Just a few views of the Jerusalem International YMCA.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Sermon in Stone
The minute I walked up to the Jerusalem International YMCA, I felt a sense of peace.
As I reflected on the appearance of the buildings, I thought that the individuals who designed and built the incredible facility were like the great cathedral builders of the Renaissance period. Field Marshal Edmund Lord Allenby captured it best when he said, "The sentiment that has inspired the designers and builders of this monumental edifice should now move the nations to agree that now is the time and Jerusalem the place for ending their differences." He said that in 1933, but the words are still so very true.
The JIY founded in 1878, met in the early years near the Old City. It has a fascinating history related to World War I with the Turkish authorities and British troops. World War II also brought more soldiers to JIY. The 1948 War tore the city apart into Jordanian Arab and Israeli Jewish sides, and the International Red Cross recognized the uniqueness of the YMCA as a safe zone for noncombatents. The 1967 Six Day War brought... well, you get the idea. I will leave those stories for the historians who tell the details better than I could after only one visit.
Dr. Archibald Harte was the general secretary (CEO) at JIY who inspired James Jarvie to give a million dollars in the 1920's to help construct a permanent place for the YMCA in Jerusalem. Harte had a big vision for JIY and it was global. Jarvie saw that and help make it a reality.
When JIY purchased the plot on which it still sits today, it was high in the middle of desert land. But the vision was for it to hold a place that would serve as a beacon of peace and hope. The Greek Orthodox Church sold the land - my understanding is that the sale was itself unusual for the Church to part with such prime property.
JIY holds a prominent place in Jerusalem. Its commitment to being a safe space for the three monotheistic faiths is lived out each and every day. The unique mix of recreational community center, hotel, meeting space, restaraunt, kindergarten, and arts and humanities swirl together, truly in harmony.
The first thing that catches your eye if you approach from King David Street is a tile plaque that reads in Arabic, Hebrew and English "Here is a place whose atmosphere is peace where political and religious jealousies can be forgotten and international unity be fostered and developed." That is a quote from Lord Allenby as well. I have a plaque in my office that carries the message as well.
The JIY has remained faithful to those sentimients for generations. Leaders (staff and volunteer) have floated in and out of that time, but the utter devotion to mission is palpupable. The place just has a vibe about it that calms yet stirs deeper thought.
The campus has three sections representing symbolically spirit, mind and body. No matter where you look there is indeed a sermon in stone that causes you to stop, enjoy and ponder. Every nook has something in which to delight. Each space encourages dialogue.
Staff, members and guests flow in and out of the facility for various reasons - meetings, recreation, education, study and fellowship. I could have done little else other than observe for days on end. The people were fascinating in their diversity of ethnicity, language, age, dress and purpose.
The arches and domes of the faciliity are something to see. The Three Arches patio was a respite of peace. The flowers lovely, the small fish pond cool and the surrounding trees' visual beauty spectacular.
The old library while not fully in use any more was quiet, musty. Yet endearing. The librarian Ms. Rita made me smile just looking and listening to her. And twice during my stay a Jewish choir used the library at night to practice. Wonderful melodies wafting through the JIY.
The pool reminded me a lot of old downtown Ys in the USA - great original tile work that really stands out from our new practical pools. It was the only pool in Jerusalem until the 60's!
Where the soccer fields used to be behind the building, there is now construction for a huge development of condos, a public park and a YMCA recreational center (under ground). Those fields were once famous... as Jerusalem's soccer teams played Israeli and international teams.
The gym was small and reminded me of a rural high school gym, well other than the amazing domed ceiling! While I was there NBA players from the US came over from the Kind DAvid Hotel (across the street) to play a game.
The auditorium is state of the art in terms of acoustics and visual appeal. It hosts national concert and orchestral events. The Chamber Series was in play during my visit. And activists used the occassion to protest treatment of Arabs (not the Y's treatment, national treament). The JIY simply had a large gathering at which the group could throw their peaceful (yet slightly disruptive) protest.
The Peace Preschool is perhaps one of the most known portions of the JIY. Muslim, Chrisitan and Jewish children gather each day to learn and grow. A new facelift of cool murals and coats of paint as well as a new outside play space brought a lot of joy to the kids and their families.
The bell tower is of course one of the most recognizable parts of the JIY. Up close its stone work is incredible. You can see the tower from almost anywhere in Jerusalem. I used it as a navigational reference whenever I wondered out for walks.
The architect for the Jerusalem YMCA was with the same firm that designed the Empire State Building in New York. Arthur Loomis Harmon, who did the design, worked with Harte to make sure the buildings captured symbols from early Judaism, Islam and Christianity. Some of the stone work was from the same quarries of the Second Temple. I cannot do it justice but the pictures give the best idea of the stone work, lighting, cross-vaulted ceilings, inlaid tile work, murals, etc.
The way the place is laid out is symbolic of the trinity and of spirit, mind and body. The auditorium being one part of the U shape - for spirit and cultural activities. The middle section of the facility being for the offices, hotel, lounges, meeting rooms, kindergarten and library... representing the intellect. And the gym and pool being the other portion of the U shape, obviously for the body. Number symbols abound as well with 40 columns, 12 windows, etc. Bible and Koran scriptures adore stones, carved scenes tell stories.
Byzantine and Oriental styles aside, there was nothing like the views from the top of the tower. It allowed for a breath-taking snapshot of all city, mounts and deserts.
Oh, I just have to stop. You have to go. You have to stand in awe and walk with new surprises awaiting you as you turn each corner.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Morning Coffee
My daily ritual in Jerusalem was to sit on the patio of the Three Arches. Quiet conversations, rustling newspapers and soft oldies music were the only real noise. The air crisp. The heat not yet in play. The smell of the chef's morning creations (made to order) wafting through the air. A wild cat (as in feline, not a dude) hung around, looking for scrapes, stalking birds, bugs and the fish in the small tank.
Breakfast was varied but always fresh. Salads, cheese, fruits, breads, juices and coffee. Ahhh, thanks be for the coffee. Strong.
Each day, I delighted in the ritual of breakfast and observation. I so rarely take time for morning pause and breakfast at home. Mental note to self: why not?
The remarkable thing about these morning moments was always their simplicity; their rhythm; their calming and centering effect.
One day I delighted in seeing the faces of families as they approached the first day of school at the JIY's Peace Preschool. Down the arched outside corridor...across the patio, in came parents with a child in hand. Although each quite diverse, they all stopped to smell the flowers; nod to the cafe crowd; the kids peering into the fish pool or scurrying after the cat.
And then the kids saw "him." Hands dropped from mom or dad... and excited waves and hugs were exchanged with a security guard posted at the door.
He had caught my attention and admiration earlier as I watched him greet by name every adult as they entered. But now his face lit up, his eyes almost twinkled and his smile broadened as he acknowledged and celebrated the youngest members marching on to a new school year.
I pondered whether the JIY CEO would forgive me if I were to offer "the guard" the opportunity to come to Lexington and be in my Y lobbies. He was the embodiment of the Y's caring connection to those who grace our facilities. Heck, he did not even work for me and I was proud of his actions and attitude.
I figured I better not betray my friend and recruit the guard. Instead I was grateful for the universal nature of the Y in action. The mission alive in a security guy obviously in love with his job, his calling. How cool was that?
I was inspired... so back to my laptop I went to tackle my day's tasks. Just another work day in Jerusalem.
Breakfast was varied but always fresh. Salads, cheese, fruits, breads, juices and coffee. Ahhh, thanks be for the coffee. Strong.
Each day, I delighted in the ritual of breakfast and observation. I so rarely take time for morning pause and breakfast at home. Mental note to self: why not?
The remarkable thing about these morning moments was always their simplicity; their rhythm; their calming and centering effect.
One day I delighted in seeing the faces of families as they approached the first day of school at the JIY's Peace Preschool. Down the arched outside corridor...across the patio, in came parents with a child in hand. Although each quite diverse, they all stopped to smell the flowers; nod to the cafe crowd; the kids peering into the fish pool or scurrying after the cat.
And then the kids saw "him." Hands dropped from mom or dad... and excited waves and hugs were exchanged with a security guard posted at the door.
He had caught my attention and admiration earlier as I watched him greet by name every adult as they entered. But now his face lit up, his eyes almost twinkled and his smile broadened as he acknowledged and celebrated the youngest members marching on to a new school year.
I pondered whether the JIY CEO would forgive me if I were to offer "the guard" the opportunity to come to Lexington and be in my Y lobbies. He was the embodiment of the Y's caring connection to those who grace our facilities. Heck, he did not even work for me and I was proud of his actions and attitude.
I figured I better not betray my friend and recruit the guard. Instead I was grateful for the universal nature of the Y in action. The mission alive in a security guy obviously in love with his job, his calling. How cool was that?
I was inspired... so back to my laptop I went to tackle my day's tasks. Just another work day in Jerusalem.
A Walk to Remember
I got brave in Jerusalem. Maybe stubborn is a better word.
I was being so well cared for - fed, sheltered, toured, educated - that I felt a bit of a need to remind myself that I was, after all, an independent woman for goodness sake!
So one morning I decided to expand my walk into Old Jerusalem. I got my bearings and off I went as the sun came up. Destination: find the Western Wall.
Now if you have been to Old Jerusalem you know that inside the walls are narrow streets and alley ways that cut every which way through different quarters. Each with a personality (sites, sounds, smells) of their own. The roads are worn stone, bumpy, slick, often inclined/declined and uneven. Other mornings I had come into the city to explore and go to mass but this day I craved something a bit different, unknown.
On other trips, I had noticed a walkway outside the old exterior wall and decided to set out on it. The spirit of exploration giving me some sense of bravado.
The coolness of the morning was a treat. It was not reflective of the heat that surely would come in just a few hours. The sky already blue, clear. So off I walked anticipating a gate would at some point allow me to cross back into the old city.
I walked parallel to the wall through a small park with bushes, olive trees, native plants and flowers. Simple beauty surrounding me. Cars whisked by below on their way to work or trips to destinations unknown.
There was indeed an opening, and in I went through a stone corridor back into the Jewish quarter. The quietness was immediately welcoming. Small groups of children were hurrying off to school. Backpacks and giggles are universal, aren't they? Orthodox Jewish men carrying prayer shawls and with little ones in tow hurried through the walkways. Bakers were carting out wagons of bread. The aroma was wonderful. Shopkeepers were beginning to open their areas. Sleepy eyes and yawns escaping as they undid shutters and rolled out wares.
I had no idea where I was. No map. I did not care. Delight filled my soul.
A believer in following the obvious, I wandered, keeping a distance, from a group of men carrying packaged shawls. My guess... destination morning prayers.
We descinded in the city. Right alley, left, down. And then I saw the security. I had guessed right. The wall was ahead.
Dutifully I laid my camera and key on the shelf and walked through the metal detector. I followed a small group through. The area dumped me on a covered walkway. Up I walked. The wall to my left. Hundreds of Jews already there in prayer.
Men had a large side, chairs, tables, fans... there was a hum of noise as individual prayers rose up. As heads leaned against the wall in petition.
Women had their own side. Smaller, less chairs, less tables but equal in devotion to prayer.
Wait, I can see it all, but this walkway was leading me out again. Phooey.
At the top, I realized I was exiting to the "other side" of the wall. The girl in front of me received a scolding from an armed guard to cover up her tank top clad shoulders. Quickly I covered my head and shoulders with my scarf out of respect. And I surveyed where I was.
Ahead the Dome on the Rock glistened. Men washed their hands and feet at long sinks... readying themselves for or post morning prayers.
The calling of the Adhan completed. Groups of men were rolling up and folding Islamic prayer rugs. I guessed that one of their five formal prayer times was completing. I thought about how the ritual was a constant reminder to seek God's guidance and forgiveness. I said a prayer in my head as I tried to be invisible, quiet, respectful. A group of old women, eyed me a bit. No universal smiles but no look of hatred either. I was immediately relieved.
I made my way along the wall. Again, convinced there would be an opening eventually to cross back in to the otherside. I found it. And began the weaving across to where I knew the remnants of David's temple had Jews and early pilgrams gathered.
I turned left and poured out into the large plaza. I noticed the concealed section of the wall that ran the length of the Temple Mount. The large limestones rising 100 feet looked much like the side I had just came from but they were indeed a world apart.
For Jews the place held significance as the wall to the Holiest of Holies...a place for the mourning of the destruction of the temple. A place for prayers and readings.
For Arabs the place is significant for it being where the prophet Muhammad tethered his horse, Buraq, and ascended into the sky. The Dome on the Rock covering that spot.
It is the area where Abraham was to sacrifice Issac. A place that holds sacred meaning for Muslims, Christians and Jews alike.
Neither culture valuing the other's beliefs, acknowledging the other's claim to the spot.
I quietly covered my head and walked to the wall to offer my own morning prayers. Satisfied in the moment, I walked backward from the wall.
I'd come back again with my friend and guide to place a note in the crevices of the wall. My own little petition for my husband's family and our own. The knowledge that the note would sometime in the year be collected and buried on the Mount of Olives meant a part of me would remain in Jerusalem. Silly, I know. But I smiled nonetheless. Content.
I was being so well cared for - fed, sheltered, toured, educated - that I felt a bit of a need to remind myself that I was, after all, an independent woman for goodness sake!
So one morning I decided to expand my walk into Old Jerusalem. I got my bearings and off I went as the sun came up. Destination: find the Western Wall.
Now if you have been to Old Jerusalem you know that inside the walls are narrow streets and alley ways that cut every which way through different quarters. Each with a personality (sites, sounds, smells) of their own. The roads are worn stone, bumpy, slick, often inclined/declined and uneven. Other mornings I had come into the city to explore and go to mass but this day I craved something a bit different, unknown.
On other trips, I had noticed a walkway outside the old exterior wall and decided to set out on it. The spirit of exploration giving me some sense of bravado.
The coolness of the morning was a treat. It was not reflective of the heat that surely would come in just a few hours. The sky already blue, clear. So off I walked anticipating a gate would at some point allow me to cross back into the old city.
I walked parallel to the wall through a small park with bushes, olive trees, native plants and flowers. Simple beauty surrounding me. Cars whisked by below on their way to work or trips to destinations unknown.
There was indeed an opening, and in I went through a stone corridor back into the Jewish quarter. The quietness was immediately welcoming. Small groups of children were hurrying off to school. Backpacks and giggles are universal, aren't they? Orthodox Jewish men carrying prayer shawls and with little ones in tow hurried through the walkways. Bakers were carting out wagons of bread. The aroma was wonderful. Shopkeepers were beginning to open their areas. Sleepy eyes and yawns escaping as they undid shutters and rolled out wares.
I had no idea where I was. No map. I did not care. Delight filled my soul.
A believer in following the obvious, I wandered, keeping a distance, from a group of men carrying packaged shawls. My guess... destination morning prayers.
We descinded in the city. Right alley, left, down. And then I saw the security. I had guessed right. The wall was ahead.
Dutifully I laid my camera and key on the shelf and walked through the metal detector. I followed a small group through. The area dumped me on a covered walkway. Up I walked. The wall to my left. Hundreds of Jews already there in prayer.
Men had a large side, chairs, tables, fans... there was a hum of noise as individual prayers rose up. As heads leaned against the wall in petition.
Women had their own side. Smaller, less chairs, less tables but equal in devotion to prayer.
Wait, I can see it all, but this walkway was leading me out again. Phooey.
At the top, I realized I was exiting to the "other side" of the wall. The girl in front of me received a scolding from an armed guard to cover up her tank top clad shoulders. Quickly I covered my head and shoulders with my scarf out of respect. And I surveyed where I was.
Ahead the Dome on the Rock glistened. Men washed their hands and feet at long sinks... readying themselves for or post morning prayers.
The calling of the Adhan completed. Groups of men were rolling up and folding Islamic prayer rugs. I guessed that one of their five formal prayer times was completing. I thought about how the ritual was a constant reminder to seek God's guidance and forgiveness. I said a prayer in my head as I tried to be invisible, quiet, respectful. A group of old women, eyed me a bit. No universal smiles but no look of hatred either. I was immediately relieved.
I made my way along the wall. Again, convinced there would be an opening eventually to cross back in to the otherside. I found it. And began the weaving across to where I knew the remnants of David's temple had Jews and early pilgrams gathered.
I turned left and poured out into the large plaza. I noticed the concealed section of the wall that ran the length of the Temple Mount. The large limestones rising 100 feet looked much like the side I had just came from but they were indeed a world apart.
For Jews the place held significance as the wall to the Holiest of Holies...a place for the mourning of the destruction of the temple. A place for prayers and readings.
For Arabs the place is significant for it being where the prophet Muhammad tethered his horse, Buraq, and ascended into the sky. The Dome on the Rock covering that spot.
It is the area where Abraham was to sacrifice Issac. A place that holds sacred meaning for Muslims, Christians and Jews alike.
Neither culture valuing the other's beliefs, acknowledging the other's claim to the spot.
I quietly covered my head and walked to the wall to offer my own morning prayers. Satisfied in the moment, I walked backward from the wall.
I'd come back again with my friend and guide to place a note in the crevices of the wall. My own little petition for my husband's family and our own. The knowledge that the note would sometime in the year be collected and buried on the Mount of Olives meant a part of me would remain in Jerusalem. Silly, I know. But I smiled nonetheless. Content.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Sound of Angels
While I might say it a thousand times more about several different Jerusalem experiences, one of the most memorable moments for me was at the Garden of Gethsemane. Talk about being able to see something as it might have been thousands of years ago, wow. There are not enough adjectives, enough words to convey the collision of spirit, mind and body that still fills me.
The Garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives, is of course where Jesus and the disciples prayed the night before His crucifixion. It was a place that Jesus and his team frequently went. This gives perspective as to why it was not difficult for Judas to orchestrate a betrayal there.
I went to the Garden as my final moment before I headed to Tel Aviv to catch my plane home. It was a fitting goodbye to Jerusalem. It was perhaps though the actual beginning of my deeper reflection on the overall experience. A little esoteric comment but that's what blogs are for. So there.
As I entered the Garden, I recalled that Jesus and His disciples had celebrated the Passover and then went to the Garden. Jesus asked Peter, James and John to pray with Him, but they fell asleep. Boy that resonates. How often does my mind wander, my eyes slowly close, my attention get distracted...
While I might have been a wee bit judgmental regarding the sleeping disciplines, being there in a place so lovely, so quiet...well I think I could relate on how that might have happened.
Twice Jesus woke them up to remind them to keep praying so they'd not fall into temptation. I don't know about others but I feel the swirl of temptation around me all the time. I could use reminders every two minutes, much less twice.
And further my experience went. I knew that Jesus moved away from his disciples; He was filled with agony about what was to come. He asked His own Father to consider removing the cup from which he was about to drink.
Standing in the knarled Garden, I knew I frequently called out to my Father for help for the trivial and the profound. I wondered what that moment was like for Jesus. He wasn't calling out for help with bills, health, relationships... what was it like to know the absolute horror that was ahead for Him that coming day. I shuddered. A different, deeper appreciation for grace washed over me.
I wondered what Jesus thought when God sent an angel from heaven to strengthen Him. If the angel felt like a prop, a strong arm, a shared tear. I imagined the soon coming soldiers and Judas' betrayal. The dust that must have rose from the dry soil as the soldiers, high priests and others crowded in to arrest Jesus. I could almost hear the din that must have come over the peace of the Garden, the rush of people and the panic.
Would I have been like Peter freaked out and sword waving in the moment... too late, too radical, to little. Would I have understood the power in the moment when Jesus, even in the midst of all that craziness, healed the cut off ear of the priest's servant. Would I have caught the humanity, the utter love? Or would I have missed it like the others did standing right there?
Overlooking the Garden, there is now the third church to occupy the spot - the Church of All Nations. This location was in and of itself a wonder with amazing tile work, crafted olive tree doors, stain glass and breath-taking art. The pews were filled with people from all walks of life, many nations and languages.
We walked into the church as a mass was in process. We took communion next to the rock where it is believed that Jesus prayed and wept. And then the service was coming to conclusion. When something so cool happened that as I think of it and type, my eyes are tearing up.
There was a moment when a choir of teens simply sang tones. I cannot do it justice, several harmonic sounds layered upon layer... the chord filling the church with such beauty and serenity. I thought this... this is what the choir of angels must sound like each day in praise to God. No words needed; just a reverant chord of awe.
The events that occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane reverberated through me... and still do. The willingness of the Christ to knowingly go forward. For me. There are no words.
The Garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives, is of course where Jesus and the disciples prayed the night before His crucifixion. It was a place that Jesus and his team frequently went. This gives perspective as to why it was not difficult for Judas to orchestrate a betrayal there.
I went to the Garden as my final moment before I headed to Tel Aviv to catch my plane home. It was a fitting goodbye to Jerusalem. It was perhaps though the actual beginning of my deeper reflection on the overall experience. A little esoteric comment but that's what blogs are for. So there.
As I entered the Garden, I recalled that Jesus and His disciples had celebrated the Passover and then went to the Garden. Jesus asked Peter, James and John to pray with Him, but they fell asleep. Boy that resonates. How often does my mind wander, my eyes slowly close, my attention get distracted...
While I might have been a wee bit judgmental regarding the sleeping disciplines, being there in a place so lovely, so quiet...well I think I could relate on how that might have happened.
Twice Jesus woke them up to remind them to keep praying so they'd not fall into temptation. I don't know about others but I feel the swirl of temptation around me all the time. I could use reminders every two minutes, much less twice.
And further my experience went. I knew that Jesus moved away from his disciples; He was filled with agony about what was to come. He asked His own Father to consider removing the cup from which he was about to drink.
Standing in the knarled Garden, I knew I frequently called out to my Father for help for the trivial and the profound. I wondered what that moment was like for Jesus. He wasn't calling out for help with bills, health, relationships... what was it like to know the absolute horror that was ahead for Him that coming day. I shuddered. A different, deeper appreciation for grace washed over me.
I wondered what Jesus thought when God sent an angel from heaven to strengthen Him. If the angel felt like a prop, a strong arm, a shared tear. I imagined the soon coming soldiers and Judas' betrayal. The dust that must have rose from the dry soil as the soldiers, high priests and others crowded in to arrest Jesus. I could almost hear the din that must have come over the peace of the Garden, the rush of people and the panic.
Would I have been like Peter freaked out and sword waving in the moment... too late, too radical, to little. Would I have understood the power in the moment when Jesus, even in the midst of all that craziness, healed the cut off ear of the priest's servant. Would I have caught the humanity, the utter love? Or would I have missed it like the others did standing right there?
Overlooking the Garden, there is now the third church to occupy the spot - the Church of All Nations. This location was in and of itself a wonder with amazing tile work, crafted olive tree doors, stain glass and breath-taking art. The pews were filled with people from all walks of life, many nations and languages.
We walked into the church as a mass was in process. We took communion next to the rock where it is believed that Jesus prayed and wept. And then the service was coming to conclusion. When something so cool happened that as I think of it and type, my eyes are tearing up.
There was a moment when a choir of teens simply sang tones. I cannot do it justice, several harmonic sounds layered upon layer... the chord filling the church with such beauty and serenity. I thought this... this is what the choir of angels must sound like each day in praise to God. No words needed; just a reverant chord of awe.
The events that occurred in the Garden of Gethsemane reverberated through me... and still do. The willingness of the Christ to knowingly go forward. For me. There are no words.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
I Got Schooled
When a friend of mine shared his personal narrative about a year ago, I think it was the first time I tried to fully comprehend the Israeli and Palestinian conflicts. Even now, I am ashamed of that fact.
Yes, I read the paper each day. I watch the news. I have a passion for peace and reconciliation and justice. But what did I know of the issues dividing Israelis and Palestinians? Not much, if that much.
Maybe on a stretch I got that Palestinians, and particularly Palestinian refugees and their descendants, wanted to get back or be compensated for their taken homes/land - those now being located in what is the state of Israel.
When I did my "post-meeting research," I found that the U.N. Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees said that in 1950 there were 3 quarters of a million Palestinian refugees who had "lost homes and livelihoods in the war that followed Israel's 1948 declaration of statehood." That number today is something like 5 million. About 1- 2 million of them now located in refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank and east Jerusalem. Even if they could accept citizenship in Arab countries, most think that is settling on Israeli terms; therefore, not acceptable.
So a year later from hearing my new friend's story, here I was smack dab in the middle of the Middle East. Observing. And let me tell you, I got schooled. And I was in the remedial course.
I had the deep, deep honor of breaking fast on a Ramadan evening with my friend's family. You know you get to learn a lot about someone when you hang out with their mom and dad (brothers, neices, nephews)...when you see what's hanging on the family walls, when you witness the interaction of flesh and blood, when you stand in the kitchen, look out from the deck. It adds up to volumes.
On the way to the dinner, we drove through deserts, valleys, mountains, villages. It was beautiful. In a small village up North, Sha'ab, we stopped to walk among the olive trees - trees that date back to Roman times. Trees nearby where my friend would have played and gathered olives as a child...
I recalled that my friend's family had once owned quite a bit of land and "lost it" in 1948. This was the area from which much of his family had to flee for Lebanon. Many of which have not ever returned. An Israeli-Palestinian conflict lesson in action. Real. Raw. Personal. Early prejudices ingrained, revisited, revised, removed.
The trees had character. Weathered faces, knarled branches, variations in color. Scrappy trees, imposing trees. Rows and rows and rows. The ground was reddish, dry, cracked, stone filled. The sound quiet.
We drove up into the village's neighborhoods. Up to his home.
Here was a simple, yet amazing family. Opening their home to me. A feast laid before us. No allowance for me to help (urgh!). No common language except hospitality and respect.
We hung out. We ate. We talked. We ate. We laughed. We ate. Coffee came... the universal "the food is ending" sign. A silent, "thank goodness!" Breathe. Oh nope, more food. We ate some more.
I felt so moved, so priviledged to share the moments. A time with family is sacred. I thought of my own family so far away dealing with so much in my absence. It wrecked me.
Time for the ride home came, and I jockeyed for the back seat. I wanted time to process the reality of what I had just experienced. I pondered the juxtoposition of the pressing problems that face Israel and Palestine today, the love and care I had just witnessed and the crisis going on at my own house. The long commute back to Jerusalem seemed the opportunity to reflect some more and pull into my own thoughts.
How can rational, ethical leaders not lead people out of the prejudices? The frustration of the politics of it all made my head spin. My heart cried out for vision and inspiration to win out.
I did not live this reality each day. I had not grown up in the hatred and bigotry and prejudice. I did not have a family history that still rings true of loss and separation and discrimination.
How can people not see and indeed cherish the very humanity that we all share. The desire for families to work hard, be together, love and provide for each other?
Our differences are real. But so too are our commonalities. I believe that magical blend is where the strength and hope is. Transformation is the only way out. And as small as it may seem in the hugeness of what is the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I felt comfort and belief that the Jerusalem International YMCA had a very real role in inspiring and someday shepherding that vision for and reality of peace.
The schooling of Gail continues. I think I may have got a C+ this time around. I'll take it.
Yes, I read the paper each day. I watch the news. I have a passion for peace and reconciliation and justice. But what did I know of the issues dividing Israelis and Palestinians? Not much, if that much.
Maybe on a stretch I got that Palestinians, and particularly Palestinian refugees and their descendants, wanted to get back or be compensated for their taken homes/land - those now being located in what is the state of Israel.
When I did my "post-meeting research," I found that the U.N. Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees said that in 1950 there were 3 quarters of a million Palestinian refugees who had "lost homes and livelihoods in the war that followed Israel's 1948 declaration of statehood." That number today is something like 5 million. About 1- 2 million of them now located in refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon, Syria, the Gaza Strip, the West Bank and east Jerusalem. Even if they could accept citizenship in Arab countries, most think that is settling on Israeli terms; therefore, not acceptable.
So a year later from hearing my new friend's story, here I was smack dab in the middle of the Middle East. Observing. And let me tell you, I got schooled. And I was in the remedial course.
I had the deep, deep honor of breaking fast on a Ramadan evening with my friend's family. You know you get to learn a lot about someone when you hang out with their mom and dad (brothers, neices, nephews)...when you see what's hanging on the family walls, when you witness the interaction of flesh and blood, when you stand in the kitchen, look out from the deck. It adds up to volumes.
On the way to the dinner, we drove through deserts, valleys, mountains, villages. It was beautiful. In a small village up North, Sha'ab, we stopped to walk among the olive trees - trees that date back to Roman times. Trees nearby where my friend would have played and gathered olives as a child...
I recalled that my friend's family had once owned quite a bit of land and "lost it" in 1948. This was the area from which much of his family had to flee for Lebanon. Many of which have not ever returned. An Israeli-Palestinian conflict lesson in action. Real. Raw. Personal. Early prejudices ingrained, revisited, revised, removed.
The trees had character. Weathered faces, knarled branches, variations in color. Scrappy trees, imposing trees. Rows and rows and rows. The ground was reddish, dry, cracked, stone filled. The sound quiet.
We drove up into the village's neighborhoods. Up to his home.
Here was a simple, yet amazing family. Opening their home to me. A feast laid before us. No allowance for me to help (urgh!). No common language except hospitality and respect.
We hung out. We ate. We talked. We ate. We laughed. We ate. Coffee came... the universal "the food is ending" sign. A silent, "thank goodness!" Breathe. Oh nope, more food. We ate some more.
I felt so moved, so priviledged to share the moments. A time with family is sacred. I thought of my own family so far away dealing with so much in my absence. It wrecked me.
Time for the ride home came, and I jockeyed for the back seat. I wanted time to process the reality of what I had just experienced. I pondered the juxtoposition of the pressing problems that face Israel and Palestine today, the love and care I had just witnessed and the crisis going on at my own house. The long commute back to Jerusalem seemed the opportunity to reflect some more and pull into my own thoughts.
How can rational, ethical leaders not lead people out of the prejudices? The frustration of the politics of it all made my head spin. My heart cried out for vision and inspiration to win out.
I did not live this reality each day. I had not grown up in the hatred and bigotry and prejudice. I did not have a family history that still rings true of loss and separation and discrimination.
How can people not see and indeed cherish the very humanity that we all share. The desire for families to work hard, be together, love and provide for each other?
Our differences are real. But so too are our commonalities. I believe that magical blend is where the strength and hope is. Transformation is the only way out. And as small as it may seem in the hugeness of what is the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, I felt comfort and belief that the Jerusalem International YMCA had a very real role in inspiring and someday shepherding that vision for and reality of peace.
The schooling of Gail continues. I think I may have got a C+ this time around. I'll take it.
Sans Blackberry: Overlooking a Bus Station
I made a conscious choice to go to Jerusalem sans Blackberry. My usual commitment is to Facebook "blog" as I go on a trip. This time I decided to live in the moment without sharing in the moment. And that made all the difference.
I also thought I'd capture elements of the trip on my blog site without any real sense of order, at least outwardly logical order... and without a sense that I had to limit my thoughts or emotions since so few see this page anyway!
I have to disclose that I am in no way a Biblical scholar. But this trip brought back every Sunday school lesson, every Bible-in-a-year reading, every verse memorized, every sermon heard and then some.
So there I stood in a dusty bus station parking lot and looked up.
A rough cliff to my right bore a clear skull face. The spot is the place of an ancient quarry. Not far away, are the walls of Old Jerusalem. The road to Damascus and Jericho would have come this way.
It is now and would have been in Jesus' day a busy, busy place. The type a place a crucifixion would have happened to deter potential criminals. The Bible tells us that "they" took Jesus out of the city to "the place of the skull." Golgotha or Calvary depending on if you read Aramaic or Latin.
When I go up and into the "Garden Tomb" and through its gate, my heart beat slows. The place is a beautiful oasis in the midst of a crazy busy Arab market. Glorious olive trees, flowers, lush green plants. The air's clean quality is palpable compared to the dusty street I just exited. The place literally and immediately fills me with emotion.
The guides note that many believe this place to be the garden of Joseph of Arimathea - the place where Jesus was buried after his crucifixion. While no one can be exactly sure where the crucifixion took place, there was a very real essence about this place, something special and spiritual unlike other places I I visited (including the traditional site located inside the walls of Old Jerusalem -in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre).
If you proceed on with basic Bible 101, you know that Joseph of Arimathea was a rich man and secret follower of Jesus. He got permission to bury the body of Jesus in a new, unused tomb that Joseph himself owned. The Garden Tomb area holds many items that would have been evidence in Jesus' day of a wealthy owner's site - someone like Joseph of Arimathea. There was a wine press, very large water cistern and a working garden. Then there's the matter of the tomb itself.
The tomb was unearthed in 1867 and was noted to be a typical tomb of the 1st century AD. What made it such a spiritually significant moment, both logically and emotionally for me, was that the tomb met all the features mentioned in the Bible's account of the tomb of Jesus. It bore things like it was cut out of solid rock not a natural cave; it was sealed with a large rolling stone that ran in a track outside the door; and there was space inside for several mourners to pray. But the thing that made me pause was that the burial place was unfinished and on the right side of the tomb, visible from the outside. All things very unique to this site and Biblically accurate.
I had to go back and re-read Mark and John to catch the right side and visible from the outside elements as unique. How many times did I read the Easter story and not put that in place?
I do not know if this site was the actual burial place of the cucifixion, burial and resurrection of Jesus. It sure seemed to fit the details described in the Gospel. But like the guide reminded us, that is not the remarkable part.
The rest of the story lies in that the tomb was empty; He was not there; He had risen.
And, well that was in the moment and is still today enough for me.
I also thought I'd capture elements of the trip on my blog site without any real sense of order, at least outwardly logical order... and without a sense that I had to limit my thoughts or emotions since so few see this page anyway!
I have to disclose that I am in no way a Biblical scholar. But this trip brought back every Sunday school lesson, every Bible-in-a-year reading, every verse memorized, every sermon heard and then some.
So there I stood in a dusty bus station parking lot and looked up.
A rough cliff to my right bore a clear skull face. The spot is the place of an ancient quarry. Not far away, are the walls of Old Jerusalem. The road to Damascus and Jericho would have come this way.
It is now and would have been in Jesus' day a busy, busy place. The type a place a crucifixion would have happened to deter potential criminals. The Bible tells us that "they" took Jesus out of the city to "the place of the skull." Golgotha or Calvary depending on if you read Aramaic or Latin.
When I go up and into the "Garden Tomb" and through its gate, my heart beat slows. The place is a beautiful oasis in the midst of a crazy busy Arab market. Glorious olive trees, flowers, lush green plants. The air's clean quality is palpable compared to the dusty street I just exited. The place literally and immediately fills me with emotion.
The guides note that many believe this place to be the garden of Joseph of Arimathea - the place where Jesus was buried after his crucifixion. While no one can be exactly sure where the crucifixion took place, there was a very real essence about this place, something special and spiritual unlike other places I I visited (including the traditional site located inside the walls of Old Jerusalem -in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre).
If you proceed on with basic Bible 101, you know that Joseph of Arimathea was a rich man and secret follower of Jesus. He got permission to bury the body of Jesus in a new, unused tomb that Joseph himself owned. The Garden Tomb area holds many items that would have been evidence in Jesus' day of a wealthy owner's site - someone like Joseph of Arimathea. There was a wine press, very large water cistern and a working garden. Then there's the matter of the tomb itself.
The tomb was unearthed in 1867 and was noted to be a typical tomb of the 1st century AD. What made it such a spiritually significant moment, both logically and emotionally for me, was that the tomb met all the features mentioned in the Bible's account of the tomb of Jesus. It bore things like it was cut out of solid rock not a natural cave; it was sealed with a large rolling stone that ran in a track outside the door; and there was space inside for several mourners to pray. But the thing that made me pause was that the burial place was unfinished and on the right side of the tomb, visible from the outside. All things very unique to this site and Biblically accurate.
I had to go back and re-read Mark and John to catch the right side and visible from the outside elements as unique. How many times did I read the Easter story and not put that in place?
I do not know if this site was the actual burial place of the cucifixion, burial and resurrection of Jesus. It sure seemed to fit the details described in the Gospel. But like the guide reminded us, that is not the remarkable part.
The rest of the story lies in that the tomb was empty; He was not there; He had risen.
And, well that was in the moment and is still today enough for me.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Weeds
This weekend I spent some time in the garden. Gregg has planted an expanse of soil with wonders - potato, carrot, beans, peas, onion, tomato, pepper plants and more.
The plants are doing their part. Lining up, reaching for the sky, they hold the promise of fruits and veggies on our table soon. So far so good.
No chipmunks, moles, rabbits, squirrels or birds have dug, carried off or otherwise disturbed the space and treasures. But something else did.
Weeds.
I had noticed the pesky green shoots poking through a while ago, and I immediately registered, "I need to get on that." But distraction, time commitments, travel, laziness got in my way.
The once small week nuisance became a larger growth. It threatened to choke out what was important in that space. Still I didn't get around to the chore of weeding. Still I ignored the obvious.
Another week went by, and the weeds now riveled some of the actual desired plants for space, water consumption and light. Urgh. I know better.
Finally, "alarmed" by the take over, I headed into the patch to own up to the negligence. I spent the time in the mire pulling, sorting. Scratched and muddy I exited the garden hours later. Satisfied and yet appropriately admonishing myself, I stood back in wonder.
My life is so often like that. I know the right thing to do. I know the value of maintenance, pruning, caring for the things I value. But things take my attention. And the weeds of neglect creep in.
I committed to more attentive care of our family garden this weekend. But I also committed to a much larger focus... family, friends, service. All need my attention and care so as not to let the weeds of self-doubt, fear, poor prioritizing and neglect creep in.
I need to keep up with the weeds. Daily.
The plants are doing their part. Lining up, reaching for the sky, they hold the promise of fruits and veggies on our table soon. So far so good.
No chipmunks, moles, rabbits, squirrels or birds have dug, carried off or otherwise disturbed the space and treasures. But something else did.
Weeds.
I had noticed the pesky green shoots poking through a while ago, and I immediately registered, "I need to get on that." But distraction, time commitments, travel, laziness got in my way.
The once small week nuisance became a larger growth. It threatened to choke out what was important in that space. Still I didn't get around to the chore of weeding. Still I ignored the obvious.
Another week went by, and the weeds now riveled some of the actual desired plants for space, water consumption and light. Urgh. I know better.
Finally, "alarmed" by the take over, I headed into the patch to own up to the negligence. I spent the time in the mire pulling, sorting. Scratched and muddy I exited the garden hours later. Satisfied and yet appropriately admonishing myself, I stood back in wonder.
My life is so often like that. I know the right thing to do. I know the value of maintenance, pruning, caring for the things I value. But things take my attention. And the weeds of neglect creep in.
I committed to more attentive care of our family garden this weekend. But I also committed to a much larger focus... family, friends, service. All need my attention and care so as not to let the weeds of self-doubt, fear, poor prioritizing and neglect creep in.
I need to keep up with the weeds. Daily.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Busted
Our youngest daughter crossed a milestone yesterday, and it was painful. Painful for her. Painful for me. Painful for Gregg.
The backstory is our twelve year old wanted to be on Facebook because "all" her friends are on it. We had taken a united parental stand of "not yet and we will continue to talk about it if we can think through the privacy issues," etc. Sometimes she is in such a rush to be older... that we we just wanted to slow her down a bit. Plus, really how much can twelve year olds have to say on Facebook?
Last night, our son ratted her out inadvertantly. And so it began.
The confrontation, the tears, the disappointment, the fear, the resolution. Sigh.
The conversation moved from rants and tears to a heartfelt discussion of just why we are "uncool" parents at times. You could see the reality cross her face as we talked about adults who pose as kids on-line, sharing information about how innocent posts can give weirdos information to stalk. On and on the tears and discussion flowed.
The talk about trust and disappointment followed and was probably the hardest part of all, but it all came full circle as we talked about a parent's love and forgiveness.
The result? She pulled the Facebook account of her own choice. She is facing consequences that spill into other privileges she has.
But the biggest realization. Out little girl is no longer a little girl. Wow.
The backstory is our twelve year old wanted to be on Facebook because "all" her friends are on it. We had taken a united parental stand of "not yet and we will continue to talk about it if we can think through the privacy issues," etc. Sometimes she is in such a rush to be older... that we we just wanted to slow her down a bit. Plus, really how much can twelve year olds have to say on Facebook?
Last night, our son ratted her out inadvertantly. And so it began.
The confrontation, the tears, the disappointment, the fear, the resolution. Sigh.
The conversation moved from rants and tears to a heartfelt discussion of just why we are "uncool" parents at times. You could see the reality cross her face as we talked about adults who pose as kids on-line, sharing information about how innocent posts can give weirdos information to stalk. On and on the tears and discussion flowed.
The talk about trust and disappointment followed and was probably the hardest part of all, but it all came full circle as we talked about a parent's love and forgiveness.
The result? She pulled the Facebook account of her own choice. She is facing consequences that spill into other privileges she has.
But the biggest realization. Out little girl is no longer a little girl. Wow.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Flags waving...
Memorial Day didn't used to mean a lot to me. I don't mean that in an unpatriotic sort of way. I mean it in an "I just didn't totally get it" sort of way.
Sure, I knew the purpose was to remember those who are serving, have served and who have sacrificed their lives for our country. But I don't think I gave the holiday the truest sense of memory that the holiday's name implies.
But this year I took the whole weekend off - an extra long version of the long weekend. And I had more time to contemplate the date and more.
Friday as I was hanging the flag on our front porch a gentleman walked by with silver hair and a walk that as he passed caught my eye. As he walked on by, I had just a flicker of a memory of my dad... also silver haired and an avid neighborhood walker. I had just a split second where I started to call out. My dad has been gone nearly 8 years but his memory - that memory- was so vivid I almost fell off the ladder. My dad was a Korean War vet. My hands were shaking as I posted the flag.
I saw a story on one of the Sunday morning talk shows about a young vet who was hit in Iraq - the soul survivor in his Humvee. He lost three buddies and both arms and legs from that missle hit. The same weapon that severed his limbs saved his life because it cauterized the wounds as it passed through him. And he gave the interview with gratitude to be alive and striving for what was to come next. I said a prayer for his ensuing dream for a double arm transplant. HE had no regrets for serving his nation, for keeping me and my family safer. I will remember his story for days to come.
Finally, I saw a list of the most recent soldiers to give their lives this week. Among them a 19 year old. I can't lie. I cried on the spot and still do when I remember the list. After all, some mom has that son to remember that loss everyday not just once a year. I gave Nate an extra long hug when he finally rolled out of bed - thankful my son is safe and sound.
Memorial Day 2010. I get it.
Sure, I knew the purpose was to remember those who are serving, have served and who have sacrificed their lives for our country. But I don't think I gave the holiday the truest sense of memory that the holiday's name implies.
But this year I took the whole weekend off - an extra long version of the long weekend. And I had more time to contemplate the date and more.
Friday as I was hanging the flag on our front porch a gentleman walked by with silver hair and a walk that as he passed caught my eye. As he walked on by, I had just a flicker of a memory of my dad... also silver haired and an avid neighborhood walker. I had just a split second where I started to call out. My dad has been gone nearly 8 years but his memory - that memory- was so vivid I almost fell off the ladder. My dad was a Korean War vet. My hands were shaking as I posted the flag.
I saw a story on one of the Sunday morning talk shows about a young vet who was hit in Iraq - the soul survivor in his Humvee. He lost three buddies and both arms and legs from that missle hit. The same weapon that severed his limbs saved his life because it cauterized the wounds as it passed through him. And he gave the interview with gratitude to be alive and striving for what was to come next. I said a prayer for his ensuing dream for a double arm transplant. HE had no regrets for serving his nation, for keeping me and my family safer. I will remember his story for days to come.
Finally, I saw a list of the most recent soldiers to give their lives this week. Among them a 19 year old. I can't lie. I cried on the spot and still do when I remember the list. After all, some mom has that son to remember that loss everyday not just once a year. I gave Nate an extra long hug when he finally rolled out of bed - thankful my son is safe and sound.
Memorial Day 2010. I get it.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'
I'm participating in the 2010 Lexington Business Bike Commute event in May.
I don't think I had a full concept of how much I travel across town here until I am now trying to coordinate kids' drop off, cross city meetings and mid-day commutes. Hmmmm.
I have had huge respect for a YMCA guy who nearly always bikes around town. I think even that increased for me. He's cooler than I am, definately has a better bike (actually I am borrowing one) and is not borrowing his kid's helmet. But I get an A for effort.
We need a bike friendlier community. All's cool on the bike lanes, but 90% of my commute does follow that path. Think I will be getting vocal on that here soon.
I don't think I had a full concept of how much I travel across town here until I am now trying to coordinate kids' drop off, cross city meetings and mid-day commutes. Hmmmm.
I have had huge respect for a YMCA guy who nearly always bikes around town. I think even that increased for me. He's cooler than I am, definately has a better bike (actually I am borrowing one) and is not borrowing his kid's helmet. But I get an A for effort.
We need a bike friendlier community. All's cool on the bike lanes, but 90% of my commute does follow that path. Think I will be getting vocal on that here soon.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Baby steps back
Step away from the blog. I have purposefully been a way for a bit as I found myself in a bit of funk. I didn't want my writing to be a "have to" when I wasn't in the mood for it to be a "want to."
So here's some things I have done of late to attract some good self-energy in lieu of and in order to push away the funkiness. These are a few of the things I am stepping into...
First, out of a place of exhaustion and emptiness, I asked an acquaintance to be become an actual friend - complete with the good, bad and ugly of me. And the person said yes. I stepped toward an authentic new relationship.
Second, I immediately signed myself up for a summit that is all about inspiration and stretch. And no, it is not YMCA based. I stepped toward intellectual nourishment.
Third, I took advantage of an opportunity to meet with a group of total strangers once a week to listen, laugh, ponder and debate. For this introvert, it was scary to go. It was also incredibly refreshing. And I laughed more than I had in quite awhile. I took a step toward new support groups in unexpected places.
Finally, I'm back to walking the dogs twice a day. They like me. They don't complain or expect a dog-gone thing from me. I am stepping outside, literally.
I think I am on the right path to step back inside myself.
So here's some things I have done of late to attract some good self-energy in lieu of and in order to push away the funkiness. These are a few of the things I am stepping into...
First, out of a place of exhaustion and emptiness, I asked an acquaintance to be become an actual friend - complete with the good, bad and ugly of me. And the person said yes. I stepped toward an authentic new relationship.
Second, I immediately signed myself up for a summit that is all about inspiration and stretch. And no, it is not YMCA based. I stepped toward intellectual nourishment.
Third, I took advantage of an opportunity to meet with a group of total strangers once a week to listen, laugh, ponder and debate. For this introvert, it was scary to go. It was also incredibly refreshing. And I laughed more than I had in quite awhile. I took a step toward new support groups in unexpected places.
Finally, I'm back to walking the dogs twice a day. They like me. They don't complain or expect a dog-gone thing from me. I am stepping outside, literally.
I think I am on the right path to step back inside myself.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Coming back for more
Okay, as I continue my saga on the idea as my Rabbi freind said, "If I don't ask myself every day, 'What am I doing here?' I do not belong." I also have to recapture here the other part of his Shabbat Shalom message that hit home...and continues to haunt me.
"Each day I have to remind myself why I made this choice. Some days, the reminder comes from the midst of dramatic frustration or painful engagement. I remember that I chose this work to make a difference and help bring an end to frustration in the world. Other days, the reminder comes from the most incredible blessings. I have to take a step back and give thanks that I get to do what I do, and that I find myself in the position of experiencing miracles. Some days bring both experiences. At either end of the spectrum or anywhere in between, I have to remember that I have to be intentional in waking up each day and in re-engaging. There is no way to take any of this for granted and still be able to come back for more."
That passage now forever written in my remember book.
Now I just have to continue to work through the dramatic frustration and painful engagement stuff that I am swimming in. What in the world do people who hold no faith do during times like these?
And geesh, this is all a bit new. How long is this gonna last?
Thursday, I will take a huge leap and talk to the sage Rabbi about my thoughts...
"Each day I have to remind myself why I made this choice. Some days, the reminder comes from the midst of dramatic frustration or painful engagement. I remember that I chose this work to make a difference and help bring an end to frustration in the world. Other days, the reminder comes from the most incredible blessings. I have to take a step back and give thanks that I get to do what I do, and that I find myself in the position of experiencing miracles. Some days bring both experiences. At either end of the spectrum or anywhere in between, I have to remember that I have to be intentional in waking up each day and in re-engaging. There is no way to take any of this for granted and still be able to come back for more."
That passage now forever written in my remember book.
Now I just have to continue to work through the dramatic frustration and painful engagement stuff that I am swimming in. What in the world do people who hold no faith do during times like these?
And geesh, this is all a bit new. How long is this gonna last?
Thursday, I will take a huge leap and talk to the sage Rabbi about my thoughts...
Distracted from abundance
I've been away from the blogging world for a bit. Distracted.
Read a phrase from author Tim Sanders today. "A successful life is a journey back to one's abundance." He then asked "Think about it. Where are you now?"
I am not sure I am in abundance, right now. And with that same statement I do not mean to say that what I am doing lacks worth, value, even satisfaction. But abundance. Hmmmmmmm. Boy that's a whopper of a word.
I have some thinking to do this week.
In the midst of all that is so beautiful and wonderful... and believe me I do know I am blessed beyond all measure... my heart has felt scarcity of late.
Perhpas it is the constant motion. Perhaps the ever-present noise. Perhaps the continuous output. All constant. all distracting. Depleting.
I need a soul fill-up. My heart needs to be tickled with unblemished joy.
Back at ya on this topic...
Read a phrase from author Tim Sanders today. "A successful life is a journey back to one's abundance." He then asked "Think about it. Where are you now?"
I am not sure I am in abundance, right now. And with that same statement I do not mean to say that what I am doing lacks worth, value, even satisfaction. But abundance. Hmmmmmmm. Boy that's a whopper of a word.
I have some thinking to do this week.
In the midst of all that is so beautiful and wonderful... and believe me I do know I am blessed beyond all measure... my heart has felt scarcity of late.
Perhpas it is the constant motion. Perhaps the ever-present noise. Perhaps the continuous output. All constant. all distracting. Depleting.
I need a soul fill-up. My heart needs to be tickled with unblemished joy.
Back at ya on this topic...
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Take It Up a Notch
I have to admit I am not very good with mediocre.
Coasting by - not so much. Good enough - nope. Average - why?
At times in my own life and work, I struggle with getting others to come along with me for the ride to excellence.
This is one of those times.
The current to status quo is strong. The desire for what's safe and the norm, immense. Others' fear of failure, huge.
I am asking folks to step up.
I am pulling for a more compelling, clear and congruent way of work and life. Take it up a notch for yourself, for your family, for your place of employment.
What are you waiting for? What can I do?
Coasting by - not so much. Good enough - nope. Average - why?
At times in my own life and work, I struggle with getting others to come along with me for the ride to excellence.
This is one of those times.
The current to status quo is strong. The desire for what's safe and the norm, immense. Others' fear of failure, huge.
I am asking folks to step up.
I am pulling for a more compelling, clear and congruent way of work and life. Take it up a notch for yourself, for your family, for your place of employment.
What are you waiting for? What can I do?
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Character Moment
I believe that you can tell a lot about a person's character by how they behave in the school kid's drop off lanes. There is a daily moment when ego battles common good.
To provide a safe environment and to ensure orderly drop off, clearly defined parameters are set at the beginning of each academic year to protect kids and parents. A small lot, walkers, riders, the normal morning hussle and bussle. The process... simple, civil.
And yet, each morning a select few whiz into the lot from the wrong direction bypassing the masses who orderly wait their turn in line. They cut the line. They zoom too fast for children's presence. They don't go to the far end of the drop off point so that others can pull up for kid departures as well...
Somehow their morning is more rushed than ours. Somehow their next gig is vital to our mundane. Somehow their child cannot walk the extra 15 feet from a little further up the drive.
Breathe deep o'masses of civil beings. Count to ten rather than screaming a curse. And by all means keep both hands and all fingers wrapped around the wheel.
I use the moment to teach chaos theory and the benefits of orderly behavior to my third grader. Breathe.
To provide a safe environment and to ensure orderly drop off, clearly defined parameters are set at the beginning of each academic year to protect kids and parents. A small lot, walkers, riders, the normal morning hussle and bussle. The process... simple, civil.
And yet, each morning a select few whiz into the lot from the wrong direction bypassing the masses who orderly wait their turn in line. They cut the line. They zoom too fast for children's presence. They don't go to the far end of the drop off point so that others can pull up for kid departures as well...
Somehow their morning is more rushed than ours. Somehow their next gig is vital to our mundane. Somehow their child cannot walk the extra 15 feet from a little further up the drive.
Breathe deep o'masses of civil beings. Count to ten rather than screaming a curse. And by all means keep both hands and all fingers wrapped around the wheel.
I use the moment to teach chaos theory and the benefits of orderly behavior to my third grader. Breathe.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Montage
I have been reading a bit about rearing ethical and socially conscious kids this week.
I was quite blessed to have parents who understood the value of giving back and whose actions often spoke as loud or louder than their words. At times I know I challenged them by choosing paths at the extremes - journeys that were as mundane as hanging out with all "sorts" of kids or as extreme as living in places that literally put me in harms way.
I think it might be harder for kids today. Specifically, I think it may be harder for my kids today unless I am purposeful. They are bombarded with data from the news, papers, television shows. We limit the viewing but the layers and layers are there. I know they see more, hear more than I did at their age. At least from what I recall.
There are so many needs in our community and around the world. As the images and stories wash over us, I can see how easy it is to feel numb or paralyzed by it all. Through the montage of all the natural disasters, economic challenges, discrimination, spiritual scarcity, I am but one... what can I do?
I try to be a parent consistent in my own actions to the behaviors I expect of them. But even I wonder if I am doing enough to make the world a better place - each day, every day.
During different seasons of my life I did more, sometimes less. What season am I in now?
I want to think more on this throughout the coming week. What is the theme I am hopeful to pass on to Rachel and Nathan? Not that they will follow my path but rather than they seek out a path of servanthood that meets their dreams and ideals and calling...
I was quite blessed to have parents who understood the value of giving back and whose actions often spoke as loud or louder than their words. At times I know I challenged them by choosing paths at the extremes - journeys that were as mundane as hanging out with all "sorts" of kids or as extreme as living in places that literally put me in harms way.
I think it might be harder for kids today. Specifically, I think it may be harder for my kids today unless I am purposeful. They are bombarded with data from the news, papers, television shows. We limit the viewing but the layers and layers are there. I know they see more, hear more than I did at their age. At least from what I recall.
There are so many needs in our community and around the world. As the images and stories wash over us, I can see how easy it is to feel numb or paralyzed by it all. Through the montage of all the natural disasters, economic challenges, discrimination, spiritual scarcity, I am but one... what can I do?
I try to be a parent consistent in my own actions to the behaviors I expect of them. But even I wonder if I am doing enough to make the world a better place - each day, every day.
During different seasons of my life I did more, sometimes less. What season am I in now?
I want to think more on this throughout the coming week. What is the theme I am hopeful to pass on to Rachel and Nathan? Not that they will follow my path but rather than they seek out a path of servanthood that meets their dreams and ideals and calling...
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Game is in Play...
I read on a wise man's blog this week something that has had me contemplating my own leadership strategies and energies.
The sage post (in partial form related to chess and life comparisons) was "Playing defensively and simply trying to protect your king is a weak strategy compared to an aggressive strategy where you get the pieces in positions where you can use their mobility as an advantage. Thus it is with life. If you spend all of your time and energy protecting what you have, all you are doing is postponing the time when you will recognize that you never gave yourself a chance to truly succeed."
Fundamental to my own leadership strategies is a natural bent toward engaging staff in recognizing and putting their strengths to work in order to achieve outstanding performance. My greatest satisfaction is rarely about the tangible product as much as it is about the intangible maximizing of human capital. It literally chokes me up.
The point where someone turns a corner they did not even know existed. Or to borrow from this person's analogy, the moment someone stops playing small and risks... only to find personal mobility in terms of vision, achievement, dreams... is my "win" as much as theirs.
I see a lot of shifting lately in some of my staff. Less guarding of the tiny personal/professional square that might have been perceived as their own turf. Much more looking out several moves. An abundance of calculated risks that lead to learnings.
And that makes me feel like the queen of the world (okay, just my little world anyway!) - able to go in several directions, to protect the mission of my organization, to empower our different people to capitalize on their unique moves, to build a learning culture where a team thinks a number of moves ahead and gathers as much information as they possibly can.
Not quite check mate. But the game is in play...
The sage post (in partial form related to chess and life comparisons) was "Playing defensively and simply trying to protect your king is a weak strategy compared to an aggressive strategy where you get the pieces in positions where you can use their mobility as an advantage. Thus it is with life. If you spend all of your time and energy protecting what you have, all you are doing is postponing the time when you will recognize that you never gave yourself a chance to truly succeed."
Fundamental to my own leadership strategies is a natural bent toward engaging staff in recognizing and putting their strengths to work in order to achieve outstanding performance. My greatest satisfaction is rarely about the tangible product as much as it is about the intangible maximizing of human capital. It literally chokes me up.
The point where someone turns a corner they did not even know existed. Or to borrow from this person's analogy, the moment someone stops playing small and risks... only to find personal mobility in terms of vision, achievement, dreams... is my "win" as much as theirs.
I see a lot of shifting lately in some of my staff. Less guarding of the tiny personal/professional square that might have been perceived as their own turf. Much more looking out several moves. An abundance of calculated risks that lead to learnings.
And that makes me feel like the queen of the world (okay, just my little world anyway!) - able to go in several directions, to protect the mission of my organization, to empower our different people to capitalize on their unique moves, to build a learning culture where a team thinks a number of moves ahead and gathers as much information as they possibly can.
Not quite check mate. But the game is in play...
Monday, March 8, 2010
Fasting
I am going to fast this week. And I do not mean a food fast.
I am willingly abstaining from viewpoint offering for the week. An opinion fast so to speak.
I will instead use the time as a period of listening, reflection and prayer. A spiritual and occurpational recuperation time.
Refresh and reinvigorate is the intent. I'll strive to make the necessary readjustments in my inner-life in order to better listen, learn and lead.
Since so few know of my blog, this fast's purpose is purely personal, symbolic only to me in its significance. No political statement. No leadership challenge to others.
Also no weight loss strategy. Although I expect letting the weight of the world off my shoulders may be an anticipated benefit!
Let the therapy begin!
I am willingly abstaining from viewpoint offering for the week. An opinion fast so to speak.
I will instead use the time as a period of listening, reflection and prayer. A spiritual and occurpational recuperation time.
Refresh and reinvigorate is the intent. I'll strive to make the necessary readjustments in my inner-life in order to better listen, learn and lead.
Since so few know of my blog, this fast's purpose is purely personal, symbolic only to me in its significance. No political statement. No leadership challenge to others.
Also no weight loss strategy. Although I expect letting the weight of the world off my shoulders may be an anticipated benefit!
Let the therapy begin!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Mat Carriers Wanted
Today I witnessed people carrying a friend's "mat." And it was good.
You may know the story from Luke 5:8 A paralyzed man's friends are so committed to getting their friend before Jesus that they made a way... despite obstacles.
"When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus."
Their faith moved Jesus so much that he forgave the man and healed him.
The moment that the need arose this morning, there was an instantaneous response of what are the needs and how can I help? Meals were organized, medical supplies purchased, groceries picked up, visits popped up.
No formal committee vote, no resistence. No second thoughts. Just love. Just that simple. Just that good.
I like to be around mat carriers.
You may know the story from Luke 5:8 A paralyzed man's friends are so committed to getting their friend before Jesus that they made a way... despite obstacles.
"When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus."
Their faith moved Jesus so much that he forgave the man and healed him.
The moment that the need arose this morning, there was an instantaneous response of what are the needs and how can I help? Meals were organized, medical supplies purchased, groceries picked up, visits popped up.
No formal committee vote, no resistence. No second thoughts. Just love. Just that simple. Just that good.
I like to be around mat carriers.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Lists
My son Nathan has taken to list making lately. Each day I find pages and pages of lists scattered in his room and across the house. They might be quite short - just one or two items. They are frequently extensive - going dozens of pages in length.
The lists show what is on his mind, what he values, what he is fearful to forget.
Columns of his favorite songs, actors, activities make up some pages. Line after line of soldier phrases and battles fought long ago are assembled on note paper. "Cheats" for his favorite wii games make up another. Like little windows into his mind, I read the lists for insights into his young heart. It gives me pause.
Where are my lists? Beyond the weekly panorama of "to do" items, what reflects my longings, my passions, my gratefulness? What instruction can this mom borrow from her eight year-old's strategy?
I begin new lists today.
Lists of gratitude for all the blessings in my life. I will create columns of all that is going right in my week, not just all the challenges ahead. I will catalog the qualities that so endear me to my family, my friends, my staff. I'll call roll on all the prayers answered... and even those not.
I'll let it go on the record.
The lists show what is on his mind, what he values, what he is fearful to forget.
Columns of his favorite songs, actors, activities make up some pages. Line after line of soldier phrases and battles fought long ago are assembled on note paper. "Cheats" for his favorite wii games make up another. Like little windows into his mind, I read the lists for insights into his young heart. It gives me pause.
Where are my lists? Beyond the weekly panorama of "to do" items, what reflects my longings, my passions, my gratefulness? What instruction can this mom borrow from her eight year-old's strategy?
I begin new lists today.
Lists of gratitude for all the blessings in my life. I will create columns of all that is going right in my week, not just all the challenges ahead. I will catalog the qualities that so endear me to my family, my friends, my staff. I'll call roll on all the prayers answered... and even those not.
I'll let it go on the record.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Unsustainable
Alone.
In a sea of people. In a whirlwind of things to do. In the midst of all that is.
I am struggling with feeling alone.
This is not a new feeling for me and one that I have over time come to embrace...usually. But over the past couple weeks, not so much welcoming of the feeling as floundering in it. The imagery of me treading water is surfacing, literally.
As someone who moved so often as a youth that I could attend four high school reunions this year if I wanted; as someone who extroverts so much in my work that it wears me out; as one who frequently asks for (and gets) the mountain... I am perplexed by this somewhat sudden, visceral response.
Interestingly (to me anyway), this is also the closest I have felt in my connection to God. My utter dependence on a loving Father to hold me in the palm of His hand and "shhhhh" my fears.
My life, as is, is unsustainable. I need a replenishment strategy.
In a sea of people. In a whirlwind of things to do. In the midst of all that is.
I am struggling with feeling alone.
This is not a new feeling for me and one that I have over time come to embrace...usually. But over the past couple weeks, not so much welcoming of the feeling as floundering in it. The imagery of me treading water is surfacing, literally.
As someone who moved so often as a youth that I could attend four high school reunions this year if I wanted; as someone who extroverts so much in my work that it wears me out; as one who frequently asks for (and gets) the mountain... I am perplexed by this somewhat sudden, visceral response.
Interestingly (to me anyway), this is also the closest I have felt in my connection to God. My utter dependence on a loving Father to hold me in the palm of His hand and "shhhhh" my fears.
My life, as is, is unsustainable. I need a replenishment strategy.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Ummmm, Nevermind
I awoke this morning to another beautiful snowfall. The early shades of grays and whites laying out a calm, peaceful palette before me. The tree forms gently swaying in tandem to the snow-filled breeze made me stand a few more moments ... breathing deeply. Praises singing in my head.
And then I checked my Blackberry.
A LEXAlert message cueing me with a flashing red light... no school for the district. Really, another snow day? A quick math equation told me the kids were now going to classes into the first week of June. Bummer.
The next tick in thought. Ah man, why doesn't the district stop calling snow days for a mere 2 inches of powder? What are "they" thinking? My internal rant proceeded. Including a question in my prayers asking why the schools made these decisions. Huh God? The tranquility of the previous mood shattered.
I looked in on Gregg and the kids. Decided to let them sleep in. And headed out. Still in a bit of a dander.
Ahhhh, back to the gray streetscapes. The empty early-morning roads. The darken skies filled with dancing flurries...
A stop sign ahead. A car coming from the other street. I could see his brake lights pumping gently like mine - both allowing extra time to stop given the road conditions. We both skidded, swerved.
Missed.
My heart skipped a few beats. My pulse raced a few more. Sheepishly I ran through the interplay of my dual moods and thoughts this morning.
Ummmmmm, nevermind God.
And then I checked my Blackberry.
A LEXAlert message cueing me with a flashing red light... no school for the district. Really, another snow day? A quick math equation told me the kids were now going to classes into the first week of June. Bummer.
The next tick in thought. Ah man, why doesn't the district stop calling snow days for a mere 2 inches of powder? What are "they" thinking? My internal rant proceeded. Including a question in my prayers asking why the schools made these decisions. Huh God? The tranquility of the previous mood shattered.
I looked in on Gregg and the kids. Decided to let them sleep in. And headed out. Still in a bit of a dander.
Ahhhh, back to the gray streetscapes. The empty early-morning roads. The darken skies filled with dancing flurries...
A stop sign ahead. A car coming from the other street. I could see his brake lights pumping gently like mine - both allowing extra time to stop given the road conditions. We both skidded, swerved.
Missed.
My heart skipped a few beats. My pulse raced a few more. Sheepishly I ran through the interplay of my dual moods and thoughts this morning.
Ummmmmm, nevermind God.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Critical Alert.
Rare electronic virus to hit
YMCA of Central Kentucky
week of 1/11/10 – 1/ 15/10.
Email communication will run the risk of distancing staff, allowing miscommunication of messages, delaying communication efficiencies and diminishing professional interactions.
Recommended action: pick up the phone or walk down the hall and actually say the message and listen for response.
(dramatic pause)
As I looked at the staff surveys we will review on Friday at the Management Team Meeting and as I continue to align my personal work habits to Gulick aspirations, I wanted to issue this challenge to everyone. Are you up for it? I am going to start it the very minute I press send.
It’s just an experiment but could it teach us something? I wonder.
If you are up for the challenge, let’s make as much of our communiqués between two people face-to-face or via phone call this week as possible.
It’s just as an experiment so no need to beat yourself up if you by habit send an email rather than walk literally one door down…
But let’s try to mimic the very behaviors our health seeking members crave from us.
Interaction. Relationship. Listening.
Just say no to email when a simple chat could do… the challenge is on.
Rare electronic virus to hit
YMCA of Central Kentucky
week of 1/11/10 – 1/ 15/10.
Email communication will run the risk of distancing staff, allowing miscommunication of messages, delaying communication efficiencies and diminishing professional interactions.
Recommended action: pick up the phone or walk down the hall and actually say the message and listen for response.
(dramatic pause)
As I looked at the staff surveys we will review on Friday at the Management Team Meeting and as I continue to align my personal work habits to Gulick aspirations, I wanted to issue this challenge to everyone. Are you up for it? I am going to start it the very minute I press send.
It’s just an experiment but could it teach us something? I wonder.
If you are up for the challenge, let’s make as much of our communiqués between two people face-to-face or via phone call this week as possible.
It’s just as an experiment so no need to beat yourself up if you by habit send an email rather than walk literally one door down…
But let’s try to mimic the very behaviors our health seeking members crave from us.
Interaction. Relationship. Listening.
Just say no to email when a simple chat could do… the challenge is on.
Enjoy the View
When you are about 42” high the world looks a lot different in a crowd-crushing community-wide event like the Thriller dance.
A blur of coat backs, bottoms and push and pulls make up the experience. Grumbles, bickering, boredom build. And well, it becomes not much fun for the 42” folk and those around them.
The sights and sounds, colors and merriment of the higher view get lost in the shuffle. Really? This is supposed to be fun?
But then….
The adults risks just a bit. They let go of your hand so you can head to the front of the crowd and enjoy the view. Who knew pushing through, dodging around could be such an adventure?
Whoa, the whole world changes. Moods lift and spirits lighten. It’s a whole new experience.
I’m sensing a lot of that lately and I am not just referring to my little guy Nate.
As senior staff step aside to let other leaders from our association influence and guide our Gulick initiatives, there seems to be a shift occurring. And it is noticeable.
I am regularly hearing stories from the executive and senior leaders of a different group pushing to the front, scouting out new opportunities and beginning to lead us in new ways of work.
It is not always perfect. There are times we all have to catch ourselves from creating a barrier rather than an opportunity. But I think the experiences for all are richer, more challenging.
It’s exciting to see the broadening out of our thinking, to see new faces at the table, to hear conversations about whose strengths fit a particular task better.
Way to go team. I couldn’t be more excited with the early shifts. Way to seek out and embrace the changing vistas. Imagine the views to come.
A blur of coat backs, bottoms and push and pulls make up the experience. Grumbles, bickering, boredom build. And well, it becomes not much fun for the 42” folk and those around them.
The sights and sounds, colors and merriment of the higher view get lost in the shuffle. Really? This is supposed to be fun?
But then….
The adults risks just a bit. They let go of your hand so you can head to the front of the crowd and enjoy the view. Who knew pushing through, dodging around could be such an adventure?
Whoa, the whole world changes. Moods lift and spirits lighten. It’s a whole new experience.
I’m sensing a lot of that lately and I am not just referring to my little guy Nate.
As senior staff step aside to let other leaders from our association influence and guide our Gulick initiatives, there seems to be a shift occurring. And it is noticeable.
I am regularly hearing stories from the executive and senior leaders of a different group pushing to the front, scouting out new opportunities and beginning to lead us in new ways of work.
It is not always perfect. There are times we all have to catch ourselves from creating a barrier rather than an opportunity. But I think the experiences for all are richer, more challenging.
It’s exciting to see the broadening out of our thinking, to see new faces at the table, to hear conversations about whose strengths fit a particular task better.
Way to go team. I couldn’t be more excited with the early shifts. Way to seek out and embrace the changing vistas. Imagine the views to come.
Squint
E
H C F
A G U K
L R Y V H
I P C R F N S Z
G U L I C K
Which one is better?
(clicking sound)
This?
or
(pause… clicking sound and blurriness)
this?
For those of you blessed with perfect eyesight this might sound odd to you, but for anyone wearing contacts or glasses, you know exacting what I am talking about.
At any eye exam, an optometrist has you sit there. The lights dim, the anticipation builds, anxiety may set in. Then the doctor has you read as far down the eye chart as you can. You strain, you squint. You try as hard as you can to reach the lowest row possible. You pray the “C” you just called out is really a “C” and not an “O” or the “E” is not an “F.” You may second guess yourself, the eye doc, heck the whole darn exam process.
Immediately you find yourself placed behind this odd machine with lens in front of your eyes. One eye is blacked out, the other has a fuzzy lens in front… and so the questions begin. Which is clearer – this or this? How about now…?
Through a series of controlled trials and errors the eye doc brings you closer and closer to seeing more clearly; until boom, you see clearer than ever before. In fact, you may get to the end of the experience and realize, “boy, I had no idea how messed up my vision was!”
I am wondering if you may have felt like Friday’s “Transfer of Learning” felt a bit like that.
As we developed and will continue to develop a deeper understanding of and appreciation for Health Seekers, there are moments of clarity then periods of fuzziness (clicking sound). Trust the process. Clearer vision is coming.
This Learning Session 1/Application Period 1 process is our equivalent of reading the eye chart and getting you behind the lens’ machine.
We begin our Application Period 1 gathering the baseline data on New Members, Youth & Family and Health and Well-being. We have to know our current line of sight before we can experiment with making it clearer.
We purposefully dabbled a bit Friday in asking you to define Health Seeker. The initial viewpoint a whole lot of negative, a lot of “they” language, judgment statements cautiously thrown about. We brought it closer to home by reflecting on what our individual “haves” and “wish we had more” statements. Wow, you mean we all have things we are working on and toward?
The Health Seeker interview video shared how individualized, intimate a health seekers journey is… and what a privilege it is to join someone on that journey. Finally we took a look back at that Health Seeker word association exercise. What a shift (in two hours no less!) in our lens (clicking sound, clicking sound, sigh).
Relative to the three areas of New Members, Youth & Family and Health and Well-being, let’s use the next six weeks to honestly read and document the equivalent of our “eye chart.”
Again, in the immediate near-term, let’s focus on the 20/20 portion. Learning Session 2 is around the corner, and we promise… the new lens and cool frames selection process is coming.
Take it one line at a time. I know I am.
H C F
A G U K
L R Y V H
I P C R F N S Z
G U L I C K
Which one is better?
(clicking sound)
This?
or
(pause… clicking sound and blurriness)
this?
For those of you blessed with perfect eyesight this might sound odd to you, but for anyone wearing contacts or glasses, you know exacting what I am talking about.
At any eye exam, an optometrist has you sit there. The lights dim, the anticipation builds, anxiety may set in. Then the doctor has you read as far down the eye chart as you can. You strain, you squint. You try as hard as you can to reach the lowest row possible. You pray the “C” you just called out is really a “C” and not an “O” or the “E” is not an “F.” You may second guess yourself, the eye doc, heck the whole darn exam process.
Immediately you find yourself placed behind this odd machine with lens in front of your eyes. One eye is blacked out, the other has a fuzzy lens in front… and so the questions begin. Which is clearer – this or this? How about now…?
Through a series of controlled trials and errors the eye doc brings you closer and closer to seeing more clearly; until boom, you see clearer than ever before. In fact, you may get to the end of the experience and realize, “boy, I had no idea how messed up my vision was!”
I am wondering if you may have felt like Friday’s “Transfer of Learning” felt a bit like that.
As we developed and will continue to develop a deeper understanding of and appreciation for Health Seekers, there are moments of clarity then periods of fuzziness (clicking sound). Trust the process. Clearer vision is coming.
This Learning Session 1/Application Period 1 process is our equivalent of reading the eye chart and getting you behind the lens’ machine.
We begin our Application Period 1 gathering the baseline data on New Members, Youth & Family and Health and Well-being. We have to know our current line of sight before we can experiment with making it clearer.
We purposefully dabbled a bit Friday in asking you to define Health Seeker. The initial viewpoint a whole lot of negative, a lot of “they” language, judgment statements cautiously thrown about. We brought it closer to home by reflecting on what our individual “haves” and “wish we had more” statements. Wow, you mean we all have things we are working on and toward?
The Health Seeker interview video shared how individualized, intimate a health seekers journey is… and what a privilege it is to join someone on that journey. Finally we took a look back at that Health Seeker word association exercise. What a shift (in two hours no less!) in our lens (clicking sound, clicking sound, sigh).
Relative to the three areas of New Members, Youth & Family and Health and Well-being, let’s use the next six weeks to honestly read and document the equivalent of our “eye chart.”
Again, in the immediate near-term, let’s focus on the 20/20 portion. Learning Session 2 is around the corner, and we promise… the new lens and cool frames selection process is coming.
Take it one line at a time. I know I am.
Look for the Hat
While undertaking the Christmas decorations ritual in January, I had the opportunity to sort through a bunch of children’s books. One of Nate’s favorites was in the pile. Where’s Waldo. The undertaking of searching for this quirky character was a nightly bedtime regime for years.
You know the books… a barrage of images fill a double page and your mission is to find the funny little dude, Waldo.
The pages depict dozens of people doing amusing, theme-related things at some fun location – the beach, a deserted island, a warehouse, etc. Waldo’s always in a red-and-white striped shirt, bobble hat and his round glasses make him slightly easier to recognize. But there are so many distractions on the page. And some illustrations contain "red herrings" that use loads of deceptive red-and-white striped objects. It can be quite overwhelming to look for that one special face in a sea of so many.
This weekend you can imagine my dismay when I saw one of my Facebook friends post this message y… “You can tell it is the beginning of a new year. The Y had a ton of new faces there this afternoon. Don't worry, by February 90% of them will be gone. Happens every year.”
Ouch.
I know you join me in hoping the cynical prediction of this Facebook user just isn’t true this year. But as I have said before, hope is not a strategy. Hope’s good, but it’s not a tactic that leads us too far.
So right this minute, I want everyone of us to think of one way we are going to search the sea of so many and make sure our new members (who themselves are so full of hope) make it beyond the February doomsday mark. How might you build a new relationship, ask about their goals, call someone by name? How will you notice and respond when that distinctly different individual looks lost, confused, discouraged?
The distractions are many. Seemingly important red herrings fill our days.
But we must look. We must notice. We must listen.
Now Waldo may be an odd some experiment. But looking for small steps to ensure we retain new members in the next critical 30 days, is not a whimsical past-time. It is our mission. Start looking.
You know the books… a barrage of images fill a double page and your mission is to find the funny little dude, Waldo.
The pages depict dozens of people doing amusing, theme-related things at some fun location – the beach, a deserted island, a warehouse, etc. Waldo’s always in a red-and-white striped shirt, bobble hat and his round glasses make him slightly easier to recognize. But there are so many distractions on the page. And some illustrations contain "red herrings" that use loads of deceptive red-and-white striped objects. It can be quite overwhelming to look for that one special face in a sea of so many.
This weekend you can imagine my dismay when I saw one of my Facebook friends post this message y… “You can tell it is the beginning of a new year. The Y had a ton of new faces there this afternoon. Don't worry, by February 90% of them will be gone. Happens every year.”
Ouch.
I know you join me in hoping the cynical prediction of this Facebook user just isn’t true this year. But as I have said before, hope is not a strategy. Hope’s good, but it’s not a tactic that leads us too far.
So right this minute, I want everyone of us to think of one way we are going to search the sea of so many and make sure our new members (who themselves are so full of hope) make it beyond the February doomsday mark. How might you build a new relationship, ask about their goals, call someone by name? How will you notice and respond when that distinctly different individual looks lost, confused, discouraged?
The distractions are many. Seemingly important red herrings fill our days.
But we must look. We must notice. We must listen.
Now Waldo may be an odd some experiment. But looking for small steps to ensure we retain new members in the next critical 30 days, is not a whimsical past-time. It is our mission. Start looking.
Hot Hot Hot
Quick. 3rd grade science quiz. Do you know what the boiling point for water is? (And for those of you into details, water at standard pressure.)
212 degrees Fahrenheit.
(that is 100 degrees Celsius for those of you who did actually learn the metric system)
Now the interesting thing about that is that right up until that magic 212 mark, water things are going along, changing maybe… but not boiling. The boiling commitment point is 212 not a degree less.
You probably have heard the parable about the frog. For the few of you that may not have, the story goes that if you put a frog into boiling water it will react and jump out, saving it’s life. Now the other extreme would be that dropping a frog into a boiling pot of water would kill it. Either way the reaction by the frog, well it is immediate.
However, if you put a frog in a pot with relatively cool water, it will sit there, swim a bit, and lounge around. Ahhhhh. If you continue to turn up the heat, the frog won’t really notice, even as the water heats up to the boiling point. By then it will be too late. Result, boiled frog. Nice for those who like frog legs I guess but sucky for the frog.
We can learn a bit from both frogs.
During all the changes occurring with the strategic plan, with Activate America – specifically Gulick, we must be alert of immediate change and gradual change. Surely we have to be watchful of imminent changes that signal yowie, pay attention, perk up, react! But we also need to be alert for changing trends that occur over time. Those can sneak up on us as well and the moment to react may be lost.
As leaders we can also learn a bit from the water side of this parable. Think about it, you know, people are a lot like heating water. Until they reach some magic “boiling point” you may not even notice they are hot on a topic, truly passionate about an issue. And until conditions change (remember the standard pressure comment earlier), people may just go along with the flow.
But BAM! Change the circumstances a bit… say a spouse loses a job, a child gets sick, finances get tough, and job descriptions change… and people can boil quicker as the pressure increases.
Today, I had to “turn up the heat” a bit for our board of directors. It was not something I took lightly, and I only did so with the permission of our current board chairman. The results of that temperature rising are yet to be fully seen. Will people jump on the band wagon and become zealots for Campaign for Kids? Will they opt to jump out of the board now that expectations have shifted? We’ll see. But I do know this…
Teams can be a great thermometer for us as leaders. They provide a broader, diverse perspective.
We have to walk a line at times of turning up the heat – to say “we are serious;” “heads up, change is a comin’!” But we also have to listen to our teams to see if the temperature is too hot too fast.
Are we using the amazing range in thinking inherent in our teams for solving problems and looking for innovative ideas to tackle our new ways of work? Or are we so focused on just getting things done that we have become complacent as we and our teams are slowly warming up to the boiling point?
Keeping the balance for our teams between ever-vigilant observation and the “JUMP!” mode is tricky! There is no easy answer. Frog, water, leader…. Stay alert, speak up, align and we all succeed.
212 degrees Fahrenheit.
(that is 100 degrees Celsius for those of you who did actually learn the metric system)
Now the interesting thing about that is that right up until that magic 212 mark, water things are going along, changing maybe… but not boiling. The boiling commitment point is 212 not a degree less.
You probably have heard the parable about the frog. For the few of you that may not have, the story goes that if you put a frog into boiling water it will react and jump out, saving it’s life. Now the other extreme would be that dropping a frog into a boiling pot of water would kill it. Either way the reaction by the frog, well it is immediate.
However, if you put a frog in a pot with relatively cool water, it will sit there, swim a bit, and lounge around. Ahhhhh. If you continue to turn up the heat, the frog won’t really notice, even as the water heats up to the boiling point. By then it will be too late. Result, boiled frog. Nice for those who like frog legs I guess but sucky for the frog.
We can learn a bit from both frogs.
During all the changes occurring with the strategic plan, with Activate America – specifically Gulick, we must be alert of immediate change and gradual change. Surely we have to be watchful of imminent changes that signal yowie, pay attention, perk up, react! But we also need to be alert for changing trends that occur over time. Those can sneak up on us as well and the moment to react may be lost.
As leaders we can also learn a bit from the water side of this parable. Think about it, you know, people are a lot like heating water. Until they reach some magic “boiling point” you may not even notice they are hot on a topic, truly passionate about an issue. And until conditions change (remember the standard pressure comment earlier), people may just go along with the flow.
But BAM! Change the circumstances a bit… say a spouse loses a job, a child gets sick, finances get tough, and job descriptions change… and people can boil quicker as the pressure increases.
Today, I had to “turn up the heat” a bit for our board of directors. It was not something I took lightly, and I only did so with the permission of our current board chairman. The results of that temperature rising are yet to be fully seen. Will people jump on the band wagon and become zealots for Campaign for Kids? Will they opt to jump out of the board now that expectations have shifted? We’ll see. But I do know this…
Teams can be a great thermometer for us as leaders. They provide a broader, diverse perspective.
We have to walk a line at times of turning up the heat – to say “we are serious;” “heads up, change is a comin’!” But we also have to listen to our teams to see if the temperature is too hot too fast.
Are we using the amazing range in thinking inherent in our teams for solving problems and looking for innovative ideas to tackle our new ways of work? Or are we so focused on just getting things done that we have become complacent as we and our teams are slowly warming up to the boiling point?
Keeping the balance for our teams between ever-vigilant observation and the “JUMP!” mode is tricky! There is no easy answer. Frog, water, leader…. Stay alert, speak up, align and we all succeed.
GRACE
\ˈgrās\
1 a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b : a virtue coming from God c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace
2 a : approval, favor b archaic : mercy, pardon c : a special favor d : disposition to or an act or instance of kindness, courtesy, or clemency e : a temporary exemption : reprieve
3 a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing
4 a : the quality or state of being considerate or thoughtful
I wanted to add to this blog some of my previous off-line blogs that have been going to my staff each Monday. So there will be several postings today to load up some of my thoughts and whims. Thanks in advance for your grace in humoring me as I do this! Here is one.
Let us go about our week showing others a degree of pardon when things go just a bit astray and our first instinct may be to cry foul.
Let us go about our days showing simple acts of kindness and courtesy even when we ourselves feel rushed, bombarded, weak.
Let us go about the hours with charm and thoughtfulness for others when a trigger may have set us up to be grumpy and self-serving.
Let us go about this minute thankful for a greater grace from above that blesses us each and ever second.
I am betting that we will find an ease to the week… no matter what life throws our way.
\ˈgrās\
1 a : unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification b : a virtue coming from God c : a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine grace
2 a : approval, favor
3 a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm
4 a : the quality or state of being considerate or thoughtful
I wanted to add to this blog some of my previous off-line blogs that have been going to my staff each Monday. So there will be several postings today to load up some of my thoughts and whims. Thanks in advance for your grace in humoring me as I do this! Here is one.
Let us go about our week showing others a degree of pardon when things go just a bit astray and our first instinct may be to cry foul.
Let us go about our days showing simple acts of kindness and courtesy even when we ourselves feel rushed, bombarded, weak.
Let us go about the hours with charm and thoughtfulness for others when a trigger may have set us up to be grumpy and self-serving.
Let us go about this minute thankful for a greater grace from above that blesses us each and ever second.
I am betting that we will find an ease to the week… no matter what life throws our way.
Hour by hour
Beep. Beep. Beep. For 53 days, I have been heard that sound about every 60 minutes of my waking days. A timer set to remind me to be purposeful in my prayers. To be mindful of what it means to be in relationship with God... hour by hour, moment by moment.
How hard can it be? Plenty.
My particular timer goes off every 50 minutes then at the 55 minute mark and finally full on at the 60 minute time. At 50 minutes the double beeper has reminded me for 53 days that I am to be mindful, relational, aware. Usually that means it is a reminder that I was suppose to be mindful, relational, aware. I perk up at the 50 minute mark, determined.
55 minutes a single beep says "hey, I am not kidding... the hour's almost up." Pay attention. Live moment-by-moment with God.
And then the space happens... even in as short as five minutes, I forget. I wander. I get distracted. Geesh.
When the 60 minute beep comes, I have been amazed at how in the moment, I am most vulnerable for needing to be in living connection with God. Did I just say, that? Think that?
And yet... I yield in the moment. I stop. I tune in to prayer as a way of life.
How can I do anything but that. Me, imperfect. Me, distracted. Me, grateful as a child to be forgiven for my conflicts, stumbles big and small.
Every 60 minutes. A reminder to live in encouragement to others. To be grateful for my joys and my trials. To live authentic to my frailties and my strengths.
Truth be told: I should be setting the timer for five minute increments. Every five minutes in celebration, jubilation for a Father who knows and loves me in all my shadows and who calls me to the light - hour by hour.
Beep.
How hard can it be? Plenty.
My particular timer goes off every 50 minutes then at the 55 minute mark and finally full on at the 60 minute time. At 50 minutes the double beeper has reminded me for 53 days that I am to be mindful, relational, aware. Usually that means it is a reminder that I was suppose to be mindful, relational, aware. I perk up at the 50 minute mark, determined.
55 minutes a single beep says "hey, I am not kidding... the hour's almost up." Pay attention. Live moment-by-moment with God.
And then the space happens... even in as short as five minutes, I forget. I wander. I get distracted. Geesh.
When the 60 minute beep comes, I have been amazed at how in the moment, I am most vulnerable for needing to be in living connection with God. Did I just say, that? Think that?
And yet... I yield in the moment. I stop. I tune in to prayer as a way of life.
How can I do anything but that. Me, imperfect. Me, distracted. Me, grateful as a child to be forgiven for my conflicts, stumbles big and small.
Every 60 minutes. A reminder to live in encouragement to others. To be grateful for my joys and my trials. To live authentic to my frailties and my strengths.
Truth be told: I should be setting the timer for five minute increments. Every five minutes in celebration, jubilation for a Father who knows and loves me in all my shadows and who calls me to the light - hour by hour.
Beep.
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