I was going through some old emails and came across this short story about the first television purchase my then newly-married wife and I made in February 2005. While some of the technology has moved beyond the story, purchasing a television is still a complicated process comparing resolution, contrast, various ports and screen sizes. I hope you enjoy.
In anticipation of subscribing to Comcast, Claudia and I agreed it was time to buy a television. And why not? There were plenty of television sales to choose from two weeks away from the Super Bowl. We're pretty frugal and don't mind admitting it. Originally, we decided to spend a maximum of $350 on a television. As we talked to the sales people, our thought process began to changed. It seemed wise to buy a wide-screen format instead of the traditional television considering many manufacturers are planning to quit making the widely recognized square format t.v. That small decision immediately bumped the price tag up to a minimum of about $500.
Of course, high definition television is the way of the future. We had decided to buy a t.v. at the moment when the industry was transitioning from the bulky square screen format to the sleeker 3-inch thick flat screen HD models. Some of the bulkier t.v.s were HD capable and cheaper than their soon-to-be replacement flat screens. We definitely didn't see the sense in spending nearly $500 on a t.v. that wouldn't receive signal in probably five years. That would be totally unacceptable. For the savvy salesperson, why not upgrade the price point using a scare sales approach?
We decided to buy a wide screen format, HD-ready television to help welcome us to the 21st Century and the world of Comcast, HBO and On-Demand Cable. Now the price point has increased again and we're looking at televisions priced from $550 to $900.
Claudia, an engineer and way more organized than I, creates a spread sheet to price compare among the different retail stores. We sneak into Costco. Compare Wal-Mart, Sam's, HH Gregg and Best Buy. We listen to sales people for hours. We even went to Sears, which was pretty much a waste of time.
We never could completely agreed eye-to-eye what would be the better purchase until our eyes fell on an open item at Best Buy that was discounted about $100 from retail price. It was the television we'd been looking for and within the top-end, but still-technically-in -our-budget television. I dare say, our "dream t.v." A 30-inch Sony flat screen, HD-ready mammoth example of modern technology. Price tag: $809.
We liked the television a lot, but decided to sleep on it before making the purchase. I was nervous, hoping the t.v. wasn't snatched up by someone else less deserving.
And so on the following evening, Friday, it started to rain when we returned to Best Buy. I was driving my Infiniti G20, which uses the same chassis as a Nissan Sentra and is a rather compact sedan. I only feel the need to mention this fact because this is the vehicle the dream t.v. must travel in.
We arrived at Best Buy and as luck would have it the television was still there. We didn't wait too long before wrangling a sales person to make the purchase. To our shock, we needed to buy nearly $150 in cables in addition to the t.v. The reason: make sure you enjoy the full HD capabilities of the t.v., they say.
So if you're keeping up; we started out budgeting a max of $350.
We swiped Visa at the cash register, charging $1,048 and becoming owners of a 30-inch Sony flat screen, HD-ready television and two very expensive cables.
This television weighs a ton. Well, actually it weights 200 lbs. I giddily swung my G20 to the front door to load our new t.v. The clerk at the door who co-ordinates people to help load merchandise into vehicles said, "It's going to be impossible to get that t.v. into that car."
The two lifters said they didn't want to do it because they couldn't guarantee not damaging the t.v. or my car.
I know my car and what it can handle. Of course, in male bravado, I instruct them to put the t.v. into the car! After using two approaches to load the t.v., we move the front seats as far forward as possible and the employees wedge the t.v. in the rear seat.
I couldn't fit into the driver's seat, so Claudia took the wheel. The employees looked at me with my knees crammed against the dash and my wife at the steering wheel. They smiled and said, "Good luck getting it out."
The t.v. engulfed the back seat. It took nearly 30 minutes to get the television out of our car and we needed the help of a recruited, unlucky neighbor.
Once inside, we placed the television on its stand. The sides of the 200 lbs. gorilla T.V. hung over the sides of the stand. Our newest family member bulged an impressive 22 inches from back to front and dominated the living room with its presence.
Excited about our new purchase, we swung the recliner chair to face the television and plopped ourselves down to enjoy our new purchase. Within five minutes, our smiles disappeared and both of us agreed -- the television was WAY too big for our house. We couldn't imagine the bulky gray box in our bedroom, living room or office. After a week of studying, comparing and debating over the various t.v. models and never seeing eye to eye, our eyes finally met. In agreement we decided the t.v. must be returned.
And so, on Sunday we headed to Best Buy. This time we used a friend's SUV that had a lot more space and returned our "dream television."
Friday, December 11, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Juanes, Cubans and Christ's Kingdom
What do Christians hope for in the Kingdom? How do we define the Kingdom? As I write this a Colombian artist named Juanes is singing Camisa Negra in the Revolution Plaza in Havana, Cuba. He grabs the microphone and says "We are all the same," as the crowd erupts.
His concert is called "Peace without Borders" and it's goal is to bring attention to the U.S. embargo policies against the people of Cuba and the need to change.
And in that light, I ask again, what do Christians hope for in Christ's Kingdom? How do we define the Kingdom?
Many people have an inadequate understanding of what is God's Kingdom. We don't hope for an eternity sitting in a church pew singing praises to God. Rather, I don't believe there are churches in Heaven. A church is nothing more than a sign post pointing it's followers in the direction of Christ. There's no need for a map when you've arrived at the destination. The church will become functionally obsolete.
But Christ said we should pray that God's "Kingdom come/Your will be done/on earth as it is in heaven" (Matt 6:10)
Jesus was speaking to a sea of humanity. The poor, disabled, and estranged people living on the fringes of society. They were the outcasts, not the privileged.
Jesus said "Blessed are the poor in spirit/for theirs is the kingdom of heaven" (Matt 5:3). What does it mean to be "poor in spirit?" Am I?
We live in the wealthiest country in the history of the World. Can we be the Kingdom of God with worldly possessions? No.
And so, what is the Kingdom of God?
I believe it's total supplication to God's power, authority and acknowledging our dependence on him. We need to recognize our dependence on God. Salvation only comes through Jesus. We will be forgiven to the degree we forgive others. And so, forgiveness is a key factor in Salvation.
The sea of humanity Christ frequently taught were filled with people I wouldn't typically socialize with. What does that say about me? Too much, I'm afraid. I need to change and accept humanity and all of its infirmities and love them as Christ.
How can I expect God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven unless I love humanity as Christ? Maybe through love and forgiveness, a little bit of God's Kingdom can be seen on the earth. We'll see what happens. It's worth the struggle, or in Juanes' case singing to a multitude of Cubans.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
It's Better if They Don't Return
Sometimes people who go to a restaurant aren't there for a great meal and atmosphere - they're there for a free meal.
It's true. Not everyone is a good person. There are a few people, albeit only accounting for a very small percentage of people who eat in restaurants, whose main goal is to receive a free meal.
There are several tactics they use to accomplish this insidious goal; but two approaches are apparently the favorites.
One approach is the: "Wait Until it's Too Late Approach."
Thieves, and I call them that because that is what they are in my opinion, will order a typical meal. Most of the time it's a couple rather than a family with a bunch of children. Sometimes I have the impression, although I can't prove it with certainty, that this is premeditated act.
They receive their drinks. They eat their appetizer and salad. I visit the table frequently enough during the entire meal to ensure they are want for nothing. Their entrees come out. After giving them the chance to try their food, I return and ask "How is everything." There are no complaints.
As dinner is wrapping up mission Free Meal begins. The thief will have eaten the majority of their entree. This is an important distinction to make. They've not tried the food and noticed a problem. They've not tried to convince themselves it wasn't that bad and eaten a few bites only to find out the problem is too great to ignore. No. They have eaten nearly the entire meal without so much as whispering a complaint.
I present the check. It's at this moment the thief will say the pasta wasn't good, or the steak was rare and they wanted it medium-well. They want the entree comp'd - that's short for complimentary or free. Sometimes they'll settle for a free desert. They believe that since they've put the server in a situation that can't be fixed the only solution is a free entree.
My response was always: "I'm sorry you didn't like it, but if you had told me before you ate the entire meal I could have done something. I'm sorry." I did my best to not get the manager involved because I knew if that happened then the thief would walk out of the restaurant with Mission Accomplished.
The second approach is much more unpleasant for the waiter. It's the Complain for Comps Approach. With this strategy the waiter can do absolutely nothing right and the thief will do everything in their power to make it difficult to receive good service.
"We've been waiting here for five minutes," they'll start off with despite having just been sat down. I know this because I verify when they were seated with the hostess.
The thief will order drinks and drink them so fast you'd think they were just pouring the drink on the floor. They want it to appear as though their drinks were constantly empty during the meal.
They order their meal. The food is delivered. "Is this the largest baked potato you have back there," one patron asks. "This meat is over cooked," they'll say despite ordering a fillet well done. Etc. Etc. The list goes on. "Why doesn't the restaurant have green onions," demands a customer. "This prime rib is raw," another will insist despite having been explained prior to ordering how the meat is prepared and delivered.
By the time the bill is delivered, these people are almost in a rage. They demand to see the manager. It's the worst service they've ever received in their lives. Etc. Etc.
The manager visits the table and apologizes profusely. "What can we do to make you happy," asks the manager. "I'm so sorry your experience was this bad. Let me take care of your bill."
Mission Accomplished. Now the sharks smell blood in the water and more than one of this type of thief will return and make the same performance for a free meal. We've paid for one person's meal as many as three or four times before they stop coming.
On one such occasion I managed to avoid getting the manager involved. The thief paid for their meal and complained to the hostess saying, "I'll never be back in here again!"
The hostess, not knowing the situation, told the manager what had happened. The manager frantically asked me, "What happened! She's never coming back!"
I reminded the manager, "This lady was in here a few weeks ago. I know because I waited on her and she did the same thing. We paid for her meal that time, but sometimes it's better if they don't come back."
It's true. Not everyone is a good person. There are a few people, albeit only accounting for a very small percentage of people who eat in restaurants, whose main goal is to receive a free meal.
There are several tactics they use to accomplish this insidious goal; but two approaches are apparently the favorites.
One approach is the: "Wait Until it's Too Late Approach."
Thieves, and I call them that because that is what they are in my opinion, will order a typical meal. Most of the time it's a couple rather than a family with a bunch of children. Sometimes I have the impression, although I can't prove it with certainty, that this is premeditated act.
They receive their drinks. They eat their appetizer and salad. I visit the table frequently enough during the entire meal to ensure they are want for nothing. Their entrees come out. After giving them the chance to try their food, I return and ask "How is everything." There are no complaints.
As dinner is wrapping up mission Free Meal begins. The thief will have eaten the majority of their entree. This is an important distinction to make. They've not tried the food and noticed a problem. They've not tried to convince themselves it wasn't that bad and eaten a few bites only to find out the problem is too great to ignore. No. They have eaten nearly the entire meal without so much as whispering a complaint.
I present the check. It's at this moment the thief will say the pasta wasn't good, or the steak was rare and they wanted it medium-well. They want the entree comp'd - that's short for complimentary or free. Sometimes they'll settle for a free desert. They believe that since they've put the server in a situation that can't be fixed the only solution is a free entree.
My response was always: "I'm sorry you didn't like it, but if you had told me before you ate the entire meal I could have done something. I'm sorry." I did my best to not get the manager involved because I knew if that happened then the thief would walk out of the restaurant with Mission Accomplished.
The second approach is much more unpleasant for the waiter. It's the Complain for Comps Approach. With this strategy the waiter can do absolutely nothing right and the thief will do everything in their power to make it difficult to receive good service.
"We've been waiting here for five minutes," they'll start off with despite having just been sat down. I know this because I verify when they were seated with the hostess.
The thief will order drinks and drink them so fast you'd think they were just pouring the drink on the floor. They want it to appear as though their drinks were constantly empty during the meal.
They order their meal. The food is delivered. "Is this the largest baked potato you have back there," one patron asks. "This meat is over cooked," they'll say despite ordering a fillet well done. Etc. Etc. The list goes on. "Why doesn't the restaurant have green onions," demands a customer. "This prime rib is raw," another will insist despite having been explained prior to ordering how the meat is prepared and delivered.
By the time the bill is delivered, these people are almost in a rage. They demand to see the manager. It's the worst service they've ever received in their lives. Etc. Etc.
The manager visits the table and apologizes profusely. "What can we do to make you happy," asks the manager. "I'm so sorry your experience was this bad. Let me take care of your bill."
Mission Accomplished. Now the sharks smell blood in the water and more than one of this type of thief will return and make the same performance for a free meal. We've paid for one person's meal as many as three or four times before they stop coming.
On one such occasion I managed to avoid getting the manager involved. The thief paid for their meal and complained to the hostess saying, "I'll never be back in here again!"
The hostess, not knowing the situation, told the manager what had happened. The manager frantically asked me, "What happened! She's never coming back!"
I reminded the manager, "This lady was in here a few weeks ago. I know because I waited on her and she did the same thing. We paid for her meal that time, but sometimes it's better if they don't come back."
Friday, August 28, 2009
Stop Sucking the Straw
It's a weekend night. Friday or Saturday. I don't remember exactly which night. But I do remember the table with one of the rudest people I ever served.
The scene was Outback Steakhouse. It was the second restaurant I worked as a server. At Outback they train servers to greet the table: "Hi, welcome to Outback. Have you been here before?"
Meanwhile, you're supposed to be either sitting at the table opposite the customer if space allows, or bending down on your knee to be at eye level with the customer. It's supposed to create more of a personal connection with the guest.
It's still early in the shift. The rush hasn't fully hit yet and I'm not in the weeds. (That's server lingo for extremely busy.)
A four-top is sat in my section; that means four people. Two guys and two ladies. More than likely two married couples going out for a fun dinner on the weekend to chit chat it up.
I go through my spiel. "Hi welcome to Outback. Yadda, yadda, yadda. What can I get for you to drink," I ask.
Four drinks are ordered. I disappear into the kitchen and get the drinks. Now, I leave the kitchen to drop them off at the table. As I walk out I notice some other guests have been seated at another table of mine. I think to myself, I was in the kitchen for at least a couple of minutes so the new people need to be greeted immediately.
Quick stop at the first table. Drop off the drinks and say, "I'll be right back to take your order."
Greet the second table. "Hi, welcome to Outback. Yadda, yadda yadda."
Return to the first table to get the guests orders. Bend down to one knee. It's been just a couple of minutes since I dropped the drinks off. I ask the ladies for their order first.
Okay, I've got the first order down. Taking the second order.
Slurp. Slurp. Gargle. Slurp. "What the heck," I think to myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, the guy sitting next to the lady who is giving me her order is leaning across the table with glass in hand. His drink is completely empty. I know this because he is sucking so hard on his straw that the glass is making that obnoxious gargling noise that echoes in the glass when the drink is gone.
He's starring right at me and totally ignoring the fact that his wife or girlfriend is giving me her order. Instead of using English to communicate his desire for a refill he has opted to gesture and suck on his straw until he gets my attention.
"Mam, just one moment please," I say politely. I turn to the guy and look him straight in the eyes and say, "My mom says when the straw starts to make that noise it's time to stop sucking on it. I'll get you a refill as soon as I'm done taking the rest of the orders for your table."
Everyone erupted in laughter at him and I could tell by his reaction that he felt at least in a small part like the idiot he was acting.
The scene was Outback Steakhouse. It was the second restaurant I worked as a server. At Outback they train servers to greet the table: "Hi, welcome to Outback. Have you been here before?"
Meanwhile, you're supposed to be either sitting at the table opposite the customer if space allows, or bending down on your knee to be at eye level with the customer. It's supposed to create more of a personal connection with the guest.
It's still early in the shift. The rush hasn't fully hit yet and I'm not in the weeds. (That's server lingo for extremely busy.)
A four-top is sat in my section; that means four people. Two guys and two ladies. More than likely two married couples going out for a fun dinner on the weekend to chit chat it up.
I go through my spiel. "Hi welcome to Outback. Yadda, yadda, yadda. What can I get for you to drink," I ask.
Four drinks are ordered. I disappear into the kitchen and get the drinks. Now, I leave the kitchen to drop them off at the table. As I walk out I notice some other guests have been seated at another table of mine. I think to myself, I was in the kitchen for at least a couple of minutes so the new people need to be greeted immediately.
Quick stop at the first table. Drop off the drinks and say, "I'll be right back to take your order."
Greet the second table. "Hi, welcome to Outback. Yadda, yadda yadda."
Return to the first table to get the guests orders. Bend down to one knee. It's been just a couple of minutes since I dropped the drinks off. I ask the ladies for their order first.
Okay, I've got the first order down. Taking the second order.
Slurp. Slurp. Gargle. Slurp. "What the heck," I think to myself.
Out of the corner of my eye, the guy sitting next to the lady who is giving me her order is leaning across the table with glass in hand. His drink is completely empty. I know this because he is sucking so hard on his straw that the glass is making that obnoxious gargling noise that echoes in the glass when the drink is gone.
He's starring right at me and totally ignoring the fact that his wife or girlfriend is giving me her order. Instead of using English to communicate his desire for a refill he has opted to gesture and suck on his straw until he gets my attention.
"Mam, just one moment please," I say politely. I turn to the guy and look him straight in the eyes and say, "My mom says when the straw starts to make that noise it's time to stop sucking on it. I'll get you a refill as soon as I'm done taking the rest of the orders for your table."
Everyone erupted in laughter at him and I could tell by his reaction that he felt at least in a small part like the idiot he was acting.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Fifteen Percent Please
At 15 I got my first job at a locally-owned restaurant in my hometown. I was a bus boy responsible for collecting dirty dishes in the dining room and washing them along with all sorts of other cooking pots and pans. It was a great job.
I became a server at 18 years old and that was the first time I had the opportunity to interact with all walks of life. I have many stories from my days working in a restaurant. Some good ones, and some bad ones.
I'll share a few stories in the coming blogs.
I worked as a bus boy or server for nearly eight years. During most of those years I was working while most people were sharing holidays with family or friends. I was the behind-the-scenes person helping make some person's day special. I took pride in my job most of the time.
Working in a restaurant puts you at the center of a traffic jam of life. Hundreds of people pass through your life while in a restaurant. Not everyone wants to talk a lot. Not everyone treats servers respectfully. In fact, there are quite a few people who treat servers very badly just because they can. Not everyone is honest. Some people cheat, lie and steal while eating their meals. Some people want to know about your life. Others want to share their life stories. Some people are lonely. Others want to party. Some tip good. Some don't.
While serving in a restaurant, I learned a lot about people. I learned how to be all things to all people as best I could. Some people wanted someone to talk with. Others wanted to be left alone. Some people wanted a doormat, but I never learned how to be that very well.
I did whatever I could to make some one's experience worth 15 to 20 percent of their ticket value. I had to since the government only mandated I be paid $2.13 per hour. I survived from my tips - or gratuity from customers.
It amazed me how two tables could receive the same level of service and one table would tip above the customary percentage and the other table would hardly leave anything. Most of the times I could anticipate a bad tip, but there were definitely several times when a cheap tip caught me by surprise.
It's my belief that everyone should be a server at least for a short period of time in their lives. It's one of the best opportunities to learn about yourself and how people work, think and react to a variety of situations. It's high stress during busy times, and very rewarding when some people open up their lives to you during dinner.
I became a server at 18 years old and that was the first time I had the opportunity to interact with all walks of life. I have many stories from my days working in a restaurant. Some good ones, and some bad ones.
I'll share a few stories in the coming blogs.
I worked as a bus boy or server for nearly eight years. During most of those years I was working while most people were sharing holidays with family or friends. I was the behind-the-scenes person helping make some person's day special. I took pride in my job most of the time.
Working in a restaurant puts you at the center of a traffic jam of life. Hundreds of people pass through your life while in a restaurant. Not everyone wants to talk a lot. Not everyone treats servers respectfully. In fact, there are quite a few people who treat servers very badly just because they can. Not everyone is honest. Some people cheat, lie and steal while eating their meals. Some people want to know about your life. Others want to share their life stories. Some people are lonely. Others want to party. Some tip good. Some don't.
While serving in a restaurant, I learned a lot about people. I learned how to be all things to all people as best I could. Some people wanted someone to talk with. Others wanted to be left alone. Some people wanted a doormat, but I never learned how to be that very well.
I did whatever I could to make some one's experience worth 15 to 20 percent of their ticket value. I had to since the government only mandated I be paid $2.13 per hour. I survived from my tips - or gratuity from customers.
It amazed me how two tables could receive the same level of service and one table would tip above the customary percentage and the other table would hardly leave anything. Most of the times I could anticipate a bad tip, but there were definitely several times when a cheap tip caught me by surprise.
It's my belief that everyone should be a server at least for a short period of time in their lives. It's one of the best opportunities to learn about yourself and how people work, think and react to a variety of situations. It's high stress during busy times, and very rewarding when some people open up their lives to you during dinner.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Control, Faith & Hope
On March 26, 2007 my co-worker Robert's life dramatically changed unexpectedly.
That evening while at work, waiting to leave for a dinner meeting, Robert suffered a seizure. By God's grace, I was at the office. I had been procrastinating for as long as possible to go to the same dinner meeting.
With five minutes remaining to be at the restaurant, I realized there was no more time to wait. I stepped into Robert's office and found him unconscious. I dialed 911 and was the beginning of a long chain of events that saved his life. What impacted me the most was God did everything but physically restrain me to be at the right place and time. I know I was there because that was God's desire for me at that time.
Brain cancer was diagnosed as the cause for the seizures. Robert immediately went into treatment.
On May 28, 2009 Robert's life ended peacefully while on a beach vacation with his family.
During the past two years, I was eager to see how God's divine plan would unfold in his family's life. Obviously, it was not God's intention for Robert to die alone, unconscious and on the office floor. So what was God's plan for Robert?
During those two years I had the opportunity to know Robert and his wife LeAnn more than I would have otherwise been able. I marveled at their faith in God and on more than one occasion said their marriage was a ministry to other married couples.
Life isn't always easy. It's not always difficult either, but when we say "I do," at the alter in front of our future spouse, minister, family and friends I think we sometimes don't remember the "in good times and bad times."
We dream of an idealistic life full of blessings. But life's dreams don't always come true. Some are never realized, and others aren't realized in our own time.
I know Robert never dreamed of being diagnosed with cancer or dying at 50 and leaving his wife and young children any more than I dream of losing my wife to an awful disease. But God is always in control and there is comfort in knowing there is a plan for all of our good and bad experiences in life.
LeAnn turned to this scripture in her most recent blog regarding Robert's condition: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perseverance must finish it's work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" James 1:2-4
Even when Robert suffered a stroke in February and was partially paralyzed, his family never lost sight in God's control over their lives; never gave up in God's limitless power. In fact, they viewed the stroke as God's way of healing Robert. What an amazing testament of faith!
"I know, O Lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps." Jeremiah 10: 23
Faith is believing in something unseen and otherwise unprovable. I am amazed by the faith of Robert's family during the past two years. Their faith in God never wavered. Marriages have collapsed and people's faith has been lost over much less trials and tribulations, and yet Robert's family maintained faith in God's plan.
Faith and hope, however, aren't necessarily the same. I know thousands of fervent prayers were sent to God's ears during the past two years on Robert's behalf. Thousands of prayers are sent every hour from God's creation to his abode pleading for his divine intercession in life.
We hope for so many things in life from trivial things to miraculous healing. Some of our hopes are realized. Others are not. And eventually we all reach a point in our lives when there are no more tomorrows.
You see, with 20/20 hindsight, I don't believe God had any spectacular plans for Robert after his seizures. At least, none that people in far-off countries will ever know. No biographies will be written about him. His life has slipped into eternity without world-wide notoriety.
However, how many times has someone died unexpectedly and you wished you could have said something to that person? Certainly, without his trials and tribulations during the past couple of years no one would have had the opportunity to say how much of a positive impact Robert had in their lives. For those people closest to Robert and LeAnn, they are an amazing testament to maintain faith in God even when our hopes aren't answered in the way we want.
Why did God spare Robert's life two years ago?
For one, Robert beat the survival rate statistics and because of people like him trial drug treatments for his type cancer are now approved by the FDA and will help save or prolong the lives of other people.
But more importantly, I believe it was to allow his family and friends to adjust to the unexpected. It was to give us the opportunity to say how positive an impact he had in our lives. Looking back, I believe his seizure in February was a signal that Robert's time was near. And by the time he was on that beach vacation surrounded by his family last week, I know Robert found ever-lasting peace when he slipped from our hands into the Lord's hands. I hope his family and friends are comforted not only by knowing Robert's final destination, but also by the time we had with him.
Robert, we will miss you dearly. But we will see each other again soon.
That evening while at work, waiting to leave for a dinner meeting, Robert suffered a seizure. By God's grace, I was at the office. I had been procrastinating for as long as possible to go to the same dinner meeting.
With five minutes remaining to be at the restaurant, I realized there was no more time to wait. I stepped into Robert's office and found him unconscious. I dialed 911 and was the beginning of a long chain of events that saved his life. What impacted me the most was God did everything but physically restrain me to be at the right place and time. I know I was there because that was God's desire for me at that time.
Brain cancer was diagnosed as the cause for the seizures. Robert immediately went into treatment.
On May 28, 2009 Robert's life ended peacefully while on a beach vacation with his family.
During the past two years, I was eager to see how God's divine plan would unfold in his family's life. Obviously, it was not God's intention for Robert to die alone, unconscious and on the office floor. So what was God's plan for Robert?
During those two years I had the opportunity to know Robert and his wife LeAnn more than I would have otherwise been able. I marveled at their faith in God and on more than one occasion said their marriage was a ministry to other married couples.
Life isn't always easy. It's not always difficult either, but when we say "I do," at the alter in front of our future spouse, minister, family and friends I think we sometimes don't remember the "in good times and bad times."
We dream of an idealistic life full of blessings. But life's dreams don't always come true. Some are never realized, and others aren't realized in our own time.
I know Robert never dreamed of being diagnosed with cancer or dying at 50 and leaving his wife and young children any more than I dream of losing my wife to an awful disease. But God is always in control and there is comfort in knowing there is a plan for all of our good and bad experiences in life.
LeAnn turned to this scripture in her most recent blog regarding Robert's condition: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance. Perseverance must finish it's work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" James 1:2-4
Even when Robert suffered a stroke in February and was partially paralyzed, his family never lost sight in God's control over their lives; never gave up in God's limitless power. In fact, they viewed the stroke as God's way of healing Robert. What an amazing testament of faith!
"I know, O Lord, that a man's life is not his own; it is not for man to direct his steps." Jeremiah 10: 23
Faith is believing in something unseen and otherwise unprovable. I am amazed by the faith of Robert's family during the past two years. Their faith in God never wavered. Marriages have collapsed and people's faith has been lost over much less trials and tribulations, and yet Robert's family maintained faith in God's plan.
Faith and hope, however, aren't necessarily the same. I know thousands of fervent prayers were sent to God's ears during the past two years on Robert's behalf. Thousands of prayers are sent every hour from God's creation to his abode pleading for his divine intercession in life.
We hope for so many things in life from trivial things to miraculous healing. Some of our hopes are realized. Others are not. And eventually we all reach a point in our lives when there are no more tomorrows.
You see, with 20/20 hindsight, I don't believe God had any spectacular plans for Robert after his seizures. At least, none that people in far-off countries will ever know. No biographies will be written about him. His life has slipped into eternity without world-wide notoriety.
However, how many times has someone died unexpectedly and you wished you could have said something to that person? Certainly, without his trials and tribulations during the past couple of years no one would have had the opportunity to say how much of a positive impact Robert had in their lives. For those people closest to Robert and LeAnn, they are an amazing testament to maintain faith in God even when our hopes aren't answered in the way we want.
Why did God spare Robert's life two years ago?
For one, Robert beat the survival rate statistics and because of people like him trial drug treatments for his type cancer are now approved by the FDA and will help save or prolong the lives of other people.
But more importantly, I believe it was to allow his family and friends to adjust to the unexpected. It was to give us the opportunity to say how positive an impact he had in our lives. Looking back, I believe his seizure in February was a signal that Robert's time was near. And by the time he was on that beach vacation surrounded by his family last week, I know Robert found ever-lasting peace when he slipped from our hands into the Lord's hands. I hope his family and friends are comforted not only by knowing Robert's final destination, but also by the time we had with him.
Robert, we will miss you dearly. But we will see each other again soon.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Live with the End in Mind - part two
We were sitting in the hospital room surrounding the bed with my grandfather's covered body.
We were in mourning. Crying. Heads hung low.
After nearly a month in the hospital, my grandfather's heart and body finally succumbed to death. We were simply waiting for the doctors to come and take his body from the room.
Instead, a doctor came in and asked, "What are you doing in here?"
"We're here waiting for someone to take his body away," someone replied.
"Oh, haven't you been told," asked the doctor. "That's not his body. He's been taken somewhere else and has been given a new body. Don't worry."
We were shocked and in disbelief. We didn't understand what the doctor was saying. Didn't he know we were in the room and watched my grandfather die with our own eyes?
And then, I awoke. It was just a dream, but the reality hadn't changed. My grandfather had died a few weeks beforehand.
In another dream, I was at my grandparents house. Several friends and family were there to fellowship after my grandfather's funeral. There were several people in my grandparents bedroom.
As I was walking toward the bedroom I bumped into my grandfather.
"What are you doing here," I asked in shock.
He just grabbed me and gave me a huge hug. "I've missed you so much," I said as a wave of emotion came over me. His arms felt so real as they wrapped around my back.
"My too," he said. "But don't worry. I'm okay. I'm in a really good place and I have a new body that doesn't get tired and I don't have any heart problems. Everything is fine."
And again, I awoke with the intense feeling of having just seen my grandfather. Both dreams were so real that I believe them to be the last memories I have of him.
As a result of those dreams, I confess I always wondered if I would have a similar dream when my grandmother passed away. I kept my curiosity private and never shared it with anyone. It seems kind of corny, I'm sure. But these were some of my most personal thoughts. What happens after we die? What is Heaven like?
After my wife and I returned from Memphis visiting my grandmother - knowing she was in her last hours - we collapsed from exhaustion and went to bed.
The telephone rang. It was shortly after mid-night on Monday morning.
"Hello."
"Hey, it's mom. I just wanted you to know that Granny died about an hour ago. She began to struggle breathing at about 11 p.m."
My mom proceeded to tell me my great aunt and a hospice nurse had been there when my grandmother died. Otherwise, it was a short conversation. I was exhausted and said good-bye.
I laid in bed thinking. Without consciously realizing, I fell into a deep sleep.
I was in my grandmother's bedroom. She lay on the bed with my mom laying in the bed next to her. The hospice nurse was sitting next to the bed and my great aunt was near the bedroom door.
Suddenly, an angel entered the room. My grandmother, who for days was laying unconscious, awoke. But as she awakened, her body remained and her spirit rose separate from the body. The angel stretched out his arm and my grandmother took his hand.
My grandmother followed the angel toward the bedroom door. With each step they took, a bright light became increasingly brighter. Something told me to follow them. With each step I took, the light increased in brightness to the point of being nearly blinding.
Just when the light's intensity seemed as though it could become no brighter, I found myself standing on top of a cliff overlooking a vast city. I wasn't alone. An unseen guide was with me.
As I panned to my right, I noticed a large mountain. The city expanded as far as I could see and hugged the foot of the mountain. There was a bright light on top of the mountain that was the source of light for the entire city and world before me. It appeared, as I looked closer, that I could see someone in the middle of the light. There were angels in the sky surrounding the source of light. People were standing as close as they could to the person who emitted the light.
"That is God," said my host as though he could read my mind.
It was revealed to me that God's light is a part of Him and since His light was everywhere in Heaven, then so was He. His light repelled the possibility of temptation against His will and thus there was no sin in His prescience.
I stood in awe, but didn't fully comprehend what was happening. I didn't even realize I was asleep.
"I want to show you something," said my guide.
We turned to the left away from the mountain view toward the city below us. We focused on a point in the city, as though adjusting the lens of a camera. Once it was in focus, we were there. The movement was so fast that we hardly felt the motion.
We were on a street in the city. In front of us was the angel and my grandmother walking hand-in-hand. They were approaching a building and door. The door flew open before they reached the steps to the building.
As the door opened, my grandfather stepped outside with his hands in the air and a large smile on his face. My grandmother's expression was still of confusion as she didn't understand exactly what was happening.
"I'm so glad you are here," exclaimed my grandfather with obvious joy.
One thing I understood at this point was they were no longer married - but still connected through friendship and the bond they shared on earth. At least, that's why my grandmother was escorted to see my grandfather first.
"Come on in. I've got so much to show you," said my grandfather.
I wondered if it was okay to follow and was assured that I could.
We walked into the house. While the house was designed with similar characteristics as those here, such as doors with door knobs, it didn't mean they were necessary design characteristics. Our bodies in heaven have different abilities than the ones we are using now. A doorknob, for example may exist in heaven but really only for us to recognize and not really to serve a critical purpose.
As my grandfather gave a tour of they house, I noticed through a window that the mountain top with God was visible. His light lit the house so there was no electricity or such amenity because it wasn't necessary in God's presence.
My grandfather rattled on about the projects he wanted to do. "There's so much I want to get done, but I've only been here for a few years," he said.
In fact, I understood in Heaven there is perpetual light and never darkness. Our bodies never grow weary and don't need rest. Even though the expanse of heaven is hard to comprehend and it'd take days to walk from one point to another, there is no day and night. Therefore, there is no circadian cycle for our bodies to become accustomed with. We never sleep or become tired. If we want to walk a long distance then we just walk there. Time has lost it's power in God's presence.
My grandparents found themselves in the kitchen after the nickle tour. I stood in the room and desperately wanted to say something, but my guide admonished me saying they could not see or hear me.
"I bet you're hungry," said my grandfather.
My grandmother sat down in a chair. She thought for a minute and then she realized how long it had been since she last ate. "I actually am kind of hungry," she replied.
"This isn't the same as what we had back there, but this is really good," said my grandfather as he prepared some food which I understood was provided by God.
At this point, my guide said we needed to leave. In a flash we found ourselves at the cliff's edge again. It finally occurred to me exactly what was happening. I was being shown the events as they occurred after my grandmother's death. I was seeing heaven. Upon this realization, I wanted to stay and know more.
"My grandmother died an hour or so ago, but we just now witnessed her being introduced to my grandfather, what happened in the interim," I asked.
"That is not part of what I can show you," explained my guide.
"But if this is really to show my what happens after death, then please let me see where my grandmother went before we saw her," I pleaded.
After a moment, my guide said it was okay to reveal that to me but we must be quick. We moved again so fast we couldn't even feel the motion. Before I knew it, I was standing in a large room with a high-vaulted ceiling. There was a crowd of people waiting and confused. The newly deceased.
In front of them was a chair - vacant. To each side stood angels as sentries keeping an eye on the people. The recently deceased were waiting, as I understood, for judgement. Christ, who sits on the chair, had left briefly so I could see the room.
"Before anyone can go to where we just were, they must come through here," explained my guide. "Not all make it through unfortunately. Now that your request has been fulfilled, you must leave."
We were back at the cliff's edge overlooking the city. I felt an immense feeling within me and understood what was happening and felt extremely blessed to have this revealed to me.
"Please, just one more thing," I asked.
My guide's patience was wearing thin. But before he could say something, I said, "Surely if this is what I think it is, and I am seeing heaven and will return to my other life then it seems as though it would be selfish of me to have my prayer answered but not go back with something for someone else too. I mean this is such a unique blessing, please let me at least see my wife's grandparents so I can tell her they are okay."
After a few minutes, the guide responded that," since this request was asked unselfishly and you are thinking of someone besides yourself, then this request will be granted," said my guide. I understood that God on the mountain was aware of my presence in heaven and it was only because of his will I was allowed to have my request granted.
Once again like a camera lens focusing on something in the distance, we zoomed in on a location. We stood in front of a store believe it or not. It was actually a hardware store. Customers were entering and leaving carrying only what they could in their arms.
We entered and I saw my wife's grandfather. He owned the store, which I found very interesting since he had owned a similar store in Colombia while alive.
He understood I was his granddaughter's husband and smiled. "Please tell her that I am okay," he said.
In a flash, we had moved again and were now in another place. I saw a lady who was Claudia's grandmother. She looked at me and smiled with the understanding I was her granddaughter's husband and was here to take a message back to her.
She patted me on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm completely happy," she said.
Our conversation was very brief as my time was running out.
My eyes opened. I was laying in bed next to my wife. She was awake.
"Are you okay," she asked. "You made a really strange noise that I've never heard before so I tried to wake you."
"I'm okay," I said and proceeded to tell her what had just happened. She, and I especially, was in awe. I didn't know what to think or how to comprehend what had happened. My wife had to convince me that I had been asleep because to me the experience was so real and hadn't felt like a dream at all.
"What was that," I asked myself. "If this was more than a dream, surely God will provide a way for me to tell the difference."
I recalled the first part of the vision when I was in my grandmother's room. I had seen where my mom, hospice nurse and great aunt had been positioned. If, in fact they had been in the same position in real life, then at least for me the answer regarding the origin of my experience would be settled.
The next morning I called my mom. I asked her where everyone was in the room when my grandmother had died. Believe it or not, according to her they were in the same location in real life as they had been in my vision.
Nothing I have ever experienced has provided me with more contentment and a better perspective on life than the night my grandmother died.
We were in mourning. Crying. Heads hung low.
After nearly a month in the hospital, my grandfather's heart and body finally succumbed to death. We were simply waiting for the doctors to come and take his body from the room.
Instead, a doctor came in and asked, "What are you doing in here?"
"We're here waiting for someone to take his body away," someone replied.
"Oh, haven't you been told," asked the doctor. "That's not his body. He's been taken somewhere else and has been given a new body. Don't worry."
We were shocked and in disbelief. We didn't understand what the doctor was saying. Didn't he know we were in the room and watched my grandfather die with our own eyes?
And then, I awoke. It was just a dream, but the reality hadn't changed. My grandfather had died a few weeks beforehand.
In another dream, I was at my grandparents house. Several friends and family were there to fellowship after my grandfather's funeral. There were several people in my grandparents bedroom.
As I was walking toward the bedroom I bumped into my grandfather.
"What are you doing here," I asked in shock.
He just grabbed me and gave me a huge hug. "I've missed you so much," I said as a wave of emotion came over me. His arms felt so real as they wrapped around my back.
"My too," he said. "But don't worry. I'm okay. I'm in a really good place and I have a new body that doesn't get tired and I don't have any heart problems. Everything is fine."
And again, I awoke with the intense feeling of having just seen my grandfather. Both dreams were so real that I believe them to be the last memories I have of him.
As a result of those dreams, I confess I always wondered if I would have a similar dream when my grandmother passed away. I kept my curiosity private and never shared it with anyone. It seems kind of corny, I'm sure. But these were some of my most personal thoughts. What happens after we die? What is Heaven like?
After my wife and I returned from Memphis visiting my grandmother - knowing she was in her last hours - we collapsed from exhaustion and went to bed.
The telephone rang. It was shortly after mid-night on Monday morning.
"Hello."
"Hey, it's mom. I just wanted you to know that Granny died about an hour ago. She began to struggle breathing at about 11 p.m."
My mom proceeded to tell me my great aunt and a hospice nurse had been there when my grandmother died. Otherwise, it was a short conversation. I was exhausted and said good-bye.
I laid in bed thinking. Without consciously realizing, I fell into a deep sleep.
I was in my grandmother's bedroom. She lay on the bed with my mom laying in the bed next to her. The hospice nurse was sitting next to the bed and my great aunt was near the bedroom door.
Suddenly, an angel entered the room. My grandmother, who for days was laying unconscious, awoke. But as she awakened, her body remained and her spirit rose separate from the body. The angel stretched out his arm and my grandmother took his hand.
My grandmother followed the angel toward the bedroom door. With each step they took, a bright light became increasingly brighter. Something told me to follow them. With each step I took, the light increased in brightness to the point of being nearly blinding.
Just when the light's intensity seemed as though it could become no brighter, I found myself standing on top of a cliff overlooking a vast city. I wasn't alone. An unseen guide was with me.
As I panned to my right, I noticed a large mountain. The city expanded as far as I could see and hugged the foot of the mountain. There was a bright light on top of the mountain that was the source of light for the entire city and world before me. It appeared, as I looked closer, that I could see someone in the middle of the light. There were angels in the sky surrounding the source of light. People were standing as close as they could to the person who emitted the light.
"That is God," said my host as though he could read my mind.
It was revealed to me that God's light is a part of Him and since His light was everywhere in Heaven, then so was He. His light repelled the possibility of temptation against His will and thus there was no sin in His prescience.
I stood in awe, but didn't fully comprehend what was happening. I didn't even realize I was asleep.
"I want to show you something," said my guide.
We turned to the left away from the mountain view toward the city below us. We focused on a point in the city, as though adjusting the lens of a camera. Once it was in focus, we were there. The movement was so fast that we hardly felt the motion.
We were on a street in the city. In front of us was the angel and my grandmother walking hand-in-hand. They were approaching a building and door. The door flew open before they reached the steps to the building.
As the door opened, my grandfather stepped outside with his hands in the air and a large smile on his face. My grandmother's expression was still of confusion as she didn't understand exactly what was happening.
"I'm so glad you are here," exclaimed my grandfather with obvious joy.
One thing I understood at this point was they were no longer married - but still connected through friendship and the bond they shared on earth. At least, that's why my grandmother was escorted to see my grandfather first.
"Come on in. I've got so much to show you," said my grandfather.
I wondered if it was okay to follow and was assured that I could.
We walked into the house. While the house was designed with similar characteristics as those here, such as doors with door knobs, it didn't mean they were necessary design characteristics. Our bodies in heaven have different abilities than the ones we are using now. A doorknob, for example may exist in heaven but really only for us to recognize and not really to serve a critical purpose.
As my grandfather gave a tour of they house, I noticed through a window that the mountain top with God was visible. His light lit the house so there was no electricity or such amenity because it wasn't necessary in God's presence.
My grandfather rattled on about the projects he wanted to do. "There's so much I want to get done, but I've only been here for a few years," he said.
In fact, I understood in Heaven there is perpetual light and never darkness. Our bodies never grow weary and don't need rest. Even though the expanse of heaven is hard to comprehend and it'd take days to walk from one point to another, there is no day and night. Therefore, there is no circadian cycle for our bodies to become accustomed with. We never sleep or become tired. If we want to walk a long distance then we just walk there. Time has lost it's power in God's presence.
My grandparents found themselves in the kitchen after the nickle tour. I stood in the room and desperately wanted to say something, but my guide admonished me saying they could not see or hear me.
"I bet you're hungry," said my grandfather.
My grandmother sat down in a chair. She thought for a minute and then she realized how long it had been since she last ate. "I actually am kind of hungry," she replied.
"This isn't the same as what we had back there, but this is really good," said my grandfather as he prepared some food which I understood was provided by God.
At this point, my guide said we needed to leave. In a flash we found ourselves at the cliff's edge again. It finally occurred to me exactly what was happening. I was being shown the events as they occurred after my grandmother's death. I was seeing heaven. Upon this realization, I wanted to stay and know more.
"My grandmother died an hour or so ago, but we just now witnessed her being introduced to my grandfather, what happened in the interim," I asked.
"That is not part of what I can show you," explained my guide.
"But if this is really to show my what happens after death, then please let me see where my grandmother went before we saw her," I pleaded.
After a moment, my guide said it was okay to reveal that to me but we must be quick. We moved again so fast we couldn't even feel the motion. Before I knew it, I was standing in a large room with a high-vaulted ceiling. There was a crowd of people waiting and confused. The newly deceased.
In front of them was a chair - vacant. To each side stood angels as sentries keeping an eye on the people. The recently deceased were waiting, as I understood, for judgement. Christ, who sits on the chair, had left briefly so I could see the room.
"Before anyone can go to where we just were, they must come through here," explained my guide. "Not all make it through unfortunately. Now that your request has been fulfilled, you must leave."
We were back at the cliff's edge overlooking the city. I felt an immense feeling within me and understood what was happening and felt extremely blessed to have this revealed to me.
"Please, just one more thing," I asked.
My guide's patience was wearing thin. But before he could say something, I said, "Surely if this is what I think it is, and I am seeing heaven and will return to my other life then it seems as though it would be selfish of me to have my prayer answered but not go back with something for someone else too. I mean this is such a unique blessing, please let me at least see my wife's grandparents so I can tell her they are okay."
After a few minutes, the guide responded that," since this request was asked unselfishly and you are thinking of someone besides yourself, then this request will be granted," said my guide. I understood that God on the mountain was aware of my presence in heaven and it was only because of his will I was allowed to have my request granted.
Once again like a camera lens focusing on something in the distance, we zoomed in on a location. We stood in front of a store believe it or not. It was actually a hardware store. Customers were entering and leaving carrying only what they could in their arms.
We entered and I saw my wife's grandfather. He owned the store, which I found very interesting since he had owned a similar store in Colombia while alive.
He understood I was his granddaughter's husband and smiled. "Please tell her that I am okay," he said.
In a flash, we had moved again and were now in another place. I saw a lady who was Claudia's grandmother. She looked at me and smiled with the understanding I was her granddaughter's husband and was here to take a message back to her.
She patted me on the shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm completely happy," she said.
Our conversation was very brief as my time was running out.
My eyes opened. I was laying in bed next to my wife. She was awake.
"Are you okay," she asked. "You made a really strange noise that I've never heard before so I tried to wake you."
"I'm okay," I said and proceeded to tell her what had just happened. She, and I especially, was in awe. I didn't know what to think or how to comprehend what had happened. My wife had to convince me that I had been asleep because to me the experience was so real and hadn't felt like a dream at all.
"What was that," I asked myself. "If this was more than a dream, surely God will provide a way for me to tell the difference."
I recalled the first part of the vision when I was in my grandmother's room. I had seen where my mom, hospice nurse and great aunt had been positioned. If, in fact they had been in the same position in real life, then at least for me the answer regarding the origin of my experience would be settled.
The next morning I called my mom. I asked her where everyone was in the room when my grandmother had died. Believe it or not, according to her they were in the same location in real life as they had been in my vision.
Nothing I have ever experienced has provided me with more contentment and a better perspective on life than the night my grandmother died.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Live with the End in Mind - part one
One evening in spring 2006 I received a phone call from a close family member saying my grandmother had been diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer.
I didn't know what the Pancreas did, much less understood how serious was the diagnosis.
My grandmother and grandfather were two of the most influential people in my life. My grandfather had died a few years earlier, and my grandmother was just beginning to come out of mourning.
She had taken a computer course and was looking forward to spring time flowers blooming. Had she lived longer, she may not have acted on any of the plans she was speaking about at the time, but just speaking of plans was a great signal that she had begun to emotionally turn a corner.
Pancreatic Cancer progresses fast. We enjoyed almost one year after diagnosis. Some people only have a few days, depending on the stage the cancer is discovered.
I knew death was not going to be an easy process for my grandmother. For years she didn't want to acknowledge the reality that death is part of life.
Approximately one month before my grandmother's death, I had the opportunity to stay with her overnight during her last hospital visit. We had the opportunity to talk by ourselves.
"Are you afraid," I asked.
"That's a difficult question to answer," she said after a few introspective moments. "It just seems that after all the prayers from family and friends, this has continued to progress worse and worse."
I told her that part of God's plan sometimes meant not answering our prayers with what we expected. "Don't worry," I said. "Remember, Christ came onto Earth and experienced all the things we have. He understands how it feels to not have your prayers answered. Remember, he was in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed for God to use a different plan if it was his will and avoid dying on the Cross. So, Jesus understands what it feels like to prayer so hard for something and have the outcome be something you don't necessarily want. He isn't going to hold it against you if you are disappointed."
A month later the cancer had progressed to the point that my grandmother's body had begun to shut down. The last weekend she was alive she was comatose. She didn't open her eyes, eat, or move. She simply laid in the bed as the hours ticked-tocked by.
My grandmother denied the inevitability of death her entire life. She never wanted to talk about death. She never wanted to acknowledge that some day either she or my grandfather would die and the other would remain alone.
I understood how difficult it must have been for my grandmother to face her mortality. It is something we all must face. Our lives are like a flash of lightening that barely leaves a mark on this earth.
During that last weekend, each time I visited with my grandmother I wanted our conversation to help make the transition and death easier for her. I felt a responsibility to try and prepare my grandmother as best I could. Thankfully, the words and ideas came to me and helped me through this difficult experience also.
"Granny, what are you still doing here," I asked. Other times I would hold her hand, "Granny, I don't want you to be afraid. Soon an angel is going to come and take you to Heaven. Don't worry. Go with him. Soon you will be in Heaven and get to visit with Grandfather and all your friends and family who have gone before."
As I spoke, my grandmother's facial expression changed. She would purse her lips and frown. You could tell she understood what was being said and it was hard for her to hear it spoken. On a couple of occasions she opened her eyes and looked at me. A few times when I was going to leave and let her hand go, she would try to grasp it and hold it tighter. My aunt witnessed her doing this once and remarked that she hadn't done that for anyone else.
Our last conversations - really it was just me doing all the talking and she was doing all the listening - centered around the transition and helping her feel comfortable to let go when the time came.
"If you want to stay, that's fine. But if you have to leave before I come back then don't worry about me or anyone else. We're going to be just fine," I told her.
On Sunday, my wife and I returned to our home knowing the end was near. My grandmother and I had our last conversation. But since I was surprised she had lived during the whole weekend, who knew when God would decide to call for her?
I didn't know what the Pancreas did, much less understood how serious was the diagnosis.
My grandmother and grandfather were two of the most influential people in my life. My grandfather had died a few years earlier, and my grandmother was just beginning to come out of mourning.
She had taken a computer course and was looking forward to spring time flowers blooming. Had she lived longer, she may not have acted on any of the plans she was speaking about at the time, but just speaking of plans was a great signal that she had begun to emotionally turn a corner.
Pancreatic Cancer progresses fast. We enjoyed almost one year after diagnosis. Some people only have a few days, depending on the stage the cancer is discovered.
I knew death was not going to be an easy process for my grandmother. For years she didn't want to acknowledge the reality that death is part of life.
Approximately one month before my grandmother's death, I had the opportunity to stay with her overnight during her last hospital visit. We had the opportunity to talk by ourselves.
"Are you afraid," I asked.
"That's a difficult question to answer," she said after a few introspective moments. "It just seems that after all the prayers from family and friends, this has continued to progress worse and worse."
I told her that part of God's plan sometimes meant not answering our prayers with what we expected. "Don't worry," I said. "Remember, Christ came onto Earth and experienced all the things we have. He understands how it feels to not have your prayers answered. Remember, he was in the garden of Gethsemane and prayed for God to use a different plan if it was his will and avoid dying on the Cross. So, Jesus understands what it feels like to prayer so hard for something and have the outcome be something you don't necessarily want. He isn't going to hold it against you if you are disappointed."
A month later the cancer had progressed to the point that my grandmother's body had begun to shut down. The last weekend she was alive she was comatose. She didn't open her eyes, eat, or move. She simply laid in the bed as the hours ticked-tocked by.
My grandmother denied the inevitability of death her entire life. She never wanted to talk about death. She never wanted to acknowledge that some day either she or my grandfather would die and the other would remain alone.
I understood how difficult it must have been for my grandmother to face her mortality. It is something we all must face. Our lives are like a flash of lightening that barely leaves a mark on this earth.
During that last weekend, each time I visited with my grandmother I wanted our conversation to help make the transition and death easier for her. I felt a responsibility to try and prepare my grandmother as best I could. Thankfully, the words and ideas came to me and helped me through this difficult experience also.
"Granny, what are you still doing here," I asked. Other times I would hold her hand, "Granny, I don't want you to be afraid. Soon an angel is going to come and take you to Heaven. Don't worry. Go with him. Soon you will be in Heaven and get to visit with Grandfather and all your friends and family who have gone before."
As I spoke, my grandmother's facial expression changed. She would purse her lips and frown. You could tell she understood what was being said and it was hard for her to hear it spoken. On a couple of occasions she opened her eyes and looked at me. A few times when I was going to leave and let her hand go, she would try to grasp it and hold it tighter. My aunt witnessed her doing this once and remarked that she hadn't done that for anyone else.
Our last conversations - really it was just me doing all the talking and she was doing all the listening - centered around the transition and helping her feel comfortable to let go when the time came.
"If you want to stay, that's fine. But if you have to leave before I come back then don't worry about me or anyone else. We're going to be just fine," I told her.
On Sunday, my wife and I returned to our home knowing the end was near. My grandmother and I had our last conversation. But since I was surprised she had lived during the whole weekend, who knew when God would decide to call for her?
to be continued...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Cost Cutting and Hair Cuts
Yesterday after a long day at the office I came home and was greeted by my Pomeranian and Cocker Spaniel - Pebbles and Missy respectively.
They were full of energy and eager as ever. The afternoon ritual of barking, jumping, pawing, petting started before the front door had hardly closed and culminated in two clicks from the leashes attaching to their collars for a quick trip outside for the dogs to relieve themselves.
And that's when I noticed something different about my Pomeranian.
As she bounded away from me toward the grass, I noticed her bottom looked like the bare bottom of a baboon. Not new-born-baby-smooth, but definitely no hair around there. You understand what I mean.
My dog's bottom was a glaring example of how our family's behaviour has changed as a result of the economy. She's the unwitting victim of our household's economic condition.
My wife and I are trying to reduce expenses like many Americans, but in recent weeks I've complained that Pebbles really needed a hair cut.
"If we don't cut her hair soon, she'll be able to clean the floor by just dragging her coat across it," I said the previous Saturday. Rather than spend the extra $50 dollars we would have done without thinking last year, my wife decided $50 dollars would be money well saved and gave Pebbles a hair cut at home.
My wife Claudia, God bless her, is the most wonderful person in my life - but she is not a dog groomer.
"I had to hold her in my arm with her bottom facing the mirror so I could see what I was doing," she explained. "When I let her down, she of course was running around the house like crazy. Her bottom didn't look like that in the mirror!"
Thankfully, Pebbles has a lot of attitude and hasn't been fazed by the drafty rear.
They were full of energy and eager as ever. The afternoon ritual of barking, jumping, pawing, petting started before the front door had hardly closed and culminated in two clicks from the leashes attaching to their collars for a quick trip outside for the dogs to relieve themselves.
And that's when I noticed something different about my Pomeranian.
As she bounded away from me toward the grass, I noticed her bottom looked like the bare bottom of a baboon. Not new-born-baby-smooth, but definitely no hair around there. You understand what I mean.
My dog's bottom was a glaring example of how our family's behaviour has changed as a result of the economy. She's the unwitting victim of our household's economic condition.
My wife and I are trying to reduce expenses like many Americans, but in recent weeks I've complained that Pebbles really needed a hair cut.
"If we don't cut her hair soon, she'll be able to clean the floor by just dragging her coat across it," I said the previous Saturday. Rather than spend the extra $50 dollars we would have done without thinking last year, my wife decided $50 dollars would be money well saved and gave Pebbles a hair cut at home.
My wife Claudia, God bless her, is the most wonderful person in my life - but she is not a dog groomer.
"I had to hold her in my arm with her bottom facing the mirror so I could see what I was doing," she explained. "When I let her down, she of course was running around the house like crazy. Her bottom didn't look like that in the mirror!"
Thankfully, Pebbles has a lot of attitude and hasn't been fazed by the drafty rear.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
What's Important this Easter?
Tedder Boulevard, the neighborhood street of my childhood is completely unrecognizable today after being ravaged by an F-3 tornado at 12:40 p.m. on April 10, 2009. Good Friday.
At the time the tornado hit, my youngest brother Aaron was cowering in the downstairs bathroom half a mile away. The winds howled like continuous thunder. The sides of the house were being pelted by debris. And my brother was thinking, "Am I going to die alone in this bathroom today."
Bill McKay, a neighborhood friend, and his wife were huddling together in their kitchen. Gripped with fear, they watched as debris shot into their house - splattering their living room with mud. With creaks and groans their roof was torn from the house by the twister. McKay's wife suffered slashes from glass flying in the room. Thankfully they live.
Down the street, unfortunately, a young couple with their nine-week-old baby was running to their vehicle and abandon their soon-to-be destroyed home. Mother and daughter were ripped from the bounds of this earth before escaping. The husband broke his back, collapsed his lungs and survived with nothing more than his life. No wife. No daughter. No house.
Children, home for Good Friday, were together in fear while their home was torn to shreads.
Homes were obliterated by more than 130 mph winds. They were torn apart as though Mother Earth was a demonic force with gnashing teeth capable of uprooting trees and making houses explode into splinters with her breath.
An hour before the tornado hit, I picked up my step father Allen to give him a tour of projects I'm working on in Mt. Juliet and Nashville. We checked the weather to see if it would be okay to go ahead with our plans. We decided our path would avoid the storm line enough and decided to travel to Mt. Juliet.
I am so very thankful that no one in our family was hurt during the tornado.
When Allen and I returned to the neighborhood it was as though a bomb had exploded. People had begun to come out of their homes. Emergency personnel had arrived.
Police instructed us that if we wanted to see our home, then we needed to park our car and walk.
"Can you do me a favor and park your vehicle so it blocks the street from other cars passing," the officer requested. I obliged.
As we walked down Henry Hall Drive straight toward our house, we were in shock. Homes were reduced to rubble. The roof beams of other homes were exposed like human rib cages without skin. The pugnant smell of natural gas filled the air as though we were walking through a war zone.
Our home only suffered wind damage. A house two doors up Henry Hall Drive was completely destroyed. A few doors down Tedder Boulevard we saw a two-story home. The problem was we could see inside the living room on the second floor. A man was walking in the room and picking up the leftovers from the storm.
"I need you to get out of the house now," yelled a police officer.
At the time the tornado hit, my youngest brother Aaron was cowering in the downstairs bathroom half a mile away. The winds howled like continuous thunder. The sides of the house were being pelted by debris. And my brother was thinking, "Am I going to die alone in this bathroom today."
Bill McKay, a neighborhood friend, and his wife were huddling together in their kitchen. Gripped with fear, they watched as debris shot into their house - splattering their living room with mud. With creaks and groans their roof was torn from the house by the twister. McKay's wife suffered slashes from glass flying in the room. Thankfully they live.
Down the street, unfortunately, a young couple with their nine-week-old baby was running to their vehicle and abandon their soon-to-be destroyed home. Mother and daughter were ripped from the bounds of this earth before escaping. The husband broke his back, collapsed his lungs and survived with nothing more than his life. No wife. No daughter. No house.
Children, home for Good Friday, were together in fear while their home was torn to shreads.
Homes were obliterated by more than 130 mph winds. They were torn apart as though Mother Earth was a demonic force with gnashing teeth capable of uprooting trees and making houses explode into splinters with her breath.
An hour before the tornado hit, I picked up my step father Allen to give him a tour of projects I'm working on in Mt. Juliet and Nashville. We checked the weather to see if it would be okay to go ahead with our plans. We decided our path would avoid the storm line enough and decided to travel to Mt. Juliet.
I am so very thankful that no one in our family was hurt during the tornado.
When Allen and I returned to the neighborhood it was as though a bomb had exploded. People had begun to come out of their homes. Emergency personnel had arrived.
Police instructed us that if we wanted to see our home, then we needed to park our car and walk.
"Can you do me a favor and park your vehicle so it blocks the street from other cars passing," the officer requested. I obliged.
As we walked down Henry Hall Drive straight toward our house, we were in shock. Homes were reduced to rubble. The roof beams of other homes were exposed like human rib cages without skin. The pugnant smell of natural gas filled the air as though we were walking through a war zone.
Our home only suffered wind damage. A house two doors up Henry Hall Drive was completely destroyed. A few doors down Tedder Boulevard we saw a two-story home. The problem was we could see inside the living room on the second floor. A man was walking in the room and picking up the leftovers from the storm.
"I need you to get out of the house now," yelled a police officer.
I stepped carefully over electric cables, utility poles, wires, pieces of roof and brick. This is my neighborhood now.
The day after the tornado, my wife Claudia and I went to Tedder Boulevard to help clean up debris that landed in the yard of my childhood home. After an hour, there was a small pile of lumber, shingles, bills and checks from neighbors half a mile away, buckets and other items.
"You know, we're picking up this lumber and tossing it in a pile as though it were trash," I said to Aaron. "But this is a piece of some one's home."
And looking up the street, the vision of devastation to the homes in front of us was almost too much to comprehend. We were very blessed.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Warning to Capitalism:
People think of evil dictators and oppressive governments when communism and socialism are mentioned. They think of Stalin and Mussolini.
When Capitalism is mentioned, it is more frequently than not, thought of as a positive form of economic system. At least that is the case in the United States and other democratically-based governments.
But all three forms of economic systems are imperfect designs created by imperfect creators.
Hands of socialist and communist citizens strain against their fetters while reaching heavenward, and the hands of capitalist citizens are unrestrained and stretch so far skyward that their fingertips are scorched by the sun’s flames.
Today our country is in the middle of its most significant recession since the Great Depression. Companies are struggling to survive. Employees are fearful of their next corporate decision to be handed down. Unemployed people quickly become disenfranchised by the entire process of their job search because technology has essentially eliminated the human element from human resources in corporate America.
Capitalism for the past three decades in the United States has progressively turned into the “All you can eat buffet of America.”
As access to credit became easier, citizens, small businesses and corporate blue chips became gluttons feasting on their future incomes. Americans became consumers; not producers. To live up to that reputation, Americans leveraged their future incomes more and more. Meanwhile, China evolved into America’s resource for all things manufactured from televisions and cars to children’s toys and dog food.
We outsourced manufacturing to other countries because we were too evolved to perform those jobs and audaciously believed out sourcing the jobs would help those “Third World” countries eventually enjoy an equal standard of living.
We let our education slip and our schools become trailer parks because of inadequate funding for expansion. As America’s prosperity out-paced the entire world, we forgot everything comes from our Creator. We became, in our own minds, self-sufficient.
Now the house of cards has begun to collapse. Our society of materialism and credit is being destroyed from within. As our citizens have lost their moral compass, so have the executives who lead our industries.
We have pushed the boundaries of our morals. We have capitalized on the destruction of our own future. We have become moral relativists and rationalized why we step on the backs of those in front of us.
Capitalism in the hands of citizens without a moral compass and without self-restraint is as dangerous a threat to democracy as Nazi Germany and Al-Qaeda.
As civilized as we may believe ourselves to be, we are only a few short hours from regressing socially to the savagery of our knuckle-dragging cousins a few thousand years ago.
If you don’t believe me, then you need to recall how quickly our social decorum disintegrated after only a few days without gasoline in Nashville during the summer of 2008.
People were shoving and fighting each other in the gas station parking lots. Police were called to direct traffic because people were backed up into the streets to get gas. Citizens frantically horded gasoline as though that was the resource that held our society together.
Don’t misunderstand me. Our country is great and will survive this recession. Our economy will bounce back. The more than 4 million unemployed people will soon be taking their Monday through Friday commute from suburbia to corporate America again.
But when we ask ourselves who should be held accountable for our economic downturn, the answer is in the mirror. What lessons will we learn? How will we change our behavior? More importantly, what priorities and values will change?
Which will be more important on the other side of this recession: the flat screen television purchased on credit, or Sunday morning church service and the search for America’s moral compass?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Living with Margin
Last spring my wife got really sick unexpectedly. She couldn't get over the bug and eventually I caught the same thing. We had House Fever.
My wife caught it first and began searching for her dream home online. Eventually we found ourselves driving all over Nashville. We drove around after work, weekends and any spare time we could find in our schedules.
We found the house of our dreams - a 3,000-square-foot, brand-new home in southern Davidson County. We put the house under contract in the spring. It felt as though we visited the house nearly every day.
When construction started, we were emotionally connected with the house. This was our home. We shared the good news with friends and family. Our 1,100-square-foot condo in Bellevue found itself on the market and being toured by strangers nearly every Sunday while we left it behind and visited our new home.
By the time fall came the house was nearly finished and the economy had begun to unravel.
My wife's job security and income stability were in doubt and money in my accounts receiveables was evaperating along with the credit market my clients depended on for projects.
Three weeks before we were to buy our dream home, we had to take a long, hard look at the big picture and be honest.
Our condo had not sold. Bottom feeders and people without credit were the only ones making offers. Cobbling together the loan for the new house meant lines of credit, advances on income, etc. It was so tempting.
We prayed a lot. We opted to cancel the contract three weeks before the closing. It was the most difficult decision of our marriage. We felt sick, crest fallen. Our condo was happy, however.
We nestled back into our condo reluctantly. It's small, but perfectly sized for us. For now, it'll do.
And now to the point.
My wife was laid off three weeks ago. We thank God for not answering our prayers for a new house.
In the new home, our savings would be depleted. Stress levels would be significantly higher and pushed to the brink. In the condo, we are comfortable and not stressed out. My wife is looking for a job, but not worried about paying our mortgage.
In short, we have financial margin. We are blessed by God for this.
I think there is a lot we can learn, or be reminded of, from the "Greatest Generation." Live below your means. Pay yourself first. Don't live on credit. Don't succumb to immediate gratification.
There is peace when people live within the margin. It's part of God's plan to keep us sane and stress free.
Don't tuck your head underneath the bed covers in fear or stick your head in the sand to ignore this recession. Let's all lick our wounds and learn the lessons of this economy. Let's do more window shopping and less leveraging of our future income with credit - even long after the recession ends.
My wife caught it first and began searching for her dream home online. Eventually we found ourselves driving all over Nashville. We drove around after work, weekends and any spare time we could find in our schedules.
We found the house of our dreams - a 3,000-square-foot, brand-new home in southern Davidson County. We put the house under contract in the spring. It felt as though we visited the house nearly every day.
When construction started, we were emotionally connected with the house. This was our home. We shared the good news with friends and family. Our 1,100-square-foot condo in Bellevue found itself on the market and being toured by strangers nearly every Sunday while we left it behind and visited our new home.
By the time fall came the house was nearly finished and the economy had begun to unravel.
My wife's job security and income stability were in doubt and money in my accounts receiveables was evaperating along with the credit market my clients depended on for projects.
Three weeks before we were to buy our dream home, we had to take a long, hard look at the big picture and be honest.
Our condo had not sold. Bottom feeders and people without credit were the only ones making offers. Cobbling together the loan for the new house meant lines of credit, advances on income, etc. It was so tempting.
We prayed a lot. We opted to cancel the contract three weeks before the closing. It was the most difficult decision of our marriage. We felt sick, crest fallen. Our condo was happy, however.
We nestled back into our condo reluctantly. It's small, but perfectly sized for us. For now, it'll do.
And now to the point.
My wife was laid off three weeks ago. We thank God for not answering our prayers for a new house.
In the new home, our savings would be depleted. Stress levels would be significantly higher and pushed to the brink. In the condo, we are comfortable and not stressed out. My wife is looking for a job, but not worried about paying our mortgage.
In short, we have financial margin. We are blessed by God for this.
I think there is a lot we can learn, or be reminded of, from the "Greatest Generation." Live below your means. Pay yourself first. Don't live on credit. Don't succumb to immediate gratification.
There is peace when people live within the margin. It's part of God's plan to keep us sane and stress free.
Don't tuck your head underneath the bed covers in fear or stick your head in the sand to ignore this recession. Let's all lick our wounds and learn the lessons of this economy. Let's do more window shopping and less leveraging of our future income with credit - even long after the recession ends.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Caution: Read Manual before Operating
My wife and I purchased a new vehicle last fall. It was slightly used, but better than any car we've owned before.
From cruise control and automatic windows to the weather channel on the radio and seat warmers, this car featured almost everything we could imagine needing between point A and point B.
Like many red-blooded American men would have done, I immediately jumped in the car for a drive around the city. I could figure out all the fancy gadgets while cruising down the interstate. No need to wait!
Everything was great until about three weeks ago...
I notice when I tried to wash the windshield with wiper fluid the only thing that happened was the swish of the wiper blades. I tried a second time. A third. The same result.
This was horrible! How could this be! Was the honeymoon over after only a few months? Did I need to make my first repair?
"Wait. Calm down," I thought. "There has to be an easy solution."
I popped the hood and checked the fluid. Ah, the problem. No fluid.
Close the hood. Crank the engine and zoom to the nearest Auto Zone.
Grab Wiper Fluid. Go to the counter. Swipe the debit card.
Pop the hood. Fill the canister with wiper fluid. Close the hood.
Get in the car. Press the lever in. The wiper blades went swish. No fluid.
Argh!
I delayed making the call to the dealer. Maybe it wasn't a necessary feature. I tried convincing myself I could live without wiper fluid. But I eventually broke down and scheduled an appointment with the dealer.
The following Friday at 8:30 a.m. I arrived at the dealership and waited in the lobby for my technician.
Ten minutes later, my technician arrived after making an initial inspection of the car.
"Mr. Forrester, I couldn't find anything wrong with the wiper fluid," he said.
"Really," I said incredulously. "It hasn't worked for me in weeks."
We walked to the car. The technician entered the car, pressed the lever inward. The wipers went swish. Jets of fluid sprayed onto the windshield from outlets on the hood.
"No, no," I said. "It doesn't work for me. See."
I crawled into the driver seat and pressed the lever in.
This time the wipers swished but no jets of fluid shot out of the hood.
"See what I mean," I turned to the technician and said.
"Push harder," said the technician.
Sure enough after pushing a little harder the wipers went swish and fluid sprayed onto the windshield.
Needless to say, I felt a little bit foolish and couldn't help but laugh at myself.
"I bet this will be the easiest repair of the day," I said.
The technician and I both enjoyed the moment briefly before I left the repair shop.
I immediately called my wife to explain what the problem had been.
"That's why they mailed you a manual for you to read," she said.
So from here on I have two options: buy a less fancy vehicle in the future, or read the manual before operating.
From cruise control and automatic windows to the weather channel on the radio and seat warmers, this car featured almost everything we could imagine needing between point A and point B.
Like many red-blooded American men would have done, I immediately jumped in the car for a drive around the city. I could figure out all the fancy gadgets while cruising down the interstate. No need to wait!
Everything was great until about three weeks ago...
I notice when I tried to wash the windshield with wiper fluid the only thing that happened was the swish of the wiper blades. I tried a second time. A third. The same result.
This was horrible! How could this be! Was the honeymoon over after only a few months? Did I need to make my first repair?
"Wait. Calm down," I thought. "There has to be an easy solution."
I popped the hood and checked the fluid. Ah, the problem. No fluid.
Close the hood. Crank the engine and zoom to the nearest Auto Zone.
Grab Wiper Fluid. Go to the counter. Swipe the debit card.
Pop the hood. Fill the canister with wiper fluid. Close the hood.
Get in the car. Press the lever in. The wiper blades went swish. No fluid.
Argh!
I delayed making the call to the dealer. Maybe it wasn't a necessary feature. I tried convincing myself I could live without wiper fluid. But I eventually broke down and scheduled an appointment with the dealer.
The following Friday at 8:30 a.m. I arrived at the dealership and waited in the lobby for my technician.
Ten minutes later, my technician arrived after making an initial inspection of the car.
"Mr. Forrester, I couldn't find anything wrong with the wiper fluid," he said.
"Really," I said incredulously. "It hasn't worked for me in weeks."
We walked to the car. The technician entered the car, pressed the lever inward. The wipers went swish. Jets of fluid sprayed onto the windshield from outlets on the hood.
"No, no," I said. "It doesn't work for me. See."
I crawled into the driver seat and pressed the lever in.
This time the wipers swished but no jets of fluid shot out of the hood.
"See what I mean," I turned to the technician and said.
"Push harder," said the technician.
Sure enough after pushing a little harder the wipers went swish and fluid sprayed onto the windshield.
Needless to say, I felt a little bit foolish and couldn't help but laugh at myself.
"I bet this will be the easiest repair of the day," I said.
The technician and I both enjoyed the moment briefly before I left the repair shop.
I immediately called my wife to explain what the problem had been.
"That's why they mailed you a manual for you to read," she said.
So from here on I have two options: buy a less fancy vehicle in the future, or read the manual before operating.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Surviving 2009 with Attitude
My wife and I have a Pomeranian and a Cocker Spaniel. They are great dogs. My Cocker Spaniel enjoys the benefits of our trust and therefore gets to lounge around the house during the day while we are at work. On the other hand, the Pomeranian needs to be left in the bathroom because she has too much energy... to describe it kindly.
The other day when I arrived home, the Cocker Spaniel was in the living room lying on the sofa next to the arm rest. I released the Pomeranian from the bathroom. She flew from the room like a furry bullet; zooming left and right and circling me a couple of times before jumping on her hind legs and pawing my leg for attention with her front paws.
I couldn't help but give her a quick pat on the head before I laid my briefcase in the office. Since the Pomeranian didn't have my constant attention, she disappeared.
When I went into our living room, I noticed my Pomeranian, all 4 lbs. of her, had managed to move my 26-lbs.-Cocker Spaniel aside and was lying on the couch comfortably. The Pomeranian was quite satisfied with herself, while the Cocker Spaniel seemed perturbed.
"How in the world can a 4 lbs. dog move a 26 lbs. dog," I asked myself.
The answer is attitude and the difference attitude can make is something worth remembering particularly during this year.
The negative news reported daily is difficult to comprehend. If too much attention is focused on the economy, it's hard not to become depressed or discouraged. So don't.
Everyday we wake up and have the choice to look at life with a positive or negative attitude; an attitude that all things are possible or one that limits our potential because we see accomplishments as unachievable.
I choose to have the attitude of my Pomeranian and with work and prayer can achieve similar results this year. I want the same for you.
The other day when I arrived home, the Cocker Spaniel was in the living room lying on the sofa next to the arm rest. I released the Pomeranian from the bathroom. She flew from the room like a furry bullet; zooming left and right and circling me a couple of times before jumping on her hind legs and pawing my leg for attention with her front paws.
I couldn't help but give her a quick pat on the head before I laid my briefcase in the office. Since the Pomeranian didn't have my constant attention, she disappeared.
When I went into our living room, I noticed my Pomeranian, all 4 lbs. of her, had managed to move my 26-lbs.-Cocker Spaniel aside and was lying on the couch comfortably. The Pomeranian was quite satisfied with herself, while the Cocker Spaniel seemed perturbed.
"How in the world can a 4 lbs. dog move a 26 lbs. dog," I asked myself.
The answer is attitude and the difference attitude can make is something worth remembering particularly during this year.
The negative news reported daily is difficult to comprehend. If too much attention is focused on the economy, it's hard not to become depressed or discouraged. So don't.
Everyday we wake up and have the choice to look at life with a positive or negative attitude; an attitude that all things are possible or one that limits our potential because we see accomplishments as unachievable.
I choose to have the attitude of my Pomeranian and with work and prayer can achieve similar results this year. I want the same for you.
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