The Snowball of Integrity

I'm picturing the kind of snowball we see in cartoons, where the smallest of snowballs starts down a steep hill, gathering speed and snow, and ends much larger than it began. The force of gravity does the work. The snowball "upgrades" itself by staying intact and holding on for the ride.

Integrity is a bit like that. You make small decisions that people are watching and they begin to see you as someone trustworthy, honest and loyal. It becomes part of your nature and when they look at you, integrity is embedded in their view. It is a small snowball.

Then an incident comes along where things begin to roll out of your control. You are accused of something that is not true, but the other fellow speaks loudly and convincingly. The powers that be begin to investigate but the facts fall into a gray area, and it ends up one person's word against the other.

When I was a principal, two students in trouble would tell me what happened--differing versions, of course--and the reality was no one witnessed the incident. I discovered that I didn't have to worry. I always said, "One of you is probably not being honest. I can't figure that out now. But I know that people who are dishonest have a lack of integrity and they usually get in trouble again. So I'll just wait and see if that describes either of you."

Time is the force that grows the snowball. All of us are students of life, and every decision we make alone or with others either upgrades our nucleus of integrity or threatens to dismantle it. If we stay intact--true to our path of honesty and loyalty--and hold on for life's ride, time will enrich our resume of trustworthiness.

Leading ourselves, one decision at a time.

Wildflower Weekend

TGIF, right? Yes, thank God it is Friday.

What's ahead is a choice, as this picture so poignantly expresses.

The barbed wire of our life is keeping us away from the magnificent canvasses that God paints everyday, everywhere.

He grows the flowers; we "grow" the barbed wire.

What would it take to get past the barbed wire this weekend, to change things up just enough that you find a canvas new to you, painted by God Himself?

Are you free for the possibility? Would you be willing to ask God to help you through the barbed wire during the weekend that is before us?

I wish you that. Have a wildflower weekend.

Photographer: Stuart Kime

Rita the Runner

I live in a small town that backs up to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

That means I drive 45 minutes to the vacuum repair shop and 6 minutes to one of the most loved trails in the country.

If you are a walking regular, you begin to know the people that share your schedule and your trail.

I know Rita. She is a highly respected businesswoman in our town, civic-minded and matriarch of a wonderful family. And she is a size 2, I'm guessing, even on her fat days.

I've seen her walking for a long time but alas, yesterday, she was running.

Never mind that I precede her in birth by at least a decade and a half. I still had to decide if I was going to measure myself by all things Rita.

Women do that, you know. We size up someone else's sizes down (from us) and hop on the I-don't-measure-up train. And then, even as a perfectly content walker, I think about running. Should I? Why don't I? Why didn't I start decades ago?

The cool thing is that yesterday I decided to grant myself mercy. You know, a bit like the mercy Jesus gives. I didn't measure up to all things Rita (like we don't have a prayer stacked up against the holiness of God) but I made the conscious decision that I love my exercise pattern just the way it is (like Jesus loves us just the way we are).

So Rita the Runner and Mercy Me will pass again in the beauty of that national forest, both content with who we are becoming.

I hope that makes God smile.

I Am Reminded

Sometimes I am reminded of what to share here through peculiar circumstance.

Yesterday I took my computer to church; I was filling in for our bookkeeper.

I paid a bill online and went to the copier to retrieve the receipt. There lay three copies of this picture.

Yes, this picture is in my computer (I took it one morning from the road in front of our house), and yes, my computer talks to that copier. But if I had asked for this picture some time ago, it would have printed out at home. And three copies? When the Bible repeats a word at the beginning of a sentence, it is commonly assumed that God is wanting our full attention--three copies get mine.

So I am going to take the bait and choose to believe that it is the day to share this picture, with the reminder at the bottom that God is the ticket to feeding our strength. I see the "cross" and the power of the light blazing down, don't you?

And to top it off, Psalm 108 was today's chronological reading assignment from You Version: "...every cloud's a flag to your faithfulness."

So enjoy. What reminders might come your way today?

Caution: Flammable

When two people are discussing an inflammatory topic, what ignites their passion?

Their opposing opinions or something else?

I'm convinced it is something else: the absence of full listening.

Full listening means only hearing what the other person is saying--not rehearsing your comeback--and waiting several seconds after he is finished before moving to your opinion. It is the listener's responsibility to focus wholly on the content of the other person's opinion, hearing his reasoning and his conclusion.

We move to inflammatory with its accompanying slashing rhetoric when we only have room in our hearts and minds for our own opinion. How can anyone else be right? Surely "our" opinion is correct.

Um, no...that is not true because it is only our opinion. When we fail to fully listen, just waiting impatiently for our turn, we block out the thinking behind what we are hearing--thinking that might be a learning experience for us.

Should we cultivate our opinions? Absolutely. We help each other reason the gray areas of life with well thought out conclusions based on as much truth as possible.

But presentation is everything. We are not helping others if we are so "right" that we don't listen, rather bullying our opinion into what we perceive to be their little minds. If we are so right, aren't we implying that they should come over to our side? What exactly is the inviting part of that conversation?

Flammable vs inviting--we make the call.

Saying Goodbye

My friend's mom passed away the day before Mother's Day.

At first glance, that seems a bit cruel to be dealing with the reality of her passing on the day in which they should be celebrating life together.

But what if...

What if heaven was a neighborhood with glowing street lamps, beautifully manicured lawns and houses with windows abounding? And what if we could ride the quiet streets at night with our windows down, inhaling the fragrance of untold thousands of flowers and getting a glimpse of the neighbors inside?

Would we see fellowship and reunion? The thrill of seeing those from whom we were separated ages ago?

In the case of my friend, her mom said goodbye to two of her very own sons many years before. Would we peek in and see their warm embrace?

Would my friend's goodbye be her brothers' hello?

Death, in God's world, seems more like rearranging the players to redistribute the love.

It is someone else's turn to inhale the fragrance of reunion. Our turn will come again.

Sleep well, my friend. I know the neighborhood welcomed her well.

Mommy, Did You Know?

Two-year-old Caleb stood at the door with his mom to say goodbye to my son.

Sarah: Bye, Stuart.

Caleb: Bye, Tuat (two-year-old for Stuart).

Sarah: Caleb, that's Daddy.

Caleb: Bye, Daddy.

Sarah: Daddy has two names. So does Mommy. Do you know Mommy's other name?

Caleb (pauses): Jesus?

Happy Mommy's Day to all of you who introduce 
Jesus so beautifully to your children.