(no subject)
I know this is trite, but it is true for me right now: You don’t know what you have until you realize it will be gone. Reading some of my posts about Missouri you can think I haven’t found anything good about this place. It’s not true. It’s just so easy to focus on the bad, especially since that is what stares me in the face every day. The boys, who suck your life, your energy, your soul, and never give an ounce in return. Any mistake you make they criticize and complain that they are held to a standard that the mentors some times fail at. And any time you match and exceed the standard they act as if to say ‘so what?’
It is easy to stay focused on those things, and as far as that goes, I am the chief of fools and idiots.
I’ve realized I am going to miss this place. Not the place itself, though there is much about it that I do like and wish I had time to explore. The people. Walker Boldman, son of my boss, who is 10 (I think) plays the violin, smarter than most of the future men, loves to read, and is one of those ‘pent up’ crazy kids who has to get around the right people in the right mood to get his craziness out.
Pastor Toliver, a great preacher who realizes his strengths and weaknesses and knows how to work with others and help them to use their strengths to make the church well rounded. He even told me today (he always stands at the main door after church to shake hands with everyone who wants and say hi, and even chat when there is something to say), he told me that there were half a dozen people in the church who would be pastors and teachers in other places, and the only reason they weren’t here was because he was already the pastor.
Patty Toliver, the pastor’s wife, who is the sweetest southern pastor’s wife you can imagine. Surrogate mother to all who come from far away, and with a personality that makes you smile and you can’t help thinking that the pastor was lucky to get a girl like her. She is a recent grandma, and I think I see her holding her grandchild more than her daughter-in-law.
Paul Krueger, my construction boss. He works harder than anyone you can imagine. He is always at work before me, and I usually get there at 7:30. I would be earlier if I didn’t have to manage the kids until after 10:00, but he is always earlier. He never leaves until everyone else is done and everything is rolled up. He’s taught me almost everything I know about construction, and what else I know was taught was by those who he works with. He doesn’t quite understand I don’t want to do it forever, and he doesn’t want me to leave. Every day now it seems like there is some comment about how much cheaper the cost of living is in Missouri and how many less hassles there are here. ‘I don’t know if the cost of gas is worth the more money you’d be earning driving to cabinet jobs.” “My sister sold her dump for $600,000 and is moving out here, where a $200,000 house is three times larger than what she was living in.”
There are more. I could fill up a couple pages of these people. Yet all this also makes me ache for home even more. This place is filled with great people. It doesn't need me. It isn't my home, these people will live on, maybe remember me, but will only miss me because I was here--and a brother, not because I was a good friend. I have no problem with that, and I will miss them too, as brothers and sisters. A family that I have if ever I need and help whenever I can, but not close. Not like my real brother, who calls when driving between work and home to check on how I'm doing, or my other brother who can't wait until I get home, if just to play games and cards. Or my sister who mailed me packages with movies that she thought I'd like, who each of them can't wait until I get home, just to hang out when I have the time. Home's a good place to be.
It is easy to stay focused on those things, and as far as that goes, I am the chief of fools and idiots.
I’ve realized I am going to miss this place. Not the place itself, though there is much about it that I do like and wish I had time to explore. The people. Walker Boldman, son of my boss, who is 10 (I think) plays the violin, smarter than most of the future men, loves to read, and is one of those ‘pent up’ crazy kids who has to get around the right people in the right mood to get his craziness out.
Pastor Toliver, a great preacher who realizes his strengths and weaknesses and knows how to work with others and help them to use their strengths to make the church well rounded. He even told me today (he always stands at the main door after church to shake hands with everyone who wants and say hi, and even chat when there is something to say), he told me that there were half a dozen people in the church who would be pastors and teachers in other places, and the only reason they weren’t here was because he was already the pastor.
Patty Toliver, the pastor’s wife, who is the sweetest southern pastor’s wife you can imagine. Surrogate mother to all who come from far away, and with a personality that makes you smile and you can’t help thinking that the pastor was lucky to get a girl like her. She is a recent grandma, and I think I see her holding her grandchild more than her daughter-in-law.
Paul Krueger, my construction boss. He works harder than anyone you can imagine. He is always at work before me, and I usually get there at 7:30. I would be earlier if I didn’t have to manage the kids until after 10:00, but he is always earlier. He never leaves until everyone else is done and everything is rolled up. He’s taught me almost everything I know about construction, and what else I know was taught was by those who he works with. He doesn’t quite understand I don’t want to do it forever, and he doesn’t want me to leave. Every day now it seems like there is some comment about how much cheaper the cost of living is in Missouri and how many less hassles there are here. ‘I don’t know if the cost of gas is worth the more money you’d be earning driving to cabinet jobs.” “My sister sold her dump for $600,000 and is moving out here, where a $200,000 house is three times larger than what she was living in.”
There are more. I could fill up a couple pages of these people. Yet all this also makes me ache for home even more. This place is filled with great people. It doesn't need me. It isn't my home, these people will live on, maybe remember me, but will only miss me because I was here--and a brother, not because I was a good friend. I have no problem with that, and I will miss them too, as brothers and sisters. A family that I have if ever I need and help whenever I can, but not close. Not like my real brother, who calls when driving between work and home to check on how I'm doing, or my other brother who can't wait until I get home, if just to play games and cards. Or my sister who mailed me packages with movies that she thought I'd like, who each of them can't wait until I get home, just to hang out when I have the time. Home's a good place to be.