While you are braving the mid-winter chill, I'm currently chillin', in sunny Panama.
Very strange visit for me--fifth time in the country in the last 10 years, but this time just traveling with Clarisa. No kids, no big agenda, just us trying to figure out how best to help her aunt and uncle.
Aunt Clarisa and Uncle Granville are marvels in many ways. He's 94 and she's 92. They've been married 68 years and have lived independently the whole time. Even now, as their medical issues are multiplying, they still cling to their independence. Good for them that their minds are keen. However, increasingly, they need help for even the simplest tasks: cooking, cleaning, shopping--without assistance they cannot survive.
Panama does not have assisted living centers. When old people need help, they either move in with someone able bodied; if they can afford it they hire helpers; or, they die. Fortunately Clarisa's aunt and uncle are not destitute. Their resourced are modest, but sufficient to continue living. They also have a network of friends and loved ones they have cultivated throughout their long lives.
Still, what to do about the stairs, the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping?
Our lives are in the U.S., so any phyical help for us to offer them is limited. However, we can help them find a better place to live--a place close to shopping and medical care, a place in a quiet neighborhood without stairs! But, how to persuade competent adults that what we know they need is really what they want? It's their lives after all, and if they want to stay in an old apartment in a dangerous neighborhood with no elevator and three flights of stairs, we can't make them move.
So, today, we'll be in "selling" mode for these old folks. We're going to show them places where they can stay--and, hopefully be happy.
I'll keep you posted how this mission ends up.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Your Elevator Speech
Lots of interesting advice is coming to me now that I'm beginning my job search. While perusing a magazine article about job searches in the current economy, a writer said that I should always have my "elevator speech" ready. What's an elevator speech? Well, an elevator speech is a stripped down version of your resume that you prepared and can share with a potential employer who has very little time to listen. Since so many people currently are looking for work, the smart job seeker should prepare a succinct "pitch" that when delivered will captivate the hearer. However, unlike other face-to-face interactions, the elevator speech must be delivered in one minute or less. You know, the time of a typical trip in an elevator.
Yes--one minute or less. Not an interview. Not even chat over coffee. This speech is meant to pique a person's interest--get them excited about scheduling a real interview. The elevator speech better be interesting.
But, seriously, can a person really boil down their best features into such a tiny package? Can a one-dimensional caricature of oneself persuade anybody of a person's worth or character? I don't know, but I'm willing to toss out an elevator speech . . . as soon as I write one!
What should I include? I'm hoping some of my readers could offer suggestions. The description of me contained on this blog's homepage isn't very good. Look at it. Would anybody want to hire me because of my status with the Presbyterian Church? I have stepped in a Presbyterian church two times in the last five years! It's been 12 years since that church has had much impact in my life!
My wife, my son and my dog ARE close to my heart--but, fodder for my elevator speech? I don't think so. Having a wife, son and dog are noteworthy, but hardly lift me above the throngs of job seekers.
Rather than reciting simple facts from my resume, I think my elevator speech could mention one or two personal superlatives and then provide examples to support the statements. One superlative might be personal, the other professional. Here's what I'm thinking about today: "I make excellent chilli. In fact I once won a chilli cookoff and the contestants included a Detroit fireman. That was a tough contest." Second superlative: "My values make a difference in the workplace. During my time at American Laser Centers, I recruited, hired and trained more than four thousand persons, ninety-five percent of them were women. I personally wrote the employee handbook at the company and oversaw the implementation of all personnel policies. During my seven years of leadership, the company never faced any accusations of sexual misconduct or harassment. I'm very proud of that achievement."
Both those statements are true--and they seem far more interesting than the typical contents of "hire me" speeches. Seriously, I believe every hiring manager must be sick of encountering hardworking, loyal, good communicators? Wouldn't you rather work with a guy who can make a mean pot of chilli? I know I would.
I'd love some feedback here. Next week I'm going to be in Panama with my wife. We'll be busy and I won't have much time to write. However, in early February I'm scheduling my first work opportunity appointments. It's been a while since I've had to "sell" myself, and any tips and suggestions from you are most appreciated.
In the meantime, I'm glad to help you with your elevator speech, too. Let me know.
With affection.
Yes--one minute or less. Not an interview. Not even chat over coffee. This speech is meant to pique a person's interest--get them excited about scheduling a real interview. The elevator speech better be interesting.
But, seriously, can a person really boil down their best features into such a tiny package? Can a one-dimensional caricature of oneself persuade anybody of a person's worth or character? I don't know, but I'm willing to toss out an elevator speech . . . as soon as I write one!
What should I include? I'm hoping some of my readers could offer suggestions. The description of me contained on this blog's homepage isn't very good. Look at it. Would anybody want to hire me because of my status with the Presbyterian Church? I have stepped in a Presbyterian church two times in the last five years! It's been 12 years since that church has had much impact in my life!
My wife, my son and my dog ARE close to my heart--but, fodder for my elevator speech? I don't think so. Having a wife, son and dog are noteworthy, but hardly lift me above the throngs of job seekers.
Rather than reciting simple facts from my resume, I think my elevator speech could mention one or two personal superlatives and then provide examples to support the statements. One superlative might be personal, the other professional. Here's what I'm thinking about today: "I make excellent chilli. In fact I once won a chilli cookoff and the contestants included a Detroit fireman. That was a tough contest." Second superlative: "My values make a difference in the workplace. During my time at American Laser Centers, I recruited, hired and trained more than four thousand persons, ninety-five percent of them were women. I personally wrote the employee handbook at the company and oversaw the implementation of all personnel policies. During my seven years of leadership, the company never faced any accusations of sexual misconduct or harassment. I'm very proud of that achievement."
Both those statements are true--and they seem far more interesting than the typical contents of "hire me" speeches. Seriously, I believe every hiring manager must be sick of encountering hardworking, loyal, good communicators? Wouldn't you rather work with a guy who can make a mean pot of chilli? I know I would.
I'd love some feedback here. Next week I'm going to be in Panama with my wife. We'll be busy and I won't have much time to write. However, in early February I'm scheduling my first work opportunity appointments. It's been a while since I've had to "sell" myself, and any tips and suggestions from you are most appreciated.
In the meantime, I'm glad to help you with your elevator speech, too. Let me know.
With affection.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Who Do You Want in Your Corner?
It's a beautiful winter morning in Michigan and I still find myself thinking about themes of loss, love and appreciation.
As much as I wish to be wise and discerning, I find myself, at my ever advancing age, still making the same mistakes I've made my entire life. While its comforting to know that many others make the same mistakes, I'm not happy knowing that hordes of us are bad decision makers. Oh to be wise, discerning and appreciative for what is right and true rather than spending time, energy and resources chasing the illusory, the temporary, the disappointing.
What do I mean? Well, let's talk about people. I'm a sucker for witty, attractive, charmers. You know, men and women who can make crowds smile, who always look good in the clothes they wear, and whose schedules are packed with interesting commitments, job functions, and getaways with friends and family. In comparison, my life seems depopulated and uninteresting. How come the witty, attractive charmers don't want to be my friend? Why am I at home watching TV instead hobknobing with the cool crowd? This sounds so very much like high school--yet these feelings for me are real. Do you ever feel the same way?
The truth is, there are lots of people in my life and lots of interesting, satisfying ways to spend my time. So why am I not satisfied? More importantly, why do I seek approval from people who don't really care about me, while those who prove themselves faithful and true I hold in low regard?
At my grandfather's funeral last week was a family--two very plain parents and their rather ordinary looking daughter. Upon further investigation turns out the girl wasn't that ordinary at all--at age 10 she was already in the eighth grade! This family picked up my grandfather every Sunday evening and drove him to church since he could not drive himself. And they'd been doing this for years. After church they would sit in my grandfather's apartment, play checkers, and share stories of their lives.
The little girl was distraught over the loss of someone who was important to her--a 99-year-old great grandfather who could barely see, barely hear, and, by all accounts, carried himself like a grumpy old man. Clearly these facts didn't bother that family. They found great personal worth in this on-going act of kindness. "It wasn't a burden being with your grandfather," said the father to me. "He became a friend, and we looked forward to the time." This family also found themselves at my grandfather's bedside at the time of his death.
Hmm, now I asked myself some questions. Why wasn't I at the old man's bedside? When was the last time I played checkers with anyone, let alone my grandfather? When was the last time my children spent substantive time with an elderly person? What joyful, meaningful experiences have I missed because rather than nurturing relationships with the everyday people who surround me, I'm working overtime to find the secret code to getting into the cool group?
The sage advice is true: we must bloom where we're planted, find joy in the people and places where we live, see goodness and value in the people and opportunities before us, and resist the allure of power, prestige and popularity. For me, this is a very tall order indeed. God help me reorder my priorities this year.
Keep praying for your loved ones this week. Scripture says the effective prayers of the faithful person can accomplish much.
Good bye.
As much as I wish to be wise and discerning, I find myself, at my ever advancing age, still making the same mistakes I've made my entire life. While its comforting to know that many others make the same mistakes, I'm not happy knowing that hordes of us are bad decision makers. Oh to be wise, discerning and appreciative for what is right and true rather than spending time, energy and resources chasing the illusory, the temporary, the disappointing.
What do I mean? Well, let's talk about people. I'm a sucker for witty, attractive, charmers. You know, men and women who can make crowds smile, who always look good in the clothes they wear, and whose schedules are packed with interesting commitments, job functions, and getaways with friends and family. In comparison, my life seems depopulated and uninteresting. How come the witty, attractive charmers don't want to be my friend? Why am I at home watching TV instead hobknobing with the cool crowd? This sounds so very much like high school--yet these feelings for me are real. Do you ever feel the same way?
The truth is, there are lots of people in my life and lots of interesting, satisfying ways to spend my time. So why am I not satisfied? More importantly, why do I seek approval from people who don't really care about me, while those who prove themselves faithful and true I hold in low regard?
At my grandfather's funeral last week was a family--two very plain parents and their rather ordinary looking daughter. Upon further investigation turns out the girl wasn't that ordinary at all--at age 10 she was already in the eighth grade! This family picked up my grandfather every Sunday evening and drove him to church since he could not drive himself. And they'd been doing this for years. After church they would sit in my grandfather's apartment, play checkers, and share stories of their lives.
The little girl was distraught over the loss of someone who was important to her--a 99-year-old great grandfather who could barely see, barely hear, and, by all accounts, carried himself like a grumpy old man. Clearly these facts didn't bother that family. They found great personal worth in this on-going act of kindness. "It wasn't a burden being with your grandfather," said the father to me. "He became a friend, and we looked forward to the time." This family also found themselves at my grandfather's bedside at the time of his death.
Hmm, now I asked myself some questions. Why wasn't I at the old man's bedside? When was the last time I played checkers with anyone, let alone my grandfather? When was the last time my children spent substantive time with an elderly person? What joyful, meaningful experiences have I missed because rather than nurturing relationships with the everyday people who surround me, I'm working overtime to find the secret code to getting into the cool group?
The sage advice is true: we must bloom where we're planted, find joy in the people and places where we live, see goodness and value in the people and opportunities before us, and resist the allure of power, prestige and popularity. For me, this is a very tall order indeed. God help me reorder my priorities this year.
Keep praying for your loved ones this week. Scripture says the effective prayers of the faithful person can accomplish much.
Good bye.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
The Power of Prayer
Good Morning Friends,
I'm back at my kitchen table after a whirlwind four days that saw me sleeping in three beds in three cities (Friday in Florida, Saturday in Detroit, Sunday in Des Moines and last night back in my own bed again). Glad to be home.
In Florida I attended the funeral of my 99-year-old grandfather. There I renewed relationships with relatives not seen in years and had some serious "face time" with my mother and two sisters. Emails and telephone calls are fine, but nothing really nurtures a relationship better than face-to-face interaction. I'm glad I showed up. The experience of intense family togetherness was more fulfilling than I had expected, but it was exhausting--and I was ready to leave the gathering early.
So, Saturday evening, I headed for home (the funeral was early Saturday afternoon). I explained to family that my class of seventh grade Sunday school students awaited me in Detroit AND that my daughter, who is a freshman in college, needed a ride back to school. So, I landed in Detroit around midnight Saturday night, got home, went to bed, got up, taught my class, and, by noon was packed up and on the road driving toward Des Moines with my wife and daughter in tow.
After all that activity, I'm ready for some reflection. But, first, I must get over my panic.
One theme repeated at my grandfather's funeral was his faithfulness, particularly his devotion to prayer. My grandfather shared with family members in his last days that he prayed, by name, for each of his four living children, his thirteen living grandchildren, and his 29 living great grandchildren EVERY DAY. Talk about praying without ceasing! For nearly half a century, this man never stopped asking God to care for me. And now that prayer support is gone. I miss it. I sense it's absence. How am I going to survive and thrive without those prayers behind me? I'm ashamed to admit that I am not nearly as faithful to prayer as my grandfather. It's not a consistent, daily habit for me to beg our creator to care for my loved ones. God forgive me. I had a better example than that.
While disasters, disappointments and tragedies have befallen my extended family, just like every other family, I believe that my grandfather's constant prayers provided us a spiritual shield of protection. Certain evils have passed us by unscathed because of these prayers. And that protection is gone unless we remaining family members humble ourselves before the Lord and admit we (and our loved ones) need help.
Christian faith demands action. And one action our holy Scripture, our churches and every devout believer agree is most important is committing ourselves to daily prayer. So, in honor of my grandfather, Lawrence Raass, covenant with me to pray by name for your loved ones every day this week--at least through Sunday morning. Your prayer could be as simple as "God watch over my daughter [Name] today. Protect her from harm and help her to choose what is right." That will take you all of what, 10 seconds? And, who knows, that simple act may provide your loved one some bit of protection or inspiration that he or she needs. So, while I've lost an essential bit of my own personal prayer support, it's time that I shore up being that essential support for others.
Theme change.
Yesterday in Des Moines I had the best lunch I've eaten in months. Besides prayer, I can think of no better sustenance than a warm bowl of soup and a hearty pork sandwich. On a whim, before beginning the journey back to Michigan, we stopped for lunch at Proof restaurant in the old Masonic Temple on 10th St. in downtown Des Moines. It's possible we came to eat the right day because the proprietor was entertaining a group of 20 French chefs who were on a "food tour" of middle America. Regardless of the guests, I believe she prepares food that well every day--and I will be back. Visit Proof next time you're in Des Moines. The lentil/squash soup (which she made with lots of cilantro, cumin and curry) was outstanding, and her Pork Reuben avoided the greasy gooey ingredients I'm used to and instead was made on flat bread with succulent chunks of roasted pork. Yum. That lunch and a good cup of coffee was enough fuel to get me home.
Got to go. Tune in tomorrow.
I'm back at my kitchen table after a whirlwind four days that saw me sleeping in three beds in three cities (Friday in Florida, Saturday in Detroit, Sunday in Des Moines and last night back in my own bed again). Glad to be home.
In Florida I attended the funeral of my 99-year-old grandfather. There I renewed relationships with relatives not seen in years and had some serious "face time" with my mother and two sisters. Emails and telephone calls are fine, but nothing really nurtures a relationship better than face-to-face interaction. I'm glad I showed up. The experience of intense family togetherness was more fulfilling than I had expected, but it was exhausting--and I was ready to leave the gathering early.
So, Saturday evening, I headed for home (the funeral was early Saturday afternoon). I explained to family that my class of seventh grade Sunday school students awaited me in Detroit AND that my daughter, who is a freshman in college, needed a ride back to school. So, I landed in Detroit around midnight Saturday night, got home, went to bed, got up, taught my class, and, by noon was packed up and on the road driving toward Des Moines with my wife and daughter in tow.
After all that activity, I'm ready for some reflection. But, first, I must get over my panic.
One theme repeated at my grandfather's funeral was his faithfulness, particularly his devotion to prayer. My grandfather shared with family members in his last days that he prayed, by name, for each of his four living children, his thirteen living grandchildren, and his 29 living great grandchildren EVERY DAY. Talk about praying without ceasing! For nearly half a century, this man never stopped asking God to care for me. And now that prayer support is gone. I miss it. I sense it's absence. How am I going to survive and thrive without those prayers behind me? I'm ashamed to admit that I am not nearly as faithful to prayer as my grandfather. It's not a consistent, daily habit for me to beg our creator to care for my loved ones. God forgive me. I had a better example than that.
While disasters, disappointments and tragedies have befallen my extended family, just like every other family, I believe that my grandfather's constant prayers provided us a spiritual shield of protection. Certain evils have passed us by unscathed because of these prayers. And that protection is gone unless we remaining family members humble ourselves before the Lord and admit we (and our loved ones) need help.
Christian faith demands action. And one action our holy Scripture, our churches and every devout believer agree is most important is committing ourselves to daily prayer. So, in honor of my grandfather, Lawrence Raass, covenant with me to pray by name for your loved ones every day this week--at least through Sunday morning. Your prayer could be as simple as "God watch over my daughter [Name] today. Protect her from harm and help her to choose what is right." That will take you all of what, 10 seconds? And, who knows, that simple act may provide your loved one some bit of protection or inspiration that he or she needs. So, while I've lost an essential bit of my own personal prayer support, it's time that I shore up being that essential support for others.
Theme change.
Yesterday in Des Moines I had the best lunch I've eaten in months. Besides prayer, I can think of no better sustenance than a warm bowl of soup and a hearty pork sandwich. On a whim, before beginning the journey back to Michigan, we stopped for lunch at Proof restaurant in the old Masonic Temple on 10th St. in downtown Des Moines. It's possible we came to eat the right day because the proprietor was entertaining a group of 20 French chefs who were on a "food tour" of middle America. Regardless of the guests, I believe she prepares food that well every day--and I will be back. Visit Proof next time you're in Des Moines. The lentil/squash soup (which she made with lots of cilantro, cumin and curry) was outstanding, and her Pork Reuben avoided the greasy gooey ingredients I'm used to and instead was made on flat bread with succulent chunks of roasted pork. Yum. That lunch and a good cup of coffee was enough fuel to get me home.
Got to go. Tune in tomorrow.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Models of Maturity
The movie script theme a little too heavy? Didn't hear from anyone about the posting. Let's hope today strikes a chord.
Today I'm thinking about my dearly departed grandfather, Lawrence Raass, who passed away last Friday at the ripe old age of 99. His passing was a terrible disappointment for many of us who looked forward to a 100-year-old birthday celebration planned for this April.
I expect that there will be elements of celebration this Saturday at his funeral--after all, living 99 years is a remarkable achievement. Especially since through most of those years Grandpa remained hale in body with a clear, unforgetting mind, we have a lot to thankful for. I've often said that if I could be healthy mentally and physically, I look forward to my own golden years. Statistically I have a good shot at getting there--pretty old already, no chronic medical conditions, and excellent family health histories.
Actually, as I consider my own models of maturity, there are persons I hope my life more closely resembles than others. Because, although Grandpa lived long, by all reports he was a pretty crochety old man, who was not that pleasant to be around in his later years. In contrast, I continue to be amazed by two other very old men--Ernie Harwell and Daniel Schorr. While I don't know them personally, I do know that being over 90 for them has not meant shuffling to the margins, but for them they continue to lead active, vital lives.
If you who don't know those names, Ernie Harwell is the extraordinary former announcer for Detroit Tigers. Many of us grew up hearing his voice--and we are continually amazed that while he is stricken with cancer, he continues to share his charm, wit and wisdom with appreciative fans. Similarly Dan Schorr remains a keen political observer who, as a 92-year-old commentator with National Public Radio, continues to share his insights with millions of listeners.
It's not the undimmed celebrity of Ernie Harwell and Dan Schorr that impress me, it's their ability to remain relevant, involved and interesting at an impossibly advanced age. I want to be 90 like those guys. What's their secret?
First continued good health requires lifelong good habits. Neither Harwell, Schorr or Grandpa used tobacco, abused alcohol, or led sedentary lives. Take care of the temple and it will take care of you.
Second, this is just a guess, but I do know that both Harwell and Schorr continue to live with long-time spouses. Unlike Grandpa who lost Grandma years ago, these men still enjoy the comfort of a partner. Seems like a key ingredient to health and happiness in your advanced senior years is to age with a partner.
Third, and finally, stay engaged with the world around you. While some seniors retreat to a life of ease, Harwell and Schorr found jobs that they excelled at far beyond typical retirement ages. I don't believe they kept working for the money--it's for the love of their vocation. I suppose a key to happiness in your 90s is to find a job you love and KEEP ON DOING IT!
Just some thoughts. I'll share more when I get back from the funeral this weekend.
Peace out!
Today I'm thinking about my dearly departed grandfather, Lawrence Raass, who passed away last Friday at the ripe old age of 99. His passing was a terrible disappointment for many of us who looked forward to a 100-year-old birthday celebration planned for this April.
I expect that there will be elements of celebration this Saturday at his funeral--after all, living 99 years is a remarkable achievement. Especially since through most of those years Grandpa remained hale in body with a clear, unforgetting mind, we have a lot to thankful for. I've often said that if I could be healthy mentally and physically, I look forward to my own golden years. Statistically I have a good shot at getting there--pretty old already, no chronic medical conditions, and excellent family health histories.
Actually, as I consider my own models of maturity, there are persons I hope my life more closely resembles than others. Because, although Grandpa lived long, by all reports he was a pretty crochety old man, who was not that pleasant to be around in his later years. In contrast, I continue to be amazed by two other very old men--Ernie Harwell and Daniel Schorr. While I don't know them personally, I do know that being over 90 for them has not meant shuffling to the margins, but for them they continue to lead active, vital lives.
If you who don't know those names, Ernie Harwell is the extraordinary former announcer for Detroit Tigers. Many of us grew up hearing his voice--and we are continually amazed that while he is stricken with cancer, he continues to share his charm, wit and wisdom with appreciative fans. Similarly Dan Schorr remains a keen political observer who, as a 92-year-old commentator with National Public Radio, continues to share his insights with millions of listeners.
It's not the undimmed celebrity of Ernie Harwell and Dan Schorr that impress me, it's their ability to remain relevant, involved and interesting at an impossibly advanced age. I want to be 90 like those guys. What's their secret?
First continued good health requires lifelong good habits. Neither Harwell, Schorr or Grandpa used tobacco, abused alcohol, or led sedentary lives. Take care of the temple and it will take care of you.
Second, this is just a guess, but I do know that both Harwell and Schorr continue to live with long-time spouses. Unlike Grandpa who lost Grandma years ago, these men still enjoy the comfort of a partner. Seems like a key ingredient to health and happiness in your advanced senior years is to age with a partner.
Third, and finally, stay engaged with the world around you. While some seniors retreat to a life of ease, Harwell and Schorr found jobs that they excelled at far beyond typical retirement ages. I don't believe they kept working for the money--it's for the love of their vocation. I suppose a key to happiness in your 90s is to find a job you love and KEEP ON DOING IT!
Just some thoughts. I'll share more when I get back from the funeral this weekend.
Peace out!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Your Life as Narrative
Surprise, surprise, surprise--put a link on Facebook and voila, my blog has readers!
Thanks for the nice comments and words of encouragement for yesterday's post.
I've been thinking today about an article I read from the latest Sojourners magazine. (Thank you Jim Wolgemuth for buying me a subscription that never seems to run out!) In the issue, a writer named Dan Miller considered how one's life might appeal to others if it were reduced to a movie script. With my personal love for movies, of course I was intrigued by the exercise.
Miller's point was that our culture tells us that material goods measure a person's success. And, after being bombarded for years with these messages, many of us have come to believe that the big house, the fancy car, the prestigious job--are accomplishments that really mean something important. He wondered, however, whether striving for possessions would make a very interesting movie. How many persons, he mused, would be moved to tears by the story of a person who strived for years to buy a Volvo and then one day saved up enough cash to purchase the car. Hmm, I'm not even waiting for that movie to come out on DVD!
He contrasted the materialistic narrative with what he believed was a far more moving story--a life characterized by sacrifice and service. Stories of personal efforts to help others, he believes, are narratives worth pursuing.
Miller is absolutely right in his analysis that a life of service is far more meaningful (and interesting) than a life obsessed with accumulating possessions. And, I didn't mind that he shared his observations in hopes of encouraging readers to join his youth mentoring program (I hope many sign up). But he's wrong about compelling narrative. * Spoiler alert--more movie references ahead!
Two recent movies--Will Smith's The Pursuit of Happyness and last year's Oscar favorite, Slumdog Millionaire were riveting stories about persons living in crushing poverty who dreamed of material riches. The stories were neither trite nor trivial, but showcased the human spirit. For the heroes in these stories, the narrative did not focus on their lives once they obtained riches, but rather, the incredible obstacles they overcame before they finally grasped the "brass ring." I was moved by these stories.
So back to our own personal narratives. As we consider our lives, is it really a choice between service or riches? For some, maybe. Certainly persons spending long hours chasing wages often lack time and energy for substantive service. And, we all know that the love of money is truly "the root of all evil." At the same time, I can think of countless examples of persons whose personal wealth, power and prestige provided them significant service opportunities. I also know that with wealth comes influence. A biblical proverb observes, "The wisdom of a poor man is often ignored." Not many homeless people get published, have their own TV shows, or even post their own blogs.
So today, as you consider the narrative of your life, if the focus of your story sounds more like a TV commercial than a decent movie, then look to pursue more meaningful goals this year. At the same time, don't beat yourself up if your life story lacks the color, conflict and drama necessary for a moving narrative. For, as Bilbo Baggins observed, "It is no small accomplishment to live a simple life." Those persons who quietly and consistently do good things for their families and their communities in ways that are not showy or spectacular--and who have found how to truly live in peace with themselves and their neightbors, should not feel ashamed that their lives may seem boring to others.
In the end, the narrative of our lives is not fodder for public consumption. Our life stories are personal diaries that only those most intimate with us will fully know and appreciate. We should not care whether or not our life stories would make a good movie script. In fact, who really wants to make life choices based on whether or not what you do will interest others? In the end, consider what God wills, what your spouse thinks, how your choices might impact your children, and then follow the advice of Polonius in Hamlet, "To your own self be true." Follow those guidelines and you may not end up with a best selling book or blockbuster movie, but you may find love, peace and satisfaction.
Thanks for the nice comments and words of encouragement for yesterday's post.
I've been thinking today about an article I read from the latest Sojourners magazine. (Thank you Jim Wolgemuth for buying me a subscription that never seems to run out!) In the issue, a writer named Dan Miller considered how one's life might appeal to others if it were reduced to a movie script. With my personal love for movies, of course I was intrigued by the exercise.
Miller's point was that our culture tells us that material goods measure a person's success. And, after being bombarded for years with these messages, many of us have come to believe that the big house, the fancy car, the prestigious job--are accomplishments that really mean something important. He wondered, however, whether striving for possessions would make a very interesting movie. How many persons, he mused, would be moved to tears by the story of a person who strived for years to buy a Volvo and then one day saved up enough cash to purchase the car. Hmm, I'm not even waiting for that movie to come out on DVD!
He contrasted the materialistic narrative with what he believed was a far more moving story--a life characterized by sacrifice and service. Stories of personal efforts to help others, he believes, are narratives worth pursuing.
Miller is absolutely right in his analysis that a life of service is far more meaningful (and interesting) than a life obsessed with accumulating possessions. And, I didn't mind that he shared his observations in hopes of encouraging readers to join his youth mentoring program (I hope many sign up). But he's wrong about compelling narrative. * Spoiler alert--more movie references ahead!
Two recent movies--Will Smith's The Pursuit of Happyness and last year's Oscar favorite, Slumdog Millionaire were riveting stories about persons living in crushing poverty who dreamed of material riches. The stories were neither trite nor trivial, but showcased the human spirit. For the heroes in these stories, the narrative did not focus on their lives once they obtained riches, but rather, the incredible obstacles they overcame before they finally grasped the "brass ring." I was moved by these stories.
So back to our own personal narratives. As we consider our lives, is it really a choice between service or riches? For some, maybe. Certainly persons spending long hours chasing wages often lack time and energy for substantive service. And, we all know that the love of money is truly "the root of all evil." At the same time, I can think of countless examples of persons whose personal wealth, power and prestige provided them significant service opportunities. I also know that with wealth comes influence. A biblical proverb observes, "The wisdom of a poor man is often ignored." Not many homeless people get published, have their own TV shows, or even post their own blogs.
So today, as you consider the narrative of your life, if the focus of your story sounds more like a TV commercial than a decent movie, then look to pursue more meaningful goals this year. At the same time, don't beat yourself up if your life story lacks the color, conflict and drama necessary for a moving narrative. For, as Bilbo Baggins observed, "It is no small accomplishment to live a simple life." Those persons who quietly and consistently do good things for their families and their communities in ways that are not showy or spectacular--and who have found how to truly live in peace with themselves and their neightbors, should not feel ashamed that their lives may seem boring to others.
In the end, the narrative of our lives is not fodder for public consumption. Our life stories are personal diaries that only those most intimate with us will fully know and appreciate. We should not care whether or not our life stories would make a good movie script. In fact, who really wants to make life choices based on whether or not what you do will interest others? In the end, consider what God wills, what your spouse thinks, how your choices might impact your children, and then follow the advice of Polonius in Hamlet, "To your own self be true." Follow those guidelines and you may not end up with a best selling book or blockbuster movie, but you may find love, peace and satisfaction.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
De ja vu All Over Again
The dreaded "in-between" times. You know what I mean. Those moments, days, seasons when you've just finished something big--and you know something else is coming--but you're not there . . . yet.
Early January is always an "in between time" when the frenetic holiday season gives way to the long cold nights of January. In the Midwest we spend time bundling, shoveling, trying to keep warm and dreaming of seasons to come.
Personally, I feel my entire family is living in an in-between moment. From me trying to determine my next career move, to my wife waiting for her beloved aunt to pass, to all my children (and no, I'm not going to dish on them, yet).
In basketball, the teams that play well in transition--those moments after a lose ball or misdirected pass, when neither the offense nor the defense has had time to set up properly--often determine a game's outcome. Those teams and players who in transition can sink a basket AND when they've slowed down the pace, can play with order and discipline, often win championships.
Remember in times of transition, the game is still going. You may not be focused on one particular play or project, but make no mistake, keep your head in the game. Many people perform well in times of pressure or crisis, but how many keep charging even in early January--when it's cold outside and you'd really rather just sit by the fireplace and read a book.
The funny thing is I remember being here before. In 1983 I found myself in January sitting in my attic apartment in Des Moines, Iowa, wondering what I was doing. After an emotionally wrenching seven month journey that took me from Des Moines to New York, to Tel Aviv, to Cairo back to New York, and, then, to Des Moines again, the snow-covered cornfields really lost their lustre after seeing the pyramids. But, yet, I needed to pull it together, graduate from college, and pick a career. And, I felt like I was all alone--no friends, family or trusted counselors. That was a grim period in my life.
Fast forward eighteen years to January 2001. After surviving the grueling grind of law school, I sat in my kitchen wondering how I was going to provide for my wife and four children with no job and a pile of debt. While pondering those mysteries, I watched chunks of plaster fall from my ceiling as a leaky second-floor shower continued to do damage. What was I going to do? I don't look back to those days with fondness.
As another jobless January roles around in my life, I feel strangely serene in 2010. My children are older--only one, a very competent and accomplished 13-year-old really needs me, but not in the same way as the helpless 4-year-old did nine years ago. My ceiling isn't leaking (knock plaster) and my wife amazingly hasn't grown tired of me.
At 48 years old, the thought of re-inventing myself yet again, selling myself and my services yet again to new masters, is not something I'm longing to do. It's not even something I must do. At least, not yet. Thank the Lord that this time at least I have some role models.
This winter I've become a passionate fan of the TBS show Men of a Certain Age. I can't remember ever seeing on television a show that vividly portrayed the lives of men like me. Of course, how much better my transition would be if Andre Braugher and Ray Romano and Scott Bakula were my best friends. However, these are men living in "between times". Neither young or old, not settled or fully content with their lives, these men live lives eerily similar to my own. I'm taking note. And, in the words of one of my favorite bands Guster, "Based on the real events from movie screeens, I am a one-man wrecking machine."
Confused? Yeah, me too. But, this script is still being written and I haven't figured out where the plot is leading. I'll let you know as the new gameplan comes together.
Thanks for reading. Of course--it's just me for now.
Early January is always an "in between time" when the frenetic holiday season gives way to the long cold nights of January. In the Midwest we spend time bundling, shoveling, trying to keep warm and dreaming of seasons to come.
Personally, I feel my entire family is living in an in-between moment. From me trying to determine my next career move, to my wife waiting for her beloved aunt to pass, to all my children (and no, I'm not going to dish on them, yet).
In basketball, the teams that play well in transition--those moments after a lose ball or misdirected pass, when neither the offense nor the defense has had time to set up properly--often determine a game's outcome. Those teams and players who in transition can sink a basket AND when they've slowed down the pace, can play with order and discipline, often win championships.
Remember in times of transition, the game is still going. You may not be focused on one particular play or project, but make no mistake, keep your head in the game. Many people perform well in times of pressure or crisis, but how many keep charging even in early January--when it's cold outside and you'd really rather just sit by the fireplace and read a book.
The funny thing is I remember being here before. In 1983 I found myself in January sitting in my attic apartment in Des Moines, Iowa, wondering what I was doing. After an emotionally wrenching seven month journey that took me from Des Moines to New York, to Tel Aviv, to Cairo back to New York, and, then, to Des Moines again, the snow-covered cornfields really lost their lustre after seeing the pyramids. But, yet, I needed to pull it together, graduate from college, and pick a career. And, I felt like I was all alone--no friends, family or trusted counselors. That was a grim period in my life.
Fast forward eighteen years to January 2001. After surviving the grueling grind of law school, I sat in my kitchen wondering how I was going to provide for my wife and four children with no job and a pile of debt. While pondering those mysteries, I watched chunks of plaster fall from my ceiling as a leaky second-floor shower continued to do damage. What was I going to do? I don't look back to those days with fondness.
As another jobless January roles around in my life, I feel strangely serene in 2010. My children are older--only one, a very competent and accomplished 13-year-old really needs me, but not in the same way as the helpless 4-year-old did nine years ago. My ceiling isn't leaking (knock plaster) and my wife amazingly hasn't grown tired of me.
At 48 years old, the thought of re-inventing myself yet again, selling myself and my services yet again to new masters, is not something I'm longing to do. It's not even something I must do. At least, not yet. Thank the Lord that this time at least I have some role models.
This winter I've become a passionate fan of the TBS show Men of a Certain Age. I can't remember ever seeing on television a show that vividly portrayed the lives of men like me. Of course, how much better my transition would be if Andre Braugher and Ray Romano and Scott Bakula were my best friends. However, these are men living in "between times". Neither young or old, not settled or fully content with their lives, these men live lives eerily similar to my own. I'm taking note. And, in the words of one of my favorite bands Guster, "Based on the real events from movie screeens, I am a one-man wrecking machine."
Confused? Yeah, me too. But, this script is still being written and I haven't figured out where the plot is leading. I'll let you know as the new gameplan comes together.
Thanks for reading. Of course--it's just me for now.
Monday, January 11, 2010
First Post
Good Evening Friends.
Are you looking for answers? Answers to questions about religion, the law, relationships, history, geography, pets and popular culture? OK perhaps I'm casting too wide a net here, but the discussion starts today.
Where the conversation goes depends on readers. Right now since I'm the only reader of Rev. Kev. Reveals the Universe, all questions and themes come from me. However, as soon as the conversation broadens I will loosen the reins and let you, my readers, determine this blog's content.
Let's get started. But, for now, good night.
Are you looking for answers? Answers to questions about religion, the law, relationships, history, geography, pets and popular culture? OK perhaps I'm casting too wide a net here, but the discussion starts today.
Where the conversation goes depends on readers. Right now since I'm the only reader of Rev. Kev. Reveals the Universe, all questions and themes come from me. However, as soon as the conversation broadens I will loosen the reins and let you, my readers, determine this blog's content.
Let's get started. But, for now, good night.
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