This is how I scored...
Now, if only I can figure out who to wreck my nerdish vengence upon...
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Genius is the capacity for evading hard work. (Elbert Hubbard)
Friday, September 28, 2007
Time For Revenge?
Thanks to Caro, I took the Nerd Test and have emerged as a self-revealed High Nerd!
This is how I scored...
Now, if only I can figure out who to wreck my nerdish vengence upon...
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Genius is the capacity for evading hard work. (Elbert Hubbard)
This is how I scored...
Now, if only I can figure out who to wreck my nerdish vengence upon...
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: Genius is the capacity for evading hard work. (Elbert Hubbard)
Thursday, September 20, 2007
I Know I'm Bookish, But...
You can blame this one on Caro...although I'm actually quite pleased with the result, as this is one of my favourite books of all time...
You're To Kill a Mockingbird!
by Harper Lee
Perceived as a revolutionary and groundbreaking person, you have
changed the minds of many people. While questioning the authority around you, you've
also taken a significant amount of flack. But you've had the admirable guts to
persevere. There's a weird guy in the neighborhood using dubious means to protect you,
but you're pretty sure it's worth it in the end. In the end, it remains unclear to you
whether finches and mockingbirds get along in real life.
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
And Now For Something a Little Less Serious...
You Are a Blue Crayon |
 Your world is colored in calm, understated, deep colors. You are a loyal person, and the truest friend anyone could hope to find. On the inside, you tend to be emotional and even a bit moody. However, you know that people depend on you. So you put on a strong front. Your color wheel opposite is orange. Orange people may be opinionated, but you feel they lack the depth to truly understand what they're saying. |
| You Are 72% Good |
 You are a good person. You do the best you can to be ethical, fair, and moral. And as you know, being a good person means making hard decisions... and following them through. If you're confronted with an ethical dilemma, you will usually do the right thing. Of course you do slip up. No one's perfect. But you do your best to correct your missteps. You are also probably: incredibly honest, especially with yourself Right now you are on track to being: A respected leader To be a better person: Be kind to someone who is not very kind to you |
| You Are a Haunted House |
 You are a deeply complicated and sometimes deeply disturbed person. You can't help but be attracted to the dark side of life - even when it's pretty gruesome. In relationships, you are honest and real. So real that it's definitely a little scary. You don't fake it or play along just to get along. And people either respect this... or deeply resent it Your life is thoughtful, deep, and even philosophical at times. You see the world as it is. You don't sugar coat anything. Facing and fighting your fears is important to you. You believe that too much of life is whitewashed. You're not too morbid... you just believe that you can't enjoy life without exorcising a few demons first! At your best, you are brave, intense, and fearless. Not only do you face the abyss head on - you challenge your friends to do the same. At your worst, you are depressed and morose. If you're not careful, your thoughts take over your mind... and they aren't pretty! |
| You Are Sunrise |
 You enjoy living a slow, fulfilling life. You enjoy living every moment, no matter how ordinary. You are a person of reflection and meditation. You start and end every day by looking inward. Caring and giving, you enjoy making people happy. You're often cooking for friends or buying them gifts. All in all, you know how to love life for what it is - not for how it should be. |
| You Are a Centaur |
 In general, you are a very cautious and reserved person. However, you are also warm hearted, and you enjoy helping others in practical ways. You are a great teacher, and you are really good at helping people get their lives in order. You are very intuitive, and you go with your gut. You make good decisions easily. |
A Question of Trust
Who do you trust?”
With this slogan, John Howard propelled the Coalition to victory at the last election. When the Coalition also achieved the rare feat of gaining control of the Senate, Howard assured Australians that he would not abuse the power that had been placed in his hands.
But as another election approaches, it seems the Coalition has been hoisted on the petard of its own sloganeering. And the hoisting has come from a most unexpected direction: industrial relations.
The introduction, in 2006, of the Workchoices legislation - the Howard government’s blueprint for industrial reform - was always bound to be controversial. But instead of the anticipated campaign of industrial protest, which could be relied on to generate temporary attention before fading away, the union movement has responded with a clever media assault that has both resonated with the public and left the government wrong-footed. Not even big business’ deep pockets have been able to reverse the contribution which industrial relations has made to the Howard government’s slide in the polls.
Trust is at the heart of the industrial relations debate. When John Howard promised not to abuse his Senate majority, he was building on the covenant he had constructed with the Australian “mainstream” at earlier elections: loyalty at the ballot-box in exchange for protection of “mainstream” interests. Had he limited the scope of Workchoices to sidelining the union movement, he could arguably have escaped any perception of broken promises; but by enacting legislation that has so completely skewed the employment relationship in favour of employers, he has betrayed his own covenant.
The union movement has seized upon this breach to drive home the message that, under Workchoices, everyone is vulnerable. Their method is simple and effective: real-life case-histories narrated by the individuals concerned, chronicling the loss of conditions and jobs as employers take advantage of Workchoices to refashion the industrial landscape.
The government and business response has been expensive and ineffective. Lavishly produced commercials depicting mythologically happy workplaces cannot match the gritty realism of rural workers standing in the middle of arid landscape saying: “Out here, jobs aren’t that easy to find.” Unions know it is easier to play on fears than it is to build up hopes - this, afterall, is the same formula that has ensured John Howard’s repeated electoral success. But when a sense of betrayal is added to fear, slick commercialism serves only to reinforce the point the union movement has been making to anyone who‘ll listen: the Howard government cannot be trusted.
It is clear from the latest government-business offensive that the lessons of 2006 have not been learned. A new batch of commercials have been produced insisting employment conditions are protected as a matter of “fact”; that the effect of Workchoices has been an equal prosperity for employers and employees; and warning against thuggish union officials armed with industrial power. But what the Howard government and its business allies have failed to realise is that, in an atmosphere of distrust, such claims appear only as propaganda; by asserting so fervently that all is well under Workchoices, they in fact beg the question of whether or not this is actually the case.
Especially when every instance of workers having their conditions stripped or losing their jobs receives widespread media attention. And when studies by reputable academic institutions repeatedly demonstrate that the net effect of individual contracts is to cause a reduction in conditions, commercials insisting that the contrary is “fact” simply appear dishonest.
Had the Howard government been more discerning, it might have run commercials admitting its mistakes and pointing to initiatives such as the “fairness test” as proof it was committed to creating a balanced system. As a strategy, this involves some risk; but Howard’s hopes for re-election rest on re-establishing the trust of the “mainstream”. A display of humility might just have done so.
However, it’s unlikely such honesty will be forthcoming. John Howard’s determination to re-shape the Australian economy in the neo-liberal mould will admit of no mistakes. In the meantime, the “mainstream” on which Howard has built his political support has lost its trust in him - not least because the harsh reality of life under Workchoices belies the chimeral promises of the government’s media campaign.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: A politician is someone who believes you don't have to fool the people all the time - just during election campaigns. (Stanley Davis)
With this slogan, John Howard propelled the Coalition to victory at the last election. When the Coalition also achieved the rare feat of gaining control of the Senate, Howard assured Australians that he would not abuse the power that had been placed in his hands.
But as another election approaches, it seems the Coalition has been hoisted on the petard of its own sloganeering. And the hoisting has come from a most unexpected direction: industrial relations.
The introduction, in 2006, of the Workchoices legislation - the Howard government’s blueprint for industrial reform - was always bound to be controversial. But instead of the anticipated campaign of industrial protest, which could be relied on to generate temporary attention before fading away, the union movement has responded with a clever media assault that has both resonated with the public and left the government wrong-footed. Not even big business’ deep pockets have been able to reverse the contribution which industrial relations has made to the Howard government’s slide in the polls.
Trust is at the heart of the industrial relations debate. When John Howard promised not to abuse his Senate majority, he was building on the covenant he had constructed with the Australian “mainstream” at earlier elections: loyalty at the ballot-box in exchange for protection of “mainstream” interests. Had he limited the scope of Workchoices to sidelining the union movement, he could arguably have escaped any perception of broken promises; but by enacting legislation that has so completely skewed the employment relationship in favour of employers, he has betrayed his own covenant.
The union movement has seized upon this breach to drive home the message that, under Workchoices, everyone is vulnerable. Their method is simple and effective: real-life case-histories narrated by the individuals concerned, chronicling the loss of conditions and jobs as employers take advantage of Workchoices to refashion the industrial landscape.
The government and business response has been expensive and ineffective. Lavishly produced commercials depicting mythologically happy workplaces cannot match the gritty realism of rural workers standing in the middle of arid landscape saying: “Out here, jobs aren’t that easy to find.” Unions know it is easier to play on fears than it is to build up hopes - this, afterall, is the same formula that has ensured John Howard’s repeated electoral success. But when a sense of betrayal is added to fear, slick commercialism serves only to reinforce the point the union movement has been making to anyone who‘ll listen: the Howard government cannot be trusted.
It is clear from the latest government-business offensive that the lessons of 2006 have not been learned. A new batch of commercials have been produced insisting employment conditions are protected as a matter of “fact”; that the effect of Workchoices has been an equal prosperity for employers and employees; and warning against thuggish union officials armed with industrial power. But what the Howard government and its business allies have failed to realise is that, in an atmosphere of distrust, such claims appear only as propaganda; by asserting so fervently that all is well under Workchoices, they in fact beg the question of whether or not this is actually the case.
Especially when every instance of workers having their conditions stripped or losing their jobs receives widespread media attention. And when studies by reputable academic institutions repeatedly demonstrate that the net effect of individual contracts is to cause a reduction in conditions, commercials insisting that the contrary is “fact” simply appear dishonest.
Had the Howard government been more discerning, it might have run commercials admitting its mistakes and pointing to initiatives such as the “fairness test” as proof it was committed to creating a balanced system. As a strategy, this involves some risk; but Howard’s hopes for re-election rest on re-establishing the trust of the “mainstream”. A display of humility might just have done so.
However, it’s unlikely such honesty will be forthcoming. John Howard’s determination to re-shape the Australian economy in the neo-liberal mould will admit of no mistakes. In the meantime, the “mainstream” on which Howard has built his political support has lost its trust in him - not least because the harsh reality of life under Workchoices belies the chimeral promises of the government’s media campaign.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: A politician is someone who believes you don't have to fool the people all the time - just during election campaigns. (Stanley Davis)
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Envelope Please...
Yesterday afternoon, as I was coming home from another day at uni, I turned the corner into my street, and as I strolled toward home, saw the postie pulling away from my letterbox, having stuffed a fistful of mail into the box.
Now I wonder, I thought, could that be....?
I was expecting a letter. Indeed, I was expecting two letters, one for myself, the other for my Dearly Beloved. They were advices from the Uniting Church in Australia's Victorian-Tasmanian Synod telling us whether or not we had been affirmed as candidates to the ordained ministry.
I'll be honest with you here: I had been sweating on this letter. And the reason was that I frankly thought it would be bad news: the answer would be, well, if not no exactly, then not yet. I was expecting the Synod to say that while they recognised I had a genuine call to ministry, I needed to further develop the graces and giftings by which that call was accompanied, and re-apply for affirmation at a later date.
Why was I thinking this way? Not because I thought I'd had a particularly bad time at the Selection Conference, which had been held over the course of the weekend just passed. The questioning had been close and intensive, at times a little confronting, and the role-playing scenarios were conducted in the fish-bowl like atmosphere of constant scrutiny by the Selection Panel. But I thought I had more than held my own. Rather, as the weekend progressed, I developed the nagging suspicion that the Panel members thought that I needed more exposure to the wider Uniting Church, that as a prospective ministry candidate I was perhaps a little "under done"; there seemed a definite "theme" developing which underlay the questions I was being asked.
Mind you, I certainly understood why this might be the case. Compared to my Dearly Beloved, I have been a member of the Uniting Church for a relatively short period of time, having undergone my own journey of faith that involved growing up a Catholic, becoming alienated from Catholicism in my late teens, spending most of my twenties wrestling with matters of faith and church, before finally entering the Uniting Church in my thirties. Under these circumstances, the church were perfectly entitled to enquire about the depth of my faith and conviction, and whether or not I was truly responding to a call of God on my life, or if I was applying to candidate for other reasons.
And so I was given a good grilling by the Panel members. As I say, I was of the belief that I withstood the pressure and responded effectively; but whether this would be enough to overcome any misgivings was a completely open question. I came away from he conference completely unsure of what to think.
At least, that was the case in respect of myself; about my Dearly Beloved I had no doubts whatsoever. She performed brilliantly over the course the weekend, going from strength to strength. That she would be affirmed I had no doubts whatsoever.
So, as the postie zipped past me on his motorbike and I approached the letterbox, a small quiver of mingled hope and unease fluttered through my nervous system. Had I passed this final test of what had been a long and exhaustive process; or would I fall at the final hurdle? Or would I have to wait another 24 hours to learn my fate?
The letters from Synod were waiting in the letterbox. With fumbling fingers, I opened the envelope. Within the Express Post envelope was an ordinary mail envelope. I opened this second envelope and wrenched open the letter within.
It is with joy that we affirm your sense of call and acknowledge the gifts and graces you bring to ministry...
I had made it! The Synod had accepted my application! Woo-hoo!
I called my Dearly Beloved to convey the news to her, as well as the entirely expected result that she, too, had also been affirmed by the Selection Panel. Then a round of phone calls to family and friends, especially Jim and Ris who supported us through the weekend, and Ian and Margery who provided us with some much-needed time-out on Saturday night. And also to our local minister, Ian, who has been such a wonderful fount of support and grace through the application process.
Now that the euphoria has died, I realise that the hard work begins now. Three years (at least) of formation and training at Theological Hall, over and above my BTheol degree studies, as well as congregational placements and, ultimately, a year as an intern before I can be ordained. Moreover, I am deeply conscious of the trust and responsibility that has devolved upon me. But it will be wonderful having my Dearly Beloved with me at Hall; and with humility, hard work, and a little grace, this new beginning will lead to many wonderful and faith-affirming experiences.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: No man is so completely happy that something somewhere does not clash with his condition. It is the nature of human affairs to be fraught with anxiety; they never prosper perfectly, and they never remain constant. (Boethius)
Now I wonder, I thought, could that be....?
I was expecting a letter. Indeed, I was expecting two letters, one for myself, the other for my Dearly Beloved. They were advices from the Uniting Church in Australia's Victorian-Tasmanian Synod telling us whether or not we had been affirmed as candidates to the ordained ministry.
I'll be honest with you here: I had been sweating on this letter. And the reason was that I frankly thought it would be bad news: the answer would be, well, if not no exactly, then not yet. I was expecting the Synod to say that while they recognised I had a genuine call to ministry, I needed to further develop the graces and giftings by which that call was accompanied, and re-apply for affirmation at a later date.
Why was I thinking this way? Not because I thought I'd had a particularly bad time at the Selection Conference, which had been held over the course of the weekend just passed. The questioning had been close and intensive, at times a little confronting, and the role-playing scenarios were conducted in the fish-bowl like atmosphere of constant scrutiny by the Selection Panel. But I thought I had more than held my own. Rather, as the weekend progressed, I developed the nagging suspicion that the Panel members thought that I needed more exposure to the wider Uniting Church, that as a prospective ministry candidate I was perhaps a little "under done"; there seemed a definite "theme" developing which underlay the questions I was being asked.
Mind you, I certainly understood why this might be the case. Compared to my Dearly Beloved, I have been a member of the Uniting Church for a relatively short period of time, having undergone my own journey of faith that involved growing up a Catholic, becoming alienated from Catholicism in my late teens, spending most of my twenties wrestling with matters of faith and church, before finally entering the Uniting Church in my thirties. Under these circumstances, the church were perfectly entitled to enquire about the depth of my faith and conviction, and whether or not I was truly responding to a call of God on my life, or if I was applying to candidate for other reasons.
And so I was given a good grilling by the Panel members. As I say, I was of the belief that I withstood the pressure and responded effectively; but whether this would be enough to overcome any misgivings was a completely open question. I came away from he conference completely unsure of what to think.
At least, that was the case in respect of myself; about my Dearly Beloved I had no doubts whatsoever. She performed brilliantly over the course the weekend, going from strength to strength. That she would be affirmed I had no doubts whatsoever.
So, as the postie zipped past me on his motorbike and I approached the letterbox, a small quiver of mingled hope and unease fluttered through my nervous system. Had I passed this final test of what had been a long and exhaustive process; or would I fall at the final hurdle? Or would I have to wait another 24 hours to learn my fate?
The letters from Synod were waiting in the letterbox. With fumbling fingers, I opened the envelope. Within the Express Post envelope was an ordinary mail envelope. I opened this second envelope and wrenched open the letter within.
It is with joy that we affirm your sense of call and acknowledge the gifts and graces you bring to ministry...
I had made it! The Synod had accepted my application! Woo-hoo!
I called my Dearly Beloved to convey the news to her, as well as the entirely expected result that she, too, had also been affirmed by the Selection Panel. Then a round of phone calls to family and friends, especially Jim and Ris who supported us through the weekend, and Ian and Margery who provided us with some much-needed time-out on Saturday night. And also to our local minister, Ian, who has been such a wonderful fount of support and grace through the application process.
Now that the euphoria has died, I realise that the hard work begins now. Three years (at least) of formation and training at Theological Hall, over and above my BTheol degree studies, as well as congregational placements and, ultimately, a year as an intern before I can be ordained. Moreover, I am deeply conscious of the trust and responsibility that has devolved upon me. But it will be wonderful having my Dearly Beloved with me at Hall; and with humility, hard work, and a little grace, this new beginning will lead to many wonderful and faith-affirming experiences.
Talk to you soon,
BB.
Quote for the Day: No man is so completely happy that something somewhere does not clash with his condition. It is the nature of human affairs to be fraught with anxiety; they never prosper perfectly, and they never remain constant. (Boethius)
Friday, September 07, 2007
What A Week!
This has been the week from hell.
As you will recall from my last missive, I had to undergo surgery on my left eye last Friday due to the fact that the retina in said eye decided right now would be a good time to detach - again. I've always said that the universe has a sense of humour, and that while we mightn't always see the humour in the gag, at least we could draw consolation from being the butt of cosmic jokes beyond our control. But seriously, folks, this time I'm going to complain to the gag writer!
The surgery itself went fine: accompanied by my Dearly Beloved, we bowled up to the Royal Eye and Ear Hospital in Melbourne at the appointed time. My last conscious thought as they put me under was that the anesthetic nurse's gloves smelled; the next thing I know, I was being encouraged to wake up and tilt my head to the left as far as I could. The significance of that last instruction will shortly become obvious.
As with the last time, the staff were superb. The nurses were compassionate and attentive, the surgery team were calm and encouraging, and the catering and ancillary staff were cheerful and considerate. Just one more demonstration of how incredibly fortunate we are in Australia to have a functioning public health system; and how we must guard this precious resource from being dismantled into an American-style health-care for the wealthy dysfunction.
Of course, retinal surgery is a fairly significant procedure, so I wasn't expecting to come out of the surgery without some discomfort. But, as I knew from last year's experience, this would quickly wear off, leaving me to deal with the more gruelling rigours of the recovery process itself. And this is why that instruction, as I emerged from he anesthetic fug, to tilt my head to the left became significant. Because, unlike last year, when I had to lie on my stomach for a week to aid the healing process, this time I had to lie on my left side. All the time. For a week. I couldn't lie on my back or my right side or my stomach; only on my left side, with just ten or so minutes every hour for the purposes of getting up and stretching my limbs and obtaining some relief.
Well, it was sheer agony. Lying on my stomach last year put a lot of pressure on my lower back, but that could be countered by stuffing a few pillows under my hips to flex my spine. This time, however, there was no relief, and the pain was spread over a series of pressure points: face, neck, shoulder, and hip. And all on the left side.
By the third day, my whole body was throbbing with pain. My face ached, my neck ached, my shoulders and hips ached: even my bones ached, throbbing with a deep seated pain that made me wonder if this was what it was like having leukemia or being a bone marrow doner. It got to the point when the only comfortable condition was unconsciousness - but even that was an elusive bliss, because the pain completely destroyed my sleep patterns, necessitating my retreat first to the sofa bed in the spare room; then, when that became unendurable because of its metal frame, the couch in the living room.
And to top it all off, I was suffering from caffeine withdrawal, owing to the fact that I hadn't had any coffee since the Saturday after the operation. Not that I drink much coffee as it is, but even a lifetime of moderate usage was enough to provoke crippling headaches to go along with all the other malaises as a consequence of my not imbibing. A compelling cause for reflection on the power of addiction!
All of this would have been bad enough were it not for the addition of the hours that just dragged past in empty procession. I couldn't read, couldn't watch TV, couldn't do anything to occupy my mind except listen to the radio and mark off the passage of time via program changes and hourly news updates. I practically colonised the lounge-room, with pillow, doona, and radio, the latter my only weapon for combating the empty desolation of enforced idleness. Thank heaven for Radio National is all I can say!
Not that this week has been a walk in the park for my Dearly Beloved. She was unwell herself over the weekend and at the beginning of the week; and since she is a secondary school teacher, the year is rapidly approaching the business end of the calendar, with final exams and all the pressures and anxieties of stressed students. To make matters worse, my chronic insomnia has played havoc with her own need for regular sleep.
Sooooo - here we are at the end of a pretty awful week, both exhausted, both not exactly in tip-top shape, and both of us having to face the Uniting Church Victorian-Tasmanian Synod Selection Conference for people applying to candidate to the ordained ministry. This is the apogee of a long process for both of us: the final stage of the church's discernment of our sense of call to ordained ministry. After this weekend, which is an intense series of interviews, presentations, and role plays, the Church will decide whether or not it discerns our call to ministry, and whether or not as a consequence it will accept our applications to candidate.
You'd think all this would be enough to terminally depress a person and put them off the whole project altogether. Except for the fact that my Dearly Beloved and I have had the terrific pastoral support and care of our minister, Ian, and of the North Ringwood Uniting Church community; we've had lots of encouragement and best wishes from friends, family, and acquaintances; and, most importantly, we'll have the support of our friends Ris and Jim at the Selection Conference, and also of Ian and Margery by way of a dinner debrief on Saturday night. All of these examples of care and support have buoyed our spirits; but most of all, we are committed to our respective and shared sense of vocation to serve in God's ministry, and we trust that God's ineffable presence in Christ and the Holy Spirit will help the Church discern our call.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: Fortune has not yet turned her hatred against all your blessings. The storm has not yet broken upon you with too much violence. Your anchors are holding firm, and they permit you both comfort in the present, and hope in the future. (Boethius)
As you will recall from my last missive, I had to undergo surgery on my left eye last Friday due to the fact that the retina in said eye decided right now would be a good time to detach - again. I've always said that the universe has a sense of humour, and that while we mightn't always see the humour in the gag, at least we could draw consolation from being the butt of cosmic jokes beyond our control. But seriously, folks, this time I'm going to complain to the gag writer!
The surgery itself went fine: accompanied by my Dearly Beloved, we bowled up to the Royal Eye and Ear Hospital in Melbourne at the appointed time. My last conscious thought as they put me under was that the anesthetic nurse's gloves smelled; the next thing I know, I was being encouraged to wake up and tilt my head to the left as far as I could. The significance of that last instruction will shortly become obvious.
As with the last time, the staff were superb. The nurses were compassionate and attentive, the surgery team were calm and encouraging, and the catering and ancillary staff were cheerful and considerate. Just one more demonstration of how incredibly fortunate we are in Australia to have a functioning public health system; and how we must guard this precious resource from being dismantled into an American-style health-care for the wealthy dysfunction.
Of course, retinal surgery is a fairly significant procedure, so I wasn't expecting to come out of the surgery without some discomfort. But, as I knew from last year's experience, this would quickly wear off, leaving me to deal with the more gruelling rigours of the recovery process itself. And this is why that instruction, as I emerged from he anesthetic fug, to tilt my head to the left became significant. Because, unlike last year, when I had to lie on my stomach for a week to aid the healing process, this time I had to lie on my left side. All the time. For a week. I couldn't lie on my back or my right side or my stomach; only on my left side, with just ten or so minutes every hour for the purposes of getting up and stretching my limbs and obtaining some relief.
Well, it was sheer agony. Lying on my stomach last year put a lot of pressure on my lower back, but that could be countered by stuffing a few pillows under my hips to flex my spine. This time, however, there was no relief, and the pain was spread over a series of pressure points: face, neck, shoulder, and hip. And all on the left side.
By the third day, my whole body was throbbing with pain. My face ached, my neck ached, my shoulders and hips ached: even my bones ached, throbbing with a deep seated pain that made me wonder if this was what it was like having leukemia or being a bone marrow doner. It got to the point when the only comfortable condition was unconsciousness - but even that was an elusive bliss, because the pain completely destroyed my sleep patterns, necessitating my retreat first to the sofa bed in the spare room; then, when that became unendurable because of its metal frame, the couch in the living room.
And to top it all off, I was suffering from caffeine withdrawal, owing to the fact that I hadn't had any coffee since the Saturday after the operation. Not that I drink much coffee as it is, but even a lifetime of moderate usage was enough to provoke crippling headaches to go along with all the other malaises as a consequence of my not imbibing. A compelling cause for reflection on the power of addiction!
All of this would have been bad enough were it not for the addition of the hours that just dragged past in empty procession. I couldn't read, couldn't watch TV, couldn't do anything to occupy my mind except listen to the radio and mark off the passage of time via program changes and hourly news updates. I practically colonised the lounge-room, with pillow, doona, and radio, the latter my only weapon for combating the empty desolation of enforced idleness. Thank heaven for Radio National is all I can say!
Not that this week has been a walk in the park for my Dearly Beloved. She was unwell herself over the weekend and at the beginning of the week; and since she is a secondary school teacher, the year is rapidly approaching the business end of the calendar, with final exams and all the pressures and anxieties of stressed students. To make matters worse, my chronic insomnia has played havoc with her own need for regular sleep.
Sooooo - here we are at the end of a pretty awful week, both exhausted, both not exactly in tip-top shape, and both of us having to face the Uniting Church Victorian-Tasmanian Synod Selection Conference for people applying to candidate to the ordained ministry. This is the apogee of a long process for both of us: the final stage of the church's discernment of our sense of call to ordained ministry. After this weekend, which is an intense series of interviews, presentations, and role plays, the Church will decide whether or not it discerns our call to ministry, and whether or not as a consequence it will accept our applications to candidate.
You'd think all this would be enough to terminally depress a person and put them off the whole project altogether. Except for the fact that my Dearly Beloved and I have had the terrific pastoral support and care of our minister, Ian, and of the North Ringwood Uniting Church community; we've had lots of encouragement and best wishes from friends, family, and acquaintances; and, most importantly, we'll have the support of our friends Ris and Jim at the Selection Conference, and also of Ian and Margery by way of a dinner debrief on Saturday night. All of these examples of care and support have buoyed our spirits; but most of all, we are committed to our respective and shared sense of vocation to serve in God's ministry, and we trust that God's ineffable presence in Christ and the Holy Spirit will help the Church discern our call.
Talk to you soon,
BB
Quote for the Day: Fortune has not yet turned her hatred against all your blessings. The storm has not yet broken upon you with too much violence. Your anchors are holding firm, and they permit you both comfort in the present, and hope in the future. (Boethius)
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