Recovering Control Freak - Let Go???

I’m a recovering control freak.  My mom taught me to be a very responsible person.  Unfortunately, she taught me I was responsible for everyone else, but myself.  Learning to be responsible for myself has been challenging.

When you are responsible for everyone else, you put their happiness above your own.   That almost sounds noble, but it’s not. It means you deny who God has made you to be.  It means you don’t use your gifts and talents.   It means you are not a happy person, at least not most of the time.

When I was about 26, this started weighing on me.  By then, I was a wife and a mother of 2 wonderful children, worked fulltime, and we had moved into our first home.  I was miserable most of the time.  The short version is that I had an epiphany one day sitting in a neighborhood Girl Scout leaders meeting. I really felt like the Holy Spirit whispered in my ear.  I began to realize as much as I wanted the best for my children, God wanted the best for me, too.  If God really wanted the best for me, why was I so miserable most of the time?

Fast forward a few years, I had started practicing being responsible for myself and trusting that others really knew how to be responsible for themselves.  The people who had allowed me to be responsible for them didn’t like it so much.  They really didn’t want to be responsible for themselves.  It was a very difficult time in my life.  Not all of my relationships survived this transition.  That was painful. BUT I was becoming a healthy person both mentally, physically, psychologically, and emotionally.

Ahh, but that was only the beginning of the healing God was working in me.

The residual effect of all those years of being responsible for others had caused me to lock away my hopes and dreams.  Until, my youngest daughter went  off to college, I had not allowed myself to think about what it was I wanted to do.  But then, both my parents were diagnosed with terminal cancers and I was the primary caregiver – actually, the advocate for them.

My father died in eight very short weeks, but my mom lived for another 3 ½ years.  With caring for my mother, I really could not continue my career as a pension administrator and working 60 hour weeks plus mom’s care.  BUT I had to work.  We needed my income and my health insurance.

I went to work at my church.  Low stress, shorter hours, and health insurance.   Little did I know that I would be there 5 years.  A position opened in the church bookstore for a new manager.  And God let me see that I really wanted that job. Even though I had no retail experience, I loved books and sharing them with others.  Reading books had saved my life as a child and helped me through a divorce and more.  At first, I wouldn’t even consider the thought.  Somewhere inside of me, I didn’t believe I deserved to have what I wanted.  Or more than that, I was afraid to want anything.  I had this idea that wanting something doomed me to not having it or losing it.  But others started asking me if I might be interested in the position.  I just couldn’t bring myself to feel how much I wanted to manage the bookstore.  As more people came to me, I began to think I might actually have a chance of getting this position.  And then, I let myself feel how much I wanted the job.  I mean I really wanted the job and I thought God was going to give it to me.  By this time, my mom was in an assisted living care facility.  It was near the church and I was able to stop by going and coming to see how she was.  There was space enough for me to actually have this thing I wanted. I applied. Went through the interviews, answered all the questions, took all the tests.  And Sharon in human resources told me she thought I would be perfect for it.  And , she gave the job to someone else.

I was devastated.  I had waited almost 25 years to finally allow myself to speak out that I wanted something, it seemed within my grasp, and it was taken away.  I was angry, sad, disappointed, frustrated, and mad at God for letting me want it when he knew I wasn’t going to get it.  I told him that was it!  I was never going to want anything again like that. It was just that the bookstore seemed like the perfect place for me, like it was designed for me.  How could I not have gotten the job?

My anger and disappointment lasted about 2 months.  I was tired of being miserable.  And so, we talked.  “You know God, I really do believe you want the best for me. AND if I really believe that then I also have to believe there is a reason that is beyond my ability to see that you didn’t allow me have this job. AND I realized I was grateful for the experience of dreaming again.  I had so forgotten how to dream.  It was a good feeling to dream and plan for something that I wanted.  I am letting go.  I am waiting to see what “you” have in store for me and what I am to learn from this or why you wanted that other person in the role.  In the meantime, I will be content with where I am.”

Almost exactly, twelve months later, my associate pastor came to me and asked if he could talk to me. Because of changes they were making, the bookstore was going to need a new manager.  He had heard that I had been interested in the position the year before and wondered if I was still interested.  I told him I was surprised they were making a change, and I would need to get back to him. 

That night I struggled with the question, did I even want the job anymore?  I wasn’t sure.  Was this where God wanted me now?  Again, I wasn’t sure, but I did know that my position was being eliminated and if I didn’t take this job, I would need to go job hunting.  And yet, I still wasn’t sure.  I knew I could not continue working that the church in a support role.  Coming from the corporate world, I had been used to having my own work to do.  Working at the church had forced me regress to the kind of work I had done when I was young.  I was working below my capabilities and capacity.  It was time for me to move on or into a role of responsibility.  Running the bookstore would give me the kind autonomy and responsibility I was used to having. 

Still, I was not sure.  Knowing that they were terminating the bookstore manager immediately, I agreed to give it a 90 days trial.  This would allow us both to try it on for size.  With no retail experience, could I really turn the bookstore around?   At the end of 90 days, I knew.  This was the place for me.  At the end of that year, working with my team the bookstore increased sales by 50% and had its first profitable year in the 15 year history of the bookstore. We had a lot of fun together.  Served and ministered to everyone who walked through our doors.  It was a very powerful time for me and the team I worked with.  It became my ministry.

I am grateful that I had those twelve months to let go and let God.  If I had been in the bookstore when I wanted, I would not have worked with the Empower ministry – Mark, Kande, Matt, Nancy, and Jim.  Working with that team shifted something for me and helped equip and prepare me to run the bookstore.  It also gave me time to build a long term friendship.  

Letting go of my fear, my anger, disappointment and letting God be in control was huge lesson.  It increased my capacity to trust God in all things - to know that even when bad things and disappointment happen, He is standing with me.

Mother's Day - We are standing until everyone has a seat

Five years ago, I began standing with others on Mother’s Day.

The origin of Mother’s Day in the United States was not about brunch, cards, or flowers.  Those things are nice, but not what the day is really about. We have forgotten and need to reclaim that memory and intention.

In the 1800s, two women left their mark on the beginnings of Mother’s Day, Julia Ward Howe and Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis. These women were interested in creating engaged citizens – activists. In their day, the issues were improved health, sanitation, working conditions, and ending violence.  I can only guess that they chose to use Mother’s Day because they were mothers and were dismayed to think of their children suffering in this world they brought them into or harming another woman’s child.  I think fathers feel the same way.

While health, sanitation, and working conditions have improved in much of the world; violence has not. AND there are still children without clean drinking water, adequate food, access to education, or safety from violence.

It grieves my heart to think of the children that are suffering when there is so much abundance in this world.

The world tells us there isn’t enough of everything to invite everyone to the table, things are scarce and we need to get ours, take care of our own.  The world has grown too small for us to continue to hold on to this way of thinking and feeling. Scarcity thinking creates fear.  When we make our decisions based on fear instead of love, it is likely we will harm others. There is plenty of evidence in the world to support this theory.

This Mother’s Day, we invite you and your loved ones to stand for Love - to take back this day and help move the world with your love for one another and this beautiful blue orb we live on - to make room at the table for everyone.

Please stop waiting for our governments to do what we as citizens of the world can do for ourselves. This is not a game of musical chairs where only one person is the winner and has a seat at the table.  [It would be very lonely to be the only person at the table.]  Everyone deserves to be at the table. Come stand with me to help bring more chairs to the table for everyone to have a seat.

I am standing on Mother’s Day, May 8 at 1pm at Hyde Park Square’s fountain and ringing my bell and holding the world in love. Come join me where ever you are and know we are standing together.

Building Community - One Act of Kindness

A few weeks ago, as I drove through an intersection (I was the 4th car back and had arrived just as the light turned green) - the cars in front of me were swerving to the left to go around a stack of lumber that was in the middle of the intersection.  As my brain slowly processed what I was watching, I saw a man get out of a pick-up truck and walk toward the lumber.  He started sliding the lumber out of the intersection and closer to his truck.

I continued through the intersection and pulled into the parking space in front of Panera's.  I was heading there for a quick breakfast.  My brain continued to process what I had just seen.  Oh, if we all stopped and helped the man, we could clear the intersection quickly and have him on his way in no time. The whole many hands make light work kind of thing.  BUT, my brain reminded me no one around the man's truck was helping him. Ugh!

Then, I locked up my purse in my trunk and walked the short distance of about half of a football length to the intersection.  As I was approaching his truck, to my left, I saw a man had parked his car in an empty lot next to the 6 lane road and was also headed to the man's truck.  We arrived at about the same time.  Together, he and I grabbed two long boards and carried it to the back of the truck to be loaded.

For a brief moment, I thought - oh yeah. Now others will get out of their cars and help too.  BUT no.  I was wrong.  In short order, the lumber was loaded.  With a thank you I appreciate your help, he was on his way.

Who have you driven/walked past that you could have paused and helped?  Really, it is okay to get our of your car, step across the street - to help each other.

Creating a New Way of Being in the World - one act at a time

A few weeks ago, as I drove through an intersection (I was the 4th car back and had arrived just as the light turned green) - the cars in front of me were swerving to the left to go around a stack of lumber that was in the middle of the intersection.  As my brain slowly processed what I was watching, I saw a man get out of a pick-up truck and walk toward the lumber.  He started sliding the lumber out of the intersection and closer to his truck.

I continued through the intersection and pulled into the parking space in front of Panera's.  I was heading there for a quick breakfast.  My brain continued to process what I had just seen.  Oh, if we all stopped and helped the man, we could clear the intersection quickly and have him on his way in no time. The whole many hands make light work kind of thing.  BUT, my brain reminded me no one around the man's truck was helping him. Ugh!

Then, I locked up my purse in my trunk and walked the short distance of about half of a football length to the intersection.  As I was approaching his truck, to my left, I saw a man had parked his car in an empty lot next to the 6 lane road and was also headed to the man's truck.  We arrived at about the same time.  Together, he and I grabbed two long boards and carried it to the back of the truck to be loaded.

For a brief moment, I thought - oh yeah. Now others will get out of their cars and help too.  BUT no.  I was wrong.  In short order, the lumber was loaded.  With a thank you I appreciate your help, he was on his way.

Who have you driven/walked past that you could have paused and helped?  Really, it is okay to get our of your car, step across the street - to help each other.

 

Grief - February 3, 2001

Something prompted me look at this email again and to post it on my blog.  I wondered why.  Then I remembered. It is getting close to the date that my mother died - only eight days before her 75th birthday.  

A few weeks ago, a friend asked me if I had any words to give her to help comfort a friend. Here is what I told her.

"I have been sitting with your invitation to help you with words to comfort a friend.  I am honored by it. I hope that what you say is true - that my words sometimes help to comfort or advise another. 

This woman has played a significant role in your life in making the connection for you and your husband.

For this woman who is about to lose a 4th husband to death, I find it overwhelming to even think about living through the grief of losing three husbands. I suspect she holds more wisdom in her on this subject than you and I will ever have - or at least I hope neither of us ever learns.

I suspect she knows all that I am about to say and more - and so my words are more for you than her.

The one thing I am learning about death and loss (I do not want to act like I have "learned" it, yet.) - is that each of us finds our own way through these things if we are given the space.  I have found knowing  someone is "standing" with you means more than words could ever say. 

I’ve learned that grief comes in waves and in the beginning the waves are so big and violent it feels like they are going to rip you apart and carry you away...and it gets better.  The waves get smaller and farther apart...and never totally go away.  Hearing a train whistle still takes me to the joy I experienced with my father and the sadness that I feel that he is not on this planet anymore.  It becomes bittersweet.

As I have lived through the grief in my life and observed others doing the same, it seems the capacity  for gratitude and being present in the moment - letting go of the what ifs, if onlys, and what might have beens, helps tremendously.

Gratitude for my spiritual life, belief that I am part of something bigger than myself, the beauty and elegance of a sunrise, this planet - these pleasures and more help carry me through these times.  Knowing I have a friend who will stand with me - not fixing, saving, rescuing, or giving me advice - but standing with me means a lot.

I envy other cultures that have a process of grief - and the community respects it.  Too often, in our culture, I hear people speak out of their discomfort with your grief and their own. They try to "move" you along by saying things like, “he's gone, get over it.”

Saying to another, I am here.  I am prepared to listen and not speak.  I am prepared to sit with my own discomfort to create a vessel of safety for you to be.

I hope there is something in all that I have offered as a gift. Take what you need and leave the rest. Peace.

Chainsaws and Prayers

It was spring.  Lots of spring cleaning kinds of things to do in that kind of weather. I’d made my list of supplies to pick up and was almost ready to leave to run my errands when I looked out the kitchen window.  There in the back yard, my husband, Eric was trimming and cutting away at the fast growing honeysuckle and the bushes and shrubs that were turning into trees.  As he was working with the chainsaw, I had this vision flash into my head.  It was like I had glimpsed into the future.

In this future, only a few hours ahead in time, I was gone and Eric was working at the back of our lot.  As he was working with the chainsaw to trim back this overgrown shrub, one hand slipped off the chainsaw. The chainsaw came crashing down on his left leg, just at the knee and cut deeply into his knee.  He lay there unable to drag himself to the house to call for help.  It was a work day and our neighbors were not home.  There was no one to hear his calls as he slowly bled out. A few hours later, I return home to find my husband dead in the back yard.

This flash all occurred in a split second. It was like being teleported into the future and back.

Oh my, God! What do I do with this?  I stood there staring out the window watching him work.  Knowing if I asked him to stop working until I got back from my errands, he’d think I was nuts.  And then this other knowing came over me, I cannot live my life in fear of what “might be”.  If I live in fear, how will I ever go off and run my errands, now or in the future?  My power to control things is very limited.  I realized that I did have the power to pray.  I chose to believe that evil had planted that fearful thought into my mind at that moment.  I began to pray and rebuke that thought in the name of Jesus, to replace that thought with God’s promises and love.  I prayed that the Holy Spirit would stand guard over my husband and acknowledged she was far better at that than me. I gave my husband’s care over to God. Surrender.  And as, I neared the end of my praying, I was filled with peace. Off I went to run my errands.

A few hours later, I returned home from my errands to find my husband watching sports on tv.  He was bathed and dressed after his afternoon of yard work. He had accomplished a lot of much needed work on the yard.  As I sat next to him on the couch, I noticed a band-aid on his knee.  What’s that band-aid for?  His face flushed with embarrassment.  What an odd reaction, I thought.  It was only a small band-aid.  Then he told me this story.  He said, after I left, he continued working in the yard.  He only had one more tree to trim – one more branch to finish the job.  As he used the chainsaw on this branch, another branch got in the way. When that happened, he didn’t skip a beat – he lifted his left hand off the chainsaw to push the invading branch out of the way and realized that was the wrong thing to do – too late. The weight of chainsaw (still running) caused his right hand to slip and the chainsaw blade came down upon his left knee.  And then, mysteriously, it stopped running.  The blade nicked him, but the chainsaw stopped running.

He was embarrassed that he had made such a mistake of not using two hands to hold the chainsaw AND shocked to explain why it stopped running.  He realized that it could have been a very serious cut – maybe cut his leg off.

I immediately told him how thankful I was that he was okay and that miraculously the chainsaw turned itself off.  Then, I said, I have a story to tell you about just how miraculous I thought your story was.

 

Guardian Angels – An Answer to a Grandmother’s Prayer

I’ve been in the habit of praying for my children, husband, and extended family for a long time.  It isn’t a long prayer – simple really.  God – please watch over my husband, my children and son-in-law, grandchildren, parents, and my sister and her family keep them safe today.  Send your armies of angels to surround them and protect them and keep them safe and from causing harm to others. I am choosing to trust that whatever happens to them, your angels will be there with them. Simple and to the point.  It was how I would start my days and release my loved ones into God’s care.  A way for me to acknowledge that I really have no control over how they chose to live their lives and a recognition that God is always with us.

This story is about my oldest daughter Tina and her daughter, Samantha.  Today, Samantha is 19 years old on Nov. 12.

In 1993, my daughter, Tina and my granddaughter, Sammi were living in a 2 family house not far from us.  Sammi was not yet two years old.  They lived on the first floor and the basement of the house.  Their bedrooms were in the finished basement.  it was late autumn and the nights were turning cold.  Tina had had two weeks of worsening sinus headaches as the weather had changed from summer to autumn.  It had been cold enough that the furnace had started coming on when needed.

It was about 9:30pm and Tina was sitting on her back porch – just outside the kitchen door, talking with a friend.  Sammi had been in bed since about 8pm.  She was such a good kid.  After a read her a story and helped her with prayers, she would lay down and go to sleep for the night.

That night, after being asleep for more than an hour, Sammi woke up screaming.  Tina raced down the basement steps wondering what could have scared the child so.  As Tina, got to Sammi’s crib, Tina realized she (Tina) was having trouble breathing. She grabbed Sammi and barely made it up the basement steps and out the back door without falling. She could feel herself struggling to stay conscious. Once outside, Sammi was crying and Tina was trying to breathe.  Tina realized it must be carbon dioxide in the basement.  Maybe the sinus headache was not a sinus headache.

The gas company sent someone out very quickly.  The CG&E technician went into the basement (with appropriate breathing gear) measured the level of CO2 at  over 1500 ppm and turned off the gas to the house.  He advised Tina anything over 50 ppm was considered dangerous.  He didn’t know how the child had awakened from that.  He later discovered that a bird had built a nest in the flue, preventing the CO2 from properly dispersing. Carbon dioxide puts people to sleep.  You don’t normally wake up.  How did Sammi wake up and have no negative consequences?  I think the angels woke her.  What do you think?

Standards or Guidelines

The OSHA standard for workers is no more than 50 ppm for 1 hour of exposure. NIOSH recommends no more than 35 ppm for 1 hour. The U.S. National Ambient Air Quality Standards for CO (established in 1985) are 9 ppm for 8 hours and 35 ppm for 1 hour. The Consumer Product Safety Commission recommends levels not to exceed 15 ppm for 1 hour or 25 ppm for 8 hours.

What is Your Vulnerability Capacity?

A week ago, I watched a TEDxHouston video with a talk by Dr. Brené Brown.  Since then, I have watched every YouTube video with her in it, I can find.  I’ve read her website and blog.  Yesterday, her two books, “I Thought It Was Just Me” and “The Gifts of Imperfection” arrived.  Of course, I am trying to read them both at once.  What she has to say about the power of vulnerability so resonates for me.  I feel like she has provided the scientific research to support what I have felt intuitively and experienced in my own life.

I want to shout it to the rooftops for all to hear.  Embracing and modeling vulnerability could be the thing to set you free. Yes, it is a little freaky.

Brené (notice how I already call her by her first name, like we are pals) – is a storyteller researcher from the University of Houston.  She studies “shame and empathy”.  In her research she discovered that our level of fear and empathy has a direct correlation to the level/depth of connections with others.  Life is about connections. Human beings are wired for connection with each other. 

Okay – I still need to read her books – so watch the video and discover for yourself the potential being vulnerable with others has in increasing the depth of your connections/capacity for empathy for each other.

You can’t just say, I’m not going to be afraid anymore. Nor can you say, I’m going to have more empathy for others.  What gets you there is your willingness to be vulnerable and share your weaknesses – and have compassion for others weaknesses and brokenness. 

It is not easy – and it is a process – and you can do it.  If we are going to save this planet, we need to restore our humanity and capacity to empathize with others.

Think of it this way.  Every time you decide to risk sharing who you are (be vulnerable with your imperfections) – you take a step away from fear and a step closer to empathy and connection - community.

Let me know how it goes.

The Big Dipper Version 2.0

Looking at "the Big Dipper version 1.0" - leaves me feeling very sad and takes me back to how powerless I felt much of that summer.  No matter how much research I did, how hard I worked at learning this new vocabulary of cancer, hospitals, doctor's offices, and nursing care, I could not save my dad.  How did I survive that summer?  Somewhere along the way, I learned the gift of gratitude and to be thankful for everyday treasures.

I found in that summer the other bright stars that were surrounding that Big Dipper's seven stars. Thinking about those stars (smaller stories) makes me smile now and made me smile then.  In the midst of that summer, I could pull out a moment of laughter and joy and hold on.

The Other Stars:

Twinkle Star #1 - May 13 - my parents were married 50 years.  A huge milestone considering some of the struggles they had been through.

Twinkle Star #2 - May 17 - we surprised them with a 50th Anniversary Celebration - friends and family showed up to tell them how special they were to them.  How grateful I am that these people had a chance to say those things to my mom and dad.  Thinking about it now, makes me tear up.  I did not know then it would be the last time many of them would see or speak to my parents.  My parents got to visit with their grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

Twinkle Star #3 - June 5 - my youngest daughter, Erica graduated from high school and my parents were part of the festivities.  They had a special bond with Erica as they helped me raise her from birth to age 2 1/2 yrs.  It is a happy memory to hold on to.

Twinkle Star #4 - June 15 - Erica wrecked my husband's mini-van and walked away without a scratch nor any harm to the driver that hit her.  How grateful we all were to have her healthy and whole.

Twinkle Star #5 - Late June/early July - My sister flies in to visit for a few days after Dad's diagnosis and we begin reconnecting.  She has lived in Louisiana for ten years and we have become strangers to each other. A new friendship and love begins to grow.  

Twinkle Star #6 - After July 20th official diagnosis of Mom's cancer, Katie flies back to town.  She stays to help Mom and Dad in their home and to help me with getting to and from the doctors' appointments. We have some wonderful conversations and share laughter and tears as we walk this out.  She flies back home once we get Mom started on her radiation treatments.

Twinkle Star #7 - August 13 - Dad's foot is amputated.  While he is in recovery, I run to the airport to pick Katie up. I bring her by the hospital so she could see him - even though he was not conscious when I left for the airport. As she and I prepare to say good night to Dad, the nurse asks who is staying the night with him?  No one had told me that this was required.  Katie stepped right into it. I am grateful that she was willing and able to do this.  I was exhausted from the past few days with Dad, Mom, doctors, and a fulltime job. I think I would have been pretty worthless to Dad that night.

Twinkle Star #8 - August 25 - Katie is still in town.  She agrees to step into my role while Eric, Erica and I take some time off to go school shopping for college. It was an amazingly wonderful day.  All my cares fell away and I spent the day with the two of them, laughing and shopping, talking about Erica's future, what was college going to be like for her.  How excited we all were for her to go off to college at Hollins University in Roanoke Virginia.  How proud her grandparents were of her.  Just thinking about it now, makes me feel good.

Twinkle Star #9 - August 28 - We leave that morning (after Katie's phone call at 7:30am about Dad) - for Roanoke.  We had made the decision that life is for the living and I knew from our conversations that Dad was looking forward to his girl going off to school.  He couldn't bear the thought of her missing the first day of college for him.  We arrive in Roanoke that evening and Erica is settled into her dorm.  We spend the next few days registering, paying tuition, buying furnishings for her dorm room, meeting her roommate and dorm mates, having dinner with her and them.  We leave her and head home on Sunday, August 31.
Katie and I meet with the funeral home and make all the arrangements for mom.  She is too ill and too depressed to come with us.

Twinkle Star #10 - September 4 - Mom paid for the grandchildren to fly home for the funeral.  I am grateful we were able to do this for them and for Mom.  All summer, Mom and Dad's friends and neighbors helped us.  Sometimes they met me half way with Dad or Mom to take them to doctors' appointments (my parents lived 35 miles from me and the doctors) - Other neighbors took card of their five acres - mowing and helping bring in the veggies from the garden. My father's last garden.  They visited Dad at the hospital.  I don't think Dad was ever alone. They helped Mom as much as she would let them.  The day of the funeral, I have no idea how many people showed up - 100+ easy.  The caravan to the cemetery had over 50+ cars.  My father had touched many lives.  He was a good man.

I am grateful Dad and Mom had so many people around them to love them when Katie and I could not be there.

My father died, August 30, 1997, age 71. My mother died February 3, 2001, age 74.  I learned a lot that summer about the importance of having a patient advocate when you are "really" sick.  I put it all to work to keep Mom alive for 3 1/2 years not the 24 months they had given her.  Mom was able to make multiple trips to Louisiana and spend time with Katie and her children.  We traveled together to Katie's son's wedding in April, 1998.  Mom got to meet and hold her third great-grandchild.  Mom attended the wedding of her oldest granddaughter with  two older sisters who flew in from Knoxville. It was the last time they would see her alive. 

The summer of 1997, my husband, Eric was my rock.  He walked beside me as I made hard decisions and ran myself ragged trying to save my dad.  He believed me when I told him I knew my father was going to have to have his other leg amputated.  Other family members and even the oncologist didn't believe me when I told them it was time to think of transferring Dad to hospice, but Eric believed me.  Thank you Eric.

So, I suppose that means there is a Big Dipper Version 3.0 - because the Summer of 1997 is not complete without all of these stars.  I did not include every thing or every one - it is only because this note would have been too long for anyone to read.  Each person who touched my life that summer helped carry me through.  

My hope is that in your darkest moments that you will look around for those other stars that they might help light your way through the dark.

*Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring.  She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block.  Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".  Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives.  This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions.  It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.  For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations.  It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.

TEDxCincy - October 7, 2010

I’m very excited because TEDxCincy is happening on October 7.  (Cincy = Cincinnati, OH)

If you don’t understand my excitement, then perhaps you are not familiar with TED.com.  

Why am I excited?  Because the TED conferences that have been happening since the late 1980s has been geared to the elite and wealthy.  

In 2006, Chris Anderson made the decision to make the videos from these events public on YouTube.  Once he did that, it began to snowball.

What TED does is support and promotes innovation of all kinds.  TED stands for technology, entertainment, and design. Experts and innovators in all these fields compete to win a TED award. The award is $100,000 - but the real benefit is that you gain access to the TED community.  This community steps up and supports you in all ways.  You might need help with marketing - a new website - connections - the TED community can make all this happen for you.

Great ideas, inventions, and organizations that may have been floundering with no funding and no recognition gain all of that just by speaking at the TED conference.

Until Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor spoke at TED, no one knew who she was, the work she was doing with stroke victims, nor had any interest in her self-published book. Overnight she became a sensation - book publishers competing to publish her book, and interview on Oprah and more.

But the best part of TED for me has been the access to the YouTube videos. It has exposed me to ideas and people I would never have known about otherwise.  It has given me hope to know the great work being conducted all over the world to make this world a better place.  Very inspiring.

This article in the local Cincinnati SoapBox will help explain some of what a TED in Cincinnati will look like.

If you don’t live in Cincinnati, then go to the TED website and search to see if there is a TEDx coming to a city near you. They are popping up all over.

Hope to see you there. Thanks, Elaine

The Big Dipper - Version 1.0

To begin, close your eyes (well read this paragraph first) – imagine it is a beautiful clear, cool summer’s night. Look up into the sky at all the stars and the moon shining bright. Now, find the Big Dipper. Can you remember how you learned to find these seven stars and know they were the Big Dipper? Slowly open your eyes and I will you my story about those stars.


I started playing with the image of the Big Dipper after a friend shared the idea that the stars are stories. The Big Dipper is the Big Dipper because someone decided to connect those seven stars and give them a name (also called Ursa Major). That’s how the constellations came to be. Just as the constellations come from a story someone created to identify the night sky when traveling, so too we have stories about our lives.


It started me thinking about my stories. What were my stories about those seven stars? Each of those stars represents an event - a small story that created "The Summer of 1997" for me.


Star #1 - June 26 - my 71 year old father was rushed to the hospital because he was having trouble breathing. The diagnosis was terminal lung cancer. After more tests and visits to several doctors, we learned he had less than six months to live. How could that be? He seemed healthy. My dad walked three miles per day, square danced several times a week, and was very active in the VFW. All this, plus caring for the five acres and the huge garden they had. My sister, Katie and I were in shock. The marathon race had begun and we were late off the blocks. The grandchildren were devastated.


Star #2 - July 13 - now that we know our parents' family physician had misdiagnosed my father's ailments for some time (despite knowing my father had asbestosis), I finally convinced them to go to a new doctor. I took my parents to visit the new doctor. My mom went back first. She'd been having some back pain and her former doctor had told her it was arthritis. While my mom was still in the examining room, they had my father and I go back. I came along as my father was very hard of hearing. I acted as the interpreter because he could hear my soprano pitched voice.

As I walked down the hall, I passed Dr. W. – and asked how Mom was. He said he was more concerned about her then he was my dad. Yikes! A few days later, after re-running some tests, we learned that our mom had terminal cancer too. Multiple myeloma - they gave her less than two years to live.


The following weeks (and the rest of the summer) were multiple trips to multiple doctors and the hospital for Mom and Dad while still working a more than full time job. Katie, my sister, was in town and helped as much as possible. But, I wanted to be at every doctor appointment to ask my questions.


My father was having problems with his right foot which involved seeing a specialist for that, too.


Star #3 - August 13 - because of complications from the lung cancer, my father had to have his right foot - up to mid-calf - amputated. He did amazingly well. All his walking, swimming, and eating healthy paid off. He was strong as an ox. The nurses were shocked by how strong he was. They had to strap him down immediately following the surgery recovery period to keep him from getting up. He responded well to all the therapy. I had never realized how disciplined my father was. How did I miss that growing up? He was determined to do all that was required of him to make the best recovery he could.


Star #4 - August 20 - Dad was transferred to the nursing care facility because he needed additional OT and PT. I tried to come by every day from work to see him. I even helped him with the therapy. When I asked to meet with the team people working with my dad to see how much longer he would need to be there - they told me they needed to keep him for an additional two weeks "because he was not increasing his lung capacity enough". I almost fell out of the chair when they said that. I think I told them - in a relatively calm voice - that my father was never going to increase his "lung capacity" no matter how long they did therapy. He was in the final stages of lung cancer. They just stared back. This freaked me out a little and I became more aggressive and assertive in my interactions with the nurses and therapist working with my dad. I noticed in one of my visits that my dad was having some problems with his other leg. I learned later that the nurse had made my dad sit in the chair for four hours and would not let him get back in bed, because it was good for him to get used to sitting up. I reamed them pretty good for this, but the damage had been done.


After seeing how swollen my dad's good left leg was, I knew we had lost the race. That it was highly likely they would ultimately want to amputate his other leg. I visited the local hospice facility. Took the tour. Learned what was required to transfer my father there and picked up some literature about hospice. I went home and told my husband that I thought it was over. We walked and talked and I cried as I faced the reality that the nursing facility had expedited my father's death and cheated us of a fwe more months with our dad.


When I visited my dad on August 27, I told him that I thought he was going to be faced with the decision to have his other leg amputated. I hoped I was wrong, but I thought the cancer was winning. He needed to decide how much pain and suffering he was willing to go through to prolong his life. Katie and I were up to the task and would do whatever he wanted. My hope had been to get the full six months to be with him but I also did not want him to suffer needlessly.


Star #5 -August 28 - at 7:30am, I received a call from my sister saying that they were rushing dad to the hospital. The doctor advised my father they needed to amputate the other leg right away. My father declined and asked to be moved to hospice. How does one find the courage to choose the path that they know will lead to death?


Star #6 - August 30 – My father is transferred to hospice. Three hours after arriving, my father died with my mother, sister, aunts, and a friend by his side. We delayed having the funeral to allow all the grandchildren to fly in. And, ultimately, it gave my sister and I time to make decisions and do some processing.


Star #7 - September 5 –We had the funeral and burial. My mother was ill and I could not stay for the burial. I took my mother to the hospital for emergency care. I missed my father's burial and the twenty-one gun salute. My mother was admitted to the hospital and spent the night. I picked her up the next morning and she came home to live with us, never to live in her home again. She was too ill to care for herself and lived too far away for me to care for two homes.


Our lives were changed forever in those eight weeks. But that was only those seven stars. Tomorrow I will share the story of the other stars surrounding the Big Dipper.


Chene' Swart of South Africa visited Cincinnati this spring. She came to join us at A Small Group with Peter Block. Chene' shared with us her work with "Narrative Therapy".

Here is my understanding of Narrative Therapy (NT) and how I have applied it to my life stories. NT shows us that we all have a story we tell ourselves about everything that has happened in our lives. This story is created and somewhat determined by our age and level of maturity at the time of the event and our perceptions. It does not mean it is not true, but it may not be the whole story.

 For instance, when we look at the stars, many of us have learned to identify the constellations. It doesn't mean there aren't other stars surrounding those constellations, but that the other stars are just not part of the constellation.

Words of Wisdom

These words inspire me and have the power to set me free.  May they set you free today. Enjoy!

Laughter is the best medicine

Peter Block making me laugh at our A Small Group Intensive, Fall of 2009.

Your Certainty Leaves No Space For Me

I am reposting a comment I left on my friend, Craig's website this morning - Recycle Your Faith

In late May of this year, I heard Louise (from South Africa) share that after making a presentation - a woman came up to her.  The woman asked Louise if she could offer a suggestion for future talks.  She told Louise that the certainty with which she spoke about the subject had left no space for her to express her voice and her experience - because her experience was different from Louise's certainty.

It has haunted me ever since.  

“Your certainty leaves no space for me.” – I find myself saying this a lot. It is a reminder to me. Am I leaving space for others?

Some things I feel and know so strongly that when I express my certainty – it leaves no room for others to express their experience, perceptions, truths, or beliefs that may be different than my own. I feel convicted to think I have shut out others with my certainty.  

It is only a recent awareness. I thought being certain was a good thing. I am re-thinking that.

How can I have a conversation – dialog with another – if I am leaving no “space” for them?

When I think on this scripture – “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. Isaiah 55:7-9 – I am reminded how arrogant we humans can be to think we know the mind of God.

Love God, love your neighbor.

Have I cheated them and myself by not hearing their voices?  I think, yes - I am less because I have lost this opportunity to hear their voice.  As I leave space for other voices, my capacity is expanded - their capacity is expanded.  The world is richer for it.

I invite you to join me in setting aside your certainty and in leaving space for other voices.

the world has shifted

This has been working on me for a while. I left this writing sit to be sure I really believed it. 


For all of us that have experienced this shift, I feel there is an obligation for us to spread the word - to help others to have eyes and ears to hear this new world order that is evolving. 


Maybe you've only had a moment where it seemed like the group really came together - lots of energy - no egos - generosity of spirit -love. That is the new way of being in the world.

So here are my thoughts on this -

A Small Group, Open Space, Art of Hosting, World Café, Women’s Circles, and more are modeling a new (old) way of gathering, of being in community and of doing business. The modern world model of community held us hostage to hierarchy, command and control – required a charismatic leader who held all the power.

In the new model of gathering – community – we share the roles and responsibilities of leadership and embrace the wisdom of the elders and the young.

When we are in community our whole is greater than our parts. Both, we and community increase in our capacity to think complexly – and simplify and clarify who we are and what we want for the collective.

Modeling a healthy community process (like A Small Group community) has increased my capacity to think, sit with dissent (still much room for improvement), be creative, affirm, value differences, give and receive gifts. I carry this with me where ever I show up and risk sharing with our “modern” communities. I am challenged to be bolder in asking for what I need from my community and taking responsibility for my own experience.

It is not easy to be brave and risk dissent.

What happens for me every time we gather in these ancient ways – my spirit soars. It is like a caged bird that has been set free. These new/old ways so resonate with me that my spirit recognizes them immediately – even before my brain understands why I am flooded with such a feeling of coming home.

I'm inviting you to join me in this journey. Will you accept the offer?

Strong Women - Egalitarian Society

Here is the question that has been working on me, "why is it important to me that I live in an egalitarian society?"

I am inviting you to engage with me in a conversation about hierarchy and egalitarian gatherings. How are they different from each other? How can we each lead from the side to move to egalitarian gatherings?

This issue of egalitarianism is beyond gender. Which then raises the question, is ethnicity, education, and class a part of the hierarchy model? I think yes.

This has been working on me since I left a meeting yesterday. I left feeling frustrated at how my energy drained from me as I sat there - not engaged.

The more I have been part of the "new" small group meetings - women's circles - embracing self-organizing...these meetings have become my new normal. I think it is because we use processes in these gatherings to make space for all voices to be heard. I do not feel the men in these gatherings are dominating - but they are there as equals with the women...egalitarian gatherings.

(At our last design teammeeting, Linda & Mike commented that it was one of the strangest meetings they had ever attended. They asked if we always ran meetings this way? They went on to explain why they asked this. Everyone's voice was heard and respected, no voting, but decisions were made, no one person was leading, people volunteered for roles of responsibility for the project as they felt moved to, and differences were allowed and welcomed. They expressed a desire to be in more of these kinds of meetings.)

Yesterday's meeting felt dominated by hierarchy. In particular, everyone (myself included) directing everything to "the leader". Nothing moved. It is not how I want to show up. I want to be responsible for my own experience. How do I ask for what I need in these situations? What has to shift in me to enable me to carry this with me where ever I show up?

The special project meetings feel hierarchical too - whether the Leader is there or not. The best interaction I've had with this group - was a small group conversation after the meeting ended and others had left. Three of us remained behind talking about what was going on for each of us with the group. Thank you Gayle for initiating that conversation.

So far, when I'm not leading the meeting, my best experience in shifting the conversation has been personally taking responsibility in opening the gathering by asking the connection question. (why was it important for you to be here today?) This seems to provide an opening - space - for something different to happen - no matter who has called the meeting.

Is it that simple? Does that really hold the power to shift the conversation? What has been your experience?

The story behind my question of egalitarianism vs. hierarchy is made up of many pieces. Pieces that have recently accumulated to bring me to this conversation -

Several months ago when meeting with the our team the boss showed up - the boss commented how egalitarian Eric and I are when we are facilitating one of the monthly gatherings. It stuck with me and I am still pondering why that was so unusual that it prompted the comment?

Then recently someone who is an elder in the Christian community - told me that there was a time when he would not have met with me - because he was afraid of strong women.

On the surface, I wondered why people have said this to me before? I don't think of myself as particularly strong.

About the same time, I shared in a group how I had a strong relationship with my father and could, and would, argue with him as an adult on differences in opinions and values - but we never were mad at each other. I've been told this is unusual for a daughter - it is the role of a son with the father.

What that says to me is that my father not only always told my sister and me we were equal to men, but modeled it in his actions with us.

What does it mean when someone tells you that you are a "strong woman" or you tell a woman "she is a strong woman"?

What do you think it means that men might be afraid of engaging in conversation or relatinship with a woman who expects to be treated as an equal? Is that your experience?

This is where I have landed today - being a strong woman is just code for saying when I show up I expect to be treated as an equal and to "only" treat you as an equal. (there's that egalitarian thing again.) Also, I'm realizing my energy drains from me when I don't show up this way as it did in yesterday's meeting.

BTW - I don't think I have ever said to a man “you are a strong man”.)

Ringing Bells

This is taken from my recent speech at a Toastmaster's meeting.

Welcome. Thank you Toastmaster, fellow toastmasters, and honored guests. I’m pleased to present to you today.

I have a question for you to ponder - How many times have you facilitated a workshop or made a presentation– and at the end, despite all your preparation and practice, things don’t go according to plan and you wonder what went wrong?

I found myself asking this question after our recent workshop.

Here's the story --

Recently, Eric and I presented our workshop at the Greater Cincinnati Chapter of the American Society of Training and Development’s Fall Conference. It did not go as well as we had hoped or planned.

When we applied and were accepted to be one of 9 workshop presenters – I was excited for the opportunity to present our workshop, Powerful Complaining – Revealing Your Immunity to Change” – My hope was we would do a wonderful job, everyone would want to attend our workshop, and that after the workshop we would be overwhelmed with offers to come present the workshop for their company or coach them individually.

Warning Bell #1 – the first indicator of trouble (and one of many we ignored) we were told we had 75 minutes for our workshop. Wow! How to reduce a workshop that should be at least 3 ½ hours (210 minutes) into 75 minutes, but we knew we could do it.

Warning Bell #2 - our practice workshop that ran 105 minutes. Looking at that realized that we needed to cut 30 minutes was a little troubling. But, we thought if we just reduced the amount of time we gave for each small group activity, and harvesting feedback, we could get it under 75 minutes. Not perfect, but it would work.

Warning Bell #3 – my anxiety began to increase when a few days before the event the organizers notified us that the last 5 minutes of our time would be used by participants to evaluate our presentation with electronic response cards. And also a reminder they would be introducing us – another few minutes chopped off of our valuable time.

What had seemed like marginally doable at 75 minutes – now began to seem impossible.

However, still living in denial, we moved ahead with our plan in tact thinking we would shave off a minute here and there and it would be alright.

Warning Bell #4 - The night before our workshop Eric and I attended the Organizational Development Networks’ monthly meeting. We watched an experienced presenter take us through her workshop in 75 minutes. I was exhausted by how fast it moved and how much information was packed into that 75 minutes AND I realized also that she had a full 75 minutes.

Did all these ringing bells trigger me suggest to Eric, we rethink our presentation?

NO!

Would there have been time to redesign the presentation – maybe.

You may be wondering what happened the day of the conference?

Reality – the person before us ran late and cut into our time. People were late arriving in the room.

Our time which was to start at 2:45 began at 2:55 and had to end at 3:55 – we eliminated some of the experiential aspects of the workshop. As we neared the end of our time and only had 15 minutes left - we delivered the remaining content to them without any small group activity.

We delivered this content and ran over by about 2 minutes.

The good news was that somehow within these time constraints, people got it. People came up to us afterwards and asked good questions. One person said she was going to recommend to her company that they hire us to present the workshop to them.

What were are learnings?

1. The big learning for us: in the future when we are asked to present a workshop in such a short time frame to think outside the box and not be married to “what we want to do” vs. what we can do.

2. And if the bells start ringing, stop what we are doing and re-examine our plans.

Transparency and Dissent

Transparency is the capacity to share relevant information, to have transparent systems and processes – to be authentic and more. (You can’t really hide things, no matter how hard you try – it will always manifest itself.)

Dissent is the capacity of an organization or relationship to allow each other to express a different point of view. If you are not allowed to say NO (dissent), does your YES have any real meaning?

When these 2 characteristics are present, whatever the dysfunctions, issues, differences – we can talk about it. There is a possibility of creating something new.

Where ever I show up, I use these 2 values to determine if this is a place I can be myself.

Since it is true, the only person I can change is myself; being with a group that does not allow for T&D taps into my unhealthy side. I have to remind myself of this - a LOT. If I'm not allowed to say NO, my NO will manifest in a passive agressive way.

What is the attraction in these places? I'm guessing it is because I have not fully let go of my desire to fix others and change others. It seems easier to fix others, than fix myself. BUT being in a dysfuntional environment/relationship is guaranteed to drown out the small voice saying - "you can only change yourself".

Writing this today was me remembering my struggles these last few years with church. You would think that church would be the one place where they would value transparency and dissent...AND you’d be wrong.

I’ve talked with enough former church staff and members to know that this is what has driven many of us to the position of “church alumni”. (Read unChristian by David Kinnaman or Jim and Casper Go To Church by Jim Henderson and Matt Casper.)

We (church alumni) still love Jesus’s Bride – but we’re in pain because of how church leadership has allowed their egos to harm The Bride and the people they are supposed to be serving. We’ve tried working within the system to help make it better, but after being beat up pretty bad (spiritual, emotional abuse) – we are going to try from the outside.

A few of the wounded have started their own churches and are doing well – they are small churches – but very powerful in how they are serving the community. I’m sure there must be one of these in Cincinnati – maybe I haven’t looked in the right place.

What has been your experience with transparency and dissent?

Promptings - our story continues

It has been a long, short week for me. So much stimulation. So much to think about…Christina Baldwin’s workshop, Phyllis Tickle’s talk on the Great Emergence, a new project and training with Sweeten Life Systems, and of course, the monthly A Small Group gathering at Peaslee. I’m feeling exhausted (and strangely energized) this morning. And, as if that wasn’t enough – we’ve switched to daylight savings time. Ugh!

How long will it take me assimilate all of this? Here is a piece.

After reviewing the materials and suggested process from Christina Baldwin's Story as Leadership workshop, I wrote several more stories. She asked us to think of turning points in our lives and our stories about those events.

This reminded me of the trauma I experienced at 9 years old, when our family moved to a new community. While moving is a trauma for many of us, it was compounded by the fact I had to leave my cousin, Diane. We had lived 1 block from each other for 6 years (2/3 of our lives).

We did almost everything together. Diane and I were like twins in many ways.

We have been separated for a long time now. She has lived in Germany for almost 20 years. Her visits home have been few and far between. And, we have not always been able to connect.

Despite all of that, when we are together with family, we have these side conversations. It is like we are 9 years old again. We connect at a heart level – like immediately. I’d walk away and think, that was weird – how did we do that?

Even my sister and I have to do some warm up to get to the hard stuff, but bam! Diane would dig right in telling me her hard stuff.

We have taken such different paths – it would seem we have less and less in common AND yet, there we are having these heartfelt conversations.

Even though I have not seen or heard from Diane in almost 2 years – since her mother’s funeral – I had this strong desire to share my story with Diane of our time together as children and the pain of leaving her in 3rd grade. My intent was to say this is how I’ve experienced the trauma – how did you cope with it?

I send the email off on Saturday night. Sunday morning, there in my inbox was a reply from Diane.

“Lainie, you made me cry.” She went on to tell me that she has not contacted any of us since the funeral. She now realizes she has been hiding in Germany not dealing with her mother’s death. She then went on to tell me that she was in the midst of preparing to come to the USA for a 2 month visit. She had been dreading coming home and the feelings that will come. My email had broken something lose in her – she was now looking forward to coming home to see me and connecting with the rest of the family. She was glad I had written.

When she gets here, I will hold her hand and walk with her through the pain and memories and some laughter.

It is strange how things unfold – frequently in ways you would never imagine. For me, I think it was part of God’s plan. My part was to be obedient to the promptings.

Timing was everything in creating the opportunity for this story to unfold...

If I had not gone to the workshop in Columbus (and there are if’s before this)
If I had not been so moved by the workshop to write my stories
If I had not emailed the story to Diane
If Diane had not been flying home 2 days later….

I sent my story off to her with no expectation of recognition or reward. And yet, if I had not been obedient to the promptings…

My challenge is to maintain this current awareness of “promptings” and act upon them with wisdom.

More random chaos…