Ever tried to do something well and just made things worse?

I went through years trying to figure out what to do with my life. I knew there had to be more to it than just breathing in and out until I died. I needed to know if I had a purpose or if I was just wasting good air. After all, God has gone to the trouble of supplying me with gifts and talents (as He does with everyone) that I needed to discover and make use of. He showed me that I had something to offer and I decided to go back to school to learn how to use them. So here I was, a non-traditional student, beginning my college career at 32. Many people thought I had lost my mind, was wasting my time and money, and ignoring my family to chase pipe dreams. But I had finally understood that the aptitude I had for writing was no accident and I needed to give it my best shot. That wasn't hard for me because I'm kind of (OK, really) stubborn and I love a challenge. So when I became an editor for my college newspaper, I was terribly excited. I wanted to be the best at what I did, and I was determined to be awesome.
Being the overachiever I am, I soon found myself overdoing it - trying to make up for lost time, I guess. 
In my enthusiasm, I blindly raced straight into the jungle, grabbed the tiger by the tail and proceeded to fly  out of control. I dug into my beat, learning everything I could. I made countless contacts. I went after every story I heard anything about. I soon began to panic that I would miss a story. What if something important doesn't get covered? What if someone else scoops us? What if I don't get every source quoted? What if I don't catch every angle? What if, what if, what if? After being smacked and bruised by stress and fear, I landed in a heap wondering what in the world was up. I thought I was on the right track. Was this how it was supposed to be? I don't think so. I had no peace or joy about what I was doing. What I was doing wasn't so wrong as my attempt at making it all happen by myself and without experience. What I was doing was writing close to a dozen stories when I should have been writing a couple. I was asking lame questions to many, instead of vital questions to the few that mattered. I was covering a lot of generic junk instead of focusing on one or two significant stories that actually meant something to people.
The problem wasn't a lack of effort, talent or training. I wasn't plagued by indifference or incompetence. I had simply spread myself too thin and had no experience to help me get through this uncharted territory. I had plenty of zeal and passion, but not enough wisdom to to make the best of it.
What resulted was a newspaper full of mediocre stories that no one wanted to read and an exhausted me. I had been working myself to death over meaningless stuff. I felt awful that I was utterly failing exactly where I thought I was supposed to be excelling.
Then I realized that it wasn't enough to just have the talent, or even to learn the basics of how to make it function in the world. You have to practice using it. Only then will you gain the real-world experience necessary to achieve what you want out of your gift.
I imagine it must be something like wielding a sword for the first time. You sense that there's something special and right about it in your hands, an extension of yourself. This newly discovered asset is a piece of you that you hadn't realized before. You're enamored, curious; you feel like you need to know everything there is to know about it. You study it's shape, what it looks like. It feels heavy and awkward, but you are proud of this possession of yours. You realize its potential. After all, its possibilities lie within the uniqueness of you. It is only limited by your imagination. You want to make the most of it. You get the overwhelming sense that this tool must be used and used well. But simply knowing its dimensions, its color, its size isn't enough. To get the feel of it, you must take your first swing - only to find that you injure those closest to you, the ones standing by your side. That wasn't supposed to happen. How did this God-given gift become the author of such tragedy? OK, drama queen, let's back up for a minute. Mistakes happen, bad choices are made, and people suffer because of others. It's all par for the course. Though you are horrified by the damage you may have done (and it's certainly not a bad thing to be concerned), you can't become paralyzed by it. Many stop right there, never to gain any ground from that point on. Some straight-up refuse to attempt even that first swing for fear of 'maybe' messing up or all-out failing.
Problem is, as feeble or messy as it is, there has to be a first try to get to the second, the third, etc. These steps have to be taken in order to master your talent so it can become what it was meant to be. You won't ever become effective, influential, encouraging, helpful or inspiring until you realize that the risks/mistakes are a necessary part of growth. These lessons known as failures are waiting for you to learn from them. They are opportunities to discover what doesn't work and chances to figure out how to do it better and get it right the next time.
The only way you can really fail is to give up trying. (I can't count how many times I've read that somewhere. Obviously there's something to it.)
Anyway, the point is, don't get overwrought when you feel like a monumental failure. Put things back into perspective and see that life is a learning process. You have the ability to figure out what went wrong and the chance to try it again. Don't be swayed by how things appear in any given moment, because often it is not as bad as we make it seem.

It's gonna be okay

My heart is heavy today. Someone I love dearly has just experienced a loss greater than I can fathom. I can't even begin to ease her pain. Prayers and encouragement are all I have to offer, but that's the best we humans can do. There is only One who is sufficient. There is only One who can give her comfort to get through this. Only He can heal her heartache.

I am so thankful that she turned straight to Him. I'm so glad she knows that everything happens for a reason and she won't be given more than she can handle. She understands that He won't allow something that isn't part of His bigger plan, and that - even through the agony - this is the best road. He has given her His shoulder to lean on and His strength and peace to keep going.

May God bless you, sweetheart, it's gonna be okay.

What if it was you?

There once was a boy who, like most little boys, wanted someone to teach him about life and what it meant to be a man. Most look to their fathers for this role, but this little boy didn’t have that luxury early on. In fact, by the time his stepdad came along – someone who actually could show him – his mind was already tainted by doubt and fear. So, alone, he trudged through life’s lessons, figuring them out one by one the hard way. Often, he learned the wrong way, the dangerous way. And having the passionate, all-or-nothing kind of personality that he had, he suffered many disappointments that hurt him very deeply. On top of that, he never learned how to express himself. He tried to fake it, like many kids do, but that left him feeling hollow and disturbed. The things that crushed his spirit were overwhelming and threatening. Whatever the reasons, whatever the events, something – or some string of things – broke this precious soul into pieces. He was certainly affected when his father abandoned him and his large family. To make matters worse, they didn’t realize – in their own pain and attempts at self preservation – that they were unwittingly neglecting to help this already-hurting boy. He certainly seemed okay from the outside. But whatever the case, a tragedy had been set into motion, a boy was overlooked and slipped through the cracks. He didn’t know the first thing about how to put his life back together because he didn’t know what it was supposed to look like to begin with. He felt alone and rejected. The devil took advantage of this situation and whispered mercilessly to the boy that he was worthless, unloved. This message haunted him for years, playing in his head over and over like a broken record; he eventually came to believe it since nothing and no one intervened to prove otherwise. All alone with himself, he stuffed his feelings deep down inside and grew increasingly anxious, wondering what was so wrong with him that he could be discarded, deemed unlovable?

Fast forward a few decades.

The boy has grown into a man struggling to survive in a life full of rejection. It’s all around him. It’s all he can see. Still not knowing how to cope with the torment that’s thrashing inside of him, he tries to outrun it. If it can be done, he’s seen it, thought about it or tried it. Unable to rid himself of the anxiety and feelings of hopelessness, he lashes out in his misery. He unintentionally hurts those he loves. And to get away from what he’s done he has to run that much faster and harder. What he used to do to forget is no longer enough. The pain is too great. With an evil grin, addiction shackles itself to the young man. Years go by. The cycle continues, gaining speed and intensity. The man nearly loses everything dear to him. His family has written him off. He feels rejected and abandoned. Again.

In a last-ditch effort to break free from this overwhelming horror that has become his life, he gathers up all the courage he can muster and tries again, despite his fear. He tries to make new friends. He’s learned all too well that his old friends can only steer him back into the abyss. He goes out to hang out with some new guys. Some of them sit far away, saying nothing to him. As usual, he feels out of place, that all-too-familiar sense of not belonging. Perhaps one is shy, not sure of how to connect with a stranger. Maybe another is embarassed to be seen with this long-haired, tattooed rebel. What will ‘decent’ folks think? There’s a reputation to protect, after all. The man goes away feeling ignored and rejected. Again.

Another day the man approaches a woman who’s been in his shoes. He's hoping she can help.He asks if he can talk to her. She says, “Just a minute,” and turns back to scribbling in her journal. He walks away feeling all alone. Rejected again.

Another man is all too eager to come to the rescue. He knows exactly how the man feels. He leads the man back into self-medication. Hello past, he thinks, I know you. Back to square one.
The man reaches out to his wife. But she is just so exhausted from the stress of long hours at her job, financial troubles and the pressure of keeping her disjointed family from completely falling apart. She feels annoyed by his constant need for hand-holding and tries to slap a band-aid on his feelings as she rushes out the door. He sits there, alone, feeling abandoned, neglected. Again.

His kids avoid him – the younger ones because they never know what to expect when they get home from school, the older ones because they are fed up and frustrated by what he puts their mother through. He feels rejected. Again.

Others may occasionally ask about how he's doing but, for the most  part, offer only silence or indifference. He feels ignored, unloved, empty.

Suddenly he is hit with an onslaught of loved ones dying – abandoned again, not much left to cling to.

People the man respects appear to suddenly walk away from long-time commitments without explanation. He feels the ground beginning to give way beneath him. He wonders who are these people he has turned to for help and guidance?

Oh, that’s right. We’re the salt and the light of the world.

Problem is, our salt tastes like dirt and our lights are hidden under baskets. We say things like, “Hang in there,” and “Just keep your chin up,” to his face, but secretly mean, “Try harder,” “Get over it,”  or "I've got enough to deal with. I don't need yours." He screams inside his head, “Please care enough to notice that I’m doing my best! Help me!”

All the while, the devil’s laughing as his army marches forward, snatching up other hurting and broken people just like the man. Yes, he’s leading them into a trap, but they don’t see that. What they can see is someone finally standing there with open arms. They don’t even care whose arms they are at this point and they don’t need coaxing. We’re driving them right to him.

I realize we’re only human and we are just trying to get it right ourselves. But aren't we supposed to be helping each other through life instead of making it worse? So many of these interactions could have turned out more positive if we were actually putting into practice what we say we believe.

Let’s look at what happened:

The man: He keeps placing his faith and trust in the world and in fallible humans.

The man’s family: Decided the road was too hard, hurts too much. They quit trying.

Old friends: They’re lost, just fumbling around in the dark, clueless. They are the epitome of ‘Misery loves company.’

The guys: They let their personal issues become stumbling blocks.

The woman: Forgot what it was like to be in his shoes. She didn’t recognize his cry for help.

The eager man: Hasn’t made it out of the pit himself yet. His passion outweighed his ability.

Wife: Hasn’t figured out that it’s not about her.

Everyone: We don’t realize how many hurting people are watching us and our actions (and non-actions) to see if we've really found the answer or are just faking it like everyone else. We don't know what they've been through, we don't know what their issues are, and we don't realize the influence we have over them. It's time to reach outside ourselves and 'sweat the small stuff,' it has a much greater impact than we understand.

The way to do that is ridiculously simple: Apply more Jesus, less us.

An unusual afternoon in OKC

Yesterday, I got to experience an especially cool, out-of-the-norm work day. Symptoms of it began when I pulled into the parking garage near my office building in Oklahoma City. First, I was greeted by a parking attendant checking to see if I was a monthly (parking-pass worthy) customer because the garage was full and she was turning away one-time parkers. As I pulled in, my first thought was, “Great! I’m gonna have a tough time trying to find a parking place today.” (Yet another perk to working downtown.) I tried to remember what events were going on, but I couldn’t think of anything that would explain the extra volume of parkers. Then another attendant directed me to a parking place right by the elevators on the sixth floor (in a strip where parking is usually not allowed.) “Bonus!”  Okay, my day was shaping up to be strange, but not in a bad way. As I walked out of the garage I noticed several notes having ‘BUB’ scrawled on them with black marker and posted  about every 30 feet like bread crumbs. I felt a little rush of adrenaline. What’s going on? The make-shift signs and  I parted ways once I got around the corner, but the journalist in me wanted to follow them. Oh, well. I had to get to work, so the adventure came to an end.

To make myself feel better, I decided that it was probably just something to do with a lame conference or boring company event for bigwigs.

Early in the afternoon, my friend Christy and I went across the street to get a soda. We remembered the signs and started speculating what the deal was. We wistfully gazed north where the green-papered BUBs pointed. We could see by the crowd that there was definitely something interesting up at Leadership Square. We couldn’t stand it anymore and we were so close (only half a block away). We went  to check it out. As we drew closer, we could make out  police cars blocking the street from traffic, several trucks filled with various equipment,  a black limo, large microphones, and a film crew. My actress friend realized it was most likely the same group connected to a casting party she had attended the week before. It was. The movie “Bringing Up Bobby” was being shot on location in the middle of downtown OKC.

This wasn’t an amateur film production, either. The actors we saw are very well-known and have been in too many top movies to bother listing. The director was none other than the willowy Famke Janssen, also known as Jean Grey/Phoenix of X-men fame, not to mention a Bond girl in “GoldenEye.” She was just as beautiful in person as she appears on the big screen. And acting out scenes were the ever popular action-film star Milla Jovovich (an all-time favorite - LeeLoo from “The Fifth Element,” Alice in the “Resident Evil” movies and star of “Ultraviolet”) and the endearing Bill Pullman, unsuspecting love interest of Sandra Bullock in “While You Were Sleeping,” the brave president/pilot in “Independence Day” and quirky dad in “Casper,” among others.

It’s not every day you get to watch Hollywood hard at work in the center of your reality.

Lessons I learned from dad's 1960 Austin-Healey

When I was young, there was a lengthy period of time when my dad wasn’t around. Many might say that no good could ever come of a situation like that. It wasn't really a big deal in my eyes at the time - my mom and I were well established as a duo before she remarried. She was extremely proficient at taking care of me, so I never felt like I was missing out. Still, I was curious about this whole ‘dad’ thing. Besides, mom apparently couldn’t live without him so he must’ve had something good to offer. I trusted her judgment, so I waited to see.
Throughout that time I could have pouted and whined that he was never there, but I didn’t. I could have wondered what point was there in having a dad who was hardly around, but I didn’t. I could have become rebellious and defiant to get his attention, but I didn’t. I just watched and waited.
Even through those early ‘MIA’ years, I was learning from him. (Though I suspect that what I was learning ended up being very different than what he feared he had taught me.) One thing is certain, he didn’t need to be in the room for me to get the benefit of having him in my life.
He spent all his days in the usual fashion, working hard and earning a living as an electrician. But seeing him after he got off work was pretty rare. Every night he would head straight into his garage. He hardly came in the house except to clean up and go to bed (which was long after I was asleep). Weekends were spent the same way. To me, the sun seemed to revolve around that garage. Sometimes I would get to carry his dinner out to him. You see, he didn't even come inside to eat. All I could figure was that this man must have something really important under way to dedicate so much of his time and energy to it.
I was right.
This special project of his spanned three years and changed the way I would approach life forever.
What was he doing all that time? To a 10-year-old kid, he was doing the impossible. By typical standards, people might say he had lost his mind for attempting it. Even more of them might flatly turn down millions of dollars if they were challenged to accomplish the same feat.
In his beat-up, broken-down, tiny-excuse-for-a-garage, he was giving birth to something magnificent. He was building a car from the ground up - but more importantly - he was building a legacy of character in the eyes of his new daughter.
People might have assumed that he didn’t want to spend time with me, but I didn’t. People might have assumed that he loved a heap of metal and rubber more than his family, but I didn’t. People might have assumed that he was just following a selfish dream and that it was the most important thing to him, but I didn’t.
You see, even if those things were true, the cool thing about being young is that you’re not weighed down by all that emotional garbage. Kids naturally accept things that adults often can’t. I had simply let this man be what and who he was. I didn’t let assumptions or personal issues get in the way. And for that reason alone, I was allowed by the grace of God to view the situation from a much better perspective.
I saw patience in a man determined to achieve something no matter how long it took. I saw boldness in a man confident enough to reach for anything he desired. I saw fortitude in a man pushing through innumerable challenges and unforeseen problems. I saw tenacity in a man keeping his eyes on the prize and letting nothing keep him from it. I saw strength in a man achieving an awesome goal he had set for himself. I saw stability in a man who utterly refused to give up. I saw hope in a man believing day after day that he was going to see his purpose through until it was finished.
In the end, dad got a neat little car out of the deal, but I got so much more.
What I learned was priceless, and he taught it to me when he wasn’t around.
***
When the only consistency we see in this world is that of human failure, when we are overwhelmed by those who constantly fall short of our expectations, when we can no longer tolerate disappointing ourselves and those around us, perhaps what we need is a change in perspective. We need to get back to that child-like acceptance that understands that people aren’t perfect. Even in the middle of our screw-ups and messes we make for ourselves, God can turn it around and rework them into something truly amazing. In fact, oftentimes, He already has.

Technology and people

While trying to figure out how my new blog site works, I am reminded of how much like a dinosaur I feel when dealing with new technology. I have a hard time accepting new things (I’m quite comfortable sticking with what I know well), but I’m stubborn and curious enough to keep trying to get a handle on it. But with each new techie item that comes out I see myself spending more time typing away and less time talking to someone.

Though it is fascinating to see and use these cool new  things we have out now,  it is more than a little disheartening to me because I feel like people are drifting farther away from personal contact.

I may feel the urge to ‘keep up’ with the latest technology, but I need to remember to temper it with some ‘old school’ traditions. (Like hand writing and mailing letters and thank you cards along with my usual e-mail conversations, and being sure to routinely schedule face-to-face activities with Facebook friends I chat with.)

It seems that we are on the verge of becoming completely isolated from all human interaction. And for people that struggle with relationship  issues (which applies to most of us), this is obviously the easiest route to functioning in society without having to address or work through said issues. This is very dangerous ground. (The easy road typically is.)  We have become very good at avoiding the ‘elephants in the room’ with all our nifty techie tools. Perhaps too good. Some people may live out their entire lives without ever having a single meaningful relationship with anyone thanks to our society’s latest level of ‘progress’.

Bottom line: Life is hard. Burying heads in the sand doesn’t resolve that. In fact, it just prolongs suffering through those problems (and often escalates their seriousness) and leaves sand in uncomfortable places.

We have to challenge each other to choose the harder (more rewarding) road every day. No doubt, it will hurt; you will cry; your heart will get broken; you will be vulnerable at times; you will be forced to face and deal with faults and weaknesses that you would much rather avoid. But what is life really worth when you’re using  it up cramped in a tiny room with elephants? I’d rather get out  where there’s room to breathe and fight to reach my potential surrounded by the people that God put me here to achieve it with.

Remembering Ted

Ted Misa was the kind of man that made you fall in love with him instantly. You just couldn't help it. He was smart, charming, and funny. There was something very special about this guy, even though years of trying couldn't get you any closer to putting your finger on what specifically it was. (I've decided it was the whole package.) He had an immeasurable talent for picking out the weirdest ice cream flavors and you couldn't shake the peacefulness that would wash over you when you were around him, no matter what mood you started out in. (Not that you'd want to.) He had a unique ability to bring joy to anyone he met.
My first encounter with him was quite memorable. As a young woman trying to win the heart of his son David, I was already more than a little rattled about meeting 'the parents'. I was a divorcee with two small children and a skittish demeanor thanks to a marriage gone bad. The mere thought of getting my poorly bandaged heart tangled up with a new family had me on the verge of a complete meltdown.
We showed up at Dave's parents' house to find them in the kitchen having a rather lively discussion about cabinets. Before introductions were even over, Ted presented me with a challenge. He asked me if I liked wood cabinets or painted ones. He went on to explain - with that charming smile of his - that I was going to have to choose which of Dave's parents I was going to side with. (No pressure, lol!) He wouldn't tell me which of them preferred what. I suddenly felt ill, yet I was intrigued by this man who had the audacity to pitch me in over my head right from the start. I come from a world were you hold back until you're certain the water's not too deep, especially when it comes to people. In typical Ted fashion, he completely put himself out there, not caring how vulnerable he might become to this stranger in his home.
Also, with the subtlety of this challenge, he kept me from getting hung up in the politics of relationships or strategic power plays, as one might do when trying to maneuver into the best light with someone new. Once disarmed, I was free to begin an unusually open adventure through life with this mysterious man.
BTW- I apparently gave the answer he was looking for (which was wood) and from then on we were kindred spirits. He was overjoyed at his discovery of a new alliance and that's the way it remained for the next 19 years. (Not to worry, Dave's mom was just as happy with the result. She lives for someone to be cantankerous with, so opposition is something she enjoys - all in good fun, of course.)
Anyway, the man whose name I've had the honor of calling my own for nearly 15 years has gone to a better place. And though I will miss him dearly, I will cherish those days he kept me laughing through my darkest days, encouraged me when no one else would, and loved me through it all without holding back.