Justin: In the Feast of Being Able to. Amen.

Part 1 – Something Wicked This Way Comes

Part One

Times are bad. Financial analysts on news and radio say that things are going to get worse. The next few days in Washington will tell. Despite this, I am blessed to be employed with a good company, and to sit at my desk wrangling phone calls and resisting what I have labelled as ‘Corporate Tourettes’, which involves lashing out at inanimate objects such as a ringing phone or a printer, or even more ethereal objects of loathing such as the mainframe.

I received a promotion in April, and since that time the gray in my beard has tripled, the nerves in my jaw ache from clinching while I sleep, I am tired by 12:00 each night (an hour or more earlier than in the past 20 years), and I can no longer use .5mm lead pencils. They just snap.

Don’t misunderstand me, I am as happy as ever and I sleep well. Christ gives a peace that endures through any place in life (Phil 4:7), and He remains the basis for my day to day peace of mind. I am, generally speaking, extremely satisfied with my life, especially since a coworker introduced me to the .9mm Pentel P209 mechanical pencil, which I highly recommend. Yes, I like my job. One of the cliches in this company is “livin’ the dream,” and while it’s maybe not MY dream, it’s good. There is no hum-drum and no boredom here, beyond that which (paradoxically) a chronic chaos engenders.

As I stand before my desk holding freshly pressed coffee and staring at my ringing phone like a kid staring at a rope swing over a dry creek, one begins to wonder. Is it my lot in life to only dream of extraordinary things? To merely escape in lunch-hour visions of published novels and speaking tours? To be immersed in little more than my own moral vigilance to not be racist against girls from Oklahoma or people with Beyonce ringtones? To sit here day after day and hear coworkers fail to pronounce subsidiary?

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