The Peril of a Home Office

My daughter and son-in-law have the luxury of working from home. Yet, under most circumstances they opt not to do that. I have been perplexed wondering why they’d maintain an office elsewhere when they could just as easily work from home. Think about the advantages. For one thing, you wouldn’t need to dress business casual simply to sit on the sun porch and enjoy the view between phone calls and the need to be on the computer. Secondly, there would be absolutely no wasted commute time. Add to that the ability to negate the expensive involved in maintaining an office and it sounds too good to be true.   I’m slow, but I think I’ve figured it out. It sounds too good to be true because when you work from home that’s all you do at home.

Actually, the General figured it out yesterday before I did. “So, are you going to be on that computer all evening?” It was a legitimate question. I was on the computer yesterday morning before the General knew it was morning and it was time for bed… no change that… it was past time for bed when I got off last night.

Is it the quest to accomplish one-more-thing that drives that insatiable need to import one more file or transfer one more report or do this or do that? Honestly, yesterday was a very atypically day for me. After weeks of waiting for access to the domain for my new role with the Coalition of Residential Excellence, I foolishly thought I’d have an easy time of populating computer files and getting everything set-up.

Truth be known, for me to simply remember the password I need to access the information is about the extent of my skill set. I transmitted information to our membership yesterday morning and discovered one of the attachments (a one page attachment) somehow appeared to be over-size for any system to allow it to download. Explainable? I’m sure it is, but I don’t have the answer. All I know is that it didn’t work.

The quick fix, which was no fix, was for me to email the document to myself along with the attachment to the new email address at the Don@CORE-DC.org address and then to forward the document to the intended recipient. Of course, before I selected “send” to the new recipient, I had to erase the history that would have been a giveaway that the document was forwarded.

Okay, so maybe I’m becoming proficient in camouflage, because I managed to reach out to all of our membership with what looked like a professionally and well thought out transmittal of needed information. Fortunately, I have a close friend who is at the top of the leader board as an IT Guru. He has sincerely offered his expertise to be of assistance. Trust me, I’ve got his contact information next to dial-a-prayer in my outlook addresses.

Of course the “home office” syndrome is an ever-present threat to finding balance in one’s life. It certainly has been true for me. In order to keep-up on the never-ending flow of email and business needs, I don’t get it done in a day’s work. Actually, that is true for most of the people I know. Okay, so that’s an overstatement. It is true of most of the people I professionally hold in highest regard.

However, the price of admission is probably to one’s detriment. How’s the phrase expressed? Oh, I remember: “All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.” While I don’t think boredom has ever been just around the next corner, I have to confess that a lopsided existence can be the result.

At the end of the day it has to do with boundary issues. That coupled with the notion that if you really like your work, you never work a day in your life becomes one’s reality. The downside is a lopsided existence.

So how am I going to manage this? I’m obviously going to have to manage it from a work/play family perspective. When my parents retired, they set designated times throughout their day for a “break”. You can get so busy being busy that all you do is stay busy. I don’t remember who said it, but it lent to the notion that hurry is of the devil.

Actually, I do remember who said it. John Ortberg captured it in one of his books entitled The Life You’ve Always Wanted. He expressed it like this: “The most serious sign of hurry sickness is a diminished capacity to love. Love and hurry are fundamentally incompatible. Love always takes time, and time is one thing hurried people don’t have”.

Ortberg quoted Lewis Grant’s reference to “sunset fatigue”. Is there any chance you could have it? This is his definition: “When we come home at the end of a day’s work, those who need our love the most, those to whom we are the most committed, end up getting the leftovers. Sunset fatigue is when people are just too tired, or too drained, or too pre-occupied, to love the people to whom we have made the deepest promises”.

My daughter and son-in-law are smart people. They prefer not to mix their work lives with their personal lives and they carve out ample time for both. It has to do with honoring boundaries. Historically, I have not been very adapt at doing that. If I don’t take great care, I could find retirement is just another expression of doing good things at the expense of forfeiting time for better things.

At some level, I have to confess that I want it all. Aren’t most of us like that? The problem is a time problem. Unless you sort it out, life gets lopsided and without balance we become one dimensional rather than well rounded.

Besides that, I don’t like being in a rut. I’d much prefer to be delightfully unpredictable and explore uncharted territory. People time should always take precedent over computer time. How’s that for a life principal that works? Of course, I’m walking on egg-shells here. The General occasionally reads my blog. She may remind me of what I’ve written. Actually, I hope she does. People time should take precedent over computer time.

All My Best!

Don

 

It Was A Surprise Question – One For Which He Didn’t Know The Answer

How well do we really know the people with whom we peripherally share life?  Somehow in the process of embracing it all, we forget the little things or perhaps the most important things.  We forget the privilege of connection.  We forget the privilege of connection because frankly, too often we are not connected.

 

We’re not connected because we are busy people.  We have places to go and things to do. We live our lives on the fast track and move forward as though no one else’s schedule or agenda is as important as our own. Relationships are time consuming. Yet, without the investment of time, how do you move beyond the most surface of relationships?  Long story short, you don’t.

 

I’ve spent the past couple of days thinking about people in my life that I don’t know very well.  I like to think that I’m a people person and that most folks would consider me personable.  At some level I’m resistive of the fact that I sometimes shortchange people by not taking the time to get to know them.  For one thing, I don’t ask enough questions.  The only way you really get to know people is when you take the time to listen and when you take the time to ask questions. 

 

What do they value most? How would they describe themselves?  What would they change if they could change something?  Is their job primarily a paycheck or is it something much more?  Do they have siblings and are they close?  What do they value most about their family of origin?  What are their thoughts concerning God?  Obviously, none of these questions are the kind you’d ask a total stranger.  You might not even ask a close friend, but you get the sense of where I’m going.  There is a big difference between surface relationships and really knowing people.

 

As I write the words, I’m reminded of the story of the college student who wasn’t prepared for his final exam.  The student thought he was ready. He had formulas memorized and filed away in his head.  I guess you could say the final exam was a game changer for him. The college professor threw him a curve ball. That was  true for others in the class as well.

The professor articulated to his class that he had taught them everything he could teach them about business.  He expressed confidence that his students had learned everything from his teaching that they could absorb.  So instead of the exam they anticipated, the exam was a single piece of blank paper.  He verbalized that he only had one question to ask. It was a simple question: “What is the name of the lady who cleans this building?”

 

How many people do we pass by in the course of a day and never take the time to register that they are even present?  I generally speak to people, but do I really speak to people.  More often than not, a quick hello doesn’t resonate with a message that “you’re important to me.”

Reportedly, Walt Bettinger, the CEO for Charles Schwab, was one of the students who didn’t know the answer to the professor’s question.  Yet he had seen the cleaning lady on a daily basis.  Never once had he spoken to her or asked her name.  That final exam became a life lesson for him and he opted to do it differently going forward. 

 

Interestingly, as part of the hiring process for staff, he opts to take them for a breakfast interview.  It is an important test.  He always prearranges with the restaurant that they will mess up the applicant’s order.  He wants an opportunity to see first hand how they respond.  It gives him a snapshot of their character.  Does the applicant calmingly and kindly not allow the wrong order to mess up their interview or do they respond with frustration and anger?

 

By the way, before I move on to my next thought, the lady’s name that cleaned the building was Dottie.  Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve met some new people and I’ve discovered you learn a lot by simply asking questions.  People like to share their stories.  When you take the time to ask and to listen to their answers, they feel valued and important.

 

I’ve been surprised by some of the information that’s come my way from talking to people in the past couple of weeks.  Honestly, you’d never be able to tell by looking the kinds of  challenges or uphill climbs that some people embark just to get through the course of a day.

 

I recently read the reflections of a minister who approached this same topic.  He talked about the upscale apartment complex he called home.  He didn’t say it was upscale, but he said that most of the residents were young, professional and private.  I interrupted that to mean upscale. At some point after the minister moved in, he noticed a new tenant in the unit next to his apartment.

 

If I remember correctly, I think he used the term “awkward” as the descriptor to describe him.  His new neighbor didn’t fit the profile you’d anticipate or expect to find.  The new guy was an old guy.  He also reportedly didn’t keep the inside of his apartment very neat.  The man reflecting his thoughts wrote that although he had never been inside the apartment, he sometimes saw inside the man’s apartment though an open window or through an open door. 

 

The General would describe the scene he subsequently describes as clutter. In fact, she’d probably offer the thought that I could have been the old man. Reportedly, laundry baskets filled with things were stacked from the floor to the ceiling. Okay, so it does figuratively sound a little bit like the appearance of my closet. I  do have one laundry basket filled to overflowing.

 

The man’s place was a disaster.  Perhaps it was out of a sense of guilt, but the minister sharing his thoughts said he’d given thought to hosting a floor party and getting to meet and know his neighbors, but he never found the time. He sometimes made small talk with folks in the hallway.  That included the older man as well.  Yet, apart from a comment or two about the weather or the need to have a good day, conversation was non-existent.

 

I think he said it was on a Monday night. He got home and noticed police officers outside the man’s apartment.  He had the thought, “Maybe someone complained.”  At some point, he heard reference made to the coroner. That’s when he connected the dots.

 

Daryl Dash, the minister, expressed it this way: “My neighbor died last weekend.  They found his body on Monday.  A police seal now secures his door.  My neighbor is gone.  So is the man who was killed by a falling tree limb in a local park last Friday.  So is the man who was hit by a train near me early on Monday morning.  Death surrounds me this week, even in this young community.”

 

He concluded his thoughts by saying: “Nothing might have changed if I’d invited my neighbor for a coffee, but I would have known his name.  I might have known his story.  Now, I’ll only know him as the hoarder next door. And that’s no way to know a neighbor”.

 

All My Best!

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Don

A Quote To Remember

We are a couple of old guys. I wouldn’t normally acknowledge that, but as some would say: “It is what it is.” We hadn’t had a chance to visit in a long while, so when I saw him last, his question didn’t seem out of place or inappropriate. He simply asked: “Don, When are you going to hang it up?” I almost responded: “Hang what up?” but I intuitively knew what he was talking about. He wanted to know when I was going to retire?

 

I responded: “That’s really a good question, because I don’t know how to answer your question. I went on to share with him that when my wife asks, I tell her: ‘Whenever I go to work, I generally have the luxury of doing whatever I want. If I stay home, I’ve got other issues.” He laughed and said: “That’s pretty much the same thing that Lou Holtz said.”

 

If you are familiar with the name Lou Holtz, you are a step ahead of me. I hated to plead ignorance and I could have avoided doing so by simply affirming: “You’re exactly right.” Had that been my response, he would have had no idea that I was clueless regarding the identity of Lou Holtz and/or whatever it was he said.

 

I’ve heard it said that curiosity killed the cat. I guess I, too, am at risk. Instead of concurring with his statement and shielding myself from embarrassment, I pleaded ignorance. It was then that I learned from my friend that Holtz is an old sport’s announcer and a former college and professional football coach. He still reportedly has “fire in his belly”. At some point, when asked when he was going to retire, Holtz responded to the question by asking a question. The question was: “Retire to do what? At this point in my life, I’ve only got one big event left and I’m not quite ready to do that.”

 

I thanked my friend and said, “You’ve just provided me a quote for my daily blog. I really like that”. He responded: “Just Google Lou Holtz quotes and you’ll probably find it”. He then went on to say, “I know what you’re talking about. I don’t want to work eight hours a day, but I don’t want to just stop working. I’ve got to stay active.”

 

Attempting to sound philosophical, I said: “I figure that if the President Elect of the United States can take office at the age of 70, I’ve got a few good years left in me as well.” He laughed and said: “You’re probably right.”

 

I was fascinated by the Lou Holtz quote he shared with me. I was even more fascinated when I searched for his name on Google and found his formula for living. He said simply: “I follow three rules: Do the right thing, do the best you can, and always show people you care”.

 

He summed up his work ethic and success at coaching this way: “A lifetime contract for a coach means if you’re ahead in the third quarter and moving the ball, they can’t fire you”.

 

When it comes to coaching, Lou Holtz was known for his determination and quick wit. No wonder you can find a litany of things he had to share. Let me list two or three quotes that are more than just a play on words:

 

• “The man who complains about the way the ball bounces is likely the one who dropped it”.

 

• “We can all be successful and make money, but when we die, that ends. But when you are significant is when you help other people be successful. That lasts many a lifetime”.

 

• “Successful people will always tell you can do something. It’s the people who have never accomplished anything who will always discourage you from trying to achieve excellent things”.

 

• “When all is said and done, more is said than done.”

 

Actually, what I learned from researching Lou Holtz is that he actually retired last year. He described his decision this way: “Last year was the fifth anniversary of my last year. For five years, I’ve been saying I’m going to leave. It’s been 68 years that I’ve either been a player, a coach or a TV analyst and I don’t have many years left. I need to just spend my time with some other people such as my sons and my daughters, etc.”

 

He expressed the long and short of it this way: “And I like to leave when people are asking, ‘Why are you leaving,’ rather than, ‘When are you leaving?’ He is a smart man. Hopefully, I’ll be that smart as well.

 

All My Best!

Don

 

CONNECTION – A LIFE LINE

I guess it was because I really hadn’t given it any thought, but the veil of darkness that surrounded the last half of my commute home from work yesterday surprised me. I might even say that it came as an unwelcomed surprise. I sometimes joke with old friends (that could have a least two different meanings) about the need for us to do “such and such” while we’re still young enough to drive at night. After yesterday’s commute home from work, the thought occurred to me that I might be rapidly approaching the “not young enough” category. The darkness was a little unsettling.

 

It was as though someone flipped off the light switch. Darkness immediately limited my peripheral view of anything other than the roadway in front of me. The thing most notable was the bright red tail lights of cars in front of me. As far as I could see, it was almost a uniform patter of red lights leading a path before me. Somehow their color seemed more vibrant than I remember. Of course, an occasional high-beam headlight coming my direction distracted me from my focus of cars heading the direction I was traveling.

 

For the first half of my commute, I thought about work related issues. I never managed to get around to yesterday’s to do list. My time was pre-empted by the unexpected. Truthfully, that is one of the things I like about my job. The issues that surfaced garnered my attention like the black of night on which I was now allowing myself to focus. What could I learn from it?

 

I wish I could tell you that on almost a daily basis I ask, “What can I learn from …”, but I don’t. Yesterday was different. I genuinely wanted to explore lessons in the making. I thought momentarily about today’s election, but immediately pressed the “do-not-go-there” button. Even the thought of writing a “call to unity” appeal didn’t resonate with what I was thinking (perhaps feeling is a more honest word). Maybe that means that I’ve allowed some level of darkness to color over and cross out the possibility of “together we stand, united we fall.” Will it ever be? I don’t know.

 

Darkness – Darkness can stand for the absence of hope. It can sequester dreams and smother any glimpse of delight in the experience of living. I have an old friend (I know – two different meanings) who purposefully tries to stay at least half a step in front of depression. Sadly, he often finds that the pursuit is undoable. At times depression is too quick for him and he succumbs to a listlessness and disinterest in even contemplating the now much less anticipating the future.

 

Sunday night I quickly looked through some of Max Lucado’s books. A friend at church had asked me for a book recommendation that she could share with someone needing encouragement. When you stop to think about it, doesn’t everyone need encouragement? Almost at a glace, I noticed an illustration in one of the books I picked up that I remembered from years before and had been wondering where I could find it.

 

Lucado made reference to a friend who worked for a pharmacy in Austin while he was a student at the University of Texas. I guess you could say he was the delivery guy. Of course, back in the day his friend worked there, Austin traffic wasn’t what it is now. His primary responsibility was to deliver prescriptions and medical supplies to nursing homes.

 

He also had a regularly assigned task of hand delivering a large jug of water to a customer who lived behind the pharmacy. It was only a stone’s throw away, but every four days, he carried water to her apartment. His description merits sharing:

 

“The customer was an older woman, perhaps in her seventies, who lived alone in a dark, sparse, and tarnished apartment. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling. The wallpaper was stained and peeling. The shades were drawn, and the room was shadowy”. Lucado’s friend simply delivered the water, received the payment, thanked the woman and left.

 

The delivery guy was surprised to learn months later that the woman had no other source of water. It wasn’t that city water was unavailable. It was, but she opted to rely on the hand delivery method. It was her total source of water to cover four days of washing, bathing, and drinking. Interestingly at the time, she could have gotten city water for about $12 a month. Instead, she was paying the pharmacy $50 a month. Why?

 

Although city water was significantly less expensive, it was delivered by the turn of a water faucet. The pharmacy’s water was hand delivered. Its arrival was predicated by a knock on the door. It was personally delivered. Could anyone be that lonely?

 

Loneliness is the silent epidemic sweeping across our country. It’s methodology and caustic nature is slower than an outbreak of Ebola, but the outcome is often the same. Loneliness is no respecter of persons and it impacts people of all ages. It brings with it a sense of darkness.  We were created for connection; connection with God and connection with others. When we live with a sense of disconnect, darkness invades our view of the world and limits our vision.

 

Almost everywhere you look, it is easy to find people who relationally, emotionally and spiritually could use a helping hand. Ours is not a culture where folks intuitively know where to turn. Often the church doesn’t seem like an option because religious people aren’t always known by their kindness. Sometimes instead of being welcoming, we add to a person’s stress rather than offer a helping hand.  It isn’t supposed to be like that.

 

Life doesn’t have to be as difficult as people seem to make it, but almost everywhere you look, folks are having a difficult time. Like I said, “Part of the problem is that we live in a culture that has negated the value and importance of connection”. We try to make it on our own and the process simply doesn’t work. It is like forgetting to add oil to the motor in your car. Simply stated: It doesn’t work.

 

The motor in your car will not run without oil. Life lived in isolation from God with a focus on me-centric thinking to the exclusion of others will not work. Do you remember Simon and Garfunkel’s musical hit from 1969?  It was entitled: “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

“When you’re weary, feeling small

When tears are in your eyes,

I will dry them all

I’m on your side

When times get rough

And friends just can’t be found

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down

Like a bridge over troubled water

I will lay me down”

 

Isn’t one of the callings of both the family of faith and our individual walk before God to be a bridge over troubled water? How do we make that happen?

 

One day this past week, I was listening to a podcast. It was a sermon by a pastor I was unfamiliar with, but I loved the illustration he shared. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it again to capture it word by word. Some of you will not get it at all because you don’t have the same frame of reference.   But for anyone who grew up in the 60s, it will resonate with you.

 

The young man was late for church, but he felt the need to go. It had been a very long time since he had last been inside any church. In fact, he now lived a thousand miles from where he grew up. He was in a very different place and he knew no one in the church.

 

As he entered the church, he was oblivious to the fact that he looked different and was not dressed like everyone else in the congregation. His hair was shoulder length and his beard? Well it was unkempt and scraggly. Of course, it really didn’t matter, in the 1960s if you had a beard, for the most part you were regarded as bad news.

 

Entering the church, it looked like the pews were filled. As he made his way down the center aisle toward the front of the church, no one in any of the pews made an effort to make room for him. Finally, standing in the center aisle at the font of the church, he simply opted to sit on the floor with his legs crossed. There was almost an audible gasp from the congregation. Obviously, it was an unacceptable move. Church people can at times be so insensitive and uncaring.

 

About that same time, one of the men from the back of the church started making his way to the front. He was a deacon, a man in his mid-70s and he’d know how to handle this untenable situation. At least that’s what everyone thought as they breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Then unbelievably the older deacon slipped off his shoes so he’d look like the young man who was wearing none and sat down beside him on the floor in the center aisle. He also crossed his legs just like the young man’s legs were crossed as they worshipped together.

 

Wow! That’s the kind of man I want to be! I’m not there yet. I guess I’m still a work in progress, but giving people the freedom to be who they are and coming along side them at the point of need eradicates the darkness, offers a sense of connection and fosters hope. I want to be like that guy.  I don’t like living in the dark.

 

All My Best!

Don

 

Leche Is Being Put On The Porche

It was over three weeks ago, but tucked away in the email was a phrase I wanted to remember. Unfortunately when I saw the author of the communication yesterday morning, I was at a loss. What was it I wanted to ask him about? If I gave it enough time, I might come up with it, but on the spur of the moment the dots weren’t connecting in my head. I knew it was simple phrase that included a couple of Spanish words. Even though I don’t know Spanish, I sensed that it has a nice ring to it.

 

If only I could remember? It was something that closely resembled the simplicity of: “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain”. Like I said, “resembled” is the operative word. There is no relationship to the content of the two phrases. As far as that goes, much to my dismay, there is no truth to the content of the expression I just shared. In Spain, the rain falls mainly on the northern mountains rather than on the plains. In Spanish, “the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain” is translated as La lluvia en Sevilla es una maravilla (The rain in Seville is a miracle).

 

Under the auspices of sharing too much information, the only phrase I remember from Spanish in high school isn’t one you could say out-loud without getting your mouth washed out with soap. At least that would have been true at my house. My mother would not have tolerated that kind of disregard for civility. However, in today’s culture, the phrase wouldn’t even be noticed.

 

You may find this unbelievable, but I never verbalized the expression I remembered from high school until I was in the midst of adulthood. Truthfully, I’ve only articulated the phrase one time in my life. What made me do it? I don’t know. Craig was in high school at Johnson City and in his second year of Spanish. We were at the dinner table. I’m not sure why, but Craig was throwing out phrases in Spanish. Who knows? I guess finally I had heard enough. I threw out the only Spanish phrase I could remember. After all, what harm could it do? There was no way anyone around the table would know the meaning.

 

When I saw the milk spewing out of Craig’s nose as he bent over in laughter, I knew I was busted. He absolutely couldn’t believe what he heard me say. At the same time, I was horrified that he knew what I had said. Consequently, I’ve not used the phrase since. But I guess if anyone ever asks if I speak Spanish, I could truthfully say “a little bit”, because I still remember the phrase.  Before you write me off as totally vile, the phrase was only three words long and all three words can be found in Scripture.  I’ve heard them read aloud in church before.

 

Finally, thinking of the email from three weeks ago, I remembered enough to give the writer a hint. I turned to him and said: “I want to ask you about the phrase you mentioned in the email.” He looked at me like I had been out in the sun a little too long. Like I said, It had been over three weeks.  When I added: “It had something to do with milk”, that was the clue he needed to ignite his memory. He smiled and said: Oh, it was the operating slogan for my company – “Leche is being put on the porche”.

 

He said, “You may not believe this, but when I was a kid living in Dallas, the milk man delivered milk to our home in a horse drawn wagon. He left the milk on the porch. You couldn’t just leave it setting outside. You had to do something with it or it would ruin”.

 

He said, “When I was starting out in business, we started small. We were the lowest of the low. I started out as a rookie in a business that didn’t seem to be in high demand, but our business grew and it grew”. He asked if I wanted to know the key to his success? Certainly, I did. He said, “The key is that God is my footstep. He lead me every step of the way”.

 

He went on to explain, “Eventually we were the biggest in the nation. We were second to none. He said, the folks in the market in New York City and Los Angeles were in a state of disbelief. They had to look up to us”. Truthfully, they did. I didn’t know until yesterday that David’s professional career was in Hispanic Radio Broadcasting. As he talked about his company, David looked at me, smiled and asked:  “Did you notice I also have a lot of humility?”

 

I laughed and said, “So how did you come by the name ‘The Legend’? Did you name yourself?” He said: “No, I didn’t name myself that. It was after my retirement. As a board member of another non-profit organization needing advertising, I took the President of the organization to the radio station. As it turned out, the person in charge previously worked for me. It was the former employee who told a room full of people in my presence that I was a legend. He said, “The name stuck”.

 

When it comes to having a passion for making a difference for children and families from hard places, David’s automatic default is: “Leche is being put on the porche”. He sees the need to embrace the hour and make things happen. When he becomes aware of a problem, he advocates for a quick resolution rather than do nothing deliberation. He said, “When I used the phrase ‘Leche is being put on the porche’, with my employees, I’d clinch my fist, move my arms, accentuate every word and make it perfectly clear that now is the time to do something.”

 

David really does live with humility. I’ve known him for a number of years, and until I did a Google Search using his name last night, I did not know that David Lykes, Univision Radio (retired) was the 2006 Broadcaster of the Year. He had responsibility for sixty radio stations, a television station and 2,500 employees.

 

In 2012, David was honored by the Texas House of Representatives through a Resolution highlighting many of his accomplishments in broadcasting. I guess you could say that David practices what he preaches: “Leche is being put on the porche”.

 

All My Best!

Don

 

Things You Need To Know

Yesterday a friend from high school (actually she was in my younger brother’s peer group) posted on Facebook that there is a first time for everything. She and her husband had gone to a restaurant for lunch. After taking her order, the waitress turned briefly toward her husband to take his order and then turned back. She said: “Wow, you just make me miss my mom so much. You smell just like her.”

 

Immediately a memory came alive in my head that was pleasant to remember. The year was 1988. I had left a 17 ½ year career track as a State employee the year before. It was probably a midlife crisis, but I also processed it as a sense of calling. I wanted to try my hand at direct service delivery to children and families from hard places by serving in the role of an executive director of a children’s home.

 

I had invested 15 ½ years in residential childcare licensing and felt fairly comfortable that I had the skill set and knowledge base to be successful. After all, I knew state licensing requirements like the back of my hand.   In the context of my new role, I was invited to speak along with two other people at a State wide annual child care administrator’s conference. The workshop was entitled “Things You Need To Know”.

 

Actually it was the first time I’d ever been invited to speak at a conference. I was both honored and humbled by the invitation. The other two persons participating in the workshop were seasoned professionals who were highly respected for their work. I figured since I was the new kid on the block at the age of 42, that newfound role was my only foray into the lineup. I certainly didn’t have the experience and expertise of the other two presenters.

 

I was pretty transparent in my presentation. The thoughts I shared were more along the line of what I was discovering you needed to know, rather than definitively identifying a chiseled in stone list.   One of the first things you needed to know was that having a knowledge base of how to work with children, minimum standards, best practice and child development weren’t the highest ingredients needed. Important? – “Yes” Urgent? – “No”. There were many other things that took priority over any of that.

 

For example: Whom do you call when water is spewing out in the boiler room? What do you do when you receive notice that payroll taxes weren’t submitted during the last quarter? What do you do with resolving delinquent taxes on property you didn’t even know the children’s home owned? Trust me when you are in a place of leadership where the buck stops, the sky is the limit in things you need to know, but don’t.

 

I talked about the importance of involving the board in any deliberation related to change. After all, they are the group that can identify the sacred cows. In addition, when push comes to shove, they have the upper hand. In fact, some of the board members may see themselves and what they want as sacred.

 

I don’t know if you’ve ever considered it, but the search committee of every board looking for an executive director has the same rhetoric. They are all looking for someone who can walk on water (I mean who can provide the leadership needed to promote a program of excellence).

 

They are sincere. They mean it when they tell you they think you are exactly the kind of person they’ve been looking for to fill the position.   And of course you want to believe it because it provides unlimited opportunity for you. Truth be told, give it a little time and the situation may look quite differently.

 

I know you’re thinking that nothing I’ve shared has any relationship to the “you smell like my mother” reference made in the introduction. If you’re thinking that, you’re rushing me. I haven’t gotten to that part yet. Actually, it was the concluding point I made during my thirty-minute presentation. Consequently, in the interest of time, I’m skipping over other points that are vaguely on the horizon of my conscience memory. The concluding point was simply this: “If your investing your life in the well being of children, keep doing what you’re doing because you may never know the impact it carries.”

 

I then shared the story of Teddy Stallard that Charles Swindoll had included in one of his books. The book was a new release at the time and reading the story had brought tears to my eyes. Wiping away the tears, I remember having the thought, “I’ve got to include this example in my presentation. It is definitely one of the things you need to know.”

 

Mrs. Thompson, Teddy’s fifth grade teacher, didn’t immediately find herself drawn to him. He was an unkempt, quiet, solemn and distant. He didn’t relate well to his peers and he wasn’t a good student. Mrs. Thompson had read his file. He was a kid from a hard place. You could look at his records for each of his previous school years and note the decline. As his mother became more ill, he experienced more academic difficulties. Mrs. Thompson knew that Teddy’s mother had died the previous year, but even that knowledge didn’t pull at her heartstrings to get involved and offer extra help.

 

At the class Christmas party, most of the students brought brightly wrapped presents for Mrs. Thomason. Even Teddy brought a present, but it was not neatly wrapped. Opening it, she found a bracelet with a rhinestone or two missing and a partially filled bottle of ladies perfume. The other students started laughing.

 

Mrs. Thompson thoughtfully offered thanks, put the bracelet on and sprayed some of the perfume on her arm. As she thanked Teddy for his gift, he said: “You smell just like my mother”.

 

That affirmation melted her heart and she purposefully chose to provide extra attention, support and encouragement to Teddy for the remainder of the school year. By the end of the school year, he was functioning back at grade level and his demeanor and posture seemed completely changed. Teddy was a child she stayed in touch with for several years, but as Teddy grew older the connection faded.

 

Many years later, Mrs. Thompson received a handwritten invitation to Teddy’s wedding. He communicated in his note that he had graduated from college and subsequently from medical school. He also shared that his father had passed away. He asked if she’d attend his wedding and have the honor of sitting in the seat his mother would have filled.”

 

Obviously that is a good place to stop and offer the reminder, “When you invest your time in making someone else feel important and valued, you’ll never know the difference it might make.” The point was well received by the audience in the workshop. There reaction caught me totally off-guard. There was a thunderous applause as I was taking my seat. It was a nice affirmation.

 

Out of curiosity, I just did a Google search to determine the authenticity of the Teddy Stallard story. Reportedly, it is false. That being said, the principal I shared is still valid. When you invest your time in making someone else feel important and valued, you’ll never know the difference it might make. I know any number of adults who would attest that the kindness of folks who invested in their lives made a lasting difference.

All My Best!

Don

 

 

 

WALK THE TALK

Ralph Waldo Emerson is credited for saying: “Who you are speaks so loudly I can’t hear what you’re saying.” There certainly is truth to the concept that one’s lifestyle becomes the basis for their reputation.

 

I guess there are many examples of where a person articulates one thing and by example represents something very differently. When I think about a position as lofty as being an administrative law judge, I think of someone who values justice, fairness, and a sense of equity in upholding the law. Consequently, I was surprised to run across what I’d consider egregious disregard for justice.

 

In 2005 an administrative law judge in Washington D.C. filed a lawsuit against the Korean owners of a dry cleaners for misplacing a pair of trousers. There was a “satisfaction guaranteed” sign in the store. The lost trousers, coupled with his dissatisfaction reportedly were the basis for the judge filing a $67 million dollar lawsuit. I guess you could say he was really attached to those pants.

 

In the course of attempting to settle the case, the judge turned down a settlement offer of $3,000, $4,600 and $12,000. The owners of the business seriously considered moving back to South Korea. Who could blame them? Being sued by and administrative law judge was enough for them to question the United States justice system.

 

Perhaps the administrative law judge came to his senses and opted to be more reasonable. He reduced the lawsuit to $54 million. Among his requests was $500,000 in attorney’s fees (he was representing himself), $2 million for “discomfort, inconvenience, and mental distress”. The judge also  requested $15,000 to cover the cost of a car rental every weekend to drive to another dry cleaning service. The remaining $51.5 million would be used to help similarly dissatisfied D.C. customers sue businesses.

 

On the first day of court, the plaintiff broke down on the witness stand. He was in tears explaining his frustration over losing his pants. Consequently, a short recess had to be called. The court ruled in favor of the dry cleaners. The legal proceedings only cost the cleaners $87,000. How’s that for justice? Fortunately, a legal support website was set up for the cleaners and enough donations were secured to cover the legal fees. By the way, I failed to mention that the cleaners located the trousers two days after they were lost, but the judge refused to take them back.

 

“Unbelievably ludicrous” is the term I’d choose to describe that scenario. When a judge doesn’t walk the talk, it is an embarrassment to the court system. The same thing is true for individuals. A person’s lifestyle is the basis for their reputation.

 

People, who are thought of as kind and caring, are folks who invest their lives in kind and caring acts. They actively respond to meeting the needs of others. The same is true for a church. It is easy to talk about God’s unconditional love. It is easy to talk about the need for the church to be loving, but unless we roll up our sleeves and become personally involved, what we articulate falls on deaf ears. For a church to have the reputation for being a loving church, there must be a correlation between what they articulate and what they actually do.

 

Saturday was a unique opportunity for our church. We were privileged to serve a family who hasn’t had an on-going relationship with our church. We opened our doors to help because there was a need. It was the right thing to do. It was a loving thing to do. We were privileged to be provided an opportunity to serve.

 

The church was packed for the funeral of a fifteen year old who took his own life. There were students, parents, teachers, and family members present. It was an occasion wrought with sadness and emotion, but there was also the message of comfort and hope.

 

Anything I share worth remembering doesn’t come from me. I simply have the privilege of writing it down. Saturday, I shared two thoughts. Both had been rolling around in my head all week. Each came from Scripture: “We see through a glass darkly” and “Jesus wept”.

 

There is no way, this side of eternity that any one will ever know the magnitude or the level of pain that resulted in the teenager’s death. Until we’ve walked a mile in the shoes of another, we have no right to judge or even begin to attempt to find answers for the unanswerable. On the other side of eternity, the answer won’t matter.  Tragedy is the unanswered puzzle of life. Having answers doesn’t alter the outcome. When we see through the glass darkly, we don’t always get it right.

 

The thing we do know is that God cares. The scriptures recall for us a time when Jesus wept, that, too was on the occasion of the death of his friend Lazarus. He knows the level of pain associated with loss.

 

Following the service, a lady introduced herself to me and said she and her husband had purchased land in the neighborhood. As soon as they sell their home, they hope to move. She assured me that our church’s response to a need touched her heart and that her family would be coming to our church.

 

A second lady was equally complimentary of the love and support expressed through our church. She then shared a story with me that hurt my heart.  It was very much out of character with my perception of how a church should respond to need.  The actions taken certainly didn’t promote the concept of God’s unconditional love.

 

The lady said, “I have a very close friend whose son committed suicide. The church where he and his family belonged refused to allow the funeral to take place at their church. The church also would not permit burial in the church’s cemetery. The church turned their back on this family. I am so grateful that your church was willing to meet the need. It means a lot.”

 

“Unbelievably ludicrous” is the term I’d used to describe the court scenario. I can’t find the words that convey the harm and hurt a church creates when they choose to withhold love. It seems like such a contradiction to the words of Christ: “ For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me”.

 

“Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink?  And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’  And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’” (Matthew 25: 35-40)

 

All My Best!

Don

 

 

 

My Teeth Are Ugly But Great

Do you ever feel liked the cards are stacked against you? Mine was a routine six-month dental exam. Somehow I had forgotten this was the appointment when x-rays are taken. The process always leaves me with a gag-reflex. You may find this difficult to believe, but I don’t have a big mouth. I know, I’m a man of many words, but my mouth isn’t all that big. In addition, my passage way for breathing isn’t all that large. In a day of high technology, why do they still have to use the big plastic things with the x-ray film? They stuff them in your mouth, tell you to bite down and hold that grip until you hear the buzzer. Color it anyway you want, but the process “hurts like crazy” (I could have expressed it differently, but I’m generally a man of discretionary judgment). Am I the only person who finds the pain in the roof of one’s mouth excessive when your biting down on the plastic containing the film?   In addition, I’m hearing impaired. I never hear the buzzer and I’m always in the middle of a gag reflex with the dental hygienist retrieves the film.

 

On the good news side, my teeth are ugly but great. Actually Dr. Laura didn’t add the ugly part, but she did confirm that my teeth are fine. She was fairly cautious in how she expressed it. In fact, she was perceptive enough to know that she could wind up in one of my blogs and said as much. Of course, it always makes me feel good to know that someone of her standing would take the time to read the mostly nonsense that I write. That is always a feel-good for me and it doesn’t require pain medication to make me feel that way.

 

Even with the fear of appearing in my blog, she took the plunge. After all, at the end of the day Dr. Laura’s professionalism and commitment to quality care takes precedence. So she gave me the full picture: “Your teeth look great but your gums are a mess.” Then she asked, “What’s going on with you?”

 

Talk about a loaded question. How would you answer a question like that? Seeing the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face, she offered some possible sources from which an answer might come. “Are you taken any new medications? What about sleep patterns, are there any changes there?” Presto – you’ve just asked the $64,000 question. Wouldn’t you know it, a dentist had just asked the identical question that two other doctors had asked in as many weeks. Obviously, insufficient sleep patterns result in more than feeling groggy the next morning. Obviously, messy gums can lead to unhealthy teeth. I get it, I really do.

 

Sign me up for a Twelve Step Program: “Hello My Name Is Don And I Don’t Get Enough Sleep”. I went to bed at 9:30 last night with the hope of sleeping soundly through the night. I set my alarm for 4:30 knowing full well that I would wake up an hour earlier than that. I am a man of predictability or so I thought. I was really groggy and tired when I woke up, but I couldn’t drift off back to sleep. I looked at the time on my iPhone. It was 11:00 p.m.

 

No wonder my gums are a mess. I don’t sleep. As I attempted to go back to sleep, I thought about several people that I know who are in the midst of great difficulty and overwhelming circumstances. I thought of people whose circumstances reflect loss and grief, loneliness, workplace difficulty and a lack of clarity in making life choices. Instead of counting sheep, I opted to pray for the folks who came to mind. In fact, I had the thought: “Maybe God awakened me at 11:00 p.m. because these folks needed prayer. Consequently, that thought helped me reframe my circumstances.

 

A grandmother was attempting to teach her granddaughter about God’s involvement in our lives. At one point while the two played together in the back yard, the grandmother pointed out the beautiful flowers and asked: “Do you know who made the flowers?” The grandmother then offered the answer: “God made the flowers.” They subsequently had the same conversation about rain: “God made the rain.”  Later that day the granddaughter made a horrible mess on the living room floor. When the grandmother asked, “Who made that mess?” the granddaughter proudly answered: “God made the mess.”

 

Sometimes we mistakenly credit God for the messes in which we find ourselves. We forget that ours is a fallen world and that there are two forces at work in our world.  On the threshold of adulthood, in my college years, I worked the 3:00 to 11:00 shift as an orderly in the emergency room of the town’s primary hospital. By the way, it was a Baptist Hospital. The experience proved to be a crash course in how suddenly and abruptly people’s lives are shattered and forever changed.

 

One night, I was working the 11:00 to 7:00 shift. A car pulled into the portico outside the emergency room in the very early hours of the morning, but no one came inside. I walked out to see if I could be of assistance.

 

From the back seat of the car, they passed out to me the lifeless body of a four- year-old. I will never forget holding her lifeless body in my arms. Earlier in the evening, both she and her younger sister had ingested rat poison. They found it under the kitchen sink at their grandmother’s home. The family was from California. They were visiting grandparents in Abilene. The family immediately had taken both girls to an emergency room where they were given Epicec to make them regurgitate. Both girls were then released to go home. During the night, the mother found that her four-year-old daughter was not breathing.

 

I was present when the grandparent’s pastor made his way to the hospital and counseled with the family. The words he shared didn’t carry a ring of truth to me. Yet they were the same empty words that I had repeatedly heard other pastors use as they counseled grieving families in that same waiting room. He said this: “We don’t understand it, but this is God’s will.”
The empty words shared in the context of providing comfort didn’t resonate with truth for me. Some of you may disagree with me and that’s okay, but if I live to be a 100 you’ll never convince me otherwise.  There are two forces at work in our world. Consequently, there is a very big difference between God’s perfect will and his permissive will. God isn’t surprised by life. He has the ability to see the big picture, but he’s not pulling the strings and orchestrating the awful stuff of life.

 

He is a loving God that comes along side us at the point of need. He weeps with us in the midst of our sorrow and he provides the strength and support to find the will to go on. He provides comfort and hope to those in the midst of difficulty.  Who’s to say? He may awaken others at 11:00 p.m. with the thought that friends need prayer.

 

All My Best!

Don

If You Don’t Get It Right You’ll Be Dead Wrong

For a number of weeks, I’ve been reading a daily blog entitled Pacific Paratrooper. The blog chronicles Pacific War Era information. GP Cox is the author. I was drawn to the blog because of my previous long-term friendship with Lee Arbon, a Sergeant Pilot in WWII. Lee crafted the sergeant pilot story from the beginning in his book: “And They Also Flew- The Enlisted Pilot Legacy 1912 – 1942”. His was a historical accounting. The blog GP Cox shares is also a historical accounting. “The Pacific Paratrooper site is dedicated to his father, Everett A. Smith, aka ‘Smitty’, who served in the Headquarters Company/187^th Regiment/11^th Airborne Division in the Pacific during WWII”.

 

Besides the history that GP Cox chronicles, one of the things that I appreciate about his blog his the Farewell Salutes he makes to veterans who’ve recently died. I don’t know where he finds his listing, but he doesn’t limit the roll call to WWII veterans. I applaud the final farewell he provides in acknowledging the contributions toward freedom made by those who served.

 

There is something about stories of courageous men who set aside personal safety in the pursuit of freedom that warms my heart. According to statistics released by the Veteran’s Administration, our World War II vets are dying at a rate of approximately 492 a day. This means there are approximately only 855,070 veterans remaining of the 16 million who served our nation in World War II.

 

Of the courageous men who served, I can’t think of a higher stress job or courageous calling than that of serving as a paratrooper. From my perspective, the first obstacle is in knowing you’d have to jump out of an airplane. I know what you’re thinking, “People do that all of the time”. Sure they do, but I don’t. What about you? If given an opportunity, would you jump out of a plane?  For those who served as paratroopers, I guess it was all in a day’s work, but it would still have to represent a stressful work environment.

 

At some level, like a bug drawn to a light, I like the thought of adventure. That being said, I haven’t had an insatiable desire to parachute my way to the ground. I remember when my brother was in flight training, he’d write home about the training exercises where they were required to parachute out of a plane. On occasion, they were required to jump over the sea. Of course, Ronnie was more concerned about sharks than the fear of the jump.

 

For a paratrooper, the real adrenaline rush and purpose of their jump was one that put them in harm’s way. They jumped behind enemy lines to strategically engage in purposes wrought with danger. Perhaps Benjamin Franklin was being visionary when he said in 1784: “Where is the prince who can afford so to cover his country with troops for its defense, so that ten thousand men descending from the clouds might not, in many places, do an infinite deal of mischief before a force could be brought together to repel them?” 

 

I noticed on Sunday that one of the news items trending related to a skydiver who jumped out of an airplane at 25,000 feet without using a parachute or wing suit.  The 42-year-old daredevil chose to call the stunt “Heaven Sent”. Call it death defying if you want, but there were no guarantees. The skydiver had to maneuver his body in free fall using the air currents around him to land safely on the 10,000 square foot net.

 

The jump was aired live (pardon the pun-but it could have ended otherwise) on television by Fox News. I thought Fox News was fair and balanced, but from my perspective there isn’t a lot that seems “balanced” about a death-defying jump simply to defy death.

 

Even though the skydiver was described as “appearing to soar effortlessly, arms extended, face downward. And as he neared the ground, with a mere second to go, he expertly flipped onto his back and landed without incident”. He subsequently climbed out of the net and embraced his wife. In the group of family members who came to watch, were his four-year-old son, father, two brothers and a sister.

 

Certainly a safe landing was cause for celebration. The skydiver set a record that will go down in the annals of history. It was death defying. No one can argue with that, but for what purpose? “Just to prove that he could”, doesn’t seem like a good enough answer. I guess you either get it right or you would be dead wrong.

 

From my perspective, there was too much at stake to take the chance. Unlike paratroopers in World War II who purposefully put themselves in harms way behind enemy lines, it was the cause of freedom and the integrity of all that we hold dear that motived their bravery and courageous actions.

 

Jim Denison says of our culture, “We’re fascinated by the thrill of near-death experiences. We’ll hold our breath watching an acrobat cross a canyon on a high wire. We’ll buy a ticket to see trapeze artists and lion tamers. We’ll flock to movies like Jason Bourne that feature high-speed chase scenes and death-defying stunts.

 

“We want to escape the normalcy of our routine to feel the excitement of the extreme. Somehow we know that the world we experience is not all there is. As C. S. Lewis notes, the most spectacular sunset evokes in us a sense that there is still ‘something more.’ When you hear a brilliant musician or hike through a scenic forest, don’t you feel it? Our world at its most beautiful is not enough”.

 

Any circumstance where: “You have to get it right or you would be dead wrong” should give one cause to ponder the gift of life. Being dropped behind enemy lines in a war zone to gain an advantage that supports the cause of freedom and the greater good of others is one thing. Simply defying death because you think you can seems like an insult to the gift of life that you’ve been given. Life is far too precious for that.

 

All My Best!

Avoid Negativity Like The Plague

Do you ever get the sense that life is at times more like swimming upstream than leisurely floating down the river? For the most part, my life has been an easy ride, but on occasion I am painfully aware there are two forces at work in the world. Honestly, life doesn’t have to be as difficult as a lot of people choose to make it.

 

At times I find myself in social situations where the dominate theme of the conversation is negativity. How many people do you know that live with the on-going belief that “life has gone to hell in a hand-basket”?  I find that most often that assessment has some relationship to one’s thoughts related to the political landscape, but the concept isn’t limited to politics. It raises its ugly head in any number of venues.

 

Isn’t it true that folks find any number of things to complain about? There are parents who complain about their kids, wives or husbands who complain about their mates, employees who complain about management, parishioners who complain about church and some folks who simply complain about everything.  Long story short – avoid them like the plague.

 

Trust me, I attempt to avoid that crowd whenever I can. I find it unsettling. For one thing, I can’t fix it. Whenever I’ve attempted to provide gentle redirection, it is met with a roadblock. For another, negativity is a venue that is as contagious as the common cold. Perhaps that’s where the concept that “misery loves company” originated. The folks who throw rocks are like a pack of wolves seeking to destroy all that come in their path. Theirs is a self-destructive walk through life.

 

The thing that often surprises me is that some of the most negative folks I’ve encountered identify themselves as Christian. In one of John Ortberg’s books, he talks about a man named Hank. Hank was used to having things done his way. When the church altered or embraced another type of music, it didn’t set well with Hank. He complained to the church staff. He complained to his friends. He complained to anyone that would listen including visitors that attended their church. Hank even complained to OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) that the music was too loud and damaging to one’s hearing. And yes, just for the record, OSHA came out to investigate.

 

When a person’s outlook on life becomes sour, it ought to serve as a warning light that something is terribly wrong. When the yellow light comes on the dashboard of my car indicating the need for service, I always pay attention and do whatever is necessary to get the yellow light issue resolved. Aren’t unhappiness, discontentment, negativity and hatred warning signs that something is terribly wrong with the person harboring those manifestations?

 

The litmus test for Spiritual wellness is found in the Scripture: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law”. – (Galatians 5:22-23). I didn’t notice that “consistently negative, fault finding, miserable or angry” are descriptors of the fruit of the Spirit.  They are not the things that a loving God places in our life. On the other hand, there are two forces at work in the world. You might find those negative characteristics elsewhere. If so, that puts a whole new explanation for the concept of “to hell in a handbasket”.

 

Our thoughts and expectations wield tremendous power and influence in our lives. We don’t always get what we deserve in life, but we usually get no more than we expect.  In one of Joel Olsteen’s books, he shares the story of Nick.

 

“Nick was a big, strong, tough man who worked in the railroad yards for many years. He was one of his company’s best employees- always there on time, a reliable, hard worker who got along well with the other employees. But Nick had one major problem. His attitude was chronically negative. He was known around the railroad yards as the most pessimistic man on the job. He perpetually feared the worst and constantly worried, fretting that something bad might happen.

 

“One summer day, the crews were told that they could go home an hour early in order to celebrate the birthday of one of the foremen. All the works left, but somehow Nick accidentally locked himself in a refrigerated boxcar that has been brought into the yard for maintenance. The boxcar was empty and not connected to any of the trains.

 

“When Nick realized that he was locked inside the refrigerated boxcar, he panicked. Nick began beating on the doors so hard that his arms and fists become bloody. He screamed and screamed, but his coworkers had already gone home to get ready for the party. Nobody could hear Nick’s desperate calls for help. Again and again he called out, until finally is voice was a raspy whisper.

 

“Aware that he was in a refrigerated boxcar, Nick guessed that the temperature in the unit was well below freezing, maybe as low as five or ten degrees Fahrenheit. Nicked feared the worst. He thought, ‘What am I going to do?’ If I don’t get out of her, I’m going to freeze to death. There’s no way I can stay in here all night.

 

“The more he thought about his circumstances, the colder he became. With the door shut tightly, and no apparent way of escape, he sat down to await his inevitable death by freezing or suffocation, whichever came first.

 

“To pass the time, he decided to chronicle his demise. He found a pen in his shirt pocket and noticed an old piece of cardboard in the corner of the car. Shivering almost uncontrollably, he scribbled a message to his family. In it Nick noted his dire prospects: “Getting so cold. Body numb. If I don’t get out soon, these will probably be my last words.” And they were.

 

“The next morning, when the crews came to work, they opened the boxcar and found Nick’s body crumpled over in the corner. When the autopsy was completed, it revealed that Nick had indeed frozen to death.

 

“Now here’s a fascinating mystery: The investigators discovered that the refrigeration unit for the car in which Nick had been trapped was not even on. In fact, it had been out of order for some time and was not functioning at the time of the man’s death. The temperature in the car that night- the night Nick froze to death- was sixty-one degrees. Nick froze to death in slightly less than normal room temperatures because he believed he was in a freezing boxcar. He expected to die! He was convinced that he didn’t have a chance. He expected the worst. He saw himself as doomed with no way out. He lost the battle in his own mind.”

 

Nick’s story adds a whole new dimension to getting what you expect. Perhaps it would serve us well to change our expectations. I really like the concept of “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law”. Think on those things.

 

All My Best!

Don