Mom is learning how to use a computer for the first time this fall. She signed up for the microcomputer apps class up at Covenant College, and is able to take the course for free because she's an alumni. She is learning so that she can do things for church (she's our director of Christian Ed) on a laptop the church purchased for her to use. "Will I be able to learn all this computer stuff?" she asked at dinner tonight... she'll learn, but its just taking time.
Her laptop doesn't have a floppy drive; it came with a 64MB USB memory key instead, which she's used to transfer files around. I just figured out tonight that I could use it to get a bunch of edited mp3 of songs I've written off my laptop's linux partition and into her laptop to burn a CD (long story, but the CD is going now). I'm still trying to put together a copyright registration package for my songs, and I've almost got the two CD ready to mail to the Library of Congress
This past weekend was homecoming up at Covenant, and on Tuesday I decided to run in the cross country invitational- the men's race was eight kilometers (that's five miles). I'd been at the doctor's to have my knee looked at, and he assured me that the popping sound I'd heard was not serious, and running would not damage my knee, so I ran. Saturday morning as we assembled for the race I began to wonder what I was doing running in that particular race. There were cross country runners from a number of different schools, a few alumni who'd run cross country, and a few other runners-- I was probably the only non-runner in the group. It was quite a challenge to finish, due both to my lack of preparation, and the frequent and rapid vertical grade changes in the course. The final bit of the course included the 'big long hill' (which Sara Akin pointed out was incorrectly named 'Cardiac Hill').
I found as I ran, or perhaps more accurately jogged, that the only way I was able to continue was to fix my thoughts on the finish line. Each time I passed through the field I'd hear a few spectators who knew me shouting out, 'you can finish, Joel'. Their encouragement helped a lot, and even though I was the very last man across the finish line, I finished.
When I was in the woods on the trail, with no one else around, but could hear the shouts and encouragements of the folks up in the field, the cloud of witnesses in heaven who've gone before me came to mind, and I wondered what I would hear if I could hear their shouts of encouragement.
I've been working full time at Volkert & Associates for nearly six weeks now. Last week our boss asked us to each try and work 10% overtime from now until Christmas-- 44 hours a week. That's manageable, but I realized a day or two ago that my attitude toward work was full of inner discontent and grumbling, sort of wanting to not have to work so many hours. Yet the LORD has so graciously provided a job for me, one which I enjoy and can use some of my gifts in. I'm trying to 'rejoice always' and to work as unto the LORD, which is my ultimate calling at work.
However, I've had almost no time to work on registering the copyright for the songs I've written. The only music I've been able to work on has been either playing organ for church, or playing guitar with the kids classes Wednesday nights. I'm grateful that I can serve in those two ways, and I love being able to help people worship God, but I also want time to work on my songs. I need to recall the promises of God, that He is working in all things (even overtime at work) for His glory and my good. How easily I loose sight of all He has done for me. I need continual reminders of His faithfulness, grace and covenant love, as did the Israelites of old.