Everyone's Got Their "Stuff"

Recently my character came into question over a decision I made several years ago.  It was the kind of formal accusation that stuck with me for quite a while afterwards.  Not surprisingly, the criticizer didn’t have all their facts straight and made the false assumption that my decision was of malice, and not one of thoughtful consideration.  As surprising as the allegation was I had to be honest with myself and ask the question, “Who have I ever falsely accused without knowing all the details?”

As humans, who are we to question the other’s decisions?  Do we really know the full story, or do we simply trust what we see or hear and somehow feel that our assumptions are accurate?  I’m no different than most, I’m guilty of creating opinions of others without knowing them or their circumstances.  We are all guilty of it, but we must remember that each of us have our own “stuff” that people are going to judge us on.

Take the homeless man that’s standing at the street corner with a sign asking for help.  Be honest, what pops into your mind when you see him?  “He’s too lazy to get a job!”  “He’s only going to use the money I give him to buy his next drink!”  Consider this, though, what if you learned that he recently lost his wife to cancer?  Her medical bills were too much and he lost everything.  He lost his job because his employer wasn’t sympathetic to his absences during her illness.  What about the obese lady in the drive-thru at McDonald's that’s a car ahead of you?  Do you think, “She, of all people, shouldn’t be eating fast food!  No wonder she’s so big!”  Did you know that her daughter was killed in a car accident a year ago? That the two of them use to go to McDonald's every Saturday afternoon to share an ice cream cone and talk about their week?  Did you consider that perhaps her drive-thru trip was her way of staying connected with her daughter?

Everyone has their “stuff.”  We all have things in our past that we regret, feel embarrassed about, are ashamed of, or wish we could take back.  Regardless, it’s our “stuff,” and we must find ways to deal with it.  The next time you make a snap judgment on someone you know nothing about, consider what “stuff” they may be dealing with and give them the benefit of the doubt.  Wouldn’t you ask the same of them?

As for my decision that recently came into question, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.  It’s because of the decision I made all those years ago that I’m in a much better place in my life.  As for the accuser that brought my character into question, I don’t wish them ill will.  I simply refuse to explain myself to them or anyone else that sides with their opinion of me.  I chose to remind myself that each of them have their own “stuff” they’re dealing with and they don’t need me adding to their burden or own guilt.

A Common Man        

A Different Kind of Christmas

This is a different kind of Christmas for me this year.  I can’t help but reflect on all the blessings I have in my life, and care little on what’s waiting for me under the tree to open on Christmas morning.  In fact, I find myself drawn to giving more so than I ever have in the past.

I’m not quite sure where the change has come from, to be honest.  I suppose I could chalk it up to my new position within a church setting.  I could, perhaps, reflect on all the changes my wife and I have encountered this year with a long distant move, becoming empty-nesters, realizing what it’s like to be grandparents, and so on.  I’d like to think, however, that the transition from recipient to giver is based on two factors: maturity and spiritual growth.

I turned 56 this year.  Normally I think of my age as just a number.  This year, however, 56 struck me as a number that now represents the second half of my life.  I no longer see myself as unbreakable.  I can begin to see the graying in my temples.  Staying fit and trim is a far greater challenge than it’s been in the past.  My mind is young, but the rest of my body is failing to cooperate.

Considering my age now, I’ve come to realize that I have everything I need.  Material items are less important to me.  In the past I allowed the rush of Christmas and the ads that came with it to influence my thinking that I needed the latest gadget, coolest running shoes, or newest truck accessory.  Not so much this season.  This Christmas I find that I’m far less attracted to the efforts of the big box stores vying for my attention.

Spiritually, the churning in my soul has pointed me towards giving.  I’m finding tremendous joy in buying for others.  I’m constantly looking for creative ways in which to share my love with those that surround me.  The gifts I seek for Christmas are no longer for me, they’re for those in my life that I wish to show devotion and gratitude.  The gifts I wish to give, go out to those far less fortunate than me; those without homes, clothing, food, or family.

This yearning is a flame that grows stronger as we get closer to Christmas.  There is an urgency within me to make sure I’m taking care of my family, friends, co-workers, and strangers.  In my own mind’s eye, Christmas day is no longer about the packages I see under the tree with my name on them.  No, this Christmas I envision those around me opening their own gifts and delighting in the thought that came with it.

My hope and prayer for all of you this season is one of blessings, good cheer, and fond reflection of this past year.  I pray that this will be a different kind of Christmas for you as well.

A Common Man

The Hope Box

In 2002 I presented a close colleague of mine a small token of my appreciation for our friendship in the form of a jewelry-sized Hope Box.  I placed a note in it and told him that no matter where our careers took us, I hoped that our friendship would never die.

Fast forward to 2016.  The Hope Box was long forgotten by me.  While in his office on a recent visit he placed it in front of me and asked if I remembered giving it to him all those years ago.  I honestly couldn’t recall the moment when I did, but the hand written note inside was definitely penned by me.  Below my note he wrote one of his own.  In so many words, he told me that he was thankful for our friendship and thanked God for all He’s done to keep us close over the years.

Back then, the Hope Box was nothing more to me than a show of gratitude to a man whose friendship I always cherished.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that the Hope Box and the note inside would one day symbolize that we would be working together again.

In 2002 I left my teaching job, for a trainer position with the federal government.  My friend was the building principal at the time of my departure.  He and I spoke often over the years, keeping track of our families, our ups and downs, and our shared interests.  Both of our careers progressed – he to California to serve as the superintendent of schools for a large, private Christian school, and me to Washington, DC as an deputy training director, then on to Texas and into the private sector as a process improvement engineer.

In 2012 my friend returned from California, accepting the position of superintendent for the same school we worked together at in 2002.  Over the next four years he and I spoke on several occasions about the possibility of me returning from Texas and coming to work for him again in some capacity or other.  Little did either of us know that in 2016 I would accept a position from the church organization that now partners full time with his school.  As in 2002, he and I will once again be working together side by side.

Throughout the years the Hope Box has come to mean far more than a simple gift and token of appreciation.  The Hope Box was a means that God used to keep my friend and I bonded.  I’d also like to that the It somehow had a part in bringing us back together in a working capacity.  The Hope Box has helped me realize that each of our lives run full circle. 

So, where is your “Hope Box?”  Trust me, I know it’s out there…..

A Common Man

If I'm Being Honest with Myself...

If I’m Being Honest with Myself….

If I’m being honest with myself, I’m probably half the man God wants me to be.  I don’t spend near as much time in the word as I should.  I let my work get in the way of my daily devotion and time with Him.

If I’m being honest with myself, I could have done a much better job as a father.  Too often I put my own interests ahead of theirs.  I spent more time on the baseball and football field then I did in my own backyard.

If I’m being honest with myself, I know that I could be a better husband than I am to a woman that is so deserving.  I fail to communicate at times, and my silence can be seen as a lack of interest or an unwillingness to share.

If I’m being honest with myself, I could certainly be a better brother to my sibling.  I reach out to him only sporadically, and don’t take the time to call him on the phone and ask about how he’s doing.

If I’m being honest with myself, I will forever feel the pain of having a falling out with my dad a few weeks prior to his unexpected death.  I will constantly replay our last conversation in my mind until I pass from this world.

If I’m being honest with myself, most of the time I look away when I’m at a stop light and the homeless man or woman is holding up a sign asking for my help.  I certainly have the means to help them, I just chose to not reach in my pocket and provide them with something that I take for granted.

If I’m being honest with myself, I don’t spend enough time learning more about the world I live in.  Instead, I find myself sheltered in the immediate around me.

If I’m being honest with myself, I could be a better friend to my friends – both near and far.  I chose to stay in touch with them through social media rather than pick up the phone or pen a personal letter.

If I’m being honest with myself, I spend too much time worrying about the small, petty things.  I fail to reflect on all the blessings I do have, and realize that my life isn’t so bad.

If I’m being honest with myself, I tend to not speak out when I see injustice in this world.  I read up on it, but I fail to take personal action and come up with concrete solutions.

If I’m being honest with myself, I know I’ll never be perfect.  I realize that perfection is never fully achievable in this life, but I’d be failing myself, my family, my friends, my neighbors, my colleagues and mankind if I didn’t at least try to be a better person each and every day.

A Common Man