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.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
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.