Goodnight, My Angel

We just heard that an operator's husband died yesterday after suffering from a heart attack while undergoing surgery to replace his kidney. He had been anxiously waiting for a kidney transplant for the past couple years, and finally the promising opportunity surfaced. He was stable, though in intensive care, and we all thought he would pull through. Now this terrible news. And last night, a small group member shared that his coworker was driving back from LA over the weekend and got into an accident which ejected her eight year daughter from the car. She had not been wearing a seatbelt and did not survive. I cannot imagine the devestation this mother and my coworker must feel. The words not yet spoken, the feelings not yet shared, and the adventures left unexplored together. Mourning traps you in such a lonely place. I hope God will find them where they hide.

I am spent.
______________
February 28, 2005

Seeing Tilessa step out of the limo, I expected her to be overwraught with grief. But surprisingly, she greeted us from afar with smiles and laughter when she caught sight of us. It was our everyday Tilessa. But as we came closer to offer a friendly embrace, she broke down. It was heartwrenching to see her in pain. I was at a loss for words. What can you say that would do anything but inflict an unnecessary reminder of her present anguish? As we watched one of the brothers-in-law help the widow walk down the aisle, the sight of her husband as she approached the casket brought more tears. Tears became weeping, and weeping soon became sobbing. What greater grief than to say goodbye to a loved one way before his intended time. An abrupt end to an earthly life (Ron was only 42), but a welcomed beginning to a joyful life in heaven. Keep looking up, I tell myself. Keep...looking up.

Ironic

Another operator is just about to get written up for running product out of spec without notifying an engineer. To be safe, it's general practice for ops to call one of us if they cannot produce product to spec within normal operating process conditions. When they call us, they abdicate responsibility for shutting down production and potentially pushing bad material through the plant and onto the customer. So why is it that people figure that not disclosing information is better than being upfront and offering the situation as it is?

I suppose that I should also apply this philosophy to my own state of health. Sadness pervades my everyday, and I perceive my depression to unduly and emotionally tax those around me (or so I have been deceived to think that way). I wish I were not so sad, but it is a season of life I must endure. It is a strange place to be, needing company but not wanting to be around anyone. I can only tell you that despondency envelopes you like a high-walled fence. The walls continue to encroach upon your space and thus your sense of freedom, since your despair seems to constantly bring your thoughts back to the source of your pain. It is a vicious, unforgiving spiral. This makes it even more of an arduous task to dig your way out.

Fortunately for me, God is not only a merciful god, but He is also a stern God who has no patience for my inward melancholy. And thus it has been a relieving experience to tell those close to me the truth about the malady of my heart. I just hope their prayers are enough to tear some holes in my fence. I just want to be able to breathe again.

The Games We Play

I suck at Spider Solitaire. Mind you, I used to be pretty good at this, winning every third, two suited game whenever boredom drew me to this arguably entertaining time-suck. But ever since the beginning of this year, I have not been able to keep my win rate up in the 30s. So now I play even more, just to try to get my success rate back up there. But it's demoralizing to not be in a place you know you can be in. What is it that suddenly makes me incapable of finishing this simple game? Is it harder or am I just dumber? What am I missing here? What is it that has changed? Someone clue me in!

I suppose it is my own fault that I put stock in something that is going well, only to have it pulled out from under me. Maybe I've already gotten my fair share of the good life, and now that I've used up my quota, it's time to give someone else a chance. That's to say there's a finite amount of happiness out there. If I had known that, maybe I wouldn't have put any hope into the things I thought had potential. Because it's a sad place to be, not being able to finish what you set out to do. Makes me not want to try anymore.

Time to go eat my Costco salad...and maybe play some more Solitaire....or maybe not.

I Didn't Know Until You Told Me

Honestly, I'm tired of things not going my way. As selfish as that sounds, it is just the way I feel today. I stayed up on the phone and computer last night preparing operators for a critical run early this morning. So when I got here at 7, I expected to hit the ground running. What do I find? The extruder was set up for the wrong resin. Of course. Part number, description, and weight were not sufficient to have things ready and waiting. I should have bit the bullet and come in last night to run the darn thing myself. Nevermind I was supposed to be on vacation this week. Thunderstorms? It's not like I've never lived in the tropics. Bah. So now I sit here waiting for some sign of life from those lazy butt compounding guys.

On top of a frustrating day at work, my own brother turns me down to watch a cheap movie tonight. Being out of town is a viable excuse, I suppose. But that leaves me alone at home to do laundry. Maybe I'll paint another wall. Or go for a long run. Or cook a nice meal and hope the yummy smells entice a passerby to knock on the door to keep me company.

So then I discover that two operators in another division at our main site in Menlo Park were exposed to an excessive dose of radiation. Word has it they have burns on the left side of their faces, on their left arms, and are now losing their hair. Frightening. When I heard the news, I had flashbacks of this nuclear submarine movie (I think it was called K-19) where these guys died of radiation poisoning. Made my stomach cringe - I almost couldn't watch parts. I can only imagine the pain and trepidation those two guys must be experiencing.

Suddenly the trials of my day seem trivial. And I'm grateful for a night of quiet rest. It's amazing how God can knock me off my self-righteous molehill in a quick flash. A much needed reality check was exactly what He ordered for me today. And I ain't complaining.

Hard to Say I'm Sorry

Words are powerful. Carefully chosen, the right words can lift your spirits and send you soaring for a day, a week, heck for a long time to come. I still remember the first time someone told me they loved me. Never had I felt so accepted, so enveloped by care. The concept was so foreign to me, it moved me to tears - just three simple words. The other night I read through some letters and emails from the past that still had the muscle to warm my heart. Those expressions of love brought back sentiments of acceptance that still ring true today. It's an amazing thing to be affirmed, to be cherished despite all the faults, and in effect, despite me.

But the wrong words, they can pierce you like a dull knife in a tender place. And just when the wound is about to heal, a quick remembrance of an innocent jab pushes the knife that you thought was gone, even deeper. What's even worse is when I turn out to be the wielder of the weapon. When someone tells me I've done them wrong, the feeling of remorse overwhelms me. "You hurt me" can send a wave of regret that follows me in everything I do. I can't focus, can't eat, and can hardly find the strength to smile. And then words will inevitably fail me - saying "I'm sorry" never seems to be adequate. When you need them the most, words just don't have the strength to right a wrong.

As much as I love to write, my words will never be enough.