“I know there is strength in the differences between us. I know there is comfort where we overlap.” ~Ani DiFranco, American singer, song writer and guitarist (b. 1970)
We walked up the jet-way and into the terminal in Frankfort, Germany only to be greeted by a line. Anyone who travels by air knows lines are to be expected in airports: Ticket lines, security lines, even lines for the bathrooms. This line was different. Normally one walks out of the plane into the concourse and then on to the restrooms, the next departure gate or baggage claim area before encountering the next “line”. This line however, was smack dab in the middle of the concourse.
Standing on tip toe I could see the line bent to the left, terminating at a group of three, very official looking, glass boxes. Inside each was a very official looking immigration agent, dressed in a starched, button down shirt, replete with epaulets and brass buttons. All three agents sat bolt upright in their swivel chairs.
Never underestimate the Germans when it comes to formality.
Though the line was long it moved with smooth swiftness and efficiency separating into three smaller lines as we approached the glass cells. Finally, it was our turn. Teresa and I dutifully handed over our passports, already opened to the page with our picture. The agent smiled briefly when I greeted him in German, but without breaking stride, he rhythmically scanned the documents, compared our pictures to our faces and summarily stamping each one. “Have a safe trip,” he said stolidly.
Never underestimate the Germans when it comes to efficiency either.
To our surprise, our departure gate was only short walk past the security barrier we had just negotiated. In fact, we never left the concourse in which we had arrived. “What was that all about,” we wondered?
Three hours later we found ourselves “boots on the ground” in Leonardo De Vinci airport in Rome… standing in another line. This time, however, we were waiting for our luggage. The Tour Director, Luigi (no joke, his name was Luigi), had greeted us as we entered the baggage claim area. “Itsa gonna take a little time for your bags to come,” he had said. “You’re in Italia now.”
We were not quite sure what his inference meant, but he was right. The bags were slow in coming and when they did finally appear, it was only a few at a time. With agonizing slowness they came. Plop…plop…plop. They slid from an opening above down onto the slow moving conveyor.
“We still have to get through customs and immigration,” I muttered under my breath to Teresa. The three bags we checked arrived on the conveyor one at a time…four to five minutes apart.
Finally, with all our luggage in hand, we headed for the exit doors. Our passports in hand we were prepared to show them to the Italian immigration officials. Clearing the doorways we turned to our right and headed up a wide ramp. To our surprise we were in the main part of the terminal; no guards, no gates, no nada. Confused we stopped.
“Is something a wrong?” came Luigi’s voice from behind us. “We were expecting an immigration check point,” I explained still looking around. “There’s a no check point.” When you came through Frankfort the Germans did that for us.” “We have, how you say, an arrangement,” he said with a smile.
Tucking our passports in our jackets and adjusting our luggage we followed Luigi the rest of the way up the ramp. “I don’t lika their food, but when it comes to security the Germans are primo,” Luigi exclaimed, as we headed for the exterior doors and the busses waiting outside.
“Birds of a feather flock together.”
It is true, most of us tend to affiliate with those who are much like us; those who share our tastes, our interests, our personality type, and most importantly, our world view. In doing so it provides us with a certain comfort level. It minimizes conflict and, since everyone with whom we associate agrees with us, it gives us surety we are right about most things. They give us a comfort level because they seem to affirm the way we are, is the way we should be, and everyone else should be.
This provides us with a false sense of stability in our lives. But, because a boat is not rocking, it doesn’t mean that it’s not sinking. God made us different and gifted us differently for a reason.
The people we need in our lives are often those who are unlike us in some ways. Those who are gifted differently do not appear in our lives to identify our short comings. Rather, they are there to provide us with additional strengths…strengths we don’t personally possess. Because they see the world differently they provide us with a kind of communal peripheral vision.
Rather than hiding amidst a crowd of sameness, we need to surround ourselves with the people who are good at the things we are not. Who see the world much differently than we do. The Germans may thrive on security and organization, but they are sometimes a bit too serious. The Italians may be passionate, with a wonderful cuisine yet can be somewhat disorganized at times. Though their cultures are very different by working together they filled in the gaps for one another.
Birds of a feather may flock together, but it doesn’t mean, in so doing, they are productive...just comfortable. Different gifts serve different purposes.
There is a strong message here for those of us who work with ministries, councils, committees or boards. Our tendency is to work toward gaining consensus. The easiest way to do so is to have a committee filled with members who all think alike. Such an approach is a recipe for failure, or at best, mediocrity. (A recipe with one ingredient isn’t a very good recipe.)
Leaders need followers, planners need implementers, and dreamers need pragmatists. We all need complementary personalities in our lives to make us whole even when it comes to spouses.
We are called to seek out those, not who are like us, but those who are unlike us…who have gifts we don’t. Who see the world differently. Whether we are talking about countries, committees or even courtship we must look for those who complete us. It is not a matter of being right or wrong; it is a matter of blending the different gifts God has given each of us.
Dear God: Teach me to embrace the differences in others so that together we may be whole.
“Much of the vitality in a friendship lies in the honoring of differences, not simply in the enjoyment of similarities.” ~ Father James Fredericks, PhD., Associate Professor, Loyola Marymount University
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Be Prepared
“Do not go gentle into that good night. Old age should burn and rage at close of day.” ~ Dylan Thomas, Welsh poet & writer (1915-1953)
Her eyes danced with enthusiasm beneath her wire-rimmed spectacles. The glasses bespoke a person much older than the one with whom I was conversing. Everything about her seemed incongruous. Quick, elegant gestures were out of sync with her drapery-like clothes. The articulate animated conversation sounded like it should be coming from the CEO of the latest tech company, not the willowy figure before me.
I tried to focus on the conversation, but I couldn’t help being bemused by the image of the person in contrast to the way in which she presented herself. Her dazzling white starched head piece, high collar coupled with the long brown habit of a Carmelite Sister had me a bit off balance. When she spoke however, she spoke with such enthusiasm and conviction I could not help but listen.
We were standing in the garden of a reception villa on the outskirts of Rome. Archbishop José Gomez had been honored at a Mass in St Peter’s Basilica that morning, and now our group of over 300 was celebrating. Mother Regina Marie, the Mother General of the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart, had engaged me in conversation regarding her Order’s latest project. The Carmelite Sisters run care facilities such as Marycrest Manor and Santa Teresita in Alhambra, California. They were building more units to house those for whom they care.
“We care for people during the most important part of their life,” she continued. For a moment I remembered my High School graduation. Our Superintendent of schools had made a similar comment in his commencement address. “These years are the most important years of your lives,” he had said with conviction.
Such a statement might have been wasted on a group of adolescent teenagers, but spoken in reference to an age group, many of which were in skilled nursing, palliative or hospice care, seemed as incongruous as the person in front of me.
“Sister, I’m not doubting you, but how could the years or months spent at the end of life, probably in declining health and being cared for most of the time, be the best years of anyone’s life?” “Essentially, we’re spending it preparing to die.”
“Exactly!” she exclaimed, gesturing with a pointed finger. “What could be more important than the time we spend preparing to meet God?” Her logic was unassailable.
“To every CEO, business owner or project manager I have ever met I have put the same question: when are you most attentive to a project, a new product or a new campaign; and they always have the same answer: ‘Right at the very end!’ Just before it launches, is rolled out, or goes into production!”
At this point she had me hooked; I couldn’t help but listen. “How is what I do any different? The people I care for are at the end of the project we call life. I need to help them ‘finish their project!’”
The call to dinner came unexpectedly. We quickly exchanged business cards and bid each other goodbye, promising to reconnect. “I must go,” she said with a smile. “I’m supposed to sit with the Cardinal.” She disappeared in a rustle of dark brown cloth and starched white linen.
The great spiritualist, St. Ignatius, once quipped that “All life is a preparation for death.” To us, members of the 21st century world, there seems to be a kind of morbidity in this thinking. We think we should be living life “to its fullest” rather than spending it preparing for death. To us death is a terminus rather than a point of departure.
Perhaps therein lies the problem. We spend our lives trying to build a successful life rather than preparing for a successful death. Struggling to survive each of a succession of days, we ignore the journey to our next “jumping off” point.
When we leave on a long trip, we take care to make sure we are well prepared and the things we leave behind are cared for (our house, our pets, perhaps even an elderly relative for which we are responsible). We put time and effort into those preparations to assure “the trip” is everything we hope for. If we take this much time preparing for a trip of a few weeks duration, how much more carefully should we prepare for our trip into the afterlife?
Each day we would do well to ask ourselves Mother Regina Marie's question: “What could be more important than the time we spend preparing to meet God?”
Dear God: What can I do today to prepare for my death?
“Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of the full expectancy of life. Without an ever- present sense of death life is insipid.” ~Muriel Spark, award winning Scottish novelist (1918-2006)
*Special thanks to the Mother General, Mother Regina Marie O.C.D. and the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Her eyes danced with enthusiasm beneath her wire-rimmed spectacles. The glasses bespoke a person much older than the one with whom I was conversing. Everything about her seemed incongruous. Quick, elegant gestures were out of sync with her drapery-like clothes. The articulate animated conversation sounded like it should be coming from the CEO of the latest tech company, not the willowy figure before me.
I tried to focus on the conversation, but I couldn’t help being bemused by the image of the person in contrast to the way in which she presented herself. Her dazzling white starched head piece, high collar coupled with the long brown habit of a Carmelite Sister had me a bit off balance. When she spoke however, she spoke with such enthusiasm and conviction I could not help but listen.
We were standing in the garden of a reception villa on the outskirts of Rome. Archbishop José Gomez had been honored at a Mass in St Peter’s Basilica that morning, and now our group of over 300 was celebrating. Mother Regina Marie, the Mother General of the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart, had engaged me in conversation regarding her Order’s latest project. The Carmelite Sisters run care facilities such as Marycrest Manor and Santa Teresita in Alhambra, California. They were building more units to house those for whom they care.
“We care for people during the most important part of their life,” she continued. For a moment I remembered my High School graduation. Our Superintendent of schools had made a similar comment in his commencement address. “These years are the most important years of your lives,” he had said with conviction.
Such a statement might have been wasted on a group of adolescent teenagers, but spoken in reference to an age group, many of which were in skilled nursing, palliative or hospice care, seemed as incongruous as the person in front of me.
“Sister, I’m not doubting you, but how could the years or months spent at the end of life, probably in declining health and being cared for most of the time, be the best years of anyone’s life?” “Essentially, we’re spending it preparing to die.”
“Exactly!” she exclaimed, gesturing with a pointed finger. “What could be more important than the time we spend preparing to meet God?” Her logic was unassailable.
“To every CEO, business owner or project manager I have ever met I have put the same question: when are you most attentive to a project, a new product or a new campaign; and they always have the same answer: ‘Right at the very end!’ Just before it launches, is rolled out, or goes into production!”
At this point she had me hooked; I couldn’t help but listen. “How is what I do any different? The people I care for are at the end of the project we call life. I need to help them ‘finish their project!’”
The call to dinner came unexpectedly. We quickly exchanged business cards and bid each other goodbye, promising to reconnect. “I must go,” she said with a smile. “I’m supposed to sit with the Cardinal.” She disappeared in a rustle of dark brown cloth and starched white linen.
The great spiritualist, St. Ignatius, once quipped that “All life is a preparation for death.” To us, members of the 21st century world, there seems to be a kind of morbidity in this thinking. We think we should be living life “to its fullest” rather than spending it preparing for death. To us death is a terminus rather than a point of departure.
Perhaps therein lies the problem. We spend our lives trying to build a successful life rather than preparing for a successful death. Struggling to survive each of a succession of days, we ignore the journey to our next “jumping off” point.
When we leave on a long trip, we take care to make sure we are well prepared and the things we leave behind are cared for (our house, our pets, perhaps even an elderly relative for which we are responsible). We put time and effort into those preparations to assure “the trip” is everything we hope for. If we take this much time preparing for a trip of a few weeks duration, how much more carefully should we prepare for our trip into the afterlife?
Each day we would do well to ask ourselves Mother Regina Marie's question: “What could be more important than the time we spend preparing to meet God?”
Dear God: What can I do today to prepare for my death?
“Death, when it approaches, ought not to take one by surprise. It should be part of the full expectancy of life. Without an ever- present sense of death life is insipid.” ~Muriel Spark, award winning Scottish novelist (1918-2006)
*Special thanks to the Mother General, Mother Regina Marie O.C.D. and the Carmelite Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Trial Separation
“Humor is merely tragedy standing on its head with its pants torn.” ~Irvin S. Cobb, American author, humorist and columnist (1876-1944)
As I stepped under the barricade I felt the seam in the center of my dress pants separate. There was no tearing sound so the stitching must have simply given way I thought. I race walked to the Men’s Room to assess the damage. With less than twenty minutes to start time there was no possibility of repair and no time to turn back.
I twisted back and forth in front of the men’s room mirror like a teenage girl checking the length of her skirt. My purpose was similar – checking to see what you could see and what you couldn’t. Fortunately, my dress jacket seemed to be sufficiently masking my unexpected “wardrobe malfunction.” I washed my hands and headed back upstairs to the main floor in search of my wife.
Teresa was in the middle of a lively conversation. Interrupting, I hastily motioned her over and explained the situation. She too discreetly checked for telltale signs of undergarments and, finding none, pronounced me presentable. A moment later the heads-up call was given. We pulled our banner from its stand and proceeded up the side aisle to the back. Teresa tarried slightly behind, surreptitiously checking my derrière one last time for adequate coverage.
We were the last of four couples in the procession, each of us leading a group to the front. The opening procession began. I nervously watched each group pass by then turning to proceed down the aisle. Finally it was our turn. With a sigh of resignation, I hoisted the banner into the air and we headed down the center aisle of Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral with 3000 congregants looking on.
At first, I was concerned I was about to be irreparably embarrassed, but then I noticed people were smiling, nodding in our direction and some even waving. Cameras were being pointed toward us. This was turning out to be somewhat gratifying. On the other hand, why were we suddenly the center of attention?
Then it hit me. Glancing quickly over my shoulder, I realized the Archbishop was immediately behind us. He was the center of attention, not us. We reached the altar, wheeled to our left, and headed for our seats at the back of the seating area.
Three hours later, the Deaconate Ordination Mass ended. It was time to process out the way we had come in. I was again concerned that my clothing issue might be noticed. Again we were the last of the four banner bearers. Each of the three couples peeled off and headed up the aisle on cue until it was finally our turn. If they had not noticed my clothing “problem” on the way in, surely they would notice on the way out.
Then to my surprise, I realized the order of egress had changed slightly. Instead of the Archbishop following us out, this time, we were following him. There was no one behind us. With the congregants’ heads turning to follow the Archbishop, no one was focused on us. Together, Teresa and I gracefully processed up the aisle around the corner and out of sight.
Most of us want big miracles in our lives. We want seas parted or, at the very least, walked across; we want thousands fed by bread seemingly created from nothing and people miraculously healed or, better yet, returned from the dead. In short, we expect life’s great obstacles to be laid low just for us, like Jesus telling the Sea of Galilee to be still.
In First Corinthians 1: 22, the Apostle Paul chides his audience for exactly the same kind of thinking: “For indeed Jews ask for signs and Greeks search for wisdom.” Like the Corinthians, we crave demonstrations and explanations.
God, on the other hand, operates within the mundane world of the everyday and often with a sense of humor. He is constantly present to us. And, if we take the time to be both introspective and retrospective, we can find His subtle hand in everything we do.
The day my pants “parted” at the Cathedral, I had been looking forward to being in the opening procession with anticipation. It was a low-risk position, with high visibility. It was attention-laden, but with minimal responsibility. My pleasure at getting some attention however was quickly replaced by a desire for anonymity. In a moment I went from wishing to be noticed to hoping I wouldn’t be.
My prayers were quickly answered and with a subtle lesson attached. Quite simply, I was far better off not getting attention than being the center of it. Appropriately and even symbolically the attention went to a representative of our faith…the Archbishop.
Part of a disciple’s response is coming to the realization that God touches us in a thousand different ways every day. It is not God flattening mountains and filling in valleys to make our way level and straight which will make the difference in our lives. Rather it is our eyes being opened and our hearts being touched which will save us.
We no longer need to be the center of attention when God becomes the center of our attention.
Dear God: You are the center of my life.
“Self-importance requires that one spend most of one's life offended by something or someone.” ~Don Juan, legendary fictional character
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
As I stepped under the barricade I felt the seam in the center of my dress pants separate. There was no tearing sound so the stitching must have simply given way I thought. I race walked to the Men’s Room to assess the damage. With less than twenty minutes to start time there was no possibility of repair and no time to turn back.
I twisted back and forth in front of the men’s room mirror like a teenage girl checking the length of her skirt. My purpose was similar – checking to see what you could see and what you couldn’t. Fortunately, my dress jacket seemed to be sufficiently masking my unexpected “wardrobe malfunction.” I washed my hands and headed back upstairs to the main floor in search of my wife.
Teresa was in the middle of a lively conversation. Interrupting, I hastily motioned her over and explained the situation. She too discreetly checked for telltale signs of undergarments and, finding none, pronounced me presentable. A moment later the heads-up call was given. We pulled our banner from its stand and proceeded up the side aisle to the back. Teresa tarried slightly behind, surreptitiously checking my derrière one last time for adequate coverage.
We were the last of four couples in the procession, each of us leading a group to the front. The opening procession began. I nervously watched each group pass by then turning to proceed down the aisle. Finally it was our turn. With a sigh of resignation, I hoisted the banner into the air and we headed down the center aisle of Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral with 3000 congregants looking on.
At first, I was concerned I was about to be irreparably embarrassed, but then I noticed people were smiling, nodding in our direction and some even waving. Cameras were being pointed toward us. This was turning out to be somewhat gratifying. On the other hand, why were we suddenly the center of attention?
Then it hit me. Glancing quickly over my shoulder, I realized the Archbishop was immediately behind us. He was the center of attention, not us. We reached the altar, wheeled to our left, and headed for our seats at the back of the seating area.
Three hours later, the Deaconate Ordination Mass ended. It was time to process out the way we had come in. I was again concerned that my clothing issue might be noticed. Again we were the last of the four banner bearers. Each of the three couples peeled off and headed up the aisle on cue until it was finally our turn. If they had not noticed my clothing “problem” on the way in, surely they would notice on the way out.
Then to my surprise, I realized the order of egress had changed slightly. Instead of the Archbishop following us out, this time, we were following him. There was no one behind us. With the congregants’ heads turning to follow the Archbishop, no one was focused on us. Together, Teresa and I gracefully processed up the aisle around the corner and out of sight.
Most of us want big miracles in our lives. We want seas parted or, at the very least, walked across; we want thousands fed by bread seemingly created from nothing and people miraculously healed or, better yet, returned from the dead. In short, we expect life’s great obstacles to be laid low just for us, like Jesus telling the Sea of Galilee to be still.
In First Corinthians 1: 22, the Apostle Paul chides his audience for exactly the same kind of thinking: “For indeed Jews ask for signs and Greeks search for wisdom.” Like the Corinthians, we crave demonstrations and explanations.
God, on the other hand, operates within the mundane world of the everyday and often with a sense of humor. He is constantly present to us. And, if we take the time to be both introspective and retrospective, we can find His subtle hand in everything we do.
The day my pants “parted” at the Cathedral, I had been looking forward to being in the opening procession with anticipation. It was a low-risk position, with high visibility. It was attention-laden, but with minimal responsibility. My pleasure at getting some attention however was quickly replaced by a desire for anonymity. In a moment I went from wishing to be noticed to hoping I wouldn’t be.
My prayers were quickly answered and with a subtle lesson attached. Quite simply, I was far better off not getting attention than being the center of it. Appropriately and even symbolically the attention went to a representative of our faith…the Archbishop.
Part of a disciple’s response is coming to the realization that God touches us in a thousand different ways every day. It is not God flattening mountains and filling in valleys to make our way level and straight which will make the difference in our lives. Rather it is our eyes being opened and our hearts being touched which will save us.
We no longer need to be the center of attention when God becomes the center of our attention.
Dear God: You are the center of my life.
“Self-importance requires that one spend most of one's life offended by something or someone.” ~Don Juan, legendary fictional character
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Full Participation
“Work joyfully and peacefully, knowing that right thoughts and right efforts inevitably bring about right results.” ~ James Allen, British philosophical writer (1864-1912)
I had spent the better part of a month working on the project. The power point and excel spreadsheet, which would accompany the presentation, had required a full week of work. Now the day had come for the presentation. I was as nervous a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Except, around this table sat executives not rocking chairs. One could almost smell the stench of corporate politics in the air.
My boss, a senior vice president and a savvy corporate politician in his own right, gave me and the project a brief introduction. Now I was on my own. I was barely through the title slide when the onslought of questions began. Some were things I would cover later on in the presentation, some were unanticipated and some seemed to come from beyond left field.
All too quickly my well planned presentation degenerated into a verbal free-for-all of questions, objections and suggestions. The excel spreadsheet I had so painstakingly created was “toast” within 10 minutes. Different information, different formatting even a different font and font size were requested. It felt like I was digging a trench in a sand dune. The harder I worked the faster it back-filled.
50 minutes later, it was over. The Execs filed out telling jokes and making lunch plans. I stood there staring at my laptop as if it had betrayed me somehow. My boss came up beside me unnoticed. When I finally sensed his presence I turned to face him. “That went well,” I sighed sarcastically. “Actually, it did,” he replied with a grin. “I got totally leveled!” I exclaimed. “They completely changed everything.”
“Did you really expect this group would accept everything you presented carte blanche?” I looked at him blankly. “You couldn’t possibly have foreseen every objection, anticipated every question and guessed what they might be thinking; you don’t know their operations, their blind spots or what problems they may be facing.”
“But, I thought that was my job.” I sighed. “This was a test balloon” he continued. If we were going into production tomorrow it would be different.” “As it is, we are off to a great start, with lots of options, ideas and alternatives.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Rue the day when the only alternatives you have are you own.” “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”
In our modern culture we are conditioned to win, to be right all the time, to be in control and to make all the right moves. It is as if life was a game show and to win we have to have all the right answers. Real life doesn’t operate like that though the media would have us believe it does.
Being right all the time is overrated and having all the right answers is unrealistic. The right answer today may be the wrong answer tomorrow. We now know the “food pyramid” of the fifties, full of red meat and cholesterol laden foods, was a death sentence. Physicians, at one time, publicly endorsed various brands of cigarettes. Things change. So do the answers.
Does this mean most of us should step back and let a few gifted people make all the decisions? In point of fact, life has little to do with “product” and a lot to do with “process”. This does not mean results are not important, but their pursuit at the cost of everything else can leave us wallowing in self pity and doubt.
The day I walked into that conference room I thought I had to have everything figured out and all the right answers to all the questions…even those from left field. My boss knew my preparations were only a platform for discussion, a place to start, a peg in the sand. I had not labored in vain, but I eventually realized I had simply created the foundation, not built the building.
As good stewards of our time we are called to full and active participation in life and in so doing we improve the quality of life for others. Understanding what this participation means is the key. It is part of a much greater process. This form of humble participation can still provide beneficial results, but without the pressure of always having the right answer and the guilt when we do not.
Dear God: Remind me I am called to full and active participation.
“Results! Why, man, I have gotten a lot of results. I know several thousand things that won't work.” ~Thomas A. Edison, American inventor (1847-1931)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
I had spent the better part of a month working on the project. The power point and excel spreadsheet, which would accompany the presentation, had required a full week of work. Now the day had come for the presentation. I was as nervous a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Except, around this table sat executives not rocking chairs. One could almost smell the stench of corporate politics in the air.
My boss, a senior vice president and a savvy corporate politician in his own right, gave me and the project a brief introduction. Now I was on my own. I was barely through the title slide when the onslought of questions began. Some were things I would cover later on in the presentation, some were unanticipated and some seemed to come from beyond left field.
All too quickly my well planned presentation degenerated into a verbal free-for-all of questions, objections and suggestions. The excel spreadsheet I had so painstakingly created was “toast” within 10 minutes. Different information, different formatting even a different font and font size were requested. It felt like I was digging a trench in a sand dune. The harder I worked the faster it back-filled.
50 minutes later, it was over. The Execs filed out telling jokes and making lunch plans. I stood there staring at my laptop as if it had betrayed me somehow. My boss came up beside me unnoticed. When I finally sensed his presence I turned to face him. “That went well,” I sighed sarcastically. “Actually, it did,” he replied with a grin. “I got totally leveled!” I exclaimed. “They completely changed everything.”
“Did you really expect this group would accept everything you presented carte blanche?” I looked at him blankly. “You couldn’t possibly have foreseen every objection, anticipated every question and guessed what they might be thinking; you don’t know their operations, their blind spots or what problems they may be facing.”
“But, I thought that was my job.” I sighed. “This was a test balloon” he continued. If we were going into production tomorrow it would be different.” “As it is, we are off to a great start, with lots of options, ideas and alternatives.” He smiled thoughtfully. “Rue the day when the only alternatives you have are you own.” “Come on, I’ll buy you lunch.”
In our modern culture we are conditioned to win, to be right all the time, to be in control and to make all the right moves. It is as if life was a game show and to win we have to have all the right answers. Real life doesn’t operate like that though the media would have us believe it does.
Being right all the time is overrated and having all the right answers is unrealistic. The right answer today may be the wrong answer tomorrow. We now know the “food pyramid” of the fifties, full of red meat and cholesterol laden foods, was a death sentence. Physicians, at one time, publicly endorsed various brands of cigarettes. Things change. So do the answers.
Does this mean most of us should step back and let a few gifted people make all the decisions? In point of fact, life has little to do with “product” and a lot to do with “process”. This does not mean results are not important, but their pursuit at the cost of everything else can leave us wallowing in self pity and doubt.
The day I walked into that conference room I thought I had to have everything figured out and all the right answers to all the questions…even those from left field. My boss knew my preparations were only a platform for discussion, a place to start, a peg in the sand. I had not labored in vain, but I eventually realized I had simply created the foundation, not built the building.
As good stewards of our time we are called to full and active participation in life and in so doing we improve the quality of life for others. Understanding what this participation means is the key. It is part of a much greater process. This form of humble participation can still provide beneficial results, but without the pressure of always having the right answer and the guilt when we do not.
Dear God: Remind me I am called to full and active participation.
“Results! Why, man, I have gotten a lot of results. I know several thousand things that won't work.” ~Thomas A. Edison, American inventor (1847-1931)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 17, 2011
First Impressions
"Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired. Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." ~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Catholic Nun (1910-1997)
He brought the little old woman to her room. The secretary had heard she was diminutive in stature, but he was still shocked at how tiny, old and wizen she seemed. The attendant followed them carrying her battered old suitcase. Unlocking the door he let her into her room then motioned the attendant to bring the bag inside. “Where would you like this” he asked? “There in the chair would be fine” she responded simply.
The young man dropped the bag in the chair, gave a slight bow and headed out the door. The old woman stood there staring all around the room. “Is everything OK” The secretary asked. “It’s much too big and a bit overdone,” she said absent mindedly.
“Well if you need anything just pick up the phone over there and the operator will take care of you,” he said brightly heading for the door. “It’s getting on into the evening and I imagine you will want to rest.” She didn’t respond. “I will call for you at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.” Still no response… “Goodnight,” he said and closed the door quietly.
The next morning the secretary knocked on her door at 9:00 sharp. He heard rustling in the room, but no response. He knocked again; a little harder this time. Finally the door opened slightly and the woman peered out at him. Her eyes seemed tired and bloodshot. “Come in, I need a few minutes,” was all she said. As he entered he noticed the suitcase was still in the chair where it had been placed the night before. It seemed untouched.
The little old woman returned from the bathroom. She looked particularly tired, “Did you sleep well,” he asked. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, I had work to do.” “Work?” he responded. “Yes, work.”
The secretary was incredulous. “What did you do last night” he asked. “After you left I went out into the streets to minister to the poor.” “There are a lot of poor people in this city.” “I didn’t get in till after 2:00 this morning.”
“You were out wandering the streets of Rome at night?” The secretary couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Well you didn’t expect me to sit around here all night did you?” she responded. A faint smile seemed to appear for an instant. “His Holiness is expecting us,” advised the secretary recovering his composure. “We need to be on our way.”
As they left he wondered what other revelations the day had in store.
Teresa and I leave for Rome next week to attend Archbishop Jose Gomez’ Pallium Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica. Over the last several weeks we have had a lot of questions: What is the appropriate dress at the various functions? Where are we sitting? Where is our hotel in relationship to Vatican City? What shoes should be worn and/or carried (style versus comfort)? How does one greet a Bishop, an Archbishop or a Pope? And so on… All of this seems very important at the moment. After all, we want to look our best. Or at least we don’t want to look bad because we did something inappropriate.
The day Mother Teresa met Pope John Paul II for the first time she too could have focused on a number of things: What she would say? How she would appear? How nice her room was? How impressed she was with Vatican City? Et Cetera… And yet, she focused on none of these. Mother Teresa focused on what she always focused upon: caring for the needy, the underprivileged, and the hungry, essentially anyone in need.
In a world where so much attention is given to how we look, how we act, the impression we make, will we be respected and a host of other self image issues are we not all called to something greater? In fact, are we not called to care for one another first and, in so doing, save the world? Today, if we all decided poverty would end, it would end. If we all decided wars would cease, there would be peace. If we all made sure everyone was fed, there would be no more hunger.
When it comes to making an impression on the world do we want to be remembered for how good we looked when we showed up? Or, like Mother Teresa, do we want to be remembered for the number of people we helped and saved?
Dear God: Remind me always that my actions speak louder than my appearance.
"People are often unreasonable and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you.
Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Catholic Nun (1910-1997)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
He brought the little old woman to her room. The secretary had heard she was diminutive in stature, but he was still shocked at how tiny, old and wizen she seemed. The attendant followed them carrying her battered old suitcase. Unlocking the door he let her into her room then motioned the attendant to bring the bag inside. “Where would you like this” he asked? “There in the chair would be fine” she responded simply.
The young man dropped the bag in the chair, gave a slight bow and headed out the door. The old woman stood there staring all around the room. “Is everything OK” The secretary asked. “It’s much too big and a bit overdone,” she said absent mindedly.
“Well if you need anything just pick up the phone over there and the operator will take care of you,” he said brightly heading for the door. “It’s getting on into the evening and I imagine you will want to rest.” She didn’t respond. “I will call for you at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.” Still no response… “Goodnight,” he said and closed the door quietly.
The next morning the secretary knocked on her door at 9:00 sharp. He heard rustling in the room, but no response. He knocked again; a little harder this time. Finally the door opened slightly and the woman peered out at him. Her eyes seemed tired and bloodshot. “Come in, I need a few minutes,” was all she said. As he entered he noticed the suitcase was still in the chair where it had been placed the night before. It seemed untouched.
The little old woman returned from the bathroom. She looked particularly tired, “Did you sleep well,” he asked. “I didn’t get much sleep last night, I had work to do.” “Work?” he responded. “Yes, work.”
The secretary was incredulous. “What did you do last night” he asked. “After you left I went out into the streets to minister to the poor.” “There are a lot of poor people in this city.” “I didn’t get in till after 2:00 this morning.”
“You were out wandering the streets of Rome at night?” The secretary couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “Well you didn’t expect me to sit around here all night did you?” she responded. A faint smile seemed to appear for an instant. “His Holiness is expecting us,” advised the secretary recovering his composure. “We need to be on our way.”
As they left he wondered what other revelations the day had in store.
Teresa and I leave for Rome next week to attend Archbishop Jose Gomez’ Pallium Mass at St. Peter’s Basilica. Over the last several weeks we have had a lot of questions: What is the appropriate dress at the various functions? Where are we sitting? Where is our hotel in relationship to Vatican City? What shoes should be worn and/or carried (style versus comfort)? How does one greet a Bishop, an Archbishop or a Pope? And so on… All of this seems very important at the moment. After all, we want to look our best. Or at least we don’t want to look bad because we did something inappropriate.
The day Mother Teresa met Pope John Paul II for the first time she too could have focused on a number of things: What she would say? How she would appear? How nice her room was? How impressed she was with Vatican City? Et Cetera… And yet, she focused on none of these. Mother Teresa focused on what she always focused upon: caring for the needy, the underprivileged, and the hungry, essentially anyone in need.
In a world where so much attention is given to how we look, how we act, the impression we make, will we be respected and a host of other self image issues are we not all called to something greater? In fact, are we not called to care for one another first and, in so doing, save the world? Today, if we all decided poverty would end, it would end. If we all decided wars would cease, there would be peace. If we all made sure everyone was fed, there would be no more hunger.
When it comes to making an impression on the world do we want to be remembered for how good we looked when we showed up? Or, like Mother Teresa, do we want to be remembered for the number of people we helped and saved?
Dear God: Remind me always that my actions speak louder than my appearance.
"People are often unreasonable and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you.
Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
~Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, Catholic Nun (1910-1997)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 10, 2011
The Scenic Route
“There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.” ~ Beverly Sills, American operatic soprano (1929-2007)
We had only been married a few weeks when Teresa asked me to take her shopping for a new pair of sandals. In the late seventies, in the tiny river towns of southwestern Pennsylvania, the place to go shopping was Charleroi, PA, a small town along the Monongahela River 25 miles south of Pittsburgh. I assumed it would be a quick errand since there was a Montgomery Ward located there. We could just “zip in and zip out.”
We parked on Lincoln Avenue and got out of the car. I turned toward the “box store” on the corner; its big sign beckoned. “Just a second,” Teresa said from behind me. Turning I found my young bride surveying the surrounding shops; swiveling her head like a quarterback looking for open receivers. “There!” she exclaimed pointing at a little boutique store across the street. Off we went with me still glancing over my shoulder at Montgomery Ward.
A bell rang, announcing our arrival, as we entered the shop. The shop keeper, an older woman with a gray bouffant hairdo, smiled and nodded her welcome. Teresa headed for the racks along the wall. After she perused what seemed like every shoe in the place, she selected a pair of Bass Sandals. Surprisingly, to me anyway, she requested two sizes. The shopkeeper dutifully brought two boxes from the back room. One pair fit beautifully. Though we were newlyweds I instinctively reached for my wallet.
“Thank you,” Teresa said politely, handing the boxes back to the woman. “Don’t you like them?” I asked. “Oh, they’re perfect,” she responded. “So, let’s get them,” I insisted. “Not just yet,” she said with a grin. “We’re not done yet,” and out the door she went with me trailing behind.
I was confused at this point. Being male, my instincts were different than hers. Shoe shopping should be like going to the hardware store: find what you need, buy it and go home. As the afternoon wore on I quickly learned there was another very different approach.
We visited no less than ten more shops and stores, including Montgomery Ward which we visited last. The drill was pretty much the same at each. Teresa would carefully examine the entire selection of sandals available to her. Then she would pick one or two selections, request multiple sizes and try all of them on, ultimately returning them politely to the sales person.
After perusing the contents of eleven stores I was both tired and mystified. There couldn’t be any more purveyors of shoes in Charleroi…could there?
“Now what?” I asked hesitantly. “One last stop,” Teresa replied and headed off again; me tagging along behind with my hands stuffed in my jeans pockets. To my complete surprise we arrived back in front of the shop at which we had started.
The bell again signaled our arrival. The shop keeper, the older woman with the gray bouffant hairdo, was still behind the counter smiling. “Do you have those Bass Sandals I tried on a while ago,” Teresa asked politely. “Sure do,” the woman replied. “They’re right here.” “Haven’t put them away yet,” she said handing the box to Teresa. Teresa tried them on a second time checking their “look” in the tilted floor mirror. “I’ll take these,” she said finally.
Relieved, but still confused, I again reached for my wallet; this time handing over the requisite amount of cash. The shopkeeper bagged the shoe box and receipt and handed them to Teresa. After the appropriate social niceties we left…the bell signaling our departure.
“So are you happy with those?” I asked as we headed toward BJ’s Diner. “They’re perfect!” Teresa responded. “Well, if they were the right ones, why didn’t you buy them in the first place,” I asked.
Teresa looked at me with a smile of wisdom and love I have come to know well over the years. “Because,” she began patiently; “Now I know they are the right ones.”
On that day as a new husband I quickly learned why they are called “shopping trips.” What I considered running an errand, was an event for Teresa …an excursion…an experience. Life, after all, is meant to be experienced, not simply circumnavigated as quickly as possible.
Our shopping excursion helped me get to know Teresa a little better: what she liked and what she didn’t. The trip also gave me a glimpse into a world I would probably have not experienced otherwise. It also created a few small mysteries to ponder along the way. For instance, did the shopkeeper sense Teresa would be back and kept the shoes out or had she simply neglected to put them away?
Sadly, we live in a world where shortcuts are expected and sought out. They are also dangerous. Every shortcut taken excludes something or someone. We may think we are being more efficient, but there is also a price to be paid, a cost to be extracted. That loss is often loss in relationships, experience or knowledge. If you don’t believe me try speed dating sometime.
Shortcuts limit our satisfaction. Teresa found satisfaction in shopping. I found satisfaction in getting to know her. We are called to be stewards of our life’s journey. Spiritually, we are called to take the road less traveled, the scenic route. No truly lush oasis can be reached without crossing a desert first.
Dear God: Show me the scenic route.
“A firm foundation is built on growth; not rushing….We can never break nature’s laws. Too often we break ourselves trying.” ~Acquire Wisdom & Live with Passion (blog)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
We had only been married a few weeks when Teresa asked me to take her shopping for a new pair of sandals. In the late seventies, in the tiny river towns of southwestern Pennsylvania, the place to go shopping was Charleroi, PA, a small town along the Monongahela River 25 miles south of Pittsburgh. I assumed it would be a quick errand since there was a Montgomery Ward located there. We could just “zip in and zip out.”
We parked on Lincoln Avenue and got out of the car. I turned toward the “box store” on the corner; its big sign beckoned. “Just a second,” Teresa said from behind me. Turning I found my young bride surveying the surrounding shops; swiveling her head like a quarterback looking for open receivers. “There!” she exclaimed pointing at a little boutique store across the street. Off we went with me still glancing over my shoulder at Montgomery Ward.
A bell rang, announcing our arrival, as we entered the shop. The shop keeper, an older woman with a gray bouffant hairdo, smiled and nodded her welcome. Teresa headed for the racks along the wall. After she perused what seemed like every shoe in the place, she selected a pair of Bass Sandals. Surprisingly, to me anyway, she requested two sizes. The shopkeeper dutifully brought two boxes from the back room. One pair fit beautifully. Though we were newlyweds I instinctively reached for my wallet.
“Thank you,” Teresa said politely, handing the boxes back to the woman. “Don’t you like them?” I asked. “Oh, they’re perfect,” she responded. “So, let’s get them,” I insisted. “Not just yet,” she said with a grin. “We’re not done yet,” and out the door she went with me trailing behind.
I was confused at this point. Being male, my instincts were different than hers. Shoe shopping should be like going to the hardware store: find what you need, buy it and go home. As the afternoon wore on I quickly learned there was another very different approach.
We visited no less than ten more shops and stores, including Montgomery Ward which we visited last. The drill was pretty much the same at each. Teresa would carefully examine the entire selection of sandals available to her. Then she would pick one or two selections, request multiple sizes and try all of them on, ultimately returning them politely to the sales person.
After perusing the contents of eleven stores I was both tired and mystified. There couldn’t be any more purveyors of shoes in Charleroi…could there?
“Now what?” I asked hesitantly. “One last stop,” Teresa replied and headed off again; me tagging along behind with my hands stuffed in my jeans pockets. To my complete surprise we arrived back in front of the shop at which we had started.
The bell again signaled our arrival. The shop keeper, the older woman with the gray bouffant hairdo, was still behind the counter smiling. “Do you have those Bass Sandals I tried on a while ago,” Teresa asked politely. “Sure do,” the woman replied. “They’re right here.” “Haven’t put them away yet,” she said handing the box to Teresa. Teresa tried them on a second time checking their “look” in the tilted floor mirror. “I’ll take these,” she said finally.
Relieved, but still confused, I again reached for my wallet; this time handing over the requisite amount of cash. The shopkeeper bagged the shoe box and receipt and handed them to Teresa. After the appropriate social niceties we left…the bell signaling our departure.
“So are you happy with those?” I asked as we headed toward BJ’s Diner. “They’re perfect!” Teresa responded. “Well, if they were the right ones, why didn’t you buy them in the first place,” I asked.
Teresa looked at me with a smile of wisdom and love I have come to know well over the years. “Because,” she began patiently; “Now I know they are the right ones.”
On that day as a new husband I quickly learned why they are called “shopping trips.” What I considered running an errand, was an event for Teresa …an excursion…an experience. Life, after all, is meant to be experienced, not simply circumnavigated as quickly as possible.
Our shopping excursion helped me get to know Teresa a little better: what she liked and what she didn’t. The trip also gave me a glimpse into a world I would probably have not experienced otherwise. It also created a few small mysteries to ponder along the way. For instance, did the shopkeeper sense Teresa would be back and kept the shoes out or had she simply neglected to put them away?
Sadly, we live in a world where shortcuts are expected and sought out. They are also dangerous. Every shortcut taken excludes something or someone. We may think we are being more efficient, but there is also a price to be paid, a cost to be extracted. That loss is often loss in relationships, experience or knowledge. If you don’t believe me try speed dating sometime.
Shortcuts limit our satisfaction. Teresa found satisfaction in shopping. I found satisfaction in getting to know her. We are called to be stewards of our life’s journey. Spiritually, we are called to take the road less traveled, the scenic route. No truly lush oasis can be reached without crossing a desert first.
Dear God: Show me the scenic route.
“A firm foundation is built on growth; not rushing….We can never break nature’s laws. Too often we break ourselves trying.” ~Acquire Wisdom & Live with Passion (blog)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
Friday, June 3, 2011
All in Good Time
“We are limited, not by our abilities, but by our vision.” ~ Author unknown
James ran his eyes down the agenda for the meeting of the Our Lady of Guilt and Suffering Parish Council. As President, it was his responsibility to run the meeting. There were only two items on the Agenda. The first was to determine whether it was appropriate to give every parish employee a lily for Easter.
The second was the discussion and approval of a Strategic Plan for the upcoming year. Many changes were taking place within their local church, the community and the Church at large. This plan could have long range implications of extraordinary consequence upon the future of the parish.
After a brief prayer and perfunctory approval of the minutes from the last meeting they launched into the first agenda item. The discussion regarding the lilies was detailed, lively and hotly contested.
Everyone seemed to have a different opinion. Was a lily an appropriate gift for the male members of the staff? Should a more generic gift be offered? What about employees who were allergic to plants? What if a lily would bring back bad memories of a recently deceased relative? Perhaps a “cash in lieu” option should be offered? Maybe the church could get a better “deal” from a parishioner who was also a florist? Was a precedent being set which, if later discontinued, could negatively impact morale?
The discussion went on endlessly. James suddenly realized there would not be sufficient time left to discuss the Strategic Plan; a plan which could forever change the direction, future and outreach of the parish. He announced to the Council, because of the lack of sufficient time remaining, discussion of the Strategic Plan would have to be postponed until the next quarterly meeting.
The question was hastily called on the “lily issue.” The Parish Council voted to go ahead with the gift of a lily to each employee. There was one dissenting vote; a creationist who believed selling and buying plants was equivalent to slavery. “Plants are people too,” she chirped.
After a brief prayer the meeting was adjourned.
During my early years in the insurance industry I worked with a gentleman who proudly proclaimed he was a “big picture guy.” According to him, his job was to come up with sweeping strategic ideas. The planning and implementation was left to everyone else. I thought he was just lazy.
Secretly, we would all like to think we are “big picture guys” when in fact most of us prefer and enjoy minutia. Strategic thinking takes courage, patience and requires waiting, watching and adjusting. Minutia is much more fun and satisfying. It makes us feel busy and useful even when we don’t really accomplish much. Most of us don’t like to wait and watch. We want to do something and move on
Much to our chagrin the Big Guy (Gal?) upstairs operates on a very strategic level. He is the Big Picture Guy my coworker was talking about. The result is we often have to wait and watch for Him.
This is particularly painful when we are looking to Him to resolve our problems. “When God closes a door he opens another door,” we say to ourselves not realizing there may be a long, dark hallway in between. Jacob’s son Joseph waited 2 years in prison after he interpreted the baker’s and the cupbearer’s (butler’s) dreams before he was released (Genesis verses 40 & 41).
Even our prayers seem to reflect this predisposition for instant results. We pray for God to change our circumstances rather than to change us. In the end, it may be fun and satisfying to talk about lilies for workers, but the strategic aspect of our lives is so much more important. Wait for it.
Dear God: Please…Just give me a hint!
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell, American mythologist, writer and lecturer (1904-1987)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
James ran his eyes down the agenda for the meeting of the Our Lady of Guilt and Suffering Parish Council. As President, it was his responsibility to run the meeting. There were only two items on the Agenda. The first was to determine whether it was appropriate to give every parish employee a lily for Easter.
The second was the discussion and approval of a Strategic Plan for the upcoming year. Many changes were taking place within their local church, the community and the Church at large. This plan could have long range implications of extraordinary consequence upon the future of the parish.
After a brief prayer and perfunctory approval of the minutes from the last meeting they launched into the first agenda item. The discussion regarding the lilies was detailed, lively and hotly contested.
Everyone seemed to have a different opinion. Was a lily an appropriate gift for the male members of the staff? Should a more generic gift be offered? What about employees who were allergic to plants? What if a lily would bring back bad memories of a recently deceased relative? Perhaps a “cash in lieu” option should be offered? Maybe the church could get a better “deal” from a parishioner who was also a florist? Was a precedent being set which, if later discontinued, could negatively impact morale?
The discussion went on endlessly. James suddenly realized there would not be sufficient time left to discuss the Strategic Plan; a plan which could forever change the direction, future and outreach of the parish. He announced to the Council, because of the lack of sufficient time remaining, discussion of the Strategic Plan would have to be postponed until the next quarterly meeting.
The question was hastily called on the “lily issue.” The Parish Council voted to go ahead with the gift of a lily to each employee. There was one dissenting vote; a creationist who believed selling and buying plants was equivalent to slavery. “Plants are people too,” she chirped.
After a brief prayer the meeting was adjourned.
During my early years in the insurance industry I worked with a gentleman who proudly proclaimed he was a “big picture guy.” According to him, his job was to come up with sweeping strategic ideas. The planning and implementation was left to everyone else. I thought he was just lazy.
Secretly, we would all like to think we are “big picture guys” when in fact most of us prefer and enjoy minutia. Strategic thinking takes courage, patience and requires waiting, watching and adjusting. Minutia is much more fun and satisfying. It makes us feel busy and useful even when we don’t really accomplish much. Most of us don’t like to wait and watch. We want to do something and move on
Much to our chagrin the Big Guy (Gal?) upstairs operates on a very strategic level. He is the Big Picture Guy my coworker was talking about. The result is we often have to wait and watch for Him.
This is particularly painful when we are looking to Him to resolve our problems. “When God closes a door he opens another door,” we say to ourselves not realizing there may be a long, dark hallway in between. Jacob’s son Joseph waited 2 years in prison after he interpreted the baker’s and the cupbearer’s (butler’s) dreams before he was released (Genesis verses 40 & 41).
Even our prayers seem to reflect this predisposition for instant results. We pray for God to change our circumstances rather than to change us. In the end, it may be fun and satisfying to talk about lilies for workers, but the strategic aspect of our lives is so much more important. Wait for it.
Dear God: Please…Just give me a hint!
“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” ~ Joseph Campbell, American mythologist, writer and lecturer (1904-1987)
© 2011 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”© 2011 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 ”© 2011 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.
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