“Only real love waits while we journey through grief.” Excerpt from The Winter Vault by Anne Michaels, Canadian poet and novelist (b 1958)
The four of them stood on the curb talking with their friend seated in his truck, the darkness gathering around them. The after prom party at their neighbor’s had been so packed with people they had chosen to wait out front till the crowd thinned. The music and the noise from the party masked the low rumble of the approaching black SUV and the electronic hum as the darkened passenger’s side window slid down. Erick heard four hard popping sounds and felt a puff of air pass his right temple. Then the screams started. Erick turned toward the sound and caught sight of one of his friends, blood pouring down his face. A bullet had creased his skull literally scoring a trail across the top of his head. Blood flowed profusely from the ugly scalp wound.
Realizing the wound was superficial; Erick felt a momentary sense of relief as he glanced around trying to locate his other two friends. Where was Mikey? Then he saw him. Michael McGuire lay on his back, a pool of blood gathering on the pavement underneath his head. Erick knelt next to him, but he was unresponsive. A cell phone flipped open, 9-1-1, but when the operator answered she put them on hold. Frustrated the boys loaded Mikey and their wounded chum into their friend’s truck and headed for the hospital. The ambulance would arrive on the scene 28 minutes later.
Erick cradled Mikey in his arms during the ride. At one point he sensed something more than blood draining from him. It was a kind of warm energy passing out of him. In that moment, he sensed Michael’s spirit leave him. They arrived at the hospital. Mikey was placed on a gurney and rushed to the emergency care unit, Erick still at his side. An ER nurse stopped him at the double doors to the unit with a traffic cop-like “palm out” sign and a grim half smile.
Stricken and stunned Mikey’s family arrived at the hospital. Friends gathered; wept together, prayed together, waited together. When it came, the news was bad. The bullet had severed the brain stem. He was on life support. There was nothing to be down. The painful decision was made to disconnect Michael from the machines which were keeping him alive. But then, a discussion ensued; a difficult discussion; a prayerful discussion. The family asked the doctor to meet with them. The life support would not be disconnected immediately. The family, with the support and encouragement of close friends, had elected to donate Michael’s organs.
He remained on life support for two more days while the transplant team was assembled and vital organs removed. His liver was divided between two babies. His heart, lungs and kidneys would extend the lives of five others. There would be life after death. Finally, five days after his clinical death Michael McGuire was disconnected from life support and his body sent to the morgue where a forensic pathologist would remove the bullet still lodged in his brain stem; evidence of his murder.
We live in a world which demands explanation. We approach life with a “News at 11” kind of mentality. All must be revealed. The truth will out. Whether it be from the broadcast media, on the internet or shouted from tabloid headlines in the check out line we assume somewhere within our digitized, media spun world all will be explained; the real truth will come out, whether it be a grave political gaff, the marital infidelity of a celebrity or an environmental disaster.
When we encounter the death of a good young man however, there is no explanation and we go wanting. The what, where, when and how are very specific, but we can find no satisfactory WHY. In our search for “the truth” however, we don’t need factual explanations, we need prayerful contemplation. In the rush of emotional pain it is easy to confuse the senseless, with the meaningless. Often we hear the media describe loss of life as “senseless and meaningless.” There are many deaths which make no sense, which are beyond explanation, but no death is meaningless.
Michael’s death was senseless, even tragic, but the circumstances surrounding it bear tremendous meaning. Whether it was Erick’s sense of his spirit leaving him as he cradled him in his arms, to the many who kept vigil through the night, to the family’s decision to donate Michael’s organs; all of these acts possess a special meaning and deserve our attention and contemplation.
As stewards it is meaning which makes a difference and hence we search for it. We contemplate the events in our lives harvesting the gifts of meaning. Facts are superficial, cold, sterile and vary by the commentator and in each telling of the tale. Meaning is deeply personal and ultimately enriching. Explanations are quick fixes. Meaning takes time to manifest itself; to come to fruition. Afterwards, we move forward in life with a deeper sense of awareness.
The death of a loved one can never be adequately explained. It can only be faced, felt, experienced, survived and contemplated. Death is scary, inexplicable, fearful and, even when it is expected, unexpected. And yet, there is no greater evidence of life than death.
Dear God: Guide me to search daily for meaning in my life.
“The great challenge in living your wounds through instead of thinking them through is this: it is better to cry than to worry. It is better to feel your wounds more deeply than to understand them. Better to let them enter into your silence than to talk about them. The choice is whether you are taking your wounds to your head or to your heart.” Excerpt from The Inner Voice of Love by Henri Nouwen, Dutch-born Catholic priest and writer (1932-1996)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message. Questions or comments may be directed to Jim Carper by return e-mail or at the contact information found below.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
Blinded
“Most human beings have an almost infinite capacity for taking things for granted.” ~Aldous Huxley, English writer, humanist, pacifist (1894-1963)
I sat in the late afternoon shade of our patio staring at the oleander in the corner of our back yard. Though it was dead and void of greenery it was captivating. The intricacy, texture, complexity and even the relatively dull colors had captured me. Teresa waited patiently for me to return my attention to the conversation we had been having over our evening meal. Between the anesthetic fog, and the results of the surgery, I had been distracted most of the day; staring at things for prolonged periods.
At 7:30 that morning I had been wheeled into a small surgical theater. Draped, drugged and at the mercy of the gowned specialists swirling around me in a precise ballet of preparation. They had marked an ‘R’ over my right eye so the doctor knew which one to repair. I giggled to myself wondering if they had marked my shoes in a similar fashion.
“Are you comfortable” the lady with the shower cap asked. “Uh huh” I managed to respond. In what seemed like moments I heard a disembodied voice, “It looks good” and something like drapery was pulled from around my face. The room I had entered feet first I was now exiting head first. Another shower cap & gown bedecked person was helping me sit up and offering me water or coffee. No contest there: “Coffee please.” I needed to wake up.
During my brief period of “twilight sleep” the surgeon had used a laser to make a tiny incision in my right eye. My existing lens, replete with a large ripe cataract, was obliterated using ultrasonic vibrations then vacuumed away. A new artificial lens was slipped into place through the same incision and seated where the old one had been. The result? I now had 20/20 vision, uncorrected (which in and of itself is an oxymoron).
After several years of dimming sight and gradually increasing difficulty with everything requiring my vision I now saw the world anew; literally through a different set of eyes. And so I stared at the oleander, at everything; reconnecting with what I had missed.
“You never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone” (Bob Dylan’s “Big Yellow Taxi”). We often take things, like our sight or our health, for granted, simply because they are always there. It is, therefore, scarcity, not abundance which makes us aware of and grateful for the many gifts we are given each day. When the gifts we receive from God become expected however, we no longer perceive them as gifts and in turn cease to be grateful for them.
Most of us wake each morning expecting to have a roof over our heads, food on the table, fresh water on tap, a job to go to and a car to get us there. As our wealth and possessions grow so do our expectations and our gratitude, in turn, diminishes. Have you ever said to someone, “I need a new car” or “a new television” or “a new laptop”? But do we really “need” it or is it our expectations talking? We can easily become a kind of possession junky, requiring more and more stuff to satiate our self.
Some years ago Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis made a very generous financial gift to a charity. When she presented the check she remarked offhandedly, “I wish I could give you more, but I’m not that rich.” Jackie Onassis? “Not that rich???” Yet, in her frame of reference, she was not that rich simple because her expectations of what were necessities were so high. Expectations become entitlements and blind us to God’s gifts.
This, in some ways, explains why the poor sometimes seem to be more grateful than the rich. Logically more gifts should generate more gratitude, but it actually operates in the reverse: the more scarcity the greater the gratitude.
One way to prevent being anesthetized by our possessions is to do “charity work”. This does not mean writing more checks, rather it means donating more time, volunteering. Volunteerism is a simple way of reconnecting ourselves with scarcity; with need. It is a way for us to experience poverty, illness, homelessness, unemployment, aging, even death on a first hand basis and often without risk. It gives us the opportunity to see reality through the eyes of another. It resets our expectations to more reasonable levels and allows us to be grateful again.
Though I had experienced blindness, thanks to modern technology I was never really in danger of being blind, and yet I have a renewed joy in being sighted. It is common for people who do a lot of volunteer work to remark, “I get more out of it than I put into it.” This comes, not only from the joy of helping others, but from the recognition of the many gifts we have and a renewed gratitude for having received them. If we are to avoid being blinded by our many gifts we must look through the eyes of those who are deprived of them.
Dear God, remind me constantly to be grateful for everything which I have.
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” ~Cynthia Ozick, American short story writer, novelist, essayist (b1928)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
I sat in the late afternoon shade of our patio staring at the oleander in the corner of our back yard. Though it was dead and void of greenery it was captivating. The intricacy, texture, complexity and even the relatively dull colors had captured me. Teresa waited patiently for me to return my attention to the conversation we had been having over our evening meal. Between the anesthetic fog, and the results of the surgery, I had been distracted most of the day; staring at things for prolonged periods.
At 7:30 that morning I had been wheeled into a small surgical theater. Draped, drugged and at the mercy of the gowned specialists swirling around me in a precise ballet of preparation. They had marked an ‘R’ over my right eye so the doctor knew which one to repair. I giggled to myself wondering if they had marked my shoes in a similar fashion.
“Are you comfortable” the lady with the shower cap asked. “Uh huh” I managed to respond. In what seemed like moments I heard a disembodied voice, “It looks good” and something like drapery was pulled from around my face. The room I had entered feet first I was now exiting head first. Another shower cap & gown bedecked person was helping me sit up and offering me water or coffee. No contest there: “Coffee please.” I needed to wake up.
During my brief period of “twilight sleep” the surgeon had used a laser to make a tiny incision in my right eye. My existing lens, replete with a large ripe cataract, was obliterated using ultrasonic vibrations then vacuumed away. A new artificial lens was slipped into place through the same incision and seated where the old one had been. The result? I now had 20/20 vision, uncorrected (which in and of itself is an oxymoron).
After several years of dimming sight and gradually increasing difficulty with everything requiring my vision I now saw the world anew; literally through a different set of eyes. And so I stared at the oleander, at everything; reconnecting with what I had missed.
“You never know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone” (Bob Dylan’s “Big Yellow Taxi”). We often take things, like our sight or our health, for granted, simply because they are always there. It is, therefore, scarcity, not abundance which makes us aware of and grateful for the many gifts we are given each day. When the gifts we receive from God become expected however, we no longer perceive them as gifts and in turn cease to be grateful for them.
Most of us wake each morning expecting to have a roof over our heads, food on the table, fresh water on tap, a job to go to and a car to get us there. As our wealth and possessions grow so do our expectations and our gratitude, in turn, diminishes. Have you ever said to someone, “I need a new car” or “a new television” or “a new laptop”? But do we really “need” it or is it our expectations talking? We can easily become a kind of possession junky, requiring more and more stuff to satiate our self.
Some years ago Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis made a very generous financial gift to a charity. When she presented the check she remarked offhandedly, “I wish I could give you more, but I’m not that rich.” Jackie Onassis? “Not that rich???” Yet, in her frame of reference, she was not that rich simple because her expectations of what were necessities were so high. Expectations become entitlements and blind us to God’s gifts.
This, in some ways, explains why the poor sometimes seem to be more grateful than the rich. Logically more gifts should generate more gratitude, but it actually operates in the reverse: the more scarcity the greater the gratitude.
One way to prevent being anesthetized by our possessions is to do “charity work”. This does not mean writing more checks, rather it means donating more time, volunteering. Volunteerism is a simple way of reconnecting ourselves with scarcity; with need. It is a way for us to experience poverty, illness, homelessness, unemployment, aging, even death on a first hand basis and often without risk. It gives us the opportunity to see reality through the eyes of another. It resets our expectations to more reasonable levels and allows us to be grateful again.
Though I had experienced blindness, thanks to modern technology I was never really in danger of being blind, and yet I have a renewed joy in being sighted. It is common for people who do a lot of volunteer work to remark, “I get more out of it than I put into it.” This comes, not only from the joy of helping others, but from the recognition of the many gifts we have and a renewed gratitude for having received them. If we are to avoid being blinded by our many gifts we must look through the eyes of those who are deprived of them.
Dear God, remind me constantly to be grateful for everything which I have.
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” ~Cynthia Ozick, American short story writer, novelist, essayist (b1928)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wake Up!
“Live in the present and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering.” ~source unknown
The atmosphere was filled with energy and old memories…some good…some not so good. Even though the place had been renovated since the last time I had been there it felt the same...the same substantive, speckled terrazzo floor beneath my feet…the same cold wash from the banks of fluorescent lights…the same long glass display cases full of trophies. There I stood, at the intersection of two hallways, in the nerve center of the High School from which I had graduated nearly four decades before. I had returned to share in a Memorial Day weekend of reunions, retirements and reminiscing.
It had been a weekend I had approached with anticipation, but now I wasn’t so sure. Some of the old angst and awkwardness was starting to creep back in. Only moments before I had clumsily extricated myself from a conversation in which I unsuccessfully tried to bluff my way around admitting I didn’t recognize someone. The attempt had been, needless to say, a disaster and left me feeling unsure of myself.
Now engaged in a more comfortable conversation with another “alumnus,” who was sharing a humorous story about one of our classmates, I was regaining some of my composure. The punch line to the story was truly funny and we shared a good laugh together. In the momentary pause between the cessation of the laughter and the resumption of the conversation came a voice from behind me. “Jim? Jim Carper?” I turned and came face to face with someone I had not seen for thirty eight years. Debbie looked at me for only an instant. “Jim, I knew that was you.” “I recognized you by your laugh!”
Amongst the famous and the infamous, Barbara Walters once interviewed television actor, James Garner. Her final question of the interview was, “How do you want to be remembered?” Without hesitation he responded, “With a smile.”
How will our voice be remembered? Will it be strident with aggression? Will it be muted with neglect or self absorption? Will it be remembered because the only pronouns we used were me, myself and I? Or, perhaps our voice will never be remembered because our possessions left so strong an impression our personae disappeared in the glare.
We leave a wake in the world, just as surly as a Chris-Craft gliding through a busy harbor or a stone cast into the mirror-like surface of a pond; we leave ripples, wakes and waves in the world. This lingering resonance is the consequence of living our lives. Short of complete seclusion none of us can pass through life without consequence…without leaving our mark, temporary though it may be. Even choosing to do nothing has its affect. Our wake is unavoidable and we are stewards of those reverberations. This wake of ours can gently rock others, caress them, comfort them. Or, it can be dissonant; disturbing others, jostling them; capsizing their lives.
Surprisingly, to be stewards of our own wake, to leave the best possible resonance in the world, we must do so by caring for the present; the here and now. After all, our wake, what we leave behind, is simply the reverberations of our present actions …of what breaks upon our bow today as we forge ahead through life.
What will the resonance of today’s actions look like when later we glance over our shoulder? Will our life be a nurturing resonance, like water lapping on the shore or will it break across the lives of others like a wave swamping a helpless boat. Whatever it is, it will be determined by the decisions we make and the actions we take right here, right now.
Dear God, if people only remember me by one thing, let it be the resonance of my laughter.
“Looking back you realize a very special person passed briefly through your life – and it was you. It is not too late to find that person again.” ~Robert Brault, identified as software writer and poet.
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
The atmosphere was filled with energy and old memories…some good…some not so good. Even though the place had been renovated since the last time I had been there it felt the same...the same substantive, speckled terrazzo floor beneath my feet…the same cold wash from the banks of fluorescent lights…the same long glass display cases full of trophies. There I stood, at the intersection of two hallways, in the nerve center of the High School from which I had graduated nearly four decades before. I had returned to share in a Memorial Day weekend of reunions, retirements and reminiscing.
It had been a weekend I had approached with anticipation, but now I wasn’t so sure. Some of the old angst and awkwardness was starting to creep back in. Only moments before I had clumsily extricated myself from a conversation in which I unsuccessfully tried to bluff my way around admitting I didn’t recognize someone. The attempt had been, needless to say, a disaster and left me feeling unsure of myself.
Now engaged in a more comfortable conversation with another “alumnus,” who was sharing a humorous story about one of our classmates, I was regaining some of my composure. The punch line to the story was truly funny and we shared a good laugh together. In the momentary pause between the cessation of the laughter and the resumption of the conversation came a voice from behind me. “Jim? Jim Carper?” I turned and came face to face with someone I had not seen for thirty eight years. Debbie looked at me for only an instant. “Jim, I knew that was you.” “I recognized you by your laugh!”
Amongst the famous and the infamous, Barbara Walters once interviewed television actor, James Garner. Her final question of the interview was, “How do you want to be remembered?” Without hesitation he responded, “With a smile.”
How will our voice be remembered? Will it be strident with aggression? Will it be muted with neglect or self absorption? Will it be remembered because the only pronouns we used were me, myself and I? Or, perhaps our voice will never be remembered because our possessions left so strong an impression our personae disappeared in the glare.
We leave a wake in the world, just as surly as a Chris-Craft gliding through a busy harbor or a stone cast into the mirror-like surface of a pond; we leave ripples, wakes and waves in the world. This lingering resonance is the consequence of living our lives. Short of complete seclusion none of us can pass through life without consequence…without leaving our mark, temporary though it may be. Even choosing to do nothing has its affect. Our wake is unavoidable and we are stewards of those reverberations. This wake of ours can gently rock others, caress them, comfort them. Or, it can be dissonant; disturbing others, jostling them; capsizing their lives.
Surprisingly, to be stewards of our own wake, to leave the best possible resonance in the world, we must do so by caring for the present; the here and now. After all, our wake, what we leave behind, is simply the reverberations of our present actions …of what breaks upon our bow today as we forge ahead through life.
What will the resonance of today’s actions look like when later we glance over our shoulder? Will our life be a nurturing resonance, like water lapping on the shore or will it break across the lives of others like a wave swamping a helpless boat. Whatever it is, it will be determined by the decisions we make and the actions we take right here, right now.
Dear God, if people only remember me by one thing, let it be the resonance of my laughter.
“Looking back you realize a very special person passed briefly through your life – and it was you. It is not too late to find that person again.” ~Robert Brault, identified as software writer and poet.
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The Sharpest Tool?
“No one can whistle a symphony. It takes an orchestra to play it.” ~ H.E. Luccock, Homiletics professor, Yale Divinity School and author (1885-1960)
Ryan invited his friends over to “talk shop”. They were all gamers. "Game speak" was their language and they loved talking the techno talk. Ryan, Marshal, Efran and Chad were deeply engrossed in discussion about “Marston”, the seemingly ambivalent, former outlaw hero of “Red Dead Redemption,” when Ryan’s father wandered into the kitchen. He quietly opened the refrigerator door, extracted the ice tea pitcher and poured himself a glass. Leaning against the granite counter top, Ryan’s dad sipped his tea, casually listening to the animated discussion.
Chad, who had been holding forth on a particular point, with which no one was agreeing, suddenly turned to the father; “What do you think of ‘Red Dead Redemption’ Mr. Carper?” he asked suddenly. Ryan’s dad put his glass down and considered the question for a moment. “I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he responded finally. “But then again, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed either,” he concluded, taking another sip of tea. Chad thought for a moment. “It really doesn’t matter if you’re the sharpest tool in the shed,” replied Chad…“As long as you’re the hammer!”
A well stocked tool box holds many tools for many purposes: measuring, cutting, squaring, marking, attaching, and even clamping (holding things together). It would be nearly impossible to build a structure with only one tool. Likewise it is impossible to build a world with people who all share the same skill (gift) or skill set (set of gifts). We are all occupants of God’s tool box, each gifted with our own set of unique skills, each of us with a purpose in this world; a purpose which is blended with the purposes of others.
Unfortunately, being “gifted” has come to be confused with being superior: possessing skills or skill levels greater than those of others, particularly in the areas of intelligence and sports. A well meaning elementary school psychologist once remarked she was very sorry our our child wasn’t gifted. Rather our child was “highly socialized with an above average vocabulary.” “Aren’t those gifts too?” my wife asked innocently.
Every one of us is uniquely gifted and, as such we are all necessary to this world. Yet, we seek affiliation rather than cooperation. When we build organizations, when we create committees, even when we choose our friends we seek “belonging” by gravitating to those who share similar skills or interests. When choosing friends this simply guarantees we will never be challenged and life will be very “same old, same old,” but with organizations it can be a road to ruin.
If a committee is made up of “planners” nothing will ever be implemented. If it is comprised of creative types, great ideas will be proposed, but no plan of action will ever be determined. A committee of implementers will be constantly implementing, but with no plan of attack and without the likelihood of ever finishing. Unfortunately, such a situation will often feel very comfortable because everyone is happily doing what they like to do.
God gifted us all differently and uniquely for a reason. We are part of a much bigger plan and so are those around us. It may seem somewhat counter intuitive, but we can accomplish much more when we work with those who are gifted differently, who share different perspectives, than those whose gifts are similar to ours. A tool box filled with saws, or heaped with hammers, or comprised totally of tape measures is useless in the long run. Yet we tend to build our lives and our organizations around a desire for affiliation, rather than a need for diversity.
Either we have to be like everyone else or everyone else has to be like us. Not only is this approach ineffective, it is down right dull. Harmony comes from many different tones, not the same tone. God gifted us all differently with the intention of us working together, compensating for one another and, in so doing, building a better world. It matters not if we are a hammer, a saw or even a “square”.
Dear God: Remind me daily that “none of us is as smart as all of us” (Ken Blanchard).
“Synergy is the highest activity of life; it creates new untapped alternatives; it values and exploits the mental, emotional, and psychological differences between people.” ~Stephen Covey, author, speaker, professor, consultant (b1932)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Ryan invited his friends over to “talk shop”. They were all gamers. "Game speak" was their language and they loved talking the techno talk. Ryan, Marshal, Efran and Chad were deeply engrossed in discussion about “Marston”, the seemingly ambivalent, former outlaw hero of “Red Dead Redemption,” when Ryan’s father wandered into the kitchen. He quietly opened the refrigerator door, extracted the ice tea pitcher and poured himself a glass. Leaning against the granite counter top, Ryan’s dad sipped his tea, casually listening to the animated discussion.
Chad, who had been holding forth on a particular point, with which no one was agreeing, suddenly turned to the father; “What do you think of ‘Red Dead Redemption’ Mr. Carper?” he asked suddenly. Ryan’s dad put his glass down and considered the question for a moment. “I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he responded finally. “But then again, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed either,” he concluded, taking another sip of tea. Chad thought for a moment. “It really doesn’t matter if you’re the sharpest tool in the shed,” replied Chad…“As long as you’re the hammer!”
A well stocked tool box holds many tools for many purposes: measuring, cutting, squaring, marking, attaching, and even clamping (holding things together). It would be nearly impossible to build a structure with only one tool. Likewise it is impossible to build a world with people who all share the same skill (gift) or skill set (set of gifts). We are all occupants of God’s tool box, each gifted with our own set of unique skills, each of us with a purpose in this world; a purpose which is blended with the purposes of others.
Unfortunately, being “gifted” has come to be confused with being superior: possessing skills or skill levels greater than those of others, particularly in the areas of intelligence and sports. A well meaning elementary school psychologist once remarked she was very sorry our our child wasn’t gifted. Rather our child was “highly socialized with an above average vocabulary.” “Aren’t those gifts too?” my wife asked innocently.
Every one of us is uniquely gifted and, as such we are all necessary to this world. Yet, we seek affiliation rather than cooperation. When we build organizations, when we create committees, even when we choose our friends we seek “belonging” by gravitating to those who share similar skills or interests. When choosing friends this simply guarantees we will never be challenged and life will be very “same old, same old,” but with organizations it can be a road to ruin.
If a committee is made up of “planners” nothing will ever be implemented. If it is comprised of creative types, great ideas will be proposed, but no plan of action will ever be determined. A committee of implementers will be constantly implementing, but with no plan of attack and without the likelihood of ever finishing. Unfortunately, such a situation will often feel very comfortable because everyone is happily doing what they like to do.
God gifted us all differently and uniquely for a reason. We are part of a much bigger plan and so are those around us. It may seem somewhat counter intuitive, but we can accomplish much more when we work with those who are gifted differently, who share different perspectives, than those whose gifts are similar to ours. A tool box filled with saws, or heaped with hammers, or comprised totally of tape measures is useless in the long run. Yet we tend to build our lives and our organizations around a desire for affiliation, rather than a need for diversity.
Either we have to be like everyone else or everyone else has to be like us. Not only is this approach ineffective, it is down right dull. Harmony comes from many different tones, not the same tone. God gifted us all differently with the intention of us working together, compensating for one another and, in so doing, building a better world. It matters not if we are a hammer, a saw or even a “square”.
Dear God: Remind me daily that “none of us is as smart as all of us” (Ken Blanchard).
“Synergy is the highest activity of life; it creates new untapped alternatives; it values and exploits the mental, emotional, and psychological differences between people.” ~Stephen Covey, author, speaker, professor, consultant (b1932)
© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the ”© 2010 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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