By the time we meandered into West Yellowstone it was already close to 11 PM. We were excited when we checked into our lodge style duplex cabin on the top floor. As we all settled in we knew we had an early start planned for the next morning to see Lamar Valley before sunrise to see mountain goats, long horned sheep, wolf pups, bison, moose, bears, elk and whatever else could come our way.
There was suddenly yelling and calamity in the duplex below us. It was a fight going on in the middle of the night. Lots of yelling and slamming of doors...this went on for the better part of 30 minutes without stopping.
I was frozen...something inside of me did not want to intersect this story...I was passive. I was hoping that it would subside...pass on to a quiet evening...but it kept on...escalating even louder.
Finally Grant jumped up out of bed..."...where are you going" I asked. He threw his pants on and stated "I'm not going to let this happen" he said....and he went out the door into the ice cold and dark night.
In our hearts we can have fear...but we still know what is right and that we shouldn't do nothing...while someone gets hurt. I was scrambling "Wait" I said..."slow down"...
My heart was pounding...adrenaline pumping. I quickly jumped up and threw on my pants and boots...grabbed my jacket and went after him...flying stealthily down the stairs went around the corner and almost smacked into Grant listening behind a tree along the side of the cabin. "This is a dangerous thing to jump into Grant"...I said, "that's why the police are so careful with domestic disturbance calls...you never know if the person you are trying to protect will actually turn on you"....
We kept listening and decided there was no immediate physical threat...but it wasn't calming down either.
We decided to go to the front office first and have them check on them. This reminded me of a situation in a duplex when we were first married...that man bullied, yelled constantly, and would hit the woman and the two younger girls all the time. When I finally mustered the courage to call the police then...the police kindly let the man know it was me who had called in the complaint. Then he started jumping up and down on our ceilings yelling all the louder--directed directly at me. I was hoping this would be different...
Grant didn't even have shoes on in his haste to help...it was 19 degrees out and pitch black damp cold...he was avoiding mud puddles as we snaked our way quickly to the office...heart pounding so loudly now...I swear it was there for all to hear the beating at this point.
Sometimes in our stories there is danger..and the direction and outcome hang in the balance...but we still have to choose action over inaction, justice over injustice and decisiveness over passivity...
We scrambled back to our cabin in time to hear the phone call...a discussion and then more yelling outside right in front of us...car doors opening, slamming closed...car pulling forward then back again...more yelling, more slamming...15 endless minutes more of tug of war between that car staying or going...finally gone with spinning wheels and gravel flying everywhere...
..but nobody was physically hurt. We will never know if our actions made a difference that night...but we know it was better to do something than to hope for the best.
I flashed back to my own story at eight years old...there was a lot of yelling and much more...there was a casualty back in my own story...and it was my heart. I made a commitment to never trust my parents again...and I never gave them anything but my anger from that day forward.
Somewhere in an 8 year old mind I decided not to feel the hurt or sadness again-not with anyone.
One day when I was 16 a substitute teacher in Biology who was there for a few months spoke up to me. Now we had goofed around and made our last teacher--"Mr. Overhead" projector resign and decide it was better to clean pools than to teach 16 year olds. We tried to run our substitute out of town as well...only he decided he liked the calamity and would teach us anyways.
I had no idea what lessons laid in store for me.
Mr. Paul Hahn...an older German man with gray wiry hair and a distinctive goatee...he just wouldn't be scared off. Oh, I did my best...we had our flyers for class President of 1913 that we posted everywhere and then his picture...we collected all of the critters in formaldehyde jars and loaded them into his car...we tried everything...but he just kept showing up.
His reaction?
One day on my way out of class he spoke up to me specifically...he said "you know...I believe in you Glenn."
I had never had anyone say such words to me. I did a double take to see if this was some kind of joke...but he was serious...he said it again. At that moment I felt like Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting...when Robin Williams starts telling him "it's not your fault"... I felt like he took away some of my anger...robbed me of it and left me exposed. That was the start of me having a mentor in my life...when I got my class rank months later it was Mr. Hahn I shared it with and he celebrated me and this accomplishment...and when I graduated community college with my AA degree and no debt...all while working 30-40 hours a week...it was Mr. Hahn who met me at TGI Fridays. It was a celebration of joy for completion of a long time goal to be the first in my family to graduate college. Now I think I understand better why I still love TGI Fridays to this day.
We all need a mentor in life to speak truth to us about who we are--and who we are becoming.
If there is one thing I've learned over my lifetime it's that from everything gone through...the good, the bad...and the ugly...it's that our stories have a theme. Oh, we can certainly deny it...and live like it doesn't but that only means we are sharing a theme that's not the best one...maybe one about shame, sadness, anger or mistakes and consequences...no, we endure things, go through trials, learn from mistakes so we can share with others that intersect our lives at places where the gold from our scars--the weight of us...is needed.
I'm working with a group of leadership at work...and here's what I shared that I know:
Regardless of religion...our stories point towards redemption and restoration plus our own stories theme. It's always a combination of the two...For me it's a story of hope and second chances. It plays out in me hiring those who need second chances...those who need hope to show up for them. For every leader...if they are intentional about their own story and its theme...they will see that where it plays out over and over again. After I had shared these words I received a note that their own theme was about enduring and strength. Message delivered and received.
Beautiful...not the actual words although those were great...it was the realization that they had a theme...and they knew what it was.
The last part of my 2020 vision casting speech to this great team was in pulling out some galvanized buckets with a handle. I gave one to each leader on my team. I told them about Bob Goff's book Everybody Always. First, Bob has a way of talking direct and cutting through "religious" ideas or concepts and calling things out for what they are. In one of his chapters he cites a nursery children's story where children are filling their buckets.
In the story--it's rather quite simple as far as the premise...we will become in our lives whatever we decide to fill our buckets with.
I have filled my bucket over the years with defensiveness, my protective armor, answering emails, completing tasks which I'm valued for...and many more things that I don't really want to be my bucket legacy.
This week we have been putting notes into each other's buckets...telling people what we see--and who they are--and who they are becoming. Now that is paying forward what Mr. Hahn gave me...finally...This was worth sharing a piece of my story...to redeem the story, turn the scars into gold.
Back to the next morning after the fight and running around West Yellowstone...I started on a good long walk in the brisk morning cold air...clear eyes...ready for adventure...I got turned around and eventually ended up coming back into the complex from the entrance the man had spun wheels out of the night before.
When I looked up at the sign this is what I saw. I was at the corner of Faithful and Grizzly.
How appropriate I thought to myself.
That's just how life is...
Is it two distinctive routes--the "Faithful" or the "Grizzly"? No I don't think it's that simple or segregated...
Or is it that in trying to live life right--and trying to follow a good path--that we will always have "Grizzly" intersections with our own story to test and challenge us along the way?!
When we share part of our story--with others--at their own worst "Grizzly" intersections...we make redemption and restoration available when it's needed most in this world.
and the story of HOPE continues onward...
