Overflow

I am a firm believer in Hollander’s Theory of Idiosyncratic Credits. I figure the key is to be balanced in how you cash in your idiosyncratic credits and to use them wisely. Get the most life-enhancing benefit from them — like an odd hobby that brings you joy, a food item that is odd for your culture but very healthy, that kind of thing.

How about a shoe that gives you all of the benefits of going barefoot, allowing your foot to be unshackled from the strictures of shoedom, but with all the grip and protection? My latest “allowable eccentricity” is my beloved Vibram Five-Fingers shoes. I am spending the idiosyncratic credits like crazy, but I don’t care!

I admit that they look funny. My daughter is mortified when I wear them. My wife just tolerates being seen out in public with me wearing them. But. I. Love them.

I wear them anywhere I would wear flip-flops. They attract a lot of attention, which is a down-side. (Why can I not have near-barefoot shoe comfort in peace? Why? Why?)

I saw them in an Adam Sternberg article called “You Walk Wrong” in NY Mag. I initially was looking to buy the Clark’s Vivos, as I am a fan of Clark’s shoes, but they are of limited availability in the US. (I plan to buy some as soon as I can get some, though)

I bought the Five-Fingers as a second choice to the Vivos. But now I am as in love as a person can be with an inanimate object that makes your feet feel free, protected, and respected as individuals.

While I managed to play four games of racquetball in them last week, I doubt I will ever try parkour or breakdancing in them. But they are my default hanging-out shoes.

Two things I love — Coffee and Yerba Mate — combined together in one too-hip-for-its-own-good, tragically insensitive marketing gimmick. Yet I am intrigued.

Introducing Meth Coffee.

Equating this long overdue combination with the drug that has destroyed thousands of lives in the past week shows some of the brash arrogance of youth combined with a lack of marketing originality (‘Cocaine’ apparently was already taken, I see.)

But still, I want to try some.

Any Gen-Xer like myself will recognize that phrase. That’s how I feel about this blog. And I do quite resemble a Weeble.

I’ll go into a several month “wobble” with no posts. Whole years will have a scant dozen original posts. But I’ve been doing this blog since the word “blog” was coined and I just cannot let Overflow fall down.

I recently lost my mojo. I was walking past my office upstairs, worried about some jejune client work matter, when I caught a glimpse of my poetry books out of the corner of my eye. I realized that I had no poetry in my life at the moment.

And that’s when I further realized — I’ve lost my mojo. No poetry, no art, no contemplation, no reading, and pretty damned minimal with the prayer life as well.

No wonder I’ve lost my blogging juju. I have no inner life left to articulate.

So I’m feeling around in the dark for my bootstraps so I can give them a yank. Maybe this weeble’s wobbling back upwards? We’ll see.

Raindrops keep fallin on my head
and that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red.
Cryin’s not for me cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complanin’ because I’m free… Because in Christ I am free.

Free to accept getting wet from the rain
Free to accept life and walk through its pain
Free to remain in Him and attain in Him the hope
That abides the darkest night,
the hope that looks for the light when there’s none I can see.
I’m free to be me, just me,
Free to feel misery and ecstasy with equanimity
And regard those imposters equally.

In Christ I find peace that increases and never ceases

Except when I forget, hedge a bet, or get in a hurry
When the slings and the arrows come at me in a flurry
Like a cold cold rain. And I sink into worry.
I distract and delude myself trying to scurry
Around doing it myself.
Not accepting His help
Completely blind to how I put Him on the shelf.

Not willing to play out the cards I’ve been dealt
I complain. Curse the rain. And feign a campaign of control
Until His Grace smacks me upside the broadside of my soul.

Until I set aside my ego and see so it’s better that He go
And steer my ship for a while. Or better yet, forever.
Then I can smile in any kind of weather.
I can welcome the rain. Accept the wet.
Accept the death required for true life.
Accept His Cross.
Welcome the loss.

See, God’s Will will be done whether I want it or not
So Christ, help me want what I already got
Rather than jonesing to get what I want
Reveal to me the blessings I can’t seem to spot
Without a lot
of your Grace.

Please free me from noisy desires that still taunt me
Please free me from nagging temptations that haunt me
Please free me from the conceit that I am too good
To suffer a little defeat when I know You would
Die for me and rise to be my shelter for eternity.

By walking thru the pain with Him,
ultimately I gain with Him.
And I can remain with Him.

Where I can be…Free. Nothing’s worrying. Me.

Goofy Hannah

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Don’t step out of line with your old man, Girlzilla. Honor your father and mother, or imagine a banner-sized version of this beauty at your wedding reception.

Oh yes, you know I would…..

Head Shot

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Yes, I think it is. Rather depressing. At least I know Heidi must love me for my heart and not my money or my looks.

bigsmilesatchristmas

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Heidi is every bit as warm and loving as she looks. Even Gracie has to smile when momma’s got her.

Aaron

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Mr. Freshpants, or Fresh in recent years, is eight now. He’s a deeply felt little guy. All boy, awkward, hyper, jubilant. Has come a long way as he was a drug baby too. We had him since almost birth but we adopted him when he was two.

Gracie looks back

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Gracie is 6 years old, going on fourteen. All her best photos are of her looking serious. She was born with drugs in her system. We adopted her in her second year.

Hannah all Artsy

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

Girlzilla is on the verge of being grown up at sixteen. She’s our birth child. She singlehandedly prepared us for the chaos of having four children. Now she helps us care for them.

Olivia Toothy

Originally uploaded by codyandheidiclark

She was born weighing just 17 ounces. She’s still a skinny little sprout. But she’s endlessly exuberant. We adopted her in 2005 during her first year.

I was listening to my daily payer podcast, courtesy of the Jesuits at Pray As You Go, and I heard something familiar. The words of the meditation song were the same as the meditation sung by my best man at our wedding twenty years ago. But it was some other arrangement, not the Ralph Vaughan Williams melody I was familar with. This made me smile, and I started trying to sing the old tune I knew.

Later, Heidi called me on her way out to class. “Did you listen to the prayer podcast this morning? Anything sound familiar?” So we shared a quick moment.

It makes some great poetry. Better when sung. I wish my voice were in shape enough to do this justice. Anyway, here it is.

Come My Way, from The Call, by George Herbert

Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
Such a way as gives us breath;
Such a truth as ends all strife,
Such a life as killeth death.

Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
Such a light as shows a feast,
Such a feast as mends in length,
Such a strength as makes his guest.

Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
Such a joy as none can move,
Such a love as none can part,
Such a heart as joys in love.

As of this evening, Heidi and I will have been married for twenty years.

Twenty. Freaking. Years. Woohoo!

So, big night tonight, huh? We should have some big stuff planned, right?

Hmmm… Well… we’ll go to dinner. We’re planning a getaway weekend for later this month. Sounds kind of ho-hum.

This was bothering me today in thought (or prayer. potayto-potahto) until it hit me — this anniversary thing is too big to fit into one day. I have trouble (and not enough money for) coming up with some sort of ostentatious event/present that can do twenty years of marriage justice in one day. I mean, it’s not just our anniversary, it’s the 20th birthday of our entire family!

So, I declare a Jubilee Year. Yeah, that’s it. We’re going to celebrate for an entire freaking year. I’m thinking a getaway vacation for Heidi and I. A big road trip vacation for the fambly. A blow-out family jubilee birthday party. A ten year vision, a time capsule, a jubilee garden in the backyard — the possibilities are endless. Lots of ways to celebrate.

So that’s what we’ll talk about tonight. Kickoff the Jubilee year at some trendy Houston Eatery like Reef.

Happy Anniversary, Baby.

I got one of those patriotic emails in my inbox today. This one had a Jeff Foxworthy-esque list of things that make you a “True American.” I guess I should be encouraged that one of my acquaintances sees me as a “True American” type.

I get a fair number of these emails since I am a religious type, which brands me for a certain type of communication, which I usually delete. But this morning it occurred to me that this kind of email — an electronic mainfestation of the collective ego of my peer group — is actually a gift.

These emails draw lines between “Us vs. Them.” Or, more accurately, they point out the lines that are already drawn in our group’s culture.

Kind of like pointing out a downed power line. Step carefully. Avoid the line.

So instead of deleting the email, which is usually the most prudent course, I replied. Mainly because the upcoming feast of Epiphany makes this an impromptu catechetical opportunity. So I said:

“This reading was very helpful in drawing that important line between “Un-true Americans” and the rest of us. Now that we see the “Us vs. Them” line, we can be quite deliberate in stepping over it.

You see, I just got done with a Bible Study where we discussed the readings for this Sunday — the Epiphany of the Lord. What hit me most is that, of all the various manifestations in the Gospels — the baptism, the wedding at Cana, the transfiguration — this one is presented first.

Epiphany establishes Jesus first and foremost as a universal savior to all the nations, not just the “True Jews.” Good thing for us, huh? Everyone is an “Us,” nobody is a “Them.”

I identify with a lot of the items below and maybe qualify as a “True American.” But Jesus came for all people. And I guess He would probably hang out with the “Un-true Americans” more than the “True Americans.”

If we want to embrace Christ, then we have to embrace what he came for. So I figure we need to cross that line, find some “Un-true Americans,” and go love them.

Something to pray about. Thanks.”

If I want to get better at loving across the lines that I live behind, I need to be more aware of where I have drawn those lines. Or see the ones that have been drawn for me that I never question.

I am reading a Pema Chodron book about embracing/conquering fear called “The Places That Scare You.” It’s all about crossing such lines over into the things you fear. She describes the “bodhisattva warrior,” someone who runs across those lines, armed with loving kindness and compassion, to embrace pain, discomfort, and suffering for the sake of others. Jesus, for sure, was such a “bodhisattva warrior.”

I want to be one when I grow up. Well, really it’s more like, I want to want to be one when I grow up. The idea is nice, but the reality scares me. But one of the first steps to getting there is to realize where those places are that scare me. Where the unfamiliar, uncomfortable, painful things lie. Beyond the lines I draw to keep me safe. The same lines I need to step over.

The magi of Matthew’s Gospel crossed lots of lines across foreign lands to seek Jesus. So this year, for me, the Feast of Epiphany is about crossing lines into unfamiliar, uncomfortable places. To follow Jesus.

All this from patriotic spam. Another Christmas gift.

Yes, but I’m back at work. Sort of. The family is downstairs exploring, and in some cases, destroying, the Christmas loot. And I am up in the office trying to get a process control plan written. It’s hard to concentrate. Hence the blog entry.

Another Christmas of abundance. Lots of cool stuff that still needs to be explored. Not enought time yet to fully experience and comprehend the gifts. Grandparents scored big time by bringing the kids a Wii and that is going to get lots of air time. We also got one of those XO laptops via the OLPC Give 1 Get 1 program. (Yeah, I was one of the “first day” donors, so we got one in time for Christmas.) I can see lots of potential in this — my ADD son spent about 40 undirected minutes exploring it yesterday morning, which is encouraging. But it’s gonna take some learning on my part to be able to show him how to really take it out for a spin. More exploring, learning, comprehending the potential of the gifts.

I’m glad its part of the design that Christmas is a season, not just a day. A good gift unfolds its benefit, its significance in the fullness of time. Mary and Joseph, I’m sure, could not fully grasp the gift of their baby Jesus, not after just one day. They too needed time to fully comprehend what they had there. What kind of gift this was.

I’ve said before tha December 26th is my favorite day of Christmas. It is the day after the bustle dies. The first day to be quiet and settle in with the new blessings that Christmas brings. The first chance to let the importance of what has been exchanged sink in, to let quiet joy take over the excitement of newness.

I am excited about having an XO laptop computer for my kids to use. It is definitely designed just for little people. I know they don’t understand what they have yet, but do any of us really?