At the corner of Faithful and Grizzly

 Two years ago we all went out to Yellowstone Park and Teton National Park for a great adventure.  We flew into Salt Lake City and drove up from Utah through a series of valleys and smaller routes through Bear Lake where we had a choice of 20 different places to get our raspberry shake.

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...

The Old Man from my tribe

I pull into the lot...pitch black...nobody is up except a few crazy people who are my "tribe."

People slowly getting out of vehicles...walking in...some bleary eyed...some jogging into the building.  It's 5 AM workout time.  I know all of the members of this tribe...15 to 20 people who are "regulars" at this hour and place. Carolyn greets us all at the check-in desk as we swipe in.  How does she remember every one's names?

I can faintly smell the first coffee of this young day...it smells wonderful (and I don't even drink it)...I've been doing this for 2 years at this hour...and I think of this as my tribe.

The sights, the smells...the starting whir of elliptical machines and treadmills. Some weights begin clanging and banging.  The exercise class across the hall starts its upbeat rhythms.  At first glance all seems normal for a Monday workout...however...Something is not the same.

There is one older man...he uses the elliptical for 30 minutes every day that I'm in.  He's very trusted by all of the members ...both male and female...all ages.  He is a trusted friend...a grandfatherly figure for certain. He usually has one member or another talk with him...he listens a lot--like a good mentor...today he is standing but not mounting his usual machine.

It starts with one woman going up to him and saying some words...hugs are exchanged...he thanks her...

Then another woman...some words...hugs...a big thank you.  He looks her straight in the eyes...he is grateful.

Then a man... a handshake, his other hand on his arm... "I'm so sorry" he says clearly.  The man is clearly thankful for this and the other exchanges that follow....many, many of them, one after the other. All in all I observed this go on for 45 minutes.  I wanted to extend my sympathies as well but since I didn't know him...I didn't want to make a fool of myself guessing...  I was very moved by the tears that welled up in some of the people's eyes...and in his eyes...genuine love and affection...like a rec center family.

Then another walks with him out of the room and down the hallway...a few minutes later they reappear.  He is grateful...the same look that usually those who share endless conversations with him on other mornings --the way they look at him--grateful.

Clearly something has happened in this man's life...and I'm guessing his wife passed away.

There was an outpouring of compassion and empathy for this man.  An outpouring from his tribe where others clearly wanted him to know their feelings of sympathy...feelings of compassion...a reaching out with support.  It was beautiful...it was touching...it was everything that most days and our news are not.  It was love for our fellow man...and neighbors...

As I went into work last week, and slugged through issues and problems...and grasping and calculating solutions, I couldn't help but think back to this story...if only we cared about each other like that "morning team"... with true caring... nothing would be impossible.  The truth is some people do care in this way...yet there will always be a few that have an angle to play...instead of simply bringing your best every day....and caring for our work family that we spend so much time with.  There are those all around...many stories...so much hurt, pain and loss...if we open our ears and eyes and hearts--we will realize its prevalence. At least four stories of cancer, four different family deaths, three surgeries needed...and it goes on and on...healing needed, meals needed, finances needed, direction needed...

Staying present in the pain and suffering stretches the heart in ways that fleeing or pretending never will.  It is that expanding of our hearts that brings the gold of growth.  Gold brought about through suffering together...praying--some prayers that will not receive the answers we long for...and that we long for others. I'll be the first to admit...there is a physical and emotional cost to staying present...but no matter how I try to make the email or issues the most important, those who really know me...they know it is the weight of these stories that weighs heavily each day.

It is always a choice...through the painful memories of personal and team betrayals --betrayals of trust... do I put my armor back on to protect my heart...or do I go back in without the armor and share my heart?

I want to live a big loving life like that man at the rec center...one that encourages others each and every day, every day--he shows up...and brings a smile to others...and wisdom and insight...but mostly and first--he shows up...I think that's what it takes in this life...that is what truly carves names on the hearts of others.

Today...let's show up for each other...in honor of the old man at the rec center...it would make him proud...

PS--armor is not invited...

God I went a new job

I know...you believe I have a typo in the title...but I don't.

You see let me explain...

For years my family would drive all the way down Street Road to Bensalem Baptist church...every service, Wednesday night prayer meeting, Stockade (young men group) on another night, three services on Sundays (prior to cable when Disney was on Sunday nights but not much else...kind of blows your mind kids).  We were constantly going up and down the same stretch of road for the 5 years we attended there prior to Davisville Baptist Church.

It was a dismal traffic light to traffic light commute to attend services and learn more about God and our faith.

I remember reading and seeing the same graffiti near Route 1 on a tunnel/overpass bridge...it appeared one week and I noticed all of the writing on the way to church.

This one stated: "God I went a new job."

Hmmmmmm....I'm only a fifth grader but even I knew this message wasn't quite right.

We all want things from God though...throughout life...sometimes we ask for things or we cry out to God...because the desperation is that nobody else can help us at that point. Staying present in these painful places stretches our hearts in ways that fleeing never will...and so we call out...or graffiti our requests up to God. I imagine sometimes we just write them out from the honest pain in our souls.

I wondered...who wrote this message...what do they look like?  Are they homeless?  Or simply under employed and desperate for help in life?  Are they a man or woman?  Did they "want" a new job....or was the message correct?

went definition: Went is defined as to have gone somewhere in the past. (verb) An example of went used as a verb is in the sentence, "I went to the store yesterday," which means that I traveled to the store yesterday.


The problem with asking something from God for the past is that he is the God of the present and future.  He lives in both places for each of us...the past is filled with regrets and would've, could've, should've...He walks with us through the present...through our wants--and even our "went."

I wish I had the actual photo of the bridge/tunnel....I'm not certain why it represented more than a passing thought for me?!  Maybe it was simply a long arduous commute past some people I didn't understand and who scared me because of their needs.  I deeply wanted to graffiti over the graffiti...change the one letter so that the want...the deep desire for something was accurately reflected...as if God needed the words spell checked in order to know the heart of the requester.

The deep truth I've just realized today is this person spelled it all out to God...made their wants and prayer need out there for all to read and see.  I had hoped God would answer and the person would come back and write  at some point "PS--Thanks for the answer God"...but that never came.

Was the request ever answered?  We won't surely know on this side of eternity...

What I do know is that graffiti or no graffiti God is honored by humble broken cries of honest brokenness laid out before him.  I have seen it in my own life and the lives of others through painful experiences. I guess if I could go back today and set up a late night spray paint message of my own it might look like this:

And that says enough...the rest should be us being the hands and feet of Jesus so that our message from our mouths matches the message of we live....walk the talk.
Was the prayer ever answered?
"God Knows"
... did they get a new job?
"God Knows".
...if I had a job to help someone--did I help a person?
God knows....
It's mostly God...and a pinch of us doing what's within our power to do....but the heavy work is always the miraculous...God Knows...

the Old Warrior

The day begins...

The old warrior looks over the armor that once glittered in the sunlight...today it shimmers a little less --the overcast skies casting a grey over the homestead.

He reaches for the breastplate and straps it on wearily...stretching his arms out as he covers himself with the needed protection.  His arms and shoulders ache under the pressure and strain of supporting their own weight. His helmet now on...he straps on his sword...protection from each enemy---and weapon to strike terror into the heart of his enemy...and then reaches for his shield...protection from many a foe--he begins to recount his past foes...the battles he and the shield have shared...each foe different -- some valiant...yet no match for his speed, skill, elusiveness, will to survive...and something yet unnamed...

The energy begins to course through his veins...the power returns to his fists, his heart pounding and pumping courage to all parts of his body....

This day feels different though...the armor feels more like a weight as he grapples with the thought of another battle....self doubt begins to creep into his thoughts. He steps out into the arena of life...already waiting to face him directly ...a shadowy knight of great stature and strength...one who has tormented his daughter...taunting him...as he feels the familiar helpless feeling of a foe that cannot be slain but continues to inflict damage to his daughter. He seems unstoppable and not even in a place that can be struck or slain...simply a foe to engage each day...and hope for the best...or renewed strength to battle and bring the fight to him. He fights on...striking and striking at him...yet never solidly connecting...

To his left another foe...A green knight with the shield symbol shows as "$"...another familiar foe who frequently shows up to capitalize on his fears...providing adequately...having enough for his family...yes--this feels very familiar.  When things seem good this foe often rears his ugly head to steal joy and rob strength...he begins to engage this foe--battling powerful thoughts swinging away pounding on his armor and shield without end...

But wait...a third foe...to his right...a giant "C" on his shield....'tis the knight of Circumstances...he has attacked his other daughter...stolen her horses...and laughs as the absolute unbearable weight and daunting task of all three seems absolutely impossible. Throwing lies and other circumstances in his path--he fights to determine what is real and where to really strike to do battle with this foe.

The old warrior strikes valiantly...taking on all 3 at once.  He battles hour after hour...day turns into night and back into day...sword drawn, shield catching the blows as he fights on...into the shadows, persevering and fighting on into the night yet again.

And then something that has rarely happened to the grizzled veteran...a feeling of loss of strength...his courage waning with the sunlight...he realizes for the first time that he will not win against insurmountable odds...that he will not strike his foes down...he begins to lift the sword less and grips his shield tighter holding on to protect his very life all the while the enemy laughs and taunts him louder and louder.  He begins to doubt his warrior strength...What has always worked for him will not lift him to victory this time...

Feeling hemmed in from every side...and the three knights taking their turns and taunting me as they begin to strike fear into the heart of the old warrior. Then a strange thought comes to him in his grief and abandoned state...that Only in calling upon your name and giving the fight into your hands can I be saved....

He calls out to the ultimate warrior...

...he calls upon the name of the one who gave him his special fighting skills..."Lord, it's so hard for me to ask for help...but I confess...I have such need of you...I can't do this on my own or within my own power".  "For so long I have fought believing I should never call on you for help--because after all--you are the gifter who gave me what I have to fight on--I should be faithful and use what you've given above all else. I am so weary of the fight...strength fading from the battle...and you are silent and I fear you've abandoned me. I don't know if I can still BELIEVE the victory will come."

The sun began to peek over the horizon...Could I be worthy of hope?  I wondered in my thoughts and in my mind.  Inexplainable things began to happen...the Knight of "C" was front and center now swinging his sword for damage...with a mighty strike of lighting like a warrior from the sky...he was struck and disappeared...vaporized...gone from the circumstances of today. The circumstance faded with him...and they were not able to strike him down or torment him further this day...simply gone.

"Thank you Lord...thank you oh thank you..." the old warrior repeated again and again drawing strength from what he had just seen.

The green knight stepped up his attack instantly not allowing any celebration.  Again I called upon the ultimate warrior..."please...please save me." I fought and grappled...hand to hand...wrestling the mighty giant.  I was slipping and unsure in my footing as the giant gained the high ground and sought to finish me off.

He swung his sword round as if to finish the final blow...but suddenly was inexplicably struck down...and vanquished.

"Lord, the battle is truly in your hands"...with humility and gentleness not known to the warrior's heart he struck his sword into the ground...and again began praying earnestly...

"Lord--you created me to fight and wage battles...with a created strength and persevering purpose...and determination that has made most foes fade and fall...yet it hasn't been until now that I realize you are the mightiest of all warriors...and in surrendering and yielding the battle into your hands--this is the hardest thing you've ever asked me to do...and to trust you completely for the fight..."

After this realization...he opened his eyes and looked upon the remaining foe...the one prayer as yet unanswered...the healing of his daughter's heart and mind...tormented by the final foe.  "Lord--as yet there is 1 unanswered prayer and warrior I face--locked in combat daily--his strength set stedfast against my family...not willing to be out of the shadows to fight directly...but always casting blows and retreating back into the shadows of life. Lord--please give healing and victory here."

He turned to face the familiar imposing foe yet again...hoping in his heart for the victory...but feeling overwhelmed that it was too much to hope for...He grabbed his sword...picked up his shield.....wiped the sweat from his brow...the saltiness stinging his eyes as he squinted to see with clarity. He felt an icy wind blowing...he set his posture against and into that icy wind...yet again he needed to trust...yet all in the kingdom...all the wise counselors advised him...this was a battle he would not win..."nobody in the kingdom can defeat this foe" they told him.

The "unnamed"--would it show up yet again?  Would HE powerfully go before the old warrior one last time to inexplicably defeat this foe? That was the unnamed powerful thing that had always occurred in the past--which now he could name.

Perhaps the victory in life comes from trusting and believing when we are truly vulnerable and powerless in our own strength. 

..the battle lines are drawn...The ending is yet to be written.

Look closer....see the unseen

I have always loved going to Warner Park with my family. It can be crowded or empty...full sun--or overcast....I just like spending time outdoors.

About 9 years ago started one of the roughest times in my life...we had no money for entertainment...and so what did we do?  We went to the park to walk and talk...meaningful conversation, some of these conversations were just between God and I. Walking through pressure and difficult times was the way God held my attention best.

One of the most amazing things to me was in August 2010...and from then on each late August and early September ever since.  My visit to the park began like any other...I parked the car and stepped out onto the grass...passed the Nature Center and headed across the field of burned up grass, now brittle as straw from the pounding heat over the course of the long summer season.

I lifted my eyes up long enough to see the mountain ahead of me and stepped into the woods and began my ascent. I climbed up, heat pounding down...sun oppressively finding me and beating down looking for my submission. My legs fought through heaviness and found the motion to keep pressing onward and upward.

The bees were everywhere and wildlife was scampering about in my peripheral vision. Birds soaring and gliding...their songs filling the air. The chipmunks and squirrels criss-crossing the walking paths with their own unmarked highway.

I could hear the sounds...smell the end of summer coming...the end except not the end of the endless heat. Everything was still seemingly beating down on my shoulders and the back of my neck. The weight and the heat...were relentless.

I finished a couple mile jaunt and turned to head down the hill and back towards the Nature Center. For some reason I slowed and spotted a row of rocking chairs on the porch of the Nature Center and slumped into a rocking chair in front of some tall wildflowers to take a break.

I needed help in life but evidently I wasn't beaten into submission enough to cry out for the help I so desperately needed. So I sat and rocked...and thought about life...

I caught sight in my peripheral vision as I lifted my head--exhausted by life and the chase for peace and redemption...merely thoughts in my head but nothing within my reach.  What WAS within my reach was a whole buzz of activity I had never noticed.

There were hummingbirds everywhere--all around me...they were amazing wizards of the sky...dashing this way, darting that way...and soaring straight up...darting left, gliding right, hovering right in front of my face.  How had I missed this for so long? They were gray with muted colors, yellow and green with red throated markings. One was jet black with a bright red dot on him...that one I decided was my favorite. The muted and vibrant colors, the color of the wildflowers...shades of orange zinnias, sunflowers and ox-eyed daisies...the smell suddenly filled the air.  The sounds of the "chirping" of the hummingbirds chatting at each other filled the airwaves...

It turns out the hummingbirds visit heavily in this same time period every year...their migration cuts a path that intersects this park without fail each year.

I had always been so fixated on my climb and the path ahead that I missed the miracle of life right before my eyes.  Whether I had noticed it or not...seen it or not...it WAS happening right before my eyes.

Once a profound truth has been seen...it cannot be "unseen"...for there is no going back to the person you were...

One time when I was in Ecuador I was working side by side with so many others--so many interesting stories that had brought them to this mission field and this week.  We were broken into 3 groups/teams...one was leading bible school daily for the children of that region...one was laying brick and build a second floor onto the school...and my team was tasked to lay the foundation for the next team that would come in and build an addition onto the school.

I felt the work I was tasked with was the least important in my mind and less than remarkable in nature...stacking rocks and attempting to level out an uneven dirt lot...and then to use a cement mixer from the 1950's and combine the elements and shuttle wheelbarrows full of cement...well it seemed less than inspiring to say the least.

I tried to hold back and simply lead by example...I really didn't want to push my way to the front and lead this week.  On my team were so many younger people and and many of the less cool people by the world's standards...kind of a band of misfits in our own right...and me--one of the oldest misfits working to get our job completed.

On Tuesday we met at night...a secret meeting of the team's leadership which I was invited to attend.  I listened and observed...everyone was frustrated with the lack of production...myself included...in fact the harder that I worked in that altitude...I just couldn't make it happen...at least not in my own strength--which was so frustrating.  I do recall what emerged from that meeting was a prayer for unity...unity in purpose...of one mind and one purpose--the whole body working together....

When we got up the next morning...it was simply "different"...the day felt different and I was ready for things to unfold with anticipation...I simply knew I had come to the end of me...and that I was ready for God to make something happen.

We were ready for the cement mixing portion of the project...and had less than half of the week to do what was needed.  Time is never an issue when we leave it in God's hands...the tasks are never a concern when we leave them with the only one who can see a miracle through.

Ken, one of the senior leaders with contracting experience turned the team over to me...I approached the group and brought us into a circle..."We are going to try some new things today...stay with me...each one of us has a purpose and we will find it here--and today."

First to appear on the scene was Vickie...she was a gruff short spitfire ready to bark out commands if given the power...I'm not certain where she had been all week--but we weren't utilizing her skills. She became my job foreman...calling out the needed supplies and in what order were needed...organization...planning...

Doc (as we called her) and Lisa were our rock shovelers, and Rebecca and Chris Kent were our sand shovelers...and Chad was the cement mix adder...we all were wearing our bandanas over our faces like desperados....

And Chris Jackson from Hurricane Mills...well he was "country strong"...his name after this day...he volunteered to lift every coffin of rocks, sand and cement mix with me --in a combined orchestrated move to bench press and dump each coffin in...I have to tell you I didn't believe he would be tough enough "to hang" and get the job done...but on this day--he was country strong..and super human in stamina and strength. He lifted all told 880 coffins of rocks, sand and cement mix...and I counted each one...being a numbers person--I just did it for fun...

Together the team out performed what any of us would have done alone...we got into a rhythm...I was able to call out the strength in others and make sure they were cared for with water bottles and making sure they took breaks...but none of us really wanted to stop...it was fun--instead of work.  The truth is when we work with others doing what we do best it is not work...but calling out the best in each other.

Well--the endless chain of wheelbarrows kept coming as an endless train of energized people...transferring what we were mixing together and spreading it everywhere...that day we worked for 11 hours...and got more done than we had the entire week.  Everyone was bringing their best but the combined synergy was colossal...almost every person blistered through double gloves as we wore out our hands...our clothes...our bandanas...what was happening was we had bonded as a group...

I never slept so good as I did that evening...

The next morning I was a volunteer with the bible school and children and was helping them...but thinking about my team.  Without me they were still plowing through and would finish ahead of schedule.  When the Bible school was completed I tried to simply slip into the background and assist so that I wouldn't disturb the group's rhythm.  Instead...once discovered--I was invited front and center like a relative who could not escape a family that loved him...it was that welcoming...a sensation I had not really encountered prior to this...and I filed it away in my heart that picture of this team and the feeling of joy in serving with them.

As the shadows grew long and the last wheelbarrows were completing...I could feel the last of my strength leaving my body...we were completed and 1 day early.

What happens when it's not my strength--or plan?  We had time and staff to send painters to paint murals at a vision clinic that did eye surgeries.  I'm not a painter...I don't have those skills--but that group of painters painted beautiful murals on the walls for those children who would be coming for years to come.  The plan and results were far better than my meager thoughts of completion...there was beauty, compassion and inviting others into the journey together.

I remember the team photos together as we stood--not full of pride--but rather full of joy to have worked together and cared for each other...and where did we all stand?  All 3 teams stood on the foundation my team had worked so hard on....

What I could suddenly see was that once gifts and skills were visible to me I couldn't suddenly pretend to no longer see them in others...if no one else could see them --I needed to call out what was visible to me....and if I didn't want to lead...it didn't matter...I was being asked to lead by others...I couldn't hide...someone had seen something in me. There was no going back...Once a profound truth has been seen...it cannot be "unseen"...for there is no going back to the person you were...

I have recalled that week several times...shared this story and others...but I realized there was more to leading than getting a job done...it was the quality of the journey--and caring for those who make the journey with you...and finally celebrating well--together.

I have continued to grow and each team I work with I learn something new...without fail.

I also realized as I continued to "see things" that I needed to speak about what I was seeing...to strengthen others and give them hope.

Growing continues to happen--and then one day it startles us because we see something different in the mirror than what we remembered. Something formerly unseen becomes visible in our lives...

See the unseen...

Mr Fair

I used to go to a Christian version of Boy Scouts known as Brigade.  Every Monday night I faithfully went...

When I was close to 16 years old a man took over...his haircut was short and always looked freshly cut.  His eyes were narrow and very direct.  He looked like ex-military of some sort.

Mr. Fair was a very disciplined man indeed...there was no mincing words...direct, disciplined and contrived I decided in my mind.

On a campout weekend we were doing the foolish fun things that a 16 year old does with free time--create havoc.  We were up until all hours telling stories...running around the camp, waking the leaders up over and over again unmercifully...turning over the outhouse while someone was in it....and one of my group had placed a can of baked beans in the coals of the fire...I looked down--realized the can was glowing red and starting asking if they had punched a hole in it?  It was too late--the can of beans exploded and the shrapnel of the can flew like a missile into my neck... it missed the jugular by about an inch...Mr. Fair judged it was my can of beans and I was a fool as he drove me to the hospital and later home. In truth--I just realized it was there and wanted to warn everyone to get away...I don't even eat beans.

One day a week later our Jr. leader had a falling out--a shouting match in front of all of us against Mr. Fair.  This Jr. leader was a friend of mine...but he hated authority....well--he had good reasons for it...but it made no difference--any authority was something to fight against in his mind. After the yelling and falling out from the war that we saw...we all wondered--now what?

Mr. Fair examined the landscape--scrutinizing the remaining battlefield and army before him.  Mr. Fair pulled me aside and asked me to talk with him outside.  Strange--I wonder what this is about?  Mr. Fair had never spoken to me separately from the other brigade members...I didn't think he liked me very much--let along know who I am by name.

Mr. Fair started to tell me that I had the makings of a leader...that people will follow me.  I remember it as being the first time someone had noticed me and tried to mentor me in some way to step into the space shaped for me...I told him I would take the mantle--still unsure but a little excited about bringing together what was remaining.

Later that evening our Jr. leader returned and apologies were made...things were made right--right in front of us. 

Of course this is great--but it begs the question--where does this leave me now that I had been promoted to the same role formally?

Mr. Fair leaned into the issue almost sensing my inner question...."Glenn will remain in this new role as well...we now have two leaders--two Lieutenants."

That night I grew a few inches taller in stature and confidence...I felt as though I had been seen and noticed for being myself. It was a feeling I would appreciate and only feel a few more times in the coming years.

A few years after my Brigade years were over I saw Mr. Fair banging away on stage on Sunday morning playing the Tympani--with force and preciseness...but also with a musical freedom I hadn't pictured him with.  He was somehow different than the man I had previously judged. There was an even more human side to him expressing himself through music--which I never would have imagined.

Many more years later I was selling all of my belongings at a yard sale in preparation of moving to Franklin, TN.  Who drove up to our house in Dublin?  That's right...it was Mr. Fair.  He sized up my John Deere riding mower and handed me the cash--I think it was for one of his children.  We made small talk--but there was kindness in his eyes and banter that was different from what I had pictured earlier...maybe it was because now we were talking man to man--but he seemed to be a good man I thought.

A year later--that old Jr. leader he had had words with many years before wound up in trouble with the law and in jail.  Many people ran the other way from my old friend because of what he had done and the details that came out.  I spoke to this man this year and he was abandoned by everyone--everyone except one man that came to visit him--that's right...it was Mr. Fair--he was still fathering, mentoring and had more to teach and give to this man.

I was wrong about Mr. Fair with my early judgements...he was a strong man who stood by others in the fiercest storms of life...he lived not by how myself or others had defined him...but how he walked with God and was willing to go places nobody wanted to go...Working with teenage boys...getting in the middle of problems--he was willing to engage--and stay engaged in the fight...and years later he was still mentoring some of us in a way I didn't understand many years before.

Mr. Fair...Thank you.

Cutting Stone

Back to the job site...another start to the week. The sun was just peeking above the horizon.

Strange thunderous sounds can be heard close by...I suppose more stone workers starting early--getting a jump on their day too.

Nothing but white stone everywhere as I walk down stairs and descend into the side of the rock.  I pick up my tools and start banging away. After lathering up a good sweat and humming a tune to myself...banging rock...cutting stone....suddenly a man is in front of me.  I'm guessing he is the new partner they have sent to help me finish this project.

"Extra tools over there for ya" as I point to the corner.  The man walks over and bends down and grabs the sledge hammer...he begins to pound away with me---in rhythm.  "A lot going on 'round here today" I said.  He just kept banging away...seemingly enjoying the physical work. 

It's easy to get lost inside your own thoughts with everything happening recently.  So much commotion...people happy...people angry...people sad but everyone has strong feelings this week. The past week was kind of a blur....

The man stopped...I can only see his profile but never his full face...

Deliberately he heads up the stairs and outside into the new sunshine.  The man speaks with a woman....low talking at first...then she is embracing him like an old friend.  "Strange" I thought but I went back to work.  Soon he came back and was back to work hammering and pounding the area into submission. 

The guards that were here on my last work day are no longer here...and it is very quiet once the woman leaves.

This is not my favorite job for a stone cutter--but it pays the bills.  I don't like the thoughts about being here amongst the dead.

The job is moving along quickly with my new partner.  He is very quiet but he is a good worker I thought to myself.  I wish everyone would partner like this.

"Let's break for lunch" I said.  The man headed back outside with me.  "Hard to believe all that has happened this week--eh friend?!"

"What do you mean?" asked the fellow stone cutter?

"I mean...the man riding in a week ago as the awaited Messiah...and then by a week later--his crucifixion--the leaders got rid of him quickly..."

"What man is this?" asked the fellow stone cutter.

"The carpenter from Galilee...the man with astute learnedness in all of the books of the law...and a man who was unafraid of the temple leaders...he called it like it was...sometimes kind and gentle fighting to allow the children to come to his side...other times fiercely full of fire to heal the sick--and drive out demons....and compassion--there was nobody like him...he always gave more to others."

"He sounds like quite a man" stated the fellow stone cutter.  "Oh--he was" I said....and then I was out to get bread on the morning before the sabbath...and suddenly a man next to me was taken by the Roman guards to carry this man's cross up the long hill."

"The man was a prophet of some sort...yet he couldn't escape their grasp" I said.  It's sad that it comes down to the powerful...having the power to do as they wish."

The fellow stone cutter grunted...then stated "Maybe there was a different plan even more powerful than what meets the eye" he stated...

Two men came running up looking like they were racing for their very lives...they raced past and to the tomb next door.  Like was shining brightly out from the darkness.  "Strange things still happening" I said.  "I was told to mind my business and stick to my work....so I have."

"Indeed...and you have done that" stated the fellow stone cutter.  "You have carved and pounded and cut out an area for the future dead to be laid" he observed. "You have done what you know to do by trade...skillfully carving through the solid rock."

"It reminds me that since your wife died two years ago...you have been as impenetrable as the very rock you work on."

Shocked at the fellow stone cutter knowing a part of my very own story--I quipped "How do you know these things and who are you?"

I felt a burning in my heart as if a laser had pierced my armor that had long protected my broken heart.

"James...I have come to cut through the stone around your very heart...here...today."

As the fellow stone cutter finished uttering these words he slowly turned and I caught his face and his eyes for the very first time...there was a fire in his eyes like lightning...he placed his massive hand over my chest--over my heart...there were scars on his hands...Suddenly I felt my own heart--pounding strongly--and I was keenly aware of it...it felt as though a weight had dropped off of my chest and shoulders...and instead of just being--just living--I was aware I was alive...and then he was gone.

There were many other stories I heard through the next few days...strange appearances...to the men who rented my upstairs room --and to other women as well.

I can never forget the fellow stone cutter who looked within me and spoke my story---the man who broke through my stone encrusted heart and brought my sorrow out...the man who cut away the stone and brought me back to life.