25 years of folklores and record stores

Patience. What a stern word. It's disciplined, deserving respect for anyone who can proudly boast that that word would, and could, describe such a person. Patience, is something we all want, and most wish was a skill they possessed in their bag of tricks, myself included.

Think about how tense you are driving the highway to work as others speed past you, hurried and on their way to work. How anxious and unresponsive a boss or coworker can be because they are desperately in need of a call back or correspondence from a counterpart. Or if you're that person, who like me, had waited month after month for nearly a year to get that job offer after umpteen final interview attempts. Patience. As beautifully necessary to survive, it flat out sucks.

The other weekend I worked a community arts and music festival. I met this woman who is eighty one years old. Twenty five years ago she listened to a band that was taking the stage as the last act of this year's event. She had told me that her and her husband heard this band play way back when and they performed a childhood favorite; a folk song that she remembered her Mom playing for her during early childhood, a song that meant so much to her. Since then she has yet to hear it played.

Twenty five years she searched record stores and music shops. For two and a half decades she sought out this childhood memory, but to no avail. Her husband told me in his delicately seasoned voice, from behind his wide black rimmed sunglasses, that they had called this band not too long ago to see if they'd play this one song for her...and they did. After twenty five years of what she had claimed was "completely worth it" she got what she had waited for. Twenty five years. That is patience.

Now just three weeks at my new job I look back at my lack of patience during nearly a year of searching and stressing for a job, a future and a chance of being a big kid again. I lacked patience. I wanted it now and I wanted it my way.

This story of the folk singing eighty one year old lady on a daunting two decade quest truly lives out the early message of Psalm 40.

"Surely, I wait for the Lord; who bends down to me and hears my cry, draws me up from the pit of destruction, out of the muddy clay, sets my feet upon rock, steadies my steps."

How often do we forget that all we must do is put our trust in someone so much greater, the most divine and the creator of our lives. Day after day we fret about the tiniest of details, and the pettiest of issues, only to be shown again that our fears, our wants and our desires are nothing in the grand scheme of things if we just have faith...and with that, patience. Coupled together the lives we live today will live on into eternity as we follow that righteous path.

Imagine waiting twenty five years for something..or even forty. I can't

This woman taught me so much by doing so little. Although she could have done a simple Google search and gotten what she wanted in only seconds, she was patient and found what she had been searching for. For me, it took seven months. For you, maybe longer. Our paths are all different, but all equally blessed in one way or another. We are reminded by scripture and this angelic woman that if we live our lives with patience and with a faithful heart we will be led to solid ground, brighter days and our journey steadied.

May God bless your journey. Fill your heart with the warmth of His word and spread His patience across your path...and if you're literally searching for something - let's say, like a specific song - try a quick Google search or enjoy the long journey ahead.

Until next time...

Stay-at-home-son...It's a personal choice

An article posted today online stated that three in ten twenty somethings live at home. It began with "A weak economy and high debt levels are prompting more young adults to return to the family nest...Perhaps surprisingly, most are happy with their living arrangements."

This comes the week that I've been waiting to hear back about a job that in both interviews seemed like was going to be the foundation of my next leg of my mountain I would climb, but to my luck I made it all the way to the top of the short list only to hear "we're not going to hire anyone at this time," which is a change from the "we decided to go with the other candidate."

I live at home. I began preparing myself to move out and now I'm stuck. For how long, I do not know. The important thing I should share is that I am a stay at home son. Yeah, I owe it to my Mom, I am here only flesh and blood. I couldn't see her be hurt to see me again. I actually pride myself on the fact that I live in a four bedroom bachelor pad with an in-law suite that my folks happen to live in.

Fifty years ago it was common for twenty somethings to move back home until marriage and many times family lived together, nearby in the same city or even on the same block. So it's not embarrassing to live at home, a kick to the ego, but hey, what ya gonna do.

I took a ride around town tonight - there's nothing like a night ride on the bike. Cycling through the historic district - and it was such a beautiful clear night. Jupiter and Mars shined bright. The crisp spring air kept it refreshing and the roads, for the most part, were empty. My iPod sang into my ear as I enjoyed such a refreshing break from the brutal realities of life. The realities we all struggle with, like complaining about the cards we're dealt, attempting to fathom future endeavors and worrying about the mountains we are faced to climb.

While I sat on a park bench in the center of town, just a few feet from the Gazebo I spoke to my spiritual director on the phone. The one who gave me the advice months ago about only worrying about the three seconds in front of you, as that's all you can control. With my feet up on the bike seat, resting comfortably on the cold steal of the bench I took in the sights of the night's festivities as I got more pearls of wisdom that have helped me to refocus my attention towards my journey.

"Focus only on the next three seconds," he said to me. "With everything going on in life and all the uncertainties, that's all you can do, especially now."

"It's not that I'm scared," I began. "But I am worried about the future, especially having to start from scratch with my job leads, yet I'm not scared of what's to come. Not one bit. I'm livin'. I'm meeting new people. Finding ways to stay involved and make a difference. I'm always seeking out adventures and new mountains to climb. As long as I focus on the next three seconds, I can't lose."

As I rode home I pondered our conversation. A friend earlier today tried to give me a pep talk about recent developments in my job search. She said "God has a plan for me and there's a reason for me to still be here..." even after going out to Maine.

The funny thing...As I turned on to my street I noticed something. With the night upon us, and the lights off by most of the neighborhood, the street lamps made it look like a runway at the airport. The bright street lights twinkling among the dark doubtfulness of the night welcomed me on my descent home. Guiding me in, like a plan about to land.

No matter where you are in our own lives, in your own journey and what section of the trail we're on, there will always be home calling for us. For what reason, we won't know. but the lights of the street will illuminate the way and guide you in on your final descent. That where ever we are, we will always feel, at some point, that a part of us wants to be home, for whatever reason. It could be the only means to survive, because you need "me" time to figure out problems or deal with struggles, or because home is where your heart is and no matter what, home will always be alive in your heart... and just a reminder, it's a personal choice to be a stay home son. I'm doing it for my Mom.

Just focus on the next three seconds.

Until next time...

Overcome, adapt and pack lots of snacks

Spring has come early here in Ohio. Winter missed the memo and Spring came in with the new year. The warm weather has provided many opportunities for getting out on the trails to break in my new gear and train for the many hikes I have planned for the coming months. This past weekend there was a lesson learned while lost in the woods and I'd like to share my tall tale...

While hiking in the Metroparks I had set out to tackle a half day trek through the hiking and bridle trails that would encompass a good portion of trails in Hinckley. As I was on a the Northwestern loop through the woods I had followed what I thought was a marked trail that lead me right back to the fork in the trail where I had begun the leg an hour earlier. There were blazes on the trees and clear signage from time to time. My survival instincts made me believe that I was clearly on the trail marked on the map.

So on my second trip through that section of the woods I searched for the junction where I'd be able to take another trail back towards where I needed to be. As I approached an area that I thought was the section I was greeted with a "Closed" sign for the trail which forced me to continue to hike the trail for a second time.

As I pushed on I found a clearing, east of the trail, that was roughly 300 yards away, across a stream and over the ravine. After much deliberation I decided to take the chance and I deviated off the trail towards my anticipated location. As I weaved in and out of the trees, crossed the stream and made my way up the steep ravine I became more and more positive with my decision to seek out my own path. When I reached the top of the embankment I came to a well marked path which had to have been the portion of the trail that I saw marked on the map. A bit disoriented of where my true location was I decided I needed to head North to Northeast. Within twenty minutes, and about a mile hiked,I arrived to where I needed to be along the trail.

When I got back to my car I studied the map of the area and realized that when I got to the portion of the trail that through me off, I had begun the right trail but followed a portion of it not marked on the map. Where I saw the "Closed" sign I figure that would have taken me to the trail I later found.

The point: There I am following my course that is set forth, clearly marked and well traveled, but it took me in circles until I realized that it wasn't necessarily that path I needed to be on. Yet, through careful observation and a keen sense of optimism to get back on the right path, I decided that it was necessary to stop, collect my thoughts and plot out a new course. A decision to deviate from my laid out path to ultimately make my own way towards where I should be. And with planning, a sense of adventure and faith in myself I was able to get back on the right path after being lost.

Now, I wasn't in a survival situation, in any kind of immanent danger or anything like that, but the path I was on, although it seemed right, was not where I was supposed to be at all, but with trusting in myself and putting faith what I've been told I was able to make my own way towards finding the path I was called to be on. The path that would ultimately get me home...

How often do we find ourselves along a trail that we think is the right path, only to find out that we are no where near where we should be to get home?

Until next time...