No Substitute

I am person of routine. I like things the same way and I tend to use the same products all the time. Occasionally, I find that a substitution is acceptable. To save a little money, I'll use generic drugs. If the restaurant doesn't have Coke, I'll have a Pepsi instead. (I may cringe on the inside, but I'll still drink the soda.) I'm even okay with substituting a weighted key keyboard for my beloved piano in certain situations. I know.....I know......

But there are some things that simply cannot be substituted. Instant potatoes simply cannot replace the luxurious creaminess of Mom's whipped potatoes. Not just any blanket will suffice when I'm feeling bad; I need my orange Pepperdine throw to get me through. When I'm having a really bad day (or bad weeks as the case has been lately), nothing and no one can substitute for a comforting conversation with Mom.

I have plenty of good friends who offer hugs and comfort. They know how to make me laugh and genuinely care about me. But their best efforts still don't come close to a long talk with Mom. You see, my Mom is my best friend. Even though I was her last child, our relationship transformed when I returned home to complete my graduate work. As an adult, I was able to share thoughts and stories while still respecting her role as parent. Mom is also one of the most compassionate people I know. She patiently listens and is able to offer quick insight and wisdom that I may have overlooked in the midst of a stressful situation. I always know that she loves me without question and will always come to my defense and aid when necessary. Probably most comforting to me is the knowledge that my Mom has always been and will always be a prayer warrior. Mom has practiced the art of praying for her children throughout our lives, asking God to protect us from harm when we made less-than-wise decisions and to guide our steps as we looked for the next action to take. I am confident that most of the major points in my life have been covered by the fervent prayers of my loving, Godly mother.

Sitting down with Mom face to face isn't a possibility at the moment. I have responsibilities in west Texas that don't permit me to sneak away. My parents aren't able to make the trip here at the moment -- and even if they did, I don't know that I would have much time to sit with them. So for the moment, I'll just have to settle for phone calls wedged in between appointments and let that suffice. But I'm definitely getting homesick and looking forward to the next time I get to sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk with her while no one else is around. For now, I'll just count down the days until late November and my next trip home..... 

A Tale of Two Exams

This summer has been filled with exams for me -- doctor's examinations and exams of my car by mechanics and body shops. Yesterday, I visited both places and had significantly different experiences.

A return visit to the body shop was prompted by the check engine light on my car. Since regular maintenance had been performed, it seemed as though a sensor was effected by May's accident. (This was actually confirmed by a diagnostic test at the dealership a few days earlier.) The body shop's technicians listened to my concerns, examined the car, identified the problem which they then promptly fixed. I was without my car for a total of 5 hours. When I picked up the car, the gentleman carefully explained what had been done and proceeded to tell me what actions to take if the indicator turned on again in the near future. I left feeling empowered, respected, and appreciated.

A return visit to my former general practitioner was prompted by a long week of fluctuating blood pressure after a change of medication. After examining the readings, the doctor informed me that I was too obsessed with the numbers and proceeded to tell me that the problems were all in my head. As I described feelings of fatigue after beginning the medication, he told me that the "high" readings he saw on the chart would not cause tiredness and proceeded to suggest therapy for my mental and emotional problems. I admitted that I'm fighting the blues at the moment, but identified that those issues began after first experiencing the effects of the new drug. As though he had not heard a word I was saying, this genius proceeded to tell me that I was also fretful about returning to Texas in a few weeks. I left this appointment with feelings of frustration and insult as I realized this man was only interested in dealing with problems he could quickly see and solve rather than my long term health. Any compassion he had ever possessed was not going to be wasted on me and my concerns.

All I want from professionals who are caring for my body and my car is someone who will compassionately listen to my concerns, help identify and solve the problems I am experiencing while explaining the process to me in terms I can understand. Realize that I do not enjoy visiting you and am not making up issues to create a problem. I am aware of the normal workings of my car and my body......and probably know when something is out of the ordinary far sooner than you do. Listen to me and together we can correctly diagnosis the problem...even if it doesn't show up immediately on your numerically-driven diagnostics. Yesterday, I saw examples of the best and worst. One of these has gained a loyal consumer; the other has guaranteed that as soon as this "issue" stabilizes he will never see me again!

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The Need to Self-Edit

It's a lesson every writer must learn. Whether you are composing a professional email, academic essay, or personal blog entry, there are things that simply do not need to be put in writing. Feelings are too raw. Emotions are running high and you don't want to have to eat your words later. Instead, you edit.....


This is one of the reasons that I choose to write blog posts several days before they go live. It allows me time to carefully consider the words that will be linked to me. I have an opportunity to let off some steam and craft my words at a later date. It is a sure way to protect the innocent (and sometimes the guilty)!


My blogging routine got out of synch this week -- what can I say? It's summer vacation here -- so I didn't have the chance to craft a proper post that wouldn't be completely flavored with my current level of frustration. Rather than write something that might generate a firestorm, I'm choosing to edit myself. As a writer, I hate feeling that I am forcing myself into a version of censorship; as a person, I know it's the right decision in this situation.


No need to worry though, dear reader. I'll return to my normal truth-telling blogs next week. By then the source of my current frustration will have passed and I'll be able to move on. (And I'll be back to the process of writing posts before they go live......and have the luxury of editing as necessary!)


Happy weekend, y'all!

Here We Go Again

"History has a way of repeating itself." Have you ever heard that phrase? It's part of the reason we encourage students to study history. We hope to make a better future by avoiding yesterday's mistakes.

But what about our personal story? I'm realizing another truth these days...."His story has a way of repeating itself." I'm amazed that things that have caused me pain, hurt, and frustration in the past have a way of rearing their ugly heads just as my heart and spirit are finally beginning to heal. And that just causes more questions to swirl through my head. Is there something about me that attracts this pain? Have I failed to learn an important lesson somehow? Is there something wrong with me?

Before you get the wrong idea, I'm not in desperation. I'm going to be okay. I'm just too soft hearted and can be deeply hurt by insensitive people. (If you are wondering if you've hurt my feelings recently, I assure you the answer is "No." Trust me on that one. I'm confident that the guilty party is not reading my blog posts.) I'm just finding myself experiencing a little deja vu and the old injuries are starting to be painful again.

When I had finally had enough of the pain and betrayal the first time, I promised myself I would never permit anyone to make me feel like this again. The temptation in my current situation is to tuck tail, run, and leave the aggressor behind. At the moment, I think that's too easy of a solution though....and that's the outcome the jerk is hoping for! As much as I hate to accept it, I think this is one of those times where I simply have to stand my ground and let the chips fall where they may. In the end, truth will prevail and the manipulation will be seen for what it is. Besides, there are too many good things in my life now to let the actions of one thoughtless, hurtful person rain on my parade.

So I'm hitching up my pants, straightening my back, and digging in for the long haul. History may be repeating itself, but the difference this time is me. I'm choosing to respond in a different way and trusting that the outcome will ultimately be a good one for me.

 

The Most Hated Season

The most hated season of the year is here. It's not Spring's budding flowers that is creating my pain. It's not even the sneeze-inducing pollen that is causing me such distress. It's tax season!

Few tasks create more frustration in me than gathering tiny pieces of paper in order to detail the money I have spent during a 12-month span of time. Money has been held out of my paycheck which I will never see again. Now I'm forced to prove that I don't need to send more of my money to the Federal government. Apparently, since I am a single man who has struggled to piece together a living, I should send every remaining cent to a faraway office. Does this process really need to be this complex? Do other nations require such detailed accounting by their citizens? At this point, I'm finding myself more and more in favor of a flat tax across the board!

I've spent enough time complaining about tax season now. I have to get back to work and get these returns completed. After all, I only have a few more weeks to make sense of all of this insanity!

Not Getting Paid As Promised!

I have gone back and forth about whether I should really write this post....but I finally decided to go ahead with it. I need to vent. After all, this is my personal blog....about my life and experiences.

Last month, I was contacted by a local high school to do some playing for an instrumental competition -- Texas UIL Solo and Ensemble. The rehearsal process involved several evenings of rehearsals. That's not exactly true. The evenings were spent teaching high school students to count basic rhythms, learning complex accompaniment parts, and twiddling my thumbs when these irresponsible students didn't show up for rehearsal slots they had reserved. I agreed to do it because I believe in music education and wanted to begin a solid relationship with the high school. The rate of $45 per student was quoted to my colleague and me for the rehearsals and performances. I needed the money......so I agreed to take on 20 students.

I've already vented about the insane amount of paperwork I had to complete for this gig, so I won't rehash that frustration. Still, I was beginning to wonder when I was going to actually see the money. I built my budget expecting to have the extra $900 in my account. Imagine my surprise when I received an email from the assistant band director yesterday telling me that he needed an invoice for the services before I could get paid. I can handle that with no problem.  But he further tells me that I will be paid $20/hour for rehearsal and $20/student for the performance. Students that didn't show up for the competition are being deducted from my compensation -- even though I already learned their music!  (Did I mention that I also had to sight read a piece at the competition with a student because his inept coaches gave him the WRONG BLASTED PIECE to play?!?!?) Before you think I'm complaining over a reduction of $5 per student, it's much more severe; student rehearsals were 7 minutes long!  In other words, I am being paid HALF of what I was quoted when I agreed to perform.

I don't know if this is a case of deception, poor communication, or incompetence. I'm in a pickle though. I can send the invoice for the correct amount and have my payment delayed longer because the amount was not approved by the district. When the assistant director was questioned, he said that he mistakenly quoted the amount for the state competition instead of the regional. Either way, because this was a verbal agreement, I don't have a leg to stand on for the promised rate of payment. Since services have already been rendered, I don't have anything I can withhold until I receive all of my money.

What does this mean for the future? I suppose I'll have to have a written contract that includes rate of payment before agreeing to play. I hate to become that person, but I have to protect myself and make sure that I'm receiving the payment I deserve and was promised.

Oh.....I forgot to mention that this same school has already asked me to accompany students at the state competition. I don't know how I can trust the institution to pay a fair amount after being stiffed. This is certainly not going to make me want to play for PISD in the future.

Annoying Sounds

Most people can identify the sound that most annoys them. Fingernails on a chalkboard. The incessant clicking of a ballpoint pen. Fingers mindlessly drumming the desk. Gum smacking in an open mouth. Noisy chewing. I must admit that many of these sounds can send me into orbit, but I'm discovering a new sound that is driving me crazy. The sad part is that the noise is coming from my piano.

I have a lovely Steinway Model A grand piano in my studio that I get to work with each day. When I first became acquainted with it, I wasn't sure we were going to have a good relationship. The action was stiff and I simply could not produce the tone colors for which I was striving. As time passed and as I got to know the instrument's idiosyncrasies, I grew very fond of my constant office companion and friend. I have fallen in love with its tones that can be brilliant and richly warm.

As west Texas weather continues to fluctuate wildly, the Steinway is developing new sounds. The sound varies from day to day and appears in different registrations of the piano. The sound can only be described as an obnoxious rattle. Today, it appears in the middle of the instrument. It is not associated with a single note either -- that would allow me to avoid certain keys -- so an E major chord rattles in one way while activity centered around F major generates a different frequency of annoyance.

I'm not a piano technician, so I can't speak with absolute authority on the matter. It appears that the unstable humidity in the atmosphere -- and my office -- is causing the sound board to expand and retract. The result of the wood's movement is the loosening of pins that begin to rattle when they are played. Even though I can't completely diagnose the problem, I know the impact it is having on my life. I am finding myself avoiding prolonged periods at the piano because I can't achieve the sound I desire through no fault of my own. While a non-musician may not be distracted by the rattle, it is driving me nuts. I have spent my life tuning my ears to the tones coming from my instrument and how my attacks and releases of the keys effect the sound that is produced. It's almost as bad as playing on an old piano that is horribly out of tune.

So here I sit with my treasured friend, longing for the day that things finally settle down and the unwelcomed rattle goes away. I'm ready to once again fully enjoy the sounds coming from this amazing instrument!

Paperwork is the Pits!

I absolutely love making music. I love getting to work with young students and presenting performances to showcase their hard work and talent. I love the fact that I get paid to make music daily. However, I hate filling out paperwork in order to get paid.

Let me give you a little background before I launch into this rant. I have been contracted to accompany a few instrumental students from Plainview High School for an upcoming competition this weekend. I did some similar work for another area high school a few weeks back as well. For that school, I simply had to provide my social security number and my fee; a check was cut and sent right away. That's the situation that I am used to when working as a contracted professional in high schools in Arkansas, Tennessee, California, and now -- Texas.

But wait! Plainview is going to need additional information. I spent a significant chunk of my lunch hour filling out a part-time job application -- did I mention that this job will involve a total of 8 hours of work by the time the contest is over? -- that was PAGES UPON PAGES in length. Come on! Do I really need to decline health insurance? How many times must I declare that I am a U.S. citizen? I understand that much of this is mandated by the federal government, but I find myself wondering if my short-term involvement actually requires all of this. Based on the comments of the employees that were trying to get all of the paperwork together, they were not entirely sure that it was necessary.....but their supervisors demanded it be done, so here we are. My work with the school district will most likely be done before this mass of paperwork is actually processed! This is insane! No wonder people shy away from getting involved with public school districts for short-term commitments.

Now that I've ranted about the lunacy of the situation, I'll accept the fact that I've lost those precious minutes of my life, chalk it up as another example of inane bureaucratic crap, and prepare to take a voided check back to the business office so I can actually get paid the money that I'm working to earn.

Travel Woes

After enjoying a quick break at home, I arrived at Memphis International on Sunday evening to begin my return to Plainview. Little did I know that my journey would be such an adventure.

I was slated to travel to Dallas/Fort Worth on American Airlines. After an hour delay in DFW, I had a connection to Lubbock -- the last flight to the airport that night. After sitting in the gate for nearly an hour, I received a text message from the airline that my flight was going to be delayed. Over the course of the next 25 minutes, my fellow travelers and I watched as our arrival time into DFW got pushed further and further back. Finally, my DFW arrival reached the same moment that my connecting flight was Scheduled to depart. I knew this was going to be a mess!

As I spoke with the gate agent, I quickly decided that she was a new employee. (She later admitted that this was her second day on the job. Yikes!) Once the supervisor arrived at the gate -- thank Heavens! -- we determined that the next available Lubbock flight from DFW would be late Monday evening. I was given the option of spending the night in a Dallas hotel -- and spending much of the next day wandering around the airport -- or beginning my travel on Monday. I decided that another day at home would be the better choice.

Once Dad returned to the airport to pick me up, the night was uneventful. My intentions were to keep everything packed so I could quickly return to the airport and not worry about leaving anything behind. Karma seemed to have other plans.

As Monday got underway, I was beginning to feel drained. I accompanied Mom to a doctor's appointment that afternoon as I realized the cause of my weariness. Since I wasn't expecting to spend another day in Arkansas, I didn't bring medications to take for the day. My blood pressure was elevated and I felt horrible! The doctor gave me a sample bottle of a related medication and I immediately began to feel better.

That evening, Dad and I made great time getting to the airport and everything was running smoothly. That is, things were running smoothly until I stood at the ticket counter and realized my cell phone was in the car that was on its way back across the Mississippi River! After checking my bag and grabbing my boarding passes, I had a light bulb moment....grabbed my iPad and sent a message to my siblings. Carlene called Dad, got him to turn around, and my iPhone was once again in my possession. I had only lost 35 minutes standing on the curb waiting for his return! (At that moment, I was incredibly thankful that I had allowed more time at the terminal than I normally do.)

As I'm writing this post, I'm sitting at the gate in Memphis....just hoping that tonight's travel goes much more smoothly than the process has gone thus far. I really don't think I can handle any more travel woes at the moment.

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Clean Up Your Mess!

I live the life of a bachelor. That means that everything is not always put away. It's not filthy by any means......it's just messy. Thankfully it's my mess and no one else has to deal with it......so I can put things away on my own schedule. Even though I am a messy person, I despise when someone comes into my space, knowingly makes a mess, and leaves the space in total disarray. This was my frustration earlier this week.

There have been some maintenance issues in my apartment that I have reported by phone to the landlord throughout the month. Nothing was getting done.....so I wrapped this month's rent check in a photocopied list of the issues. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the most crucial repair was taken care of the next day. I was not so pleased to see the filth that the plumber had left behind him. There was mud in the floor. The waste basket was overturned in the shower. There was water all over the counter. I was not a happy camper.....and I decided to take pictures.

Once I forwarded the photographs to my landlord, I began to clean up. That was when I noticed that the light in my kitchen was no longer working. When I grabbed my phone to report another issue, I had a text message apologizing for the plumber's mess that also informed me that the light fixture was being replaced. Okay.....I'm all for an improvement....and decided things might not be so bad after all.

I returned home the next afternoon after a very long day to discover sheet rock, screws, and more mud in my floor where the new fixture had been installed. Now I'm beginning to wonder if these people are blind or just completely inconsiderate! I'm leaning towards the latter explanation. I suppose I should be thankful that I noticed the screws before vacuuming the carpets. That would have TOTALLY destroyed the machine.

That explains why I need a vacation! So I'll be heading west over this holiday weekend for a little exploration, relaxation, and rejuvenation. Livin' Life will return next Wednesday with the next installment of "Hits and Misses."

Stacks Upon Stacks

At times, my life feels like it's dominated by stacks. My desk is covered in stacks of materials that need to be addressed. Stacks of books cover my bookcases as well as the top of my filing cabinet. There are stacks of music on the piano top as well as in the floor. My clothes are piled in stacks on the bed in the guest bedroom. The stacks have taken over my life and I constantly fear that everything is about to come crashing down (literally) and take my last strand of sanity with it.

Why don't I take care of the stacks? The truth is that I don't know how. I tend to be a person who leans toward organization and finds comfort when everything has a place. When there is not a place for things, however, I let it stack up until I determine where it is going to live. I had developed a plan to organize one of the most stressful situations -- the storage of the mountains of musical scores -- but I'm finding that I am once again falling victim to the lack of follow through from others. I get frustrated about it. They seem oblivious. Others involved simply try to make the best of an awkward situation. It's a nightmare.

This is the struggle of an adult man attempting to relegate all of the possessions he's acquired in two rooms of a home that isn't his own. Somehow, I manage to survive with a clear path from my bed into the other areas of the house. I'm not satisfied with my current situation. I'm not living....I'm functioning and merely going through the motions. And you wonder why I am constantly saying that I am desperate for a job? I need a place to call my own. Hopefully, that most prized possession will find its way into my life in the not too distant future. Until then, I'll keep weaving my way through the stacks that are the strands of my life.

Want to Remember Something? WRITE IT DOWN!

Have you ever encountered someone who constantly asked you to repeat information? Maybe a student asks when that paper is due every time they see you. Perhaps a family member asks when their next doctor's visit is. You might be asked over and over for a mutual friend's phone number or email address. For the sanity of us all, I am going to yell it from the rooftop....IF YOU NEED TO REMEMBER IT, WRITE IT DOWN!!!!!

I'm all for being helpful. I don't mind providing information that I have to others. I despise repeating the same information over and over to the same person though....especially when they refuse to write anything down. In my life, my lovely mother is the worst culprit. Let me just give you a few examples from the recent past.

Mom enjoys cooking and likes to try new recipes on a fairly recent basis. After trying a new food item, we generally comment on what we would like to adjust the next time we make it. I have repeatedly advised Mom to make note of her planned changes on the recipe so she will remember the next time she makes it. Fast forward to the next time she starts to make the recipe. She remembers there was something she wanted to change, but since there is not a notation about it, she can't recall what she had proposed. What is her solution? She comes to my door and asks what we said we were going to change. I grin, tell her I don't remember, and ask if she now understands why I am constantly asking her to write things down.

Just before the beginning of an extremely busy week filled with doctor's appointments for both me and Dad, Mother informs me that she received a phone call from one of her doctors to remind her of an appointment in the coming week. She doesn't know what to do because she is CERTAIN the doctor's records are mistaken since she doesn't remember the appointment. I'm not surprised by this at all and tell her I'll check on things when I'm in the office the next day. Sure enough, Mom is due for a follow-up visit that she had forgotten about because she failed to write it down.

I have to admit that this is frustrating even though I shake my head in disbelief and try to roll with it. I catch myself sometimes wondering why it is so hard to simply write things down in a place where you can return to it later. I've come up with a few possible answers....some of which I don't like.

• First of all, Mom has become dependent on me to keep track of things. I tend to make note of doctor's appointments and other trips that are going to impact my schedule. It's how I maintain my personal sanity while providing transportation for three adults. Since I manage those things that effect me, Mom hasn't learned that I don't keep track of those things that aren't on my radar. 
• Secondly, Mom hasn't created a place to keep notes and appointments. I've tried to help by creating a binder for recipes and providing a magnetic calendar for the refrigerator. Since I developed the systems, however, the maintenance of them falls to me. This is not working.
• I suppose it really all comes down to the fact that she hasn't established a routine of writing things down and has not experienced the positive benefits of keeping track of it. For all of her life, Mom was able to manage our household without the aid of any organizational system. As she ages, her memory is not as strong and she is resistant to developing a new way to keep track of things.

What am I going to do? Keep doing exactly what I'm doing now....encourage Mom to write things down, offer suggestions that can make her life easier, and plug as many things into my personal  calendar so we don't get caught with our proverbial pants down again.

Stressed Out!

Life can be stressful sometimes. Issues pile up, we find ourselves completely unable to change things, and our head feels as though it could explode at any moment. A family member faces illness, problems occur at work, and nothing seems to be going right. Those we love turn into cranky monsters and people that should be helping are nowhere to be found. You feel powerless, deserted, and hopeless. Your stress level has reached it peak and you simply have to find ways to cope.

Have you ever found yourself in a similar situation? While we all experience stress daily, these situations are not as common for most of us. We are totally "stressed out" and can't fathom having to add anything else to our already overloaded plates. As I write this post, I am coming down from the heights of being stressed out. While the experience is so fresh, I want to document some things I'm learning and want to make sure I remember the next time I'm "stressed out."

• No one is intentionally adding to your stress. In most cases, the people we interact with know very little of what's going on in the other areas of your life. They aren't getting the full picture of what you're dealing with in that moment. It's important to take their cliched "just relax" comments with a grain of salt. Adding anger to the equation is only going to result in an explosive situation.
• However, it is important to be honest with others. When a co-worker attempts to calm you with promises of a solution, it is perfectly acceptable to truthfully and rationally express your doubt and concerns.
• Speak frankly with those who can offer support. Your supervisor wants you to perform at maximum capacity and knows you cannot do so if you are overwhelmed. After calming a bit, feel free to communicate your frustrations with your superior, outlining the steps you have taken to solve the problem to this point. By writing it out, you may see the solution yourself. If no solution is clear, ask for advice or support. Remember that your boss only looks good when you look good.
• Accept situations beyond your control. While dealing with one of my major stresses at the moment, I learned that Dad unexpectedly needed to go to the doctor to have some blood work  done in preparation for an upcoming procedure. My initial response was not good; my day was further interrupted and something else had now landed in my lap. Somehow, sanity prevailed and I just took a deep breath. This issue had to have my immediate attention, so I just began to reschedule things. While my stress level wasn't immediately lowered, at least it wasn't going higher because of the unavoidable interruption.
• Recognize the power of release. I had held things together (and held my tongue for the most part) while I was in public. Once I was alone in my room, I knew a release was necessary and I allowed myself the opportunity to let it go. Some people may need to throw a ball against the wall for release. Others may cry. Still others need to scream at the top of their lungs! The manner of the release is not the focus; it is simply important to let the emotions escape.
• Pull away and recharge! I find that one of the most powerful tools I have in managing stress is to just be quiet and take care of myself. Whether you take a quiet walk or just climb into a nest of pillows, find a way to slow your pace and prepare to battle the stress tomorrow. Don't set a time limit for your escape either. If 45 minutes is enough, that's great! But give yourself permission to recharge until the next sunrise if necessary.
• Slowly return to your work. Rather than diving into the deepest areas of stress, gently reintroduce yourself to the tasks at hand. I find it's helpful to mark off a few of the easy items on my to-do list first. Often the momentum of accomplishment carries over into more challenging tasks.
• Accept offers to help. When people see our stress, they want to help if they can. Normally you also know whose offer is sincere and competent. Accept those offers when possible and get that task off of your plate so you can focus on another aspect of the job.

Insulted

It happens to everyone. A comment is made that raises an emotion you're not entirely certain how to describe. At first, you think it's anger. Maybe your feelings have just been hurt. No, it's a little deeper than that. You feel completely insulted.

Insults most commonly come when people think less of us that we feel we deserve. We begin to wonder if the person really thinks we are so naive, uncaring, insensitive, or just plain stupid. The deepest insults come from those we thought knew us best; many times, painful insults come shortly after getting commended in the same life area by another.

When insults come, we feel betrayed. We want to lash out in anger at the source of our pain. Often, we decide to do the opposite and withdraw from those who have injured us.

With a single thoughtless comment, trust that has been built over time is destroyed. No matter how sincere the apology, things will never be the same. That's because we know that the insult contained a germ of that person's true opinion of us.

So how do we avoid being insulted? Can we avoid unintentionally insulting others? I think that our technologically driven society has forgotten the truth of the adage "Think before you speak." Before making the comment about an emotional situation, stop and think. Can this be misunderstood? Is this even an issue that needs to be raised? If we all took a couple of minutes to pause and think about others before we spoke (or typed, for that matter!), we would avoid the majority of the pain that we dish out.

To those on the receiving end of the insult, the advice is much the same. Avoid addressing the issue while you're dealing with hurt feelings because hurt people tend to hurt other people. The spiral of pain has to stop somewhere. Once you've dealt with the hurt and anger, objectively decide if anything needs to be said. In most cases, anything you say will only accomplish opening the door for more baseless insults to be hurled your way. Remember that the opinions of others do not determine truth. Walk confidently in the knowledge of who you are take all of your pains to the Lord, your Healer.

The Headache of Healthcare

Summer is the time for doctor's visits in the Geriatric ward. Since the demands on my time are greatly reduced, it's easier to get everyone where they need to be. This year's patient is Pop. While I've been frustrated over the years that he hasn't done a better job of taking care of himself, after dealing with the healthcare headache for the past few weeks, I'm beginning to understand why.

My first complaint is the redundant paperwork that appears. Thankfully, the forms are now available online so a patient can complete them in advance. What gets me is that all the forms ask for the same information! I understand that every doctor must have access to this vital information. What I can't believe is that our technologically advanced society has not figured out a way to easily make each doctor's notes on a patient readily available universally. I would much prefer my doctor to see a complete medical history provided through official channels rather than depending on my faulty memory for vital facts.

Medicare and health insurance are a mess. On a recent visit regarding his sleep apnea, Dad was instructed to get new supplies for his CPAP. While checking out, we were asked if he would prefer a prescription to get the supplies from a vendor closer to home or from the on-site service. Since Dad likes to maintain some independence, he opted to take the prescription back across the bridge.

On the drive home, we decided to drop off the supply request. Imagine our surprise when our local vendor informed us that Medicare no longer permitted them to service Dad since he resided in the same county as the vendor. I thought I had misunderstood, so I asked for clarification. If we had lived across the county line, the supplier could serve our needs. Does this make sense to anyone? It certainly doesn't to me, but it truly illustrates the insanity of our nation's current healthcare system!

By this time, I know Pop is frustrated and embarrassed, so I keep my cool and tell him I'll figure it out for him. My phone call back to the doctor's office (part of a large hospital service) resulted in multiple transfers and endless voice mails. By this point, I don't have a lot of confidence that anyone will hear my message, much less return my call.

Imagine my relief when I meet two amazing employees of the hospital the following day who go out of their way to help. Since I had driven back into Memphis, they didn't want me to have to travel into the city again with additional information they required. I left the office with one of the women's personal cell number and instructions to send photos via text message of the equipment we need to replace. Within an hour, I receive a call telling me they have gotten all of Dad's info from the office next door and that our equipment will leave the warehouse the next morning. If I didn't want these helpful ladies to stay right where they are since they are such an asset to Memphis and their hospital, I would suggest sending them to D.C. to fix the healthcare nightmare our nation currently faces. One thing is certain -- the idiots in public office now are incapable of cleaning up the mess they created! And our national headache continues.

That's enough ranting for one post. I feel like I need an aspirin now!

Unexpected Interruptions

It's all about priorities. Every day ends for me with a plan of what needs to happen the next day. Music needs to be learned, papers graded, and articles written. Despite my best plans, life happens and I find my plans interrupted. A friend calls needing to talk. A parent needs to see the doctor. In that moment, I have to re-evaluate and consider my priorities.

I wish I could tell you that the choice is always an easy one to make. But it's not. Truthfully, it rarely is! Planning and structure are such a part of my DNA that altering my plans comes at great cost to me. The problem is that I have already identified the things I deem important for the day. When I face the challenge of re-prioritizing, I know that some "important" things are not going to get the attention they deserve.

Perhaps it's a sign of my own perfectionism or some narcissistic need to achieve. Maybe I am desperately trying to control some portion of a life that typically feels as though it's spiraling out of control. Whatever the real reason, I know this much: many things I thought were important pale when the truly important things disrupt my plans.

What are those most important things? It's not the paperwork or even the music -- both things that I tend to find comfort in. It's not getting to tick items off of my never-ending to do list. The things that are most important are people. Family. Friends. Those near and far that I treasure. Those who make me a better person simply because they are willing to walk beside me, speak truthfully to me, and still love me unconditionally. Special people are the most important things that interrupt my plans.

I've not always recognized how important people are. I've been guilty of taking them for granted sometimes. I've been annoyed by their interruptions. I wonder how many amazing adventures I've missed because I didn't welcome the interruption with open arms.

I'll continue to diligently plan my life for each day. There will always be a list of prioritized tasks to accomplish. But I'm adding a new priority to my list: the unexpected interruption. I look forward to their arrival because, after all, these people are the ones I treasure and they deserve to be my priority!

I think it's time to revise tomorrow's to do list. What unexpected interruption will come? I want to make sure I'm ready for the adventure.

My Horrible Church Camp Experience

Camping season is here. Many kids are attending camps of all types this summer. While growing up, I attended church camp outside of Mountain View, Arkansas. I enjoyed meeting up with friends from around the state each year despite the oppressive heat and the high population of critters. As I grew, the negative aspects of camp quickly outweighed the joy I might experience.

When I accepted a position in children's ministry many years later, I decided it was time to give summer camp another shot. I had long recognized the positive influence the camping ministry could have on the life of a child. I simply hoped that my perspective would be different as a member of the staff.

I agreed to direct music for a pre-teen camp in Tennessee. Little direction was provided, so I set out to work and put together the best plan I could. When I arrived at the campgrounds, I was informed that I would also be serving as a cabin leader. I hadn't prepared for this massive responsibility at all, but I wanted to be a team player and agreed to help out.

As the week progressed, I found myself constantly trying to wrangle all of these 12-year-old boys. When I went to the director for help, I was told that I had been assigned all of the campers no one else wanted to deal with. In addition to campers with special needs and medical conditions, I learned that several of the boys in my care dealt with severe anger issues. While these facts were known by camp staff, no one thought it advisable to inform the adult who was directly responsible for their care. When one of the campers had to be rushed to the ER because he had broken the hand he smashed into a concrete wall, I was suddenly accused of neglecting my responsibilities as a cabin leader. (Did anyone notice that I was also trying to direct the music for this camp? Too many hats for one head!) I was insulted and furious. In that moment, I knew that I would never participate in a summer camp again.

So, I'll encourage kids to go to camp. I'll help transport them there and supply financial assistance if needed. I'll just have to think long and hard before ever returning to camp as a staffer. That one horrible, nightmarish week was enough to make me skittish for the rest of my life!

Searching for Home

It's hard to believe that I have been searching for a church home for nearly a year. It's not a situation I am used to. Over the first 40 years of my life, I've been established in 4 churches -- 2 of these while attending college. I never imagined it would be so difficult to find a body of believers to worship with.

Last summer, I left the church I had been involved with for nearly 14 years. Even though time has passed and many wounds have been healed, I know that my departure was the right decision. In the interim, I have visited many churches in the area. I have found two congregations that I like a lot. So what's the problem?

The first church was the one I attended right after leaving my ministry post. The ministers and congregation spoke words of healing to my spirit during a very difficult time. I don't feel as though I fit in though. The church has two services. The early service lines up with my preferred style of worship; the second is attended by those that are my age and younger.

The second church is a large congregation with excellent preaching and extremely friendly people. I had anticipated this being the place that I would settle down and call home. However, because of its size and my general shyness, I have struggled to find my niche. It's just not easy to walk into an established group and become involved without some sort of invitation. It feels as though I've gotten lost in the shuffle.

I'll be the first to admit that I have been part of the problem as well. There is a hesitancy to become involved in a church again because I fear being taken advantage of. I've also struggled with health issues for several months, making my attendance sparse at best. Plus there's the fear of being perceived as a threat to others already laboring there. I've lived through that nightmare too many times already and don't want to face that world of hurt again.

So I find myself continuing to search. It's not been an easy process thus far, but I know it is an important decision. Settling for the easy, convenient solution is simply not acceptable. So I continue my quest for my new church home.

The Season of Giving

It's time to give the calendar a double-take. Exactly two months from today we will celebrate Christmas. Decorations are going up already and Santas everywhere are beginning to make their lists. It's time to let the shopping begin!

Giving gifts has always been a joyous opportunity for me to express my love for others. Just because I give a gift doesn't mean that I am expecting something in return. The perceived value of the gift isn't intended to be a statement about an individual's value or my status. The gift simply means that I saw something that made me think of you and that I wanted to share it with you.

When did gift giving become a competition? When did it become necessary to exchange gifts with everyone from whom you receive one? When did we lose the ability to receive love unconditionally?

On this cool October day, I don't have the answers. What could be a wonderful time to remember the many people that have touched my life in the past year has instead turned into a game of trying not to offend. Making sure that I don't give a gift to a person that results in them feeling obligated to return the favor.

And that is why the holiday season has become a tug of war between what I want to do and what I am permitted to do.

Returning to the Routine

After a rough few weeks, I think I'm finally getting back to a normal routine. I continue to have some tenderness in my chest and shoulder, but the "pain" has mostly subsided. Medication seems to be doing its job; even though I am often sleepy, I am feeling much better. As I feel better, I want to do everything that I normally do. Under the doctor's advice, I have to take it easy for a while longer. That means I'm limited to playing piano only when absolutely necessary for work....and that playing is simply "marking" the left hand.

Want to frustrate a musician? Simply tell them they can't make music for a while. It is killing me to play for lessons and know that I cannot "fix" the problems that arise since I'm not yet able to resume my normal practice schedule. I'm listening to more music than normal, but it just isn't the same as creating music with my hands. I anticipate that I'll be able to get back to practicing once I return from my upcoming trip to the West Coast. I'm looking forward to the time away.....but I'm really looking forward to getting to sit at my piano again and get back to work!