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Monthly Archives: January 2015

Serving two masters

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Jesus then told the story to his disciples. “There was a rich man who heard that his accountant was mishandling the books. He called the accountant in and told him to defend himself against these accusations, because he was about to fire him.

The accountant was really worried about what to do. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to be a laborer and he was too proud to beg. He came up with a plan so that after he got fired people would welcome him into their homes.

He called everyone who owed money to his master, asking them how much they owed. After each told him, he had them mark down the amount they owed dramatically, even cutting some bills in half.

The manager praised his dishonest accountant because he had acted shrewdly. The people who are more worldly are far more shrewd at dealing with their own kind than godly people are. I tell you, use the wealth of this world to get friends, so that when that money is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal homes.”

LK 16:1-9
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“If you are honest in handling small matters, you will be honest in handling large ones. If you are dishonest with small matters you will also be dishonest with large ones. If you have not taken care of what little has been given to you, who will give you anything more? If you have not taken care of what was entrusted to you by someone else, who will give you anything of your own to take care of?

You can either serve God or money. You can’t serve both. God is either your master or money is your master. If you try to serve both at the same time, you will end up being devoted to one of them and despising the other.”

MT 6:24, LK 16:10-13
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“Don’t store up treasures for yourself here on earth, where they can be destroyed or stolen. Instead store up treasures in heaven, where they can’t be destroyed or stolen but instead will last forever. Because where your treasure is, there your heart is as well. Sell what you have and give it to those who don’t have anything. This is the best kind of wealth to have.”

MT 6:19-21, LK 12:33-34

Library thoughts – book magic

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People think that if you work in the library, you are a librarian. They think that librarians are intelligent and deserve respect. In many ways, they give them more respect than teachers.

They do not realize and are surprised to discover that to be a librarian you have to have a Master’s degree in library science. Just working in a library doesn’t mean you are a librarian.

Thus, they think merely working in a library is enough to indicate intelligence and command respect.

Thus, merely being around books makes you smart and respected. This seems to not apply to booksellers, though. Perhaps it is the number of nonfiction books to fiction that makes the difference. Perhaps it is because librarians help you for free, so their actions seem altruistic.

I don’t know. I’m running with it though, because it benefits me.

I spent a lot of years working retail, and honestly, the library is a lot like retail. I like it better, not just because people respect me more. I’m the same person whether I’m at Waldenbooks or the library, so it isn’t me, it is them.

I like working at the library because I can help people regardless of their ability to pay. I always felt a little guilty encouraging people to look at extra items when I worked in retail. There was always a little bit of tension there because of it. They’d sometimes say “Oh, you want me to get this so you’ll get a higher commission.” No, it is because it will benefit you. Or you need it.

Now there is no tension. They can have 100 books at a time.

In a related thought, people are now saying to me “Wow! I know a real author!” Being a writer isn’t enough. Publishing a book is what makes it real. Maybe this is part of working in the library. People respect books. Real, physical books. Just being around them, the magic rubs off on you.

TMJ as a teacher, part two.

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TMJ is caused by over-clenching the jaw. We clench our jaws when we feel stressed out, but also related is when we feel silenced.

Unable to speak, forcibly silencing ourselves, we shut our mouths. Either we feel that our opinions are not wanted, or that will not be respected or well received. We fear speaking because we will be laughed at or be punished. We forcibly clench our jaws to keep ourselves from talking.

Give thanks for the self-preservation instinct. Give thanks for mindfulness too, and becoming aware. It keeps us safe, but it also operates from a fight or flight, caveman place.

Here are some options –

Give speaking a try. Write what you want to say down first, then speak it. Practice alone, like you are in a play. Before you are around those people again, pray for the words. Pray for the right time to speak as well.

If you honestly feel that you can’t talk, then create. Give voice to your fears and concerns in art. Write about it, paint it, dance it. Express it to get it out. Then you have an option – if you still feel that you cannot share this, burn it, offering it up to God.

One of the last options is to change jobs or friends. Every difficulty is a chance to grow. If you leave a difficult situation early, you are missing out on the lesson, and it will simply be repeated in the next relationship you create. However, sometimes leaving is the right thing to do. Pray about it and feel out the right answer.

Poem – details

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They say the Devil’s in the details.
I say it’s God.
The Devil can’t be bothered with details.
The Devil says “Give up, don’t finish,
leave it for another day.”
God says “Keep on going. I know you can do it.”
God says “I’ll stay with you the whole way.
It’s worth it.”
God cheers you on
when you think you’ll never get there.
God knows you are almost
at the end of the task
while you feel you’re
at the end of your rope.

Mouth Mindfulness

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I need to become as mindful of what comes out of my mouth as what I put in my mouth.

I’ve gotten very good at not overeating, and not eating empty calories. It has been very important for me to be mindful (and not mindless) about what I eat so that I stay healthy and strong. I don’t want to become obese again. I also don’t like how I feel when I overeat or eat junk food. That lazy, drawn out feeling is hard to get over.

But gossip is a hard habit to break. Gossip isn’t just talking bad about someone else. It is also talking about them at all without them present. It is “talking behind someone’s back.” If you can’t say it in front of them, don’t say it at all.

I’m learning that part of it is the idea that if someone says something in confidence to me, I shouldn’t repeat it to anyone else. If person A wanted person B to know this information, or to know that she felt this way about this subject, she will tell her on her own. She doesn’t need me to do it for her.

In the same way that I exercise control and mindfulness when I go to the grocery store or the buffet, I need to exercise control and mindfulness when speaking.

I feel that this is very hard, because I don’t have a way to limit myself. When I go to lunch, I pray beforehand to remind myself to be present. This helps me to control my mindless, automatic behavior. I can’t pray before every time I say something. I’ll be praying all day long. People will start to wonder – more than they already do.

But this is just a way I’m making excuses rather than making a way.

I’m not at lunch when I pass by the break room and I see a dozen brownies someone has brought in. I don’t gobble them down. I used to. So I have control over my eating at non-lunch times, when I haven’t prayed.

Overeating is addictive behavior. It is acting like an animal rather than a human being. I’m trying to think of over-talking as the same. To speak against someone is the same as snapping at them like a dog. To share what they have said in private to me is the same as peeing everywhere to mark my territory.

Jesus says “It’s not what goes into the mouth that defiles a man, but what comes out of the mouth, this defiles a man.” (Matthew 15:11. HCSB)

So I need to remember this. What we say defiles us, if it is said mindlessly or carelessly. I need to remember that everything I say reflects upon me and thus upon the One I follow.

Use your gifts

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On the way to Jerusalem, Jesus told the disciples a parable because they thought that the kingdom of God was coming soon.

“A rich man went away on a long journey. He called his servants to him and gave them some of his money to do business with until he returned. To one he gave five coins, to another, two, and to the last, only one. He gave each servant only what he could handle, dividing it according their ability.

When he returned he asked the servants about the money he had entrusted them with. The first had doubled the money, turning five coins into ten. The second had also doubled his money turning two coins into four. The last returned the money that the master had given him because he had buried it in a hole to keep it safe.

The master was pleased with the first two. He said ‘Well done, good and faithful servant. You were responsible with a few things, I will now put you in charge of many things.’ They were entrusted with even more responsibility.

When he spoke with the last servant he was dismayed. The servant said ‘I was afraid of you. You’re a difficult man. You collect what you don’t deposit and reap you don’t sow. Because I was afraid of you, I hid your money in the ground so that I could give it back to you.’

The master started yelling at him saying ‘If you knew this is how I acted then why did you bury my money? You knew that I was going to want it back with interest. You should’ve at least put the money in the bank, not bury it in a hole, doing nothing with it.’ He said to the other servants nearby ‘Take the one coin he has and give it to the one who has made the most coins.’ The other servants looked at him and said ‘But he already has 10 coins – why would you give him more?’ The master replied ‘Because if you use what you have properly you will get more, but if you don’t use it all you will have even less.’”

LK 19:11-27, MT 25:14-30, MK 4:25, LK 8:18, MT 13:12

The Visitors, part five

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Julia had to squeeze through the cabinet doors to get to the Door. The marquetry panels on the cabinet’s front were beautiful, but they didn’t shine like Doors usually did. She was afraid that maybe she had read the lady wrong, maybe this was a set up. She had little time to wonder. The Lord, if he was one, might catch on quick to her ruse and come upstairs soon. She’d be sure to go to the authorities this time.

Trust, Julia thought. Try harder. Relax. Being tense won’t help.

Taking a breath in, she shifted her head so that the sunlight caught the back of the cabinet. Then she saw it. The rainbow shimmer that meant she’d found the pot of gold she been searching for. A little push and her hand went through the wood, like the wood was as insubstantial, as shifting, as the veil of a waterfall. She didn’t have time to admire this effect so she shoved the rest of herself through, taking a dress that was hanging in the cabinet as an afterthought.

It wasn’t stealing, really. The lady had given her the dressing robe. If she’d known of Julia’s need, she surely would have given her a change of clothes as well.

Not like the Quality were any better. They were thieves, all of them. Well, most of them. Most of the Quality had taken over the suddenly empty houses a decade back. They had gotten bolder and bolder, going from condos to ranchers, then to mansions and villas. Nobody could afford those big houses anymore, so they took them. It was like robbery but without a gun.

At first they were timid about it. “We’ll just keep the place up for the owners until they come back.” some said, like they were housesitting. Like they were related. Like anyone was around to care. The police had better things to worry about, what were left of them, that is. The disappearances had hit all classes, occupations, all races. Everything was up in the air and up for grabs, so the quality grabbed, and grabbed hard.

Julia was on the other side and in yet another large house. Unusual. But things had been so odd lately that unusual was becoming the usual.

She was in a closet this time, so she had time to listen. No voices. Good. Perhaps the Lord or Lady were out. Who knew what they did when they were out? It certainly wasn’t work.

Slowly pushing open the door of the closet, she peered out into a baby blue bedroom. Deep shag carpet tickled her toes. Sheer lace curtains softened some of the light. So she was in the same time zone as the last Room, judging by the light.

No clocks worked anymore, none that needed batteries that is, so looking at the sun’s angle had been adopted by Visitors who cared about such things as time. It helped if you had somewhere you had to be. You could see how off you were at least. It was better than nothing.

The Quality, well, they could use old-fashioned windup clocks, if they bothered. Most didn’t need to know what time it was anyway. They slept until they were done, ate when they wanted, and stayed up as late as they liked. They were a lot like children. Or college kids.

Julia thought about taking a nap on the queen-sized bed in front of her. It looked inviting, with its layers of comforters and pillows. There were so many pillows she knew that this had to be a guest bedroom. No real person would remove all those pillows every night to sleep, would they? That would be insane.

Maybe if she curled up sort of amongst the pillows she’d be overlooked if the new tenants (she couldn’t think of them as owners) came back. She’d forgotten how long it had been since she had slept more than an hour at a time. Things were starting to look shimmery, and not just Doors.

It was early enough in the day it was worth the risk. After all, her luck had gotten her this far, it was sure to continue. The house was big enough that they probably never even came in this room anyway.

The Visitors, part four

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All Mickey knew was that it was dark.

He walked into a Door, and like usual, it was different on the other side. Sometimes cabinets became garages. Sometimes caves became mansions. You never knew, with Doors. That was part of the challenge, and the appeal.

Mickey knew he wanted to become a Visitor the moment his sister came back from her first Walk. Eyes aglow, she told of all the things she’d seen, things forbidden to a commoner like them these days. She had the sight, so she could see Doors, same as all other Visitors. It is what made it possible for them to see, and thus use, Doors.

Mickey kept squinting up his eyes and nothing would come. He was afeared he’d be stuck like so many others of his classmates, at home. Then it came, the sight. Round his two decade mark it came, a twinkle at first, and then more and more, like an old-time florescent bulb. Not like he’d seen one of those for real, mind you. Electricity of all kinds was banned to his kind. Too good for the likes of them.

He could use some electricity right now. Dark as inside a whale, it was, but thankfully not as smelly. He hoped it wasn’t going to be three days here before he could find his way out.

“Oy! You there!”

Damn. A guard.

Not Quality by that accent, for sure. Just some commoner hired to do the dirty work for a few coins a day and whatever table scraps they felt like tossing his way.

Mickey had been spotted but he couldn’t figure out how. He still couldn’t see at all. The last Room he’d come from was in a lighthouse, and it was the middle of the day. Bright enough not to need all those windows a lighthouse has, and bright enough to ruin his night blindness too.

Maybe the guard lived here, wherever here was. Maybe that was why he could see in this murky dark. Not like it seemed to be much like living.

Mickey decided to appeal to an equal.

“Hey, mate! It’s just me, a regular bloke like you. No need to raise the rattle, you see? We can work this out between us men, right?”

“Huh!” grunted the guard. “Visitors ain’t men!” he said with extra emphasis on the “ain’t”.

By now they both had a good sense of where the other was based on the location of their voices. The guard was coming closer. Mickey ran away from the guard’s voice as fast as he could, stumbling over boxes and crates all the way.

He was getting tired of running, but it was better than jail. Or the judge. The Door found him before he saw it. He tripped and was through before he even realized it.

He knew he was in a warehouse clear on the other side of the country, so it was better lit. The guard, not being a Visitor, couldn’t follow. Maybe that was why he was so upset. He was jealous. Well, it might also have something to do with some Visitors being treasure hunters. All the more reason to hire a guard. So he should be grateful, right? It was because of Visitors that he had a job at all.

All parents between the ages of 30 and 50 vanished overnight 10 years ago back one terrible spring. One night they were there, the next morning they weren’t. The first morning it was about 200 of them. The next, a few more than that. The next, even more.

Panic erupted, as you would expect. Some people stayed up all night. Some fled to the countryside, like folks did in plague times. Some went to confession and sold all their worldly goods. It didn’t matter. If you were a parent under 50 you disappeared.

The children remained.
Those who had never had children remained.
And the Gran-parents remained too.

The new society wasn’t very social at first, and now, 10 years on, it still wasn’t. The Gran-parents went into poverty supporting their gran-children. Their nests were suddenly full and their pockets were suddenly empty.

The childless were like landed nobility but less polite about it. Styling themselves as Lords and ladies, like the gentry in centuries past, they banded together and called themselves The Quality. They found themselves at the top of the hill like obnoxious schoolchildren. They made up Rules to make sure they stayed at the top of the hill, too.

The only thing was, there were Rules they didn’t know about. This game was a game for two, and the Visitors had the other half of the board.

The Visitors – book list

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So, interested in what books have inspired me in creating this series? Here they are – but really the push for it came from a dream that lasted all night. Perhaps these authors had a similar kind of dream.
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“The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis

“The Long Earth” by Terry Pratchett

“The Skin Map : a bright empires novel, quest the first” by Stephen Lawhead

“Vengeance for a Lonely Man” by Simon Green

A student is not above his teacher

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When they harass you in one town, escape to the next. Mark my words, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes again.

A student is not above his teacher, or a servant above his master. Likewise, a messenger is not greater than the one who sent him. It is enough for a student to become like his teacher and a servant like his master. Every student who is fully trained will be like his teacher.

Students and teachers, like servants and masters, share the same fate. Since they have accused me of being Satan, they will certainly accuse you of the same!

MT 10:23-25, LK 6:40, JN 13:16