So, when was the last time you heard some words that made you feel valued as a person? Not words about your clothing, your physical appearance or the car you drive but words about your character or behavior?  Yesterday was my last day of work at the oil company I joined last November.  When I was hired in I really believed I found my last forever place but it didn't go down that way. It's funny how we like to talk about what we will do tomorrow, next week, next month or next year because we feel like when we put a plan in place that we've decided well and it should not change quickly.  But that's not always the way it turns out. 

In the Bible, James 4:14-15 says: Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.”  Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that."

The older I get the more I realize that our lives are but snippets of seasons.  God moves and directs us, whether you are aware or not, in and out of scenarios and situations for a season.  Your season may be years but it may be a moment in time. I'm thankful that I've come to a place in life that I recognize that when it's time to go, it's time to go. Why delay the next move if you acknowledge the One who directs your path?  

Finding my niche at the oil company was not hard, but the processes were difficult.  The software they purchased some years back was not at all sales or user friendly and seemed cumbersome and inefficient to me.  It created many extra steps needed on a busy sales desk to process an order because the program didn't connect all the dots to all departments as promised. Recognizing that I couldn't change the system or fight for improvement any longer,  I had to determine if I could fit into the process or move on. I had my eyes on several opportunities, when an opportunity came to me. It seemed right and brings me some flexibility that I am looking for so after some discussion with trusted friends and prayer for peace of mind, I accepted the new opportunity.  I gave my resignation. 

Two weeks later as I made my way through the management team and different departments to bid adieu, one by one I was told ‘whether you know it or not, your being here really made a difference for the better.’  I was stunned and more than that, I was thankful.  Instead of regretting the choice I made 7 months ago, I realize that this season seemed to be a needed confidence booster and training ground as I got my footing back in the race. It gave me time to gain a steady pace, brush up on the language of business semantics and hone my skills that God gave me making me a desired hiree even at retirement age.  It’s not easy to interview against potential candidates half my age, but if God’s behind it He will shine His spotlight on you! As I made my way through the ranks yesterday, I was told by a decision maker, that if things didn’t work out where I was going, to reach out and I would be welcomed back.  Nice!

Never count yourself out!

All pics googled 

Hold On Tight to Your Dreams

This post was written in 2016, but worth resurrecting in 2021.  A timeless thought and practice for anyone looking at their life in the midst of chaos. 

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Here we are. One month under our belt in 2016.  I hope you still have a glimmer of the hopes and dreams you planted for yourself, or thought you did, as the new year approached. 

Do you remember being full of hope and new promise of untouched ideas and unexplored dreams before the chaos of addiction was crouching at your door?  Remember what it was like to look ahead and see yourself doing something you thought would change the world or at least change your life? 

Gosh, it was so long ago when I used to imagine myself either performing, teaching or nursing.  But when life didn't head in that direction, nor did I have my feet firmly planted to make any of these aspirations a goal, I began to put those dreams into boxes near my chair so I could pull them back out when I was ready.  Then the boxes were in the way and after hurting myself tripping over them, they were placed up high on a shelf that were never pulled back down and remained there unopened.  Finally, those boxes were tossed away when changes came along and those dreams seemed untouchable or foolish for one like me. 

When Cliff was in full blown addiction, I began to see myself through a narrower eyeglass and only examined his life through the telescopic lens, because you know, he was my son.  My problem, my rescue and my responsibility.  I was so exhausted trying to save Cliff, I had no time or desire to change my own life.  I thought it was selfish to think about me because, after all, who would help my poor baby??  As if he were my infant child, I would cry out at night "He's hungry, he's alone, he's cold, he's fearful."  Is he going to survive another night on the street?  But the fact was "He's 18, he's 21, he's 25" and those concerns kept overriding all sensible thinking.  

When I was created, like all of us, I was planted with a future and a hope.  Dreams, visions and ideas were indelibly planted in my marrow by my Creator.  He gave you some of your own, too.  But, when the chaos of addiction became my partner in every breath I took, the enemy of my soul kept telling me that nothing would change. The subtle, sneaky, lying deceiver kept telling me my dreams and visions I had were foolish and a thing of the past, let alone the dreams I had for my children. Those were stomped out and gone. The only dream I could see was burying Cliff from an overdose, which by the grace of God didn't happen.  Wow, the time I spent lost in the lies added up to years.  

But guess what?  When my own recovery from codependency finally took root, I learned that I was powerless over this thing and certainly powerless over my sons lives and therefore, better look closely at my own. I discovered that some of my character traits weren't very nice and were requiring change, even at 61.  But, they don't change the dreams and goals planted by my Creator and are still here.  He never took them away from me in spite of my belief that they were long gone. There was no expiration date on those specific gifts He gave me. Soon, the boxes of dreams re-appeared in my line of vision and were within my grasp.  The lids were lifting up again and soon, the plans re-awakened in my thinking. 

Some of the things God planted in me, occur without thought because I simply love the life He's given me and I'm thankful that today I can walk in confidence that I will still have opportunities to live out my dream. Writing happens to be one of them. Other dreams and character behaviors are still being shaped, even at 61.  Yay!

And in those dreams that are taking shape, I see both of my sons becoming the men that God created them to be, without their mommy's direction.  They are men. They are responsible. They are loved by the same Creator and were born with a future and a hope, too.  Your addict and your alcoholic were created in just the same way!  This is not an exclusive club. Have hope! 

Not nobody, not no how (tipping my hat to the Cowardly Lion) is going to steal my dreams and blessings again.  They may not look like the vision I had at 18, 25, or 40, but they are exactly as they should be right now. God keeps His plans and promises. We just have to believe and let Him in. 

Hold on Tight To Your Dreams

You tube and picture googled

Second-guess!

"I'll do my best today, without trying to second-guess every word or action."

Like most people these days, I choose to receive a myriad of daily e-mails to help encourage my walk in this life. Some are to help me grow spiritually in my walk with Jesus, others come from recovery based programs, and still others are general topics of encouragement that keep me focused upward in life.  It's so easy to look down, it seems if we don't train ourselves to focus on what is good, right, true and honorable. 

So today, in my email from Hazelden.org the "Today's Gift" came from "Walk in Dry Places" by Mel B.  and the closing line shown above was a perfect gentle nudge to remind me that I don't have to try to figure out or second-guess myself or what others are trying to say. Or what I THINK they're trying to say. I don't like it when others assume they know what I'm thinking or know what I meant, when their assumption is as far from my point as it can be.  I used to drive myself crazy second-guessing if everything I said was co-dependant, controlling or just plain wrong. I was in misery! 

Meeting with Cliff this past weekend for a minute or two was enlightening.  He mentioned how he's finally stepping out of the junkie thinking and applying some of life's most basic concepts.  Hard work generally gets noticed and pays off. Cliff found a job on Craig's List sometime back and that job has continued to lead him to his next paycheck two times now.  This next opportunity may land him into some permanent employment.  It's satisfying to hear his words and know that his life has changed and I no longer second-guess what he's doing, where he's going or how he's spending his money. 

I've learned the hard way to step back and just listen to others. I don't have to tell them I don't agree. By keeping my thoughts to myself doesn't necessarily mean I agree or condone them it just means I'm not in charge of anyone else's life but my own.  I try to choose to back out of conversations that used to lure me in, if it doesn't pertain to me. The best part though, is being free from second-guessing or trying to figure out things that don't belong in my brain space. I don't have room for anyone but my own life issues and don't have the knowledge or ability that the Creator has to re-align someones life choices. 

It's so freeing to be free from all the things that used to entangle me!

All pics googled. 

A Promise is A Promise

Tis' the season following Christmas when many folks are struggling with one heartbreak after another. I'm not typically affected by an event or calendar date once a trauma has passed me by. I know many folks who almost seem to plan that once something has affected a holiday, that forevermore that same holiday is tainted. I think perhaps a person is pre-planning their mindset and scheduling the affect as a bondage or being held hostage by the thing they cannot change.   

I must admit however that this year, right now,  I've been struggling with the loss of my mom 10 years ago this June and during a mid-day snooze the other day I had a disturbing dream. My healthy mother was in it.  She visits me now and again in dreams and mostly never says anything or comes near, but often is just smiling at me.  This time though I was feeling so saddened by her absence that when she suddenly appeared I was sobbing and telling her how much I've missed her. My mother was hugging me so tightly that I'm sure I sensed her spirit with me.  It brought me peace yet I awoke with tears still brimming in my eyes and running down my cheeks. Ah, mom some days I want you here so badly, but believing what I do, you're not really longing to be here. Why would she long to leave a perfect place with the loving presence of her Savior to come back to a world wrought with pain, suffering and sorrow?  I don't think she is. 

Today would have been my parents 63rd anniversary had it not been for the dreaded PSP or at least that's what  I'd like to believe. Very possibly something else could have occurred but we hang our hats on the disease that took our lovely mother prematurely away. Can you imagine being married sixty-three years to the same person?  It's a remarkable journey and I applaud any couple that lands on each marking point still standing together by choice.  I remember so many little tidbits of Mom and Dad's marriage and in the last 3 years of their life together I was privileged to be there daily. While I've mentioned it before in my writings, one of my fondest memories is my dad feeding the first line of a song that he and my mother knew from their era of music, and my mom would dutifully sing the next line. A pattern that was put in place long before mom was ill carried into a time when they longed for some routine and normalcy.  I loved hearing mom sing when I was younger and now waited with bated breath to hear her utter her part loud and clear.  This went on day after day and it was one of the little ways that dad kept mom engaged in life when she might rather have been left quietly alone. It was a complete effort for mom to put together any sentence let alone sing a line of a song, but she would muster up all the energy she could and take her part, delighting us each time.  It was my parents love language and I was a voyeur in their inner sanctum. 

As mom's disease progressed she needed help with absolutely everything and so at bedtime we developed a routine together.  Dad was tired by the end of the day and on the nights I was available I would walk mom back to the bedroom and help her do all the things necessary to tuck her in at night. On one occasion we began our two-step when suddenly 85 pounds of nothingness stopped dead in her tracks ~ Mom may as well have been 1000 lbs.  I said "Mom, whats up?"  She had paused next to my father's chair and he answered, "Oh, I almost forgot. Earlier today your mother threatened to kiss me goodnight".  Mom giggled and bent over as best she could to kiss my dad and when she stood up again he said "I want you to know that you are the finest person I have ever known in my life and you have done far more for me than I could have ever done for you."   I was frozen in place as I heard this intimate exchange of love so unexpected, even by my mother.  Not to be anything other than a human male, the next phrase from my dad was "now, why are you crying?" :)

I tucked my mom in bed that night, put her eye drops in and kissed her on the cheek. An action with my mom that I never imagined I would be doing but cherished as each day went by. Sometimes I went right back to what I was doing before I walked her to bed, and other nights I went to my room and sobbed. 

Fifty-three years didn't come easy, I'm sure.  But as my dad said at a memorial luncheon for mom, "Everyone keeps saying to me what an honorable man I've been, but in my day when you said I do, that meant for better or worse. A promise is a promise." Thank you mom and dad, for the memory and the legacy.