12 December 2011 | 10:53 AM

If I Could Name Streets…

Day’s Verse:
Here’s what I propose: ‘Don’t hit back at all.’ If someone strikes you, stand there and take it. If someone drags you into court and sues for the shirt off your back, giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. And if someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more tit-for-tat stuff. Live generously.
Matthew 5:39-42

This week I am going to Benton City for work. As I was looking at the map of the town, a series of their street names made me smile.


View Larger Map

I can hardly wait to visit Dusty, Windy, Snowy, Rainy, Lightning, Thunder, Sandy, and Breezy Lanes. On the other hand, I’m really hoping those aren’t indicative of typical conditions out there — I’m hoping to visit Sunny Lane and Dry Lane. Definitely no Snowy Lane on this trip.

This is the last training on my schedule until March. The grant concludes this coming March, meaning that’s the end of my job. Really this week is the end, and we just have a little bit of cleanup in the spring.

I’m going to be spending some time assessing my situation and figuring out what my future will look like, at least as much as a person can plan for the future. I can already tell it’s not going to be what I would’ve guessed even a month ago.

PS – To celebrate the end of my BAW trainings, I’m seriously considering getting this frame for my race bike. Zoom zoom.



9 December 2011 | 02:56 PM

Crazy as Hamsters in Space

Day’s Verse:
God spoke: “Earth, green up! Grow all varieties of seed-bearing plants, every sort of fruit-bearing tree.”
And there it was.

Genesis 1:11

Exhibit A: My pants and jacket, both muddy. Not pictured: The splats of mud on glasses, in hair, etc. Yes, I am wearing Smartwool socks, since you ask. They are the best ever.
Exhibit A: Muddy Pants & Jacket

Exhibit B: My gloves and shovel handle. The entire handle looked like this from end to end.
Exhibit B: Muddy Shovel & Gloves

And the conclusion?
Exhibit C: Plants in Rain Garden!
Finally, a month after getting our rain garden plants, I started planting some of them. I got 8 out of 16 in the ground today.

I’m not very good with plants generally, but I was very careful to follow the planting directions: For each plant, I dug a nice big hole, built a mound, spread the root ball (as best I could; many of the pots were partially frozen) around the mound, filled in the hole with the remaining dirt, and then built a little berm around each one to help retain water. I did not water copiously as directed, because there was standing water where I was planting and the ground was saturated already. I also used the native soil from the pot first, and then filled in with our rain garden soil.

I hope it wasn’t too late in the year to plant. They should get plenty of water the rest of the winter, anyway. I hope the plants survive. I feel oddly attached to those scrawny, leafless little twigs.



4 December 2011 | 07:41 PM

Finding Loveliness

Day’s Verse:
“You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst.”
Matthew 5:43-44

There’s something about this time of year: The lights, the sparkle, the shine; the bold reds and greens and golds contrasting against each other; something that makes me remember that I love photography. That, combined with my awareness that some folks at church have been playing with new cameras and lenses, have let me hear again the soft, insistent call of my digital SLR. It’s nothing fancy, and the lens isn’t anything to write home about, but it captures beauty.

I want to see beauty in my life. It’s easy to get caught in the downward pull of the mundane, to glance over or through those many small moments. Remember the opening of Joe vs. the Volcano?

(Yep, the quality is terrible and it has Chinese subtitles — don’t ask where it came from.)

Lately I’ve allowed myself to put my head down and just trudge. Picking up my camera lets me find the loveliness everywhere I go. It isn’t always conventionally pretty or pleasing to the eye, but we live in a world where even broken glass glitters in the sun. Here’s what I saw today.

Ribbons & Bells

Christmas Decorations 1

Ribbons & Lights 2



3 December 2011 | 07:27 AM

Life is the Tumbler

Day’s Verse:
If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine!
Matthew 5:15-ish

My friend Rachel has a rock polisher, and as you may recall, for a while we had an overabundance of rocks in our driveway. It seemed like a natural fit. We knew that polishing wasn’t exactly a viable way of disposing of a driveway full of drain rock, but the supply did give us lots of choices, and it made the pile feel useful until we got rid of it.

When I asked Rachel if we could use her rock polisher, she said, “Sure, it’ll take a month,” and I think I managed to hide my astonishment when I replied, “OK!” I had envisioned, oh, a couple hours’ worth of work, maybe rubbing the rocks with some kind of special sandpaper or something.

Wrong.

What I didn’t realize is that rock polishing is essentially speeded-up erosion. Of course, speeded-up is in the eye of the beholder: Instead of taking thousands of years to smooth out a rock, it took about 6 weeks.

Turns out you pick your rocks, wash them well, and then put them in this cylindrical rubber container, the tumbler, along with water and some special rock-polishing powder. Then you place the tumbler horizontally on a roller, and let it roll for a week. The next week, you take the rocks out, wash away that first powder slurry, and then put the rocks back in with more water and a slightly finer powder, and roll it for another week. You repeat this four times. At the end, you have smooth, shiny rocks.

Polished Rocks

I found it fascinating to watch the transformation from ho-hum drain rock, which we plucked almost at random out of a huge pile of similar stones, into something unique and beautiful. At the same time, it didn’t inherently change the nature of the rocks: Granite remained granite, quartz remained quartz. Metamorphic rock didn’t change into sedimentary rock.

No, the rocks’ basic nature remained the same, but the polishing brought out facets of that nature that remained hidden in the unpolished form. One rock revealed itself to have beautiful gold flecks in it, which you can only see at certain angles. Many of them had a variety of similar shades folded and woven together that make them fascinating to look at. Others remained plain to look at, but took on an exceptionally pleasing shape and texture.

Naturally, as Rachel and I rinsed and dried the polished rocks, we talked about the philosophical implications. We’re the rocks, which God has picked for some reason. He sees something in us, something beneath our dirty dull exteriors. Life is the polisher, and all the things that happen in life is the polishing material. This kind of transformation doesn’t take place quickly, or easily. One of the rocks we put in came out as two smaller rocks, broken apart by the tumbling. It took time, patience, and effort to reveal the depth and beauty in the rocks.

I hope that one day I, too, will come from the tumbler with my hidden beauty revealed. Until then, it’s back to the tumbler.



25 November 2011 | 08:36 AM

Thanksgiving Funeral

Day’s Verse:
The last enemy that will be abolished is death.
1 Cor 15:26

Gosh, what to say. It’s been a challenging week.

On Tuesday morning, Dad and I flew down to California for my cousin Valerie’s funeral. Click beneath the fold for more details. Suffice it to say we spent hours creeping through L.A. traffic in order to gather with family from all corners of the country and cry together over the pain of the loss of my cousin. It was exhausting and very, very sad. I am deeply saddened that I will never know Valerie better. It was hard to spend Thanksgiving time with family, but for the worst possible reason. Checkers kept asking us “Are you in town for Thanksgiving?” and we never had a good answer.

Continue Reading



20 November 2011 | 09:13 PM

Life After NaNoWriMo

Day’s Verse:
Even when the way goes through Death Valley,
I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.

Psalm 23:4

I haven’t said a peep about life all month, thanks to NaNoWriMo. Let’s stick with NaNo for a moment: On November 18, I hit my 50,000 word goal and, incidentally, wrapped the story up. That said, I feel that it’s my best novel yet, and the first one I actually care about enough to want to improve. As I wrote, I left a number of inconsistencies and unexplored avenues open that I would like to correct or expand upon.

To this end, I have taken the unprecedented step of actually printing and re-reading the tunnel novel, something I have never done with one of my novels before. Typically I believe in a scorched earth, do-it-and-don’t-look-back policy for National Novel Writing Month efforts. In fact, most of them embarrass me deeply, and I wouldn’t mind if they vanished forever. I leave them up on and publicly available on my blog to keep me humble.

This one I really invested in the characters; they feel like real people to me, although unlike in previous NaNos, I didn’t base them on anybody I knew. These people are truly fictitious, although they definitely draw characteristics from people I know. I care about them, what they think and feel, and I want to do right by them and tell their stories the best I can. This was a first attempt, and I plan on cleaning it up significantly before I post the PDF online. For the remainder of the month, I will be editing and revising the story.

For those of you who haven’t read it but are interested in doing so, contact me and I will give you access to the Google Doc version that’s much more reader-friendly than the daily blog posts.

November has been a difficult month in many other personal ways. First and foremost, on Monday, November 14, we found out that my cousin Valerie had passed away unexpectedly. This came completely out of the blue for us, and kicked off one of the hardest weeks I’ve had in a very long time. I didn’t know Valerie very well, but now I never will. Her choice breaks my heart, and I’ve spent a good amount of time after finding out about her choice red-nosed and puffy-eyed.

Within two hours of learning about Valerie’s passing, I was on the road to Goldendale to teach a Train the Teacher workshop. I spent almost three hours stopped, waiting in Snoqualmie Pass; while waiting, three truckers helped me put the chains on my car. Six and a half hours after leaving my house, I arrived, only three hours overdue. I taught the Goldendale training, which was the worst I’ve had in a while, for a variety of reasons. It couldn’t end soon enough for me. On Wednesday I drove home the southern route, through the Gorge, which had snow and slush on the ground to within 30 miles of Portland. That commute home took another six hours.

The rest of the month has involved a heavy concentration of Train the Trainer work. I taught in Mt. Vernon the first week, Pateros the second week, and Goldendale the third week. This coming week I have off, which is good because we’re flying down to LA for Valerie’s funeral. The following week I teach in Vancouver, WA; then, two more weeks in a row, Castle Rock and Kiona-Benton (near Tri-Cities). So I will have taught 6 out of 7 weeks from the end of October through mid-December.

Each training I refine what I do and say, and I have become very comfortable with doing the trainings, so I no longer get nervous or stressed beforehand. I’m confident that I can teach them, and fairly confident in the outcome. But each training is hours of preparation and packing, more hours driving, and hours of high-energy work. I come home exhausted. Have I just forgotten what it feels like to work a regular job, or is this harder than my previous experience? I don’t want to complain to people that I’m tired from my work, because mostly they look at me and say, “Um, yes, that’s what it feels like to have a job.” But it’s hard, and I come home really tired.

Having teaching work is generally good: I’m happy to have work, to earn money. After that last training in mid-December, I don’t have any work scheduled for months; and the grant (and my job) end March, 2012. The back-to-back trainings, however, start to wear on me. I’m alone in very remote parts of the state, tiny towns with nothing out there. I get lonely and depressed, especially the second night in the hotel room by myself. I don’t have a computer or smartphone, and start feeling deeply disconnected with my Internet brain eliminated. I read books and take hot baths, but I can’t ride out on dark, unfamiliar country roads by myself — that’s a recipe for disaster. I’m crazy, but not stupid.

Meanwhile, every weekend Team Group Health has been holding team rides, which all newbies are strongly encouraged to attend. I go to every ride I can, which means definitely Saturday morning, and Sunday morning if we don’t have church. That happens once or twice a month. Counting forward, we only have about 3 months until the first road race. I have so much to learn in those months, not to mention fitness to build, I’m excited and intimidated at the same time. I’m starting to learn teammates’ names, but there are 80+ members, and I don’t think I’ve even met all of them, and even the names of people I have met elude me frequently. I enjoy the team rides, but they’re also a lot of new information coming at us fast.

In short (I know, too late!), to be completely honest, it’s been a difficult month for me. Christmas is coming and I’m already feeling stressed at not having presents for people I love (or have to give presents to for other reasons).

I’d love to end this on a happy note, so here’s a picture for you. Not of puppies, sadly, but of the reorganization I did in my office. The back story first: I really hate running on tracks, and I’ve avoided bike trainers as essentially a track for bicyclists. However, people who know these things strictly ordered me to obtain a trainer so I could get ready for racing. As you wish.
Trainer
It’s in my office so I can watch movies and/or listen to music on my computer while riding.



18 November 2011 | 12:26 PM

NaNoWriMo: Day 18, The End

Day’s Verse:
The more words that are spoken, the more smoke there is in the air. And who is any better off? And who knows what’s best for us as we live out our meager smoke-and-shadow lives? And who can tell any of us the next chapter of our lives?
Ecclesiastes 6:11-12

This post is just shy of 11,000 words long. Brace yourselves.

Friday, July 20, 4:00 pm

Jon

Well, fuck. I told Carl I didn’t intend to die in here, and now Dan has as much as told me that I am going to die no matter what I do. That is just wrong. I didn’t get up this morning planning on dying. I would have done everything differently. God, I wouldn’t have gone to work today at all! Then I wouldn’t be here, and none of this would have happened, and I’d have who knows how long with my wife and kids.

I can’t stop thinking about them now. Are they okay? Were they somewhere safe when the earthquake hit? Are they together and secure now? Can they get food and water? Are they away from downed power lines, safe from who knows what else? Is Jean wondering about me, too? I left as usual, gave her a perfunctory peck on the cheek, really just a show for the kids, who were sitting at the breakfast table texting or whatever they do all day on their damn phones. They sure don’t use them for phone calls, that’s all I know. Thousands of text messages a month, and sometimes less than 100 minutes of actual calls.

Oh, God, I haven’t prayed in forever, but if you exist, if you’re out there…keep them safe. I don’t expect to come through this, I won’t even ask for that, because you’re probably not even real and I’m just talking to myself. But if you are real, take care of my family.

“Jon? What do you think?” Dan, patiently squatting next to my car, breaks me from my reverie. “What’re you thinking?”

He doesn’t actually mean what was I thinking; he means “Have you decided whether I dig you out or not?” I have decided, and he’s going to think it’s the wrong call, but I cannot remain here like this, just waiting to die.

“Dig me out, Dan. I can’t stay here.”

“You know what that could mean.”

“I know. Just do it.”

He looks into my eyes, and whatever he sees there convinces him. With a firm nod, he stands up, strips off this coat and steps out of my field of view, presumably to lay it across his backpack, which is somewhere in the vicinity of the back of my car. Continue Reading