I visited New York with my brother recently.
Buried with work stress, I told him, "You're in charge. I need a break from decisions and timelines; I will just follow you." We even agreed on a trip theme: Meander. We had no real schedule, no commitments. Eat when we get hungry. Stop when we are tired. Watch people.
How did that go? Not so well.
For three days, my brother set the pace, soaked in the city, and waited patiently for me to discover I was half a block ahead of him. For three days, each time the gap between us increased, I heard "Meander!" I don't know how he didn't just throw me off the top of 30 Rock.
I'm Type A. I'm high-strung. I'm accustomed to being at the front of the line. I walk with purpose. I know where I'm heading and I typically try to get there as efficiently as possible. I am horrible to travel with.
If I had been with Moses in the desert, I would have been one of the complainers. I would have been their leader. "Um, Moses, dude? Hand over the map. There's no map? What do you mean there's no map? Where the *&^% are you taking us, then?"
It would not have been pretty.
Leadership is both a gift and a curse. Underdeveloped or overapplied, it becomes a dichotomy. It actually impedes progress. Especially when I'm not the one that's supposed to be in charge.
The weekend in New York ended well. I settled down enough to relax, look around, even fall behind a couple times myself.
And my brother didn't kill me. Bonus!
Where You go, I'll go. Where you stay, I'll stay.
When you move, I'll move. I will follow.
Who You love, I'll love. How You serve, I'll serve.
If this live I lose, I will follow You.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
Our Small Group Rocks!
I hope everyone will indulge me for today......I have to brag on my precious friends in our small group. This weekend, we put on a fundraiser for Bill and Sara. Totally done, idea-to-event, in under three weeks.
Now, when I say "we," I mean the collective we of our small group....I can't take credit for much of anything, because, well, I didn't really do much.
In contrast, Tess O'Day is my new heroine. Not that she wasn't before, but over the past couple of weeks, I've remembered that impossible is simply not in this girl's vocabulary. She rises to a challenge. She gets stuff done. She inspires others to help her get stuff done.
When Sara and Bill shared with us that they had been chosen by a birth mother who was due the end of October, we were all happy and rejoiced with them and prayed with them.... But when they asked for prayer about the fees that were coming due, Tess immediately launched into Fundraiser Event Planner mode.
In three weeks, Tess and the rest of our small group arranged:
- a great venue to donate space
- an amazingly popular local band to play free-of-charge and invite all their followers
- almost forty pieces of art for silent auction
- raffle donations and art valued at over $1,000
The event was amazing, and Bill and Sara ended the night with $3,000 more toward their adoption costs than they had that morning. They still have more to go....but God is a big God, and He always provides for that which is in His plan.
So my Monday thought is to find inspiration through the people around you. If the people around you don't inspire you, try to look at them in a new light and find their strengths. If that doesn't work, get around new people. Seriously....life is too short to be weighed down.
Also, please join me in praying for Bill and Sara as they get close to their baby's due date?
Saturday, October 08, 2011
A House On Fire
I recently came across a very brief post from Seth Godin that crystallized the past month of my life: You can't watch your parade if the house is on fire.
These days, I do feel like the house is on fire.
I am an introvert. I need quiet time away from people and activity to recharge. When my batteries get low, I fall into bad habits. I see problems as overwhelming and impossible to solve. I see myself as impotent, powerless. I retreat. I miss the parade.
I need to contain the fire in a controlled space, and then just leave it to burn itself out. Maybe I'll even throw some of the extra crap in my life on it...the stuff that I'd be better off without. The stuff that my family and friends would be better off if I didn't hang onto.
so............no more barriers. no more fires in the way. the decision is made. back to blogging. back to writing. write. daily. and watch the parade. and roast marshmallows by the fire as it burns.
These days, I do feel like the house is on fire.
I am an introvert. I need quiet time away from people and activity to recharge. When my batteries get low, I fall into bad habits. I see problems as overwhelming and impossible to solve. I see myself as impotent, powerless. I retreat. I miss the parade.
I need to contain the fire in a controlled space, and then just leave it to burn itself out. Maybe I'll even throw some of the extra crap in my life on it...the stuff that I'd be better off without. The stuff that my family and friends would be better off if I didn't hang onto.
so............no more barriers. no more fires in the way. the decision is made. back to blogging. back to writing. write. daily. and watch the parade. and roast marshmallows by the fire as it burns.
Tuesday, September 06, 2011
Stuff
It's been said that the fire extinguisher should be the only uni-tasker in your kitchen.
I
saw a "watermelon knife" on a morning TV segment the other day. It
purportedly removes the seeds from the watermelon as it cuts. For $25.
The way the knife is designed, there is no other thing this knife could
possibly do besides cut watermelon. Poorly, if i were to guess.
This watermelon knife symbolizes consumerism gone awry. Of the need to buy more and more and more. To measure your life based on the "stuff" you own. Just turn on an episode of "Mission: Organization" or "Hoarders" to see how extreme this can be.
In contrast, I found a great blog the other day where the guy posts photos and counts of every item he and his family own. They traveled the world with a one-year-old. With backpacks.
We can't see out the back of the SUV when we go away for a weekend.
True confession time.....we have a lot of stuff. More than we ought to have. We have storage spaces overflowing with crap. The closet is crammed tight with clothes we seldom wear. The path through the attic is narrow and treacherous.
We keep stuff out of fear (that we might need it in the future, that it might cost us more later, that we might forget where we came from), I mean, right now we have an extra CAR because of exactly that. So yeah, we have some cleaning out to do.
Anybody want to buy a 1999 Grand Cherokee? Low miles. Runs great. :)
I
saw a "watermelon knife" on a morning TV segment the other day. It
purportedly removes the seeds from the watermelon as it cuts. For $25.
The way the knife is designed, there is no other thing this knife could
possibly do besides cut watermelon. Poorly, if i were to guess.This watermelon knife symbolizes consumerism gone awry. Of the need to buy more and more and more. To measure your life based on the "stuff" you own. Just turn on an episode of "Mission: Organization" or "Hoarders" to see how extreme this can be.
In contrast, I found a great blog the other day where the guy posts photos and counts of every item he and his family own. They traveled the world with a one-year-old. With backpacks.
We can't see out the back of the SUV when we go away for a weekend.
True confession time.....we have a lot of stuff. More than we ought to have. We have storage spaces overflowing with crap. The closet is crammed tight with clothes we seldom wear. The path through the attic is narrow and treacherous.
We keep stuff out of fear (that we might need it in the future, that it might cost us more later, that we might forget where we came from), I mean, right now we have an extra CAR because of exactly that. So yeah, we have some cleaning out to do.
Anybody want to buy a 1999 Grand Cherokee? Low miles. Runs great. :)
Thursday, September 01, 2011
The Hitchhiker
Me:
Another one.
Hiding amongst the hairy clumps holding together tighter than velcro, he cautiously reaches with one leg, then slowly another, then pauses.
Movement is his enemy. What he doesn't understand: so is stillness. I easily pluck the hitchhiker from the dog's fur.
But then what? Do I squash him? End his time, return him to the ground, earth, landfill, buried in a pile of burrs and fur? Do I release him back to the woods to begin his immigration plans anew? To find a new leaf on which to wait for the dog's return and a new opportunity to sneak in? Next flight departing at 9:30 PM?
I don't know what this bug is. He is grasshopper-meets-praying-mantis, who then meets Rick Moranis. He is fragile. Even a gentle puff of air would wrest his clinging arms from a leaf. His chartreuse body is too small for any variation in color, legs stretch out like the bright green hairs of a 70's punk poseur.
* * *
Him:
the sudden turmoil. the dog brushes past my resting spot, the protected underbelly of a leaf. my world isn't the same. i hang on with all my strength, hide beneath a large boulder, cling to soft white branches the size of my arms.
this place is warm. different from the warmth of the sun; it feels like the rock in late afternoon; the sun is gone, but i feel its warmth gradually releasing. but different yet than that. this warmth stinks, too. and i'm moving far faster than i ever dreamed was possible. away from my leaf. from my family, from the territory i was born.
i bounce along, into the sun, no longer brushed by branches and leaves, the wind rushes through the soft white branches where i hide. a jolt, i'm flung down against the hot, pink ground and then back up into the air and it seems to land on a hard surface and screech to a stop with a thundering, deafening sound. sharp sounds shake the beast in twos and threes, and shortly is moves again.
not far this time, but the air changes. becomes cold and dry. unnatural. the light is strange now, the color is wrong, it comes from the wrong direction. Everything here is wrong, and it occurs to me that this may be the end. this is not where i am meant to be.
the dog takes me deeper into my doom; i realize that the farther he goes, my chances of getting out diminish. i need a plan.
* * *
Note: After extensive pre-dawn research, the hitchiker appears to be a katydid, although I'm still not entirely sure. There are no words to describe the creep-factor that now crawls up and down my spine from the various bug photos and websites that I've seen. Like a pastor says to a teenaged boy about porn...you can't un-see that. Seriously, guys, don't surf the web for bugs.
Another one.
Hiding amongst the hairy clumps holding together tighter than velcro, he cautiously reaches with one leg, then slowly another, then pauses.
Movement is his enemy. What he doesn't understand: so is stillness. I easily pluck the hitchhiker from the dog's fur.
But then what? Do I squash him? End his time, return him to the ground, earth, landfill, buried in a pile of burrs and fur? Do I release him back to the woods to begin his immigration plans anew? To find a new leaf on which to wait for the dog's return and a new opportunity to sneak in? Next flight departing at 9:30 PM?
I don't know what this bug is. He is grasshopper-meets-praying-mantis, who then meets Rick Moranis. He is fragile. Even a gentle puff of air would wrest his clinging arms from a leaf. His chartreuse body is too small for any variation in color, legs stretch out like the bright green hairs of a 70's punk poseur.
* * *
Him:
the sudden turmoil. the dog brushes past my resting spot, the protected underbelly of a leaf. my world isn't the same. i hang on with all my strength, hide beneath a large boulder, cling to soft white branches the size of my arms.
this place is warm. different from the warmth of the sun; it feels like the rock in late afternoon; the sun is gone, but i feel its warmth gradually releasing. but different yet than that. this warmth stinks, too. and i'm moving far faster than i ever dreamed was possible. away from my leaf. from my family, from the territory i was born.
i bounce along, into the sun, no longer brushed by branches and leaves, the wind rushes through the soft white branches where i hide. a jolt, i'm flung down against the hot, pink ground and then back up into the air and it seems to land on a hard surface and screech to a stop with a thundering, deafening sound. sharp sounds shake the beast in twos and threes, and shortly is moves again.
not far this time, but the air changes. becomes cold and dry. unnatural. the light is strange now, the color is wrong, it comes from the wrong direction. Everything here is wrong, and it occurs to me that this may be the end. this is not where i am meant to be.
the dog takes me deeper into my doom; i realize that the farther he goes, my chances of getting out diminish. i need a plan.
* * *
Note: After extensive pre-dawn research, the hitchiker appears to be a katydid, although I'm still not entirely sure. There are no words to describe the creep-factor that now crawls up and down my spine from the various bug photos and websites that I've seen. Like a pastor says to a teenaged boy about porn...you can't un-see that. Seriously, guys, don't surf the web for bugs.
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