I went to watch the Texas Aggies play basketball against the University of Oklahoma men in Norman today. The main reason I went is because the end of an era is drawing nearer, and I do not know when an A&M team will again play a game in Norman that I might be able to attend.
As I was trying to decide for sure whether to go to a game I was pretty sure the Aggies would lose (they did, 65-62) and likely would not showcase high-quality basketball (it did not), many thoughts washed through my mind. From the first time I heard it mentioned and all along the discussions and news reports, I've never been happy about the possibility of Texas A&M leaving the Big 12, where it played teams along the I-35 corridor including two in Oklahoma, for the Southeastern Conference. But that didn't stop it from becoming reality, and this year is the farewell tour.
The OU/A&M football game in November was in Norman, but it was the week after my dad's death, so it was pretty easy to decide not to go even though I knew they might never play here again. (I also knew they'd probably lose, which they did.) I also missed the Aggie women's basketball team's final Big 12 trip to Norman last month, because it was on a work night. (I also feared they would lose in Norman, and they did.) I've never gone to an Aggie baseball or softball game in Norman, but I have attended their games in Big 12 tournaments in Oklahoma City. I hope to have chances to do that this year, which I guess means the farewell tour might not be quite over. But it's hard to bank on the future, so I decided not to let this opportunity pass by.
It helped that tickets were just $10. It also helped that I have an iPhone to provide a distraction if needed. It was OU's final home game, so it was senior day, and I guess there were various promotions going on, because there was a much bigger walk-up crowd that I would have expected. (And of course, there were the white Cheer Like A Champion t-shirts that seem to have been on the seats for every OU game I've attended in Lloyd Noble Center; draped over the seatbacks, they make it look like people are sitting there even when the arena is far from full.)
By time I got through the line, it was 7-6 Aggies when I entered the building. And before I knew it, the Aggies were behind, and they stayed that way the rest of the game, trailing by at least 14 in the second half. As I wrote on Facebook about that time: "This is hard to watch on so many levels. I knew that when I decided to come. I will stay anyway. Because either I will miss it when it's gone, or this will help me not miss it so much." But then the Aggies started a comeback, and I had to hope the Sooners might be able to blow just one more game in which they had a lead at halftime and toward the end. But that was not to be. Gig'em Aggies, anyway, and now the two teams will play again Wednesday in the opening round of the Big 12 tournament in Kansas City.
Among my thoughts before and during the game:
-- I hate that the Aggies will no longer be playing in the Big 12. Not only does that mean they won't play games against OU and Oklahoma State University, but they won't be included in the newspaper's Big 12 coverage nor on local television stations' games of interest. I hate it! Boo hoo! There's nothing I can do about it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. I anticipate withdrawal sensations in the season to come.
-- It made me think of why I didn't go to the football game, which brought thoughts of my dad's final weeks that still are amazingly peaceful for me to reflect on. My reason for not going to that game somehow influenced my desire to go today. I think Daddy would have approved. He knows his kids like their sports.
-- I thought of the wide variety of Aggie men's basketball games I've attended in Norman. I sat through probably the team's lowest-scoring half in history (it seems like Blake Griffin blocked every shot attempt; I wish I could remember the stat on how long the Aggies went without scoring) one year, but I also enjoyed some very pleasant wins under Coach Gillispie and Coach Turgeon. Most years there has been a pretty good turnout of people wearing maroon, but this year about the only people I saw wearing A&M colors were right behind the team bench. My sister came to Norman for a few of the games along the way, and Flat Stanley also attended with us one year. (Where, oh where, is that picture?) Overall, the memories make me smile.
-- I came ever-so-close to not going. My husband happened to have plans for the day that didn't include me. If that hadn't been the case, I doubt I would have attended, because he wouldn't go, and I wouldn't want to leave him at home. So, I could say thank you fate, but God knows I prayed about this, too, so I'll say, thank You, God!
-- The only negative is that after the game, I could have gone to an event at church to help with care packages for troops, but I ended up not going. I had time and even stopped to get supplies and snacks. But when I sat down for a bit and the cat got on my lap, I decided to just stay home. I'm trying not to fret about why I make decisions I don't understand. Supporting the troops would have been a good thing to do, and I would have enjoyed the fellowship. But I just didn't go. One reason I went to the game was because I didn't want to regret not going. I wish that would have kicked in regarding the event at church. I do think there will be future opportunities. Still, yes, I feel some regret.
-- I have to remind myself, in this and all things: Thank You, God, for Your presence throughout the day as I tried to decide what to do. Help me trust You, God, with those decisions and their results, to Your glory. And thank You for many, many good moments today that had nothing to do with either of these events. I feel grateful and blessed. May I live to Your glory.
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label change. Show all posts
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sweet Music of Life, 2011
As I turn the page past another December,
I'm grateful to take time to remember
Rich blessings of family, friendship and spirit
Sweet music of life: To hear it! To share it!
I'm not going to take time to rehash the year's precious memories. Most if not all were addressed along the way. But I felt the need to write a few words before I do some last-minute work to wrap up a few 2011 details that will help give the new year a fresher start.
One of the things I had jotted down but not yet shared is a year-end accomplishment that gives me hope for the future. After wanting to do so for several months if not years, on Dec. 21, I committed to cut my gum consumption by half -- which is probably still more than anyone else in the world chews. And surprisingly, I've chewed less than my allotted maximum several days. And there have been some very positive health aspects. For anyone who has never had a habit get out of hand, this probably seems like no big deal. But I was hooked. It was on a prayer list of things I wanted to change, most of which still seem impossible. The thing that pushed me to action on this was noticing again just how much I was spending on gum. Why all of a sudden I was able to make the change, I do not know. But I credit God. I began by trying to get through just one day, then one work day, and then one shopping day. Each new situation seemed impossible. But I just kept praying and recommitting and focusing on the positive results. I don't know that it's getting easier, but my awareness of the benefits stays strong.
Also strong is my sense of hope that if I can finally, with God's help, do this seemingly minor thing but impossible thing, maybe the next goal for self-improvement will be possible.
I feel this change is part of the slow but sure growth of my faith. Much of the growth this year came through experiences related to the health and eventual death of my Dad. I got to find out whether my faith is real and rooted; I found that it is, but I know I must continue to nurture it by reading the Bible, studying, and spending time in worship, service and fellowship with others seeking to follow Christ. (I just realized I want to buy my own copy of a devotional book my Mom received; I like the thought of reading the same Scriptures and meditations she sees each day.)
That parenthetical realization made me think of one other thing I want to include, but it may be too personal involving other people. How can I summarize it? An email exchange among loved ones after Christmas warmed my heart and just made me want to praise God. Why does it take what seems like adversity for people to realize how blessed they are? Some never do, so my heart rejoices whenever people I love make the grateful choice to see beyond material things.
That's all of my words to share here for now. I need to tackle those tasks, accompanied by sweet music and memories of life.
I'm grateful to take time to remember
Rich blessings of family, friendship and spirit
Sweet music of life: To hear it! To share it!
I'm not going to take time to rehash the year's precious memories. Most if not all were addressed along the way. But I felt the need to write a few words before I do some last-minute work to wrap up a few 2011 details that will help give the new year a fresher start.
One of the things I had jotted down but not yet shared is a year-end accomplishment that gives me hope for the future. After wanting to do so for several months if not years, on Dec. 21, I committed to cut my gum consumption by half -- which is probably still more than anyone else in the world chews. And surprisingly, I've chewed less than my allotted maximum several days. And there have been some very positive health aspects. For anyone who has never had a habit get out of hand, this probably seems like no big deal. But I was hooked. It was on a prayer list of things I wanted to change, most of which still seem impossible. The thing that pushed me to action on this was noticing again just how much I was spending on gum. Why all of a sudden I was able to make the change, I do not know. But I credit God. I began by trying to get through just one day, then one work day, and then one shopping day. Each new situation seemed impossible. But I just kept praying and recommitting and focusing on the positive results. I don't know that it's getting easier, but my awareness of the benefits stays strong.
Also strong is my sense of hope that if I can finally, with God's help, do this seemingly minor thing but impossible thing, maybe the next goal for self-improvement will be possible.
I feel this change is part of the slow but sure growth of my faith. Much of the growth this year came through experiences related to the health and eventual death of my Dad. I got to find out whether my faith is real and rooted; I found that it is, but I know I must continue to nurture it by reading the Bible, studying, and spending time in worship, service and fellowship with others seeking to follow Christ. (I just realized I want to buy my own copy of a devotional book my Mom received; I like the thought of reading the same Scriptures and meditations she sees each day.)
That parenthetical realization made me think of one other thing I want to include, but it may be too personal involving other people. How can I summarize it? An email exchange among loved ones after Christmas warmed my heart and just made me want to praise God. Why does it take what seems like adversity for people to realize how blessed they are? Some never do, so my heart rejoices whenever people I love make the grateful choice to see beyond material things.
That's all of my words to share here for now. I need to tackle those tasks, accompanied by sweet music and memories of life.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Matters of timing
It's blog time. I was going to write about tricks of the trade -- techniques I've learned that seem effective in some areas of my life -- along with musings about why I can't seem to find such techniques to apply in other areas.
But the topic crowding my mind is timing. For everything there is a season ...
What brought it to the forefront was the tragedy at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington on Thursday, when 39-year-old firefighter Shannon Stone, who was at the baseball game with his 6-year-old son, Cooper, died after apparently losing his balance and falling over a railing and hitting his head on concrete after catching a foul ball he had asked All-Star and MVP outfielder Josh Hamilton to toss to them.
How can there be a season for something like that? All involved seemed to be engaged in life-affirming, family building, fan-friendly, innocent fun pursuits -- and such an unthinkable result occurs.
The game went on, eventually resulting in a big win for the Rangers. Players and other fans had reason to hope for the best regarding the father's condition (there were reports he was alert and talking, asking about his son) until they were informed after the game that he had died. And then what? How do you celebrate a victory when a child has just lost a father, a wife has lost a husband, a mother has lost a son, and countless others have lost a friend, comrade and hero.
Another game was played Friday, and even though they won decisively, the victory again was somber for the Rangers. Would it ever seem OK to really celebrate a win again?
I guess the answer came Saturday, when the Rangers were unlikely winners with a 2-out, 2-run walkoff homer by Josh. The team and fans -- and Josh, who'd been tormented by his part in the tragedy -- celebrated with the smiles and innocence of children.
I still can't wrap my mind and soul around how such a celebration seemed appropriate then and not the nights before. Many writers referenced Ecclesiastes -- For everything there is a season ... For a moment, it was time to play ball and celebrate.
I hope and pray that it was appropriate, and that family and friends of Shannon Stone -- and his wife and son -- somehow shared in the celebration. Reports had said Josh was Cooper's favorite player, and he and his dad had bought a new glove on the way to the ballpark, and their goal was go catch a ball from Josh. How does a child process that? How does a family?
Josh's response has been that he's just praying and praying. He's praying to know how and when to reach out to the family. In my mind, it seemed like maybe he already should have, and certainly that he should have said in his postgame comments he was thinking of the father and son as he rounded the bases. But his comments were just about baseball. That surprised me. But I believe him when he says he's praying hard for that family and about his response. And he expresses faith that God does have a plan and a hand in what's happening, even if we don't understand. I guess that makes sense.
But it sure messes with my mind. I want to believe that for everything there is a season, and I want to believe that I live by faith. But a Sunday school discussion today reminded me of what a worrier I am, and how worry really isn't compatible with faith. I pray and pray to know how to handle a situation -- or life in general -- but in reality, instead of truly trusting God to guide my steps (whether to work, play, serve or celebrate, etc.), I keep worrying and trying to figure out the right thing to do. And while I'm worrying and trying to figure out, I miss learning that a recently widowed friend was in town Friday night on a visit from Ohio. I don't know why I wasn't aware she was here. I would loved to have seen her. If only I kept closer contact with church friends ...
If only ...
I lack a good sense of timing -- what to do when. And it often leads to regret. Somehow, as events of this week made me even more aware of that weakness, they also reminded me that none of us can change the past. We can just choose our next action. Right now, I don't feel like I'm doing that very well. I'm stuck again in habits -- past actions. That's part of what the other topic would have addressed: "tricks of the trade" to change patterns and achieve better results. But that's for another time.
I've been praying as I've been writing, and the best I can come up with is that, for now, it's time to post and log off. And I do feel strengthened in my faith that God will show me what this is all about -- or use it to His glory anyway -- in His good time.
But the topic crowding my mind is timing. For everything there is a season ...
What brought it to the forefront was the tragedy at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington on Thursday, when 39-year-old firefighter Shannon Stone, who was at the baseball game with his 6-year-old son, Cooper, died after apparently losing his balance and falling over a railing and hitting his head on concrete after catching a foul ball he had asked All-Star and MVP outfielder Josh Hamilton to toss to them.
How can there be a season for something like that? All involved seemed to be engaged in life-affirming, family building, fan-friendly, innocent fun pursuits -- and such an unthinkable result occurs.
The game went on, eventually resulting in a big win for the Rangers. Players and other fans had reason to hope for the best regarding the father's condition (there were reports he was alert and talking, asking about his son) until they were informed after the game that he had died. And then what? How do you celebrate a victory when a child has just lost a father, a wife has lost a husband, a mother has lost a son, and countless others have lost a friend, comrade and hero.
Another game was played Friday, and even though they won decisively, the victory again was somber for the Rangers. Would it ever seem OK to really celebrate a win again?
I guess the answer came Saturday, when the Rangers were unlikely winners with a 2-out, 2-run walkoff homer by Josh. The team and fans -- and Josh, who'd been tormented by his part in the tragedy -- celebrated with the smiles and innocence of children.
I still can't wrap my mind and soul around how such a celebration seemed appropriate then and not the nights before. Many writers referenced Ecclesiastes -- For everything there is a season ... For a moment, it was time to play ball and celebrate.
I hope and pray that it was appropriate, and that family and friends of Shannon Stone -- and his wife and son -- somehow shared in the celebration. Reports had said Josh was Cooper's favorite player, and he and his dad had bought a new glove on the way to the ballpark, and their goal was go catch a ball from Josh. How does a child process that? How does a family?
Josh's response has been that he's just praying and praying. He's praying to know how and when to reach out to the family. In my mind, it seemed like maybe he already should have, and certainly that he should have said in his postgame comments he was thinking of the father and son as he rounded the bases. But his comments were just about baseball. That surprised me. But I believe him when he says he's praying hard for that family and about his response. And he expresses faith that God does have a plan and a hand in what's happening, even if we don't understand. I guess that makes sense.
But it sure messes with my mind. I want to believe that for everything there is a season, and I want to believe that I live by faith. But a Sunday school discussion today reminded me of what a worrier I am, and how worry really isn't compatible with faith. I pray and pray to know how to handle a situation -- or life in general -- but in reality, instead of truly trusting God to guide my steps (whether to work, play, serve or celebrate, etc.), I keep worrying and trying to figure out the right thing to do. And while I'm worrying and trying to figure out, I miss learning that a recently widowed friend was in town Friday night on a visit from Ohio. I don't know why I wasn't aware she was here. I would loved to have seen her. If only I kept closer contact with church friends ...
If only ...
I lack a good sense of timing -- what to do when. And it often leads to regret. Somehow, as events of this week made me even more aware of that weakness, they also reminded me that none of us can change the past. We can just choose our next action. Right now, I don't feel like I'm doing that very well. I'm stuck again in habits -- past actions. That's part of what the other topic would have addressed: "tricks of the trade" to change patterns and achieve better results. But that's for another time.
I've been praying as I've been writing, and the best I can come up with is that, for now, it's time to post and log off. And I do feel strengthened in my faith that God will show me what this is all about -- or use it to His glory anyway -- in His good time.
Monday, June 27, 2011
The new routine is no routine
The new routine is no routine. I need to remember that when the next few weeks tempt me to think there is a routine again.
Since the start of the year -- after many years of starting work in the morning and going into the late afternoon or early evening -- I've gone to an ever-changing schedule that is all over the place. The first two or three months it was mostly 2 or 4 p.m. to midnight. Then it was a few months of basically 2-10, 2-12, 2-6, 12-8 and 3 pm-1 am, Monday through Friday. In June it went to Sunday through Thursday, except when I wasn't needed on Sunday, so I worked Friday.
A mid-June vacation without a schedule fit right in with the confusion, and the vacation was punctuated by pulling an all-nighter for Relay for Life.
And now I'm working days again, noon to 8, which in the past would have seemed normal but now is just another change before going to a month of 10-6 Monday through Friday, unless something different is needed. And that will be for just a month, and then it will probably be back to the afternoon to night shifts.
What I am so aware of is that even when -- or especially when -- my work schedule lacks routine, it is imperative for me to build structure and maintain discipline in my life. Patterns of eating, sleeping, exercising, reading, praying and meditating are important. Most days I keep a pretty specific list of what I need to do and when. I went through a period this month of viewing that as a weakness. But today as I walked, after waking up on target after a within-range amount of pillow time, I embraced my list and willingness to use it as a strength.
As I was walking, I thought of my Dad, whose life example includes all kinds of work schedules, including true graveyard shifts. He and lots of people, including one of my sisters, have often worked far from ideal schedules. Their examples remind me to do whatever it takes to make it work for me. For me, that includes keeping it healthy, which is probably why it is more of a challenge, because keeping it healthy requires discipline for me.
That also made me think of Daddy's newest thing. A couple of days each week, he'll be going into town for pulmonary therapy. Why? To continue to build up his strength. He wants to be as healthy as he can be, even at 85. I am proud and inspired.
I sometimes wish my life were more routine or automatic. It seems as if what comes naturally for me is to do nothing. (I had some thoughts about that, too, while I walked today, that renewed my hope that I can change.) I'm grateful that I keep fighting that instinctive inertia.
Since the start of the year -- after many years of starting work in the morning and going into the late afternoon or early evening -- I've gone to an ever-changing schedule that is all over the place. The first two or three months it was mostly 2 or 4 p.m. to midnight. Then it was a few months of basically 2-10, 2-12, 2-6, 12-8 and 3 pm-1 am, Monday through Friday. In June it went to Sunday through Thursday, except when I wasn't needed on Sunday, so I worked Friday.
A mid-June vacation without a schedule fit right in with the confusion, and the vacation was punctuated by pulling an all-nighter for Relay for Life.
And now I'm working days again, noon to 8, which in the past would have seemed normal but now is just another change before going to a month of 10-6 Monday through Friday, unless something different is needed. And that will be for just a month, and then it will probably be back to the afternoon to night shifts.
What I am so aware of is that even when -- or especially when -- my work schedule lacks routine, it is imperative for me to build structure and maintain discipline in my life. Patterns of eating, sleeping, exercising, reading, praying and meditating are important. Most days I keep a pretty specific list of what I need to do and when. I went through a period this month of viewing that as a weakness. But today as I walked, after waking up on target after a within-range amount of pillow time, I embraced my list and willingness to use it as a strength.
As I was walking, I thought of my Dad, whose life example includes all kinds of work schedules, including true graveyard shifts. He and lots of people, including one of my sisters, have often worked far from ideal schedules. Their examples remind me to do whatever it takes to make it work for me. For me, that includes keeping it healthy, which is probably why it is more of a challenge, because keeping it healthy requires discipline for me.
That also made me think of Daddy's newest thing. A couple of days each week, he'll be going into town for pulmonary therapy. Why? To continue to build up his strength. He wants to be as healthy as he can be, even at 85. I am proud and inspired.
I sometimes wish my life were more routine or automatic. It seems as if what comes naturally for me is to do nothing. (I had some thoughts about that, too, while I walked today, that renewed my hope that I can change.) I'm grateful that I keep fighting that instinctive inertia.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Christmas in January
It's the second weekend of January, and I'm still celebrating Christmas. I guess that's what happens when you try to find the silver lining in whatever life brings.
Yesterday I watched the DVD of the Texas Rangers landmark season as the American League champions. It was a Christmas present that had to be shipped late. It was fun to watch and to appreciate my nephew for getting it for me. Today, another shipment of presents came, including a fascinating coffee-table book with writings and photographs of art masterpieces inspired by the Bible. And then there's my iPhone, which I guess I effectively traded in the camera to get! (I was going to get the iPhone anyway, but now that I have it, the camera can wait, or so it seems.)
Tomorrow, I'm singing a Christmas song at church. I debated all week whether it would be OK to do so late, and I've decided, with some encouragement from family and friends, that it is OK. I didn't have a chance to sing special music during December. And the message of what happens at Christmas isn't just for Christmas. As I've practiced, I've enjoyed being reminded that "love came down ... chains (are) broken ... songs of hope (ring) through the skies ... A Father calls through a gift of life ...."
Continued celebrations of Christmas seem fitting in a week of days in which I've tried to find blessed gifts in new and sometimes trying circumstances.
My body and mind and home life still aren't crazy about my new work schedule, but they're all glad I have a job and that, so far, I've been able to keep a good attitude and get started on developing a good routine. Right now, though, it also seems like work when I'm home, because I have to keep a pretty tight schedule if I want to get anything done at all. I still have no sense of passage of time between when I get up and when I go to work. I'm more accustomed to work (or church) being the first order of business each day. It's strange to have time to do so many other things first ... and tempting to not be ready when all of a sudden it's time to actually go to work. Meanwhile, my husband and I have made the most of maximizing some of our time together. That's been good. I think we both realize we had taken for granted the great schedules and work flexibility we'd had these past 28 or so years.
Being scheduled to allow me to attend choir practice on Wednesdays is every bit the gift I thought it would be. Choir members were glad to see me, and I was more appreciative to be there than perhaps I had been before. Again, it's amazing how easy it is to take things for granted. It's also interesting to me that, as important as The Seeking Hour at 7 a.m. Wednesdays had seemed to me, I'm not really upset to give that up. I do hope to continue to include aspects of that prayer discipline in my week if not my daily routine.
Friday, I visited a friend in the hospital. I'm not sure I would have done that with the old work schedule. I think my visits with my dad during his recovery from lung surgery last fall also impressed upon me the importance of such visits. Even though my friend could not speak or clearly acknowledge he knew who I was, I felt much hope and continue to pray it's just a matter of time before a breakthrough leads to a strong surge of recovery.
Yesterday and today, the sun shone brightly. That's always a gift in January, even when potentially nasty weather more typical of the season is in the immediate forecast. I'm grateful for every sunny day -- and grateful for insulated outerwear, warm clothes, heaters, a car that runs, etc., on the days when the weather isn't so bright.
Today is a gift. Life is a gift. Gratitude is a gift. Love is a gift. Blessed by all of these and more each moment from God, how can I not feel the joy of Christmas all these days later? Thank You, God. And I'm reminded that the way to most fully experience these gifts is to share them. I pray to do so, to God's glory.
Yesterday I watched the DVD of the Texas Rangers landmark season as the American League champions. It was a Christmas present that had to be shipped late. It was fun to watch and to appreciate my nephew for getting it for me. Today, another shipment of presents came, including a fascinating coffee-table book with writings and photographs of art masterpieces inspired by the Bible. And then there's my iPhone, which I guess I effectively traded in the camera to get! (I was going to get the iPhone anyway, but now that I have it, the camera can wait, or so it seems.)
Tomorrow, I'm singing a Christmas song at church. I debated all week whether it would be OK to do so late, and I've decided, with some encouragement from family and friends, that it is OK. I didn't have a chance to sing special music during December. And the message of what happens at Christmas isn't just for Christmas. As I've practiced, I've enjoyed being reminded that "love came down ... chains (are) broken ... songs of hope (ring) through the skies ... A Father calls through a gift of life ...."
Continued celebrations of Christmas seem fitting in a week of days in which I've tried to find blessed gifts in new and sometimes trying circumstances.
My body and mind and home life still aren't crazy about my new work schedule, but they're all glad I have a job and that, so far, I've been able to keep a good attitude and get started on developing a good routine. Right now, though, it also seems like work when I'm home, because I have to keep a pretty tight schedule if I want to get anything done at all. I still have no sense of passage of time between when I get up and when I go to work. I'm more accustomed to work (or church) being the first order of business each day. It's strange to have time to do so many other things first ... and tempting to not be ready when all of a sudden it's time to actually go to work. Meanwhile, my husband and I have made the most of maximizing some of our time together. That's been good. I think we both realize we had taken for granted the great schedules and work flexibility we'd had these past 28 or so years.
Being scheduled to allow me to attend choir practice on Wednesdays is every bit the gift I thought it would be. Choir members were glad to see me, and I was more appreciative to be there than perhaps I had been before. Again, it's amazing how easy it is to take things for granted. It's also interesting to me that, as important as The Seeking Hour at 7 a.m. Wednesdays had seemed to me, I'm not really upset to give that up. I do hope to continue to include aspects of that prayer discipline in my week if not my daily routine.
Friday, I visited a friend in the hospital. I'm not sure I would have done that with the old work schedule. I think my visits with my dad during his recovery from lung surgery last fall also impressed upon me the importance of such visits. Even though my friend could not speak or clearly acknowledge he knew who I was, I felt much hope and continue to pray it's just a matter of time before a breakthrough leads to a strong surge of recovery.
Yesterday and today, the sun shone brightly. That's always a gift in January, even when potentially nasty weather more typical of the season is in the immediate forecast. I'm grateful for every sunny day -- and grateful for insulated outerwear, warm clothes, heaters, a car that runs, etc., on the days when the weather isn't so bright.
Today is a gift. Life is a gift. Gratitude is a gift. Love is a gift. Blessed by all of these and more each moment from God, how can I not feel the joy of Christmas all these days later? Thank You, God. And I'm reminded that the way to most fully experience these gifts is to share them. I pray to do so, to God's glory.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Like coal in my stocking
Well, the good news is I still have a job. The not-so-thrilling news is that starting Jan. 3, I'll be working until midnight most days. I learned this the week of Christmas, and it seemed kinda like getting a lump of coal rather than a desirable gift in my stocking.
I typically don't deal with change very well, and that's the case again. I try to keep planning and hoping for the best. I see opportunities to make a fresh start on sleep patterns, exercise, eating and use of my nonwork time. But then my stomach weighs in, and I know I'm very, very unsettled. More than my hours are changing, but I don't yet know what the other aspects will involve.
Several times I've convinced myself I see more positives than negatives -- helped largely by amazing support from my husband, who has expressed willingness to make adjustments, too. The fact that, at least for the first month, I'm scheduled so that I can take off in time to attend choir practice on Wednesdays is another plus. But I don't see me getting up at 6 a.m. Wednesdays for the Seeking Hour that has become such an important part of my weekly routine.
For now, the uncertainty is the worst part. Even as I hope and plan for the best, I'm also trying to be prepared for the worst. What if I don't adjust? What if I can't sleep? What if I start overeating again? What if I don't like the changes in what I actually do at work? What if ...? What if ...?
So far, for every negative "what if ...," I've been able to eventually shift my mind -- at least temporarily -- to a positive thought. (I still haven't convinced my stomach.) Scripture reminds me it's a waste of time to worry about tomorrow. I cling to that and the message of Christmas, that God is with me. I also can't shake the thought that even a lump of coal can be put to productive use.
I hope that by dispatching this bit of possibly negative reality, I'll be able to sit down tomorrow or Friday and write a more upbeat assessment of the year that's ending and what may await in the coming year.
I typically don't deal with change very well, and that's the case again. I try to keep planning and hoping for the best. I see opportunities to make a fresh start on sleep patterns, exercise, eating and use of my nonwork time. But then my stomach weighs in, and I know I'm very, very unsettled. More than my hours are changing, but I don't yet know what the other aspects will involve.
Several times I've convinced myself I see more positives than negatives -- helped largely by amazing support from my husband, who has expressed willingness to make adjustments, too. The fact that, at least for the first month, I'm scheduled so that I can take off in time to attend choir practice on Wednesdays is another plus. But I don't see me getting up at 6 a.m. Wednesdays for the Seeking Hour that has become such an important part of my weekly routine.
For now, the uncertainty is the worst part. Even as I hope and plan for the best, I'm also trying to be prepared for the worst. What if I don't adjust? What if I can't sleep? What if I start overeating again? What if I don't like the changes in what I actually do at work? What if ...? What if ...?
So far, for every negative "what if ...," I've been able to eventually shift my mind -- at least temporarily -- to a positive thought. (I still haven't convinced my stomach.) Scripture reminds me it's a waste of time to worry about tomorrow. I cling to that and the message of Christmas, that God is with me. I also can't shake the thought that even a lump of coal can be put to productive use.
I hope that by dispatching this bit of possibly negative reality, I'll be able to sit down tomorrow or Friday and write a more upbeat assessment of the year that's ending and what may await in the coming year.
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