It’s been a week

images copy 4

It’s been a week. Busy by all accounts, as many are. But being busy is not what has me tired tonight. Rather it is something about the nature of the busyness.

As a multi-tasker, and parent, I’m used to juggling a variety of tasks. Grading paper, getting groceries, going to a tennis match, organizing the work for a subcommittee, and registering for a conference; so far so good, right? Creating and attending to a to-do list is part of how I stay sane juggling my many and varied responsibilities. But today while teaching on leadership, a light bulb went off.  Accomplishing things is not what wears me down. It is something else.

Going about my work is what I expect to do each day. And, in fact, “work” is life-giving – it is part of how God designed us. We are created to contribute in the world based on our gifts and passions and the community’s needs. Preparing a class session on team leadership, meeting with students around vocational discernment, and planning next year’s curriculum most often are what feed my call as a teacher, scholar, and church leader. And its the same at home; preparing dinner, caring for our house, hosting a high school bonfire, and planning family time are everyday, ordinary ways I help our family create a life based on our values and commitments. And I expect this “work” to be easy some days, and harder others.

But somedays my head hits the pillow and I’m exhausted, defeated, and stretched beyond my means. And often on those days a collision has taken place between my attending to the life I am striving to create and the realities of the environment around me. Maybe it’s an unplanned event, like the resignation of a colleague; maybe it’s a stressor in a relationship, like a disagreement with my daughter; maybe it’s a decision by “the powers that be” that I disagree with, like cutting staff from my team; maybe it’s a shift in leadership or changes in other systems which I cannot stay detached from. The list is long, but what I know is this – with each of these “external” changes, I have to recalculate my internal compass. Maybe it’s just for the day, or the week, or beyond. And this “recalculating” takes energy, and too much recalculating leaves me questioning my direction and wondering where to direct my efforts.

As I lead my life, with my agenda and desires, I’m always balancing my competing commitments, values, and physical limitations. And that in and of itself is hard work. But then at the same time, I have to attend to the competing commitments, values, and limitations of the system/s I’m living within. When things are fairly predictable, I make it through the day with a dose of confidence. But sometimes the environment asks more of me then I have to give and the recalculating mode works overtime. Sometimes I’m having a good day and I encounter a colleague or friend who is having a hard time and my day turns. Then I go to a politically toxic meeting and come home to a daughter who needs extra attention and I’m done. All might be “normal” in the ebb and flow of that system, but together it’s overload. Then think about the “abnormal’ demands of living systems, when there is crisis or major transition.

On those days, I need to step back, remove myself, and take a break. Sometimes I go into a hole and attack my to-do list. Sometimes I immerse myself in another system, one I’m less emotionally or relationally attached to. Sometimes I bury my head in a book for the night. Sometimes I just go to bed and try again in the morning. Whatever the strategy, it’s time to get some perspective, giving myself some time, and a break from the recalculating. And then, in due time, take another run at the situation.

Today, I invite you to do two things. First, take a look at your to-do list (and if you don’t have one, write down the one that’s in your head). Look at it, pray over it, talk with friends and family about it, and wonder if that’s the to-do list that makes most sense in your life right now. Is your list the “agenda” you want shaping your everyday life. And second, take stock of the environments in which you spend most of your time – your home environment and personal relationships, your work and/or school environment, and the environments of the “other” places you invest your time and passion (maybe it’s a church community or a non-profit initiative).

This weekend, I’m away from home for time with family and learning with other colleagues. And I have the opportunity to do some such reflecting. And Monday, as I return, I hope to reenter with a rethought agenda and recalculated perspective. What about you? Will you join me?

Brave

How might you be brave today?

So much of our life is about playing it safe. Be it in relationships, leadership, or living our faith, playing it safe is easy but usually comes up short. Think about it. If we played it safe, would we risk being the first to say ‘I love you’ or learn something new? If we played it safe, would we go on adventures or make new friends? If we played it safe, would we share our faith with a stranger or serve at a homeless shelter?

Living brave takes many forms. It can be following a dream, revealing your true self in public, or telling someone your opinions. Whatever the form, being brave awakens us and reminds us of the power we have to live fully, both for ourselves and others. And living brave can be contagious.

Fear is just one of the many obstacles to living brave. Convenience, practicality, and lack of imagination might be others. Pushing past these obstacles is half the battle to being brave.

As a person of faith, I want to live brave. Each day this week, I’m going to find a way I can live brave. Will you join me? (If we need some inspiration see this Sara Bareilles’ video.)

Brave

Words, the Water in Which we Swim

I’m on a writing leave and am spending a lot of time reading, writing, and editing words. This process was gotten me thinking about language, and more specifically our use of words. This little reflection was written a few weeks ago. I share it with you as an encouragement not only to think about words, but especially thinking about the role words have in our relationships and in our life of faith.

Words, the water in which we swim

We swim in a world filled with words.

There are virtual words – Email, Facebook, and Twitter are ecosystems filled with words. Here words tell stories, make declarations, and connect people. Spontaneous, random, informative, and personal, these virtual arenas thrive on words. Words are a critical economy in these public spheres.

There are spoken words – words which fill the air. At the dinner table, in the classroom, in meetings, on the bus, and in the line at the grocery store, you can’t get away from words. Spoken words help us order lunch, share our feelings, exchange information, and paint a picture of the future. ‘Invisible’ in many ways, the words which roll off our tongue are connected to us, while they also have a power all their own. Discovered at an early age, spoken words give humans agency.

There are printed words – words written in letters, contracts, newspapers, and books. Each collection of printed words is crafted and edited. Sealed in a particular time, printed words hold ideas, concepts, stories, emotions, and agreements. With lingo specific to an audience, words on paper capture the latest happenings, expose a person’s heart, announce a group’s shared commitment, or state an organization’s identity.

There are unspoken words – words in our head. These words point to worries, dreams, hopes, concerns, and disappointments. Some words in our head are spoken in our own voice, others are in the voices of coaches, teachers, parents, and peers. Whether locked inside or released into the world, these words impact. Words in our head motivate, support, criticize, question, build up, and calm.

Words, words, everywhere. We swim in a world of words. Yet I take words for granted. As significant and creative as words can be, I often don’t give words the respect they deserve. I read with little regard for the craft of writing; speak without thinking; tweet on the run. However when a song catches my attention, I stop, transported across time and remember the power of words. Watching the evening news, it is words which remind me of how fragile life is. And a simple, “I love you” at the end of a phone call always warms by heart.

What would happen if we more attentive to words – our words, others words, and the words around us?

Today…Speak intentionally. Wonder about words. Appreciate the art of language. And, most importantly, listen for words. And, if you are willing, share what word or phrase impacted you today?

Vacations and the Role of Time and Space

I just returned from a much needed three day get-away with my husband.  We traveled “up north” to the north shore of Lake Superior to celebrate our 21st wedding anniversary and my (49th – ouch) birthday. It’s territory we’ve traveled before – as a couple, with family, and with friends. Over the past 25 years many memories have been made along the trails, lakes, and shores of the territory between Two Harbors and the Gunflint Trail. And while the pictures of Gooseberry Falls, birch trees, and the great lake don’t seem to change much, many things have.

Each day as we hiked and explored the various state parks and hiking trails, I found myself turning a bend or approaching a waterfall and having a flashback. The place was the same, but the time different. These flashbacks were accompanied by stories; stories of people who’ve been meaningful in our lives and each was situated within some season of our life. There was the one trip we made with friends before we were married; there was the trip with extended family; there was the canoe trip cut short because the bear ate our food the first night; there were the trips when our girls were small and we made them explore the trails; and there were the times we’d come alone with friends.

Over the three days, there was only one trail we hiked that we hadn’t been on before. But this trip was not a repeat of the past, it was unique. Yes, in some ways the trip mirrored past trips. Yet, even as the stories of days gone by echoed in our heads, this trip was filled with its own shape and character. How can that be? It’s an issue of time and space.

These days away reminded me how space holds our story. Driving past the outfitter of the last canoe trip we took (the one where the bear ate our food), I swear I could see our kids and the families we traveled with running around the parking lot as we drove by. Years have passed since that trip, but seeing that space brought me back to that time in seconds. There was a church we attended, a bakery we ate at, or a beach we’d stopped at to throw a rock or two.

In the same way, hiking the trail we first hiked with our friends the year before we were married reminded me of how today, two decades later, we are not the same. Much has happened in our lives – we’ve experienced many things, our bodies are older, and our relationship more mature. And that reflection caused me to pause. Time signifies movement and journey. And traveling across time, at least placing snapshots of one’s life next to each other, calls forth gratitude and appreciation in a way ordinary life often misses.

And then we return home. To the familiar, similar yet changed. Yes, I’m refreshed, but it is more than that. Like the rivers we hiked along, it’s the same river…but it’s not the same time for the river. I’m not the same person returning home as when I left. I left tired, and return renewed with a different perspective.

So tonight, I prepare to reengage with my familiar routine, conscious of time and space. Wondering how this renewed perspective can offer insights into my world at home. How am I letting space, this space, hold aspects of my story? And how am I appreciating the precious gift this moment in time offers?

Tonight I created an experience. I traveled back in time. I took my 17 year old out cruising in my parents convertible, something I did regularly as a 17 year old. No, it was not the same…but in some ways it was. The lakes were the same, the streets were the same, but I was not. Time had changed me. I shared a bit about being 17 with my daughter, but mostly I drove and listened, as she talked. Tonight, the car held my story, our story. We were making memories.

How might you, as we celebrate Father’s Day, honor time and space? How might you make memories, memories which ground your life in the present time in concrete places? How might you create memories with family and friends this summer? And how might you see anew the precious gift this moment, ordinary or not, gives us?Image

Terri