Difficult Seasons

Well Used

Some weeks I need my Moleskin.

I need to physically write things down, bullet lists of to do’s that I can check off as I go.

For some reason, it just doesn’t work the same when I do it on the iPhone. I’ve tried all the apps, some of them very good. But I end up feeling more overwhelmed, instead of more focused.

During Dad’s illness and recovery period, it was my go-to for information ranging from his Rx list to Dr. contact information to lists of what I needed to handle and ideas of how to do it.

It’s not a big Moleskin. It’s one that will fit in my pocket, one which will allow a pen to be held when it’s kept closed by the elastic closure thingy.

When things are going along pretty smoothly, I don’t need it. I keep up with things in my head or on my calendar.

But when things get hectic, as this week’s going to be, I grab it and start writing. It’ll be in my pocket the whole week, keeping me focused, keeping me comfortable, like a blankie.

What helps you be focused and comfortable during hectic or stressful weeks?

I think he's smiling!

It’s Friday, and I woke up early this morning.

I’ve enjoyed the quiet, watching the sun rise in a clear sky, hearing and watching the world in my back yard wake up. I saw the great horned owl come home to roost from his night’s hunting, ready for his day of rest. I saw the wasp that started building a nest on our back porch go from sleeping while hanging by a thread to the nest to resuming active building. I heard the sounds of other creatures big and small beginning to move, and the sound of traffic as people became busy.

Meth the goldfish, the name Eloise gave him because he’s lived so long (short for Methuselah), was excited that I was up, hoping for a few flakes of food. Missy Dog was still curled up in a ball when I went to let her out of her kennel. But she too was eager for the day after a few stretches.

I slowly sipped a cup of home-roasted Honduran coffee, not because I needed the caffeine, but because of the joy of its rich taste.

And I had a quiet conversation with God. We talked about Jim and Pam, and the slow process of recovery from a double lung transplant, about the joy of small steps, about the challenges of each moment. We talked about Earnest and Xenia, each caring for spouses who have suffered debilitating strokes. And we talked about many others, currently on my prayer list, asking his blessing and intervention for them.

But we also talked about how amazingly beautiful this world is that he’s given us to live in for a little while, and I spent some time wondering what Heaven must be like if this world is so gorgeous.

Most of my mornings are not this good. I wish they were. It’s a calm in a storm, a chance to catch my breath, a time of refreshing.

Much of the last week has been about caregiving. It had worn me out. I had lost a night’s sleep at the ER with daughter Sara as she suffered though another bout of pancreatitis. Then after getting her home, there was concern and being on call as she rode it out. I also spent long hours with Dad at doctors’ appointments and tests. Sara’s recovered and Dad’s test results were good. Another storm weathered. I’d never wish that I was not the go-to guy for them — I prize being able to be there for them. But it has its price.

My refreshing comes from quiet times like this morning. And from some focused time taking and processing and sharing photographs of beautiful things. And reflecting. And conversations with a God who loves me they way I am. And having a loving wife who puts up with me even when I’m weird.

I’m hoping that you’re having times of refreshment along the way too.

As I’ve gotten older, there are two gifts that mean more to me than all of the others: mercy and grace.

It’s not that I don’t dearly appreciate the gifts of having enough and good health and toys and meaningful things to do.

But having God, family, and friends love me in spite of me is truly the priceless gift. They know me for who I really am, and it’s still okay. That’s an amazing feeling.

I hope you know that kind of love this Christmas season.

Merry Christmas to you, and thanks for your gifts of mercy and grace!

We live in a culture where we’re told “More is Better!”

More is Not Better ©2009 Jim Hughes

The slogan sells stuff, but often is just not true. In fact, more is often worse.

Take megapixels, for example. Camera manufacturers know that most people believe that the more mexapixels a camera has, the better it is. That’s true to a point. But beyond that point (generally between 10-12 megapixels), noise increases significantly, actually providing worse photos. You’re now seeing some high end camera makers reducing the number of pixels to improve photo quality.

In the 1950′s and 1960′s, more speed in jet fighters was assumed to be good. That was true until a speed was reached at which the fighters could no longer maneuver effectively to participate in a dog fight. So the push for more speed ended. Enough was enough.

There are so many areas of life in which, once there is enough, more can be bad. How about a little time this Christmas season thinking about where in your life less might be better, more might be bad?

This time of year there just seem to be more grey mornings. It can make for difficult days.

Bright sun just seems to make such a difference in how we feel, and how we are able to deal with our aches and pains — physical and emotional. Grey mornings seem to accentuate the aches, the pains, the emotions. Light makes such a big difference.

I’m working to add more light to my life, especially on grey mornings.  Sometimes it’s as easy as flicking on a few light switches. Other times it means choosing to look at light, such as the photo below. And sometimes it’s choosing to turn on an emotional light.

Hope you’re seeing the light today — and not the grey fog currently enveloping Houston.

High Blue Sky (© 2009 Jim Hughes)