I couldn't resist. Its not often that you can get a dozen roses for 6 bucks! But Walmart was running a special. The bouquets were all mixed colors, and every bouquet unique. Some had a preponderance of yellows, others of oranges, others of red. The flower heads were tightly closed, some bent and twisted, others ramrod straight.
I hovered over the buckets of wrapped selections, picking up one, then another, turning them around, trying to find the best collection. I settled on one that had no preponderance of any one color, just a nice mix of all the hues - light and dark pink, white, deep and light yellow, red tinged, apricot tinged - a veritable rainbow of delight.
I tucked them on the dashboard of the car and ported them about as I ran my other errands and completed the checklist of 'to-dos.' First thing I did when I arrived home was shuck the plastic wrap from them, snip off the ends, and tuck them into a glass vase filled with water laced with the packet of bloom saver that had been rubber banded tightly about their stems. I changed vases twice, going for the most advantageous showcase I could muster.
They came with plenty of greenery, both their own rose leaves and a few ferns tucked in next to the baby's breath. I fluffed them out, spacing each rose evenly from its neighbors, giving it plenty of room to breathe and stretch out. I set the whole dozen on top of the TV cabinet near the front window. A few days later, I was rewarded with fully opened faces each proudly displaying its natural beauty, its jewel-like color, its precious layers of intricate petalage (OK, I made that word up, but you get the meaning).
Days later, they are still pristine, still in full bloom with no decay, still medicine for the weary soul. Their very presence in the room brings a calm quietness, a simple joy. Without meaning to, they fill the landscape sans domination. I wish all the medicine I take were as undemanding financially, as free of side effects and as competent at their task as they are. I hope they last for weeks. The only thing that would make them more perfect would be if the rose growers could figure out how to send them to us with that heady fragrance of wild roses. But then, I suppose we would experience those unwanted side effects of bees and sneezes.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Cicadian Rhythms
What a day! Students are back, Drew is getting up earlier, Kiel needs transportation, the day slams into existence before your eyes are barely open! There is no keeping of any schedule. You just do what's next on the list as soon as you can address it - and pray you keep up! We are jerked into full academic mode sans gentleness.
This week my days are stretched unusually long as I return to work at 9pm after a long day to train a new Evening Building Supervisor. I knew it would be grueling staying until midnight, but there is no help for it. Somebody has to show the new kid on the block how to do the job, and some things can't be understood out of context. So I step into her time frame until she is comfortable being on her own. It's only a few days, but it taxes my limited endurance.
Tonight I had seminary class until 10, so she is already on her own for an hour. She has enough to keep her going until I arrive. I settle in for the lecture on church activity during AD 30 to AD 150, trying to wrap my brain around the early church fathers', experience what they encountered, think with a first century mindset. It is difficult to see why some issues were such a big deal then - after all, circumcision is a pretty moot point these days. Still, it provides interesting discussion material.
We break at 8:30 for our personal faith training in the upstairs chapel. We explore God's presence in the mundane and normal, talk about how God touches our lives in the ordinary, learn to appreciate the eternal moments in our interactions with life. Ten pm comes round before I realize, and I make my way down the stairs and out into the dark night, relishing the August evening dappled with the warm glow of streetlights and lighted windows.
I take a deep breath of fresh air to clear my head. Cicadas are singing lustfully, their drone punctuated with tree peepers' high pitched mating calls and crickets' courting calls, their laid back pace indicative of the chill in the night air. I stand for a minute before plunging into the library world to take up the challenges of the circulation desk at this late and hopping hour.
The music of the night fills every inch of sky, inviting the whole world to dance, to join the chorus and sing. I glance down the sidewalk to see who is watching. Groups of student gather here and there, chatting, laughing, hugging. They pay me no mind. I twirl about freely, letting the weight of long hours slip away. My circadian rhythm is indented by the cicadian song. It feels good, like skinny dipping in a heated whirlpool, floating, lightly massaged with the effervescence of the insect symphony. I hum under my breath, songs I am working on for PrayerSong. How happy to have summer wrapped about you despite the hard day. I shall sleep well if ever I get to bed.
This week my days are stretched unusually long as I return to work at 9pm after a long day to train a new Evening Building Supervisor. I knew it would be grueling staying until midnight, but there is no help for it. Somebody has to show the new kid on the block how to do the job, and some things can't be understood out of context. So I step into her time frame until she is comfortable being on her own. It's only a few days, but it taxes my limited endurance.
Tonight I had seminary class until 10, so she is already on her own for an hour. She has enough to keep her going until I arrive. I settle in for the lecture on church activity during AD 30 to AD 150, trying to wrap my brain around the early church fathers', experience what they encountered, think with a first century mindset. It is difficult to see why some issues were such a big deal then - after all, circumcision is a pretty moot point these days. Still, it provides interesting discussion material.
We break at 8:30 for our personal faith training in the upstairs chapel. We explore God's presence in the mundane and normal, talk about how God touches our lives in the ordinary, learn to appreciate the eternal moments in our interactions with life. Ten pm comes round before I realize, and I make my way down the stairs and out into the dark night, relishing the August evening dappled with the warm glow of streetlights and lighted windows.
I take a deep breath of fresh air to clear my head. Cicadas are singing lustfully, their drone punctuated with tree peepers' high pitched mating calls and crickets' courting calls, their laid back pace indicative of the chill in the night air. I stand for a minute before plunging into the library world to take up the challenges of the circulation desk at this late and hopping hour.
The music of the night fills every inch of sky, inviting the whole world to dance, to join the chorus and sing. I glance down the sidewalk to see who is watching. Groups of student gather here and there, chatting, laughing, hugging. They pay me no mind. I twirl about freely, letting the weight of long hours slip away. My circadian rhythm is indented by the cicadian song. It feels good, like skinny dipping in a heated whirlpool, floating, lightly massaged with the effervescence of the insect symphony. I hum under my breath, songs I am working on for PrayerSong. How happy to have summer wrapped about you despite the hard day. I shall sleep well if ever I get to bed.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Angst
The first day of a new academic year brings with it excitement, expectations, energy, and stress! Some of my staff have found little ways to tell me of their fears - they worry that they will not be able to handle the maelstrom of activity, worry that they will forget something, leave important tasks undone, let people down. It is a natural concern.
Unlike athletes, we do not get to practice for hours ahead of the event, have no opportunity to do warm up exercises. We plan, anticipate, organize, think ahead, and prepare, but suddenly the day is upon us and we are swept along with a forceful tide that has a mind of its own. Rather like experiencing a mini Katrina.
Stuff derails, unravels, fall apart, quits working, develops a bug, and just plain creaks at the seams straining to accommodate everyone, deal with the inevitable meltdowns of freshmen trying valiantly to learn to cope on their own for the first time, learning to deal with the roadblocks and detours as gracefully as they can. Confusion, short tempers, tears spring forth suddenly and clear away at least as fast.
My staff warn me that they may not get things done in a timely way, that they may seem dysfunctional at times, that they will not be their usual selves. I understand. Unlike most people, when things speed up, I am energized. I somehow fly faster, see more clearly, handle more stuff, multi task better. But it is short lived. Like a jet out of fuel, I eventually crash and burn. This year I am guarding against such silliness. I plan breaks, purposely get away at least once a day, remind myself that the library will not fall down in a heap if I am absent for a few hours.
So far its working pretty well. Of course, it has only been one day . . .
Unlike athletes, we do not get to practice for hours ahead of the event, have no opportunity to do warm up exercises. We plan, anticipate, organize, think ahead, and prepare, but suddenly the day is upon us and we are swept along with a forceful tide that has a mind of its own. Rather like experiencing a mini Katrina.
Stuff derails, unravels, fall apart, quits working, develops a bug, and just plain creaks at the seams straining to accommodate everyone, deal with the inevitable meltdowns of freshmen trying valiantly to learn to cope on their own for the first time, learning to deal with the roadblocks and detours as gracefully as they can. Confusion, short tempers, tears spring forth suddenly and clear away at least as fast.
My staff warn me that they may not get things done in a timely way, that they may seem dysfunctional at times, that they will not be their usual selves. I understand. Unlike most people, when things speed up, I am energized. I somehow fly faster, see more clearly, handle more stuff, multi task better. But it is short lived. Like a jet out of fuel, I eventually crash and burn. This year I am guarding against such silliness. I plan breaks, purposely get away at least once a day, remind myself that the library will not fall down in a heap if I am absent for a few hours.
So far its working pretty well. Of course, it has only been one day . . .
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