I have been thinking about pursuing a path in pastoral counseling, with a specialty in addiction counseling. I keep wondering if it’s the right way to go. If it’s what I’m being called to do. If I can truly help anyone. The urge is driven from the CRAP. It is a worthy cause, since crap is the code word my wife & I refer to for the event that almost destroyed our marriage. The current plan is to do a reader’s digest condensed testimony at the local life line recovery group in hopes that there are people in the group that would feel comfortable to approach my wife and I about their issues. My wife needs to be a part of this, just as much as shes a part of me. Both stories need to be heard; the example has to be there to be seen. But I’m wandering a bit, I woke up the other morning with the realization that I have a big disconnect in practicing what I preach. I’ve met a few people recently that I turn away from. I don’t want to hear their story of them. I feel like I’m short changed because they don’t want to hear about me; gee, do I sound like counselor material? I have been a good listener. I can be a good listener. I just cant be a selective listener. Jesus wasn’t, Jesus didn’t. If I truly want to help people, then I need to work through that it’s not about me (although it is); it’s about them. I need to shush…listen…love.
Tag: introspection
Turn Over a New Leaf
Picture a crisp fall morning, it has a cool nip in the air, things have their own unique scent. You can even smell the sunshine cause its so bright. Under the old tree in the yard you see that it has lost a good bit of its leaves and you get a bit introspective. Thinking about the phrase or cliche of “turning over a new leaf,” you stoop over to pick one of the leaves and think about what you’d like to change about yourself. You think about it…You ponder… Then you recognize the fundamental thing you need to change and then lay the leaf back down on its other side. A symbolic gesture of change and apparently a fleeting one as an errant breeze zips through to carry your leaf away. However now you’re hooked in this little game because – of course – you just didn’t think of just one point of imperfection. Unfortunately it was a virtual smorgasbord of things you’d like to change in you. So you find a wind sheltered little nook and begin again; no need to redo the first one – what’s done is done. You get a few more leave flipped and here comes Mr. Breeze to put things in perspective. The key is not the physical act. It’s the knowing of what needs done, and doing the deed. Who will know what you’ve changed that day? Everyone will know, and God knows.
Formative Years – Getting Schooled
Elementary Watson
My first year in school was 1st grade, for some reason I skipped kinder garden; it sure wasn’t because I was academically advanced. Got my first spanking for crawling under a table to look under girls’ dresses. Why? I have no idea, you’d think after growing up with two women in a small house that some knowledge would have been acquired. And yes, they spanked kids in school back in those days (and I’m still alive).
In 2nd grade there was the kissing tree located at the further most corner of the playground. It was Y-shaped and various young couples would kiss in the nook of the Y. Why? Can’t remember what the driver was; perhaps curiosity about the opposite sex. There sure were a bunch of us 2nd graders that were curious (maybe it was in the water). Of course I was very knowledgeable about the opposite sex since I knew that babies came from the sewer system.
The 3rd grade brought fist fights which resulted in talks with mom & the principal; accompanied by a little time off from school. It didn’t matter if I started the fight – which I didn’t. Or if I lost – which I did, although it was a small victory to bleed all over the guy cause I had a glass nose. Also had a bout of the dreaded Black X disease courtesy the teacher’s magic marker on the back of my hands for forcing my hand to flip the bird with a pencil. My interest in language expanded to sign language as I learned how to conjugate the F word and other words in the blue language.
Midgard
Subsequent years through middle school brought more fights, but the frequency did diminish for two reasons. I couldn’t fight to save my tail and I learned that if you were funny, you were useful. Make them laugh and you don’t get hit.
Being an only child you learn to amuse yourself, so I became an ardent reader of science fiction. Joined the sci-fi book of the month club and I usually had the current book read well before the next one came. While waiting for the next book installment, I whetted my appetite on good ole comic books; e.g., Silver Surfer, Thor, Fantastic Four, etc. etc. Not only did reading provide entertainment in my middle through high school years (and adult life), it also fit well with being invisible from the knuckle dragging step-father. In addition, it was a great form of escape and the genre contributed to my eventual love of science & math
Somewhere in middle school I was exposed to Roman & Greek mythology and found it interesting how closely they paralleled another. Given my interest in Thor comic books and because of my (real) last name/heritage, I expanded my quest for knowledge into Norse mythology. Much to my delight, this parallelism was prevalent in Egyptian, as well the folk of Norsemen. I have very faint recollections of attending Sunday school as a child; according to my mother, I had the freedom to attend or not – I chose not. Reading about various religions I made the leap of non-faith and formed my own opinion about religion. Specifically since “man” has an opposable thumb it makes him a “tool maker.” And just like Tim the Tool-man, you make things, so mankind has reasoned (paraphrase) “…that if I make, therefore I’ve been made…”. Furthermore religion and drugs/alcohol are the same; just crutches for people that are weak and can’t handle life. I now find it so absurd that my middle school rationalization was my mantra for so many years.
On to High School – Land of Enchantment…
Or go back to the previous blog Genesis
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