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Wednesday was a very good day. I was up very early and went through my preplanned steps of getting ready for a special event. I would be hiking through snow laden woods with good friends. Giddy-with-excitement is a good way to describe my mood!
I had thought through what I would wear down to the smallest detail. My outdoor-wear wardrobe was more meticulously organized than for a black tie event. After all if I made a mistake here it could endanger my life. There’s a difference between dressing for an evening of fashion and a day in frigid 9 degree temperatures surrounded by freshly fallen snow.
My choice for dress follows the template used by many generations of outdoor enthusiasts. I dress in layers. That has proven to be great strategy for insulating the human body when it is pummeled by old man winter. Air pockets trapped between different layers of clothing keeps me warm.
The difference between generations gone-by and my selection of clothing are the man-made breathable materials. My base layer is man-made and designed for cold weather exertion. I like the material because it wicks away sweat to prevent getting cold. This garment also uses compression technology to enhance muscle performance when engaging in cold-weather activity. It has amazing results.
But, I still add two tried-and-true materials for the secondary and outer layer for my clothing of choices. My secondary layer is wool. God made sheep to be resilient in outdoor weather. My wool layer defies unbelievably cold weather, bitter winds and moisture too. If I get wet, wool still retains its heat-retention properties.
Finally, I put on a down coat. It is light-weight and has insulating properties that don’t weigh me down. Again the creator made the goose with amazing heat-retention properties. It is a well-insulated creature that is comfortable in the cold est of conditions.
Dressed for warmth, I pull on insulated rubber snow boots, strap on gaiters to keep the snow off of my pant legs, cover my head in a rabbit fur hat and complete my gear with gloves fitted with a mitten cover for my fingers. In my truck there are secondary options just in case the cold is really severe. But, past experience, confidence in the weather forecast and familiarity with the area for our hike I was ready to step out into the cold. Care to join me?
photo credit: google image
Who isn’t busy? The most talented, capable and trustworthy people are all busy. Capacity to get involved is based on availability of heart not time. If you really need to get something done, then ask someone who is already busy.
I have been in the business of church all of my adult life. It is largely an enterprise of recruiting volunteers. Of course successful recruiting is an art.
Leadership is essential to make any kind of work productive. Once those in leadership organize, plan and execute initiatives things get done. Putting the right people in the right place makes for a smooth running operation.
But, it is more than filling roles. It is giftedness that determines the outcome of any project. Finding gifted volunteers is the desire of any recruiter.
So what makes up a good volunteer? They are willing to pour hours of energy into a project. As they do so they are recruiters themselves. Capable people gather skillful people around them and magnify their achievements.
Saturday I was at a fund raising event for a Christian school. It was an auction. Hundreds of items were up for bid. Tens of thousands of dollars were raised. One couple spearheaded the event. They were volunteers.
During the massive event hundreds of people poured onto the campus facilities. I watched the smooth running gala unfold. Scores of other volunteers manned booths, services and activities.
Everyone was having fun and details were covered one way or another. The massive movement of organized chaos was taking shape right before my eyes. This couple moved calmly and cheerfully among the crowd.
Their spirit of joy and friendliness was remarkable. Besides their skill in organization and recruitment they made those who came feel like a million bucks. Hospitality and efficiency is an amazing combination.
I was so impressed that our organization took out a full page ad in their auction manual. That evening I came, bought dinner and even attempted to bid on several items. It’s attractive to participate when others work so hard to make an event a success. But, that’s the beauty of volunteers. The quality ones really shine.
They accomplish a lot because it’s a matter of their heart. There is no other compensation. In their soul they are thrilled to honor the Lord with their service. It is a pure gift of perfect love. Kudos to you, Brian and Chris!
In Michigan, winter challenges anyone who has even a remote thought about exercise. Each passing day old-man-winter pushes the thermometer down. The daylight hours shorten and options to workout shrink.
I have donned my snowshoes a couple of times. But, daylight hours aren’t long enough for me to do it during a busy work-week. Something else has to fill that void to keep this body moving.
When the weather warms up, I’ll pull on my boots for aggressive hiking. After the temperatures climb even higher, I hop on my bicycle and pedal feverishly around speeding cars. But, variety is still the name of the game. I have to find something else to do in the winter to break a sweat, to stretch those muscles and keep the blood flowing.
From my childhood I remembered how much fun it was to roller skate. I found two indoor rollerskating rinks that captured my attention. One is near my home and the other near my office. What was really appealing is that they both have times for adult skating.
With some advanced planning I head over to the rink. When I walked in everyone turned and looked at the new guy. But this amazing group of people did more than look, they were friendly. Many walked up to introduce themselves. Several skated up and said “Hello.”
My fellow roller skaters exhibited various styles. Some were artistic, others were casual rollers and yet others were eclectic. My style is unique. I flail about like no creature that God ever created.
After a few visits to the rink I made an amazing realization. I was not only the youngest skater but I was also the worst skater among this highly experienced crowd. After a couple of laps I had to take a seat and rest my aching muscles. These silver-hair gentle-smiling folk were graceful and elegant.
I tried to push and slide. But, I almost fell. My swinging arms and wobbling gait saved my bacon. Someone might have thought that I was inventing a new style, combining Disco with Hip Hop. Truthfully, I looked more like a thrashing wounded bird that was gasping for its last breath of life.
But, at least there is no snow. I even recognize some of the music. Old dogs may not be able to learn new tricks. But, maybe this flailing bird can learn a new way to fly.
It wasn’t hard to send my agreement to join eight friends for a guys night out. We were to rendezvous at a buddy’s house for chow and a movie. Sharing BBQ ribs melds even the most independent-of-guys into great friends.
Great laughs and plenty of sauce makes for a powerful combination. Friendships are forged. Loyalty grows deeply from such moments.
Most of us arrived right on time. Within a few minutes all of us were laughing, teasing and doing the guy-thing. Our host’s wife was still there helping us get our meal items all situated before she left for the night.
She put on her coat and grabbed her purse. She smiled a farewell and I returned her salutation with a wave. At the time I was walking into the family room where the other guys were glued to the TV.
One of the guys asked, “Did she leave?” We confirmed that she had left. Then, he explained that he planned on changing into casual clothes.
He started stripping while we all watched the TV sports coverage. Just then SHE came back and walked right past the family room. She must have forgotten something in the kitchen. It seemed like an appropriate time for an informative comment, “Hey, Frank, I guess she DIDN’T leave.”
There was a sort of dull “Uh?” until the reality of present-life snapped into place. “What? Where? NO!” There was a flurry of activity as he ripped his eyes from the TV and groped for anything to clothe himself. After all, a guest usually doesn’t strip in someone else’s family room.
Our host grabs his wife and ushers her out the back door while you-know-who gets clothed. There was raucous laughter. Hey it was a guy-thing both in error and in guffawing. There was no sympathy expressed but total deepening of guy-friendship.
It was time to chow down. Everyone threw down some hard cash on the counter, grabbed for the fine paper plates, filled it with ribs and chicken. Vegetables were optional for guys-night. There were few manners on display when we vacuumed in the food.
We watched a movie. It wasn’t very good. But, it made the evening better. We complained and ragged on the film like we made a living as film critics.
God surely did a special thing when He created men. He never really knocked off our rough edges. I sure love these guys!
I took a test to evaluate the amount of stress in my life. Once my score was tabulated it was measured against the benchmark of 200. Higher than 200 was a life experiencing too much stress. Below that threshold was preferable. My score surpassed 300.
When I was given my score a flash of an absurd idea entered my mind. I felt proud that my score was so high. Finally and objectively a test recognized how hard I was working.
Maybe I could leak these results to key people. They would spread the word that I was once suspected of being a hard worker. Now, there was hard empirical evidence that would substantiate it.
That’s our culture. Multi-tasking, burning the candle at both ends and in the middle, early hours and late nights are sort of a badge of courage. There is a symptom of that warped value. When people who ask how we are doing, we reply, “Busy.”
We are driven to work hard. People who are worried about personal achievement strive to measure their significance by their productivity. Our culture used to have major companies deliberately advertise that their people were their most valuable asset. A competitive market has forced many companies that prioritize profits first. As a result by default people are now expendable. That kind of devaluation of people raises everyone’s stress level.
Numbers make my stress factor soar. Whether the numbers decline or climb, they affect my stress level. I need donations in our ministry to climb. That reduces my stress. Enrollment is priority one for an institution, but when those number decline my stress level rises. When my staff productivity is high, so are my spirits. But, when they are not stress grows.
God tells us that He will never let us be tempted beyond what we can bear. He says in His Word that when we reach that level of capacity He will make a way for us to successfully pass through those tough times. I’m counting on that promise as I daily face matters that transform my stress thermometer into a geyser.
When I am with people, I portray ease. Intentionally, I smile often and laugh frequently. But, when I am alone I feel the temptation of “creep”. I want to grab hold of the responsibilities that exclusively belong to God. Surely, He knows how hard I’m working, doesn’t He?
Jet-lag is one of the perpetual down sides of travel. It doesn’t affect me much when I travel in the lower 48. But, when I have to cross an ocean, it is tough to overcome. Many have their solution to this brutal impact on the body. But, I haven’t found one.
Once I tried to compensate for the time difference by setting my watch to my arrival time. Then, while on the plane I attempted to sleep and eat according to my destination. It didn’t work.
Instead of opening the blinds of the plane window and seeing midnight, I squinted at the blazing sun. It was noon! Most people pay attention to the distinction of AM and PM. I overlooked that small detail. I was off by 12 hours with my plan. It took me a week to recover.
When I travel overseas, jet-lag is just a tough challenge. My head starts to bob at 7PM no matter what I try. My blinking becomes more and more sluggish. If there was a way for God to have designed a reading screen behind our eyelids I would get a lot more accomplished.
But, alas, the only productive impact that I have discovered is to laugh at myself from and out-of-body experience. First, it’s the conversation that I have in my slow-motion brain. Then, one eye closes and my mind quietly approves. Before I know it both eyes blink but get stuck before the cycle finishes.
Sometimes there’s another person who laughs at my eyelids that are at half-mast. That usually startles me into a consciousness of science fiction reality. “Where am I?” my conscience screams. It’s a dangerous whip-lash situation when the neck goes completely limp and the weight of an overtaxed under-producing brain bounces when my chin hits my chest.
I wonder if God is laughing. He might be saying, “You wanted to fly. I never gave you wings. Now you know why.” Of course He may just enjoy chuckling at His creation exploring the edges of physical limitations. God lets us learn that some of our grandest ideas are tempered by biological realities.
At least I’m certain that whoever invented the bobble-head dolls must have been friends who traveled. There must have been many quiet moments of suppressed laughter watching those bobbing heads connected to frozen faces. OK, quit laughing out there, I’m trying to sleep while standing up.
If you think about the journey ahead, you just might turn around and go home. Who in their right mind likes to travel? Travelers joke that the only ones who like to travel . . . don’t.
My overseas flight was scheduled to leave at 7PM local time. Just to make sure that I had plenty of time for any mishaps I was at the airport by 2:30PM. It was a good move since the counter issued me the wrong boarding pass. I sure am glad that God is patient with all of our human foibles.
As many times as I have been through airport security, I rarely get it right. I leave my cell phone in my pocket, I forget to pull out my keys, my electronics set off alarms, I am a major contributor to the TSA pocket knife collection, I lose my balance pulling off a shoe and fall into other passengers, my messenger bag tips over and spills my loose change, or I stuff my boarding pass in my jacket pocket and send it through the x-ray machine.
Once through security, I take a deep breath and wipe the sweat from my forehead. It’s hot already and I still have 18 hours of travel to go. If I don’t think about that I might maintain my mental health!
Boarding begins and people rush the plane like free tickets are being offered. I know. They are trying to compete for the limited overhead storage. Didn’t Jesus travel lightly? We have way too much stuff that is “necessary” in travel and in life.
Airplane seating is amazing. I am convinced that the one who designed them was shorter than 5’6″ and weighed a mere 124 lbs. The hip room is never a problem but the shoulder room is impossible. Didn’t the designer ever lift weights?
I favor the aisle seat just so that I can lean into the open space when I’m partnered with a robust passenger. Usually, the other boarding passengers only clobber me a dozen times with their swinging bags and backpacks. The attendants always apologize when the food cart pummels my shoulder. Why do they always sneak up from behind?
Never dismayed, I smile, take mental notes of a blog to write, chuckle at humorous people, especially the one in the mirror. I do better when I can laugh with life while leaving on a jet plane.
Do you handle crowds well? My initial reaction is to be polite and demonstrate an immense amount of courtesy. My mom would be so proud!
However, when I start getting pushed around I morph. Being jostled about just doesn’t sit well with me. If I’m nothing more than an obstacle, then I can sink into the mire of a shover too. My mom would be so embarrassed!
In my recent trip overseas I was staying in a hotel with an array of travelers from many countries. The languages in the elevator were varied and unfamiliar to my ears. Gestures were unique and rhythmically timed to whatever words were being said.
But, the cultural beauty turned off-color once we all entered the buffet dinner hall. At first I politely let the women who were gathering by the plates to go first. I even gestured for them to step ahead of me. That’s when the first pushing began.
Several women with markedly different attire must have mistakenly interpreted my gesturing as a statement that I wasn’t hungry. They roared past me. One of them pushed me back a step.
At first I thought it was funny. No one could be that rude toward another human being could they? Half expecting an apology, I smiled while frantically waving my arms to maintain my balance. But, these female vultures descended upon the buffet like they hadn’t eaten for weeks.
Close behind them were others who became the second wave, flooding the food fare. It was like a rising of a tsunami. My initial reaction was to stand in shock and awe.
Hunger urges the most considerate of men to holler an inner battle cry for justice. The aroma of delicious food erupted into a crazed look in my eyes. When in Rome . . .
Furrowing my brow and gritting my teeth, I saw an opening. Boldly I copied the antics of these foreigners and muscled my way in between two competing bodies. In one felled swoop I grabbed a serving spoon, laughed at etiquette and served up a large portion of the nearest casserole on to my plate.
Did I mention that these women were all very similar? None of them was over 5’2″. Oh, yes, all were over 67. Each had a scarf wrapped tightly around her round face. None of them returned my eye-contact brimming with an icy stare. My Mom would have been so mortified.
The most forgettable part of overseas travel are the lines.
On my last day of a recent trip I stood in line to enter the hotel restaurant. It was fun to laugh with friends who were in line with me. But it was only the first in a long-day of line-waiting.
Once inside the dining room, we stood in line again. But this time it was for the en trees laid out in delicious array. With the main course happily consumed, I stood in line for the amazing variety of the Middle Eastern sweets and bread fare. Sometimes the reward at the end of waiting-in-a-line is well worth it.
I hope heaven won’t have waiting-lines. If heaven does have a waiting line there will only be one. It is the wait on earth to get there.
At the Tel Aviv airport our bus waited in line behind other buses as we approached the first ring of security checkpoints. When it was our turn to approach the security gate, several armed guards brandishing automatic rifles stood a mere fifty yards away, giving us the look of serious scrutiny. We thought it prudent to be fully compliant with this slow moving line.
Once we arrived at our terminal, we waited in line again. This time it was to gather our luggage from the bus. Then, we waited in line to receive our VAT voucher, stood in line to have our luggage x-rayed and moved to another line to have our baggage hand searched. Once waiting in the security line was completed, I stood in another line to receive my boarding pass and check my luggage.
Then, more lines filled up my morning. One was airport security, another was passport stamping, yet another was terminal security. Then, I stood in line to buy a final beverage in the Land of Israel, nestled in the heart of Israel’s International Airport.
Again I found myself waiting in line to board the plane. Of course, several times during the flight I waited impatiently in line to use the lavatory. Then, I was waiting in line to get off of the plane. Once back at home in the USA, there were more lines.
One line that I don’t mind at all still remains special. It’s the US customs. The agent’s questions are polite and simple. But, my favorite part of waiting in that line is the greeting, “Welcome home!”
Thank you for being a loyal reader. Your visits to my blog are very encouraging. Knowing that you are here motivates me to keep my fingers typing, brain thinking and soul reflecting.
But, I need to take some time off. I’ll be overseas on a trip and will not have access to a computer. I tried to find a way to keep up this daily pace of writing to you. But, connecting to the web at most of my stops is not available.
This is not a vacation. I’ll actually be working very hard. There are at least five speaking responsibilities that I have over the next week. But, it’s a favorite venue so I am sure that there will be a lot of life experiences waiting for me.
On this trip I’ll take my notebook to record ideas. Yes, that’s a tab of paper to write on with an ink pen. Do you remember those? There is no keyboard, no electronic screen, no spell check, no web surfing. It is paper, what my great ancestors invented long ago.
Of course there are some common features that I will still have. God will be with me. I will still seek Him every day of my trip. He will be my constant source of joy and dependence.
People will be a part of my daily routine. Many of these people will be new in my life. I look forward to making new friends.
Then, I will always be looking for someone that I can encourage. That task is part of my daily search. At the end of every day my prayer is that I have made a difference in someone else’s life. If I can make them smile, make them hope, make them productive, make them believe, then I have lived a good day.
Fun will be a part of my day. Adventure will always be featured in my schedule. Both are there when the pages of my calendar rotate from one day to the next.
My eyes will be scanning each new venue for something memorable. My mind will collect thoughts worth translating into words. My soul will be seeking experiences that enrich the archives of life. I love living! God gives us so much to fill each day with joy.
I will miss connecting with you. Thanks for understanding. I look forward to writing to you again when I return.
