Crossing the Torrent

I’ve written with increasing frequency about unhappy subjects of late. Like a flood of epic proportion, they have overtaken me — and, it seems, most of us. Death, sickness, natural disasters, and so much more.

I want to quit dwelling on the negative things before me.

I have, just tonight, realized anew that I have been standing — figuratively — at the water’s edge, watching the level rise. Mesmerized by the current and its power, I have awaited its inevitable surge above flood level.

And, watching the flow, I suddenly hear music.

No, really. Music.

Away, I’m bound away,
 Across the wide Missouri.

I suppose it’s no coincidence the words to the old folk tune Shenandoah are coming from the speakers on my desk right now. No, I didn’t select the song; it just came up in the playlist the streaming music service delivers while I sit at my computer.

When I say no coincidence, I mean I probably needed a nudge in the right direction.

I can take a hint; I’ll head that way momentarily.

Many times, I’ve compared our existence here to a journey — a life-long expedition to see what is around the next bend and over the next hill.

We are strangers in a strange land, headed for a different home.

They do not belong to this world any more than I do. (John 17:16, NLT)

Having said that, I also realize I have stopped here beside the rushing waters and taken shelter a little ways above the river’s edge in a place of safety.

I’ve stopped here for too long.

Much too long.

Too long, staring at the intimidating water. Too long, wondering when the awful flood will recede. Too long, waiting for rescue.

The road goes on up the mountain on the other side of this cataract of white water. I can see it from here if I have the strength of will to tear my eyes away from the terrifying flood and lift them to the hills.

The painting you see above hangs in my home. It is one of my favorites.  Although not necessarily from the brush of the most skillful of artists, the picture tells the story amazingly well.

The violent torrent roars and tumbles down the mountain rift with horrible menace. Nothing in its path could withstand for long the overwhelming power it wields. And yet, mere feet above the white water, on a rickety and cobbled-together wooden bridge, seemingly unconcerned and unfazed, a man stands resting.

The Lovely Lady and I jokingly refer to the piece of art as our Simon & Garfunkel painting, a none-too-clever reference to the duo’s song, Bridge Over Troubled Water.

A century old, the painting depicts nineteenth-century life in the Canadian Yukon Territory. The best word I can think of to describe living in that rugged wilderness? Hard.

Hard, and yet (dare I say it?) triumphant.

Here, amid the most unfriendly environment man could imagine, a bridge spans the cataract of water. In safety, where there was no safety, anyone can traverse the dangerous valley.

Someone had to build that bridge. Over the troubled water.

Over it.

While the river rushed and roared below them.

And still, I stand beside the flood and consider. It’s likely, you know, that if a bridge can be built over this river, there will be another one needing to be built up ahead, and another one, and another.

Rivers don’t run in a straight line, either. I might even have to build another bridge over this very same cascade, further on where it runs even wilder and more furiously.

Funny. As I stand here thinking, I seem to hear the voice of the red-headed lady who raised me.

“We’ll cross that river when we get to it.”

She is right. She always was.

But right now, I’m at this river.

Today, the rushing water directly ahead needs a bridge over it.

I have no choice but to follow the road ahead. And, it leads up the hill across this particular river. This wild, untameable flood.

It’s time to get building. It’s a good thing I know a Carpenter who is only too happy to teach the craft to any who ask.

After all, He built the greatest bridge of all time. Out of wood and nails.

Away, I’m bound away…

 

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.
(Psalm 121: 1,2 ~ ESV)

A bridge can still be built, while the bitter waters are flowing beneath. (Anthony Liccione)

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2020. All Rights Reserved.

Failure to Plan!

The Christmas Rush is over.  That’s not true in our “brick and mortar” store, but in our online store the onslaught has subsided and we’re starting to breathe a sigh of relief.  Oh, there have been mistakes made, packages misdirected, and defective products discovered.  It hasn’t all been fun or stress free, but we’ve survived another Christmas season in the accompaniment track business.  The requests for “O Holy Night” and “Mary Did You Know?” have given way to the more mundane, familiar titles, which run the spectrum of music genres, from Gospel to Contemporary Christian to Traditional.  I am starting to breathe easier, believing that we’ve done a respectable job of satisfying customers, but something is still keeping me on edge, there’s still a niggling fear running around in my brain.

Why should that be?  How is it that I’m still anxious?  The truth is that this is the week that the procrastinators come out of hiding.  There are still Christmas Eve programs at which to perform.  The day after Christmas, there will still be soloists who are expected to sing at Sunday worship services.  And, they’ve all realized that there are only two shipping days left to order their product.  That’s still plenty of time to make it someone else’s fault if they don’t have a track to sing with.  They can still call the toll-free phone number to somewhere far away and give this problem to some voice on the telephone.   I’ve cringed every time line number 2 has rung in the last couple of days, knowing that the chances are good I’m going to have to explain the high cost of overnight shipping, or explain why UPS doesn’t honor their transit-time guarantees the week before Christmas.  And, I’ll still have to figure out a way to get the product to them in time!

Do I sound bitter?  Am I looking for sympathy?  Actually, I was thinking I would just vent a bit, but as the lines are being written, I realize that I’m describing myself (as the procrastinator, not the unfortunate salesperson), which may explain why I dislike these people who put things off until the last minute.  They’re so much like me!  We live in a virtual world where we expect instant gratification, therefore, it is acceptable to wait until the week before the holiday to make your holiday purchases.  There should be no reason for disappointment.  Obviously, this doesn’t take into account the physical realities of the tangible world in which we live.  Greatly increased quantities of items which need processing result in slowdowns and greatly increased quantities of errors.   Fewer days in the process take away the possibility of redemption, of making right any errors and delays.  As a professional procrastinator, I understand this, having been under the gun with a project, only to make a critical mistake right before a deadline, insuring the failure of timely completion of the task.  Somehow, when I give the job to someone else, I forget that aspect, knowing only that it is now someone else’s problem.  And, I expect perfection from those I pay to cover my deficiency.

I love the sign that used to hang in the repair shop of our instrument technician.  It read, “Failure to plan ahead on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine!”  Even though I agree wholeheartedly with the sentiments of that sign, I feel a kindred spirit with my customers who call and beg for me to insure that they won’t be left high and dry.  I do everything humanly possible to make them happy, simply because I know that I will be depending on someone else in the next day or two to do the same for me.  I don’t believe in “Karma”, but I keep hoping that if I do my best to help, someone else will do their best to help me.  Most of the time, it doesn’t work that way.  Frazzled and worn out from bending over backwards for my customers, I make my requests of my potential benefactors, only to find that they have the same sign over their desk as the repair technician.

If you’re a procrastinator, you’ve read this with understanding, nodding your head in sympathy.  You know that this is our week.  These final days before Christmas are the ones we wait for all year long, the ones in which we either are deliriously happy that we got that last minute gift, or are casting about desperately for the appropriate words to explain the tardiness of the present that won’t arrive in time for the day.  If any of you find yourself in the situation, may I suggest that you face the facts, accept the responsibility, and enjoy the season anyway!  True, there’s a lesson to be learned, but there’ll be time for that later.  As you’ve read here before, the spirit of Christmas is love and redemption.  This week, there are people to enjoy and a Savior to contemplate.

Oh, and a last minute trip to Target or Walmart may just set the other things right anyway.  There’s always hope!  And, just a hint…probably, wrapping a brick with a picture of the item taped to it isn’t the best way out of your quandary.  At least, it wasn’t the last time I tried it…

“Christmas gift suggestions:
To your enemy, forgiveness.
To an opponent, tolerance.
To a friend, your heart.
To a customer, service.
To all, charity.
To every child, a good example.
To yourself, respect.”

(Oren Arnold, American writer 1900-1980)

Later, Dudes!

I’m writing tonight in an effort to avoid real work.  I find that I enjoy the enterprise of writing late at night much more than I enjoy the discipline of accomplishing tasks which are required for my real job.  That’s funny, I’m not sure many of my friends would call what I do a “real job”.  I’ve found over the years that most people believe that I get to sit and play guitar all the day long.  Would that this reflected reality!  I’d be a much better guitarist than I believe myself to be (which is to say, I’m not a guitarist at all) and would probably be a much more relaxed and carefree person than I am.  More impoverished certainly, but easier to get along with.

I can finally reveal to the world that I am a procrastinator.  I intended to do this years ago, but I don’t like to rush into things.  I really have been meaning to make this admission, but I was thinking that maybe if I didn’t, the condition would go away on its own and I wouldn’t have to be embarrassed like this.  We always do that, you know.  We assume that if we leave something for later, it won’t need to be done.  Someone else will do it, the Rapture will happen and it won’t matter anyway, or maybe it’s all a dream and we’ll wake up to find it never needed to be done in the first place.

I’ve got a shop full of jobs that have been put off.  Some of the jobs, I just detest doing, so they sit and languish.  Others are jobs I started, only to find that they entailed a procedure I couldn’t handle.  Rather than admit that, they still wait for me to learn that particular skill.  Many of those “always-with-me” purchases I discussed before could be made usable with a few moments of diligence and some TLC, but that’s next week’s worry.  The outside of our house needs repair, but it’s still pretty nice inside, so why worry about a little caulk anyway?  I’ll get to that the next time I have a few free moments during a cool morning, when I’m not drinking coffee, or reading the newspaper, or playing with the dog.

I should probably tell you now; I’m not looking for any help in changing.  Please don’t send me suggestions of self-help books, or instructions on how to write to-do lists.  I find myself in the majority for a change and I mean to keep it that way.  Thomas Jefferson was a fine man and I’m sure that he meant well with his maxim writing, but “Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today” is not my idea of practical wisdom.  I’ve been around the block a time or two.  I realize that when I finish one job, there’s only another one to take its place.  I think I like Mark Twain’s saying a little better, “Never put off until tomorrow what you can put off until the day after tomorrow.”  I can understand that and would write it on a poster, but I’m pretty sure I’d not have the time to put it up anyway.

The really positive thing about those of us who put things off is that we are usually great at socializing.  We’ll drop any job we hate for a chance to visit with you.  “Sure, that can wait, what’s up with you?”  I just say this to make sure you know, you’re welcome at my place anytime.  Just drop by and we’ll sit and talk.  What’s that you say?  No I don’t need to be doing anything else…nothing at all…

“If something’s hard to do, then it’s not worth doing.” ~ Homer Simpson