Ok, ok, I get it. You people are fed up with George W. Bush. Ready for him to move on, get out. It's no secret. You want change. McCain change or Obama change.
We must remember what our children are taking from this whole experience, however. Though they may not have an opinion of what is going on with our relationships abroad and at home, with our finicky economy, or why we're vacationing...at home! this year so Daddy doesn't blow a gasket from the gas prices, nor even understand why, they are watching how we react to the news.
A child sees how we talk to and about their teachers, our employers, our police officers and doctors and about our government leaders. "Daddy says he's stupid" is what they play in their mind when an image of authority comes up. Later at his desk in school, Billy hears that the teacher is stupid and begins to embody the sentiment. Now the teacher's lessons and discipline are taken lightly and the child leaves the school year jaded and cynical.
No way for a child to be. We are to teach them to respect the authority simply because they have a position of authority. We are to respect them. Not agree with all that they do, or add them as Facebook friends, necessarily, but to treat them with a dignity that station deserves. When a child sees us respecting our police officers, teachers, pastors and president, they will ultimately respect us as parents and lead to a safer, more peaceful community and country.
If George Bush is making his address, listen to it. Turn down the radio and don't answer the phone. Listen to his words, and consider what our leader is telling us. Talk about what he communicated and tell your child what you agree with and what you disagree with.
Let him know what you think this country may need and also what we have that is wonderful.
And then, when you tell Billy to pick up the livingroom, he will learn to see you as a leader as well, respecting you even when he's doing a task he'd rather not.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
"What does 'islands in the stream' mean?"
"Dos islas, en el río. Like two people who love each other. They will never part. Got it?"
I'm talking to Alberto, a construction worker from Honduras. It's 98 degrees in Raleigh and I'm the driver of Alberto's lunch truck. He chooses a Pepsi and a bag of peanuts, tells me about his weekend in English and moves on.
"I'll-see-you-to-mor-row" he calculates and gives a wave. Alberto is enthusiastically teaching himself English by way of Kenny Rogers, Dolly Partin and Johnny Cash and most days has an obscure lyric to double check with me.
I am January. I'm 26. I can help Alberto because I'm bilingual and even have a degree in Spanish. Too bad that teaching in a school just isn't for me. I went the corporate route and felt the same way, though. I think it's the call of the entrepreneur and artist.
I made a decision to step down from any corporate job three years ago. Because of this, I've had many odd jobs and some pretty funny stories to tell about them. I've been a nanny to five wonderful kids and their parents, a court interpreter, a personal cook, a journalist, a private teacher, a fitness trainer and wedding planner.
I've also been a driver of a truck that serves construction site employees. I drove a 'roach coach.' It was this job, though that brought me closer to God. What I came to find was that there are still so many people who are seeking compassion, direction and hope, and who don't know Jesus.
It may have been the sheer number of people that I came in contact with, or the vastly different personalities of the boss and I. Or it could have been my realization that while I was standing there next to that lunch truck in the middle of a windy, dusty, dirt lot was that I probably did not embody that which my parents had in mind for their daughter. At least professionally. I made it my mission to regard my position with pride and to be a person whom God can use to affect the lives of those around me. I loved [most] every minute of it. Then I got fired. One day I'll recall for you the characters and relationships of this story. On the route of lunch truck girl.
"Dos islas, en el río. Like two people who love each other. They will never part. Got it?"
I'm talking to Alberto, a construction worker from Honduras. It's 98 degrees in Raleigh and I'm the driver of Alberto's lunch truck. He chooses a Pepsi and a bag of peanuts, tells me about his weekend in English and moves on.
"I'll-see-you-to-mor-row" he calculates and gives a wave. Alberto is enthusiastically teaching himself English by way of Kenny Rogers, Dolly Partin and Johnny Cash and most days has an obscure lyric to double check with me.
I am January. I'm 26. I can help Alberto because I'm bilingual and even have a degree in Spanish. Too bad that teaching in a school just isn't for me. I went the corporate route and felt the same way, though. I think it's the call of the entrepreneur and artist.
I made a decision to step down from any corporate job three years ago. Because of this, I've had many odd jobs and some pretty funny stories to tell about them. I've been a nanny to five wonderful kids and their parents, a court interpreter, a personal cook, a journalist, a private teacher, a fitness trainer and wedding planner.
I've also been a driver of a truck that serves construction site employees. I drove a 'roach coach.' It was this job, though that brought me closer to God. What I came to find was that there are still so many people who are seeking compassion, direction and hope, and who don't know Jesus.
It may have been the sheer number of people that I came in contact with, or the vastly different personalities of the boss and I. Or it could have been my realization that while I was standing there next to that lunch truck in the middle of a windy, dusty, dirt lot was that I probably did not embody that which my parents had in mind for their daughter. At least professionally. I made it my mission to regard my position with pride and to be a person whom God can use to affect the lives of those around me. I loved [most] every minute of it. Then I got fired. One day I'll recall for you the characters and relationships of this story. On the route of lunch truck girl.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008.
Names have been changed for privacy.
If there was only one message that I could tell you, it would be that Jesus is Lord, and that I strive to live each of my days as if I were Him. I would also have to mention that I am a sinner, and that I cannot wash it off of me myself. I find that I am driven daily to connect those in my world with God with a hunger that cannot be vanquished. It is an ever-present itch to show others what a life with faith can do to you, how prayer works in every aspect of this life, and what health really should mean.
I used to be a part of a close-knit business group where 98% of the room at any one setting believed in Jesus. I do not associate with this group any longer and have filled my time with other activities--through which I have found that there are still so many people in this world still do not know Jesus. I enjoy being around those who are unchurched and unbelieveing because I can introduce the concepts of faith and a Father in so many real-life instances.
I connect with the superhero icon so much, I think, because I possess a very deep need to bring people closer to God. Which doesn't always go over so well.Today I got fired from my job.
For whatever surface reasons that motivated my termination, I really think that Henry, the lunch truck proprietor of 15 years, really just didn't want me shaking things up anymore. I was certainly surprised when I took the job of a lunch truck sales girl as an interim source of income after having left a nannying job, though, and even more surprised that I'd kept it for as long as I did, 3 months. But I had such a sense of duty about that job.
Even though Henry was old, grumpy and sort of scary, the trucks were rickety and the food was questionable at times, I threw my heart into it because of the type of influence that I wielded once I saw that my boss, each of my coworkers and the construction worker clientele each had certain struggles and pain in their life that I could pray for and encourage them in. Eventually, telling them about who Jesus is.
Henry's rented space reminds one of a dungeon or a tomb. Old tires, jackets from 1997, boxes of coffee cups still half-full, dirty rags and pallets of Coke and Pepsi product that had never really been counted zig-zagged through the dark warehouse, leading to a broken-down bathroom littered with used razor blades and sorely misplaced bottles of mustard and mayonnaise. A rickety garage door that lets light in in the mornings was never opened by him as he sat at his computer in the morning, smoking cigarettes, us loading our trucks for another day out.Behind the door of the office, typing into his computer he would mutter to himself, "what the fuck is this shit...this shit's not worth a goddamn...what a bitch..." while he inputted the inventory sheets and vendor invoices.
In the afternoons, he tuned in to documentary shows that covered serial killers, insane killers, how-to forensics and killers' case updates.He would often joke about wanting to kill one of us and I would often wonder if he actually did fantasize about it, and if he would really try it. Once I overheard him on the phone to his wife, "let's rent a movie tonight...how about one where a guy kills his wife and gets away with it!!...ok...love you too, honey." I was pretty quiet for a moment or two after that.
I tried to look for more signs to either ease my thoughts about this or confirm them. I ended up believing that yes, it was possible for him to want to bury someone behind the warehouse, but that I was not to fear him. I preferred to be a strong and positive influence in the staff to counter any demons that may be within him, eventually influencing him into believing in God.
Henry ran his business under the table and always sought more ways to avoid a paper trail of any kind. This is why he could be so generous, because he didn't pay many of the taxes that the government says that he should. I saw my pay increase at a rate of $25 per week since I'd begun three months earlier. The raises never seemed right though, and I often would ask him about them.We occasionally talked of me taking over the company.
Henry had been looking for someone to allow him eventually retire. I seemed like the perfect candidate because I was excited about the job and a quick learn in business. Something about the way I related to Henry, though, did not work. At first, when he saw that I was excited about the job and that I could bring in the money, I was given free reign that allowed me to change the criminal shows to something positive like the Food Network. I was able to request virtually any item for the trucks like cigarettes and Snickers bars and Henry would be on the phone to a vendor the same day to order it. I could feel the business becoming more prosperous with my help, and it energized the crew.
Eventually, amid all of the changes that we were making and all of the new systems that we were imparting together, I approached Henry with a schedule change."Henry, I love working here. I need to supplement my income, though, and would like to work for you Monday through Thursday so that I can be an executive assistant on Fridays. I understand that I'll take a pay cut, but this is important to me." Henry had never had an employee tell him that before.
"I don't know what to tell you, January," he said. "I need someone to work five days a week." I asked if he would be able to keep me on for the shortened schedule, to which he reluctantly accepted. The following Thursday, today, I was told not to come back on Monday. "I need someone to work five days."
Why he changed his mind I'll never know. On a subconscious level, though, I think Henry saw my desires to open up the office, let it air out and confront unproductive systems as not helping him accomplish his goals, whatever they really were.
I sometimes wish that I was the type to come in to a job, shut up, put my head down, get to work and not ask questions. I realize that my desire to see people encouraged, succeeding and healthy causes me to voice my opinion, and that that makes some people uncomfortable. I am someone who allows Jesus's acceptance, vulnerability and great faith to show, and I think that it was very threatening to Henry.
Ok, so I'm out of a job. I'm not going to miss the trucks that barely work. Or the mud that I slip in when it rains during the day. Or the dingy way Henry keeps his shop. I am sad that I won't be there to ask about Carrie's husband who is battling lung cancer, eventually praying with her. I won't be there to show Jessica that it's ok to look attractive and put together and to lose extra weight without being a flirt. I want to encourage Jaimie, a recent university grad, to grow into a self-respecting woman, not a scared, victim-minded single girl.
I know that I will carry this burden where ever I go. There will be other Henrys, and Carries and Jaimies. I hope that my example was that of a girl who knows of God's mercy and protection, and that it's ok to seek Him and invite Him into our lives.
Names have been changed for privacy.
If there was only one message that I could tell you, it would be that Jesus is Lord, and that I strive to live each of my days as if I were Him. I would also have to mention that I am a sinner, and that I cannot wash it off of me myself. I find that I am driven daily to connect those in my world with God with a hunger that cannot be vanquished. It is an ever-present itch to show others what a life with faith can do to you, how prayer works in every aspect of this life, and what health really should mean.
I used to be a part of a close-knit business group where 98% of the room at any one setting believed in Jesus. I do not associate with this group any longer and have filled my time with other activities--through which I have found that there are still so many people in this world still do not know Jesus. I enjoy being around those who are unchurched and unbelieveing because I can introduce the concepts of faith and a Father in so many real-life instances.
I connect with the superhero icon so much, I think, because I possess a very deep need to bring people closer to God. Which doesn't always go over so well.Today I got fired from my job.
For whatever surface reasons that motivated my termination, I really think that Henry, the lunch truck proprietor of 15 years, really just didn't want me shaking things up anymore. I was certainly surprised when I took the job of a lunch truck sales girl as an interim source of income after having left a nannying job, though, and even more surprised that I'd kept it for as long as I did, 3 months. But I had such a sense of duty about that job.
Even though Henry was old, grumpy and sort of scary, the trucks were rickety and the food was questionable at times, I threw my heart into it because of the type of influence that I wielded once I saw that my boss, each of my coworkers and the construction worker clientele each had certain struggles and pain in their life that I could pray for and encourage them in. Eventually, telling them about who Jesus is.
Henry's rented space reminds one of a dungeon or a tomb. Old tires, jackets from 1997, boxes of coffee cups still half-full, dirty rags and pallets of Coke and Pepsi product that had never really been counted zig-zagged through the dark warehouse, leading to a broken-down bathroom littered with used razor blades and sorely misplaced bottles of mustard and mayonnaise. A rickety garage door that lets light in in the mornings was never opened by him as he sat at his computer in the morning, smoking cigarettes, us loading our trucks for another day out.Behind the door of the office, typing into his computer he would mutter to himself, "what the fuck is this shit...this shit's not worth a goddamn...what a bitch..." while he inputted the inventory sheets and vendor invoices.
In the afternoons, he tuned in to documentary shows that covered serial killers, insane killers, how-to forensics and killers' case updates.He would often joke about wanting to kill one of us and I would often wonder if he actually did fantasize about it, and if he would really try it. Once I overheard him on the phone to his wife, "let's rent a movie tonight...how about one where a guy kills his wife and gets away with it!!...ok...love you too, honey." I was pretty quiet for a moment or two after that.
I tried to look for more signs to either ease my thoughts about this or confirm them. I ended up believing that yes, it was possible for him to want to bury someone behind the warehouse, but that I was not to fear him. I preferred to be a strong and positive influence in the staff to counter any demons that may be within him, eventually influencing him into believing in God.
Henry ran his business under the table and always sought more ways to avoid a paper trail of any kind. This is why he could be so generous, because he didn't pay many of the taxes that the government says that he should. I saw my pay increase at a rate of $25 per week since I'd begun three months earlier. The raises never seemed right though, and I often would ask him about them.We occasionally talked of me taking over the company.
Henry had been looking for someone to allow him eventually retire. I seemed like the perfect candidate because I was excited about the job and a quick learn in business. Something about the way I related to Henry, though, did not work. At first, when he saw that I was excited about the job and that I could bring in the money, I was given free reign that allowed me to change the criminal shows to something positive like the Food Network. I was able to request virtually any item for the trucks like cigarettes and Snickers bars and Henry would be on the phone to a vendor the same day to order it. I could feel the business becoming more prosperous with my help, and it energized the crew.
Eventually, amid all of the changes that we were making and all of the new systems that we were imparting together, I approached Henry with a schedule change."Henry, I love working here. I need to supplement my income, though, and would like to work for you Monday through Thursday so that I can be an executive assistant on Fridays. I understand that I'll take a pay cut, but this is important to me." Henry had never had an employee tell him that before.
"I don't know what to tell you, January," he said. "I need someone to work five days a week." I asked if he would be able to keep me on for the shortened schedule, to which he reluctantly accepted. The following Thursday, today, I was told not to come back on Monday. "I need someone to work five days."
Why he changed his mind I'll never know. On a subconscious level, though, I think Henry saw my desires to open up the office, let it air out and confront unproductive systems as not helping him accomplish his goals, whatever they really were.
I sometimes wish that I was the type to come in to a job, shut up, put my head down, get to work and not ask questions. I realize that my desire to see people encouraged, succeeding and healthy causes me to voice my opinion, and that that makes some people uncomfortable. I am someone who allows Jesus's acceptance, vulnerability and great faith to show, and I think that it was very threatening to Henry.
Ok, so I'm out of a job. I'm not going to miss the trucks that barely work. Or the mud that I slip in when it rains during the day. Or the dingy way Henry keeps his shop. I am sad that I won't be there to ask about Carrie's husband who is battling lung cancer, eventually praying with her. I won't be there to show Jessica that it's ok to look attractive and put together and to lose extra weight without being a flirt. I want to encourage Jaimie, a recent university grad, to grow into a self-respecting woman, not a scared, victim-minded single girl.
I know that I will carry this burden where ever I go. There will be other Henrys, and Carries and Jaimies. I hope that my example was that of a girl who knows of God's mercy and protection, and that it's ok to seek Him and invite Him into our lives.
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