Jugglers fascinate me. Not the run-of-mill, three-balls-in-the-air type, but the ones I call the Master Jugglers. I love the guys or gals who can toss torches, chainsaws, balls and small animals all at the same time. Well, maybe not the small animals part, but you get the point.
In a sense, we’re all jugglers. Only, instead of swords or bowling pins, we juggle life. And that’s who this article is for – the jugglers. For the ones who have multiple “balls” in the air – time balls, relationship balls, money balls, even ambition balls. Every one claims to be a priority. Every one demands attention, and often wants it now. In the middle of all that, you and I have a choice: Handle them – or they will handle you.
In order to successfully juggle rather than being tossed around yourself, there are four issues you will need to settle: [click to continue…]
Watching TV for the last 70 years has given us a steady stream of midwestern news reporters, California actors, a Motown pop culture, and other invasions of Yankee influence. Of course, we Southerners have made a few inroads of our own; I don’t think we can fool many northerners into thinking that grits grows on trees any more.
Bottom line is, our nation is slowly losing its regionalism. By and large, that’s O.K. Oh, you can still tell generally where a person hails from by hearing them talk. But sadly, some of our most picturesque phrases and words have all but disappeared. Not long ago I actually heard a young mother at the hospital asking her daughter if she could “tote” her food tray. [click to continue…]
(The Twelve Ways of Christmas, Part 4: The Way of Waiting)
For Scotty Thomas, Christmas was cruel. What other word can you use to describe living in a house where Dad enforced a hard-nosed rule: Christmas presents were for Christmas day?
“But can’t I open just ONE?” Scotty would ask.
“No,” his dad would say, smiling.
“I think I know what this one is,” Scotty would say, shaking a wrapped present under the tree.
“Think all you want,” Dad would reply. “You may be right. You may be wrong.” Inevitably for Scotty, it was a little of both.
Like any good 8-year-old, Scotty also had razor-sharp radar for any kid who seemed to get a better deal. Jeremy Walker got to open the give from his sister a day early. Jeff Dunaway opened family gifts the weekend before Christmas day. But Scotty’s appeals landed on stone.
As Scotty grew older and wiser (age 10 now), he became more sophisticated in his approach. If he couldn’t win by appeal, he would conquer by steal. Scotty set out on a mission to find hidden “treasures.”
Snooping through his dad’s workshop and in the attic, Scotty hit the mother lode a full 10 days before Christmas. A new bicycle, video games, a skateboard, some table games, a basketball, a couple of posters for his room, a wristwatch… this was going to be an amazing Christmas.
Hanging on the wall at the Grace Clinic lab in Lubbock – addressed to people referred to as “patient.”
Now that’s refreshing. To a group of people (and it was a huge group on this day, smack in the middle of flu season) who would probably rather be anywhere else and had precious little time, somebody noticed – and planned to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. The message: We recognize you have a life outside what it is we do here.
What if we reapplied that idea to other common experiences? Imagine the signs you may see that reflect tiny investments in your life, or the lives of others.
And in doing so, I will not content myself with yesterday’s progress.
I have seen my share of victories; I’ve won some battles, and maybe even a war or two.
But there are new victories to be won, and yesterday’s dreams will never achieve them.
When my greatest challenges are boredom and fatigue, I will rest in the womb of a new vision, and call forth even greater measures of faith and courage.
It’s time to dream again.
And in doing so, I will see beyond the road blocks and crashes. [click to continue…]
My sister and I used to make mud tea. We didn’t actually call it that, nor did we actually drink the swill, but when we were small, we’d play around outside with spare dishes. One of our concoctions invariably involved mixing a little dirt ‘n’ water to make a tasty drink. When we stirred and stirred our little elixir, the water would take on that irresistible shade of brown. When we stopped stirring, it stayed muddy. But when we gave it a rest and went off to other pursuits, the water would always be clearer when we returned. The mud would have settled to the bottom.
Your life is like that glass in our backyard. When stirred up, it gets muddy. It’s easy to become confused, distorted, foggy, fuzzy and dull. Under the pressure of circumstances, it’s harder to see issues clearly and make good, clear, meaningful decisions.
So… had any “muddy water days” lately? The phone won’t quit ringing, the baby won’t stop crying, everybody needs your help at the same time, you have major, life-changing decisions to make, you have a week’s worth of money to pay a month’s worth of bills, you spend the entire day running about 30 minutes behind, and then you turn on the radio and some clown is singing, “It’s a Beautiful Morning.”
I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, “I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”
He said, “I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time
You see my new job’s a hassle and kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, Dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you”
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
-Harry Chapin, “Cat’s in the Cradle”
He’s an old man now. His physical vision is virtually gone; his heartbeat will soon follow. His spiritual vision? That’s another story. It’s still bright and filled with fire and hope. But it’s a vision that now sees through the eyes of other men. He has no children of his own, but does have a relationship with a man who may as well be. He’s one of those blessed individuals who knows his time is up, and who faces eternity with no regrets. And now he writes the man he calls his son in the faith. His future looks bright; he can only pray the same for Tim.
Stand steady, and don’t be afraid of suffering for the Lord. Bring others to Christ. Leave nothing undone that you ought to do. I say this because I won’t be around to help you very much longer. My time has almost run out. Very soon now I will be on my way to heaven. I have fought long and hard for my Lord, and through it all I have kept true to him. And now the time has come for me to stop fighting and rest (2 Timothy 4:5-7, LB).
A decade before I became a father myself, Harry Chapin sucker-slapped dads everywhere. [click to continue…]
In a previous post I mentioned how I experienced a mini-revolution when somebody suggested that the simplest and most powerful form of goal-setting is simply making a list of things I want to BE, DO, and HAVE. I went to town! And wasn’t content just to itemize some things. I wanted to learn from them. I wanted to learn how to redesign my life before God so that when opportunities arose, like Joshua, I could take quick action.
For me, that meant creating a tool that would help channel my thinking and my actions in the right direction. I began thinking of it as my own personalized planner. I learned from Steven Covey about intentionally planning for the important, though not necessarily urgent, things. I learned from Anthony Robbins about thinking about the states of mind/heart I wanted to experience each day. I learned from the life of Joseph that if I cultivated faithfulness in the daily spaces and dark places, that one day the prison doors would open and Pharaoh would come calling.
So, beginning with the end of the day in mind, I asked myself,
“Self, at the end of the perfect day for me, what can I say that I have done”?
Here is what “God put in my heart to do” (Nehemiah 2:18). Your answer to the question, of course, would be your own. [click to continue…]
“So much of our time is spent in preparation, so much in routine, and so much in retrospect, that the amount of each person’s genius is confined to a very few hours.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson
Whatever happened to Green Stamps? They’re an indelible memory of my childhood. In case you missed it, the Sperry & Hutchinson Company, began offering stamps to retailers back in 1896. Grocery stores, gas stations and the like bought the stamps from S&H and gave them as bonuses with every purchase, based on the amount you bought. In their heyday, 80 percent of U.S. households collected some kind of stamp.
My sister and I grew up licking green stamps and pasting them in books. When the A&P bag began filling up with completed books, we started getting excited. We’d peer at the two pages of toys in the S&H catalogue, surrounded by page after page of sheets, clocks, toasters, and other boring things. (Truth be told, you could get virtually anything with stamps; a school in Erie, Pennsylvania, exchanged 5.4 million stamps for two gorillas for the local zoo.)
Anyway, when we had collected enough to make the trade, we’d go off to the Redemption Center. Technically, we’d already “bought” the stuff. We were presenting evidence of our purchase (the stamps) in order to redeem – to buy back – our merchandise.
This is not about Green Stamps, but about redeeming. About buying back something that already belongs to you – namely your opportunities and your time. [click to continue…]
The only time I ever bought clothes for my children without a guardian present, I bought two dresses in Mobile – this one and a green one.
Actually, I bought the same dresses twice, for a special reason. Earlier that day my twin girls were born.
Little did I know how quickly they would outgrow them.
Today this dress – and the girls who wore it – turns 25. Time moves even faster now. But the love that filled my heart that July day is stronger than ever.
Happy Birthday, ladies. May you change your world as much as you’ve changed mine.
Jugglers fascinate me. Not the run-of-mill, three-balls-in-the-air type, but the ones I call the Master Jugglers. I love the guys or gals who can toss torches, chainsaws, balls and small animals all at the same time. Well, maybe not the small animals part, but you get the point. 
For Scotty Thomas, Christmas was cruel. What other word can you use to describe living in a house where Dad enforced a hard-nosed rule: Christmas presents were for Christmas day?
Hanging on the wall at the Grace Clinic lab in Lubbock – addressed to people referred to as “patient.”
It’s time to dream again. 
My sister and I used to make mud tea. We didn’t actually call it that, nor did we actually drink the swill, but when we were small, we’d play around outside with spare dishes. One of our concoctions invariably involved mixing a little dirt ‘n’ water to make a tasty drink. When we stirred and stirred our little elixir, the water would take on that irresistible shade of brown. When we stopped stirring, it stayed muddy. But when we gave it a rest and went off to other pursuits, the water would always be clearer when we returned. The mud would have settled to the bottom.
He’s an old man now. His physical vision is virtually gone; his heartbeat will soon follow. His spiritual vision? That’s another story. It’s still bright and filled with fire and hope. But it’s a vision that now sees through the eyes of other men. He has no children of his own, but does have a relationship with a man who may as well be. He’s one of those blessed individuals who knows his time is up, and who faces eternity with no regrets. And now he writes the man he calls his son in the faith. His future looks bright; he can only pray the same for Tim. 
In a 
“So much of our time is spent in preparation, so much in routine, and so much in retrospect, that the amount of each person’s genius is confined to a very few hours.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson
The only time I ever bought clothes for my children without a guardian present, I bought two dresses in Mobile – this one and a green one.