Fire in the Spacecraft

Over forty years ago, those words crackled over the radio down in Florida.

It signaled a tragic halt to a breakneck pace program to reach the moon; three astronauts died on the launchpad during a simple test.

The Apollo program is long finished, many of the participants buried years ago, and even the launchpad itself is now just a stark empty monument to what once happened there.

Yet the lesson endures, for those of us willing to pause long enough to learn from it.

Too often, the dangers that will harm us are not the ones for which we plan and engineer for or for what we anticipate... It's that which is overlooked. Three astronauts died, not in deep space, or while stuck on the moon... But while on the ground, atop an unfueled rocket, surrounded by thousands. Yet, the could not be saved. For all that had been planned, a simple spark on the ground doomed them.

Our lesson is don't overlook the small stuff, the inconsequential, the minute - that's what brings down giants.

In memory of Gus, Ed, and Roger... Who made it safe(r) for those who followed.

And for NASA's week of tragedy (all of NASA's loss anniversaries are this week.)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

I Walk for One More

Yesterday, one of my beloved aunts, Deepe, succumbed to breast cancer. She's been battling for awhile now, and thankfully, she is now at peace.

She is now counted amongst the far too many whom this disease has claimed. And one more for whom I walk.

Rest in Peace, Deepe... And if you see, E, say hi for me...

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

First Writing

For the past year, or so... I've been blocked. SERIOUSLY blocked. Not been able to write. Nearly nothing. You may have noticed the blog itself has slowed to a crawl.

Anyway, the other day, I had a very interesting experience, and shortly afterwards... felt the urge to write again.

And here it is. It's not my best stuff, and it's pure flow. When I write, I never know what I've written until I go back and read it anyway.

Unfiltered confusion
Random discombobulation

Complete and open weakness.

I don't like feeling this way. So unavoidably defenseless. Outside of my comfort zone. And yet, not only here I am, but perversely I seem to be seeking it out.

Why?


Perhaps I've grown comfortable with my relationship, or rather lack of one, with god. It's certainly been easier. I can be pissed at him, and anyone who asks will feel that I'm justifiably angry and will leave it alone.

But deep down, in the lower sub-basements of my mind and soul, I don't think I've truly wanted that. Over time, I have felt cheated. Cheated out of so much.

Quite frankly, Life has sucked. I have had the absolute Love of My Life ripped from me, and done so as I begged and pleaded through prayer for it not to be so. And if there was ever an example of Robert Frost's two roads diverging in the wood, then surely that must be it. While there have been a few Distinctive Markers in my life time, no one stands as large nor as prominent as that one.

I've oft looked back and seen that day as god essentially giving me (and the whole family) the finger. As we prayed, and pleaded, and hoped against all hope for a different outcome, he essentially said, “No, and I'm not going to tell you why.”

As Life branched off onto this new path, it has been one of unending (and in my view, unnecessary) pain and suffering. Family ripped apart, children lost, chaos reigning. And... for what?

For what purpose?

That's been my question all along, I suppose. What purpose does this serve? I will happily suffer whatever I need to... I like to know why I'm suffering. And I don't know. I have no idea. I don't know why my family is suffering. I don't know. And not knowing, for me, is another kind of pain altogether.

And today, a man talked about serving out your purpose. It could have been the proverbial lightning bolt from the blue... aimed right at me.

For you see, I don't think I've ever really “lost” my faith – as I like to tell people – so much as I have shunned it. Sort of a hissy fit, perhaps... but if he didn't want to help us... or even clue us in on what he's up to, well, he doesn't really need me now does he? And if he can give me the finger, I can give it right back. Screw me? SCREW YOU.

And I have become comfortable in that. It's so easy to not have to put work into a relationship. And I didn't really want his love anymore anyway, seeing as he seemed to have a strange way of showing it. It's like how we marvel at women in abusive relationships... why don't they just leave? I felt emboldened... I'd done it... I'd left. SCREW HIM.

Like I said... comfortable. Until now.

A new friend has thrown me completely off my game. She's approached, saying he's speaking to her... trying to reach me. Says I'm not hearing him. Well, I can't argue that, because ever since I heard his silence that one day and night, can't say that I've been really wanting to hear anything else from him. Hate and Anger run deep and long.

Yet, she's quietly persisted, but not pushed. Just been there. I won't say a beacon of light, or the Hollywood halo of light around her. Think of it as maybe a lone match flickering.

But, it's been a bright light just the same. She's talked to me... and listened to my hate. My anger. And not shunned me. She's understood it. Told me I'm justified (Damn STRAIGHT!), and still the light shone. She still continued her diplomatic shuttle. I sort of see her in that role... shuttling messages back and forth between two nations that have no urge to talk to each other... but need to. Thankless task. And she's embraced it! Curse her for it.

I was comfortable in my distance. I didn't stop believing in him, after all... more I felt he'd stopped believing in me. I hadn't left him, you see – he'd left me. Us. And it's not easy to forgive the SOB for doing that.

And what made this all so awkward is that she's giving me messages that he's ready to welcome me back. Where does he get off? I want my apology. I want my mea culpa. I want to know WHY all this suffering. What has it been good for? What good works has this accomplished?

What is the purpose?

And we're back to that question. The purpose. A timeless one – Man's always wondered the Meaning of Life. Well, I'm not worried about such grandiose ideas... I've merely wanted to know my purpose. I cannot believe in a god who advocates needless suffering. If he's truly involved, if he's working his way through his creation to this very day, then I refuse to believe that he lets things happen mindlessly, because that's too close to perverse amusement. Therefore, suffering has purpose. What's mine?

What's my children's?

What's Ellicia's mother's?

And on and on the ripple effects have spread. What is all this suffering for?

The part that has really killed me, and has crystallized so sharply for me is this. I don't get to know. And thus I'm being introduced to a new definition of Faith. For many, Faith means believing in what you can't see – god. Well, I see him everywhere I look. I believe in his existence; I couldn't deny it if I tried, and I'm pretty good at arguing both sides of an argument.

It seems I have to take on Faith that the suffering serves a purpose. What will be, to me, a secret one.

I don't like it. It's out of my control, and I don't like not knowing. I am a resourceful person, and I can learn anything I want to learn – find out anything. I've had at times networks of people spread across the planet that quite often would bring me news before it ever hit the common knowledge. I like to know things.

And I don't get to know this.

I don't even get to know when the suffering will end, or I suppose, if.

But I do want to know MY purpose. What am I supposed to be doing with my Life right now? A boat tossing on the seas seems to have more direction than I.

Obviously, there's caring for my children. And I'm doing that the best way I know how, no matter how much I feel I fail them on a semi-constant basis. I'm told I do okay, so I must believe in that. Or go crazy.

My work seems to be a giant tease. I have great opportunities – chances to excel, to lead and develop Soldiers... but there always seems to be a “snag”, and there's also chances to help people... to tend to them, to treat them and yet, I always seem pulled somewhere else.

My beliefs are challenged as I love my country, and yet I must prepare, MUST prepare for what I foresee as its rapidly approaching end. One area of my life that I've had rarely misfired is in my ability to read and predict the political landscape. For once, I'd love to be wrong. I hope I am, but doubt I will. But, there is always hope for change.

I have developed friendships without which I doubt I'd survive another day. And most of those may truly be acquaintances, or buddies, but I count myself blessed (and if it's a gift from him, then I'll take it) to have my three F-R-I-E-N-D-S. They are the only people on this planet, outside of my children, for whom I'd give up everything if only asked. And they know me deeper than anyone. I'm lucky to have them.

It's a chaotic landscape my life. I wish it were not so. I miss what once was, my surefooted readiness and preparedness for each day. The confidence that I knew what was coming, that I was ready for anything.

That I knew what I was doing.

But the past is past, and that is gone. I have to look forward to what is coming.

For as it's said, the past is prologue. And if that is true, then all of this must be leading to something, no? Chapters in books aren't written just to be discarded as irrelevant to the plot.

Put another way – and I hate this phrase – everything happens for a reason.

What is my purpose?

Why am I doing this?

What is coming?

Why can't I see just a peek... help me prepare? I want to do this right.


What is coming?

Which brings me back to... today. Today, I heard a man ask that very question. What is our purpose? And directed that we serve our purpose.

My blood ran cold. I had goose bumps and chills. I had initially feared even being at that place. And then, I'd found myself not just wanting to be there, but pleading with my temper-tantrum throwing son to please stop, because I wanted needed to be in there. I desperately wanted to go inside. And then once there, I found I couldn't leave. My feet were sewn to the floor. I had to hear this.

And I listened. And my blood ran cold. My heart raced and slowed. I felt horribly uncomfortable and still couldn't leave. I had to be there. What chilled me even more was the thought in my head that there was no more important place to be than right there, right then at that moment.

Haven't felt that in awhile.

I'd missed most of the church service. The singing, or whatever else this church does. The preamble.

I'd even missed the first part of the sermon.

All I really had the chance to hear was... Serve your purpose.

And I am so very freaked out by this. I've shunned and stayed away... and the one time I go back... the first time I go back... with so many interruptions and challenges and reasons to run away.... I hear only half a sermon and it's message is: Serve your purpose.

Alright, god, you have my attention. Want to tell me what it is?

A Good Thought

“Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever-growing insistency. Remember that our sons and grandsons are going to do things that would stagger us. Let your watchword be order and your beacon beauty. Think big.”
—Daniel Burnham