So here comes the Christmas holiday! Our house is specially blessed this year in that Inga and the kids are with us for a week....first time having all the grandkids for Christmas in 9 or 10 years. Skylar is 11, Keenan is 9 and Jordan is 7. Although it doesn't feel once-removed, I am technically the step-Dad and step-grandfather of these beautiful creations. However, I suppose it's that very fact that lends some objectivity to these next 7 days. With blood family there is a whole raft of emotional baggage and hot-buttons present...pretty tough to experience much objectivity there.
Anyhow, we're just 48 hours into out time together and I've noticed some storm clouds that have seemed to roll in. You see, concurrent with the Swope visit is the fact that about 12 are coming tonight for an hors-d'oeuvres-type of Christmas celebration, 18 are coming to our house for a full-blown dinner on Christmas Eve and 15 for Christmas dinner. Wow! That is alot of entertaining at a house where the Queen of the house (I love you to pieces Sandra!!) is the kind of woman who is a staunch member of the "all my ducks must be lined up in neat rows well in advance" party. Her world view, when she is the hostess, calls for near perfection, complete with a terrific presentation of whatever is being served in a house that is dusted, vacuumed and neat. Hey, I'm not suggesting there is anything wrong with this. Yes, some people are more casual in their approach to such circumstances and breeze around as if they are benefiting from having had a goodly dose of Valium for breakfast. Perhaps it's a generational kind of thing. I know my Mom was very similiar to Sandi in her approach and I would even see her dusting the underside of vases in preparation.
Nonetheless, there is a perfect storm a brewing. The Swopes come from a decidely "use it, drop it" kind of strategy. The concepts of picking up and putting away are not part of their value system. So on one hand you have Sandi, well aware of how she raised her children and how they were forced to behave while under her tutelage. On the other hand you have her daughter who long ago freed herself of such priorities as neatness and who requires little or nothing from her children in this category.
So, here is the whirling dirvish Swope clan in the same house where lot's of company is coming where the less-than-casual Queen bee is in full-production mode yet also really wanting to enjoy her time with the kids! Yowser! I pray God's grace, God's adaptability and even his Kingdom teflon to lubriciously coat our family and the proceedings of these next days. For it's the thief's ever present strategy to steal, kill and destroy. How like him to want to come in and rob the joy of these days of shared moments. Jesus come...as we celebrate your invasion into this fallen earth I ask you to reign over all family sensitivities, all propensities for mis-understandings, hurt feelings and assorted irritations.
And so I rejoice at this opportunity to be together with family. Thank you for the messiness of it all. Thank you for the substantial healing you have brought to my heart. I notice it in the virtual absence of dread that has normally accompanied the holidays in the past many years. January 2 is no longer my holiday goal...that feeling is gone. Bless the Lord oh my soul! I flop back into your arms and just say thank you Father for blessing us with each other. I am seeing Jesus shining through the eyes of those around me as they deliver tangible pieces of his love for me. Man that feels wonderful! Thank you for transporting me into the sometimes elusive "Christmas spirit". Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The magic of words
So I see it's been 10 months since my last visit to this blogging experiment. Really what leads me back today is just this latent desire to write and the pleasure of using words to express thoughts. I find hitting just the right combination of words that spot-on nail what I am attempting to articulate absolutely satisfying.
Really coming back today is prompted by my meeting with Mark and a passing comment I made about writing and his encouraging response. There have been a few others over the last year as well (thank you Rob, thank you Kevin). My dilemma is content. I don't want to simply prattle on in some self-absorbed treatise. And yet I'm not an expert in any particular area which is beckoning me to write on . And still there is this desire to express (suddenly I see movie clips in my head from Close Encounters of the Third Kind with Dreyfuss compelled to express Devil's Tower in whatever medium he could find, from mud to mash potatoes).
I do it in emails and email responses mainly. A couple of times there have been writings to accompany Sandi's art. Like little demitasse glasses of writing are these short pieces. But they often have contained some of the essence of what so intrigues me about writing. Namely, in the process of asking God what he would have me say, sort of abandoning my typing/writing fingers to him and having his words filter through the stained glass of my unique personality, I often end up writing words that are this weird combination of me and not me.
I confessed this to Mark at our coffee meeting. I say "confessed" because I have never really understood the feeling I often get when I go back and read my "own" words and find them ministering to me. Even to type it here seems unseemly, narcissistic even. But Mark's encouragement came in the form of assuring me that this experience has been cited by no less than C.S. Lewis and G.MacDonald, two men who I respect immensely.
Mark went on to describe that truth is truth, it is not owned by us, it is the very nature of God and given to us by him. But when we write, as Christians, seeking the guidance and blessing of our Father as to our words, we are in a position to express truth, uniquely filtered through our personality. Thus Jeremiah and Isaiah expressed the truth of God but not without their Jeremiah-ness and Isaiah-ness shining through as well. That so resonates with me. I so want to be about that. To find a way to more regularly be a sort of "river bank", (thanks Mark), that channels the revelatory water of truth mixed with my James-ness. Lord that, that is something in which I would be blessed to be fathered by you. Father me in this Lord....
The dilemma though still seems to be this content thing. I can be aware of a desire to write at certain times but it is shut down by "what to write about?". My current wiring has me as a guy who, if you put me in a room for an hour with a blank whiteboard, when you come back it will still be blank. I don't create so well ex nihilo. I do much better synthesizing pre-existing chunks of thought, rearranging, adding, deleting, further developing, responding, that sort of thing. Maybe I'm just an editor and should leave the heavy lifting of original writing to those more gifted and called? Other than my status as a child of God, do I even have a platform from which to write? Or is it all just a lot of self-deluded, self-absorbed drivel?
I guess at the very least I have this blog. It is a platform of sorts and there really are no outside expectations that it must measure up to. There is the bit about other's being able to comment but even that can be turned off as I understand it.
But what Lord would you have me write about? One subject, many little vignettes, just about my experience on this sojourn? I am willing, even desirous, but need your guidance.
Well good, this felt good. To get this up and out of me is either a start or perhaps just an end in itself...either way, this felt good. Thanks for dropping by again Santiago...don't be such a stranger.
Really coming back today is prompted by my meeting with Mark and a passing comment I made about writing and his encouraging response. There have been a few others over the last year as well (thank you Rob, thank you Kevin). My dilemma is content. I don't want to simply prattle on in some self-absorbed treatise. And yet I'm not an expert in any particular area which is beckoning me to write on . And still there is this desire to express (suddenly I see movie clips in my head from Close Encounters of the Third Kind with Dreyfuss compelled to express Devil's Tower in whatever medium he could find, from mud to mash potatoes).
I do it in emails and email responses mainly. A couple of times there have been writings to accompany Sandi's art. Like little demitasse glasses of writing are these short pieces. But they often have contained some of the essence of what so intrigues me about writing. Namely, in the process of asking God what he would have me say, sort of abandoning my typing/writing fingers to him and having his words filter through the stained glass of my unique personality, I often end up writing words that are this weird combination of me and not me.
I confessed this to Mark at our coffee meeting. I say "confessed" because I have never really understood the feeling I often get when I go back and read my "own" words and find them ministering to me. Even to type it here seems unseemly, narcissistic even. But Mark's encouragement came in the form of assuring me that this experience has been cited by no less than C.S. Lewis and G.MacDonald, two men who I respect immensely.
Mark went on to describe that truth is truth, it is not owned by us, it is the very nature of God and given to us by him. But when we write, as Christians, seeking the guidance and blessing of our Father as to our words, we are in a position to express truth, uniquely filtered through our personality. Thus Jeremiah and Isaiah expressed the truth of God but not without their Jeremiah-ness and Isaiah-ness shining through as well. That so resonates with me. I so want to be about that. To find a way to more regularly be a sort of "river bank", (thanks Mark), that channels the revelatory water of truth mixed with my James-ness. Lord that, that is something in which I would be blessed to be fathered by you. Father me in this Lord....
The dilemma though still seems to be this content thing. I can be aware of a desire to write at certain times but it is shut down by "what to write about?". My current wiring has me as a guy who, if you put me in a room for an hour with a blank whiteboard, when you come back it will still be blank. I don't create so well ex nihilo. I do much better synthesizing pre-existing chunks of thought, rearranging, adding, deleting, further developing, responding, that sort of thing. Maybe I'm just an editor and should leave the heavy lifting of original writing to those more gifted and called? Other than my status as a child of God, do I even have a platform from which to write? Or is it all just a lot of self-deluded, self-absorbed drivel?
I guess at the very least I have this blog. It is a platform of sorts and there really are no outside expectations that it must measure up to. There is the bit about other's being able to comment but even that can be turned off as I understand it.
But what Lord would you have me write about? One subject, many little vignettes, just about my experience on this sojourn? I am willing, even desirous, but need your guidance.
Well good, this felt good. To get this up and out of me is either a start or perhaps just an end in itself...either way, this felt good. Thanks for dropping by again Santiago...don't be such a stranger.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Day of the Heart
Valentine's day....as a man, this Hallmark creation has always brought with it a bit of tension/apprehension for me. Somehow, at a very early age, I got the message (that I believe persists to this day) that this is mostly about men delivering a respectable showing of love and affection to their ladies and not vice versa. At least that is how Madison Avenue's messages have conditioned me.
It all started so innocently in grade school. Creating those decorated brown paper bags that hung from our desks. Then, on the big day, walking around and dropping in the Valentine "card", worth approximately 10 cents, into each of your fellow students bag. But ah yes, for me there was almost always one fair-headed maiden that was special and I poured over my selection of cards, purchased by my Mom at Kresges in St.Paul. I would look for one that had a certain punch to it, something that would somehow communicate my special feelings even though they would forever be left unspoken in actuality.
As years advanced, and having a girlfriend became a bigger deal, the not-so-subtly implied expectations of Valentine's Day did too. I would become aware of hearing vague hints of what so and so was planning to give his girlfriend. The first time I heard of a guy who was investing $10 into gifting his steady, I started to understand the incredible depths that one could go to "express" the otherwise silent pinings of the heart.
I wonder if other guys feel like me in this. That is that Valentine's Day raises virtually no expectations for the average guy in terms of receiving. The real "guy" expectations revolve around figuring out something to say, do or give that will meet what we imagine are the expectations of our better-halves. Next to her birthday and Christmas, Valentine's Day looms in 3rd place for a day when the invisible balance scales of relational life make an appearance. Our offering is weighed and ultimately deemed to be merely adequate, perhaps a home-run or, may you be spared this fate, badly found lacking in emotional depth, creativity and heartfeltness.
OK, OK I know. It's by now obvious that I have some performance anxiety around getting Valentine's day "right" (as I do for all gift-oriented days). But Valentine's day has this special twist...it's not necessarily about how much money was or was not spent, not about delivering results that are according to any necessarily traditional formulas....no it's about expressing the heart. It's an opportunity to somehow try to show what too much of my everyday life may not have been delivering. (Of course this is not all that different from any gift-giving event but please cut me some slack as this post is about VDay)
Sandi and I have been married now for 8 years. Let me just say unequivocally that our partnership was and is a God-thing, not expected, didn't see it coming, almost bailed before it could happen but am now so grateful that I didn't miss His lead on this blessing. Sandi really is a "low maintenance" kind of gal. Those seem like such crude words to describe any part of this beautiful woman of faith but it's true. So manning-up for gift time is really not a major challenge like it can be for guys with girls who have mountain high expectations. Nonetheless, I still have a huge desire to somehow express my love for her on such "gift" days in a manner that is intentional, that meets my own internal standard and avoids any hint of being merely an automatic pilot type of offering. It's just that I broke the freaking curve so early in our relationship.
We were married in 2001 in January so that first Valentine's Day for us was also my first post-marital debut as a gift giver. We had the blessing of an incredible honeymoon in Playa del Carmen. It was idyllic and I can only hope that some day we might get to do something together that even comes close. My pea brain was working overtime to come up with something that would fulfill my internal "apropos meter". It was my first appearance as a husband to Sandi and to her friends and family and I wanted to do this first Valentine's Day right!
Our initial dating was built around Caribou, specifically the one at 96 and Hogdson in Shoreview. We became aware of each other by some match-making efforts of my pastor's wife, Jill Herringshaw. It all started so innocently by phone and we probably talked together a dozen times before we ventured out to meet face-to-face. Caribou was to be that initial meeting place and it continued to be so for a couple of months....always sitting at the same table. We were married within about 9 months of that first coffee date. (Heh, when you're in your 50's you don't necessarily need years of courtship!) And now I'm needing a suitably good idea for this 1st Valentine's Day. It came as most of my really good ideas have since....it came from that still quiet, inner voice of God himself.
And he said, "Buy the table".
Obedience came next and, after some weeks of finagling with Caribou corporate, I got the go ahead to buy "our table" for $125. Yep, if they can retire some athlete's jersey well then, by cracky, this table of ours was going to be taken out of public service too.
February 14, 2001 arrived and Sandi and I headed off to Caribou to have coffee together before we went to work. "Our table" was all decked out in a huge red cellophane wrapper kind of in the shape of a gigantic Hershey's kiss. When Sandi asked "Where are we going to sit?", I simple said "At our table!" Sandi, being a polite and proper sort was having none of that...she said we couldn't because it was evidently being used for some sort of Valentine promotion or something. I, in my Italian-way, insisted and I finally got her to sit with me "at" our table although we had to hold our coffee cups as the tabletop was not available. While she was in no way comfortable sitting there (she hates anything that even comes remotely close to being or making a spectacle, which, by the way, I have learned to have fun with many times over the last 8 years!), she couldn't help peer inside the red cellophane wrapper. You see, the Caribou folks had been ever so kind and besides packaging this all up so perfectly they had also put some extra gifts inside. There were several pounds of coffee, a mug and a beautiful pink heart made of small, tight, pink rosebuds. And, of course, they had my Valentine card/envelope propped up inside addressed simply "Sandi" (which I had cleverly brought to them the night before).
So Sandi is sitting there, fidgeting in her seat, not liking all the people who keep looking over at us, feeling like we are in an inappropriate, unauthorized area. (The manager had told many of the customers, in a hushed voice naturally, of what this red table deal was all about so they kept looking at us, shooting these all-knowing smiles and head nods...poor Sandi, she must have felt like she was in a bad dream!) But intermittently, she can't help but try and look inside the red cello "kiss" to figure out what all those goodies were in there. Mind you, this was some thick cello and it wasn't easy to instantly see what was inide. Finally, after I was sure she was going to bolt for the door instead of staying where she didn't feel like she belonged, she noticed my card with the name "Sandi" written in my handwriting. All she said was "Wait a minute....what is going on here?"
Well, suffice it to say that after spending some considerable effort to convince her to reach under and get that card, she finally did so. The card pledged my love afresh but it also had some cryptic reference to the table now being ours Oh, she was blessed alright by it all, but the best part was at the end of our time. I hoisted the table onto my shoulder when leaving. Sandi just looked at me, surely thinking that I had already lost it and we had only been married 39 days!
I assured her it was all proper and Sandi and I and the table left Caribou with the judges awarding perfect 10's for my first Valentine (and with all the husbands in Caribou and any who may be reading this now scowling at me and virtually shouting at me with their eyes, "Curve breaker, fellowship of men betrayer!")
Today, that table sits in the corner of our dining room as a testament to how it all began. And I have yet to come up with anything that will beat that V Day gift. Note to self: when making an initial effort perhaps you should leave room for future improvement!
Happy Valentine's Day to all!
Santiago out....
It all started so innocently in grade school. Creating those decorated brown paper bags that hung from our desks. Then, on the big day, walking around and dropping in the Valentine "card", worth approximately 10 cents, into each of your fellow students bag. But ah yes, for me there was almost always one fair-headed maiden that was special and I poured over my selection of cards, purchased by my Mom at Kresges in St.Paul. I would look for one that had a certain punch to it, something that would somehow communicate my special feelings even though they would forever be left unspoken in actuality.
As years advanced, and having a girlfriend became a bigger deal, the not-so-subtly implied expectations of Valentine's Day did too. I would become aware of hearing vague hints of what so and so was planning to give his girlfriend. The first time I heard of a guy who was investing $10 into gifting his steady, I started to understand the incredible depths that one could go to "express" the otherwise silent pinings of the heart.
I wonder if other guys feel like me in this. That is that Valentine's Day raises virtually no expectations for the average guy in terms of receiving. The real "guy" expectations revolve around figuring out something to say, do or give that will meet what we imagine are the expectations of our better-halves. Next to her birthday and Christmas, Valentine's Day looms in 3rd place for a day when the invisible balance scales of relational life make an appearance. Our offering is weighed and ultimately deemed to be merely adequate, perhaps a home-run or, may you be spared this fate, badly found lacking in emotional depth, creativity and heartfeltness.
OK, OK I know. It's by now obvious that I have some performance anxiety around getting Valentine's day "right" (as I do for all gift-oriented days). But Valentine's day has this special twist...it's not necessarily about how much money was or was not spent, not about delivering results that are according to any necessarily traditional formulas....no it's about expressing the heart. It's an opportunity to somehow try to show what too much of my everyday life may not have been delivering. (Of course this is not all that different from any gift-giving event but please cut me some slack as this post is about VDay)
Sandi and I have been married now for 8 years. Let me just say unequivocally that our partnership was and is a God-thing, not expected, didn't see it coming, almost bailed before it could happen but am now so grateful that I didn't miss His lead on this blessing. Sandi really is a "low maintenance" kind of gal. Those seem like such crude words to describe any part of this beautiful woman of faith but it's true. So manning-up for gift time is really not a major challenge like it can be for guys with girls who have mountain high expectations. Nonetheless, I still have a huge desire to somehow express my love for her on such "gift" days in a manner that is intentional, that meets my own internal standard and avoids any hint of being merely an automatic pilot type of offering. It's just that I broke the freaking curve so early in our relationship.
We were married in 2001 in January so that first Valentine's Day for us was also my first post-marital debut as a gift giver. We had the blessing of an incredible honeymoon in Playa del Carmen. It was idyllic and I can only hope that some day we might get to do something together that even comes close. My pea brain was working overtime to come up with something that would fulfill my internal "apropos meter". It was my first appearance as a husband to Sandi and to her friends and family and I wanted to do this first Valentine's Day right!
Our initial dating was built around Caribou, specifically the one at 96 and Hogdson in Shoreview. We became aware of each other by some match-making efforts of my pastor's wife, Jill Herringshaw. It all started so innocently by phone and we probably talked together a dozen times before we ventured out to meet face-to-face. Caribou was to be that initial meeting place and it continued to be so for a couple of months....always sitting at the same table. We were married within about 9 months of that first coffee date. (Heh, when you're in your 50's you don't necessarily need years of courtship!) And now I'm needing a suitably good idea for this 1st Valentine's Day. It came as most of my really good ideas have since....it came from that still quiet, inner voice of God himself.
And he said, "Buy the table".
Obedience came next and, after some weeks of finagling with Caribou corporate, I got the go ahead to buy "our table" for $125. Yep, if they can retire some athlete's jersey well then, by cracky, this table of ours was going to be taken out of public service too.
February 14, 2001 arrived and Sandi and I headed off to Caribou to have coffee together before we went to work. "Our table" was all decked out in a huge red cellophane wrapper kind of in the shape of a gigantic Hershey's kiss. When Sandi asked "Where are we going to sit?", I simple said "At our table!" Sandi, being a polite and proper sort was having none of that...she said we couldn't because it was evidently being used for some sort of Valentine promotion or something. I, in my Italian-way, insisted and I finally got her to sit with me "at" our table although we had to hold our coffee cups as the tabletop was not available. While she was in no way comfortable sitting there (she hates anything that even comes remotely close to being or making a spectacle, which, by the way, I have learned to have fun with many times over the last 8 years!), she couldn't help peer inside the red cellophane wrapper. You see, the Caribou folks had been ever so kind and besides packaging this all up so perfectly they had also put some extra gifts inside. There were several pounds of coffee, a mug and a beautiful pink heart made of small, tight, pink rosebuds. And, of course, they had my Valentine card/envelope propped up inside addressed simply "Sandi" (which I had cleverly brought to them the night before).
So Sandi is sitting there, fidgeting in her seat, not liking all the people who keep looking over at us, feeling like we are in an inappropriate, unauthorized area. (The manager had told many of the customers, in a hushed voice naturally, of what this red table deal was all about so they kept looking at us, shooting these all-knowing smiles and head nods...poor Sandi, she must have felt like she was in a bad dream!) But intermittently, she can't help but try and look inside the red cello "kiss" to figure out what all those goodies were in there. Mind you, this was some thick cello and it wasn't easy to instantly see what was inide. Finally, after I was sure she was going to bolt for the door instead of staying where she didn't feel like she belonged, she noticed my card with the name "Sandi" written in my handwriting. All she said was "Wait a minute....what is going on here?"
Well, suffice it to say that after spending some considerable effort to convince her to reach under and get that card, she finally did so. The card pledged my love afresh but it also had some cryptic reference to the table now being ours Oh, she was blessed alright by it all, but the best part was at the end of our time. I hoisted the table onto my shoulder when leaving. Sandi just looked at me, surely thinking that I had already lost it and we had only been married 39 days!
I assured her it was all proper and Sandi and I and the table left Caribou with the judges awarding perfect 10's for my first Valentine (and with all the husbands in Caribou and any who may be reading this now scowling at me and virtually shouting at me with their eyes, "Curve breaker, fellowship of men betrayer!")
Today, that table sits in the corner of our dining room as a testament to how it all began. And I have yet to come up with anything that will beat that V Day gift. Note to self: when making an initial effort perhaps you should leave room for future improvement!
Happy Valentine's Day to all!
Santiago out....
Thursday, January 1, 2009
2009
It's that time again...when there is a sort of pause in the action as one just-completed year passes and a "brand new shiny one" (as Di would say) presents itself. Sitting here, wondering about my posture towards all this. After some 60+ years of sojourning this orb I have taken a range of positions...from blase' disregard of any particular new projects or directions to all out efforts to change things up and take a new lease on life.
For 2009, there are several things I'm aware of that are worthy of being intentional about. Probably foremost is my sincere desire to walk in more joy and abandonment. My many years of walking as a believer have not been ones where peace, joy and contentment would be the most accurate descriptors . I so want to emulate/appropriate Paul's testimony of being content in all circumstances. Really tired of experiencing life in a conditional mode....good things happening, ducks lining up nicely = I get to be joyful. Lousy things going on, insufficiencys, broken stuff and people = I don't get to be joyful. Want to break out of this formula....set this prisoner free Father.
Another thing is a felt need to change my attitude about the marathon of life. I believe it is indeed not a sprint but must be approached as a marathon, complete with pacing, needing endurance and requiring an intentional focus. Too much of my thinking/outlook has been circling around the feeling like I'm somewhere after mile 24 and really yearning for the finish line. Guessing that I need to do some recalibration and an internal reset appropriate for my true place in the race that is most likely more like mile 19 or 20. (Of course, this is where the "wall" can nastily show up....). Gird up those loins Hoppy, there's more to be done.
There's work stuff that is screaming for me to either get more thoroughly in or get the heck out. There's life realities that prevent any sort of "getting out". There's too much lingering resentment being offered to me as a fruit to eat and I have eaten it too much and too often. That agreement has got to go! On one hand, the natural energies have noticeably ebbed. On the other hand, the requirements of living well in the remaining days seem to have ramped up in difficulty. So, if doing life isn't getting any easier coupled with depleted levels of what I am calling natural juices, it seems the need to be intentional, to avoid the default settings has got to be my strategy.
Intentional is just a good word for me right now. Really doesn't come that easy for the recovering hedonist in me. Would love to roll more on cruise control. Sorry Santiago, that dog won't hunt.
So all this blabbering to say this: James, I'm calling you up and out. Your time to rest will come but not yet bro, not yet. Purpose and determination might sound exhausting but they are the shoes you need to be shod with. And an attitude of gratitude is yours to be had as you practice His presence. After all, the Lord is near. It's not as though there are no reasons to rejoice. So get your head back in the game, don't look for the easy ways out, expect the effort that is required and take in the sights and mini-vacations that may be offered along the way. And don't forget, this world is not your home, but there is a real beauty that is reported to have been prepared with my name on it....but not yet, not yet.
For 2009, there are several things I'm aware of that are worthy of being intentional about. Probably foremost is my sincere desire to walk in more joy and abandonment. My many years of walking as a believer have not been ones where peace, joy and contentment would be the most accurate descriptors . I so want to emulate/appropriate Paul's testimony of being content in all circumstances. Really tired of experiencing life in a conditional mode....good things happening, ducks lining up nicely = I get to be joyful. Lousy things going on, insufficiencys, broken stuff and people = I don't get to be joyful. Want to break out of this formula....set this prisoner free Father.
Another thing is a felt need to change my attitude about the marathon of life. I believe it is indeed not a sprint but must be approached as a marathon, complete with pacing, needing endurance and requiring an intentional focus. Too much of my thinking/outlook has been circling around the feeling like I'm somewhere after mile 24 and really yearning for the finish line. Guessing that I need to do some recalibration and an internal reset appropriate for my true place in the race that is most likely more like mile 19 or 20. (Of course, this is where the "wall" can nastily show up....). Gird up those loins Hoppy, there's more to be done.
There's work stuff that is screaming for me to either get more thoroughly in or get the heck out. There's life realities that prevent any sort of "getting out". There's too much lingering resentment being offered to me as a fruit to eat and I have eaten it too much and too often. That agreement has got to go! On one hand, the natural energies have noticeably ebbed. On the other hand, the requirements of living well in the remaining days seem to have ramped up in difficulty. So, if doing life isn't getting any easier coupled with depleted levels of what I am calling natural juices, it seems the need to be intentional, to avoid the default settings has got to be my strategy.
Intentional is just a good word for me right now. Really doesn't come that easy for the recovering hedonist in me. Would love to roll more on cruise control. Sorry Santiago, that dog won't hunt.
So all this blabbering to say this: James, I'm calling you up and out. Your time to rest will come but not yet bro, not yet. Purpose and determination might sound exhausting but they are the shoes you need to be shod with. And an attitude of gratitude is yours to be had as you practice His presence. After all, the Lord is near. It's not as though there are no reasons to rejoice. So get your head back in the game, don't look for the easy ways out, expect the effort that is required and take in the sights and mini-vacations that may be offered along the way. And don't forget, this world is not your home, but there is a real beauty that is reported to have been prepared with my name on it....but not yet, not yet.
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