Right now, we are all rubber bands

@will_santino_illustration

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 assuredly.

“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.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  Friday Thoughts

Sensible Human Things

There are reasons to fear. But there is also, and much more so, reason to hope.

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Humanity  :  On Living

A flower from my wife

“The heart is a bloom, shoots up from the stony ground.”

A lyric that follows me now, down every dirt road path and onto the old cracked sidewalks, where little girls giggle as they silly talk and my mind drifts again to another world we lived in. A place that taught me a plant can survive in the most surprising, sometimes inhospitable places. And the human spirit can thrive, even in change, even if smothered or weary. 
Beautiful flowers can grow out of concrete.
- Josey Miller (@storyanthology)

Yeah, she’s pretty awesome.

Click here for more thoughts, pictures, and inspiration from my wife,

Things I mean to know

This morning, instead of hopping in the car and driving, I walked. It was brilliant. Brilliantly cold, and brilliantly convicting, like the heat of an afternoon sun after a freezing and wind scourged morning, because before the day even began, I was asked to consider everything I know, and how I know it. And I didn't have any answers.

What do we know, fully, and with confidence, but without knowing why? Without knowing the evidence, the facts, or even just simply the other side?

For me it's a lot of things. But when I first listened to this podcast, I wasn't considering me and what I did or did not know, I was considering others and what they don't know. Because from my perspective, they don't know a lot. And they don't even know it. 

The Episode is entitled, Things I Mean to Know by This American Life. 

This little soundbite is from the Prologue:

"I started looking into it and it was too hard." So, she, "jumped back into the ocean with the rest of us dummies." Because it was easier. Because getting to the bottom of things is a lot of work, especially when those things don't have easy or definable answers - when they deal with all that human being stuff.

When I heard these lines, I was about three blocks down from my house, kicking a small rock out of my path, and thinking of all those who could benefit from hearing these simple words. 

Then I turned the corner and headed down 6th street. The rock lost in someone's yard and the chill of the morning beginning to seep in. I pulled my hat down further then jammed my hands a bit further into my pockets. 

A thought was beginning to fester, and by the time I reached the my classroom and chair and Coleman thermos coffee, it was a wild and living thing.

Maybe I'm the one who's wrong?

In recent months I've been questioning myself, my faith, and my life more than I ever have before. Yet, somewhere in all that, I've found plenty of time and arguments for why others have been wrong, why things or ideas have been the source of my befuddlement, and why if everyone could just be as open-minded or loving or accepting as me, things would be pretty damn good.

Then I walked to work and kicked a rock and listened to stories of people talking about what they thought they knew. 

On the walk home, Megan Phelps-Roper describe her time as a member of the Westboro Baptist Church, "Most of the time, I would walk away from those conversations feeling like I had won. I never set out to have my mind changed."

Once I saw that we were not the ultimate arbiters of divine truth but flawed human beings, I couldn't justify our actions. . . That period was full of turmoil. But one part I return to often is a surprising realization I had during that time - that it was a relief and a privilege to let go of the harsh judgments that instinctively ran through my mind about nearly every person I saw. I realized that now I needed to learn. I needed to listen.

And so do I. Holy shit so do I.

I need to listen to those who frustrate me, who hurt me, who think incomplete and false thoughts about me. Because they might be right. 

Holy shit they might be right. At least in part.

Because,

You're not letting go of your truth but understanding someone else's. You need that if you're going to build a bridge and get across and get through.

But to be honest, this is really hard because even through I want to get through, I also want to win - at least in part - because even though I want to understand, I also want to be understood. And even though I want to build bridges and find a way to let go of the harsh judgements that instinctively ran through my mind, I also want to be validated and affirmed in what and who I am.  

Which makes the conversation difficult, I think, because - out of self preservation - I talk more than I listen, I defend more than hear, and I explain more than I try to understand.

And that might be the first times I've really understood that. 

For more on . . .

-N- Stuff  :  Open Thoughts  :  Other Inspiring Podcasts

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