Our visit to St. Vlad's...reflections.

Lee and I on the train, heading into 'the City'.

In early November, Kate and I, along with my brother Lee and Sis-in-law Amy, visited St. Vladimir's Orthodox Theological Seminary.  We did this in order to decide whether or not we had a future at St. Vlad's.  

I can't speak for Lee, but as for me...well, I am already packing.  It was overwhelming.  It was a very full experience participating in the services, talking to seminarians who are literally in 'the crucible', going to classes, talking to members of the administration.  Everyone that we talked to was kind and helpful and (most important) honest.  Honest about life at St. Vlad's, honest about the pro's and con's of the seminary, honest regarding contemplation of the priesthood.  We were given much food for thought and left with a feeling of satisfaction and (more honesty) a little fear.  Hopefully it is a healthy fear.

Our concerns at this stage revolve around a.) the practical issue of how we will survive (i.e. where is the money going to come from to pay the bills?), and b.) where will our kids get an education?  We are trying to give these fears over to God in prayer and faith, but it is hard to keep focused on the real Christ walking on the waters when the waves that surround you seem so powerful, the storm so terrible.

Some highlights from our trip:

•We stayed at a beautiful Marriott hotel in White Plains

•We were able to participate in all of the regular services (matins, vespers, Divine Liturgy, and a beautiful vigil on Saturday night)

•We ate at some wacky places (Mont Olympus, a Jewish deli, an excellent hole-in-the-wall pizza joint on Madison Ave.)

•NYC...we took the train into the city Sunday night.  It was shockingly beautiful.  I am much more inclined toward quiet, small towns, mountains, lakes and so forth.  But the City was beautiful in it's pre-winter garb

•Lee and I got to attend Paul Meyendorff's "Liturgical Theology" class, where he was breaking down some distinctions between the Anaphora Prayer in Chrysostom's and Basil's liturgies.  Amazing, wonderful stuff.

•Dinner with Andrew and Erika and their kids on Monday night, dessert with Daniel and Marcie on Saturday night.... Both couples gave us some excellent insight into seminary life.  Will we have faith?  Will we try to trust in our own understanding?

The Present Has A Funny Way Of Making The Past Look Good...

I tracked down some old photos from the earlier part of my career with my current employer, all of which seem to make the years previous to my promotion and subsequent demotion look so much better than they actually were.  Or maybe it's just that they weren't nearly as bad as I thought that they were.  Lesson learned.  Here are some photos...

This first photo is (beardless) me posing with the corner home office that I had recently finished.  This photo was taken in 2003, I believe.  This actual unit was used in the magazine ad photo that can be seen in one of my previous posts.  Note the bright light streaming into the room.  This is caused by a phenomena known as the "sun".  Evidently, the "sun" must cause factory workers to be less productive, therefore it is better to prevent them from seeing or experiencing the sun during working hours by creating factory buildings with no windows.

Here we have Glenn (2004) giving us some 'scale' on the very first kitchen project that our company took on.  In fact, I was the project manager for this kitchen.  I worked with a contractor named Brian Geremia (not sure if I got the spelling correct...it has been a while).  All in all, he was very good to work with.  Those curves were very difficult to make at that time.  The in-set doors looked great until they were exposed to humid, ocean-side air in an non-air-conditioned house.  We have learned our lessons on such things.

   

Here is the view that I used to enjoy on fall mornings at sunrise.  Ah, well...

This is one of my favorite photos from the old studio days.  The factory needed a photo tutorial on installing a plasma T.V. mount in a particular entertainment center.  So Glenn and I whipped one up.  I told Glenn to look as happy as he could.  I'm not sure if this is 'happy' or slightly insane.  Glenn quit and moved on almost two years ago, but we still try to have lunch together.

It's funny, because he and I would both admit that we both got on each others nerves frequently while we worked together.  But to look back now, all I can see is the good times that we had. We had a relationship literally forced on us, but it really turned out to be a strong, positive thing which I will always carry with me.  Thanks, Glenn, you're the best!  And if I can ever escape from this dusty factory, I will buy you a sub at Subway.

This is my oldest son, who (at that time) was my only son.  He was three in the photo, but is now nine years old.  He and my wife would visit me at lunch sometimes, and he inevitably would get sawdust in his eyes and freak out.  Good fun!

And finally, here is our engineer Tim busily working away, drawing yet another prototype for us to assemble.  This man has more experience building furniture in his right pinky than any of us at the factory have in our entire bodies.  I believe that he could knock together a beautiful piece of furniture using only a hammer, a chisel and some Elmer's school glue.  He really is a talented person.

Many times, I would drift into his work area from the shop to ask a question regarding some aspect of a 'build' that I was working on.  I would end up with a twenty minute lesson on six different possible solutions to the problem that I was encountering.  I have repeatedly encouraged him to write a book about woodworking in order to preserve his hands-on knowledge of a form of woodworking that doesn't rely on computers to do the work.  His response every time is a simple, "Yeah, I should."  If he only would.   Tim is part of a dying breed.

Two weeks of hell

I am now at the end of week number two working at the Factory (note the capital “F”, as in “you get an F”).  I cannot say that this is the most miserable that I have been in a given job.  I have been paid less to work other crappy jobs.  The people are kind and helpful and my direct supervisor has been quite cool (knock on wood, hope for the best…but based on my current experience, expect the worst).  Here is a photo of the view from my work area.

I would include a photo of the view from my former “work station”, but it would tempt me to feel depressed.  Let’s just say that the view was more than dirty brick walls and fluorescent lights.  I really feel the loss of seeing the sky regularly.

 I think the problem is that I just can’t seem to find my groove here.  I hate this place. I really do.  I beg God every day on the way to work to please help me to find another place of employment, but I have this suspicion that he is intentionally keeping me here to teach me humility and to love everyone.  These are two things that I really struggle with.  I am vain and (whether I want to accept this as fact or not) I am an elitist.  To be honest, I am not working with people with whom I am on the same level “intellectually”.  That is not to say that these persons are less intelligent (that may be far from the truth) or that they are ignorant or stupid.  I really  believe these things are quite contrary (at least in some cases) to the actual situation.  But to have a conversation here requires less knowledge about deeper ideas or concepts, and requires more knowledge of NASCAR and classic rock.   This is more "my problem", and less my co-worker's defenciencies.

I am already tired of living my day according to the “bell”.  I feel like I am back in high school.  “RING”, go to break.  “RING”, go back to work.  “RING”, go to lunch, ad nauseum.   I haven’t been on a fixed schedule in over seven years, and now I am expected to suddenly start coming in at six a.m. and jump every time a bell rings.  Frustration. 

 Am I really so screwed up that I need this strong medicine?  I must assume that, screwed up or not, I need it.  And it tastes terrible!

I went to confession last night in order to offload some of this anger and sin.  It felt warm and comforting.  I missed this morning’s divine liturgy due to the fact that I have to be here at six, and explaining to my supervisor that I had to go to church at seven in the morning… well, let’s just say that that wasn’t happening.  I miss my flexible schedule.  I miss it all the more because I am working in the same position for the same company, and have lost so many things that I thought that I had earned.  Frustration, frustration, frustration.     

 I keep thinking of the video created by the monks at the Hermitage of the Holy Cross.  You can see the brothers working in the heat in their cassocks, doing some of the most menial chores. I’m sure that they have their days where they must feel these same frustrations.  It’s not the same thing (I’m certainly not committing my life to this company), but I’m sure that in some ways I can see this job as a “desert”, just like St. Anthony’s desert. 

It is dry and waterless, full of demons and beasts and I am constantly being tempted and succumbing to the temptation to depend on my non-existant resources.  But there are also the lost, the despairing: my fellow sinners.  Sadly, to some of them this desert seems like the only world there is.  I, at least have hope in the sense that I have a plan for my future and that I have the reality of the kingdom of God, in which all reality finds its source.  As long as I am transfixed by the waves of the terrible ocean (this job, my circumstances), I will be unable to notice Christ walking on the waters to save this drowning man.  And sometimes being saved means dealing with the waves and the sea-sickness.  Strike “sometimes, read instead “always”.

 Merciful heavenly father, in whom all things live and move and have their existence, open my eyes to see my own sin and free me from my will that I might not, in my selfish and insufficient ability, work against you.  Rather, subdue my will that I might serve you with out resistance and be healed.