Category: Reflections

I had one of those days today, so I’m going to share.

I was up late last night (writing on here to maintain my perfect record of posts), and, coupled with my trying to fit everything in over the past couple of weeks, the result was my ambling out of bed about an hour and a half later than normal. That meant that, after my shower, I only had about an hour to get the necessary reviews done before my 0900 deadline. And I was really hoping to start work on something else early today, too. The back-of-the-hand calculation made me wince as I stumbled toward the bathroom.

I clean myself up, come back, and boot up my computer as I finish getting ready for the day. Pull on this, log in there, pull on that, open up a browser, brush my hair, load a set of tabs, open up the curtain to let in some natural light, check the appropriate tab for the number of cases I have to do before the deadline and it’s… zero.

Maybe I should have pinched myself.

There was work for me to do, certainly, but there were no cases that had to be done this morning. I went through the short list of those that had popped up, checked on something, and switched tasks at 0832.

I grabbed breakfast (yogurt and fruit which was grab-and-go ready this morning) and started on the thing I had hoped I’d get done yesterday (*shakes fist at teh interwebs*) because of an impending external deadline. I wanted to get it done quickly, but I needed to get it done thoroughly and well, both because a client’s interests rely on it and because, as my first project for this group, it was imperative I make a good impression. (Especially given that this particular tech is right in my wheelhouse, doing well was critical.) Moreover, it was my first time getting my hands on working one of these tasks in quite a while – so not only was the heat on, but my hands felt like they were caked in mostly-dried mud as they went to tune an antique clockpiece.

Diving in, I skimmed my (handwritten) notes from yesterday, then flipped through the document I was writing for submission. Last night, I was a mixture of excited and frustrated: it was fun enough that I didn’t notice the time flying by, but there were several times when I just couldn’t grasp what the disclosure was saying. What does that mean? … Why is this here? … Is that supposed to be… ?

This morning, everything just clicked. Everything I was looking at fell into place: the invention, the prior art, the arguments that I knew I wanted to make but couldn’t put my finger on the appropriate wording… Everything. I thought I’d be working on it through the mid-afternoon; even with several interruptions, I finished before noon.

I also expected the partner would have a number of corrections for me. I’m a little rusty, I’m a little new, I’m a little a lot of things. And I’m working from home because of the pandemic, which also works against me and my focus. One of the reasons I wanted to submit the document to him early was so he would have plenty of time to look over it and make the necessary corrections. That’s what I’m used to, that’s what I’ve been told and taught to expect; that’s what I expected. And then…

“I reviewed the draft, and excellent work on it. Two minor style things…”

Excellent work. Minor style changes only.

… Am I dreaming?

I had to re-read the email. I work hard and well and thoroughly, but that doesn’t mean I’m used to receiving praise (let alone high praise) for the product. I got it done on time (ahead of schedule) and to the point where if it needed to be filed immediately, it could have been. Oh my goodness. I was thrilled. I still am thrilled. I was so excited that I had to step away for a little while to cool my jets because my head couldn’t handle all of the excitement at the same time as processing the information about another invention.

While I was metaphorically paused, I performed some administrative tasks, like plunking through the time tracking system. When I tallied my time on the project, it came out to less than three business days. And that was with me struggling with it. The first day I felt as though I didn’t know what I was doing because, the way my brain initially processed the description, it all seemed entirely foreign to me. I plowed through it because of the impending deadline, but it was certainly slow progress the first day, much slower than it had any right to be. Despite that, and some time wasted on trying to argue something that I recognized this morning was weak at best and wouldn’t matter at most, and I still came in under three days of work time. That’s super close to the well-oiled machine goal!

As if I needed anything else to top off my day, I clicked into my inbox after clock out (which was oddly quite late because I was so absorbed in my work) to find an email from a reference who’d had a “nice chat” with someone on my behalf and he just wanted to touch base and wish me well.

Sidenote: I owe him a really nice thank-you card.

So, okay, you may be thinking, “A solid day, but you were trapped inside.”

Today, I was barely tempted to go outside. Yes, I would have loved to have made time for a walk, and it looked like pretty decent weather, but for anyone watching my posting time, this is going to go up about 2300 hours, and I still have a few things I want to get done before bed. The mere fact that I wasn’t staring out my window longingly, wanting to escape from the task at hand, is a huge sign of great things. Everybody has those moments – you hit a stumbling block, or there’s a more difficult obstacle than you really wanted to face blocking your path – but today those were few and far between for me.

Tomorrow, I’m getting my tuchus outside. It’ll be gorgeous. I’ll get done what I need to in the morning, go for a walk, go visit a friend, maybe go for another walk, and figure out this Mass-without-church thing. (All public Masses in my area have been shut down by the bishop; I needed a day like today after receiving that news this week.)

This week has been exhausting in a fantastic way; I’m excited for what tomorrow will bring.

How about you? Are you sheltering in place this week? If so, how are you handling it? If not, what have you been better able to do with fewer crowds? What has been the best thing about your week this week, and what are you most looking forward to in the near (or distant) future?

And a great storm of wind arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. But He was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke Him and said to Him, “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?”
And He awoke and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”
And they were filled with awe, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even wind and sea obey Him?”

– Mark 4:37-41

Just a quick note tonight about a current event.

COVID-19 (otherwise known as the coronavirus) has officially hit the United States. It’s a nasty flu causing pneumonia-like symptoms, the most common of which are fever, dry cough, and fatigue.

People are going nuts.

Granted, it appears to have a higher mortality rate than the typical flu, and the harshest of the symptoms are ones we as a nation are ill-equipped to handle. I was (reluctantly) discussing the topic earlier with someone who works in a hospital and gets all of the updates for safety reasons. Some of the equipment that has been most necessary to sustain life through the worst of the fight is in short supply (nationwide) relative to the number of people they suspect will show symptoms. Then the question came up:

How do you decide who gets the equipment, who lives and who dies?

The question struck two chords in me. First, for the first time since the outbreak began, I felt panic sear across the back of my skull. Zombie apocalypse? That was the first thing to come to my mind. Second, my companion mentioned that, logically, once the stash is depleted, the equipment should be taken away from patients less likely to survive if new patients come in. I was morally outraged. And yet, even my repugnance was overshadowed by this fear.

It’s not the first day of worry; I was texting with a friend the other day when I was in the airport about the concerns around travel. There are horror stories coming out of China, and hand sanitizer has been sold out for a week in my area. (I went to pick it up for an event last weekend and several people laughed aloud because it’d been sold out for days already.) However, the reality that hospitals are planning to ration care and equipment based on factors such as age struck hard enough to jolt a frightened reaction from me.

For the rest of the conversation and at least an hour afterward, I was shaking from nerves; as I tried to blow off steam, I found myself distracted with thoughts of doctors ripping equipment away from my grandmother to give to me. Absolutely not. It was such a haunting thought.

But then, hearkening back to the airport conversation, I realized: I have nothing to fear because the Lord is with me always. Always. It may not be easy, it may not be fun, but God will take me in His time, regardless of whatever the world may throw a me. Jesus will only allow my family and friends to suffer if the suffering itself is for His glory, and He will be with me through everything.

So take steps, but also take heart. Wash your hands and/or use hand sanitizer frequently. Minimize physical contact. Be your best hygienic self to help prevent the spread of this thing, but do not panic. We are called to be good stewards, so take care of yourself and others by following precautions; we are also called to trust God and to find peace in knowing that He loves you.

We are children of the Living God. Know that He loves you and protects you, and use the tools He provided you to stay in good shape. Take a breath. In… Out…

Peace of the Lord be with you always.

Two simple words (well, three depending on how you count the contraction), yet they can be so important.

One of the daily Mass celebrants wishes everyone a good day after the concluding rites. The congregation is split in the response between, “Thank you, Father,” and, “You, too, Father.” Not every priest says this at the end of Mass; as I think about it, he’s the only one whose Mass I recall recently attending who does. Somewhere along the line (probably in my childhood), I ended up with the latter response becoming habit.

First, a quick note: it isn’t simply rote when he says this. Yes, I suspect it is habit, but the way his face fondly lights up as he makes eye contact with us when he says it tells me that he means it, sincerely. It’s adorably heartwarming how much he truly wishes us to have a good day.

Second, I noticed the alternative response (“Thank you”) only recently. I don’t know if I simply haven’t been listening to the people around me, if nobody in the church I learned my response deviated from the one I knew, or some combination of the two. Given that I have noticed the consistency of the dual responses over the past week, I’m inclined to think it’s a combination of factors.

Third, and the highlight tonight: how often do I reply with a heartfelt “thank you?“

Not very often.

I’m well-practiced at the art of saying thank you when it’s warranted and slipping in a thank you when appropriate, but how often do I pause to express deep gratitude? How often do I feel true gratitude? Am I pausing to appreciate the gifts God gives me on a daily basis? Am I thanking Him for His gifts? If so, great! If not, why not? I find that I am appreciative of numerous random things, but I don’t often speak that thankfulness. I have been working on that, but I know there is still room to grow. There is another point that I noticed today is probably related.

I am cleaning some stuff out of my room, including getting rid of the things I don’t need. The first item went today: a jewelry box I posted on Freecycle. (That was fast.) The recipient arrived to pick it up, a warm smile on his face, and he said, “Thank you.” For the first time in recent times, I offered a sincere, “You’re welcome.” It felt full and real and true. I was so glad we connected, and I was so glad that I could give him that jewelry box. That’s the only way I know how to explain it.

There are plenty of occurrences when people thank me for something. That’s not the source of my lack of, “You’re welcome”s – my response is. When someone thanks me for anything, I brush it off with some sort of euphemism to stand in for it. “It was nothing,” or, “Don’t worry about it,” or, “Of course,” are my responses of choice. None of these are the same, even though they make for adequate social substitutes.

For me, these responses downplay whatever I offered the other person, sometimes to the point of self-deprecation hidden behind them. My responses show I don’t think highly of my contribution because regardless of how well done it was, it could have been done better. This is always the case, even if I squeezed out my very best product: I could have done better. In effect, it sometimes turns the response into an apology for not contributing something more worthy, even though the recipient may love the offering precisely as it is.

But that’s not the point. The point is not that something more perfect could have been given, the point is that I offered something of myself for the benefit of another. When I offer my time, talent, and treasure out of a place of joy and love, it’s something to celebrate – even though it’s not perfect. We give of ourselves not because what we have is perfect, but because He will make our offerings perfect and use them to draw us closer to Him.

So this is something I will be working on, the gratitude-recognition dynamic. With an eye toward Lent, I think it’s even more imperative that we think about showing appreciation for that which is done for us as well as recognize the value of what we offer others, the worth and dignity of ourselves. What better way to celebrate what Jesus did for us on the Cross than to look for what He sees in us?

Thank you for taking the time to read this post; I hope it was enlightening. You are welcome for this post; I hope it inspires you to love yourself and others more fully.

The homily this morning discussed perfect timing. I have lived it – today most noticeably.

The priest was talking about how one of the ceramic Stations of the Cross stations was broken last year in the late summer/early autumn. It was shattered – the kind of broken that superglue alone doesn’t really fix even with all the patience in the world. Soon thereafter, he met with a friend about something completely unrelated in a different state and the friend mentioned the local parish getting some ceramics refurbishing done. The interaction led to him contracting that company to try to fix or replace the broken station. They did a fantastic job, and delivery was this week. It is hanging in its proper place now – just in time to kick off Lent next week.

You know the feeling of perfect timing? Sometimes it seems as mundane as the light changing to green just before you pump the brakes; other times you walk into a store just as a sale kicks off on precisely what you went in to buy. (The latter happened to me when I went to purchase specialty chocolates for an event: everything that I was interested in went to 75% off for about thirty minutes before it was removed from the shelves due to season change. Instead of hoping to get enough with $30, I walked out having spent less than half that and knowing there would be leftovers of some of the best chocolate. That was epic.)

I hit the jackpot with perfect timing today: I arrived at Mass just as it was starting (despite my waking up twenty-plus minutes late), I got to a meeting just as the person I was looking for arrived, I ran into someone I needed to speak to who only ducked into the office for a few minutes between outside meetings, and I found my Children’s Bible yesterday when our topic today for Alpha was How and Why Should I Read the Bible? … Unfortunately, that last one was lost on me; even though I coordinate for Alpha (meaning I send out the emails reminding the team what each session will be discussing), I forgot that tonight was about the Bible and left mine next to the door. Oy vey. I also ran into someone who told me Catholics don’t read the Bible. (Maybe this whole thing is really perfect timing the other way around: now that I found it, I need a reminder and some encouragement to read it. Message received.)

And that’s just today: I had a perfect meshing on Monday as well. (It’s not quite timing, but it’s related.) I traveled for a meeting on Monday to the same area I have choir practice, so I decided to pack a bag and just stay for the day. I had several hours between the meeting and rehearsal, but I had plenty to do that went with me. As I put my car in park and reached for the door to walk to choir practice, I realized that I didn’t have any of my music. Ugh. I resigned myself to having to borrow some, copy the night’s notes onto my copies, and returning the extra copies later. But when I walked up to the choir loft, I found nobody; the place was vacant. I texted a friend who promptly replied that practice was canceled due to the holiday.

Imagine the chances of that: the one time I leave all of my music at home is the one time that we don’t have rehearsal and the one time I missed the memo that we didn’t have rehearsal.

There are so many perfect timing or “happy coincidence” stories in my life that I simply cannot remember even half of them. For example, I also dressed particularly professionally (and chic) today for a meeting and ran into someone I didn’t expect to see; the circumstance made me smile a little extra. Also, I needed a piece of scrap paper to write some notes on, and one piece of paper turned up that wasn’t fit for any other use. Moreover, someone who has attended very few sessions attended tonight, and she was precisely the person I needed to talk to about an opportunity that presented itself yesterday which I find both daunting and thrilling. These examples are just from this evening.

But enough about me; how about you? What times can you reflect on in your life in which you approached a table, topic, or person just at the right time? How have things fallen together just right? When is the last time you read something that struck a chord? Have you ever said something that you weren’t expecting to say to someone only to find that was precisely what that person needed to hear? How do you trust God to let some of the pieces to your puzzle fall into perfect place?

One, two, and three –

This, that, the other –

X, Y, and Z –

When is the last time you felt like you were on a roll? When have you been totally in tune with your mojo? What were you able to accomplish that day?

I had one of those days today. It was crazy cool, and I certainly didn’t expect the day to go anywhere near as well as it did. I attended Mass, apologized to a friend, put in over three hours of billables reviewing decisions, sent emails, compared like teas, received calls, made calls, sent more emails, cleaned up my paperwork pile, sorted a “do soon” pile, tested tech, cleaned my room, sorted items into boxes for storage and tagged them, moved a bunch of stuff to storage, took a few items out of storage, took a bunch of pictures, finally posted stuff on Freecycle and Craigslist, and even found my jammin’ CDs that have been missing for several months. I got stuff done today that I wasn’t expecting to have time for until tomorrow.

And I still feel zippy.

Today was ridiculously productive, and I still feel like I’m flying. (I’m going to crash so hard when I zonk.) I was active and proactive, I was getting things prepared to move forward, I was reading through homework reading for fun as I was waiting for people to answer the phone. When was the last time you were given a reading assignment and you actually wanted to do it? I can’t remember the last time I was so excited to read about anything and stayed excited through the entire endeavor… well, other than fuel cells. (Okay, so I just remembered one, but typically I lose my enthusiasm after a little while.)

Oh! Also, I found something I’ve been looking for even longer than the awesome CDs that resurfaced:

Epic find, I tell you, epic find.

And I still have room in my storage unit for quite a bit more stuff – probably more than I want to part with for my day-to-day. I have more pressing matters to attend to tomorrow, but I am excited to get back to this and determine what exactly can go into the storage unit. (I’m convinced it’s just about everything.) Have I ever mentioned that I thoroughly enjoy real life Tetris? (My storage unit is a 5′ x 10′ plot packed with stuff floor-to-ceiling from the back forward with a path through to access everything with space at the front for temporary storage. It’s perfectly executed.)

Even moreso, I’m thrilled for the things I’m going to get done tomorrow. With today’s work out of the way, I can attend to tomorrow’s tasks freely and with proper focus. (It also put me in the right mindset because tomorrow I will be assessing office space. Speaking of office space, I was offered an office space today… I am totally thrilled about that to the point that, especially coupled with the excitement of today, I don’t know how to respond without sounding like an over-excited tweeny-bopper.)

So, again, I ask, when was the last time you were on such a roll? What were you doing to get you there? How did it start? More importantly, how did you keep it going? What was the best part about it?

I’m looking forward to facing tomorrow’s challenges with the same vigor, getting just as much done, and feeling even more accomplished because tomorrow’s tasks are even more critical to the march forward. Today was more about opening the gate; tomorrow is concerned with taking those first few steps down the path.

What does your tomorrow look like?

Today’s Gospel reading (Mark 7:31-37) is about Jesus restoring a deaf and quasi-dumb man’s hearing and speech. (“Quasi” because the man was described as having a speech impediment, meaning he could speak, but not properly.) The passage is typical of the miracles of Jesus: someone with an ailment is brought to Jesus and is healed. This particular story has a slight twist to it that I never paid attention to previously, but the priest highlighted it in his homily.

Jesus took the soon-to-be-healed man aside from the crowd and plugged his ears with his fingers. One might think, “Random,” but it wasn’t at all. Jesus took him away from the crowd for the same reason He plugged the man’s ears: this deaf man was about to regain his hearing and it was kindest to be shield him from the cacophony the rest of the world is used to. Imagine typically listening to your television at a volume of one, but when you turn it on, you find it at a volume of forty-three. Your ears would hurt. Jesus protected the man while he acclimated to his new ability to hear.

That’s the Jesus of the Bible: helping people in ways the rest of us forget may need attention. Jesus consistently offers support not only in the way we’re asking, but also in the ways we need to get there. He helps with what I call logistical support, making sure the details of each need are covered.

Case and point: Jesus feeding the five thousand people who followed Him and the disciples out to a lonely place. His disciples told Him to send them away to find dinner for themselves, but Jesus took the provisions they had and distributed it among the people to satisfy their need for food. He could have sent them all away to get their own dinners, but He instead fed them because He cares for all of our needs. Not just the ones we ask about, but all of them, including the ones we don’t yet see.

How much do you trust in the Lord making sure you have what you need? I have my good days and my bad days. On my good days, even the most disastrous of circumstances leaves me saying He’s strengthening me for another trial. On my bad days, if the coffee shop doesn’t have the flavor of doughnut I want, the world is going to end and nobody loves me anyway so it doesn’t matter. Most days, I’m somewhere between the two; I fight to move that needle in toward trust, but I do still have to wage that war.

Do you have a favorite passage about God providing for His faithful? How do you best remind yourself that He loves you and will make sure your needs are taken care of? When do you find it easiest to trust God and His providence, and when is it more difficult? Where is the next step toward trusting God more fully in the way we are called to love, honor, and trust him?

Some mornings are immediately great beginnings: beautiful starts to magnificent days. Many of these are decidedly great mornings by deciding to that effect: I will make today wonderful, and therefore this morning must follow suit. Then there are mornings when you can’t figure out why you’re in such a bad place mentally, growling at the water for coming out of the spout too slowly or furrowing eyebrows when it comes to putting on boots to protect your feet instead of the simple shoes that take half a second to slide into.

For me, this morning was the latter.

Today was destined to be a fabulous day: I was looking forward to meeting a new friend and making some phone calls in addition to getting more quantifiable work done. One of my favorite homilists was celebrating the Mass this morning, and I had some other tasks to complete that I was excited to do and get done. Everything was aligned; I even got a decent amount of sleep last night.

So why, then, did I wake up this morning feeling like I’d been drugged and beaten with a cudgel? Why was it so difficult to get out of bed, to get dressed, to even walk to my vehicle? Cleaning off the stubborn sheet of ice was the easiest part of my preparation for the day. (For that, I’m grateful; by the time I left the cathedral, I had to do it again.) None of it made sense, and I couldn’t quite find a grip to yank myself out of the pit with.

Then, during Mass, I somewhat lost control of my voice in the middle of the alleluia: it warbled. While it certainly wasn’t intentional, it was a beautiful little addition to the tune. I was at once confused and tickled and determined to not lose control of my vocal chords. (Such is unacceptable for singers such as myself, you know – not having control over our own musicality is strange at best and un-artistic at worst. … I write with a smirk and good humor.)

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but grin. It was precisely the opening I needed to reclaim the day, and I jumped on the opportunity.

The timing was also interesting because it relates to the post I added yesterday: a small thing recognized for some worth resulting in a great return on the investment of recognizing it. Small details can empower us if we let them. Are we grateful for everything the various facets of life offer? How can we open ourselves up to gratitude and empowerment through noticing another aspect of our lives?