I Do: Doing

Ann Voskamp — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 13:00:07 +0000

Editor's Note: This month we're in a series exploring the joys and struggles of marriage, broaching the topic from multiple angles for the sake of helping, healing, and considering.

A June afternoon, I bent over daisy heads nodding off in the heavy heat.

There was that day my Dad had picked wild daisies like these. He'd stepped onto the back porch, worn farmer’s hands carrying a five-gallon pail cascading with delicate yellow faces rimmed in white veils.

“Think she’ll like them?” He had asked it shyly. I remember that.

I couldn’t help but smile, thinking of that tattered blue wedding album with its faded photos of Mama. Mama in a gown of pearls and lace, her slender fingers holding a bouquet of daisies.

I had nodded. “She will. And she’ll remember.” His smile gave way to soft laughter, to memories that belonged only to them.

A light breeze roused the daisies. There had been that day I was the bride in white, my own trembling hands clutching white petals.

With open Bible and earnest eyes, the preacher man’s baritone English accent had filled the chapel.

"Today is Ann’s wedding day. And so I am reminded of John Denver who once wrote a song for his wife named 'Annie’s Song.'"

How did the preacher know? I caught my father’s eyes. Tears spilling down his leathery cheeks, Mama gently leaned into his shoulder. A long-ago night Dad had brought home that very song. Mama had played it, "Annie's Song," like it was their song, caressing the piano so that the house danced with that kind of intoxicated love. How many evenings all during my childhood had the house filled, pulsed with the passion of "Annie’s Song”?

“Yes, this old English preacher knows those lyrics: You fill up my senses/like a night in the forest/like a mountain in springtime/like a walk in the rain.”

There, in my white dress, through this blur of emotion, my eyes had looked over the preacher's shoulder, embracing Dad and Mama in the second pew, and together our tears shared the remaining refrain, “Like a storm in the desert/like a sleepy blue ocean/ You fill up my senses, Come fill me again.”

The preacher paused, then he had asked it. “Isn’t it sad that John Denver later divorced that woman he loved so much? Isn’t it sad that the great flute player James Galway, who was so entranced by that John Denver song that he recorded an entire record of songs and called it ‘Songs for Annie’? He played those songs as only that Irish flute player can play—and then he divorced his wife.”

My arms filled with daisies like a sheaf of summer glory, my head full of memories and long ago days, I headed up the back lane carrying that one line with me, too: And then he divorced his wife.

In the kitchen, I filled vases with daisies to celebrate our anniversary, all these years with that band on my finger. There on the table, in the heavy light, my mama’s wedding flower on my wedding anniversary, picked just as my father once did for her on their wedding anniversary.

And then he, too, divorced his wife.

A pailful of wild daisies and passion will not be enough.

In the mudroom sink, I filled a tin bucket with water, arranged the last of the sunny faces. Perhaps the wooden candlesticks that witnessed our becoming one could join the daisies on the dining room table?

Then to set out the strawberry pie, the same recipe his mother made for our reception guests, the recipe I make for each annual celebration of our sacred vows, regardless of new babies, illnesses, pregnancies, or the whirl of life.

Love simply must be done, for that is what the greatest thing of all is: a verb. An act of the will.

Like deliberately purposing to daydream about him when apart, so we might be closer, the dream becoming reality when we are together.

Like falling into love routines: steaming bowl of breakfast goodness ready at his place, smile and kiss waiting for his return, bed covers turned back at day’s end.

Simple, preservative acts: massaging the knots out of his shoulders while he reads the paper, leaving thank-you notes on his pillow, smiling and laughing more because he works so hard to bring happiness.

Our passion must mature beyond words to deeds: quiet, daily, self-sacrificing effort.

I snipped off a few daisy blooms to grace the pie and heard again the echo of those two radical words that reverberated off the chapel walls years ago:

I do.

* * * * *

The "I Do" Collection

Image by Jenny Downing. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post is a modified reprint by Ann Voskamp, author of One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are.

Author Name:

Ann Voskamp

Community Post: My Job, Your Job

amberhaines — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:26:45 +0000

She's home, trying to keep order, peace and sanity with four children demanding her attention. He's at the office, fielding phone calls and analyzing technical documents.

And they both do it for love.

So why does life seem so out of balance? And whose job is harder than whose anyway?

In a letter to her husband, Amber Haines addresses the danger of comparison: "We're still learning, but we know not to make comparisons about whose job is harder. Every single time we both lose. My job is harder than yours, and I know it. You believe the same about yours."

Image by Cali2Okie (April). Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr.

http://therunamuck.com/2012/02/20/marriage-letters-my-job-your-job/

Author Name:

Amber Haines

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The Cost of Not Failing

edcyzewski — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 12:00:04 +0000

With a video camera set up in his bedroom, a desk, and a white backdrop that doubled as a curtain for the sliding door to his backyard, Duke Fightmaster began his quest to become the next Conan O’Brien. Many of his jokes hit their mark, and over the following weeks an audience of friends and strangers in his bedroom grew for his weekly show that aired on YouTube, thanks to the help of volunteers.

After only one episode, Duke quit his hated desk job, relying completely on his wife’s income as he ran after his late night comedy dream. For a period of time, there were positive signs that things could work—at least in the eyes of Duke. The audience grew. The views for each episode on YouTube climbed into the hundreds of thousands. Local reporters stopped by his show and wrote stories about this unlikely comedian.

As the weeks turned into months and the months into years, Duke and his wife watched their savings evaporate. Without his income, they lost their home and their car. The quality of the show began to suffer as sponsors remained elusive and friends began to stand Duke up. Duke succumbed to daily panic attacks, his wife only spoke to him as a guest on the show, and many of his volunteer writers quit.

The popular NPR radio program This American Life reported on Duke’s story, and when offering his own commentary, he said this:

“You know, anyone who makes it in this life at anything, you always hear, has to go through hell. So I figured, ‘I'll just go through hell.’ I remember my friend who worked in real estate worked for one of those cheesy real estate motivators that used to yell out, "You have to have a breakdown to have a breakthrough.’ So I was thinking, ‘OK, I've had my breakdown, so now I'm going to actually break through to some new level.’”

Rather than breaking through, Duke continued to fall apart.

We could say a lot about what Duke did wrong from an entrepreneurial perspective, but I think Duke’s story has a lot to teach us about the benefits of failure and the cost of not failing. In fact, I can see a bit of myself in Duke.

Striking out with my own business, I faced a lot of the same fears and difficulties as Duke. When you try a new line of work and it doesn’t pan out, it hits your self-esteem and puts a lot of stress on your relationships with the people who matter most. At a certain poin,t I had to admit that my “plan A” hadn’t brought in the kind of money we needed.

I had to declare that Plan A failed.

However, when I hit rock bottom, my wife said something incredibly wise: “This doesn’t mean you can’t make this dream happen someday. It just needs to look a little different for now.”

As I reorganized my thoughts and sought advice from friends, I found some wonderful benefits from my failure. I’m not saying it was a pleasant process, but failure brought so many insights that I would never trade away those uncertain, difficult times.

Having to admit defeat and regrouping provided important lessons about what we stand to lose if we refuse to quit. When we refuse to fail, we rob ourselves of important lessons, cause stress for ourselves and our families, and prevent ourselves from taking important steps forward.

Failure doesn’t have to be the end, provided we understand that the seeds of tomorrow’s success are often found in the dirt of yesterday’s failure.

Image by Stephen Heron. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Ed Cyzewski.

Author Name:

Ed Cyzewski

Permission (Not) to Waste Time

David Rupert — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 21:51:11 +0000

High Calling Special Projects Editor Laura Boggess has been struggling with time lately. Not the way most of us complain about not having enough of it. Her struggle isn’t about mastering it, it’s about savoring it.

There are things that she has considered a waste of time. “The long walks under the moon,” “the slow touch, and the taste of chocolate,” and “thinking about what makes people happy.”

But these kinds of things are not time-wasters, rather they are investments in life itself. They lead to happiness, joy and surprisingly, productivity.

Read her full post, Permission (Not) to Waste Time.

Blog highlighied by David Rupert.

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David Rupert

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Try Something New for 30 Days

philgerb — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 21:51:23 +0000

Admit it: You’ve been waiting for today, for quite a while. You’ve been saying you’ll try something new in your business, but you just haven’t had the chance to do it.

It might be creating an e-mail newsletter, investing the time to really understand Twitter. Or Facebook. Maybe it's to create a video or to ask your best customer for a testimonial.

The time is now. The wait is over. Today is the day to try something, anything, new for 30 days.

It’s only 30 days. How bad can it be? 30 days will pass whether you do something new or not, so why not take a chance and try something new.

Head over to the full post, Try Something New for 30 Days, and leave a comment to tell Phil Gerbyshak what you are going to try.

Post highlighted by High Calling Newsletter Editor David Rupert.

Author Name:

Phil Gerbyshak

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Book Club: David Brooks for President

lauraboggess — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 11:00:07 +0000

Dear Mr. Brooks,

There is a campaign going on. Have you noticed? I am not typically one to give political advice, but I’ve been reading your book, The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement , and I am wondering…have you ever considered running for president? It seems like you have a pretty good understanding of what it might take to spruce things up around here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about chapters 19 and 20. You know, the ones where you say that party politics are structured to take a moderate nation and to make it polarized. That this tendency toward teamism is largely based on unconscious thought processes and is influenced by an amazing array of factors is a comforting thought. One might find some of those influencers interesting—even amusing—but the point you make about this adversarial model making compromise very difficult to attain . . . well, that sure has been evident. Perhaps you’ve noticed this? You have me wondering about the way we do politics—about how opposing parties often hold many ideas in common, but instead focus on vilifying their opponents' areas of departure. The result is a polarized society—even if it started out with similar views. This creates all kinds of problems. If you ran, could you do it differently? Is there really a way to promote cooperation?

Another interesting thing you say in these chapters is that these differing parties have in common a neglect of matters pertaining to character, culture, and morality. You note that when it comes to policy, both sides tend to focus only on factors that can be quantified. This has the nasty result of undermining social relationships in ways that are unintended and destructive. This is unfortunate because, as you point out, the health of a society is surely wrapped up in the health of its relationships. You can dump all the money you have into programs, but unless there is a way to foster a moral root, the program will not have a lasting positive impact. We have seen this phenomenon alive and well. That’s for sure.

So what I am wondering is the same question you ask in the book: Is there a way that government could shape culture and behavior? How can the government, as you say, act to repair this tear in the social fabric? From finding positive causes for individuals to invest themselves in, to building communities as a military strategy, to ways to foster mentoring relationships—you pose some interesting ideas. It seems you have really given this thing a lot of thought. Just saying.

I don’t know, Mr. Brooks, I don’t have the answers. But it seems to me that sometimes our political machine is more about creating problems than looking for solutions. Maybe it would take an outsider to shake things up…get us focused on the things that can really be a catalyst for good change.

So. How about it? It’s a little late in the game, but I think things are still wide open.

By the way…are you a person of faith? And while we’re at it, maybe I should ask you a few other questions too…

What do you think? Link up below with a post at your blog or simply leave us a thought in the comment section. We tackle our last two chapters next week: The Other Education and Meaning.

Image by Nicholas. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Laura J. Boggess.

Author Name:

Laura J. Boggess

Saying Goodbye to Beauty

Virginia Stem Owens — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 13:00:05 +0000

Gwen has been legally blind for ten years. The term “legally blind” needs some explaining. Only about 12% of blind people lack any sight at all. While the legally blind cannot read even the big E at the top of the vision chart, some can count the number of fingers the examiner holds up from several feet away, some can detect movement, while others can only distinguish light from dark.

Gwen is glad she doesn’t fall into either of the latter two categories. She cannot see well enough to drive or read large print. However, she moves around the familiar setting of her house with few problems. “After all, I can see something as big as a chair!” she tells me. “At least most of it.”

Gwen also cooks, though she admits she has mistaken grits for sugar at times and chili powder for cinnamon. And there have been times her earrings or her shoes have not matched. Gwen laughs at these mistakes, however. She even claims that blindness has its advantages.

“I don’t spend nearly as much time worrying about my looks as I used to. I keep my hair cut short so that it’s easy to manage. I rarely wear makeup. When you can’t see yourself, you assume others can’t either,” she says. Her children often warn her about this insouciance.

“Mother,” they say, “just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they can’t see you.” They are especially horrified when Gwen begins dancing down grocery store aisles to the piped-in music.

“Another advantage to blindness,” Gwen claims, “is it gets you out of some activities you would not want to do anyway. I don’t have to work at the church bazaar, and I get to read while I’m cooking.” By read Gwen means listen. She orders loads of audio material from the Talking Books program of the National Library Service. She has come to prefer listening to visual reading.

There are a few disadvantages to blindness, Gwen admits. She can’t work crossword puzzles by herself. Inability to drive keeps her at home more than she’d like. She’s dependent on others to take her to the grocery store and the pharmacy. This means fitting into other people’s schedules. It doesn’t leave much time for idle browsing in boutiques or hardware stores. But Gwen shrugs this off. “I probably save lots of money that way.”

Then she grows serious. “I remember the autumn day when I was taking my dog for a walk down a country road near my house. I looked across a lovely field where the grass was growing pale gold. I knew it was what we call a beautiful day. But all I could see was a blur of yellow and a smudge of blue sky. All the detail was washed out.”

She pauses to take a deep berth. “That was the day I said goodbye to beauty.”

Of course, Gwen still enjoys the beauty she finds in music, scented candles, and the differing textures of her cat’s fur and the grainy clay she shapes into bowls.

Gwen feels wonderfully grateful that her vision has stabilized over the past few years, thanks to the doctor at the Texas Medical Center everyone calls “the glaucoma guru.” She has learned a lot about the disease and encourages all her family and friends to have their intraocular pressure checked often. “Always ask for the numbers,” she insists. “Don’t be satisfied with ‘normal.’” What was normal didn’t fit her situation, resulting in several years of visual down drift that could have been avoided.

Gwen accepts her loss with what could be called either fatalism or optimism, depending on one’s perspective. “Something happens to everyone eventually,” she shrugs. “This is just what happened to me.”

Every morning when she wakes up, Gwen looks around at familiar objects—her dresser, the overhead fan, a quilt rack—assessing how much she can make out. For the past few years, those objects have retained their misty, truncated shapes. Then Gwen feels a surge of joy. She’s learned to value what remaining sight she has, about 5%, her doctor estimates. “It’s true that you never know what you have till you lose it,” Gwen says. “But what I do have makes so many things still possible. Sighted people may treat vision as ordinary, but to me it’s an extraordinary gift.”

If you could imagine being in Gwen's position, how would your attitude differ?
How does our culture make room for the blind?
Would your work need to change if you began to lose your sight?

Image by Stephen Heron. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Virginia Stem Owens.

Author Name:

Virginia Stem Owens

Does the L-Word Belong in Business?

bradleyjmoore — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 12:00:05 +0000

So I was standing in line at Starbucks, doing my usual coffee routine, and I saw one of the baristas, Carla, in the background taking orders for the drive-through. She’s talking on one of those hands-free headphone things, so I can only hear her side of the conversation:

“Is that you, Barbara? How’s it going?”
…………………

“Awesome!”
………………….

“OK… Is that decaf? The usual?”
………………..

“Yeah, I know. That must have been great.”
…………………..

“All right hon, that’s $4.50.″

The car drives up to the window, and I watch her conducting the transaction. As I walk over to the counter for milk, I hear Carla’s parting comment to the customer:

“Ok, see you soon. I love ya!”

What?

You could practically hear the dubbed-in record scratch as I did an audible double-take. Did she really just tell that customer that she loves her?

This blatant profession of love in the midst of public enterprise made me cringe—and melt, all at once. Part of me, the Jesus-Spirit-Christian part, wanted to wave palm branches in her general direction for establishing a new pinnacle of customer service. (Take that, Zappos!) But the buttoned-up business manager in me was tapping his foot, questioning the appropriateness of that exchange.

At first glance, there would typically be no call for expressing love while achieving your management objectives. Business is about process and profits, after all. And market share and competition. There’s nothing sentimental about it.

Plus, one generally attempts to portray some level of professionalism at work in order to maintain a commanding presence, or to earn the respect of colleagues. A measure of guardedness comes with the territory, especially for those in management positions (think Facebook vs. LinkedIn).

However, there’s no denying that our organizations are made up of people, not machines. All that equipment and technology—well, they don’t just work spontaneously of their own accord. It's the human beings who are running things, and at their core, people just want to be loved.

Martin Luther King once said, “Power without love is reckless and abusive, and love without power is sentimental and anemic.”

There is a lesson here for leaders.

We are all too familiar with the concept of power in business—the drive and resolve to get things done. None of us would be successful in our careers without some of that. But for too many, that’s where the discussion ends.

Plenty of research keeps cropping up showing that people at work are much more productive when they also feel cared for. Even loneliness, the perception of isolation or estrangement from others, has been shown to reduce an employee’s overall productivity, both in individual and group tasks. And it doesn’t take a PhD from Harvard to understand why. When you don’t fit in, it makes you depressed, moody, negative.

Author Adam Kahane suggests that love, expressed as compassion and solidarity, is completely appropriate in business. But leaders must strive for a balance, he says. A system that follows only power will sacrifice its people, while a system that follows only the impulses of love will lose its competitiveness.

That's all well and good, but here's my takeaway: isn't love the ultimate link between our spiritual life and our work? Not Valentine’s Day love, but the every-day kind of love that says you care about the well-being of others. The kind that gives the best of yourself at work, in a compassionate and caring way. I suppose this is what Paul is talking about in I Corinthians 13, and it is more or less the main thing Jesus wants us to do.

When you strip out all the formalities and jargon of doing business, at the end of the day we are all just needy human beings trying to get stuff done. And I’m thinking, wouldn’t that really lift everyone’s spirits at work, if we tried to love each other?

Image by Joshua Miller. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Bradley J. Moore.

Author Name:

Bradley J. Moore

Community Writing Project: I Do

Ann Kroeker — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 18:00:04 +0000

Editor's Note: This article, featuring highlights from the Community Writing Project, is part of our one-month series exploring the joys and struggles of marriage, broaching the topic from multiple angles for the sake of helping, healing, and considering.

Submissions to the Community Writing Project included letters and tributes as you opened your hearts and unleashed memories.

Reading story after story—almost 60 entries—we marveled that marriage can be longsuffering, challenging, and fragile, or joyful, celebratory, and strong. Or all of the above.

From "Cooking with Zoe":

Dear Husband, Standing with our backs facing each other, I wanted to tell you how much I missed this, cooking together. Me with stinging eyes, crying over onions, you with diligent hands, stirring the chicken. The scent of ginger and garlic, and the sound of music playing while we silently work. The brush of your arm against my arm as we swirl around each other in this culinary dance. Occasionally we turn and glance at each other, we steal a kiss. We share a taste of what we are creating together. (Read the rest at Long Distance Lobsters)

"I Do: There she is..." begins:

"I came home from work today and my 8-year-old daughter said, 'Mom's drunk again.' So matter of fact. Nothing to it. You’re eight years old and a bi-polar alcoholic mother is what you got." (Read the rest...)

From "Of Green Mohair and Breakdowns":

He’s had this green mohair cardigan for years.

Charlene gave it to him. The same Charlene who scrawled across two pages in his high school yearbook.

I tease him and call her “If-Our-Love-Is-True-Charlene.”

And he laughs and crosses his arms and scratches them like he does when he gets embarrassed.

But he still wears it in spite of the holes that have unraveled. (Read the rest by Sandra Heska King)

Contributing Editor Jennifer Dukes Lee hosted the link at Getting Down With Jesus. Please slip over to visit the collection of marriage stories.

We'll leave you with "The Telegram," by Megan Willome.

The Telegram

If my dad had not complained about an anonymous telegram, he and my mom might never have gotten married.

My parents met in 1965 on an exchange program to Chile with the University of Texas. He was known as “the cowboy” (although he really was a farm boy—this will be important later in the story), and she was the cosmopolitan girl, fluent in Spanish, with good political connections. She was seeing someone else, but six weeks at the bottom of the world changed everything. She and my dad fell in love on the beach at Quinteros and stayed that way.

When they returned to Texas, Mom helped Dad campaign for student body president at UT, and he was elected. That meant he was rather busy—too busy to remember Valentine’s Day.

At least, that’s what Mom thought. Why else would a man forget Valentine’s Day? So she sent him an angry—anonymous—telegram.

A week went by. Dad didn’t mention the telegram.

They met for lunch at an out-of-the-way restaurant favored by members of the Texas Legislature. Dad talked about student body president stuff. Mom kept waiting for him to apologize for missing Valentine’s Day. Or, at least, to mention that telegram. Finally, he did.

“I got this strange telegram,” Dad finally said. “It wasn’t signed.”

I can imagine Mom pursing her lips together. “What did it say?”

“It said, ‘You’re a jerk!’” I can’t imagine who would send such a thing.”

“I sent it,” Mom said.

I can imagine Dad looking confused. “Why?”

She proceeded to tell him off, with four-letter words that I never once heard her say. But they included such sentiments as, “You forgot Valentine’s Day? We are practically engaged, you — !”

Dad took his lumps, but here’s the thing: he truly didn’t know that forgetting your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day was a crime. In fact, he hardly knew that Valentine’s Day existed. It wasn’t celebrated on the cotton farm in Hamlin where he grew up. Even birthdays weren’t always celebrated on the farm. There was too much work and too many durn boys running around. (Dad was one of four sons.)

Needless to say, Dad never forgot another Valentine’s Day. He said that other holidays could be adjusted a day or two. If Mom’s birthday fell on a Wednesday, she could wait until Friday night to celebrate. Not so with Valentine’s Day. It was celebrated on February 14, no matter what else might be going on.

“After that, I spent a fortune in yellow roses, dark chocolate, red wine,” Dad told me.

“Worth every penny?” I asked.

“Worth every penny,” he said.

* * * * *

The "I Do" Collection

Image by Pascal Lagarde. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Community Writing Project hosted by Jennifer Dukes Lee at Getting Down with Jesus. Today's post by Content Editor Ann Kroeker, author of Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families.

Author Name:

Ann Kroeker

Aging Well with Dr. Dan Blazer, Part 7

Christine A. Scheller — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 13:00:06 +0000

Our series on Aging Well with Dr. Dan Blazer included a wealth of information on caring for ourselves and our loved ones in the later years of life.

In article one, we learned that Dr. Blazer's two years as a medical missionary in Africa shaped his decision to become a geriatric psychiatrist. He shared with us lessons he learned there that model how to treat the elderly.

In article two, we learned that the perception of old age as a depressing season of life is not confirmed by scientific research, but rather only 15 percent of older adults exhibit depressive symptoms. He shared with us foundations for good geriatric mental health.

In article three, we considered the role of perception in geriatric health. Dr. Blazer said the perception of poor health in otherwise healthy senior citizens is associated with depression and other predictors of mortality, while the perception of good health generally leads to better outcomes.

In article four, we looked at geriatric depression, learned how to recognize the symptoms, examined its social and biological causes, and considered treatment options.

In article five, we discussed the role of social supports in geriatric health and learned that listening to elderly loved ones' stories not only enriches our lives, but helps them make sense of theirs.

In article six, Dr. Blazer shared his thoughts on a holistic approach to mental health and I shared a family story that demonstrates its importance.

What did you most appreciate about this series?

Image by Judd McCullum. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Christine A. Scheller.

Laity Leadership Institute senior fellow Dan Blazer, M.D., PhD. is vice chair of faculty in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences and Vice Chair of academic development at Duke University Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina. Dr. Blazer is a geriatric psychiatrist and an epidemiologist, and is the author of numerous books. He is also co-editor of Essentials of Geriatric Psychiatry, which is scheduled for release in 2012.

Author Name:

Christine A. Scheller