Recently I have had the opportunity to re-discover myself through countless hours of soul searching and watching Scrubs. Once again, my favorite doctor is in my head, and his voice narrating my life is so much more pleasant than Sarah Jessica Parker’s. I know that’s odd, as his is a masculine voice, and the voice in my head should be a girl. But that’s the point of a narrator, isn’t it? Isn’t that why some authors are so good at writing books about the opposite sex? Don’t you remember Stranger than Fiction?
Well, a few months back when I was watching Scrubs, JD was dating a girl who liked “drama.” She got bored in a normal relationship, and so he was always trying to make up dramatic issues for the two of them to face as a couple.
Well, I was thinking about that last night. First of all, as a person, I obviously like drama. I’m always trying to spice up my life and make it more interesting. Take my little fairy tales as an example. Now, I’m generally happy, and with or without daydreaming, I enjoy myself. I remember telling my senior that the audit, “Would be so exciting if it was exciting.” He needed a bit of an explanation on that one. See, I found the audit dramatic – like a high speed car chase. But I knew that I would be alone, or at least in a minority, with that opinion.
Well, that’s my personal drama. Going back to Scrubs, I thought about the couple’s relationship. I think every relationship starts off with a little bit of drama. “Does he?” “Doesn’t she?” “Will he?” “What is this?” And so on. And you always hear about seasoned couples trying to “bring back the romance” in their lives. Isn’t that what romance is all about? Romance = surprises = suspense = drama. So really, JD and his girl weren’t all that unique in trying to add drama to their relationship. I suppose she just required a higher level than most people.
Now, there’s a spiritual side to all of this, believe it or not. In fact, that’s actually where I began thinking about all of this. See, I think we all have that same drama issue with God. So many times I have heard a version of, “It’s in the tough times that we rely on God!” “When things are going well, I don’t think about God, but when they go poorly…”
Taking my own personal “way too much faith” issue out of this, I’d say we all – even agnostics and atheists – play this drama game with God. Someone about to die – prays. Whether for physical safety or spiritual renewal, we all run to God in the hard times! Now, we can also run to him in the good times – when everything’s going well, it’s so easy to praise God in or out of church!
We hear a lot about spiritual peaks and troughs, but what about sitting on the side of the hill? How’s our relationship with God then? I actually found myself “creating” drama in my life so I could take it to God. When what I used to talk to Him about was obsolete, I created messes to take to Him.
I suppose that’s good in its way. If my life is perfect, I can always pray about other people’s. And, of course, give God thanks. I’d like to think it doesn’t take a gun literally pointed to my head to force me to pray.
But look at it from God’s perspective. He wants us to come to Him. To bring everything to Him, big or small. To praise Him through thick and thin. So I suppose a little drama, made up or not, can only serve to strengthen the relationship, and if we can train ourselves to go to Him when we need him most, perhaps we will learn that we can count on Him when it’s smooth sailing as well.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Saturday, December 29, 2007
On Children and Travel
It seems to me that on every flight there is a crying or fussy baby. Don’t get my wrong, I’m not trying to complain here. My purpose in pointing this out is slightly more intellectual – is the baby fussy because it’s tired/hungry/wet/etc. and that’s just what babies do? Or is the baby in pain? I mean, when you fly, the air pressure changes, and you have to do that thing with your ears where you stop them up and exhale to equalize the pressure. I’ve also been told that chewing gum helps. The solution is almost second nature. But do babies have the capacity to do that? I mean, I know you can’t sit and rationalize with the child, “Now, plug your nose and exhale, but gently!” I wonder, then, if the fussiness comes from pain!
Of course, all this thinking about babies on flights. When I hear a fussy baby, my first instinct is the thought of the single person, “Why would you bring a baby on an airplane?” In fact, there are times when I wonder why you would take a baby out in public at all. Unfortunately, that’s almost how it works – parents go to great lengths to find sitters and double up on errands, and go through drive thrus. Babies are a lot of work.
Now, the compassionate side of me, small as it is, started arguing with this. Let’s say we take my route, though. Never take a baby on an airplane (it’s a waste of money, too! I mean, paying for a ticket for something so small!) So you travel only to places within driving distance (in my family, that means anywhere in the US) until the child is old enough to know the meaning of the phrase, “Stop crying right now!” Well, from what I’ve heard, driving with babies isn’t much less of a headache for you – it’s just that you are the only ones who benefit from the high pitched communications of your darling child.
So now what? Well, pharmacists have long advocated (when asked by inquisitive technicians) the use of Benadryl to put the children to sleep. Then I wonder – don’t tired children get crabby? If the medicine only halfway works, won’t that cause the problem to get worse? Not to mention – even though it’s safe, now we’re drugging our children.
What’s my point? I don’t think I have one. I think all this thinking is making me more tolerant of children while traveling. So that’s a plus. (And the question really then becomes something else entirely: would you put your toddler on a leash?) Then again, if tolerance is what you’re looking for, you could follow the lead of the lady beside me and drug yourself up – with vodka.
Of course, all this thinking about babies on flights. When I hear a fussy baby, my first instinct is the thought of the single person, “Why would you bring a baby on an airplane?” In fact, there are times when I wonder why you would take a baby out in public at all. Unfortunately, that’s almost how it works – parents go to great lengths to find sitters and double up on errands, and go through drive thrus. Babies are a lot of work.
Now, the compassionate side of me, small as it is, started arguing with this. Let’s say we take my route, though. Never take a baby on an airplane (it’s a waste of money, too! I mean, paying for a ticket for something so small!) So you travel only to places within driving distance (in my family, that means anywhere in the US) until the child is old enough to know the meaning of the phrase, “Stop crying right now!” Well, from what I’ve heard, driving with babies isn’t much less of a headache for you – it’s just that you are the only ones who benefit from the high pitched communications of your darling child.
So now what? Well, pharmacists have long advocated (when asked by inquisitive technicians) the use of Benadryl to put the children to sleep. Then I wonder – don’t tired children get crabby? If the medicine only halfway works, won’t that cause the problem to get worse? Not to mention – even though it’s safe, now we’re drugging our children.
What’s my point? I don’t think I have one. I think all this thinking is making me more tolerant of children while traveling. So that’s a plus. (And the question really then becomes something else entirely: would you put your toddler on a leash?) Then again, if tolerance is what you’re looking for, you could follow the lead of the lady beside me and drug yourself up – with vodka.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Sherlock Holmes of Auditing
The time has come to give a shout out to the Angel of Auditing, that Sherlock Holmes of Equity, my unofficial semi-mentor and he who will be considered my true manager for many months hence: Brad (but not Bradley!)
A few months ago I actually wrote about Brad on this blog – I called him my angel, because he was literally the answer to a prayer. Now, I am very free with where I give God credit for answering prayers, and I doubt he would hold it against me (I mean, if God gets the credit, he gets the praise and thanks, too), and better to overdo it than underdo it. However, it’s the people who can get skeptical sometimes, so I’m just going to reiterate the fact, and hope people believe me.
So I’ll continue the story – I thought Brad was an answer to a prayer because he gave me work to do. But it was so much more than that! Until I met him, I hadn’t really been assigned to a “team.” I was working on the A/P search with a senior, but she was very busy, and we were always waiting on the client, so it wasn’t really a full time task.
With Brad, it was different. I thought at first that, as a manager, he was concerned with making sure employees actually worked while on the clock. What a concept! And thus, he was very good about making sure I had work. However, as time passed, I came to realize that I was part of a team. His team.
See, it was like this. Brad, Ryan, and I were sitting in facilities. Three people thrown together by forces beyond our control. (OK, Brad and Ryan actually knew they were working together, and I’m beginning to assume that it was at that point that some higher-up “assigned” me to Brad as his associate). As Ryan was leaving, Brad found himself giving me more and more tasks – trying to keep them within my level.
That’s how I ended up working on quarters. Everyone told me how hard they were and that they were “senior” stuff. I’m sure a real senior would have knocked them out much faster, and they came back with lots of comments and questions. But that’s what training’s about!
Anyway, I saw Brad through three consecutive seniors, and I almost saw the third leave! However, life is cruel, and it was actually I who had to leave the Equity team first. But enough about my little story – this is a tribute to Brad.
Why do I call him the Sherlock Holmes of auditing? Well, it used to be because he was smart. I mean, auditing in general is like solving a mystery – you look at the clues and piece the puzzle together. But Sherlock Holmes had this uncanny ability to see things others didn’t – House is another good example. I mean, I’m talking about brilliant people here! My manager was constantly asking the “right” question – so right that it seemed he was very lucky in uncovering many audit issues.
He had this ability to go to anyone – me, the client, partners – and explain why a certain accounting issue didn’t work. I saw him break down accounting back to the basics over and over again. He knew the audit process. He applied logic in a way that made it easy for him to adapt to a different environment.
Now Brad also had attitude – and I liked that about him. Yeah, he cussed like a sailor and had the accent of a mobster. In fact, if I was going to cast him in a movie, I would probably pick Danny DeVito (only because I don’t know a lot of movie star names, but if I ever find a better example, I’ll pick him).
He was, however, very kind to me. I think that he was slightly afraid I’d quit on him, too. However, I also think that, as with partners, managers realize that they are two levels up, and therefore, there’s a buffer. I mean, everyone makes mistakes, and at the associate level, there’s so much more to learn that it’s not worth harping on every little mistake. Sometimes he needed to rant – not at me – but I suppose my level with the firm kind of always made me a captive audience to it. J
Finally, our last encounter solidified him as that Sherlock Holmes. There was something I had forgotten about my role model, and Brad reminded me of it. I was less than thrilled at the prospect of leaving Chicago and the audit. Further, I really did enjoy working on the Equity team. Hoping that demand for “resources” from other offices would continue, I asked him if he had any other jobs that needed people. His answer did not surprise me – no, it was too expensive to bring in out-of-towners. But the next statement did. “I can’t allow myself to get emotionally involved.”
And there it was. The analogy was complete. This manager was as stoic as the great detective himself. And it was ironic that the last-ish words I heard from my mentor would be so useful to me. Little did I know at the time just how right he was – that my emotional involvement with this client contributed to my inability to accept my new client and move on.
And that’s the point – in auditing things change so quickly. We can’t be normal accountants – we have to fight against every cell in our bodies that are screaming out to leave well enough alone. I loved everything about that client – my coworkers, the building, making fun of the security guard, the learning experience, the city. But in the end, a piece of my soul was left behind, and there’s no one left to catch it anymore!
And so, here’s to my manager – the Sherlock Holmes of auditing – who started me on the path of auditing inspiration and reminded me of who I am.
A few months ago I actually wrote about Brad on this blog – I called him my angel, because he was literally the answer to a prayer. Now, I am very free with where I give God credit for answering prayers, and I doubt he would hold it against me (I mean, if God gets the credit, he gets the praise and thanks, too), and better to overdo it than underdo it. However, it’s the people who can get skeptical sometimes, so I’m just going to reiterate the fact, and hope people believe me.
So I’ll continue the story – I thought Brad was an answer to a prayer because he gave me work to do. But it was so much more than that! Until I met him, I hadn’t really been assigned to a “team.” I was working on the A/P search with a senior, but she was very busy, and we were always waiting on the client, so it wasn’t really a full time task.
With Brad, it was different. I thought at first that, as a manager, he was concerned with making sure employees actually worked while on the clock. What a concept! And thus, he was very good about making sure I had work. However, as time passed, I came to realize that I was part of a team. His team.
See, it was like this. Brad, Ryan, and I were sitting in facilities. Three people thrown together by forces beyond our control. (OK, Brad and Ryan actually knew they were working together, and I’m beginning to assume that it was at that point that some higher-up “assigned” me to Brad as his associate). As Ryan was leaving, Brad found himself giving me more and more tasks – trying to keep them within my level.
That’s how I ended up working on quarters. Everyone told me how hard they were and that they were “senior” stuff. I’m sure a real senior would have knocked them out much faster, and they came back with lots of comments and questions. But that’s what training’s about!
Anyway, I saw Brad through three consecutive seniors, and I almost saw the third leave! However, life is cruel, and it was actually I who had to leave the Equity team first. But enough about my little story – this is a tribute to Brad.
Why do I call him the Sherlock Holmes of auditing? Well, it used to be because he was smart. I mean, auditing in general is like solving a mystery – you look at the clues and piece the puzzle together. But Sherlock Holmes had this uncanny ability to see things others didn’t – House is another good example. I mean, I’m talking about brilliant people here! My manager was constantly asking the “right” question – so right that it seemed he was very lucky in uncovering many audit issues.
He had this ability to go to anyone – me, the client, partners – and explain why a certain accounting issue didn’t work. I saw him break down accounting back to the basics over and over again. He knew the audit process. He applied logic in a way that made it easy for him to adapt to a different environment.
Now Brad also had attitude – and I liked that about him. Yeah, he cussed like a sailor and had the accent of a mobster. In fact, if I was going to cast him in a movie, I would probably pick Danny DeVito (only because I don’t know a lot of movie star names, but if I ever find a better example, I’ll pick him).
He was, however, very kind to me. I think that he was slightly afraid I’d quit on him, too. However, I also think that, as with partners, managers realize that they are two levels up, and therefore, there’s a buffer. I mean, everyone makes mistakes, and at the associate level, there’s so much more to learn that it’s not worth harping on every little mistake. Sometimes he needed to rant – not at me – but I suppose my level with the firm kind of always made me a captive audience to it. J
Finally, our last encounter solidified him as that Sherlock Holmes. There was something I had forgotten about my role model, and Brad reminded me of it. I was less than thrilled at the prospect of leaving Chicago and the audit. Further, I really did enjoy working on the Equity team. Hoping that demand for “resources” from other offices would continue, I asked him if he had any other jobs that needed people. His answer did not surprise me – no, it was too expensive to bring in out-of-towners. But the next statement did. “I can’t allow myself to get emotionally involved.”
And there it was. The analogy was complete. This manager was as stoic as the great detective himself. And it was ironic that the last-ish words I heard from my mentor would be so useful to me. Little did I know at the time just how right he was – that my emotional involvement with this client contributed to my inability to accept my new client and move on.
And that’s the point – in auditing things change so quickly. We can’t be normal accountants – we have to fight against every cell in our bodies that are screaming out to leave well enough alone. I loved everything about that client – my coworkers, the building, making fun of the security guard, the learning experience, the city. But in the end, a piece of my soul was left behind, and there’s no one left to catch it anymore!
And so, here’s to my manager – the Sherlock Holmes of auditing – who started me on the path of auditing inspiration and reminded me of who I am.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The Fairy Tale of the Star
There I was, standing in the presence of all the highest nobles of the land – each a conqueror of his own little plot of land, and each sufficiently able on his own. There was the Wight Knight of the Aging Forest with his squire Douggles. There was Messieur Rory of Tandem Row, London. There was Foster Foster, the Black Knight, and finally, His Excellency Robert, leader of the Knights.
I had ended up in the great hall of Doom Mansion after my knight had recommended me as a possible page girl for the great nobles. There I stood, day in and day out, waiting for Messieur Rory to ask me to send out a message of triumph, loving and fearing the wrath of His Excellency, and daydreaming about the Wight Knight.
My daydreaming interludes were interrupted frequently by two major characters, that should each be given ample introduction. The first was the Red Witch of the South by Southeast. She had entered the Great Hall under false pretences, telling Foster Foster and His Excellency that she was there to help. And help she did. However, her bid for power and lust of attention was insatiable. Within minutes she had cast the entire Great Hall under her spell. Even His Excellency cowered at her displeasured gaze. She took a liking to me early on, however, when I refused to perform one of her works of black magic, she turned on me. After that, she was full of icy and bitter words. She would cast spells to turn my hot drinks into cubes of ice, boil foul smelling potions in her corner of the room, and file her nails into points while smiling menacingly at me.
On the other hand, there was Sir Rupert Livingston, also known as “The Sherlock Holmes of Auditing.” Sir Rupert was a chubby little man, known for his drinking, foul language, and tough talk to his superiors. He had been born in a cheap little grass hut in West Peking, and through many struggles had risen to Knighthood when he recovered the crown jewels, stolen from Her Majesty by the evil Count Argo. All of the leaders respected Sir Rupert, although behind his back they were careful to outdo each other with grumblings about his humble beginnings.
Sir Rupert had taken upon himself as underling knight, my own Knight Adam, and therefore I was added to his crew as a squire. Under his tutelage, I learned many arts: the art of the sword, the art of the bow, horse-riding, and dancing. Truly, working with him was an honor – we were assigned the honorable task of opening the vault. Once all the pieces of gold were recovered from the depths of Doom Mansion, we would take the last piece and, using it as a key, unlock the vault that held the true treasure of the Mansion.
However, as my knight and I rode through the forest, in search of the last key, we came upon a hideous troll! He was a large, green, flappy eared troll with glasses and a mouth that was curled in a perpetual sneer. As a troll, he thought it his job to play with his food – asking them difficult questions before eating them. Sir Rupert, however, also knew that this troll controlled the mountain cave where our key could be found.
Thrice my Knight and I battled with this troll to no avail – Sir Adam would thrust, and I would come around behind, but the troll called in his support, in the way of mountain gnomes, and I was stuck fighting the gnomes, leaving Sir Adam to end the battle defeated and with many injuries.
However, back at the Great Hall, the Red Witch, Messieur Rory, and His Excellency were growing concerned that we still did not have the key. After discussing their fears with Sir Rupert, he left, alone, to go into the woods and fight the troll.
How that mighty fight played out, I’ll never know. However, Sir Rupert returned victorious: holding the key up high in his right hand, and dragging the troll, all tied up, behind him with his left.
When the troll was placed before Messieur Rory and the White Knight, they took turns pelting him with rotten vegetables. After which, the other pages took the troll away. What they did with him, I know not. However, it seems that the servants of Doom Mansion feasted on “roast” for many nights hence.
As for myself, when Sir Rupert walked up to His Excellency, bowed, and handed him the key, I had a hard time not crying. His Excellency stepped back to say a few words before opening up the vault. However, Sir Rupert turned around, looking to me, and said, “Run! Flee to the hills and find your destiny there!” And so I ran. I ran with my entire spirit.
To the frozen wasteland of Michigan….
I had ended up in the great hall of Doom Mansion after my knight had recommended me as a possible page girl for the great nobles. There I stood, day in and day out, waiting for Messieur Rory to ask me to send out a message of triumph, loving and fearing the wrath of His Excellency, and daydreaming about the Wight Knight.
My daydreaming interludes were interrupted frequently by two major characters, that should each be given ample introduction. The first was the Red Witch of the South by Southeast. She had entered the Great Hall under false pretences, telling Foster Foster and His Excellency that she was there to help. And help she did. However, her bid for power and lust of attention was insatiable. Within minutes she had cast the entire Great Hall under her spell. Even His Excellency cowered at her displeasured gaze. She took a liking to me early on, however, when I refused to perform one of her works of black magic, she turned on me. After that, she was full of icy and bitter words. She would cast spells to turn my hot drinks into cubes of ice, boil foul smelling potions in her corner of the room, and file her nails into points while smiling menacingly at me.
On the other hand, there was Sir Rupert Livingston, also known as “The Sherlock Holmes of Auditing.” Sir Rupert was a chubby little man, known for his drinking, foul language, and tough talk to his superiors. He had been born in a cheap little grass hut in West Peking, and through many struggles had risen to Knighthood when he recovered the crown jewels, stolen from Her Majesty by the evil Count Argo. All of the leaders respected Sir Rupert, although behind his back they were careful to outdo each other with grumblings about his humble beginnings.
Sir Rupert had taken upon himself as underling knight, my own Knight Adam, and therefore I was added to his crew as a squire. Under his tutelage, I learned many arts: the art of the sword, the art of the bow, horse-riding, and dancing. Truly, working with him was an honor – we were assigned the honorable task of opening the vault. Once all the pieces of gold were recovered from the depths of Doom Mansion, we would take the last piece and, using it as a key, unlock the vault that held the true treasure of the Mansion.
However, as my knight and I rode through the forest, in search of the last key, we came upon a hideous troll! He was a large, green, flappy eared troll with glasses and a mouth that was curled in a perpetual sneer. As a troll, he thought it his job to play with his food – asking them difficult questions before eating them. Sir Rupert, however, also knew that this troll controlled the mountain cave where our key could be found.
Thrice my Knight and I battled with this troll to no avail – Sir Adam would thrust, and I would come around behind, but the troll called in his support, in the way of mountain gnomes, and I was stuck fighting the gnomes, leaving Sir Adam to end the battle defeated and with many injuries.
However, back at the Great Hall, the Red Witch, Messieur Rory, and His Excellency were growing concerned that we still did not have the key. After discussing their fears with Sir Rupert, he left, alone, to go into the woods and fight the troll.
How that mighty fight played out, I’ll never know. However, Sir Rupert returned victorious: holding the key up high in his right hand, and dragging the troll, all tied up, behind him with his left.
When the troll was placed before Messieur Rory and the White Knight, they took turns pelting him with rotten vegetables. After which, the other pages took the troll away. What they did with him, I know not. However, it seems that the servants of Doom Mansion feasted on “roast” for many nights hence.
As for myself, when Sir Rupert walked up to His Excellency, bowed, and handed him the key, I had a hard time not crying. His Excellency stepped back to say a few words before opening up the vault. However, Sir Rupert turned around, looking to me, and said, “Run! Flee to the hills and find your destiny there!” And so I ran. I ran with my entire spirit.
To the frozen wasteland of Michigan….
Monday, December 17, 2007
Giving
As I sit in the airport, I think of all the different things I still need to write about. Today I was reading in “Celebration of Disciplines” by Richard Foster about service. Now, this book is a great guide to Christian discipline. It convicted me of the need for personal growth with God through prayer, meditation, and true study. In fact, using tips in the book, I went through Jonah 10 times, and I believe I gleaned so much more from it than I would ever have, even if I read it 10 separate times over my life.
The chapter I finished today was on service. Now, let me say that, while we always have the opportunity to grow, I found this chapter spoke to me in another way. For me, service comes fairly easily, and many of the warnings Dr. Foster gave about the wrong heart made me pause, but upon consideration, I believe I am safe.
Of course, this does not apply to all service from me, and there were several sections of the chapter that I particularly feel I could learn from. However, service is one of my spiritual gifts – not the biggest one for me, but it’s up there.
But this brings me to something I had thought about this summer involving service, gifts, and prayer of all things. Let me tell you first what I came up with this summer:
For me, it is easy to give people service. Sometimes I don’t always see what needs to be done, but once I know that I can help, I want to! I think it’s part of my desire to do everything, along with a gift of mine. That said, it probably happens very often that I do not appreciate the services done for me enough. I’m not talking about customer service, say at an airline or hotel. I am talking about when someone volunteers their time to help me out, or helps me carry something heavy. I think many times, once this service is performed, I may not offer the appreciation and gratitude that it deserves, because I think, “Oh, I would have done the same thing.” Which I would have.
Conversely, although when I do it, it makes me feel good, I don’t buy people physical gifts very often. For my first three years of college, if I went to dinner with friends and paid, they paid me back. It never occurred to us to trade off buying dinner for each other, and not keep score! I’m also fairly frugal, so I don’t randomly buy gifts for people off of holiday seasons, birthdays, and travel trinkets. Therefore, it is very hard for me to accept gifts from people. Where with services I may not acknowledge enough, with gifts, I may be over concerned with expressing my gratitude.
Well, how does this tie to prayer? It is hard for me to pray. I have to try so hard for it – I try different methods, just to see if one will stick. I can’t pray aloud! Heavens no! And therefore, it is very hard for me to accept people’s prayers. What may be the easiest thing for some people to give, makes me almost uncomfortable. The phrase, “I’ll pray for you…” makes me want to respond with, “No, don’t!” I suppose we each have our own gifts that are easy for us to give. That’s the beauty of the world – the gifts can balance each other out.
Now, my current line of thought deals with my previous conclusions. Why is it so hard to accept gifts? I mean, services, physical gifts, or prayers, why is it so hard to accept something from others? I know I am not the only one who struggles with this because I read about the subject over and over again in books. And even more than wondering why, the question is: what can we do about it?
I suppose practice is a definite start – practice being gracious. And I believe that means expressing gratitude without overdoing it.
Another point a friend made is that you can’t repay gifts with gifts! It is so hard for us to accept gifts that we cannot repay. If someone were to give me a diamond necklace, I suppose I would try to “repay” them by doing a service, or perhaps being their friend. While this “buying friendship” motif is a common problem, especially among multi-class relationships, the other choice is to offer nothing in return. Could you accept a diamond necklace?
I suppose the circumstances would have a lot to do with your reaction – is this person already a friend? That’s what I’m ultimately talking about. So if one of your random friends gave you a gift, the gracious thing to do would be to acknowledge it and say thank you. But it would be almost an insult to that person to try to give them something in return, or, worse, out-do their previous gift. I know that in some cultures and settings, back and forth gifts are appropriate. However, in the Christian sense of giving, gifts come from the heart with nothing expected in return.
That’s what charity boils down to – giving to people who don’t have the means to repay you. And while I don’t suggest performing acts of charity on your friends, there is a similarity. I suppose the real answer is the “pay it forward” response. No, I don’t suppose I can repay people who give me gifts with other gifts, or even services. However, what I can do is take a page out of their book! These people are so generous with their time, money, and even prayers. And so I should learn to be as generous! And in that way I can accomplish so much: accepting gifts graciously from my friends, helping other friends, and clearing my own psychological conscience that, for whatever reason, tells me that I cannot accept anything for free!
The chapter I finished today was on service. Now, let me say that, while we always have the opportunity to grow, I found this chapter spoke to me in another way. For me, service comes fairly easily, and many of the warnings Dr. Foster gave about the wrong heart made me pause, but upon consideration, I believe I am safe.
Of course, this does not apply to all service from me, and there were several sections of the chapter that I particularly feel I could learn from. However, service is one of my spiritual gifts – not the biggest one for me, but it’s up there.
But this brings me to something I had thought about this summer involving service, gifts, and prayer of all things. Let me tell you first what I came up with this summer:
For me, it is easy to give people service. Sometimes I don’t always see what needs to be done, but once I know that I can help, I want to! I think it’s part of my desire to do everything, along with a gift of mine. That said, it probably happens very often that I do not appreciate the services done for me enough. I’m not talking about customer service, say at an airline or hotel. I am talking about when someone volunteers their time to help me out, or helps me carry something heavy. I think many times, once this service is performed, I may not offer the appreciation and gratitude that it deserves, because I think, “Oh, I would have done the same thing.” Which I would have.
Conversely, although when I do it, it makes me feel good, I don’t buy people physical gifts very often. For my first three years of college, if I went to dinner with friends and paid, they paid me back. It never occurred to us to trade off buying dinner for each other, and not keep score! I’m also fairly frugal, so I don’t randomly buy gifts for people off of holiday seasons, birthdays, and travel trinkets. Therefore, it is very hard for me to accept gifts from people. Where with services I may not acknowledge enough, with gifts, I may be over concerned with expressing my gratitude.
Well, how does this tie to prayer? It is hard for me to pray. I have to try so hard for it – I try different methods, just to see if one will stick. I can’t pray aloud! Heavens no! And therefore, it is very hard for me to accept people’s prayers. What may be the easiest thing for some people to give, makes me almost uncomfortable. The phrase, “I’ll pray for you…” makes me want to respond with, “No, don’t!” I suppose we each have our own gifts that are easy for us to give. That’s the beauty of the world – the gifts can balance each other out.
Now, my current line of thought deals with my previous conclusions. Why is it so hard to accept gifts? I mean, services, physical gifts, or prayers, why is it so hard to accept something from others? I know I am not the only one who struggles with this because I read about the subject over and over again in books. And even more than wondering why, the question is: what can we do about it?
I suppose practice is a definite start – practice being gracious. And I believe that means expressing gratitude without overdoing it.
Another point a friend made is that you can’t repay gifts with gifts! It is so hard for us to accept gifts that we cannot repay. If someone were to give me a diamond necklace, I suppose I would try to “repay” them by doing a service, or perhaps being their friend. While this “buying friendship” motif is a common problem, especially among multi-class relationships, the other choice is to offer nothing in return. Could you accept a diamond necklace?
I suppose the circumstances would have a lot to do with your reaction – is this person already a friend? That’s what I’m ultimately talking about. So if one of your random friends gave you a gift, the gracious thing to do would be to acknowledge it and say thank you. But it would be almost an insult to that person to try to give them something in return, or, worse, out-do their previous gift. I know that in some cultures and settings, back and forth gifts are appropriate. However, in the Christian sense of giving, gifts come from the heart with nothing expected in return.
That’s what charity boils down to – giving to people who don’t have the means to repay you. And while I don’t suggest performing acts of charity on your friends, there is a similarity. I suppose the real answer is the “pay it forward” response. No, I don’t suppose I can repay people who give me gifts with other gifts, or even services. However, what I can do is take a page out of their book! These people are so generous with their time, money, and even prayers. And so I should learn to be as generous! And in that way I can accomplish so much: accepting gifts graciously from my friends, helping other friends, and clearing my own psychological conscience that, for whatever reason, tells me that I cannot accept anything for free!
Friday, December 14, 2007
More on That
So, I have more to add about that last post, as I sit in this plush hotel being paid for by Northwest Airlines... :)
Anyway, one other item I wanted to add about respecting parents. Jesus seemed to focus on this particular commandment. He was always talking about how the pharisees would leave their parents to work, and then the parents would grow old alone. Sometimes he would yell at them for requiring others to tithe rather than take care of their parents. And at the cross, he left his mother in the care of his favorite disciple.
On the other hand, he said to "hate your mother and leave your father" for the Him. I mean, he didn't really mean it, but he didn't want anything getting in the way of the Gospel.
And I suppose that's right. Nothing should get in the way of the Gospel. But the point is, if Jesus found this commandment so high, then we should definately try to follow it!
Further, just in the time I've started to try to focus on this, I feel much closer to my family.
Anyway, one other item I wanted to add about respecting parents. Jesus seemed to focus on this particular commandment. He was always talking about how the pharisees would leave their parents to work, and then the parents would grow old alone. Sometimes he would yell at them for requiring others to tithe rather than take care of their parents. And at the cross, he left his mother in the care of his favorite disciple.
On the other hand, he said to "hate your mother and leave your father" for the Him. I mean, he didn't really mean it, but he didn't want anything getting in the way of the Gospel.
And I suppose that's right. Nothing should get in the way of the Gospel. But the point is, if Jesus found this commandment so high, then we should definately try to follow it!
Further, just in the time I've started to try to focus on this, I feel much closer to my family.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
That Commandment
I suppose it's time to get my dirty laundry out. Now that I have "time" to write, I feel that writing helps me focus my thoughts and figure out what it is I'm "trying" to think. Also, there's the accountability factor. I've already brought this up with one friend, who went, "hmmmm..." (I don't think it's an issue for her - or not in the same way at least). But if someone has the same problem, if someone can offer advice? Megan? Anna? :)
Over the last couple of years I have come in contact with some of the most amazing people! They astonish me, almost on a daily basis, with one simple aspect: they get along with their siblings. And their parents! For me, I was almost taught that sibling rivalry was a natural course of life. Look at Jacob's sons! But still, I'm sure given a choice, God would always prefer us to get along with our family.
Which brings me to the Commandment. Now, my Bible's laying across the room, and I don't have the order memorized like my more religious friends, but we all know that, "Honor thy mother and thy father," is in there somewhere. Well, I have been struggling with this more and more recently.
When my sister and I were kids, we obeyed almost without question. And as a teenager, I would usually come home and gab with my parents - we got along real well, real chummy. But I remember in my sophomore year of college telling a mentor that things were getting more tense with my parents - especially my dad. And now, well, I just wonder sometimes.
What my mentor said was that these changes were the natural pangs of growing up and changing from a child who obeys her parents to an adult who is more of a friend to her parents. And my problem? I think my parents still think of me like a child.
OK, maturity break here! I've seen the drama a million times on TV sitcoms - the teenage girl (11-16 years old) fights with her parents because she wants to be treated like an adult and then makes some stupid mistake. It seems to me that I'm enacting that drama at the age of...well, older....So am I truly just as immature as that 16 year old on TV? Or am I really mature, and logically and justifiably fighting to be treated as an adult? I don't know...
Anyway, my mentor made sense, and I will admit my mom seems to have followed that advice. Apparently she thinks I'm a strange goose, but I kind of think she is, too. :) We could have been identical twins - looking alike but being completely different.
Now, here's the kicker: the Bible says, "Honor thy father and thy mother." (Somehow the order got reversed there...) But what does honor mean? Respect? Obey? Say good things about them behind their backs? I mean, if you were going to honor anyone, how would you do it? I hear the word and I think flowers and parades...
But if I go by my own questionable definitions, I believe I don't truly honor them, or my sister. In fact - this is scary - I don't hold them in any kind of high place in my life. All I care about are my friends...when Vanessa and I were studying the love languages I had the hardest time picking mine out, and one reason was because the way I interacted with the people I loved (family) was entirely different than the way I itneracted with my friends. And yet, if I had to be honest, the result for my friends was closer to my personality...
So if I honor my family, I respect them, right? I do respect them. I used to say that they were the best possible family ever! And I still hold that they raised me very well (very modest apparently), and gave me everything I needed and much of what I wanted. And I respect my dad's opinion more than anyone else's in the world! So I guess I have that down.
Obey? Here's the hard part. For so many years, I never made an effort to go back and see them. I talked to them on the phone a lot. But I kind of shunned them. And the sad part is, I don't see much of a change there. I mean, I want to spread my wings and explore! And I suppose the way that they interact with their parents has influenced me, too. Right now, I still think we have a better relationship, but I grew up thinking that my parents' parents lived 3 hours or more away - so aren't kids supposed to move away when they grow up?
In truth, I still obey them, even when I don't have to. I've just been trained that way. But I moan and groan about it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is - I don't think I honor my parents, but I don't know how to! I mean, like any sin, it takes hold of you and is hard to change! I mean, I don't want to start being all clingy with them, or I'll feel like I've lost my sense of independence, and that's a very important part of my personality.
On the other hand, I don't want to lose them! I honestly think of the song, "Cat's in the Cradle," although it's not entirely fair (yes, Dad was gone a lot as a kid, but I don't remember ever feeling abandoned by him) And I think God wants us to rely on each other to a large extent. He gave us that family for a reason.
So I guess I need help, God's help, and advice. And, most importantly, to just put in a little effort.
Over the last couple of years I have come in contact with some of the most amazing people! They astonish me, almost on a daily basis, with one simple aspect: they get along with their siblings. And their parents! For me, I was almost taught that sibling rivalry was a natural course of life. Look at Jacob's sons! But still, I'm sure given a choice, God would always prefer us to get along with our family.
Which brings me to the Commandment. Now, my Bible's laying across the room, and I don't have the order memorized like my more religious friends, but we all know that, "Honor thy mother and thy father," is in there somewhere. Well, I have been struggling with this more and more recently.
When my sister and I were kids, we obeyed almost without question. And as a teenager, I would usually come home and gab with my parents - we got along real well, real chummy. But I remember in my sophomore year of college telling a mentor that things were getting more tense with my parents - especially my dad. And now, well, I just wonder sometimes.
What my mentor said was that these changes were the natural pangs of growing up and changing from a child who obeys her parents to an adult who is more of a friend to her parents. And my problem? I think my parents still think of me like a child.
OK, maturity break here! I've seen the drama a million times on TV sitcoms - the teenage girl (11-16 years old) fights with her parents because she wants to be treated like an adult and then makes some stupid mistake. It seems to me that I'm enacting that drama at the age of...well, older....So am I truly just as immature as that 16 year old on TV? Or am I really mature, and logically and justifiably fighting to be treated as an adult? I don't know...
Anyway, my mentor made sense, and I will admit my mom seems to have followed that advice. Apparently she thinks I'm a strange goose, but I kind of think she is, too. :) We could have been identical twins - looking alike but being completely different.
Now, here's the kicker: the Bible says, "Honor thy father and thy mother." (Somehow the order got reversed there...) But what does honor mean? Respect? Obey? Say good things about them behind their backs? I mean, if you were going to honor anyone, how would you do it? I hear the word and I think flowers and parades...
But if I go by my own questionable definitions, I believe I don't truly honor them, or my sister. In fact - this is scary - I don't hold them in any kind of high place in my life. All I care about are my friends...when Vanessa and I were studying the love languages I had the hardest time picking mine out, and one reason was because the way I interacted with the people I loved (family) was entirely different than the way I itneracted with my friends. And yet, if I had to be honest, the result for my friends was closer to my personality...
So if I honor my family, I respect them, right? I do respect them. I used to say that they were the best possible family ever! And I still hold that they raised me very well (very modest apparently), and gave me everything I needed and much of what I wanted. And I respect my dad's opinion more than anyone else's in the world! So I guess I have that down.
Obey? Here's the hard part. For so many years, I never made an effort to go back and see them. I talked to them on the phone a lot. But I kind of shunned them. And the sad part is, I don't see much of a change there. I mean, I want to spread my wings and explore! And I suppose the way that they interact with their parents has influenced me, too. Right now, I still think we have a better relationship, but I grew up thinking that my parents' parents lived 3 hours or more away - so aren't kids supposed to move away when they grow up?
In truth, I still obey them, even when I don't have to. I've just been trained that way. But I moan and groan about it.
So I guess what I'm trying to say is - I don't think I honor my parents, but I don't know how to! I mean, like any sin, it takes hold of you and is hard to change! I mean, I don't want to start being all clingy with them, or I'll feel like I've lost my sense of independence, and that's a very important part of my personality.
On the other hand, I don't want to lose them! I honestly think of the song, "Cat's in the Cradle," although it's not entirely fair (yes, Dad was gone a lot as a kid, but I don't remember ever feeling abandoned by him) And I think God wants us to rely on each other to a large extent. He gave us that family for a reason.
So I guess I need help, God's help, and advice. And, most importantly, to just put in a little effort.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
The End (Revised Restatement)
So it’s been a few days since I’ve written. Okay, it’s been a LONG time. I am currently sitting on a plane living one of the horror stories of traveling. We got on at 2:30, waited for 2 ½ hours for a pilot, and now we are at our destination, still sitting because the ramp is icy. I want to keep a positive attitude. I mean, what else have I got to do? Maybe that’s something I need to work on: having a positive attitude and complaining less. In fact, I’m going to start writing about my thoughts and personal development. I know words can be weak, but there are things I need to think out, and perhaps they will help me to translate thoughts into actions.
However, because it’s been so long, I thought I’d do a quick boring update. We recently finished our re-audit. My dear coworkers are, after a weekend of blissful sleep, going to start working on finishing the 2006 audit and starting the 2007 audit. The goal is to someday be able to catch up.
So I flew in last Sunday and worked until 10 PM. That was my early night. I spent the next two nights working until 1 or 2 AM and then there was a grand finale on Wednesday – we stayed until 3:00 AM! The process was exciting in a way.
I could not open my eyes on Tuesday (after my first night), and my caffeine intake has skyrocketed! However, by the end of the week, it felt like I’d never need a full eight hours of sleep again! This week I went back to some of my more mundane duties, but I also wrote memos and had partners sign off on my work!
In times of stress, I think the most bonding goes on. And this week, we finally felt like family at the client site. Or at least I did. I think perhaps my coworkers thought of me as the obnoxious cheerleader. In fact, as the hours grew later, my manager and I grew loopier, while my senior got pretty grumpy.
On Friday we went in to file the Company’s financial statements with the Securities and Exchange Commission at 4:00. The day went by quickly as we finished up last minute items. It was like a sweat shop! We couldn’t stop to eat lunch, and they ordered it in! As the minutes ticked by, I realized it was a hopeless cause. At 8:00, we finally were dismissed – and yet when I woke up late on Saturday morning, we still had not filed.
Alas, as I am posting this now, we now have filed, but the news does not seem to have picked up on the fact! Perhaps it is because the Fed may drop interest rates again. Whatever the cause, if I ever get arrested, I want the Company's PR agents on my side! They certainly did their job, and their stock's even up! (those who care, apparently feel it will be publicly traded again soon, while my new praying mantis manager does not believe so)
However, because it’s been so long, I thought I’d do a quick boring update. We recently finished our re-audit. My dear coworkers are, after a weekend of blissful sleep, going to start working on finishing the 2006 audit and starting the 2007 audit. The goal is to someday be able to catch up.
So I flew in last Sunday and worked until 10 PM. That was my early night. I spent the next two nights working until 1 or 2 AM and then there was a grand finale on Wednesday – we stayed until 3:00 AM! The process was exciting in a way.
I could not open my eyes on Tuesday (after my first night), and my caffeine intake has skyrocketed! However, by the end of the week, it felt like I’d never need a full eight hours of sleep again! This week I went back to some of my more mundane duties, but I also wrote memos and had partners sign off on my work!
In times of stress, I think the most bonding goes on. And this week, we finally felt like family at the client site. Or at least I did. I think perhaps my coworkers thought of me as the obnoxious cheerleader. In fact, as the hours grew later, my manager and I grew loopier, while my senior got pretty grumpy.
On Friday we went in to file the Company’s financial statements with the Securities and Exchange Commission at 4:00. The day went by quickly as we finished up last minute items. It was like a sweat shop! We couldn’t stop to eat lunch, and they ordered it in! As the minutes ticked by, I realized it was a hopeless cause. At 8:00, we finally were dismissed – and yet when I woke up late on Saturday morning, we still had not filed.
Alas, as I am posting this now, we now have filed, but the news does not seem to have picked up on the fact! Perhaps it is because the Fed may drop interest rates again. Whatever the cause, if I ever get arrested, I want the Company's PR agents on my side! They certainly did their job, and their stock's even up! (those who care, apparently feel it will be publicly traded again soon, while my new praying mantis manager does not believe so)
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