Guardrails gave us the confidence to live the moment fully…
We were on a cliffside hike recently—you know, one of those winding trails where the views make you say “wow” but the drop-offs make your knees say “nope.” As we hiked, my son—in all his mischievous joy— ran down the path toward me and jumped into a surprise piggy back like he was a featherweight toddler and not a growing pre-teen!
We have choices when it comes to helping someone achieve something difficult. We can do it for them, do it with them, or make them do it on their own. There are times that we need to step in and help in a big way, other times when a little encouragement is enough, and still other times when tough love and enduring consequences is the only way someone will really learn. But how do we know when to use what tactic?
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Guardrails gave us the confidence to live the moment fully…
We were on a cliffside hike recently—you know, one of those winding trails where the views make you say “wow” but the drop-offs make your knees say “nope.” As we hiked, my son—in all his mischievous joy— ran down the path toward me and jumped into a surprise piggy back like he was a featherweight toddler and not a growing pre-teen!
As a coach, there are few things I take more seriously than the scouting report. It’s the game plan. The blueprint. The inside scoop on what we’re about to face. I study our opponent’s tendencies, strengths, weaknesses, and try to design a strategy that gives us the best shot at success. Not perfection—success.
This is exactly how I Think God wants the Bible to be for His followers.
A Lament is “a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.” In both classical and modern culture they are often penned as poems or sung to melodies. However, true lament is felt in every fiber of our flesh, every expression of our emotion, and often communicated in incomprehensible utterances.
Years ago my husband walked into the hospital moments before our friend’s elementary age son was pronounced dead. From down the hall, the sound of a mother's true lament echoed off the cold, bare walls.
There are many wounds- physical, emotional and spiritual- that fester, worsen, and spread if not dealt with appropriately.
A boil is a minor physical wound known to fester. In the technical sense, a boil is a painful infection of a hair follicle and the surrounding skin. It begins as a red lump, then fills with pus as white blood cells rush in to fight the infection (I asked Google). But even minor wounds ignored or inappropriately treated can have major consequences. The longer we go without proper treatment, the larger the risk for further damage.
If we were in a climbing group up Everest together and I fell into a real icy crevasse, I hope you would not say, “serves her right,” or shrug it off with an, “She must have not taken the right precautions.” I hope you would approach the gap and see if I was OK, “Are you there? Are you breathing? Bleeding? Can you move?” All of these questions are much more helpful starting points. Would I have a chance to survive? Would you offer help? Through me a line? Would you climb down there with me attached to your safety harness in order to pull me out? Would you sit at the top and cheer me on and tell me I could do it if I just kept working hard enough? Would you expect me to get myself out since I fell in there all on my own?
Have you ever had a yelling match with God? Has your pain, desperation, or anguish been so deep that the words either come out in choked sobbs or blood curdling screams? What was it for you? Was it the loss of a loved one? A tragic accident, a misarriage, or a betrayal? Was it watching someone you love suffer?
The other day the boys and I were driving home from “chalking” a friend’s house. With everyone “safer at home” these days, we can’t play with our friends, but we can show them some love. Anyway, one of my boys looks at me and out of nowhere says, “Mom, I know an option of what will make me whine less. If you just give me whatever I want, I would not need to whine anymore!”
“Interesting thought son” I said with a little chuckle “Well, if I give you EVERYTHING you want right now, you will basically be a horrible human later and probably won’t have any friends-- So I am willing to put up with some whining now so that way you are a good human later.”
And without hesitation, he responds ever so logically: “Well mom, I am just saying it IS an option.”
Who is this kid? I just have to laugh! “Yes, you’re right, it IS an option- but not one I am choosing.”
I miss the women I coach today. We were just starting the main section of competition when college sports was shut down, Universities went to online platforms, and students went home. It all happened so fast. I love my job, and I am reminded yet again, just why I love it so much. As a coach, I get to see the daily process of the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects of people that impact their success of failure. Not only that, I get to help them define success, reframe difficulty, overcome challenges, and learn to thrive. I see the best and worst of my athletes, and they see the best and worst of me!
Sometimes I help people solve problems, and sometimes I “cause” problems- on purpose- but not in a malicious way. When I create obstacles, uphold standards, give test sets, and create competition I can see who is in a state to overcome and who is in a state to succumb…
I went to drop off a birthday present to my friend the other day and was like, “I’ll just drop it here and when I walk away you can pick it up.” Social distancing totally sucks!
But what is the silver lining and the learning?
I got to admit, MLKJ day makes conversations interesting at my house with two five-year-old brothers with different skin tones. This is the first year the kids have initiated conversation and while they are necessary, the questions remain: how much do I divulge? What are they “ready” to understand? How realistic do I depict things? How do I respond to their questions and comments?
Dreams deferred are never fun, they can weigh on us and even haunt us, but here is a story about how there can still be purpose and promise in the waiting.
I got to admit, MLKJ day makes conversations interesting at my house with two five-year-old brothers with different skin tones. This is the first year the kids have initiated conversation and while they are necessary, the questions remain: how much do I divulge? What are they “ready” to understand? How realistic do I depict things? How do I respond to their questions and comments?
I was recently traveling with my husband to a conference. Since we fly Southwest he has a habit of leaving me, the rule follower, at boarding time to see if he can board earlier than his boarding pass allows. (It is like a game to him… insert my eye roll here.)
Here I was, leaving California, joining the herd toward the boarding line. I made one of those little connections with the kind woman, close to my age, who was next to me. We both became fixated on the gymnastic competition displayed on the wall TV. Just then, an older white woman came up to us asking what numbers we were in the cue.
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Learning is living and I like living, so I admit I will always be in process. Here is a little something I am learning this week.