From The Rooftops

Recently I wrote a review of More Human Than Otherwise: Living & Leading With Humility by my dear friend and most trusted colleague, David Berry.

David’s book is for anyone in leadership, considering leadership, or wondering about leadership. It is a book to give as a gift to someone you know who is seeking to be the kind of leader others would willingly follow. If you are looking for a meaningful graduation present for someone about to step onto the leadership trail, look no further. While you are at it, get a copy for yourself and dive in. After all, you are more human than otherwise too.

After posting the review on Goodreads I noticed a tiny box that could be checked to post my review on a blog, and checked it immediately. Why didn’t I think of that, I wondered, as it’s kind of a no brainer to share good news with as many people as we can, whenever and wherever we find it. In fact, given the state of the world, we should be shouting any and all good news from our rooftops to the world within our reach.

Well, this is me, shouting from my small but mighty rooftop.

David Berry asks us to consider what it takes to become a leader others would willingly follow. It is at once a question and an invitation. It is the question anyone desiring to lead well must not only continually answer but live into every day. Beyond that, it is an invitation to transformation, which is the journey of any leader worth her salt. Because transformation is what happens when we are willing to learn from and be changed by our experiences. All of them, and perhaps most especially, the difficult, painful, and humbling experiences that help us gain more clarity on who we are and how we are showing up in the world as a human being leading other human beings.

One of the many things I appreciate about this book is how David created a safe space for the reader’s own courageous thinking. He does this by modeling a critical element at the heart of leadership. What it looks like to go first. To be the kind of leader that says, “It’s ok. I’ll go first. I’ll show you ‘mine’ (the good, the bad and the ugly) so that maybe you will be willing to show me ‘yours’. He does this by sharing his own experiences, what he learned, and what has changed in him as a result.

It quickly becomes clear that David takes seriously his call to help equip and support the next generation of leaders. Leaders who will be courageous enough to become evermore self-aware. In multiple ways this book reminds us that telling ourselves the truth about who we are is foundational to being a leader others would willingly follow. To do that we need the help of others. Cultivating the practice of seeking feedback on a regular basis, learning in community, and engaging a therapist are but a few of the ways suggested in these pages.

I highly recommend this book for anyone in leadership, aspiring to leadership, of wondering if leadership is for them. To that last point, leadership isn’t confined just to those with the title. To be more human than otherwise is to answer the call to love, help, and heal the world within our reach, which sounds a lot like leadership to me.

Waiting Is Hard Work

I’m not much of a rafter. In fact, if I never raft again that would be ok with me.

The few times that I have put on my life jacked, climbed into a raft, and headed down a river, one of the most interesting parts of the experience is when preparing to run another set of rapids. An experienced rafter holds the raft back, paddling and maneuvering against the current to get the boat into the best position to successfully navigate the water ahead. The challenge comes from the constant pull of the current trying to carry the raft forward.

It is a waiting game that takes patience, skill, and hard work. The payoff is that when the time comes to head back into the rapids, those in the raft are ready for the ride.

We are in the waiting game of our lives right now.

The pandemic, which feels like it might never end, is only heating up as the temperatures outside go down. As much as we all long to gather around tables again with friends and families, worship together in our houses of worship, cheer for our favorite teams in packed stadiums, send our children back to school free and unencumbered, frequent our favorite bars and restaurants, join together to honor and celebrate important events, and hug with abandon, we must wait.

The final results of a contentious election, while clear to the many, are being muddied and held up by the few. As much as we’d like to put this all behind us and get on with the hard work of building a country that works for all of us, we must wait.

The economy is at a standstill while our need to support ourselves and our families marches on. As much as we would like for everyone to return to work and get back to business, we must wait.

Waiting can feel like we are doing nothing.

Don’t fall for that notion.

Waiting is not meant to be passive.

Waiting is active, and it takes patience, skill, and hard work.

Like preparing to run the rapids, now is the time to maneuver against the current in order to put ourselves in the best position to navigate the waters ahead. Rapids we’ve never encountered before await us, and now is the time to ready ourselves for the ride.

Learn what can only be learned during this time of waiting.

Discover what can only be discovered during this time of waiting.

Develop the skills that can only be developed during this time of waiting.

When tempted to let go and get back into the flow of life again, let’s hold fast. Let’s do the hard work of waiting. The payoff is that when the time comes to head back into the rapids, we will be ready for the ride.

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A Molten Moment

Nobody is going to make this easy for us once on the other side of this life-altering time when things will supposedly return to normal. Except they won’t, or at least they don’t have to. Not if normal means how things were before, not the possibility of what they can be in the future

Living under conditions that separate us from one another, we remember that we are all connected, and that our individual survival is hardwired with that of the collective.

As the price of oil plummets, we can almost hear the sound of Earth catching her breath. The absence of noise reminds us to listen the deep quiet beneath it all.

Living as we are, under our own microscopes, everything about us is magnified. On any given day, the best of us might make her presence know, or be completely overshadowed by the worst, Most days it is a dance between the two, and the invitation at our feet is to learn to let the better angels of our nature take the lead.

We are discovering just how little we really need, and how much we don’t.

We are remembering what it means to be neighbors again. As we care for one another the world becomes a safer place, and while tribalism might have kept us alive in the past, it will do nothing but insure our demise in the future.

The powers that be are going to work mightily to persuade us to forget the hard-earned wisdom that we belong to one another and are indeed one another’s keepers including the care for this fragile planet we all call home.

This is a molten moment.

We have the chance to be changed for the greater good, and our calling is to remember what we are learning in the here and now once we step back out into our shared world of the there and then.

No matter what anyone tells us, and I mean anyone, things will not return to normal. At least that is my deepest hope and my most fervent prayer.

Photo: USGS

Photo: USGS




Road Trip

A good friend who is no longer with us was fond of saying that when God wants to teach us something, He takes us on a trip. I love that idea. Kind of like She is riding “shotgun” next to us, and of all the possible trips we can take, the most insightful, instructive, and inspiring, a road trip wins out, hands down. Extra points for other people in the car.

A road trip requires us to pack for the trip to the best of our ability, and yet it teaches us that we can never be prepared for every contingency, and if we try, we will be burdened with too much stuff, and miss the opportunity to get creative, wing it, and work with what we’ve got.

A road trip taken with others gives us the chance to connect in new ways, hold new kinds of conversations, and, find new ways in which we drive each other crazy. Enclosed in the same vehicle, headed in the same direction, we might just discover new ways of being on the same page.

A road trip lets us get up close and personal with anything that grabs our interest along the way. If we build in enough time to allow for a few side trips, detours, and unexpected surprises, we return home more informed, inspired, and possibly inclined to learn more about something we encountered along our way.

A road trip always has a snafu, big or small. A flat tire, road work delays, the campground that is full, the trail that is closed for the season, or the unexpected snowstorm with our chains still in the box…back in our garage. It is the snafus that make the story interesting and worth telling again, and again, and again in the years ahead.

A road trip brings out the best in us, and, the worst in us, and when those two collide, well, that’s why God took us on the trip in the first place. Stuck in a car, with miles to go, we have a chance to bring out more of the best in us, and leave behind more of the worst in us.

Roadtrip!

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Growing Pains

  On August 20th I posted about working my way through an injury. As the work continues, I continue to  learn about the importance of listening to our pain. 

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 “Your wound is probably not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.”

~ Denise Frohman Poet, Writer, Performer

I’ve never lived with chronic physical pain before, and I have a newfound empathy and compassion for those who do. Up until this past year, any aches and pains that I have had have been fleeting. This particular pain however has settled in and made itself comfortable.

It was the pain that first alerted me that all was not well when everyday things like walking, sitting, standing, and sleeping that hadn’t been painful to do before, now were. With the good help of my healthcare team we identified the source of the pain, charted my healing course, and paved a road to recovery. 

My marching orders are to continue to walk with the pain rather than push through it, and listen to the pain rather than silence it with painkillers. This means that I continue to do a little more each day, taking pains to keep the pain at or below its current level. Push through it, and I risk losing my hard won progress. Silence it with narcotics, and I’m in danger of missing the protective signals that pain faithfully sends my way. 

Mine is a marathon, not a sprint. Steady steps result in steady progress, and it is the pain that continues to blaze my trail.

Six months ago I couldn’t walk down our half-mile road much less up a steep hill. Today, I can walk eight miles in a day, and hike up increasingly steep trails. As I stay the course, my healing continues and my strength grows. While not yet free of her, pain has proven to be a faithful companion, and when her work is done, I have faith that she will move on.

When it comes to pain, what is true for my body has proven true for my soul. 

When emotional pain settles in and makes itself comfortable, I am learning to see it as an invitation to step onto another kind of road to recovery. Sometimes it has taken the good help of a professional to help me chart my healing course. My inner-pain asks me to walk with it, not push through it, and invites me to listen to it, not silence it with one of my many chosen painkillers. 

The path to wholeness is a marathon, not a sprint, and steady steps result in steady progress. 

As I stay the course, my inner healing continues and I grow more whole. Pain has proven herself to be a faithful companion, and when her work is done, I have faith that she will move on. 

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Heads AND Tails

 “Always remember, your focus determines your reality.” ~ George Lucas

Yesterday we headed out to Zugspitze, the highest mountain in Germany. From the top we would be able to see mountains in four countries: Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. The day got off to a rocky start, as Tom was laser focused on the details of getting us from here to there, while I was all about the experience between here and there. He wanted to make sure we got where we were going. I wanted to make sure we got the most out of getting there. 

That happens to us a lot. 

The best example of that yesterday happened smack dab in the middle of the Munich Hauptbanhof (train station). Purchasing our tickets was a lot like standing in line at the DMV. We arrived, took a number, and waited. While we waited, I studied the people. Tom studied the map.

That happens to us a lot. 

Finally, tickets in hand, with about 12 minutes to spare, we headed for track number 29. Tom dashed ahead, laser focused on getting us from here to there, I was a few steps behind, taking in what was going on between here and there. Just in time, I grabbed him by the shirttails. “Look at that!” I said, pointing straight in front of me.  “Look at what?” Tom said, staring blankly toward where my arm was pointing. “That! Right there!” I said. “What?! Where?!” he said. “That!” I said. “Oh!”, he said.

That happens to us a lot. “

One more step and he would have walked right into the middle of a marriage proposal. Literally. A determined looking young man, down on one knee, ring box in hand, looking hopefully at a delighted looking young woman, hand over her mouth, in tears. Sometimes love looks the same in any language.  

Tom would have missed it if I hadn’t stopped him. We would have missed our train if he hadn’t stopped to figure out where we were going.

That happens to us a lot  

We are two sides of the same coin. 

Heads? We make it from here to there.

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Tails? We make the most out of getting there.

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It takes both sides of the coin to cash in on life.