The Next Phase

It has happened. I tried to avoid it, but it was out of my hands and it has happened. I have entered that next phase of life. I am now a mother-in-law. My oldest son got married this past weekend and my family has expanded by four. Yes, four. No, he did not marry four women and start his own harem. His new bride brings three children to the family; two girls and a boy. They are wonderful kids and she's a beautiful, charming young woman and I'm over the moon happy for all of them.

It's going to be a transition though for me. I wasn't always the most patient of moms, and I don't think I'm going to be the most patient of grandmothers, either. Did I say that g-word? Yes, I'm having issues. It's all me, though. I just don't want to get old. Older, that's inevitable, but I don't want to be OLD. Yes, there is a difference.

My mother is a grandmother six times over and a great-grandmother eight times over but she is not old. She travels, teaches, writes, and has a great quality of life. I've known other people who were old before they ever had children, much less generations beyond. I don't want to be those people. I want to be more like my mother.

How do I plan to not get old, even though nature demands I get older? I'm not sure yet, but I have some ideas. One, I will never stop writing. If I stop writing, my head will explode and I will die. Very simple. Two, I shall remain socially active in some way, most likely through Toastmasters and my network of friends there. I will find a church wherein I can grow my faith, share my experiences and learn from others. I will laugh at cartoons, dance a little now and then and go barefoot in the rain. I will sing songs from old musicals and drive my husband crazy. I will play. I will watch football and yell for and at my favorite teams. I will refuse to allow past disappointments to color my expectations of future endeavors. In short, I will LIVE. I will THRIVE. I will not get old.

Yes, I am now a grandmother. Thank you David and Shannon and Joslyn and Emmy and Kenny. Welcome to the family and know that you are and will continue to be loved and cherished for the simple fact of who you are. You are family.

The Confrontation

The man who sat in the high backed throne made from rich, dark wood inset with many large multifaceted stones of varying colors was a man of the most marvelous appearance. His close cropped hair was silver in color, his features flawless. He had the hands of an artist; slim, tapered, perfect. He wore close fitting trousers of fine cut cloth, with a tunic of the same fabric. The trousers were dyed a brilliant turquoise, the tunic was bright white and belted about the waist with a beautifully tooled leather belt. His boots were the softest kid leather and were a custom fit. On his left hand he wore a heavy signet ring set with what looked to be a single large, square cut blood ruby. On his head, he wore a gold circlet set with more of the red stones. The single guard who stood behind his chair wondered if anyone else realized the stones were merely glass.

A second man stood facing him across a large stone table. This one was dressed much simpler, in loose fitting beige linen trousers, soft shoes and a plain linen tunic of dark green. His hair was a deep auburn color and in need of a trim. His eyes were clear gray, almost silver. His hands were rough, those of a working man, a smith of some sort perhaps. In his hands he held a very small book. The guard knew this man as well, and wondered how he had come to be in this place.

The man on the throne sneered at the one standing.

“So that’s it, is it? If you’re here, then it means they finally found something on you. Just enough to keep you here. What was it? What was your downfall? What finally caused the mighty prince to stumble? A woman?” His voice came out harsh and grating. The guard knew those flawless features were not quite so perfect. On more than one occasion he had seen those black eyes fill with scorn and contempt for whomever he was with and he had heard the bitterness and bile that could spew forth from the cruel set mouth.

“I’m here because my Father sent me.”

“No, you’re here because you’re guilty of something, anything. You finally made that fatal mistake and you’ve been beaten and now your father wants terms of surrender.”

“No. He has no intention of ever surrendering to you, or to anyone.”

“Then he’s just lost that much more, because you are here now and you are mine. Everyone knows once you walk in here you never leave."

“Ah, but I can leave. Anytime I choose.” The man laid the small book on the table in front of the throne. “I have here the key to my exit.”

The silver-haired man stood.

“What is that?” he tried very hard to sound disinterested and unconcerned, but the guard could hear the change in tone and did not wonder that his lord was afraid.

“This,” pointing to the small book, “is the evidence gathered against me and the evidence by which I was sentenced. It was produced by those who wished me out of their way and ruled on by a man who has no love for my Father. You may examine it if you like.”

Suddenly not quite as sure of himself, the silver-haired man picked up the small book and began to leaf through it. He dropped it as if it had suddenly burned his fingers.

“It’s empty,” he whispered harshly.

“Exactly.” The other man still spoke softly and surely. “And now we will deal with this.” He pointed to a large ledger on the table. He reached across it and opened it to the first page. He ran his finger down the list of names and began to speak again. “This one can go, as can this one. These do not belong here, nor do these next few.” He continued down the page. The man with the silver hair became angrier the more names were indicated. He soon realized that every name was being indicated.

“But they are all guilty. They are here by right of judgment. You cannot change that.”

“But I can. I was convicted of crimes I did not commit. You held the evidence in your hand. There is none. I am innocent of any wrongdoing. But I was sentenced all the same. By that token, I now have the right to claim their sentence paid.” He continued to move his hand down the list and on to the following pages. As he did, the names began to disappear from the ledger. The silver haired man howled his rage and tried to grab the ledger.

“They’re mine!” he screamed. “All of them! I was promised all the guilty!”

“And you will have them, in time. But there is a new system for judgment now. Father has chosen to offer mercy to anyone who wishes it.” Silence filled the great hall for one eternal moment. The guard, now fully alert, paid very close attention to every word exchanged between the two men. From behind the throne, two more guards had quietly appeared and they too listened carefully.

“They don’t deserve mercy. If he offers mercy to everyone, how can you say I will get the guilty?” His eyes were frantic, his rage barely held in check. A muscle in his cheek ticked.

The simply dressed man pointed to another book on the table. It had not been there a moment before. The black eyes widened and his guards could feel his fear. They felt their own fear as well. They knew the atrocities their lord was capable of when angered. The gray eyed man continued.

“This is Father’s Book of Lives. It contains the names of every single individual that ever has or will ever draw breath upon Father’s creation. He has written them all down, just for you. Now, you cannot keep me here, for I am completely innocent and you have no cause for keeping me in your prison. But each of these names is guilty. They are all guilty of the same crime, the same sin. They are not perfect. It is that simple. They have failed to be perfect. Or will fail to be perfect. In your position, you have every right to demand that Father condemn each and every one of them to be imprisoned here with you. But Father has a different idea.” The man paused a moment and smiled quietly. A light emanated from his features in such a way that the silver-haired man had to turn away. The guards also turned away. “From this moment on, every individual in this book will have a chance to proclaim a choice; to follow Father and His ways, and accept that I have served their sentence for them or they can continue to follow their own ways and follow you. They have their entire lives to make that choice and not until their soul separates from their physical body will that choice be denied them. It will not matter if they choose early or late, young or old. Those who choose Father will remain listed in this book. Those who choose against Father will have their names forever erased from this Book and you can add them to your ledger. But not until their death. As long as they draw breath, they have the right to choose.” He paused again and let the man across from him take in his words.

“When Father decides that time for humanity must end and calls them all to His final court, there will be an accounting. All those who chose me and remain in the book will be free of your prison. You will have no claim on their soul and Father will restore their perfection. Those whose names have been erased will be yours. Here. Forever.”

“That’s all? They just have to choose you or me?” the silver-haired man began to laugh and returned to drop into his throne, all tension and fear evaporating from his being. “That’s it? Then I win! The humanity your Father so adores is so self-seeking and weak that I will be able to keep all of them from choosing you. You offer nothing but self sacrifice, dependence, and subservience. I can show them that by following me they will have riches and power and all their basest desires fulfilled. And I can make that easy for them. Which of those simpletons wouldn’t choose me?” He laughed some more. “Go. You’re right, I can’t keep you. I don’t want you. I’ve already won. Go back to your Father and tell him to start getting ready to hand over his crown. It will be mine.”

The auburn-haired man picked up the large book. He walked around the table and approached the man on the wooden throne. On the armrest lay a large iron key. He quietly reached out and picked it up.

“I’ll take this with me now as well.”

“No!” The man on the throne reached to grab the key, but the other man was already on the other side of the great stone hall. “That’s the key to . . . to everything. It’s mine!” His rage boiled forth and his near perfect features melted into a mask of anger and hatred. The other man simply turned and walked to the door.

“No, Bela. I return it to my Father. It has always been His.”

“But Sa’Adoni . . .” Bela stopped in the middle of the floor. Sa’Adoni turned back to look at him. ”I can’t leave here without that key.” The rage was quickly turning to fear.

“I know.” There was deep sadness in those two simple words and a single tear traced a silver path along his cheek. “I know.” Sa’Adoni left the great hall and left Bela standing in the center of the room, his emotions ranging from hatred to rage to fear and back to hatred. He stalked back to the table and took up the small book Sa’Adoni had left and looked at again. In rage he tore it in several pieces and flung them into the hearth. He raised his hand and immediately the pages, the empty pages, burst into flame. The stone table was overturned with another gesture of his hand. He flung himself in to his throne.

“I will win.” He snarled. “I will corrupt every single weak, empty minded human that dares to call themselves a man. They are nothing compared to me. I will fill this place with the souls of his creation and leave him an empty paradise. Then we will see who is worshipped.” He was so wrapped in his rage he did not notice that his guards were no longer present behind his throne. All three had disappeared.

Outside the walls of the keep, Sa’Adoni stopped at the massive gates. Several warriors stood waiting for him. One, the leader, looked behind him and started to say something, but Sa’Adoni raised a hand for silence.

“You see nothing, Mikhos. All is well. Place your guards. We are through here. You and I will return to my Father and give Him the key and the book.” Mikhos bowed in acknowledgement.

In the hazy gray distance, three dark figures ran quickly and furtively in the opposite direction.

Change Your View of Unemployment

I have the opportunity to speak tomorrow at Career Connections in Dallas. I will be speaking about some of the issues that individuals must deal with during a time of unemployment, especially when that time extends longer than originally expected. I have some experience with this since I personally have gone through three layoffs in the past four years. My husband also experienced an extended period of unemployment during this same four year period. I'm going to be sharing some of that tomorrow, so I thought I 'd share some of it here as well.

One of the things I decided during my bouts of unemployment was to view the whole experience from a different perspective. Rather than looking at it as a time without a job, think of it as a job in which your job description is to find a better job. Think about it; the state is paying you but there are tasks you must complete in order to qualify for that payment. Any job you have is going to give you a check, but only if you properly fulfill your job requirements. So, treat unemployment like a job. A lousy paying job, but a job. Set yourself a schedule, then follow it. Monday through Friday, 9 to 5, just like your last job. Give yourself a lunch break, bathroom breaks, whatever, but treat it just like you treated your other jobs.

This keeps you in a pattern that has already been established. Follow the same rules. Just because you don't "feel like working", get up and do it anyway. Do your internet job searches. Go to the local unemployment office or workforce center and follow up on leads you get there. Attend networking events and job fairs. Keep track of mileage to and from these events and interviews and claim it on your taxes; it's legal to do that. Find ways to expand your network by taking advantage of volunteer opportunities; you never know who you might meet or what you might find out. Visit your nearest Toastmasters International club meeting. Go to the library. All of these things will give you opportunities and leads that you simply will not find sitting at home on the couch staring at Judge Judy or The Price is Right.

When you were employed full time you got up and went to work everyday, did your job, and collected your check. Treat unemployment the same way. Staying active, staying involved, seeking out other people and making the most of every networking opportunity you find will help avoid many of the side issues that can accompany unemployment, especially if it extends any length of time. Yes, you're still going to experience stress. Your income is decreased but your bills haven't changed. The harder you work to find a job, the sooner you will find one. Don't give in to the frustration that will inevitably be a part of the job search. Don't allow yourself to say "I don't feel like it today, I think I'll stay home." You didn't do that with your last job did you? No, of course not. You had a responsibility and you did it. This is no different. Earn your unemployment check just like you earned your paycheck. Daily, rain or shine, feel like it or not, get out there and do it.

Unemployment is not fun, we all know that. It's hard enough to survive, let alone thrive in a down economy and drastically reduced income does nothing to help the situation. You are the only one who can help you. It really all does come down to choice. You must choose how you're going to perceive the situation in which you find yourself. If you treat it like an extended vacation, you'll "rest" yourself right into depression, anxiety, overeating, and other emotional traps and headaches. If you treat it like a job, you'll help yourself stay healthier in both mind and body, and have a better chance of finding a job sooner rather than later. Most of what happens, you have no control over. You do have control of you. Take control. Work at your unemployment and work yourself into a better job. Who knows, it may even be that perfect dream job you always wanted but were too busy working to find.

That Song

You know "that song." The one that gets stuck in your head and rolls around and around until you start to go just a little bit crazy. It's probably one you don't even like, but there's something about it that just won't go away. It can pop up anywhere; while you're driving, eating, working, trying to concentrate on something else and BAM, it's there. "That song."

It may be the one we all heard as children on the ride at the amusement park. Yeah, THAT one. Has it started running in your head yet? It will, and you won't be able to stop it until that OTHER song pops up. The one that never ends. The one that never ends. The one that never ends.

So which one is making you crazy now? It will get worse before it gets better, because there's always a third and fourth. It's that song by that singer you can't stand, but the radio plays it all the time because she's supposed to be some sort of superstar. Every time you turn on the radio, it's there. It gets stuck in those grooves in your head and keeps going . . . and going . . . and going . . . it's worse than the Energizer Bunny(c). And it doesn't ever need batteries.

Why does this happen? If you're waiting for a scientific answer, keep waiting because I don't have one. I don't have the first clue as to how the brain actually works. I do know this; it's a powerful tool none of us use to it's full extent. We get lazy and these nonsensical, repetitive, ridiculous patterns gets stuck in the blank spaces we aren't using for anything else. Trying to think of something else only makes it worse. All of us have too many of these unused areas of our mind and that's where the junk collects. Just like in your house. No sooner do you clean off the table top than things begin to accumulate once again. Dark corners of closets that don't see the light of day collect all sorts of dust bunnies and other assorted household detritus. That drawer we don't use for anything else specific collects the varied and useless. Parts that are missing other parts. Locks without keys. Keys without locks. Those twist ties we never used on the garbage bags. Pens that no longer write. Half a pair of scissors. Pure junk, but we collect it and it goes on and on and on.

It's been said that nature abhors a vacuum. Empty space must be filled with something. That empty space in your mind must be filled with something, so "that song" finds it and fills it up and lets you know that it is a small world after all, there is a song that never ends, and some people are just mean.

Are you hearing "that song" now? Good. At least now I'm not the only one. Happy humming.

Customer Reviews

Most of us, at one time or another, have held a job in which customers were encouraged to leave comments on what they thought of our service. Some of those reviews are good, some are bad, and some are downright abusive. What if we, as service providers, were allowed to review our customers? Would it make a difference in how customers behaved? Below are some samples of how the customers might be reviewed:

Mr. Brown came into the shop with a chip on his shoulder. He was determined that nothing I was going to do or say was going to be right and he was not going to be satisfied no matter what. Even though I was polite, informative, and extremely helpful, Mr. Brown was a jerk.


Ms. Smith was very sweet, but completely oblivious to everything around her. I had to repeat her order four times and she still wasn't sure what she wanted. She was so busy texting her friends that she really was not paying attention to the excellent service she received.

Mr. Jones was in a hurry, but still managed to smile at me, listen to my answers to his questions, and was not angry when my computer crashed. He understood it was not my fault, I was not doing it on purpose to hold him up, and that I brought it back up and finished his transaction as quickly as was humanly possible. Thank you Mr. Jones for realizing that customer service providers are human, too.

Do you know these customers? Have they been in your place of business recently? Have you been this customer? Those of us whose jobs are all about customer service know what it means to have good and bad reviews. We also know that at times those reviews are written in the heat of a stressful moment and reflect the customer's own, often very narrow, opinion.

Perhaps, though, if customer service providers were allowed to respond in kind to the reviews, the customers might realize they really aren't always right and kindness, and rudeness, go both ways. So often I've seen that bad customer service is a direct result of bad customers.

I know this isn't going to happen. In the world of customer service occupations, the customer is always right and we as the providers are to be kind, considerate, helpful, knowledgeable, cooperative and above all, non-judgmental. The customer is of course allowed to be none of these things.

But it is something to think about. Next time you're the customer, act as if your service provider is going to give you a review that could be shared with other businesses. Would they want you as a customer?

As I said, something to think about.

Return from the Void

It's been almost two years since I posted something on this blog. A lot has happened since then. I've moved twice, changed jobs three times, published a second novel as an ebook, joined Toastmasters International, achieved five educational levels through Toastmasters, served a year as President of my club, competed in speech contests, started a business with a friend, written and presented several seminars and workshops, and have just generally been a very busy individual.

So what has all this activity really accomplished? I guess that depends on what you consider an accomplishment. I've made a ton of new friends and new contacts. I've sold a few books. I've learned a lot of new things and reinforced some old knowledge. I've learned how to get by with very little. I've mourned. I've rejoiced. I've lived. That in and of itself can often be considered an accomplishment.

I do not just exist. I live. I have goals I work toward. I have tasks that need to be finished. I have friends in need of support. I have friends in need of encouragement. I am at times in need of support and encouragement.

These are all signs of a life that is being lived. Not lavishly, but well. "Things" are not very important or very relevant to my ability to live my life. True living is not about accumulating things, but about developing relationships. I do that on a regular basis.

Life is not about the bills, deadlines, or dates on a calendar. Life is about family, friends, laughter, tears, silence, and pandemonium. Life is going to bed at night tired from a full day's work, getting up and doing it again tomorrow because it's a good thing to be working every day. Every day is a chance to start over in that relationship. Every day is a chance to begin a new friendship or make a new contact. Or start writing a new book.

Don't be content to exist. Live. Daily.