7 Quick Takes Friday #44

See more 7 Quick Takes Contributions at Jennifer Fulwiler's Conversion Diary.

1. The week started out with a mild but continuing annoyance: every time I answered my cell phone, the call would drop and the phone would take a picture of my ear. At least, I thought it was my ear until logical Donnie told me that this is not possible because the camera faces outward. The phone was taking a picture of my hand. So, okay, I don't know my hand from my ear. That does not solve the problem, though. For now, since I don't have time to deal with that, I have solved the problem in a different way: I have stopped answering the phone. I have an adequate number of pictures of my ear (or hand), already.












2. Halloween was a fun evening. Lemony did a great job on the grandkids' costumes (Above, Nathaniel as Dr. Who is on the left and Nikolina as a little lamb on the right). Doah bought himself an Ironman suit, and I took him around to a few houses. He has not grown up in that respect. Then he came back and helped Donnie and me hand out candy (we have two accessible doors -- each on a different street), so that was very helpful. Then Donnie took him home. It is a different world for all of us now that he lives nearby -- so many more possibilities for interaction.

3. November 1 was Donnie's birthday. It was also voting day (about which I have already posted). After voting, we wanted to celebrate Donnie's birthday at a Grilling and Chilling restaurant before going to a movie. Unfortunately, everyone in town had the same idea. We would have had too long a wait, so we went where the lines were short: Jack in Box, where I ended up with some inedible tacos (no worse than my own cooking, though). There were only a handful of people at the cinema, so we had some excellent seats for Hereafter, a movie I had wanted to see but ended up not really liking. Oh, well, the important part of the day was that we got to celebrate Donnie's birthday and spend some quality time together.

4. After Donnie's birthday, however, the week turned grueling. We had two rehearsals with the big boss for a presentation that we four senior managers will be making at the Pentagon on Tuesday. A Congressional advisor, whom I have known for years, was in town and helped out our boss by listening to the first rehearsal and murder-boarding it (providing ruthless feedback). A truly debonair gentlemen from a nearly bygone generation, he is not capable of ruthlessness. I was second to present and left after that to deal with other work issues. As I departed, I held out my hand to shake goodbye with the advisor; instead, he held it and kissed it. Indeed, a nearly by-gone generation... [image from Tine Kameer gallery; click on image for link to some fine art work]

5. In spite of a crushing workload this week, I did, for the most part, leave my office door open, which is an indication to employees that my open-door policy is in effect. It seemed a big week for a little problems, and getting my regular, introversion-required work done was difficult. I did ask one employee to come to me if he would. His first-line supervisor was about to give him a letter of reprimand for refusal to do a particular task for a short period for another program manager, and I knew him to be an excellent, cooperative, and diligent employee. I asked if he would talk to me if there was some justification for his behavior that he felt he could not share with his immediate supervisors. He came, revealed having been egregiously abused through false and pernicious rumors started by the program manager for whom he would be working, and then said, "If you personally ask me to do this, I will." Wow! Of course, I would not ask for that. I talked to his first-line supervisor and got the letter of reprimand cancelled, and I will be talking to the other manager's supervisor this week. I did talk to the other manager about having to find someone else without revealing the confidential information given to me, but if he is smart, he will figure it out, and if he is not, he will be counseled by his own immediate supervisor. I very much dislike finding out that these kinds of things continue in spite of a servant leader orientation that I insist upon among managers. I have two managers out of about 40 (this one is one of the two) who just don't get it. Both those managers, who otherwise do an excellent job, received negative comments from me about these things on their annual appraisal; I am hoping that those comments will get them to listen to their boss and to me more actively.

6. Speaking of appraisals, they are one reason it has been hell week at work. I had nearly 400 to turn in, of which I was the first-line rater of only six (yes!), but second rater of a couple dozen. The remaining I just had to ensure were completed. Of course, these being all computerized, we had a number of recalcitrant computers (I negotiated with the Personnel Office to turn in some the old fashioned way: hand-signed on paper) and, by the end, we were down to one functional photocopier and that one would take only feeds one page at a time laid on the glass. Everyone should be happy this weekend: hell week is over until next year!

7. Hell week, though, did not end with the appraisals for me. We had four sets of materials to get into the office in Afghanistan where I visited last month. It was a promise, and I always meet promised deadlines. Three teams turned in their materials either early or by COB (close of business). One team told me that they would finish either next week, or if I insisted, on Saturday. "No," I told them, "neither alternative is an option. They are due COB today, and your business day will close when you hand me the materials." They worked until 9:45 p.m. Their managers stayed, and so did I. So, our COB today was very, very late, but the materials did get to Afghanistan within the promised November 5 deadline. I have a half-hour drive home, so I am now truly, truly tired. All I want at the moment is to tumble into bed. My eyes are drooping even as I write, trying to keep them propped open long enough to finish.

I hope that you have had a much easier week than I and that your weekend will be just a whole lot of fun. (Mine will continue in a similar vein: ball for work on Saturday and red-eye to Washington on Sunday -- and a journal to edit before I go. I dream of sleep, but it appears not mine to have for a while!)

Spiritual Sunday #6: Miracles in Real Life

For more Spiritual Sunday posts, I recommend that you wander over to the website of Charlotte and Ginger, who host the Spiritual Sunday meme.

Because I do not blog on Sundays -- keeping it as the sabbath -- I use older posts (forgotten perhaps but hopefully still good enough) from one or another of my blogs that seem appropriate for this meme. Yes, I know I could post on Saturday instead, but typically I can pulled in too many other directions to post on Saturdays, or I have a post that has been written in advance and posts automatically on that day. In any event, it seems to work to bring out the older posts that many have not read before or ones from other blogs I maintain that readers of 100th Lamb may not know about.

I have been slow to identify a post for this weekend since I have been trying to escape from this virus which seems to have cornered me quite effectively. I have spent the weekend pampering myself and letting Donnie and Doah pamper me -- and putting up with a few annoyances such as a malfunctioning iPhone: when I answer an incoming call, the caller gets cut off and the phone takes a picture of my ear. Looking forward in a few minutes to a movie and pizza at home before the Halloween hordes hit. Nathaniel has decided to go out as Dr. Who, and Lemony did a great job with his outfit. (See his picture at the right side bar and a short post, Ghosts of Halloween Past, on Clan of Mahlou -- yep, broke with the not blogging on Sabbath tradition for that one.)

And here is the chosen post: Miracles in Real Life. It seems like an appropriate topic on the even of All Saints Day.

7 Quick Takes Friday #33

Another week, another seven days of work, at least another seven learning experiences. Here are the thoughts that have accompanied this week's experiences. Thanks to Jennifer Fulwiler for hosting the 7 Quick Takes meme at Conversion Diary.

1. Last Friday, I ended up at Mass accidentally. I suppose it would have been much better had I ended up there intentionally, but rarely do I have Friday noon available. Work seems to tumble right up to departure time and then spills into the Mass time itself. Last Friday was no different, or so I thought. As I drove into my parking spot, one of my employees approached me to talk about matters in his department. Ah, I thought with resignation as I listened intently to the information he wished to share, one more week without being able to take advantage of Mass being offered at the little church down the road from my office -- or lunch! (The church near my office is a far cry in beauty, historicity, or even numbers of worshipers from the old mission here in San Ignatio and a place where I know no one, but Mass is Mass and I had attended once before when I was able to sneak away from work while no one was looking.) As we were talking, my employee looked at his watch and excused himself, saying that he had to hurry because he wanted to go to Mass. "Oh, take me with you!" I exclaimed, and off we went. The priest who celebrated Mass was an elderly gent who reminded me very much of my beloved Fr. Barry, who was transferred out of our diocese six months ago. It turned out that my employee knew most of the people who regularly attend Mass there and introduced me to them. What a blessing Friday noon turned out to be!

2. Saturday morning dawned too early. We had to be up because the first thing in the morning the carpet cleaner, Eric, who had spent the afternoon cleaning the carpet throughout the house in preparation for two upcoming parties, was coming back to redo a portion of what he already cleaned because because Donnie had brought chairs that he had set on the porch back into the house, dragging them and his dirty shoes over the newly clean carpet without realizing it was still wet. Dark black streaks glared from the white carpet. Eric came bright and early and quickly cleaned up Donnie's mess. He stayed a bit and talked and would take no money for the extra work. That is the way it is in small towns, or at least in our small town. I went out onto the porch to say goodbye to him, then walked back over the wet carpet with socks made dusty from the front porch. There were the black marks again! Well, gray marks. Thank God for Resolve! After the carpet dried, I could take care of my dirty work myself.

3. On Sunday, Donnie and I attended a funeral mass for the mother of one of my employees at St. Mary Assyrian Chaldean Catholic Church in Campbell, California. What the employee forgot to tell me was (1) the Mass would be conducted in Aramaic and (2) women need a head covering in order to take communion. I probably could have guess both these situations, but I did not think ahead and so was quite unprepared, especially for the Eucharist, which I was unable to take. (I could comment on that, but I won't.) The Mass was celebrated by Fr. Yoshia Sana, who is originally from Iraq and was posted to the Campbell church by Rome. Present-day Chaldeans and Assyrians come from the northern regions of Iraq and the eastern regions of Syria. Ethnically, they are the descendants of the ancient inhabitants of Mesopotamia. Culturally, they are the heirs of the Aramaic language and culture of Jesus; most of the local population in this part of California, particularly those in my employ, speak as their everyday first language modern Aramic (which differs from the language of Jesus's day in that all languages add/drop/change vocabulary and simplify grammar over time). You can read more about Assyrians and Chaldeans here (much of the information is in Arabic, but if you cannot read Arabic, keep digging, there is much information in English, as well. There were helpful missals in all the pews at the church. At first, I thought great, Arabic, but as I looked more closely and tried to read (nary a word could I understand), I realized that there were additional letters beyond those present in the Arabic alphabet. It is rare that I end up somewhere where I cannot understand at least something of what is being said in the local language, but Sunday was one of those rare occasions. We also went to the sitting (an Arabic way of paying respect to the departed that involves men together and women together -- poor Donnie had no way to communicate because none of the men, except my employee, spoke English well enough for communication; at least, I could speak Arabic with the women, but Donnie had learned little Arabic when we lived in Jordan and has forgotten most of what he did know.

4. On Monday, I had the day off! Yes! Happy Fourth a day late! We held a BBQ for my prayer group and others from Old Mission Church. We brought Doah down, and he celebrated with us. Donnie cooked. (No one would have permitted me to cook, given my reputation for burning or otherwise ruining any food I touch.) Shane, Lemony, and kids showed up. It was the first time I saw Nathaniel up close and personal with his new spiked haircut. I almost did not recognize him. "Grandma! You know who I am!" he complained. The prayer group members, who had done a lot of praying for Nikolina but had never met her, were delighted to see her. They were astonished at her progress from nearly hopeless to full of life.

5. Tuesday I attended an all-day, in-house, mini-conference for everyone within the organization. We have one a year. I am not actively involved in setting them up; there is a committee, overseen by my boss, the local head of our organization, that does that. I arrived at the plenary session promptly because a friend and colleague, someone I have worked closely with for nearly 30 years, was coming from the East Coast to be the keynote speaker. Delighted to see me, he immediately made plans for us to get together the next day to discuss some things of mutual business interest, and we did. The best part of the day, however, was an incidental discussion with one of the junior leaders of another division. She had worked for me years ago when I first worked at our organization. (I worked there from 1989-1993, then left for 13 years, returning in 2006.) She told me the history of the annual conference -- me! I was astonished. We had done such a conference on a small scale in my division years ago. A couple of years after I left, she happened to be working on a project where she was in a position to make a recommendation to an advisory committee that the whole organization pick up on this idea and conduct an annual in-house conference, and management agreed. This has now been going on almost 15 years. When she saw me, she said, "Look what your conference turned into!" I did not understand until she explained. Oh, my, it is good to feel that one has made a contribution somewhere! (I do realize, however, that it took many other people with as good or better ideas really to turn it into the major event that it is today.)

6. Wednesday I had my first Pashto lesson. One day not long ago when I was handing out cookies to employees on one of my famous MBWA (management by walking about) afternoons, one of our Afghani employees, learning that I have been involved in some Afghanistan-related projected, offered to teach me Pashto. I emailed him, thanking him for the offer and taking him up on it if he was still inclined to help me. Indeed, he was! He came to my office on Wednesday, nervous as all get-out. After all, he is one of our traveling employees so I don't know him very well, and I am his boss's boss's boss. That lengthy chain can unnerve some folks although most, given my open-door policy and occasional afternoon cookies, have become used to interacting with me. Jamal perched nervously on one of the chairs at the conference table in my office. Seeing his nervousness, I took a slightly lower chair, so that he could look down on me, not up to me. That seemed to do the trick of throwing us into the proper teacher and student roles. Pashto is the 18th language I have studied, so I do not find it difficult. Jamal expected to teach me part of the alphabet that first day and was quite surprised to learn that I already know the alphabet (except for three letters). The alphabet is the same as the Arabic alphabet, which I have known since my days of living in Jordan. He quickly taught me the three letters, the days of the week, greetings, numbers to 1000, all the pronouns in the language, present tense of some verbs, sentence structure, possessive prepositions. In one hour, we were already communicating in the language albeit in short, limited sentences, banal questions and answers. Jamal left his glasses behind; when I contacted him to return them, he said it was because he was so overwhelmed by all the work we had accomplished in such a short time that he lost his head! :) We had our second hour today (well, actually, 30 minutes is all I could squeak out, but now I can talk about things in the future and past tenses, can describe my town and state, saying such things as "San Ignatio is a beautiful, historic town located in California in the southwest part of the USA," "I will be going to Jordan on the 19th of August and returning on the 25th," "I come to work every day at 7:00 in the morning but today I came at 7:30," and "I have seven children, four boys and three girls." Jamal is so excited about having an experienced language learner that he came in from vacation today and is coming in again tomorrow to teach me. I guess he got over his nerves!! The downside? I don't do homework (no time for that), but I warned him about that in advance.

7. I finally got around to reviewing a book proposal for Cambridge University Press. They tend to ask my opinion before giving contracts for new books because the two books I have published through them have been their most successful. Unfortunately, I could not give even one thumbs up to this particular book. I always feel a tad guilty when this happens because I know how hard it is to put a book proposal together and how disappointing it is to get a negative response. On the other hand, the editors/authors should have done their homework a little better and been a little humbler in their presentation. They claimed that the whole world would be excited about their book. Well, probably not. In fact, I suspect that only libraries would buy it and then only if it were to carry the CUP label. They claimed that their work was seminal. Well, no, they even listed others who had written on the topic in their bibliography. They listed someone with a well known name in the field as writing the final chapter. Well, perhaps he would do that but they had not included an abstract, so clearly he had not cooperated with them on a deadline and, while famous (and a bit infamous), in my opinion, he does not have enough experience in the narrow field about which the book editors were collecting chapters to make reliable and valid commentary. While I always dislike giving a thumbs down on proposals, it is not fair to either authors or the press to encourage the publication of a book that is likely to be a bomb. That, I suppose, is why I have a reputation for honest and frank reviews, which I would prefer to retain.

7 Quick Takes Friday #28

Oh, my, it is time already for some quick takes to share with you and with Jennifer Futwiler, who hosts this meme over at Conversion Diary. Rather than share the events of my life this week, I thought, given that the events were rather sporadically clustered, that I would introduce the people in my life who were associated with the events of the week. Most of them pop up periodically in my life. So, here goes, in alphabetical (sort of) order:

Anne is my neighbor in San Ignatio. She is a retired high school English teacher with a a master's degree in theology, among other things. She is also a good cook, who knows her way around my kitchen better than I do! When she is part of any group we are entertaining, Donnie typically cooks and Anne serves. (I am spoiled.) I don't remember how Anne and I first met, but it was through Old Mission somehow. We are both members of the Old Mission prayer group, and she, like me, is a candidate in the SFO (Secular Franciscan Order). The SFO was on our minds on Sunday because we had the regular monthly fraternity meeting at our local St. Francis Retreat Center, as well as breakfast at a local cafe with two members of the Council prior to their Council meeting. There are some difficult issues that Anne and I -- and the Council -- are dealing with in recent months. Rather than give full details here, I will refer you to a series of posts I wrote about the events from a spiritual perspective and uploaded to my Modern Mysticism site: Tasked.

Doah has developed an allergy to cats this past year. Or, perhaps more accurately described, we discovered this year that he has an allergy to cats; he may have had it for a long time. Since we have three of that kind of critter, instead of bringing Doah to San Ignatio for the weekend, we have been going to visit him where he lives in Santa Clara. This weekend was no different. Late Saturday afternoon, we drove up to spend some time with Doah at his favorite restaurant: KFC. (He is a cheap date.) Then we took him on a mini-shopping trip at the local CVS (yep, cheap date). Happy to have had at least a few hours with us, he returned to his group home with a smile and a bag of recyclables (we save them for him) in one hand and his just-purchased goodies in the other.

Fr. Daniel is our parish priest. Although he has passed the age of 50, he still loves parties. I remember one time, when he returned from out of town, I told him after Mass that we had missed him the week before, and he asked, "Did I miss a party?" "No, Fr. Daniel," I replied. "You missed Mass." We can always count on him to celebrate with us. This time, though, he was the host. For Saturday mid-day, he put together a BBQ at the former restaurant that belongs to the church. The "casa" has a veranda and a patio area, both quite large, with wonderful views of the valley, as well as four indoor large seating areas. He wanted to bring together some folks who had contributed to an Old Mission project. By chance, Donnie and I were the fortunate ones to end up with Fr. Daniel as our table mate. However, it did put a crimp on our plan to eat and run off to another engagement prior to going to Santa Clara to see Doah. So, we ate. We did not run. The other engagement slipped past while we enjoyed our time with Fr. Daniel at the casa.

Jack is the leader of our Bible Studies group that meets at Old Mission. Somewhere in his 80s, he has been slowed down by all kinds of events in life, but his knowledge is the exercise in patient listening. His wife, Ruby, comes with him. She is wheelchair bound but otherwise an active participant. They have been married 50 years, and we have celebrated three of their anniversaries, leading up to this year's big 5-0, over the past three years that we have been studying together. Jack worked as some sort of scientist; I have long ago forgotten the details. They parented five children, who have seen a fair amount of trauma, including one being shot as a child (he survived) and another losing a child of her own (Jack's granddaughter) in a car accident. Through it all, Jack and Ruby have maintained a sense of peace. Jack, like me, is a former atheist who had a dramatic conversion experience, lasting for two weeks, as did mine. So, he is like a big brother in faith to me, and I like forward to our Wednesday evenings.

President Karzai and General McChrystal showed up on Friday, unexpected and unannounced, at my Kentucky branch. They wanted to observe the language and culture training that we were providing for people who will be going to Afghanistan. Truly, the US government's emphasis is turning toward the tongue as weapon of first choice, and given my background as a language teacher, this warms the proverbial cockles of my heart. (Anyone know what a cockle is?) The one day I take off, a rather important personage shows up, and I am not even around to hear about it until the end of the day when the email, having crawled through the chain from Kentucky to California, finally reached me. My boss was a bit taken aback, especially since no one, including our local manager, had any idea that this was going to happen. (I imagine that was intentional for security reasons.) The president expressed pleasure in being able to converse with our people in his own language. You know, sometimes it takes very little to make friends and create peace. Caring enough to step across the culture divide and communicate in the language of the other is all that it takes to initiate that process.

Marie I met when I enrolled in the RCIA. She was Fr. Terry's helper at our sessions. She has been the mainstay of all the priests who have led the RCIA. I still learn from her. A retired elementary school teacher, she has taught nearly all the adults in San Ignatio, their children, and grandchildren. She seemed to know more about the members of our RCIA group (except me since I am a new resident) than they knew or remembered about themselves. She read the pre-publication manuscript of my book, Blest Atheist, and continues to be a mentor to me. Although professed as a Third Order Carmelite, she appears at home among the Franciscans, our local community having been founded by the Franciscans and sporting a retreat center, convent, and monastery, all Franciscan. So, having taken Friday off work for some medical tests and attending noon Mass, I was not surprised to have Marie invite me to the rosary that a handful of retired residents who don't have to trot off to work like I do say after Mass 2-3 times a week. As a converted Catholic, there are things I am still learning, and Marie is gentle and instructive in guiding me through them. After the rosary, we relaxed with coffee for her and milk for me at the local bakery. Ah, a totally laid-back day! Not! That was the day that Karzai came to play!

Nathaniel is finishing up his baseball season. His last game will be tomorrow, but at that time I will be on a plane, winging my way to Jordan. So, on Monday, instead of going to prayer group, I watched him play for the penultimate time this year. Surprisingly, given his scientific proclivities and frequent oblivion to his surroundings, he played well at first base and actually hit the ball (well, once the T was brought out). It is progress, though, and more important, he enjoys the sport, which is really all that matters. I also like the side benefit of watching his games: I get to see Shane, Lemony, and always-laughing Nikolina more often.

And now I am going to go to bed. If you are already up, have a great day ahead!

7 Quick Takes Friday #27

In reviewing this week, looking for some quick takes to share with you and with Jennifer Futwiler, who hosts this meme over at Conversion Diary, I realized that for the first time in a long, long time, I had a fairly normal week. Oops, come to think of it, I didn't. I just think I did. But, heck, wait a minute, you judge!

1. On Friday, I cut work and spent the morning at First Friday (Day of Recollection) at St. Francis Retreat Center in the morning, where the co-director presented us with a history of the Virgin Mary that contained much that was new to me. I love it when I learn new things! In fact, much of the history was new to many people there. We were all enthralled. Mass was simple and special, as always. Then I had to leave. I wish I could have stayed for lunch and the afternoon session, but at least I had a morning reprieve. I am grateful to have had those special hours because even though I returned to work, the spirit of the morning stayed with me the rest of the day.

2. Donnie and I joined Shane, Lemony, and Nikolina for Nathaniel's baseball game on Saturday. Our little budding scientist is definitely not a budding sportsman, but he likes the game and has fun at it. I posted some pictures from the game over on The Clan of Mahlou: Life Goes On - In Pictures. It was a modern, city game, with real bases. I remember my childhood games. Let's see: the clothesline was first base; second base was the swing set; third base was the apple tree; and home was a flat piece of wood we threw down on the grass at the appropriate spot. My, how times have changed! Or, maybe it is just the location that has changed. Following the ball game, Shane left for work. The rest of us went to Jerry's, a local diner-style restaurant for a relaxing lunch and time to talk. Lemony told us that Nikolina is finally starting to crawl. Her legs are very weak, but the doctor has said that it is possible that she may walk; Lemony is betting on that. (See The Clan of Mahlou: The Awesome Power of a Mother's Love for details.) Nathaniel forgot all about his baseball game when I told him I had bought him a glow-in-the-dark jigsaw puzzle of a tiger. In fact, he badgered Shane about it for two days until Shane brought him to our house to pick it up. Now, the question is, will he be able to sit still long enough to finish it?

3. Sunday. Mother's Day. I woke to the thought of being pampered and spending a day bathed in a calm spirit and pleasant thoughts. Well, that last just about 20 minutes. Before I had struggled all the way out of bed, Noelle called in tears. Her best friend from college, also a young woman with spina bifida, had not woken up Sunday morning. At 4:00 a.m., her husband had found her dead. He called Noelle because he knew she would want to know. (More details are posted on The Clan of Mahlou: Boueversee.) So, on Sunday, I skipped my plans for being pampered; I broke my promise to attend the renewal vows of friends who were celebrating their 50th year of marriage; I drove to Salts with to do what mothers do: console her disconsolate child. Indeed, Sunday was Mother's Day.

4. On Monday, our prayer group met as we usually do on the second Monday of every month: at my house to watch an inspirational movie. Various people bring munchies. We share some updates on our life and our history of the movie. Then we watch the movie and end the evening with prayer. Agnostic Donnie typically joins us for the munchies and the movie. During our prayer her retires to our office. This week we watched Padre Pro, a Cristero martyr. We preceded the movie with reading about the events of 1917-1930 in Mexico, the revolution, the communist influence (including Trotsky's exile to Mexico from Russia) and the Christian martyrs, many of them priests, who fought back. Two of Padre Pro's brothers were jailed with him: Humberto and Roberto. Humberto was shot, as was Pro. Roberto, however, survived to tell the story. I highly recommend then movie to anyone with an interest in maryrs or Mexican history. (Note: the film is in Spanish, but it does have subtitles; we tend to be a bilingual group.) After the movie, something unusual happened. Donnie stayed for our prayer. An awesome statement in its simplicity. (See Modern Mysticism: Promises for a description of the significance.)

5. I came home right after work on Tuesday, as opposed to mid-evening as usual. Within minutes, one of our neighbors knocked on our door. He was gathering information for the census. Given the size of our town and how well he knows everyone, our neighbor could probably have answered most of the questions without dropping by. Nonetheless, this way the details are accurate. Following the few questions on the census form, we talked a bit. I suppose that is what happened at all the houses: a little data gathering and a little chatting. That is what happens in small towns. One of the oddities about the very small size of our town is that no one got the census forms in the mail. There is no home delivery of mail here, so when the forms were mailed to our homes, the post office sent them back because it would have taken far too many hours to sort them out (more than the two people who work there could manage). As a result, our entire town had to be canvassed in person. Just one more unique thing about San Ignatio...

6. Wednesday, day of joyful surprise! Padre Julio came to town. He had wanted to be assigned to one of our local parishes after his year back home in Colombia, but local politics prevented that. (Read local politics as disagreements with the bishop who apparently was opposed to Padre's work with Por Amor a Los Ninos de Colombia, the organization that Padre founded to help children of Colombia who were in danger of being pulled into the insurgency and criminal activity). Therefore, after returning from his home country of Colombia, he settled in Chula Vista, just 30 minutes from where his brother is living in San Diego. (In every cloud there is a silver lining.) Although we received word of Padre's arrival at the last minute, all of us who had been part of his work while here showed up for a party and prayer. Padre told us that the school supported by Por Amor is now operational and the self-sustaining farm is coming into being. Dreams realized! Before sharing all this news, Padre introduced me to the group. While I knew those of them associated with Por Amor, there were other folks who had come from distant towns who had been in one or another of Padre's parishes. Padre expressed so much gratitude for my family's design of Por Amor's website and for my teaching him English that I did not know how to respond. Fortunately, after a bit he moved on to other topics, information sharing, and prayer. There were a number of children there, and I loved watching Padre move among them, blessing each of them and even taking one of the teenagers aside for confession. For me, Padre is the quintessential priest. He is that for many, I am certain. That is why some traveled nearly 100 hours to be present and why no one complained about cramming dozens of people into a small house. What a wonderfully special ending to what started out as a very ordinary day.

7. Thursday brought such a wonderful bill. That's right: a bill! In fact, a bill from the IRS. Now, I suppose that ordinarily not many people would be looking forward to getting a bill from the IRS, but then my life is not particularly ordinary. In this case, the bill was for the last payment on a 5-year payment plan for miscalculated taxes from the nineties. Four years ago, I had no idea that the IRS could go back that many years and re-calculate taxes, then charge late fees and fines covering the in-between years. It was a nightmare, and we had to turn to a tax accountant for help. However, it all worked out in the long run, and, except for the unpleasantness of finding old calculations re-figured and having to pay whopping fines because of the number of years that passed, the IRS has been generally kind throughout the process (well, at least the people of the IRS have been kind; I am not sure that I would consider the regulations of the IRS have been kind -- moreover, the timing was such that we did not qualify for any of the special reduction or forgiveness plans that the IRS has offered others). Thursday's bill was for the last few dollars on the payment plan, which, thanks to some bonuses at work and some healthy tax refunds, we have been able to pay off a year in advance. So, happy ending to the day; happy ending to the week; happy ending to the near-half decade! Meanwhile, lesson learned: I no longer attempt to do my own taxes, given my proclivity for miscalculation. I turn everything over to the tax accountant (and get better refunds, too). As for that final bill, I cannot yet imagine what it will be like not having the hefty monthly payment over our head!

With that happy ending energizing me, I am going to head over to Jen's blog and take a look at others' quick takes. And yours? What has happened in your life this week?

7 Quick Takes Friday #25

This has been an odd week. Other than in that way I do not know how to describe the week, but perhaps the quick takes, a meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary, will bring the right adjective to mind.

1. Friday was an odd day. At least, the afternoon was odd. My boss gathered together about a dozen people from various levels of responsibilities in various directorates, sending us a cryptic message about the time and place and stating that the agenda would be shared with us upon arrival. Shades of spy novels! I could make no sense of the listing. Most were rank and file from other directorates. From my directorate were two rank and file and I, the head of the directorate. No other directorate heads were invited. It turned out that we are the people that my boss considers the "visionaries" of our organization. He wants to make some radical changes and especially to build strong junior leadership and thinks that we can provide the insights he needs into doing that. I was pleased that there was no concern on his part that having their "big boss" present would silence my employees. It did not. They are used to speaking up, whether I am present or not. It is an interesting assignment. However, having a few chosen ones may backfire in that the larger group may not accept the work of the smaller group. My most useful recommendation, in my opinion, was to spread the wealth and pull in others in small working groups that are topically based. That seed seems to have fallen on fertile soil. Time will tell.

3. Saturday's world was a considerable distance from Friday's. Family fun with son Shane, his wife Lemony, her father Joaquin, and our grandchildren 8-year-old Nathaniel and 1-year-old Nikolina! We all attended a baseball game in which Nathaniel was playing. Poor Nathaniel! He is destined to be a scientist, not a ball player! He whacked away at a t-ball that was set up to help him and finally bunted the ball straight down from the stand onto the ground. "Run, Nathaniel, run!" everyone cried.

He turned around, confused, and asked the catcher (from the other team), "Should I run?" The umpire urged him to go, and he scampered off to first base, arriving just before the ball, heaved by the catcher, dropped into the mitt of the first baseman. Safe! Ultimately, he managed to trot from base to base, home, and then into the bunker. When he emerged from the bunker, there was no longer a tiny little Nathaniel; there was only a walking pile of catcher's gear.

Nathaniel wandered along the fence, caught sight of Shane, and walked over. "Where do I go now, Dad?" he asked. Shane pointed out the catcher's mound, and Nathaniel walked over to it, looking just as confused as he looked when he came up to bat. The pitcher threw out the ball, the batter let it past, and it plopped onto the ground at Nathaniel's feet. Nathaniel just looked at the ball.

"Throw the ball back to the pitcher, Nathaniel," the umpire/referee/coach guided him. Nathaniel bent down and tossed the ball. It plopped back on the ground not far from where he was standing and rolled slowly a short distance toward first base.

Yep, that kid is going to be a scientist, not a ball player. Meanwhile, aren't parents and coaches who are out there to help kids learn and not pressure them to win games great?!

3. After the baseball game, Donnie and I headed out for lunch at Subway while we had our car detailed next door. What a pleasant hour! Once in a blue moon (that hardly ever seen second full moon in a month), Donnie and I get to do one of the ordinary things of life. In this case, the ordinary thing was cleaning our car and going to lunch. Here I must confess to how dirty my car can and does become. After lunch, it was easy to find our car because of its customized back bumper (a huge dent created when I backed into a tree, a story not necessary to repeat here), which I have not fixed because I have had little time, unwilling to spend much money on a vehicle's looks, and, most important, like being able to find my car in a large parking lot of look-alike cars.

4. Sunday was another play day, this time not with family but with a friend from Washington, DC. B-H is a very famous interpreter, having interpreted for the negotiations of most of the international treaties with the Soviet Union and former Soviet Union. B-H walked all over San Ignatio with me and fell in love with our charming town. We concluded the day with a BBQ on our deck, with Donnie behind the grill tongues. Donnie sears a wicked salmon! Add corn on the cob, baked on the grill, and giant russet potatoes, nestled in the corner of the grill, being infused with heat, top it off with mixed, fresh, local berries, and you have a meal fit for a king,or at least for two hungry San Ignatians and their guest.

5. On Wednesday, I spent lunch with an employee who used to work for me directly but was not promoted in step with me and so is now several levels below me. At his occasional prompting, we have lunch together for old time's sake. Slava suggested an Indian restaurant on the peninsula, about a 30-minute drive, and I drove us there. The Indian buffet was great, and I ate too much naan bread, that's for sure. I had a way to wear off the extra calories, however, because it started to rain during the mail. After the meal, as we were leaving the restaurant, the rain turned into a downpour. We waited enough time for the raindrops to achieve definition, and, considering that we would have only a few minutes before they all started running together again, we dashed between the raindrops the three blocks to my car. Whether the absurdity of returning to work dripping wet -- neither of us had brought an umbrella -- or the adrenaline from running, Slava, a close-mouthed, frequently taciturn, introvert, broke into a 20-minute soliloquy about his wife's last days five years ago, a topic about which he never speaks. Moreover, he told me details of the plans about his own burial in upstate New York. I suppose he occasionally thinks in those terms, given that he is in remission from lung cancer. I realized as I let him out that I am likely now the only person who knows these plans and his preferences. With no Californian relatives, he needs to have someone who knows what those plans are. Now he does. Beyond the pragmatic aspects, I felt touched that he would confide in me. What wonders running among raindrops can produce!

6. This Thursday night, as every other Thursday night, I co-taught catechism to the first-year confirmation teenagers at Old Mission Church. Having found out that our young "atheist" was not truly an atheist but simply angry at God for the murder of his aunt and unwilling to listen to direct discussion, I held a competition. Each teenager was given ten minutes to write down as many reasons as they could think of as to why God might let bad things happen to good people. I motivated them by bringing patches of the NASA-RKA (Russian Space Agency), with the 5 teenagers who wrote the most reasons getting a patch. (All the others got a book mark that said: I am one of a kind; I am God's design. Then we all shared our reasons. It was an attempt to get them indirectly to think about things that they did not want to think about directly, and it seemed to work. Of course, my major concern was with our little atheist, who, I was pleased to note, actually wrote down one reason. Hey, one is a start! After that, I talked about how God's time works differently from ours, giving examples of good coming from bad after 15-25 years, using the story of Shura, Noelle, the son of the INS director, and the blind Russian orphan, about whom I have blogged before -- all of which are interlinked, but the links, all told, took about 35 years to be put together. For the first time all year, the noisy teens turned silent, as silent as a muted movie scene. All of them, including the self-pronounced atheist who always has caustic and challenging comments, simply listened, without uttering one word in response. Yet the silence spoke loudly: these kids wanted someone to answer this question for them. I pulled out some additional reasons from Early's book, 21 Reasons Bad Things Happen to Good People, and they leaned forward, clearly eager to catch every one of those reasons. Many of them left in a clearly reflective states. My co-leaders and I are convinced that this lesson was deeply taken by many, if not most, of the teens. Our atheist, as usual, left his study papers behind, along with the bookmark. Sighing, I picked it up to put it back in the package for someone in the future who might appreciate it when I caught sight of the fact that we have to put it in his homework folder instead so that we can return it to him: he had written his name on the back of it. Hah! Caught in the act of showing a little belief!

7. Thursday night, RO stopped by. She is visiting from Alabama. Her office sent her to look at what my organization is doing. While she was not conferring with me, having been sent primarily to work with another directorate, she did spend some time today with one of my middle managers. Last night, though, was my time, our time, together. Donnie made a tasty (delicioso, as they say around here) spaghetti dinner. I don't know what was more pleasurable, the meal or the company. Oh, of course, I do: the company. However, the dinner was good, too!

Wishing you a week of comidas (meals) that are deliciosas!

Beyond Why Not Me

Fr. Christian Mathis (Blessed Is the Kingdom) has made the suggestion that we "rest" on the Sabbath by taking a break from our normal blogging and sharing an older post of which we are particularly fond. Rest? Gladly! I don't get to do that very often, but now, thanks to Fr. Christian, I get to do it at least once a week -- and it gives me more time to spend with God, which is a wonderful gift.

For this week's post, I chose When God Says No, God Means No, a story of a clash of wills: mine and God's. God won. The story seems appropriate for a Sunday. (The priest in that story, by the way, went into cancer remission for three years, but now he needs prayers again because the cancer has returned.)

7 Quick Takes Friday #10

Time again already to contribute to the 7 Quick Takes Friday meme hosted by Jennifer at Conversion Diary! This time, I will not do a day-by-day review since the days were so full as to blur one into another in retrospect. So, instead, I will share the seven events that I best remember.

(1) Early in the flip between last week and this one, one of the most senior people from headquarters appeared in town without much notice. After an all-day meeting, he left behind a staggering new budget to manage and an overwhelming amount of work, including the need to set up three new branches next month and several more worldwide later in the year and to hire about 100 new people immediately and more later in the year. My head is still spinning; so are the heads of the senior managers to whom I will delegate much of this work. One is currently on Christmas break in Germany; he says he is glad he made it there before all this came down on us. Not to fear -- he will get to share our stress when he returns; we will be sure to save a fair amount for him!

(2) Nathaniel's birthday is Christmas day (December 25). Back in 2001, he was quite a Christmas present! To avoid dividing attention between the two events, Shane and Lemony celebrate his birthday earlier in the month, and he gets to choose the location. This year, we celebrated Nathaniel's birthday this past Saturday, and Nathaniel chose Sapporo Restaurant. He loves sushi and delights in the hibachi cooking.

(3) Sunday was such a restful day, and I needed it! Fr. Kevin, priest at a parish 45 miles north of where I live, teaches contemplative prayer "for busy people" once a month. His deep spirituality and talent at teaching has helped me understand much about my contemplative experiences. We use Ursula King's helpful book, Christian Mystics, but Fr. Kevin's ability to distill essential information from throughout the ages is even more helpful.

(4) Another priest cusped my horizon this week. Fr. Terry called me to thank me for some Russian chocolates I dropped off for him for Christmas and mentioned that he would be leaving the St. Francis Retreat Center in January for a parish about three hours away. Having a big mouth, I spread the word to our prayer group, and, devastated to think that Fr. Terry, who has been a de facto spiritual advisor to many of us and who was instrumental in the establishment of our group a few years ago, would not be in our immediate environs for long, we planned a potluck at my house for him next week. As it turned out, I had misunderstood. (I need to practice speaking English more often.) Fr. Terry was only going to the central-state parish on an interim basis, to fill behind an ill priest. So, now we are all happy -- and we are going to have the potluck, anyway, because we will latch onto any opportunity to let Fr. Terry know we love him!

(5) Our prayer group meeting was curtailed by our parish's penitence service that began a half-hour later that same evening. So, we went to confession as a group. Fr. E had brought in several local priests, including two who speak multiple languages, a necessity in our community. I patiently waited my turn to confess to either Fr. E. or Fr. Terry, when they suddenly walked out, there being more priests than were needed. That left me with a choice of three priests whom I knew only on a hello-goodbye basis, with no idea of what kind of confessors they were. The first one who had an empty chair was Fr. M., our Latin priest. I approached with some trepidation because I barely know him at all but knew him to be traditional and strict. He generally prefers to use the screen, and it was set up in his corner of the church. However, he did not require that of me. (I am not a confessional/screen type.) In fact, he was so gentle and kind that I immediately felt comfortable with him -- and I saw him in a new light. I am so glad that I went and that I had the opportunity to confess to Fr. M.

(6) One evening this week we ran out to a Kohl's store in the nearest large town. We needed some mattress straps. Finding them seemed to be an easy enough task. However, we could find no sales person who spoke English, and I did not know the name of the item we wanted in Spanish. Donnie quickly became frustrated, commenting that this was America, so where were the English speakers?! I lamented the limits of my Spanish! (We are two very different people.) As we walked toward the exit, having given up, we passed a Mexican friend with excellent English. (How does that sort of thing happen just about every time I need it??) My friend told us the name of the item, and that ended that problem. However, along with improving my English, I think I need to improve my Spanish!

(7) Today, when I arrived home, I found a surprise: flowers. Now safely ensconced on a table in Donnie's office where Intrepid, our herbivore cat, cannot eat them, they had been sent from a professor in Michigan, whom I mentored through her dissertation-writing years. She just began a new position this year as an assistant professor, and she wanted to thank me for my support that she attributed to landing her current job. She would have gotten it without my help and with her talent, but expressions of gratitude are always pleasant.

And now, may you find your weekend strewn with flowers!