The Main Point by Michael Main

Saturday, October 11, 2003

SON LIGHT

It's a full day today. Amy and I are doing some computer work for one of her clients, trying to get everything settled before she goes in to the hospital next week. Before that I went out to the church do try to keep ahead of the landscaping.

I was so intent on getting our list of things done this morning, that I actually hauled my mower out to the church about an hour before dawn. There's a street lamp across the roadway from our little house of faith, and I figured I could trudge through the darkness with only a glimmer of light and still make some progress against the ever rising grass. I got a few odd looks from early morning motorists, but actually I managed to get quite a bit done before the sun came up, and upon later examination it was evident I had not really gotten off track.

As I was pushing the mower through the darkness I thought that really this is not such an uncommon practice in my life. I forge ahead blindly quite often, thanks to the the assurance provided by one light.

Friday, October 10, 2003

BEING FED

Amy's doctor has a new diagnosis. Her doctor is not really sure about it, but as we spoke today it seemed to fit all her symptoms. I don't remember the name, but it boils down to some rarely occurring syndrome where certain parts of her body are restricting other parts. It's gotten worse as she has lost weight, and she's losing weight because it hurts to eat.

The good news is, the first approach to resolving this is non-surgical. The bad news is Amy will back in the hospital for several days next week and then for six weeks she'll be getting force fed the equivalent of a chicken fried steak dinner with all the fixins' a couple of times a day. The worse news is she'll be fed through another PICC line so she won't exactly be enjoying a good meal.

I'm not sure what type of wine you serve with intravenous mush, but a red wine would seem appropriate.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

PRIVATE OFFERINGS

I remember the first church Amy and I attended on a regular basis. A small, non-denominational, charismatic church in a strip center. They never passed a plate. All offerings were made quietly and privately at a small box at the back of the little sanctuary. I found that charming and inviting.

Then, there's this:

It's real. It's The Offering Machine!

It makes my skin crawl.

I've been looking at this picture and wondering why I have such a strong aversion.

I'm a geeky, techno-oriented type of guy. I have all sorts of gadgets. I live off my ATM card and don't even carry a checkbook.

Yet this bothers me.

The obvious objections I think are to the imagery. A cash machine emblazoned with the cross seems so very horrible.

But quite honestly, I don't think it's the existence of "The Offering Machine!" that offends me as much as the realization that there are churches that exist where this can sit in the sanctuary and fit in.

PUBLIC OFFERINGS

I read where Arnold Schwarzenegger says he will do no more movies now that he's the Governor-elect of California.

Suddenly I find myself hoping Alec Baldwin runs for office...and Dolph Lundgren...and Rutger Hauer.

I'm having visions of a "Draft Jean-Claude Van Damme" movement, although the participants motives might be suspect.

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

PASSING MENTIONS

Lo and behold, the woman in the office of Amy's doctor who couldn't find time to call her back for the past week, suddenly found time yesterday. Since I had already arranged another doctor's appointment, the call netted nothing in terms of comfort or information, but I suspect she was fulfilling a directive from on high. I hope so. Amy sees the doctor on Friday. I plan to be with her. I want the doctor to get to know me better (ahem) and I think I want the doctor's office staff in refresher course mode for a while yet.
====
Got the bill for Amy's five day hospital stay . The stay which produced no cure and not even a cogent diagnosis.

Thank God for insurance.

My health insurance costs are going up next year and I can't blame the insurance company one bit. Eight doses of some unspecified medicine they gave Amy cost 3 thousand dollars. No cure. No diagnosis. The total bill: 20 grand.

Amy is sick...but our health care system is sickening.
====

So California had 100 plus gubernatorial candidates on the ballot. Every county in the state had the candidates names in a different order on the ballot. Every imaginable method of voting was used from the much maligned punch card ballot to the high tech touch screen system.

No hanging chads? No voters flustered? No one confused? Where are all those folks who were going to be disenfranchised?

Californians are smarter than I thought. Okay...they're smarter than people in Florida.
====

Seen that picture before? It's been sellout on QVC for five years running.

I'm okay with that I suppose...as long as I don't dwell on it. At least it's not on black velvet.
====

Okay boys and girls it's time to play, "Who's an idiot?"

(Insert annoying theme song here)

First guess:

For the second time, I left my favorite digital camera, the one that's so small it can easily be overlooked, in my pants pocket . Once again it ended up going through the wash and a good portion of the dry cycle.

Despite that, it still works...sort of.

The repeated rinse cycles have washed out the screen that allowed me to know that I've taken a picture. The spin-dry silenced the beep that offered additional reassurance. Still, if I push all the buttons, point it and pray, it usually gets a shot.

It's pathetic to look at, and certainly not the robust little camera it once was, yet I've been enjoying carrying it around with me now more than ever.

I slip my hand into my pocket and am reminded how very often I must look at what's facing me in life...on faith alone.

Luke 17:6

"If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, 'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,' and it will obey you.

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

FITNESS

I don't pitch fits too often. I can really only think of one or two occasions in recent years when I've gotten in someone's face to drive home the fervency of my point of view.

Once was some years back at DFW airport. Amy and I had had our flight cancelled the night before from Colorado, and then were delayed on the flight back the next day. When we finally arrived in Dallas, tired and wrinkled by the rigors of travel, we were informed there was no room for us on the only available flight back to San Antonio.

I remember asking Amy to go find a quiet spot well away from the ticket counter because I was going to be noisy. I had heard that airports were places where causing a scene sometimes pays off, and I figured we had nothing to lose.

I bellowed and barked, complained and accused. I huffed and was haughty. I dropped names and flung my arms about in exasperation for all to see.

It was embarrassing...but our seats on the next flight were quite comfortable.

I've pitched a few fits at work over the years, primarily when I thought we were making grave errors in editorial judgement. In truth, I'm paid to do that. I've won some of those battles, and I've lost one or two.

Amy has been out of the hospital for a week and a half and we still have no answers. She is still in pain. She had another test a week ago, but no one has called us with results. Amy has politely called her doctor's office six times in the past week seeking guidance, and no one has had the courtesy to even call her back.

I know patience is a virtue...but today I didn't see it that way.

The doctor's office staff now knows me. Not a voice on the phone. Me -- in person. I drove to their office and presented them with a close up look at an anguished, tired, husband who has watched his wife double over in pain on a regular basis far too often. A husband who has grown weary with being helpless.

I pitched a fit. It was a polite fit, at least I thought so, though I didn't stick around for the reviews.

The doctor, of course, was not in the office, but I wouldn't be surprised if he calls this afternoon. Actually I'd be shocked if he doesn't. I did succeed in getting Amy put on his schedule for later this week and I suspect when she arrives at his office they will attend to her needs expeditiously.

I hope so...that would be quite fitting.

Monday, October 06, 2003

UNFOUNDED

I have to write something here today...but I don't have to write anything worth reading.

That should probably serve as a warning.

I've started writing about ten times today, but I think I've been caught in a trap of trying to be profound. Where the heck did that come from?

I'm not profound. I'm at best coherent.

I'll leave the profundity to someone else.

Sometimes even if I don't know what I'm doing, I have to at least start doing it or I won't get started at all.

Was that profound? If it was, my apologies.

Item of interest:

The next time someone says they wished God would just send them a clear sign... Tell them this story.

Make sure to read the last sentence.

Sunday, October 05, 2003

JACK 36

"Jack 36" was in church today. Jack is my Pastor's father in law, and a wonderful gent. He is about my height. Jack also is under the impression that I can somehow squeeze my carcass into size 36 pants.

It's not that Jack's vision is fading, it's that I don't see Jack very often; he lives in another city. At one point in our history I was a size 36, but that, alas, is not now the case.

When I saw Jack today, he immediately mentioned that he had some pants he wanted to give me. Size 36. It's wonderfully generous. In past years he's gifted me with some quality slacks and jeans.

Now he's presenting me with something else I suppose. Inspiration.

I've made enough excuses. I have to start walking again.

Pardon me if at first it appears closer to a waddle.

Sure, deck your limbs in pants,
Yours are the limbs, my sweeting.
You look divine as you advance . . .
Have you seen yourself retreating?

- Ogden Nash

NOT SO GREAT

A fluttering wisp of light that glinted off a rearview mirror forcing my mind to ignore the words I was hearing and to focus my attentions elsewhere. Those words might have inspired or convicted, but I never heard them.

I've seen him.

The snide humor that was written by an adult, but spoken by a child on TV that made the room, including me, erupt in laughter. It was only later, upon reflection, that I winced.

I've seen him.

What once was innuendo is now blunt and raw and apparently accepted. When did that happen?

I've seen him.

I see him.

Thank God, I at least still see him.

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