We All Need BIGGER People

I’m not talking about taller or a bigger person in stature. I’m speaking of a bigger person in heart, in compassion, and in integrity. Humans are complicated. What motivates us and makes us tick is very different for each person. And when it comes to relationships— forget about it!  The complicated idiosyncrasies that make relationships work and not work are so beyond understanding and discussing on a blog that I’m not even going to try to go in depth. I’m merely putting out there that there always need to be a bigger person.

A bigger person to let an argument go. Or to forgive. Or maybe even a bigger person to forgive when there isn’t even an apology offered. We sometimes have blinders on when it comes to our own feelings and needs. In some relationships the bigger person is always the BIGGER person and that’s what keeps the relationship going. In other relationships, perhaps it’s a matter of the season and it could change depending on the circumstances the people and the particular relationship finds itself. No matter which person you identify with right now (aren’t we all saying we’re the bigger personJ ) somewhere down the road there will be someone in one of your relationships that becomes the BIGGER person. We have that human ability to let our selfishness dreadfully shine through, but thankfully, we as humans, have just the same capacity to become the BIGGER person. Don’t read my words wrong . . . don’t be a push over and let someone walk all over you, but giving grace to another human is an act that you won’t regret. Because you never know when you might need a little grace yourself.

INSOMNIA

Outside of really terrible things I can't think of anything much worse than to be trapped with my thoughts all night without sleep. Those who sleep well do not understand what a blessing it is to lay your head on a pillow and drift off into a deep, restorative sleep.

This week I have had minimal sleep. One night I may have gotten three hours. I tossed and turned. At times I told myself not to look at the clock because it would make the night go slower. And guess what? Moments after I told myself not to look at that clock, I did. And then I repeated that cycle several more times. "Don't look at the clock." (I did, again.) And yes, it did seem to make the night crawl at a snail's pace.

I got out of bed three or four times in the wee hours of the morning thinking that perhaps if I had something to drink or a bite to eat it'd be easier to find a few hours of good sleep. Neither drink nor food helped calm my mind. I began to think that perhaps if I gave my anxious thoughts to God in prayer and meditation that it would soothe my troubled soul. Hours later, my soul still troubled and my mind still stirred. And my body still did not sleep.

After the worst night I caved and bought a variety of over-the-counter sleeping aids. I understand the studies that sleeping aids really only mask a bigger problem and REM sleep usually doesn't occur for those whom partake in the ritual of a pill. It was minimal help.

So why am I so anxious? What are my convoluted thoughts? When the distractions of the day are gone there is a myriad of thoughts that consume me. Thoughts about my daily schedule, the effectiveness of my time, my troubles and others' troubles, worry and strife of those I love and my brain flips like a rolodex to find a way to find peace and solace in the crazy world in which we live. I rethink my past and wonder about my future. Wondering if I'll ever be at peace with the situation and station of life at the present. For I feel I have something bigger to share than what I have shared. And I believe I have a better contribution than which I've given thus far. With this uneasiness in my chest I have to keep working towards finding a way in which to unleash my potential and give of my energy to those who will embrace it. Being one with my Creator and in synch with others around me is my aspiration. I want others to make me better than I am. And I want to do the same for them. I long for the day where I place my head on my pillow, my heart and mind are quiet, not because I have nothing else to give, but because what I've given has been received. Reciprocation and life giving energy circled and recycled.

   

Celebrating the Weekend

Celebrating the Weekend

Friday after school I wanted to celebrate the three day Labor Day weekend. I decided to go to the local United Dairy Farmer’s and get an ice cream cone. Although the UDF is less than a quarter mile from my home I rarely frequent it for ice cream because there’s usually a very long line.  But on this day I was hoping I’d hit the store at an off peak time and things would go smoothly.

My optimism proved true on one aspect, there was only one other customer in front of me. However, when I told the attendant what I wanted, one dip of strawberry ice cream in a waffle cone, she conferred with her colleague. And I overheard her say, “How do we do this?”

Just dip the ice cream into the cone. How hard is it? 

As the two apron wearing employees finished their conversation the lady turned to me with an ice cream scoop in one hand and a paper cup in the other. “We’ve changed our policies. We now have to weigh all the ice cream?”

So instead of a the actual treat I had intended, I walked out of the store with a slightly different version, a paper cup of ice cream with a waffle cone dropped on top. We don't always get exactly what we want, even when we know what we want.

Stuff

           Like most Americans I have a lot of stuff. Not that any of it is worth any monetary value.  But it’s just a bunch of well—stuff. It’s hard to categorize all the things I possess; lots of papers, versions of unpublished manuscripts, basketball drills, notes from clinics, magazines, school worksheets and diagrams, adaptors, cords of all sorts of old electronics, and even a blow up mattress that doesn’t really hold air anymore. All these things, I guess, I thought I’d hold onto and sell in a garage sale or I’d just file away another day, but that day never came and more stuff got piled on top of that stuff. I’m not like a total hoarder, but I have too many things that I don’t need.

            I have a two car garage that’s full and only one car. I also have a spare room, guest room or whatever you want to call it. (I don’t get too many overnight guests these days and I only have a twin bed in there so I guess it’s best to refer to it as the spare room.) You know what they say today’s as good as any day to start something you’ve been meaning to do. Actually I started last week, but I’m keeping my organization and purging project front and center and doing a little purging each week. I want to get rid of all these things that have no value or no emotional bearing on my life so I can make room for something else. I don’t know what I’m making room for, but I’m making room. Maybe it’s merely an overnight guest, maybe it’s a housemate, maybe it’s just sanity and peace of mind. Whatever it is I hope it finds its way to me soon because even though I don’t know exactly what’s coming down the pike . . . I know I’m getting ready for something and that’s kinda exciting in and of itself!

I'm Not Sitting on the Back Row Anymore (Figuratively Speaking)

            When I was in college many years ago all freshmen participants in the sports programs had to attend a seminar about the university’s expectations of student-athletes. I just remember several coaches from all the diverse sports, along with the athletic director, telling us to represent on campus and in the classroom. They mentioned that a few professors already thought every athlete was a dumb jock so we weren’t supposed to feed into that stereotype. The main points of the discussion were the importance of:

1)  communicating with the professor about when we were going to be gone  

      on road trips,
 

2) getting any assignments we’d be missing or to reschedule labs and/or exams promptly,

3) arriving to class early, and

4) the school officials emphasized sitting near the front of the room.

            Sitting in the front meant you cared. It communicated that you valued the class and the professor. Sitting in the front meant you were willing to participate. At least that’s what they told us. I was never a dumb jock and in most of my classes I don’t think I would’ve chosen to sit in the back(well okay maybe a few of the really boring classes) but that speech has always been in my head. And all these years later as a high school teacher myself, when students get to choose their seats in my class and certain students choose to sit in the back of the room the above statements run through my mind. But conversely, I also think about these things when I choose my own seats be it in meetings, in seminars, or in church.

I’ll be honest I don’t always sit in the front, in fact, there have been many times I’ve chosen to sit in the back row. Times that I needed to leave early. Or times I wasn’t feeling well. Or even times my friends wanted to sit in the back of a meeting. Those are all good reasons, right? But there are other reasons I’ve sat in the back— because I wasn’t interested, so I could make a quick get-a-way, because I didn’t want to be stuck. Well, this past Sunday I went to hear a dear friend sing at a church that I hadn’t been to in quite a while. She had told me before that she’d be near the front with other people. I didn’t really know her new friends and thought it might be awkward so instead of sitting up front I chose to sit in the back. The very back, by the door. A lone.

I thought about my seating choice during the service and decided that this might be an analogy . . . that I’ve been sitting on the back seat of my life way too long. In certain areas I’ve been passive, professionally and personally. Perhaps I’ve even become half-hearted in participating in my own existence. Maybe cynicism had kept me on the last row. Fear? Fear of being swept up by insincere people or caught up in something I have reservations concerning. In some ways it does seem safer in the back where no one will see you. Where you can limit your engagement and take in the environment, but not really partake.

I heard my friend sing a beautiful song and after the service I went up to find her and her new friends. I don’t want to live a passive life. I don’t want to just play it safe. I want to care about what’s going on and I want to engage with those around me. An introspective investigation of my own seating choice leads me now to these questions, where are you sitting? And most significant of all, why are you sitting there?

Digging Dirt

     I’ve began again the task of creating a paver patio. You see I started a few years ago by hand… digging down into the hard soil around the foundation of my house with my shovel. Needless to say after my separated shoulder started to remind me of my physical limitations, the realization that I had nowhere to put my discarded dirt, and no means to actually move the dirt off my property, I gave up. I thought maybe I’d completely abandon the project or pay a landscape company to fulfill my vision. Procrastination, indecision, and the busyness of life left a mound of dirt and growing weeds.

            A friend of mine tried to persuade me that I could still make the patio and even offered help. So much so that they delivered bags of paver base and bags of sand that has sat for two or three years along the sidelines. The materials from my friend were supposed to be a symbol of encouragement, but, wrongfully in my own mind, it became a reminder of an insurmountable mountain. Every time I saw the plastic bags I felt inferior and defeated. (Sorry friend. Thank you for the gesture.)

            I had an offer from my brother and other friends at separate times to help, and for reasons I won't go into now I didn't accept their invitations. One thing most people know about me is I don’t like to ask for help. One of many personal flaws I’m working on changing. Recently, another friend has offered once again to help and an opportunity to use rented equipment, borrowed trucks, and locations for dumping my dirt has brought me to a renewed place of action. The area of the planned patio has grown. Obstacles abound, among them:  creating a dry well for a drain, over a ton of crushed limestone needed, and masonry cuts for stone pavers. Just when I have begun to feel confident that one day I will see this patio completed I am frustrated by technical components that complicate the process.

            Why does this surprise me? Nothing in this life comes easy. And perhaps this is why I’m discouraged. At the moment I’m in the thick of things. I believe I’m working hard in all aspects of my life, personally and professionally, and although I see progress, the goals are not obtained. Maybe this is where I need to cut myself some slack. Or maybe this is where I need to work even harder. Or maybe this is where faith comes into play. But for now, at this very moment . . . I feel like I’ll always be simply digging dirt.

Year Round Friends

Yesterday my running/walking group met at my house for exercise, coffee, and conversation. There were eight of us that ran the gambit of age, religion, and life philosophies. They encourage me to wake up early during my summer vacation and run another mile.They are thoughtful to send gift cards and warm wishes to those who are struggling inside and outside our tribe. They are inviting to include my mom from time to time and my neighbor (who is now a solidified member to our weekly gatherings.) I am reminded of how important it is to have people in your life that give to you in meaningful ways. I am blessed. These ladies are my nine month colleagues in the trenches of public education and I’m proud to say—they are also my year round friends.