Note: This is much longer than I normally
write. Don’t read it unless you think you might be interested in what a day in
my life looks like. Anyway, here it is.
6:45 am
Wake and make breakfast for the two younger
sisters. Endure the normal morning chaos. Shelby only has one uniform skirt, and
it has paint on it. Lillian needs something signed and they both need lunch
money. The dog needs to go out, and I have to remember to wake Reiley in time to
leave with me. Jeanene has to leave at 7:00 for some chaplain thing downtown, so
she’s pretty much out of the morning madness for this day.
Shelby is supposed to take some medicine, but
I’m not sure what or how much. I give her what’s on the counter, and she seems
to think it’s the right stuff. Both girls have rides to school this morning.
8:00
Our second car is in the shop, so Reiley and I
have to catch the bus. I’ve been in San Antonio since 1989, and this is the
first time I’ve ever used public transportation. Not because I’m some kind of
snob or anything; I just never think about it. Texas is car country, and your
average Joe assumes having a car is a necessary part of life. And if your life
and schedule are full, it is a necessity. Things are spread out here, and the
bus only comes by the stop once an hour.
I’m excited about taking the bus and keeping
looking down the street to see if it’s coming. My daughter is less so, possibly
because the bus will be full of stone-faced, high school students, and she’ll be
boarding with her grinning, experience-loving father. The bus goes insanely fast
down O’Conner, and we give each other a “Holy shit!” look. A few minutes later,
she puts on her game face and shuffles off the bus at the high school with the
rest of the walking dead.
8:30
After the high school kids leave, it’s just me
and the bus driver. I’m chatty and so is he. I pepper him with questions about
the rates, the string you pull when you want to get off, his route, pretty much
all things bus related. I want to make some notes, but there’s no time. I jump
off the bus with a wave and walk over to Mike’s service station, one of the few
full-service stations left in the world. Mike is originally from Brooklyn, and
you can still tell. He’s been working on my cars since 1990, and we are on a
first name basis. He is mopping the bay floor when I arrive and we chat about
our oldest daughters. Both of them are seventeen and want cars.
My car won’t be ready for an hour or so. There
is a McDonalds next door, and I give in to temptation and go for breakfast.
McDonald’s pancakes and sausage - how long has it been since I had that? I also
buy a $1 breakfast taco just to see how crappy it will be. It’s awful. I pour on
some of their “picante sauce”, but that only makes it worse. How can you be in
Texas and not know the difference between salsa and taco sauce?
9:00
Breakfast is over, and I have a little time to
do some writing. I pop open my computer and start a diary of this day. I have no
idea why I’m doing this. Maybe because without a car, I feel disconnected from
my normal life. Somehow less responsible. Somehow more connected to the people
moving around on the street. For some reason, I decide that I want to remember
this day. All of it.
9:30
Mike calls my mobile phone. “Hey Buddy, you’re
all set.”
He always says that when he calls.
9:40
Only 150 bucks; not bad. Could have been worse.
I get in my car and pull out of the station, heading for the church. I suddenly
remember that this is what my life is like. I don't ride buses or subways around
the city, chatting with colorful characters and ending up in romantic places. I
have a car, and I ate at McDonalds this morning. I have a hundred things to do,
but I won’t get them done. Not today or tomorrow or any day. Ever. I will never
be done.
Speaking of things needing to be done, it’s
Thursday, and I need to get moving on the sermon.
I pull into the church parking lot and the
magic of the morning is gone. I don’t feel bad, but I feel…just the way I always
do on these days. Driven and aware of the deadlines, but wistful and dreaming
anyway.
9:45
Okay, the sermon is from Luke chapter 3. John
has announced the coming of Christ and the crowds shout, “What are WE supposed
to do about it?”
A very good question and one that I’ve asked
many times myself. I think it will be the focus of the sermon. “What the hell
are we supposed to do anyway?” That would make a great title, but I’ll be a good
boy. How about "What are we supposed to do about it?"
I’ll just say this about sermons. I never spend
one single moment thinking about what I want to say or what I might have to say.
Who the hell cares what I have to say? I only think about two things: First,
what exactly is the text saying? Second, is there a way I can break this story
open on Sunday morning so that my dearest friends, my brothers and sisters,
cannot help but listen? All the action you need is right there in the text. You
just have to shine a light on it. Who knows, maybe someone’s life will be broken
open this Sunday.
It could happen.
11:00
I feel the writing thing. It’s a strong pull on
my heart. I can’t think about anything else. I want to write. Right now. I want
everything and everyone to go away and let me be alone with my words. The “day
in the life” thing has engaged me. I think I’ll go back and change everything to
the present tense. That will give it some juice, bring it to life maybe.
Something else is clamoring for my attention.
This new thing I want to write. It’s another dramatized scripture story. I’ve
been thinking about it off and on for a couple of months, and it’s about to be
born. I’m itching to get started and I’m a littler shivery with anticipation.
I’m fidgeting, bouncing my knee up and down. Forget the sermon for now. I’ve
engaged the text enough to get lost in it. It’s in my head. Let it percolate
now, and tomorrow pull it together.
I get to write now. Yes, yes. I’m like a kid. I
can’t stop smiling.
2:00
A phone call from Reiley jerks me out of my
writing. I worked right through lunch because I’m so full from that big
McDonalds breakfast. She’s out of school early. The afternoon driving is
beginning.
I pick her up about 20 minutes later. She
sheepishly admits that she liked riding the bus. I knew she did. We make a quick
stop at the house, and then I drop her off at the Optician’s office where she
works after school. Back home to check on Lillian, who arrived about the same
time I did. Okay, time to try to fix the clutter in the house. I make our bed
and put things away in the bathroom, take dirty clothes to the laundry, etc.
Then I head out to get Shelby, whose school day ends at 3:30pm. Then back home
and hit the kitchen. Dammit, I did the floors the other day, and there’s already
some grime down there and a noodle or two dried on the tile.
The kitchen floor is such a pain-in-the-ass.
I finish the kitchen right about the time
Jeanene walks in at 4:15pm. A quick hug and a hello, then I’m out to write some
more. She says maybe she’ll meet me after she gets the girls some dinner and we
can do some Christmas shopping.
Cool, I have a date tonight.
4:15
I head over to Barnes and Noble. Their coffee
shop is one of about 8 writing places I have stashed around the city. For some
reason, I can always get good work done there. EXCELLENT, there is a seat by an
outlet. Computer on; see you later.
5:45
One thing I know is when I’m done writing. I
can be completely engrossed in something and in five seconds I suddenly hate
writing and can’t wait to turn off the computer and do something else. I think I
was ADHD before ADHD was cool. So I’m done. I got the first part of the
dramatization done, but now I’m at the place where Peter and Jesus begin their
dialogue, and suddenly I want out of here. I hate writing. I never want to do it
again. I wonder what’s going to happen to Real Life Preacher. I guess people
will eventually stop coming now that I’m no longer doing it.
Of course I don’t take any of this seriously.
This happens almost every time. Tomorrow I’ll be a writer again.
6:30
Jeanene has the girls settled down, eating
dinner, doing homework, whatever, and she’s going to meet me at La Madeleine’s
for dinner. I’m nuts for their potato soup. With three kids and 21 years of
marriage behind us, we have to seize any opportunity to have a few minutes
alone. We need that time just to remember that we are, after all, supposed to be
lovers and all that.
I am dead without romance in my life. Dead and
sad and so incredibly lonely. And there have been stretches of time without it.
But romance takes work. And work takes time. And to have time, you have to make
time, right?
7:15
Christmas shopping. I can’t post anything here
because my kids read this blog, and I don’t’ want to spoil things.
9:15
Back at home and done for the day. Lillian, my
youngest, is now old enough to watch the Simpsons. Yeah, we have age limitations
on certain things. No Simpsons until 4th grade. No PG-13 until you
are 13. And no R until you are 17, UNLESS it is some special movie that I like
and approve. For example, I let both my older girls watch The Matrix with me.
But anyway, Lillian is PUMPED about the
Simpsons. I have five seasons on DVD, so she and I have been watching them
whenever we can. She’s waiting for me, patting the couch where she wants me to
sit.
If I’m lucky, she’ll lean into me and maybe
even fall asleep. Little girl snuggles are very rare and soon to be gone. Not
that big girl hugs aren’t nice, but nothing, NOTHING can ever take the place of
a little girl snuggling up to you and drifting off to sleep.
10:33
A little time at RLP, reading comments and
answering emails. I jump into the RLP chatroom briefly. RLP users “church nerd,”
“enz,” and “spidey,” are in there. I’ve chatted with them many times and enjoy
it. It’s a nice way to end my day. But I never stay long. Sometimes I feel like
if I go into the RLP chatroom, it kind of spoils it. The attention goes to me,
and I feel funny about that. But still, I like it.
11:30
I am done. Finished. Can’t keep my eyes open.
As I lay my head on my pillow, I choose one of the things I like to think about
just as I’m falling asleep. These are only for me to know - so no details. There
are things you wish would happen, but they won't. And there are things that
might happen, but they have not. And there are other things, things that you
know but could not explain. I think about those things when I'm on the edge of
sleep. It's sometimes happy and sometimes very sad.
That's it. That was a day in my life.
rlp
