My Holiday Wish

The holiday season is so commercialized that I think it’s easy for people forget about the reasons that the season is supposed to be meaningful. The momentum for the religious and cultural observations in December starts building in late October. Halloween advertising, party planning, and the all important costume selections ignite a festive spirit.

As a child, I looked forward to every opportunity to dress up, open gifts, enjoy special treats, and hang out with friends and family. I spent most of my time wishing for and hoping for specific things. I remember attaching names to some of my wishes and expectations. For example, I knew which neighbors would have the “best” candy Halloween night. I didn’t care so much about the professional finish to our costumes. I found pleasure in shouting, “trick or treat,” when the doors opened. I like it when the neighbors smiled and chuckled as they asked, “What are you supposed to be?” Back in the day, no item in the house was off limits as we used our imaginations to create the perfect costumes.

Once the candy counting and sorting ended, we were on to planning for Thanksgiving. I left the menu to mama and turned my focus to the Thanksgiving day itinerary. Thanksgiving day in Montgomery meant going to the Turkey Day Classic Parade after which we ate “a little something.” Next, we attended the Alabama State Homecoming game at Crampton Bowl then we ate dinner before heading to the Commodores concert that night. This was the routine most of the steps. Throughout the holiday season, the to-do list regenerated and repopulated itself as we moved from one holiday to the next. Like the wind whisking leaves around a yard in the fall, the holiday season sent a cyclone of items, people, and things into orbit around us.

This year’s holiday season presented a different experience. My positioning shifted to a space outside of the swirling commercially driven-sprint. I felt like the the midwestern homeowner standing inside the warm house peering out of the window at the leaves swirling about the yard. The cool winds signaled the forced transition of seasons from fall to winter. The seasons had no choice but to enter the vacuum. I found myself wondering why I ever loved the hustle and bustle of the season.

The newfound quiet time left me to think about the wishlist for each holiday. This year I didn’t wish for candy or unique gifts. This year I hoped to see my family and close friends. I wished for shared time with them. I had thoughts of hearty laughs, good food, game time, and how fast the time would past. I fought the feelings of aloneness because I missed those who passed away. I did a little bit of online shopping, but I decided I would rather spend my money on travel costs that would bring them closer to me. I went to the mall and the crowds and long lines made me literally shake my head. The shopping experience was a bit overwhelming and the cheerful holiday shoppers made awful partners on the roadways too.

I hope that my audience will not forget that the holidays are supposed to be fun. Fun, family, and friends motivated participation in all of the holiday gatherings and experiences during my childhood. I would argue that I participated in the hassles associated with the holiday seasons in the past because my family and friends would benefit from my sacrifices of time and money. I learned that the things and the amount of stuff means nothing without the relationships with the people. I hope that my audience will maximize opportunities to laugh and talk with friends and family. I wish that my audience will opt to embrace the true meaning of the three month long holiday season and pay forward gifts of human kindness that can really produce hope and peace.

One Big Dream

I sat down to write about one of my big dreams or the things I thought about while I watched the CBS Sunday Morning.I took notes complete with names, quotes, and ideas. Then, I started writing and this poem was the result:

Some day I will write a best seller.
That day may just be today.

The pen – my instrument of choice.
The instrument – the vessel that gives life to my voice.

The juices of my creative thoughts churn within the inkwell of my pen.
My thoughts stream into the universe alive in vibrant color.

The random thoughts collect themselves into words etched onto a page.
The pages tell of a meaningful journey of an aged soul.

My words and thoughts become open to examination by the world.
The transparent soul speaks wisdom about life, love, lack, and luster.
I will write a bestseller for the living.
My writing will breathe life and love.
My writing will accomplish the ultimate end for my voice and for me – freedom and liberty.

The Benefits of Dreaming

Photo by Tang Junwen

Mitch Matthews and his wife started Big Dream Gatherings in May 2006 after they realized their game development dream seemed a failed venture. After guiding friends and friends of friends through the Big Dream Gathering experience over a span of several days at their home, the introverted Mitch became an inspirational voice promoting the power of dreaming. I have spent my life empowering other folks with my visions of their greatness while walking around a carrier of what I call “a suppressed dream gene.”

I believe that all of us were born with a dream gene. For many years, I enjoyed time reading to children, kid sitting, and volunteering in environments focused on young children. Through my experiences, I engaged in conversations with children about their dreams. They dreamed of being teachers, police officers, firemen, doctors, lawyers, and world leaders. Once the little dreamers I birthed became middle school students, I increasingly spent more time with teenagers and found the lights of their eyes dim compared to the eyes of younger children. I asked, “Why?!”

Big Mama used to say that our eyes served as windows into our hearts. The remote possibility that the dimmed light of the eyes of a young person represented a child living with a sad heart broke mine. My heartbreak never fractured in a way that created an optimal circumstance for quick and complete healing. My heartbreak for the child with dimly lit eyes resembled a stress fracture that permitted use with limited range of motion accompanied by discomfort. Suddenly, the “why” question became “What happened?”

In my search to understand the babies in our midst gazing through shaded lenses, I reflected on my own life experiences. I traveled back to my earliest memory of the dream gene. About age seven or eight, I dreamed of becoming a pediatrician. I remembered blending some type of antiseptic cream, Vaseline, and lotion (I think) to make a salve to apply to a scar. In middle school, I dreamed of being an interior decorator. I have vivid memories of the work it took to convince my father to persuade my mother to paint the walls in my room sky blue. In modern times that would not be a big deal, but in the late 70’s a wall any color other than white or eggshell aroused house guests to make the following proclamations: “Oh, my!”; “Lola, whose idea was it this?”; “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blue room.” These were all bright-light dream moments in my life. Then, the why and what intertwined and hijacked my dream gene.

Hijacked seemed the appropriate term for the feeling I felt when the dream of being a pediatrician left my being. I decided not to watch families live the life I lived sitting in hospitals for days that turned into months while family members receiving care made treatment facilities our surrogate homes. Again, I felt the immediate loss and hopelessness of separation from my natural being the instant daddy said, “You can’t make no money decorating nobody’s house.” (I wrote a blog post about that childhood experience if you care to read about it in more detail: http://wp.me/p6L8u0-45 ). The silent pressure of pain and power crept up on my dream gene poised for attack like of an out of control hypertension diagnosis. Like the optic blood vessels in a hypertensive attack,there was a squeezing of my dream gene restricting my vision. The channel from my heart made the journey to each dream appear further away or unrecognizable to my natural eye.

Later in life, I realized that the dream gene was not hijacked. My dream gene was just suppressed. Time further revealed that during the period when I was in the suppressed dream cycle, I kept employing the unique skills sets, gifts, and talents necessary to excel had the dream met my reality. For example, I never stopped using my voice and resources for the benefit of supporting, encouraging, and enhancing the lives of young people. And, a survey of my life from my wardrobe to the walls of my house shout color and creativity. I have lived the dream of fixer and decorator all of my life. This new perspective simultaneously frustrated me and excited me. I thought, “yes,” to the creative use of my resources to live out the mutated dreams. I thought, “yes,” to those who supported the mutated dream chaser in me because the world received benefits from my efforts. The frustration came with thoughts of the loss to countless benefactors as a result of the limits of living life with dimmed lights for a few decades.

When my first book was published, I wise friend told me something to encourage me to keep writing. She said something like this: For every day I waited to share my writing and my voice with others, I missed opportunities to give to the world the gift God designed me specifically to share. So, even when it seemed like I was shouting to the wind and that nobody was listening, I wrote and I spoke. Using my voice through my writing and through speaking kept me connected with my dream even when the dream was distant or invisible. The efforts, small or slow, moved me closer to the dream. So, I wrote and I spoke and I moved. Movement gave life to my dormant dream gene reawakening my ability to dream and to dream more often.

My daughter once said something like, “Mom, do you really think every kid can do something great?” I answered, “yes” with an excited smile. The idea of helping a young person be great or inciting greatness in my staff gives me chills. Those types of thoughts make my heart race, in a good way. My time with Mitch and others at the Big Dream Gathering may have been the first time I felt chills, heart-racing, and tears thinking about my own dreams. I believed that the bright eyed kid lives within me. I am certain that a dreamer lives within my readers and that their eyes will brighten if they allow themselves to dream. We must dream beyond the things that intentionally or unintentionally darken our spaces.

Watch out for fear, doubt, or lack of vision owned by you or others. Look out for the historic affect of words that limited you or numbers that made things seem impossible or too late to serve anyone any good. Why is something so easy to do so difficult? Why does it feel so foreign and uncomfortable? Write down at least one dream and enjoy the light-hearted, youthful life of a dreamer, if only a moment!

Rivalry Week

The week that you consider the rest of the season a warm up for the next game, it might be rivalry week. Alabamians, in general, have strong opinions about most topics, but are especially opinionated about college football. There is no professional football team in the state of Alabama and there are only a handful of professional football teams in the country with a fan base that compares to the level of passion and intensity of the fans supporting the college football teams in Alabama. In fact, some argue that on any given week there is a professional team that would find at least two of the college teams in Alabama formidable opponents. The physicality and consistent performances of the college football teams in Alabama resonate throughout the populace.

Alabamians are known for being opinionated on most topics, but when it comes a to football Alabamians have strong opinions and deep rooted loyalties. There is no fence riding by a true Alabamian, including decisions about your favored college football team. As far back as I can remember, rivalry week meant that my family cheered for Alabama State University to beat Tuskegee University in the Turkey Day Classic and we cheered for the Alabama Crimson Tide in the Iron Bowl.

While all of the institutions are arguably excellent institutions of higher learning, you must pick a side. Once you pick a side, there can be no fence straddling and no inkling of side switching. There is an understanding that you will be sold out for your team and that you will be forever loyal to the team you pick. Other football loving folks will respect your unwavering loyalty and you can be pretty certain that they won’t press you to flip or to look like a traitor in front of the world by cheering for your rival team.

Thursday, someone stopped by my house and jokingly said a rally cry for Alabama’s in-state rival. At first, I thought I didn’t hear what I thought I heard, but the room of about seven or eight people went silent except for the noise from the television so I stopped to listen more intently. Sure enough, the resident comic said it again. Then, I said in my jokey voice, “You trying not to sit at my table to eat.” Everyone laughed. Then, I was asked, “How do people in Alabama pick the [college] team they will cheer for?” It was a legitimate question so I offered an answer based on my personal experiences.

I explained that most of the folks I knew picked one team over the other due to family ties. Others picked a team because of their decision to just be different than the majority of their friends and family. Many of my high school friends didn’t chose Alabama because generations of their family members had gone to the rival school. That was not my story, however, because people who looked like me were not admitted to either school until a little more than fifty years ago. Alabama admitted the first Black students in June 1963 and the rival school integrated that campus about six months later in January 1964. Similarly, both schools desegregated the football teams in the early 1970’s. Alabama’s position as first with respect to the desegratation of the campus coupled with Paul Bear Bryant’s public statements that his team would be better if there was diversity made my father one of Alabama’s most dedicated fans. Hence, everyone in the house loved and supported the Tide. It was that simple.

I find that people outside of the state either shake their heads out of respect for the legacy of Alabama football or they shake their heads and say they don’t like Alabama because, “Y’all win too much.” Well, that is something that an Alabama fan would never say. In fairness to the in-state rival, I’ve never meet a fan from that school who would say that there is such a thing as winning too much. We are not programmed like that in the state of Alabama. Being a true fan of a college team in the state of Alabama means that we do expect to win not just a lot, but every time we play. Last year when my team lost to Clemson in the National Championship game a very happy Clemson fan said to me, “Y’all have won enough.” Another one said, “Y’all will be back next year. We won’t.”

Alabama fans do expect to win every time, every season, and when we lose we are disappointed. We respect the play of the opponent who played hard for the determined period and scored more points than we did to claim the victory. We take from the loss the lessons that our team must learn: Remember the sting of loss and go work hard to be more prepared and more focused the next time you show up. We also learn that in addition to working hard and focusing, you have to keep believing that you have a chance to be successful in your chosen endeavor. I tell my students get up every day expecting to win at something! Why would you show up for anything expecting to fail or not do your absolute best.

I hope that in life we can all aspire for greatness in whatever we do for the time assigned to us to do it. Do like Bama folks and engage in some introspection after a defeat or disappointment in order to set your sights on improvement or success the next time out. Stop hating the process of thinking yourself great every day. Don’t count yourself out before you even give yourself a chance to attempt more greatness. Be great. Do great. Consider yourself a champion because you have now been in the presence of a champion. #RollTide

Who will take care of me?

Photo by Zachary Staines

Many of my experiences this week seemed unrelated, but in my reflective moments I found common threads:

1. Communities rely heavily on our youth to lead without adequate support of the grown folks around them.

2. Young people need grown folks to support them with less judgment.

3. Grown folks need to remain in conversations and challenging moments to not only support, but to encourage and guide the young ones burdened by challenging circumstances.

4. Young people are battle worn from sustained work in the trenches managing issues at home, at school, and in their communities.

A great deal of my time as a university administrator has been spent managing students who reported being in the midst of challenges. Sometimes they were challenged by their own decision making and other times their challenges came courtesy of others. I wondered how much challenge one must endure before asking for help. I began to think about some of my troubled students as shadow dwellers like me. In most cases, the students did not walk around announcing their circumstances. Attention to their challenges came to my office through phone calls, emails, or in person visits ignited by some “final straw” incident. Hence, my categorizing them as shadow dwellers.

The reports described students who were caretakers of parents or siblings. Other students discussed the burdens that accompanied a charge to lead people. In the private, safe space provided in my office, students revealed the vulnerability that makes us human. In my opinion, the connectedness to humanity compelled them to reveal the levels of transparency that I witnessed. During my time with the young and challenged, I saw glimpses of myself tired of feeling like I was in the solo performance of my life responsible for the success of myself, my family, my community, or all of the above. It was clear to me that these students strove to overcome what felt like multiple encounters with failure. They believed that exerting energy for the improvment of their circumstances or the elimination of the subject of their stress failed to produce the desired outcomes. As a result, the drained students appeared exhausted by life. They presented with a hopeless spirit, gasping for life yielding breath. These students wanted more than anything peace of mind, peace in their spirits, and a peace to be present at all times in their own spaces.

Weighted by the heaviness of their hearts which was compounded by their fatigued minds and weary bodies they cried out, “”Who will take care of me?” Having lived in that energy sucking space, I recognized the symptoms. I also knew that the person who carried the challenges long enough alone would exhale a sign of relief and gratitude when someone intervened and offered to assist them. Stepping in to alleviate the pressure on a young person who has been leading others through challenges gave them that feeling one gets when the physician in the triage can quickly look beyond your stated symptoms to see the true extent of your ailment then offers a prompt diagnosis and plan of care to save you from another moment of agony. Acknowledgement of the back-breaking, knee-bending heaviness of one’s life in my presence has always signaled to me that I am trusted. In general, young people older than eleven have reserved their trust for a select group of folks. So, if you have had a young person share stories with you and disclose a need for support, consider yourself blessed and trusted too.

Yesterday, as I hurried to a meeting on campus, I was stopped by a member of a campus department who worked to organize an event that welcomed The Inside Out Project to our campus. It’s been a long, busy week so I skipped some emails and one of the emails I skipped contained news about this event. So, I while I should have known about it, the first I heard about it was during this “chance” encounter with an event organizer. I promised her that if my meeting ended in the next forty-five minutes I would return and take the picture. At the time, I thought that my participation was only in support of our undocumented community members and the concerns of the dreamers amongst us. Life gave me yet another opportunity to support students dealing with challenges that could potentially alter the direction of their personal, academic, and professional lives. Here were other students in their own way speaking rhetorically to the universe asking, “Who will care for us?”

After researching The Inside Out Project, I owned a thankful heart. This global movement to let art change people speaks to the reason that I do the things I do in support of challenged young people looking for someone to care for them. The studio, reminiscent of a food truck, created art in seconds. Each work of art engineered smiles and a parade of heartwarming images. It became clear to me that when I get to support students in moments of challenge I am an artist. I am required to use creativity and positive energy coupled with analytical, innovative, professional skills sets to help young people look beyond their challenges to compose a beautiful script.

It is my hope that those who read this post will consider how their gifts might be used to support the next young person they see who either vocalizes their challenge or who has an obvious one. I challenge my readers to offer support before judgment. Sometimes I think that young people don’t receive the support they should receive because grown folks are scarred and somehow ascribe to the notion that bearing the weights of family and community are rites of passage. Believe me the “rites of passage” are not and should not be used as excuses to force our young to lead in areas in which they should be excluded or supported by the adult villagers around them. There should be no children in our villages looking around wondering who will take care of them.

Underestimated!

Photo by rawpixel.com

In the world of sports, coaches and players have often said, “never underestimate your opponent.” Unfortunately, most folks have restricted that advice to the sports arena. My practice has been to never understimate people, in general. Honestly, I have never seen any benefit in expecting people to have limited opportunities or looking forward to below average production from any person.

I took seriously the words of the psalmist, David, who wrote, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” In my opinion, only the prideful, selfish, or low key insecure have restricted God’s ability to disperse talents and gifts to a singular group of people. I embraced the genius of a God wise enough to spread the wealth of gifts and talents, thereby creating a need for a village. The plethora of gifted and talented folks necessitated the creation of villages. The villages created networks of people equipped for seed planting, week pulling, and nurturing friutful crops.

Writing and building social capital were always my strengths. I never claimed to be technologically savvy nor did I possess a green thumb. My skills as an electrician were limited to changing light switch covers and flipping the breaker switch when there was a power overload somewhere in the house. My heating and air cooling resume stopped at setting the thermostat and resetting the hot water heater when it blinked. Each time my family moved I was presented new opportunities to expand my appreciation for the handyman who computed fractions in his head. He impressed with his ability to add and subtract fractions without paper or a calculator. Who ever heard of using a leveler to hang pictures? I always thought the eye test was sufficient until I met our midwestern handyman. My midwestern village was so amazing that they offered advice even when I travelled and they supported me after I moved from the areas until I established a new band of villagers in my new city.

In my professional life, I searched for diversity of personalities and skill sets. My perfect work villages have been comprised of people with demonstrated passion for their particular career fields. The best work villages have been filled with a community of strong personalities who loved their work and who were enthusiastic about performing at a high level every day. Seeing my staff and community partners be great doing things I couldn’t do encouraged me to praise them and to invite them to connect with students who needed to be supported or inspired by them. I knew that my faith in my villagers breeds positivity and promise for the person who may underestimate their own potential for greatness.

Affirming others motivates most people toward service. Additionally, it encourages them to work harder to perfect their skill sets and to invest more in the community. Whether you call it networking or village building, like me, the villages (networks) are stronger when each person respects the strengths of the other members. Respect for the brilliance and potential of others should not be interpreted as a personal indictment on you. Celebrate the members of the village and figure out how to collaborate with other folks to make the community function at a high level. Finally, remember that there is no respect in underestimating those around you. If you do, you weaken the network and suppress the potential of the village as a whole.

Time for rest and recovery

What a week!

Tuesday, I recounted a story from “a couple of days ago.” My colleague chuckled when I said “Wait, what is today?” I realized it was Tuesday and the thing I spoke about happened Monday, the day prior. The last two weeks were demanding. I stayed home in my pajamas most of last weekend in order to recover from that long week. Recovery was critical in order for me to make it through this week. During weeks like the last few, I appreciated the support of staff and community partners. I also rested in the encouraging words of my friends and I seized opportunities to go to sleep early every night. Thanks to the DVR I didn’t worry about missing either of my favorite shows. I have no idea, however, when or if I will watch last week’s shows before next week.

This morning I thought about what behaviors were worth repeating and which were better left behind. I need to:

Avoid staying up later than necessary at night doing mindless activities like watching television.
Read something that enhances me personally or professionally every day.
Make time to talk to friends and family at least a few times a week.
Continue listening to my syndicated radio show every morning because the radio crew always says something to make me laugh.
Make time to stretch every day.
Take my supervisor’s advice and leave work on time more than once a week.
Remember that saying “No” or “Not at this time” works for me too.
Spend time sitting on the floor entertaining Swaggy every day because he takes my mind off of things that aren’t as cute.
Continue to write and edit my writing.
Continue to set new goals with realistic objectives and outcomes.
Judge myself fairly while not owning all of the judgements of others.
Keep relying on trusted family, friends, and partners to offer objective thoughts on my personal and professional development.

I decided to do less of everything this weekend, including writing. I decided that I would introduce more folks to the Sister In The Shadow today and let that be the focus of my outreach this weekend. With excitement, I encouraged, empowered, and enlightened young leaders and the membership of influential student groups on a college campus. I skipped the grocery store run and I figured out how to prepare my dinner with the food I had in the house. Doing less than I planned to do today turned out to be just fine. I think that is the biggest lesson for me this week: I can’t do it all or be caught up on all of the things on my do list no matter how hard I work to accomplish that goal.

I hope that my struggles to breath and work less will encourage other folks to slow down a bit too.

Disappointment – Pain or Power

Disappointment…

The uninvited acquaintance.

The pesky flying insect interrupting peaceful sleep.

The disaffirming messenger.

The devil’s advocate who wont hush.

The proverbial “punch in the gut.”

The giver of rejection.

The jolt that startles the shocked spirit.

The slow release of air from the tire.

The immobilizing splint.

The poorly timed joke.

The guest with no manners.

The mood changer.

The unexpected teacher.

The masterful motivator…

Disappointment is all of that when you dare to allow yourself to move through the progression of emotions and thoughts embodied in the disappointment.

If you’ve never experienced disappointments, you are likely living atop the pedestal hoisted up by arrogance and pride.

If you think you’ve never experienced disappointment, your pride and arrogance likely framed the disappointment as them just being haters.

If you’ve never experience disappointment, you are likely prone to living with denial without realizing that denial is that partner who will eventually escort you to the door of truth (whether you accept the truth or not).

Disappointment is the foe of those who wake up every day determined to champion life.

Disappointment hangs around like the weight of the albatross that suppresses the drive to keep hoping.

Disappointment appears then eagerly lingers with the aroma of the stench of a rotting potato under a car seat in the middle of July.

Disappointment overpowers pride, hope, dreams, motivation, and the spirit of the person unless met with a clear and convincing counter action.

The counter action must jam the pulley track and halt the inevitable takeover of negative momentum. I call the counter action “a quick flip of the switch.” The switch analogy works for me because the movement happens instantaneously and with a definite repositioning to better-lit condition. The shift from the other side of disappointment would stall if it functioned like a dimmer switch, gradually changing the degrees of brightness.

I don’t advocate that anyone forget the the loathsome acquaintance or the shock of the poorly timed joke. I don’t believe it beneficial to toss the immobilizing splint that seems to inhibit your growth or progress. I encourage you to evaluate the rejection and the timing of the same. I encourage you to listen to the disaffirming message from the devil playing advocate and let them teach you a life lesson about rising with more knowledge and energy than before the mood changer became your guest with no manners. Make your latest disappointment your most masterful teacher.

Don’t deny the pain.

Don’t deny the frustration.

Don’t deny the truth of opportunity missed.

Own the pain and use the pain to drive you to focus on the truths.

Own the truths and use the truths to drive you to focus on the science of your work.

Own that your passion fuels the work and gives the village purpose for investing in you.

Own the need to invest in the details of your passion, your mission, and your brand.

Own your role in humanity and the need for your unique way to serve the village.

Shake the embrace of disappointment and let it trigger the quick flip of the switch to hunger for better days that only the experience of disappointment can give you. Embrace boost in adrenalin embodied in the challenge and preparation for the moment you attain your next seemingly impossible goal. Today, I choose to trust that somebody in my village will come alongside me to support my mission to passionately educate, empower, and enlighten. I hope you will too!

Why I do it and what it taught me

“She’s a workaholic,” said one person to another about me. “Why do you come to work so early?” asked another person. “Go home, you work too much,” was another statement I heard this month. This work ethic may explain why at the end of the last two school years I wrote about being hung over. Hung over described my physical, mental, and emotional state at the end of each school year. Village keeping and building, by definition, proved demanding work regardless of my community. Historically, the success of all communities has been predicated on people concerned about ideals, objectives, and goals of the populace. Moreover, the concerned members possessed more than a notion or appreciation for the communal values. These folks, who I called villagers, were passionate about the positive impact these principles might have on the individuals in the community that the villagers were driven to action. In this context, action equaled work.

For about a month, I have been prompted to talk about and think about my impassioned work. I considered why I chose to work more than forty hours a week, what the amount of time invested in my work said about me, if anything, and whether the work produced expected and favorable outcomes for my community. My work product equaled time and consistency. As I thought about my successes and shortcomings as a leader, I realized that any person or organization experiencing success logged hours of consistent and committed work. My personal feelings or opinions about the sports team, the politician, or the leadership style had no release in the conversation. Successful leaders also used their passion to energize and define their purpose and to energize their pursuits.

Here are a few things I learned about myself last month:

I love my work!
I believe in the work that I do.
I believe in the potential of the people, the groups, and institutions impacted by my work.
I believe that my work is enhanced by my village network.
I tend to align with other folks who demonstrate passion through energetic work-related performances.
I am frustrated by lazy people.
I am aggravated by unmotivated people who impede the work and progress of others.
I believe in rewarding and praising my team for their investments into the community.
I need to improve on my work-life balance.
My village is stronger when I am rested and prepared when I show up to work.

Nothing in the post is groundbreaking, but there should be a return to the foundation of my use of time, energy, and resources on a regular basis. Additionally, I need to be mindful of the reasons that that hang over effect happens and how to lessen the probability that I repeat the things that have led to that outcome twice in the recent past. Finally, my self-flection may ensure that I am mindful of the demands on my staff and my obligation to engage in behaviors that uplift my staff and my village. Take thirty minutes to an hour or so every month to think about your work ethic and how it contributes to or diminishes your life and that of the community you serve. Then, figure out how to balance all of the interests so that all receive some benefit from your work.

You can overcome the chaos

I believe that each of us, in our reflective moments, has considered events in our past that changed us forever. When I was in my mid twenties, someone challenged me to write down as many significant life experiences as I could remember. The challenger also directed me to think back as far as I could in my evaluation and recording of my life experiences. At that time, my list included the onsets of family illnesses and a few times when some grown folks did things that left me to manage some emotional scars. That exercise made me cognizant of the overwhelming nature of chaos on the human mind and body. I had gotten so accustomed to living in chaos that chaos felt normal. Living in a chaotic state surprisingly begged me to loiter in the madness. Contentment, even if perceived, made finding the exit more challenging. Escaping the chaos seemed as impossible as moving through a house of mirrors without a misstep. The chaos never felt comfortable in a relaxed, heart-warming sort of way. I did, however, find comfort in learning that the same combination of troubles didn’t last always and that I was not likely to experience the same combination of craziness again.

Now, if I look back over the last twenty to twenty-five years of my life, my list of life altering events would include moves, children, the deaths of Mama, Daddy, and Butch, a full time job, and my empty-nester life in the desert. Once again, the collective force of individual major life changing events felt like chaos. Last spring, I told a friend that my life was “exhausting.” Exhaustion came when the individual challenges missed the memo proclaiming that each challenge must rise up one at a time. There were times over the last twenty-five years that I cussed the instants that the layering of the life changing events occurred. This week I thought about the headshaking moment when my father died three weeks after my second child was born and about three months after my husband lost his job in a city we had just moved to about four months prior so that he could accept the job he lost. Well, I survived and my hair grew back in time for my subsequent chaotic cycles.

The weight of the layered issues convinced me that there was a higher power at work in my life guiding me through the madness. Although I’ve been told by folks that they don’t believe in a higher power, it has been my experience that my level of chaos had me so exhausted at times that I couldn’t see my way out with my natural eyes or by my own strength. I was in a place that Naida Parson called something like having a need that “only God can fix” at a time when “you can’t afford to fail.” Whether or not your beliefs align with mine, I learned a method to get myself and others out of the maddening chaos.

The way out always involved my village. My village always included folks who could help me breath and think. The villagers always sifted out the emotion. The villagers redirected me to the facts and the simple truths. The villagers delivered the the facts and truths then guided me into a calm place where I had enough peace and quiet to think. In that space, I developed a plan to address each challenge. Finally, the villagers remained on call to help me process my checklist and/or get me back on task when I strayed.

In my work, I take pride in my role as villager for young people. I encourage them to use their challenges to catapult them into a better place. I sit with them and engage in dialogue intended to motivate them to keep thinking beyond their challenges. I impress upon them the need to seek out a village and then employ the willing villagers to coach them and cheer them through their life changing moments. I hope my audience will do the same. Chaos doesn’t have to be your normal and you don’t have to work through the mess alone.