I wasn’t as stressed today as yesterday. I was clearly still stressed, though, because I actually started to cry a little bit when I discovered that my “office” is a former storage room and is the only office that has no window at all. And it has no built-in shelving or storage like everyone else has… because it was a storage room.
Nonetheless, I went to the bathroom, and came back with the perspective of figuring out something workable. I turned the heavy (and dirty) desk to face the common area (that wall is glass, so it acts like a secondary window, you could say, getting natural light from the windows that lead into the rest of the office suite), and it fit just perfectly there. I then cleaned the desk.m and left it opened up to dry, so I could reevaluate if more cleaning would be needed tomorrow.
I then sat at the center table in the common area (which is filled with natural light), right outside my door, to handle the bit of computer work I had to do – well, wanted to have done – today before I went home. While there, I ended up meeting the rest of the residents of the office suite as they trickled in, and it was almost magical. This was truly the place for me to be this year. It is downstairs and the next building over from where all my classes will be (versus down the hall from the classroom on the same floor).
I was initially okay with the idea, though, because it would mean my own space instead of four cubicles in a single room, and my own locking door for keeping things safe at my own discretion. The lack of window, as I mentioned, put me over an edge of stress, though, and made me cry a bit. But I shared a photo with my brother, who is very high up in his company and recently ran into the problem of having no office at all to himself, due to a hiring surge. He had said repeatedly that he didn’t care if he only got a closet – he just needed his own space to work privately. He laughed at my photo and offer for him to take my storage shed office, and sent me a photo of his recently-found closet. He said I had him beat on space, and that he didn’t even have one of the adjustable standing desks he usually has. His photo cracked me up. Sure, the one wall was painted like the outdoors beautifully, but his office truly was like a closet. He said he can barely wheel out his chair to sit down in it, and he definitely cannot do any advanced yoga poses (his words, not mine). So, we both have former storage closets for offices now. But we are both glad to have them to ourselves, especially since I turned the desk and it made all the difference(!).
Now, to dive right into the real work tomorrow: preparing for actual teaching.
God, guide me to do a wonderful job at school and always to do your will. Thank you for this job and this call. In your name, I pray. Amen.
P.S. I totally forgot to mention that, when I went to leave for the day, and I locked the office door, it didn’t actually lock…. That is to say that the lock is broken… the irony. Haha. But, we submitted a repair request and it likely will be fixed before school starts next week. So, yay! Haha
Well, jury duty was a success. I prayed a lot about it, and I asked for clear guidance, courage, and the necessary words and judgement from God and the dear Saints in order to do God’s will and to share his love in the world through me, and I do believe they provided it all. I knew I would be selected as a potential juror – one of those God-granted feelings – and I ended up being the second-to last one called, of 80 people (from a total of about 200 folks who didn’t get excused).
But, because I’d known, when there were only five names remaining, I knew not to think I was about to go home. It was just a matter of which number I was. And that was juror number 79.
And juror number 79, despite full intentions not to speak up about things unless absolutely necessary, spoke up a lot.
Mostly, I asked for clarity on things, definitions, to repeat something that had been read aloud quickly (which half the room could not actually read on the far-away screen in small font – seriously, what are they thinking there?? – in the first place). Sometimes, I answered the questions they were asking, mostly when I had a clear answer to share and no one else was speaking up already or had not mentioned what I then added. For the most part, each time I contributed left me chucking to myself quietly afterward and shaking my head. I had asked for clear guidance and the right words for fulfilling God’s will, and it was quickly clear that God wanted me to be seen and heard today.
I was not one of the annoyances – a few people did it intentionally, and several just didn’t seem to have a clue on many things – but I was involved a decent amount throughout the two hours of questioning from the attorneys. By the end of it, I was genuinely wanting to be on the jury.
It was even a criminal case, which I had feared most beforehand. The subject, however sensitive it may be, was a matter in which I truly felt I could see both sides freely. I have had to sort through some serious crap that was done to me in my life, and that people I care about have done. And I have learned to honor that they did what they felt was the only option at the time – no matter how horrible the action may have been or how twisted their thinking likely was – and that people do not necessarily act maliciously when they commit crimes against others… even the really bad ones. Yes, there certainly are plenty of times that malicious intent is present for crimes in this world – the devil’s work is rampant at times. But it is not necessarily there, and that distinction is well beyond being of little importance, and possibly one of the most important aspects of a crime.
Now, the one place where I disagree heartily with the legal system is that people who’s really convicted of crimes rarely get the actual rehabilitative help they truly need to rejoin society as fully functioning, contributing, and valuable members of society. Often, they are merely given fines and/or locked up for a long time, and then released, older and a bit wiser, but not likely healed from whatever caused them to commit a crime in the first place. That, to me, is extremely sad and unequivocally important. However, that set aside for the moment, as there is nothing that would handle it so immediately as to be relevant today, my mind really went in a direction I had not fully expected for today (though, it did not surprise me truly).
Wanting to be on that jury felt odd. I would not be at all surprised if the defendant had done the crime of which he was accused. But I also would believe that he hadn’t done it at all, or hadn’t done it in a sound mind with the true intention of injury that may have resulted from it. But I knew I could see both sides openly, and that I could call out my automatic judgements and biases rather well – after all, I had been doing it since we’d started the afternoon’s questioning.
I had major biases that came up for each of the attorneys present, as well as the rest of the people in the room. And I intentionally let each of those drop, so that I could consider what was actually being offered to me, instead of my predetermined judgements. One side had a good-looking attorney and then a mostly smooth-talking attorney who asked all the questions. Though I fully love my state, I did not trust these young and clean-cut state attorneys. As I thought about it throughout the afternoon, I came up with a clear way to say how I seem to approach everything and everything: I am respectfully skeptical of everyone (and everything). I notice my biases and immediately look to see how things would be different without them. I typically alter my behavior with my thinking, whenever necessary in those moments.
The other side of the trial had an older, somewhat dumpy-looking (due to fat, not any actual unkempt nature of the man – he was quite clean and together) attorney who was not great with technology (but he figured it out well enough!), and a slow-talking and occasionally bumbling attorney who was clearly not the best at switching between reading and speaking on the fly. My natural instinct was to trust the good-looking attorneys and not the not-good-looking ones, to trust the easygoing quick-tongued one and not the slower one. But I saw those biases and did not trust them as truth. They are merely judgements, and do not necessarily determine what is actually true. Like with the slower talking attorney who struggled with the back-and-forth of questioning and reading his notes and adapting to changes – we all learn differently. Anyone can look like an idiot in the right setting, and anyone can thrive and seem like a genius in the right setting. These men are no exception. One lawyer thrives on the talking, the other does not. It does not mean that the latter cannot make a better legal case – just that it won’t have such pretty words and fluidity as the former’s.
So, anyway, having constantly to set aside my judgements had me realize that I not only could be quite valuable on a jury, but that I wanted to be on the jury because I felt I could be fair in my judgements. Even if the man had done the crimes, if the court could not provide evidence in support of it beyond a reasonable doubt, he is innocent in court, no matter if the whole jury were to think him guilty; he must be declared innocent of the crimes. Taking it one step further, no matter the outcome in court, his behavior going forward for the rest of his life will determine for him what happens for eternity for him. Either he will be with God or he will not be with God. Whatever the case, that part is on him in this life, determined by him and by him alone. We have no say in that. But we do have say as to whether the evidence provided supports one way or the other the accusation given to this man. (And, somehow, that realization this morning made all the difference for me.)
In the end, nine men and three women were selected, and they didn’t even make it past the 50s in the selections. So, though I very much expected to be on the jury, they never even got to discuss me as a possibility. I’d briefly forgotten what I had been grateful to remember initially this morning that juries are selected in order, only moving forward if one is denied – a jury could be the first 12 jurors if no denials arise on either side of the case, however unlikely that may actually be. Ours had the first half of the jury filled by juror ten, at which point I remembered how they filled a jury and was bummed out a bit. I likely was the only person released today who wasn’t really glad to have been released.
God granted me understanding and a change of mind, as I very much anticipated, and somewhat didn’t want. Haha
Now, it was perfect that I’d had the duty today, as it placed me near the car dealership. Just as I was leaving, I cracked my windows a bit to let out the hot air from inside the car. I rolled them all back up a few seconds later as I drove out of the parking lot to head home.
And I heard a metallic-like CRACK!
In some degree, the rear passenger window had come off its railings in a malfunction, and would not slide up anymore. I pulled over only to find that the window could slide casually down and down and down.
Not good.
So, I dropped it to the dealership – because this has to be covered under warranty, since I rarely use the window and the car isn’t even three years old – even though they had no appointments available for the final 40 minutes of their workday. The manager was actually helpful and kind to me, though – I’d never met him before, but I had had lots of struggle with agents in the past there – and sent me on my way in an Uber rather quickly, after a free snack and drink. (I had a soda can of V8 that was just veggies with tomatoes, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.) Someone will look at the window in the morning, and they’ll let me know the full situation. Until then, it will sit inside a shop, with window tape covering the slightly open window. It might be a few days for parts to be ordered and delivered. They would give me a free rental car, but only once they know what’s wrong and confirm it is warranty-valid (versus tampering). So, I’ll have to go back to get the rental car, which is rather far from home. So, we’ll see what happens.
Whatever the case, sure glad I had the jury duty summons today, which put me right by the dealership, and sure glad I don’t have the case the rest of this week, so I don’t have to figure out how to get way out there without my vehicle tomorrow.
Phew!
God sure has a way of helping us to find gratitude in upsets.
And the lighting in the sky lights my room through the skylights,
in full and varied, rapid, never-ceasing flashes…
And the fans blow,
Because this is Houston…
And the noise is like pressure on my chest, weighing me, pushing on me, toward the ground…
I hunch over, ever so slightly, at first,
And find myself, ten minutes later, almost in a seated ball, so hunched have I become…
Avoiding the pounds… kilos… of the rain overhead…
And I am tired, physically and mentally, and sleepy, with near/exhausted eyes…
Yet I cannot seem to turn out this little light of mine, this little lamp of warm, glowy, salt-lamp-covered light… my beacon in this night, my comfort, my accompaniment, my almost friend…
The storm reigns tonight, and the lighting has something to SAY, even if the thunder is only background… yes, this lightning has something to say, and it is saying it with much fervor and a demand to be noticed…
I can hear it, whether my eyes are watching it or not…
I open my window at night… late, late at night, when I am awakened to heat by the sounds of someone climbing the stairs to go to bed in the middle of the night, though I never know it at the time, and neither does the stair-climber. My room is hot, too hot for comfort, especially in the middle of winter, even though it is Houston. I crawl to the edge and climb out of my bed, down to my shoes, and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my suddenly compressed bladder. When I return, the heat hits me like a physical wall of warm fabric floating just inside my doorway. I stumble back to my bed, letting my shoes fall as I climb into it. I sit for a moment, considering… The lights are off, so it is all right.
I lean forward on my hands and knees, and I slide open the large window a few inches, before sitting back and relaxing, waiting for the cool air to stream firmly into my room. I always consider going to sleep with the window left open. I always close it after only a minute or few, so that I may go back to sleep, at ease. I want the cooling air, but nothing else is welcome. In Houston, many a thing might aim to make itself welcome through an open window at night. And I really don’t want to wake to a rat diving between a stack of boxes. I want to keep this room clean, please. And so, I shut the window every time, even though I’m never quite cooled off enough for good rest. Each night, I silently wish for a screen for the window, while disregarding the wish, because I wasn’t to see the world clearly through the window, whether closed or open, just free of screening… so it cannot be.
So, I open my window at night, out of practical reasons, but silently wish to experience the magic I feel is waiting just outside, waiting in that cool, crisp, winter wonder air.
hannah ananas 