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This is a season of Death-By-To-Do-List. The quiet pause, lethargy, and feeding frenzy of the holidays are followed by the jump-started, resolution-driven frenzy of the New Year. So this morning I started my journaling by listing one or two things I still haven’t done this week. And the one or two became six or seven.
“I swear, I’ll die by checklist overload,” I wrote.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s missing in our life planning. It’s so easy to get lost in the whirlwind of the frenetic or even the focus of the goal-directed that we neglect some of the most significant parts of the plan.
Like waiting.
I’m all about making mission statements that lead to goals lists that lead to action steps toward making those goals and mission a reality. I get it. I completely understand that if you aren’t taking massive action in the direction of your dreams you are probably kissing some of them good-bye.
How do you respond, however, when the dream or passion is completely authentic, but there is literally nothing you can do about it today – at least in outward to-do-list fashion? How do you keep the important, important, when it’s not front-and-center in your appointment book? [click to continue…]
Quick question: What would you do if you knew that you only had 30 days to live the life you now have? After that, your will life will be completely redefined.
You aren’t dead – just relocated.
Every relationship: history.
Every past accomplishment: strictly a thing of the past.
Every possession: soon to be somebody else’s.
Maybe, for the sake of playing out the fantasy side of the question, it’s a witness relocation effort or something. But regardless, the clock is ticking, and life as you know it is drawing to a close.
What would you do? Who would you do it with? How would you approach the growing, grim reality? [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 8 – The Way of Sharing)
(Note: Last year I started a series of stories titled The Twelve Ways of Christmas. Hopefully this year I will complete it. If you’d like to go back to where it all began, click here.)
K-Mart. It was the one place in Oak Ridge that David Carpenter knew would still be open Christmas Eve as he observed his years-of-time-honored tradition of last-minute shopping. Having made his way down every single aisle (also an annual ritual) and tossing in unique stocking stuffers, David now stood waiting his turn in the checkout line.
Behind him, Maria Martinez laughed with her brother Aaron as the two of them had gathered some last-minute items themselves. Aaron had a handful of stocking stuffers for his two boys; Maria was delighted that her niece, Sophie, would be joining the large family celebration. She was also excited that her new job as a lab technician had finally enabled her to be as generous with her gifts as she’d always been with her 22-year-old heart. Both were oblivious to the nicely-dressed man who waited and watched in front of them.
David watched as the random assortment of items passed across the scanner. The monotone beep of the cash register intruded on the sound of Brenda Lee singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” on the in-store sound system. Lightly touching the end of his items, a pretty red plaid little girl’s dress with a white turtleneck shirt glided across the conveyer belt. With one part of his mind, David could see where this was headed. With another, he was lost in thought as he gazed that the tag that read in bold letters, 4-T. [click to continue…]
Halftime, Durham, North Carolina. The Duke Blue Devils have just scored the first touchdown that top-ranked Alabama has surrendered in two-and-a-half games.
Not exactly a moment to panic, however. Alabama leads at the half, 45-13.
Cue the halftime interview with Coach Nick Saban. “Coach,” Sideline Babe says, “Were you upset about giving up your first touchdown of the season?”
“I don’t care about the touchdown,” Saban replies. “I’ve just been talking to our guys about playing to a standard.”
Fast-forward one week. Halftime again. This time, nobody wearing white and crimson was strutting to the locker room. The defending national champions are trailing a very strong Arkansas Razorbacks team in Fayetteville 17-7, and it’s no fluke. These Hogs are good, and Bama’s looking rough.
Somebody… not namin’ names here… but somebody woke somebody up. Final Score: Alabama 24, Arkansas 20.
After the game, Coach Nick had this to say:
“I want them to remember what it’s like not playing the way you’re capable of playing, not playing with the intensity and focus you need to have. We have a standard we want to play to, we want to play to it all the time. We certainly didn’t get that done in the first half.”
Another Clock is Counting Down
Football is not the only place where the clock is ticking toward zero. [click to continue…]
In the course of this short year so far, I have been reminded suddenly, and sometimes rudely, how short life can be, and how there are no guarantees of the things or people we tend to take for granted in this world.
I have also been reminded that life is filled with the potential to make mistakes. Sometimes those mistakes arise out of misguided values. Sometimes out of boneheaded stubbornness. Sometimes mistakes arise out of good things taken too far in self-serving directions. Often those mistakes come when we lose our sense of balance.
I’ve thought a lot lately about how short life is, and frankly, sometimes how much shorter that I wish it could be. Hillsong United’s “Soon” sure sounds appealing: [click to continue…]
Jugglers fascinate me. Not the run-of-mill, three-balls-in-the-air type, but the ones I call the Master Jugglers. I love the guys or gals who can toss torches, chainsaws, balls and small animals all at the same time. Well, maybe not the small animals part, but you get the point.
In a sense, we’re all jugglers. Only, instead of swords or bowling pins, we juggle life. And that’s who this article is for – the jugglers. For the ones who have multiple “balls” in the air – time balls, relationship balls, money balls, even ambition balls. Every one claims to be a priority. Every one demands attention, and often wants it now. In the middle of all that, you and I have a choice: Handle them – or they will handle you.
In order to successfully juggle rather than being tossed around yourself, there are four issues you will need to settle: [click to continue…]
Watching TV for the last 70 years has given us a steady stream of midwestern news reporters, California actors, a Motown pop culture, and other invasions of Yankee influence. Of course, we Southerners have made a few inroads of our own; I don’t think we can fool many northerners into thinking that grits grows on trees any more.
Bottom line is, our nation is slowly losing its regionalism. By and large, that’s O.K. Oh, you can still tell generally where a person hails from by hearing them talk. But sadly, some of our most picturesque phrases and words have all but disappeared. Not long ago I actually heard a young mother at the hospital asking her daughter if she could “tote” her food tray. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 4: The Way of Waiting)
For Scotty Thomas, Christmas was cruel. What other word can you use to describe living in a house where Dad enforced a hard-nosed rule: Christmas presents were for Christmas day?
“But can’t I open just ONE?” Scotty would ask.
“No,” his dad would say, smiling.
“I think I know what this one is,” Scotty would say, shaking a wrapped present under the tree.
“Think all you want,” Dad would reply. “You may be right. You may be wrong.” Inevitably for Scotty, it was a little of both.
Like any good 8-year-old, Scotty also had razor-sharp radar for any kid who seemed to get a better deal. Jeremy Walker got to open the give from his sister a day early. Jeff Dunaway opened family gifts the weekend before Christmas day. But Scotty’s appeals landed on stone.
As Scotty grew older and wiser (age 10 now), he became more sophisticated in his approach. If he couldn’t win by appeal, he would conquer by steal. Scotty set out on a mission to find hidden “treasures.”
Snooping through his dad’s workshop and in the attic, Scotty hit the mother lode a full 10 days before Christmas. A new bicycle, video games, a skateboard, some table games, a basketball, a couple of posters for his room, a wristwatch… this was going to be an amazing Christmas.
It turned into the worst 10 days of Scotty’s young life. [click to continue…]
Hanging on the wall at the Grace Clinic lab in Lubbock – addressed to people referred to as “patient.”
Now that’s refreshing. To a group of people (and it was a huge group on this day, smack in the middle of flu season) who would probably rather be anywhere else and had precious little time, somebody noticed – and planned to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. The message: We recognize you have a life outside what it is we do here.
What if we reapplied that idea to other common experiences? Imagine the signs you may see that reflect tiny investments in your life, or the lives of others.
Hanging in a coffee shop: [click to continue…]
It’s time to dream again.
And in doing so, I will not content myself with yesterday’s progress.
I have seen my share of victories; I’ve won some battles, and maybe even a war or two.
But there are new victories to be won, and yesterday’s dreams will never achieve them.
When my greatest challenges are boredom and fatigue, I will rest in the womb of a new vision, and call forth even greater measures of faith and courage.
It’s time to dream again.
And in doing so, I will see beyond the road blocks and crashes. [click to continue…]
This is a season of Death-By-To-Do-List. The quiet pause, lethargy, and feeding frenzy of the holidays are followed by the jump-started, resolution-driven frenzy of the New Year. So this morning I started my journaling by listing one or two things I still haven’t done this week. And the one or two became six or seven.
