7 Quick Takes Friday #18

My second week in a row at home! What pleasure! And now it is time for this week's contribution to the Quick Takes meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary.

1. The saga of the friend that I had to "fire" on Friday continued this week. Last week I promised the ending, and here it is, but first, a recap from last week: "I have to fire a friend, currently working as a junior manager, for poor performance. (I did not hire her; my boss forced her on me against my better judgment. Now, he has some embarrassment, too.) Ugh! Unfortunately, this relatively new junior manager, in three months of training, was unable to learn even the basics of management. I had a team of six people mentoring her on various aspects of her job. All of them came to the conclusion in recent days that not only is she untrainable but also her pride and lack of self-awareness preclude anyone's ability to train her. So, the decision was made to fire." On Friday, she was supposed to see the senior manager, her supervisor, at 1:00. At that time, he would have given her the bad news. Well, instead, she sent him an enote, saying that she was ill and going home. Later in the day, she popped up in my boss's office on another matter, and he ended up being the one to tell her that she was being reassigned as a rank-and-file employee, that she did not have the skills at this time for being a manager. His involvement seemed like poetic justice. On Monday, she met with the senior manager and got the bad news -- again. (None of us knew what had transpired on Friday.) He said she was stoic, but it turns out that she was prepared. A little later, she wrote a note to all her employees, saying that she had decided to leave her position and had asked to be reassigned for reasons of health. Wow, she seemed to have taken it all very well, and if she wanted to save face by announcing that it was her decision and health-related, we were all willing to look the other way. I did not get a chance to talk to her on Monday, but Tuesday, before going home, I dropped by to say good-bye and was walking with her to go out the door when she started sobbing -- and sobbing and sobbing. So, I led her into my office and talked to her for more than two hours. She exhibited a complete inability to look at herself objectively, but I was able to bring her to peace with the decision to replace her. I don't know how I was able to do that, but it really helped that while talking to her I was very aware that God was with us and in her -- after all, a little piece of God is within all of us, that is what binds us as a body of believers, right? Clearly, guidance I had asked for was given, and I am very grateful to God for my sake and for hers.

2. I learned this week that my beloved Fr. Terry, whom I can consult for just about anything, is leaving the area. He will be working as a chaplain at a retirement colony for friars. I suppose it is an appropriate assignment since he is 82 years old, but he acts -- and clearly feels -- much younger and has been very active in our community, at Old Mission, and as director of the local retreat center. Everyone loves him; I cannot think of anyone who does not or who has not benefited from his years and years of experience in walking with God and advising God's people. When I called to say goodbye to him, he told me that I had been "a light" to him in the past three years he has been here." He certainly knows how to make someone feel happy. If these were more than kind words and this were really true, then I am infinitely grateful to God for allowing me to play this role!

3. A sad event took place on Sunday. The mother of Fr. E., our parish priest, died from breast cancer. Fortunately, Fr. E. was able to get home to Ireland before she died and be with her during her last hours. Today the funeral took place in Ireland, and concurrently we held a rosary for Fr. E's mother at Old Mission. People turned out in force, and various parishioners led the service. At the end, Fr. M, the Latin Mass priest, gave a final benediction. Sula, our parish feral cat, came in before the service, came up to me for some petting, then found herself a seat on the pew across from me between two men. Except for nestling on someone's coat during communion, she sat up proudly between the two of them during the entire service, just as if she fully understood what was going on and was participating. Fr. M went over at the end of the service to greet her. I love this parish! (Photo is of the statue of St. John the Baptist on the Old Mission grounds.)

4. I had very good news from my cardiologist today. I was down another two pounds, and he is happy with my rate of weight loss. I am down 13 pounds since mid-January. My blood pressure is also down, and he reneged on this threat to replace my very mild medication with a stronger one. He is also allowing me six weeks before my next visit. He is still concerned about my heart although I am certain all is fine. Anyway, I have never seen him quite so relaxed about it. Yes!

5. I also had a good Arabic lesson today. Since we have a visiting manager from Egypt, who is originally from Jordan and speaks the dialect of Arabic that I knew, I asked him to talk to me in Arabic for a half-hour each morning since I am losing my proficiency in it for lack of use. Often, it feels like pulling teeth to be able to communicate well. Today, however, I surprised him -- and myself -- by spending nearly the whole time, talking about the theology of St. Paul, in particular in regard to his propensity toward dialectic thinking (i.e. thesis, antithesis, synthesis). I was so pleased that I could actually handle a rather complex topic with my limited Arabic, which might become less limited if I had more opportunity to use it.

6. Shane, Lemony, and kids spent the weekend in San Francisco at the Chinese parade and other activities. They go there every year for this celebration and decided it might be okay this year, too. Things are looking up for them, and I will indeed soon get around to writing the Clan Rising post I promised for the Clan of Mahlou blog. It looks like Shane will have a job perhaps as soon as April. A former employer wants him back but cannot offer a job until he passes a security clearance. They have put the clearance process on the fast track and assume that it will be completed by some time in April. (Here is a good example of why it is never a good idea to burn bridges when leaving a job. Shane left under pleasant conditions, and so coming back was a possibility -- and, thank God, they just "happened" to have an opening.)

7. Well, I am going to have to wrap this up pretty quickly and get to bed before the midnight hour fully approaches. Tomorrow morning I have to get up at 5 a.m. in order to travel to north with a team of people from work to an all-day meeting in Los Altos Hills. Oh, joy! A bus ride! (I am packing dramamine!) I have no idea where Los Altos Hills is located other than in somewhat north of us, so I assumed that it must be somewhere around San Francisco (or perhaps closer, near San Jose). Since I am not driving, I suppose I don't need to know. That is good; I already have too much extraneous information in my little head!

Hoping that you have a great weekend and will get some more sleep than it seems that I am in for!

7 Quick Takes Friday #6

I cannot believe that it is Friday again already and time to contribute to the Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary. I am grateful to Jennifer for coming up with these meme; it is about the only time I truly look back on the near events of my life and take stock.

1. Monday night Donnie and I had dinner with visitors from the Ukraine at my favorite restaurant: Jardines de San Juan where winter never comes and flowers never die. I had met them last month in the Ukraine at their company, and at that time were planning a return visit to ours. Since they had taken me out to a traditional Ukrainian restaurant and showed me the architecture of St. Sofia's Cathedral, I wanted to do something similar for them here in the USA. Voila! All was possible, thanks to my living in a heritage Mexican town. They loved the authentic Mexican food and the garden atmosphere of the restaurant. One of the two is an architect, and he enjoyed discovered our old mission. It would seem that God's special places are special in more ways than we typically think!

2. I have fallen off the bandwagon with dieting. I had done a good job of losing 30 pounds in 2008, then about ten pounds crept back on after a stay in Lithuania this past winter. (Cold weather = heavy food.) I have managed to keep the weight at the -20 pound level, but recent travels (5 countries and 11 states in 3 months!) has made it impossible to watch my diet. Well, impossible is probably not the right word; inconvenient is more like it. I think dieting and weight maintenance boils down less to willpower than to habit. I have lost my habit of tracking calories and sticking to a daily ceiling. Alixandra, you who managed such a startling maintained weight loss, offered to help! Tell me, what is the secret for maintaining weight loss and even losing more pounds while traveling? Any thoughts, anyone?

3. The frenetic pace of this week matched that of last week, with a quick two-day trip to Arizona. I am starting to weary of my one-night stands with Candlewood Suites in state after state. In spite of its quick in-and-out nature, my trip had value, I believe. I was able to speak to a graduating class of specialists in Arabic language and culture who will, hopefully, one day much sooner than anyone thinks have some positive influence on international events. It was these same kind of specialists, without any knowledge of language and culture who carried at the atrocities at Abu Ghraib a couple of years ago. Now, however, as future specialists in military affairs are also learning language and culture -- and more important, being taught by native speakers from Arabic cultures -- they are building the skills they need to communicate, rather than to interrogate, to create trust rather than fear, and to use words, not weapons, for winning wars. For me to be even the smallest piece of that, I consider to be a gift from God, especially since not all that long ago I nearly took another job because of being part of an organization that looked at the force of arms rather than the force of words to accomplish its mission, but God would not let me have that job. Now, I know why, and now I am a grateful.

4. Catechism class last night brought me back to a sense of reality. This year's first-year confirmation kids are very quiet compared to the classes of the past two years. At least, until last night they have been eerily quiet. Last night I brought in left-over Halloween candy. Halloween was a very quiet affair here in our mission town this year, and we had a few pounds of leftovers, pounds that I do not want to put into and onto our bodies; hence, the "gift" to the kids this evening. The loved the candy, and we (the teachers) noticed that as the sugar entered the bloodstreams of our normally quiet kids, they began to respond vociferously and vigorously to the lesson. Who were these kids? They had turned into people we would not recognize. The excitement for one, Luis, got to the point that he began rolling around on the floor. I recognized this symptom of hyperactivity caused by food allergy from Doah's allergic reactions -- Doah would roll around on the floor all the time if no one monitored and controlled his diet. So, lesson learned in all senses of the word -- the kids' activity also increased their interaction with us and the lesson and they did go home, having learned a lot, and we teachers learned not to pump them full of sugar in the future. And I remembered why I rarely allowed my children refined sugar when they were growing up.

5. Cats now are our children. We have three. Murjan (Arabic for coral) is all white with a red ears, bangs, and tail. Oh, and jade-colored eyes. He looks like two shades of coral that one can find in the Red Sea near Aqaba, and he is indeed an immigrant from Jordan. He kept me company while I was living there before Donnie made it over, just me and the cat, and we have had a symbiotic relationship ever since. Intrepid, also a native of Jordan, lost his mother before he could barely toddle. A professor at my university knew that Doctora Beth loved cats and brought over the multi-colored cat with brown-ringed yellow eyes for me to nurse. The rest, as they say, is history. "Treppers" (pictured here), as we nicknamed Intrepid, became Donnie's sidekick. The name came from his kamikaze-like flights through the air, attacking potted plants, of which, of course, we currently have none. Then, there is Simone, our grey-faced, blue-eyed, extremely shy white Himalayan cat, who, with her Persian features, looks like she belongs in the Middle East, too, but we rescued her from under our house here in California and turned her from feral to lovable. I love taming feral cats. No matter how old they are and how ingrained their defensiveness and fear, I have been able to tame them. I think all of God's creatures like to be loved, and there is no stronger force for accomplishing anything or making any change than love.

6. My boss and I are doing a self-study program in Pashto, one of the languages spoken in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Languages intrigue me, so Pashto represents little challenge, especially considering that it is the 20th language I have formally studied, in addition to the 50 or so languages I can understand at levels ranging from just barely to quite well because I have studied some of the common background languages like Latin, Old English, Old German, Common Slavic, and the like and thanks to travel exposure.) For my boss, on the other hand, Pashto represents only his second foreign language. He has spent several hours and completed part of the first unit. I have spent less than two hours and am near the end of the fourth unit. That makes it hard to study together; moreover, I learned a long time ago that it is never a good idea to "show off" in front of one's boss where the boss is attempting to do the same thing. So, I have to learn how to march in place better. His ego is more important than mine. I just have to figure out how to help him without offending him. That's the story of my life. I have to do the same with junior managers who think they know everything about management, but have not developed the most critical skill: humility.

7. After all this, I am very ready for today (just started). It is First Friday! Yes!! I have taken the first six hours of the day off in order to attend First Friday activities at St. Francis Retreat. Those months when I can do this are just wonderful experiences. And so, I am going to end these 7 quick takes abruptly since I have no idea what lies in wait for me this morning, but I am eager to dash off right now (!) and find out.

May you start your day with as much eager anticipation!

Dona Nobis Pacem

The blogosphere, as most of you probably know, is celebrating today as a peace movement day. More information can be found at Mimi's site, where you can read the contributions of other bloggers on this theme.

As so often happens in my life, I experienced a moment of synchronicity as I was preparing this blog post. In the afternoon, I was in Arizona to give a graduation speech to a class of Arabic specialists. Without giving any thought to today's peace blog, I nonetheless spoke about peace, beginning my speech in a way not atypical of graduation speeches I give whenever linguists are among the graduating students. The Cold War, I tell them, was not won with weapons. It was won with words -- the words of Americans who understood Russian language and culture and the words of Russians who understood American language and culture. I was thrilled back then to be one grain of sand in the cement of the span that bridged the two superpowers and brought both to a cautious ally status. So, too, today, it will most likely not be weapons but the efforts of the Americans who speak Arabic and understand Arabic cultures and Arabs who speak English and understand American culture who will bring the current hot war to an end. General Abizaid has ascribed the success of the surge in Iraq to the contribution of American linguists.

Years ago, at the approaching end of the Cold War (although no one knew at the time that the Cold War was going to end), I served as interpreter for a remarkable man, Pyotr Volkovich, then vice president of the Belarus Peace Committee. During the Cold War, every major city in the USSR had a peace committee, composed of citizens dedicated to promoting world peace. You see, the Russians were honestly afraid that the USA intended to start a war against them. The members of these committees can today be considered veterans of the Cold War, So, too, I would argue can be that handful of us Americans working and studying in Russia at the time and those Russian scholars living and studying in America. My daughter, Lizzie, cherishes a button that says "Veteran of the Cold War." As the only Westerner in her Soviet 7th grade classroom, coping with distrust and dislike of Americans at the time, she considers rightfully that she has earned the title.

Pyotr I knew from my work in Belarus, one part of which in 1989 was to prepare bilingual documents for the Ministry of Education for an exchange with the USA. Therefore, I was subsequently brought to Portland, Oregon in 1990 to put together the corresponding set of bilingual documents for one of the Portland school districts to establish an exchange with Belarus. Since the Peace Committee provided the financial support for the exchange from the Belarus side, Pyotr had come along with the superintendent of Minsk public schools. The timing had been manipulated to allow Pyotr to be the keynote speaker at the International Rotary Convention that took place in Portland that year. I went to the convention to provide moral support for Pyotr or so I thought. However, Pyotr surprised me by ditching his Soviet interpreter and called out as he approached the podium, "Beth, so mnoi." (Beth, come with me.) And that is how I ended up being the interpreter for his very moving speech which focused on the need for peace. (I have posted details of his speech on Mahlou Musings.)

Perhaps the most potent advocacy for peace I have ever encountered is a poster drawn by a child, who contributed it to a contest for peace advocacy organized by the Moscow Peace Committee. Against a pure blue (sky?) background, the child had drawn a chalky white frame of a house encompassing a globe inside. At the top, the child had scrawled five words: "U nas net drugogo doma." (We have no other home.) No other words were needed, I think. That pretty much says it all, doesn't it? So, let's wrap the only home we have in the protection of peace!

Angel of Beirut

Were I to have had any doubt about God protecting me, one incident in the Middle East would have dispelled it. I had traveled on university business from Jordan to Lebanon (a trip that put me on the “search her on every leg of every trip,” i.e. “randomly selected for search” list at airports worldwide for a while).

One morning in Beirut I started down a ghetto-looking street, devoid of vegetation or people, wondering if I had somehow misunderstood the instructions that the hotel clerk had given me in French. (French and Arabic are the two lingua francas in Lebanon. Of these, I chose to speak French. My mastery of French was greater than my capacity to communicate in Arabic, and I certainly looked more European than Arab although when I donned hijab — a headscarf — I could surprisingly pass for a Middle Easterner in looks.)

The stone buildings on the Beirut street stood stoically silent as if on guard, comrades of mixed color and size, humbly displaying the wounds of past wars for any accidental passerby. Some had chipped corners and broken stairs. Most were bullet-ridden.

As I walked down the street, a man suddenly appeared. Where had he come from? He looked directly at me and called out to me.

“You are not from Beirut, are you?” he asked in excellent English although his countenance was definitely Arab. He then commented, “You look Western.”

“I am a Westerner,” I answered cautiously, careful not to mention my American heritage. In the Middle East, I was always honest but never candid. If, in any given situation, I could pass for European or, as more often happened, a Russian, I did so. It was safer, given the war in Iraq and highly emotional reactions to Americans in the Middle East in general.

In response to my admission, the man replied, “In that case, you don’t want to be walking down this street. It would not be safe for you. Where are you trying to go?”

I crossed the street to where he was standing so that we did not have to continue to shout. He waited patiently, without moving. Coming up to him, I explained that I was looking for an ATM. He directed me to another street. I thanked him and walked away.

I thought he had remained at the spot where we had spoken, but as I was passing through the intersection only seconds later, I turned and saw that the spot was empty. How fortunate, I thought at the time, that he was in the right place at the right time to protect me. Later, I wondered how he could have disappeared so quickly?

But who was he? As Ashley Siferd wrote in her guest blog on this site last week, there is someone watching out for me. Wish I were worthy of it! Well, I may not deserve it, but I do love it!!

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Adapted excerpt from my book, Blest Atheist. Other excerpts from Blest Atheist can be found on my other blog, Mahlou Musings, where I have double-posted this post, as well, for convenience of readers of that blog, who tend to differ from readers here.

For more angel stories on this blog, click here. For more angel stories on the Mahlou Musings blog, click here and here.

Beth Niquette maintains a blog of angel stories that you might like to read, and I would point out that Sr. Lorraine is looking for angel stories for a book should you have any to share.

In conclusion, may you always be watched over by angels!