Sally’s Friend
Just another WordPress.com weblogArchive for January, 2004
and yet another rant
Father, what do I say to them? What can I tell them that they will understand?
I have just started to type and kept on typing-
What can I share with them that they will see and know and be with me here…
The air is cold. Freezing to me. To others who come from places more northern than my hometown,
it is not so bad, a bit chilly and I have heard someone say that it is warm.
Notice the difference in opinion about the same place, the same weather.
This is a clear example as to the way that individuals work.
We live in the same place, we breath the same air, we do the same kinds of
things in the same town with each other and yet
we are living an altogether different life.
Enjoying altogether different experiences.
Feeling altogether a different winter than the next one
and this is just a simple example.
Think about the issues of marriage and family, worship, communion with God and every
other important issue concerning the Bible and the beliefs that we try to live about it.
Imagine if you would a group of workers following the same book but who had altogether
different ideas about the way that the Author of that book had meant it to be…
(this is not exactly true of this place)
This is an extreme example and can be true in a church or ministry where all its members
or workers have grown up in the same area of the world but throw in the ‘International card’
Consider that everything were seen differnetly…
Of course you would hope that the issues that matter most we could agree upon but
sometimes we do not agree on what these issues are and where exactly are you then?
Humans, we are quite the mess and yet He still chooses to use us, to love us, to show,
to let us in to that place where He is all Holy and wonderful and full of Himself.
Not that kind of full of Himself silly-
Perfection with perfect Justice and Mercy and a zillion bits more of considerably
-beyond comprehension- more is by all means allowed to be that- but He is not-
I know somehow that this is true. Because He loves us before- He sent His Son before-
He gave it all up- before- so that we might come to the knowledge of Him (Christ)
and be saved by Grace and not by works…
I thought that I would sit down and try to work on my newsletter.
Long overdue- long overdue…
but no, no I have written a bit of a rant- and bit of a blog and so that is what had
become and so that is exactly what it is
Peace,
me
ON COMMUNICATION
“There is more than enough script out there for all of us by now.” he said.
“Yep, true that.” Martin was nodding again. Always one to agree, I thought.
Mr. NeeKettle was climbing out of the car now. He was grinning and looking quite satisfied with his argument against the New Script proposal that my wobbly design staffer and I had just pitched. But seeing him grin and watch the traffic pass, I was not altogether sure that he was there with us at all. He tended to leave us in mid-conversation quite often and as that was a bother in nearly every circumstance it was quite a danger to a designers career not to mention his businesses mere survival.
Of course he himself had no idea how badly things had turned and now it was my job as his support staff design chief to open his eyes, if that were possible at all. The last to try was now working at Sam’s club selling cold meat sandwiches to mommy’s and their brats for fourteen hours a day for less than seven dollars an hour. I had to try, no matter what happened, even if he did not fire me for popping his bubble it wouldn’t be long until it was both of us asking, “Do you want mayonnaise or mustard on that?”
So I began again. “We are in the middle of one thing and moving fast into another thing sir. We have to keep up with the times if we want to succeed and at the rate we are moving,”
Going to pass out ok, breathe…
“ I mean, the way that we have been adjusting to change in design we are barely keeping our heads above water sir.” He was still grinning. It is now or never, if I don’t tell him we are all up the creek for good. “Sir, begging your pardon, we may not last the year if we do not do something drastic…”
Okay, bring out the big guns…
“What I am trying to say is this, your house, car, your wives bridge games at the club, your daughters at Stanford; they all depend on this years sales, this years sales!”
I heard my voice rise and screech at the end, yes, it was an actual screech. He would get it or he would fire me but something had to change, it had to be said.
He looked up and his eyes widened, his face was a little red; there it was, I thought, the lights went on! Had he gotten it? Had he listened with comprehension? Tears welled up in his eyes. Maybe I had gone too far, no it was right to tell him the truth. He has been living blind for years…my responsibility…was he going to cry?
Was he actually going to cry? Oh my…Then before my brain could tell my feet to take a step back he bent over them and coughed up a peanut.
He had been choking. He had not heard a word that I had said in the last thirty seconds. Martin was patting his back and giving me a dreadful look. “I am sorry, Maureen,(cough) you will have to repeat all that, but wait til…(more coughing)we get back inside would you dear?”
I felt the blood leave my face and did not realize that I had fainted until my face hit the car.
what i leave behind
January 1, 2004
If I were to die today, this very moment, I wonder what people would find out about me from the things that I leave behind. Would all my notes reveal something bad or something good?
What would some think of the crap I have accumulated in box and bag? What would my things tell the world about me? This would be the end of me- they would have no more of me- what would they all (my family and friends) be left with?
What exactly would they find?
They would find some tattered clothes. They would find a shelf of books, more unread than read. They would find notebooks full of scribbling and papers and trash. They would find my debt. It is my constant hateful companion.
Of all the things that others would find this, my debt, is the thing that I am ashamed of most. Never mind the contents of my bag. Never mind the thoughts revealed in countless sheets and pages. Forget about the questions and revealed struggles in pages here and there, as these are only these, questions and struggles as much of the worst I have been too afraid to ask or share.
There is worse I am afraid, the worst, it is the denial.
The coming near to the table of truth and the- time and time again- describing of something other than what is really there. I will tell of shapes and colour but not the details of texture and substance.
Yes, there is my failure, my utter failure, not telling the whole truth.
I do not want the world to know, and perhaps I do not want myself to know that I am….
See it is gone. I started to tell, I had the words just here, in the palm of my hand, and a wind has come and there it is, my truth, flying away from me.
How can this be?
What is it in me that can cause such a thing?
Where is truth Father?
Who is the teller?
If it is not I, than who is it that decides what is looked at? Who decides what is shared and what is hidden behind backs and in the walls?
This will be a year of truth.
I declare it now.
I will not go searching but I will not hide any longer. Experience has told me that the searching is often dangerous to my mind but truth I stumble upon when I am trying best not to find it. Does that make sense? For me it does- for now. I will figure out why.
I will say what it is that I will say and I will be as I am, faults and strengths, and there will be no more ‘bad’ pretence. This will cost me something. This, I am afraid will cost me everything.
I am sure that some will misunderstand. It is just that I have lived my entire life pretending something or another. There were a few months of pure truth, though often foolish, just after I came back to follow Jesus. Then I started to care what people thought. I started to fear what they may think. I started to admire men. I started to want to be admired.
No more!
Let this be a year of careful thought. Let this be a year of slow and deliberate speech. Let this be the year of regarding others above myself and overcoming evil with good.
Let this be the Year that I live and the fear spends itself on nothing until it dwindles to vapour.
Let this be the year the writer really writes.
Amen.
