Having Your Flowers Now

I work 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It is an unusual job. We know already that it will end no later than the last part of September this year. With very strict job parameters, very important goals, and pressure growing on a daily basis, it is an easier place to work some days than it is others. I've not been bored for even a minute and I look forward to going to work every single morning. The boss is a veteran of the job. In the past, his offices have set performance records. He knows that we have the ability to be a record setting office ourselves. Most days he is from the Dean Smith school of management. Once in a while, he leans more to the Bobby Knight (my apologies to those who don't follow college basketball) school of management. Naturally, I like the Dean Smith school better, but sometimes all of us need the Bobby Knight method to shake us out of our complacency and wake us to the urgency of our job. One of the things that he does that I really like is to walk through the office every morning greeting each of us. Another thing he has done is to involve the whole office in a monthly potluck lunch. At that time, we get a more detailed overview of what's happening and what our expected role is and is expected to be. We also use that time to recognize employees who have gone above and beyond the call of duty in job performance the previous month. Since the census (okay, now you know where I'm working) is only held every 10 years, the boss has been involved in other vocations. Among them is included work in the funeral business. From that job, came something that he shared with us prior to recognizing the outstanding employees this last month. What he said stuck with me and inspired me to share it with you. He told us that, during his time in the funeral business, he had seen many flowers given in memory of persons who could no longer enjoy them. This had inspired him to develop recognition programs wherever he worked. His point was that he wanted his employees to be given their "flowers" while they could enjoy them. I have to admit that, when the nomination policy for recognition was first announced, I thought it was a bit hokey. Now, I'll be the first to admit that it made me feel good seeing several employees honored by their managers and peers. I liked seeing them enjoying their "flowers" now. Here is my final point... now is the time to share your flowers. Do you owe someone an apology? Don't wait to send flowers to their funeral, give a heartfelt apology now. Have you been remiss in keeping in touch with friends? Don't wait to attend the funeral. Get in touch now. Have you been meaning to volunteer at a mission, but just haven't found the time? Bring those "flowers" with you and find a way to share them with those who need the boost they will give. The boss and I will never see eye-to-eye on everything, but on this one thing, he has been able to share a small "flower" with me that I'll cherish forever.

"Roots and Wings" and Some Other Things

I want to talk about the Other Things before I get to Roots and Wings. It's early in the year 2010, the time we all talk about resolutions, at least those of us who live in eternal optimism do. I've proven to be much better at pointing others toward the resolutions that they should make and trying to help them keep them than I am at making and keeping my own. This year, I've resolved to try to work harder on my own resolutions. I began by not resolving to loose weight, eat more healthy food, and get more exercise. I've made those same three resolutions for 50 some years now with limited success at best. In truth, I weigh just about what I did 50 years ago, so I haven't been a total failure. At least I've held the line. This year, I've made two resolutions that I don't believe I'll have as much trouble keeping. The first resolution concerns family and friends. I resolve to get in touch with every single family member, friend, and personal acquaintance listed in my email address book, my cell phone contact list, my Facebook friends, and my PDA contact list. I want to make this a face-to-face contact when possible, a phone contact if necessary and will fall back on email when all else fails. I'm only making one other resolution. With apologies to my pastor, Terry Matthews, I resolve to shorten my "lag time". In his sermon on Sunday, Terry recounted a personal story. Not so long ago, he had been caught having to drive on some iced over streets. As he slowly and carefully made his way up a hill, a woman driver (the driver's sex is not pertinent to the story, but I can't resist a jab at women drivers - she was probably on a cell phone and didn't realize how close she was) began to tailgate him. As us folks from the South know, we don't care how much snow you had back home, ice is almost impossible to drive on. Anyway, to return to Terry's story, the closeness of the driver began to make him very nervous. Terry said that it took him no time at all to think of things to say to the tailgating driver. I'm sure that these must have been things he learned back in his college days and hadn't recalled since. Realizing that it would be unseemly for a pastor to hang out his car window and share his thoughts and being certain that at least one member of his congregation would be standing around in the cold doing nothing but hoping to catch the preacher out, Terry refrained from verbally expressing his thoughts. Terry told us that, as he drove on, thoughts and expressions of a more Biblical nature came to mind. His only regret was that the "lag time" between his original thoughts and his second ones created enough time for the other driver to be on her way. His point, in a nut shell, was that, if we are more knowledgeable of the Bible, we can shorten our personal lag time. If an experienced pastor needs to work on his personal lag time, just think of how much work I have before me. I resolve to spend more time in the Bible. Now, let's talk about Roots and Wings. I still keep a small plaque on my bedroom wall. It says, "Two of the greatest things we can give our children are roots and wings." My own parents did a great job of both. I grew up in a neighborhood filled with friends and love. I always felt safe. Not only did I have roots, several of my closest friends grew up considering our home a part of their root system as well. I got to really spread my wings before I ever turned 17. In the summer following my 16th birthday, my father and I did a driving tour of the northern part of the US, and some of Canada, from the Atlantic coast to the Rocky Mountains. I saw Mount Rushmore so long ago that Lincoln hadn't even started growing his beard yet. Over the years since, I've been able to live in Center City Philadelphia, very rural Mississippi, and the eastern part of North Carolina. I've been lucky enough to work in Maine, South Carolina, the Caribbean and Central America. I've been on mission trips to the Dominican Republic and spent a summer on the Navajo Reservation in the Four Corners. I'll never know the extent to which I've been able to give my own children roots and wings, but I hope that I've been a bit successful. What of my current roots and wings? I'm afraid that I've reached a time defined by strengthening roots and weakening wings. I can live with that. I'm rooted in a home and neighborhood that I like and a wife I love. On the other hand, I sometimes ache for the wings that once were. I won't ever stop longing to see what is just over the next hill or around the next bend in the road. I know that there are "blue highways" (William Least Heat-Moon) that I'll never travel. There are small villages and great cities that I'll never visit. There are new friends that I'll never meet and strangers I'll never laugh and kid with. I sometimes ache at the thought. With additional apologies to Terry Matthews, as I sat in church last Sunday, I suddenly thought about how much I missed the small church in Shiprock, on the reservation, and my friends there. Later in the afternoon, I called Kenneth Lee, one of my Navajo friends there, just to hear his voice and catch up on the latest happenings. There are rich persons who have homes in NYC, San Francisco, and maybe Paris. It would probably seem very strange to them to know that my dream would be a home in Winston-Salem and a home in Shiprock. When I first hit the high desert, I didn't like anything about it. Terry Matthews (shows up a lot this blog, doesn't he?) cautioned me to be patient, that I might change my mind. In the 3 months I was there, I learned to love it. I want to see the Shiprock again. I want to walk the streets of Durango. I want to drive the countryside. As long as a person is able to believe, love and dream, life is well worth living.