Monday Morning Meditation #101: Not By Our Hand

Reading through the book of Daniel, I simply had to stop at the powerful dream that Nebuchadnezzar had. Personally, I never remember my dreams, but I do doubt that any of them have been prophetic ones although I do know that God, over the centuries, has communicated with people through dreams (seemingly far more often than through locutions, which is my more common, although rare, experience). So it is even more fascinating for me to read about a dream as highly prophetic -- and initially difficult to understand -- as Nebuchadnezzar's. Here is the dream, as reported to Daniel by King Nebuchadnezzar:

"I looked, and there before me stood a tree in the middle of the land. Its height was enormous. The tree grew large and strong and its top touched the sky; it was visible to the ends of the earth. 12 Its leaves were beautiful, its fruit abundant, and on it was food for all. Under it the wild animals found shelter, and the birds lived in its branches; from it every creature was fed.

In the visions I saw while lying in bed, I looked, and there before me was a holy one, a messenger,coming down from heaven. He called in a loud voice: ‘Cut down the tree and trim off its branches; strip off its leaves and scatter its fruit. Let the animals flee from under it and the birds from its branches. But let the stump and its roots, bound with iron and bronze, remain in the ground, in the grass of the field. Let him be drenched with the dew of heaven, and let him live with the animals among the plants of the earth. 16 Let his mind be changed from that of a man and let him be given the mind of an animal, till seven times pass by for him.

The decision is announced by messengers, the holy ones declare the verdict, so that the living may know that the Most High is sovereign over all kingdoms on earth and gives them to anyone he wishes and sets over them the lowliest of people."

Reading on, one finds Daniel's interpretation of this dream. King Nebuchadnezzar was the tree. He had become powerful. More important (or more distressing), he had become proud that his kingdom extended so far in all directions, and he did not glorify God adequately for this but held some of the praise within for himself. So, God's plan was to humble him by sending him out into the fields to live with the wild animals like an animal until such time that his pride was relinquished and he knew the overwhelming power of the Lord.

And this is precisely what befell Nebuchadnezzar. He found himself living among the animals until he had been humbled, after which his royal entourage found him and returned him to his throne, a humbled and grateful man.

Reading: Daniel 4

Meditation: This dream of Nebuchadnezzar hit home for me. I have often felt -- and said -- that it is difficult to integrate worldly success with spiritual humility. Possible with the help of God, yes, but, oh, so difficult because it is so tempting to assume that one is a "self-made person" and that one can go it alone. After all, in American society, at least, we encourage people to move up the ladder, so to speak, and we praise self-made people. Being motivated by the rung of the ladder and the praise of men, however, take us far from those fields of wild animals where God would have us understand who is great and who is small, who is important and who is not, who is to be glorified and who is to do the glorifying.

On a daily basis, this is brought home to me. As a very senior manager, even though I am in a position where God intended me to be, I have moments of assuming that I can personally make decisions -- and, my goodness, those decisions are almost always flawed in some way, or if not flawed, then not nearly as insightful and good as they could be. On the other hand, when I do take these to God in prayer before jumping to some human conclusion and when I do give credit to its rightful Belonger, that is, when I do realize who is in charge and how little I personally contribute, then things work out amazingly well, better than anything I could possible plan or enact.

Some time ago, I wrote a couple of posts about the price of success and how my division would be dismantled in two years, with me reporting to a new person brought in as a layer between me and the highest level of management to whom I now report. With God's help, I had put aside all concern about that plan, not without great effort at subduing the pride that said, "hey, I created this success, let me have it; don't pass it along to someone who did nothing for it." God showed me, though, that this was not the right attitude, and with some help from God -- an evening walk here and there, a prayer now and then, I was able to reconcile myself to reality and eventuality. However, over the next two years, things have changed, and the plan has been scrapped. So, too, has been my undue pride. So, while the threatened intermediary never showed up to change my status in the human world, God changed it in the spiritual world. I have found that I like it better that way -- and if some intermediary ever does show up (looks pretty doubtful given the current economic climate), it won't matter because anything I have created was with the help of God, supervisors and employees. I would very much hesitate now to take credit for any of it. I prefer instead to join Nebuchadnezzar in glorifying God.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to praise God for all the reasons I have to glorify Him. I will thank God for His lessons, and I will ask forgiveness for those times that I have been slow to learn them. I will also ask God to continue to give me those lessons in humility that I so much need. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

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 #32

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.Since it is not-so-early morning right now, I am going to post these without pictures this time, and this evening, insha Allah, along will come the pictures. Otherwise, I will be quite late to work, and in spite of all the disappointments there this week and last, I would like to keep my job, at least for a while!

1. The Old Mission fiesta chairman called for a final meeting to clean up all the stuff that we had just thrown into the parish educational center after last week's fiesta. Of 100 volunteers, only two of us showed up. I guess clean up in any format is not anyone's favorite activity -- except mine. I can really make a mess of some things, like cooking, but clean up is something I can usually accomplish passably well. So, the three of us had fun. It was better than the actual fiesta where a good part of the time I was the only one doing clean up for 300 or more people at a time.

2. I took Tuesday off to attend a meeting at Doah's group home about his progress at the home and at work. Well, a tad bit of progress on his part socially and at work, but the biggest expectations for progress are in the area of executive function, i.e. impulse control and judgment, which is a difficult thing to effect because we are pretty certain that his brain damage occurred in the frontal lobe area, the location of executive function. At least, his case worker is going to join us in trying to get his psychologist to work more on behavior control and less on drugging him. Finally, our voice has been heard! (The psychologist would not listen to us in the past.) (In photo: Doah loves to take pictures; he took some of the best at his cousin's wedding last month.)

3. Prior to the Tuesday meeting, I went to noon Mass. There I met two visiting nuns. Sr. Maria introduced them to me. They were all relieved when I was able to communicate with Sr. Maria Clara who is from the Goaina area of Brazil. I have spent some time there in the past, so I could speak some Portuguese with her. Folks here have been trying to speak Spanish, and she could understand them but they could not understand her very well. (Spanish is a popular second language in Brazil; I used it as a crutch when necessary while there.) Sr. Catherine, it turns out, has been living in New Hampshire and knew some members of my family! (My family spreads across the line from Maine to New Hampshire, and I went to school in both states.) It is a small world, indeed!

4. The up and down of changes at the office continued this week. First, I was reporting to a very senior person being added to our division (in addition, to several projects being moved out because we have been so successful and grown so large), then that would person would report to me, then, the final version settled on, I would report to that person and not to my boss. My boss and that person would both report to the local chair of the board (who would report to the regional, etc.). At this point, I know that my job is to see everyone safely, successfully, and happily through the change, and I am not worrying about what happens to me personally, to whom I report, or who reports to me. These things will work themselves out, I am certain, based on my walk with God this past week.

5. Surprise! Two foreign generals visited us today - a rare experience. One of them fell in love with the dog pictures in my budget director's office. The budget director volunteers at the SPCA and works to socialize the large dogs so that they can be adopted. The general adopts wounded dogs! They talked, and the general gave my budget director a memento coin. My budget director was ecstatic since it was from a foreign military. My thought? Yes, indeed, it is a very small world!

6. I usually don't report on movies, but Bible Study was canceled on Wednesday night so I had some found time. Donnie suggested a movie, and we watched The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. It is such a powerful movie, about the friendship between a German boy and a Jewish boy in a concentration camp during WWII. The ending is overwhelming, but not the usual. I won't say more than that because it will spoil the movie for anyone who has not seen it and wants to watch it. I highly recommend it, but not as a mood lightener! (It was especially poignant for me because my budget director's father is the only member of his immediate family -- siblings and parents -- to survive Auschwitz. The budget director and I talk about that sometimes because the father's experience had a major impact on his own children.)

7. As for other evening activity this week, I have been chasing chairs. We are having two BBQs next week. With 20+ people expected for each, I need folding chairs. Every store we have gone to has had only a few; in one case, only one! We live fairly far from any city, so we traveled south, north, and east to acquire the chairs. I think I have enough. I would have liked 2-3 more. Maybe tonight we will go west!

Wishing you a blessed Friday (the remainder of it, that is) and a great Fourth of July weekend!

Come Walk with Me

Many thanks to readers who commented on my post, The Price of Success. You gave me much upon which to reflect, including some ideas I had not considered, as I pondered how to respond to the fact that my job, as I know and love it, is going away. Not that I wanted this job to begin with. No, this job was God's idea, not mine. However, I have since made the job mine. I realized that when I learned that the job would take on such a different character.

I thought about a number of approaches I could take, and leaving was right up there at the top of the list. I noticed that some folks worried that I might leave; well, they'll cope, I figured. Of course, they would. But that is not the issue. I have been their scaffolding, and removing scaffolding all at once instead of bit by bit can cause even the most beautifully constructed buildings to collapse. I was not thinking of that, though, in the latter days of last week. I was not thinking of anyone's collapse except my own. I was angry, too, in some ways. I have spent four years building this division from a ragtag collection of people trying to learn to do international work to a pretty highly respected set of departments that has more than doubled in size since I came and is set to explode by fall to 350% of what it was. Although I was told that the split was being occasioned by success, not failure, there was a part of me that considered the split a vote of no confidence even though logically and by everything that has been said to me I know that is silly.

I also wondered where God fit into all of this. He sent me to a job, then let the job be fractured and me shunted off to work with only a portion of the projects I had developed -- and for someone to be placed above me who would do the international negotiating and representation while I made sure that the work got done well. Unfair! Or was this a sign that it really was time for me to move on? Had I completed my task? Early on, I was getting no answers to my pleas for clarification. Or, if I was, I was unaware. I am not good at subtle discernment. I need that conk on the head kind of of clarification.

I got it. A gentle conk. Friday evening as I was driving home from work, still distraught and again begging for guidance, I heard a gentle "Come walk with Me." Huh? It has been some time since I have taken my nightly walks around the mission. I have been coming home later and later from work (that growth and success has demanded more and more of my time) and have been too tired or had too many other chores to accomplish. I have missed them, those quiet times with God, just walking and talking, walking and listening, and walking in silence. Of course, I will come walk again, especially when coaxed in that gentle manner which I felt in the words, "Come walk with me."

And so, when I reached home, I grabbed something to eat, then put on a light jacket (summer evenings in our part of California are cool, even cold), and headed out the door for that walk. It felt so good to again be in that Presence in the twilight hours when there were few sounds and little light to distract me from enjoying the Company. I walked and walked, and I was not alone for any of that walk. Finally, I understood. Whatever the purpose for me to take this job four years ago, there is a purpose for me to retain it now. I don't know whether the two purposes coincide, but I do know one very important thing. I had been asking all the wrong questions, looking for the wrong kind of guidance, reasoning through the situation with the wrong kind of logic. You see, I thought the issue was about me -- what I should do, where I should work, what kinds of goals I should have, how I should respond. I learned on that walk that it is not about me at all.

It's about those will be most affected. It is about the nervous newbies whose hands I have held, the heavily burdened have used my open-door policy to bring family and personal matters to my attention and seek support and advice, and and the junior managers have looked to me for mentoring. Someone else will have to do that now, but who will facilitate the transition if I do not stay and do that? It is about the department that was planned to be broken apart -- I have already been able to snuff out that plan. It is about the department planned to be transferred to a division head who would derail its success and growth for reasons of lack of knowledge and the skills to continue its support -- I have already been able to get it transferred to another division head instead. I would like to have kept these departments. They were two of my favorites, and their successes have been outstanding. Now two of my peers will oversee the continued success of these projects. Sigh! My ego would like to feel injured, abused. But my ego does not have a role here. I insist that my managers use a servant leadership approach. So must I. In that approach, there is no room for the ego, and so, too, my ego must be pushed aside for the sake of those who need my help.

As for the long run, we shall see what happens. Two years remain until all the transitions are complete and I get "demoted" into reporting to an intermediary and not directly to my current boss, before the new guy gets to handle all the glory and I get to handle all the problems. There may be options in the long run. There are usually options. The critical thing is what God wants from me. I think I can rest assured that if I start to stray again from the path He would have me take, I will get another call to "Come walk with Me."

7 Quick Takes Friday #31

What a week! I am not certain that I can even recall every day so I shall simply point out the high points (or, in some cases, the low points). I decided to illustrate each point with flowers, mainly because I am feeling the need for something pretty to cheer me up as I look back over the last week! (Check out Jennifer Fulwiler's blog on the same meme; she hosts the meme on her Conversion Diary blog, and this week her post is far cheerier than mine, I fear.)

1. The week started out not at all well (little did I know that it would be downhill from there) with the announced retirement of our Director of Operations. Now, retirements are good events, things to celebrate. However, in this case, the director, who has been retired in place for a while, decided to make a point about his boss being too demanding. (Let's see: the boss demanded that the director come to work to work every day, that he show up sober, that he put in a full day of work, and that he actually accomplish work, such as meeting deadlines on supplying equipment and desks for new employees. I suppose that was pretty off-putting.) Actually, the boss can be abrasive, for which I have informally counseled him on several occasions, the problem being that he does not know when he is. The director wanted to talk to me, stated that the retirement decision was not an act of defiance but a matter of his health (he does indeed have health problems), and that he would stay to help out with making sure our ops needs for the year were met if I would ask him to do so. Well, hm, now what to say? I told him we could not put his health at risk for any selfish need. He accepted that, but I am sure that he was frustrated because this was clearly an attempt to walk back his decision to retire. However, since he has essentially done no work for six months and two bosses in a row have not been able to keep him at work for more than 2-3 hours a day, letting him follow through on his retirement, the coward's way out perhaps, seemed the gentlest thing to do. I did ask him not to leave bitter, no matter how angry he was with his boss, because the emotions associated with his last days at work may color how he remembers his entire tenure with us for years to come. He left my office not entirely satisfied.

2. Sunday was our annual fiesta at the mission. Donnie, Doah, and I had signed up to be the clean up crew for the first shift, 11-1. It was fun, a nice release from a difficult week with no idea that the one to come would be even more difficult. The fiesta started with our local Indians dancing and pulling the community into their dances. Clean up chores provided relaxation by comparison. After our turn at clean-up, Donnie, Doah, and I had some BBQ chicken and prepared to enjoy the fiesta activities when I noticed that only one person had showed up for the next shift, 1-3. I looked at the volunteer book, and, gulp, there was no one signed up for 3-4 or 6-7 and only one person from 4-5. The crowd, at any given point, numbered about 300, with many people coming in from out of town. After some discussion, Donnie decided to take Doah back to his group home by himself after the two of them had spent some fun time with the games. I tracked down the fiesta chair and asked her about the empty clean-up list. She said she had been unable to get others to volunteer so she was going to handle it herself at the end of the day. That being clearly a formula for disaster, I offered to fill in for all the other shifts. I enjoyed some of the activities in the midst of cleaning and got some time to talk to a priest who had just arrived from Nigeria to fill in while our parish priest is on a pilgrimage to Europe. I dragged myself home around 8:30, putting one foot slowly in front of the other until I reached the house and collapsed on the couch, where I spent the night sleeping. Morning came far too fast, and after all the bending over to pick up trash (golly, grown people can make worse messes than kids) the day before, I could barely move but by the end of the day, I had run around so much taking care of crises that I had forgotten all about my stiff legs. Oh, right, they actually were not stiff anymore!

3. In the middle of all the cleaning on Sunday, my brother Rollie called from Ohio. It being Father's Day, Noelle had called her uncle to wish him a happy day. Then,they got talking. "Did you know," Rollie asked me, "that the doctors are planning to go ahead with amputation of Noelle's legs soon?" Ah, no. She had called Donnie that morning but somehow the conversation had not gotten around to that. It is a discussion that we have had. For years, Noelle's legs have been nothing more than impediments to her ability to move around. Her view is that she will be more mobile without them. Moreover, she is tired of having to daily clean infections; this has been going on for more than two years, with long periods of time spent on a pump. She is tired of it. As she says, "My legs are not value-added. Why would I fight to keep them when they threaten my life?" It is a reasonable question. (I will provide updates on the Twitterlets and Clan of Mahlou.)

4. Miracle! Miracle! After eight months of searching, interviews, and lost opportunities, I have a new admin assistant! Oh, blessed help! Janie showed up Monday afternoon after in-processing with Personnel. It is so wonderful to have someone keeping my calendar, doing my filing, managing people in the outside office, answering the nuisance calls, photocopying. All the things that were causing me to work until late hours in the evening so that I could do my real job during the day. Yes! I feel truly spoiled now! This was definitely the brightest spot of this week.

5. One day later, bam! There went my happiness bubble. My boss called an emergency meeting and announced that my division would be fractured into pieces, with the best projects going to a couple of my peers, leaving me essentially with the most troublesome, but visible and glitzy projects, with a higher level supervisor to step in for the glitzy part, leaving the troublesome part for me to handle. Well, there is more to the story, but since I blogged about it yesterday, I will just refer you to that post: The Price of Success.

6. The icing on this week's cake was Thursday's visitor: one of the senior members of the Board of Directors in from Washington. Brand new to the Board, he had already made his mark by firing one of the most senior people among others on the board over which he has oversight -- well, not firing precisely but rather forcing her to resign. So, at least, that is what we heard. My boss and the CEO senior here fretted about how best to receive him, nervous about an axe falling on them. As it turned out, he turned out to be quite charming. When it was my turn to present our programs, I combined the dozens of them into like groups and quickly ran through all of them. When I finished, I asked if he had questions. His response was, "No; I am speechless." Gee, now I have confirmation that I am overworked! ;) Everyone was quite taken with him, and he was quite taken with all of us. Yes! Perhaps it was that prayer I said before the formal meeting? The one where I asked for help for all of us? It would not be the first time that God came to a staff meeting with me!

7. The week ended with an hour of brainstorming with my boss on a new project we have to provide support to some programs in Afghanistan. My staff is having some difficulty getting its hands around the various things we need to do to make the programs successful. Several have visited there to gather information and provide on-site help. I will be heading in that direction soon. It was wonderfully peaceful and re-invigorating to put aside all the concern, worry, and potential frustration (I'm still putting aside frustration after having given it up for Lent this year) and spend some time on positive activity. We came up with a plan to handle one sticky problem, and I left for home a bit re-heartened.

So, some ups, some downs, and life goes on. Wishing you all a weekend filled with flowers, cheer, and relaxation!

The Price of Success

I have not blogged for a couple of days mainly because I have been in shock. I still am.

Occasionally I discuss on these pages various aspects of my work, moderately modified to maintain anonymity. Probably one aspect of my job, though, that has not been made clear is that we are two intertwined organizations, a joint venture of sorts. Let us call them Company A and Company B. My boss and I work for Company B, but my boss reports to the CEO of Company A. (It's a bit complicated, so I hope I can explain how my organization works well enough to make my shock understandable.)

For the past four years, when I was pushed into the door of this company where I had worked many years ago but had no intention of returning until God decided otherwise (click here to see my post about this), I have been happy. I have felt that whatever mission God had for me here was likely being fulfilled as I watched a cranky, sometimes-failing-sometimes-succeeding division chipper up and turn into a happy and highly successful team. I have been able to develop an attitude of servant leadership among the junior and senior managers that has contributed not only to our success but also to stress-proofing us as we have taken on one new project after another, recently reaching the point of 50 major projects under my supervision. To service those projects, we have grown by 400% in the four years. In doing so, we have achieved international renown in our field, some in very glitzy ways. We have our fingers in more than 300 pies internationally, and more and more people want our recipes, figuratively speaking.

Some Company A employees work for me; about 10% of my employees are from Company A. Company A employees are the primary implementers of policy in our organization; they also hold the two top managerial slots in the organization. Company B, to which I belong, are the do-ers and the people with the skill sets that are needed for the nitty-gritty decision-making, the strategic planning, and the idea generation. It is the Company B employees who have made this organization what it is. We were a great team, it seemed, with each of us working according to our skill set and contributing in the ways in which we know how. No one pays attention to who works for Company A and who for Company B.

As a result of this harmonious and skilled work, my division in particular has garnered some positive and glitzy international press recently. (Were I to reveal where I work, many of you may have seen the press, but in addition to Lizzie's wanting our family to remain somewhat anonymous -- I don't do a completely good job at that -- there are things about my job that I am not allowed to reveal).

Could anything be better? A job where I know I am supposed to be. Employees who truly love each other and work as a team. The opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the organization and to the international community on a regular basis. A boss who values my work. Actually, a stellar reputation in the organization and among clients -- not earned by myself, heavens, no, but rather a matter of my receiving the undeserved benefit of the extraordinary work done by my employees (all I do is make it possible for them to do their jobs). Bonuses and awards where available. Yes, ideal, it would seem. Four years of ideal.

Then, wham!, Tuesday my boss, who works for Company B as I do, called an urgent meeting. Company A wanted more of the action and plans an extensive reorganization. Well, not all that extensive. Just the fractioning of my organization into pieces. Two of the other three divisions get major chunks. One gets the most successful programs I have. Another gets the exciting new programs about to take wing. The glitz gets to stay with me, but now I will report to a Company A executive with no experience in the field. He will call make the decisions and set the policies. My job will be to follow through whether or not his policies will lead to better products or keep people happily employed.

Now fortune has become misfortune. Unfortunately, when envy stalks, it is drawn to the successful, and that becomes unfortunate for the successful.

I see many problems with this reorganization. Dividing my growing organization -- I oversee more than 300 locations -- makes some sense, and the senior managers within it had been ready to propose, after our last strategic planning session, to split it into two divisions based on our roughly two sets of products and programs, with the new division headed by our most competent senior managing. Fractioning the division, however, so that every division director in our organization gets a "piece of gold" to add to a money pot that he has not begun yet to fill or for which he has not skill set to manage, makes no sense. That is not equity; that is foolishness. My competent manager gets buried, and my hands get tied. The motivation behind it? Ego. Of Company A top managers.

I truly could care less about the international attention. For the most part, I deflect it upward to those above me who relish it. With recent news releases and highly visible activities, the top management in both Company A and Company B are tripping over themselves and bumping into each other while trying to garner honors and take credit for the success of my programs. I have stood back and watched, somewhat in amusement, grown men acting like little boys at a kindergarten graduation.

Now, however, with the planned power grab (again, I don't care about the power; I care about being able to continue doing a successful job and supporting my employees), I am not in a position where I am choosing to stand back and watch; I am being pushed back to watch. The worst aspect of this situation is that the synergy among my programs that have made the division successful will be eviscerated by the reorganization. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of studies that show the most dangerous period of time for a business is when it grows too quickly. Unless very wise leadership is applied, the up-to-then successful business collapses. I don't foresee a complete collapse, but I do foresee an implosion, one that I am helpless to stop because the greed and ego of the essentially one (well placed) Company A senior leader is driving him to reject any input that implies that he might be wandering around town unclothed, like the nude king of fairy-tale fame. I have been presented with essentially a fait accompli.

Today brought no relief. Just the opposite. My assistant for plans and execution was called to headquarters to draw up the new organizational chart. He will be working on it some more there tomorrow. Then he and I will finalize it together. He asked me today what I plan to do because he knows that I am a change-maker and, as the military would say, a line officer, not an implementer and staff officer. My line officer position is being taken, and I am being pushed in a staff officer job, and that is not where my skill set lies. I told him that I would probably look for another job.

Ah, there's the rub, though! God put me in this job. Am I supposed to stay in it through this change, which is planned to take as long as two years to fully implement? Initially and not later? Or, perhaps, have I fulfilled my tasking and can move on? I wish I knew!

One thing I know for sure. If this is where God wants me, then this is where I will be. Either because I acquiesce or because, like Jonah, I will be thrown back to where God has shown me that I am supposed to be. If, on the other hand, I have completed my tasking, I am certain that God will release me to go on to something less stressful, lead me to a better organization, or perhaps even give me a new tasking. The bottom line is that it has to be what God wants. If I know that he wants me to continue on, then I will do so and will find a way to be happy about it. The hard part is the not knowing; the hard part is the waiting. Fortunately, I am not alone. I can make it, with the Help at hand, through the hard part.

And there you have it. Chapter one in a new soap opera. Stay tuned, and I will present the next chapters as they are written.

Temptation

When the High Muckety Muck from my organization was leaving this week and a new Muckety Muck arriving, a party followed the passing along of the muck. At that party, I met an old friend and colleague from Washington, DC, DR. He is getting ready to retire, he told me, from his influential position. Then, he asked me if I had considered retiring from my current position.

I have enough time in the organization to do that because work in related organizations in the past counts, but I am not old enough. However, I could take an exceptionally early retirement and make out okay, especially if I were to take a post-retirement, double-dip job, which is what DR had in mind.

He went on to tell me that there are not one, but THREE, positions of high status (and big money) in Washington about to open up because their long-term incumbents are retiring soon. DR told me that all three incumbents, including he himself, would like me to be their successor. I do have the qualifications and experience to hold any one of those jobs and would just have to nibble at the bait that they are holding in front of me.

Certainly, the money would be much better than I am earning now, especially if it were to be added to retirement income from my current job. Opportunities for moonlighting and consulting would be much more plentiful. So, from the point of view of $$ and what they will buy -- a comfortable retirement, a luxurious home, money to travel now and after retirement, nice stuff, an inheritance for the kids -- these opportunities are enticing.

From the point of view of excitement and rubbing shoulders with national power mongers, just thinking about any one of these positions brings a rush of power-fueled headiness. I would be associating not only with the people about whom one reads in the national news but also with the people who write about them and who would write about me. Now that brings a great sense of importance! Self-efficacy, Self-esteem! Confidence and pride!

From the point of view of making a national contribution, the work itself will be a contribution. I could leave a legacy, see my name in lights, make my kids proud.

It sounds like I could have any of the three without much competition. DR suggested that I drop by the next time I am in Washington and, preferably, sooner rather than later. Neat! I did not drive home. I floated home on some kind of elevated cloud and wisped up to Donnie, giving him the great news.

He looked at me quizzically, "Would you really want to move away from San Ignatio? I would not trade San Ignatio for Washington!"

Oh, yeah, that! I would have to leave my sleepy little sacred town for the big city of neon and naughtiness (well, and a lot of goodness, too). No, I don't want to do that. Not really.

"I have a thought," I countered. "Since they are coming to me and not the other way around, I could probably work nearly any kind of deal with them within reason, including ten-hour days, so that I could have 4-day weekends, allowing me to commute from here."

Now, I have to give Donnie a lot of credit. He did not think the idea of commuting was crazy. You see, at one time I was living in California and working in Jordan. That was quite a commute. Another time, I was living in California, working in Washington (same commute that I was suggesting to Donnie), and, at the same time, going to school in Moscow. So, my definition of commute is pretty broad compared to the general population of the USA. The only folks who have a longer commute, I would say, are the astronauts, who commute from Cape Kennedy to the International Space Station.

There was only one fly in the ointment. The town I live in is the place God planted me. The job I have is the job God picked for me (for details, see my post on this: The Jobs God Would Not Let Me Have and the One He Insisted I Take and Keep). I have already seen some reasons for both my location and employment. I assume that there are more reasons that I may or may not find out later. The reasons don't really matter. What matters is being where God wants me to be. Thoughts about these new Washington positions created feelings of excitement in me, independent of anything holy. Thoughts about my current position, San Ignatio, and Old Mission bring feelings of peace, happiness, comfort, and belonging. Ah, hah! I think that is what discernment is about -- determining where God wants us.

I suppose if I were to try to march away from here, God would close those positions, just like he did others earlier. I like to think, though, that it is much better to walk away from the temptation on my own and accept the work that God gives me.

So, good-bye big money. For what did I need you, anyway? I already have anything you can buy. My current job will give me a comfortable enough retirement. I really don't need much to be happy. A luxurious home creates the need to pay cleaners and helpers, pour money into maintenance, and spend more time in caring for the home than in other more important endeavors such as caring for the homeless. Money to travel? Puh-leez! My current job has me up in the air most of the time. My great desire is to be on the ground, my own ground. Nice stuff? And just what am I supposed to do with it? Donnie and I already once gave away nearly everything we owned when we moved in 2000 from a 13-room house to an RV. An inheritance for the kids? Well, back in the year 2000 give-away, the family sentimental and heirloom stuff went to them, and as far as any large monetary sums are concerned, that is not the kind of inheritance I want to give them. I want to leave them diligence, self-reliance, knowledge, capabilities, parenting skills, study skills, and good character, along with a sense of joy, peace, and love, i.e. the ability to make their own inheritance.

But wait, what about that great sense of importance and self-esteem that comes from rubbing shoulders with the powerful? Oh, right, I am already important as a child of God, and there is no one more powerful than He with whom I could possibly rub shoulders. Anything more is illusion and hubris. Nope, I don't need any overweaning pride or false self-esteem.

So, golly, I guess I am not going to make that national contribution, not leave a legacy. Hm, wait. I am already making an international contribution through my current position. True, I don't get a lot of personal international headlines. The contribution is known, but the contributor is not. I think that is how it should be. Yes, I can be and am happy with that. I don't need my name in lights, and, as for my kids, they are already proud of me, just the way I am, as I am of them, just the way they are. There is nothing lacking after which I have to chase across an entire continent. Better to remain still and enjoy what all that I have right here.

As I reflect on the negative sides of these tempting offers, it is easy to see the immense treasure I have right where I am. Most of my children are here. So is God, according to Doah, who announced when he first arrived at our new place, "God here," and according to a friend from, of all places, Washington, DC who announced after walking around town for a few minutes, "etot gorod namolein" (this town is soaked in prayer). So have been the tasks that God has given me in the last few years. My support, too, has been here, in the simple folk in our prayer group, in the naive teens in our catechism class, in the yearning-for-understanding townspeople in our Bible Study group. Good people. God's people.

Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for me to see the potential job offers for what they are: a temptation to move away from where God put me, step back from the taskings He has given me, and surround myself with people other than those to whom He brought me. I do get to choose, though. That is what free will is all about, right? In that case, I choose what God wants for me. I find just as much, if not more, excitement in that than in the money, neon, and power being offered by DR. More important, just the thought of choosing God's simpler, humbler way brings a sense of perfect peace.

Whew! Close call!

Time for the Birds

This morning as I set out for one of our departments -- I don't even remember what "mission" I was on -- my forward march was halted by the sight of one of the assistant managers, standing by one of the windows that look out onto our atrium.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Look," he said, pointing to a tiny, newly hatched bird, probably a swallow although I am not good at bird identification. "It hatched a few days ago. The mother built a nest in one of the big potted plants in the atrium."

The little bird had hopped up onto the rim of the tall pot. Then, it spread its wings, ascended upward away from us, and bee-lined straight into the opposite window. Stunned, it fell to the ground, then shook its head and wings, and hopped up onto the ledge, sitting there for some time, seeming to try to get its bearings.

"Do you think it is all right?" I asked.

"I think so," he replied. "The parent birds are over in that other corner, scratching for food. I imagine they will see the little one and help, but we had better wait, just in case."

So, we waited. Every ten seconds or so, someone walked past, stopped, and joined us in watching. Soon, we had a small crowd, cheering the little bird on.

There was a feeling of comradeship in that gathering crowd. There was also a sense of time standing still. Work stopped. People talked to each other about the birds, not about missions and messages, not about stress and due-outs, not about quotas and time constraints, but about the baby bird.

Sometimes my work can get quite intense. We support missions in far places, such as Iraq and Afghanistan. We have to be in communication and support our offices in multiple states and countries. Some of the work we do requires traveling extensively. Other times it requires working on weekends and always at least part of the evening. My incoming email can exceed 1000 enotes at any given time; I left work today with 974 unanswered notes that I will have to stay late to answer tomorrow and the next several work days. They are routine requests and requirements that had to take second place to urgent requests for specific kinds of support from the team that we just sent to a war zone. Yes, indeed, work can get quite intense.

Today, however, work stopped. Nothing mattered for a few minutes except one new life, that of a tiny bird. Thank you, little bird, for joining our team.

Some days I really love my job!

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!

The Jobs God Would Not Let Me Have and the One He Insisted I Take and Keep

Only four years ago now, I was peacefully and happily working in Jordan, a wonderful country -- ancient, holy in history, and friendly. Then, I got a fateful (not fatal, but at moments it did seem so) phone call from a former boss. He had just been selected to a CEO position and was asking me to come back to the States and work as one of his four direct reports. I would be responsible for national and international operations. Hm. It was intriguing, but I was already working internationally, shuttling between Bahrain and Jordan in order to help out the division in Bahrain which had lost its head person, and doing occasional consulting in any one of two dozen other countries. Hm. I wavered, mostly toward the status quo of the time.

Then, my boss in Jordan, an Egyptian of grand proportions and even greater temper, learned about the phone call, and the full fury of an Arab slighted fell upon me, loyalty being the number one trait that Arabs expect from friends and employees, at least in my experience. He immediately tore up my contract. He would not allow me to leave him; the only way I would be leaving would be if he sent me away, and he was doing just that. It was odd that he found out about the phone call. Only two people knew, and both insisted that they had not told. I had no reason not to believe them and still have no reason not to believe them. I am now pretty certain that my boss found out because God wanted me back in the USA for two reasons: (1) to find Him even though I was not looking for Him; and (2) my current job -- and I am still trying to figure out why God wants me in this particular job but have reached the firm conclusion, given a preponderance of evidence, that He does.

There was only one problem with this scenario (for my boss): I had already been paid for the quarter, so I got a 3-month vacation. However, there was nothing my boss could do about that. He left for Egypt, his residence, and returned in a month for his one-day monthly visit. By then, he had calmed down. We met, in the Arab way drank tea before broaching serious matters, and then settled down to discussing "the situation." I asked why he thought I would choose the USA over Jordan; I might very well have chosen Jordan over the USA. He seemed puzzled about that at first, talked about how I was "leaving him" (yep, I was right about the loyalty bit with him), and finally commented that he would be in his hotel room until the morning if anything else came up that I would like to talk to him about. We parted civilly. There was almost a sadness in the air on his side. Months later, I realized that in the Arab manner of saving face he was letting me know that he would like me to come back but that I would have to be the one to take the first step. I know that. I had lived in the culture long enough to read between the lines, but I did not. I took everything at face value, in the American way. Why? I have been called a "cultural chameleon;" I am known for being good at understanding the unspoken communication in other cultures, yet I failed to recognize something that I knew very well. I ask again, why? In retrospect, I think God must have clouded my thinking because He wanted me in the USA.

I began rapidly opening doors in Jordan, and I had lots of help. I had become well known there and had acquired enough respect for being a good teacher and a good administrator to have a number of job offers. I taught at the top university in the country for fall semester, which ended the day before I left Jordan for the USA (yes, I did ultimately take the job there/here).

Every door I opened in Jordan was closed. No, make that, every door I opened was slammed shut. Every person who tried to help me moved unexpectedly. Seriously. One professor and one administrator were moved by their organization to Bahrain, and one dean was recycled back into the faculty (it was the appropriate time for that to occur); but then he had the opportunity to teach in Lebanon, and off he went.

In the interim, I kept being pushed in less than subtle ways toward the USA job. First, given that I had no contract and every possibility for staying in Jordan dried up as quickly as it appeared, the job in the USA did not look all that bad. Actually, it was a very good job. While I was hesitating, the starting salary offer increased by 20%. That sweetened the pot, but I was still pretty intent on staying in Jordan. Then, I coincidentally (?) ended up at a conference with the most senior leadership from the organization, ran into them quite by chance (?), socialized a bit, and they urged me to put in my papers. I did -- one day before the deadline. That turned out to be a problem because they needed my transcripts from Russia, where I had completed my PhD. Oops! I assumed that this meant I should continue looking for jobs in Jordan, but no, the USA organization extended the deadline, quite coincidentally(?), by three weeks, just enough time to get the transcripts. As soon as the transcripts arrived, I was interviewed and shortly thereafter a firm job offer was made. At the same time, the contract of my husband, Donnie, was terminated in similar fashion to mine. Well, as I have learned, when God says "no," God means "no." So, with the USA job offer being the only one I had in spite of the fact that never before have I had any trouble cultivating job offers, back we came to California.

And within six months God entered my life as a Force to be reckoned with. (For details, see my conversion story.) And now, more than three years later, God has pretty much taken over my life!

After two years of working in my current position, I began looking for another job for several reasons: (1) the lure of a higher position and higher wages and (2) a bit of an ethical dilemma associated with one of the projects I supervised -- I disagreed strongly with the position of the organization. Once again, I quickly found another opportunity, a vice president position close enough to home that I would not have to move and with a salary that would be equal to a 25% raise. I was one of the top three candidates, and on a Wednesday interviewed.

I felt confident after that interview -- one usually has a sense of the success (or not) of an interview. However, clearly God had put me at my current position and wanted me to stay there. Things started happening again. First, every single day about once an hour one employee after another would come in, tell me how much they liked working with me, explain how much I belong here where I am, and share some story of some difference I had made in their life (usually something minor such as previously hating to come to work and now loving to come to work -- well, I suppose that is not all that minor). Here was something new, and I began to feel some obligation to these people. Second, on the Saturday after the interview and knowing nothing about my job search, Fr. Barry showed up at my door with an article related to the ethical dilemma I was facing. I had discussed it with him on a couple of occasions; he is my spiritual barometer. He told me that he thought that I was in a very good position to help the ethical dilemma be resolved and that I should keep this in mind whenever I was troubled about it. (He was stunned to hear about the job interview.) Third, just to make sure that I had no choice (because sometimes I do have to get conked on the head in order to hear/see God's direction), the job for which I had interviewed went away. Poof! The Board of Directors decided that they did not need an executive VP, given the current economic climate.

Financially, through all of this, God took care of me. Consider that my contract in Jordan had been paid three months in advance and that my current job began a mere two weeks (travel time) after the end of those three months -- and because I was also teaching during the fall semester, I got more than two weeks of extra pay to cover those two post-contract-expiration weeks. As for my current position, not only was the starting salary increased by 20%, but when the organization found out that I had been interviewed (there seem to be no secrets at work), my supervisor put through a 25% retention incentive, the maximum allowed by organizational regulation, and so my current salary matches what I would have made had I left. Amazing!

So, it would seem that here is where God wants me (for reasons only He knows). Therefore, here I will be until directed elsewhere.