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
It came to pass that on the last day of the eighth month, after many months of prayer and seeking and exactly two months of joblessness (more or less), I finally found a new opportunity to serve. Today I started work as the communications, evangelization, and outreach coordinator for the Church of St. Andrew in Elk River.
It is a half-time position, which means it provides a base of steady income and the freedom and flexibility for me to write and pursue freelance work. But because it’s only half-time, it also requires me to find enough other work to cover our bills.
It is providential in many ways: Continue reading
One of the books I’m reading in my “down time” right now is The Soul of the Apostolate, by Dom Jean-Baptiste Chautard. The book has been bedside reading for popes and saints, and was recommended on Jason and Chrystalina Evert’s Chastity Project website as a critical step second only to prayer for anyone aspiring to active ministry. Fr. Chautard was a 19th- and early 20th- century Cistercian abbot in France, who saw a proliferation of active Catholic ministries around him, led by priests, religious, and lay people. Some prospered; others did not. Some were fruitful, and some weren’t. Some prospered in a worldly sense, but bore little spiritual fruit.
He saw the reason for this as a neglect of the interior life: seemingly good people became so busy doing seemingly good works they no longer had time to spend in intimate relationship with God. They neglected prayer, scripture, the rosary, even communion—forgetting that God is the only source of goodness for the works they are attempting.
That’s a summary of the book, so far at least—I’m only a third of the way through. I share it now because it has led me to a new reflection on these past two months of joblessness. Continue reading
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
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