Jagged Scar On The Perfect Face

That Dodge Dart was everything wrong with my childhood. Powder blue, almost muscle, vintage 70’s. Not blocking garage or front door, parked on the cement driveway under a sturdy, old Pine tree. Ladder for those branches you couldn’t reach when climbing. An easy way up. Sap stuck to your hands wash after wash. Season after season it sat. Dad didn’t drive it. Mom couldn’t abide it.

Pine needles piled up on it in the fall; fine yellow dust falling on her with every Spring breeze. Sitting silent in the periphery. Was it ever discussed? “Hey, what should we do with that car?” I’m guessing dad meant to get to it ‘one day.’ Take her to a mechanic maybe? One day. Money was tight. One day. 

The black mark on the white wall, jagged scar on the perfect face. Deep green dichondra lawn, winding white cement driveway bordered by berry and bush. Mom spent hours in the front yard; mowing, mulching, mending, pruning. Beauty from chaos. Eye is drawn to the scar, the entropized car in the corner.

It wasn’t about memories of family trips in the Dart. No recollection of sis breaking it in with barf on a road trip. I wanted to drive that car. It wasn’t a Camaro or Chevelle sure. More muscle in it then the white AMC Hornet I ended up with. It disappeared with a small chunk of me.

They cut down the pine tree. Too tall, old and close to the roof. A hazard to the house. The Dart vanished. Undiscussed when under the tree, no discussion upon its sale. Obvious in the driveway but not talked about. Hazard to the home. My childhood motif. 

Ninety Nine

A desolate drive,

Not desert,

Farm after farm,

Occasional tree,

Two hours in,

Choking smell of cow.

Sister studied there,

Rural school,

Miles from home,

Chasing art and wine,

Five years in,

Fleeing parents’ grasp.

Truck stops and fast food,

Each off-ramp,

Bathrooms aplenty,

Billboards boast lawyers,

Eight eight eight,

Marring the landscape.

Dinuba Reedley,

Nuts, raisins,

Short stretch to sis,

Where’s the Kings river?

One short hop,

Sweet time with sibling.

A regal river,

Citified,

Time changes all,

Images remain,

Fifty years in,

Cherished moments still.

Burning Bushes, Revival And Rest

Vacation week couldn’t come fast enough. I arrive at this week tired of working.  Tired of people.  Tired of me being tired of people. Tired of all the little things that bug me when they shouldn’t.  But they do. Road-tripping to Utah. Leaving humid beach-cold for dry summer hot. Hoping God would speak. Looking for revival.

No burning bushes. In red rocks, in rushing water, slot-canyons and slick sandstone God’s work is evident. My soul finds rest in nature as always. Replenished joy in desert driving; long talks with the wife. Coming alive through stair-stepping hikes and slow-river walks on slippery rocks upstream. Heat feeling good. Invigorated but not energized for work; for people, for little-foxes that spoil the vines.

Home through arid one-grey-colored desert to attend the sons’ Indian-themed engagement party. To see on my newsfeed that Anthony Bourdain is dead. A post on Facebook tells me cancer took a high-school friend. The miracle of dating; the dire end of depression.

My father had his dark days. He once told me that sunrises motivated him to live. I am fortunate to delight in sunsets (sunrises come too early) and the glories of nature. Laughing with family and friends is a well of the purest water for me. This confluence wets my tongue for more of life.  No burning bush?  Perhaps the fire was there all along.

Making Wise Choices

It was M. Scott Peck that said, “"Life is difficult.” (Peck, 1978/1992 p13). “We must attest to the fact that life was never meant to be easy, and that it is nothing but a battlefield of problems. We can either moan about them or solve them.” Choices come at us in myriad forms. This week I was offered the opportunity to take on a small consulting job. The simpleton would say ‘yes’ simply based on the money it afforded. The better option is to run the decision through a values grid.

Does this job put too much pressure on my family? Is the money worth the stress? How valuable to me (and to God) are my days off? Will taking this job allow me Sabbath rest? Will my wife and family benefit by this? The list can go on ad infinitum dependent on your own values. The aforementioned are some of mine.

My career decisions have been in part based on need and in part based on the freedom they offered. Whereas some choose work based on salary my choice has been lifestyle and freedom. For me that means freedom to invest my life outside of work. There is both a price to be paid and a reward to be gained. For me my choices allowed me to be present for my daughters’ school activities. I am one of few fathers that can say they have been to all their child’s plays, debates and rewards ceremonies. The down side is that I could have made more money.

Life is full of choices; a battlefield of problems. If we are to choose wisely we must know who we are and what our goals are for this life. Goal setting is a good place to start. Following that create a grid based on significant values; time, money, family, rest and exercise for example. Run the decision through your grid. Pray. Finally do not allow yourself to be coerced by the tyranny of the urgent. The important things will wait.
The unimportant will fade away. Stay true to your beliefs and stay on target. Solving the problems is necessary. Solving them with wisdom and the right tools will yield life long blessing.