Holding Out for a Hero

Go into the world and do well. But more importantly, go into the world and do good.” – Minor Myers, Jr.

The other day my 6-year-old daughter asked me “What is a hero?” As I stumbled through the words to describe someone who is admirable and inspires us to be better, I wondered if the idea of having heroes resonates as much in our world. Sometimes it feels like we know too much about our public figures these days to pick someone from that realm.

It also made me think of my personal hero, my dad.

It took me years to realize that he was my hero. It wasn’t until I’d traveled enough through life to have failures as well as successes that I started looking closer at my dad who was then in his 70’s. I wanted to try to identify what made him so unstoppably enthusiastic and delightful.

On first glance, it was easy to attribute his goodness to his career as a Presbyterian pastor for 40 years. Certainly that made him a person who worked hard to do good, but there was another equation that underscored who he was. Here’s what I’ve boiled it down to in three points, the number he always used for sermons:

He was dedicated to being useful. For him that meant rolling up his sleeves and pitching in where help was needed. If he came to my house for dinner, he would jump in to do the dishes before the dinner was even served. Sometimes I had to tell him to stand down if I wasn’t actually done with a pot. He’d laugh and look for something else. And that applied to plumbing, tiling, gardening, service projects, whatever he could find.

But he had the gift of making it a two way street because he’d ask for help. When he and my mom were building a cabin in the San Juan islands, he recruit people for “work parties” to clear the land or raise the foundation. Or if you were a member of his church, he’d recruit you for committees and service. And this back and forth made it feel not like his help was charity but that it was community because he wouldn’t hesitate to ask when he needed help.

He loved people. For him that usually meant listening. Although he was a preacher and a very good one, he thought that was a very small part of his job. He loved people for who they were and that included their imperfections too. If I ever asked him about people who he found frustrating, he’d shrug his shoulders and say something like “You never know all that’s going on with someone. We’re all weird and once you accept that, you can just love them anyway.”

He didn’t often give advice but when he did, there was no penalty for not listening. As the pastor who was performing my wedding to my now ex-husband, he sat us down for marriage counseling as he did with everyone he married. He very eloquently described what was wrong with us (my words, not his) because our personal and professional lives were too intertwined. We did nothing to correct this and he did a beautiful job of marrying us anyway.

He was obedient. That was his word for listening to the small voice of God within him. This was the part that most interested and confounded me. He was such a delightful person with many talents and a great attitude so what part did faith play in his life? It took me a long time to come up with an answer I could understand. And that was, he listened to where God led him, he abided by what he thought a Godly life was AND he lived life in partnership with God. He knew when things were above his pay grade and then he turned them over to God. That gave him an enormous amount of comfort and confidence.

My dad died suddenly in a bike accident at age 79. One of his friends eulogized him perfectly as “a battery on feet just looking for someone to jump start.” Fortunately in the years before he died, I’d started developing my own faith and the small voice of God within me led me to ask him questions about his life and record them. It was all part of my hero worship and a such a gift to be able to delve into this man from whom I’d inherited much of his way of looking at the world.

This is what was running through my mind as I answered my daughter about heroes and why we need them. They show us a little bit of the way so we can go further and faster. We stand on the shoulders of those that go before us. Recognizing heroes who resonate most with each of us is one great step forward in knowing what to study. They are part of our stories and give us connection and warmth to the inspiration we glean.

My memoir about my father is available on Amazon: Finding My Father’s Faith

Writing For a Different Result

Gotta move different when you want different.” – unknown

I wrote a Wise & Shine post this morning about writing outside of our comfort genres: Writing Outside of the Box

That post and this one were, largely inspired by an interesting post by Jack Canfora I read recently about trying a different style of writing when you are stuck or want to get out of a groove. In the post, The Virtue of Walking in Different Shoes Jack tries his hand at writing Bob Dylan lyrics and extols the practice of writing something entirely different as a way to break away from our habits.

Ode to Joy

I read an article about a man
Playing ping pong in the dorm
He was dropping his son at college for the term
And not ready for good-byes to become the norm.

He said, “one more game” and his son complied.
Finding his own rhythm for the change of the day
The man served instead of cried.
Knowing both he and his son were finding a new way.

I read this article and looked at my two, feeling how soon they’ll both fly.
As the tears welled up and I honked back a wheeze
I thought, “I’m not ready to let go of these wee moments of glee
Sponsored by luck and joy.”

So now I’m on notice to really savor the fun
Complete with spills, drills and mess.
I’ve got you for now, my little ones
So let’s play while you’re still in the nest.

Okay – so I’m not taking up writing verse anytime soon. But it really was a good exercise to change things up – to really think about every word I used and to really listen to the cadence. Besides, I consider any day I can use the phrase “honked back a wheeze” a good one…

Leaning in To Letting Go

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” – Alan Watts

It seems like for every lesson I’ve learned in my life, I can trace it back to a particular story. Is that a sign of middle age? In this case, I’m thinking of the lesson of learning to let go and a consulting project I did for Microsoft about 25 years ago.

My colleague, Bill, and I were assigned by the consulting firm for whom we worked to write a white paper for a client at Microsoft. It was the late 90’s and Microsoft was in that phase where it was growing so fast that there wasn’t a lot of process but instead a lot of hard-working but perhaps egomaniacal cowboys.

Our assignment was to write this paper about how a group of these cowboys rolled out a new email software at Microsoft. Bill and I were experienced at deploying that software and had published a book about it so theoretically, this project should have been a snap.

After interviewing the key players, we drafted the paper. They hated it. We revised it. They still hated it. They would call us to meetings to tell us in detail how much they hated it. The problem wasn’t the technology – it was that we didn’t get the tone right. We didn’t think they were as cool as they thought they were so we missed the mark over and over again.

I can’t remember how many versions of that paper we wrote. Maybe five? But after torturing us for a while, they finally fired us and wrote it themselves. It hurt. I felt like I’d been at a rodeo and had hung on way too long.

I went on to learn that lesson about letting go in many ways as a consultant. I’ve found out that no matter what kind of a job that you are doing, if the person that hired you is replaced by someone else, you will most likely get replaced too.

I’ve hung on too long in those cases as well – trying to pretend it’s not going to happen. I’ve been sure I can make the new person pick me, and like a puppy at the pound, try to do any number of tricks to prove I’m likeable and reliable.

I’ve also done the opposite and just walked away when the staffing changes happen. Finally, I’ve figured out that when the changing of the guard happens, I say, “Here’s what I’m working on. I will continue to support it in whatever way works and if you prefer to have someone else do it, I will facilitate that in the smoothest way possible.”

It’s so natural to want to cling when things are coming to an end. Sometimes, it really hurts and is scary. I’ve found that acknowledging that, feeling it all the way through, helps. Because projects, groups, and companies, like life, have a cycle. I’ve come to learn that to stay loose is the best way to ride the current. That way, I’m ready to lean in to the next thing that comes to fill the opening. Because that happens too.

Leaning in is just one of the things I’ve learned to do the easier way. For a mountain climbing story that taught me the difference between doing things the easy way versus the hard way, check out my piece on The Heart of the Matter: Doing It The Hard Way Or the Easy Way

(featured photo from Pexels)

It’s the Little Things

Kindness and politeness are not overrated at all. They’re underused.” – Tommy Lee Jones

When I met with Mr. D’s lead preschool teacher for a parent-teacher conference, I asked a general question at the end, “What else can I do to be of help to you?” Her reply was interesting. She said, “Nothing. You already turn on the bathroom light.”

She was referring to an incident from several weeks before. Early in the morning when there is only one teacher in the classroom, they can’t leave the class to go with a child to the bathroom. The teacher stands in the door to the classroom so they can both see the kids in the classroom and the bathroom, but the child has to cross the five or six feet to go to the bathroom themselves.

One day, I was dropping Mr. D off and the teacher was encouraging a child that needed to use the bathroom. His body was antsy but his face was fearful. It didn’t take much to connect the dots that the teacher couldn’t reach the light switch from her position in the doorway and the child was reluctant to walk into a dark bathroom.

So I asked, “Can I turn on the light?

When she alluded to this incident at our conference, a light came on for me. I drew the only conclusion that makes sense. It doesn’t take much to help.

For great lessons I learned from another teacher in our lives, please check out my Heart of the Matter post: Lessons From An Artist

Do You Believe In Magic?

We are like someone in a very dark night over whom lightning flashes again and again.” – Maimonides

I just finished watching the first three seasons of Arrested Development. The impending change where the show would no longer be available on Netflix finally got me to watch this hilarious and highly -recommended (well, the first three seasons were touted as worth watching) show.

In the show, the eldest brother, Gob, is a magician. A ham-handed, totally inept so his tricks never work, kind of magician. But somehow his character in this show works with all the other characters to make magic of the worth-watching variety.

Do you believe in magic? I mean really believe in magic so that when it comes to getting your deepest desires, something will step in and help along the way?

I don’t. I believe in a lot of things that create magic – being present, finding joy, and counting my blessings to name a few habits that keep me more or less delighted with my life.

And I believe in listening to my inner voice – my God voice or intuition, and then following it. I believe in a Higher Power that I am so grateful to for that inner voice that points me in ways that are bigger and better than I could imagine on my own.

But I think all the work to make life happen is up to me. I don’t think magic will save me, or give me huge leaps to skip over all the steps.

However, I have the feeling that I’m wrong. I have the feeling that magic is happening all around but just on a different pace so that it seems undetectable. Before you think I’ve gone over the bend from watching too many Disney movies (which might also be true), just bear with me.

The other day I was frustrated with a friend – I’d reach a limit of too many bids for connection that had gone unanswered. I’d been totally fine with that for a while because my friend has a lot going on right now but it had reached a tipping point where my heart was starting to feel sore. I was just thinking that I needed to quietly close this door between us when my friend, completely unbidden by me or aware of what I was thinking, sent me a gift.

On Monday, I was working alone at home on a day with no meetings when I suddenly felt disconnected from life around me. I walked to the grocery store, Pictures of You from the Cure was playing on the overhead speakers. As I was dancing down the aisles connecting to memories of my college days, I ran into an old friend.

Or this morning my skin was feeling itchy like it couldn’t stand one more day of winter clothes, and I opened the window to see the blossoms on the tree out front had shown up like magic overnight. (see featured photo)

And my final example is right in this moment when I realized this post, that I thought was completely unconnected to my Wise & Shine post this morning Fear and Courage, is actually completely related in the way that when we acknowledge we are scared, lonely, or fed up, help arrives.

If our lives were a tv show like Arrested Development, the magic would probably be easy to see. But since life doesn’t work that way, it’s up to us to see the magic.

The Feeding and Nurturing of Life

Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them, humanity cannot survive.” – Dalai Lama

On Wednesday morning this week, I was driving the kids to school on the circuit around the lake and I felt softer and more patient. I appreciated the routine and the little people in my life more. I realized that it was because I’d just finished reading “Grow Damn It: The Feeding and Nurturing of Life” by author and blogger Cheryl Oreglia.

I clipped 23 quotes from my first reading of this book. And that was while trying to be mindful not to clip everything. Then I had the privilege of doing a Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast with Cheryl to talk her journey and this book: Episode 7: Grow Damn It!

One of the stories Cheryl told me on the podcast was the one where she wrote a blog post and Krista Tippett of the On Being project (first aired on public radio, now as a podcast) tweeted about it. Cheryl laughingly said she assumed the technology was broken when she saw her stats after that.

In this great conversation, we got to talk about how the little stories make up the big picture, her journey to create this beautiful book, and asking people all the important questions before they go. I felt softened by reading the book and then I felt enriched after this beautiful conversation with Cheryl.

Cheryl said to me something like, “I know this book is not for everyone.” I agree – it’s only for people who want to feed and nurture their life – and laugh while doing it.

So if you do want to feed and nurture your life, please visit Cheryl’s blog, Living in the Gap, read the book, and listen to this podcast Episode 7: Grow Damn It (link opens the podcast to listen on Anchor). You can also find the podcast on Apple, Amazon, Spotify and Pocket Casts by searching for Sharing the Heart of the Matter.  Please subscribe!

Here’s link to the show notes on the HoTM site: Episode 7: Grow Damn It! show notes

The Next Chapter: Car Talk

Does anyone remember the car cake when our car turned 100,000 miles and we made a cake for it?

After we blew out the candles, Miss O turned to me and asked, “Are you going to be alive when this happens to me?”

Oh boy. I thought I better not go with the reply that she better get a used car with a lot of miles already on it. So after thinking about it for a few weeks, I’ve written my answer on Wise & Shine: The Next 100,000 Miles

The Vibe of the Group

If you want to lift yourself up, lift up someone else.” – Booker T. Washington

In my job as an IT consultant, I get to be the fly on the wall of other people’s businesses and watch how organizations work (or not work together). In the twenty-five years I’ve done this, it’s become a game to figure out the personality of the leader based on the vibe of the group. Or vice versa, if I meet the leader first, and then I try to guess the vibe of the group.

In a large organization like Microsoft, I might work with a group that is harsh and quick to blame and when I meet the manager, it’s no surprise that he’s a complete jerk – and willing to wear that persona on the outside.

I’ve seen it in so many ways: if the group is loud and comical, the manager is likely the life of the party character; if the group vibe is nerdy and quiet, then the manager is often brilliant and introverted.

So I was fascinated recently to work with a small company of independent, self-starters who felt to me as if they were disconnected and uninterested. They were all doing really great work but when the language switched to what the company was doing, it felt flat.

And then I met the leader — someone who was saying all the right things about being a great group of people but frequently only used “I” language. As in, “what I’m looking to accomplish, this is what I’m good at, and here’s what I need.”

Over a few months, I’ve watched how that is reflected in meetings and their work. If the leader is doing something, he wants to know how he did and will share his metrics. But if anyone else presents or finishes a project, he rarely comments or even seems to notice.

Brené Brown defines a leader as “anyone who holds him or herself accountable for finding potential in people or processes.”  I come back to that definition again and again because I’ve seen many styles of leadership – and tried it myself. Groups seem to be more successful, no matter what the persona, as long as the leader is interested in something bigger than themselves.

As Booker T. Washington says in the quote for this post, if we lift up others, it will lift us up as well. In many ways that is self-serving – but the paradox lies in the fact that if people are truly self-serving, they can’t do it authentically.

My little game keeps me entertained and less nervous when I’m meeting a group of new people. But it has also taught me, again and again, that who we are influences the people around us in ways that we might not even know. And if who we are is someone who lifts others up, it’s rippling out in a vibe to everyone around.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Leaps of Possibility

I am convinced all of humanity is born with more gifts than we know. Most are born geniuses and just get de-geniused rapidly.” – R. Buckminster Fuller

There’s a line from the Cars movies, “He saw things in you that you couldn’t see in yourself.” Because my kids like Disney movies in general and that series of movies in particular, I’ve heard the line a lot. Every time it touches me with that tingle of significance.

Especially in this last month since Vicki and I started, with a group of great writers and thinkers, the shared blog The Heart of the Matter and podcast Sharing the Heart of the Matter. This endeavor has been filled with intense learning for me. First with very specific skills like figuring out how to put together sound files for the podcast. But also in a greater sense of encouraging and being encouraged by others.

It’s reminded me that self-awareness doesn’t just mean knowing our limits – but that sometimes others can see things in us that we can’t see in ourself. When we trust the other people around you, it feels like it speeds up the growth because they help us take leaps of possibility.

Self-awareness is the topic of my post for The Heart of the Matter today, Here’s Looking At You, Kid And while you are there, check out the rest of the site and subscribe – if just for the sense of possibility!

(featured photo from Pexels)

Reconnecting

A lifetime is so precious, and so brief, and can be used so beautifully.” – Pema Chodron

I was standing around the elementary school yard the other day watching parents and children at pick-up time. There was the mom standing with her 1st grader, listening to her and occasionally smoothing back the child’s hair behind her ear. There was a dad standing behind his 3rd grader with his hand proudly on his son’s shoulders. And off to my right was the mom embracing her 4th grade son in a big and long hug.

I’ve been thinking about the scene and how we reconnect with our loved ones because yesterday I had to be sedated for a colonoscopy. Even though I had no particular reason to be concerned, I feel a little nervous anytime I or my loved ones have to go under. I remember feeling this acutely anytime I had to take my now departed dog, Biscuit, in for a procedure, especially when he got older. Something scares me about the way you are there one moment, then they turn up the mixture and you’re out.

I’d worked out the details for my procedure yesterday so that my kids had their normal school day routines. But the anxiety amped up the good-bye sweetness, making me remember that I’d once read that good-bye derived from God Be With You. As Miss O jumped out of the car to run for the gate at school, I said, “Good-bye, my miracle girl!

And she turned, smiled and replied, “Good-bye, my miracle mom.

I felt that all the way through. It is a miracle that I’m a mom. That modern medicine enabled me through IVF to have babies at age 46 and 50 is astounding. Once I felt that, it was a short walk to feeling how this all is a miracle – to be a human on this earth at this moment with all you other delightful humans, understanding we have the capacity to appreciate this in a way that we might not if we were ants or alligators.

The trip to pick my kids up again at the end of the day, my loop around the little neighborhood lake that I’ve driven countless times, was all that much sweeter. To reconnect, scoop them up in my arms, look at them proudly, tuck their hair behind their ears, and celebrate a little more consciously how lovely it is to be here was pure joy. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I was glad to have a colonoscopy… but hey, anything that reminds me to hug my loved ones a little bit tighter can’t be all bad.