East of Babylon

" I call this home"

Never quite knowing if it's a pilgrim's pride or an existential quarry, I know it's practiced.  Well practiced.  That peak over there?  I can't exactly name it.  The mountain range behind us?  Can't muster the homage or gravitas befitting a host.  I live under the Big Sky.  And yet in so many aspects, I'm comfortably the foreigner.

Home has never felt so conscientious.  One day I hope, my surroundings will be able to give me a name.  Perhaps the minnow in the brook, the shanty prairie dog, nay the neon chirpy feathered creature, or perhaps the unsuspecting dandelion will attest to my whereabouts these some years and counting.  Be kind and remember me I sometimes think.  Take notes.  Brighten my day Lord.

As pilgrimage goes, lustful tales and testimonies from other places tease the palate.  Which is all to say, virtue of another's peoples beauty and hospitality are more prose than poetry.  I am not eager to make too familiar a friend of this land though, and this is where faith comes in.  To be an inhabitant, is to give a eulogy and I feel I have not lived long enough here.  The hope, a tremendous hope is, the constancy and difficulty in which new life is seeded and birthed.  Lord, can I be the disciple who bears witness to all these redemption stories?  These songs of salvation.  It is the unholy equation my heart and energy longs for- all joy, all the time.  I should pray, being so cozy with the romance and selfishness of such a thought.

Like Abraham, like Joseph, I am a sojourner.  With the zeal and counsel of Jeremiah though, I pray the seeds take.  To live wisely.  To cultivate life.  To live in the glory that shouldn't require exclamation points or caps locks but rather the robust and creative impulse to live everyday life with faithfulness and reverence.

I have known ground zero before.  All to familiar yes.  I have given those places high and low names, decent and not.  I have known the earthiness, the allure, the rich tradition and heritage.  I found a refuge here.  I intend not to be too enamored by this place.  I desire not to be hasty in being the conqueror of peaks and landmarks.  I do not know where the most leisurely recreation is, or the more plentiful bounty is.  I have not been confounded by the awe and sacredness of this place.

Should I be so blessed to live in an exile as beautiful as this.

two- thirds

So, it's been a busy while.  Mostly I can say I've enjoyed all of it.  A good majority of the time I have a hard time narrating it myself.  If people asked me to describe life in the last eight months, I'd call it a dead sprint.

And I'm beat.

A year older, not sure the wiser.  Day in and day out, for some time, it wasn't an issue about me being able to tell you how horribly I did something or how much misinformation I'd given.  The folks I worked with felt reassured asking if I was still sticking it out working, rather than asking me for counsel or advice.  That bothered me at first.  I'm not a know it all, or presume to be smarter than I look.  A lot of time was trying to measure the confidence and faith people had put into me.  For a few months I didn't care.  I was grumpy, unwilling to learn new things, and generally not very hospitable.  It was a pouting ritual I had gotten pretty good at.

I hadn't fully learned my position.

Metrics, operations, resource management, social and professional capital were all stagnant.

I wasn't doing myself any favors.

I operated about 7 months on the job knowing about only 60% of what it is I'm supposed to able to do.

Sure was easy to blame others.  I'm tired.  I'm burnt out.  It's exhausting.  I'm managing temper tantrums and not professionals.  I refused to do a good job because I wasn't operating at 100% of an equitable knowledge base. Pretty lame excuse right?

But then I thought, "well if I'm going to know only this much of my job, then I'm going to have to try and make it work."  So a couple of revelations happened.  A sobering reality hit- what if I don't take this as  seriously as the people I work with?  How harmful is that to them?  The thought still inspires me.  There is a dignity and a value to what they do.  If anyone who would understand, it'd be a guy who made sandwiches for a living.  And what if the 50% of my job- which I had done a pretty bang up job was the 100% they were counting on me to do?  Like I said, sobering.

It was scrupulous, but day by day, two- thirds is how I went about the business.  Ultimately things changed.  I got trained to do the other third of my job.  And I feel so much more comfortable and confident, for the better.

In the between time, I learned to appreciate the little things, nuances, personalities, helping cultivate a culture of trust and excellence.  I'm not at all trying to set a bar for anything.  I'm pretty grateful for a sluggish start, but it's been encouraging.

Ninja skills in the workplace

It's been a little over 3 months on the current bid. Adulting.  Responsibility.  Accountability.  Yikes, I wonder if they really understand what they got.  And then Monday's happen.

Maintaining a playful spirit in the workplace takes time and work.  Co workers have to be comfortable with your quirkiness and personality.  It is after all, an indication of optimism and self forgetfulness.  No one needn't tell us the seriousness of what we do.  Livelihoods depend on our competence, professionalism, and punctuality.  Yet if we invest so much energy, creativity, and aptitude into those we serve, then naturally, we neglect each other.

I digress.

Joking, pestering, and teasing is almost a blood sport in the dig I call the office.  We try and make co worker's giggle inappropriately when they're 'taking care of a customer' Lil Wayne references are encouraged.  And yes, politically incorrectness and sexual innuendo spews left and right.  Yet we are a serious enterprise.  Because we know the work hours are hard, it wreaks havoc on our bodies and our spirits when you hear "ugh, f$*k my life".

Then you get a phone call, and it begins to happen.  The little thought experiment, behavior modification, attitude adjustment, or the slight shift in the wrinkle that is the title you hold.  On my phone, at my desk, is a sticky note.  The tension is built up from a voice mail you listened to but 2 minutes before that and the knot in your stomach churns.  An accident happened.  The person is in critical care.  And now, your business acumen must negotiate and blend a sense of humanity on the return call.

It's the dark desperately trying to suffocate the light.  You go between praying and scripting at least the first sentence you'll utter, no, confidently and compassionately begin the conversation with.  Then you get distracted, uneasy and begin to pray in your head.  It's Monday.  Monday's are supposed to be insignificant.

It's the hardest conversation you'll have today.  It'll be insignificant to the other party, but you want it to be meaningful, thoughtful, and present.

The sticky note you scribbled and thought was cheesier than hell has 3 bullet points and a line:

*Thank you for all that you do

*You're doing a great job

*Is there anything else I can do to help you?

"Always end on a positive note."

Ironically you scribbled it because you get to the whipping post some days, the guy they take it out on, so it's a try and keep perspective motivator.

Yet in the tragedy and reality of these situations, you see the bigger picture.  The conversation goes well.  Asking smart questions, and the timing of those smart questions goes a long way.  You parrot back key phrases like "it sounds like you really love him and he really loves you", "My faith is important to me as well", "Thank you for thinking to let me know what was going on."  Everyone feels lighter as the conversation goes on.  It's a small victory that will go a long way too.

Phone down, deep breath, take a walk.

Now, who was I making fun of. . . .  

It's been a minute.

It's been an exhausting while.  I can count on an even number of digits, which is less than the second lowest prime number, how many days off of work I've had.  I sleep during the day.  Power napping is in.  I can say for the beginning stretch that I did not enjoy my job. But now like a hard boiled egg, I'm earning the confidence and trust of colleagues.  Showing up is more a victory to feeling important, if not competent.  The 'fake it til you make it' routine has done me well.

I've experienced "grown up " problems as well.  My lovely little war pony "swirls" as she's called in our house needed some serious attention.  I've dashed over to OReily's Auto Shop for coolant, fresh battery connector terminals, and new brake lamp bulbs.  It's summer time and although I don't feel like I'm making it rain in any sense of the metaphor, I'm finally feeling flexible.  My patience, my virtue, and my holiness are slowly being refined.  I even got a vote of confidence from a couple of pastors in the church about my love life.  I love those men, if not for their naive optimism, than maybe for their deliberate hope for me.

So what has been keeping me ablaze?

I love entertainment. So when I heard about this HBO show called 'True Detective', intrigue led me check it.  It's dark, brooding, vice happy, and inappropriate.  I love Woody Harrelson as an actor, and Matthew Mcconaughey was a bonus.  Season two is starting this Sunday and I'm genuinely jazzed about it.  Check it.

More over, I'm a pop culture/ sports junkie, so I was fascinated to read about my favorite athlete and a journalist's view of how he could slow down father time.  Is he as dominant as he was when I watched him torture NBA defenses as a young man?  No.  Is he as efficient?  Not so much.  But Tim Duncan is a class act and a hero to the game, so I'd never pass on someone else's much more professional opinion to sing his praises.

I've slowed down on the reading a bit.  But I'll find something and burrow down.  The sweet membership to the local gym keeps me sane if not feeling better about the chaotic hours.  I smile more.  I pray often.  I worship intentionally.  I serve in spite of myself.  I'm not complaining.  It's just getting so much more real.

Grateful, in the first

I still remember the day I learned to ride a bike all on my own.  It was at daycare.  At Mrs. Betty Jackson, all the way on Signal Peak Rd.  Awkwardly and courageously, if not for the fear of embarrassment, I blitzed down one side of the chalked track way.  It wouldn't be fully appropriate if I weren't wobbling and swerving.  But as the speed picked up, so did the ability to trust in the steering and maneuvering.  This day is still one of the most gratifying I can recall, and with quite some ease.

What can be said of anything else I've manged to accomplish?  That yet remains to be seen, but I can be grateful for some of the harder and more peel-the-band-aid-off kind of moments I've come into.  I'm fighting for more than just my share of the pie.  Everyone who has any interest in my life, pays diligent attention to my ability to mobilize and not be paralyzed or set back.  So here are some things I've learned.  Because although I'm not ashamed of my bloodline, I've never really had any great role models for much of anything.

You feel everything like an exposed nerve

This isn't a bad thing.  I've taken every failure deeply personally.  I've handled every success with a grain of under appreciation.  It's the in-between moments that have grown me the most.  How well do I struggle with myself?  How gracious am I with myself?  Do I encourage myself- preaching the gospel of failing because hope and redemption is something you've never been afforded?  It's meditation in the sucking of air.  It's being present in every moment of pain.  I do that, I get consumed by it.  I grieve.  I lament.  I berate, and pump my fist at heaven.  Then, I get over it.  Because it's good practice for when the moments of joy and bliss come.  Those small victories.  I can bask in those without feeling guilty or selfish.  I can be ravaged by it, get lost in it just to meander and enjoy it a bit longer.  I can pray, say names and love the faces that are attached to them fiercely because I know I mean it.  I can set boundaries and not feel bad about not wanting to have unhealthy and exhausting relationships.  I can love recklessly and calculated.

My habits are your habits
I noticed the people I've influenced in a way I wasn't expecting.  I notice when they talk, when they pray, when they navigate any turmoil or success, that somehow, their words, tone, posture, speaking rhythm, body language, and actions eerily remind me of me.  And that scares me.  People really do pay attention, especially to some guy like me who is in a position to help influence and grow in tremendous fashion.  Or equally hurt and damage in a way that can be devastating.  So I take it seriously as a matter of life and death.

Winning doesn't matter, but commitment to failing and continually trying does

I've never been a fan of writing down lists of positives and negatives.  But it seems to be something I'm learning to do.  I've learned that people best respond to my witness, , my faith, my journey, by feeling like they can be apart of it.  The best communicators can do this.  If all I did was articulate my successes and struggles as a means to my own end, then its like closing the door after I've put out the invitation to have others walk through it.  I'm not the hero of my own story.  I'm merely a stage hand in it.  There has to be value to it.  So I always caveat to the process and the journey.  To the discipline of it and not the way I would have chosen it myself.  I can't hope in myself.  I serve and love a God bigger and more powerful than anything I could ever say, so that has to the end game.  I always say this isn't the end of my story, and that it keeps getting better.  All I can do is hope, smile, and be joyful in spite of my past, my failures, and my circumstances, because I believe I can still be a blessing in the midst of everything good and bad.  

         

Work,lately.

It would be unbecoming to sit here and tell you, that like most people, I live to work.  And that working is for the dream, the comfort, and the status.

You could call bullshit on me, because I'd be lying.

I've worked odd jobs.  Low paying jobs.  Decent paying ones.  Jobs that have caused me to question my humanity, even my dignity and integrity as a human being.  If I ever figure out why I've done those things, I'll let you know.

Work isn't an escape.  It isn't a getaway.  I have to pay bills ultimately, and create some financial peace and stability.  These are the practical reasons.  But why do I really work?  Is there a soul nourishing, life giving reason as to why I show up and do the things I'm asked to do?

I don't have the perfect job. I didn't hit the fast track to success.  In fact, a lot of my world seems incompatible at the moment.  My family is struggling to stay together.  I still suffer from some pretty serious trauma- mentally and emotionally.  I can be as self-centered as they come.  If anything, working has exposed my incompetency, and insecurities.  Why would anyone want to listen to me and take any advice I have?

The only real feasible explanation I have is, my faith keeps me working.  The God in my faith, makes a shocking and not so easy proposition- Lose myself and inherit glory.  This means entering into suffering, sorrow, loneliness, but an ultimate relationship of love and fellowship  Either that or gain my life and forfeit that same glory.  This means being strapped to idols that suffocate- self centeredness, self-actualization, self- promotion, power grabbing, and the life.

Being meek, lowly, and broken are championed virtues in my faith.  That somehow means I got to make it translate into working as well.

I love not feeling like I have to prove something to somebody when I go into the workplace.  Being meek means I can work hard, while not being taken for granted.  Being lowly means there's a vulnerability in how others can treat me- good and bad, which helps facilitate honest and nurturing relationships.  Being broken means I can be present (which is a life skill I plead everyone to develop) and draw out the beauty of the person and the environment.  If you can laugh at yourself, your mistakes, and your inadequacy, that's a valuable work place skill as well.

So, I guess, this is work.  Lately.

My list of successes today

Made it work at the ungodly hour I was supposed to.

was extremely happy I woke up in time to depart my office at 2am.

put deodorant on, probably rolled some on my face.

utilized the face cleansing pad

pants on front side, check

started my route earlier than I did the day before

finished my route earlier and quicker than I did the day before

met a customer's needs by personally delivering to them

got the thumbs up from colleagues about being dependable and competent

prayed for people in my life.

prayed that their relationship with God was the most important one

prayed and smiled that even if it meant not having a relationship with me, it'd still go well.

got distracted and had to backtrack

talked in a weird accent- when you're out by yourself for hours on end you need entertainment

lingered in thought about a person who represents beauty and got a tingle of inspiration

read the bible, thank goodness for Bible Gateway

did that one chore once you got home as a service to the house, knowing how tired I was