Dog-Tired, or the Good, the Bad…and a Puppy

I’m dog-tired.

My dad used to say, whenever I would complain of not sleeping well, “When you get tired enough, you’ll sleep.” Over the past year or so, I had taken that to heart: if I found myself tossing and turning in the wee hours, I would get up, brew a cup of coffee, and write, figuring I’d sleep better the next night.

Generally it worked—but these days I know what Dad really meant.

The good news is that I’m working full-time and making just enough to keep us afloat another month. The bad news is that I’m working two part-time jobs, and one of them starts at 3 a.m., which means the alarm sounds at 2 a.m. and to function, I need to go to bed around 8 whenever possible. (Like tonight.)

The good? My early-morning job involves four hours of steady exercise, loading packages as quickly as I can. I’ve lost 10 to 15 pounds, and I’m in the best shape I’ve been in probably 20 years. I’m no longer sore at the end of the day. I rise, stretch, down a cup of coffee and a protein bar, then drain a water bottle and say my morning prayers on the way to the warehouse.

The bad? I joke with Jodi that I get paid to go to the gym each morning—but who in his right mind goes to the gym at 3 a.m., for four hours? I come home tired, filthy, and soaked with sweat, usually after everyone has left for work and school; I see my wife and kids for a little while after school and work, but usually turn in not long after supper.

Most afternoons and evenings I’m too tired to write much. I nod off at the keyboard. Continue reading

Long Way Down (and The Litany of Patience)

Last week of August. The kids are heading back to school soon. I’m still working the early morning shift at FedEx, sorting packages; still waiting to hear on a couple of jobs that would be a huge step in the right direction (writing for the Church); still trying to write daily. Still praying, growing closer to Jesus and Mary—and yet, still anxious.

Today’s post won’t be much, except to share that I am, every day, trying and struggling to give up my will in favor of His. I’m trying to surrender. It’s like a trust fall into the immeasurable depths of God’s love and mercy: I know He’s there to catch me, but it’s so…far…down.

I haven’t hit bottom—but I’m still waiting to for the catch, too! Continue reading

Daily Bread and Darkness

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here. Last Wednesday I started a part-time job at FedEx  Ground in Rogers, just to bring in some money while I pursue writing work. It is a young man’s game: 3:45 to 7 a.m., Tuesday through Saturday, sorting packages for daily delivery. I rise, stretch in the darkness, dress, eat a light breakfast, drink a little coffee followed by lots of water, and pray on the way into town. I work on a conveyor belt, loading trucks for their daily routes, and my manager and I are perhaps the only people over 30 working on our line. I am stiff and achy, but getting in shape and losing weight.

I am also losing sleep, in part because it’s tough to adjust to going to bed when the sun and the kids are still up, and in part because of the dreams. Continue reading

Healed

But he was pierced for our sins, crushed for our iniquity. He bore the punishment that makes us whole, by his wounds we were healed. — Isaiah 53:5

Almost two weeks ago I shared an image of Jesus I see in my mind, most often in Adoration, in which the scars from His scourging are revealed to me. And as you may have seen, last Thursday I left to make a silent retreat. The weekend was peaceful, profound, and, I believe, fruitful; I will be sharing bits and pieces of it over the next many days, I’m sure.

One particularly impactful reflection began as we prayed the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary, and came to a beautiful conclusion early this morning. As we prayed, I meditated on scourging and crucifixion, and as usual, wondered what must happen to people to harden them enough to inflict such suffering on another human being. I can almost imagine it in the abstract—that people could be cruel enough to flay someone ragged and nail him to a cross to die. But when the scene becomes specific—how could this person put his hand to the whip or the hammer and make that person weep and bleed—I struggle to comprehend the inhumanity.

Could I do it? Never…

And then I thought about those around me, whom I profess to love and then lash with my tongue and pierce with my glance. The suffering I inflict out of comfort and convenience by looking away, tuning out, remaining ignorant and silent and comfortable. Continue reading

An Oasis in the Desert

This blog will be quiet for the next few days. My two older sons and I are headed to Demontreville to make a silent retreat.

Yesterday was my fortieth day without steady work. Forty days in the desert, hungry and tempted to turn back. But I chose to follow this path. I have such sympathy now for those who are without work by no choice of their own, whose families go without because they can’t find a job.

I see this retreat as an oasis from the bustle and worry of the past six weeks that I’ve been seeking employment. I’m looking forward to solitude, rest, and time alone with God.

I will be praying for you in the silence of these next few days. If you pray for me, pray that I might find the way to abandon myself entirely to God’s will and the courage to follow it. Pray that Jodi be lifted up and loved and given peace during this uncertain time. Pray that our children continue to grow in virtue and holiness and stay open to God’s vocation for them. Pray that we all become saints and rejoice together in heaven.

See you next week!