1 Year - 6/20 - 6/21

 Life can really suck.   Or ....

It is very, very, very, strange really.  It's June 2021 now.  At the end of June 2020, I was 'let go' officially from a new job that I thought was the best thing that had ever happened to me (work wise).  And then it ended - as quick as it started, with the Covid-19 virus and a corporate restructuring to cut costs, that ended my career.  It was literally OVER.  My career ended.  40 years in 'corporate America' - stone cold over.  How can that happen at just one single point in time?  I started my career, after college in January 1981 after graduation in California.  We moved to Texas - and I started a fabulous career in IT and Finance.  40 years.  When I think about it now - I guess it's pretty appropriate  - a nice round number of 40.  Some guys don't last this long - some don't live that long, but I thought I had 5-10 years left, and I wasn't ready to end it yet.  It caught me by surprise.  The world - and I - blamed it on the global epidemic.  But I think it was meant to be in my case - God's plan maybe (?).

Now, here I am.  I don't know for sure, but I think I have applied for over 100 jobs since then, in the past year.  I did spend 4 solid months working for Amazon, delivering (part time) packages from December 2020 to March 2021.  I delivered 10,000 packages in that time (I kept track).  I lost 20 pounds in the first 3 weeks and kept it off until the end.  I made $15 an hour (about 15% of my normal hourly rate during the past 20 years).  It kept me busy - and it was strangely 'fun' - but eventually I had to let it go (mainly because I couldn't tolerate the politics of Amazon - which never got down to my low lever of a delivery van, but still - the nightly news haunted me).    

So what now?  I don't know.  One day at a time.  I do know this - my Redeemer lives!  I'm gonna read Job again tomorrow morning at Starbucks - because just when I start wondering what is going on - I have to think of Job.  Has anyone ever asked you who you want to meet first when you get to heaven?  I say Job - I want to sit across the table with a cup of coffee (or, ok, a vodka tonic) with Job. 

Don't give up.  Fight for your survival.  Be a roaring lion and don't give up - the best is yet to come!

  Jack    

   

Let Her Go

I’ve always liked the song by Passenger, called “Let Her Go”.   The guy who wrote and sings it is named Michael Rosenberg, and he is ‘Passenger’.   He has this unique raspy voice, and people love it (I like it).  If I could sing and play the guitar, I would do this song on “open mic night” at Legacy Hall.  When I listened to it recently on youtube I saw that it had 2.3 billion views – that’s Billion with a “B”.  Holly Cow.  Even if some teenage girl in England plays it non-stop for 1 billion times, that leaves 1.3 billion other people playing it.    

He’s not a Christian (very sure) – and I prefer Christian contemporary.  It’s still a great and simple song with a simple message:  we don’t know what we have until it’s gone.  We all have regrets.


   

Key lines from the song are these:

 

Well you only need the light when it's burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you've been high when you're feeling low
Only hate the road when you're missin' home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

 

So, don’t wait till it’s gone – he’s gone, or she’s gone.  Appreciate and be thankful for what you have now.  Seize the moment.  Don’t “let her go”.    Maybe the correlation is wrong here – the song is a love story really, of lost love.  But I think of it in this broader sense.

  

Maybe it’s a dream you once had, of doing something you love – but you let it go. 

 

Along the way there have been diversions, many of them (pic from London streets).

  

Have you ever heard someone say they have ‘No Regrets’?  Occasionally I’ll ask someone, an older man, if he has any regrets, would he do anything differently in his life if he had to do it all over again?  I really want to know – I’m looking for advice – I’m looking for guidance for the few years I have left.  But, more often than not - he says “no – I’d do it all the same again – no regrets”.

  

I don’t believe it. We all have regrets.  But it’s not cool to admit it.  It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  So, I’m thinking of my list, in the event that my kids or grandkids ever come to me and ask the question.  We all want to live a life that we won’t regret, but we will, without question, come to the point where we wish we had done something – but ran out of time.

 

I want to answer the question when asked – thoughtfully – respectfully:  “yes, I do have a few regrets, and if I were you, consider doing this . . . . . .”

 

Here’s one example: I never met my grandfather.  He didn’t die until I was in my 20’s or early 30’s.  He lived in Tulsa, just 250 miles from Dallas.  My parents were silent about him, as if he didn’t exist.  He had abandoned my fathers’ family when my dad was very young – so the story goes. . . . and goes . . . and goes (who really knows what happened?). 

 

And as Passenger says – “you let her go”.  I let him go.  Gutless and clueless, I never gave it a thought to track him down – hunt him down – stop in for a visit.  I have a feeling that he was someone who made a few bad decisions in life – screwed up along the way – took the wrong path.  And no one looked for him.  No one hunted him down.  No one gave him a second chance.   

 

That could have been me.  One wrong move, one bad choice.

 

I regret that I let him go.  I never had him, but still, I let him go.   Now my prayer is that somewhere along the way he found Jesus, and I’ll meet him at the gate, and apologize.

 

And the forgiveness party will begin!  I know he likes cigars, and I’ll bring my Cubans.  And we'll talk.

 

For Jan,

love Jack        

When the Bottom Falls Out

Everything starts to crash in around you.  Real life-ending terror sets in.  Your chest is pounding, then collapsing.  You can’t breathe.  You can’t see.  You’re shaking.  Fear takes over.

I have a plan for some “worst-case scenarios”, like losing my job, or a major stock market loss, or jail time.  But let’s face it: those aren’t the worst things that can happen.  They’re bad, but fixable.

When you’re younger – say 45 or below, you don’t think much about the “worst-case scenario”.  What is the worst-case scenario?   It’s when the doctor says you have just weeks to live.  Maybe, just days. 

Health – your physical health – is your worst-case scenario.

It seems all you ever hear about these days are the ‘advances’ in medicine and how well things are going out there for the very ill.  Miracle drugs are available.  Hope is on the rise.  Billions of $’s are being spent on research.  “Advances are being made” for this-and-that, they tell us on the daily news.  There’s another 10k run, every Saturday morning, to fix it all. 

Ya, right.

Not for you.  Not for your closest friends.  Not for your family members.  We all get those ‘other’ diseases – the ones no-one has figured out.  Those billions of $’s haven’t paid off yet, or even spent, on what ails you and the people you love most.  No, it’s not happening. 

I become defiant and my rebel heart turns to stone.  Bitterness creeps into my soul.   

I begin to rationalize and get mad, saying “God doesn’t fix those things”.  Not through medicine or prayer – he does not fix those.   There are some things he will not do – no matter how much you beg.  (for example: ALS, Hemophilia, Cancers, Dementia / Alzheimer’s).  Not in our earthly form anyway, not what we want here and now on planet earth.  Yes – for believers – the ultimate ‘healing’ is the promise of eternal life with Christ and with those who have gone before us.  We all desire that, and it’s a certainty – a guarantee for us.  As Paul said – “to live is Christ, to die is gain.”

But that’s not the answer I want – not now.   Yes, our time on earth, in these empty shells, is temporary.  Eternity is forever.  So why not enjoy this short earthly existence for 80-100 years?  Healthy and happy.  It doesn’t seem too much to ask.  Your closest friends tell you “God still heals!”.  But does he?  Not always – is the unfortunate answer.

I want the earthly healing, real physical healing, here and now – right now.  Like the blind man, the leaper, the crippled, the demon possessed, the dead.  I want it NOW God.  And what a witness that would be to non-believers, to see that miracle happen.  You could prove once and for all that your God is listening and that He cares, and that He is powerful - that He really does answer our prayers - and the only way to salvation.  You beg – with real sincerity: “God, come on, just do it, right now please – you said if I just ask, you will answer, and give me the desires of my heart.”  Prove it.

But it doesn’t happen.  No luck.  And I am prone to give up.  We’re all prone to give up.  Hundreds of prayers, no, thousands, have been lifted-up to the one true God, the creator of the universe, the one who promises to heal.   

And nothing happens.

To add insult to injury, if you complain about it, you feel shame – shame that you would be so shallow as to think you know best.  Shame that you question God.  You know better.  Then you feel guilty: “I don’t have enough Faith” I say – “if I just had more faith in God, he would do this for me”.  You punish yourself – then you get madder, and you shout to God to stop this cruel joke He is playing on you and everyone.

And nothing happens.  Silence.  Dead Silence.

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Then . . .  you are reminded of this one thing:  He Is God.  To begin to think that you know what He knows, or you know better, is nuts.  Something is happening, something you can’t see or understand. We are bound by time and space.  He is outside of it.  We can’t explain it - we don’t have to.  He alone is in charge. 

“But If Not” – even if you don’t answer my prayer the way I wanted you to – I will still follow you, I will still believe and trust.   It will be hard – but I will stay with you.  What other choice do I have?  You alone are God.  

So…Give up.  Surrender.  When you say ‘Lord, enough.  I give it all to you now’ - - -  you are free.

My 'Third Place"

I work mostly from home.  There is a corporate office, and I occasionally go there, but it’s not required, and it’s a long drive.  So, for the most part I work out of the house – every day of the week – 7 days / 24 hours. 

And, every day, I go to my “Third Place” – I work there too.   It’s a term recently attributed to the phenomenon of Starbucks.  It’s an official Starbucks goal to become the “third place” in our daily lives.  Americans need a third place to work – and they own it.

You’ve seen them – those people sitting there, focused on their laptops with paper and pen in hand, earbuds on – talking to someone on a conference call.  Oh, and drinking a cup of coffee.  Their wi-fi is fantastic – better than any other (owned by Google).  It’s amazing.

Within just 2 miles of my house are 7 Starbucks.  I’ve named them: 1) Starbucks east, 2) Starbucks west, 3) Starbucks grub, 4) Starbucks warren, 5) Starbucks weirs, 6) Starbucks coit, 7) Starbucks tom thumb.  Not much further – are 5 more Starbucks.  but I usually stick to these 7.

  

I rotate all these Starbucks – so people don’t think I’m a psychopath.  Still, you begin to recognize the same people, day-after-day.  And they recognize you - with a friendly nod of the head - basically saying "here we are again".  They’re doing what I do – using the ‘Third Place’ to get work done. 

So each morning to get the day started, early, I grab my laptop and work folders and head to one of these Starbucks.   I also keep my Bible study material in the car, and before doing any work I spend time in a devotional.  This is the most productive part of my day – that first hour or two at Starbucks.  There’s something about the white noise of cappuccino machines, good music, people talking . . . . for some reason I am VERY productive at my Third Place.   The coffee isn’t that good – but I only spend $2 and I take a few sips, pour the rest out,  then get a free refill, sometimes two.    

   

I don’t like their politics, but I like working at my “Third Place”.

That Strange Girl

Photo bomber, stalker, schmoozer, grabber.    Maybe she’s just lonely, I thought.   The other night, hanging out with some friends, a strange thing happened.  We were touring different restaurants downtown when we noticed this strange woman – who always seemed to be where we were.  We would duck into a storefront – and there she was.  We would stop for a cold drink, come out, and there she was – on the sidewalk, waiting.  We cut through a chain of restaurants, came out the other end – and there she was again.

It wasn’t a crowded night, there were very few people on the streets.  So, it wasn’t like she was hiding in the crowds – it was obvious – and creepy.

We finally settled into a nice restaurant for dinner, and for about 2 hours we talked and ate.  We paid the bill, walked out and there she was.  We asked a guy nearby to take a picture of our group before we climbed into a cab – and there she was – joining in like an old friend.   The bold one in the group finally spoke up . . “would you mind not being in our picture!?”   She backed-off slowly, and faded into the background.  She was gone.

“Did that really happen!?  Who was that girl?!”  We checked our pockets, our wallets and purses.   All was in order, we thought.  But still, we felt violated in some way.  We joked and laughed about it all – came up with some conspiracy theories.  But when we had driven back to the house, about 10 miles away, it was dark, and I could have sworn that I saw someone in the shadows, with blonde hair, ducking behind a bush. 

Sometimes we see things that aren’t there.

 Bottom line:  she was lonely, desperate for attention, likely wanting to be part of a group.  She needed friends to walk down the street with . . .  to eat with . . .  to socialize with.  OK – we know that’s not the way to do it – but she could have been at the end of her rope.  So, what do we do?  Guilt can take over: why didn’t I befriend her and ask her for her ‘story’?  Because that would take time and we don’t have time.  It would make us vulnerable – even to danger.  But in this life, what are we called to do?

Next time, what will I do?

(funny though - in retrospect, looking back and seeing pictures, I’m now much less concerned about the strange woman and her behavior.   It’s the guy to her left – with the glasses and that wide smile, that makes me think hard:   who’s really the crazy one?!).

Mark - retirement

Mark has given me a new outlook on things . . . . I missed the first half of his life, but this second half (retirement) is already spectacular!   Mark has qualities that I admire – like saying what he means and having a thoughtful opinion on everything from FOOD to MUSIC to SPORTS to POLITICS to INVESTMENTS to GRANDFATHERING and SPIRITUAL ISSUES  (oh, did I mention food and music?).  He doesn’t mince words, and he’s not offended if I don’t mince mine!  He has a quick mind, and it forces you to focus, just to keep up - - - - -In this day-and-age, that is unusual.   He’s a breath of fresh air, the kind of buddy I need.

     

Because of Mark, I now think more about what I eat (focusing on quality more than volume), I ride a bike every day to get in better shape, and I reflect more on the music I love (and who is singing it – because there will be a test).

 

One of my favorite (very recent) ‘memories’ of Mark, is this:   He’s in the kitchen preparing one of his famous meals, the aroma coming from the stove top is intoxicating, overwhelming the senses, the Pandora music is up loud (the way I like it) – filling the house with memories, the patio doors are wide open, a warm breeze weaving through the cold air conditioned rooms, there are waves crashing on the white sandy beach below, and the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the sky with a dark orange and blue hue.   I shout out  – “Mark, what can I do to help”?   “Nothing”, he shouts back (to be heard over the music).  Moving quickly back and forth from the refrigerator, to stove, to a cutting board – tossing plates and knives like a Ninja – he shouts to me:  “Scot – who’s this?!” - -  The music and words are undiscernible to me.  I shout back – “I have no idea!” – and with a scowl of friendly disappointment, he shouts back - “It’s Bruno Mars!”.    I pulled out my camera and started a video of Mark simultaneously cooking, dancing and singing the words “Uptown Funk You Up . . . If you sexy then flaunt it, if you freaky then own it . . . “. 

     

Ya, I have that video.   Great memories – thanks Mark!

Plano Cops & Me

The siren shocked me – very loud.  I looked in my rear-view mirror and sure enough, a Plano cop was on my tail.  A big cruiser, and a big guy driving.  I pulled over quick – and sat there.  Two ladies were walking their dogs across the street, and one of them shouted out at me – “looks like you were speeding!” – and they both laughed, annoyingly.  I yelled back – “I’m sure I was!”.  I thought to myself, ‘that’s pretty rude’-   I had never heard a sidewalk commentator when someone got pulled over by a cop.

I was hot and sweaty, running late, and annoyed.  The cop got out of the cruiser and headed toward me.  Sure enough, he didn’t look happy and he looked like he needed a fresh Dunkin Donut to calm him down.   I said – ‘hello officer’.  He said, “would you mind turning down your radio sir, please?”   I said – “well, actually I do – it’s harder to do than you might think.”

He says- “really?   Would you mind standing over here on the sidewalk then?”   I said ‘ok’, and went to the sidewalk and turned to him and asked – “officer, what is this all about, is this really a good use of your time, really??”    Now, the second those words left my mouth I realized I should have held it back.

He immediately started wagging his finger at me and said “do you realize you just ran a stop sign back there?!”   I said, “no, what stop sign?”.      He said “there” – pointing at a corner, one block back.  “Do you have your license”.   I said “no, actually, you won’t believe this, but I left it at home.  But I live in the neighborhood, you can follow me to my house and I’ll run in and get it.”  

Incredulous – very annoyed, he says – “never mind.   I’m just going to give you a warning – you HAVE to STOP at all stop signs!!”

I couldn’t believe it!  He turned and walked away. My lucky day. 

And I got back on my bicycle, and finished my Friday afternoon 20-mile route.    Plano cops.  Can’t live with’em, can’t live without ‘em.