What's your favorite burner?

I have started this email several times. Each time, I delete it, stare off for a while, and then start again. The words change each time, but the theme stays the same: connection.

I'm reading The Giver to Mrs Bahmiller's Connection class, and a recent line struck me. "They have never known pain," it reads, and "the realization made him feel desperately lonely." I think many of us experience the same, and not because those around us have never known pain, but because we are often too afraid to share our pain. We hold it in, hide it, or try our best to mask it for all the reasons why we do. Fear, embarrassment, or whatever else.

There is also a weird realization that, at times, we can be surrounded by people and still feel alone. I see it in a somewhat comical way with our MSers. More than a few times, when investigating a situation, they will refer to their "good friend." When asked, "And what's their name?" more times than not, they will only know their first name. Sometimes, they won't know either, yet they still consider them a good friend! I shake my head in amazement, but not for too long because I am not too far off. I may know the names of the people I work with, but do I know anything more? I see them daily, but could I tell you their kids' names, what their spouse does for work, or which stovetop burner is their favorite? 

Sometimes yes. Often times no. 

This isn't bad, necessarily, but I don't love it either. Largely because of that line from The Giver and the realization that because no one could understand him, because no one could connect with or relate to him in any way, he felt "desperately lonely." 

How many of our students feel this way? Surrounded by students and seen by staff but fully disconnected?

How many of our staff might come to work, teach their butts off, and then head home feeling unknown?

How many of our friends do we connect with, send memes and GIFs to, laugh with at the bar, or greet in church yet never truly connect with? 

I know I'm guilty of all three. Which is probably fine and mostly normal. But I still don't like it. I know I can do better. That I need to do better. 

So here is my unsolicited challenge to you:) . . . Think of one person from each of the above categories (student, colleague, family or friend) and intentionally connect with them. Spend seven minutes listening to them, checking in on them, and searching for information beyond your typical conversation or banter - see if you can discover their favorite stovetop burner. 

At the very least, you will have spent 21 minutes listening to another's stories. 

At the very best, you will ensure someone does not feel "desperately lonely." And I would wager, neither will you.

That's what I've been thinking about this week. 

Friday Thought : An October Double-Stretch Story

This is Elias. He is my youngest of four kiddos, which means at any given time he as up to five people telling him what to do. And out of all my children, he is the craziest. He is full of passion, life, and commitment. And when he is frustrated, when his older and stronger siblings and parents don't let him finish his thought, when we fail to understand his needs, or when we just simply don't have time for the irrational rationalizations of a four-year-old mind, sometimes his only outlet is to scream, to throw a fit, and slam a door.

Those types of reactions often incite his sibling and parents to also react, creating a downward and mixed spiral of less-than-productive emotions and actions.

The other night, as I overheard him and his oldest older sister get into it, I quickly made my way to them, my irritation rising (can I never finish a sentence with my wife!!!) and ready to intervene with barks and demands. Yet, when I got there, I suddenly felt the urge to respond differently - I remembered the October Double-Stretch!

Instead of reacting, I gave just a bit more. I reminded myself that he had had a long day at school and daycare, that being the youngest is hard, and that a four-year-old doesn't always behave rationally. I reminded myself that at the end of a long day, he's tired. I reminded myself that he is four, and that I am the adult.

So instead of snapping, I picked him up and held him, patting his back, and speaking smooth encouragements.

Almost instantly he stopped crying. He then spent the next five-ish minutes with his head resting on my shoulder (something he rarely does). I thought he fell asleep. But then, in the gentlest of voices, he raised his head and said, "I'm ready to make it right with Eden now." And he did.

This simple moment reminded me that we're all trying our best - even our kiddos! But sometimes, every one of us - even the best of us - just need a few extra minutes, an extra hug, or an extra helping of grace. Sometimes, we all just need a little extra. And that is okay.

Where can you “double stretch” today, this weekend, or in the final weeks of October? With a friend, a family member, your job, or yourself?

If you have a story or two that celebrates the October Two-Stretch, let me know! I'd love to hear it:)