One now after another....

Yea! I get to blog a bit. A scene from Chariots of Fire comes to mind when Eric Liddell shares that when he runs he feels "the pleasure of God". I know something of that when I express through the written word. So yea, I get to blog.

One side comment before launching forward....by writing infrequently, I have little to no recall of things I may have already said in an earlier post. Like the comment about Liddell and what he said. I know I have thought that before and now I suspect I may have well said it here, on 500' Flyby before. Not that big of a deal except I am really wanting not to become one of those old duffers who tells the same stories every time you see them, blissfully unaware they have so shared the same thing before. Lord, please spare me from this.

Sometimes it can seem like there is no end in sight for certain of life's struggles, no reprieve from battling the same stuff, falling through the same old trap doors into the primordial ooze of your own making. But then, without any special fanfare, a breakthrough of sorts. It was unexpected and comes along with a strong tendency of mine to minimize lest I overrate it. But doggone it, when a bit of a corner seems to have been turned it's only right to declare it. And so I will.

Without summarizing the concept or discipline, several authors have written about practicing the presence of God (PPOG) on a moment by moment basis. Brother Lawrence may be the most well known name in this regard. His approach is detailed in his book, so cleverly entitled The Practice of the Presence of God. I read it many years ago (and am spending time in it again). I remember being impressed by the austerity of his living in a monastery, the simplicity of his work (which he hated) of washing dishes. I have this affinity with all things austere, simple yet severe.

But for me, the special thing that Father has recently been bringing me to is in part special for how He did it. It started from just one line (OK, maybe two or three) in a book that had been recommended to me by several friends well over a year ago. One of those funny, as in odd, traits of mine is to not do or see or read anything that is being touted too much. I'm the guy who doubles back and sees a wildly popular movie maybe a year after it has long faded from the public eye. How quirky of me (and it would be fun/good to explore what's behind that someday).

Anyhow, some dear friends gifted me a $50 Barnes and Noble gift card as a sort of farewell for a ministry leadership position I felt led to step down from. Well, one of my purchases was this book that had been recommended so enthusiastically so long ago. I loved the book but there was this line on page 106 that just had this light switch kind of an effect on me. It went something like "....you have learned to measure your stability by your circumstances and by your ability to see how things will work out months in advance." Bam, that was for me...it was me, it nailed me!

In the book, the character asks if that is so wrong. The wise sage states that he wouldn't say it's so wrong but "...it's not going to help you walk in this kingdom. When we're looking to the future, we're not listening to Father. The greatest freedom God can give you is to trust his ability to take care of you each day."

Not an overly complex thought but the rightness of it for me, at that moment, kind of rocked my world. I was left in no doubt that I was being specifically guided into this arena, at this time. No accident...divine appointment. You see, for years I have struggled with a vicious cycle of ups and downs that were all so circumstantially based. My permission to be joyful was linked to the quality of my circumstances. To make matters even worse, there was a related lie from the pit of hell that I had unwittingly bought into. It was a linear, causality type of outlook that concluded "good things happening to me, God is pleased with me. Bad things happening, God is torqued with me." Intellectually, I could argue against such thinking with no problem. But emotionally, practically, my life was lived out under the effect of this lie.

Having a pastor who has talked frequently about living in the moment with God has kept this 'PPOG' mindset at least somewhat on my radar (yet never quite embraced until now). The passages from the book had caused me to see the reality of the stronghold that I found myself in. A bondage consisting of looking to circumstances as the source (or block) of my peace/joy index. Closely related, a diabolical habit of trying to control the future while simultaneously feeling lousy about much of the past. Now there is a formula bound to produce a chronic malaise if ever there was one.

For me, it's difficult to speak or even write about this 'practicing the presence'. On one hand, it sounds so zen-like and new age. On the other, it is so simple, so basic that it starts having the feel of 'everything you ever needed to know you learned in kindergarten'. Painfully Christianity 101. Here I am into this faith walk for 35 years and I am just now appreciating how vital it is for me to surrender to God. Perhaps I should be applying to become the new poster child for the Society of Slow Learners.

All self-deprecating humor aside, by living in the moment, knowing that I couldn't be more loved by my Father than I am right now, knowing that He intends life for me and life abundantly, knowing that He desires nothing more than to be invited into each moment and, in so doing, to transform the mundane into the sacred is, for me, an extremely potent paradigm (that's one quarter into the jar for horribly overused words and very long sentences). By collapsing all analysis of the past, by surrendering all speculation concerning the future I am left with the moment. And right there, in the now, stands Jesus, knocking at my heart's door, passionately wanting to be invited into the present to do life together. When I authentically walk with this as my truth, I am so shielded from so much of what used to take me out. If a deal falls through at work, I don't run ahead into the future to project what all this is going to mean for me. I have the moment, only the moment, and Father is in it with me.

Running up ahead, speculating, is one of the ways I have done life since youth. For crying out loud, I can remember sitting in the back seat on the way to the Dr's office, knowing full well I was going to be getting a penicillin shot (they didn't call him 'Penicillin Pete' for nothing). As I anticipated the pain of what was going to happen, I would sit there pinching my arm, rehearsing and preparing, seeking a way to manage the future. It's stuff like that which has followed me into adult life in a more sophisticated yet lame attempt to manage the fallout of life. When I am trying to arrange for the details of my own happy life I am by definition not trusting Father to do so. I guess it's safe to say that if I find myself mentally dwelling in either the past or the future I am not where I am meant to be....present to the now in surrender and trust to my Abba.

It is a bit shocking when I look under my own hood to check for transformation progress. Of course I'm not suggesting that is a good thing for us to be about doing on a regular basis. Nonetheless, it is only natural to think about it every so often. What I have seen with fresh eyes is the truth that what I profess to believe does not necessarily have any correlation with how I live my life. I have seen my double mindedness. On one hand , I give vigorous intellectual assent to what Jesus taught and philosophically embrace it on every level. Yet there seems to be a separate compartment from which I actually live out so pathetically many aspects of my life. Looked at from this vantage point, I see myself living as though there really isn't an all-caring, all-loving Father in whom I can trust. Instead there are only my frantic efforts to provide for myself and to suck what I need out of the marrow of those around me. Mmmmm, harsh but more true than not. I believe that bringing my beliefs and how I live my life into alignment is possible. However, I suspect that this will only be possible to the degree Father has been given my full surrender and trust thus giving Him the freedom to align me from the inside out.

Yikes, this has grown quite long. Perhaps blog-length is just not sufficient to wrestle with producing the words of what this is and what all it is meant to mean for how I do life moving forward from here. The wicked witch had it sort of right..."Surrender Dorothy" is not a bad thing to do when one is surrendering to the Creator of the universe. The peace and joy that is reportedly associated with what I have for years professed to believe has been elusive at best. There is little to none of it when I am busy trying to choreograph the details of life into a nice Santiago dance. Surrender and dependence, on one hand so un-American sounding, so politically incorrect. But in the Kingdom economy, things operate in such profoundly different patterns. In a Kingdom where "When I am weak, then I am strong" is true, only a close walk with the King of the dome will suffice.

Surrender brings freedom and dependence allows for the byproduct of joy. No child concentrates on joy...it just comes along for the ride in the process of trusting that father means only well. My Father is like that...be that child Santiago....be that child.

There's not always more

I used to play a lot of hockey. I loved it. The speed of the game, the camaraderie of the players. We would get ice time whenever we could which meant games were often not until 10:30PM on a weeknight. Next day at work was always tough but it didn't matter, it was all way worth it to play this incredible game.
I don't play anymore...don't even own skates. Of course not that many in their 60's do play hockey but, in this case, that's not the point. You see, what kind of fascinates me was that there was a game I played that was the last game I was to play. On that particular night, when I left the ice, walked down the rubber mat toward the locker room, I was doing it all for the last time. And the poignancy of that fact is the subject of this blog.

I'm not sure if I even have a point to make here. But I want to explore this subject a bit. There's just something about the way that life has these "last times" built in that I find....I find....I'm not sure of the word. Haunting? Yes, that's at least a piece of it. I used the word poignant above...not an often used term but yes, that describes a piece of it too.

Oh, don't get me wrong. Please don't do that! This is not merely morbid thinking about how all things eventually come to an end. No, although I have been cited for negative thinking in the past, this, to me, isn't that. Actually, what intrigues me most has more to do with the grace of not knowing at the time, or in advance, of these "last time" moments. I have already mentioned the example of how one night I played what is likely to be my last game of hockey. Perhaps a few other examples would be helpful to better establish exactly what moments I am referring to.....

For 7 or 8 yrs we, my daughters and I, were invited each summer up to a friends cabin for the weekend. Situated on Cormorant Lake, my California friend and his family would come to their cabin and we would join them towards the end of their visit. My daughters were the 'big girls' as Alley was 5 yrs younger. Our time was spent doing lake things, usually a project or two, but mostly just being on 'lake time'....that state of blissful, no agenda, lavish consumption of summer minutes that can be enjoyed without thought of productivity, advancement and a million miles away from multi-tasking.

But one weekend, as we waved our goodbyes from the car as we slowly exited down the long driveway through the woods, we had no idea that we had just done this for the last time. Circumstances changed, the cabin needed to be sold, my friends marriage hit hard times. The great bean dish that Stell made each year had been eaten by us for the last time. We had not even an inkling that this was the last hurrah.

And then there was Jim, a guy who reported to me at work but who grew into a friend as we shared time on the road together. Dinners with his wife and boy. Meaningful chats that went into the wee hours grieving with them over a child lost, laughing together about the craziness of life, teasing each other, offering mutual support and advice. One trip, I headed off to the airport and, unbeknownst to me, I had just spent my last time with this family who had grown so close. A job change for him completely changed the dynamics and the 1500 miles between us brought our former times to an end.

Still, this really isn't about the pain of losing good things. What intrigues me is the grace of life that is intermingled within these 'last times'. To me, that grace is comprised of not knowing at the time or in advance that we are experiencing this for the last time. How somehow merciful. For if we did, that 'last time' would never be experienced in it's normal state. We would be overcome with the ever-present overtones of "Oh my, this is our last time together", or "This will be the last time I ever do this fulfilling thing". And in the advance knowledge of such an awareness, the 'last time' would be unnaturally burdened with the dreadful anticipation of the end.

Of course there is a flip side to this (called the B side in the old days of the record business). Along with the things, sports, people that we love to be involved with comes a more difficult side of life. Too often we face life circumstances that are grueling, seemingly intractable situations in which we cry out for relief. What about those? Perhaps an example or two....

Some brilliant person once said that the various unpleasantness's we must often endure in the way we make our living is why they call it work. Nothing seems quite as difficult as a bad relationship with a fellow employee, you know, one of those 'toxic' work situations that has you waking up at 3AM on Sunday night in dread of another week of dysfunctionalism. You try everything from direct confrontation, ignoring, redefinition, reframe whatever...none of it works and the quality of that portion of your life is laced with misery.

But then, one day, it is over. Perhaps this person is reassigned, maybe they move but the fact is they are gone and the problem is gloriously gone! Oh the relief. You stand amazed that you had no idea the solution was so at hand. Blind-sided for sure but when it's by a good thing is it still OK to call it being blind-sided? I know, who cares...it's over and life can go on with less angst.

Perhaps smaller in scope and impact is the situation when you are in a dispute with a company over an invoice detail. You may have been charged for something you didn't receive, something that didn't work as described...yada, yada, yada. Endless hours can end up being invested in seeking resolution to such discrepancies. Phone calls, emails and even, oh my, letters sent in the quicksand slow mail. Oh the pain of pushing through the auto attendant voicemail hurdles on the phone and the "discussions" with people who are mistakenly called customer service. They may have just as well been recruited by the Gestapo!

But then, one day, it is over. One side or the other finally gives in and the matter is solved, resolved, forgiven...who cares? This chapter is concluded and life no longer need include this thing that was starting to feel like a built-in, this-shall-never-pass-honest-to-goodness thorn in the flesh.

So this is a rather longish post to the ol' Santiago blog, one that I have written in bits and pieces over a 3-4 week period. It seems only reasonable to ask..."What's the point here Sport? Is there a conclusion, a clever wrap-up to all of this?" Eee gads, I'm not exactly sure. You see, this all started because I am struck by the poignancy of the 'not knowing' in advance of the end of both good and bad things in our life. And also of how it really has to be this way for life to be 'normal' in the way we have grown accustomed to and expect to continue in.

I mean, if we really could see in advance that this indeed would be the last time we would see a loved one, the last time we would do something we have loved doing we would be racked by negative anticipation. As I believe I may have already said but here I go again, our 'last time' would not be a normal occurrence at all but would be marked by the awareness of each fast approaching loss. Or, our struggle with difficult things in our lives would not be as authentically engaged in if we could see in advance the actual resolution and it's timing. The guy who had been working so hard to balance life with insufficient finances would not be engaged by such struggle if he knew he was about to win the lottery. The picnic would not be the happy, care-free day in the sun if we knew it was the last time we would be with Uncle Hank.

No, there's not always more and that is both good and bad. I guess for me the point is simply to observe this, look it over like a rock picked up on the beach of life, neither obsess over it nor ignore it. In all of this I see the utter grace that is offered to us by the One who encourages us to simply trust him for our walk through the war zone of life. If we could see, for even just a moment, the crazy-scariness of the ride that we are belted into called life we would never approach Valley Fair in quite the same way. I am thankful for this grace but I am also happy to have waded into this particular pool of consideration. Perhaps not as satisfying as I anticipated it might have been but worthwhile enough. Judges award a '7' in this Dance With the Stars world we find ourselves ensconced within.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are!
Time to run the Get in Gear 10k....might it be the last?

The Offer

In my line of work, "the offer" is the culmination of what is often a long process. Multiple interviews, on-line personality profiles, 30-60-90 day business plans, ride-alongs and a visit to corporate for final interviews. There are so many gauntlets a candidate must run through... I continue to be amazed every time someone I am representing makes it all the way through!

For the man or woman who does, the climax of the challenging hiring process is "the offer". It's the sort of holy grail of every job seeker. In the medical sales world it usually comes first as a verbal offer with a written one to follow contingent on successful background/criminal checks and a drug test. If I have done my job right, this offer should minimally be at least as good as I had originally described it some 4-12 weeks earlier. This is a sensitive, emotionally-charged time for all parties, hardly a time for negative surprises like a low-ball offer. No, quite the opposite. One of the best things that can happen at this juncture is having some positive, unexpected, elements included as part of the offer. This makes it so much easier to overcome those last twinges normally involved with the fear of making a change.

For medical sales positions, the typical elements of an offer are the base salary, benefits, expenses, car program of some sort, 401 k and sometimes, stock options. Although commissions are part of these positions, only the commission rate (% of sales generated) is named since actual results will depend on the person's efforts combined with a number of other factors which would take me hours to list. It is not uncommon for reps to have a 50-60k base with a reasonable expectation of total first year dollars of 110-130k with commissions (not including the value of the car program, expenses and benefits). Sounds pretty nice, heh?

Virtually every search I work on includes 5-10 candidates who avidly pursue each step of the hiring process. This includes lots of extra efforts done behind the scenes. These efforts include, but are not limited to speaking with physicians who have or could be users of the device, contacting past/present reps in other parts of the country, getting letters of recommendation and elaborate 90 day sales plans which outline the what, whys and hows of the candidate's strategy in launching their initial efforts.

Sometimes candidates get really creative and kind of over-the-top in their exuberance to pursue the most sought after opportunities. Like the time a hiring manager was questioning my final candidate's commitment to doing the travel necessary to cover a 4-state territory. This candidate came up with a scheme sure to put a wooden knife in to the heart of this Dracula: He bought 4 radial tires and had them delivered to the manager's home with a note attached: "I am prepared to wear these out to make us both a success". He got the job (and his first task was to arrange for the pickup and return of the tires!).

For the candidates, it's all about the pursuit. Their pursuit needs to be obvious at every step of the way. Virtually every manager is looking to hire not only the most qualified person but also the person who has demonstrated the most "fire in the belly", who has shown their desire for the position most clearly and with the greatest impact.

This worldly process stands in such stark contrast to "the offer" of the kingdom (I will refer to this as "the K offer"). Like so many other things of the kingdom of God, there is paradox galore. Like take the whole concept of pursuit. Imagine having the CEO of every medical company looking for a new sales rep personally pursue each candidate. (I realize the analogies in this are woefully imperfect and may be a bit of a stretch but come on, humor me.) In the kingdom economy things couldn't be more different. Ponder the seeming implausibility of having the very Creator of the universe personally go after every person in an effort to have them hear, believe and receive the offer of all offers: forgiveness of all sin, a new heart, a restored life and an eternity in paradise. Implausible perhaps but true nonetheless.

Furthermore, imagine each individual being pursued for this amazing offer to be absolutely unqualified and undeserving in every way imaginable. Heck, I'll do you even better than that...go ahead and picture a person who has lived their entire life as a criminal and moments before they die they get "the K offer". Pretty scandalous wouldn't you say? It happened! Pursuit? Imagine "candidates" who often spend the better part of their lives running away from "the K offer". Avoiding any and everything having to do with it in an effort to mimic Frank Sinatra and be able to say ..."I did it my way". But that's how this topsy-turvy kingdom economy seems to work.

And then there are the elements of "the K offer". We get nothing less than a totally transformed life, from the inside out, cleansed from all sin and forgiven for every hurt we have ever caused. Our hearts are turned from stone to soft instruments of love towards our neighbor. We get to cease from all our striving, we are delivered from all fear and anxiety and every insecurity our former paranoid minds were able to conjure. We are called friends of the Creator himself. He invites each to come with him to where he is seated and co-reign with him. He promises no more tears or sadness and exchanges those for a glorious forever, uninterrupted by any perils and completely devoid of all enemies.

And the cost of such an offer? Everything! All you have, all of you! No "just 4 easy payments of $29.99" here. For "the K offer" to apply, we must say 'No' to our own rights and say 'Yes' to having a Lord in our life who is worthy of obedience. The world has a way of calling such high-priced items "pricey". I suppose that is accurate enough as it applies to "the K offer". Perhaps that's why we often live our lives outside the offer even after we have said 'Yes'. It takes at least intentionality to live a surrendered life. But the antidote to getting back into living within "the K offer" can be as simple as doing an honest inventory of what we are actually giving up. I mean really, giving up our terminally flawed ways of getting love and respect in exchange for being part of a royal priesthood who will some day judge angels? Please!

Tomorrow, when I return to the matrix of work, I have a candidate who has spent the weekend considering "the offer". He's one of those more analytical types who likes to sleep on it (actually somewhat unusual in the sales world). I hope he says 'Yes'. I get paid nothing if he says 'No'. But it's not about me, it's his life and his decision will be the final word. But even before I hear from him I will have my own decision to make. For I find that to walk within "the K offer" requires a fresh 'Yes' every day. And at multiple points throughout the day. It's an amazing offer! Even more amazing in that sometimes I am hesitant to say 'Yes'. I seek to believe, Lord help my unbelief.

Gratefully aboard this ride of faith....Santiago out.

Random Observations

So yeah, life is crazy. I get that. Bouncing along from one thorny situation to another troublesome kettle of fish. Trying not to worry so much and to live in more abandonment and trust. Yet still, seeing that deep down there continues to be lurking worries. What about retirement? Will it ever actually be possible to live without working? Without at least having to be a KMart greeter? What about health care costs and insurance? Vehicle costs to keep mobile? On and endlessly on it can go. Now don't get me wrong here...I'm not just settling for letting life's little details just have there way with me. I fight against it, I resist. I look to faith in God and daily set my self to trusting in him and him alone . But still, the categories of potential anxiety sources seem never far off. They never seem to quite totally Shut Down. More times than not, they seem at best to go into Sleep mode

But that's not what I want to write about.... No, along this journey of life I sometimes notice things that pass by, very subtly, almost subliminally. The speed of my treadmill doesn't really allow for significant pondering of these fleeting observations. It reminds me of when I run with the "it takes a village" dog. She has her nose to the street, noticing every little piece of flotsam and jetsam passing by, so curious, so intent on not missing a thing. Nothing casual in her gazing...she's as serious as a heart attack. Sometimes she wants to stop and do some further investigating but alas, for her, the tyranny of my dedication to completing the run prevents her from doing what she would do if on her own. Today's blog is meant to double back and at least acknowledge some of those things that pass under my nose as I run along the Skinnerian maze of life, hoping, I guess, to find the ultimate little biscuit in hopes it just might drop into my little cup.

• Caribou coffee shops: What a concept this place is for me. On one hand, it can simply be a place to run into and get an expensive cup of coffee. (Speaking of price, I must say that I get all kinds of pleasure seeing places like McDonald's, Dunkin Doughnuts and even my local Freedom convenience store find a way to put out a decent cup of coffee for around a buck.) Nonetheless, Caribou is what we're talking about here bub...stay on topic. So when they designed these places, did some architect or marketing guru think "Heh, I know. Let's make it really loud in our stores. Full of lots of clunking and clanking and hissing. And let's have the person who calls out to let you know when your drinks are ready be as loud as a Lake Superior foghorn. "Double frappe mocha decaf, extra foam, moosed, " Judges award 9.8 for decibels and the Richter scales are at least slightly tipped. Sheeesh, trying to sit inside one of these by yourself, seeking to be reflective or to just quiet the mind, is a real exercise in entering into an almost zen-like sound filtration mode, mentally holding the cacophony at bay. Maybe they really don't want people just hanging out at their shops. Like McDonald's, with their intentionally designed uncomfortable seating. Lingerers need not apply. But no, that doesn't make sense, they actually have big stuffed one-person chairs as if they are actually inviting you to stay and practice your zen for the day. Oh well, it all works much better when with a group of people and have your group's conversation to focus on. Still love their French roast with 1 ice cube to tone down their efforts to mimic the same temps as the surface of the sun. No judgements, bless you Caribou.
  
  
• Why do I like the things that I do? Like flashlights. It's not that I own that many but nust say that I sure do love them. All sizes, with swivel heads, l.e.d.s, high tech looking, little baby ones, headlights to the ones cops carry that double as a weapon. And jackets, I could never have too many. Want one for every iteration of weather. And who knew it, I love colored glass. Don't collect it but love to look at little, brightly colored glass figures and artsy pieces like the ones that show up at Uptown art fair. And sounds...I'm mesmerized by wind chimes. Wouldn't mind one hanging on all 40 trees in the backyard. All sizes from the high-pitched triangle sounding ones to the 5' long tubes that send out sounds that submarines can hear one mile deep. And glass exhaust pipes on trucks....that low, rumbling sound that makes even a cruddy looking truck sound like the very depth of power. I marvel at what I like...it seems so random and not connected to anything else. Kind of frivolous stuff but vaguely interesting to me as I wonder where it all comes from.
  
  
• And then there is the wearing of one's favorite team jersey. It seems cute to me when I see a little girl or guy wearing a purple #4 Favre jersey. But on a dumpy looking 50-some year old, complete with an expression that seems to scream out, "I support this team with my last breath and it's just a burden I bear for the team." Every fiber of me wants to shout out "As if!" As if your wearing of that jersey is doing anything beyond merely making you look pathetic. I'm sorry. I am to be judged for my judgement but it has to be said. There is a time and a place for this...like at the Metrodome on game day perhaps. But in Walmart on a Tuesday afternoon? The concept just plain ol' misses me. It's my blog and I get to say such things that by being said actually rival the stupidity of what I am observing in others. OK, I'll call this one a draw.

Maybe three is enough for now. I have more and I will return another day when it seems like it would be fun to give er' another go. But for now, there is a Super Bowl that our team was supposed to be in but instead CHOKED. Maybe if I, in my 6th decade would have worn a Vikings jersey to Target on a Thursday morning I could have tipped the scales of the NFL gods....we'll never actually know now will we? Santiago out!

Wash, rinse, repeat.

So it is again that time of the year when, at least for all of us in sales-related occupations, all the numbers flip back to zero. Twelve months of brand new, quota-achieving challenges lay ahead, with the invisible twists and turns still yet to be revealed.

In looking back to last year's January post, I see I was aiming for more joy and abandonment. The whole joy thing is elusive for me...I unfortunately have it linked with giddiness and that is neither an accurate nor particularly helpful linkage.

The abandonment part was at least partially achieved. One sign is that in 2009 I actually stopped fretting over balancing the ol' check book to the penny. Yes sir, I had months when I was up to $20 off and I just abandoned the search for the difference, accepted it and adjusted my balance accordingly. For those who roll through life more casually, I'm sure this hardly rates as a "sign" of abandonment to you. Sorry, but for me it represents a significant change for this guy who has pursued even nickel differences for the last 40 years. And there have been other signs of loosening my excessive grip on things...that is good. Santiago can be such a tyrant and so driven in certain areas and seeing him soften a bit is encouraging.

So not just a new year but a new decade! Although we sometimes seem to attribute an inflated importance to the passage of time, it's also not good to let it just slip away by total default. For me, intentionality, which I am not sure is even a legitimate word, feels like something I should be about in the coming year.

One thing I want to be more deliberate about is a certain type of mental/spiritual hygiene. Hygiene is perhaps not the most alluring of concepts. It brings up connotations of excessive hand washing and germaphobia. Nonetheless, it seems something I need to be about. Why? Because to be frank, my 2009 goal of living with more joy and abandonment in my life really has something else fueling it from behind that is even more core, more vital....the strong desire to avoid pain. By pain I am meaning something more effusive than mere physical pain. It's the angsty, is that all there is, disappointed expectations, endless struggle, why does it always fall peanut butter side to the floor, more month than paycheck kind of thing. Someone said that pleasure 'whispers' but pain 'shouts'. It's not so much that I hunger for joy but that I loathe the inner pain. Of course I want more joy and abandonment because they connote a pain-freeness. In my 60's I'm aware of a certain tiredness with some aspects of life. I just want to be done with a number of things and chronic inner pain and turmoil are right up there at the top or the list.

So OK, what's the deal with the hygiene bit? Heh good, I'm glad you asked because I would like to attempt to articulate it as a means of seeing all this more clearly. (Aahh, the blog as a "thrashing room", a place where vague thoughts that only occasionally scamper across the radar are brought in to be wrestled with, shaped and bridled in an attempt to move them out of the shadows and into more known-ness).

I see the source of a good deal of the pain I experience in my journey as emanating from agreeing with things about myself that just aren't true in Christ. Now granted, all of what follows is based on my worldview which includes the core belief that I am a redeemed, restored, new creature in Christ. By virtue of his complete work for me on the cross, his resurrection and his ascension, the old has passed away, the new has come. He has offered me an easy yoke and a light burden. But concurrently with this truth is the fact that my life is also opposed. I have an enemy. It's this enemies' goal to keep me away from the truth and light of the kingdom of God in order to keep me blind to the fact that my cell door is open, I have been ransomed and released and the kingdom of darkness no longer has claim on my life.

But this fallen world, under the dominion of my enemy, has a different way of valuing me. It would have me view myself exclusively through the worldly filters that are placed before my eyes at virtually every step of the sojourn. Their are advertisements everywhere coaxing me to compare myself to the standards they offer. In the work-a-day-world I am aware of incessant promptings to compare myself against the achievements and progress of peers. Well-meaning people in my life sometimes say things that later I notice have morphed into arrows lodged in my gut. In my parenting, in my purchasing, in my planning and in every other 'p' thing there is a standard raised up by the system of this world, the matrix, that presents itself as the most 'logical', 'intuitive' (albeit twisted) choice every time.

I was born into this matrix. I am in it but not of it. Yet still, I must swim in it's pool every day as I conduct the various aspects of my life. It is impossible to do this without getting wet, even soaked, with the false valuations of modern day Babylon. The rulers and principalities of this world offer up a daily barrage of judgements, accusations and apparent final verdicts which more times than not feel like accurate assessments of my life.

What am I to do? My choice is to either 1.) try and ignore them (seemingly futile for anything more than a couple of hours), 2.) agree with them, or 3.) reject them. I propose that it's the agreements I make, most times unconsciously, that bring about the lion's share of the pain that I so want not to have.

Thus the 'hygiene'. If these agreements are mostly made without me noticing I have done so, then to free myself from their poison requires me to see they have occurred and get busy breaking each and every one of them. Other times, perhaps more and more often as I practice this 'hygiene', I am aware of the mental choice placed before me. I can see the prosecution's case against me, the proposition I am being asked to agree with (ie. "You never get this right", "Every thing you do is half-assed", "Quite fooling yourself, this is beyond you and your anemic capabilities"). The invitation and tidal pull is to just surrender to these verdicts on me and inevitably spiral downwards into the agonizing dejection and depression I seemed to have justifiably earned. Regardless of whether I catch it before or after the fact, each agreement with anything other than kingdom truth must be eradicated, washed away with the anti-deceitful/microbial soap of the Gospel truth. The faster this occurs, the less time walking along under the illusory spell of deceitful half-truths and the pain they inevitably produce.

So, how to keep clean amidst this hellish concoction of half-truths, and false light? Really, the classic disciplines are forever relevant for just such a purpose. Feeding on the Word, spending time in prayer to soak in fellowship with the Author of life, being in the company and fellowship of like-hearted co-travelers. All these are helpful, even crucial. But more recently, the most helpful of all is just keeping my mind and thinking right.

Here's an example: it's Sunday evening and it's common to get the Sunday night dreads...having to go back to work tomorrow and deal with all that is involved with making a living in a 100% commission gig. But it's not merely laziness or love of relaxation that stokes these smoldering fires into life. It's the gnawing dread and anxiety coming from my fear of failure, fear of not being successful, not measuring up, that cry out for my attention.

Boom! It's right there that the discipline needs to be applied. Stopping the process of giving such negative thoughts further time and energy and replacing them with the fact that I am going back to work with Jesus at my side. I am depending on him for my life, not my skill, not my cleverness. I am depending on him to come through for me and my family. It's not all resting on my shoulders. His love for me is not in doubt. His being 'all in' for me is not in question. I douse the flames of fear with the cool water of Kingdom truth. That is the hygiene I have learned is not just 'kind of a good idea'. It's a critical discipline of survival for a guy who finds himself behind enemy lines, opposed and walking through a fallen, rigged world.

Keep washing Santiago, keep washing.

The myth of Norman Rockwell

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!

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.