Editorial Note (That Sounds so Official!)

It dawned on me, finally, that whatever happened to my ymail account probably had nothing to do with this blog – it uses a gmail account as the main email address.  So, I’ve come back.  I tried Word Press but I find it much more difficult to use than Blogger.

Also, I’m going to refocus this blog a bit and I’ll provide further details in a post in the next week or so.  I can provide the hint that I’m going to concentrate on my impending retirement, preparations for, my reactions to, and activities I’ll pursue once off the clock.  This is really a big milestone and something I'm anticipating with both joy and nervousness.  It's a central theme in my life right now and should be on the blog too.

Finally, I’m going to return to my Colorado Shots blog.  One of the activities I hope to engage in more now that I’m approaching retirement, and certainly after retirement, is photography.  This will begin this weekend when I’ll be out and about in the area getting some fall color shots (I hope – it may be too late already).  I’ll definitely be doing landscape photos around Colorado and most likely get into railroad photography, since that can involve some pretty spectacular landscape shots around here.

Anyway, just wanted to let anyone who stopped by know what’s going on.

My wife had a very minor medical procedure on Tuesday and when we arrived at the doctors office, this sight greeted us.  The balloon was trying to land, apparently, in a park just across the street from the medical complex.  I don't know if it finally made a safe landing, but there was no news of a crash.

After the Storm

I've been struggling mightily since last Thursday,  to get this one photo uploaded.  It's a not very good shot out our rear window of the scene after the most recent snow storm here in the Springs.

Fourth of July Photos

On Monday morning we were fortunate to have a little time to sit on the back deck and enjoy some fresh air.  While out there, we were overcome by a full symphony of birds singing their morning praise.  It finally dawned on me that I might be able to get a few shots, my first bird pictures ever.

For any bird lovers, I'm sorry about my inability to identify the subjects in these few shots.  About all I can say is pretty little red bird and pretty little blue-gray bird.  Perhaps you're better informed than I.

Hope you enjoy.

 

And then, there were also a few man-made birds in the sky above. This is a USAFA glider and tow plane from the Air Force Academy cadet basic flight training activities conducted all summer long.

 

8/28 Rally, Part II, Playing the Tourist Role

When going to a place like Washington, D.C., one almost feels morally obligated to hit as many of the popular tourist attractions as possible. This is true no matter the fact that, concerning one’s own home town, with plenty of tourist attractions of its own, one remains almost totally ignorant. In my own case, I’ve never visited Seven Falls, or the Cave of the Winds, or even driven up the Pikes Peak Highway, and may never. They’re too close to home, and too easy to go see to rate a visit, I guess. 

So, even though we had been to DC several times in the somewhat distant past, we managed some time at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and the Museum of American History on Friday, before the Rally, and Sunday, after the Rally.

At the Air and Space Museum I felt the pang of regret that I feel whenever I see an airplane on display. I learned to fly before I graduated from high school and, especially as I grow older, there is something in me that hates to see an airplane in a museum. Several of the planes that were there were ones that were flying, I could even say, still flying, as I was growing up. Two particular examples, the Stagger-Wing Beech and the DC 3.

I understand that, given the hazards of regular use, examples of these old airplanes might be lost for future generations to see. Keeping them on display can give those open to such thoughts a perspective on just how far and how fast technology has progressed during the last hundred years or so. Just as an example of technological progress, in the picture with the X-15 in the foreground, you can see the Spirit of St Louis and Virgin’s Spaceship 1, the first private venture into space. The technology here spans the time from 1927 into the early 21st century, a remarkable display. Still, they were made to fly and I always feel a twinge of sadness to see them hanging from the ceiling in a building in Washington.

At the Smithsonian Museum of American History, actually an annex thereof, there was a wide variety of subjects covered in the displays, from early electrical generators to chemical research to transportation. As we were going through the displays something struck me, beauty. Even the very early designs for commercial electrical generators we designed, very obviously, with an eye to beauty. It was readily apparent that great attention had been paid to every detail and that functionality was not the prime consideration. The gears and other parts and pieces were really pleasing to look at. Even locomotives were built with careful attention to detail. Quality was evident everywhere I looked.

The desire for beauty and finding beauty in everyday life is a very Benedictine notion. Looking beyond mere functionality and doing things well is, I think, part of living the Rule and I couldn’t help but think of that as we continued through the museum. It’s, like much else in Benedictine spirituality, a natural part of human life; we’re drawn, almost in spite of ourselves, to beauty as a reflection of God’s love in our lives. As I thought about it, it dawned on me that that’s part of the reason I hate to see airplanes in museums. In many cases, they were beautifully designed to do what they do. It was a very welcome reminder of the truth and importance of Benedict’s Rule, written so long ago.

As for most of Friday, we spent that at the American’s for Prosperity Summit in Washington. What can you say about political meetings with lots of political speeches? It seems they are all the same and it was no different at the AFP meetings we attended. We did hear speeches from several bona fide celebrities, including Dick Morris, Virginia Governor, Bob McDonnell, and Congresswoman Michele Bachmann. There were two, however, that stood out. One from Herman Cain and the other from George Will.

Herman Cain is a radio talk show host and Fox News contributor. His speech was, like the others mostly political, but in the last 10 minutes or so he spoke of his fight to survive stage 4 cancer (cancer in two or more organs). When his doctor told him of the diagnosis, he asked her what that meant. She told him, “That’s as bad as it gets.” He said he decided to get a second opinion. At this point, he began to take on the persona of a black preacher and really put his heart into his talk. The second doctor he went to also told him, “It’s as bad as it gets.” But this doctor wasn’t ready to give up; he suggested a course of treatment. Mr. Cain said that after this, he began to see signs from God, the first of which was that the second doctor’s name was Lord. As he went on and gave the details of his treatment and survival, he told a story of real trust in God and love for God. It was very moving and if you ever get a chance to hear him speak, please go. You won’t be sorry.

The other speaker was the Keynote address that evening by the columnist, George Will. Will was a professor, I’m guessing of history, before he was a columnist and his speaking style is very much that of a scholarly, intellectual, history professor. I’m always up for that. Will, however, is also a baseball enthusiast, and he told several humorous stories about baseball to make the political points that were also very much part of his speech. I’ll share one with you.

It seems there was a rookie pitcher who faced the immortal Rogers Hornsby toward the end of Hornsby’s career. The pitcher threw three pitches, each of which, in truth, caught the outside of the plate. The umpire, however, called each one a ball. The rookie protested, “Mr. Umpire, those pitches were strikes.” The umpire answered, “Son, if any of those pitches had been strikes, Mr. Hornsby would have let you know.” Hornsby had established himself as a true professional who would not slack off, even when facing the rawest rookie challenger.

Is there a lesson from all this? I’d say the big impression on me was the excitement and enthusiasm of the crowd. They were fired up to say the least. When telling points against the other side were made, standing ovations almost always followed. It was as if the crowd believed that, simply by making those points, the speakers were vanquishing the forces of darkness and ushering in a regime that would reestablish the primacy of truth, justice and the American way. I think that remains to be seen, but the excitement and energy of the crowd was hugely impressive. By the time the evening was over, I was wondering what the morrow would bring.

8/28 Diary, Part I, On the Road to Washington

[Note: My wife and I attended Glenn Beck’s Restoring Honor Rally in D.C. this past weekend and I thought it important to provide some notes from the experience. ]

I first heard about the Restoring Honor Rally Glenn Beck planned for 8/28 probably in April. My first thought was, good grief, Washington, D.C. in August? He’s gotta be kidding! But then, my wife got wind of it. We talked it over for a good month or so and finally decided it was important that there be a good crowd for this, so we made reservations to go.

Why did we go? During to countdown to the Rally, all four months of it, we had little idea of what to expect, Beck didn’t release many details in advance. We did know the program was themed around his understanding of the virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity and that he vowed it wouldn’t be political; it would be about returning the country to it’s traditional values. And that’s why we went. We felt it important to stand in favor of such things; it was a tremendous gamble on Beck’s part to put the thing on; if it failed, if few people showed up, the so called elites running the country could claim a real victory for their progressive agenda. That would be terrible. We were a little afraid, in fact, that many people would not make the trip, given the time and the condition of the economy. We decided we could go, thanks to a bank of air miles, and so we would; we would try to do our part to make sure it didn’t fail.

So, we waited four months for the day of departure to arrive.

On the Road – We made our reservations to fly out on Thursday, 8/26 on the United direct flight from COS to Washington, Dulles Airport. The eve of the big day came, we set the alarms early, packed and went to bed. We got up, got breakfast and until 6:00 AM everything went strictly to plan. We were congratulating ourselves that we were better prepared and things were going more smoothly than any trip we had ever taken. Then the lights went out. I finished my shower and shaved in darkness. I wondered if this was an omen. Anyway, we got the bags out to the car and headed to the airport, thinking the power would come on soon and everything would be fine.

We got there, a parking lot shuttle followed us from our arrival in the Long Term Parking area and picked us right up. Seemed we were back on track. We got through security with no issue and got to the gate quickly.

It’s hard to describe time spent in a modern airport. There is the unrelenting sameness about airports these days that seems at times both welcome and oppressive. It’s welcome because you feel like you are entering familiar territory in the sometimes over whelming experience that is travel these days. It’s oppressive because it’s easy to forget just exactly what town you are in; except in matters of scale, one airport looks almost exactly like another airport, no matter the city or state. It’s also hard for an old-timer like myself not to remember that it didn’t use to be like that; airports in different cities each had their own character and were part of the landscape to which they belonged. They reflected the area around them. Now, due mostly I guess, to changes in technology and the regulatory quest to try to guarantee absolute safety, no matter the cost, entering an airport is like entering some sort of isolation capsule where you are completely cut off, once past security screening, from anything or any influence from the outside. Is this a good thing? I don’t know.

It’s hard not to notice, too, that even the cast of characters at most airports is nearly identical. At the screening area, there is the inevitable poor soul, usually some middle aged, infrequent traveler from Milwaukee, who tries to pack all sorts of liquids and gel into his/her carry-on baggage, resulting in the full force of the TSA coming down on their heads in the never-ending effort to trap terrorists and confiscate any possible explosive contraband. There is the elderly couple overwhelmed by the whole experience, wearing the famous deer in the headlights expressions. I can’t help but feel for them. There is the jaded, withdrawn teenager or college student, completely absorbed with their iPod, smart phone, or what ever the gadget of the moment is. And there is the business traveler, the one who makes their living doing this, week in and week out, checking email or writing important memos on laptops plugged into the wall. They were all there this morning too. As for me, I pulled out my most recent discovery, my Kindle, and opened a book by Richard O’Kane, The Patrols of the American Submarine, Wahoo.

I always try to bring a book of military history with me when I have to take an airplane some where. They aren’t heavy reading, but still serve as a periodic reminder that human beings, maybe especially Americans, are capable of great courage and self-sacrifice in the pursuit of what is right and good. O’Kane’s book fit the bill perfectly. The Kindle makes it possible to carry many books, both for the flight and for reading after arrival, without weighing down your carry on bag to at or beyond my declining physical limits. It’s a god send as I hate to be without a selection of books to read.  My Kindle will spoil me.

The flight itself, even though it was roughly three hours on a small commuter jet, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was, in fact, bearable. What else can be said, or even wished for these days? I congratulate United Airlines for being a rather customer oriented air carrier and doing their best to provide a pleasant experience under difficult circumstances.

On arrival, we headed for baggage claim, collected our bags and headed for the advertised shuttle which would take us to the West Falls Church Metro stop where we could catch a train and, we hoped, land reasonably close to our hotel at a reasonable hour. This worked out close to plan.

So, here we were in Washington, D.C., awaiting the big day.

[To be continued]

Killing Time, Waiting for the Barbershop to Open

[Bloggers Note: This was written at 0805 this morning.]

So, here I am, sitting in the neighborhood Starbuck’s, early on a Saturday morning, nearly an hour to go before the barbershop opens, killing time. Why, you may ask, am I sitting here with time on my hands waiting for the barbershop to open? You know I’ve got to tell you. 

Yesterday, the postman left one of those dreaded little slips of paper saying he had tried to deliver a certified, very important, letter and I wasn’t home to receive it. I could sense the disdain. This important document would be waiting for me in the morning at the post office several miles from our home. I knew it was important because it was sent through the very important, even legally demanding processes of the U.S. Postal Service Certified Letter channels. It must be important for someone to go through the time and expense to send me a document in that way. In any case, I was now scheduled to report to the Post Office at 8:00 AM on Saturday morning.

I had been expecting some documents that might qualify for this process and at first thought nothing of this intrusion. Then I began to have doubts. What really awaited me at the Post Office? So far as I knew, I hadn’t offended anyone enough for them to be sending notice of impending litigation. I was confident that I had paid every dime, and more, probably, to my Uncle Sam. This couldn’t be a letter from the IRS threatening to take everything I owned, or ever will own, unless I promptly paid some amount approximately equal to the national debt as of today. No, it couldn’t be that. Still. . . All I could see was a mountain of legal bills piling ever higher. The future looked bleak.

I spent a restless night in anxious anticipation of morning, cursing the fact that I hadn’t been home when this nasty coupon was delivered. Perhaps I could have refused to accept the thing, or told him I had moved to Montana or something. By the time morning arrived I was in a state. I rose early and headed off to the post office. I hate waiting in lines, especially at the post office and even more especially when my life as I knew it appeared to be at an end. I haven’t yet learned the Benedictine virtue of patience.

A stroke of luck, I was there the moment the doors opened and I was the first customer at the counter. I stood and looked at the postal clerk. He gave me a puzzled look and I handed him the coupon. After a few minutes he returned with the envelope in his hands and a very serious look on his face. He told me to sign on the line displayed on the little electronic box permanently anchored to the counter next to me. (Who would steal one of those things?) I obediently signed and he handed me my fate.

I looked at the envelope and it bore the return address of one of the national political party’s congressional campaign committees. What could this be? Maybe they were coming to their senses and asking me to run for national office, recognizing, finally, the importance of having candidates of a certain maturity and wisdom? Were they looking for advice on a course of action for the future? It was about time.

I brightened, stood a little taller, and opened the envelope, ready to offer myself in service to my country with purpose and dignity. I began reading, “I regret the inconvenience sending this certified letter may have caused you, but . . .” It was a letter asking me to contribute big bucks (fat chance) to their campaign war chest. I drooped. It was a complete waste of time, all for nothing. So I went to Starbucks and wrote this little essay and now you’ve wasted your time reading it. So there. I’m going to get a haircut.

Rocky Mtn Workshop - September, 2009

I was browsing my photo gallery the other day and came across my shots from the photo workshop at Rocky Mountain National Park last September.  I came across the pictures of the big bull elk that we spent so much time with on Saturday afternoon.  He was truly an impressive creature, not just to us watching him, but to the other bulls in the area too.  They were avoiding him, would go nowhere near his territory.  One dared a little too close and this guy went to make sure he understood his mistake.  It was quite a show.

Another sign of spring! One of the few areas in our yard that isn't on top of solid granite.

I Guess Spring is Here

I guess spring is upon us; I received the following email yesterday concerning bear activity on my cul-de-sac at neighbor’s houses over the last weekend.

Yes, the bears are back. Mama and the three cubs. They were behind S’s two or three days ago, enjoying the bird feeders next door. Then they raided the W’s freezer to have some bagels for breakfast. ( Ed had gone to run an errand and left the garage door up). And they took the bagels into the back yard to have a bath with their bagels.


They visited my garage night before last – about 8:30 PM – I had left the garbage can out even though the lid was tied down. Didn’t phase them a bit.


Anyway, Ed thought it a good idea to set up a phone call list, and thus you have it.


And the D’s saw a mt [mountain] lion in the back yard a couple of weeks ago.


Oh, If you want to see the bears – leave some food in the driveway!!!!!!!!!!!!. Just kidding of course.

Never leave a garbage can out anywhere in bear season.

The mother bear in question was a near full time resident of the neighborhood last year, I may have posted a picture of her and two of her cubs, if not, it's included here. Just another sign that spring has finally begun to sprung.

On that note, we cooked out a couple of steaks on Sunday, the first time we were able to do so this year. The ice cream truck that makes weekly rounds in our area also appeared for the first time this year. The thing plays a variety of rather odd music that blares all over the place and is quite a piercing noise. It made me think back to my youth when we received daily visits from the Good Humor man. 

The great difference is, which must be some sort of sign of the times, is that the Good Humor man announced his daily visit by ringing bells which were affixed to the front of his truck. It was quiet but still effective. We always knew when that truck was in the neighborhood, even without the aid of electronic amplification. We learned to listen for it. 
It’s amazing what good things can happen when we learn to be quiet and to listen.

One Smug Kitty

Taken last night during a moment of cat relaxation.

The Week, March 20, 2010

When I was a Presbyterian living in Texas, I attended a church whose pastor was a very learned, scholarly, and sadly, alcoholic preacher from Glasgow. He had been at that church over 20 years and had preached on every conceivable text from Scripture. A couple of times, toward the end of his tenure there, he would get up and confess, in his still deep Scot’s brogue, that he was tempted to simply read the days text and admit that he had nothing new to add to what he had already preached on many times. He saw no reason to waste everyone’s time. There are times when, facing a blank page, I feel the same way. Could there ever be anything new to say that I likely haven’t already said many times over? However, in the name of obedience and stability, since I have undertaken to maintain this blog, I offer a few comments on the past week.

The Weather

The week began with the first hint of spring so far this year. By mid-week we were having temperatures that I think reached the low 70’s – life was good. Then, reality reasserted itself. Thursday we saw increasing clouds, Friday cold and snow with a 30 degree drop in temperature. It snowed more or less all day. This morning dawned clear, a deep Colorado blue sky, and cold; it was 14 when I awoke.

It often seems no one is happy with the weather in Colorado Springs, with people almost evenly divided between those wishing for constant blizzard conditions from mid-November through April, and those who wish for snow only in the two week period beginning December 15th and ending on New Year’s Eve. I wonder many times why people move to Colorado Springs, it’s as if they had no idea that this area is really high-desert, tending to be a bit dry, but certainly subject to receiving our share of snow, depending upon either El Nino or El Nina conditions in the Pacific. If you don’t like snow and colder weather, ever, this isn’t the place for you.

The Week

I have come close to the end of a very busy time at work. I thought back on Thursday evening and realized I had been “busy” since the middle of December; it seems it was a time of almost constant pressure to meet deadlines and get things done. This period has come close to ending rather abruptly and it’s a bit of a let-down. I have to regroup and reorient myself to establish a routine not driven by pressure but by trying to recognize the important, creative things I now have some freedom to accomplish. This kind of thing, if you are an accountant, is an annual occurrence, but oddly, after a career of almost, well, let’s just say many years, I am just now recognizing. It’s something I seem more attuned to.

Is there any conclusion from any of this? I keep thinking of Chapter 31 of the Rule, “Qualifications of the Monastery Cellarer.” Benedict begins that chapter with the following:

“As cellarer of the monastery, there should be chosen from the community someone who is wise, mature in conduct, temperate, not an excessive eater, not proud, not excitable, offensive, dilatory or wasteful, but God-fearing, like a father to the whole community.”

 As the accountant, the “business manager” or “cellarer” of the company I work for, I believe I should strive to live those qualities that Benedict sets out in the Rule. Being mature, temperate, not offensive, means accepting the circumstances in which I find myself on a day to day basis. Not only accepting, but seeing the gift in the moment, whether it’s in a Rocky Mountain spring snow storm and the beauty of its passing, or a transition from a time of much activity to one of a slower pace, each moment is a gift that is too often taken for granted. Benedict would want that from each of his monks.

I think he would appreciate the point of a story my father, also a Scot born near Glasgow, used to tell as he got older. He went to the doctor, yet another Scot, complaining of a cough. The doctor examined him, asked him his age, and said, “Ach, Willie, gae home and be glad you’re able to cough.”

Going Deeper

(Back in January, before my first round of colds and bronchitis, I thought I’d write a little about how going a little deeper in Bible study has, at times, helped me in lectio. Being sick has postponed this effort, but in trying to build a habit of stability, I decided to finish it. All sources quoted here are from my Logos 4 Bible study software.)

 But recall the former days when, after you were enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated.  For you had compassion on those in prison, and you joyfully accepted the plundering of your property, since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession and an abiding one.  Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised. For,

“Yet a little while,
and the coming one will come and will not delay;

38 but my righteous one shall live by faith,

and if he shrinks back,

my soul has no pleasure in him.”

39 But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who have faith and preserve their souls. Hebrews 10:32-39 (ESV)

There have been times in my life that I received a gift, a rather subtle blessing, that I didn’t fully appreciate until some time afterwards. Usually this isn’t in the form of a present or something physical, rather it takes the form of an opportunity, or a chance acquaintance, or some unexpected and even inconvenient event impinging on my very well laid out plans that represents a turning point. Sometimes, even after a few years, and only when I look back do I recognize the significance of the gift in my life. 

I think that’s the point the writer of Hebrews was trying to make to his readers. One thing that almost always happens when I sit down to read a Bible passage is a particular word will seem to jump off the page. Usually that’s because the word seems out of place, an odd expression of an idea the authorsis trying to get across. In this passage, the word was “enlightened.” The writer is trying to encourage his readers to persevere during a time of renewed persecution. They are having doubts that becoming Christians was ever a good idea. They’d gone through persecution at the start of their Christian walk, stood strong, seemed to have overcome, when, low and behold, it was starting all over again. They weren’t sure they could take it anymore, they‘d had enough. This passage was meant to remind them that they had already experienced the worst, been helped by each other, and survived.

But there’s an unusual expression here, the writer asks them to remember “when you were enlightened . . .” He didn’t say, as we would today, when you accepted Jesus, or when you came to faith, he said “when you were enlightened.” I wondered why, and what meanings that word might have that might be important to understand. So I turned to my Logos 4 software.

First, I found the dictionary meaning of the word:

enlightened adjective

1652


1 : freed from ignorance and misinformation 〈an enlightened people〉〈an enlightened time〉


2 : based on full comprehension of the problems involved 〈issued an enlightened ruling〉1)

This already is helpful, because when the dictionary says “freed from ignorance” I get the connotation of something not done by oneself but with the help of, perhaps, a wise teacher. Still, I wondered what other sources might say, so I looked at a couple of commentaries.

illuminated—“enlightened”: come to “the knowledge of the truth” (Heb 10:26) in connection with baptism (see on Heb 6:4). In spiritual baptism, Christ, who is “the Light,” is put on. “On the one hand, we are not to sever the sign and the grace signified where the sacrifice truly answers its designs; on the other, the glass is not to be mistaken for the liquor, nor the sheath for the sword” [Bengel]. 2)

I’m not sure I understand the meaning of the last part of this quote, but, again, baptism is a sacrament that we receive when we become Christians. This isn’t something we do by ourselves, but in the community of believers.

Finally, I looked at the Jerome Biblical Commentary, which also mentions baptism.

when you had been enlightened: A reference to baptism (cf. 6:4). 3)

The lesson I gained from just this little research is that the writer of Hebrews was reminding his readers that, when they became Christians, it wasn’t something they chose to do and could just choose to undo, like joining some social club. He was implying that this enlightenment was something they were given as a gift from God. It was, in reality, a grace and not something they could easily turn their backs on, for to do so would be to reject God’s gift.

The study of this one word has been on my mind for most of the last month or two, because so often I forget how great a gift it has been in my life when, through almost a fluke experience, something I attached no importance to whatever when it occurred, I came back to faith after more than 20 years. It was a gift, one I don’t care to throw away.


--------------------------------------
1) Merriam-Webster, I. (2003). Merriam-Webster's collegiate dictionary. (Eleventh ed.). Springfield, Mass.: Merriam-Webster, Inc.


2) Jamieson, R., Fausset, A. R., Fausset, A. R., Brown, D., & Brown, D. (1997). A commentary, critical and explanatory, on the Old and New Testaments (Heb 10:32). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems, Inc.


3) Brown, R. E., Fitzmyer, J. A., & Murphy, R. E. (1996). The Jerome Biblical commentary (V 2, p 400). Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall.

A Brighter Day

The snow finally cleared, the sun rose, and this was the view today from my office window. I look at these views and can't help but see God's hand.

A Snow Day

Just a couple of shots of the view from my office this morning.  We're having more of a snow storm than was predicted, I think.  The church is St. Mary's Cathedral in downtown Colorado Springs.  There's a park (where many homeless congregate) behind and to the left of the Cathedral.  St. Mary's soup kitchen is directly behind it.  The Carneige Library is the beautiful building in front of the church.  On a really beautiful day, it can be hard to concentrate and keep from just looking out the window.  Today, not so much.

Missing in Action

We should zealously cultivate watchfulness, my brethren; and when, our mind purified in Christ Jesus, we are exalted by the vision it confers, we should review our sins and our former life, so that
shattered and humbled at the thought of them we may never lose the help of Jesus Christ our God in the invisible battle.

St. Hesychius the Presbyter

I haven't posted here in the last two weeks, although it seems like just a day or so ago.  Around the 7th of January, my wife came down with a bad cold that lead to bronchitis, then pneumonia.  A week later, I got it, although I didn't contract the pneumonia piece.  I still haven't nearly recovered from it -- bad stuff.  Hope to have things back to normal in the next few days.

Missing in Action

I’ve been missing in action the last two or three weeks due to a variety of factors. About three weeks ago, I came down with a mild sinus infection. However, it traveled to the drain tube in the corner of my right eye and the lingering infection created a blockage. It was a very unpleasant experience, with watery, messy drainage, which should have gone down into my sinuses and obstructed vision at best, nearly blinded me on the right side at worst. However, with a course of Keflex, it seemed to clear up. Then on Monday, I had to travel to Huntsville, AL, which for several reasons, was both a very worthwhile trip and a trip from hell. I returned home Thursday worn out, with a raging cold and my eye infection back in full force. That’s been the story of my life for the last month or so.


Anyway, as much as possible, to keep my mind off my troubles, I’ve been working on reading and understanding The Golden Epistle, by William of St. Thierry. I have learned to appreciate the faith and wisdom with which William writes. I find, although this was written to a group of Carthusian novices living in a monastery circa the 12th century as a book on monastic life, William is giving a pretty good description of what the experience of conversion really means in the life of any Christian. Too, like any good monastic, William never forgets the practical necessities of every day life. For example, there’s this from the first chapter.

 Sometimes, it’s hard to remember what we're here on this earth for. We get wrapped up in the pressures of building a career, keeping a home together despite so many pressures aiming to fragment family life, that these become all consuming. How seldom do we stop and take a step back to look at ourselves and what’s going on in life; where we are and where we are going. We forget simply because we become too busy.

XXIII 87. “However, the serious and prudent soul is ready to undertake all work and is not distracted by it but rather finds it a means to greater recollection. It always keeps in sight not so much what it is doing as the purpose of its activity and so aims at the summit of all perfection. The more truly such an effort is made, the more fervently and the more faithfully is manual work done and all the energies of the body are brought into play.”

William calls us to prudence, to avoid distraction from the real purpose of our lives, not to build a successful career, but to “aim at the summit of all perfection.” He realizes it’s a task involving, even in a Carthusian monastery in the 12th century, effort, but he calls for fervent effort to keep our real purpose always before our eyes. The irony is, if we do this, if we put our effort in the right place, everything else becomes easier: “All the energies of the body are brought into play.” Take a few minutes today and get your bearings, you might be surprised at the results.