Hmmmm.
- I set up a new email address. I thought I changed everything over, but Blogger didn't want to start sending my comments to the new address. I finally got it to quit sending to my old address... but now I think they're going out into the ether somewhere instead of landing in any inbox of mine.
- The reason I set up a new email address is because we are moving.
- Holy crap, we are moving back to our home state.
- Seriously. Damn.
- I like it here. The Alpha likes it here. We like the life we've built here. The dogs like freeloading off the life we've built here. Why couldn't the incredible job opportunity like it here, too?
- The BAND, Elwood! ... the BAND!!!
- My KITCHEN!
- We still have one foster dog who needs adopting. Our home state allows BSLs (breed-specific laws) restricting where dogs who look like Crystal can live. We could take her with us if it comes to that--which is why we aren't looking in the suburb that has the outright ban on three breeds--but I don't think it would be a friendly environment for her.
- I am really digging this CD lately.
- Oh, great. My last two blog comments just arrived via the old address. No progress there.
- It's bedtime.
Showing posts with label questioning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label questioning. Show all posts
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Jean-Claude update
Well, in a chat with Jean-Claude, I learned that he hasn't quite thrown his marriage away after all. So that's nice. I also got a sweet "thank you for being there" card from him when he mailed back the CD he'd borrowed. Still keeping him in prayer, still trying not to read too much into the cryptic Tracelook updates.
But there's hope. For that, I'm glad.
But there's hope. For that, I'm glad.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A cautionary tale? For me, yes. For him, "it feels right."
This is a variation of what I put on my work blog today. I don't usually get this personal over there, but for some reason I went ahead and did it (after running it by two co-workers).
I have this friend; let’s call him Jean-Claude. Jean-Claude and I have known each other since the early '90s, but haven’t had much contact in recent years. But, thanks to this thing I'll call Tracelook, combined with an existential crisis he was having, we saw each other face-to-face on Friday.
Years ago, Jean-Claude had a problem that led to the end of his first marriage. It was one of those problems from which you must spend the rest of your life recovering, lest you fall back into the pit. And there was another factor or two compounding that problem, but lately he seemed to have it all under control. He has a new wife; he has a new job that gives him opportunities to make a difference in kids’ lives.
And I think he may have just thrown all of that away.
On Friday, Jean-Claude and I spent 45 minutes talking through his recent activities and emotional conflicts. It was easily the most transparent conversation we’d ever had, and I felt a little like Jiminy Cricket at one point, reminding him that he has a moral compass and the power to use it. But he seemed to take it well, even thanking me for my “wisdom” later via Tracelook. I told him my pastor’s sermon topic for this week, one that was geared toward his own life's struggles, and the uncanny timing of it seemed to make an impression. He said he’d plan on coming to worship with me before he crossed the county line on Sunday.
We share the same faith, and I realized later it might’ve been a good idea to offer to pray with Jean-Claude before he left my house. A missed opportunity. Instead, I prayed for him later, and asked my small group to join me.
On Saturday, I started getting text messages from Jean-Claude. At first, he assured me that his moral compass was holding tight. A few hours later I watched everything disintegrate, 100 characters at a time.
During Sunday morning’s worship service, which Jean-Claude did not attend, I lifted him up in prayer by name. As I was doing that, he was driving to another part of the state to finish wrecking his marriage before heading back home to his wife. A couple of text messages last night confirmed that.
At least now I understand a little more clearly how one of those so-called perfect couples, the college sweethearts, could reach the point Jean-Claude and his ex-wife did several years ago. I feel like a darkly comic old sage, dispensing wisdom based on my 13 years of wedded bliss only to see it tossed out the window of an un-air-conditioned sedan, somewhere on Interstate 35, in the middle of a Southern summer.
Today Jean-Claude’s Tracelook status is that he’s “waking up to a whole new world,” but I can’t help but wonder if it’s one he will be happy with in the long run.
What am I supposed to learn from this experience? Some obvious options: I can’t control other people. Just because I’m aware of danger doesn’t mean I can put a stop to it. Everyone has to make his or her own choices.
These lessons are nothing new for me. I’m not surprised to be facing up to them again. But I am surprised that a certain cliché keeps popping into my head: “I’m not angry with you, Jean-Claude. I’m just disappointed.”
This just in: Life is hard. Some folks make it harder than it has to be.
I have this friend; let’s call him Jean-Claude. Jean-Claude and I have known each other since the early '90s, but haven’t had much contact in recent years. But, thanks to this thing I'll call Tracelook, combined with an existential crisis he was having, we saw each other face-to-face on Friday.
Years ago, Jean-Claude had a problem that led to the end of his first marriage. It was one of those problems from which you must spend the rest of your life recovering, lest you fall back into the pit. And there was another factor or two compounding that problem, but lately he seemed to have it all under control. He has a new wife; he has a new job that gives him opportunities to make a difference in kids’ lives.
And I think he may have just thrown all of that away.
On Friday, Jean-Claude and I spent 45 minutes talking through his recent activities and emotional conflicts. It was easily the most transparent conversation we’d ever had, and I felt a little like Jiminy Cricket at one point, reminding him that he has a moral compass and the power to use it. But he seemed to take it well, even thanking me for my “wisdom” later via Tracelook. I told him my pastor’s sermon topic for this week, one that was geared toward his own life's struggles, and the uncanny timing of it seemed to make an impression. He said he’d plan on coming to worship with me before he crossed the county line on Sunday.
We share the same faith, and I realized later it might’ve been a good idea to offer to pray with Jean-Claude before he left my house. A missed opportunity. Instead, I prayed for him later, and asked my small group to join me.
On Saturday, I started getting text messages from Jean-Claude. At first, he assured me that his moral compass was holding tight. A few hours later I watched everything disintegrate, 100 characters at a time.
During Sunday morning’s worship service, which Jean-Claude did not attend, I lifted him up in prayer by name. As I was doing that, he was driving to another part of the state to finish wrecking his marriage before heading back home to his wife. A couple of text messages last night confirmed that.
At least now I understand a little more clearly how one of those so-called perfect couples, the college sweethearts, could reach the point Jean-Claude and his ex-wife did several years ago. I feel like a darkly comic old sage, dispensing wisdom based on my 13 years of wedded bliss only to see it tossed out the window of an un-air-conditioned sedan, somewhere on Interstate 35, in the middle of a Southern summer.
Today Jean-Claude’s Tracelook status is that he’s “waking up to a whole new world,” but I can’t help but wonder if it’s one he will be happy with in the long run.
What am I supposed to learn from this experience? Some obvious options: I can’t control other people. Just because I’m aware of danger doesn’t mean I can put a stop to it. Everyone has to make his or her own choices.
These lessons are nothing new for me. I’m not surprised to be facing up to them again. But I am surprised that a certain cliché keeps popping into my head: “I’m not angry with you, Jean-Claude. I’m just disappointed.”
This just in: Life is hard. Some folks make it harder than it has to be.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Crack-looker.
This is the view we get of Angus as we're pulling into the garage.
He knows we're coming home, he knows he can't get to us from there, but he looks anyway. At a certain point, he runs inside the patio to wait for us to let him inside, but looking at us through the crack by the back gate is part of his routine.
I'm feeling annoyingly introspective tonight and wondering what I can learn from my crack-looker.
What cracks do I peer through even though looking there won't do me any good?
What's worth anticipating, and what's not?
Does looking where I cannot go make any kind of positive sense?
I ran up against something today. I knew I was going to run up against it. It's a barrier that's been there for a while. I don't see much likelihood that it'll go away. I just figure that someday I'll attend a funeral or two and after that I won't even get to look through the crack by the gate.
So, until then, is looking through the crack better than nothing?
He knows we're coming home, he knows he can't get to us from there, but he looks anyway. At a certain point, he runs inside the patio to wait for us to let him inside, but looking at us through the crack by the back gate is part of his routine.
I'm feeling annoyingly introspective tonight and wondering what I can learn from my crack-looker.
What cracks do I peer through even though looking there won't do me any good?
What's worth anticipating, and what's not?
Does looking where I cannot go make any kind of positive sense?
I ran up against something today. I knew I was going to run up against it. It's a barrier that's been there for a while. I don't see much likelihood that it'll go away. I just figure that someday I'll attend a funeral or two and after that I won't even get to look through the crack by the gate.
So, until then, is looking through the crack better than nothing?
Friday, November 21, 2008
Glory Be!
Five years ago at this time of year, she was anticipating the birth of a long-awaited child.Two years ago next month, there was a trip to the ER and a shocking diagnosis.
Last year at this time, complete remission.
Last week, I was privileged to be part of a group that prayed over her... for strength, for courage, for healing.
This week, she made the call: hospice.
I keep thinking, "Glory be!"
You can see those words on her stole in this picture.
Words she lives by.
But I'm not feeling them.
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