Going deep with Court

‘ Hi, I’m Court, and I’m a perfectionist.’ And in today’s de-perfecting activity we are going to sit and stare at a wall and do NOTHING. I’m pretty sure I would spontaneously combust. It has been nineteen, long, years that I have been doing what I do. Over the years I have been fortunate that the path to promotion is largely academic based which means we take tests to move up to the next level. That means I can study as hard as I want for six months straight to do as well as I possibly can every four or five years. In my current role I am in charge of about a hundred employees, and last year two of them died of COVID within a day of each other. I’m not sure if I’ll ever write my thoughts on that horrid disease, but, I do have thoughts on memorial services. Then this year a third employee was killed in a crash. My organization, like many I assume, is on a D, E, I kick. That means: Diversity! Equity! And my favorite: Inclusion!! I’m not being sarcastic, I promise. Do you have any idea ...

The negative things I tell myself simply have to stop. Like, ‘you’ll never get a day job- even when you promote they will find some reason to put you on nights.’ It had been about eight years the last time of being on nights or evenings. I had a    round of interviews where I didn’t even tell a small group to pray. I’ve noticed that I’ve pared down each time. I used to post about it, tell every home group or bible study to pray. Then it was just like one group I would tell. Then, well, when the precious leader asked for prayer requests I just spit out: ‘travel mercies’ and left it at that. Here’s the thing though with not asking- then, when it happens, you want to say: I have a praise report but it sticks on your tongue cause you remember you weren’t brave enough to ask. Now, I happen to know there are people praying for me regular and some even in ways I’d rather they not (like seriously- I don’t want to promote again, so just stop!) so it is quite possible people were still ...

  People talk about picking yourself up off the ground. They don’t talk about getting there. The sinking down whittle away to nothing. Just a puddle on the ground. “Pick yourself up”  the slogan on the poster urges Cause when you goo an ooze of emotions No one wants to emulate that,  even if we’ve all been there.  This is what we focus on.  Not the part where we sink into ourselves- an oozing puddle. We focus on the part where we emerge with wings unfurled. But. What if, you can’t get out of your puddle? Yes.  What then?

I wonder sometimes if we realize that we have a very real enemy. And it’s not a political party, or a church denomination. If we knew when we were letting the devil’s words come out of our sweet mouths, would we stop talking? I tend to be pretty black and white, but, there are things I simply do not know. So usually, I choose to remain silent. I mean when it comes to ancillary topics, truly the only belief that I hold closely to my heart is Christ crucified and risen again and that He did it to save me.  I think I’ll use a game to make my point. Your kids probably play this: Among Us. It is a hoot. You play a character on a spaceship and there is one, ore more, ‘Imposter’ who goes around killing people and sabotaging. I am scarily good at playing the bad guy role. There is a component of voting where you get to say who you think the imposter is. Now when I am a crewmate, or a good guy, I hardly ever vote anyone off. The goal to win is to finish your tasks and the more dead people o...

Y’all. I don’t understand something that it seems if you are under, say, 40; then you likely understand pretty well. My thirteen-year-old was explaining to me about how You Tubers make money. I literally could not process the words coming out of his mouth.  Sponsors and ads, that sort of made a weird kind of sense, but that you get money from ‘likes.’ Like, what?  Here’s what I understand- you make a wooden whistle or a gadget of some kind. You set up a stand much like a lemonade stand, maybe at a fair or something, and then you get paid various bills and maybe some loose change. But. There’s online stuff now, money it seems, and if it wasn’t for my sainted husband I wouldn’t be able to pay for anything.   Coworkers are always asking for my Venmo. I’m all: I don’t have venom, sure wish I did, and that I could spit it even and have it do some damage, but alas just my slightly sardonic wit and words is all I got. An older coworker, well, than me- he’s only in his fifti...

These past two years have been marked by funerals for me, and celebrations of life. I say that last part as one of the ‘funerals’ consisted of me in a hospital parking lot in Colorado praying over the place where my brother was born. If you’re tilting your head to the side and slightly confused, that makes two of us, but when you hear clearly that is what you are to do- you just do it.   Ten different funerals or sort-of funerals last year. Ten. Each wildly different. The words spoken at them, often by the speakers, sometimes afterwards to those I was sitting next to, or the officiant guiding us through the grief passage like one of those men with a long stick on the back of a boat through a canal.  Now I suppose a pastor or chaplain is like, shoot man, my record is like thirty funerals. And I get that, and as much as sometimes my job just plain stinks I am deeply glad that it is not my job to do anything at a funeral other than go, cry awkwardly,  fumble with breath m...

Last Friday one of my employees was killed in a crash trying to get home. I had two employees die last year from Covid. My workgroup is about a hundred people and to have lost three to death in one calendar year is a bit much.   For the two previous employees that died, I came into being their leader about midway through the year. So I walked their families through the memorials and services honoring them and held a couple of memorial services as well, the last one being just a month ago as it was the year-anniversary of their deaths.  But this time I was there in the widow’s house when the death notification had just been made. Before that, I went to the site where the crash happened and it looked like a bomb had gone off. I couldn’t bring myself to walk closer to where he lay. The spot though, was burned on my soul.  When I walked through his front door I was met by a teenage girl my daughter’s age who was sobbing. ‘Keep it together, Court,’ I thought and I kicked into ...