Why is Change so Hard?

Let's face it... change is hard.  It really is.   The fact is change hits all of us every day in a myriad of different ways and waves. Most of the time it is painful.

Do you typically feel that when you experience change, it usually feels like something happened "to" you vs. "for "you? 

Especially if the change wasn't something you were the author of rather the victim of....

What seems so ironic to me is that everything we know about change is that it is inevitable in all aspects of our lives, yet, we typically resist change when it occurs.  I find the tension between the absolute primal need humans seem to have to progress and grow and the incredible resistance that is so often propped up by those same humans to prevent change from happening so fascinating.

Although I have my own unique point of view, all of us are subject matter experts when it comes to change due to the fact that change is so elemental to the fabric of our lives.    As a guy who moved constantly from country to country growing up, the proverbial pool I swam in was a constant churn of change--new people, new schools, new cultures, new languages, new customs, new sounds and smells......  Although I was taught to view change as a positive thing, I developed a particular perspective that taught me 3 key lessons:

1.  Change is almost ALWAYS personal

2.  Change is almost ALWAYS emotional

3.  Change is almost ALWAYS messy

Because at least in my experience these 3 things always happen, I have come to appreciate better why so many people struggle with change, even when self-inflicted or self-produced.  It is because when these 3 things happen the next thing almost always happens:

R E S I S T A N C E 

We resist change like crazy for the most part.  What is so crazy interesting to me is that we, in certain roles have no empathy for this principle yet in other roles we totally do.  Let me try to explain:

As managers, parents or teachers we initiate change all the time.  We introduce it to our children or our employees constantly.  And yet when they seem to "resist" or "not obey" we grow impatient and often frustrated because they don't comply as quickly as we would like.   On the other hand, in our other roles of being children, siblings, employees or students and experience the receiving end of change we resist just as much!   

 In other words, It is ok if I make my kids' life crazy and expect them to be happy with change I introduce, but then at work it is completely ok for me to be very defensive, non-cooperative and resistant to changes that occur if I don't agree with them.

How many times did we as parents inform our kids about a new change -- (ie Moving the family back from NY to Utah) and expect them to be totally fine with the idea.  We couldn't seem to understand why one would start crying, another would be screaming for joy, another would be totally silent and yet another was saying "ok" on the outside, but was dying on the inside.  Then we would get emotional and try all the wrong messages to quickly corral them into the barn of "happiness" in order to make ourselves feel good instead of helping them move through the idea.  This never happens to you right?

The key is that we are responsible for moving ourselves through change, no one else is.  Yep, it means we have to be "big" girls and boys and grow up.  Nothing reduces us to our true selves like change.  You want to check to see just how mature you really are take a big look into the change mirror and see how you react.  There is a very slippery slope of allowing yourself to become a "VICTIM" vs a "VICTOR" of change.  The deepness and wideness of the chasm is vastly different depending upon which perspective and attitude you choose to embrace.  Both are charged with emotion, but one can mire you in the dip of despair and takes a lot longer to move through vs the other where you muster the courage to face and move through change as quickly as possible.

By shifting our perspective just a bit, we can leverage change as a powerful influence in our own and others lives.  If we know these 3 things about change and then always remember that people resist change then we are armed with knowledge that we can use..... we need to manage our expectations knowing these dynamics.  We can prepare people more carefully, we can now be more patient because we now anticipate and expect resistance instead of secretly hoping that people will just simply be happy with changes that happen to them.  In other words, plan on these 3 things and just knowing that can make a significant difference.  It has for me.  We now involve our kids much differently so they are actually helping "design" the change vs. being the nail that waits for the parental hammer of change to eventually hit.  

The other really cool thing about knowing these dynamics and principles of change is that it is entirely OK to be emotional when change happens.  It is inevitable and very ok to feel whatever it is that is felt.  The issue is that we tend to place a value of "Good" or "Bad" to these varying emotions when change happens.  All emotions are ok during change.  There is no such thing as "Good" or "Bad" when it comes to these emotions.  They just are..... we can't put a value judgment on them just because we have stupid expectations of what they should be.  Knowing this and learning how to alter our expectations can be hugely helpful to us and them.

So, pausing for a sec.... do you agree?  Maybe with a few things....?  I am ok with that.  Think about the different changes in your life....... what did you feel?  For how long?  What got you through? Think about your different roles....  Can you see yourself in this picture?   I hope I can just reflect the mirror back on your for a moment in order to assess how mature you are in your journey of change.   

Do I have it all figured out?  No...but I can say that understanding these simple dynamics of change have made a world of difference for me and mine.  I have learned to embrace change.....to make it happen......to anticipate it......yes, even to love it.  I think it is the only thing that makes us grow and stretch in our lives.  Who wants to be "warm safe and dry" at the expense of growing and maturing into the people we are meant to be.  What a huge regret it would be if we look back and see what could have been if only we had modified our view just a hair differently with respect to change that we experience in our lives.   I love how it rips us out of comfort zones, mediocrity, staleness, complacency and stagnation and how it can open our eyes to new vistas, horizons and eternal progression....

....... So take some bite size steps today to help you through whatever pain change has brought you.  keep moving....and good luck!!

The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance

-- Alan Watts

Lessons in Choreography

cho·re·og·ra·phy

noun \ˌkȯr-ē-ˈä-grə-fē\ : the art or job of deciding how dancers will move in a performance;

 I experienced something pretty amazing today that I must share.  Today in Church, during our main congregational meeting members in the audience were invited to come up and share spiritual experiences or feelings regarding their faith.   Usually adults are more prone to share personal things in front of a pretty large crowd than younger folk.  Today a 'younger folk' about the age of 8 made the long walk from the back of the room with intent in her stride.  She came up to the podium, pulled the microphone down to her level, and began a very earnest delivery......

"You all know that I love to act"  she began....  Next came:   "I have pretty much done it since I was like uhm...4".  "I have done a lot of plays and an important part of acting means that you always have choreography"....  

I looked out at the audience and saw lot's of smiles.  What I mostly saw was that she had every single pair of eyes fixed on her waiting anxiously to what she was going to say next.

"Choreography means that you have to learn steps in order to do the play right."  "So, I have to try very hard to learn all the steps in order to do the play right,  so I practice a lot"

I will just pause here for a sec....  

First of all, she had me at "You all know that I love to act".  No, I didn't know that, but felt admittedly guilty that somehow I should have.  She had that way about her.  If only I could convey with words her flawless delivery, the effortless confidence and her absolute matter-of-factness you might be able to truly taste what it might have been like......

Second, there is something not quite right about a second grader throwing around vocabulary like "Choreography" and then being so kind to make sure, we, the adults in the audience would be sure to understand so she explained it real simple like so we could "follow".  It should have felt condescending or pompous... but no, it was pure child-like honesty.

Third, I have never heard a better explanation ever......!  And I think my mom, a professional choreographer and dancer would agree with me.

"So, I was thinking......  If learning the right steps to do a play right is important, then maybe like Choreography, it is important to know the right steps to return to God."

Uhm.... ExquEEZE me??!!    


"I have been baptized so that is good... that is one of the steps.  But I need to figure out the next ones in order to get all the way back."

"So, I have decided that it is really important to figure these out, so I am going to do that.  I am going to figure out all the next steps, practice hard and then I can get back to God."
 
Then she sat down.....   She hushed the crowd.  Everyone was trying to figure out if she was for real or not.  For me, I didn't even hear the next 4 speakers.... I was lost in a different place.  For a guy who really likes metaphors and connecting them to life I was really thrown in a most excellent way.  This little girl blew me away!...   Here is what I learned:

1.  She knows who she is in the most profound way.  She is a daughter of God.  She wasn't wasting anytime talking about how she was going to make Mom and Dad proud of her acting.. oh no, she was way beyond that "childish" game.

2.  She nailed the doctrine of eternal progression.  That we all are here to prove ourselves, to "practice" to try and learn our path and the "steps" to get back to Heaven if we want to. She really wants to.

3.  She knew, somehow, that the performing arts from her vantage point were simply a means to a much more spectacular and grander end.  She saw the end game at 8 years old.  She was connecting some major life dots that most never do.

4.  She was willing to share this simple but so profound formula with the rest of the world..... that being our local congregation.    Honestly, I don't think it mattered how many were in the audience in the least!  She needed to inform us of what she was going to do as if to challenge us to see if we would do the same.

She did more to cause me to think if I actually knew what the next steps in my life were than anyone else that spoke.  I felt her unasked invitation penetrate my heart and really made me take a few minutes to take stock of where I was and what I needed to do next.

Mom always taught a whole dance to others by breaking it up into small chunks of steps and movement.  She would teach little steps and then have us practice them until we became really good at each one.  We would often tire of the repetitive process of practicing seemingly boring and uninteresting steps that seemed to have no rhyme or reason in and of themselves.  It was only after many hours of practice that we started to see the beauty and grace of stringing steps together into patterns and rhythms that would end up as an entire dance.  Only when we saw how the small steps linked to the whole story did we see.  I think that happens a lot to us with the choreography of our lives.   We think the daily routine is too tedious, too insignificant and we fail to see the bigger picture of how each or day leads to weeks, months and ultimately an entire life full of little steps.

Mom would always teach in front, leading and showing us the way, ever so patient as we fumbled with technique.  She knew what the whole story and dance looked like.  That is what gave her the will to wait and watch us master the steps and then put feeling into them which ultimately brought us closer to her vision of what the dance was really about, and also what would bring us the most joy as well.  This little girl somehow knew that God was doing the same thing, leading out in front, being the example, showing us patiently the way, asking for us to have faith in the little steps so that one day the collective sum of all them would lead to a beautiful legacy and reunion.

I am figuring out my next steps right now....  I feel more urgency today than I did yesterday.  And I know I am going to have to practice a bit harder now than ever before because this particular performance is different and has a most amazing finish because of how the story ends.  I want this one too.  I just needed a little reminder about how important it really is to me....

.....I learned some lessons in Choreography today,  I wonder what story the steps of your dance is telling you....

The Rhythms of Life

Almost every morning between 8:30am and 10:00am a small group of us find each other through texts, gather, and then walk a few minutes across the fountain plaza of Temple Square.  To the left of us is a wonderfully beautiful water fountain, exactly to the right is the magnificent Salt Lake Temple. We soak in our surroundings.... unlike any other location.  A quick reminder of why we work there every day.  

We cross the street, walk into the pharmacy and get a soda refill.  It was .95 cents, now it's a buck. Sometimes if the stomach is speaking too much, we add a donut or cheese stick.  We spend about 3 minutes talking, pay, then walk the short walk back.

We walk in the building, wish each other a good day and part ways to our offices.  We call it the soda run.....and we are the soda patrol.  How long have we done it you ask? Hmmm..... can't remember when we haven't.  So, 6 going on 7 years now.  The patrol for sure has changed color and hue over the years, some have moved on, new ones join up.  Despite the changes in personnel, the rhythm has never changed.  You can almost count on it.  We now can "feel" the texts before they even come... do we even need the reminder anymore?  No, but we do it anyway....it is part of the flow.  It is alot like gravity... as if we were a tide on the ocean... we are coming into the beach no matter what....one wave after another, reaching as high on the sand as possible, only to retreat back into the cold deep to wait for the next surge.

On one hand, the whole thing is almost not even worth mentioning, so small and seemingly insignificant.  Who cares about a daily soda run?  What can be so noteworthy about a 10min mundane daily routine?  Truly it is almost nothing......

Yet I find it so pleasantly fascinating...... 

There are days when things do happen and the patrol doesn't make the run..... sickness, offsites,  or meetings get in the way at times.  When this occurs an odd thing that happens.... the world just isn't quite right.  Like walking with a limp......our equilibrium isn't quite there.....  Something is missing, an absence, yes, even a void.   We have all even talked about how we all feel that same oddness... so weird and cool at the same time.

It got me thinking about the other patterns and rhythms in our lives.  We find meaning in routine.  We need patterns to guide us each day.  One of my most favorite things about growing up overseas was observing how women would do their daily "soda run" to the market.  They would stop and get fresh bread at the bakery, wander through the fruit and vegetable stands, looking, sifting, weighing occasionally popping a sample in their mouths before selecting.  What I noticed was that what was really going on was that they were making human connections with people all through this routine.  It wasn't really about the bread, fish and potatoes... it was the catching up on the local gossip, the checking in on acquaintances, talking local politics etc.... It was very much about connecting on a human and emotional level.  The marketplace just happened to be the perfect means to a beautiful end.  It wasn't the destination, it provided a most excellent journey.  Each routine was like a wave lapping up on the beach, soaking into the sand, then ultimately returning home until the next tidal pull, or bottle of milk was empty.

PS: I think we Americans have in our efforts to be "efficient" and "cost conscious" missed out on this particular pattern and rhythm.  We go to Costco and load up for a month.  We don't talk to anyone, hardly interact at all.....Instead of a journey, it has transformed into a task, with the end in mind being:  shop fast, get out and get home quickly with as little interaction as possible.

Ahh!  What a missed opportunity......  Routines like these small town market wandering ones are so important as they are a microcosmic metaphor  of life's larger routines.  We all have our own "soda runs" that bring meaning to our lives.  The Sunday morning paper and coffee ..... Saturday soccer games.  Some we have to do, but it is the ones that we purposefully manufacture that are the most sweet.  We secretly cherish them and from these ones we learn the most....

I love that our little soda patrol is so simple but so important.  I love that it brings those small moments of interaction, connection, caring about one another, not the soda. (Although that isn't so bad!)  We need to bond with others at all levels in our lives.  At least I believe that and that is the collection of all these small routines and rhythms with people that bring great meaning to us.  You know how you get the little sense of excitement in your tummy when you know you get to go on your version of your "soda run"?  I know you do!  It is amazing no?  Does it seem to you that it is these small little "waves" that keep us going?  I love that life allows for these.  We can create them, live them and make the most of them if we have eyes to see.  I wonder how many times we don't really see them for what they are:  little life lessons.

I know the really important routines are those that we have with family and those that we have with God.  Ultimately all others are subordinate to these.  So, although my little soda run might seem a little small, the people I do it with are not.  They remind me of what is most important and I will always be grateful they found 10 minutes to share with me......  

I would love to peek in on yours....Come peek on mine... every morning about 8:30am.

In the Zone

McKenna made VP for her Senior Class at the end of her Junior year last spring.  What she did to run and ultimately win is a whole other story in and of itself.....(will post later).....She has been super busy all summer doing events, getting to know the other officers and preparing for other fall activities as school began.

Because she is very involved, that automatically means Chelta and I are also very involved.  We love it even though it can mean some serious hours at times. 

McKenna is very oriented to art and visual design.  She wasn't really happy with everyone's ideas for this fall's 'Homecoming' dance, so she decided to do her own "thang!"  Everyone seemed to just go along because she brought so much energy to the table.  I really had no idea what was going on behind the scenes.  All I know is that pretty soon there were all manner of large cardboard boxes all over our lawn.   She started cutting huge letters from them and then painted them with gold colored paint.  Then all kinds of other stuff starting showing up from the local salvation army store...knick knacks, picture frames, random baskets and even large wooden pallets.  Gold paint faded into Black....  Weeks went by and I finally started to ask what was going on... my lawn was a disaster...all kinds of horrible paint all over it.  Of course the size and quantity of all these decorations ended up in our garage--meaning, yes, the cars were now parked elsewhere.   Time passed....more and more came....they would go dumpster diving to find the right sized cardboard.  Chelta and I both wondered if all this was actually going to "work".  We had a few doubts.... but went along for the ride as McKenna seemed so sure about everything.

The day came.... Got home with a truck at 4pm... loaded her up along with two minivan's and off to the High School we went...  

Let me begin at the end and work backwards......

We got home at 3am.

Before you think you know where I am going let me just say that it was a total 

BLAST !!!

I will try and describe why...

First: There was the scale:  She wanted BIG... she has never been scared of size or scope.... she only sees what has to be done in whatever space is provided.  

Second: She wanted to decorate like had never been done before....  She wanted every single person who came to have an "experience" not just come to a dance.

Third:  The theme was "Shabby Chic" and so there was a ton of eclectic things going up mixed in with a lot of randomness but that was all part of the vision.

Here are some pics:

Unforgettable was the theme and the goal:  No one would forget!

Fun balloon entrance...yes with random boxes lining the way

The coolest hanging umbrellas ever.....they were floating!

Very interesting things handing all over...random but precise

Cool

Everyone came down the halls to see everything....lots of chatter!

Every star had the names of every couple!  Their own hall of fame... more floating parasols 

Every couple came to find their star

Worm's eye view of floating parasols    

A few balloons

Very creative floating clouds!  

Many hands

Of course this is what you do with boxes, crates and pallets!!! I should have known

  

Random

With lights

So, not necessarily the most spellbinding decorations for sure, but that wasn't what won the night... it might have been what people noticed the most, what they talked about, and what they had fun doing together, but it was what was happening to McKenna inside that was the coolest part of that long night.

Everyone came to her to ask what to do, where to go, what to put where.... pretty soon it was even the teachers and adults.  She had the vision and knew where to direct everyone.  She did it patiently all night long...never an ounce of frustration.  She had everyone's respect.  She was in the "zone".    I watched her closely.  She was riding a monster wave of confidence.  She was having so much fun creating, not directing everyone, but watching everyone's hands piece together her vision and the joy that emanated from her countenance when the result exceeded her expectations it was exquisite to experience.  I remember catching her in a moment and asked her:  "Doesn't this feel extraordinary right now inside?"  She said: "Yeah!"  I told her:  "You will never be the same.... you just grew two years in one night!"  She nodded.  Then I asked her: "Don't you feel like you can do anything in the whole world right now?"  She laughed and said "Exactly!"

It was in that moment my heart leapt for her and at the same time I realized this whole Sr. Class VP experience was fast forwarding her exit from us.  She was increasingly more ready each passing day to go be on her own... to create, spread her wings and to discover on her own... I knew it in my heart that instant.  It pricked me hard... that lump came to my throat in an instant..... one blink of the eye and it was there... as if to prepare me for what would be coming in just a few short months....ick!  I didn't want to face it.  It reminded me of a poem my sister wrote titled: Time, you are a Thief (will deep dive later)

Regardless, to see her in her particular brand of "The Zone" was very special.  Since then she has only ridden that wave even further.  The confidence that comes from knowing who are you  and being ok with that knowledge can create a lot of confidence momentum.  It has lingered in the weeks since this event.  It has only become stronger as she continues to set her sights on what she wants to achieve. 

3am didn't matter anymore.... only the timeless funnel of that wave did... awesome!

Sanding the Rough Edges

I am who I am..... we say this don't we?  We believe that nothing can or should change about ourselves because of 5 simple words... 

I am who I am

How many times do we hear the world saying that to us.... over and over.  After all, don't we have the right to be who we are or whatever we want to be?  Why should we be anything different than who we are?  

There are those that spend inordinate amounts of energy first finding out who they really are.  Others, seem to already know without spending any time at all.

Once found, then what......?  We just keep being "us", staying in that state of "am"ness forever? Then what about change?  Isn't life about constant change?  How to reconcile change with that of just "being" who we are?  Is change supposed to change us, who we are, or does change just happen around us without really touching us?

Growing up overseas I remember knowing other American expats who would come to these amazing countries and cultures and live there for years but would never let themselves be "touched" by their experience.  Very much like being in a plastic bubble.....breathing? Yes, but never "inhaling".  Alive? Yes, but not "living".  They didn't want anything to touch them, to leave any impressions or fingerprints, or in other words......let anything dare 'change' them......They wanted the warm safe and dry of their cocoon of convenience and comfort.

Personally, I never understood that mentality.  What a tremendous fraidy pants waste.

I had to sand McKenna's door frame on Saturday..... finally!  She hasn't had a door to her room for forever....( I know, bad Dad.... )  So there I was, trying to find the right grit of sandpaper.  I was too lazy at first to bring up the electric sander, so began doing it by hand. In order to get the door framed as square as possible, I needed to refine a few rough edges here and there.  I thought I would pop this gig out in just a few minutes.  I started.....hard to get a rhythm going at first.  The position in the corner door frame was super awkward.  I folded the sandpaper to get a better angle....slowly the fine dust started to appear, but only after ALOT of Mr. Miayagi "up and down" strokes.  I felt the burn in my hands and and shoulders.  I kept switching hands.  Over and over and slowly the pile of super refined saw dust sprinkled down on on the floor over my shoes.  Frequently I would stop, brush my fingers against the rough edges to see how level they were getting. I was surprised how much effort it took just to get a few little rough patches smooth and level.  

30 minutes later, I was perspiring and my arms ached and burned.  I stopped and reflected on my work.

Two things happened:
1.  I noticed how beautiful smoothly sanded wood looked, smelled and felt.
2.  I realized that I was smack dab in the middle of one of God's metaphors.....once again.....

I wasn't sanding McKenna's door.... He was sanding down some of the rough edges of my soul.   

I realized in an instant that the effort I was exerting to "change" the physical nature of that door frame was proportionate to the effort He was exerting to change the spiritual nature of "who I am".  I sat there pondering this principle.  What did I need to "change" in order to frame the perfect fit for my soul's door.

I am who He wants me to be

Is this the real me?  With this new definition, it would mean that I would have to believe in knowing myself just well enough to know that I need to change, to smooth out my own rough edges.  Some I came with, some I acquired like barnacles on an old boat.  Edges that would need ALOT of effort, hundreds....maybe thousands of Mr. Miyagi "up and down" strokes.  The more I realized, the more I realized what was actually sprinkling down around me onto the floor and over my shoes was, truth.....little bits of refined truth hitting me and then finding their way down to their resting place.  The little piles of truth were the reality of how much effort it was taking for me to realize just how much sanding I stood in need of.....

30 minutes later..... I was crying and my spirit ached and burned.  I stopped and reflected on my thoughts.

Two things happened:

1.  I noticed how a beautiful smoothly sanded soul could look, smell and feel like

2.  I realized that I never want to stop being smack dab in any of God's metaphors.....ever

This will be a special door McKenna.... I will call it the "Door of Rough Edges"  because just like your door, we are worth sanding...

Shoes on the Altar

Landon (Missionary in Edmonton, Canada) sent home a box with a family that stayed with us that he had become friends with there.  We were so excited to go through his 'stuff'.  There was something for each of the kids.  There was chocolate, and other cool candy from Canada, a Chinese ping pong paddle for Braden, some Chinese jewelry for the girls etc....

At the bottom of the box was a pair of worn out shoes.  At first glance I thought, "Good heavens, why did you send these home--should have thrown them out!"  I looked again....I recognized them.... they were mine since about 2004 when I bought them in NY.  I remember when Landon finally grew into them a year before his mission years later. He used to wear them to church. Then they were good enough to keep on truckin' to Canada.  I didn't think they would last nearly as long as they did.

I looked closer... I saw the area on the heel where he had really worn through the sole, but what put a smile on my face was the use of "shoe goo".  This meant that he was actually trying to hold these suckers together for as long as he could.  Memories of my Dad putting shoe goo on my tennis shoes came flooding back!  The stuff really works by the way. 
I couldn't help but sit there with shoe in hand and start to wonder what stories these shoes might tell.  They had seen a few miles, probably weathered at least one Northern Canadian winter and all other manner of streets, paths, grass, gunk and gook.  What I was reminded of is that these shoes weren't really the thing to focus on... no, what became immediately more important were the destinations:......the people, the meaningful exchanges, friendships, prayers and families that happened because of these shoes.  They were a simple "means to an end, not the "end" unto itself." To me in that moment, they represented a thousand memories that all involved people as the "end".

I felt a warm feeling spread through me as I imagined Landon putting on the shoe goo every couple of nights....then hoping his feet would stay dry with the hole in the sole getting wider each day.  There came a time, I am sure when he finally looked at them and said: "Ok shoes, you have done me well, thank you! We have traveled well together you and I...you have carried me all these days and have never let me down.....We worked so hard together..."

I will never forget the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney.... An unassuming man from Wyoming named Rulon Gardner beat Alexander Karelin, the supposedly unbeatable heavyweight to win the Gold.  It was amazing.....actually stunning!  Everyone told him he should have quit, but he didn't.  He went on to win the Bronze medal 4 years later.  As soon as the referee lifted his arm, he immediately wrapped himself in an American flag, wiped the tears from his eyes and sat down and started untying his shoes.  He then placed them in the center of the mat and left.  This for wrestlers, is the metaphor of retirement.... not because they are old, but rather an expression of their effort.  Gardner said it so well:

"To leave them on the mat meant I left everything on the mat as a wrestler,"

I clearly remember watching all of this with much reverence.  I totally felt like I was witnessing something incredibly special and personal that would leave a mark on me forever.  I had no idea what he was doing, or why he did it until the announcer explained.  I remember how I felt, I remember my own wet eyes and the pride I felt in being of the same nationality of this great athlete warrior.  Maybe you watched too and remember as well....

So, I thought again one last time before I put Landon's missionary shoes back in the "box" (mat) and felt the Spirit come over me and I thought about this parallel.... maybe Landon was taking off his shoes as well.... Could it be that he gave his all and left everything he had as well on the "mat" of his missionary call and stewardship thus far ?  I don't know... but I would like to think so.  All I really know is that same feeling watching Rulon during the Olympics came to me in that moment and caused in me many emotions of gratitude for his effort, his desire and dedication to work so hard on the behalf of others and to be a warrior for the cause he believes in, that of serving our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who we all know, at the end of his life, put everything he had, literally his life in the center of the atonement "mat" for every one of us, so that we can live again, forever in His presence and to feel the exquisiteness of His love.

I never learned more from a pair of shoes like I did with that gosh darn 'ol pair......

Now.... all I need to do is follow your example and hope that at the end of my last match, I can place my shoes on the center of my life's mat and walk away with the same feelings that Rulon and Landon have..... Landon, you were inspired to send them, I needed to touch, feel and experience them.......for which I will be forever grateful. 

The Phone Call

Not a great day today....  No, the details don't really matter.  The day just had no soul, no energy, no life.  It seemed all to happen around me, as if I wasn't really there, rather more like I was a phantom bystander, watching things happen around me but involved....  I know I did stuff....but have no idea what.  I think I ate, yeah, a piece of pizza from Harmons.  I know I went with friends, but have no idea what we talked about.  I had meetings all day long but have no idea what they were about....I

didn't laugh, didn't cry, I mostly was invisibly 'there'.

I had a late meeting until 7pm... afterwards I drove a friend home.  First time with him.... Very good guy.   

....this is where everything changed......

He gets a call on his iphone while en route home. He answers it.... facetime... So I get to hear! (Yeah!)  It is his 9 year old daughter who lives in another state with her Mom....yeah, they split a while back.

They begin the most simple but beautiful exchange through this incredible technology.  She is full of little girl energy....the kind that can't seem to get all the words out fast enough... she asks a bunch of questions which he methodically and patiently answers...  She asks him if she has shown him her new school back pack?  No.... so she makes sure he sees it.  She notices that it is still "light" outside and exclaims that is so cool because where she lives it is all dark!  She giggles at that.... so fun.  She has this totally fun voice that was so articulate and cute.

Then she goes:  "Hey Dad, have you seen my violin?"  "No...show me!"  She pulls it out and then says she is going to play for him so he can hear.  She warns him that it might not sound so great cause she is just beginning....  He tells her that is ok.  She starts playing a couple of scales and then stops.  It doesn't sound too bad after all... He asks her what song that was.... She laughs  "oh Dad!, That isn't a song silly."  He tells her it sounds beautiful!  That he cannot wait until she plays many songs that he can listen to.   She then goes into showing him the resin that she uses for the bow and explains it in detail, why it looks the way it does, what it is supposed to do etc...." Like a little technician explaining something very technically important.

He asks her if it is bedtime....she announces that it isn't, but that she is cleaning her room before bed.  He tells her that he will call in just a few minutes as we were arriving home.

She tells him "sure"  and then ends with a very upbeat "Love you Dad!"   He acknowledges back and ends the call.....Then tells me how infrequent that actually happens..... 

During the call I found my smile... it came... it found me I guess, almost immediately....not sure from where... but somewhere during that magical phone call, the world became right again, the stars aligned, the important things were identified, things were said that needed to be said and violins that needed to play beautiful notes were played....  Most importantly that familiar lump found its way to my throat.  I felt the absolute awesome beauty of this simple exchange between a Father and his far away daughter.  Many emotions came as I put myself in his shoes.... oh!  Wow.  Knowing she was so close.... but not enough to hug that night before bed.

Let's just say this experienced lingered for me....I got home and quickly hugged everyone of my kids a little big harder and longer, as if it would count just a little bit extra for my friend and his daughter....

                      ....... yeah, pretty great day....

Doce Amargo....

I am not sure why.......but for some reason ever since I was like 10 years old I found that I had an attraction to twist endings to stories.  Sometimes they were tragic, often full of irony sometimes just bittersweet.  In Portuguese the term is "Doce Amargo". 

irony: "incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs"

I remember first being aware of this when I per chance came across  a book in our family library called "O'Henry's Short Stories". I was in 5th or 6th grade in Jakarta Indonesia.... Let's just say there wasn't a lot of "Must See TV" programming there....leaving loads of time for incredible reading journeys.  O' Henry certainly took me on a number of fantastical ones.... I remember his were the first stories ever that caused so much post-reading reflection.  I couldn't help try and wrap my head around the most interesting ironic twists he weaved into his tapestry of storytelling.  I was 'woven' in with the best of them.... I was an instant fan.

The first short story I read was "The Ransom of Red Chief. It made me laugh. It was good enough to keep me reading more until I eventually read all the stories in the whole book. The stories that stood out were "The Gift of the Magi, "The Last Leaf" and the "The Cop and the Anthem".

These simple but amazing well written stories introduced me to everyday social scenes where very normal people experienced tragedy, humor and happiness sometimes all at once but in profound ways that made my heart feel things I had never felt before as a kid.  O' Henry had a way of "compelling"' me to empathize with the characters way before I ever knew what "empathy" meant --I remember often I would stop in the middle of reading, put the book on my chest and then dreamily play out in my minds eye, how each character would react to, feel and deal with the ironic idiosyncrasies they experienced. It was odd in a way, but I found great interest in evaluating my own response to it. It was an important development stage for me to realize that real "human stories" didn't always have to end with "happily ever after", rather that happiness could co-exist with bits of tragedy, loss or .... with bittersweet irony......Even though I didn't have much of life's experience, I knew somehow that these endings were more "real" than most of the others I had read. They dented me like an old dinged car that could tell a lifetime of stories of roads traveled.    I loved what they did to me.....

"The Gift of the Magi" marked me in particular. The story was written so well and the surprise twist ending left me almost physically breathless--(I know, weird for a 10 year old) but it happened nonetheless. It was my introduction to "IRONY". I didn't know what the word meant, but I became quite familiar with it's application after O' Henry had his way with me.... How he emotionally drew me in to the depth of his characters love and how so ironically it played out in the end was wonderful, but dug at me at the same time. ....It wasn't fair!! They deserved better because their love and sacrifice was pure!! So, I remember keenly experiencing opposing feelings of sadness while at the same time marveling at the irony and how the tragedy of their actions actually reinforced their love for one another! The two main characters may not have ever truly known just how much they loved one another had they not both sold what the other needed. Amazing!.....and he never really had to use sarcasm to make his point.  I felt the immediate conflict of joy and exasperation at the exact same time... the idea that I could not reconcile both left  me restless but sated.  So weird, so unusual...yet so fulfilling at the same time.

Wish I could explain it better for you....

As my life....continued to meander through the years I kept this feeling close and nurtured it with greek tragedies, various foreign films and tragic European romances... I found I continually sought after and felt a closeness to these themes.  I went way beyond O'Henry as each new country I was exposed to offered its' own particular brand of "doce amargo" storytelling.  Every culture has it I learned.  These are universal themes.

So what?  What is the learning here?  
                                                       Good question....  

Here was one example of how things played out that helped me appreciate something that I normally would not have:

Back when I was single and dating. I had set my eye on a girl.  I  "carefully" crafted a series of plans that would introduce me to her without being too awkward.  The 'door approach' worked.  This opened up the door for several short but frequent conversations that ultimately led to me asking her out. We had 1 short sweet non-eventful date.

Weeks later I called her and asked her out again..... I was not prepared for her response, but it had profound affect on me. She said:

"Aaron, I need to tell you that I am not interested in dating you......"

Commercial Break:  You know how in movies there are those sequences that take the form of a super slo-motion-psychodelic-drug induced kaleidoscopish dreamy thing where everything is spinning helplessly out of control..?? Like someone totally tripping out?

Ok, well that started happening to me...., it was surreal....I fumbled for a something to say, but I was caught so off guard that I was speechless.  The way that she delivered that message to me was so honest, so authentic, no games, no umming or ahhing, so perfectly delivered that it simply robbed me of any quick comeback, retort, or even any response at all...... There is a wonderful metaphor that applies here: "Nailing the coffin shut". Basically, all I could actually say, was:

 "Ok....I understand, thanks for being honest with me." and it was over.....she was nice, polite, respectful and pulled the weed out by the root, no chance for any recourse, or any possible growth later... Simple, but effective.........and oh so lethal!

My first emotional response after the initial shock was "Wow am I stupid."   My first rejection. I immediately had more empathy for all other "rejectees". Wow, it really hurt! As I let myself go through the normal "I am such an idiot" process I was somehow able at the same time to realize just what an amazing thing she was able to do.

How many times do we let ourselves fall into that nasty slippery false slope of :

"I don't want to date, I just want to be friends" 

which almost always ends up meaning absolutely nothing but rather fueling a prolonged wishing, hoping and dreaming of a hopeful happy ending by one of the parties....

To the girl it means "It is done, it is over, leave me beast with the least amount of communication possible"

To the guy it means "So, you are saying there is a chance?!!!" (Jim Carey in "Dumb and Dumber). But in my case, the only way I could take it was the same way she meant it, it was "over". The more I marveled at how she did it I found a new respect for her. In fact, I actually appreciated the fact that we both didn't have to spend unnecessary time and effort working towards something that wasn't going to work. It was a bittersweet illumination for me.... liked it although it didn't taste all that great.  Ironic...

As I examine my life, there are things that I coulda, shoulda, wish I wouda for sure....But I like to think of them more as 'doce amargo' moments--trade offs. Sometimes giving something good up......for something better. Sometimes the "better" doce part doesn't show up for awhile, but it always does seem to arrive, even if on its own timetable.  Other times the more bitter 'amargo' part would actually be welcomed.

The times I have experienced bittersweet feelings the most have been with friends. Growing up overseas, always making new friends, then always knowing there would be the inevitable....."leaving" as well.  I grew up with terrible "longings" or "saudades" for friends that I had made and left, knowing that for most, I would never see them again--ever. It caused me great pain as a youth, but in time I learned to appreciate both the newness of the new land and the departure of a place already experienced.  I wouldn't trade all the bittersweet feelings I have had a lifetime of for all the incredible friends that I have had to say goodbye to.....

“Love is a hidden fire, A pleasant sore, A delicious poison, A delectable pain, An agreeable torment, A sweet and throbbing wound, A gentle death.” - Fernando de Pujas

Regret Bites

I have been resisting sharing this post for a while.  I did one of those dumb Dad mistakes which I really regret.

Lexi over here on the left has grown up to be quite the incredible little red haired lady.  She is 14 going on 30.  She knows exactly who she is ("Know Thyself" ), what she wants, who she is going to marry, how much money she is going to have, the kind of car, what her job/career will be and what her husband will be doing in his career... get the drift?  She is sassy pants and very funny and has acquired a healthy sense of self-assuredness.  The kind I certainly didn't have growing up and even envy now.

She has grown up playing soccer in the shadows of her 3 older siblings who all have played competitively and at a pretty high level.  While she hasn't been the 'soccer animal' that some are, she has been that steady, consistent and never misses-a-practice-or-game kind of player.  

Her two older brothers and older sister have all made the High School soccer team as Freshman which is a considerable accomplishment.  All of them most likely will end playing 4 years.  Lexi is a Freshman this fall......So, the topic of High School Soccer girls tryouts came up earlier this Spring.  Mom was getting Lexi all prepped for the idea of it all.  She began coaching her on what she needed to do etc.... meanwhile,  Dad was wrinkling his forehead, being quiet, and not really being on the same page about her prospects and began second guessing Mom's abundant enthusiasm......

As I saw the time for tryouts get closer, I decided the time had come to 'prune' the conversation and expectations down a notch.  I began to slip in little quips like "Listen Lexi, you know just trying out for the team is like winning!"  or  "You are very small, and this is a different level of competition, so just remember that..."  and "How would you feel if you didn't make it this first time round?"  etc.., etc... etc.....

The bottom line was I really didn't think she would make it.  I mean after all, I did live in Brazil, the land of Pele which basically makes me an automatic subject matter expert on the sport.  And it was now my rightful duty as Dad to manage her expectations for her....Oh how the self-justification felt so good.....then.

First there was a month of intense training.  She made it through all the training sessions.  I was  surprised!  This was then followed up with 2 days of actual tryouts.  The first day came.... I got home and asked McKenna how Lexi did: "Fantastic!" she said.... I was like "What??, How??"  "What do you mean?"  She went on:  "She was awesome... she played so well the coaches were commenting on her performance." It wasn't computing for me..... "Be more specific"  "ok... well she did this cool maneuver and dribbled past a defender and went down the line and then crossed the ball to center..."  Me:  "She has never done that before right?"  McKenna: "Right, but she did it today and she killed it!"    Oh no!..... I was in big trouble.  You know that that very bad feeling when you do something wrong in the pit of your stomach ?... yeah, that icky sick lump of horribleness that starts to gnaw at your  soul ?  Well it began for me.....

Lexi walked in the door.... I braced myself for a long series of sarcastic in-my-face comebacks and smack talking.   I waited, she was normal and didn't say anything.... So I finally asked her how she did:  "Good."  She wouldn't even look at me as she confidently brushed by me.... "McKenna told me how great you did, that is so awesome!  Good job!"   her:  "Yup" as it to say: "Tell me something I don't already know...."    One day passed, then another.... she never did her normal "in your face" or "See Dad, you were WRONG!" kind of stuff which she usually relishes in doing....Now she wasn't and it sucked big time... I felt very out-of-the-house.  (*I don't know what that means but that is what I felt).   I finally had to face the music and tell her how wrong I was.  I felt horrible and hoped that she would forgive me. I felt so much shame.

What kind of Dad doesn't cheer her kid on!  Wow....big disappointing moment for me.  It doesn't even sound like me.... but it was me.  It was a jagged pill that I hated swallowing but as I did I was reminded of something my Dad shared with me so so many years ago.  I was thankful for it.  It gave me the perspective I had lost.  You have probably seen this......it affected me deeply then as a 15 year old and I needed it to again now 35 years later.

The Cast
I lost the starring part in Our Town

To Linda, a girl not half as good as me,

Who kept her eyes down

For the whole tryout, and even stuttered.

When the cast was posted

And the high school drama coach

Saw me reading it through my tears,

He put an arm around me and said,

“Now, look—things are not always as they appear.

This is not Broadway;

It’s an educational institution.

We’re here for two reasons—to put on a show,

And, more important, to help people grow.

Someday you’ll see.”

So Linda played Emily,

And she didn’t even stutter.

And I was Third Woman at the Wedding,

Watching and wondering how he knew

What she could really do

If she had the chance.

Since then I have guessed that God,

Being a whole lot smarter

Than my high school drama coach, might be offstage sometimes

With an arm around a questioning cast:

“Now, don’t try to outguess me.

Sometimes the first shall be last

And the last shall be first,

And I’ve got my own reasons.

I need some strong ones to star

And some strong ones to stand back.

And I’m going to put out front

Some you might not choose,

But you’ll see what they can really do

When they have the chance.

Mortality is an educational institution.

We’ve got to put on the show,

And, too, we’ve got to help people grow.”

As I walk through the scenes,

Watch the costumes move,

And listen to the lines

Of the powerful, the weak,

The rich, the poor,

I look at the leads with less awe than most,

And at the spear-carriers with more.

So, I have been watching Lexi's games.  She is awesome.  She has totally stepped up and grown so much in just a few short weeks.  Literally right before my eyes.  Her teammates love her and cheer her on like you cannot believe.    

Hah! I say to you Aaron Brown...  maybe you should leave things in God's hands a little bit more and stop thinking your brain is so dang smart.  

At the end of the day, I am just so grateful for a forgiving daughter who quietly taught me such a valuable lesson and for not hanging on to any bad feelings when she probably deserved to.

Lexi, you perservered, you overcame, you climbed the mountain and you yelled:  "I DID IT!!" you have won the day because of it...Keep on sailing and never doubt your heart!  I wont' ever again...