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This past two weeks at school blew through like a hurricane. Days of rising expectation, harried and increasing work to prepare, and moments of trepidation over what will be when the wind and water stop. This followed by two days of storm.
Two weeks ago, the announcement flipped open in an e-mail. First term grades were due. The red flags were up. The storm itself, parent conferences, would make landfall October 16 and 17 .
The work load at school intensifies immediately with that e-mail. Days of paper work and computer spreadsheets, setting up conference times, continuing to manage regular duties of school until...the teachers meet eye to eye with parents over grades and behavior. These conferences are back to back, thirty minute conferences from 12:30 when the students are dismissed until late afternoon for two days. Breaks come unexpectedly with last minute cancellations or conferences that finish in twenty minutes or no breaks at all depending on the vagaries of the storm. Managing calm emotions in the face of a relentless, hours-on-end edginess (mine and the parents'), while waiting for one or two "gusts" to be overwhelming brought to mind the hurricane metaphor.
I have been a bit distracted from finding time to write for the blog recently but have been reflecting on what to write next. I have decided the memoir format has ended. I will finish my separation from the group in a simple listing of some key events tomorrow, which is my anniversary as a blogger. About Tuesday, I'll begin the authority discussion. It would appear timely. This topic is all over the blogosphere! Several recent books on church government and related issues are causing much discussion.
(Wow! I never thought I would manage blogging for a year. Yeah, I know I took a four month hiatus...as my son tells me, don't cloud the issue with facts.)
I am making the switch back to plain old talking from story-telling for two simple reasons. I want to write the next events without a context of characters. I started the memoir thinking real people would create a relational element that is part of the larger discussion in the end. I am now feeling a check about telling my version of the following events, which involve brothers/friends whose versions are not being mutually brought to light. That it now feels unfair is a warning like those red flags above. I also tire of the work of attempting to compose this series as a writer instead of just a talker. It isn't fun anymore, honestly, but has become a burden. Since lack of commitment here holds little consequence (and may, in fact, bring regular readers some relief from my limits with prose), the decision is done.
6 comments:
It is your blog and you can write it like you want to! Nothing more needs to be said about it... However, this is my comment and I'll write it like I want to! (knowing of course that you can always delete it).
I frequently reach a dilemma with my writing (which I presume is part of your decision to leave the story format); namely this: How can I tell my story completely where it overlaps the stories of others? It is wonderful to tell our own story, but no one has the right to tell anyone else's story. We only know our own perspective. We see actions of others, but not their heart or their motives. It is a tough nut that I suspect writers have wrestled with since the first etching in a rock.
I eagerly anticipate the next phase because you said that you were setting up some important topics. Bring it on, brotha.
Thanks Jim for your support and encouragement. I'll not delete your comments. ;^)
Thanks for all the good writing. I'll read it in whatever form you deem best. You've done far better with your blog than I have with mine. A good friend was teasing me yesterday that he was getting tired of reading the same two posts.
craig v.
chuckling...I am fairly familiar with your two posts. I check you often. Though you do not grace us with your insight often enough!
Thanks for stopping by here.
First of all, congrats on one year, although you've been "blogging" in the comments section of other blogs for several years now. You are a blessing both as a blog author and as a commenter. (And definitely as a brother and friend!)
Second, I've already gone ahead and read the next few posts as I was catching up, and I almost wish that you had stayed with the creative telling of the story, if only because it suddenly became very stark in its reality.
Like Terry, I have heard most, if not all, of this story in various lunch and dinner conversations, but its starkness still served as a nauseating feeling deep in my stomach.
My experiences with Graceland were NOTHING compared to what you went through. While I realize that your sharing here is not to point fingers specifically at Graceland, it still serves as a symbol of how messed up things can get when Christ ceases to be the center of body life. And every time I hear a story such as yours, or relive my own stories, my heart breaks.
I'm convinced that the heart of our Father breaks even more.
Steve,
To watch men turn on each other and recognize ideals upon which faith touts itself being trampled underfoot is never pretty, eh?
Thanks for commenting and being the encouragement you are!
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