Six Hours in the Air

Flying is not my favorite pastime. It has not improved in the last few years. Seats have gotten smaller (really), and the overhead baggage compartments are now the size of glove compartments. Its rather like being forced to be part of a big cattle drive. Gobs of people of all sorts and flavors mill about anxiously, then stampede the gate when their flight is called. You are run down a gangplank into the bin of the plane and swatted along by others until you get crammed into your assigned slot, which is, of course, never big enough to accommodate you *and* the big fat cow seated next to you. You play elbow war until someone wins, then its a matter of hanging on until the trip ends and round two begins (because of course there are no direct flights to wherever it is you want to be). Can you tell I do not care to fly?

This trip didn't involve the usual two hours to get through the security lines (how did that happen?), and I have learned to just not take any liquid anything that might cause you to get pulled out of line and strip searched in full view of the entire world. The new wrinkle was the tighter restrictions on luggage. You can check one small bag (under 50 pounds), and carry on a VERY SMALL single bag. A purse may in fact be too large.

On one leg of the trip, ALL bags were forcibly taken from us at the door of the plane and checked 'curbside' for later retrieval. Women were fussing about medicine, men were balking about computers. The stewardesses were adamant. There is no room. How could that be? There has always been room. But once we were on the plane, we realized they were telling us the truth. Have they added a row of seats? Did they remodel and remove the luggage space?

You felt somehow violated, ill at ease. Is this some small taste of what Jews experienced as they were forced aboard trains, and their stuff was taken from them? Would we end up in a bad place? Sure, they try to make nice by offering you food for sale. Used to be you were provided a free meal. Then they removed all meals, and you only got a drink if you were lucky. Now the meals are back, but you only get one if you pay for it.

In the midst of all this angst, I reached up to hold God's hand, like a little girl feeling awkward and shy at a new school where you haven't learned the rules yet and all the faces are strange. He was right there. And though the airlines have eliminated all flights that aren't completely full (I know because they changed my plans three times before the date of departure), I managed to sit next to the *only* empty seat on the plane. It was a welcome relief. My comfort zones are always challenged on planes. I wouldn't do well in third world countries!

Six hours of cramped quarters was about all I could endure. I was happy that I could go directly to the hotel, unpack, and take a walk. Thank the good Lord for getting me there safely and even, for the most part, on time. Whew! Now if I can just get used to the three hour time difference, things will be swell.

Packing

Just once I would like to be able to pack for a trip well in advance and not wait until the last possible moment. I tried, really. I started on the weekend, thinking what would travel well, what would be comfortable in the warmer climate of Arizona, what would mix and match to make it seem as if I had a bigger wardrobe than I do. But life kept intervening. So many details to take care of before I am free to leave. I have to replace myself at the circ desk, at the ref desk, in my teaching responsibilities, in my church conducting, in the carpool driving, as a mom in caring for Drew - the list is endless! It takes a good dozen people to fill all those little slots. If I wasn't looking forward to going so much, I would just forget the whole thing.

And of course, today I have seminary classes in the evening, so I can't even begin to prepare until after 10pm. Can't really think that far ahead. But at long last I am home, I put stuff in a suitcase, including a ream of copies of the pages of reading I need to do for class next week, and copies of the pages I read last week from which I need to write a (coherent) paper. Right.

I know airline travel is trickier these days. I don't bring much. I recall with a grin my first professional conference. I think I took two big suitcases stuffed full. Silly. Now I don't even fill my little half suitcase, and my carry on bag is small. I keep one eye on the clock. I need to be up and at it by 5:30, to the airport by 6am. So getting to bed before midnight is rather advisable.

Just to be sure, I set the alarm. I never need one, really. I don't know why, but I have always been able to tell myself at night what time I need to be up, and I just wake up about ten minutes beforehand. But when so much is riding on it and I have been delayed about getting to bed, better safe than sorry.

I think of people who have had to leave home in a hurry, who didn't have time to pack - flood, fire, volcano, tsunami, war. I recall the Bible verse about when the end times hit, don't even go back inside to get a sweater - just run for the hills. Deep breath. I wonder why on earth I decided to go to this conference! There is a reason, I am sure of it. Perhaps I will even find out why. But for now, there is no help for it, I am committed. So I climb wearily into bed and focus on the good things about being in Arizona. Morning will come soon enough.

I Heart You

Another dreary Monday morning. Carpool kids snoozing comfortably as I wend my way down Westside Drive, heading for the 390/590 bypass of the notorious 490 construction. The sky is a dull gray, light rain is falling, just enough to need the slow speed of the wipers. I glance in the mirror at the back seat occupants who are all nodding, earbuds dangling, whispering a tinny beat into the still air. No one is anxious to return to school after a week's break. Please, they would really rather not.

I stop for a red light a block from Chili Avenue, and there on a gray steel streetlight pole in bright red paint are the three symbols "I (heart) U". They are written vertically in near perfect symmetry, as if some calligrapher had designed this quiet intimacy for all the world to see. Who wrote it, I wondered. Is this a sign of some puppy love, some adolescent crush? It doesn't look like graffiti such as you find on buildings and overpasses. Is it the proclamation of a young person deeply in love for the first time? Surely not the work of an elderly couple as they stroll hand in hand down the boulevard, though judging by the houses lining the street, it is an aging neighborhood.

I love you. No one has said so to me lately. I smile wryly, thinking of times when I have seen couples together caring for one another, doing those gentle little things people do for someone they care deeply about, whispering through their actions 'I (heart) U'. Suddenly, as I waited for the light to change, those words hit home. It was as if God said them out loud directly to me. I LOVE YOU. You are loved. You are cared about. You are not alone. I do those little caring things, those gestures of nurturing, of provision and protection. Do you not know how you are cherished? Cherished!

Tears sprang suddenly to my eyes, and I blinked hard. Yes, I do know that I am loved. I do know God takes care of me. Better than anyone. I am deeply moved. I can't help think God went out of his way to put that perfect statement just where I would see it on a bleary Monday morning in the midst of life's mundaneness, a reminder of his rich grace.

The light changes. I drive away blessed.

An 'Ahhhhh' Moment

This evening, the library staff put on a banquet for our graduating seniors. Its the first year we have done something like this, and it took quite a bit of work to put everything together. We wanted to make this a special event complete with china, silver, and crystal. We ordered fresh flowers, bought candles to match the cloth napkins for the silver candle holders, and sent fancy invitations with RSVP cards.

We planned how each course would unfold, who would serve and how, what flow of activity would work best. We created award certificates to acknowledge each student's skills and work, ordered mugs with a picture of the new building and their name on them, and made sure everyone would be there to celebrate these young people. Then we set up the conference room for our elegant event.

The evening went fairly well after we got over the awkwardness of figuring out how to be waitresses and hostesses, how to give them time to enjoy without appearing to hover or gawk. There was a certain excitement for these 11 young women (our one guy begged off) at being recognized. They arrived right at the stroke of seven and were greeted at the entrance by a welcome sign and a staff person to direct them.

Hors d'oeuvres and sparkling grape juice broke the ice, followed by the formal sit-down dinner. The awards part seemed to fly by, I kept wishing we had planned more, done more to show how grateful we were for their work. I wondered all evening if they were having a good time, if they were enjoying being served instead of having to wait on patrons.

After the ceremony, we served dessert - cheesecake and apple crisp with coffee and tea. It was at that point the staff sat together with the students, chatting, relaxing, winding down. No one seemed interested in leaving. We sat and talked or just comfortably were quiet for a long time. Little flurries of conversation swirled and died out, soft laughter, gentle story telling.

It was as if everyone had taken a deep breath and let it all the way out. We were all reticent to break the spell, to abandon a pleasant evening. We were under a spell of satisfaction, of feeling good, of being part of a wonderful evening of fellowship. It isn't often I get to share an 'Ahhhh' moment with others. Well after 10pm, we slowly began drifting away, lured by papers needing writing, children needing attending, the call of our pillows for sleep. It is an evening we will all remember for some time.

No tooth for you

Today I was supposed to go to the dentist to get a permanent crown to replace the temporary one my dentist put in last month. I called and cancelled the appointment because my throat is sore and I am so stuffed up I am pretty sure I couldn't manage to breathe while she did what has to be done. Besides, I have so much to do before I leave for Arizona (and it takes me so much longer trying to get stuff done when I don't have energy and am not feeling my best) that its better if I just put it off a bit.

Besides, I have to work at the reference desk today. I exchanged my scheduled Sunday so I could meet with a gentleman who has worked for hospice here in Rochester for over twenty years. We explored how PrayerSong and Jairus House might best minister to those dying of cancer. Once again I encountered that wall of defense carefully surrounding the dying. There are rules and regulations about how to talk to someone who is dying, how to help them, how to not aggravate them. Give people a pleasant death, for crying out loud! (Does that seem as absurd to you as it does to me?)

Everyone agrees that music could be a good part of that, but its the 'how-tos' that need work. So I am willing to jump through those hoops to explore how best to. I have some homework now, some followup steps. If I could just find time to do them! And also somewhere in there, manage to get the tooth thing settled. Life is a juggling act.

My friend Laura told me today about her mother who was just diagnosed with advanced leukemia. She has in one short weekend, gotten some palliative care, moved out of her home and in with her sister, orchestrated visits from her children from across the US, called her husband an old fart and told him to bug off, and barked orders about how things will be. Still juggling, but on her own terms.

Sometimes cancer is good for helping people come to terms with how to live life. Harder to come to terms with death, and that's the area most necessary. If ever there were a time to think about your spiritual condition, its right before death. But today, I am not thinking about death, just all the trivial details of life. Like laundry and packing and getting a new tooth and somewhere in there finding time to call the hospice people and set up an appointment.

Allergies galore

With our unusually warm weather this month, it seems that every tree, bush, and spring flower has bloomed at once. I have never seen a week where daffodils, hyacinths, crocus, tulips, forsythia, lilacs, magnolias, dogwood, crabapple and plum trees and a bunch more I don't even know have ALL been in bloom at one and the same time. Spring is better when it spreads its glorious color over the course of a few weeks at least.

Pollen visibly floats in the air, dusting every surface with the slight green fuzz that stuffs up your sinuses and catches in your throat. People are hacking and snuffling and mumbling in misery. I usually have two times a year when my allergies kick up - once in the spring when the leaves unfurl, and once in the fall when the leaves drop. So its not like this is a new experience. But this year, with everything wafting about at once, I am overwhelmed with sinus troubles, even to the point of having a headache!

This simply won't do. I have work that must be done, places to go, trips to prepare for, people to see, songs to sing. I need a reprieve. And then I remember - God has arranged for me to take a trip to Arizona! That should get me out of allergy land long enough for my poor face to return to some sort of normal. How amazing is that!

When I was a kid, Arizona was the place asthmatics moved to because of the dryness and lack of pollen. Of course, they tell me that has changed, and in essence you are changing one set of pollen for another. But I still think it will be less obnoxious than Rochester. We shall see. Sniff, sniff, cough.

Bonus!

So I went and signed my lease today on lunch break (I'm so happy I get a whole hour!). The manager x-ed the lines I had to sign or initial and passed the ream of paper across the desk so I could oblige. I'm sure she thought I would just sign, but I have a habit of reading things before I sign (fortunately I read fast!). So I took my time and read through all of it. I was delighted that there wasn't any fine print or small fonts to struggle with - its terrible to get old and discover how much little print exists in the course of a normal day's interactions.

She politely worked on her computer, giving me some space to work through the pages. I asked her a number of questions - what's a secure card for? (You load money on it and use it with the washers and dryers). Do you have enforced quiet hours? (not really, but you can't play an instrument or loud music after 11 pm or before 8 am ~ isn't that the same thing as quiet hours?) etc.

Then I read a line that made me raise an eyebrow. I re-read the line. Does this mean that heat and hot water are included in the rent? YES!!! Wow - I know when she told me what the power bill would be I thought it was low, but I didn't realize the gas was included in the rent and we are only responsible for the electric. What a deal! Especially in light of the fact that my last heat bill was $200 more, and mostly due to the incompetence of the fix-it guy who couldn't seem to make the furnace work right and we were freezing while paying a boatload of money.

This could be nice. It could be very nice. God is good. I hope I am still saying that *after* we move in.

Jazz in the Library

I just can't seem to behave myself. I am so not a librarian type. Its a wonder I haven't been found out. My colleague mentioned that April is Jazz and Poetry month (who decides these things? I have no clue.) Last month was National Library Week and Women's Rights month. We did a display about women authors. So this month we wanted to do a display for Jazz and Poetry. I helped with the brochure, suggested books and resources we could put on display, but did I stop there? No, not me.

I called the faculty musician in charge of the jazz program and asked him if he would consider having any of his students come and play in the library. He said he'd think about it. I still couldn't leave it alone. I emailed him later to see if he had given it any thought. He responded that he did have a student ensemble that was preparing for a concert, and they could use a trial run. They might consider it. I asked for a time and day commitment. He would get back to me.

I kept pursuing until he agreed to come, and this evening we had the most wonderful music happening in our study cafe. It does, of course, present challenges for studying, and we did have a few students who were none too happy about it. But we also attracted a couple dozen students who had never been in the library, and some faculty who happened to be wandering by.

Pretty soon kids were jumping in to jam with the players, and there was a lot of ee-hah-ing and clapping going on. People were coming in, hearing the music, and their faces lit up with smiles. They all hung a left and headed into the cafe to check it out, and they were definitely dancing as they left. It was so nice. The hour and a half flew by, and the musicians wound down. They stood around talking for a few minutes, then packed up their instruments and left. It seemed ghostly quiet after they left, and perhaps that's good since this is, after all, a library.

Surprisingly, my colleagues agreed that it was something we should repeat, but with more advance notice so people won't be taken by surprise. The jazz faculty person also loved the experience and was very happy at the freedom of students who haven't played in his ensemble to jump in. The musicians were happy with the venue and the experience. The cafe people were happy with the additional sales. The learning center was grateful there was no testing going on (remember that for next time), and security stopped by, smiling that kids were doing something constructive.

It ended well, for the most part. Sometimes my creative juices flow in good directions. Just as long as we don't do it too often. Maybe twice a year. I smile. Twice a year is better than nothing.

Another Chance

I have been working with BOCES to enable a young high school senior with Asberger's to work in the library to gain some real world work experience. He comes every Monday morning with his job coach, and we started him on cleaning the PC's and straightening and neatening the shelves. He began learning the Library of Congress classification system, but shortly after he began, my hours changed, and I never got anyone else to work with him. It was a short stint - about fifteen weeks, so I just let it go. The next step would have been for him to reshelve books, shelf read, and retrieve materials for ILL and Reserves.

His transition coordinator asked for a ten week review, and as I filled out the evaluation form, I realized we had never taken that next step. I felt it had been unfair on my part not to have done that, so I had decided, out of the goodness of my heart, that I would suggest that he stay on through the summer even though he would have graduated, so I could give him the extra training.

How unprepared I was for his reaction. I had no idea how much he hated the grunt work he was assigned. Turns out he is brilliant, but unable to interface socially. It would be like asking a doctor to clean garbage cans because his hands shake a bit. He repeatedly stated that he wanted to quit and quit NOW! He was fed up with being bored. I made my "magnanimous" offer of making sure he got to do the next step and move into more interesting work, but he was not interested.

His mother was beside herself. She told him that either he gets a job in a library with the training I am offering, or he will end up in a sheltered workshop for the rest of his life doing even more distasteful repetitive work. It smacked me upside the face. How unfair I have been to this young man. Both his job coach and his transition supervisor tried to get him to reconsider. It was going nowhere.

I finally interrupted the conversation. "What do you want to do, if you could do anything you want?" I worriedly looked at the specialists, for fear I had opened a can of worms. They sat silently, their eyes on the table. "I like computers." he stated quietly. "I'm really good at games. And I'm a whiz at PowerPoint. All I get to do here is clean them."

"Well," I slowly responded, "Let's get the training finished and get you shelving. Once we reach that point, I will turn over the creating of the PowerPoint slides for our LCD screen to you. Do you think you can work towards that?" He sat there, not responding. "If you do a good job with that, I will see what else we could have you do on the computers. Is it a deal?" His head was down, his mouth was moving without any sound.

His mother prompted him for an answer. Finally, he looked out the window and said slowly, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline." I thought his mother was going to kill him. With her lips tightly drawn, she said, "We will discuss this at home."

I felt terrible. I had not looked at this young man as a person much less a person whose path in life was completely dependent on the success of this program. IF I get a second chance, I will not blow it. I realize his future happiness may well depend on the amount of time I can invest in his efforts here. I will keep you posted. I hope I get another chance.

Found!

I finally found my birthday celebration project. It came about quite by "chance" ~ if you want to call divine appointments chance. I was standing in line behind a customer who just couldn't seem to get anything right. What should have been a two minute checkout ahead of me was taking much longer. I felt sorry for the clerk, but being in no hurry, didn't bother to jump line.

Neither did the woman behind me. We smiled at each other knowingly, then struck up a conversation. Turns out we had a good twenty minutes to chat, and somewhere along the line, she mentioned a young lady she had recently met who needed some cheering up. This young lady was Korean, and she and her husband had recently bought a nail salon. The business was struggling along. Suddenly, her husband died, and a week later she found she was pregnant - a real shock since her daughter was already eighteen and about to graduate high school.

She is due any minute, and still struggling to keep the business going and deal with her grief all at the same time. As I finally stepped up to the cashier, I asked where the nail salon was and jotted down the address. "Worth checking out," I thought.

It hadn't even entered my head to get my nails done. I don't have them done often - somehow I have a hard time justifying spending the money - which is also why I tend to wait so long between haircuts. The salon was way on the other side of the city, but I had to check the mail for Jairus House, and it was right down the road from the post office. I sauntered through the open doorway. Not a customer was in sight.

There was a Korean woman sitting dejectedly on the stool behind the counter, her belly so swollen she could hardly fit between the wall and the cash register. She looked up as I entered, and asked hopefully, "Can I he'p you?" She looked relieved when I said I wanted to get a manicure.

I sat in the swivel black chair, soaking my hands in the little green dish, and we chatted. I asked her questions discretely, and before long, she was telling me the whole story. The lady in the grocery store had been right. This was a woman who needed an arm around her, some support. Her family all live in Texas, and she had only moved here for the business. The location was good when they purchased the salon, but construction had begun a year ago that blocked off the entrance to the plaza and was just finishing now. Customers didn't like fighting the mess and stayed away in droves. It had taken a huge bite from their profits.

She talked on and on, as if a dam had suddenly burst and she couldn't prevent the words from tumbling out. She fussed with my fingers until I thought they would drop off - not hurting me, but just doing and redoing each step to buy time so she could keep talking. I listened without saying anything.

I hadn't meant for my birthday celebration project to benefit myself, and I felt almost guilty getting the manicure. Perhaps it can be justified by the amount of time I spent there - two and a half hours, during which not one soul entered the little salon. After she finally came to the end of her angst, we moved on in our conversation to happier topics, the arrival of the baby, times in her past that she remembered with enjoyment.

I left knowing she would be the object of my year long celebration of life. I believe my next project will be to send her some cheerful spring flowers. And of course, I will continue to go there on those rare occasions when I do get my nails done. Perhaps I can recommend her place to my friends - after my nails recover!

Connections

My friend is what I call a "sneaker" - someone who makes connections happen. She is a wonderful hostess and good cook. I have been to her place on several occasions, and was happy to be invited today for an afternoon of conversation and tea. She knows about my Jairus House endeavors, and she wanted me to meet some friends of hers who have worked in Hospice in Rochester for twenty plus years.

I was delighted to find them friendly and open, willing to answer my questions and provide me with the names of people I should contact to arrange for PrayerSong to come and sing for those who are dying of cancer. Of course, they reminded me of the delicacy of such situations.

Our society has become so protective of those who are dying. We must not upset them in any way. How different from dying at home alone, or even with family in the old homestead. What used to be a painful experience for everyone is "managed" now.

I remember when my grandfather was dying. Gram had been taking care of him night and day for some weeks. She was so exhausted. They did have visiting nurses come in to spell her, but she fretted about that and didn't really rest well. Near the end, he became demanding and difficult, and on the last long evening, Gram called her son to come stand watch with her. Gramp had fallen, and Gram had hurt her back trying to catch him. They were both in pain.

Loran and Esther drove down to Schenectady from Lake George, easily an hour away. While Loran sat in the living room with Gramp who was stretched out on his back on the specially rigged bed in the living room, Gram cried in the kitchen with Esther. His breathing came hard. Air wheezed in with great straining and rattled its way loose to get out. A few times they thought he had breathed his last, but he would suddenly take in another shuddering, raspy breath. How much he knew of his surroundings was impossible to know. He could no longer speak, so it was impossible to know whether he was in pain or not.

There were no wonderful goodbyes, no chaplains, no music, and little hand holding. It was brutal on the dying and difficult for the living. Hospice tries to ease the passage, letting family members know what to expect, encouraging them to take advantage of every minute before things get too bad. Sometimes it helps, sometimes not. There are so many variables. That's what my friend's friend told me. You have to go with what is happening, every situation is different.

Will PrayerSong be able to add some dimension to such a scenario? I don't know. I suppose it does depend on the circumstances, the state of the patient. But I am willing to explore, willing to try if it will in some small measure help. While vastly different from singing of hope to those struggling to live, its all part and parcel of the picture. We shall see what develops.

Haircuts

Drew and I both needed to shed some winter coverage and free up some face space to enjoy the warm and inviting sun we have enjoyed of late. We tried to get cuts yesterday, but the places were full and the waits were several hours long. Apparently everyone has the same idea!

I warned Drew that I was going to drag him out early - the place I wanted to go opened at 8am. (I have a friend who has forbidden his clock to register any time in the am between 6 and 11. Says its unnatural to be awake during those hours and Drew concurs). At 7:45am, when I was ready to go, I didn't have the heart to wake Drew. I left him peacefully snoring as I tiptoed out.

I was the first person to arrive (why are you laughing?) and they took me right away. It felt so amazingly wonderful to have my scalp massaged while they washed the grease and grime from my shaggy mane. I sat obediently while the hairdresser snipped and chatted, half listening to other conversations going on around me as people geared up for the day. I always get those little tingly goose bumps of appreciation when someone waits on me for a change. Those old endomorphines go wild and crazy.

As the hair scattered in little bits on the floor around me, I felt lighter, younger, less tired. How can that be? Haircuts are not magic potions. Even the staff told me I looked younger when I was properly fluffed and folded (they probably get paid to say that). I went home and dragged Drew out of bed and took him to a proper barbershop. There is one right around the corner from us, run by a couple Italian guys - very macho, very family oriented, and very happy to take Drew from overgrown mop to slick regular cut, size 4 on the blades.

I have to admit, when he was done, he looked happier, younger, slimmer. Maybe there is something magic about a haircut. It sure did a world of good for the two of us.

Not So Local Conference

I had encouraged my staff to branch out a bit and attend some local conferences and workshops, and to submit proposals to present information about our new library. Two of them were accepted to present poster sessions at a COCID conference being held nearby at SUNY Brockport (Conference on Computing in the Disciplines) called "Integrating Library Services Into a Learning Management System." I had thought it was just a local conference and we would mostly meet people from area institutions. One look at the conference participant sheet told me otherwise. There were presenters and attendees from Nebraska, Illinois, Texas, Florida, New Hampshire, Michigan and Pennsylvania among other places. Pretty good considering it was small (~150) and not well known.

Here at Roberts, we started using Moodle as our campus course management system last summer, and I encouraged the library to make full use of it. We created training modules for our student workers, started a blog to help communications, used their scheduling etc. Now it just seems normal, and you forget that other places aren't doing things the same way. So my staff put together their posters, and I had them roll them over to digital picture frames. They are way easier than laptops to show a powerpoint, and the ones IT got for us are wireless and we can mount stuff on the web and access it from anywhere. Slick.

I smiled as our staff took in everything going on. Timid at first, they got the hang of introducing themselves, asking questions, taking the handouts, giving out their cards. We made some good connections, got some good ideas, and left a few of our own. The best part for me was to see their eyes opened to the possibilities, to expand their horizons and realize we are not the only corner of the world. Works in my favor since I have really been pushing them to get up to speed with the rest of the world, and they caught a glimpse of that world - at least enough to begin to realize I am not asking for anything unreasonable, just stuff that happens in lots of other places that in the long run will make their lives easier.

New Digs Coming Up

Timing is everything. I called my sister on Monday and happened to mention that I had spoken with the manager of the apartment complex I was interested in - one that was close enough to Finney to provide busing. They took my name and said they would add me to the list. When something came open or they had a unit to show me, they would call me. (They are at 100% occupancy - that speaks well of the place! Chili Commons has *never* been at 100%). Jael urged me to just go back. Sometimes those lists don't get much attention paid to them.

So I went. And as we chatted about getting to see a unit, the manager stated that end of June was still too far distant for her to have gotten responses from anyone about moving out, so she wouldn't be able to tell me whether they would have a unit or not. Then she paused, thought a bit, and said, "I take that back. Someone just called me not ten minutes ago and told me she would be leaving the end of June. If you want, you can apply for that one right now."

So I took a look at their one empty unit (its a well kept version of the one I'm in, with more light and a brand new kitchen), filled out all the paperwork, and left. By the end of the day, I had been approved and told my lease would be ready next week and I could come and sign. Wow! I have driven into that complex on a number of occasions at different times and during different circumstances. It has always been quiet and clean. Now it seems that the office staff (who have all been there awhile) are also on their toes. Sure hope that proves to be the case.

The unit we are getting is at the end of the complex near Lyell Avenue. There are no other buildings nearby, and LOTS of yard/green space before the little treed area with a small stream begins. There are private houses buffering the traffic noise. Here and there there are a few picnic tables, and the parking spaces are assigned (yeah). Even Drew said he liked it.

It will be nice to be able to take a week to make the move, long after my June studies at Concordia, in between seminary classes and papers, and with Kiel's help. No rush. No flurry. Once again I get to downsize, reorganize, and make things work efficiently. Timing is good.

Robins and Daffodils

You can sure tell spring is in the air. Today I parked in my usual spot by the library, facing Westside Drive. It was raining lightly, and I sat in my car a few minutes, collecting my thoughts (funny how they can escape you so easily) and enjoying the patter of the rain on the car roof. As I sat there, a robin flew past the windshield, so close that it startled me. It landed just a few feet away, under the not-yet-leafing-out tree and began picking at the grass, poking here, prodding there, until it was rewarded with a huge wriggling earthworm.

Just then, a second robin flew down, singing prettily. The two of them fluttered their wings and hopped about, weaving in and around the bright yellow daffodils nodding lazily in the breeze. It looked as if they were playing tag or follow the leader. Despite the cold rain, you could almost feel the edge of summer. Surely warm weather is just around the corner.

Its the same feeling you get when you have been through a tough time, but the worst is behind you. There are a few more rainy days ahead, a few more tests to run, some meds to take, but the hair is growing back, the scars are fading. You can sense that 'normal' is returning. Maybe not the same normal you knew before, but something workable, stable, comfortable, livable.

Yes, the robins and daffodils are definite harbingers of goodness ahead. I climb out of the car, pop open my little umbrella, and head for my office, humming. It will be a good day.

Puff Puff Go Away

Today is a better day than yesterday. I am thinking more clearly, thank goodness. Yesterday I had the chemo brain thing getting in the way of accomplishing anything productive. Today I caught up with stuff and straightened out my office which had deteriorated into a paperwork nightmare.

The breathing still needs me to work at it, and the foot top pain is in full bloom (good thing I have loose loafers to wear!). One recalcitrant gland under my left arm is still painful, but the 'below the belt' is better. I am tired though and my neck aches today. I did go to bed earlier last night, and I slept in until 7 since Drew is on break from school all week and YEAH!!! NO CARPOOL!!!

I have class tonight until 10 pm, so I know I will be leaning heavily on the good Lord to get me through that even though the classes are fascinating and I am learning a lot. Drew is working for one of my choir members today doing yard work - his first paying job here. I am hopeful that he will do a good job and get asked back. Maybe he will quit pestering me for stuff and just buy it for himself!

Well, hopefully the puff-puffs will shrink and disappear soon. I may just go home early and take a nap. Fortunately my teaching responsibilities and desk duties are done for the day and there isn't really any huge deadline hovering at the moment. Pacing can be everything.

Puffin' Day

I am beginning to see a cycle. About every two weeks, I wake up in a puffed up state. It feels like all the glands in my body decided to swell, and they press on various other parts of my body. Sometimes it worse above my belt, sometimes worse below. I have come to affectionately call these unsolicited days, 'Puffin' Days.'

These are times when I know I will be slow, when I can't wear restrictive clothes (bras are always out), when I may find I am struggling with a touch of chemo brain. Its difficult to find a comfortable position - can't lower my arms because they press on swollen glands. Can't sit for prolonged periods because it hurts the swollen glands in my groin.

Some Puffin Days are worse than others. When it gets really bad, I have trouble breathing. Today, for example, I have swollen glands all over my head. They are a bit irritating, especially one on the left side of the back of my head, just under my hairline. I am constantly unconsciously rubbing the spot, and have managed to make it bleed. Phooey. There are three glands under my left arm that hurt like the dickens. And the breathing is hampered when I sit for long periods.

I can't seem to tie these Puffin Days to any trigger events of foods. Suffice it to say that when I am tired, they occur more frequently. The other week Drew kept me up until after 1pm three days in a row. I could feel myself getting weaker and more tired, and sure enough, on the fourth day, PUFFIN'!

But today I am not especially tired, and have slept early and well for the last few nights. To make matters worse, I have the 'foot top' thing going. Its sort of like having shingles just on the top of your foot (today its just the right foot). Its a common thing for those who have undergone radiation. It comes and goes at a much slower pace than the gland thing. I maybe experience it once every few months. It does drain you though.

My concern is that I have a conference in Arizona the end of this month. I will need to feel my best and be plenty rested (or totally have the grace of God) to manage that. And it will be followed in June by my work on my master's degree at Concordia, which will also require all my strength. So I am praying about those things.

My breathing prayer today has been [on inhale] Love of God [on exhale] Peace of Christ. It helps keep your mind off your misery. AND puts your thoughts on the strength of the creator, the one who overcame even death, the one who never leaves me, but upholds and strengthens me.

So, I wish for you as well "the Love of God, the Peace of Christ." Hope you aren't having a Puffin' Day.

HBD!

Today was my birthday. I didn't advertise that around, just thought I would spend it quietly and to myself, finding some way to help someone in celebration of the fact that I MADE IT!!! My mantra for the day was "55 and still alive!"

I'm not sure how people found out, but at work, they sneakily brought brownies to a planning meeting and sang to me! And they announced it from the pulpit at church and applauded me (little did they know how much there was to applaud!). Cards have been arriving all week from friends and family, and ALL of my sons called me to chat.

Drew was bugs to make me a cake, but I persuaded him not to. I had my eye on a chocolate danish at Tim Horton's - boy are they yummy! (and fattening. . .). I ended up spending the morning enjoying the Roberts Wesleyan Gospel Choir, the afternoon reading for seminary classes and chatting with kids, and the evening singing with PrayerSong. What a delightful day.

I am only concerned about one thing. I did not find that special commemorative act to perform. It needs to be something special, considering how fortunate I am to be not just still standing, but actually thriving. I will keep looking. I know something will cross my path, I just hope it comes soon before I forget [g].

Catchin' Up, Catchin' On

Today I met a colleague from my Eastman days whom I haven't seen in awhile. We met at one of the restaurants we used to go to for department meetings. Neither she nor I had been there in years, but the place was unchanged. Same menu, same tables and booths, same waitresses (!).

After we ordered (OK, here was a place I encountered differences. I used to be able to eat a lot of things on their menu that are now not too advisable for me), we began the litany of catching up with what has happened in our lives. How sad that we both majored on the bad parts, the unexpected disasters and health issues and losses.

At one point we looked at each other, realizing we had both been through the mill. It got me thinking about the GOOD things these unavoidable changes have wrought in my life. There are good parts! My finances are calmer, my attitudes are more positive, my ability to see priorities has improved. My links to my kids are improved. I have a great car! I'm living in a pleasant city that is filled with good music. I have a great and unstress-filled job.

These 'good times' have not been abundant in my life. But I am in one now, and I get it - I need to appreciate it! I was glad for our depressing conversation. It spurred me into a better thought place. Things are good for a change, and I intend to enjoy it. So I am planning to think more about this and truly, as PrayerSong sings, Count My Blessings.

Working Papers

Drew was bugs to get his, now that he had turned the requisite 14 years of age. That and getting his VAC card, which will enable him to go to the gym without his Mother - to swim and lift weights and hang out with his friends sans the parental intrusion. A rite of passage.

We went on my lunch hour to the local school. I knew it was just down the road, but I had never actually been there. It set back off Buffalo Road to the right about five miles from our place. The directional signs were a bit confusing since the elementary and high schools were in the same location but in different buildings. We followed the signs for the office, and spoke to a kind woman who handed us the application form and explained that we would need to have a doctor's approval and show Drew's birth certificate. He seemed so excited at the prospect of officially being able to earn money. Good for him!

I remember getting working papers when I was 12, for working on a farm. And at 14, I worked at a summer camp called Sacandaga Bible Conference (formerly known as Shady Bay) as a babysitter to earn enough money to purchase a professional ventriloquist doll. What a great and horrible job that was all at the same time. I got to watch all the children during the meetings both in the morning and evening. Mornings weren't so bad - just the local housewives and the few day campers came to the morning sessions. Generally I would have two or three toddlers and the usual four children of staff members. We would wander out to the playground area where there was a nice sandbox, some swings, a bench and a grassy lawn area. The kids would play contentedly for the most part, and I made sure to take them inside halfway through the two hour session for drinks and potty breaks.

The afternoons were mine to do with as I wished, and I usually spent it at the beach swimming or water skiing or riding in the speed boats. Sometimes I would just lay on the sandy beach and read or doze. I got free meals in the dining hall, and slept in the administration building instead of the dorms, so it was cleaner and quieter than the counselors had to endure. But I still got to be friends with all the staff. In fact, I think they sort of 'adopted' me since I was far and away the youngest kid working there.

Evenings, though. Those were horrible. I doubt I could have survived if I hadn't been a kid and used to noise. They did send me help when the nursery filled up. There would be a good thirty or forty kids running wild in the large carpeted room, jumping on the spring horses, throwing balls, riding tricycles. Staff were reticent to bring their children, and often would only come if one of the parents could stay with them. I think they felt sorry for me having to watch so many kids. We had the gamut of ages from newborns to twelve year olds. I'm surprised the noise and hubbub didn't reach the tabernacle where the meetings were held.

Those evening meetings could go on for three hours or more. As the hour grew later, the kids grew more fussy and whiny, especially the toddlers who weren't used to so much activity. Some of them would conk out on the floor in spite of all the commotion. The word 'zoo' doesn't begin to cover it. The good Lord must have been watching over us, because no one got injured beyond a little bump or splinter.

When at long last all the children would be collected (and some parents put that off until they were done with socializing, visiting the bookstore, walking down to the beach and every other thing they could think of), I would suddenly realize how exhausted I was. The rest of the staff often met for ice cream or a campfire or a late night swim. During the week, I would be able to participate, but on the weekends, when the entire world came to hear the special speakers, it was all I could manage to haul myself upstairs to my room and fall into bed.

I did that for several summers, and worked my way up to counselor eventually, and moved on to other summer camps. But that first summer was the best. So I applaud Drew for getting his working papers. I hope his experiences will be as wonderful as mine were - meeting people, having fun, and working hard.

Choir Rehearsal

What fun we had tonight at choir rehearsal! The push to polish the Easter cantata is over, the rush to get something ready for the week after has subsided. We have an easy upcoming Sunday because the Roberts Gospel Choir will be coming to do the musical portions of the service, inviting us to join in on Shout to the Lord, a quick pickup.

Upcoming anthems are a mix of new, familiar, demanding, easy, fun, touching, and meaningful. We started on the hard stuff first after reviewing Sunday's music. Its been a long winter, and with spring chirping at the window, everyone was feeling more relaxed, less stressed. It has been a year of sadness as loved ones have passed away, of pain as people have dealt with health issues, of joy as we celebrated births and awards.

But this is the season of the year after the coldness of winter and before the warmth of summer when everyone lightens up and breathes easy. After we pounded on the new and somewhat complex piece, we moved to a spiritual that, while still demanding, is fun. I smiled as people cut loose and really got into the blues harmonies, the swingy tempo. Then we moved into the oldies but goodies pieces.

You could almost feel everyone relax, start to enjoy themselves. We have in one short year been able to connect. They read me well, I know what to listen for, we work well together. Next year will be even better. I know what they can do, what I can expect, how and when to push them to the next levels. It's like that with family.

Dead Worms

Rain. It brings out the best in nature. Plants and trees drink it in and produce wonderful greenery and fragrant flowers. Birds flutter bathe in it. Dirt and grime are washed away. The air seems cleaner, fresher. The worms come out to play.

Really. By the hundreds. They squirm across sidewalks and parking lots, wriggling in the sloppy wetness as if playing at an amusement park. I dodge not only the puddles, but the skinny brown strips littering the parking lot. I tiptoe and twist my step to avoid the little buggers, but its nearly impossible.

Where do they come from? Yes, there is a lawn nearby, and one would expect the lawn to have its share of worms, but this seems excessive. Where are the birds that should be out here feasting? I hear their calls, why aren't they swooping in for lunch?

Half the worms are silent and lifeless, shriveling despite the water they lie in. Half are sluggishly floundering about, far from the green haven covering their dirt homes. A few are actively heading somewhere. I wonder if they are lost. Do they realize they are headed 'out to sea' towards the center of the blacktopped parking lot, far from their desired destination? Do they realize the danger from cars who will squash them flat without even knowing?

Well, its all too much for me. I used to gather up fat nightcrawlers in an old dirt filled can after a good rainstorm, hanging on to them until a weekend fishing trip. But this is too much for the boldest fisherman. I manage to avoid most of them as I head inside. I wish them well on their journey.

PrayerSong Debut

Today was the day. Our booking had been confirmed, our songs learned, our polish spit shined, our travel itinerary laid out. We met in the parking lot of my apartment complex, loaded drums, flute, maracas and cowbell along with music stands and black binders into the trunk, checked the directions, and headed to 490.

It was a glorious summery day. I joked that I had been praying it would not snow, but I sure hadn't thought to ask for such a warm and beautiful day. Why didn't I think of asking! Fortunately, the good Lord smiled and just gave us a gorgeous day anyway.

We chatted about odds and ends of things on the way there while we navigated the Thruway and turned onto Rte 33. It seemed a short ride even though it was a good hour, and soon we were headed for the tall brick building with Roswell Cancer Institute written in huge silver letters on the side. We pulled up, unloaded the music paraphernalia, handed the keys to the valet, and tromped into the lobby, a bit nervous.

There was a gentleman playing the piano (his time would be up as ours began), and we listened with awe as he spun whole melodies from a simple tune printed on a lead sheet. We discussed where we would stand, then hit the ladies room. I checked in with the head of volunteers. They asked us again about what we would sing, and I introduced the group.

Our pianist joined us just as we were setting up, and suddenly we were on. We stood near a tall multicolored metal sculpture and gazed up a good four stories at balconies overlooking the lobby. Behind us was the information desk and before us stretched a large lobby area filled with various seating arrangements. To the left a small coffee stand, to the right, a short hallway and the entrance doors.

Its a bit disconcerting singing to a moving audience. People entered and exited, had conversations, interacted with the ladies at the information desk. I wasn't entirely sure anyone was pay attention, but as we got into the first zippy Latin rhythm song, several people sat on benches to listen. We got polite applause.

The more we sang, the more faces gathered at the balcony rails. Several people came up to chat when we ended a song, always to express their gratitude for our music. It was most encouraging. The more familiar songs like My Favorite Things from Sound of Music or Button Up Your Overcoat had people tapping along. Now and again someone would walk in and just stand in front of us listening for ten minutes or so, then move on. And the smiles. There were lots of smiles on lots of faces. Outright grins on some of them.

I prayed for them as I sang (and sometimes got a bit lost). I prayed that their day would be brightened, that they would feel the peace of God, that they would feel His healing touch. The longer I sang, I more comfortable I felt, the more I loosened up. Yes, most of the music was right. Yes, it did bring smiles. Yes, people heard us. Yes, this was a helpful thing.

Afterwards I checked in with the head of volunteers. She was very enthusiastic. When could we come again? Could we come every week? Please call and set up times to return. We were well received and welcomed to come as often as we wished.


There was general excitement as we debriefed in the car on the way home. Things we will do differently next time. Music ideas. Singers we can invite to join us. Other places we can contact. We are over the initial hump of being uncertain, inexperienced. We have a lot of work to do, but it will be easier now.

I smile. It's good. Now I can hunker down and get serious.

Planets out of Alignment

Wow. I haven't had such a tough day in a long time. I knew going into it that I had a tight schedule. Multiple classes, having to come in at 10am and stay until 9pm, meetings, training sessions, almost no breathing room. There was, of course, no room for dealing with even a small problem much less a major blowup. But then, that is always when major blowups occur!

Before I had been in the building five minutes, as I was setting up for a class, a student approached me, obviously distraught. He jumped into his tirade in the middle of the information commons, not even waiting for us to step into my office for privacy. I finally managed to calm him enough to let him know that I had a class to teach and would be glad to meet with him later that day (I was wondering when that would be since I had back-to-backs the whole day). He left, and I did a quick email check as the students were getting settled in the instruction lab.

A l-o-n-g and distraught email from the evening building supervisor about the same event concerning which the student had approached me. I skimmed for the essence, then launched into the comparative virtues of the online databases we offer. In between each class I was confronted by more people involved in the incident that had occurred the previous evening around closing. This was not going to hold until my commitments ended.

Staff were being approached and beginning to bear the brunt of the tirade. I had to intervene and quickly and while I was teaching! Lord, wisdom please. I looked at my schedule. No chance to address anything until 4 after my last class - the very time I had planned to eat lunch before being on desk from 5 to 9 pm. No help for it. I began telling everyone who came to me "4 o'clock, my office."

I would not have time to prepare for the onslaught I knew was coming. Angry and upset people. Lord, show me the truth about what happened. Tell me how to address this. Amen. "Go to our main webpage. . ."

I should have known. God began dealing with people while I was teaching. He arranged for me to be able to meet with each of the injured parties separately, gave me insight as to what the real issues were, and helped me find the words to step down the emotional trauma so we could fix the problem to everyone's satisfaction.

And it was so silly. My evening building supervisor actually quit over it, tried to hand in the keys and walk away. And all over a scooter. It took me from 4 pm until 9pm to touch base with everyone, create a solution, have a meeting with all parties involved, smooth ruffled feathers, right the wrongs, help everyone to kiss and make up. All the while still fulfilling my reference responsibilities.

The important thing I took from all that was how my behavior affects others when *I* am ruffled about something. I have been known to throw a hissy fit or two in my day. I hope I remember this when I'm on the other side of the desk. Better yet, I should just pay attention to what God tells me and avoid such behavior altogether.

Well, back to work.

When Every World Converges

There are times in our lives when every sector, everything in which we are involved, decides to host some major project or suddenly demand extra attention. For me, it happens once or twice a year. Its not anything you see coming and could have scheduled differently. Its usually something you have absolutely no control over.

This week is one of those times. I started classes for seminary which required dedicating a day to a retreat and kicking off the reading regimen. PrayerSong had its debut concert at Roswell Cancer Clinic, requiring a longer dress rehearsal. Church is hosting the Roberts Gospel Choir for service, requiring extra time to plan and organize. Its pivot week at the college, that time when everyone suddenly realizes graduation is mere weeks away and you have to get serious about papers and class, requiring me to teach extra sessions of "how to find the articles you need to write your paper" [8 in one week]. Drew has a bake sale, carpool runs are more often since after school activities are mostly over and everyone is coming home. There are recitals and presentations by students that I attend (they do, after all, work for me!). We are planning the graduation party for our student workers who are leaving us.

I look at my daytimer, and the whole thing is blocked off for one commitment or another. Its impossible. When can I actually get anything done! And its common that when there is the least wiggle room, that's when you most need to wiggle. Well, these are times when you just move along as directed and stop thinking about the "how am I gonna's". I find my breath prayer (you know, those words you repeat to yourself to help you remember that you are not alone and God really is in charge and this will all pass) for the week has been

"Grace of God [on breathing in], Peace of Christ [on breathing out]".

It sustains me to connect in this way, helps me maintain my equilibrium even in the face of a crisis when I don't know what to do. God does. And He provides. Thank goodness. Once the convergence has passed and things are back to a normal sustainable routine and I am breathing easily again, I will remember to thank God for His grace and peace that makes the pressing places not so painful.

Retreat!

I'm not sure that's the right word for today's event. We really weren't so much falling back and regrouping as we were learning how to move forward well. The day began something like this:

8:30 continental breakfast
9:00 devotions in the prayer chapel
Prayer Chapel? I had no idea the seminary HAD a prayer chapel. Sure enough, up on the 4th floor, there is a delightful sacred space conducive to worship complete with an organ and piano, an altar, a communion table - all enclosed in glass walls with a muted blue and cranberry decor.

We were encouraged to settle in for our training by learning to listen well, by developing an attitude of gratitude. We broke into small groups to experience faith sharing, a time when you listen respectfully to what others have to say, but don't respond to them, only reflect on how that works in your life, listening to your own heart and leaving any correction or instruction up to the good Lord.

Lunch was a light hearted 'getting to know more about you' time in the dining commons. Afterwards, we were directed to take a Prayer Walk. We didn't get much instruction, I wasn't sure exactly what we were to be doing during our walk, but I thoroughly enjoyed the gorgeous warm day, the blue sky. I headed towards the residence halls since I haven't really been in that direction much.

I was delighted to discover a double pond and hiking trails back there. I did feel connected to God and thoughts kept coming to me about how various things I was seeing related to my life. It was interesting to me, nothing I would want to share with anyone. The twenty minutes flew by, and I had to hurry to get back to chapel on time. I discovered an old friend who was in my small group, and caught up on what has happened in her life over the last ten years.

It was a delightful time. I was sorry to have to get back to the normal Saturday routine - groceries, cleaning, laundry. We won't have another chance for retreat for awhile, so I plan to savor this one when the road gets tiresome.

Sunset Extraordinaire

I don't often get to see the sunset. I am usually either still working or already home depending on the season of the year. When I lived in Illinois, I discovered extraordinary sunrises, but New York has great sunsets. Maybe its the hilly landscape, maybe the fact that mornings tend to be overcast and it takes some time for the sun to burn off the cloud cover. Whatever the reason, sunsets can be so amazingly colorful and resplendent.

This one was all purple and gold with just a brush of pink. It made me wonder how God sees it from His side. What a wonderful sense of joy God has to have provided us with glorious colors and seasonal changes. We have had the gamut of winter/spring/summer experience in the last few days, from bitter cold and wind to warm sun.

The kids in our complex have had a heyday playing outside after a long winter. They run about with abandon, heedless of the wind, the rain, the mud, the chill. Coats are tossed aside, strewn about the lawn helter-skelter. Little girls brandish dead branches torn mercilessly from trees by the last winter storm. Skateboards, scooters and bikes are suddenly in bloom, decorating every building and townhouse. The boys are playing basketball down by the clubhouse.

Even as I drove slowly home, savoring the last few rays of sunset, I encountered diehard groups of kids at every intersection whooping and hollering, loathe to call it a night and go inside. I remember being a kid, running around outside until the last possible moment before Mom made us come in. It was a good season. I love my current season of almost-empty-nesting, of doing things I enjoy more than things I am required to do. I will love my sunset years when they arrive, appreciating their particular radiance and splendor.

For now, I take encouragement from the good Lord, realizing that final moments needn't be painful, but can be a glorious foreshadowing of the sun rising again in the morning.

New Paradigm

Lock your door, then shut it. Wait a minute. That doesn't seem right. Isn't that like shutting the barn door after the horse is stolen? Who in their right mind locks their door before they shut it?


Turns out that with those little black key fob remotes, you CAN actually lock your car doors while they are still wide open. Just be sure you don't lay the keyfob on the seat or you'll be digging for your spare set of keys.


Some things change in ways we don't begin to realize. There is a potential to do new things in new ways that doesn't always dawn on those who are used to the old way of doing things. It takes someone who never learned to old habits to see things in the clear light of potential and possibility. Or vice versa.


Its like the other day, I saw a young gentleman in the parking lot trying to unlock his car door with his black remote, and the darn thing wasn't working. He tried pointing it at every door and even the trunk, pressing every little button repeatedly until his fingers must have hurt, but nothing opened. Disgusted, he took his cell phone from his pocket and started to dial a number, muttering about technology.


As he was dialing, an innocent bystander, an elderly gentleman, casually said, "I guess you'll have to open it the old-fashioned way, with the key." The frustrated man flipped his phone shut and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I can't believe I didn't think to try that!"


Its all in what you are used to.

Charities

The United Way campaign has come to Roberts Campus. HR did a wonderful job of contacting us to distribute the packets and encouraging us all to give generously to the community in whatever way we felt so inclined. We could watch the UW movie at a number of showings - many here in the library in the Fireside Reading Room, complete with refreshments and drawings for door prizes. I think there was a good turnout. They announce the goal they have in mind for our corporate giving level, and are very inviting about filling out the forms.


Nonetheless, I have procrastinated. Today I am trying to clear my desk of all these little details I have ignored. I guess my slowness relates to my overall giving scheme. This has not been on my radar screen for charitable giving since last time I worked in Rochester at the University of Rochester Eastman School of Music.


I give to churches, food banks, overseas projects, pregnancy clinics, cancer clinics (especially those for children), orphanage agencies and a host of individual needs that come across my path. Besides my church and a missions team and a couple other things not to mention my own children. So adding one more somehow seemed too much.

But I want to fully participate in this community's endeavors, and last night at Chapel, President Martin mentioned how wonderful it was that United Way makes it possible to donate to specific organizations - to designate your giving. Perhaps it was the idea that there would be a way to continue giving to something I already support, and just do it through the United Way that freed me to at last get to this task. Perhaps it was his excitement about being involved with good community projects. But here I sit perusing the designation form.


I count well over 600 worthy charitable organizations on the list. Wow! I would never have realized there were so many. I wonder if they just list all the non-profits organizations of the area? No, I don't see Open Door Mission, a place that assists the homeless. I wonder if I can get PrayerSong and JairusHouse on the list? That's an exciting idea. I see on the list a number of places I would happily support. Now I just have to figure out how to divvy up too small funds.


Maybe that's the issue with everyone. Too many good causes, too little money. It forces you to decide slowly and cautiously how you will help others. Wouldn't it be great if, everytime someone asked for your help, you could give it? Wouldn't it be great if everyone was able to do that? Well, daydreaming doesn't get the form filled out and on its way. I better get cracking.

April Fool's Day

It was no joke, really. I started my doctoral journey today, working on some prerequisite courses in the M Div program that will prepare me for the doctoral work. We met at 6pm to find reams of forms to fill out, tests to take, interviews to record.

One test had 567 questions! Of course, they were True False, so you moved through them quickly. They warned us not to think hard about them. Just respond what you first think and move on. Say to yourself, "Normal behavior." That gave me permission not to be concerned with the outcome, just be myself, which is, of course, what they are looking for.

One of the promised results is that the counsellors who evaluate the exams will be able to tell us what denomination we have a proclivity for. That should be interesting. Especially since I have never identified with any particular denomination. I was raised mostly Presbyterian, though my Dad attended a Christian and Missionary Alliance school, as did my Mom. He had a community church for awhile before he settled into his Presbyterianism, and has been rather disappointed in my not connecting wholeheartedly with that.

So maybe the joke part comes later. For tonight, I dutifully fill in the little circles with my sharp No. 2 pencil, and grin at the silliness of some of them. No, I have never killed my mother, done drugs, or been an alcoholic. I do not think someone is chasing me, or have an inferiority complex. Tough work, studying theology.