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Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Bike Parts For Sale April 29, 2014
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Thursday, February 27, 2014
57cm Hilsen Pictures
Monday, June 10, 2013
59cm Velo Orange Rando For Sale - Revised
Built from new frame with solid, lightly used components but hardly ridden (under 100 miles) due to job change.
Components include:
Velo Orange Roller bearing headeset
Nitto Randonneur bar
GB Stem
Cane Creek "Gummy" Brake Levers
Rivendell Silver brake calipers with salmon pads
Rivendell Silver downtube shift levers
Shimano XT Front Derailleur
Shimano 105 Triple Rear Derailleur
Sugino Cranks with 48/34 rings
Velo Orange "zepplin" Fenders with leather splash guards
Shimano 105 hubs laced to 36* Mavic Open Sport rims
Panaracer Pasela TG 700x32 tires
SR Seat Post
Avocet Racing Saddle (Ain't selling my Brooks)
No Pedals, No Cages
Asking $775 plus Shipping
Friday, September 3, 2010
New Site for My Blog
Please go to the Directions Consultation Website to read new entries.
Thanks,
Jim
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Fried Chicken and potato salad
I went to a funeral yesterday. My wife's grandmother, a dear woman who'd lived a good long life, died on Easter morning last weekend. Because she'd lived so long and had recently been battling heart problems, the funeral wasn't as painful as they can be - like when a person dies young before they've had a chance to work through life's questions or when there are too many conflicting feelings about whether we'll miss someone or are glad they're gone or both. This funeral was pretty easy.
I mentally prepare myself for funerals, weddings, and the other life passage events. I expected some tears from the people around me who'd known my grandmother-in-law longer than me, and from people who have a harder time with death. She was Baptist, so I sort of expected a good spiritual song and a good "come to Jesus" sermonette, and maybe some fried chicken and potato salad afterward, because I'd grown up in that denomination and had been to quite a few funerals.
I was a bit curious about the "loved one's reminiscences" section of the service because it was to be given by my wife's aunt, who has a well earned reputation for being a bit flamboyant and dramatic, but it was actually quite sedate. (Though there was little doubt that her account of the family history had been sanitized a bit, as always seems to happen at these things). But the thing that still sits uneasy with me is the sermonette – given by the pastoral care minister from her church.
I often wonder what it’s like to be someone who grew up outside the southern Christian upbringing I experienced as a child. I wonder whether the “church words” I take for granted sound strange or unfamiliar or carry a different meaning for people who had a different experience. In that world I learned that being “saved” (rescued from my own attempts to be God and control my life) was kind of like fire insurance for your soul. I also learned that despite being saved, it was the church’ opinion that I was bound to struggle mightily not to fall prey to my earthly shortcomings, because being saved was all about the future life, not the one I live until I die. Because of this, I was to do my best right now, be painfully remorseful when I couldn’t measure up, but be resigned to a life of trying to do better until I pass on.
The sermonette was like that. The pastor, whom I took to be a very sincere and kind person, repeatedly reminded us that the deceased was saved and had lived a very good life. Due to those things, IF we also shared her saved state (The big IF, that one, and possibly the reason for his whole talk), then we could count on seeing her in the hereafter upon her own passing. Therefore, we should all be happy and encouraged.
I learned a long time ago that funerals are always for those left behind, to somehow help us find meaning and significance in our own lives and help us ease through the grieving process. But I felt myself squirm in light of the notion that the ultimate meaning in this person’s life and ours was to be found in being reunited at the cessation of my own life. It just sounded like a promise of deferred gratification that I didn’t necessarily want.
What about now? Why do I have to wait until my own death to experience meaning? Is some heavenly, angelic, reunion party the best this guy had to offer? Do I have to struggle through life grasping for some rationalized reason for it all until I part the veil and I can face God and ask him what it was all about? I don’t buy it. I wanted to hear that preacher say “pursue God now because it makes a difference now” and then tell us what that difference looks like.
When Jesus walked the earth he said “I’ve come so that you can have life”, not “I’ve come so that you can have life in the life after this one”. Although it’s a bit outrageous to say it, I don’t want more life when I’ve hit the great exit door after the story ends and the credits are rolling. I want it now. So I guess I wanted to hear from that preacher how that woman’s existence had more life because she loved and pursued God, and what kind of difference it made.
I think that when I die I want people to stand around talking about how I had more life while I was living because God was a part of it. The hereafter stuff won’t really matter because everybody I leave behind will still have to get up and go to work or school or whatever they do to fill their days – they won’t be in on the wrap party yet. I want them to talk about what a great story my life was. Then, just maybe, they’ll wonder about the sequel.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Tyranny of the urgent
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Beyond Good and Bad
This may very well be the most personal newsletter I'll ever write. You see my birthday falls on 9/11 and for the past 8 years I've been trying to reconcile what had been a day of personal celebration with what has become a day of somber reflection.
Now it's not my intention to bring you down, but hard things happen. They're unavoidable. No amount of planning and control can fully protect any of us from experiencing personal tragedy and pain. They're just part of living in this world. So, perhaps an important question to ask is "What do you do with the hard things that happen in your life?"
Recently I've had several experiences that have led me back to that question. On a Friday night 3 weeks ago I sat silent with 1000 other people in the bleachers and prayed as a mother stood over her teenage son and watched him die on a high school football field. Two weeks ago a friend shared how he was fired from his job of 12 years, moved his family 600 miles, and has been living out of storage bins for the past year. A close friend lost half his meager retirement in the stock market melt-down last fall. And days ago another friend shared her story of watching her marriage implode and losing her job.
All of these were extremely painful things for the people involved and even for me to hear about, because if you live long enough you eventually go through the same things or darned close to them your self and I'm no spring chicken.
But these and other experiences have also pushed me to rethink my crude definitions of what Good and Bad mean in this life.
Categorizing hard experiences in terms of Good or Bad may lead you to miss the benefits of a difficult experience
On the other hand, I increasingly find that categorizing hard experiences in terms of Good or Bad may lead me to miss the benefits of a difficult experience. For example, my friend who lost his job also told me that now, and for the first time in his life, he’s in a job that’s perfectly made for him. My friend who lost his retirement has a different perspective on the meaning of "security". And my friend who lost her marriage, found (and kept) a relationship with God for the first time in her life. So, were those Bad times they went through? Painful? Yes. Difficult? Certainly. But not necessarily Bad.
A wise fellow was once heard saying “celebrate with those who celebrate and mourn with those who are mourning”. In other words, don’t rain on people’s parades and don’t try to rationalize away the pain of people who suffer - be With them where they are. I try to remember this when I'm with friends who are excited or going through hard times. Still, I personally find myself trying to look beyond how something “feels” while I’m going through it.
Increasingly I want to understand how my circumstances might change me and where I’m headed in good ways. I’m also increasingly skeptical of the excitement I feel when life meets my expectations - I’m just not a very trustworthy guide to my own best interest. Finally, I don't want to be too quick to dismiss pain and difficulty as worth-less, when they’re often more beneficial to my growth than the easy times.
Every client I meet has a story. Many have stories filled with love, laughter, and fond memories. Just as many, and sometimes the same people, have stories where they've become too familiar with hardship, difficulties, and pain. And often the events of a life have shaped how those same folks perceive themselves.
Part of my job as a career and business coach is to help people like you or your friends get a fresh perspective on who they are, what they've experienced, and what life can become. Despite our best efforts at self-help and changing our own thoughts, there are often parts of ourselves that we just can't change without the perspective of someone who can see both the "forest" of our story and the "trees" of our unique gifts. Helping someone see the full picture and then go after their possibilities is why I'm here.
As for me, 9/11 is still there. 28 hundred people died that day and and I'll probably always feel connected to that loss. "Mourn with those that mourn". But life is found among the living, and we're foolish to miss chances to celebrate with those who celebrate and dance with the dancers. I am so very blessed with family, friends, love, hope and future - so I choose to focus on those.