Miniatures and Me

 Everyone has a hobby, and some hobbies are more eccentric than others.  Some of us even have more than one hobby - I have at least three.  I have talked about my music collection extensively, as well as my interest in my genealogy, but the third hobby is a bit more nuanced as it is unique in many respects.  Essentially, I love miniature things, and I have an extensive collection of them.  I haven't spent a lot of energy talking about them until now, but figured it would be something to share at this point.  First, what is the purpose of a hobby though?  Let's talk about that a bit.

Hobbies are things people do based on two things.  One, it is personal interest.  There are things that captivate all of us, and we can develop an enthusiastic interest in those things due to the fact we want to explore every facet of them.  So, that develops into a hobby.  Secondly, a hobby is just a good diversion from the regular grind of life.  It helps us to relax, refocus, and in time it can even be inspirational to us. These two facts are what motivate taking up a hobby.  Hobbies do not have to necessarily be about collecting things - hobbies can involve sports, playing an instrument of some sort, cooking, and other activities as well.  But, collections have an appeal in that you find things that fascinate you that you can touch and examine tangibly.  In my case, collecting miniatures has done just that. 

When it comes to collecting miniatures, for me it is just fascinating to see a scaled-down detailed version of a regular object, and if by some chance it can function, that makes it even better.  It is as if one can construct a mini universe that can fit at most on a kitchen table surface.  Then there is the detail and other attributes of a particular miniature item that add to its appeal as well - a tiny harmonica that you can play for instance is a true find, as is working miniature electronic items.  There is a distinction to be made though between a collection of miniatures and something like dollhouses, because these are two separate items.  Let's get into that for a bit. 

Dollhouse furniture and accessories are by definition not miniatures - they don't meet the criteria, in all honesty.  A piece of dollhouse furniture is not functional, but miniature furniture is.  A dollhouse kitchen, for instance, often does not have working appliances and you cannot use them like their life-sized counterparts.  On the other hand, there are miniature stoves, refrigerators, and even plumbing fixtures that work perfectly, and you can even cook food on the stoves - there are a ton of YouTube videos of people who have complete miniature kitchen setups and they cook edible tiny foods on them.  You cannot do that in a dollhouse.   Bottom line, dollhouses are a hobby too, and a good one, but enthusiasm of dollhouses is not the same as collecting functional miniatures.  

So, how did my own collection start?  Back when I was a kid, I loved collecting all sorts of stuff.  From the time I was 8, I began to collect things out of those little prize machines where, for a dime or a quarter, you could get a small plastic egg with some sort of bauble, toy, or other item.   Some of these were collectible later, as they were fully functional miniature items.  You used to be able to get tiny working lighters, tiny whistles, and even cameras that could take actual pictures in those machines.  Adults as well as kids loved those.  Seeing stuff like that is probably what originally made me like miniature items, as it was frankly kind of cool to have a small camera that actually took pictures then. And, that is not even taking into account the tiny whistles, lighters, cap pistols, and other things those machines spit out, including tiny working slot machines.  When I was in elementary school for instance, many of us would get stuff like that out of those machines to trade, and a working, functional miniature item was like gold to us.  A lot of things we got out of those machines - weird plastic rings and small toys of various shapes and sizes - were not that spectacular though, but occasionally someone would want them.  Today, when I cruise Ebay, I see auction lots of these machine toys that people ask hundreds of dollars for now, including the worthless little plastic rings and things that didn't hold a high value for us as kids.  However, Ebay has also been the source for a ton of other neat miniature items, and I have gotten several from there over the past several years. 

Some other items that were not necessarily functional but were perfect scale models of things included tiny soda can and whiskey bottle keychains, pencil sharpeners shaped like Civil War cannons, and other such things.   Those are good and collectible as well, and I have literally a bin of that stuff in storage that would fill up a couple of shelves.  Many of them though are so small that I have a series of decorative clear plastic drawer boxes for them, and it works nicely.  The items have gotten somewhat eclectic over the years though, as in addition to miniatures I have a lot of mementos too, such a pins and badges, as well as small gifts I have gotten and religious items.  It is a collection that is uniquely me, and I wouldn't change it for anything.  Any rate, that is a brief introduction to that particular hobby I have. 

I conclude today's discussion by saying that if you have a hobby, enjoy it.  Don't make an idol out of it or spend money you don't have on it, but enjoy it within reason as it can be a rewarding experience for someone.  Hobbies help build legacy too, and people can learn a lot about you from your hobbies.  Thanks again for allowing me to share, and will see you next time. 

Is Hate a Contradiction?

 The reason I write this is that our parish priest in his homily yesterday addressed something of interest.  The Scripture passage - the daily Mass reading from the Gospels, in this case Luke 14:26 - is a verse that talks about if you love Christ, you must "hate" your mother, father, children, spouse, self, etc.  Now, oddly, when you read the rest of Scripture (which Fr. JoseMaria, our priest, astutely pointed out) you are told to honor your mother and father, hate no one, etc.  Is this a contradiction?  That became the focus of Fr. JoseMaria's homily, and to be honest while I was listening to that a light clicked on in the deep recesses of my mind as if to scream "This makes sense!"  Now that those preliminary comments are the introduction, let's dive in. 

The word "hate" is often associated with things we morbidly hate, and in the case of people, it is tantamount to a death wish on our enemies when we say we hate them.   This is not the hate our Lord is talking about in this verse, and as our parish priest pointed out, this type of hatred has nothing to do with malicious or murderous intent, as you are not hating the person.  Rather, it means that the focus of our ultimate love and devotion must be to something greater, and if anything stands in the way of that, then it deserves to be abhorred, which is not the same as hatred.  You can love someone but also abhor what they do or stand for, in other words.  Therefore, you are not hating them as human beings, but rather you seek to distance yourself from a potential hindrance they may be causing you if it interferes with your faith.  When it is explained that way, it makes more sense, although the wording of Scripture here may be a bit confusing unless you understand the context of the passage within the whole.  Now, I will elaborate further.

Loving someone does not mean you have to like them, as some people are just downright disagreeable.  And, that can include some of our own family.  For instance, you have heard me talk about the attitudes of some of my family - to me, they are abhorrent, especially the tendencies of some late relatives to gossip and tear down others just because they get a sick pleasure from it.  I don't hate them in the sense of how hatred is understood, but I hate what they did, and due to some very wise counsel it was best I limit my contacts with those particular relatives.  I still have some cousins with attitudes like this, especially on my mother's branch of the family tree - they also treated her like this too, and she didn't have much to do with them either.  They are not people I would choose to be close with in other words, because their own attitude toward me would be toxic.  So, I stay away from them, simple as that.  And, this is kind of what Jesus was talking about in the Gospels when he said we should abhor those who seek to bring us down if they hinder our spiritual life and the flow of grace to us.  It is for our own good.  But, as I have also said before, forgiveness is still a factor too, and if some of them were to have a change of heart and mind and would seek to be better, then we extend that grace to them and give them forgiveness we seek.  Forgiveness, as I have said before, is like a gift - it is of no benefit unless the recipient accepts it.  However, like any gift, keep the offer open until they are ready to receive it, and that is called having an attitude of forgiveness. It is the same way with what Jesus is talking about in this context regarding "hating" - it does not mean that we hate their guts, but rather that we abstain from being around them if they present something toxic.  Let me give some other examples.

Let's say a boy comes of age, and he has a passion for a career.  However, his father is giving him opposition and is trying to hinder the boy from doing what makes him happy.  There is nothing wrong or immoral about what the boy wants to do, and he has a passion for it.  But the father is trying to micromanage him.  Finally, the boy has enough, and after a heated exchange with his father he decides he is going to do what he wants anyway.  Is the boy wrong?  Is he disrespecting his father?  The answer to both is no - the boy still loves his father, and just has a different outlook without totally rejecting his father but rather just his father's attitude about his own goals.  The boy in a sense is "abhorring" his father, but not coldly hating his guts, you see.  There comes those times when we have to establish boundaries with even those we love - we tell them we love them, we appreciate their input, but we also are capable of our own decisions too.  When it comes to matters of faith, it is even more intense.  Let's say a child who is raised in a Fundamentalist Baptist house - his dad may even be a pastor of a church - decides to begin to investigate the Catholic Church just out of curiosity.  In time, the kid likes what he sees, and after a long talk with a local priest, he decides it is time to "come home" to the Church.  Then, his father finds out - oh my goodness!  Keep in mind, if this kid's father is a fundamentalist Baptist pastor, a key "tradition of men" that this pastor is going to cling to is anti-Catholicism.  His dad may have preached sermons that the Pope is the antichrist, and a secret coalition of Jesuits, Freemasons, and other nefarious groups is plotting to take over the world and exterminate every fundamentalist on the earth.  To that father, it is as if his son just openly took the "mark of the Beast" and thus is eternally lost now.  The son, however, feels differently - perhaps for years he questioned his father's teachings, being as Mark Lowry so humourously said it, the typical Independent Baptist attitude is "I'm not always right, but I'm never in doubt!"  The son legitimately understands that he was probably getting only one side of the story from his preacher dad, and given God has gifted all of us with working brains, he began to start examining things for himself.  However, the preacher father invests more authority in himself than any historic Pope ever did, and for his son to "apostatize" like that is a betrayal.  Because the dad has such an unbending bias against anything even sounding "Catholic," the wiser course for the son to take is to say "You know what Dad, I love you, and I appreciate your convictions, but you are wrong, and if you cannot support my decision then I need to distance myself from you."  This is again what Jesus is saying - anything (or anyone) that hinders one's personal spiritual growth needs to be avoided.  The father would deny this with his son, although in practice he will be doing the same thing if he disowns his son (that has happened more often than not in strict fundamentalist Protestant households).  The son risks never seeing his dad again, and it is a big sacrifice to make to grow in his faith.  But, in the end he will see he made the wise choice, and these stories can also have more pleasant endings - the father may one day wise up and realize that maybe those "heathen Catholics" are not so bad after all, and perhaps just maybe they are actually fellow Christians too!  That being said, not every fundamental Baptist hates Catholics either - both Jerry Falwell and Jack van Impe were independent fundamental Baptists who had wonderful relationships with Catholics (Dr. van Impe was even a huge fan of the late Pope St. John Paul II).  And, even the controversial fundamentalist Baptist pioneer J. Frank Norris ended up forming a sort of alliance against Communism with Pope St. Pius X (I need to double-check if that is the right Pope too).  So, even fundamentalists are capable of reasonable thought too, provided their egos and their own biases don't cloud it.  So, change is possible, which now leads to the missing piece of the puzzle. 

When Jesus commanded us to "hate" some relatives, he did not say to do so in a literal, exterminating way.  Rather, he said that if they were a hindrance, we need to turn away from them - we still love them, and we pray for them, and if one day they come around we freely offer forgiveness and reconciliation with them.  This was really what the crux of Fr. JoseMaria's message was in yesterday's homily, and again, Scripture has given its eternal yet fresh wisdom on a topic that can easily appear confusing and contradictory on the surface.  So, rather than despising someone like that to the point you wish their death, you abhor their attitudes and distance yourself from them for your own mental and spiritual well-being.  I am even thinking of presenting this in some way to my 11th graders at some point during the year, as that is an important lesson for them too.  It means that although elders are to be respected, they are not perfect either and it is OK to differ with them where they are wrong.

I was not planning on writing again this soon, but I was sort of inspired by this and wanted to share it.  Thanks for allowing me to do so, and will see you next time. 

Feeling Old

 Does it ever seem like your mind doesn't want to catch up to your body?  At 55, I have been feeling it recently.  Just a couple of nights ago I woke up in the middle of the night with a pain in my leg that was just uncomfortable.  My first fear-addled thought was "Oh Lord, I have a blockage!"  A day later it wasn't quite as noticeable because it went as quickly as it came.  However, waking up out of a sound sleep with a charley horse in your calf is not the most pleasant experience.  There are facts we have to face, and I am realizing that more every day. 

A nice little proverb circulates out there now that tells us a fact of life - one in one dies.  Unless the Second Coming happens, dying is an inevitability we all will face.  At times though, we labor under the delusion of our own immortality, not realizing that our mind and body are having a difference of opinion with each other.  That whole 12-inch pizza you could polish off when you were 25?  Now, you are ready to explode after two slices because you get so full.  Also, that long walk that encompasses 12 blocks you could do without breaking a sweat at 22?  Now, climbing three stairs to your front door is a challenge.  I recall an episode of The Golden Girls several years back where Dorothy was regaling Rose with her day at the teacher's lounge where she was a substitute teacher.  She said that she was having a good time talking to a group of much younger teachers - she noted they were young and pretty, and then said "at that age you don't have to be pretty and you're pretty."  However, as Dorothy was driving home, she looked in her car mirror and said she saw this old woman staring back at her, and the comic effect was that Rose, ever the functional moron, said "who was it?"  It of course was Dorothy's reflection, and it was as if reality came rushing back at her like a 200-mile-an-hour freight train.  As most of us get older, we have those days like Dorothy did - we are feeling so good and then we catch a reflection in the mirror - oops!  A realization like that can do one of two things.  First, it can make you depressed for three weeks.  Second, it could force you to accept reality and maybe think about what you can do with your life at this point, as you still have life and don't want to waste it.  If any realization were to hit me, I would much rather it be the second.  And, that puts me in mind of what I was teaching my 11th graders this week.

The course I teach at the Jesuit high school in Baltimore I work at is called Sacraments and Morality, and a part of the Sacraments aspect of the class is understanding what the sacraments do for us.  For one, they dispense grace.  Secondly, they challenge us to live out our faith more fully, both to serve others as well as to fulfill what God instilled in us.  That is the whole point of passages in Scripture like Romans 12:4-5, as well as the whole chapter in Ephesians that deals with the spiritual gifts.  Whether we know it or not, we all have a purpose on this earth.  We may not live up to doing it, nor may we even feel like we have any value, but God creates us as individuals for a reason.  So, what does age have to do with this?  Let's talk about that a bit, shall we?

People think that when they reach a certain age, that is it - life is over, dreams die, and all we do now is just sit down and accept it.  However, is that the right approach?  Another stronger reality exists too, one I learned from reading Lawrence Welk's own story years ago in his book You're Never Too Young.  Welk, a devout Catholic who had accomplished a lot in his 90+ years on this earth, lived by a motto - work is integral to fulfillment, so do what you have passion about.  He wrote this in his late 70s, and it does speak to something.  No one is too old to fulfill their dreams, to find true love, and to have a fulfilling life.  On the contrary, it is important to keep oneself active, in mind and in body, because it improves quality of life.  And, sometimes, the opportunities to do certain things when we were younger were not there, and now that we have the time and resources, those same opportunities are now gift-wrapped at our feet - all we need to do is accept them and pursue them.  So, if a widower has another chance at love and happiness, let him do it (and widows too).  If a 60-year-old wants to earn a Ph.D. or even a Bachelor's degree, go for it.  As has been said many times, the most formidable obstacle in life is ourselves. If we can break the barrier we set up, then what lies ahead of us is one thing - possibility.  Again, one of my favorite phrases I heard from a preacher years ago is this - "your present position does not dictate your future potential." And, that includes age. That leads to another interesting thought.

I have heard folks say they cannot wait to retire, as all they were going to do was sleep until noon, and then sit in a chair vegetating all day.  It is easy to feel like that when you have a hectic schedule - I myself just wrapped up a very busy second week of the school year, and all I wanted to do was think about sleep when I got home.  Yet, it is almost 10 PM, and I am doing something I love to do - I am writing thoughts.  For most people, retirement is viewed one way until someone actually does retire, and then they almost go crazy with boredom so they have to do something.  Keeping the mind active in particular is a key factor, because an active mind will continue to stretch and challenge us.  So, keep in mind that before you start dreaming of a retirement where you lay like a drunk manatee on a beach in Florida somewhere, wait until that day actually comes.  After you spend what is probably going to be your last day at an office where you have worked for years, and you get emotional goodbyes from wonderful co-workers who also have become dear friends, you open the presents, eat the cake, and are in a pretty festive mood, then the next morning comes.  You may not feel it right away, but give it about a month and you will - you start feeling bored and restless.  You need to do something, but you are now retired - so what do you do?  This is where the value of hobbies, passions, and working to benefit others in a volunteer capacity come into the picture.  Those things give a new focus to life, and they may even open a new chapter.  So, don't let your brain hibernate when your pension starts - do something that you find fulfilling and stay active.  

This was a short reflection this week, but it was one that I am feeling immensely myself right now.  When you start reading obituaries and see a lot of people you have known over the years in them, it's time to think about your life and what it means to you.  As you do, hopefully you will find new purpose and make a difference.  Thanks again for allowing me to share. 

Summer Ends

 "The summer wind, comes blowing in, from across the sea..."  This old Frank Sinatra classic song from the mid-1960s is one of my favorites.  It is smooth, accented with organ legatos, and of course Sinatra's classic vocal.  While one usually thinks of this as a song at the beginning of summer, it seems as if the "summer wind" is blowing back out to the south from whence it came.  Today is September 1, and also Labor Day.  Although solstice summer ends in about 19 days, the summer season ends this weekend.  The timeframe between Memorial Day and Labor Day constitutes the classic summer season, as it is the peak time for schools being out, and family vacations.  Usually also, it is the day before the school year starts in many school districts, although in reality our school year where I teach started last week.  It begins a busy four-month countdown to the final days of the current year, and it means a very busy few months are ahead as summer slowly says its goodbye and we begin the slow trek to what will be in a short time the cold months of winter.  In between are holidays - Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's, and a few other days of significance (including my own celebration of my birth, which will happen in November).  The last third of the year is generally perhaps the busiest, although each part of the year has its own significance too.  This is where we are.

I think back to when I was in school as a kid myself.  The approach of a new school year brought with it a cadre of mixed feelings.  I recall being excited with going back to school, with my 4th-grade year particularly coming to mind.  I recall that well.  It was the summer of 1979, and I had just finished up a chaotic third grade year at my dad's in Georgia and we had recently moved back in with my grandmother and step-grandfather in Augusta, WV.  Back then, they lived in an ancient farmhouse that had no indoor plumbing save a cold-water sink in the kitchen, and if you had to go to the bathroom, it was in the custom-built two-seater outhouse my step-grandfather had built just beyond the front door of the house, complete with carpet and a window to look out at the nearby slope of Short Mountain. My grandparents were the picture of Appalachian poor, and their house was an exemplification of that.  However, I did not let that deter me from the excitement of starting 4th grade that year.  I was back at Augusta Elementary School then, and had a couple of old friends I knew from a couple of years previous when we were in 2nd grade.  So, I had the big plan laid out - I spent a lot of the summer collecting an absurd arsenal of every school supply imaginable, and I would spend hours trying to organize it, including washing down my brand-new Trapper Keeper three-ring book with warm soap and water.  By the time the new school year rolled around, on my first day I looked like I was attending a nuclear summit as I even had a briefcase to carry everything in.  Of course, when the rigors of the school year would set in, a lot of that initial enthusiasm would fizzle out and the usual "Oh geez, school AGAIN??" attitude would manifest itself every morning, especially further along when winter really set in and I had to walk over a quarter of a mile to get to my bus stop. I would later find out that teachers had similar feelings, especially once I became a teacher myself. 

The idea of a school year has a pattern to it.  In the beginning is apprehension and excitement, which lasts until right after Christmas break when you start to feel burnout and apathy.  Then, around mid-April, when the traditional Spring Break happened, you are seeing the end in sight, and there are activities, testing, and other things to break up the usual routine.  Then comes the last day of school - you are both excited but also worn-out, and all you are thinking of is sleeping in until 10 AM the first day of summer break.  Summer then has its own course - you want to rest, then you get bored, but then you both dread and anticipate going back.  As mentioned, this pattern is true of both students and teachers - so if you are in school, let me assure you that the teachers in a lot of cases may share your feelings on a different level.  So, let's talk about summers a bit, shall we?

I went through 12 years of formative schooling (unless kindergarten is factored in, and then it is 13).  That means I had about 13 summers I experienced, each as different as the next, and there are many things I experienced in those summer months over the years.  During my high school years, my summers were generally good - I spent time at home creating new recipes for my burgeoning cooking interests, wildcrafting in the woods above our house then, and listening to a lot of good music.  And, church and the fact I was in the high school band then gave me a bit of a social life.  However, there were two summers I would rather forget, and let me tell you a bit about them.  The first was the summer of 1979.  I had spent the Spring in Georgia with Dad then, and when I came back I got my first taste of what bone-crushing poverty felt like.  At the time, Mom and I stayed at my grandfather's rowhouse on Schwartz Street in Martinsburg, WV, and Mom had no income, no hope for anything, and there were nights when the only entertainment we had was the PTL Network on TV and all I had to eat were fried corn cakes and my late step-grandmother's canned applesauce in the basement.  My grandfather at the time was spending a lot of his time up in Parsons, our hometown that was two hours away, courting the lady who would become my new step-grandmother, and she and Mom were not the best of friends.  So, we stayed there by ourselves, and things got very desperate after a while.  Eventually, Mom decided we had enough of living like that, so she made a call to my grandmother in Augusta, and a few hours later they came in my uncle Junior's souped-up car and loaded up what we could, and we went back with them.  But, that started what was probably the most intense 8 years of my life, as I would taste poverty for many of those years until Mom finally landed some good work as a live-in caretaker for a couple of elderly folks and our lives stabilized.  Before that happened, 1979's summer was bookended by 1985, six years later, when we were in similar dire straights and our survival was based at that point on biscuits made from scratch and vegetables jacked out of the neighbors' gardens.  That six-year period - roughly from July 1979 to August 1985 - was a time of having to grow up fast for me, and in time my school actually became less of a burden and more of a diversion from the rather bleak life I had at home.  Again though, I survived all that, and in doing so I also would later rise past it as my life became more stable as a young adult. 

I share that little snippet of my personal history to say that summers can be good or bad, depending on perspective.  Likewise, a new school year can be good or bad depending on the same factors.  I have had the good and bad of both, and the good thing is that they are just seasons of life - they come, they go, and then new challenges arise later.  Without sounding like a lame line from The Lion King, it is a sort of circle of life that revolves around the yearly changes in seasons and what those entail, and we grow from the experience.  God sometimes allows some negative for our own growth, and I have learned that much like I learned everything else in retrospection.  But we do learn, we grow, and we move on, and that is just living life as God gifts us with it. 

For those of my readers who are students or teachers, may we all have a great school year ahead, and let's try to keep the bigger picture in focus, especially on those days when apathy and dread of the daily grind get to us.  Thanks again, and look forward to next time. 

New Chapters and What Hinders

 I had an odd dream last night I want to discuss to preface today's thought.  In the dream, I had to spend three days in what was essentially a detention center.   I was assigned to a bunk in a large room, and other bunks in it were partitioned off with plexiglass.  When I went to settle down in my bunk to sleep, I was told by someone to keep my cellphone (which for some reason I was allowed to have) in a secure place, as people could steal it while I slept.  The phone was, interesting enough, on my wrist.  So, if I recall correctly the dream, I removed the phone and slipped it into a pocket. While not necessarily a bad dream, it is not the most amicable situation to be detained somewhere, and that dream represented some things for me.  When I looked up the symbolism of that, I noticed several things coming to view:

1. Feeling trapped or restricted by a particular situation.

2. Some unresolved guilt.

3. A perceived loss of freedom through circumstance.

4. Anxieties about being judged.

5. Self-imposed limitations.

6. Inner factors that may be hindering or restricting progress in life.

It is no small secret that I especially can relate to the first one over the past few months.  After having a move that was beyond our control, I had to relocate to a whole new city, and begin to rebuild a life I once had and was used to.  It has had challenges, and in all honesty the place I live now is not my ideal. However, on the positive, I am working in a job that is an actual vocation now, and I am making the best income I have in ages, so that is a nice benefit.  And, the income I am provided has helped with some rebuilding (although I still have work to do yet).  In casual conversation with Barbara yesterday, she reminded me that I am where I am by design, and I am destined to be there a while.  But, naturally, I have questions as it is a bit to take in.  And, that is why I am talking about this today. 

Hindrances are a pain in the backside but they are also a fact of life.  And, I feel some now, several as a matter of fact.  When one starts over in life, you have things to face, things to overcome, and things to achieve, and all of that is where I am at right now personally.  The prison dream last night symbolizes the limitations I am facing, but also the fact that they are temporary and won't be forever.  Even now, I am at a point where I can think about something I only dreamed about in years previous - owning my own home.  I have a decent income, a decent credit rating, and also I have a couple of areas of prime interest to me that I can consider buying properties.  However, that too is a process, and I won't get a home overnight.  But I can begin the process of moving toward the goal.  And, that is where overcoming some limitations - especially that of my own impatience at times - comes in handy.  

I have talked a lot in the past months about the new chapter I am coming into in life, and at this point if it were a literal book I would still be in the middle of the opening paragraph of it.  I am in what is called a sort of transitional/recovery phase, as the previous years were a bit challenging and I am in this place due to things that happened then.  Some of what happened was due to my own lack of planning and mistakes, while other aspects of it were things beyond my control.  But, I am at this place now.  And, as I have learned, what happens in life is not an accident, although there are times we miss a turn and have to go on a detour to get back on track again.  I have heard it said that when you think life is falling apart, in reality it is God making everything fall into place.  That is perhaps the mentality I should have as I navigate through a lot right now. 

Entering into a new chapter can be a scary thing, and what has happened in my life just over the past 11 months has been a paradigm shift in life for me - the life I had before, a life I had settled into over a period of about 32 years - has changed.  In the process I lost a lot, and I have had to adjust to a different standard of life for the interim that I was not expecting.  But, I survived it, and as the dust begins to settle I will begin to see things fall into place.  My late spiritual mentor and friend, Fr. Eusebius Stephanou, was once fond of saying in both his writings and his messages that "Man's disappointments are God's appointments."  He may have been onto something.  The last time I went through a radical shift like this was 33 years ago, and it took a little over a year to get back on track again but I eventually did.  The difference this time is that I have a lot more thankfully to work with, and it is making the process a lot more smoother than I had anticipated.  Being older when facing things tends to make one think more rationally, and I would have to say I am handling this better at 55 now than I would have at 20.  So, I want to review myself now a bit to just share what has fundamentally changed in the past year.

From roughly 1998 up to 2020, I worked in the corporate world, and to be honest while the jobs I had did create a level of predictability and security, they were just that, jobs. Prior to 1998, most of my work was limited to landscaping at first, then moving up to restaurant prep cook work, and then to working as a security officer - jobs like that got me through my undergraduate tenure in college in all honesty.  I supplemented those types of jobs then with being an itinerant minister for the Pentecostal denomination I was part of, and although I never got rich from doing that, it was fulfilling.  Then, after almost 8 months of no work in early 1998, I finally got an office job, and I did office work as an administrative professional for the better of 32 years until COVID-19 happened and I was laid off from the last position like that I worked, which entailed data entry at a large bank in Frederick, MD.  In the ensuing years, up until the end of 2024, I was doing two things - pursuing my doctorate, and also finally able to use the paralegal certificate I had earned earlier in 2006 by performing as a freelance virtual paralegal for a budding company.  Once I earned the doctorate though, I felt a career change was afoot, and only three months after earning that I ended up in my first full-time teaching position, which is where I am at now.  For once, I feel like I am in a vocation instead of a job, and while it has its share of stress (especially last year - my goodness!) it also has a lot of wonderful rewards too.  My new vocation as a full-time teacher is an integral part of this new chapter I am settling into, and I have a feeling it will be a major part of my story from this point. 

I have come a long way from when I earned my first official paycheck working alongside my dad in the maintenance department of the Holiday Inn on Jekyll Island, GA, back when I was only 19 years old and fresh out of high school.  That is almost 40 years ago now, as since then I went through a variety of positions rising up the occupational ladder.  I earned my first chef's certificate in 1992, thanks in part to a free program in the state of Alabama called JTPA, and later I would acquire a class-D security license three years later while working for a large Florida megachurch.  11 years after that, I completed a paralegal studies course by correspondence and earned a certificate in that as well, although it would be many years (13 to be exact) before I could use it.  And, in the midst of the 36 years between earning my high school diploma until now, I completed a complete college education with three degrees - a BA, an MA, and a Ph.D.  Every aspect of my life was ordered in those steps one way or another, and completing all those opened the door to the next chapter in life, where I am at now.  I have some feelings to share about that, so let me do so.

The journey of life is for a reason, and just like a literal book it has chapters we live out.  You know you are at the end of a chapter when it seems like all of a sudden there is a disconnect between your previous life and what you are entering into now.  Some things cannot be done the same way anymore, and there are adjustments to make.  Those are the opening sentences of a new chapter in one's life, and they are not always easy.  The old phrase "new levels, new devils" applies in that with every milestone one faces a new set of different challenges, some of which perhaps they had never encountered before. And, that can be scary.  However, the feeling of overcoming a challenge is also something that defies description too, and it is a good feeling that is similar to when a firefighter successfully puts out a five-alarm fire - you may feel exhausted, but now you can rest easier knowing that hurdle has been overcome.  I know all these feelings well, because I have went through them very recently in all honesty, and it can be a lot to digest.  However, as I have also noted before, often in retrospect you see how it all fits together - it may be a bit murky now, but in the long run it makes sense.  Let that encourage those going through these sort of chapter-like transitions today.

Thanks again for allowing me to share, and will see you next time. 

Feelings of Discovery

 I wasn't planning on writing again in August, but I wanted to actually share just a few things, as the "feelings of discovery," as I call them, have been making themselves present recently.  I am not totally sure of what it all means yet, but for the most part I am actually feeling good about things.

In our grade-level faculty meeting today, our team lead - a sweet lady named Miss Myers who teaches 11th-grade English - posed a question to us as a group activity.  The question was something like, "if you were to describe the beginning of the year as weather, what would yours be?"  For some, it was a sunny day, although the history teacher had a more grim forecast of hurricanes and destruction which caused us all to have a good chuckle.  My answer however was interesting - I said mine was like this dry, dusty condition which is now starting to get the first sprinkles of a good spring rain.  The question our faculty team lead posed was an interesting one, and it made me pause to think a little about how things have been over the years. 

I have talked I think before of dreams I have had on several occasions about tornadoes and floods.  The most hair-raising dream I had about a tornado was several years back, when in the dream my great-grandmother and my mother were alive, and we were in a car traveling.  As with many dreamscapes, the scene was a sort of amalgamation of the country roads of my youth and a little bit of the I-4 corridor between Lakeland and Tampa in Florida, and on the horizon I recall this huge tornado - it was black, and it was perhaps bigger than any actual twister in history has ever been - it looked like it had a diameter of several miles, and it was looming right in front of us.  Mom, Granny, and I were in a car traveling in this dream, and we managed to avoid the storm somehow but at the same time we knew we needed to get home fast.  In the dream, what was representative of Granny's house sat at the intersection of two roads, and there was not a tree in sight and in many respects it didn't look anything like Granny's actual old house in Hendricks, WV, but rather had a similar setup to my grandmother Elsie's house that used to be in Augusta, but it looked a lot nicer.  We got into the house just in time, and I remember that big twister of monumental and colossal diameter going right by the living room window, where a rocking chair sat parallel to the window looking out, and it did not even touch the house yet I saw how scary it was up-close - it was pitch-black, ominous, and just not something I would ever want to face in real life.  As scary and formidable as it looked though, it never touched or harmed us.  A second and similar dream I had at another time I cannot recall offhand entailed my living in this beautiful house - it had a nice porch with French doors, and at the end of the yard was open water - a bay I believe.  In the dream, there was a huge tidal wave coming, and to the right of the house was a spillway with a concrete pavement.  The floods came, and the wave towered over the house about 500 feet - it was huge and scary.  And, from up the spillway came another rushing torrent of water too, and both of them hit the yard. The steps to my front porch became waterfront property, but again the flood never touched the house itself except now the front door had to be accessed by boat.  Considering all I have been through and what has happened over the past several years, this is where I have a "feeling of discovery," and our faculty relational exercise sort of sparked how this fit together.  Let me explain.

When you dream of storms or floods - particularly whirlwinds like monster tornadoes - it is a sign that something is about to rock your world.  I have had more than one dream about scary tornadoes, as well as a couple about mega-tsunami floods, and at the time I had many of these dreams I was in a good place.  However, a sense of foreboding always gripped me with a dream like that, and later I would understand why.  As I mentioned, in the past few years my world has been rocked in so many ways - a year ago this week, as a matter of fact, I was in danger of being thrown out of our house because my money had dried up and I had no way to pay rent.  On October 5 in a little over a month from now, Barbara and I will commemorate that happening.  After enduring a divorce, the death of both my parents and then my last grandparents, and then after being forced out of our house I went through about 2 weeks of relying upon God's mercies to provide for me (and he did).  In addition, I got my doctorate but it was not the way I imagined that either - no ceremony, no significant memory, or nothing.  Then, I started a new job, moved to Baltimore with two new roommates who to that point were strangers, and it felt like my whole world was turned inside out.  I lost a lot, and even now I am still trying to piece some things together, but I am still here.  The storms of life came, they really gave me a whisker-whipping, and I thought I was going under so many times, but here I am.  And, now a new chapter is opening itself, and it's a good chapter - I am settled into my new role as a teacher, and I feel my "groove" so to speak now, and it may be possible for me to purchase a house soon.  The "feeling of discovery" here is a new land, and I am like the first settler in this new land, and as the new chapter starts to really open up I will discover much.  I did get some wounds yes, and I feel the exhaustion of the past year catching up to me as I am now having some health challenges I never anticipated, but I believe I am a better person coming through it.  So, let's talk about that feeling of discovery.

I am a pilgrim of faith, as my Christian walk relies on God's grace like a car relies on gasoline to operate. Part of a pilgrim's journey is coming into a new land, settling it, and taming it to turn it into something great.  I feel like a pioneer who is starting to upgrade the lean-to I was living in to an actual log cabin now, and building a house - even in an allegorical sense like this - takes a lot.  Knowing the "lay of the land" is vital, and I am still scouting some areas of the new territory out in all honesty.  After all, even looking at this big city of Baltimore here, it took a couple of centuries to grow from what was essentially an Indian boat dock to one of the largest cities in America.  The Baltimore of 1600 would look totally different than the Baltimore of 2025, namely because the Baltimore of 1600 did not exist.  My new frontier in life didn't exist a few years ago either, but here I am taming and claiming it.  There is still much more to discover,  but I am on a path of discovery, so we will see where that goes. 

Thank you for allowing me to share, so as you prepare to celebrate the long weekend with your families, may it be blessed, and will see you next time. 

Back to School

 My weeks have gotten much busier beginning this week, as the school year officially starts at the Catholic high school where I teach in Baltimore.  I know that many kids dread school starting, as many of us also did when we were kids, but in a way teachers have that same feeling.  It isn't that we hate our jobs - teaching is not a mere job, but a vocation, and many hours go into it outside the classroom too - but just that getting back into the routine, anticipating what the new kids this year will be like, and so many other normal feelings go into play with this.  That is frankly true when one starts any job, be it a prep cook in a restaurant or a corporate executive in an high-rise office.  There is natural apprehension, but the good thing is that it does quickly dissipate too.  Let me explain.

Today, I taught the first classes of the year with a totally new group of 11th graders, and while I was expecting some challenges out of them similar to some I had last year, in all honesty it went surprisingly well!  Turns out they are generally a decent group of kids, and I am teaching four classes this year in my subject area, with my fifth class being a study hall. The study hall consists of a group of my former students from last year, but they were not bad either - most of them were some of my better students from last year, and even the more "spirited" ones were nothing I couldn't handle.  I do have the challenge this year though of being what is called the "hopper" - what that means is that I don't have my own classroom, but rather teach my five classes in different classrooms while maintaining a desk in an office for a base.  That will prove a little different, but to be honest I am looking forward to a little more variety this year.  If the rest of the year goes as nice as the first day, I am thinking this will be a good year.  Of course, I also went into it with a good attitude too, and that helps as well.  We have some new and better systems in place this year, and it has somewhat streamlined our work a little better - the new principal that started this year really has a vision for the school, and he is implementing some new stuff that will make less stress for the teachers as well as helping the students be more committed to learning.  These are good things, and I am fully supportive.  I am looking for the following year into some other opportunities however if God opens a door for that, including possibly teaching overseas, but if God wills for me to commit a third year here, I can do that as well.  God's plan is ultimately the perfect plan, and either way it always works out.   I will deal with the specifics of that some other time however. 

Realizing the effort that goes into starting a new school year from a teacher's perspective has made me appreciate my former teachers more.  There is a lot invested into lesson planning, making sure that the students can understand the material, and then there are the creation of exams, coming up with syllabi and annual plans for the school administration, and then the meetings - it is a lot for sure.  And, with our particular school, we don't have a substitute teaching program in place, so if a teacher is out, one of us that is open will be scheduled to cover that particular class.  For the most part, coverage is not a bad thing - you don't do actual teaching (unless you know the subject area) and the regular teacher often leaves their instructions and all the students have to do is the assigned work they have.  While initially it seems like a pain in the neck, in reality it is not that bad, and it can be an opportunity for the covering teacher to catch up on some of their grading and other stuff they need to do.  And, that leads me to another discussion.

Last year, I came in during the middle of a semester, so I was sort of proverbially "thrown to the wolves."  With no textbook to work with, I had to pull off some meatball surgery that would make the fictional Hawkeye Pierce from the old TV classic M.A.S.H.proud.  The chaotic introduction of my first year teaching led to some problems to say the least - I was dealing with discipline issues and other things that frankly caused me sleep problems and other things.  A lot of it was an imperfect system and also having to go it alone for the most part.  Thankfully though, we ended up getting a very capable department chair, and she did wonders streamlining us - that lady doesn't realize what an answer to prayer she truly is!  Being she came into the picture later than I did, she had challenges ahead of her too, but she, to use the vernacular, "kicked butt and took names," and we are now a more cohesive department as a result. However, the one benefit of having to design my own curriculum is that I was able to essentially author my own study guide, and an idea occurred to me that I want to share here now. 

The Theology course I teach 11th-graders is called "Sacraments and Theology," and it focuses on two seemingly disconnected areas but that are fundamental to an understanding of Catholic theology.  Our courses at the school I teach follow a structure similar to many other conventional Catholic education curriculum programs - one year is Jesus and the Scriptures, the next is Jesus Christ and His Church, third is mine, Sacraments and Theology, and the fourth year is a course on Catholic social teaching. When we were in our department meeting on Thursday, a realization hit me - those four courses are designed around the four major documents of Vatican II.  Those four documents, known as Constitutions, are centered on these four aspects.  For the first course, Christ in the Scriptures, the focal document would be Dei Verbum.  For Christ and His Church, it would be Lumen Gentium.  For my course, Sacraments and Theology, it would be Sacrosanctum Concilium.  Finally, for the fourth-year Catholic social teaching course, the document Gaudium et Spes.  When you start thinking of Catholic theological education that way, then you see how it fits together.  This is actually a lesson I want to give my kids tomorrow as a matter of fact as a sort of introduction to the course.  Even as I write this now my wheels are turning as to how to present it, and it's actually kind of an epiphany moment for me.  The Dogmatic Constitutions of Vatican II, in essence, did not change Church teaching on anything - it just created a digestible framework that even the layperson could appreciate.  So, despite if someone is a TLM traditionalist or a more modern-thinking progressive Catholic, this is still the framework that is supposed to govern them theologically.  Now, I am ready to teach that tomorrow!

Those were just a few insights I had that I wanted to share from today, and hopefully for my fellow educators reading this - anyone from the volunteer parish catechist to the university professor - it will prove valuable in some way.  Perhaps some can even refine the idea a bit, and that may catch something I could be missing also.  Any rate, with a busier schedule now, I will not be writing as prolifically as I did during the summer, but perhaps a weekly insight will still be possible.  Thanks again for allowing me to ramble, and I will see you next time!