Warrior Dash Oregon -- an opportunity to raise money for St. Jude's Children's Hospital and get really, really muddy. 

It's a 5k, not a sprint, my love.

This obstacle is a series of mud hills with two foot deep puddles in between.  Mud is a huge part of this activity. 

So are costumes.  Here we have Darth Vader, Chewbacca (with the  numbers), and ObiWan Kenobi.  (No, I don't know these people.  I take sniper pictures, from behind.) 

Princess Leia after the garbage pits.  Last year, three women ran in Leia bikinis. 

A blast from the past -- Pac Man and ghosts. 

Vader finished alright, but Han looks a little tired. 

Luke lagged behind, but then he did have to carry Yoda. 

Every Warrior Dash sports its fair share of super heroes. 

Seth prepares to cross the finish line.  He looks almost clean, but that will change.

Aaaaaaahhhhhh!

Mud hug.

Mud hugs are a time-honored Warrior Dash tradition.  Seth restrained himself.  Only my arm and my cheek got muddy. 

The medal is also a bottle opener.  No, it is not real gold. 

What children's book phenomenon from our childhood does this remind you of?  Now look closer.  Yes, that's a Waldo costume.

Another time-honored Warrior Dash tradition. 

The next chapter in our little saga

Last week, I quoted an anonymous Beattle (I think that's an oxymoron, but still, that's what I did).  This week, I'd like to quote another famous 20th Century Brit. "What Shasta didn't realize is that when you have done one good thing, the result is generally that you are given better and harder one to do."  Well, perhaps I exaggarate, but not much.  We had an opportunity to grow this week, a chance to test our faith that God is going to provide and to test our resolve to keep going in the direction that we're going.

It was Tuesday afternoon.  I had not gotten a sub call, so Seth and I had spent the day doing domestic sort of things -- cleaning gutters, getting coffee, juicing grapes, melting mixing bowls (long story).  My morning was spent in Boogaloo's classroom and getting groceries.  His was spent bent over his books.  But in the afternoon, as I was bent over something on the stove, he got a phone call.  It was from a tech company that he had worked in conjunction with at Intel through his old company, and they liked his resume.  Would he like to come in for an interview?

We were kinda blown away.  The call had just come out of nowhere. He had not applied for any positions with this company.   Was this a Moriah moment or was it a ram in the thicket?  We weren't sure; excited, but not sure.  Being uncertain felt a little like looking a gift horse in the mouth, but at the same time, Seth had just left a tech industry job.  He knew that the industry never sleeps, and when it puts demands on customer service, it expects to have those demands met.  When the speed of calculation is moving down to the nanosecond, everybody moves at the nanosecond.  Hollywood could stylize it and make the next great sci-fi thriller.

He went to the interview.  Once there, he hardly had to say anything because the manager loved his resume, knew his old boss (the topmost boss, not the one who fired him), and appreciated Seth's honesty when Seth mentioned that he was in graduate school and would be making his studies a priority with his time.  Apparently most people wait until after they have a contract to mention that.  Actually, Seth fully expected graduate school to be a deal breaker, but the interviewer didn't bite.  So we were left with a huge conundrum on our hands.

It fully looked as if Seth was going to be offered a job much like the one he had left and had been eager to leave, a job offer that had come out of the blue and looked like the hand of God.  We hadn't had any work yet, and our expected income was going to be unpredictable.  Was this God's way of offering us some stability until something better came along for me?  How should we approach this?

The question was simple, but it was beyond us.  Could Seth do both full time school and full time work over an extended period of time and fulfill those commitments and his commitments to church, family, friends, and sanity to the glory of God?  It's really a yes or no question, but we hadn't a clue which side we should land on.  Seth took it to our pastor (who was a little surprised to see him drop in in a suit), and I took to Facebook because I have a striking number of friends and family in the ministry.  As I typed the question, I prayed, "Lord, let them be in unison." And He said, "Don't worry, I'll make it obvious." 

Now I should make plain that when I say these little prayers, I don't usually expect them to be answered literally, and God usually does just that.  Every response, every single response said no.  From our pastor's gentle, "What about your other responsibilities?" to an old classmate's concise "I wouldn't recommend it,"  every single response, and there are 24 on that post, said don't try it.  

I should also confess that I had been excited at the prospect of Seth working again.  With him out of work, I have to work, and right now I have no full time work.  As a teacher who has spent the last seven years at home, I am not people's first candidate for a job.  Seth, with his constant work and military experience, is much more profitably employable then I am.  When I was done posting on Facebook, I sat down and began planning out ways that I could take any and every other responsibility off of Seth's shoulders so that he could take this job.  But as I read the responses (migraines came up once, forgetting faces of wife and children was mentioned a couple of times), and as we discussed what the job would likely require of Seth (possibly 50 hours a week if all didn't go well in the initial 40), my feelings changed dramatically.  We both came to the conclusion that accepting this job, should it be offered, was just impossible..

Friday morning, while I was teaching my first subbing job of the year, Seth sent an email to the interviewer, saying in effect, "Thank you for your consideration, but this job is just too much to fit in to my life where it is headed."  Friday afternoon, he received an email from the interviewer (seriously, the emails must have passed in the interspace) saying in effect, "We've reviewed our budget, and this position is no longer feasible anyway.  Still, we will pass your resume around as broadly as we can because we like what we see." 

Okay then.  So much for that.  In the space of four lines of digital space, the question was revealed to be out of our hands anyway.  God had said he would make it obvious, and He did.  He made our advice unanimous.  He made the thought of the work onerous.  And then, when we had made the right decision, He took away the opportunity so we would feel no regret.  

We went out for dinner that night, just he and I, and as he sat across the table from me, he said, "You know, I'm already removing myself from that world.  It's not where I'm going, you know?"   And it was good to have resolution. The end result is that we were confirmed in our resolution to "Seek first the kingdom of God" and to believe that "All these things will be added to [us] as well."  I'm still a little nervous, but

 But why did this happen?  We invested a lot of mental and emotional energy in making the right decision here (because apparently there was a right decision, even though it didn't really depend on us), and well, it didn't really depend on us at all. Is this Abraham in the thicket, cutting the ram free?  Yeah, probably. 

What I did on my summer vacation.

What a summer!  I hardly know where to begin.  One of the late, great Beattles once said "Life is what happens to you when you're making other plans," and he was absolutely right.  We had plans, and, well, let me start at the beginning.

About October of last year, we attended the retirement ceremony of a good friend and pastor and his wife, a couple who had befriended us and helped us grow exponentially during those difficult Navy years.  On the way home, Seth confessed that he had for some time (nearly all his life) been struggling with a call to the ministry.  He felt he couldn't ignore it anymore.  I was delighted.  And so we began gradually shaping our lives around what it would take to turn my husband into a military hospital chaplain.  We looked for seminaries nearby or with online programs.  We considered ways to cut down his working hours. We took a good hard look at our budget to decide what we could do without. 

At the end of the school year, Seth was enrolled at George Fox University.  They have an online Masters of Divinity in Chaplaincy that will let him focus either in military or hospitals, and they're only forty minutes away for those things which have to be done in person. His situation at work was a little testy due to a change in management, but things were rolling along.  The G.I. Bill had come through marvelously on all of his educational expenses.  I was looking for full time work, teaching or otherwise, so that Seth could step down from his job and get something part time that would allow him to focus on school. We ruled out the possibility of an extended summer vacation this year because vacation time would have to be spent on school functions.  At the same time, we took a leap of faith and enrolled the Boo in a local Christian school, which we felt would be better for her education all around.  That was quite the leap when we expected our income to go down materially, and we experienced some hesitation before and after we made the decision (and the deposit), but we were confident that God would provide.

The school year ended.  The job search commenced.  Vacation Bible School came and went.  I applied studiously and had a couple of interviews but nothing really turned up. I put a sign on my computer that said, "You do not provide for this family. God does." Seth represented our church classis (regional body) at Synod (our denomination's annual gathering) and came home with a sense of real peace that God was going to provide the right situation for us, and that as soon as I found work, he would quit his job. I got reading glasses.

Then about halfway through July, I was coming home after an interview, and Seth met me at the door at three o'clock wearing shorts and a t-shirt, not his usual business attire.  "Well," he told me. "We can go camping now."

His manager had called him in and told him, "You're just not the right fit for where this department is going.  You can go home."

I did not freak out. There were no tears, hyperventilations, panicked questions, or recriminations. We had been praying fervently for a sign to tell us when Seth should leave that job.  That was the sign. I did however, experience a sudden dropping sensation in my stomach which made my head reel, and I didn't same anything coherent for several minutes.  In fact, reeling is a good word for what I've been doing this whole summer.  Over and over, I've found myself saying, "Wow, where did that come from?"

So we went camping.  We went to visit my folks because my sister was home from Iowa.  Seth's severance and vacation pay were enough to get us through the first couple of months, so he applied for unemployment and started putting his resume out.  He went to a technical hiring conference in Seattle, and interviewed for positions like the one he had been in, and we started looking at housing prices in places like Roseburg, OR; Walla Walla, WA, or Boseman , MT.

The companies liked him, but nobody called.

We celebrated his grandmother's 80th birthday.  And nothing seemed to be developing.   Unemployment didn't come through.  I got several polite rejections notices and considerably more silence.   The fruit in the backyard started coming ripe.  We went to a couple of minor league baseball games.

Then in the middle of August, Seth had a face-to-face class with his online classmates.  He went to George Fox Seminary for an intensive, week long meet and greet, and in one of these greetings, his professor said to the class, "You're all working professionals.  You're going to face the temptation to maneuver school in around work.  Remember, this is your calling.  This is what God wants you to do, and it is your primary occupation, along with your family and your faith.  Your job needs to work in around your schooling."

 Seth came home and said to me, "I realized that I had been trying to fit school in around work because the jobs I was looking at would be just as intense as the job I lost, but how could I manage full time school and full time work and you and Boogaloo. Right then, I decided that I'm not going to trust myself and I'm not going to trust the government.  I'm going to trust God." 

People often preface what comes next with the observation that God has a sense of humor.  I don't think God thought it was funny anymore than he was laughing when he spoke to the prophets;  I think it just takes these kinds of moments to teach us that God does provide.  On that very day, we received two letters.  One was from the Unemployment Agency, saying that Seth's unemployed status had been confirmed, and they were depositing his claims into his account retroactively.  The second was from the VA, saying that Seth had been judged eligible for an increased housing allowance while he is in school, some $400 a month more than we had been expecting.  A week later, our insurance agent called to offer us a settlement on a minor car accident we'd had in February.   And substitute teaching starts next week.  He was just waiting for us to believe. 

It's enough.  It's nothing definite, but it's enough.  I had the feeling from the moment that Seth lost his job that this was going to be a year of testing.  Can I, can we, trust God with the big things, the health and welfare of our family, the continuance of our lives?  That is the question He is asking us because how on earth can we go to people who have had their lives turned upside down and bring them comfort if our faith hasn't been tried, and we haven't found that God  is good and worth recommending in all things?  I have the feeling that this won't be the last time this year that we approach life and finances holding our breath, but eventually, we will know for sure that the only thing that matters is God.

A quick compendium of stress lowering phrases for the overly sensitive

It's those little moments that can make the biggest changes in our outlook.  We all need less stress in our lives.  Everyone knows that. But I didn't really get started thinking about ways to reduce stress (not in a practical way, at any rate) until my chiropractor suggested that an overactive adrenal gland might be the reason my muscles cramp up more than usual.  I really didn't want to take yet another supplement, so I decided that a lifestyle change was in order.  Finally.  It really bugs my husband when a random mention of something that he's been telling me for years makes me affect a change I should have been making. 

But how to reduce stress?  Obviously, a change of schedule wasn't an option.  Most of what I do is wrapped up in family, home, and paying off student loans.  That can't change.  And really, I don't do as much as many women I know.  So the answer lies in changing my state of mind.  I've been saying the following phrases to myself a lot lately. 

1.  Why not?  I try to ask this one as an honest question.  If no reason surfaces, then go for it. 

2.  It's nothing personal.  That random person who frowned when he saw me was thinking of his taxes or his truck repairs or his soon-to-be son-in-law.  It had nothing to do with me.

3.  There's no reason that this can't turn out fine. 

4.  It's my fault.  I'm sorry.  A lot of stress comes from trying to shift blame, even if only in one's own mind. 

5.  It's not my fault.  Sometimes it's someone else's fault.  And sometimes, it's just something outside the control of any one human being. 

6.  It's over.  Because the feelings from random events can linger far too long.  Even if the events aren't random, like a disappointing moment with a child or a boneheaded mistake, there's a statute of limitations on how long we ought to feel bad about it once it's done.

7.  This is me, and I like it.  I can't count the number of people that I envy, not for what they have, but for who they are.  I wish I did things a hundred ways differently, and I often kick myself for using the habits and preferences that are normal to me.  There's nothing wrong with growing, but I'm finally coming to accept that some parts of me are foundational and were intended to be. 

8.  All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.  Julian of Norwich had great faith, having seen the love of Christ up close and personal in her visions.  The people who are closest to God have the greatest confidence in his ability to make all things new and good. 

9.  It's a part of the world I live in, and I like it.   Few things are more stressful than sitting in criticism on life.  The constant inflow of information these days can incline us to look down the more provincial aspects of our lives.  That's just sad. 

10.  I'm happy.  Because unhappiness isn't as sophisticated as it's often reputed to be.  Sometimes the happy person isn't the one who hasn't delved into the situation fully.  Sometimes the happy person is the one who has considered the situation fully, counted his or her blessings, taken positive action, and moved on. 

Sevenses

The longer I parent, the more justified I feel my parents to have been in, well, much of my childhood.  Once a week or sometimes once a day I will have a small "aha" moment and realize, "Oh, that's why my mom did that."  Numerous tiny wounds and resentments that I've half-jokingly cherished since I was three have been slowly leeching away as I encounter the same kind of situations with my child.  And today, we had a perfect parallel experience because today is Boogaloo's birthday.

I have a vivid memory of my seventh birthday.  I don't remember the cake or the presents.  I vaguely remember the guests.  I do remember wearing a hand-me-down blue plaid dress with a white lace collar which I really, really loved.  But the most potent memory I have of my seventh birthday is being forced to clean my room on my birthday.  It just seemed so unfair.  It was my birthday.  I shouldn't have to clean my room.  Moreover, I should not have had to clean it by myself.  Most of the mess belonged to my sister, who wasn't so much younger than I am that she couldn't have helped.  I don't remember what I said to my parents, but I know that I said plenty in my head and under my breath.  I very strongly felt that the fact that it was my birthday should make me above such things. 

Fast forward 28 years, and Boogaloo is getting ready for school on her birthday.  She can't wait to tell her friends that it's her birthday, and trusting this fervor to keep her moving, I decided to jump in the shower. (I should mention that procrastination is a long standing problem at our house.)  I told her very specifically, "By the time I get out of the bathroom, you should have your school clothes on."  But when I got out, she didn't.  She was standing by her bed in her pajamas with a big box of crayons and her drawing notebook.  She jumped guiltily and began pulling her arm out of her sleeve, but it was too late.  Mommy had seen. 

I did not shout.  I rebuked her very calmly, but then I walked across the room and confiscated her crayons and drawing notebook.  As I carried them out of her room and as she threw herself on the bed and wept as only a seven-year-old drama queen can, I felt a stab of reminiscence.  My reasons were perfectly good.  My daughter has a knack for disregarding the necessary in light of the interesting.  This is not okay before school.  We've been through this before.  I daresay my mother had perfectly good reasons too.  (I was probably driving her crazy with excitement about my party, and cleaning my room was a good way to get me out of the way.)  And as I walked the three steps to my room, I realized that I was not ruining my daughter's birthday.  I was keeping instruction consistent, which is much more important than any special day. 

Did I ruin Boogaloo's birthday?  The short answer is no.  She told me she was very sad.  I accepted that.  I told her that I was a little angry.  She processed that.  Then she did the responsible thing and got her school clothes on.  I won't say that the issue was entirely smoothed over because I had to endure some hints about the drawing that she'd like to do before the school bus came, but when she got on the bus she was once again excited about her birthday and the party that we have planned for this evening.  And honestly, it's going to be a pretty cool party.  We booked a room at a place that's even better than Chuck E. Cheese.   I'm pretty sure that by the time she gets her crayons back tomorrow, she'll have forgotten about the whole thing, which doesn't answer well for my parenting.

Football Blues

Try though I might, this year, I just can't manage to hate the Patriots like I did last year.  Last year, a healthy antipathy blossomed up in my chest every time I saw a red, grey, and blue uniform.  It was hard to be civil to pictures of Tom Brady online.  Even after the Broncos beat them on the way to the Superbowl, they were still the "evil Patriots" in my mind as in the minds of so many others. 

Maybe it's because the Patriots were trailing the Ravens by two touchdowns at home when I started this blog post.  Maybe it's because they started the season by losing three games.  Maybe it's because Brady looks a little older and a little scruffier and downright tired at times and there's a rumor that he might be released in the next couple of years (seems to be the Patriots' modus operandi to release expensive veterans, or at least so the experts say).  But of late I just can't muster the anti-Patriot luster.  Of course, now that they're going to the AFC championship while the Broncos are eliminated from the playoffs, I can feel a  bit of the old spite coming back.  Just a bit. 

Football feelings are funny things.  Watching football is kind of like watching no-penalty politics.  Mini-nation states form around the success and failure of these people in pads and helmets, and real animosity forms around victories, losses, and gestures of unsportsmanship. Of the two, I think politics generates more heat, but football generates more commentary (at least in the U.S.) and almost as much venom.  It all stays pretty civil in my football communities.  My husband comes from a multiple team family, and neither betting nor gloating happens untowardly. Unless something head to head is happening, they view having multiple teams as a chance to appropriate a win when one's own team is losing.  (I.e.  At least the Packers are going to a championship.) But I have heard stories, oh I have heard stories. 

 If you think about it, every office and many families are like tiny United Nations of sports fans.   Temporary alliances form, prejudices develop beyond the conflict at hand, and sometimes forces have to be brought to bear to keep the peace.   Identity among the masses is at stake.  This thing that I love must have success so that my love will be vindicated before the peoples.  Yeah, people are weird, and the Patriots are too good to be anything but football evil.