Going in Circles

This will be my last work day of 2010…relatively speaking. My duties in the Conference Office will be put on hold for a few days as I exchange one boss for another. I already got a taste of it yesterday evening when I was called into service under false pretense by my wife. She had me drop her off at the Fashion Mall of Scottsdale, a den of iniquity if ever there was one, after having enjoyed a pleasant time at a vegan restaurant in the seedy side of Scottsdale (yes, there is a seedy side in Scottsdale). I had a surprisingly delicious bowl of vegan menudo—yes, it was delicious menudo. I will probably go back and visit this place again. But I digress….

I returned to work with the instructions that I should expect a phone call later on in the day to pick her up. I was happy to do this, although the trip back entailed a significant amount of city driving. It was worth it if it meant I would not have to engage in the pointless task of shopping. Yes, shopping. I understand the need for buying. As painful as it is, I comprehend the importance of purchasing items required for specific reasons related to family, friends, and home maintenance. But shopping? People who shop are like people who play with their food. They are at the table but they seldom take a bite and thus take hours to eat a plate of food that should otherwise take ten minutes to consume. Sometimes they do not eat at all! What’s the point! If you sit at the table—eat! But I digress, again….

I got the phone call at about 6:30 p.m. By then I had already called it quits at work and was in my Prius heading to the mall. Penny, my wonderful and beautiful wife of over 30 years, instructed me to pick her up at the Nordstrom’s entrance on the side of the parking structure. I imagined the exercise would be simple enough. I called Penny letting her know, as requested, that I was close to arriving. No response. I called again. No response. I drove to the entrance and called again. No response again! My stress level was beginning to rise with every trip around the block and corresponding phone call without response. After what seemed like my Jericho-like seventh trip around Nordstrom’s I was finally able to connect with Penny, who had apparently left her phone at one of the stores where she had been earlier in the evening (a very rare and uncharacteristic behavior for Penny….I sense a little sarcasm emanating).

By the time I saw Penny walking towards the car while carrying the spoils of her shopping and talking with me on the phone about one more stop she just had to make before returning home I knew the trap had been set and had been sprung in one graceful swoop. I had been hoodwinked! Bamboozled! Bait and switched! I had been led like a lemming to the precipice—like a bull to the slaughterhouse! It was too late to escape—to late to feign a bad mobile phone connection.

Three hours and a blur of stores and malls later I arrived at home exhausted and emotionally drained by the encounters with the hordes of shoppers, some with their out-of-control cretins in tow wreaking havoc in their wake. Oh the humanity! I am alive today—a miracle in itself. Only two more days remain before the holiday-induced frenzy and fanfare around me will end…until next year. Bah, humbug!

Pre-Holiday Reflections

It is Tuesday afternoon and I am almost alone in the Conference Office. Someone is in the Business Office. I think Florence is working in the Community Service Department. Oh yeah, the Books Store is open for another half hour. But that’s it! So I am blogging since I have not been at it for a few days.

Penny is in town, but she’s out exploring the shopping establishments in the Scottsdale area. That’s a lot of shopping establishments! But she seems to be enjoying the experience. I have been sensing my wallet heating up spontaneously; perhaps due to its close relationship to a paternal twin credit card Penny has in her possession. I fear for my financial future, although the economy is being stimulated directly by my wife’s holiday economic endeavors.

I will be headed back to California tomorrow, or Thursday at the latest, to spend Christmas and New Year’s Day with the family. I look back and realize I have been here half a year already. That is unbelievable! I will spend some moments during my week off in serious reflection. I wonder what, if any, difference I am making. I wonder is the system can be saved. I wonder if the necessary chaged can be evoked with the present leadership in place. I wonder if it worth rescuing as it presently exists. I wonder if God brought me here. I wonder if He can make something extraordinary happen with such an ordinary person leading the charge.

The funny thing is that I know the answer to all these questions in the part of my heart that resonates with faith and hope. But the part of me that sees things from a different perspective cannot help but wonder how God is going to accomplish what He chooses to accomplish. I can’t help but wonder if God and I are on the same page. Yet at the same time, I do not see myself doing anything else! The Kingdom of God belongs to the little ones. Someone has to take the hits for those who don’t know any better.

This last week I shared glimpses of my life with my co-workers during our morning staff devotional time. I was in charge last week. My basic premise was that we can’t choose most of our lives’ experiences—where, when, to whom, why, or the circumstances surrounding our birth. It only gets worse after that. We are who we are due in large part to events over which we had little say. But, more powerful than the “we are” life commandments, are the “you are” declarations about us from God, through Christ. He makes declarations about who we are, not in spite but, because of who we are! His “you are” statements trump the “we are” life commandments we pick up along the way. The difference is made by the “I Am” statements of Jesus. His “you are” statements negate the “we are” statements because of His “I AM” statements. Was that simple enough? I guess you had to be there.

Which is exactly the point—here I am. Because of who I am as a result of my life, I am here to become what God has envisioned for me in His gracious heart. Wherever I am—I am!

Simple Joys

Last night I visited the Mesa Palms SDA Church to take in a Christmas play presented by the eight students at the Red Rock SDA School housed in the local church. It was an event filled with all the unexpected and unprepared for twists and turns which children’s choir directors dread, yet the very same events that make children’s programs of any kind memorable and fascinating.

First, I must say that the kids sounded great considering they were such a small contingent of singers. There was significant doubling up of speaking parts which required quick changes of accessories. I am not sure the sound was all theirs, since I can almost say with certainty that I heard a professional sounding adult voice behind the childlike sounds emanating from the visible singers. Regardless, they did a fine job.

Yes, there were forgotten lines, exploding and malfunctioning props, and even exchanged lines between the teacher and her son at a critical junction of the play which brought the production to a dramatic pause, as if the child was telling his mom, “How dare you take my lines, I refuse to say my next line until you fix it!” She did. The teacher calmly went back into the script and recited the correct line leading into his rehearsed response. Classic! The point of all this imperfection is that it didn’t matter.

This was not a professional performance at the Pantages Theater. The actors were not paid. There was no director other than the teacher who was also an actor in the play. It was done for the joy of it…and it showed. Parents, grandparents, friends and family clapped and smiled every time the group sang a song. And after the performance, they got together for refreshments. I can almost imagine God smiling down at this unadulterated simple gift offered up by His kids. Not a bad evening, even for a Grinch! May we all have a moment of childlike joy every day of our life

Bah Humbug!

Christmas is in the air. Lights are glimmering like fireflies in formation on the eves of festive homes lit up for the season. Malls are brimming with people who are rushing to and fro like blood corpuscles on an adrenaline-generated mission. Christmas tunes are blaring endlessly in competing cacophonies of reindeers, snowmen, and sleigh bells drowning out the silent nights. I have two words for you, “Bah Humbug!”

I am wearing my Grinch neck-tie today in my no-so-silent protest against the fever pitched pace of the season. Give me a quiet evening by a fireplace listening to the giggles and mischievous murmurings of pint-sized little ones who still have not bought in to the mercenary worldview that joy is measured in the number of toys under the tree. I have two words for you again, “Bah Humbug!!”

I am compelled to decorate my genuine artificial Bonsai Tree behind my desk with the Christmas cards sent by well-meaning friends and colleagues to the office and some gifted Christmas-related tree hangings. It’s a weak attempt of propping up my negative propensity towards anything festivities associated with the season. “Bah Humbug!”

I am trying, mind you. I go to sleep to the sound of Christmas carols sung by an array of artists, foreign and domestic. I attended a church Christmas play about a Bethlehem innkeeper and his daughter and their apocryphal tale. I will be attending a Christmas concert tonight in Mesa and tomorrow I will sit down for another helping of Christmas music at the TCE Christmas concert, here is Scottsdale. Aaaaargh! How many days remain ‘til December 26?

At some point before my days are done perhaps there will be a magical and transcendent moment that will finally melt the Ebenezer-like heart. I will continue to seek that epiphany in the rare quiet moments of this time of year. Until then, I got two words for you--- “Merry Christmas.”

Translation Needed

I was tired when I got to work today. I am not sure if it is old age or if I am simply getting older—either way, I am feeling old.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I spent the better part of the last three days interacting, eating, and speaking for a group of about 100 Pathfinders from the east side of Phoenix. They were made up of young kids belonging to three main Spanish churches: Mesa, Phoenix Central and Gilbert (I am guessing the last one). They each had their own nickname, which I can’t remember either.

What I do remember is that Penny was cold most of the time and there was no sound system. I also know that I enjoyed myself, and ate a lot, although I can’t help but wonder where all the youth speakers are. It seems a bit sad to me that the only speaker they can find is 20 years removed from his last year as a “youth” by any stretch of the imagination or policy definition.

Regardless, I had a blast. The kids were courteous and receptive. I even climbed the hills with the lion’s share of the campers on Sabbath afternoon and had the Sabbath vespers program at the Wind Caves, near the summit. It was only a couple of miles from the camp to the destination, but most of it was uphill, and a portion of it tugging Penny along by my belt, which she held from behind. She was unable to keep my slow pace so she decided to set me free to chase the wind while she stayed behind. I, of course, forgetting that I am 20 years removed from any vestiges of youth, chased the lead pack, wearing my slacks, a shirt and tie, and caught them before their reached the summit.
My heart was pounding at an alarming rate. My breathing must have sounded borderline obscene to those in close proximity. Thankfully by the time the remainder of the group had arrived (including Penny!), my heart rate and breathing had returned to normal. Most people still seemed surprised to see me there.

The funniest moment came when upon our descent (this time I chivalrously stayed back with Penny) from the hill, Penny and I found a straggler lady sitting at the side of the road. We invited her to join us since we were amongst the last (we were, in fact, the last) group to return to camp. She at first refused our invitation. But after mentioning that we had seen a couple of coyotes earlier that day she jumped up with new-found vigor and began to walk with us. I didn’t bother to tell her that coyotes do not normally approach humans. She was among the group that did not scale Mini-Everest earlier that afternoon. She said she had badly bruised her shin bumping into an immovable bench at camp. We did not challenge the story. What was mildly amusing is that she also mentioned that she was amazed that I was even attempting to climb, and beyond that she was questioning my mental stability earlier in the day when she saw the frenetic pace I had set for myself. Then she made a statement that requires some translation.

What she said literally in Spanish was, “It was just that you are such a strapping gentleman (un señor tan amarrado)…” Well, it occurred to me that amarrado (strapping) had perhaps a different meaning in Spanish than “strapping” in English. This was confirmed somewhat by the laughter emanating from a tall and strapping Hispanic gentleman that had recently joined our walk. He made it quite clear that the meaning of amarrado was more in line with my granddaughter’s “fluffy” than with my self-serving translation of “buff.” I chose the high road in light of her humorous color commentary and had a laugh at my own expense…again. Penny was very amused as well.

I am sure I would not be feeling so sore today if I were truly strapping. All of a sudden I am feeling very old again. Excuse me while I fill my tub with hot water, Epsom Salt and Ben Gay.

You're Playing with the Big Boys Now!

Penny is coming home for the weekend. I am scheduled to speak for a Spanish Pathfinder Camporee in some place called Ursery Park—who knows. Very busy week culminated by a School Board meeting in Prescott last night. I was bushed. I woke up late and have been scrambling all day.

I mentioned in my last blog that humor is everywhere, and not always planned or particularly pleasant, but it is humorous nonetheless. I must pre-empt my Swamp Smoothie vignette to talk briefly about an incident that took place at Thursday’s Executive Committee Meeting, prior to my trip to Prescott.

It was supposed to be an uneventful meeting. I was one of very few reporting members to this distinguished cross-section of male and female educators, philanthropists, lay people and clergy who gather six times a year to discuss the business of the church organization in the State of Arizona. It is the highest administrative committee in the organization.

Other than my report and a couple of significant votes related to personnel and policy, the two points of interest to me dealt with a proposal to liquidate some funds held in an account designated to assist TAA, who is facing some daunting cash flow scenarios in the coming weeks, and a vote to add the Superintendent of Education as a fourth administrative member of the Executive Committee.

The second vote came early in the agenda and the committee voted unanimously (unofficial biased count by me) to verify my appointment to the Executive Committee. I feel affirmed while, at the same time, feeling a bit weighted down by yet another committee that will require my presence. Maybe I can sway the way they conduct business as well, or maybe there is a reason why these meetings are conducted according to some unwritten agenda code that requires a litany of oral reports and commentary on the reports followed by votes on a myriad of items without much discussion at all. My theory is that by the end of the meeting most members do not want to prolong the process any further by discussion in light of the fact that they have engaged in two hours of reports prior to arriving at the “executive” portion of the meeting. This will remain one of the mysteries of administrative life.

I mentioned I was supposed to present the recommendation by the Education Board to transfer a sizable amount of funds from an endowment to the coffers of TAA to assist them with cash flow. The endowment was established for this purpose specifically. I was confident the vote would be positive, all seemed to be going well—the president and chair of the committee asked me to present the recommendation to the committee. I began to make my presentation standing where I had been seated—in what I refer to as the “detention chairs.” I had begun to make my eloquent and powerful appeal to the committee. It was at this point that humor made an unexpected appearance—at my expense.

The president asked me to come to the head of the table from my place at the side tables reserved for visitors and non-members. I began to make my way to the side of the table where only administrators dare trod. I made some snide remark about “playing with the big boys now,” a reference to the line by the Egyptian magicians in The Prince of Egypt, one of my favorite animated movies. As I arrived and looked at the group congregated it occurred to me that the reference may not have been as apparent to the committee as it might have been to me when I uttered it.

Secondly, I realized there were committee members of the female persuasion seated at the committee table. Wanting to be inclusive I quickly added the now fateful addendum to my previous quote. The words began to burn on my lips even before they had made their exit. “Oh, and the Big Girls, too.” I added. There was an uneasy silence which was soon broken by my attempt to recover as I looked around at the stares by the ladies seated at the table. They seemed unsure as to how to react to my statement. Big? Girls? Ouch! “That did not sound quite right,” I believe I said, hoping the ground would open up. I truly expected the Southwest Airline’s ring tone to preface a voice saying, “Want to get away?”

The president started chortling next to me with too much delight. “I would say not,” he commented between snickers. By now the committee had exploded into uninhibited laughter as I tried in vain to dig out of the proverbial hole of my own making into which I had fallen. No one helped me. Every attempt to recover was met with a “stop trying, Ruben” or “nice try” comment. Resistance was futile.

It took a couple of minutes before the laughter subsided sufficiently for me to find my way back to my place in my impassioned appeal for consideration of the motion. In the end, the committee voted to approve the motion and, soon after, mercifully adjourned the meeting. I doubt, however, that the officers will let me forget my faux pas. Humor is indiscriminate and equally cruel, but laughter is sweet salve to the soul, even for the one who is the victim of the humiliation. I think the Bible says as much, in the Book of Hezekiah. Oh well. I will not likely forget my first day on the Arizona Conference Corporation Executive Committee. On the other hand, I also will never forget my first post-40 visit to the doctor. Ironically, his name was Dr. Blizzard—no kidding! You can’t make up this stuff…unfortunately.

Seriously

Ten days without blogging is not a good thing. I can blame it on Thanksgiving break and time away from Arizona. Perhaps being alone in Arizona in the evenings gives me more time to blog. In any case, much has transpired since my last confession….I mean blog.

Today was a committee-filled day. The Arizona Conference Education Board held its bi-monthly meeting this afternoon. It was the second meeting under the new committee format I implemented last October. The lion’s share of the meeting is used in constructive discussion and problem-solving. Under the old format (quite honestly, most boards run this way) the lion’s share of the meeting is used to deliver reports with very little time used for discussion. Now, reports are submitted for acceptance, any questions are entertained on the basis of the fact that the members have already received and read the reports prior to the day of the meeting. The meeting moves faster; and the discussion is focused on the item designated beforehand.

A number of items were voted in addition to the reports by the Principals of TAA and HIS, and the superintendent’s report. Of particular import was the preliminary strategic plan for the educational system in Arizona. The superintendent was empowered to form a working committee to begin the process of implementation and report back to committee at the next meeting in February. I can hardly wait! The wheels are moving. There seems to be genuine excitement in the committee. It feels good to be a catalyst for change, although no substantive change has really taken place as of yet.

That meeting was following in quick succession by two other financial meetings at GAA and TCE schools. The GAA situation is critical, but the response was to go on the offensive rather than go into survival mode. It was exciting to see the faculty take hold of the vision. It will be interesting to see how the plan develops. The next three weeks before the end of the calendar year will be frenetic for all parties.
The TCE Finance Committee was a lot more relaxed since the discussion did not center on a critical state of affairs, rather on formulating a responsible budget for the coming year. It was a pleasant discussion, except for the bogging down on tangents that seemed irrelevant to the general discussion, but apparently were of import to a member of the committee. It is interesting to see interpersonal dynamics at work. Most people are well intentioned, albeit misguided at times. I prefer to deal with people by giving them the benefit of the doubt, rather than questioning their every motive. It’s a risk, but life is too short to get annoyed or paranoid by people who simply want to be heard or need to feel included.

Tomorrow is The Big Committee—Executive Committee! I am not a member of this exclusive committee, but I do report to this gathering. I will keep it short. The Education Board is forwarding some significant motions to the Executive Board. I am hopeful they will see fit to approve the recommendations. They are important to the parties involved.

Not much humor today. Sorry about that. I guess there are some days that are just serious. Or perhaps I am trying to resist the temptation to be carried away into some humorous tangent, just to be heard. To be quite honest—every day is filled with humor, without it life is too mundane. Maybe tomorrow I will tell you about the “Swamp Smoothies” that are now part and parcel of my daily dietary regimen. You can’t make this stuff up!