7 Quick Takes Friday #22

Amazingly, two weeks have passed since I last posted Quick Takes. Where did they go? This week's 7 Quick Takes, a meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary, will therefore include events from the past week as well as from last week.

(1) The week (not this past week, but last week, the one I did not blog about because I was taking a week off from blogging for Easter) began on Monday with a near-deja vu experience. As I drove into the parking lot in my office a parade of five wild turkeys marched across the intersection where I was stopped at a stop sign. As I patiently waited for them to finish crossing -- all of them proud males -- from the skies parachuted a flock of hens, like fans following movie stars. The females landed and landed, and then scampered and scampered, chasing after the handsomely attired males, who seductively spread their tails so expansively that all but their legs were hidden. The experience reminded me of the rooster in San Ignatio the previous week who had held me up for several minutes. In both cases, I was late to a meeting. I can certainly come up with unique excuses. More important, these kinds of things slow down my life, and that is a good thing.

(2) The highlight of the past two weeks was attending Good Friday Mass at Old Mission, where I belong. I was supposed to go to San Antonio on Maundy Thursday. On Friday, I was to attend Mass at San Fernando Cathedral. I was supposed to, and I was resigned to doing it. Somehow, though, my travel schedule had devolved into working on Good Friday. I was not happy about it, but, as I told the senior manager traveling with me, as long as I could get away for Good Friday Mass, I was willing to limit the amount of my complaints, or at least the volume of them.

That was before he was told by our local director that the only time she could gather staff to meet with me was during one or another Mass time. This was definitely not going to work, and I did not limit either the amount or volume of my complaints. “Look,” I told the senior manager, “you are going to be combining business and pleasure there, anyway, since your family lives there, so why don’t you do the briefing for me. That provides legitimacy to your trip, and it allows me to return Thursday night from Ohio and be home on Good Friday, where I can attend Mass at Old Mission.”

He agreed. He agreed! I knew the briefing would be difficult for him, and I, as his supervisor, may still have to go back to field questions that arose and to prove that I do care about the people at our satellite offices, but I got to spend Good Friday at Old Mission.

I felt so gifted! I wanted to lift up my eyes unto the green hills that surround San Ignatio. I want to hear the local roosters voluntarily participating in the passion play as they do every year, right on cue with their crowing. I wanted to kneel on the uneven floor of the 200-year-old mission with its paw-printed tiles that took so long to bake in the sun that foxes, bears, rabbits, and all manner of God’s animals scampered across them and were memorialized in the floor, as were a couple of people buried under the floor whose stories are no longer known but whose names and years are printed on special tiles inset into the floor. That’s where I wanted to be. Large, beautiful cathedrals with huge crowds do not attract me. Our simple church with our parish cat, Sula, sitting on a pew between parishioners (whichever ones she deigns to grace with her presence that day), the feeling of being in a place that has been soaked in prayer, and sharing the sorrow and exultancy of the Triduum with friends are what attracts me. And I was able, after all, to be there.

And there is always Phinean, Fr. Ed's adopted, previously feral, black cat. On Good Friday, as if on cue, Phinean appeared from nowhere, trotted down the aisle before anyone had a chance to stand up and move forward for the veneration of the cross, approached the cross and, really truly he did this, crouched beside it, as if he he were venerating it, then turned and faced the congregation. (People talked about that all weekend; obviously, we do not live in a high-crime or politically exciting area!) Fr. Ed did not say anything. He has come to expect such behavior from Phinean, who also spends entire days sleeping in the Christmas creche every December. He told us long ago that Phinean has a right to attend Mass because he is a Catholic cat! (Not to be outdone, Sula attended Easter vigil, sitting quietly and humbly in one of the back pews beside some chosen parishioners.)

(3) Last week, before Easter, I spent the week on a business trip at Ohio State University in Columbus. I was accompanied by two peers, my counterparts who direct other divisions in our organization. One of them, a woman about my age whom I will call Patricia (not her real name), was on the same flights with me, so we had the rare opportunity to pass the time in chatting, rather than involved in work tasks. She and I have known each other for 20 years but have never talked about anything of a spiritual nature. I guess the topic came up because of my refusal to travel to San Antonio, it being Good Friday. It turns out that she is also Catholic, but more than that, she is a Third Order Carmelite and Formation Director for the local Carmelites. Now, to understand how amazing this is, one needs to know that I have been in formation with the Secular Franciscan Order for three years but have not professed. My personal spiritual experiences have been more Theresian than Franciscan. Moreover, I had just come out of an intensive period of discernment and what I believe to be divine tasking with the Franciscans, a story that is too long to share here but about which I am preparing a post for my Modern Mysticism blog. Just two weeks earlier, I had achieved peace with the situation, deciding to leave the Franciscans -- thank God, I had not professed because any profession would have been my choice alone under the pressure of friends; I have not felt God leading me to profess -- and explore an association with the Carmelites. That is where I really think God is leading me in spite of my comfort with the modest Franciscan lifestyle. However, at first I had some doubts because I could not find any local Carmelites. I tracked down the coordinates of a group 20-30 minutes north. The phone numbers did not work out. So, it was quite extraordinary for me just to happen into this conversation with Patricia, whose group is located 30 minutes south of where I live and in the same place where I work. I should have learned by now that very little truly just "happens." I will be attending my first Carmelite meeting in two weeks!

(4) Columbus was a great place for me to be because my brother Rollie and his family (three sons, two of them married with children) live there and in the outlying rural area around Columbus. My sister Victoria lives in nearby Michigan, so she brought her younger son and came to Columbus (the rural part) for a family cookout, hosted by one of my nephews. I met both nephews' wives for the first time and their children (two little boys and a girl). Both wives are named Jane! And they are both delightful people. My nephews chose well. My niece once removed, 5-year-old August, was delighted to meet a new, big-kid, relative, and we chased together around the house and yard, playing. I found interesting differences in political opinion with my brother and sister who represent middle America much better than I do, but we are the 8-pack. Those differences are unimportant. We laughed a lot, reminisced, and enjoyed each other's presence for the first time in, ulp!, seven years!

(5) On Easter Sunday, it was time with the immediate family. Shane and Lemony had already made plans to celebrate with Lemony's family, so Donnie and I gathered up Noelle and Doah, and off we went to Hometown Buffet in Salts for Easter brunch, which was bound to be a better deal than trying to eat something I might attempt to cook. Although we had not been there in two years, mainly because Doah, the most inveterate Hometown Buffet fan, moved to San Jose two years ago. Nonetheless, Doah and Donnie are unforgettable (compared to easily forgettable me who blends in with any group anywhere), and the manager very seriously told Doah that macaroni and cheese, Doah's downfall, had been removed from the menu. When he saw Doah's crestfallen face, he exclaimed, "April Fool's!" Doah carries April Fool jokes well into the ensuing next months, and the manager had remembered that. Needless to say, it was a pleasant experience, even for Noelle, who has been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster since Ray died. Of course, we killed our diets, but I am sure we will recover. Interestingly, we all take different approaches. Doah walks; I count calories; Lizzie (living and working now in South Carolina) spends hours at the gym with a trainer; Donnie does a lot of techno voodoo in determining foods and amounts; and Noelle just shakes her head in wonderment. However, all of us have lost weight, so we shall continue on our separate paths toward the same goal.

(6) Back at work on Monday (for one day before leaving for Hawaii), I confirmed that I had not been fired for refusing to go to San Antonio on Good Friday. I also found out that the world goes on without me. The presentation in San Antonio was fine without me. While I was out, we had to find three people to send to Afghanistan immediately to help with some work there. My assistants identified one already working for us who was willing to go and found two among applicants to work for us who would also be willing to go there. Actually, we all have to be willing to go there. One of my senior managers went there last month, and once we get an office in place there, I will also need to go there. I am not the one who sets up these things; my senior managers do that. However, I do have to provide quality control, so ultimately I get to travel (willingly or unwillingly) to all our remote locations. Actually, Afghanistan sounds interesting, and I have already started to learn a few Pashto words. (At least, I can read the alphabet; it is the Arabic alphabet plus three letters.)

(7) Now I write from Hawaii, where the rain has been playing havoc with the Internet. As the plane lifted off from San Francisco on Tuesday, we left behind the scalloped coastline of California, passed over a seemingly endless expanse of blue -- not sky but ocean, and then finally descended into thick mounds of white cotton candy, which turned into a white stew with whispy vapors and ultimately gave way to sparkling ground covered in and surrounded by water. Yes, we had landed on the currently wet island of Oahu. Given the rain that has had me stepping in a lot of puddles, a fickle Internet, and the fact that I left my briefing material back in California, I have had every right to be very frustrated, but something happened when I gave up frustration for Lent. I learned the triggers that cause me to become frustrated and for the most part I can now avoid them or refuse to let them be triggers. So, I did not become frustrated, but washed my shoes in puddles, took a long walk for health reasons while trying to find my way to my room and getting hopelessly lost, recalled how one briefed without powerpoint in the old days, and otherwise felt grateful for the opportunity to be more creative and more health-oriented. Yeah!

For a Few Silver Coins

Once a man heard about a place where people worshipped a tree.

"These people are under a delusion. They have replaced the glory of the transcendent God, the secret of all that is alive, with a mere tree? I must save them from this path. I must cut down this tree."

And so the man climbed on his horse and headed towards the tree. When he got there, he picked up his ax and began to strike at it. People ran to him, yelling:

"Stop. This is our most sacred tree."

But everyone who tried to push him away from the tree failed. He was simply too strong and too determined. When everyone was about to give up, an old man approached him and said:

"Listen my friend. The truth is that you have severely surprised these people. They are all very devoted to this tree and they will be very hurt if they see it cut down today. However, if you were to wait just till tomorrow, they will be far more prepared mentally to see their special tree cut down. Meanwhile, here is a bag of silver coins. It's not a bribe of course. Give it away in charity or use it for some good purpose. Then come back tomorrow and you can cut down the tree. I promise it will still be here waiting for you."

The old man's words seemed very convincing. After all, what would a day possibly change? And as for the silver coins, it's true, he could think of many good ways to spend them.

And so he returned to his town. First, he used a few silver coins to help an old widow he knew. But later, he began to use the coins to buy meat, milk and honey.

"Its ok," he would comfort himself, "I'm simply trying to stay strong and fit so I can perform good deeds."

When the last silver coin was spent, ten days after he had taken them from the old man, he decided he would now return and cut down the tree. When he arrived, he found the old man along with others prostrating to the tree.

"Move away," he screamed. "The time has come for your tree to be cut down."

But no sooner had he said these words, when a woman approached him and pushed him to the ground. Surprised, the man stood up again and waked towards the tree. This time, a child, no older than seven, approached him and pushed him to the ground. Suddenly, everyone appeared to be stronger than him, far stronger than him. The faces that only ten days ago were full of fear were now full of contempt.

"Cut down our tree? Who do you think you are to cut down our tree?"

"We'll cut your head off if you try this again!"

But the words of the old man echoed within him the most:

"There is nothing weaker than that which can be stopped with silver!"

-----------------------
The above story is excerpted from a book, Metaphors of Islamic Humanism, by my friend, Dr. Omar Imady, copyright 2005. I have previously shared excerpts from this book: Destiny!?? and The Angel in the Desert.

It Was Just a Little Thing

It was just a little thing. Don’t many, if not most, significant issues begin as little things? Don’t annoying molehills often grow and grow until they become insurmountable mountains?

A very little thing, indeed, it was: a small box of Buckeye chocolates. I had purchased them in Ohio for my secretary. Donnie ate them. Now I had no special way to say thank you to her for the extra work she had done to change my ticket (a long, not pertinent story). Moreover, this was not the first time. Rather, it is a familiar experience. I buy a food gift for someone, and when I am not hovering over it, protecting it, Donnie gobbles it down, seemingly not caring that it is mine.

How the little thing grew! My disappointment at not having the intended gift for my secretary led to disgust at Donnie’s size. That led to reprimand and search for punishment as with a child. I even considered making Donnie write, “I will not steal food” 50 times and magnetizing it to the refrigerator. That thought led to expressions of reprisal: since I am the only one with money in the bank this week, I told him I would leave him with no food while I was in Hawaii.

Certain that none of this would curb Donnie’s gluttonous behavior, I considered divorce. The man is worthless, I thought. He has no job, other than some occasional freelance work and typesetting for our press, and, now of possible retirement age, no longer makes any effort to find any employment. When we have extra money, he spends it, taking it out of our joint checking account secretly. (See Justice or Mercy?) So, I no longer put any money into that savings account. Yep, 100% worthless! Time to let him go, cut the cord, send him down the river!

How many times in 40 years have I considered divorce! Whether it is fortunate it or not (that depends upon my emotional state at the time), I always remember that darn promise: “in sickness and in health, for better or for worse.” But why does almost every day have to be “in sickness” or “for worse?” Why can it not be in health and for better?

After all, I am perfect. I am never gone all the time on business, never too absorbed in writing to pay attention to matters that Donnie wants to discuss or considers important, always kindly ethical, always reasonable in my expectations. Oh, but wait! That’s my perception. Donnie, in picking me up at the airport, sometimes introduces himself and reminds me that we are married just in case my constant absence has caused me to forget him. And, oh, yes, I sometimes don’t remember important things he has told me or asked me to do because he talked to me while I was absorbed in some project and only half-listening. And, ah, yeah, there is that ethical thing. Donnie once gave a one-word answer to an investigative agent working on my security clearance who asked if I was ethical: “Brutally.” Finally, of course, if I did not admit that my expectations were a tad unreasonably high, I would have a pack of kids, friends, co-workers, employees, and even bosses standing in line to correct me.

So, instead of filing for divorce, I said a prayer. I did not ask for any answers about how best to handle Donnie’s chocolate-gobbling sin. Rather, I asked for the ability to see what is really important, for patience and perspective – both of which I sometimes find to be rare commodities.

Easter Memories

I have not done a picture story on this blog before, but since Donnie just downloaded my not-so-artistic photos that I took Easter afternoon, I thought I would share some of the pictures of our wonderful little town with you. So, here goes:

(1) Photos around our mission church --

the garden path behind the church:

























the church archway, including (a) one of the inhabitants, a mourning dove; (b) looking north, with Doah; (c) looking south:

























views of the historic part of town from the church archway:

























the church cemetery:

















scenes from the front of the church:

























(2) Sula, our parish cat --

in the church garden:









entering the old monastery:









inside the old monastery:









asleep on a parishioner's coat during the Eucharist (every parishioner with a coat is considered a friend by Sula):








(3) Our town's aristocracy:


















































(4) Donnie, Doah, Noelle, and I spent the afternoon at play, pigging out at Easter brunch at Hometown Buffet in nearby Salts:




























(5) Meanwhile, our lazy little Mahlous (Intrepid, Murjan, and Simone) spent the afternoon at rest:

















Hoping you had as delightful an Easter as we did!

7 Quick Takes Friday #23

What a week! Even for me. I feel like the roller-coaster has pulled into the station just in time to take off again for another climb without me letting off! (Truly, one more ride up and down and around the track is in front of me for next week, with a quick trip to Nebraska planned for Monday (yep, in and out in one day) and the big question: Do I or do I not go to the Middle East at the end of the week? That depends upon my boss, and he is not telling (yet). I nearly did not write this week's 7 Quick Takes, a meme hosted by Jennifer Futwiler at Conversion Diary, because I have been hit by a pretty severe cold. (I don't like being sick, but I guess no one does.)

1. Last Friday at this time I learned that I was to be stuck in Hawaii for a while due to plane mechanical problems. I suppose one does not consider oneself "stuck" in a lovely place like Hawaii. As is often the case when something goes "wrong" with my life, things turned out better than had they gone according to plan. The extra few hours allowed me to write a presentation for a conference in Jordan (the one that I may or may not attend) that can be read by a proxy should I not be able to go. When I did get to the airport and obtain my ticket for the rescheduled flight, I found out that United had given me a complimentary upgrade to First Class as an apology for the delay. Cool! (I have to admit, however, that First Class is lost on me; I am short enough to fit neatly and comfortably into Economy Class.) Nonetheless, I accepted the accommodation, with thanks, ate too much, watched the movie, slept, and arrived too late to catch the plane home from San Francisco so the colleague I was traveling with and I took a rental car and drove home, arriving around 3:00 in the morning.

2. I did not get much post-plane sleep. I had to be at a retreat at 8:00 Saturday morning at the St. Francis Retreat Center. The retreat, Franciscan Spirituality, provided the perfect opportunity to slow down and pay attention to the more important things after a busy week. I noticed that we were not the only retreatants there. With the newly re-built center (after the center burned and the staff scrambled to raise money to replace the old building with a contemporary, more versatile new main building), more groups are now attracted to the serene hills outside our rustic community.

3. The retreat ended Sunday afternoon, just in time to say good-bye to one of my mid-level managers, who will be moving eastward to take over our Maryland office. I invited him and his new girlfriend to Jardines Restaurant. Hailing from Panama, he loves the Latin cuisine there; his girlfriend, who hails from Mexico, decided that she also loves the cuisine. She ordered pollos borrachos (drunken chickens), a puebla (Mexican) recipe. There are some very pleasant aspects to my job. Sending someone off a new adventure is one of them.

4. Monday evening I rushed back home from work to our prayer group meeting because my co-leader was not going to be there. (I rely on him always to be on time because the 6:30 start is difficult for me. I often arrive a few minutes late.) For some strange reason, only Sr. M and one other person showed up. We managed to get so involved, just the three of us, though, that we ran almost an hour longer than usual. There is something delicious and addictive about 2-3 gathering together in God's name and praying together. None of us wanted to leave but just to sit quietly and bask in the feel of God's presence. Needless to say, the rest of the evening was relaxed and satisfying, to some extent a continuation of the retreat experience.

5. At work, this has been a good week for training. On Tuesday, I attended training led by a contracted organization that had done some research for us into best techniques for teaching adults. The presenter was somewhat nonplussed to find me in the audience because she had used one of my books as the basis for some of her conclusions. This has happened to me before, and I always look at it favorably. If someone wants to use my work, it is a compliment; I never criticize the way in which they apply it even if they did not quite get it right. Then, on Wednesday, together with the head of our personnel office, I conducted an all-day training session for new and relatively new managers from our branch offices on the topic of managing "difficult" people in a servant leadership approach to management. What fun! I ordered pizza and pop for a group lunch (then got called away to be on a telephonic conference call over the lunch hour with my boss and the visiting research team; oh, well, I am on a diet and really did not need any of that pizza...). Since I don't believe that people are born difficult or want to be difficult, I entitled my presentation, "How to Create Difficult People." I hope it helped the new leaders have an understanding that everyone is a reflection of God and, therefore, should be treated with respect and love -- and, if that really happens, the difficult side of "difficult people" generally disappears.

6. Our organization's contribution to Afghanistan was finalized at an all-morning meeting today. I will be sending four people there next week. Yikes! One of them, one of my senior managers, had no idea when he got up this morning that he would be going, but he readily agreed. I have such incredibly wonderful and flexible people working for me! I get a lot of credit for meeting "impossible" client needs, but it is not I, but the people who work for me, doing it.

7. Some time during this emotionally charged week, I caught a severe cold. Medicine does not seem to be helping much. Sleep might if I could squeeze time in for that. I was going to call in sick for teaching catechism this evening (it would have been the first and only time in three years), but my co-teacher beat me to tthe punch. Since she had called in sick, there was no question about stopping to pick up some snacks and dragging myself in to the parish educational center. Even though I did not feel any better physically afterward, I am glad that I had this evening with the teens. First, during the break, the classroom aide "caught" our self-proclaimed atheist reading beyond the Bible passage we had read in class. (I don't believe he is truly an atheist. As a former atheist, I recognize other atheists, and he is not one, in my opinion. I think he is just angry at God because his aunt was attacked by her boyfriend five years ago, killed, cut into pieces, and left beside the road in a garbage bag. Only God is going to be able to help him move beyond his anger, but if my co-worker or I can facilitate any rapprochement, we would love to be used in that way.) Second, during an activity that required the teens to track down specific information in the Bible, it became clear that one of the boys, a leader in sports at school (one of the jocks, I guess you could say) did not have good skimming and reading skills. One of the quiet, less popular girls, Clare, went over to him, sat with him, and walked him through the whole process. I could not help but think of St. Clare. It was an unselfish, helpful gesture, undertaken without any regard for cliques and popularity (something that sometimes we have to help the kids to work through). Someone needed help; she helped. Observing that was a great way for me to end the past seven days.

I hope you have had a good week, too, and that God will bless your weekend.

Monday Morning Meditation #36: The Difficulties Leaders Have in Following God

After reading about all the kings who either did good but allowed the worship of Baal or did evil in the sight of the Lord, I began to wonder whether it is possible for royalty to be good/godly. While that may be a discussion for another place and time, with someone possessing greater knowledge of the topic than I, the failure after failure, especially with individuals who started out successfully, resonated with me. And so, I stopped my reading this week at the end of II Kings.

Reading: II Kings 7-25

Meditation: On a daily basis, I attempt to develop the leadership skills of a couple dozen middle and senior-level managers, using concepts associated with servant leadership. While one aspect of developing good leaders involves teaching them how to care about their people, understand those who work for them, and follow and apply organizational rules and regulations, there is another part that is rarely, if ever, discussed widely: God's role in our work.

Personally, I am fortunate. All the senior managers who report to me are believers and willing to discuss issues in spiritual terms, as well as pragmatic and legalistic ones.

The senior managers are not so fortunate. They must provide direction to a range of junior managers, some of whom are committed to personal ambitions that lead to self-centered/self-promoting decisions. Reaching down to these new managers, to help them understand that any decision that does not put God at its center is not likely to be the best possible decision in the long run, is difficult. First, organizational policies do not permit these kinds of discussions, the closest we can get being a discussion of servant leadership, which reflects principles from all three Abrahamic religions. Second, some junior managers, particularly those without any spiritual beliefs, do not want this kind of discussion; they do not want to think about what role God should play in their/our work. Separation of church and state can make leading godly lives as managers and leaders very difficult.

And then, admittedly, there are those times when I really do not want to listen. I know what God is telling me, but just for the moment, I really want to have my anger over some event, some person's failure to perform, or some behavior that has irritated me. And so I turn a deaf ear -- after which, of course, I feel horribly guilty and penitent. But that moment did take place, and there is no way to return to it and make it not take place. One can apologize, take actions to remediate/alleviate and otherwise try to mitigate the damage, pray, go to confession, and otherwise be willing to set things right with God and any individuals involved, but the fact that these moments occur (and probably will continue to occur) point out just how fallible one can become in a leadership position -- and I am far, far, far below the level of king. So, I find it easy to understand how the kings of the Old Testament failed and how the kings of today (whether royalty or just business/political leaders) fail.

There are also those times that the God-directed decision is not the popular decision or even the accepted decision by the uppermost level of management. Surprisingly, those are the easiest situations for me although they have not always been so. With the passage of time and the following of God's direction where I have been able to discern it, I have found that "selling" the "right" decision is possible. Moreover, God rewards us when we follow Him. I have often told subordinate leaders that sometimes to be a good leader one must be willing to lose one's job for making the right, rather than the popular or required, decision. I know whereof I speak. I have lost a job in that manner -- and God found me a better one. Since then, I have had complete trust in God when it comes to work. I don't have to watch out for me because God watches out for me.

And that is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I must retire to prayer to ask God to intervene when I want to keep my anger or otherwise react in a non-servant, un-godly manner at work (or at home), to thank Him for his daily guidance, to praise Him for the wonderful ways in which He has been present for me and for the leaders in my organization on an every-minute basis, and to repent for those times that I have ignored His presence through inattention or desire to "do my own thing." After that, I will spend as much time as I can in contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will now leave you to your prayer and contemplation, but first, 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 hope 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.

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs that follow the enumeration of Monday Morning Meditations on the sidebar of this blog 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.