It was a dark and rainy night.

After a busy day of fighting office fires and trying to placate the whims of IT software developers, I was glad to pack up my laptop and head for home.

With umbrella in tow and headphones on, I started the trek towards our apartment. I usually take the inner-urban trail. It’s convenient and, usually, vehicle free. As I hummed along to Wilco’s A Shot In the Arm, I noticed a headlight on the trail ahead of me. It was coming closer. At first I wondered if it was cyclist, but as the light grew I could tell that the outline matched to that of a motorcycle. A motorcycle on the inner-urban? As it slowed down I became a little more curious / anxious.

Sure enough it was a policeman that parked a few feet in front of me and evidently he wanted to chat. I pulled the headphones off.

“Where are you heading tonight, sir,” this roundish sort of cop asked as he stepped off his bike and removed his helmet.

“Home,” I replied.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Work. Premera Blue Cross…” Why does my voice always crack so suspiciously when I’m being questioned by police?

“Premera Blue Cross, what do you do there?”

Was I speeding, officer. Don’t say that out loud.

“Umm, I work with software developers. I write requirements so they can write the code for system enhancements.” (I don’t think it came out that way, but I mumbled and stumbled my way through somehow.)

“Well, sir, the reason I’m stopping you tonight is there was a bank robbery in the area. The suspect was wearing a black coat…”

Like me

“…carrying a black bag…”

Like me

“with salt and pepper hair…”

Like me. Is he joking?

“about 50 years old…”

Not like me. Not joking, I guess. Do I really look 50? God.

“…so you match a few of those descriptions.” I fit a profile…“Do you have any ID on you? We just need to check…”

“Sure,” I hand him my driver’s license. “I can show you my work ID badge as well,” I pull out my photo badge with a much younger version of myself pictured there, hoping I look less and less like a bank robber. Look at me, officer, I’m a model citizen. I work in insurance. I am green and eco-friendly. Look, no car.

The policeman jots down some notes as he eyes my badge and driver’s license. He asks a bit about my job and claims to be a “techie” himself. I don’t remember what I said but must have convinced him that I really did work at Premera Blue Cross.

“Well, thank you very much, sir.” He’s such a polite profiler.

I wanted to say, “I hope you catch the guy,” but that’s what all the bank robbers say in the movies so I bit my tongue. Plus, I have this recurring fear of being wrongfully accused of a crime. I think that is what prompts me to say, “Would you like my phone number, too?”

Stupid thing to say, I know. “Sure,” the policeman fires back, pen ready. I give it to him. I refrain from offering to let him search my bag. Obviously I’m not 50, so I think he owes me that bit of privacy. We say our goodbyes after this and he wishes me a good night. I walk home quickly hoping that I am not stopped again for my suspicious looks and dress. I think back wondering if I saw any suspicious people prior to meeting up with the cop. There was that lady in the black trenchcoat at the landscaping place across the street.

Nah, I think she didn’t fit the profile. Which would make her the mastermind criminal, wouldn’t it? Hmmmm.

I like the rounded-off feeling of even-numbered years. That’s not to say that even-numbered years are always good years for me, but in theory anyway, they give me a numerical sense of balance. I’m looking forward to 2010. In many ways it is a blank page, an uncharted section in the margins of the map, a new book propped open to page one.

But in order to look forward it’s a good exercise to look back–to wax retrospective.

What a Year – 2009

• Visited Florida to start the year, visited friends, family, and churches. Talked a lot about “career” change.
  
• Spent two-days in silent retreat at Dominican Retreat Center in Woodway, WA. Helped confirm decisions made.
• Took intensive skills / talent assessment (IDAK) and received personal / career counseling.
• Attended a weekend marriage retreat with Christa in smelly Sumas, WA.
• Looked for job from Jan-June in one of the worst periods of unemployment since the Great Depression. Interviewed @ three different places and ended up back at my old haunt, Premera Blue Cross (during a hiring freeze).
  
• May – moved from missionary housing to 2 BR apartment. Easiest move ever–due to our lack of furniture / belongings.
• Celebrated 9 years of marriage.
  
• Began working as a Business Analyst.
• Traveled to China in July to pack up our belongings and say goodbye to friends. Had many plane adventures due to swine flu and weather-related difficulties. Visited Hong Kong for the first time and stayed with good friends we hadn’t seen in a while. Enjoyed the miniaturized version of Disneyland in sweltering HK.
  
• Began applying to MFA programs for creative writing. Joined a local writing group. Was accepted to a low-residency program for 2010.
• Attended a college friend’s wedding in Oregon.
• Started attending a new church and plugging in to a new community.
  
• Became a soccer dad and watched Sarah play great defense.
• Became a performer’s dad and watched Anna sing in the Seattle Children’s Chorus in front of hundreds.
• Got more involved by proxy (as First Gentleman to the PTA co-prez) in the girls’ school and in the local community.
• Enjoyed the stability of routine and transition-limited existence.

What a Decade – The Naughts 2000-2010

• Got married to my true love (2000)
• Saw the birth and progressive growth of two lovely daughters (2001, 2003)
• Bookended the decade as an employee of an insurance company (didn’t see that one coming)
• Saw the creation and development of a unique tightly-knit community known as a Sending Team
• Got certified to Teach English As A Second Language
• Lived in China (Tibet) for 3 years. Learned to speak / understand Mandarin Chinese (to a degree)
• Traveled all over the globe, racking up the air-miles
• Birthed vision to pursue writing as artform / career

Of course you can’t really bullet-point a decade and encapsulate it, but just listing those 8 items amounts to a TON of life experience. What a crazy, beautiful, challenging, and awe-inspiring ten years it has been. And then it rolls over to another year, another decade, another good story ripe for the telling. May each of you find the meaning that you seek this new year–may the good rise to the surface as the bad settles, forgotten to the bottom of the pool.

May this new year / decade be full of surprises and hope.

xmas 2009

Click on the photo above to view the album…

I got a good laugh out of this. Yesterday, driving around doing errands, I was trying to turn onto a busy street that was backed up due to traffic. I looked over at the car closest to me, a delivery vehicle for a local florist.

Santa Claus was driving the car! I saw him, he saw me–we made eye contact.

The light changed and I thought to myself, Surely, Santa Claus will give me a gift and let me into the flow of traffic here. It was the day before Christmas Eve and I was feeling the flow of Christmas spirit all around. As I eased my car out, Santa stared just straight ahead like he never saw me, put his foot on the pedal and gunned his car right by me.

I guess even Santa Claus wouldn’t let me cut in with deliveries to be made! I don’t know what that means exactly, but I think it is a clue as to what “list” I am currently on. Much like our Christmas in Jianzha, I’m thinking there is a lump of coal in my future. (Charlie Brown sigh and head thrust.)

advent: n.  the coming or arrival, especially of something extremely important

I was hopeful for a lot of things this Christmas. Things like: no airports or life-changing decisions. Some space and routine, a sense of home. The chance to focus attention on Christ and his gift to the world rather than my own problems–and a resolution to take attention off of myself in order to engage intentionally with the lives of others–friends, family, community, neighbors.

So far, the Advent season has not disappointed. I could write whole paragraphs on all the things I have enjoyed leading up to Christmas Eve (today) but I’d better stick to bullet points instead. Here is my list of Advent Hope Expected and Fulfilled:

• Watching Anna sing Christmas carols/songs in the Seattle Children’s Chorus. I loved the “Patapan” song. Probably has a different name, but I could listen to that one all day long.
• Going with the family yesterday to Cougar Mountain Zoological Park to see real-life reindeer. Trivia: The tendons in reindeer hooves actually do make a distinct clicking sound.
• Having community neighbors from Ghana over at our Christmas Open House and learning about their Christmas traditions. This event was Christa’s brilliant idea–to invite the bus-stop families to our house for a little Christmas party. Only a handful showed up, but it was fun to hear their stories.
• The Advent Soup Suppers held through our church each Wednesday night. Someone at the supper last night said we should have soup suppers every Wednesday night, not just for Advent. I like that idea. Not only were the soups delicious, but it was nice to sit around and talk about what hope means in our world today.
• Christmas caroling. The girls were not the only ones who had a great time as 26 of us bundled folks roamed the neighborhoods and sang some classic Christmas songs in the chilly (but dry) winter’s night. Most people were very surprised to get “real life” carolers. One comment I heard as a door was closing, “I’ve never had real carolers come here before…” And we had an accordian player. Brilliant.
• Watching The Nativity with the family this morning. What a beautiful movie depicting the lives of Mary and Joseph and the coming of their little king. I hated the way angels were portrayed in the movie (bearded Beach Boys in flowing white dresses), but everything else about the movie was artfully done.
• Our drive-around looking for the best Christmas lights. There’s some fancy inflatables around these days.
• Christmas party with friends (former Senders!) in early December. Our tight community has gone through a bit of a dispersion over the years as families have moved to different locations, but I see many positive elements of this. Good people planted across the great American expanse–blessed to bless.
• Having dinner here in Lynnwood with Xining friends. It’s good  to still have those connection in Asia–to hear about our old stomping grounds from people still trodding on over there.
• Writing. Tonight I get to read a “Mary” poem I wrote during our Christmas Eve service. For the Advent services I wrote the benediction we closed the services with each week. It’s fun to be engaged creatively and to be able to worship in this way.
• Even the Christmas shopping wasn’t a hassle this year. Once you’ve lived in China (or Asia) holiday crowds don’t seem nearly so overwhelming.

Hope you, too, can name some hopes that have been expected and fulfilled this Advent!

For unto us a child is born…unto us a Son is given.

Eight years old? Eight years old!?! Wow. I told Anna she couldn’t turn eight because that would mean I’m getting older. First it’s eight, then nine, ten, eleven; before you know it they’re going away to college or overseas to be a missionary. You got to nip this thing in the bud or it snowballs on you like that.

Anna and her 2nd grade teacher after Anna's choir performance

Anna, you are not just my little girl. You are also a person I deeply admire, respect, and love. I am so proud of the person you have become and will some day be. Hope this year brings you as much joy as you bring those around you.

Love,
Dad

I was living in denial, but I eventually was forced to face the facts: this family can’t own pets.

The guinea pig experiment started out so well, it looked like it might just work. For a while… Two fuzzballs in a wooden pet cabinet on the back porch. The girls did the feeding, cleaning, and grooming. Visitation hours were spent in the girls’ bedroom, in limited spurts, vacuuming afterwards. Anna and Sarah washed their hands after use and kept the guinea pigs far away from me to the best of their ability. We were all very OCD, very Adrian Monkish. On paper, it worked.

But the guinea pigs grew. They ate, got fatter, and more furry. The winter days brought colder weather and school was in full swing. We all got busy.

No worries. The animals lived through that. That’s not where this is going.

But in the midst of this routine, my allergies kicked in and regardless of my heavy doses of medication, I simply couldn’t breathe whenever the GPs were in the house. It was like an iron band was clamped around my lungs. I simply couldn’t inhale and exhale. Inhalers, nasal spray, and antihistamines delivered little results. The GPs may have only been in the apartment for 10 minutes, but I would struggle the rest of the evening. The wheezing, the coughing, the sneezing made it obvious.

Something had to give. We called a family meeting to discuss the fate of the Johnsons and their salt and pepper pigs.

The long and the short of it: we decided the GPs had to find a new home. There were tears, explanations, apologies; the usual parent-kid talk. Because me and pets just don’t mix, we all decided that it would be best for us to find ways for the girls to be around animals outside of the home.

Two days later, c/o Craig’s List, the GPs were gone, swept away like their daily hay—given to a nice lady who loves guinea pigs that wanted to gift Emme and Poppi to a friend. A bit sad, tragic really. Most of the time it’s not a problem, but when it comes to my kids, I hate having this Achilles heel of allergies. The girls often tell me all the animals they will have when they’re “grown-up” which is fitting since Anna has plans to be a singer / zookeeper and Sarah, a vet who works at Anna’s zoo.

I think they handled the occupational setback pretty well though. There have been no tears since. The GP recipient has already emailed photos to the girls so that they know their pets are in good hands.

The pet experiment was necessary for the family—an investment in experience as Christa termed it. I think Anna will miss them some, but not like she would have a cat or dog. But we do have consolation plans; hopes to involve the girls in 4-H and maybe an animal rescue / refuge type thing (when they are old enough.) There are good alternatives to owning your own pet. And we’ll figure out which ones work for us.

Until pharmacological technology catches up to my current afflictions, I guess I’ll remain the Boy in the Bubble. There are worse fates. And when your kids give you those puppy dog eyes, you sure do feel like the guy handing out eviction notices at the Hotel for Dogs. Sigh.

…just makes us stranger.

Stronger. I mean, stronger. Right, sure. That’s the ticket.

Last week our kitchen sink got backed up. I thought something was up with our garbage disposal, but after some tests, it quickly became apparent that this was a problem deeper in the pipes of this decades-old apartment building.

Of course it had to be Thanksgiving day when it happened right. This stuff never happens on a Tuesday morning when the maintenance guy is twiddling his thumbs and working cross-word puzzles. Fortunately, we weren’t hosting the turkey feast. After plunging the sink (which I later found out you’re never supposed to do) and emptying an entire bottle of Liquid Plummer down it, I waved the white flag and waited for our fix-it guy to show up.

He came the next day with a big ole bottle of sulfuric acid (basically)—one industrial-strength pipe enema coming right up. After pouring most of that toxic agent down the tubes, we waited. We filled the sink with water and it soon began to rise. I was worried there was a rat cadaver wedged down there somewhere (with my illustrious rodent history.) Finally, the water stopped, there was a long pause, a whiff of sulfur, gurgling, and the still surface pulsed, then swoosh—everything flushed down the drain. My problem evaporated like bubbles popping. Whatever was clogging the works was eaten up completely by the acid.

This week, on the eve of a Christmas party at our house, it’s the heating system that’s down like a hamstrung Scottish bagpiper. Last night, I saw a flash of light arc out of the living room much like that kitty scene in the movie, National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. But we don’t have a cat or Christmas lights to fry it with. I wondered if I had too many appliances going in that area, but then I saw a string of smoke come out of the bowels of the metal heating unit. Mr. Fix-it, please don’t ya forget my numba!

Stuff like this used to tie my stomach into knots. There was a time I used to lose hours of sleep over home repair paranoia. Who would fix it? How much would it cost? How long would it take? What else would fall apart in the process? I stressed over all the little break-downs in the world I didn’t have the capability or wherewithal of knowing how to repair.

That was before China. That was before being forced to deal with these headaches on a regular basis in a different language and culture. That was before it became a weekly affair.

U.S. apartment tribulations, like these two examples, are almost laughable to me now.

I stop and ask myself, Are there rats crawling above my head as I’m sleeping? Answer: No.

Is the water in the radiators upstairs spraying down through the pipes into my office? Nope.

Have the neighbors pick-axed the linoleum in my bathroom so they can flood it with gravel mixed with water to determine whether or not it will leak? Not at all.

Are there Asian men with drills and jackhammers marching through my home aerating my walls? Not one.

OK then, all is right with the world.

I’ve seen worse things than this. I may not have fought in a war, but I know a little bit about the battle for daily survival. I know a lot about the resiliency of an office worker-turned missionary-turned office worker again. This too shall pass. I just grab the long underwear and brew up another pot of coffee.

If not stronger, I’m certainly getting odder. A bit stranger, and a bit more relaxed; not sweating the medium or small stuff.

* * * *

The good news is: the heat is already fixed (as I’m posting.) A mere wiring issue. That wasn’t so bad now was it. Until tomorrow…

Life is a made up of a long chain of events. Like a thousand miles of Christmas lights strung across the branches of our lives, one decision leads to the next which leads to the next and the next, ad infinitum. On my Walk to work this morning I was contemplating how I got here. Not in a metaphysical sense, but in the very literal sense of how I ended up here: at a health insurance company as a corporate clone, I mean employee, or FTE as we are commonly called.

The answer: causality; today happened because of a decision made to work here in 1999, and then again in 2001, and finally in the present day. My decisions, and whatever element fate plays into a human life, keep bringing me back here. I can hear Al Pacino in The Godfather III lamenting the fact that he cannot extricate himself from the Mafia he helped create, “I try to get out, but they keep pulling me back in.”

But I’m not in the same boat as Al; not lamenting or trying to get out. I’m at peace with my life’s positioning at the moment. It wasn’t always like this.

Last December I remember sitting down to my computer in a completely frustrated state. The decisions I had made for the past ten years, which lead me all the way to China—the Tibetan plateau even—had been good, wise decisions I could stand behind. I didn’t regret making them. They were altruistic, well-intended, and in many ways selfless acts, but the place I ultimately ended up, because of these choices and through the immutable laws of causality, had deadened me spiritually and emotionally. I didn’t predict that. I had a break-down of sorts and ending up needing to see a counselor. It worked, but it changed the game plan.

Like Martin Luther posting his 95 Thesis on the Wittenberg door, I found myself protesting the trajectory of my life in typed bullet points. I only came up with around fifteen, but it was enough to trigger a chain of events that would eventually lead me out of China and back to the cubicled existence I knew so well. It sounds so anti-climactic when I put it that way, but that’s because it is only part of the story.

The other part of the story is more interesting. Follow this string back to its source: this morning I was really tired because I didn’t get to sleep last night until after 1:00 a.m. I got to sleep so late because of a latte I had drunk in the evening—after 7 p.m. (which is not normal for me.) I had a latte because I was working on writing a story in a coffee shop. I was in a coffee shop because my wife was having a book party at our home. My wife was selling books in our home to supplement our income so I could go back to school to learn how to write better stories. The story I was working on in the coffee shop was a manuscript I need to get into grad school. My writing group recommended that I revise this story to make it more compelling. I was a part of this writing group because I stayed home from China to become a writer. I was able to stay home to become a writer because I’d secured an office job at a place I’d worked twice before. Coincidentally, the story I as working on was about experiences I’d had back in China battling rats. The string keeps going…

Once you start, there are all kinds of rabbit trails of cause and effect that spring up and inspire curiosity. You get the idea I’m sure. If you are a fan of shows like Lost or Flash Forward like I am, you know that those programs are obsessed with this fate vs. free will question. Can choice change events that are “meant” to happen? Donald Miller’s new book also challenges us with living out a good story and changing our narrative arc when it becomes uninspiring.

I think this is crucial. Last year I read another book called What Should I Do With My Life? by a guy name Po Bronson. This book rocked me with its message about the importance of doing the things in life you are really passionate about–at any cost. Life is too short to waste it on things you hate or are bored to tears by. The decisions each of us make will lead us down a certain path. It’s good to consider this when making these decisions and keeping the big and little picture out before you like a map. The map is tentative, but it is a map nonetheless. Like Aristotle says, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” Better to live it fully and analytically, and make tough decisions at times.

I’d say it’s worth losing some sleep over.