Emailing With the Big Guy

To:  God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Dear God:

I was hoping you could spare a minute and just hear me out as I have a few issues that I am grappling with and and I was hoping you could give me some perspective.  Is this a good time?

Valri


To:  Valri@dumpinmypurse.com
From: God@Heaven.net
Subject: Gotta Minute?

Hi Valri:

Seriously?  "Is this a good time?"  I'm juggling a lot of balls at the moment.  Some pretty intense stuff going on these past couple of thousand years.   But honestly?  I'm pretty good at juggling so listening to you it isn't a problem.  Shoot.

Love,
God


To: God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject: Gotta Minute?


Thanks.  I didn't think it would be a problem but I didn't want to assume because everyone knows "whenever you assume..."


To Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject: "Gotta Minute?"

"...It makes and ass out of you, but never of Me."  Go on.


To:  God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Okay.  I'll dispense with my lame attempt at an ice-breaker.  I guess I'm just wondering, what's it all about anyway?  I mean, I'm looking down the very short road to another birthday, I can't believe how old I am and suddenly I am wondering, have I blown it?  Was there something I should have done, something I should have seen, something I missed along the way that was right in front of me that I didn't grab onto?


To: Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

I thought you were going to ask me something hard.  The answer is - yes, you have blown it, yes there was something you should have done, yes there was something you should have seen, yes there was something you missed along the way that you didn't grab onto.  Anything else you need to sort out?


To: God@Heaven.net
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Seriously, God?  That's all you got?  I am really freaking out about all of this.  I look back at a life, here in my middle age and see such an average, milque toast story.  And I am ashamed of a lot of my behavior over the years, and such a lack of gratefulness.  I see years of time wasted in jobs I didn't like, that wore me down, just to pursue some kind of security that I thought I could own.  I abandoned the theatre - something that gave me great joy.  I gave more pursuit to personal comfort than I gave to my family.  We rarely even had dinner together.  I watched too much TV.  I read too little.  I didn't take risks.  I got fat.  I lost touch.  I gave more time to the wrong things and less time to you.   I feel so lost.


To:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Hang on a minute.  BRB...

Okay, I'm back.  I had to get the Master Schedule.  I'm looking over your life right now and yes, it looks like you're due for another birthday.  Goods days.... bad days.... way off track over here.  A little closer there.  And yes.  Here you are.  Not all bad but yeah, a lot of wasted time, leaving you... right... here.  Yes, confused and discouraged.  And seeking answers.  Yup.  Looking for purpose and joy.  So what do you want to know?


To: God@Heaven.net
FROM: Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
Subject:   Gotta Minute?

God, with all due respect, what do you mean "what do I want to know?"  I need some counsel.  What heavenly and eternal words of wisdom can you impart that will change the trajectory of my life?


To:  Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From:  God@Heaven.net
Subject: Gotta Minute?

Okay.  Here it is.  You're not dead yet.

Love,
God


To: God@Heaven.com
From:  Valri@dumpingmypurse
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Uh... I'm not sure what to say to that.


To Valri@dumpingmypurse.com
From: God@Heaven.net
Subject:  Gotta Minute?

Really??  Did you expect the mountains to crack open and heavenly voices to sing you the answers to the universe?  It's simple, Valri.  And of course, as always, you can take it or leave it.

Thanks for checking in, though.  I invite you to do it more often.  I really love all you guys - more than you know - but y'all do make me laugh.  An eternity of entertainment.

XOXO
God

P.S.  I like your recent FB photo.  I've got it on the refrigerator.

My Own Fred Astair

When Bob and I were first talking about getting married, I had a fantasy of our future together.  My fantasy included three perfectly adjusted, beautiful daughters, happy family, and Bob tap dancing on the kitchen floor.

Well, in spite of me, I now have 4 beautiful, seemingly well adjust girls.  And I believe we all have some measure of happiness most of the time.

And Bob tap dances on the kitchen floor.  And the foyer floor.  And the carpet.

There is something so extraordinary about it.  I listen to the sounds his feet make and marvel.  I sometimes dream I can tap dance.  But he can.  And I so love it.  To me it is like magic.  How can you make your feet move like that?  It is such a joyful form of dance.

Some women dream of candles, wine, and flowers.  Some dream of music and sonnets.  I dream of syncopated rhythms and clicking beats on the floor boards.

I am never more in love with him as I am when he is dancing.

Bank Love

Recently banks seem to be going the extra mile to make us feel comfortable with them again (as if that will ever happen) by trying to be all neighborly.  Following the questionable strategy and success of WalMart, my bank has hired "greeters" for all of their local branches.

It is very weird to walk into the bank toward the teller line and be intercepted by a man in a suit who enthusiastically and somewhat desperately asks: "How are you today?"

"Who, me?  I'm fine".

But he is so earnest that you feel guilty if you don't engage.  Frankly my guilt cup is overflowing so okay,  I'll play.

"And how are you?"

Gratefully he replies, "Great, great.  Thank you so kindly for asking!"  Who says kindly in everyday language anymore? I mean, unless you are saying "would you kindly get out of my way??"  His conversation definitely smells of memorized script.  The kind corporations write to make sure their employees sound natural.  And they never do.  And this guy is really trying.  It's awkward so you hope this is the end of it.

But no.

"Would you like some coffee?"  I notice his stiff arm moves stiffly in the direction of a tray of coffee that has been set up for customers.

"No thank you", says I, "I'm fine".

"How about some water?"

"No I'm good", I say.  "But thanks anyway."

"We have some delicious cookies as well".

I feel like I'm at Costco.

"No really, I'm good.  I just need to make a deposit".

And then I'm off the hook because the next victim just walked in.

I watch this poor guy for the next few minutes.  He is dressed for business but acts as if he hadn't seen me since high school.  I don't greet my own family like this.  It is really awkward to know how to be with my bank greeter.  You don't want to be rude but...  You know what it's like?  It's like when you're at the theatre and the actors come off the stage and pick you out of the audience to interact with.  You have to smile and look like you enjoy the unexpected encounter but you're really thinking "if I wanted to be a part of this play I would have auditioned for it".

I don't need my bank to treat me like a person they'd like to throw a party for.  I don't need coffee or cookies at the bank.  Or water.  I don't need a bank buddy.  I need to make a transaction that I can't do at the ATM outside.

But then it occurs to me that this new "greeter" position at the bank is a post-economic-meltdown created job.  And they are probably judging his performance by how many pots of coffee they need to make during the day.  I do not want to see this young man unemployed.  If a better, less annoying job could have been had, he would have taken it.

And so, I grab a cup of lukewarm coffee and a boring cookie on my way out.  And thank him.  Kindly.

A Haiku (sort of)

new exercise equipment

sits in a corner where dust settles

and my dog
leaves his mark

bob brought cheesecake

Okay - it's not 5-7-5 but I'm a beginner.

It Happens to the Best of Us

I have this friend.  She is younger than me - but again, that isn't so hard to be these days.  Still, she is of a certain age.  She's not a "cougar", but she looks fabulous and she looks young enough to be her daughter's sister rather than her mother.  She takes great care of herself, has good genes, and is just beautiful.  Period.

But today...

Today I saw her at the market - sans makeup and hair and I have to tell you.  She totally looked her age.  

I have never considered myself a petty person, but the sight of her at the check out warmed my heart.  I'm in excellent company.

Stormy Weather

Hmmmm.  Life is funny.  Or not.

So much of what I would typically put down on paper as been obscured of late because of work.  I think all of us have this idea about how our "life plan" is going to work out.  For people my age, we've been driving toward the end zone, navigating the bumps and pitfalls but hopefully, keeping within the width of the road.  However, the epic fail of the economy in 2008 and 2009 threw so many of our plans to the wind that we have had to claw our way back to the road, sweep up the debris, and try to get the car started again.  Even if it only has three wheels left.

I was fortunate.  The crash cost us my well paying job and our savings but in the end, we were blessed (genuinely) with what was happening in Bob's career at the time.

In total, between a job with an ill-fated magazine, I spent two years unemployed before landing at my current position.  And I thought to myself, this is it.  I will be here until retirement.  And my current position, while paying far less than anything I have made in a long while, suits me fine.  The operative word, apparently, being me.

The industry I am currently in is in crisis.  Government funding that sustains it is severely cut and so our little company is evolving.  But it does not have the luxury of a normal evolutionary process - it must take place a warp speed.  I liken it to having to turn an ocean liner 180 degrees on a dime.  And so, everything, and everyone is under the glass.  And this scrutiny adds additional weight to an already stressful situation.  Still, I am grateful for work, and I like the product that I sell.  It is important and it adds value to the industry.

Recently however, I was given, completely out of the blue and with no warning whatsoever, a written warning.  It was the first time I had ever experienced such a thing in my life.  I have sat on the other side of the desk before.  I know the seriousness of such a thing, now in my employee file.  The charges confused me.  They were three one-time incidences that were, at least in my mind, minor and forgettable - certainly not notable.  But here they were - in writing - and I was devastated.  Apart from the blot on my record and the feeling that I am being squeezed out, my feelings were hurt.  Really hurt. I couldn't help but feel "why are they doing this to me?"

So here is what I have learned.  The workplace can be a war zone.  There is no room for feelings on the job.  

In all of this employment turmoil since being laid off from Disney four years ago, I am finally beginning to really understand something about being employed that I believe everyone needs to learn in order to survive unscathed.  We spend so much of our lives in our work that we often define ourselves by what we do.  The is our first mistake,  The second mistake we make - and a much graver one than the first - is believing in what our employers think of us.  Whether wildly successful or just clinging on, we are not who they think we are and we are certainly not who they say we are.  That is not to say that proactive reaction to what they say is not necessary.  It is.  If we want to keep our jobs, we must address what our bosses tell us to address - even if we don't understand or agree.  But to keep grounded during such a time we have to hang on to what is actually true - that being that who we really, truly are can be found in God.  Alone.  And with that unwavering knowledge fueling us we can stay on course, regardless of the storm.

So it appears dark clouds are looming.  I have no idea what is next.  I am working my tail off to do a superlative job, but who knows what decisions have already been made, and for what reasons - regardless of my efforts.  It feels weird.  It is weird.  But as I heard in church this past week, we must be content with much or with little.  God is enough, whatever comes.  That is a promise.

He has not let me down.  Not once.

Terms of Endearment

I am finally getting back to normal after having been stricken with the flu from hell.  I will never go without a flu shot again.  But coming out of the fog for the first time in a week means facing the following:  an inch of dust everywhere, the vacuum is desperately needed for some major work, loads of laundry await, and bathrooms need attention.

So naturally, I wish I had the flu again.

Really, it is now 8:30 p.m. and I have been contemplating "getting started" for the past 12 hours.  But at 6:00 p.m., as I was watching the last minutes of natural light - enough to be able to still call it "day", I stumbled upon a great idea:  Netflix.  What movie had I not seen in a long time that Grace would really like?  Browse, browse, browse and finally: Terms of Endearment.

Oh my gosh, what a perfect movie.  So wonderfully written, directed and acted with such an amazing cast, you absolutely cannot watch that movie and clean at the same time.   So we put it on and I was not able to do anything for two and a half hours.  Sorry, but what can you do?

Grace had never seen it and she was immediately caught up with Deborah Wingers wonderful character.  Personally, I loved Shirley McLaine - I appreciated her performance in a way I couldn't have possibly appreciated it the last time I saw it - about 20 years ago.  And of course, there is Jack.

When Jack Nicholson came on screen my jaw dropped to the floor and I thought "how old is this movie?"  Well guess what?  It is 30 years old!  This was a fact unfathomable to me.  But I had to concede it when I realized that when I first saw this move - in 1983 - I thought Jack was old and out of shape.  I did not swoon.  He was a "bad boy" who never grew up.  Unattractive.  This time however, I thought how young and gorgeous and sexy Jack was -  a real "bad boy".  Extremely attractive.

But I digress.

I sat watching the movie but with one eye on Grace.  I loved seeing her buy in and come to love the characters - knowing full well what was coming.  She was silenced when Shirley McClaine was banging on the nurse's station demanding her daughter get her shot, her eyes welled with tears when Deborah Winger said good-bye to her boys (I can't breathe watching that scene!), and when she finally reachers toward her mother, smiles wistfully, and dies, from next to me I hear audible, wracking, sobs.  But not from Grace.  These from Bob.

I had forgotten.  At a chick flick Bob is certain to be the biggest girl in the room.  He has cried like this at uncountable movies - "Heart and Souls", "Forrest Gump", "The Notebook".  And both Grace and I looked at him with empathy.  He needed a kleenex.  He needed a hug.  It took him very little time to recover and he always laughs at himself afterward but his heart is extremely tender toward such sentimental, heart-tugging movies.  And while many people might think it strange or awkward to be in the presence of a man who cannot control the flood of emotions within, I see his tenderness in very different terms.  In fact, you might call it terms of endearment .

(You knew that was coming...)