The Voice of God (God Moments)

Preface

I enjoyed the process and the writing of what follows, perhaps more than any other entry in this blog.  Involved was a great deal of self-reminiscing which in turn welled up reservoirs of nostalgia.  Each memory evoked another and then again.  The complexities of life are just that - complex and intertwined.  Fear not....in the interest of brevity and relevance, most of the recollections that have echoed from the past have been left unsaid.

What remains is unique to my experience, my life.  Nonetheless, my hope is that you, the reader, will find tidbits to which you can relate and be reminded of your own joy. 

In the end, I write of neither you nor me but of God Almighty.  I find that sobering.  Who am I to even whisper His name much less ascribe credit, or blame, for this incredible thing we call life?  I freely admit that much of what follows is far beyond my comprehension.  Mysteries abound.  In light of that, should you find any dissonance herein, please be reminded that this writer is completely susceptible to error while the God of whom I write "....is not the author of confusion, but of peace....".                         (I Corinthians 14:33)

Introduction

Mom loved a good saying.  She was always quick with a one-liner whenever those pesky circumstances of life threatened to overwhelm one's sense of wellbeing.  Each was appropriate in the moment and imparted wisdom along with a small dose of comfort.  For instance, whenever lightning streaked across the blackness and the shudder of sound was about to hit, she would simply say "It's no night for man nor beast".  Her inflection on the word beast dispensed with a faint smile always conveyed a sense of survivable calm.  

Another one - "When in doubt, leave it out" inevitably turned up in those times when the path forward was less than clear.  

Her favorite adage may have been "God looks after drunks and fools."  I must have heard it dozens upon dozens of times over the years.  During my teen years I came to suspect that she was employing some sort of reverse psychology in an effort to discourage me from over indulging.  However, with the passage of time I have developed a sneaking suspicion that an innate motherly instinct told her that her only son may indeed need protection from himself.  Obviously, no one reaches my stage of deterioration without dodging a few bullets along the way.  In my case, the survival of many of those close encounters can be attributed to simple dumb luck.  Nonetheless, I vividly recall five events: an explosion, a blizzard, a concrete slab, an alley, and a widow-maker.  Situations that were triggered by circumstances which to some degree were put in play by Yours Truly, transpired in the briefest of timeframes, and from which I was saved unscathed by something greater than serendipity.  And I can assure you that the "something greater" was not my quick wits.  Indeed, God does look after fools and I'm convinced that He and/or His guardian angels saved me from myself if not the laws of nature in those five instances.....and probably on other occasions as well of which I'm not even aware.

Yes.  I believe in the spiritual.  I believe in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  I believe in angels and demons.  I believe in a life after death.  I believe in miracles great and small.  I believe in the power of prayer.  All said with earnest conviction still my faith remains far from perfect and I cry with the distressed father, "...help my unbelief!...".  (Mark 9:21-27)

Now, in each of the five episodes referred to above, there was no audible "Look out you fool!"  In fact, there was no discernible warning of any means.  The danger simply came out of nowhere, presided briefly, and then was gone.  The miracle resides in the fact that it moved past without disturbing a hair on my head yet left a lasting impression on my consciousness that I had been spared.  But that is not to say that God is silent.  Indeed, I believe that God does speak to people and that the Voice of God may be heard when least expected.  What follows are two such incidents.  

Oh, another of Mom's sayings, "Fools rush in where wise men fear to tread".  Moving right along.

Voice #1

The early 90's found me living by myself in West Seattle and soon life evolved into the tedium that is Corporate America: eat, work, eat, jog, sleep (repeat).  At present I can't say that I was lonely but I did feel alone and while the job was viewed as a blessing it left me unfulfilled.  I'm sure that my prayers had expressed those concerns over time.

Well, a Friday night rolled along and undoubtedly the weekend was eagerly anticipated.  Not that there were any intriguing dates on the agenda - indeed the calendar was routinely blank.  No, the promise of the weekend was simply the break in the monotony.   Now, I'll try to spare you too graphic a visual but the time came to prepare for bed and as teeth are being brushed while looking in the bathroom mirror, a voice spoke very clearly, "Go get the book Trading for a Living.".  

To be clear, the voice wasn't delivered via sound waves but without a doubt something utterly unique had triggered my synapses and the message was loud and clear.  One time, then silence....and once was all that was needed as the words jolted me from the grogginess that had enveloped me moments before.  My mind raced not only at the shear illogic of the communication's mechanism but with the specific nature of the command as well - "Trading for a Living".  Think!  Have you ever heard that specific phrase before?  Time and again I answered my own question - never.  Sometime later that evening, as I crawled into bed, the episode seemed both extraordinary in form and humdrum in substance.  

Saturday dawned with a skirmish raging between logic and curiosity.  Curiosity won out and at 9:00 A.M. the car was fired up and directed towards the nearest bookstore - The Elliot Bay Bookstore in the Pioneer Square District.  The store was located in a multiple story brick building, one of the originals in the area.  At the entrance out in front there was a reading area with a couple of patrons already settled in.  I must confess to a certain sense of sheepishness, if not foolishness, as I walked past although no one could possibly have known the motivation for my visit.  To the inside of the reading area were rows of books, each row categorized by subject.  Along the far wall was a row of books labeled BUSINESS/FINANCE which seemed like a reasonable place to begin the hunt.  The quest lasted maybe 10 seconds.  Turning the corner and taking two steps down the isle, there it was on my left.  First section.  Eye level.  Trading for a Living in white block-lettering on a red background.  To say I was stunned would be an understatement.  The price tag of $49.95 gave me pause as well.  Nonetheless, the purchase was made and I headed home to begin reading.

Over the next few months the book was read cover to cover two or three times.  The book laid out the premise of working from home using a personal computer to trade stocks.  The many facets involved fascinated me and the concept in general played to my being.  Indeed, I soon bought my first PC with the hopes of trading on it.  However, all the other aspects of trading proved impractical if not unworkable.  Data was anything but cheap and lagged realtime by hours, maybe days.  Communications were unreliable.  Commissions created a hole nearly impossible to dig out of.  Taxes.  Need I say more?  

None of it was feasible.

Besides, another God moment had recently been introduced by the name of Jamie Lynne and my focus took another unexpected turn.

Voice #2

The early 2000's found us living south of Seattle in the suburb of Kent.  Jamie and I had been married in June of 1995.  Beautiful wife, warm and peace-filled home, a son who brought joy, good job - life was right out of a 50's sitcom and better than I could have ever hoped.  We had even bought a piece of property on Whidbey Island west of Coupeville.  Our hopes were to build our retirement home there someday.

One day I was walking the property with Ryan and our nephew Ethan.  As the boys began climbing a tree it occurred to me that now might be the perfect time to live there - not sometime in the distant future that may never arrive.  Running the idea past Jamie we began to discuss the pros and cons of such a move.  Housing.  Schooling.  Budgets.  The end result appealed to us both but the hurdles to getting there seemed insurmountable with the biggest obstacle being my job.  The commute to Seattle would be unmanageable long term and the number of COBOL programming jobs in Coupeville hovered right at zero.  The logistics in sum posed a very real threat to our security and wellbeing.  Nonetheless, the "dream" lingered in my heart together with the nagging, disquiet apprehension that God might consider those desires to be a form of silent murmuring against what He had already blessed me with. 

Well, a Sunday morning soon rolled around and we found ourselves seated in our favorite pew.  During the service someone other than our Pastor began to pray from the podium.  To this day I have no idea of who he was or what he was praying about.  You see, my head was bowed, my eyes were closed, and my hands were folded in the traditional prayer pose.  I was totally absorbed in my own somewhat agonized prayer.  A prayer made in the silence of my mind and soul: 

"Lord Jesus, you have blessed me so greatly.  Am I wrong to dream of tearing it all apart and starting over?"  

In the next instant, my mind snapped to the words coming from the podium and in perfect conversational cadence came the answer:

"God isn't concerned about your comfort.  He's concerned about your growth."

I related that short sequence of events to Jamie before the car had maneuvered out of the parking lot.  Later we prayed and formalized our "pros and cons" list into a "to do" list.  Item #1 was to determine if I would be allowed to do something that was barely off the Corporate American drawing board: telecommute. 

The impromptu meeting with my supervisor that next morning still amazes me.  The response was not just positive but enthusiastic.  "That sounds great.  When can you start?"  We discussed the parameters for a few minutes and the next day I was working from home.   

Epilogue

In June of 2003 we moved into the newly built house.  Jamie quickly transformed it into our home.  The design, build, and moving process had taken just over a year and the seemingly insurmountable logistics of that "to do" list had fallen like dominos.  Our friends on the neighboring piece of land often referred to our little community as "Hog Heaven".  And so it was.  It was easy to chalk it all up to "God's Blessing".

Then, in April of 2006, I was laid off.  My job had been outsourced to a firm in India.  I like to think that I played a small role in proving that telecommuting was a workable concept.  Perhaps my greatest contribution to Corporate America but I'll never know for sure.  My supervisor had been laid off in the cycle of layoffs before the one that got me and I never had the chance to ask him if in fact management had actually been looking for "guinea pigs" that Monday morning some four years prior.

Regardless, the sudden turn of events provided the opportunity to once again try my hand at trading - but this time it was for real.  Paychecks had ceased but the bills had not.  Once again Trading for a Living was read and the PC fired up.  Technology had advanced light years since my last foray into the world of trading although the time/data gap between Wall Street in New York and Cedar Hollow in Coupeville remained consequential.  Nonetheless, a few breathless trades were actually completed only to discover that the real problem lay not with the time/data gap but the fear/greed cavity between my ears.  The endeavor quickly proved to be a money losing proposition and the whole thing was shut down before any real damage could be done.  It was obvious.  Jamie didn't even have to tell me.  

All of it was devastating to my self esteem and life became a struggle for that next year.  

Thankfully, time heals all wounds.  That's another of Mom's sayings.  Time, plus a loving/capable wife, together with a large portion of the Grace of God.  In time, Hog Heaven became Hog Heaven again.  Life returned to full capacity filled with casual fascinations that touched my very soul.  

Then in September of 2018, some 15 years after moving in, the time came to leave the home of our making for the last time.  Our exit proved as workable as our entrance.

There's a part of me that wants to know "why?".

Why?....did God bring us to Hog Heaven for a season and now it's gone.  Why?....was I completely and miraculously spared in 5 instances yet left with deep physical, psychological, and emotional scars from an accidental, self-inflicted knife wound, a ruptured appendix, an insidious cancer.  Those and so many more unanswered questions.  Why?....     

Mom would simply say, "Our's is not to reason why".

Others might answer fate.  Or luck.  Or lack thereof.  Some might even say it's God's punishment.  Or reward.

No, none of that.  In my heart I already know.  God isn't concerned about my comfort.  He's concerned about my growth.  And that's enough for now.

2020 ushered-in something called Covid-19 and soon the whole world turned upside down.  Quarantines were put in place and much of Corporate America engaged their work force via telecommunication protocols.  I confess to a tinge of pride as I write that.  I digress.  The stock market cratered and then bounced back.  You may even recall that there was talk of interest rates turning negative, i.e. you would have to pay the banks to hold your money.

Needless to say the quarantine provided free time and then some.  Further, in our IRA account we habitually hold a certain percentage of the total amount in cash for withdrawals.  With circumstances being what they were it came to mind that maybe trading that cash could be at least as profitable as negative interest rates.  Once again the PC was fired up and today the trading screen flickers as if alive with huge volumes of data in as close to real time as the speed of light will allow.  Of equal wonder lies the fact that commissions and fees have all but disappeared.  Taxes?  Well, they're as persistent as death itself but the levy on individual transactions within the IRA are a non-factor.  

While the technology of today is far beyond anything that could be imagined 30 years earlier it may be that my psychological makeup has changed to an even greater degree.  Now the whole process is viewed as more of an art than a science and it doesn't hurt that the venture is regarded as a hobby rather than an occupation.  The casual fascinations afforded when viewing the intrinsic interplay fused between risk, reward, and time have become as valuable as the dollars.  Perhaps most importantly it keeps this old man's brain engaged during a time of life when it is all too easy to succumb to the menace of stagnation.   

I'd be remiss not to say straight-out that God is good.  Still, sometimes I can't help but wonder how long this season of life will last and what the next one holds?     

I can hear Mom now.  

"All in God's time."