Living Large

I am occasionally haunted. I imagine all of us are haunted at one time or another . . . not in the traditional sense, of course, but in the sense that a question or a “pondering” sits with you for a while. Are you living out your life’s purpose? Do you find joy in your relationships? For some, those are haunting questions.

The most haunting question for many of my coaching clients is “What is my purpose in my current role?” And to be completely authentic (transparent and ghost-like, if you will), it’s the question that sits with me some days too.

So, what happens when your life’s purpose and your work purpose do not match? For some, self-sabotaging behavior becomes evident. For others, the spirit of Eeyore seems to overtake them. The corporate term for it is “disengagement.” The broader the discrepancies in purpose, the less engaged a person becomes. And from there, it just gets scarier . . . Disengagement shows up on performance reviews. You’re looked over for promotions and opportunities for growth. Someone in management may decide to free up your future . . . and that’s very scary!

Because your mind and body are synchronized, your body tells you when your purposes are mismatched. That feeling of dread you get on Sunday nights, the late Friday afternoon mood change, heart palpitations, sleeping too much . . . there are hundreds of “body” clues.

The 80s had “Ghostbusters” to ward off haunting spirits (and so did 2016, but let’s stick with the 80s version). Guess what though . . . you’ve got, within yourself, your own “haunt-busting” tools. Consider these:

1. Personal Strengths and Weaknesses—Knowing these will help you determine how to better match your life purpose with your role purpose.
2. Friends and Colleagues—Reach out to trusted friends and colleagues for feedback related to what you do well. Ask them to talk with you about your growing edges or traits that need refining.
3. Transferable skills—I believe we are often blind to the transferable skills we hold. Name them. Think of all the ways they could support you in both your life purpose and your role purpose.
4. Upgrade your résumé—You’re never too old or ensconced to look at other options. Life is too short to live any part of it without purpose.
5. Explore—One of the biggest contributors to disengagement is a lack of curiosity. Be curious. Look into unimaginable options. It’s how Disney got started.

How do you cope with the haunting? Fight or flight? Or maybe it’s more accurate to say it’s “fright” or flight. Be encouraged to journey through the difficult or scary parts of your questioning, moving forward to a well-lit, purposeful place. Life is short . . . way too short to spend it haunted.

I am getting my conducting legs back under me little by little. It’s been many years since I’ve conducted a real live choir. I’ve conducted “Appalachian Spring”, Beethoven’s symphonies, and Adele . . . in the privacy of my car, but a real live choir is a completely different animal.  I became a choir director again this past December after a long hiatus.

Through a slight waving of my arms, I can keep a steady beat, change meters, adjust tempo, and help the choir finish the ends of their words together–especially words ending in “s”, “k”, “p”, etc. As a singer in many choirs, including professional choirs, I know that, just by watching the conductor, singers and accompanists can make magnificent sounds together. As a singer, I brought several offerings to the table . . . the skill to read music, a pretty decent voice, and the ability/desire to follow direction. Now, as a conductor, I am learning to trust that my choir members bring to the table the same offerings that I brought when I was a singer.

Therein lies the leadership lesson . . . when mutual trust occurs between the conductor and the singers, the result is great music. Similarly, when mutual trust occurs between a leader and the employees, the result is great productivity. I have sung under conductors who go through choral parts and sections of music ad nauseam. I have dreaded going to those rehearsals. In the same way, a leader (the term is used loosely, in this case) who is a micromanager exhibits a lack of trust that smothers employees’ desires and abilities. There’s no doubt that sometimes more directive leadership is necessary, but if you’ve hired for quality, the directive leadership is the exception, rather than the rule.

When employees are allowed to practice their craft, experiment a little, and enjoy working with fellow employees, the ensemble becomes more productive at a quicker pace . . . learning each others’ strengths and opportunities for improvement along the way. The conductor . . . uh, leader . . . can then enjoy the gifts and talents of the participants. What’s even better is that the participants enjoy the ensemble as well.

On Sunday, I will spend another wonderful Christmas day with my family . . . and on Monday, I will celebrate another birthday.

I can remember the days I would dream of having my own children . . . preferably four, spaced about two years apart. I dreamed of the birthdays when the four children would gather in the kitchen with the art supplies (think construction paper, gel pens, glue sticks, glitter, and pipe cleaners) and make their homemade birthday cards.  In my dreams, I imagined my awesomely handsome, productive, and loving husband, making scrambled eggs, bacon, hash browns in the kitchen. Since it would be a special day for mom to sleep in, my loving family would tiptoe upstairs, with a tray table filled with breakfast, cards, and small trinkets.  Some of the glitter would have flaked off the cards into the scrambled eggs, but that just made it a bit more festive.

But . . . it didn’t happen that way. On my birthday this year, I will get up, feed my two kitties, take the Christmas tree down, and think about changes I will make to the house in which I currently live, as I transition from renter to owner. (Thank goodness for a good relationship with my ex-boyfriend who is currently my landlord.)  Compared to the dreams I had, the reality seems a little different, doesn’t it? While my dreamworld birthday doesn’t exist, I will be completely content in my birthday routine.  Why? Because I choose to be happy, to acknowledge the goodness and awesomeness of my life. I have chosen to be positive, productive, loving, joyful, and always hopeful. Happy Birthday to me, indeed!

As a classically trained pianist, I understand black and white keys very well.  Through the years, my teachers would stop me if I missed a beat, a rest, or a note. When I became a piano teacher, I too stopped students for incorrect rhythms, missed beats of silence, and missed notes. The prize for playing perfectly is getting the next piece in the repertoire, which will also be practiced into perfection.

Several years ago, I realized a somewhat paralyzing parallel in my life . . . somehow those lessons of learning and memorizing the black and white keys on a piano bled into other aspects of my life. Knowing the “black and white” of living guided my decision-making. Safe.  Rules and regulations. Perfection. As it turns out, that kind of living is a perfect lead into hesitancy in trying anything new . . . anything outside the lines.  Rule followers and perfectionists often ask, “What if I can’t do it?  What if I fail? Someone else will do it better than I will. It’ll be easier if I stick to what I know.”  Afraid of failure? Or is it a fear of success?

Concerts featuring piano are certainly enticing, but have you experienced jazz? Unusual rhythmic patterns, syncopation, blue notes, running bass lines, enharmonic tonalities make for imperfect, but oh, such interesting sounds. There’s no use fighting it. It just happens. Explore it. Appreciate it. Learn from it. Love it. Watch closely for the resolutions and the evolvement of the piece. Jump into the light, playful parts and explore the dark, sad blues. Sultry, mysterious, sad, sexy, fun, swinging, inviting, repelling, improvisational.

Music? Bring on the classical. Life? Try jazzin’ it up.

This past Tuesday I resigned my position as a Corporate Educator with a large healthcare company. Though I was well-paid, I didn’t feel very valuable. A large portion of corporate training nowadays is designed for face-to-screen encounters. Even Basic Life Support classes are offered via computer-based learning, with a short, live skills-assessment component. Therefore, a great deal of corporate educators’ function is administrative.

I am moving into the role of Academic Advisor at a large university. While I can already tell that my skills will be useful and valued, I am taking a large pay cut–about a third of what I was making as a Corporate Educator. The deal is sealed and I am extremely excited about moving into higher education. There’s no turning back–and I’m good with that.

In my excitement and anticipation (the new job begins September 22), I must say that I am a bit worried. Worried in a way, though, that moves me to action . . . worrying wisely. The pay cut is significant, so how will I earn the lost income? I have nights and weekends available. I could teach piano again–something I love passionately. I would love to return to church work on a part-time basis, as long as it was a good match theologically. College ministry, children’s ministry, congregational care . . . Coaching is definitely on the table too. More chaplaincy shifts with another health care system? The Wise Worrying upon which I have embarked is allowing me to think creatively about my financial future.

Wouldn’t it be terrific to have a working Magic Eight Ball? Or, remember the movie “Oh, God!” with George Burns and John Denver? Remember when George Burns’ voice (God) came over the radio telling John Denver’s character the next steps? I don’t know what the future holds–even the parts I have some say-so about. What I do know, though, is that life is short. I might have just committed the dumbest financial move ever. But life is more than financial decisions. Taking a cut in pay (by a third), and being twice as happy in my work seems like good math. No worries.

In a recent coaching encounter, my client expressed her intense disappointment at having lost a valued and respected mentor. I could hear the sadness in her voice as she spoke about the mentor’s passion for her work. As a nursing supervisor, the mentor exhibited compassion for patients and inspired the nurses who reported to her.  She was there one day, and gone the next. My client spoke of this mentor in the past tense, leading me to think that death had come suddenly.  Sudden, yes. Death, no. The beloved mentor had been a casualty of corporate change.

I am familiar with the voice of the griever.  In my years as a chaplain, I learned that there are two paths to death–gentle deaths and violent, traumatic deaths.  Family members grieving for people who die gently (think “hospice”, “old age”) seem to move through the grieving process a bit more systematically and smoothly. The death makes sense.  Family members grieving for people who die suddenly (think “car crash” “heart attack”) take longer to go through the grieving process and sometimes become self-destructive to escape the pain. There are so many things left unsaid; so many “if only. . .” thoughts.

My client spoke with the voice of a griever.  I sensed the sadness . . .  and a hint of resentment.  In fact, since her mentor’s sudden exit, she is now seeking other employment. “I’m not alone,” she said, emphatically. “Freeing up one’s future” is inevitable in business. “Deaths” of the corporate structure affect staff members in the same way death affects individuals.  Remember the last time a beloved team member resigned or retired?  There might have been a party, reception, or a roast. The loss was certainly felt among fellow team members, but the opportunity to say “good bye” eased the difficult change in the corporate structure.  Have you experienced a former teammate’s termination?  Did you watch the person as they were escorted out of the building? Suddenly, everything associated with the person is Unmentionable. The person’s name become Unspoken.

Corporate grief, whether gentle or sudden, deserves to be acknowledged–it’s happening, whether it’s acknowledged or not. I say let’s continue the traditions of saying “good bye” to the gentle exits.  In addition, I strongly recommend personal conversations when the strategic choice is made for more difficult exits–terminations, layoffs, downsizing. When ignored, the staff feels as though they are caught in a giant game of “Whack-a-mole”, wondering if they’re next to get whacked if they raise their head a little above the radar.  When staff are left without answers, the conversations begin, allowing team members an opportunity to fill in the blanks on their own. Corporate obituaries are written by the staff, whether welcomed or not. The only choice corporate leaders have in terms of corporate grief is whether to facilitate it or not.

In Feng Shui, elephants are viewed as objects of luck and good fortune.  “Place an elephant at the front door, facing inward, to welcome good luck.” “Place an elephant on your work desk, facing outward, to symbolize intelligent leadership.” In Feng Shui, elephant placement is big.

With that in mind, it’s kind of funny (ironic funny, not haha funny) to speak of the “elephant in the room” as an unfortunate element of many organizational systems–the big issue that most people are  aware of, but find it difficult to talk about. These indoor pachyderms can cause quite a bit of damage to the interior of a system–from creating a culture of mistrust to settling into apathy.  How, then, can the not-so-graceful presence be gently escorted from the space?

Step One: Acknowledge the elephant. It’s there. You know it. Your colleagues know it.  You talk about it.  Even if you’re not talking about it, it’s likely that other people are. The awareness brings a sense of honesty and transparency to the room.  In acknowledging the elephant, what are your feelings in relation to the elephant?  Are you afraid of it?  Do you think it’s kind of cute?  Do you feel sorry for it? Teasing out your own emotions will help you know how to manage the elephant. What is the fear about? Why have you continued to “feed” the elephant, allowing it to get bigger and bigger?

Step Two: Address the elephant. Addressing the elephant may need to happen in one conversation or in a series of conversations. A sense of calmness, coming from a place of care and concern, is an approach useful in keeping the elephant from becoming enraged (a different metaphor, but think “bull in a china shop”). The elephant doesn’t belong in an enclosed space.  I imagine that if the elephant were to be honest, it feels a bit cramped in the space and is ready to move on too.

Step Three: Lead the elephant Away. Above all, help the elephant out of the room without humiliation and embarrassment (see Step Two). The elephant in the room may well be a behavior of a leader/participant/colleague–not the person–in your organization.  It’s not necessarily beneficial to remove the elephant AND the room in which it sits. Slaying the elephant in the room will just make a big mess to be cleaned up later. Take good care and think strategically in leading the elephant away.

Several years ago I received a tiny glass elephant as a gift from one of my piano students. Its placement on a windowsill in my home invites any good luck that comes my way. With self-reflection and an open invitation to purposeful feedback, may it be the only elephant that lives in my room.

Physics is way out of my league.  Even when I viewed the  googled “simplified string theory” descriptions, I was quickly lost in a vocabulary of “quantum” and “oscillating”.  The one description that caught my eye, though, was the “theory of everything”.  The theory of everything somewhat parallels my personal string theory.

Have you ever seen the back side of a tapestry?  Long strings, short strings, knots, loose ends, frayed strings . . . they’re all there.  To look at the back side of a tapestry, it’s hard to get a complete idea of what the picture is on the flip side.  Usually, though, tapestries are intricate works of art.  The colors and details are often exquisite.  There are patches of darkness and light, shadows and brilliance.

While the physicists’ identification of ‘string theory’ deals with the theory of everything, my string theory relates to the “theory of everybody”.  In my imagination, each person on the planet carries a string through life.  Like the threads of a tapestry, our lives intersect with people every day. There are short relationships and long relationships. Some relationships start, then stop for a while, then resume. There are relationships that are difficult–the ones that entangle us. And certainly, our most brilliant and most difficult days stand out.

I hope choose to live purposefully and authentically so that my life’s string creates places of light and beauty in the ‘tapestry’ of others.

One of my farther flung dreams is to create a reality TV show.  The premise behind the show is to have church in a bar.  There would be a regular cast of characters (think “Cheers”) and guest appearances by theologians, philosophers, and purpose-filled servant leaders.

Some of my favorite conversations related to God stuff have happened way outside the walls of the church.  It’s already happening in some congregational small groups–these gatherings often go by the name “Pub Theology.”  Small groups meet at a local pub and talk about theological topics. My reality TV show would be a bit more grassroots–stripped of anything that looks like a traditional church.  I already have the bar picked out!

Several years after seminary, and after serving as youth minister in a rather toxic church, I decided I’d explore a career change . . . a rather extreme change.  I went to bar-tending school.  I quickly learned that there weren’t a lot of differences between tending bar and being a minister.  (I never tended bar after going to bar-tending school, by the way. I ended up returning to full-time ministry.)  Think about it . . . the skill sets of a minister and a bartender are comprised of many of the same elements.

The minister and the bartender . . .

• meet people where they are (that’s what the textbooks say anyway)
• are active listeners (talk about hearing some great life stories!)
• are non-judgmental (again, that’s what the textbooks indicate)
• offer solutions (the bartender even offers solution solutions)

If one person was practicing both roles in the same space . . .

• Would it allow for more authentic conversations?
• Would it bring about more engaging discussion about the realities of life, including the disappointments which sometimes get glossed over in the traditional church?

Sure. It’s far-flung. I really do wonder, though, if it might serve as a place for healing for those who have felt rejected by church.  That’s what I would want it to be. Genuinely.

Oh, the ponderings of a Tuesday night . . . and by the way, the name of my reality TV show?  Holy Spirits.

As a Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department volunteer chaplain, I take advantage of the opportunity to ride along with police officers in the community. The district I have focused on is the Westover District. The Westover District covers 16.5 square miles of west Charlotte. There are many Section 8 housing communities within the district. Last spring, while riding with a second-shift officer, we were called to a local motel to check on the welfare of a woman and her three children (ages 12, 10, and 2). While at her children’s school that afternoon, the woman (26 years old) made comments to school staff that she was going to harm herself and her children. The police officers met her as she and the children got off the city bus. To make a long story somewhat shorter, the woman and the children were living in a motel room. She worked nights at a local restaurant, with the motel staff “checking in” with the children while she was away. During our encounter, I heard her yell at her 12-year-old son, become confrontational with police officers, and watched her dump the contents of her purse on the pavement, all in front of her children. Because of her comments at the school, she was involuntarily committed to a mental health facility. The children were “farmed out” to foster care.

It’s been several months since I witnessed this encounter, but still, it sits with me.  At one point in the conversation between the woman and the seven police officers, the group had formed some semblance of a circle.  Somehow the two-year-old ended up standing in the center of the circle, pacifier in her mouth, looking up, watching her mother cry. The toddler’s mother was trying to explain to the police officers that she’s just trying to “get by”, but it’s so hard. “Sometimes I just get angry.”  As I stood on the outside of the circle, it was all I could do to not run in, grab up the children, (and their mother, for that matter), and care for them.

When I watch the news these days, I sense the same need . . . I want to drive to Texas or Arizona, scoop up the children, bring them home with me, and care for them.  It’s not that simple though. There are no simple solutions for the children fleeing their homes and families in Central America.  Nor are there simple solutions for young women raising children in a hotel.  The numbers . . . and the stories that the numbers represent . . . are overwhelming.

I read website after website telling me to pray and send money.  It doesn’t seem to be enough–even in the short term. It’s terrific that food, water, and shelter are provided to many of the children. BUT . . . Who is reading bedtime stories to them?  Who is holding them close when they cry? With whom are they bonding while they are away from their parent?  Who is singing a lullaby to them as they drift off to sleep–a sleep that is most likely related to exhaustion. I will pray. I will send money. It still doesn’t seem to be enough.

Tonight, I will go home, read a little, feed my two cats, and set the alarm so that I can wake up and go to a job that pays good money, provides good benefits, and allows me to pay my bills. In other parts of my city and in cities everywhere, the children . . . hmmm.  All of the sudden, my book, my bed, my job, all those comforts and more . . . it doesn’t seem to be enough.