What story are you telling? from Rhetorik Creative on Vimeo.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Cigarette Smoke
I talked to my new friend Tyler the other evening while sitting outside at Brixx. I really love being outside in the spring and summer and fall. I love when the weather is just right for eating outside and taking in all the sights and sounds and smells of a warm evening. I even love the smell of cigarette smoke in the air. Weird huh? When I was a kid I was never around anyone who smoked, except for when we were out for fun special occasions. You know, like major league baseball games. amusement parks, camping trips, or outdoor anything. So I love the smell of cigarette smoke outside because my memory of it was always a happy fun moment in life. And since smell is such an important part of my memories, one familiar smell wafts by and I am back on vacation! So I was having a soaking it in kind of moment last week with the ambiance and the company, feeling like I was on vacation. Other people were there with us, but Tyler and I were swapping stories and a little absorbed in our own conversation to notice much of anything else that was going on. I loved hearing his story. Looking at his life from my perspective, from the outside looking in, it was fun to see God at every turn. He told me about his childhood, from the tough season as a little kid while his parents divorced, then the remarriage of his parents to other people, leading to a more peaceful life for him, to his being around the privileged and prestigious political crowd and the amazing opportunities that stemmed from that. But then there was the part of the story about his time at Lenoir Rhyne college in Hickory N.C., that would change him forever. He had a college professor named Dr. Joe that took Tyler under his wing. He didn’t realize that’s what was happening. Tyler just thought he had a part time job and was helping an old man out, but as the years went on it became evident that Dr. Joe was pouring his life into Tyler’s on purpose. Tyler was not doing too well in his class and always arriving late, but the professor saw something in Tyler that he felt was worth investing in, so Dr. Joe asked him to come work with him in his office. I believe that those things don’t happen by accident. I believe God orchestrates dynamics like this and I believe Godly men like Dr. Joe who live in awareness and are attentive to God’s spirit, respond appropriately. I know God did this on purpose. I loved hearing Tyler’s story and seeing God move in his life even as a kid to mold him into who he is today. And who he is today is the answer to the prayers I prayed a long time ago that God would put in love with God sort of people and leaders in my kids life to help them become the world changing in love with God sort of people they were meant to be. So I love Tyler’s story. But here’s what I also loved about his story and a commitment I walked away with from that evening. I want to be the best most effective non-insecure old person that I can be. Dr. Joe was old and blind and crippled, and seemingly from our world’s standards, too old for much of anything, but still chose to pour life and purpose into someone else. To me it was a Hollywood movie, this old man taking the time to mentor and guide this young kid to greatness. He could have felt like he’d “been there done that” and it was his time to retire and relax, but he couldn’t help being who he’d been his whole life and that was a “see the bigger picture, live outside yourself, live beyond the moment” kind of guy. He just couldn’t help but pass on what he believed about life and God. I LOVE that! I decided at that moment that I would be the coolest and best, most confidant old person that I could be. That even though I would be wasting away on the outside that I would be full of life and purpose on the inside. I hope I can’t help it!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
But...
(But referring to what I wrote on my last post), one area I totally struggle with craving and wanting more than I have is vacations. I love getting away with our family and spending time in fun places. I picture us having a beach house on the Carolina coast that we own, where we spend time together every year, just hanging out, coffee on the deck, sleeping late, all of us cooking in the kitchen the “big chill” way, laughing and dancing, followed by much relaxing. I picture going to Tuscany. Renting a Villa for a couple of weeks, cooking Italian food, sleeping in a big bedroom with cool tile floor and large French doors that you can open up to a balcony with a view of the countryside while the breeze blows the white sheer curtains into my beautiful sunny room across the bed while I catch an afternoon nap. And later riding bikes into town to sit and have coffee on the patio at Anthony’s Bistro. Or I picture something as simple as just going to the mountains for a couple of nights and staying at a sweet Bed and Breakfast and just relaxing with a good book or slip off for a day hike. Or maybe a weekend in New York in the Fall. I love big cities. I want to live on vacation. I know people say I'd get tired of it, but I'd like to test that theory for myself. I love the smell of vacations. I love the ambiance of vacations. I love beautiful moments and creating fun memories. I have so many special memories of ordinary days with my kids, but I really love our vacation memories. I could totally do vacation everyday. I love the part of being a mom, where I get to design intentional fun and on purpose family memories. Someone saw all of us in Panera Bread the last time we were all together, and asked, “having some much needed family time?’ I said “yeah”, but I thought, no, really I protect our family time, we have it a lot! It’s so important to me, just like it was so important to my mom and dad. They always created “family time”. They created intentional vacations, family lake days or family dinners. As we got older and all of us moved out, they made sure we all got together, not just some of us, but a time when all of us could be together. I am like that and will even be more intense about it as I get older and as my kids move away. I will protect our family time with my life. I do it on a smaller scale now, but beach house, here we come! Anybody have one we can borrow?
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
One Cup of Coffee
Friday, July 9, 2010
swimming "lessons"
During the summers when my kids were little I would sign them up for swimming lessons. I loved having something to go do during those long lazy days of summer, but I also wanted every kid to go through enough weeks of lessons to make them good safe swimmers. So I just kept enrolling the younger ones, to ensure they had enough classes, but didn’t want to leave the older ones out, so all four kids took swimming lessons every summer. Probably a bit overkill, but when it comes to adventure, I’m not known for moderation. And since it was a pretty reasonable price, we did it year after year. We would pack some snacks or make a plan to stop for lunch, like at McDonalds or a park afterward or somewhere fun and turn swim lessons into an occasion. I just loved getting all the kids in the car and heading off to do something together. I still love that. But one particular memory of swimming lessons was of Jacob and Aaron. We always went to the Miller Swim School. The Miller family rented out different swimming facilities all around Tulsa and offered two-week classes. Mr. Miller was the patriarch of the family. He had served in the military, I think, and was a really cool guy with a lot of business smarts, but in the water you only saw the drill sergeant part of him. He wasn’t always there everyday, he let the women folk in his family teach the kids their swimming lessons. But on the day the parents were supposed to come in and observe, Mr. Miller always showed up in the pool, barking out orders and demanding compliance. Aaron did ok with Mr. Miller, because Aaron was very competitive and had a little tough guy exterior and wanted to please this man yelling at him. It just cracked me up that on the little kids swimming demonstration day, General Schwarzkopf would show up and try to whip all these little wet shivering kids into his swimming brigade. Don’t get me wrong, he was a good person and you could tell he liked kids, but Jacob didn’t do so well with the yelling. Jacob just wanted everyone to get along and be sweet to each other. He didn’t care necessarily about being the best swimmer as he did being the teachers favorite little guy. I remember once Mr. Miller shouting exclusively at Jacob, “C'mon boy, what are you doing? Get out there and swim like a man! Move, move, move!” I watched him endure it for a few minutes then saw him decide, “yeah, that’s enough of that”, and he started swimming to the side of the pool where I was. His little eyes were red, not with chlorine, but with tears he was trying to hold back. He put his hands on the edge of the pool and looked at me as if to say, “I can get out and stand by you mom, right?” I just looked at him with fearful eyes and shaking my head no and whispering, “no, no, stay in there, it’ll be over soon”. I used my hands to demonstrate, get back out there, quickly. I knew if he got out of the pool to stand by his mommy, the embarrassment would only intensify. Mr. Miller would call him out in front of everybody, loudly. Not in a mean sort of way but definitely in an embarrassing sort of way. I felt so bad, because I wanted to rescue him. I wanted to grab him out of that pool and wrap a warm towel around him and hold him on my lap and remind him I loved him and thought he was a great swimmer. But I knew getting out of the pool, would only make things worse for him and I knew the class wouldn’t last much longer and it would all be over soon. I also knew (and this is the part I hate) that he’d probably get a little better and a little tougher in the process if I didn’t rescue him. Ugh, sometimes I just hated those moments of deciding my kids would be better off enduring the pain. It broke my heart. I know that’s how God is with us. Waiting by the pool in his lawn chair knowing all He has to do is reach down his hand and pull us out of the water. But He also knows it’ll be over soon and we’ll be better having stuck it out, making it through the pain and humiliation. So there He sits, near the edge of the pool with your beach towel, maybe with a tear in his eye but for sure compassion in his heart. His endurance level and concept of time is different from ours, a fact I’m not always fond of, but a lesson I’m constantly learning. Cause the truth is, it’s not always about me and about this very moment, but about what God is doing in me so he can do something meaningful through me.