So we got our first family cold last week. Right before thanksgiving. My daughter gave the bug to both my wife and me. They, of course, were fine within a day or so, while I got worse. I hadn't been sick in a while, and I didn't want to be sick on Thanksgiving. So, I did the usual, honey-lemon-this-that-and-the-other-thing. I also prayed for healing. Not only did I pray to get better, but to get better by Thanksgiving.
Well, typically, it takes me a week to two weeks to beat a cold, but this time, I refused to settle for anything thing less than recovery on Thursday from the cold that hit me the previous Saturday.
As the days rolled past, I felt myself begin to improve rapidly, almost to my surprise. By Wednesday night, I stopped using my cough drops because I was tired of my mouth tasting like menthol. By Thursday morning, I felt 99% healed. That is what I was thankful for.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Monday, November 13, 2006
The Power of Hope
It has been a while since I’ve made an entry, but a lot has occurred that I had problems deciding which topic to include. So, I have decided to put it all under the umbrellas of the power of hope.
Then Deval Patrick became the first black governor of
Finally, on my unwitting invitation some friends and family came to church last Sunday for my daughter’s dedication. Regardless of their belief or degree of it, they came. It blew me away. That’s the power of hope.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
With Liberty and Justice for All
So, I was in church last Sunday, and the pastor and bishop began politicizing about married folks taking a stand against gay marriage, by a follow-up to the church's rally at the State House last week. The alleged purpose being to lobby the state legislature to allow the question of gay marriage to be put on the ballot for the voters of Massachusetts to vote. I agree with the purpose, but not the means to that end. The people should get to vote on this issue.
To take things further, married couples were asked to stand in support of marriage being between a man and a woman and against… [insert rhetoric about the demon of homosexuality].
This is where I had to take a stand, by sitting down, while my wife stood. On the ride home I explained my position. While she didn't interpret the sermon in the manner that I did, she understood my position.
First and foremost I believe in the separation of church and state. Church leaders should not engage in politics, short of their right to vote, and holders of public office should knock of religious rhetoric, short of practicing their religion.
Now to be clear, I have and do understand that marriage is between a man and a woman. However, I don’t need a definition of marriage added to the constitution to remind me. Furthermore, I don’t support changing the Federal constitution to include a ban against gay marriage. For one thing, it’s unconstitutional on the grounds that the issues of marriage and civil unions are for individual states to decide. Also, I believe that arguments on both extremes of this issue have divisive effects on our communities and nation by further hostility.
Case in point, the pastor continued, relating an incident of a gay rights advocates beating down a sister of the church who handed them a flyer at the previous week’s rally. It was so bad, according to the pastor, that the State Police interceded in her defense and arrest the perpetrators. Talk like that does nothing to unite a people, especially when the story is not an objective one (i.e. all sides of the story).
I felt that first of all, the pastor and leadership could have done more to bring the community together rather than separate it. Because, if the pastor is right in saying only 2% (reported that is) of the population is gay, that would mean at least 100 people in the church were gay, let’s not even start to talk to those who have had a gay experience, or gay attraction, or are on the down-low (i.e. those who say their heterosexual but are really bisexual). 100 people that for whatever reason decided to come to church on that Sunday, maybe for the first time. Subtext of gay-people-are-demons, but-the-rest-of-us-sinners-aren’t, does nothing to bring them closer to Christ.
Second, the King James Version (KJV) of the bible uses "sexual immorality", rather than the more popular "homosexuality" in later versions. The former refers to not only homosexuality, but also includes adultery and fornication. However, adultery and fornication don’t get as much airplay because they are more culturally acceptable and/or indulged in, within and without the church.
As a Christian, I know Jesus would want me to welcome ALL sinners to the church regardless of their sins “for ALL have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23 KJV).
As far as the political debate goes, I don’t believe a ban on gay marriage, legalization of gay marriage, or a definition of marriage is the issue. The New Jersey Supreme Court decision put it best by ruling yesterday, according to the Boston Metro, that same-sex couples are entitled to the same rights as heterosexuals, but not giving an OK to gay marriage, their reason being
To take things further, married couples were asked to stand in support of marriage being between a man and a woman and against… [insert rhetoric about the demon of homosexuality].
This is where I had to take a stand, by sitting down, while my wife stood. On the ride home I explained my position. While she didn't interpret the sermon in the manner that I did, she understood my position.
First and foremost I believe in the separation of church and state. Church leaders should not engage in politics, short of their right to vote, and holders of public office should knock of religious rhetoric, short of practicing their religion.
Now to be clear, I have and do understand that marriage is between a man and a woman. However, I don’t need a definition of marriage added to the constitution to remind me. Furthermore, I don’t support changing the Federal constitution to include a ban against gay marriage. For one thing, it’s unconstitutional on the grounds that the issues of marriage and civil unions are for individual states to decide. Also, I believe that arguments on both extremes of this issue have divisive effects on our communities and nation by further hostility.
Case in point, the pastor continued, relating an incident of a gay rights advocates beating down a sister of the church who handed them a flyer at the previous week’s rally. It was so bad, according to the pastor, that the State Police interceded in her defense and arrest the perpetrators. Talk like that does nothing to unite a people, especially when the story is not an objective one (i.e. all sides of the story).
I felt that first of all, the pastor and leadership could have done more to bring the community together rather than separate it. Because, if the pastor is right in saying only 2% (reported that is) of the population is gay, that would mean at least 100 people in the church were gay, let’s not even start to talk to those who have had a gay experience, or gay attraction, or are on the down-low (i.e. those who say their heterosexual but are really bisexual). 100 people that for whatever reason decided to come to church on that Sunday, maybe for the first time. Subtext of gay-people-are-demons, but-the-rest-of-us-sinners-aren’t, does nothing to bring them closer to Christ.
Second, the King James Version (KJV) of the bible uses "sexual immorality", rather than the more popular "homosexuality" in later versions. The former refers to not only homosexuality, but also includes adultery and fornication. However, adultery and fornication don’t get as much airplay because they are more culturally acceptable and/or indulged in, within and without the church.
As a Christian, I know Jesus would want me to welcome ALL sinners to the church regardless of their sins “for ALL have sinned and come short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23 KJV).
As far as the political debate goes, I don’t believe a ban on gay marriage, legalization of gay marriage, or a definition of marriage is the issue. The New Jersey Supreme Court decision put it best by ruling yesterday, according to the Boston Metro, that same-sex couples are entitled to the same rights as heterosexuals, but not giving an OK to gay marriage, their reason being
“The issue is not about the transformation of the traditional definition of marriage, but about the unequal dispensation of benefits and privileges to one of two similarly situated classes of people.”
Monday, October 16, 2006
No More or Less than what is Right for You
So last weekend I had the pleasure of joining one of my best friends on a motorcycle demo ride. This is where a motorcycle dealership or manufacturer let riders take new models out for a spin in the hopes that a future purchase may be considered. Unlike with cars, it’s never a hard sell. There is absolutely no pressure to buy. It’s really to generate buzz via word-of-mouth about the new models. Plus, they had free BBQ!
Anyway, this was to be a BMW motorcycle demo ride so we were quite excited to have an opportunity to ride all the nice, expensive, and wonderfully engineered Beemers. Even thought BMW isn’t my preferred motorcycle brand, I like them enough to ride them given the opportunity. However, when it comes to motorcycling I’m more of a minimalist. Therefore, things like GPS, cruise control, a 6-CD changer, and heated seats on a motorcycle are way more than I need. I mean if I’m going to have all that, I’d rather be driving a BMW.
Anyway, we discovered that not only did this dealership sell BMW motorcycles, it also sold Ducati Motorcycles. Just to paint a picture, if Ferrari wanted to make motorcycles, they would have named the company Ducati. So, while I could have ridden any BMW I wanted, I decide to ask if I could demo a Ducati, specifically a Ducati Monster. Even though it was a BMW demo ride day the owner obliged me and brought out a brand spanking new, Ducati Monster S2R for my riding pleasure.
After thirty minutes aboard the Ducati, I revved back into the dealership with my friend looking on. For the rest of the day we sounded like the two old ladies in the Citibank ID theft commercial:
“No, no it was like WHAAAAAAA…WHAAAAAAA...WHAAAAAAA”
“Uh-uh, it went BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH
“Fun tho, shoot.”
“Yeah, shoot.”
Anyway, this was to be a BMW motorcycle demo ride so we were quite excited to have an opportunity to ride all the nice, expensive, and wonderfully engineered Beemers. Even thought BMW isn’t my preferred motorcycle brand, I like them enough to ride them given the opportunity. However, when it comes to motorcycling I’m more of a minimalist. Therefore, things like GPS, cruise control, a 6-CD changer, and heated seats on a motorcycle are way more than I need. I mean if I’m going to have all that, I’d rather be driving a BMW.
Anyway, we discovered that not only did this dealership sell BMW motorcycles, it also sold Ducati Motorcycles. Just to paint a picture, if Ferrari wanted to make motorcycles, they would have named the company Ducati. So, while I could have ridden any BMW I wanted, I decide to ask if I could demo a Ducati, specifically a Ducati Monster. Even though it was a BMW demo ride day the owner obliged me and brought out a brand spanking new, Ducati Monster S2R for my riding pleasure.
After thirty minutes aboard the Ducati, I revved back into the dealership with my friend looking on. For the rest of the day we sounded like the two old ladies in the Citibank ID theft commercial:
“No, no it was like WHAAAAAAA…WHAAAAAAA...WHAAAAAAA”
“Uh-uh, it went BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH-BRAAAAH
“Fun tho, shoot.”
“Yeah, shoot.”
Friday, October 06, 2006
My Three Amigos
This week I found myself, wondering about who my friends are, due to a sermon I had heard. Relatives are important, the sermon said, but friends are essential. We have different levels and frequencies of friendship. The sermons asked to select three friend who had been the most exemplary in the past year and why. My three coincidentally, or perhaps not, where my three best friends. If God only gave me three friends, I would pick these three people.
As I looked at my reasons why these friends had top marks. I thought back to my friendship with each and how each has gone beyond the call of duty for a friend. These three friends have done things for me that I’ve needed but would never have the courage to ask. They have also helped me remove specks and logs out of my eyes when needed. We have fought hard, and we’ve played hard. They are people I turn to for serious advice on the big things in life; do I cut the blue wire, or the red wire?
These friends (like me) aren’t perfect, and have done things I haven’t agreed with (and vice-versa), but my relationship with each of these friends is very authentic in that we speak our minds while respecting each other. Most importantly, I strive to be, and I believe I succeed, in being the type of friend to them, that I wish them to be to me.
As I looked at my reasons why these friends had top marks. I thought back to my friendship with each and how each has gone beyond the call of duty for a friend. These three friends have done things for me that I’ve needed but would never have the courage to ask. They have also helped me remove specks and logs out of my eyes when needed. We have fought hard, and we’ve played hard. They are people I turn to for serious advice on the big things in life; do I cut the blue wire, or the red wire?
These friends (like me) aren’t perfect, and have done things I haven’t agreed with (and vice-versa), but my relationship with each of these friends is very authentic in that we speak our minds while respecting each other. Most importantly, I strive to be, and I believe I succeed, in being the type of friend to them, that I wish them to be to me.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
It’s About the Work Stupid
Often I read film and writing magazines, and stumble across articles relating to why the writer writes. While there is almost always an acknowledgment of the need to get paid, and then the joy of getting published, at the core, the reason for the work IS the work.
As a writer of books, poems, short stories, screenplays, and an opera (yes, I wrote an opera once), I must admit to having lost my way as to my reason for writing. I don’t know why or how I lost my way, but my daughter helped me find it again.
Over the last year or so, I’ve started a number of writing project, but have not completed them. I would usually think that the story wasn’t worth publishing because the financial return on investment wouldn’t justify the effort put into writing it. At times, it was the other way around.
With the pending birth of my daughter last summer, I cleared my plate of all writing projects. That’s right; I wrote nothing except this blog. I made way for her addition in my life and figured I probably wouldn’t be able to do anything until 2007. Maybe I would be one of those people who have kids and then stop doing the things whoever hooked up with them and wanted to have kids, found so compelling in the first place.
Then something strange happened. Since I do my best writing at, I found that after my daughter would sleep during my “shift,” I would have pockets of time (a half-hour here, forty-five minutes there) where I would have absolute quiet anywhere between 10:30 P.M. and 2 A.M. When I didn’t use that time to count sheep, I would work on a short-story for a contest that I wanted to enter, more than I wanted to win. I was so engaged in the guidelines that, although I found out about the contest a month before the deadline, I cranked out the final draft and popped it in the mail ten days ahead of schedule. For work I considered rushed, it was decent. I was proud not only that I had a good story, but that I finished it with time to spare. That never happens to me.
I’ve started reading the Letters of Ayn Rand, She's a writer who exemplifies what I mean about the work being paramount. Money is necessary, publication is validating, (both of which I’ve experienced), but it is the passion for the work and what the writer has to say that drives him or her to write when the work is long and hard, when payday isn’t here yet, and your next (of first) publishing is nowhere in site.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
When Your Heart Waxes Cold
Over the last two weeks I’ve spoken to a couple friends and relatives that
have been discouraged in their faith because of despair (e.g. government just keeps getting worse), a hurtful experience (e.g. my wife left me).
That seems to be a widening trend where people feel things are getting worse rather than better. I was a victim of this, until recently. Having a daughter helped with that. Not that I no longer believe that certain things are getting worse, but I believe that certain things are getting better. Also, since I’m here on planet earth and look to be here for the foreseeable future, it’s in my best interest to have faith that there are good people and things in the world, and that things do sometimes get better.
I started to look for my connection between our turbulent times and resurgence in faith. The connection I found was my testimony, particularly how I met my wife. People tell me it’s a beautiful story, but what makes it beautiful to me is not how romantic it may sound, but that it reinforces my belief that prayer works. If you really want something in this life, you should ask, whether it’s catching your train when you’re already late, or a cure for a chronic disease. The only questions are, what you ask for, and from whom.
have been discouraged in their faith because of despair (e.g. government just keeps getting worse), a hurtful experience (e.g. my wife left me).
That seems to be a widening trend where people feel things are getting worse rather than better. I was a victim of this, until recently. Having a daughter helped with that. Not that I no longer believe that certain things are getting worse, but I believe that certain things are getting better. Also, since I’m here on planet earth and look to be here for the foreseeable future, it’s in my best interest to have faith that there are good people and things in the world, and that things do sometimes get better.
I started to look for my connection between our turbulent times and resurgence in faith. The connection I found was my testimony, particularly how I met my wife. People tell me it’s a beautiful story, but what makes it beautiful to me is not how romantic it may sound, but that it reinforces my belief that prayer works. If you really want something in this life, you should ask, whether it’s catching your train when you’re already late, or a cure for a chronic disease. The only questions are, what you ask for, and from whom.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Remembering the Lessons of 9/11
It's been five years and I haven't forgotten. I still have the MTA pass and receipt from when I took the subway from the World Trade Center on September 8, 2001. I checked out of the Marriott World Trade Center on September 9, 2001 and will remember that weekend as one of the best ever in New York.
Looking back now, I have done all the things I promised to do, like stomping out negativity when it attempts to encroach on my well being. I'm now a father and husband. I am more intimate with Boston than ever.
This year, I wasn't interested in re-living anything. For the first time, I wanted to read stories of how people hand transfored their lives since then. It was refreshing. Some of the key things I gleaned:
1) Count everyday as a blessing
2) If there anything you want to do in this life, get on it, no matter how lofty
3) Work on global goodwill
My faith is stonger than it was five years ago. I still ask God why, why I ended up
with a piece of the World Trade Center and its history? I thank him for the heads-up,
and pray for those left in the wake of the tragedy.
Looking back now, I have done all the things I promised to do, like stomping out negativity when it attempts to encroach on my well being. I'm now a father and husband. I am more intimate with Boston than ever.
This year, I wasn't interested in re-living anything. For the first time, I wanted to read stories of how people hand transfored their lives since then. It was refreshing. Some of the key things I gleaned:
1) Count everyday as a blessing
2) If there anything you want to do in this life, get on it, no matter how lofty
3) Work on global goodwill
My faith is stonger than it was five years ago. I still ask God why, why I ended up
with a piece of the World Trade Center and its history? I thank him for the heads-up,
and pray for those left in the wake of the tragedy.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Revelations
It started off as a psalm to my daughter. However, Psalm 38, it turned out, was really for me. That night as I slept, I found myself in the realm between sleeping and waking. The realm where one is aware and can control one’s spirit (i.e. out of body experience). I will my spirit to move to test if I was truly in that realm. Once I was sure, I decide as I always do, to stop playing with my spirit before I scared myself to much.
Suddenly, I felt a great evil spirit around me. Then I felt that evil spirit suffocating me. It took the form of the silhouette of someone very dear to me. However, I was not deceived and the façade soon shattered. I tried to escape its grip with my own ability, but I could not. Finally, as I realized my efforts were in vain, I began praying to the Lord, thanking him for his revelations, and asking him to forgive any trespasses I may have been guilty of.
As I prayed, the darkness of the evil spirit began to fade and I began to regain my breath. I then slipped into a long dream. I was in the city of Salvador, Bahia in Brazil (salvador is Portuguese for "savior") and I was at a party with family and friends. However, there was a lot of turmoil at the party, so I left to wander the city to clear my head.
On my way, I met a guide who took me to a part of Salvador I had never been to in real life (not as it was represented anyway); a church at the top of a great hill. Scores of locals and visitors from a dozen countries strolled through the square in front of the church, which was lined with colorful streamers and banners as if for a festival.
Suddenly the church bells tolled, and everyone stopped where they were and began kneeling or making the sign of the cross and praising God. In confusion, I asked my guide what was going on. He started to tell me that it was a time in honor of the Lord to give thanks for his revelation of…and then all I could hear were the church bells. I instantly understood, and got down on my knees and began praising God.
Suddenly, I felt a great evil spirit around me. Then I felt that evil spirit suffocating me. It took the form of the silhouette of someone very dear to me. However, I was not deceived and the façade soon shattered. I tried to escape its grip with my own ability, but I could not. Finally, as I realized my efforts were in vain, I began praying to the Lord, thanking him for his revelations, and asking him to forgive any trespasses I may have been guilty of.
As I prayed, the darkness of the evil spirit began to fade and I began to regain my breath. I then slipped into a long dream. I was in the city of Salvador, Bahia in Brazil (salvador is Portuguese for "savior") and I was at a party with family and friends. However, there was a lot of turmoil at the party, so I left to wander the city to clear my head.
On my way, I met a guide who took me to a part of Salvador I had never been to in real life (not as it was represented anyway); a church at the top of a great hill. Scores of locals and visitors from a dozen countries strolled through the square in front of the church, which was lined with colorful streamers and banners as if for a festival.
Suddenly the church bells tolled, and everyone stopped where they were and began kneeling or making the sign of the cross and praising God. In confusion, I asked my guide what was going on. He started to tell me that it was a time in honor of the Lord to give thanks for his revelation of…and then all I could hear were the church bells. I instantly understood, and got down on my knees and began praising God.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Help
The lasts two weeks since my daughter has been born, I have received more help on more levels than I know what to do with some days. Some help has been needed, other help prayed for, and still some help volunteered.
I’ve learned help is relative. The helper has a different perspective than the helpee (to invent a word). There are issues of if the help has been asked for, if the help is the right kind of help, if the help is too little or too much. All of this takes experience, tact, and maybe the help of Miss Manners.
Too much help, especially when the help has a recognized monetary value, can become awkward for the helpee. It can become awkward for both helper and helpee if the reason or terms for the help are not verbalized and understood.
The best help comes from God because the help is right in time and exactly what one needs. For example, one morning at work, I was attempting to send a FedEx package to a customer and was unfamiliar with the process within the company as it had recently changed and I had never utilize the service. After searching on the company intranet site and through all my e-mails for instructions, and finding no FedEx waybill in our mailing area, I became frustrated and thought, Lord…sort this out.
Less than a minute later a colleague came by, seemingly with no destination in mind, and I greeted him. He offered me congrats on my daughter’s birth and I asked him how his project load was. Like a bolt of lightning it hit me: this colleague used to work in the mailroom and was the perfect person that could tell me exactly what I needed to know. Not only did he happily tell me what I needed to do, he got me the new company waybill and told me how I needed to fill it out and who needed to authorize my overnight shipment with their signature.
Moments after my colleague left, and I continued to fill the waybill. The colleague who could authorize my shipment walked out of the office right across the corridor from mine. Unbelievable, I praised, as I excitedly called him over. He graciously signed the waybill and I sent my shipment out. I thanked him, and then I thank HIM for sending help right in time.
I’ve learned help is relative. The helper has a different perspective than the helpee (to invent a word). There are issues of if the help has been asked for, if the help is the right kind of help, if the help is too little or too much. All of this takes experience, tact, and maybe the help of Miss Manners.
Too much help, especially when the help has a recognized monetary value, can become awkward for the helpee. It can become awkward for both helper and helpee if the reason or terms for the help are not verbalized and understood.
The best help comes from God because the help is right in time and exactly what one needs. For example, one morning at work, I was attempting to send a FedEx package to a customer and was unfamiliar with the process within the company as it had recently changed and I had never utilize the service. After searching on the company intranet site and through all my e-mails for instructions, and finding no FedEx waybill in our mailing area, I became frustrated and thought, Lord…sort this out.
Less than a minute later a colleague came by, seemingly with no destination in mind, and I greeted him. He offered me congrats on my daughter’s birth and I asked him how his project load was. Like a bolt of lightning it hit me: this colleague used to work in the mailroom and was the perfect person that could tell me exactly what I needed to know. Not only did he happily tell me what I needed to do, he got me the new company waybill and told me how I needed to fill it out and who needed to authorize my overnight shipment with their signature.
Moments after my colleague left, and I continued to fill the waybill. The colleague who could authorize my shipment walked out of the office right across the corridor from mine. Unbelievable, I praised, as I excitedly called him over. He graciously signed the waybill and I sent my shipment out. I thanked him, and then I thank HIM for sending help right in time.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Through the Looking Glass
Everyone said, “once you have a kid, your life will never be the same,” or some variation thereof. Of course they’re right. However, it’s an understatement if not a misnomer. Yes, my life is different, and I do feel different. However more accurately, I feel as if I’m in an alternate version of my previous reality.
I still live in the same place, but the furniture is arranged quite differently. I still sleep, but in a different bed, at different times, for different periods of times. I still eat, but I eat smaller quantities, and simpler meals, within shorter timeframes. I also drink much more water than I used to. I still wear earplugs, expect in one ear now so I can hear the baby. I also watch much, much less television than I did, which wasn’t much in the first place.
I’ve been fortunately that I have enough of life behind me that I feel I’ve arrived right on time to parenthood. And oh…between you
and me, although I sleep less, I sleep better.
I still live in the same place, but the furniture is arranged quite differently. I still sleep, but in a different bed, at different times, for different periods of times. I still eat, but I eat smaller quantities, and simpler meals, within shorter timeframes. I also drink much more water than I used to. I still wear earplugs, expect in one ear now so I can hear the baby. I also watch much, much less television than I did, which wasn’t much in the first place.
I’ve been fortunately that I have enough of life behind me that I feel I’ve arrived right on time to parenthood. And oh…between you
and me, although I sleep less, I sleep better.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Allowing Yourself To Be Led.
In American society, allowing one to be led instead of leading tends to be viewed as negative. At times, it is. However, there are times where the next step on one’s path in life requires allowing oneself to be led.
We all have our lists of what we’d like to accomplish in life, whether written or just in the ether of our minds. Our saving grace is that most people I’ve talked to, if not all (in my age group) are still working on their list. It’s part of what give us momentum. As it should be I suppose.
I used to think that once I had completed my written list that I was done with the driving and striving and could finally slow down and bask in the afterglow. Then, of course I could start worrying about what to do with the rest of my life.
After just about completing my list (I’ve got one more item to check off in the next week or so), and the time it has taken to completed the last item on it, I’ve come to realize that 1) there are two classifications of lists, and 2) Your life is the journey to fulfill your lists, whether or not you complete them. 3) Everybody has two lists, but not everyone is aware that he or she does.
There is a worldly list, and a spiritual list. The worldly list consists of things you can achieve yourself or through your solitary effort and of things which you are the single or main beneficiary. The spiritual list consists of things you can’t achieve by yourself or through your solitary efforts and of things of which you are not the beneficiary or main beneficiary.
These two lists apply regardless of your religious beliefs. If it helps you can substitute “worldly” with tangible, and "spiritual" with intangible.
For clear examples some things on my worldly list were getting a motorcycle, living in Florida, and being a parent. Examples on my spiritual list: finding a wife and Revitalizing Nigeria.
Now to be clear, one list isn’t necessary better than the other. In fact, I would say a worldly list is important in developing or realizing a spiritual list. There are also list item that can be argued for belonging to either worldly or spiritual list. In the end, I believe long term fulfillment in life comes from developing a worldly list and being led to realize a spiritual list.
We all have our lists of what we’d like to accomplish in life, whether written or just in the ether of our minds. Our saving grace is that most people I’ve talked to, if not all (in my age group) are still working on their list. It’s part of what give us momentum. As it should be I suppose.
I used to think that once I had completed my written list that I was done with the driving and striving and could finally slow down and bask in the afterglow. Then, of course I could start worrying about what to do with the rest of my life.
After just about completing my list (I’ve got one more item to check off in the next week or so), and the time it has taken to completed the last item on it, I’ve come to realize that 1) there are two classifications of lists, and 2) Your life is the journey to fulfill your lists, whether or not you complete them. 3) Everybody has two lists, but not everyone is aware that he or she does.
There is a worldly list, and a spiritual list. The worldly list consists of things you can achieve yourself or through your solitary effort and of things which you are the single or main beneficiary. The spiritual list consists of things you can’t achieve by yourself or through your solitary efforts and of things of which you are not the beneficiary or main beneficiary.
These two lists apply regardless of your religious beliefs. If it helps you can substitute “worldly” with tangible, and "spiritual" with intangible.
For clear examples some things on my worldly list were getting a motorcycle, living in Florida, and being a parent. Examples on my spiritual list: finding a wife and Revitalizing Nigeria.
Now to be clear, one list isn’t necessary better than the other. In fact, I would say a worldly list is important in developing or realizing a spiritual list. There are also list item that can be argued for belonging to either worldly or spiritual list. In the end, I believe long term fulfillment in life comes from developing a worldly list and being led to realize a spiritual list.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
888-DIAPERS
No this isn't a toll-free number you call about diapers. It was the number of newborn diapers my wife and I were blessed with. You see at our last childbirth class our instructor told us that we would no longer be meeting in our regular building because it would be demolished and rebuilt. Because of this, she advised up to take as many baby samplers and expectant parent kits as we want as she would not have space of it in her new office in the new location.
So, at the end of class, most couple grabbed maybe three to ten packs. The instructor was surprised, as there had been no ambiguity in her "please take it all." Finally, ourselves and another couple were the last to leave as we were apparently familiar with the cost of baby bottles, baby laundry detergent, and most importantly diapers. We all started filling BOXES.
Well, like the lepers in 2 Kings 7:8 that came upon the treasure of the Aramean camp, we found that there were more diapers than we could possibly carry and had to return to get the rest. By the time we were done, we ended of with 888 diapers! Praise the Lord.
So, at the end of class, most couple grabbed maybe three to ten packs. The instructor was surprised, as there had been no ambiguity in her "please take it all." Finally, ourselves and another couple were the last to leave as we were apparently familiar with the cost of baby bottles, baby laundry detergent, and most importantly diapers. We all started filling BOXES.
Well, like the lepers in 2 Kings 7:8 that came upon the treasure of the Aramean camp, we found that there were more diapers than we could possibly carry and had to return to get the rest. By the time we were done, we ended of with 888 diapers! Praise the Lord.
Friday, July 21, 2006
I Had A Close Call Yesterday, Jah Put An Angel Over Me
About a week ago my wife and I, plus my cousin from Brazil, were on our way to our childbirth class. Suddenly the car ahead of me, a BMW, screeched to a halt and then crashed into the car ahead of it. With a controlled reaction, giving me more time than I needed, I slowly applied the brake until my car came to a crawl. On instinct I looked in my rear mirror and could see the car behind me hurtling toward us. Instantly, I released my break just enough for my car to roll forward and give the car behind me time to stop.
As I waited for my heartbeat to slow down, I realized that three cars were involved in the accident ahead of us. Also, it occured to me that I had passed the street I should have turned on. If I had been going where I should have been, I wouldn't even had seen the accident. But, if not for the accident, I would have not realized I had missed my turn until much later.
As I waited for my heartbeat to slow down, I realized that three cars were involved in the accident ahead of us. Also, it occured to me that I had passed the street I should have turned on. If I had been going where I should have been, I wouldn't even had seen the accident. But, if not for the accident, I would have not realized I had missed my turn until much later.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
The Beautiful Game
The month-ending July 9th, this Sunday, will end what I can only describe as a vacation, in-spite of having to work extra hours, becoming a father in six weeks, and taking part-time care of my mother and sister, post kidney transplant.
The 2006 World Cup has been a gift from God. It has helped lift my morale and forced me to relax. Regardless of how bad my workday has gone, or the lack of sleep, or the plethora of worry about my sister’s and mother’s recoveries, I know that watching the up coming match will cool whatever the summer heat has brought.
Even in Cote d’Ivoire, the warring factions pressed paused if only to revel in the possibility of their national team advancing to the Round-of-16.
I have been filled with a passion and excitement that persist through the hard couple of past weeks. Watching Zidane, Ronaldinho, Figo, and the rest remind us what is so beautiful not only about football, but life: the ability to universally defy the ordinary.
The 2006 World Cup has been a gift from God. It has helped lift my morale and forced me to relax. Regardless of how bad my workday has gone, or the lack of sleep, or the plethora of worry about my sister’s and mother’s recoveries, I know that watching the up coming match will cool whatever the summer heat has brought.
Even in Cote d’Ivoire, the warring factions pressed paused if only to revel in the possibility of their national team advancing to the Round-of-16.
I have been filled with a passion and excitement that persist through the hard couple of past weeks. Watching Zidane, Ronaldinho, Figo, and the rest remind us what is so beautiful not only about football, but life: the ability to universally defy the ordinary.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Happy Farther’s Day Uncle
Saturday before last was my wife’s surprise baby shower. It also happened to be Father’s Day but I had been so busy with subterfuge in keeping the surprise in surprise baby shower that I had forgotten.
During the Jack and Jill event (that means boys can come too, as my niece would say), I receive a large (11” x 17”), homemade card from my niece that read “Happy Farther’s Day Uncle, Number 1 Uncle/Farther.” It had a yellow background with black diagonal stripe, with a large “F” on the bottom, and a caricature of myself at the top-left.
When I reach out to grab it, my niece told me she had to read it first. Quite nervously she began as a room of about twenty listened on:
Thank you Uncle
For coming to my open house…letting me sleep over…caring for me…helping me when I need it...taking me out for breakfast…holding me…carrying…taking me places when mommy can’t...inviting [my friend] to your baby shower…teaching me to clean…coming to my sixth birthday…for my first dollar on my birthday…taking me to the beach…being funny…letting my use your computer…thinking I can do it when I say, “I can’t”…making aunty my aunt…believing in me…leaving your love with me...being with me…caring for me…taking me to the museum…teaching me…putting me to sleep…helping me with my shoe laces…thank you for always helping me.
The room was stunned. Not only because this particular niece has written the card herself, but the things she was thanking me for spanned at least three years. Of course my wife was bawling her eyes out (hormones nonewithstanding).
As I went back in my minds eye and looked back over the last twelve years of being a surrogate dad to my nieces, I realized in spite of my reservation about how kids are faring in today’s world we parents and surrogates must continue fighting in the name of love for all children. Children notice and it does make a difference.
During the Jack and Jill event (that means boys can come too, as my niece would say), I receive a large (11” x 17”), homemade card from my niece that read “Happy Farther’s Day Uncle, Number 1 Uncle/Farther.” It had a yellow background with black diagonal stripe, with a large “F” on the bottom, and a caricature of myself at the top-left.
When I reach out to grab it, my niece told me she had to read it first. Quite nervously she began as a room of about twenty listened on:
Thank you Uncle
For coming to my open house…letting me sleep over…caring for me…helping me when I need it...taking me out for breakfast…holding me…carrying…taking me places when mommy can’t...inviting [my friend] to your baby shower…teaching me to clean…coming to my sixth birthday…for my first dollar on my birthday…taking me to the beach…being funny…letting my use your computer…thinking I can do it when I say, “I can’t”…making aunty my aunt…believing in me…leaving your love with me...being with me…caring for me…taking me to the museum…teaching me…putting me to sleep…helping me with my shoe laces…thank you for always helping me.
The room was stunned. Not only because this particular niece has written the card herself, but the things she was thanking me for spanned at least three years. Of course my wife was bawling her eyes out (hormones nonewithstanding).
As I went back in my minds eye and looked back over the last twelve years of being a surrogate dad to my nieces, I realized in spite of my reservation about how kids are faring in today’s world we parents and surrogates must continue fighting in the name of love for all children. Children notice and it does make a difference.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Bless Those Who Piss You Off
Yes, I know. The scripture in the book of Romans actually reads, "Bless those who curse you." However, we all know it could also mean, bless those who piss you off. A member of my Florida bible study group, who I'll call M, used to testify about how she would always pray for her boss inspite of his abrasive and cantankerous behaviour.
While M and her boss would have it out, at the end of the day, when he did show restraint M colleagues would thank her for having prayed.
I've recently learned through personal experience, that we can change the behavior of people who piss off us, by blessing them. Those people won't or may never be any more pleasant that before. However, you will find that you can deal with them better and that they might even apologize for their behavior and give a gift of appreciation. Try it and see.
While M and her boss would have it out, at the end of the day, when he did show restraint M colleagues would thank her for having prayed.
I've recently learned through personal experience, that we can change the behavior of people who piss off us, by blessing them. Those people won't or may never be any more pleasant that before. However, you will find that you can deal with them better and that they might even apologize for their behavior and give a gift of appreciation. Try it and see.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Thirty Years to Life
I was on the way to work thinking that I had about thirty year of 9-to-5-ing left if I continued on my current path. Nothing wrong with the track per-se, but I am at what I feel is the zenith. In plain English, I have the perfect 9-to-5. The job is perfect, the job title, the company, the location, and the commute. Everything is perfect, for a 9-to-5. However, it occurred to me as it has in the last couple of weeks than I was ready for more. Ready to be on the other side of the desk. I’ll get to that another day perhaps.
When I got to my connecting station a guy about my age in a suit and tie suddenly struck up a conversation with, you mean thirty more years of this @#$#?
I said, “huh?” just to make sure he hadn’t been reading my mind, or I his.
Thirty more years for shuffling to drudgery, he continued.
“I hear ya,” I told him. He then asked me what I thought about his comment. I told him humorously (a la Beatles) that maybe that (working for the next thirty years) was what happens while you’re making other plans.
He then asked me where I worked, and vice-versa. I had heard of his company and told him I knew a few people who worked there years back.
He replied, “if they don’t work there anymore, I can understand why.” As we parted for different trains he seemed to cheer up. So did I.
If we both, God willing, have thirty years to life, we can spend it making plans. Plans to live with more meaning. Plans to experience more passion. Plans to love and be loved. Plans to help. Plans to heal. Plans to forgive. Plans to repent. Plans to be better people, so that regardless of how those years turn out, we know we had a life of our choosing.
When I got to my connecting station a guy about my age in a suit and tie suddenly struck up a conversation with, you mean thirty more years of this @#$#?
I said, “huh?” just to make sure he hadn’t been reading my mind, or I his.
Thirty more years for shuffling to drudgery, he continued.
“I hear ya,” I told him. He then asked me what I thought about his comment. I told him humorously (a la Beatles) that maybe that (working for the next thirty years) was what happens while you’re making other plans.
He then asked me where I worked, and vice-versa. I had heard of his company and told him I knew a few people who worked there years back.
He replied, “if they don’t work there anymore, I can understand why.” As we parted for different trains he seemed to cheer up. So did I.
If we both, God willing, have thirty years to life, we can spend it making plans. Plans to live with more meaning. Plans to experience more passion. Plans to love and be loved. Plans to help. Plans to heal. Plans to forgive. Plans to repent. Plans to be better people, so that regardless of how those years turn out, we know we had a life of our choosing.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
When You're Sick
I've always felt that when I got sick it was for a reason. The reason I usually muse is that God wants to have a special conversation with me, and that I will be sick as long as it takes his message to get across.
So, yeah, I'm sick. I fought it for a while, but finally yesterday afternoon I bit the bullet. I was forced to truly relax, and get rest. Relaxing meant letting my wife "mother" me. It also gave me a feel of what she's been going through being pregnant. Not that I know what it feels like to be pregnant, but I know how it feel to feel like crap longer than one would like.
I went to bed about 11:30 p.m. and didn't get up until 12:00 p.m. The last time I slept like that, I had influenza.
I made a promise to myself that I would have more patience with the misses, and emphathize with what she's going through.
So, yeah, I'm sick. I fought it for a while, but finally yesterday afternoon I bit the bullet. I was forced to truly relax, and get rest. Relaxing meant letting my wife "mother" me. It also gave me a feel of what she's been going through being pregnant. Not that I know what it feels like to be pregnant, but I know how it feel to feel like crap longer than one would like.
I went to bed about 11:30 p.m. and didn't get up until 12:00 p.m. The last time I slept like that, I had influenza.
I made a promise to myself that I would have more patience with the misses, and emphathize with what she's going through.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Time for Play at Park Street
Every once in a while God has to intervene to insure I take a break. A break from my thinking, number crunching, reading, reading, and reading to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
This break was at Park Street earlier this week. I was taking a connecting train at Park Street station reading one of my non-fiction tomes as a source of motivation and inspiration. A sparse collection of commuters waited on the outbound platforms as we had all just missed the last train by a hair.
I lifted my head to notice a well-dressed, bespectacled man in his sixties with a guitar. He seemed out of place. Like he should have been the head of a hacienda in peru or something. Other commuters began to notice as well. This wasn't the typical "artiste."
His warm smile and small stature made him look (behind his microphone) like he was about to begin a spelling bee championship. He carefully brought his fingers to his guitar and paused right before his large fingers touched them, as if to warn the strings of what was about to come.
As the first cords echoed against the subway walls like a nostalgic love story he had more of my attention and more than a few commuters'. When his seasoned alto voice accompanied his playing, more heads turned to watch and I found I just couldn't get back into my book. I was hooked. Soon, as the platform began to fill, more heads turned toward this grandfather-figure as he delved into his ballad ..mi entrega....
Soon a burly white guy in his early forties put a few coins in the guitarista's case. Then a young man puts in some bills. Then a woman and her young daughter. And
another, and another. I wish I could have put in some money. However, he was on
the middle platform and I was not. Funny enough, my wallet was empty anyway.
I wanted a CD. Arrgh. I couldn't help but smile as the old man played, and soon about sixty commuters were smiling or/and staring in awe as he belted out his song. It was like falling in love for the first time.
Finally, at the end of the cresendo of his song, he received a resounding applause.
Twenty years taking the Red Line, and I've never seen or heard an ovation like that.
This break was at Park Street earlier this week. I was taking a connecting train at Park Street station reading one of my non-fiction tomes as a source of motivation and inspiration. A sparse collection of commuters waited on the outbound platforms as we had all just missed the last train by a hair.
I lifted my head to notice a well-dressed, bespectacled man in his sixties with a guitar. He seemed out of place. Like he should have been the head of a hacienda in peru or something. Other commuters began to notice as well. This wasn't the typical "artiste."
His warm smile and small stature made him look (behind his microphone) like he was about to begin a spelling bee championship. He carefully brought his fingers to his guitar and paused right before his large fingers touched them, as if to warn the strings of what was about to come.
As the first cords echoed against the subway walls like a nostalgic love story he had more of my attention and more than a few commuters'. When his seasoned alto voice accompanied his playing, more heads turned to watch and I found I just couldn't get back into my book. I was hooked. Soon, as the platform began to fill, more heads turned toward this grandfather-figure as he delved into his ballad ..mi entrega....
Soon a burly white guy in his early forties put a few coins in the guitarista's case. Then a young man puts in some bills. Then a woman and her young daughter. And
another, and another. I wish I could have put in some money. However, he was on
the middle platform and I was not. Funny enough, my wallet was empty anyway.
I wanted a CD. Arrgh. I couldn't help but smile as the old man played, and soon about sixty commuters were smiling or/and staring in awe as he belted out his song. It was like falling in love for the first time.
Finally, at the end of the cresendo of his song, he received a resounding applause.
Twenty years taking the Red Line, and I've never seen or heard an ovation like that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)