2001-12-18 - 7:06 p.m.

Listening to: Bird on a wire. Like always. Like it�s always been playing in my head. Reminds me of those old forgotten days, a full year now covered in weeds, slipping through the cracks of my mind.

Foolishness.

To the new, the forward-thinking, the invigorating. No time to wallow in the past, always on to a brighter future!

This week, I glimpse the future. The beginning of a routine, a well-defined future, a calendar of days with specific things in it, pointed, energetic. An early wake-up: 7:00. A brisk, efficient day of work. An office: a wide room, a swath of Lakeview property, once covered with ladders and sawdust, workmen building the new temple. Chunk by chunk, wall by wall, the cubicles defined, the shelves attached, the phones installed, the computers all booted up for those who will soon file in, toss up their caps, shout out a �Gooood morning,� and set to work. Hours of quiet productivity, of editing, of E-mails, of meetings and phone calls, and editing, editing, editing.

The one on the left, second from the end � that�s mine � is modest. No personality achieved in two days, just manuscripts and outlines, and a big stack of Jesus books � crafts and facts � on the shelves. Making crafts for Jesus, that�s my job. The only direct sunlight in sight shine directly on my head through the skylight, and it�s all blue up there. The good Lord gazes benevolently over my toils. He forgives me my tresspasses and tells me to head home early, it�s 4:00, nearly dark this time of year. There�ll be more work for you in the morning.

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