Killing time....

Killing time...

My Pen Mates,

Always thought that time killed people, but in this case I want to talk about just plain killing time. I'm coming off a whirlwind week seemingly chasing my tail from sunrise to sunset. Took on a school project for my son's 8th grade class that started as a curious adventure into video editing but has since devolved to chasing student families for permissions, materials, and redundant messaging. My lab equipment is finally up after a thousand dollar upgrade to the powerboard and I find myself saving money but working more. Lauren got ill late in the school week, my dental appointment was flubbed, Lucas' eye appointment took more time than expected, and Lica's basketball team is down to five players! Not that I'm one to complain....

Than there's the matter of awaiting results of Lucas' application to Bellarmine. I would ordinarily be distracted enough not to keep this in my frontal lobe, but parents of his graduating class never fail to inquire whether we've heard from the school every time I run into them, that the crescendo this week with the anticipated mailing of acceptance/denial letters bore down on me like a weekend of night shifts. While Lucas was fretful by midweek, it was never really a big concern within the family; it came up in conversation over the last two months, but Grace and I have been quick to add that all that can be done has been done. The test have been taken, all credentials and letters of recommendations have long since been forwarded, the checklists have long been discarded, and we have assumed an almost dismissive attitude, explaining that he (Lucas) has done his best, now let God do the rest. Friday afternoon, I get a phone call from home. Can't say that after all the queries of the few days leading up to it that I wasn't a bit nervous to hear the news. "I got in Dad", said Lucas. No exclamation, no hint of exultant emotion; just a statement of fact. It was a short conversation; after I said congratulations, I told him to say a prayer of thanks and give his Mom a kiss and a hug. End of that chapter for now.

It may be a sign of old age, but after all that, I just needed to unwind. I practically spent all of Saturday lounging and regaining my bearings. After Lica's morning game, I asked if Grace wanted to go out and she wished to get some stools from Ikea which were on sale. I had help at the store today so we took off. If was an overcast afternoon but it was relaxing to be away even for just a couple of hours. Coming back from shopping, we passed by the shop to check on stuff then headed home. I felt like I was too loose with stuff but it felt good not to care for once. Grace had a visit with her siblings late afternoon and I found myself finding reasons to kill more time. I watched the three kids sitting in the sofa across the living room, involved with one form of electronic game activity or another, and said a silent prayer of thanks and praise for the peaceful moment. I don't know if it was all the release of pent-up stress or just a temporary feeling of ennui but in those few moments, I found myself relaxed. So relaxed that I took a four hour nap at five in the afternoon!

I'll pick up where I left off come sunrise. Will serve as godparent at a baptism, drive Lucas to his end-of-basketball season team celebration, watch over Lauren while the other two girls go to church and return the stool :), check on some lab orders for Monday morning, and fall into the routine that I enjoyed stepping away from for a day. But I gotta admit, the break was refreshing. It was nowhere enough, but I regained my normal pulse, and am ready to let time start killing me again....

Mon

It's about helping people.....

It's about helping people...

My Pen Mates,

Ran out of gas on Tuesday, literally run out of gas. I knew I needed to fill up prior to picking up Lucas and Lauren (Angelica is in Science Camp all week), but I was held back by a customer in the shop as I was ready to head out. I had a presentation with Lucas' 8th grade class regarding a graduation project so I rushed to get to school. Didn't stop to get gas....

On the way back to the shop, the two kids convinced me to get cold drinks (with "pearls"). Took my mind off getting gas (once more), and the car starts sputtering two miles from the shop. "Not good for the catalytic converter..." I muttered to myself as I turned into a side street to get out of the main thoroughfare. I stopped under a shady tree in front of a church, then called my employee to come over for rescue.

Enjoying their drinks while waiting, Lucas' conversation veers towards what he wants to be when he grows up. Lauren manages to hoist herself on top of the car hood in the meantime, and leisurely sips her drink and luxuriates in the sun rays filtered through the tree leaves. Why do you want to be a doctor? I casually asked Lucas to keep the conversation going. His plebeian reply of "to help people" was hesitantly followed by "and to earn a lot of money...". I started to nod in agreement and was ready for a sage rejoinder, when Lauren tilts her head, looks towards our direction, and in a wide eyed, matter-of-fact way, tells her brother: "It's about doing good, helping people, not just making a lot of money!"

Lucas flashes her a wide smile then looks at me with a silly grin. Semi-embarrassed, he stammers an affirmation in reply to Lauren and almost meekly to me. At that moment, I was at a loss for words; Lauren admonishing her brother in such an innocent yet profound way caused my heart to leap with pride. I could sense that even Lucas, while realizing the silliness of the situation, reveled in her intelligence and perception.

It took a moment, and the moment went as swiftly as it came; but on that street, under that tree, under such awkward circumstances, I came to believe even more fervently in the need for Life to blossom of itself. While running out of gas seemed like an irresponsible thing to allow to happen, that brief private conversation with my two children confirmed my goal as a parent, to cement in their minds, values which can only be learned through the heart.

Experiencing a moment like this, through the filter of adult-life stresses, is to me a hopeful reminder that bright spots-- like light from faraway stars whose rays are just reaching the earth-- are always there for those looking for them. New ones always emerge, but you have to look up into the darkness to find them. And it's not in the finding that you are rewarded, but in the way you let that little light illuminate your view of life__ and keep you focused on doing good....

Mon

Prayer

Prayer

My Pen Mates,

I'm currently reading Tony Dungy's bestseller Quiet Strength. Without expounding on content, it's a man's story of faith and spirituality more than a football book. It is powerful, simple, and more important, relatable. Sorry is the man who reads it and not find parallels in his existence. At peril if one does not digest the message in this book, is ones core belief in the ubiquity of God and man's separation from him when personal will eclipses God's will.

I've always liked inspirational books such as this. Over the years, my choices have ranged from thrillers, to mystery, to biography, some history, and some technical materials; all of them inspire me to some extent. But books chronicling lives, not necessarily of anyone well known, have held a special fascination for me. The condensation of the story coupled with the author's skill in relating it keeps me enthralled to no end. And the lingering imprint it leaves in me, both mentally and emotionally, makes me feel enriched and elevated; like I gained a lifetime by spending some hours learning about someone else's. I've written previously about the habit of disciplined breathing, and I guess reading is one of those disciplines I've gained over the years. It teaches me and gives me peace.

Which is how a prayer should be said. As I get older, I realize that there is truth to the saying that we are creatures of habit. The longer we practice something, the more naturally it comes to us to remain doing it. Notice that I am not particular about whether the habit is good or not. For part of being human is owning both bad and good habits, and indulgence in both is part of the journey of life. But like breathing to all, and reading to me, consistent, disciplined prayer possesses an intangible container of thoughts and feelings. It's like a power that keeps one from falling apart despite temporal circumstances. Culturally, it may assume the form of meditation, yoga, mind-over-matter, and whatever zeitgeist form it's adapted to. It's certainly a preoccupation, for it takes time, but the time spent in prayer serves to fill the body much like food and water and air are necessary to maintain physical well being.

Are prayers ever answered? In human existence, that may be the quintessential question; but inferring from my breathing analogy, it keeps you up when withholding it can harm you.

On my five mile run on Wednesday (I'm picking up the habit again now that it's the end of Winter), I was so focused on goal-setting and intermittently praying that I was not as winded at the end of the run as usual. After my hundred yard final sprint, I cooled down__again as per usual__by walking and stretching for a block and a half. Heading back to the front door, I started to say a silent prayer, looking skyward and asking God to give me a special blessing. I asked for guidance and wisdom to be a good son to Him, be a good husband and father, a good provider, and a good steward of the body He gave me. As I looked at the clouds highlighted by the setting sun, a drop of water fell on my right cheek; not enough to splatter, but enough to feel wet. Instantly I asked: "Lord, are You telling me that my prayers are blessed but that I need to shed tears? What am I to make of this sliver of water from the sky?"

Before my next breath, another drop, now more full, falls on my lower lip__ sustenance for my wavering faith! Never again will I question Thy will. Because in His time, all prayers will be answered.....

Mon