Tuesday, August 23, 2005
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In these things, Lord (and in everything else) please help
me to apply the seven habits, and do it your way, etc.
Help me to be proactive.
W.net, first and foremost. I
need to make it happen. “It’s my
baby…” I need to do it, get it done,
get it done right and well and correctly.
I need to begin with the end in mind… every day; in every
phase. Help me to acquire this habit,
God. Help me to envision these
things… give me vision for these things.
Help me to see it correct and working, and to efficiently build it like
that.
Help me to put first things first. From snacking versus eating, to working
versus surfing, to resting versus getting chores done—help me to put first
things first. Help me to jettison that
whole “life is uncertain, eat dessert first” lie. Life may be uncertain but all the more reason to do things that
matter, and not things that are fluff.
Help me to think win-win—and here’s the kicker—EVEN WITH
THE PEOPLE WITH WHOM I AM ANGRY OR NOT TRUSTING. Help me to think win-win in every way—win-win or no deal. No more win-lose for me!!!
Help me to seek first to understand, then to be
understood. In W.net, in relationship
with S_ and the team members and other folk.
And M_. And Strider. And the Phura and Gamba. And everybody else that I work with here.
Help me to synergize.
Wow. How does that go
again? Teach me that all over again,
please, God.
‘Sharpening the Saw—even about work things. ESPECIALLY about work things. Oh, God, do I need help with this one. Please, God. Find me everything I need, put in my heart the desire to do everything
I need to get done, and help me to get it done and do it and do it right.
***********
Mountain biking is a BLAST. Exhausting but great fun.
I never understood the whole "thrill-seeking" thing; but now--
maybe I am getting a glimmer of it.
Several surprise downhills just barely under control (they weren’t big
hills, don’t be impressed—I was just caught off guard) -- and you know
what? The bike keeps going, most of the
time; over rocks that look too big, over logs that look too big... the tires
slide sideways, your heart is in your mouth, but the bike moves forward, and
somehow you're still vertical ten feet later.
The thing is, momentum is your friend. When you have it, you are basically
okay. But when you lose it, well,
bummer, dude. And since (so far) we're
doing cross-country rather than "downhill", sometimes momentum is
pretty elusive. Without momentum, "The
Big Endo" will find you. It's
found me, once or twice. :p
So far, I've been lucky; all my crashes have been in nice
soft mud, or a cushy thorn-bush. Except
today I landed on a rock-- but praise God, I had a waist pack on, and it was
the waist-pack that hit the rock first, and cushioned me.
But ya know-- some body-armor would be nice.... thank God
for my helmet. I want kneepads,
elbow-pads. Maybe shin pads. And something to protect my back would be
good... I'll feel safer in the fall
when I can wear a couple of thick vests, at least. (How well will an imitation camelbak break a fall?)
In the meantime, I just play it a bit more cautiously, that's all. Well, I try. Strider and I went riding tonight right after I got home from work. What a blast. I love this sport.
Yesterday was Dossier Mailing Day— after more delays than you want to hear about, it is now En Route to the agency. There it will be checked, properly ordered/collated, and packaged. Then it will be entrusted to Another Couple who will hand-carry it overseas to A Waiting Coordinator, who will hand-carry it to the translators.
I feel like Frodo leaving Mount Doom, smiling, crying with relief, and telling Sam “It’s Done! It’s Gone!” Of course, there is more to come. When you stop and think about it, it’s more like I’m taking a deep breath at Rivendell or maybe Lorien. But let’s not think about that right now.
The Doxycyclene is taking pretty good care of the Lyme disease. The latest humor-- the lyme blood tests came back completely negative. How insane is that? (Even if there was reason to doubt the last two diagnoses—which there isn’t—I’VE HAD THE COMPLETE VACCINE. Duh!!!) I’m not quitting the doxycyclene.
Meanwhile the doctor also says I’ve got “Plantar Fascitis”. Lame, I’m lame! I’ve always hated having cold feet but now ice packs are my friend. How’s that for motivation to get up in the morning? I have to get out of bed, limp painfully downstairs, and then put ice packs on the bottom of my feet. For twenty minutes. Then stretch—and ice them again.
Hey, the Dossier is in the mail. Maybe the agency even has it by now. That’s what counts. The Snowhobbits are one step closer to home.
Lord,
please help me to clean up this office.
As best I can.
Also
please help me to learn some new worship songs.
Please
help me to pray for the new church plant.
Help me to be like Tom Bombadil & Farmer Maggot, knowing the news,
what matters, knowing where the battles are, knowing the songs to sing.
Tom
Bombadil at Farmer Maggot's house:
Songs
they had and merry tales, the supping and the dancing;
Goodman
Maggot there for all his belt was prancing
Tom did a
hornpipe when he was not quaffing
Daughters
did the springle ring, goodwife did the laughing.
When
others went to bed in hay, fern or feather,
close in
the inglenook they laid their heads together,
old Tom and
Muddy-feet, swapping all the tidings
from
Barrow-downs to Tower Hills: of walkings and of ridings;
of
wheat-ear and barley-corn, of sowing and of reaping,
queer
tales from Bree, and talk at smithy, mill, and cheaping;
rumors in
whispering trees, south-wind in the larches,
Tall
watchers by the Ford, Shadows on the marshes.
...sounds
so romantic, and it made me wish that I had stuf like that to talk about, and
live through, as well as someone like Maggot to talk about it all with. And then I realized: What else is church
planting going to be like? What is
spiritual warfare, if not exactly this?
Walkings, ridings, sowing, reaping, queer tales, common talk, rumors in
the wind, watchers by the Ford, Shadows
on the marshes. Yes, church planting--
and plain old Christianity-- is like that.
Remember, remember? Spiritual
Warfare IS the quest. It goes on, and
on. Daily, hourly. It's all about Spiritual Warfare, building
the Kingdom of God, and loving the Lord my God with all my heart, all my
strength, and all my mind and all my soul.
And by the way, that's the partying part-- worship. Celebration. Music and dancing! In the
presence of the KING.
So I should have all that; I should DO all
that. I should be a pacesetter in that,
too. Celebration, warfare, prayer,
seeking wise counsel, reporting (as a watchman) what I see.
Lord
Jesus? ... bring me to life.
Still
bitter about the woodstove thing. Three
years later? Or is it four? Wow, more like four. It was the year FOTR came out in the
theaters; February of that year, more or less.
Maybe March. Long time ago.
Talked to
M_. She said I need to let it go; to
surrender to God, and be obedient. She
said I needed to fast, even if it’s a meal a day; and seek the Lord; start for
three days; go to a week if necessary; “And then you’ll have peace, and God
will start speaking to you.”
Then she
suggested I read the forty-day miracle thing.
Well, you know my attitude towards these things. But that’s just the problem, isn’t it—my
attitude? I asked her for advice, and
she gave it. I gritted my teeth and
started looking for the forty-day paper.
I think I tossed it. I called
her, and she promised me another copy.
So… Forty
days. Reminds me of the
Friends-Of-The-Bridegroom forty day thing.
(That was really good.) (But it
was different than this.) (So
what? Try it. )
Quote
from President Bush that hit me the other day:
“In the
years to come you will find that indifferent or cynical people accomplish
little that makes them proud. You’ll
find that confronting injustice and evil requires a vision of goodness and
truth.”
Two
comments: am I cynical and indifferent?
Certainly, and have I accomplished much that makes me proud? Certainly not at work, and everywhere else
leaves a bit to be desired as well. Do
I need a vision of goodness and truth?
Yeah, I need to see Jesus. I
need to fix my eyes on the author and finisher of my faith, so that I can run
with endurance the race that is set before me.
Right now I can’t even think about the race; that’s how little my eyes
are fixe3d on the Lord, and how desperately I need to fix my eyes on him.
Forty
days. What do I want in forty days?
A vision
of Jesus—the Inner Mansion, the seven castles that Theresa of Avila wrote
about. I want to see the Trinity, to
know that they are with me, to have that inner gaze—the CONSTANT inner gaze of
locking my eyes on Jesus.
I want
the boys back. Forty days would be
good. Really good.
The
church will be starting, it will be rolling by then. I should pray God’s will for that.
I want my
marriage to go still deeper.
I want to
stop gaining weight, and get back to Athletic and Healthy. Strider too.
I want
peace. I want to cease striving. I want to know that Jesus is here, with me. I want to worship again.
Hmmm,
that sounds like a set of “missions and values” for 7-habits. Funny how that works.
Long time
no write.
Well, the
Snowhobbits are gone; back to The Workhouse.
(First I wrote, they've gone back home; but it's clear that they feel
home is here.) Neither wanted to leave.
Of
course, we miss them; of course, it's a major downer. Which makes it all the harder to get the paperwork done. But we must. I'm shooting for Friday.
Please, God.
They both
love bikes; both love swimming; both love gymnastics. Cartwheels all the way down the driveway. They both love tickling and giggling and
horsing around and wrestling. Sometimes
I wondered if they were both going to survive the wrestling matches; but then I
would reason there was no sense in my intervening, since their relationship
with each other far outweighed my experience with them. The furniture is all still in one piece.
Lots of
bike-crashes. Skinned knees, elbows,
and shins. We must find a way to make
elbow pads and knee-pads "cool" again. They were at first. I
need a grownup set, for me, for starters.
(Yes, they got us into mountain biking.
I had always wanted an excuse.
Thank you, Snowhobbits.)
I miss
them. We both do. Come back, Snowhobbits! Please, God, bring them back soon.
‘*******************
Tomorrow, Strider will be chasing down five more documents and I will chase down two. Then those will be faxed or emailed to The Lonely Star and if they are acceptable, then I will place the order for the apostilling. If everything comes together, it could go into the mail Friday. Please, God, please, God, please God.
Yesterday
I worked extremely hard at tiring the tireless Snowhobbits out. Actually, I succeeded. (Strider
was a huge help.) We played at
soccer, volleyball, and squirting each other with the hose. Then Strider came home from errands and wrestled them. They fell asleep just before
dinnertime. We didn't wake them.
Yesterday:
Rain, rain, rain.
Today:
rain, rain, rain. Well, we needed
it. I'm-a no complain.
Today
Gamba (the littlest Snowhobbit) woke up with a tummyache. He was OK after a while. They reluctantly ate cornflakes for
breakfast, bananas, and Phura had a yogurt (Gamba declined his today.)
First we
went out for a walk in the rain. I
worried a bit, with Gamba’s tummy and no hats (oops, okay, I'm still learning
(!!!) but the boys are churning as usual anyway. They were very restless inside while Strider went shopping. THey decided to take the dogs for a walk;
passing the hose caddy, they decided on a replay. I suggested they remove the heavy sweats.
4:08:43
AM