs. Trying to wrap my head around all that plus deal with the shivering, shaking, and hot and cold episodes that come with the this season – it was all a bit much. In the midst of all that, I’m evaluating people and programs for future viability. It was quite a day, and by the end of it, I was drained.
This morning I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. It’s probably related to the fact that my
house is a mess, and I hate waking up to a mess. And it was raining or something outside. Rainy days are made for sleeping, IMHO. But it translated into a generalized lethargy
that would have had me sleeping peacefully had my employees not started calling
me at 8 am. Then my Pastor, then a friend’s
creditor (seems this “friend” has listed me as their emergency contact). Then my employees again. By that time, I
decided I may as well get up.
By the time I got to the office, I realized something was wrong. Not sure why I didn’t take oscillococcinum before I left, but by the time I got to the office I realized a cold was coming on. I did what I could – I’m in the midst of evaluating and signing contracts and responding to RFPs. Trying to wrap my head around all that plus deal with the shivering, shaking, and hot and cold episodes that come with the this season – it was all a bit much. In the midst of all that, I’m evaluating people and programs for future viability. It was quite a day, and by the end of it, I was drained.
But I got this cool picture about planking, posted it on FB,
and went to the gym. Here’s the pic:
On the way, since I’d gotten the coupon to redeem my
satellite radio, I stopped by Radio Shack.
The replacement was 79.99 instead of $49.99. I picked it up, but later came home and found
it on sale for $49.99, so now I have to go take it back, get my money refunded,
and order it online. Lord, give me strength. Why do different stores have different prices? If I didn't know better, I'd think they were purposely trying to obfuscate the process...
Anyway. So I stopped at Radio Shack then headed to the gym. I was really drained, alternating chills with
sweats. I put on my gear and go into the
studio. I’m sweating bullets before we
start working out. Our trainer has us doing
bouncy planks, then mountain climbers, then pushups on the bells before we even
start to work out. The kettlebell
workout was a typical kettlebell workout – difficult but not impossible. But as I’m stumbling through the workouts and
the pushups and the crunches, I realize that my chills have gone away. By the
time I finished the workout and did a couple of cycles in the steam room, I
think I’d sweat my cold out. I’m reminded
that they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, and am happy to
find my strength now renewed.
Which would be nice, but probably not enough to sit me down
to write. But then I recall that
somewhere during the day, one of my former employees sent me a text. She was a bright young woman, a big girl like
myself, and one in whom I saw a lot of promise.
Not only did I try to offer her suggestions on her career, I did
everything I could to position her for growth.
So when she texted me to thank me for it, it simply made my day. She’s moved on to an expanded position. I
know it was hard for her, but she moved and she now appears to love it. This will position her for career growth,
which was not something I could have offered her. So many people have helped me out that it’s a
tremendous privilege to be able to help someone else out.
The day didn’t start out the way I wanted it to. It was filled with a lot of barriers. But I made it through, and will count it as a
wonderful day. And since I’ve just come
from the gym, I’m thinking that the race is not given to the swift nor to the
strong (Ecc 9:11), but to the one who endures to the end (Matt 24:13).
Sometimes you just have to stay the course, run with it, and make the
best of what’s in front of you. That’s
what I’m learning to do now. Endure, and
in that endurance, find strength. I'm starting to understand Paul when he says that Christ told him that Christ's Strength is made perfect in weakness. When we've done all we can, when we've emptied our bodies, minds, and spirits, when we are truly on E, then the Spirit of the Lord can enter and can revive our bodies, minds, and spirits. That's Strength, the kind you can't build up on your own, the kind which can only be imparted, and not even on a timetable. This is a strength for which we must prepare and then wait.
So I'm waiting on Strength. Lord, give me strength to face the next thing you put before me (like the sermon I have to preach this weekend, don't even know which day, and don't even know how I'm getting there...).
Yeah, I'm waiting for Strength. Prepared, ready, and waiting for strength.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Really? It’s only Monday?!?
Much of the past weekend was spent paying final tributes to a friend, Ignacio Jesus Garcia, Sr. (July 31, 1925 РOctober 16, 2012). He was a devoted husband, father, and friend. Despite his 87 years, it seemed that he was taken from our midst much too soon. Te echar̩ mucho de menos, Papi!
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, I suppose that I was a bit of a bitch to a friend of mine. But you know what? It annoys me when people are out of contact for several months at a time, who lack the courtesy to return a phone call and say “hey, got your messages, I’m ok, just really busy. Will circle back later,” who can’t do any of that, but who can call you up and say “Hey, I need you for x, y, and z.” I know that friendships should be deeper than that and that love should keep no record of wrongs, but this bothers me. Then, when I agree to help you out, you proceed to make arrangements for my time and co-opt me into your plans?
Maybe I’m evil. I just kinda feel like if you don’t have time for me, I’m ok with that. And if circumstances demand that we spend time together, I can be ok with that, too, but don’t assume I’ll then be willing, able, or interested in further or continued socialization with you. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve lost my Christian charity. But I think my bs tolerance has dramatically decreased. While I love and adore all my friends, at this point in my life, my personal relationships have to have a fair degree of reciprocity. If they don’t, they’re really not relationships. If it's only going to be about me meeting you at your point of need and tending to your needs, then that’s not a friendship, it’s my job. Which is fine, but there are boundaries to that job.
I guess this is why I don’t pastor.
If I were one to categorize such things, I might say that my life is approaching unmanageability right now. I changed my mortgage from 30 years to 15. It’s good, but I have like zero free money. I started this paragraph intending to say that because I have zero free money, I can no longer afford a housekeeper, and my place is just waaaay cluttered. I'm afraid they'll put me on that TV show. I prefer that, though, to the thought of semi-perpetual debt. At least this way I sort of have an option to stay in NYC in my old age; with a 30 year note, I’d pretty much be compelled to sell the place and move South if my primary source of income were to stop. I can always clean it later. I just want it clean now. Though my mind does not work within linear constraints, I really do like things to be structured and well-ordered. I may completely deviate from the structure, but I need it to be in place.
Speaking of which, tonight, October 22, 2012, is the night of the third and final presidential debate. The incumbent POTUS, Barack Hussein Obama, will square off against Willard Mitt Romney over the issue of foreign policy. So wait. We have a whitebread and mayonnaise child of privilege (who, incidentally, managed to piss off the Queen of England during the Olympics) debating a guy who’s a synthesis of Black, White, and Asian cultures? We have a loudmouth whose initial reaction to a terrorist attack in the Middle East was to begin a campaign attacking the commander in chief of his own country, a man who, in his campaign stumping never publicly acknowledged the service of veterans until that lacking was made an issue – we have him debating a man who has cut his political teeth by phasing us out of unnecessary wars in the Middle East; who maintains a working relationship with Israel while publicly acknowledging that Netanyahu is, well, a yahoo (no one really thought that tape was an accidental leak, did they?); who has supported our military in the US, Asia, and the Middle East (by giving them resources they need and by TRYING TO BRING THEM HOME!); oh, and who was responsible for finding and assassinating Osama Bin Laden. Not trying to justify assassination here, but if I have to pick, I’d prefer the assassination of one terrorist who’s vowed to destroy America rather than the sacrifice of thousands of young patriots who’ve vowed to defend her.
So I don’t understand how anyone who’s not a wealthy straight white male could vote for Mr. Romney. I get it that this is America and we all have choices; it just seems to me that the only people well served by the choices Mr. Romney appears to make are the people in the very small group (wealthy straight white males) mentioned above. Straight white males who are not wealthy are not well-served by Romney; wealthy white males who are not straight are not well served by Mr. Romney; wealthy straight males who are not white; wealthy straight whites who are not male are not well served by Mr. Romney – you get my point. Only if you are in the same demographic as he is do you stand to benefit from his policies.
That’s the scariest thing about him, that he is so single-mindedly selfish. Combine that with the dearth of critical skills displayed by most Americans (not their fault; we don’t teach our children), and you have what to me is an abhorrent prospect: that someone who has pretty much stated they don’t care about “other” Americans, that someone who attempts to categorize those others and put them in a box (presumably so they can be handled appropriately) that such a person could be a serious contender for the most powerful office in the Western World.
I’m now writing run-on sentences with poor grammatical construction. I’m clearly no longer capable of rational thought. Just checked my calendar and realized I’ve registered myself for TWO trainings tomorrow, one on fundraising and one on converting temporary housing to permanent housing. And then I have Church History. My mind will be jelly by 5 pm tomorrow. And I’ll likely miss the first hour of the debate because I’m heading to the Y to swing some bells. The debate will be starting right when the class is ending, but by the time I sauna, shower and get home, the debate will be almost over. Oh, well. That’s why FB and Twitter are great. I can read all about it later.
Fortunately, I’ll head south for the weekend. Where I get to be the featured speaker at our Family Reunion. Which would be really cool if I’d bothered to prepare. Or even if I had time to prepare. But I’ve got a lifetime of experiences from which to draw, so I’ll take a deep breath, go way inside, and listen to hear what God has to say about all this. At the end of the day, no matter the situation or the circumstance, it’s all good. I’ve gotta run with that knowledge right now.
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, I suppose that I was a bit of a bitch to a friend of mine. But you know what? It annoys me when people are out of contact for several months at a time, who lack the courtesy to return a phone call and say “hey, got your messages, I’m ok, just really busy. Will circle back later,” who can’t do any of that, but who can call you up and say “Hey, I need you for x, y, and z.” I know that friendships should be deeper than that and that love should keep no record of wrongs, but this bothers me. Then, when I agree to help you out, you proceed to make arrangements for my time and co-opt me into your plans?
Maybe I’m evil. I just kinda feel like if you don’t have time for me, I’m ok with that. And if circumstances demand that we spend time together, I can be ok with that, too, but don’t assume I’ll then be willing, able, or interested in further or continued socialization with you. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve lost my Christian charity. But I think my bs tolerance has dramatically decreased. While I love and adore all my friends, at this point in my life, my personal relationships have to have a fair degree of reciprocity. If they don’t, they’re really not relationships. If it's only going to be about me meeting you at your point of need and tending to your needs, then that’s not a friendship, it’s my job. Which is fine, but there are boundaries to that job.
I guess this is why I don’t pastor.
If I were one to categorize such things, I might say that my life is approaching unmanageability right now. I changed my mortgage from 30 years to 15. It’s good, but I have like zero free money. I started this paragraph intending to say that because I have zero free money, I can no longer afford a housekeeper, and my place is just waaaay cluttered. I'm afraid they'll put me on that TV show. I prefer that, though, to the thought of semi-perpetual debt. At least this way I sort of have an option to stay in NYC in my old age; with a 30 year note, I’d pretty much be compelled to sell the place and move South if my primary source of income were to stop. I can always clean it later. I just want it clean now. Though my mind does not work within linear constraints, I really do like things to be structured and well-ordered. I may completely deviate from the structure, but I need it to be in place.
Speaking of which, tonight, October 22, 2012, is the night of the third and final presidential debate. The incumbent POTUS, Barack Hussein Obama, will square off against Willard Mitt Romney over the issue of foreign policy. So wait. We have a whitebread and mayonnaise child of privilege (who, incidentally, managed to piss off the Queen of England during the Olympics) debating a guy who’s a synthesis of Black, White, and Asian cultures? We have a loudmouth whose initial reaction to a terrorist attack in the Middle East was to begin a campaign attacking the commander in chief of his own country, a man who, in his campaign stumping never publicly acknowledged the service of veterans until that lacking was made an issue – we have him debating a man who has cut his political teeth by phasing us out of unnecessary wars in the Middle East; who maintains a working relationship with Israel while publicly acknowledging that Netanyahu is, well, a yahoo (no one really thought that tape was an accidental leak, did they?); who has supported our military in the US, Asia, and the Middle East (by giving them resources they need and by TRYING TO BRING THEM HOME!); oh, and who was responsible for finding and assassinating Osama Bin Laden. Not trying to justify assassination here, but if I have to pick, I’d prefer the assassination of one terrorist who’s vowed to destroy America rather than the sacrifice of thousands of young patriots who’ve vowed to defend her.
So I don’t understand how anyone who’s not a wealthy straight white male could vote for Mr. Romney. I get it that this is America and we all have choices; it just seems to me that the only people well served by the choices Mr. Romney appears to make are the people in the very small group (wealthy straight white males) mentioned above. Straight white males who are not wealthy are not well-served by Romney; wealthy white males who are not straight are not well served by Mr. Romney; wealthy straight males who are not white; wealthy straight whites who are not male are not well served by Mr. Romney – you get my point. Only if you are in the same demographic as he is do you stand to benefit from his policies.
That’s the scariest thing about him, that he is so single-mindedly selfish. Combine that with the dearth of critical skills displayed by most Americans (not their fault; we don’t teach our children), and you have what to me is an abhorrent prospect: that someone who has pretty much stated they don’t care about “other” Americans, that someone who attempts to categorize those others and put them in a box (presumably so they can be handled appropriately) that such a person could be a serious contender for the most powerful office in the Western World.
I’m now writing run-on sentences with poor grammatical construction. I’m clearly no longer capable of rational thought. Just checked my calendar and realized I’ve registered myself for TWO trainings tomorrow, one on fundraising and one on converting temporary housing to permanent housing. And then I have Church History. My mind will be jelly by 5 pm tomorrow. And I’ll likely miss the first hour of the debate because I’m heading to the Y to swing some bells. The debate will be starting right when the class is ending, but by the time I sauna, shower and get home, the debate will be almost over. Oh, well. That’s why FB and Twitter are great. I can read all about it later.
Fortunately, I’ll head south for the weekend. Where I get to be the featured speaker at our Family Reunion. Which would be really cool if I’d bothered to prepare. Or even if I had time to prepare. But I’ve got a lifetime of experiences from which to draw, so I’ll take a deep breath, go way inside, and listen to hear what God has to say about all this. At the end of the day, no matter the situation or the circumstance, it’s all good. I’ve gotta run with that knowledge right now.
Monday, October 15, 2012
I Hear You Say
These have been interesting days. A dear friend has taken quite ill quite rapidly, and the prognosis is not a happy one. As a matter of fact, as I’m writing this, he’s being transferred to hospice care. While I believe and all my experiences with death, dying, and near-death experiences lead me to believe that the soul returns Home after transitioning from the flesh, I feel the same sadness all mortals feel when our loved ones depart this world.
The person is the father of friends, and the family is an incredibly close-knit one – so much so that they’ve opened their arms and welcomed me as one of their own. No matter how much I try to adopt my pastoral role, I often find this situation gives me the same emotional kick in the gut that the transitioning of my own ancestors gave me.
So that’s going on in the background. I’m having some issues with my hip and am wondering if the arthritis is becoming more aggressive, though as I noted to someone, I’ve not yet been concerned enough to make a doctor’s appointment, and I’m not concerned enough to stop swinging kettlebells. It’s just more of the “stuff” that goes on in the background.
Then I come in to work today. Been away for a coupla days, and come in early, all excited to do followups, both with people I met and through implementing some of the ideas from the conference. I pick up the phone. I get a normal dial tone and dial the number. The phone goes dead. I repeat the process while waiting for my computer to power up. I notice it’s taking longer than usual. I wait, then reboot. Still doesn’t completely go into Windows. I finally put two and two together and take out the network cable. Computer boots right up.
This is not good. By then was only about 9:15 am.
It’s now 3:51, and I finally have some limited internet access, but I've missed the 3:30 teleconference (which I scheduled because I didn't want to be out of the office yet another day). It’s a bit hard for me, having cut my tech teeth in some of the nation’s best-known and most profitable law firms, to realize that my organization’s ability to access the internet depends on the weather. We have old copper wiring and lose internet connectivity whenever it rains. I'm accustomed to my workplace being 5 or 10 times faster than my home internet, but we have copper wiring here, and I have FiOS at home, so the situation is reversed. Of course, ex-tech that I am, I have a workaround, which is all I will say here.
I’m concerned about our organization, I’m concerned about decisions that need to be made, and even though I realize God has called me to this place at this time, I also realize that I could bump my pay by about 50% and get a lot more perks if I went back to corporate. I have no intention of doing that, but the idea lingers at the edges of my consciousness, and I still check the waters from time to time.
Then I have this inane conversation with someone about church politics and sexual orientation. This had (has?) been an ongoing issue in our church; while there is still a disconnect between what we state our Church policy is and what we allow as behaviors from our church leaders, at the end of the day, unless I’m trying to get busy with you, I’m probably not interested in how or with whom you’re getting your love on. I don’t think, though, that you can say some people can break the same rules you will use to disqualify or dismiss others. I think that’s just wrong, and it tends to make me angry, just on principle. While I am bothered by injustice and hypocrisy in the church, I also realize that it’s an organism full of human people, including myself, all of whom have character defects. Remaining with a particular body of believers is a choice.
So I’m at the office and there’s all this stuff floating around in the background while I'm trying to focus on strategic planning. I’m thinking, “God, I don’t know. I know You’ve blessed me, and I’m grateful for that. I know the race isn’t given to the swift or to the strong, but to the one who endures to the end. I see you've been holding my hand every step of the way, and yet, in the midst of my gratitude, I still feel something’s off."
Oh, my satellite radio finally died. It’s under warranty, so I took it back to get a new one, only to find I have to call a number, wait for them to send me a mailer, send it back, and then wait for them to email me a voucher (by which time my subscription will probably be up and it’s unlikely I’ll renew for another year), so the unit is sitting in a bag on the living room floor. And because I’m already pulling my whole internet connection through my phone, I decided not to stream Sirius; instead I decided to play the songs on the phone.
And that’s when this Joann Rosario song played:
I cannot express to You What this means to me
That You would leave Your throne above the clouds
To come and talk to me So much has been going on
That I don't understand But when the weight seems heavy
I listen closely
I hear You say
I'll fight your battles
I hear You say
You are not alone
Oh my God
Hold me close to Your heart
And breathe life into my soul
Now I can look back and I remember
Your faithfulness to me always the same
Take my hand, walk me through this journey
So my life will bring glory to your name
Oh Lord we declare...
Oh Lord we declare...
Lord we declare
You'll fight our battles
Lord we declare
Your blood will overcome
Victory is already given
And we sing glory to Your name
Joann Rosario may be singing it, but I Hear The Lord Say: "I’ll Fight your Battles. No Weapon Formed Against You Will Prosper. By the Blood You Will Overcome...." It's like life is a Bosu Ball, and God's Word strengthens my core (yeah, I know there's a sermon in there). When I focus on the Word, then just for a little bit longer, I can find my balance. When I focus on His Word, I find I have the core strength to endure and can stand on His Promises just a little while longer. And the more I do it, the better I get at it, and the stronger I become. So I'm grateful for the baby steps today, grateful for the balance today. .
Yes, Lord. I hear You say it!
The person is the father of friends, and the family is an incredibly close-knit one – so much so that they’ve opened their arms and welcomed me as one of their own. No matter how much I try to adopt my pastoral role, I often find this situation gives me the same emotional kick in the gut that the transitioning of my own ancestors gave me.
So that’s going on in the background. I’m having some issues with my hip and am wondering if the arthritis is becoming more aggressive, though as I noted to someone, I’ve not yet been concerned enough to make a doctor’s appointment, and I’m not concerned enough to stop swinging kettlebells. It’s just more of the “stuff” that goes on in the background.
Then I come in to work today. Been away for a coupla days, and come in early, all excited to do followups, both with people I met and through implementing some of the ideas from the conference. I pick up the phone. I get a normal dial tone and dial the number. The phone goes dead. I repeat the process while waiting for my computer to power up. I notice it’s taking longer than usual. I wait, then reboot. Still doesn’t completely go into Windows. I finally put two and two together and take out the network cable. Computer boots right up.
This is not good. By then was only about 9:15 am.
It’s now 3:51, and I finally have some limited internet access, but I've missed the 3:30 teleconference (which I scheduled because I didn't want to be out of the office yet another day). It’s a bit hard for me, having cut my tech teeth in some of the nation’s best-known and most profitable law firms, to realize that my organization’s ability to access the internet depends on the weather. We have old copper wiring and lose internet connectivity whenever it rains. I'm accustomed to my workplace being 5 or 10 times faster than my home internet, but we have copper wiring here, and I have FiOS at home, so the situation is reversed. Of course, ex-tech that I am, I have a workaround, which is all I will say here.
I’m concerned about our organization, I’m concerned about decisions that need to be made, and even though I realize God has called me to this place at this time, I also realize that I could bump my pay by about 50% and get a lot more perks if I went back to corporate. I have no intention of doing that, but the idea lingers at the edges of my consciousness, and I still check the waters from time to time.
Then I have this inane conversation with someone about church politics and sexual orientation. This had (has?) been an ongoing issue in our church; while there is still a disconnect between what we state our Church policy is and what we allow as behaviors from our church leaders, at the end of the day, unless I’m trying to get busy with you, I’m probably not interested in how or with whom you’re getting your love on. I don’t think, though, that you can say some people can break the same rules you will use to disqualify or dismiss others. I think that’s just wrong, and it tends to make me angry, just on principle. While I am bothered by injustice and hypocrisy in the church, I also realize that it’s an organism full of human people, including myself, all of whom have character defects. Remaining with a particular body of believers is a choice.
So I’m at the office and there’s all this stuff floating around in the background while I'm trying to focus on strategic planning. I’m thinking, “God, I don’t know. I know You’ve blessed me, and I’m grateful for that. I know the race isn’t given to the swift or to the strong, but to the one who endures to the end. I see you've been holding my hand every step of the way, and yet, in the midst of my gratitude, I still feel something’s off."
Oh, my satellite radio finally died. It’s under warranty, so I took it back to get a new one, only to find I have to call a number, wait for them to send me a mailer, send it back, and then wait for them to email me a voucher (by which time my subscription will probably be up and it’s unlikely I’ll renew for another year), so the unit is sitting in a bag on the living room floor. And because I’m already pulling my whole internet connection through my phone, I decided not to stream Sirius; instead I decided to play the songs on the phone.
And that’s when this Joann Rosario song played:
I cannot express to You What this means to me
That You would leave Your throne above the clouds
To come and talk to me So much has been going on
That I don't understand But when the weight seems heavy
I listen closely
I hear You say
I'll fight your battles
I hear You say
You are not alone
Oh my God
Hold me close to Your heart
And breathe life into my soul
Now I can look back and I remember
Your faithfulness to me always the same
Take my hand, walk me through this journey
So my life will bring glory to your name
Oh Lord we declare...
Oh Lord we declare...
Lord we declare
You'll fight our battles
Lord we declare
Your blood will overcome
Victory is already given
And we sing glory to Your name
Joann Rosario may be singing it, but I Hear The Lord Say: "I’ll Fight your Battles. No Weapon Formed Against You Will Prosper. By the Blood You Will Overcome...." It's like life is a Bosu Ball, and God's Word strengthens my core (yeah, I know there's a sermon in there). When I focus on the Word, then just for a little bit longer, I can find my balance. When I focus on His Word, I find I have the core strength to endure and can stand on His Promises just a little while longer. And the more I do it, the better I get at it, and the stronger I become. So I'm grateful for the baby steps today, grateful for the balance today. .
Yes, Lord. I hear You say it!
Friday, October 5, 2012
Today's marginally coherent rant....
In my mind, there's only one clear choice for President for the 2012-2016 term. Opportunity, Benefits and Advances for Middle class Americans. I've given to his political campaign (and have lent my name to other political causes), so now my inbox is flooded with emails from every moveon.org, change.org, and all their affiliates. Even though I love and support the POTUS, I'm just about ready to stop doing anything that involves putting down my email address (and mind you, I have over a half-dozen email addresses. They're all getting flooded). I got an email this afternoon from a woman whose gay son was denied his Eagle Scout award.
I didn't finish reading it. Nah, I'm nowhere close to homophobic, and I've very publicly disagreed with what I perceive to be the hypocritical homophobia of the black church. This isn't even a religious issue, in my book, and it's not about the child's sexuality. OK, it sorta is. You're coming out at 18? At 18, I was just discovering something called sex; I surely had no idea about anything as rigidly defined as "sexual orientation." But that's another conversation.
Here's my concern. First, every rude, mean, or ignorant person is NOT a bully. Sometimes, they're just rude, mean, and/or ignorant. The fact that they may point out something they don't like about you (which may or may not be something you don't like about yourself) doesn't make them a bully. (I'm thinking of the overweight news reporter who responded to a viewer's concerns about her weight by invoking the bullying clause. Ma'am, with all due respect, you admit to being obese. The viewer expressed a concern about obesity on one's health and messages an obese role model sends to children. While it may have lacked certain social graces, I don't understand how the viewer's expression came anywhere near to being bullying -- you are the one who made the decision to put yourself in the public eye, and YOU ARE THE ONE WHO HAS THE POWER TO VIRALIZE YOUR NEGATIVE OPINION OF THIS ANONYMOUS VIEWER WITHOUT THEIR EVEN BEING ABLE TO RESPOND. I'm sorry, here you seem more like the bully. The fact that someone pointed out that you carry a few extra pounds does not make them a bully.) It makes them an idiot perhaps, but not a bully.
Why do I say this? Because my understanding (and that of "the wikipedia") is that bullying is when we use force or coercion to intimidate others, and it generally has to do with a power imbalance. When I was the little black kid going to the white school and the little white kids called me names, it wasn't bullying, it was racism. And when we fought (well, the one time we fought), it wasn't bullying -- it was a butt-kicking. When they threw rocks at us while we were driving to school, that wasn't bullying, that was kids being mean and racist kids. On the other hand, when the gang of college kids surrounded us, called us the N-word, and asked us where we were going, that was bullying. The elementary school kids didn't have any more physical power than we did (and while they may have thought they had more social power, we thought the same about ourselves), so there was no power imbalance. The college kids, on the other hand, were straight up bullies. Why? Because they were big kids and we were little kids. There was a power imbalance.
So a cool kid calling out a nerd is only bullying if the nerd lives life at the effect of the cool kid. In other words, I was, in retrospect, a little nerdy. I didn't realize it at the time, because in my world, I was cool. So even though the jocks all thought they were cool, I always thought they were poor, dumb jocks. I didn't know I wasn't cool (if, indeed, I wasn't), and if I'd been aware of them making any disparaging comments, I don't think it would have been bullying. Once in prep school, a black girl told another black girl that I listened to "white" music. Perhaps that would have been considered bullying today; at the time, I just told her that I listened to "good" music that wasn't restricted to race.
So back to the point: I'm a lefty. I'm kinda sorta ambidextrous in some things, but strongly lefty in others. For most of my primary education, I had to sit in right-handed desks, use right-handed scissors, and adapt to a right-handed world. That did not diminish nor devalue my left-handedness; it simply was a condition of the world in which I lived. I couldn't choose to be right-handed (I toyed with it for a while, and had I been forced to, could have survived as a righty, but I'm a lefty.
I don't want to make light of the gay kid who can't be an Eagle Scout, but really --
1) an 18-year-old, IMHO, doesn't HAVE to issue a public statement on their sexuality. They probably shouldn't -- I'm thinking their sexuality isn't yet completely defined;
2) if you've been a Boy Scout since you were 6 and you know BSA is homophobic, why would you come out before getting your Eagle Scout badge?
It's sort of like being mad at the world because they're right-handed and I'm left-handed. We are who we are; I've had to sit in some right-handed desks, there is certain sporting equipment that's made for right-handed people; every time I drive a car, I have to use my right hand and foot exclusively (although I tend to steer better with my left hand, so that actually works out ok). It's a right-handed world. What am I gonna do, be mad that they're right-handed? Demand equal rights because I'm left-handed? If I can just sit on the corner at a tight dinner party, so I don't always bump people when I cut my food, I'm good.
Life isn't always what we want it to be. It's not about the hand we're dealt, it's about how we play the hand we're dealt. Increasingly, I see more people complaining either about the hand they're dealt or about how other people are playing. In my mind, it's like giving one's power away.
OK, that's it.
I didn't finish reading it. Nah, I'm nowhere close to homophobic, and I've very publicly disagreed with what I perceive to be the hypocritical homophobia of the black church. This isn't even a religious issue, in my book, and it's not about the child's sexuality. OK, it sorta is. You're coming out at 18? At 18, I was just discovering something called sex; I surely had no idea about anything as rigidly defined as "sexual orientation." But that's another conversation.
Here's my concern. First, every rude, mean, or ignorant person is NOT a bully. Sometimes, they're just rude, mean, and/or ignorant. The fact that they may point out something they don't like about you (which may or may not be something you don't like about yourself) doesn't make them a bully. (I'm thinking of the overweight news reporter who responded to a viewer's concerns about her weight by invoking the bullying clause. Ma'am, with all due respect, you admit to being obese. The viewer expressed a concern about obesity on one's health and messages an obese role model sends to children. While it may have lacked certain social graces, I don't understand how the viewer's expression came anywhere near to being bullying -- you are the one who made the decision to put yourself in the public eye, and YOU ARE THE ONE WHO HAS THE POWER TO VIRALIZE YOUR NEGATIVE OPINION OF THIS ANONYMOUS VIEWER WITHOUT THEIR EVEN BEING ABLE TO RESPOND. I'm sorry, here you seem more like the bully. The fact that someone pointed out that you carry a few extra pounds does not make them a bully.) It makes them an idiot perhaps, but not a bully.
Why do I say this? Because my understanding (and that of "the wikipedia") is that bullying is when we use force or coercion to intimidate others, and it generally has to do with a power imbalance. When I was the little black kid going to the white school and the little white kids called me names, it wasn't bullying, it was racism. And when we fought (well, the one time we fought), it wasn't bullying -- it was a butt-kicking. When they threw rocks at us while we were driving to school, that wasn't bullying, that was kids being mean and racist kids. On the other hand, when the gang of college kids surrounded us, called us the N-word, and asked us where we were going, that was bullying. The elementary school kids didn't have any more physical power than we did (and while they may have thought they had more social power, we thought the same about ourselves), so there was no power imbalance. The college kids, on the other hand, were straight up bullies. Why? Because they were big kids and we were little kids. There was a power imbalance.
So a cool kid calling out a nerd is only bullying if the nerd lives life at the effect of the cool kid. In other words, I was, in retrospect, a little nerdy. I didn't realize it at the time, because in my world, I was cool. So even though the jocks all thought they were cool, I always thought they were poor, dumb jocks. I didn't know I wasn't cool (if, indeed, I wasn't), and if I'd been aware of them making any disparaging comments, I don't think it would have been bullying. Once in prep school, a black girl told another black girl that I listened to "white" music. Perhaps that would have been considered bullying today; at the time, I just told her that I listened to "good" music that wasn't restricted to race.
So back to the point: I'm a lefty. I'm kinda sorta ambidextrous in some things, but strongly lefty in others. For most of my primary education, I had to sit in right-handed desks, use right-handed scissors, and adapt to a right-handed world. That did not diminish nor devalue my left-handedness; it simply was a condition of the world in which I lived. I couldn't choose to be right-handed (I toyed with it for a while, and had I been forced to, could have survived as a righty, but I'm a lefty.
I don't want to make light of the gay kid who can't be an Eagle Scout, but really --
1) an 18-year-old, IMHO, doesn't HAVE to issue a public statement on their sexuality. They probably shouldn't -- I'm thinking their sexuality isn't yet completely defined;
2) if you've been a Boy Scout since you were 6 and you know BSA is homophobic, why would you come out before getting your Eagle Scout badge?
It's sort of like being mad at the world because they're right-handed and I'm left-handed. We are who we are; I've had to sit in some right-handed desks, there is certain sporting equipment that's made for right-handed people; every time I drive a car, I have to use my right hand and foot exclusively (although I tend to steer better with my left hand, so that actually works out ok). It's a right-handed world. What am I gonna do, be mad that they're right-handed? Demand equal rights because I'm left-handed? If I can just sit on the corner at a tight dinner party, so I don't always bump people when I cut my food, I'm good.
Life isn't always what we want it to be. It's not about the hand we're dealt, it's about how we play the hand we're dealt. Increasingly, I see more people complaining either about the hand they're dealt or about how other people are playing. In my mind, it's like giving one's power away.
OK, that's it.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Not Weary...
So I'm in a bit of a mood today. Computer issues, combined with an increasingly troublesome propensity towards OCD behavior, kept me up until 3 am. I've discovered that prescription sleep meds will help me to go to sleep but don't keep me asleep, so I was awake at 7. I had the good sense to stay in bed until 10, but (more OCD symptoms) find I don't rest well when my house is messy.
Which means I seldom get a good rest. I ain't complaining -- I'm above ground when the doctors thought I wouldn't be, so I'm happy. And I have a great life -- I run a company that actually tries to help people. I teach preachers. I help people explore God's Word for themselves. I get awesome physical workouts. And I'm tired.
It's an honor to be selected for worship leader when the Bishop comes to town. But could someone have told me that you had a color theme earlier than four days before the event? And really, BROWN and IVORY? I'm a fairly conservative dresser, and that combo is a bit too bland for me. I don't particularly care for either color; my ivory suits are -- somewhere, and I have a brownish suit and an ivory collar, but they are both way too big. Oh, well. I'll do my best. Brown and Ivory. Hallelujer.
It's my practice to not write about my business life on my personal blog, but I have to say that my employees, as dear as they can be, are making me tired. I often feel like I'm the Mother of the Council rather than the Executive Director. I know we're all doing a lot of awesome things with a little resources; that does not, IMHO, relieve us from the requirement to do and be excellence. If I can't pay you more money, then at least I want you to develop skills so that next year you have more in your arsenal than you had last year. I want them to be better, stronger, and more equipped. It seems all they want to do is find a comfortable spot and stay there. That doesn't work for me, and I hate having to use the stick to prod people for results.
I recently tried doing "attaboys," "Job Well Dones" and "Gold Stars," various little ways to acknowledge people who went above and beyond their job descriptions. Within a couple of days, it became a competition. The focus shifted from "how can I do things better" to "what does it take to get a reward?"
A friend wrote a post the other day and quoted Galatians 6:9. My pastor preached from that text on Sunday, so I'm gonna copy in the passage from 7 to 10:
7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. 8 Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. 9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. 10 Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.
So I'm not going to become weary in doing good -- and it's not because of the harvest to come. If I never receive another blessing in this life, I've already been doubly blessed, so I need to keep on simply because God has given me the ability to do so.
I'm really off today, and solicit your prayers. I think what's happening is that we're entering a period of growth. Growth oftentimes involves tearing down things that are older or weaker so they can be strengthened. I have to remember that.
And I have six crises and an accountant waiting for me, a head that's dizzy from not having had time to eat, and a monster workout coming up tonight, so I'ma go handle my business. My small step for today is that I got disturbing news, took a breath, and responded appropriately. It's not that hard. I get to dodging darts and arrows and sometimes lose my focus, but I just gotta remember Who's really in charge. It ain't me....
So. I'm going to nourish my Spirit and my body. I'm going to continue to do my job, which I do fairly well,. and I'm not going to weary in it or any of the other work I do.
I just got hit with 20 pages of contracts. I'm not going to become weary. I'm not going to become weary. I'm not going to become weary....
Which means I seldom get a good rest. I ain't complaining -- I'm above ground when the doctors thought I wouldn't be, so I'm happy. And I have a great life -- I run a company that actually tries to help people. I teach preachers. I help people explore God's Word for themselves. I get awesome physical workouts. And I'm tired.
It's an honor to be selected for worship leader when the Bishop comes to town. But could someone have told me that you had a color theme earlier than four days before the event? And really, BROWN and IVORY? I'm a fairly conservative dresser, and that combo is a bit too bland for me. I don't particularly care for either color; my ivory suits are -- somewhere, and I have a brownish suit and an ivory collar, but they are both way too big. Oh, well. I'll do my best. Brown and Ivory. Hallelujer.
It's my practice to not write about my business life on my personal blog, but I have to say that my employees, as dear as they can be, are making me tired. I often feel like I'm the Mother of the Council rather than the Executive Director. I know we're all doing a lot of awesome things with a little resources; that does not, IMHO, relieve us from the requirement to do and be excellence. If I can't pay you more money, then at least I want you to develop skills so that next year you have more in your arsenal than you had last year. I want them to be better, stronger, and more equipped. It seems all they want to do is find a comfortable spot and stay there. That doesn't work for me, and I hate having to use the stick to prod people for results.
I recently tried doing "attaboys," "Job Well Dones" and "Gold Stars," various little ways to acknowledge people who went above and beyond their job descriptions. Within a couple of days, it became a competition. The focus shifted from "how can I do things better" to "what does it take to get a reward?"
A friend wrote a post the other day and quoted Galatians 6:9. My pastor preached from that text on Sunday, so I'm gonna copy in the passage from 7 to 10:
7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. 8 Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life. 9 Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. 10 Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.
So I'm not going to become weary in doing good -- and it's not because of the harvest to come. If I never receive another blessing in this life, I've already been doubly blessed, so I need to keep on simply because God has given me the ability to do so.
I'm really off today, and solicit your prayers. I think what's happening is that we're entering a period of growth. Growth oftentimes involves tearing down things that are older or weaker so they can be strengthened. I have to remember that.
And I have six crises and an accountant waiting for me, a head that's dizzy from not having had time to eat, and a monster workout coming up tonight, so I'ma go handle my business. My small step for today is that I got disturbing news, took a breath, and responded appropriately. It's not that hard. I get to dodging darts and arrows and sometimes lose my focus, but I just gotta remember Who's really in charge. It ain't me....
So. I'm going to nourish my Spirit and my body. I'm going to continue to do my job, which I do fairly well,. and I'm not going to weary in it or any of the other work I do.
I just got hit with 20 pages of contracts. I'm not going to become weary. I'm not going to become weary. I'm not going to become weary....
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
NYC Driving; something else
I realize how computer dependent I have become when, after spending an hour writing a blog post, my internet connection dies. I go to the router and discover, between my Verizon triple play, Ooma, and the leftovers from the TWC installation, that I have a bird's nest of wires at my entry point. I grumble about how, when I was a tech, we took pride in wire management, and tried tracing wires. I wasn't successful, and now have no idea what's going on with my internet connection. Of course, all my instructions are online, and somehow I'm not feeling squinting at my iPhone to figure out how to configure my cable box. So I may be off-grid for a minute.
Ten minutes later, the net-net is that I got some wires cleaned up. Gotta go check my Ooma connections, though. It's a great service, but the setup ios a bit counterintuitive. I was working on this post, trying to update it, when I crashed:
A friend from CT recently posted something about NYC cabbies. When my friends come from out of town, they generally express amazement that I can navigate the streets and hold my own with cabbies. I think driving in the City makes you either very late or a tad aggressive. I'm consciously working on it, but yesterday I tried so hard -- I let this guy get in front of me. He can't decide which of the two imaginary lanes he wants to be in, so he straddles them both. Then he decides to make a right turn. Dude, I'm behind you. I'm going straight. Do you think you could move a bit to the right? But I was good. I didn't lean on the horn, didn't push him, just waited until I had the opportunity, went around him, and went on my merry way.
Across the light were the two pedestrians who wanted to have a conversation in the middle of the street (my light was green). The problem is that if you slow down, they'll just stay there and keep talking; if you speed up they'll move, but then you have to time your vehicle so you don't actually hit them. I was cool. I continued down the street and swerved around them. I think that was only when they noticed me, simply because I swerved so sharply.
This is all completely within normal limits for NYC driving (and mind you, this is in the Bx; in midtown, everybody has a luxury car, so they actually take a little bit of care with their driving -- if they're not too busy on the phone, texting, or otherwise being distracted). But I'd only gone a few blocks. Then this guy comes out of nowhere, zooms up on my left, pulls in front of me, and STOPS. Even though I'm a typically aggressive NYC driver (though I'm not like some of the guys I know (Amit, Avi, Brian, and Chris come to mind...)-- even though I'm a typically aggressive NYC driver, I was taught to drive defensively. So what could have been an insurance setup just resulted in me pulling up beside him and looking at him. For a while. I didn't dare glare at him, I just looked at him like he was from Mars. How do you rush to pull up in front of someone and then stop short? He was a cab driver, of course. They live in a completely different world.
Cabbies and bicycle delivery guys. NYC has a law that says businesses must provide a helmet and a reflective vest for bicycle delivery guys. You'd never know it by the way these guys ride their bicycles. I watched two tonight nearly collide with each other, I always have to check before making a right turn or opening a door if I'm parked with the passenger side to the curb, because they ride along at about 20 mph, sometimes texting while listening to headsets, sometimes talking on the phone -- I don't know. For me, biking in NYC is as much a mental as a physical workout, but these guys seem completely unconcerned with the fact that they are often barely visible and are virtually defenseless against tons of metal coming at them.
God bless em. God bless all of us who commute in NYC. It's not normal.
So I had to write a bio for our church's web page. While my current resume isn't completely up to date, a bio isn't as detailed as a resume, and sort of paints your life in broad sweeps. I guess it's like my obituary, except that hopefully about half of it's been left out...
As I read it (and reflected on the parts that have already been lived out but omitted from this writing), I was reminded of the lyrics to Eddie James's video. Although this particular recording seems to drag a bit, you can hear the words pretty clearly. I like the pitch progression on the "I can never repay" parts. Here are the words:
As I look back over my life
I can see how Your love has guided me
Even though I’ve done wrong
You never left me alone
But You forgave me
And You kept on blessing
This I recall to my mind
Therefore I have hope
It’s because of Your mercy that we are not consumed
Because thy compassions fail not,
they are new every morning
Great is Thyfaithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t do what You wanted me to do)
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t say what You wanted me to say)
I can never repay You Lord for what You done for me
How You loosed my shackles and you set me free.
How You made a way out of no way
Turned my darkness into day
You’ve been my joy in the time of sorrow
Hope for my tomorrow
Peace in the time of storm
Strength when I’m weak and worn
You’ve been, Lord
You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t do what You wanted me to do)
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t say what You wanted me to say)
It's been a minute since I embedded a video, huh? I used to be able to put them directly on the page. I think that's like this:
I know the lyrics and video will deter most of the people who read this. If by chance you are still here, then you're one of my old faithfuls, so it's ok for me to share the below with you. You also know the stories that aren't written here. It was pretty humbling to put my life into this sort of perspective, but at the same time, it's kinda cool. The ending's a little weak; then again, the journey's not yet completed.
So if you're still reading, here's the text for my church's website. Feel free to inbox me with your comments. And no, this doesn't mean you can call me by my middle name.
Ten minutes later, the net-net is that I got some wires cleaned up. Gotta go check my Ooma connections, though. It's a great service, but the setup ios a bit counterintuitive. I was working on this post, trying to update it, when I crashed:
A friend from CT recently posted something about NYC cabbies. When my friends come from out of town, they generally express amazement that I can navigate the streets and hold my own with cabbies. I think driving in the City makes you either very late or a tad aggressive. I'm consciously working on it, but yesterday I tried so hard -- I let this guy get in front of me. He can't decide which of the two imaginary lanes he wants to be in, so he straddles them both. Then he decides to make a right turn. Dude, I'm behind you. I'm going straight. Do you think you could move a bit to the right? But I was good. I didn't lean on the horn, didn't push him, just waited until I had the opportunity, went around him, and went on my merry way.
Across the light were the two pedestrians who wanted to have a conversation in the middle of the street (my light was green). The problem is that if you slow down, they'll just stay there and keep talking; if you speed up they'll move, but then you have to time your vehicle so you don't actually hit them. I was cool. I continued down the street and swerved around them. I think that was only when they noticed me, simply because I swerved so sharply.
This is all completely within normal limits for NYC driving (and mind you, this is in the Bx; in midtown, everybody has a luxury car, so they actually take a little bit of care with their driving -- if they're not too busy on the phone, texting, or otherwise being distracted). But I'd only gone a few blocks. Then this guy comes out of nowhere, zooms up on my left, pulls in front of me, and STOPS. Even though I'm a typically aggressive NYC driver (though I'm not like some of the guys I know (Amit, Avi, Brian, and Chris come to mind...)-- even though I'm a typically aggressive NYC driver, I was taught to drive defensively. So what could have been an insurance setup just resulted in me pulling up beside him and looking at him. For a while. I didn't dare glare at him, I just looked at him like he was from Mars. How do you rush to pull up in front of someone and then stop short? He was a cab driver, of course. They live in a completely different world.
Cabbies and bicycle delivery guys. NYC has a law that says businesses must provide a helmet and a reflective vest for bicycle delivery guys. You'd never know it by the way these guys ride their bicycles. I watched two tonight nearly collide with each other, I always have to check before making a right turn or opening a door if I'm parked with the passenger side to the curb, because they ride along at about 20 mph, sometimes texting while listening to headsets, sometimes talking on the phone -- I don't know. For me, biking in NYC is as much a mental as a physical workout, but these guys seem completely unconcerned with the fact that they are often barely visible and are virtually defenseless against tons of metal coming at them.
God bless em. God bless all of us who commute in NYC. It's not normal.
So I had to write a bio for our church's web page. While my current resume isn't completely up to date, a bio isn't as detailed as a resume, and sort of paints your life in broad sweeps. I guess it's like my obituary, except that hopefully about half of it's been left out...
As I read it (and reflected on the parts that have already been lived out but omitted from this writing), I was reminded of the lyrics to Eddie James's video. Although this particular recording seems to drag a bit, you can hear the words pretty clearly. I like the pitch progression on the "I can never repay" parts. Here are the words:
As I look back over my life
I can see how Your love has guided me
Even though I’ve done wrong
You never left me alone
But You forgave me
And You kept on blessing
This I recall to my mind
Therefore I have hope
It’s because of Your mercy that we are not consumed
Because thy compassions fail not,
they are new every morning
Great is Thyfaithfulness
Great is Thy faithfulness
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t do what You wanted me to do)
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t say what You wanted me to say)
I can never repay You Lord for what You done for me
How You loosed my shackles and you set me free.
How You made a way out of no way
Turned my darkness into day
You’ve been my joy in the time of sorrow
Hope for my tomorrow
Peace in the time of storm
Strength when I’m weak and worn
You’ve been, Lord
You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t do what You wanted me to do)
You’ve been, Lord You’ve been so faithful
(Even though sometimes I didn’t say what You wanted me to say)
It's been a minute since I embedded a video, huh? I used to be able to put them directly on the page. I think that's like this:
I know the lyrics and video will deter most of the people who read this. If by chance you are still here, then you're one of my old faithfuls, so it's ok for me to share the below with you. You also know the stories that aren't written here. It was pretty humbling to put my life into this sort of perspective, but at the same time, it's kinda cool. The ending's a little weak; then again, the journey's not yet completed.
So if you're still reading, here's the text for my church's website. Feel free to inbox me with your comments. And no, this doesn't mean you can call me by my middle name.
Cassandra G. Perry
Cassandra Gayle Perry is the only child born to the union of (deleting my parents' names for security), though she is blessed to have other siblings from each parent. She was born in Chapel Hill, NC and is a daughter of St. Joseph CME Church, where the Rev. Wylie Edward Wilson was Pastor at the time of her birth. She accepted Christ at a young age, and was active in St. Joseph as a member of the Sunday School, the Youth Usher Board, the CYF and the Youth Choir. Perhaps that child’s faith and training gave her the strength to endure as she was on the frontlines in the battle against Jim Crow. She was among a small number of African American students to desegregate the Chapel Hill-Carrboro Public school system in 1962.
Pastors who continued to nurture Cassandra’s spiritual development at St. Joseph included the late Rev. Marion Foushee, the late Rev. Dr. Alex A. Chambers, the late Bishop Charles Helton, and current Senior Bishop of the CME Church, Bishop Thomas L. Hoyt, Jr. Cassandra continued her education, going on to graduate from the prestigious Milton Academy in Milton, Massachusetts. She then returned to North Carolina where, after studying in Spain and at the University of Oxford in England, she graduated from Duke University as an Angier B. Duke Scholar. She earned an MBA in International Marketing from the Garvin School of International Management in Glendale, AZ; then worked in the private sector for companies such as Honeywell, Pfizer, and Goldman-Sachs.
The newly emerging AIDS crisis had a profound impact on Ms. Perry, who left the corporate world to work with non-profit AIDS Service Organizations in Harlem. After a decade in AIDS Service, Ms. Perry finally accepted her call to ministry at Williams Institutional CME Church in Harlem, under the spiritual guidance of the Rev. Dr. H. Patricia Jones. Ms. Perry was licensed as an Exhorter in November, 1998; Licensed to Preach in July 1999; ordained Deacon in August 2001; ordained Itinerant Elder in August 2006; and admitted into Full Connection in the CME Church in August 2010. Reverend Perry earned her M. Div. degree from New York Theological Seminary in 2003. In addition to missions trips to Africa and the Caribbean, during her seminary experience Rev. Perry participated in a number of History of the World Christian Movement Consultations. The HWCM Consultation was a multinational, diverse group of academics who came together to render a non-Eurocentric, gender-inclusive telling of the Christian story. This group, formed in 2001, was a precursor to a style of historical inquiry that has subsequently become the academic norm.
As a result of her studies and her ministry, Rev. Perry has since traveled to Africa, Asia, South America, Central America, and the Holy Lands of Israel, Jordan, and Egypt, all in the exploration of a more accurate, more diverse telling of the story of the Christian movement. Additionally, since 2004 she has served as Adjunct Professor / Teaching Fellow at New York Theological Seminary. There she assists Dr. Dale Irvin, co-author of the text, History of the World Christian Movement, vol. 1 (Orbis, 2002), President of New York Theological Seminary, and Professor of World Christianity. Rev. Perry also teaches a class on World Christianity.
In 2010, Rev. Perry was appointed by Bishop Thomas L. Hoyt, Jr. as the Associate Pastor of Williams Institutional CME Church. Her ministry interests are Youth, Women’s Ministry, Bible Studies, and Liturgy. She teaches a popular and innovative Bible study. Additionally, Rev. Perry often teaches on the District and Annual Conference level in the NY-New England Region of the NY-Washington Annual Conference, in the Seventh Episcopal District of the CME Church.
Since 2010, Rev. Perry has served as Executive Director of the 163rd Street Improvement Council, a non-profit organization in the South Bronx, NY. The Council has undergone a renaissance under Rev. Perry’s leadership. In the South Bronx, one of the most economically challenged neighborhoods in New York State, the 163rd Street Improvement Council owns five buildings with 73 units of low-income housing, and three additional buildings with 145 units of housing and supportive services for individuals with Special Needs. The Council also provides neighborhood outreach, Summer Youth Employment, job readiness, and employment training programs.
A cancer survivor, Rev. Perry is deeply concerned with matters of nutrition and health, especially their impact in economically disadvantaged communities. She believes that humans are tripartite beings with an obligation to develop our bodies, minds, AND our spirits. Those who know her have come to realize that Rev. Perry is as comfortable in a swimming pool as she is in a baptismal pool. She continually strives to exercise and discipline her body, mind, and spirit. Rev. Perry says she counts every day as a blessing from God, and even in the most challenging moments, recognizes that she is privileged to serve God’s people. Her favorite Scripture is Philippians 4:13. While she will always call North Carolina “home,” Rev. Perry has resided in New York City for over 30 years.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Midnight Beignet Run
It's like midnite, and I just came back from Cafe Du Monde. Had a craving for beignets, which is weird since I wasn't all that impressed with them when I was there.
So I'm not working out in the mornings. I got up today, had breakfast (which is wonderful, btw), then went to a Bible Study taught by Bishop James Walker. He was talking about Chronicles, and went on an historical journey that ended up making David come to life in a way at which I could only marvel. Then I went to a class on teaching the Bible by Carole Richardson. It occurs to me that our church is really focused on teaching, on encouraging individuals to explore God's Word for themselves, and that is WONDERFUL news for me! I just happen to think that if we stick to Biblical literalism we put God into our box; I believe God still speaks. In order for us to hear God, we must sometimes change our preconceived ideas; we must always make ourselves available to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. By the way, I'm loving this CME Unity Summit -- the teaching gives me hope for the future of our church.
I got my sweat on at noon. Although I only did about 15 mins of cardio before my sets and about 10 minutes afterwards, I must have really been huffing and puffing. A woman at the elevator asked me if I was going to be ok. I tried to explain to her that pushing yourself past your limits is part of the fun of working out, but I don't think she bought it.
There was an AWESOME teaching/training for pastors by Rev. Hames from Beebe Memorial in Oakland(?). During that time, I had the same conversations with my staff that always drive me nuts, and found that I was selected to be the Liberty's Season Subscriber of the Game on Saturday. Unfortunately, you have to be at the game to win the tix, so the one game I miss is the game where I woulda gotten something. Go figure.
Tonight was a concert by the Williams Brothers. While much of their singing is sincere Gospel and some of it truly inspired me, there's also quite a bit of showmanship. I just don't believe people's dancing under the inspiration of the Spirit happens on cue, and club music is club music no matter what lyrics you put to them. As much as I'm in favor of dancing before the Lord, I think that we can sometimes create a club atmosphere and cross the line into just partying. And there's nothing wrong with partying before the Lord, but we need to know we're partying, and not be thinking the Holy Ghost has us all caught up. I hope that doesn't sound negative. It was a great concert. And while we did worship God during the concert, it was still a concert.
Anyway. After the concert I came home. Kevin called and I chatted with him for a while. I also chatted with some folks about the very large lady who sat on my during the concert. I used to be a much larger woman, but I hope and think that I was a bit more considerate. If there's only one seat left and you know you take up more than one seat, DON'T TRY TO SQUEEZE YOUR BUTT INTO THE ONE SEAT!!!! This lady sat down on/beside me and I literally could not move. She had more bulk than I do (And I train five days a week; she was kinda square), and though I tried to cross my legs to give her more room, I slowly felt my left side going numb. My arms were pinned to my sides from shoulder to elbow, so when I clapped, I looked like a seal. I stood up for a while, both to get my circulation back and hoping she'd take a hint, but she just spread out to the point where I couldn't sit back in my seat. Eventually someone I knew left early, saw my distress, and directed me to their former seat. Thanks be to God!
So I came home and talked to Kevin, and the other folks and then I got a craving for beignets. I knew I shouldn't have them. I think myreasoning excuse is: 1) it's hot and I walked; 2) the Liberty lost; and 3) I missed Grey's Anatomy and don't know if I DVR'd it. So I took the hike down there. I saw folk outside who told me to be careful, that it's dangerous -- but New Orleans is a delightful place. The people who are drunk are happily drunk. Those who are not drunk look you in the eye, greet you, and go on their way. The crazy people talk quietly to themselves and don't bother anyone. The puke gets cleaned up relatively quickly, as do the other bodily emissions. It works for me.
So my midnite beignet run has ended, and I'm going to bed.
So I'm not working out in the mornings. I got up today, had breakfast (which is wonderful, btw), then went to a Bible Study taught by Bishop James Walker. He was talking about Chronicles, and went on an historical journey that ended up making David come to life in a way at which I could only marvel. Then I went to a class on teaching the Bible by Carole Richardson. It occurs to me that our church is really focused on teaching, on encouraging individuals to explore God's Word for themselves, and that is WONDERFUL news for me! I just happen to think that if we stick to Biblical literalism we put God into our box; I believe God still speaks. In order for us to hear God, we must sometimes change our preconceived ideas; we must always make ourselves available to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. By the way, I'm loving this CME Unity Summit -- the teaching gives me hope for the future of our church.
I got my sweat on at noon. Although I only did about 15 mins of cardio before my sets and about 10 minutes afterwards, I must have really been huffing and puffing. A woman at the elevator asked me if I was going to be ok. I tried to explain to her that pushing yourself past your limits is part of the fun of working out, but I don't think she bought it.
There was an AWESOME teaching/training for pastors by Rev. Hames from Beebe Memorial in Oakland(?). During that time, I had the same conversations with my staff that always drive me nuts, and found that I was selected to be the Liberty's Season Subscriber of the Game on Saturday. Unfortunately, you have to be at the game to win the tix, so the one game I miss is the game where I woulda gotten something. Go figure.
Tonight was a concert by the Williams Brothers. While much of their singing is sincere Gospel and some of it truly inspired me, there's also quite a bit of showmanship. I just don't believe people's dancing under the inspiration of the Spirit happens on cue, and club music is club music no matter what lyrics you put to them. As much as I'm in favor of dancing before the Lord, I think that we can sometimes create a club atmosphere and cross the line into just partying. And there's nothing wrong with partying before the Lord, but we need to know we're partying, and not be thinking the Holy Ghost has us all caught up. I hope that doesn't sound negative. It was a great concert. And while we did worship God during the concert, it was still a concert.
Anyway. After the concert I came home. Kevin called and I chatted with him for a while. I also chatted with some folks about the very large lady who sat on my during the concert. I used to be a much larger woman, but I hope and think that I was a bit more considerate. If there's only one seat left and you know you take up more than one seat, DON'T TRY TO SQUEEZE YOUR BUTT INTO THE ONE SEAT!!!! This lady sat down on/beside me and I literally could not move. She had more bulk than I do (And I train five days a week; she was kinda square), and though I tried to cross my legs to give her more room, I slowly felt my left side going numb. My arms were pinned to my sides from shoulder to elbow, so when I clapped, I looked like a seal. I stood up for a while, both to get my circulation back and hoping she'd take a hint, but she just spread out to the point where I couldn't sit back in my seat. Eventually someone I knew left early, saw my distress, and directed me to their former seat. Thanks be to God!
So I came home and talked to Kevin, and the other folks and then I got a craving for beignets. I knew I shouldn't have them. I think my
So my midnite beignet run has ended, and I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
How could one possibly be bored in NOLA?
This morning I decided to sleep through my workout. Well, through my morning workout. Don't know if I went to bed late or had muscle cramps at night or what, but I didn't rest well. Oh, I remember. I went out to get ice and mistakenly left my door open. Even though I inspected the room when I came back, it sorta creeped me out that the door was open. There went my peaceful night's sleep.
So I got up about 7, went down to the free breakfast, then went off on my tour. I would have been better off on the bus and streetcar. This is a town for tourists, and they had this great big Gray Line bus with this guy with an annoyingly southern accent (he said he was a Louisiana native, but he didn't really sound like them). I thought it was a three hour tour, but once we were on the bus it was only a two hour tour. They drove us around New Orleans with a pretty constant barrage of facts (which, again, if I were interested, I would have googled before I came here. Although retention of them would probably be good for Trivial Pursuit, if I had time to play games).
I could have lived with that, I suppose. What really annoyed me was that they kept telling us all this stuff and never stopped so we could take pictures. Wait, now you're telling me this and that and this statue and that house and la-de-da -- and you're not gonna STOP for me to get a picture? Really? Although as I look back on it, what's even stupider than the tour was the fact that I took a video camera with me and forgot to use it. At one point, I actually caught myself nodding out. If you overload me with information and don't allow me to process it, I generally shut down. Oh, and the other annoying thing was that they kept plugging other tours. Wait. So you're gonna tell me about stuff, but not go into a whole lotta depth, and you're going to suggest to me that if I want more I should go on a DIFFERENT tour with your company? I guess that speaks to what they think of their customers. You must be a real idiot to go on a Gray Line tour...
The one place we did stop, of course, was a cemetery. Apparently there were a guy and a girl who went scuba diving in Australia, got left by their boats, and ended up getting eaten by sharks. Their remains are in this cemetery. There's lots of stuff about cemeteries here in NOLA -- a couple of the weirdest things are that they bury people aboveground because below ground is swampland, but even weirder is the fact that these above-ground burial places are valuable real estate. They are bought by families. When people die, they put them in, then when more people die, they remove the previously dead, and put in the most recently dead. He did speak to how they handled multiple deaths at the same time in one family, but by that time I was just too creeped out.
Here are pictures from this morning's trip.
So I came came back to the hotel. Piddled around for a while, then went to work out. I normally work out in neoprene shorts so I'll sweat more, but I saw a groupon for these things called flares. They're like full-length neoprene workout pants. They were half price, so I got them. I picked them up from the PO the day I left, so I only got to try them since I've been here. We all know that water weight is just water weight, but if you work out on a regular, you (or at least I)'ll take the loss of water weight. So I got my flares in an XL, mostly because they're made in Europe and I thought the cut would be a little snug. And it was, the first day. I know neoprene doesn't stretch, but these things are baggy now. And they absolutely give me the same kind of sweat I get from my neoprene shorts. All I know is that I have a pair of pants that had been uncomfortably tight. (Now, when my size gets tight, I have to rein it in. Once upon a time, I had several different sizes, and if they all got tight, I just bought more. No more). So anyway, this is a pair of low-rise, euro cut pants that I should be able to wear and which should be form-fitting. Last time I wore them, they were uncomfortable, and I think I wore a polo shirt so I could keep it out. Today, even though they look horrible, I wore a button-down shirt tucked into the pants. I don't really care that it looks horrible, I care that it's comfortable. We'll work on the look next.
So anyway. I came back to the hotel and went to work out. I have on my long flares, my Chuck Taylors, and my NY Liberty shorts and shirt. I take the elevator to the eighth floor. Where there is the Women's Missionary luncheon, or something with all these little old church ladies all dressed up looking at me like I'm from mars (oh, and did I say I work out without my glasses and I can't really see without them?) So I'm wandering around the eighth floor looking for the gym and walk right into the middle of the churchladies lined up for lunch. It's times like this that I'm REEEEEAAAALY grateful that ours is a Connectional church -- they may look at me funny, but most of them either know me or know someone who knows me, so they'll hear that yes, she's a little weird, but she's a smart, Godly woman who preaches and teaches the Word of God. So it's all good. And more and more, they're getting to know me as the lady who works out instead of going to communal meals. Maybe that part will rub off....
So I went to work out. I now start with cardio before my machines, I also incorporate free weights, and I end with cardio. It's not as hard as my kettlebell instructor pushes us, but I have to say I get a much better workout now than I did before I started training with him. So I got my sweat on, then came back to the room which hadn't been cleaned. That isn't the end of the world, but I'm working out every day. I took a little breather to get my heart rate back down (when I don't wait for it to go back down, I keep sweating, which makes the church ladies look at me even weirder), then decided to play CME and go into a meeting.
The first meeting was -- not interesting. I would have stayed, but there were two guys in the back of the meeting room having a loud conversation. I thought this was quite rude to the speaker (although I'm sure one of them was doing it because he was too big to move forward and whisper to the other guy), but it also interfered with my ability to hear. So I left. I wandered around the meeting rooms for a while until I stumbled into the room with a guy giving a training on how to use PowerPoint.
Geekette stands at the door, listening, thinking (in the smug, semi-elitist attitude that I can't seem to ditch no matter how hard I try) "I'll check him out and see how good he is." Well. This brother was AWESOME!!! He went through the creation of a PowerPoint presentation, explaining it simply enough that someone who knew nothing about PowerPoint would be able to understand it, yet adding value for someone like me who thought they knew everything. I wrote him a note saying "THIS WAS THE BEST THING I'VE SEEN HERE TODAY," because it was.
Went back upstairs, got my wallet, and went to Pinkberry. It was ok, but I prefer Red Mango. Came back, watched court tv shows for a while, then came down for dinner and discussed church politics with my Elder. Afterwards we went to a meeting of the Connectional Board, but it was really boring. All these committees give these reports. They're verbal (don't understand why they have to be done in person, why this all can't be done in cyberspace), and IMHO, many are incomplete -- there does not appear to be a lot of analysis (or if there has been, it's not identified, nor would it be appropriate to identify it in a brief oral synopsis), and there are just lots of areas that leave me going "really? That's how we roll?" In at least two separate reports, people identified issues, and the chairs acknowledged that people had identified issues, but did not respond to the issues identified nor provide any indication that the issues raised would be noted, discussed, or in any other way considered. That occurs for me as rude at best; inept at worst. I think it's probably neither, though closer to the latter, but it then occurs for me as a waste of time to listen to stuff like that -- you're just reporting what you've done, which I can obtain (probably by purchasing) later and peruse at my own leisure if I like. So the two or three hours you're asking me to spend doing this is basically two or three hours of my life you're going to suck away because -- why, exactly?
Yeah, that's how I'm feeling. I realize that much of my life is about multi-tasking, and that's not healthy. While it's not healthy to always barrel along at 110 mph, it's also not healthy to go from 110 to 10 and creep along at that speed. While there may be good reasons to travel at 110 or at 10 from time to time, the generally accepted speed limit for (people who want to get somewhere and are on a highway) ranges from 55 to 65. I think it might be good to shoot for that range.
So that was my day today. At least I went to some meetings. Tomorrow I'll go to some classes. Right now I'm going to bed.
So I got up about 7, went down to the free breakfast, then went off on my tour. I would have been better off on the bus and streetcar. This is a town for tourists, and they had this great big Gray Line bus with this guy with an annoyingly southern accent (he said he was a Louisiana native, but he didn't really sound like them). I thought it was a three hour tour, but once we were on the bus it was only a two hour tour. They drove us around New Orleans with a pretty constant barrage of facts (which, again, if I were interested, I would have googled before I came here. Although retention of them would probably be good for Trivial Pursuit, if I had time to play games).
I could have lived with that, I suppose. What really annoyed me was that they kept telling us all this stuff and never stopped so we could take pictures. Wait, now you're telling me this and that and this statue and that house and la-de-da -- and you're not gonna STOP for me to get a picture? Really? Although as I look back on it, what's even stupider than the tour was the fact that I took a video camera with me and forgot to use it. At one point, I actually caught myself nodding out. If you overload me with information and don't allow me to process it, I generally shut down. Oh, and the other annoying thing was that they kept plugging other tours. Wait. So you're gonna tell me about stuff, but not go into a whole lotta depth, and you're going to suggest to me that if I want more I should go on a DIFFERENT tour with your company? I guess that speaks to what they think of their customers. You must be a real idiot to go on a Gray Line tour...
The one place we did stop, of course, was a cemetery. Apparently there were a guy and a girl who went scuba diving in Australia, got left by their boats, and ended up getting eaten by sharks. Their remains are in this cemetery. There's lots of stuff about cemeteries here in NOLA -- a couple of the weirdest things are that they bury people aboveground because below ground is swampland, but even weirder is the fact that these above-ground burial places are valuable real estate. They are bought by families. When people die, they put them in, then when more people die, they remove the previously dead, and put in the most recently dead. He did speak to how they handled multiple deaths at the same time in one family, but by that time I was just too creeped out.
Here are pictures from this morning's trip.
So I came came back to the hotel. Piddled around for a while, then went to work out. I normally work out in neoprene shorts so I'll sweat more, but I saw a groupon for these things called flares. They're like full-length neoprene workout pants. They were half price, so I got them. I picked them up from the PO the day I left, so I only got to try them since I've been here. We all know that water weight is just water weight, but if you work out on a regular, you (or at least I)'ll take the loss of water weight. So I got my flares in an XL, mostly because they're made in Europe and I thought the cut would be a little snug. And it was, the first day. I know neoprene doesn't stretch, but these things are baggy now. And they absolutely give me the same kind of sweat I get from my neoprene shorts. All I know is that I have a pair of pants that had been uncomfortably tight. (Now, when my size gets tight, I have to rein it in. Once upon a time, I had several different sizes, and if they all got tight, I just bought more. No more). So anyway, this is a pair of low-rise, euro cut pants that I should be able to wear and which should be form-fitting. Last time I wore them, they were uncomfortable, and I think I wore a polo shirt so I could keep it out. Today, even though they look horrible, I wore a button-down shirt tucked into the pants. I don't really care that it looks horrible, I care that it's comfortable. We'll work on the look next.
So anyway. I came back to the hotel and went to work out. I have on my long flares, my Chuck Taylors, and my NY Liberty shorts and shirt. I take the elevator to the eighth floor. Where there is the Women's Missionary luncheon, or something with all these little old church ladies all dressed up looking at me like I'm from mars (oh, and did I say I work out without my glasses and I can't really see without them?) So I'm wandering around the eighth floor looking for the gym and walk right into the middle of the churchladies lined up for lunch. It's times like this that I'm REEEEEAAAALY grateful that ours is a Connectional church -- they may look at me funny, but most of them either know me or know someone who knows me, so they'll hear that yes, she's a little weird, but she's a smart, Godly woman who preaches and teaches the Word of God. So it's all good. And more and more, they're getting to know me as the lady who works out instead of going to communal meals. Maybe that part will rub off....
So I went to work out. I now start with cardio before my machines, I also incorporate free weights, and I end with cardio. It's not as hard as my kettlebell instructor pushes us, but I have to say I get a much better workout now than I did before I started training with him. So I got my sweat on, then came back to the room which hadn't been cleaned. That isn't the end of the world, but I'm working out every day. I took a little breather to get my heart rate back down (when I don't wait for it to go back down, I keep sweating, which makes the church ladies look at me even weirder), then decided to play CME and go into a meeting.
The first meeting was -- not interesting. I would have stayed, but there were two guys in the back of the meeting room having a loud conversation. I thought this was quite rude to the speaker (although I'm sure one of them was doing it because he was too big to move forward and whisper to the other guy), but it also interfered with my ability to hear. So I left. I wandered around the meeting rooms for a while until I stumbled into the room with a guy giving a training on how to use PowerPoint.
Geekette stands at the door, listening, thinking (in the smug, semi-elitist attitude that I can't seem to ditch no matter how hard I try) "I'll check him out and see how good he is." Well. This brother was AWESOME!!! He went through the creation of a PowerPoint presentation, explaining it simply enough that someone who knew nothing about PowerPoint would be able to understand it, yet adding value for someone like me who thought they knew everything. I wrote him a note saying "THIS WAS THE BEST THING I'VE SEEN HERE TODAY," because it was.
Went back upstairs, got my wallet, and went to Pinkberry. It was ok, but I prefer Red Mango. Came back, watched court tv shows for a while, then came down for dinner and discussed church politics with my Elder. Afterwards we went to a meeting of the Connectional Board, but it was really boring. All these committees give these reports. They're verbal (don't understand why they have to be done in person, why this all can't be done in cyberspace), and IMHO, many are incomplete -- there does not appear to be a lot of analysis (or if there has been, it's not identified, nor would it be appropriate to identify it in a brief oral synopsis), and there are just lots of areas that leave me going "really? That's how we roll?" In at least two separate reports, people identified issues, and the chairs acknowledged that people had identified issues, but did not respond to the issues identified nor provide any indication that the issues raised would be noted, discussed, or in any other way considered. That occurs for me as rude at best; inept at worst. I think it's probably neither, though closer to the latter, but it then occurs for me as a waste of time to listen to stuff like that -- you're just reporting what you've done, which I can obtain (probably by purchasing) later and peruse at my own leisure if I like. So the two or three hours you're asking me to spend doing this is basically two or three hours of my life you're going to suck away because -- why, exactly?
Yeah, that's how I'm feeling. I realize that much of my life is about multi-tasking, and that's not healthy. While it's not healthy to always barrel along at 110 mph, it's also not healthy to go from 110 to 10 and creep along at that speed. While there may be good reasons to travel at 110 or at 10 from time to time, the generally accepted speed limit for (people who want to get somewhere and are on a highway) ranges from 55 to 65. I think it might be good to shoot for that range.
So that was my day today. At least I went to some meetings. Tomorrow I'll go to some classes. Right now I'm going to bed.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
New Orleans, Day Two
So let's see... Got up this morning and started the day with a little cardio, some weights, and a little more cardio. The good thing is that this hotel uses the same machines as the Y, so I know my pace, my weights, and my adjustments. I don't know if it's the kettlebells or the excitement, but I'm doing cardio before my weight sets, then doing 3 sets of 12-20 reps, at the same or more weight I was lifting a year ago, PLUS more cardio -- and I'm doing the whole set (weights and cardio) in less time than I used to do just weights. So I think that means I'm getting stronger, even though the arthiritis is pronouncedly worse, and my left shoulder still hasn't completely healed. Tape it up, suck it up, don't be stupid, and keep it moving. I LOVE it, and I love the way the guys look when they seem me in my routine.
So after training a little, I came upstairs and showered, then came down for breakfast. I went over to the tour desk and booked a combination tour -- steamboat today and City tour tomorrow morning. The steamboat tour didn't start til 2:30, so I thought I'd head down to Cafe du Monde for beignettes and coffee.
I could barely make it down the street because there were so many interesting things to see. They are on my fb page here. I made my way past some church and square that I later learned had historical significance (I'm hard pressed to remember anything when I can just google it if I really want to know), then made my way into Cafe Du Monde for beignettes and coffee. Beignettes are just fried dough with powdered sugar on them. They're ok, but I don't have to have them again.
Hooked up with Pastor Jones' friend Daisy, and we sat out on the river talking for a loong time, until time to board the Natchez Steamer. The reason I went on it was because it's one of the last, if not the only steam-driven paddle boat still in existence in the US. We went up and down the Mississippi, with the captain telling us interesting facts (the port of New Orleans, in terms of traffic, I think he said is larger than both Amsterdam and New York), and with me really enjoying the convo and the ocean breeze.
Came back, tried to go to the aquarium but it was like 4:45 and they closed at 5. Walked down Canal street. Some lady tried to sell me a 2-liter Coke Zero for $5.00 (Amit, I'm assuming she was Guajarati..). I walked three or four blocks to the CVS and got it for $1.77. I don't mind you making a buck off tourists, but don't treat me like an idiot.
Came back in time for the free dinner buffet. Dined once again with Elder Belcher and his wife. As they rushed off to service, I thought that maybe I would go. And am I glad I did!!!
Bishop Theresa Snorton preached on that passage from Hebrews where Paul talks about needing to feed people milk. Her sermon topic was "Grow Up, Graduate, and Get a Job," and it was all about how we cheapen our Christian walk when we fill it with platitudes and dogma instead of attempting to rightly divide the Word. She told us how the standard should be Jesus and His love. She told us (effectively) that if we were to be Biblical literalists, then as Black people, we should still be slaves. I kept thinking that it would be awesome if someone sitting on the bench were to come clean about things, but she convicted me by telling us how judgemental and juvenile we sometimes are, likening us to people fighting over the remote when we have more than enough TVs for everyone. She prepared us to make this Unity summit one where we are actually open to Christ still speaking to us, and open to a Fresh Word from the Lord. I loved it.
Today I also met Rev. V. Williams from my home church, St. Joseph. We talked about my brother and his amazing voice. I saw Rev. W. Williams, my colleague from NY-NE district who has relocated to the Carolina Conference. I was delighted to see Mrs. Jackson from St. Joseph and Rev. and Mrs. Harrison, formerly of St. Joseph.
Just on the fellowship alone, it's going to be a wonderful Summit. Even though I'm not going to a lot of the meetings, I'm getting out to see New Orleans (city tour tomorrow at 8:20, and I have to get a workout and breakfast before then), and I'm loving the fellowship. I have learned that my Chuck Taylors are better suited for the weight room and my sneakers are better suited for walking. But I have my Rock tape, some good shoes, and a willing spirit.
It continues to be a great trip...
So after training a little, I came upstairs and showered, then came down for breakfast. I went over to the tour desk and booked a combination tour -- steamboat today and City tour tomorrow morning. The steamboat tour didn't start til 2:30, so I thought I'd head down to Cafe du Monde for beignettes and coffee.
I could barely make it down the street because there were so many interesting things to see. They are on my fb page here. I made my way past some church and square that I later learned had historical significance (I'm hard pressed to remember anything when I can just google it if I really want to know), then made my way into Cafe Du Monde for beignettes and coffee. Beignettes are just fried dough with powdered sugar on them. They're ok, but I don't have to have them again.
Hooked up with Pastor Jones' friend Daisy, and we sat out on the river talking for a loong time, until time to board the Natchez Steamer. The reason I went on it was because it's one of the last, if not the only steam-driven paddle boat still in existence in the US. We went up and down the Mississippi, with the captain telling us interesting facts (the port of New Orleans, in terms of traffic, I think he said is larger than both Amsterdam and New York), and with me really enjoying the convo and the ocean breeze.
Came back, tried to go to the aquarium but it was like 4:45 and they closed at 5. Walked down Canal street. Some lady tried to sell me a 2-liter Coke Zero for $5.00 (Amit, I'm assuming she was Guajarati..). I walked three or four blocks to the CVS and got it for $1.77. I don't mind you making a buck off tourists, but don't treat me like an idiot.
Came back in time for the free dinner buffet. Dined once again with Elder Belcher and his wife. As they rushed off to service, I thought that maybe I would go. And am I glad I did!!!
Bishop Theresa Snorton preached on that passage from Hebrews where Paul talks about needing to feed people milk. Her sermon topic was "Grow Up, Graduate, and Get a Job," and it was all about how we cheapen our Christian walk when we fill it with platitudes and dogma instead of attempting to rightly divide the Word. She told us how the standard should be Jesus and His love. She told us (effectively) that if we were to be Biblical literalists, then as Black people, we should still be slaves. I kept thinking that it would be awesome if someone sitting on the bench were to come clean about things, but she convicted me by telling us how judgemental and juvenile we sometimes are, likening us to people fighting over the remote when we have more than enough TVs for everyone. She prepared us to make this Unity summit one where we are actually open to Christ still speaking to us, and open to a Fresh Word from the Lord. I loved it.
Today I also met Rev. V. Williams from my home church, St. Joseph. We talked about my brother and his amazing voice. I saw Rev. W. Williams, my colleague from NY-NE district who has relocated to the Carolina Conference. I was delighted to see Mrs. Jackson from St. Joseph and Rev. and Mrs. Harrison, formerly of St. Joseph.
Just on the fellowship alone, it's going to be a wonderful Summit. Even though I'm not going to a lot of the meetings, I'm getting out to see New Orleans (city tour tomorrow at 8:20, and I have to get a workout and breakfast before then), and I'm loving the fellowship. I have learned that my Chuck Taylors are better suited for the weight room and my sneakers are better suited for walking. But I have my Rock tape, some good shoes, and a willing spirit.
It continues to be a great trip...