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Oh, if we could only control the weather. Our lives would be so much more under control if we could schedule the seasonal storms. Or maybe if we could just predict the weather with long-range precision we could easily avoid scheduling delicate plans like plane flights so that delays are non-existent or cancellations are moments of remember ancient history.
We schedule classes to be taught by visiting professors on a weekly basis. As an extension campus we can only finish populating our curriculum with teachers from our main campus 200 miles to the North. That calls for a juggling act of enormous proportions.
But the weather doesn’t always cooperate. In Texas the inclement storms are big. It is the same story no matter where in our country or in the world I have lived, everyone in every culture complain about the weather.
I was in my office creating plans for the next administrative move on our fledgling program here in the great city of Houston. There was someone standing in my office door opening. When I looked up, one of our staff members calmly mentioned that some of our visiting professors were going to be late for class.
That’s when I sat back and recalled the thunderous noise of cascading rain, rumbling thunder and massive flashes of lightning that had deluged our city just hours before. “Rats! Planes will be delayed with this massive storm. No wonder those visiting professors would be delayed.”
This was one of those moments for a short prayer, “God, please watch over the safe arrival of our traveling faculty and students. See them all safely here and safely home. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”
Rising from my desk I roamed our halls intending to sooth annoyed students. After all they have sacrificed to be here, rushed through traffic from work, chosen to devote hours of their life to prepare for the work that God has given them to do. My mind and heart were ready to take on the brunt of any complaints, listen to frustrations and apologize for the inconveniences.
To my pleasant surprise our students were cheerful. They were understanding. No one was complaining. Whining was non-existent.
Instead, we laughed, joked and teased. Students expressed their assurance that they were looking forward to hearing what their profs had to teach them. Eventually the profs all came and the students were eager to soak up all that they could learn. We have the best students!
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
High on my priority list to get myself geared up in my new position in Houston is setting up my office. This would be a place where I will putting in a lot of hours, interacting with a lot of people and hosting many important meetings. It would be a place where lasting impressions in the minds of important contacts will be formed.
The office must be professional of course. That means that is must be clean, uncluttered and meaningful. It doesn’t mean sterile.
Personality must emerge as much as avoidance of negative impressions. A balance must be sustained along with functionality. Something also has to reach out and grab attention but it must be done subtly.
My home office is much different. There my fun personality is clearly in vogue. I can let aesthetic rules find some freedom or even some rebellion. It is my refuge after all.
In my professional office, however, I need to manage the visuals that will form opinions in the minds of many. To enlist some helpful expertise, my wife and daughter came in to assist me with wall decorations.
They tore into my wall hangings with gusto. It wasn’t just rearranging them but it was also reframing them. Color and texture and positioning were all topics that they discussed freely as I stood there totally dumbfounded.
When they were done, I was amazed at how fabulous everything looked. I smiled and complimented their artistic touches. Giggling they accepted the adulation and handed me the bill for all of the changes.
Something was missing though. I had inherited a clock in the office. It was an 8 inch round plastic clock.
In its place I hung a large 18 inch time-keeper. This addition elevated the aesthetics of the time but also kept the time accurately, which the old clock was incapable of doing even twice a day. Yet, professionalism isn’t always me.
I wanted to add something that reflected my fun-loving animated side. So, I added another clock. This time it was understated with joy but certainly unmistakably smile-initiating.
Time is important in my business. I have a huge clock for that purpose. But, in a world where circumstances just don’t allow for rigid appointments or fast-paced schedules, there is another clock for that.
Maybe a single word for that extra counting of the hours and minutes should be “whatever”. Or maybe it should be “eventually”. Of course it may simply communicate the message of “I’m confused”.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Busy is a word that describes my new life in Texas. Don’t make the mistake, however, of assuming that busy is a synonym for “bad”. In fact I can’t imagine being happier!
However, my daily schedule is amazingly full. The routine on my calendar has very few gaps in it. I love doing it all.
In the middle of this hectic schedule was another event, an appointment for my post that I was required to attend. The faculty of Dallas Seminary gathers for an annual workshop at a Christian camping and conference center near Tyler, TX. It is called Pine Cove.
I joined a collection of over 80 faculty from DTS as we prepared our hearts and souls for the beginning of a new school year. It was time to get pumped up, encouraged and excited to meet our students for another installment in their preparation to answer God’s call to His service. As one of the three new faculty, I was ecstatic to meet new friends and colleagues.
We had to be creative as we engaged one another for conversations. The program was packed with meetings. I learned early that this gathering was not called a “retreat” but a “workshop”.
From the moment we arrived we were in meetings. Presentations of the most intricate kind were our normal fare. The brain power that was in the room was stunning.
To be a part of those discussions was fascinating. But, we had to stay sharp. Topics changed from session to session.
Listening to others contribute to the topic at hand was intriguing. It was my introductions to the challenges facing the seminary and the creativity of my colleagues as we charge forward to make seminary education the best that it can be. My mind was spinning with the new ideas, options and adjustments that lay in front of us.
But, there were breaks during the two days that we were together. One time I sat on a bench on a deck overlooking a lake. The beauty of that scene was mesmerizing.
Do you remember one of those moments? All of your being was embroiled in intellectual and spiritual issues. Then, for a moment everything paused.
You drank in your environment. It gave you peace. That’s what it was like for me in that place at that time for just a moment.
God’s hand of creation engulfed me. I was refreshed. Someone called my name and I returned to the next meeting, eager to go at it again.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
My work day started early. A morning breakfast meeting was first on my calendar. Time flew by quickly and our interaction was productive.
Next, a longer than usual commute to my office was a result of heavy traffic. A lot of people sure seem to be going in the same direction when it comes to where our work is located.
Meetings filled in the empty slots. I love to have one on one meetings with my direct reports. Early on I need to know what my team is doing, how I can help and what needs to happen to keep my team happy and productive.
For my lunch hour I had an outside guest come in. He is directing another seminary extension in Houston and I wanted to make a friendly gesture of goodwill. We had a helpful meeting.
The rest of the afternoon was occupied by meetings, discoveries, conversations, correspondence, planning and projections. A number of problems were solved. People got directed in the right classroom, connected with the right schedule and sorted out so that their assignments didn’t look nearly as foreboding as they once thought.
Now, it was eleven hours on the clock. It was time to head home. Students were now tucked into their classrooms. Faculty, both resident and visiting were firing away with all cylinders.
I paused long enough to smile. Education and training was happening here in at an eternal level. What these students were learning would change their lives forever and touch the lives of the people that they served for eternity.
With my backpack full, I stepped out of our building and made my way to my vehicle. That’s when I noticed how full our seminary was that night.
When I was in the middle of our parking lot, I noticed that the lot was full. In fact every slot was taken up by a vehicle. Both sides of the street were lined with cars as well.
Everyone could tell that something was happening here. Activity and the fullness of the classrooms and parking lot are symptoms of a busy night of ministry. Glancing at the setting sun, I smiled at the God that I served and thanked Him for the privilege of serving in this amazing institution.
He started this work and He energizes the work. Furthermore, He is growing it so that it is as full. Full is a very good place to be.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
My fellow flyers are busy trying to distract themselves from the onerous onslaught of travel hours. Some are able to be very productive. I admire them.
Those who are hyper-into-work are usually high-tech equipped. Their laptops are ultra thin, never need to be plugged in and the speed on their processing is blinding.
There are just as many using tablets. They whip those babies out and their fingers are sweeping across the screens like an Olympic figure skater on ice. A young suit flips the cover back over the unit like those old WW2 executives snapping their satchels shut.
Parents who are great planners have their children entertained with electronics. Their offspring are watching movies, cartoons and playing games way beyond what I can even imagine. The airport has a kiosk for modern air travel electronic gizmos to support the vast majority of gadget-minded sojourners.
I’m in the mix. When I can get online I’ll call up my blog and pound out a new reflection. It’s a great way to keep connected with so many.
When my computer can’t connect like it is struggling in Charlotte, I pull out my smart phone and catch up on email, text messages and notifications. Some people probably don’t even know that I’m on the other side of the country when our emails or texts exchange at the speed of light.
Angry birds have helped me while away a few dull moments. Westerns have kept me entertained with cowboys racing across the Old West, rescuing the weak and pummeling the wicked. Prayers have always been a part of long travels; there’s a lot of need for praying!
My i-pod is a great companion. Loaded on to this gem of a device are my favorite tunes. My ear buds are high quality and give me a rich sound.
Whether it is Country, Worship, Pop or classical, my music makes the hard hours of travels manageable. There is a soulful rest that comes from the world of music. Sometimes thoughtful, other times challenging, once in a while a whirlwind of life but always powerful enough to direct my attention away from the empty world of simply waiting.
A traveler’s routine is all about being productive with hours that will line up and tick away. If we grasp the opportunity and turn it into something productive, then our journey is well spent. It’s not hard just relentless.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
The day was incredibly busy. Both of us had the “wind down” pressures to perform the day’s duties and also to initiate the plans to wrap up both of our jobs for life. To-do lists are long, dynamic and smiles along the way need to be intentionally injected.
My tasks for the day were done. It was with deep satisfaction that I could check so many errands off of my list. I felt tired, deeply tired.
In a few minutes I rolled into the parking lot to collect Yvonne. She needed some help gathering her items to bring home. Her school year is coming to a close.
She sank into her passenger seat, breathing a sigh of relief. Her smile told me that she had had a satisfying but exhausting day as well. Our route home was quick, eventless and relaxing.
Once we pulled into our driveway, it was time to unload our gear. But, a sudden realization smacked my bride on the side of her head. “Where’s my phone?”
We looked every where that it could possibly be. She checked every one of her pockets and searched my pick-up truck too. The only choice was to return to her school before the janitor locked up the building.
Off we went, too tired to really want to do this but knowing that it was a “had to be done” journey. We arrived just as the custodian was closing the door to Yvonne’s building. He waited for us to make a desperate dash to find the missing cellphone – success!
Now, we were both really tired. The thought of going home to cook, do the dishes and clean up the kitchen had no appeal. We surrended to a better idea.
We drove up to small little eatery that we have frequented in the past. The owner was alone in the smallish establishment. We sat down but left the menus on the table.
The specials were on the chalk board. That sounded good to us. He took our orders and traded them with two cups of hot tea and hot water.
Ease returned to our tired bodies. Like a soothing massage, the tasty fare made us both sigh with satisfaction. Quiet, delicious and no dishes to wash made for a fine evening for two very tired puppies.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
When my mom shook me awake, I rolled over and tried to ignore her. She turned on the light in my bedroom and the shock forced my eyes to shut tightly and pull my blanket over my head. I knew that it was time to get up.
I was only twelve but those summer days are forever burned into my psyche. The sting of waking up before I wanted to end my rest has been a part of my routine for years. It was in those early days when my will to rise and meet the day was born.
It was still dark outside. My dad dropped me off at the same farm bus stop that was now very familiar to me. In my hand was a bandana and a brown bag with my lunch for the day.
After taking a snooze on that dirty, musty rickety well-past-its-prime bus we arrived at one of the many tomato fields in the Sacramento Valley. Our load of weary humanity filed off the bus and checked with the foreman to receive our punch card. This was our tally of our day’s labor.
One of the team leaders called to us to follow him. Each of us followed and peeled off when we were directed to our row of tomato plants. We grabbed a wooden box.
Down on my knees I pulled on rubber gloves and began to harvest ripe tomatoes and gently put them the crate. The farm would pay me $.25 per crate. When the box was full, it was heavy.
Carrying the box to the end of my row and stacking them for trucks to load was back-breaking work. The sun rose steadily and blasted us with that famous Sacramento heat. My bandana was wrapped around my head to keep me cool.
Dust and dirt stuck to my clothes like a magnet was sucking it in. Bugs and caterpillars were constant companions. Spanish was the language of choice by the many laborers who surrounded me.
I watched adult labors and was amazed at how fast and strong they were. They were able to stack boxes and boxes of tomatoes at the end of their rows. My diminutive stack just made their monster harvest just look even bigger.
I learned to work hard, find pride in it. Start early, be diligent and don’t quit until the work is done. Doesn’t everyone in America have a similar story?
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Happy Mother’s Day!
It was a stroke of genius to those who started the annual day of recognizing that one person in our life who is always working for us. Tireless days of making sure that our day goes well, that our tomorrow goes equally as well and do all she can to insure that our many tomorrows can be a reality.
God gave them a mind and heart and will to serve our little needs that erupt into her schedule being filled with the errands for the benefit of her children. After days and weeks and months of this serving-others-routine very little has her name on anything. She ignores and passes on stuff that will be just for her.
Her plans for us have made sure that we have our breakfast to start our day. She has made and collected the essentials for our nutritious bag lunch to take to school. Work outside of the home awaits her so that there is enough of a financial source to provide a roof over our heads, gas for the car and clothes that are clean and pressed.
Clark Kent has nothing over our mom. She has endurance that will vie successfully in comparison to the man of steel. Our moms are our woman of Kevlar.
This one day isn’t a satisfying celebration for the sacrifices she has done for us. Instead, it is a reminder, a respite to force her to stop her incessant service so that we can tell her how much we appreciate all that she does for our entire year. Besides, we get to enjoy the party too.
The flowers make her smile. She pauses and drinks in the fragrance of the bouquet. hesitatingly, she strokes the gift certificate to her favorite store, wondering if it is ok to spend that kind of money on herself instead of us.
Small confections welcome her to taste what is only for the experience of the moment. It is wonton indulgence that gives a moment of pure enjoyment. There are no chores, no worries and no concerns for just a few minutes: savor, rest and bask.
Yup, Moms, we love you. We thank you. Don’t worry about cleaning up after this party. There’s plenty of time for you to put that off until tomorrow. Happy Mother’s Day! Oh, ok, take the whole week off!
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
This had not been a particular long trip. Sure, it was all away across the country but as far as numbers of days it was relatively short. However, it had been full of adventure.
Don’t weird and wacky events come in bunches? Whenever we travel, the miles seem to attract a disproportionate number of preferred-not-to-have-that-happen scenarios. These are lonely moments in a very busy building called a terminal.
My flight out and back to San Francisco was booked with a major carrier. I’m used to flying with them. They have been a primary choice for decades.
On this trip, however, I missed the fine and following print. Apparently, their scheduling called for me to be passed-off to another carrier that I don’t travel on very often. When I was ready for my return flight, I was directed to their counter.
The check-in didn’t go smoothly. Yes, they were unable to locate me on their self-service computer. That is a lonely feeling; it was like I was lost but knew exactly where I was.
When I flagged down a service representative, he found my itinerary. I was relieved. Yet, another surprise me thrust me back into that lonely feeling.
My primary carrier gives me the privilege to check one bag for free. That’s the privilege of status. This carrier informed me that they didn’t recognize that standing.
Politely I tried to reason with them that if our two carriers were in a coalition that they should also recognize status privileges. Two agents stared at their computer monitor. They were polite but did not budge from the unexpected financial charge.
Their suggestion was to keep my receipts and request a refund. Over the years I have learned that it is a lot easier not to pay for something than it is to get a refund. But, I had to get home. It is lonely when you are between a rock and a hard place.
I surrendered to the PTB’s (Powers That Be). It’s a posture that I would be forced to repeat shortly. Paying for something that I really did not believe that I should be paying is a painfully lonely moment.
I trudged away from the counter. Quietly I looked up to the heavens and whispered a prayer, “Father, it’s all your money. I’m trying to be a good steward of it. Thanks for providing. In Jesus name, Amen.” They was heading for the security checkpoint. Surely, I would have no more lonely moments.
photo credit: brucefong cellphone photography
Have you ever had such a busy collection of days that you couldn’t remember when it all began? This past weekend was one of those doozy times. It was impossible to avoid this collision of engagements.
First, I had agreed to teach a lesson to our teachers on a Saturday morning. Whenever my staff ask me to help them, I am there. It’s about supporting what they do with my involvement in their duties.
Second, my normal responsibilities call for me to preach on Sunday. When I preach at Sunset Church, I preach two times. That is a thrill in my life that I don’t give up easily.
Third, we had been trying to gather our elders for dinner at our house for over a month. The Sunday evening of this past weekend was that time. After all that effort to bring these fabulous men and their wives together was an evening that I did not want to cancel.
Fourth, we had a guest coming in for the weekend. He was a guest of our church and our elders needed to spend some time with him. I had to be there.
Fifth, we were all surprised by the passing of one of the men in our church. I was with the family during the week. They asked me to officiate the service. This is a pastoral duty that can’t be passed up.
Sixth, I had accepted the invitation to speak at a retreat in August. That seems like a long time before I am pressed to prepare but they need to organize a handbook with materials for small groups. They needed the discussion questions from me ASAP.
Seventh, this next week I am headed to a conference up north. I am to speak seven times. That doesn’t happen without a lot of advance work.
For the first couple of events I was tired from long days of studying. But, as each event passed I began losing more energy than I could replenish. I was getting tired!
By Saturday night I was feeling like I was without any energy reserves. But, I stayed up late finishing my message for Sunday morning. Then, I was up early to get to church on time.
By the time we welcomed our guests of Sunday night dinner, I was semi-catatonic. Once I could tell that my eyes were at half-mast during the middle of a conversation. Time to go to bed, early. Night!
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