Friday Thought : Clean on the Other Side

One of my favorite movies is Shawshank Redemption.

And one of my favorite scenes is near the end when Andy Dufresne escapes the prison, Morgan Freeman's voice narrates:

"Andy crawled to freedom through five hundred yards of *poop* smelling foulness I can't even imagine, or maybe I just don't want to​. Five hundred yards... that's the length of five football fields, just shy of half a mile . . . and came out clean on the other side."

We are all crawling through our own unique rivers of poop. Some are work-related. Some are personal. All are real and smelly. What I love most about the quote above is the challenge, the reminder, to endure these times of absolute *poop* in such a way that when it ends, we too can come out "clean on the other side."

And we do so by shouldering each other burdens, even when we are tired, stressed, and overwhelmed.

We do so by leaving our hardships and hurts at the door and loving our neighbors, students, and coworkers anyways.

We do so by leaning into hard conversations, with empathy and grace.

We do so by battling against the “survival mode” mentality of hardship, by denying the lure of complacency, and by refusing to allow our circumstances to dictate who we are and what we do.

I know this is easier said than done, but if it is never said, it is rarely done. And I want it to get done.

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

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : The Gaps in Our Bookshelves

Jorge Méndez Blake attempted to illustrate the power of a single story with his 2002 art project, The Castle where he constructed “a 75 x 13-foot brick wall that balances on top of a single copy of Franz Kafka’s The Castle.”

"A gap in the bookshelf." I recently heard this phrase from a podcast entitled "The History of Literature." It was mentioned by the author Chinua Achebe, a Nigerian author who wrote Things Fall Apart, as a metaphor for why he became a writer. When he looked at the shelves of world literature, he saw a distinct and clear gap of books that accurately portrayed his people, that told their stories.

And I've been considering that phrase ever since: "A gap in the bookshelf."

People love telling and hearing stories. Be it told around a fire, through a tv screen, or in the classroom, we are attracted to stories because they teach us about life, connect us with others, and provide us with hope. Stories are our libraries of understanding. Which is why we return to our favorites over and over again, because they are comfortable, familiar, and safe.

They are also, almost always, incomplete. 

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie said it this way: "The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they aren't true, but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story." And I love that. And not because it feels good but because it is profoundly convicting. Especially when I consider my "bookshelf of stories" about others. 

That phrase, "a gap in the bookshelf," is a powerful one because, I think we can all agree, when we see a line of books neatly set in a row with an apparent open gap, it's troubling. Or, at the very least, it is evident that something is missing. Another story. And although there are many stories on the shelf, because one is missing, it feels incomplete. 

That is also the power of a single story. It can single-handedly change the stereotype of an entire continent, people group, school, or classroom. Even, a brick wall.

Over the past several days, I have been convicted to pursue more stories and spend more time filling in the gaps for I don’t just want a full bookshelf, I want a complete one.

The best of which takes a lifetime to collect.

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

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

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Friday Thought : Keep Knocking

Several years ago, this letter was sent to one of my teachers. It now hangs, laminated, on the wall next to her computer. Recently, she pulled it down and showed it to me. Then, she told me the story.

This young man was not a great student. In fact, he was a terrible student. Be she loved him, worked with and never gave up on him, even when he didn’t show much growth or change - all year long.

Nor the following year.

Nor the next.

Nor the next.

Then, almost ten years later, the above letter arrived in the mail.

My friend has a phrase, "Just keep knocking." And he reminded me of it again the other day. I shared with him how frustrated I was with a particular student, that no matter what I did or said, I was not getting through. "Maybe it isn't your job to 'get through,'" he said, "Maybe all you need to do is just keep knocking," he said.

And I like that.

Sometimes, it isn't our job to solve the issue. Sometimes we are not the ones who will make the breakthrough. Sometimes all we are tasked with doing is knocking. Over and over and over again.

We can't force people out of bed or off the couch. Nor can we make them answer the door. But we can keep knocking. Which, for many, is precisely what they need - the constant thud of someone knocking on the door, reminding them that they matter, that someone cares, and that they are not alone.

Because here’s what I know to be true:

If we stop knocking, they will never open the door. If we never stop, they might.

And if we knock long enough, I am convinced that they eventually will. And when that happens, it will all be worth it.

Even if it takes ten years.

Thank you, *teacher*, for knocking.

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

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : The Patience of Repair

Friday Thoughts are back!

After taking the summer off, it’s time to get back into weekly reflections.

But before I do, I wanted to share a quick update. In hopes of exercising my personal discipline of reflection, I have started posting Daily Thoughts, Monday - Saturday. If you’re interested in seeing them, please follow me on Facebook or TikTok.

Now, a Friday Thought:

Often times it feels that things break and crumble much faster than it takes to build them. And that, for me at least, is super frustrating. Especially when it’s something I care about.

Sometimes, our humanity is responsible for the destruction. Be it from our selfish nature or limited understandings, we make decisions that have destructive consequences - for ourselves and for others.

Other times, however, the destruction experienced is just part of life.

Over the summer my son broke his arm. It happened instantly, and for a 15 year old boy who was anxious for the adventures of summer, it was devastating. And not because of the pain, but because of the time it would take to heal.

And he is not alone.

Whenever we experience brokenness, be it of body, mind, or spirit, we - like my son - are eager to heal. And just like my son, we are anxious to heal as quickly as we were broken.

Wendell Berry, the legendary American novelist and poet, understood our desires, which is exactly why he warned us against them.

The temptation for us all is to believe that the solution needs to be as large as the problem itself; that we need a positive and equal reaction to every negative and destructive action.

The problem with this line of thinking, according to Berry, is that large-scale solutions rarely produce the desired and much needed outcomes needed or desired. In contrast, the best solutions are often small and meaningful decisions, made consistently over time. Fast and large reactions often create greater problems. Slow and portioned decisions allow for healing. Just like our human bodies.

As of today, my son’s arm is healed. It took a second to break and over 10 weeks to heal. Which, for many of us enduring our own brand of brokenness, doesn’t seem fair. But that is not for us to decide.

What we can decide is what to do with our time of healing.

We can keep showing up, we can keep trying and stepping out, and we can keep discovering new ways to help and notice others.

It takes a long time to restore things. It takes even longer to restore GREAT things.

But in the end, the wait is always worth it. Even when it doesn’t feel like it.

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

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : Listen to the Rumble Strips

The other day, while driving home, I was tired. Real tired. And I started to fall asleep.

Rumble strips woke me up and I quickly corrected myself. But only for a little while. A few minutes later, rumble strips again. And no matter how hard I tried to stay awake, I kept dozing off.
Rumble strips.

Rumble strips.

Rumble strips.

Finally, I made it home. Tired, a little afraid, and thankful for the continued rumbles that kept me on the road and most certainly out of a terrible wreck.

The next morning, one of my favorite podcasts, 99% Invisible, published an episode entitled Rumble Strip. In it, the host describes a rumble strip as "one of those things on the side of the road that wakes you up when you're about to have a major car accident. It's essentially, 'slow down and listen.'"

Life also provides us rumble strips. In little and often subtle ways - in almost a whisper - we are reminded that we're falling asleep to what's important, that we're beginning to drift off course, and that we need to correct our direction.

At other times, the reminders are not so subtle. They're jarring, invasive, and confrontational. They’re uncomfortable, like a scream to the face to "WAKE UP!" because we’re drifting and we need correction.

Yet, unlike the rumble strips on the side of the road that are almost unavoidable, life’s rumble strips are easy to ignore, brush aside, or excuse away.

Warnings of unhealthy relationships, of struggling teenage children, of toxic working environments.

We become accustomed to the rumble, learn to ignore the impending danger, and are then shocked when disaster strikes. Often because we are too busy to notice, to simply turn the wheel, or to gently pump the breaks. Better to keep going and hope for the best.

Better to stay busy. Better to “push through.”

Recently, with end of the year tasks piling up, with the Honey-Do list growing and growing, and with baby #5 days away from joining our family, the sound of rumble strips has become a soft and ever-present hum. And instead of pushing down on the gas, of working harder, or believing they really are no big deal, I need to slow down and listen. To my kiddos, my staff, and my wife.

Instead of being distracted, I need to be aware. Instead of strong, I need to be brave. Instead of being busy, I need to be present.

I need to listen for rumble strips.

As we enter the final days of the year, please be mindful of the things and people around you. Listen for the rumble strips, either in your own life or in the life of others. It isn't just about getting to the end (although that's important); it's how we get there that matters as well - perhaps even more so.

Love your kiddos, enjoy these days, finish strong. Be present!

And when needed, slow down and listen.

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

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : See My Children in What I do. Then, Do Better.

I do a thing with my staff called a “Skiddy Daddle” where I give them a 15-minute break from class and spend my time reading to their students.

This most recent time, my daughter was in the class and rather quickly I noticed something peculiar about my 15 minutes. I treated the class differently. All because my daughter was sitting in one of the seats.

Which reminded me of a similar story.

A few years ago I heard a story about a world-renowned speaker who stopped inviting her mother to her speaking engagements because whenever she saw her mother in attendance, she saw herself as a daughter, not a world-renowned speaker. She wasn’t doctor so-and-so, she was Emily the daughter of her mother, and it impacted the way she spoke, the way she carried herself, and presence she commanded on stage. She acted based on how she was viewed, not on who she was.

In much the same way, I did the same when reading to my daughter’s class. I acted as how my daughter saw me, not on who I was. How I viewed me.

And that realization was deeply convicting.

When I entered my daughter’s class, I didn’t want to disappoint her. I didn’t want her friends to think I was mean or boring or whatever. I wanted them - and her - to be entertained, inspired, and encouraged. So I raised the bar on almost everything. I was more fun, more relaxed, and more interactive. I was what I normally am at home. I was acting more like a father, and it made me a better person. It made me a better principal.

Later that evening, a fellow principal - Mr. Ty Moore - encouraged me in much the same way, “See yourself as a dad,” he said, “Not merely a principal.”

For most educational leaders, this isn’t anything new. Because it isn’t. Even for me! I just forget it, at times. And every now and then, I need a good reminder of how I can improve and where I can do better. And this week, the lesson of seeing my children in the eyes of every interaction has been deeply convicting.

When speaking to kiddos or walking down the hall, how would I treat my own children?

When discussing poor behavior or inappropriate choices - when enforcing discipline - how would I engage the situation if it were my child? How would I reconcile and restore?

When talking about students with staff members, how would I talk about my own children?

When considering a child’s future and potential, how would I encourage, believe, and hope in the potential if it were my child?

If at any point the answer is something like, “Not like that,” then I need to do better.

And when I fail, just like I do at home with my own children, I need to make it right. With the student, the staff member, or the school at large. I need to acknowledge where I blew it, make it right, then do what is right. I need to do better.

Especially when I remind myself that for many kiddos in my school, I am one of the only constant and reliable father-figures in their lives. Day in and day out.

No matter how tired, how frustrated, distracted, or insecure I may feel, there are kiddos who need the best of what I can offer. And if I can muster it up for my own kids, I can muster it up for them, too.

Day in and day out, I need to do better.

That’s what has been on my mind lately.

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : Invest in the Unseen. Plant irises.

“If you can see all the consequences of your actions, then your actions are of no use.”
from A Calendar of Wisdom

As Earth day approached, a story about Leonard Wolff - Virginia Wolff’s husband - along with the above quote, kept coming to mind.

So I gave each staff member an iris and attached this letter:

“Invest in Our Planet”

- Earth Day Slogan 

In his WWII memoir, Downhill All the Way, Leonard Wolff wrote:

“One afternoon I was planting in the orchard under an apple-tree iris reticulata, those lovely violet flowers . . . Suddenly I heard Virginia’s voice, calling to me from the sitting room window: “Hitler is making a speech.” I shouted back, ‘I shan’t come. I’m planting iris and they will be flowering long after he is dead.’  
Last March, twenty-one years after {Hitler’s death}, a few of those violet flowers still flowered under the apple-tree in the orchard.” 

Whenever I’m discouraged by this beautiful and powerful profession, I often find comfort and solace from this story and the truths that it invokes.  

Even though it may not feel like it at times, what you do and how you do it is making a difference. Like planted irises amidst a war, the affects, and impacts of what you do, the relationships you cultivate, and the moments of humanity you show with your kiddos do not come back empty handed. They grow, multiply, and outlast us all.  

Because each and every day, you are planting irises.  

You are the soil from which their thoughts, ideas, and dreams take root.
You are the water that encourages growth and washes away fears.
You are the sun which provides warmth and encourages them to bloom. 

You may never see the impact and beauty your decisions and actions will leave behind, but like Leonard Wolff, be confident in the impact you have made. There are hearts and minds across the country and globe that remember and will remember your name, appreciate your compassion, and can point to you as an influence into who they are.  

Your words matter.  

Your lessons matter. 

Your hugs matter.  

Your correction and reteaching matters. 

YOU matter!  

And we – the Chief Joseph staff, students, and community – are so thankful for all you do and who you are.

Happy Earth Day!!! Happy planting.

Not all of us are teachers or educators, but all of us - when faced with ugliness, destruction, and doubt - have the ability to choose to plant irises. It isn’t easy and requires that we get our hands dirty. But it is always worth it. Always.

Wherever you are and whatever you do, happy Earth day! And happy planting.

Happy Friday!

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Friday Thought : When Tired or Frustrated, Remember to Play.

When Keith Jarrett sat down to play the piano in front of 1,400 people, he expected disaster. The piano was not what he ordered for such a grand concert. Nor was it in tune or in good shape: some of the keys didn’t work and the foot pedals stuck. Which is why, initially, he refused to play.

But then, he did. Because 17-year-old Vera Brandes asked him to.

At the time, Brandes was Germany’s youngest concert promoter and she had done all that she could do to get everything right. And now, with eager spectators starting to line up at the door, she needed him to play.

So he did.

“I will do this for you,” he said. Then, turning to his producer, he requested that they record the session for an example to others of what they would get if his demands were not met. He knew it was going to be a disaster, and he wanted it recorded. As an example.

Instead, by the end of the night, what they had was Keith Jarrett’s best ever selling album, the best selling solo jazz album, and the best selling solo piano album of all time!

Instead of a disaster, he produced a masterpiece. All because he was willing to look like a fool.

I first heard this album a little over six years ago during a city walk through a Chinese city. Years later, after listening, analyzing, and drawing inspiration from this album, this story, three takeaways continue to rise to the surface.

1. No matter what, Try.
   Although simple and perhaps more than a bit cliché, one of the most important decisions we can continually make is to try. This isn’t new for anyone to hear, especially in the world of education. But another more profound and less commonly understood consequence of trying is this: When we try and when we fail, we allow others to grow.

   This week, I tried running a two-day event of PLAY for our students and staff, and although many things went well, there was also more than a few blunders - all of which were my fault. In the midst of it all, however, people rose to the occasion, displaying their gifts and talents in ways previously unknown, and earning the respect of their peers. My failures allowed others to rise.

   If we don’t try we don’t fail.
   And when we don’t fail, we steal opportunities for others to shine.

   When we embrace our limitations - out loud and in the open - we allow others to exercise their strengths and abilities, we provide the opportunity for the right people in the right place, and we create a stronger, better product. We develop a better team.

   And often times, these discoveries only come when we try new things, when we allow ourselves opportunities to fail, and when we provide space for others to rise.
   

2. “I will do it for you.”
   Some of the most destructive events of our world have come at the hands of those considering only themselves. The most beautiful and influential, people and moments however, have come from those who have considered others before themselves. They look at life, at difficulties and struggles as opportunities to love on and help others, rather than defending what is theirs and looking out for number one (think Nelson Mandela, Sojourner Truth, and on especially on Easter weekend, Jesus Christ). These men and women did not slink into the shadows when trials and tribulations came, they leaned into them, embraced them, endured them. All for the benefit of others.

   So too did Keith Jarrett.

   When Keith Jarrett stepped onto the stage, when he sat before the less-then-sufficient piano and slammed his fingers into the keys so that all could hear, he wasn’t considering himself. He was thinking of a 17-year old girl who needed his help. And created a masterpiece.

   As an educator, when times are difficult, when the season of winter seems to drag on forever, when administrators forget what it’s like to be a teacher, when parents complain, students slouch, and deadlines approach - when we just cant seem to muster up the energy to try any harder - it is then that we must look into the eyes of those we are responsible for, those whom we have influence over, and think to ourselves or say out loud, “I will do this for you.”

   Then, we must get to work.
   

3. Break Routine.
   If Keith Jarrett had received the piano he wanted I’m sure the evening still would have been a success. It was the break in routine, however, that allowed him to create something truly special.

   Routines are important. They allow us to create habits that, overtime, can produce purposeful and quality results (think practicing a musical instrument, working out, or working diligently on writing a book). They provide safety and develop consistency.

   They can also make us blind. Blind to new ways of thinking, better ways of living, and the beauties of life. Routines hold tight to “the way we’ve always done it” and are fearful of change. They lull us into desiring comfort rather than growth.

   A break in routine, however, forces change. And change, although difficult and often uncomfortable, produces growth. But only if we embrace it.

As an educator, father, and husband, there are times and seasons of times where it feels like I am just going through the motions. That what I am doing seems dull, that my passion and excitement for the beautiful gift of educating students, raising children, or loving my wife seems exhausting, not exciting, and that all the time and effort put in day in and day out, seems to amount to nothing.

I know we’re not supposed to say that, but it’s true. For me at least.

Which is why I listen to Keith Jarrett’s Koln concert, because when it comes on in the morning or randomly throughout the day (classical music and soundtracks play in my office all day, every day), I am reminded to keep trying, to do it for others, and to - when needed - find ways to break my routine and fight the temptation to remain in comfort.

Our attempts may not always produce a masterpiece, and in truth, it is more likely that it won’t. But refusing to play the broken piano will produce nothing.

This week, amidst frustrations, fears of failure, and exhaustion, I have been encouraged to play the piano.

Happy Good Friday!!!

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Friday Thought : Why what doesn’t matter is really what matters most

I love this comic strip because it is a constant reminder to me, as a parent and as an educator of small children, that just because the passage of time has enlightened or dulled me to things that truly hold value, when it comes to caring for a child's heart, it doesn't matter what I think.

If it is valuable to them, it is valuable to me.

I want my kiddos to feel valued. I want them to feel loved. So I work hard for them, I hold them accountable to what is good and right and true and try my best to teach them about life. I buy them the clothes they need, the food they eat, and make sure our house is warm and safe.

Which is good.

Sometimes, however, what they really need from me is to sit on the couch and talk about things that don't matter, that don't carry much value.

Sometimes what they need is for me to investigate and be awed by their simple creations that, in the scheme of life, mean very little and carry no value.

Sometimes what they want is for me to understand that just because I'm old and bald and they’re not doesn't mean their hurts and pains, passions and celebrations - their stuffed tigers - don't matter. Because they do. If only because it matters to them.

Because If I care about their little hearts and minds, I care about the things they consider valuable.

And the same applies to adults.

No matter our age, we want to know we are thought of, cared for, and supported. We want to know that we are known!

Like when Ross from Friends bought Phoebe her first ever bike.

Phoebe doesn’t care about the bike, necessarily, because if she really wanted one she could have purchased one (at this point in her life, anyway). What she really cares about and why it is the best present ever is because of the heart behind the purchasing of the bike. Ross cares for Phoebe so he hears her story, takes it to heart, and does something about it!

He cared about what she considered valuable not because it was, but because she is. And that, at the end of the day, is what really matters.

Recently, where this has been most convicting is that if I don’t care about the things that matter to people, if I don’t handle information about them that is deep and personal and of value in a way that cares for them and protects them, I can lose my relationships with them. If I abuse my position by NOT acting upon what I know, I lose my right to be a voice and be an influence in their life.

When I know something is of value I have a responsibility to handle it with care. If I don’t, it is easily perceived and interpreted as not caring for the person.

No matter how big or small, if it’s a value to them, it should be of value to me.

That is what has been on my mind lately.

Happy Friday!!!

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Friday Thought : "What's best for the student?" Pictures and Stories.

A few days ago, when discussing options to a difficult situation, my boss asked, me, “What’s best for the student?”

With that simple question, she eliminated so much confusion and consternation, as well as all excuses. No longer were my feelings or wants part of the discussion, nor anyone else’s, just the needs of the student. And within a short while, we had a solution to our problem.

There are many motivators in life that inspire or encourage us in our decision making. The most common being rooted in selfish ambition and vain conceit - whatever makes life easiest, whatever makes us look or feel better, makes us popular or liked, and whatever allows for personal advancement. And the problem with these foundational motivators is not only that they produce comfort rather than growth, its that they are decisions that willingly sacrifice the needs and growth of others.

And we are all guilty of it. At least I know I am. Which is why I truly appreciate a boss who grounds me back to why we are here and do what we do: to love and support kids.

Its also why the above picture is so important because it is a powerful reminder to me, to us - educators, leaders, parents, adults - that we are here in our positions for the purpose of helping, guiding, and training those who need helping, guiding, and training.

We are here to help others.

Pictures of our kiddos hanging on the wall can help remind and reground us. So too can unexpected visits.

Inspired by the above picture and conversations with my boss, I have recently been inviting high school students to come back to our elementary and share a few of their favorite stories. “Whatever you remember,” I tell them, “be it funny, sad, or seemingly insignificant, just share a few of your favorite memories from elementary.”

One student shared about the time he and his friend (the son of one of my students) got in trouble for drawing the male anatomy in the snow during recess.

Another student shared about the time she was struggling and a teacher knelt down to her level, affirmed and encouraged her, then hugged her. Tears flooded her eyes as she expressed how important that moment was for her, then and now.

Others simply shared how teachers made them feel. How they loved their classes not because of the content but because of them, the teacher.

Like pictures on a wall, hearing the stories of our recently departed students has been a tangible reminder that in the midst of data discussions, state testing requirements, and exhausting weeks of hard conversations, there are students in our classrooms who need to be loved and supported. There are students who are showing up with heavy hearts, distracted minds, and empty bellies. There are students who are coming to our school who, that very day, will encounter a moment that will stick with them for the rest of their lives.

And that, more than anything else, should be enough to inspire us into hard conversations and purposeful solutions.

To paraphrase Andy Jacks in Discipline Win, Our legacy is defined by how we support our students. They are the reason why we are here and the WHY to our decisions, and it is therefore they who should be plastered on our walls and the forefront of our minds. Not ourselves.

“What’s best for the student?” my boss asked me. Recently, the answer has been to remind myself and my staff that at the heart of everything we say and do, it is our students who will suffer the consequences or reap the benefits of our decision making.

And that, for me at least, has been a much needed grounding and what has been on my mind lately.

Happy Friday!!!

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Friday Thought: Speaking Truth : Don't Hold Your Tongue or Close Your Ears

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had several hard conversations. As a boss, with my boss, with parents, as a parent, and with my wife. Surrounding these conversations, two quotes from my morning readings have stood out.

The first:

"For a truth to be heard, it must be spoken with kindness. Truth is kind only when it is spoken through your heart with sincerity. You should know that when a message you convey to another person is not understood by him {or her}, at least one of the following things are true: what you have said is not true, or you have conveyed it without kindness." - A Calendar of Wisdom, Leo Tolstoy

And:

“A word from you is twice as severe because it comes from you.” - Too Late the Phalarope

We all play so many roles. We are husbands and wives, friends and colleagues, bosses and mentors, mothers and fathers. Each role carries with it the weight of responsibility and power, for when we speak, it isn’t just the words that people hear, it is who we are that people hear. A word from us is twice as severe - or inspiring - because it comes from us!

Which means three things:

1. When a wrong must be made right, don’t hold your tongue. We have been placed in our various positions for such a time as this, and it is not to remain silent. We must speak up and speak out! But when we speak, our words and intentions must be filtered through the following:

   1. Is it true? Have I investigated the situation and given benefit of the doubt? Am I going to the source, or acting on hearsay? Is what I am doing right?

   2. Are my intentions kind? Is my goal to improve the situation and the person? Or do I hope, in some small or large way, to destroy? Am I defending myself or caring for another?

   3. How will my role impact my message? Will my position cause fear or anxiety? And if so, how can I soften the message? How can I ensure my position is not overwhelming or overbearing? And if needed, should someone else be the messenger?
      

2. When a wrong must be made right, don’t close your ears. When WE are on the receiving end of uncomfortable or even unjustified criticism it is easy to get defensive, to conjure up excuses, or worse, destroy the messenger. Instead of listening, we belittle the person bringing the criticism. Instead of listening, we attack the person and ignore the message. Which, as leaders, has two devastating consequences:

   1. First and foremost, if we fall into the trap of attacking the messenger rather than hearing the message, we don’t learn or grow as a person. Even when we feel - even when we know - the accusations or criticisms are wrong, we must continually try our best to look past the words and hear the message. We can do better, always. Even when we don’t feel like it.

      “To grow in confidence, connectedness, and success, you have to admit for all to hear that you are a failure” - Leading with a Limp
      

   2. The second devastating consequence of closing our ears to criticism is that we lead by example. And if we are unable to hear how we can do better, if we defend ourselves or flex our authoritative muscles, not only will we stunt our ability to grow and develop as a leader, we will severely cripple the growth of those around us. Be it our families, our circle of friends, or our schools, if we - the leaders - are unable to make right that which is wrong, why would anyone else?

      ”To the degree you face and name and deal with your failure as a leader, to that same extent you will create an environment conducive to growing and retaining productive and committed colleagues” - Leading with a Limp

3. When a wrong HAS BEEN MADE right, celebrate, celebrate, celebrate! This is always a conviction of mine and where I desperately need to do better. I don’t think of the tires on my vehicles until they are flat, I don’t consider my internet until it doesn’t work, and I often overlook the joys and blessing and GREAT things of those around me until they are gone. Celebrating others, their actions and reactions, their person and their influence not only encourages them to keep doing GREAT things, it can often build a foundation of trust for those hard conversations. I’ve been reminded of this lately, and it is something I most definitely need to improve on.

“In the deserted harbour there is yet water that laps against the quays. In the dark and silent forest there is a leaf that falls. Behind the polished panelling the white ant eats away the wood. Nothing is ever quiet, except for fools.” - Cry, the Beloved Country

In whatever role you find yourself in, don’t be silent. Speak up, encourage those around you to be better, and be the example of how to be better!

And when you speak, speak in truth, with kindness, and be quick to celebrate, celebrate, celebrate!!!

This is what has been on my heart lately.

Happy Friday!!!

#doGREATthings!!!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : Celebrating : Blog

Friday Thought : Why We Thank Our Crossing Guards

A few days ago one of my teachers emailed me, asking if we could recognize our crossing guard because, “We have had him for several years” she wrote, “and he is so good with the kids and always waves at everyone.”

So today, we celebrated him (you can see the full video here).

And as Kevin entered the foyer, students and staff cheered, and a few tears began to role down his cheeks.

When asked, “Raise your hands if Mr Kevin has ever made you feel safe,” a sea of hands rose and waved in the air. Students and staff alike.

And when it was over, the hearts of all who were present were filled and encouraged.

Later that afternoon, I wrote my staff this email:

Thank you for taking the time to come and celebrate Kevin.

I don't know about you, but moments like these are powerful reminders of how important it is to reach out and acknowledge those who do GREAT things.

It's also a great learning opportunity for our kiddos! For them to see the POWER of gratitude and thankfulness is so important. Even at a young age, they have the ability to make a difference in someone's life.

Thank you for providing them this opportunity.

In a time where educators are exhausted and in need of encouragement, there is no greater gift than to celebrate another.

As you consider ways to encourage, support, and inspire your staff, instead of reaching for the checkbook, fancy food trays, or handwritten notes (all of which do matter and definitely help), consider sending a few emails, gathering a few gifts, and spending a few short minutes intentionally and personally celebrating the individuals around you who make a difference.

Receiving gifts is nice. Giving someone a memory they will never forget is even better. For them, and for ourselves.

Happy Friday!!!

#doGREATthings!!!

Give. Relate. Explore. Analyze. Try.

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Friday Thoughts : The importance of Giving : Blog

Friday Thought : Dance Alone. Start a Movement.

It’s so easy to be discouraged because there are so many things that are discouraging.

Family and friends can discourage. So too can co-workers, bosses, and those we serve. Through false accusations, unmet expectations, or the myriad of other ways humans can let us down, we can easily and continuously be discouraged by those around us.

But we can also be inspired.

I’ve shared this video with students before, and when asked, “Why is the person filming this,” the response is something like, “To make fun of him.” And they’re right. Whoever is filming the Sasquatch Dancer doesn’t find him cool or awe inspiring.

But that is exactly what he becomes.

I don’t know how long the Sasquatch Man danced before the video started, but I speculate it was a decent while. Long enough, anyway, for the person with the phone to take notice and pull out their phone.

Whatever the time, after 16 seconds of video, he dances alone. Then finally, someone joins in.

And this is where it gets interesting.

Once the second dancer appears, a shift occurs. Suddenly, and ever so slightly, the audience - including you and me - connects with the two dancers. We are still laughing at them and are perhaps even a bit uncomfortable, but our hearts and minds move from judgement to a sort of strange support. Suddenly, Sasquatch Dancing Guy is no longer weird, he’s enduring. All because someone joined him.

Then, together, they dance. For almost another 20 seconds before someone else joins in. Then someone else . . . Then two more . . . Then a small crowed.

Then people begin to cheer.

After almost 90 seconds of dancing . . . the movement begins.

Then suddenly, like a mad rush of bison across a prairie, those who were once lounging and watching, recording and judging, are now running towards the Sasquatch Dancer, eager and excited to join in!

And they just keep coming . . . and coming . . . and coming!

I love this video and turn it on every so often, just to be inspired. My most recent watch, however, had me considering the impact of dancing and how our actions, both big and small, can start a movement. Three simple truths come to mind.

One: It’s Okay to Dance Alone.

When we dance with conviction, when we step out in faith and passion and do what we think is good and right and true, oftentimes, we might have to do it alone. Even worse, we might have to do it under watchful and judgmental eyes because stepping up and standing out draws the attention of others. Especially judgmental others. But if we hold true and stay steady to our beliefs and convictions - if we keep dancing amidst the snickers and side conversations - not only do we live a life of integrity, we open a door to the possibility of change. Because in order to start a movement we need people moving. And in order for people to move, someone needs to join.

Two: When You Join the Dance You Bring the Party.

The second dancer is crucial to the movement because he gives permission for others to join. He, more than Sasquatch Dancer, is similar to those sitting on the lawn because not so long ago he was one of them, sitting on the lawn, and not dancing! So when he joins, those nearby see themselves in him and begin to wonder . . . should we dance too? Can we?

And after a few more join, suddenly there is safety in numbers and the movement is underway. All because Sasquatch Dancer #2 was willing to join in..

This is the power of support. You don’t need to know exactly what to do or how to do it. You just need to show up and dance alongside the one who is leading the way. For although they may have started the movement, they need support. They need you to bring the party.

Three: Lose the Fame, Share the Frame.

Rather quickly, the Sasquatch Dancer is no longer visible because the crowd is just too big. And this moment, for me at least, is crucial because it is the manifestation of why we choose to dance: to inspire change.

In the end, maybe no one will remember our name, the things we did, or the fact that we were the first to dance. Maybe, when our time comes to an end, no one will applaud our work or pin a metal to our breast. Maybe no one will thank us for our service.

And if they don’t, does that mean we failed? Does that mean it was all a waste of time? Does that mean it wasn’t worth it?

I certainly hope not.

Do you think the Sasquatch Dancer is angered by this video and the fact that his name is never mentioned?

I doubt it.

For even though we all want to be acknowledge for the work we do and sacrifices we make, more importantly than that, we want our lives and actions to matter. We want to make a difference. And often times - and probably more times than not - in order to do so, we need to lose the fame and share the frame. Its about the party and the dance and those who run down the hill to join, not about who started it.

But first, someone needs to start it.

If you have an idea, a conviction, or an itch of a thought that you’ve been eager to get started, then brother or sister, put the phone away, get up off the lawn, and start dancing. People are eager to join movements that matter, they just need someone courageous enough to show them how.

Are you ready to start dancing?

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

P.S. Malcolm Gladwell has a similar discussion on Mob Mentality. You can watch it here.

Friday Thought : The "Drive-Through School Days." A time to dig in and cover ground.

“This is my favorite time of year,” one of my teachers recently told me, “because it’s when you really begin to see the growth and development of students, and that is so rewarding!”

Typically, the days between January through mid March are considered the doldrums of education. There are very few major holidays to celebrate which in turn means very few days off, parties, and “things to look forward to.” There’s just time.

Which, if embraced, can make it the most productive and most memorable time of the year! But only if we are intentional, like a good road trip, and take advantage of those “drive-through states.”

My family loves road trips. And each summer, on our way to some far-off destination, we have a stretch of time where very little is accomplished but wracking up the miles. We start early and drive late, stop as little as possible, crank up the music, and talk. We spend time together. And after years of this routine, with a bucket full of memories and destinations reached, what we think about and miss the most on any given day is the time spent in the car.

Our schools and classrooms should be no different.

As our students look towards the next destination of spring, spring break, and the coming summer, take advantage of these “drive-through school days” by digging in and covering ground. Of your content for sure, but also of your students, your staff.

On Instruction:

When it comes to instruction, embrace the long road ahead. Consistency builds routines, and with it comes the opportunity to push a little harder and go a little further. Like those long stretches of road without stop lights, rest stops, or distractions, where we can set the cruise to 75, 80, and at times even 85 (because there is nothing to brake for), so too can our attention to instruction be.

Once we’ve reestablished the expectations of our classrooms, we can up our game a bit, push a little harder, and travel a little further. We can cover ground! And I don’t know about you, but when I arrive at my destination several minutes before the GPS’s “estimated time of arrival,” I feel like I’ve won the Daytona 500. My kids do too because arriving early means an opportunity to explore the campground or jump in the lake. It means time to play.

Cannot our schools and classrooms do the same? Can we not take advantage of routines, amp up our cruise control, and cover ground?

Then, when we arrive at our destination early, can we not provide opportunities for our students - and ourselves - to explore? To play?

On Relationships:

On our road trips, the “drive-through states” also provide us a unique opportunity to be with our kids. The seating arrangement becomes a musical chairs of sorts, allowing various combinations of conversations and activities. Sometimes, thought, we sit in silence. At other times we blare music, with each kiddo and parent taking their turn choosing a song. At all times, however, we are together. And often times, it is these days, with nothing going on and no adventure to explore that we love and miss the most.

For our schools, our classrooms, these days are no different.

There’s a podcast I listen to called, The Second Question and it’s host, Martin Silverman, is a principal in Texas. He ends each episode by asking his guest who their most inspirational teacher was. And almost systematically, the answer will sound something like this: “I don’t remember anything they taught me, but what I do remember . . .” And then they will speak - in detail - about a moment where the teacher invested in them, took notice of them, and spoke into their lives. These moments, as far as I can tell, never occur during a Christmas concert or holiday party. They occur during normal and unnoteworthy days, where “nothing is going on.” Nothing except teachers showing up, being intentional about their time, and investing in their students.

These coming “drive-through school days” are the days you will see your students and staff most consistently, with minimal interruptions. Are you taking advantage of it? Are you showing up with intentionality and purpose?

Because how we spend these days determines how we arrive at our final destination.

We take pictures of monumental occasions, post them on our Instagram, and hang them on our walls. But it the journey, the unique moments and unplanned events and conversations along the way that we end up talking about around campfires and remembering most in the years that follow. It is the routine of showing up and being present, day-after-day, that connects us with those around us, that inspires change, and impacts lives. It is the journey, not the destination, that matters most.

How are you spending your time with your drive-through days?

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : Who's Your Sleeper?

We are more than who we are. Sometimes, however, it takes another person - a friend, a teacher, colleague, or even stranger - to help us understand that.

While in High School, my senior year English teacher Mr. Huber told me I was a “good writer,” even though I was about to graduate with a 1.4 GPA. I was a terrible student, but he saw something in me, spoke into it, and instantly changed the course of my life.

One of the greatest gifts we can give people is telling them what we see in them and why they matter.

No matter who we are or who they are.

When was the last time you sat someone down and told them how important they are? What you appreciate about them? Or a vision you have for them?

When was the last time someone did it to you? I bet you can remember those times, and can probably draw a line from that conversation to who you are today. I know I can.

So why are we not doing it more often? With our colleagues? Our friends and family? Our students?

As a father I spend a great deal of time correcting my children’s behaviors and attitudes and not enough time pouring into their hearts the things they do well, where I’m proud of them, and how much they mean to our family. And I need to do better.

As a friend I send a great deal of stupid texts and TikToks, ask a variety of questions, and laugh. What I rarely do is tell them how much they mean to me, how they inspire and encourage me, and why I need them in my life. I need to be better at that, too.

As a boss, I try to encourage as much as possible, but it tends to be generic and all-inclusive. “You’re doing a great job,” I say. Or, “Thank you for all you do!” But how often do I sit down and intentionally tell the individuals what they SPECIFICALLY do well, where I am thankful for, and where I see them contributing to our school, our community? The answer is, not often enough.

All throughout our day we have people we can encourage, inspire, and wake up. We have the power and opportunity to speak directly into people’s lives, encouraging them and guiding them to GREAT things. We just need to speak up.

Who can you encourage today? What SPECIFICLY can you say to them that will let them know what they mean to you and to those around them?

What hidden gem or talent have you noticed in someone that they have not noticed in themselves? And how can you tell them?

What vision can you cast for someone? Be it a coworker, student, friend, or neighbor?

In whatever role we currently play, we have been gifted the opportunity of influencing our community. Who has been put directly in YOUR path so that you can help change, inspire, or encourage theirs?

Happy Friday!

#doGREATthings!

Sidenote: The term sleeper comes from the podcast, At the Table and the episode, “Who is Your Sleeper?”

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : Making it Personal

“Don’t take it personal,” I found myself saying to multiple teachers this week, and I’ve been wrestling with it ever since.

The first time was with a teacher whom I had to intervene with and step on her toes a bit with a decision she didn’t particularly like. The other was with a teacher who was struggling with a student who was physically and verbally attacking her, “Why does he have to be so cruel?” she said through puddling tears. “Don’t take it personal,” I said to both of them and instantly regretting it because how could they not? As an educator, we pour our lives into this job. We sacrifice family, personal time and finances, we devote our hearts to the people we live with and serve. We give our whole person. How can it not be personal?

This past week, instead of saying or believe that we “shouldn’t take it personal,” I’ve begun to wonder if making it personal is exactly what we should be doing. When it isn’t personal, when its calculated, cold, and non-relational, that’s when bad things happen. That’s when we make decisions that are based solely on budgets rather than considering the people. When it isn’t personal we make decision based on numbers and forget about the people - the very thing we are here to help and serve!

With the first teacher, the one I offended by making a calculated decision, because she took it personal we had to have a heart-to-heart conversation. We had to GET personal. And for almost an hour, we talked out the situation, why it happened, how it could have been handled differently. Then we discussed how to move forward. We BOTH acknowledge our own humanity in the situation and sought to understand the others. We made it VERY personal, which allowed us to reconcile, to connect more sincerely, and to build trust. Because it was personal we dug deeper, cried more tears, and learned a great deal more about each other, our triggers and stressors, and about our person. Because it was personal we can now trust future decisions because we trust the person.

Making it personal allowed us to heal, and to grow.

It also allows room for empathy, as it did for the teacher with her abusive student.

Last week, this particular teacher was in my office several times because a kiddo that we’ve been working hard with was having a difficult week. He was constantly running out of the classroom, was vulgar and disrespectful, and had become increasingly violent with a few students, staff, and particularly this teacher. “When is enough, enough?” She asked, wiping tears from her face, “He’s literally beating the shit out of me.” And he was. But sending him home wasn’t an option. So we continued one, throwing darts of ideas at the wall, hoping at least one would stick.

Then, we had our Christmas concert.

We were nervous about how this young child would do, if he could handle the pressure and the audience, but we decided to try anyway with multiple staff nearby, ready to pounce if ever he needed our support. Which he did. Just not in the way we anticipated.

Throughout the concert, this little man stood on the stage, without moving and without singing, arms crossed, and pouting. Never once did he even mouth a single word to any song. Then, when it was over, when the parents gathered around to take pictures and wrap up their kids in hugs and kisses and praise, this little boy crumbled into his teachers arms and cried. “My parents didn’t come,” he said between sobs.

Later that day, that same teacher was in my office crying again. But not for herself. She was crying for this little child and asking over and over, “What can we do for him?” She could barely control her grief for this child.

After a while, we brainstormed many ideas, but mostly we talked about how she shouldn’t take it personal. “When he goes off, it isn’t about you. He’s reacting to something else.” But like the teacher above, the moment I said it, it felt wrong. Or at least incomplete.

Yes, don’t take it personal in that when someone is unkind or rude, often times, it isn’t about you at all, it’s about something bigger, something more personal to them. Behaviors are often times signs of communication - especially for kiddos - and we shouldn’t take them personal. But yet, we also should take it personal because than we can know best how to act, how to care for and love those in need because we understand what it means to hurt, to suffer, and to need grace and compassion. Taking personal means you can BE personal!

Seeing this young child as a complicated person allows his teacher - allows our school - to game plan ideas and solutions that are PERSONAL to him. Making it personal makes us more invested, more empathetic, and more patient.

On a day when TikTok is advocating “Shoot Up Your School Day,” Seeing the people behind our decisions and at the other end of our actions is exactly what we need in education right now. Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. Because then we get to wrestle with the best and most important part of our jobs: the human being stuff.

Don’t take it person. Make it personal.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Friday Thought : Mystery and Constellation Thinking

For Advent, I’ve been reading, “God is in the Manger,” by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. The focus of week two is Mystery. On day one, he wrote the following:

We destroy {mystery} because we sense that here we reach the boundary of our being, because we want to be lord over everything and have it at our disposal, and that’s just what we cannot do with mystery . . . . Living without mystery means knowing nothing of the mystery of our own life, nothing of the mystery of another person, nothing of the mystery of the world; it means passing over our own hidden qualities and those of others and the world.

As adults, we want control. Control of our budgets, our careers, our lives and our kid’s lives. As kids, we are much more prone to adaptivity. Just look at how we go hiking!

Whenever we take our kids on a hike, how often do we discourage our kiddos from wondering around the mountainside? “Stay on the path,” we say trying to keep them safe but discouraging their mystery of the natural forest. “The sign says to stay on the path,” we argue, eager to follow the rules lest we be judged by the many other path-beating hikers. We end up spending our time keeping our kids on the straight and narrow rather than on the mystery of nature.

We keep our eyes focused on a northern star because it provides us clarity, direction, and something with which to measure our progress. Seeing constellations, however, requires us to stop progress, to see a bigger picture, and to allow for ambiguity, for interpretation, and for messy lines and figures. It requires mystery.

I’ve often wondered who saw the constellations. Was it adults? Or was it kids who, while listening to the boring life lessons of their parents, stared into the night sky and drew pictures with the stars?

The story of Jesus has become so common to our western world that it no longer carries the mystery of constellations. It reads like a straight line. Largely because of how we tell it. Mostly because of how we live it.

The same applies to so many other components of life. From how we teach and discipline our students to how we love and interact with our families and friends. We have lost, many of us, the desire for mystery, to look around and see the bigger picture, and to enjoy the beauty of the unknown. Largely because we’re afraid. Mostly because we lack faith. In our God and in being god.

“Mystery does not mean not knowing something,” Bonhoeffer continued. It is knowing something deeply, personally, and intimately. And then, it is wanting to know more.

This podcast was highly inspiring and influential in this week’s thought: Thinking Differently with Mathew Barzun

Throughout the week, with Mystery and Constellation Thinking on my mind, this poem by Walt Whitman was continually on my mind.

When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

For more Friday Thoughts, click here.

Friday Thought : The Right thing to do

Recently, a teacher was struggling with a difficult decision. Help another, or help herself. Without much deliberation, she chose to help another.

"You okay?" I asked.

"No." She said, "But it's the right thing to do." And then, with a smile on her face, she accepted the burden that was not hers to bear and went about her day.

This short interaction encouraged the hell out of me. It also reminded me of a situation that happened a few weeks ago with two of my struggling students.

One student (let’s call him Shawn) spent an hour or so walking around my table, purposefully pumping into and kicking my chairs, and generally being pissed off. When he finally sat down, I tried talking with him. He wanted no part of it.

“You only get this way when something is bothering you,” I said. “So what happened?”

He said nothing.

“I heard you had a rough weekend,” I continued, “You wanna tell me about it?”

He started to speak, in half sentences, sharing about the weekend he had at a distant relative’s house. “She was so mean,” he said, speaking of his cousin, but he couldn’t really articulate why or how. He did, however, begin to get worked up again. Until another student joined us in my office.

When little Timmy (not his real name) entered the office, I wasn’t shocked. He was a cute little kid with little structure at home, zero discipline, and was routinely off his meds. He had been in and out of my office all morning, but this time, I didn’t have time for him.

Shawn, however, did.

“I need to go help in the cafeteria” I said. Which was true. We were down several aides that day and we needed extra hands and eyes on the kiddos as they ate their lunch. “Shawn,” I said, “I need you to watch over Timmy.” Which was not true. My secretary and the counselor were nearby and could easily have taken over. But I had a plan.

“Shawn,” I said again, grabbing some books, blank pieces of papers, and a few crayons, “I need you to read or draw with Timmy so I can go help in the cafeteria. Can you do that for me?” He didn’t really answer, just grunted, and moved towards the table. I left.

Over the next couple hours, I checked in on Shawn and Timmy but didn’t interrupt because they were doing great! Shawn even worked on his homework as he helped Timmy draw and color. You could hear their laughter throughout the whole office.

Then, after bringing Timmy back to his class, Shawn was finally ready to talk.

Shawn didn’t need to sit and focus on his needs, on how he was hurt and frustrated. Nor did he need me to remove tasks and responsibilities from his day. He needed to get outside himself, to consider another, and to get to work. He needed a bigger purpose.

When we’re only thinking about ourselves we only think about ourselves. But when we consider others, when we see beyond our pain and sorrow and frustrations we see that there are others who are in need. Helping them gives us purpose and a better more clearer perspective.

“No,” my teacher said, knowing full well what the extra work and stress was going to mean for her. But she also knew would it would mean for the one she was enduring it for. “It’s the right thing to do,” she said, truly joyful.

Because it was. Because it is.

Friday Thought : Right now, we are all rubber bands

In my most recent staff meeting I handed out a rubber band and asked people to get into groups of three. “Now stretch it out,” I said. And they did, but only to the point of resistance.

“How’s the rubber band?” I asked.

“Fine,” they said, because rubber bands are made to be flexible and to endure. Just like us.

“Now pull a little more,” I said. And they did. Not as much as the first, but still a good stretch.

“What about now?” I asked, “How’s the rubber band?”

“Fine,” they still said, but less assuradely.

“Now pull again.” And they did. “And again . . . and again, and again.” With each and again, they pulled a little less and worried a little more. One teacher even used her free hand to block her face.

“This is where we are,” I said, “We are made to endure, to be flexible, but with each new request, with each new demand, we stretch a little more and a little more and a little more. We are now living in a state of constant fear that we’re about to break.”

We can endure hard seasons. We can absorb change, be flexible, and stretch ourselves further than we thought imaginable. But not forever. Lest we break.

The problem is - for my staff in that meeting and for many of us in our daily lives - we don’t see an end in sight, largely because the problems and issues are far bigger than us, and we can’t do anything about it.

What we can do, however, is show grace. To ourselves, and to others.

Giving grace doesn’t mean we have a free pass to sacrifice our integrity or high standards of excellence - absolutely not! But it does mean that when we fail, we show grace - that we courteous and show goodwill.

You are trying your best. The woman next to you is trying her best as well. The man across from you is trying his best. The kiddos in your classrooms are showing up and trying their best, and your boss is trying her best. But we can only stretch so far. And for many of us, we are walking fearful that, with the next request or burden to bare, we will break.

We can’t solve most of the problems the people around us are asked to endure, but we can give them - and ourselves - some grace. Which, in the end, might be the only thing that holds us together.

Friday Thought : Evolving, not Revolving

Often times, themes present themselves in my life. When they do, they pop up, almost overwhelmingly, in a variety of ways: conversations and tv shows, books and podcasts, songs, and Saturday morning fires.

Most recently, the theme of growth has come to the forefront. Most notably, the concept of forgiveness.

Forgiveness is hard. Both in asking for it and receiving it because they both demand something from us. If we need forgiveness, we must admit we’ve done something wrong, giving up our ego, our pride, maybe even our stature (at least we think so, anyway). To provide forgiveness means giving up payment or revenge - we incur the debt owed, rather than enforcing it.

Forgiveness is also beautiful. It reconciles relationships and springs forth life and opportunity - it is the catalyst to evolving. As individuals and as a community.

"It’s easy to make a prison out of our pain, out of the past” Dr. Edith Eva Eger writes in The Choice: Embrace the Possible, because it allows us to hold onto our victimhood and be in control. Forgiving others who have caused the pain means letting go of our hope and desire for justice. It means letting go of our longings for revenge.

“At best,” Dr Eger continues, “Revenge is useless. It can’t alter what was done to us, it can’t erase the wrongs we’ve suffered, it can’t bring back the dead. At worst, revenge perpetuates the cycle of hate. It keeps the hate circling on and on. When we seek revenge, even nonviolent revenge, we are revolving not evolving.”

The only way to stop the revolving - in our lives as well as in the lives of those around us - is to forgive. Even when those who have hurt us don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. And that, for me at least, is one of the hardest things to do. If not impossible.

But that’s where the theme has hit me. Not on the importance of forgiveness necessarily, but on how to forgive, presenting itself in three truths:

1. Allow space to grieve. “For what happened, for what didn’t happen - and to give up the need for a different past. To accept life as it was and as it is” (Dr. Eger). This one is tough because grieving - to me at least - means thinking about what happened, reliving events, and letting “them” win. But it doesn’t. And they don’t. An essential part of forgiving is to acknowledge all that needs to be forgiven, that the burden of hurt and grief and anger is heavy, and that we are willing - even begrudgingly so - to lay it down at their feet. For then and only then are we able to truly begin the process of evolving.

1. Allow space for the bigger story : When someone does us wrong it is easy to define them only as that wrong. They are no longer a complex person with gifts and talents and a few fallibilities (just like us), they are cowards, betrayers, and terrible people. They are suddenly holistically and completely bad. Which makes it easy to hate them and wish sweet revenge. An essential component to forgiveness is allowing their failures to exist in isolation. In that moment they were flawed, or in that moment their weaknesses came through, or in that moment (or string of moments) their ugliness was on display. But they can still do good things. There are very few Hitler sort of people in this world, and allowing space for people in our lives to not be Hitler also provides space for them to be good people who do good things and, by and large, want to make the world a better place. They just really suck or fail miserably at times. But not all times. And seeing them in that way allows for the door to forgiveness to open. Even if just a crack.

2. Allow time for the wave to build. This image, from one of my favorite Instagram/bloggers says most of what needs to be said:

@semi_rad

We don’t need to holistically forgive in one moment. We don’t need to invite those who have hurt or scarred us over for dinner, plan a Christmas party together, or pretend that all is fine and dandy. Because it’s not. But it can be, someday. But only if we start with small acts.

Why not start today?