My Story with God…Part 0

Taking the blog in a new direction, for a period of time.

Crazy dream encounters, daily confirmations of prayer, strange converging coincidences, random words that ignite real fires, miracles with substance and power that heals; that it does exist-and in my life, how I have experienced it all:  these are the ingredients that have blended and told me that it was now time to begin writing my story with God.  And even as I continue to grow in my understanding that Jesus is very much alive and increasing His followers while modern Christian religion has all but ceased to grow.

God is Really There!

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99 to 1, And How that Occupy’s My Thinking Lately

Protesting is a part of our heritage.  It’s how we started, and frankly, if we are honest, we taught most of the 2nd and 1st worlds how to do it.  In fact, while we didn’t create the protest, America pretty much branded it, applied for and got the patent and owns the rights.  So I am not shocked that a protest has been ebbing toward the shores of our nightly news, I mean, what is it competing with:  Republican’s dissing the economy, Democrat’s dissing Republicans, NBA trillionaires upset about the economics of bad business deals and canceling, hopefully, a couple of seasons.

Time on our Hands

This protest is actually a montage of protests.  The truth is, well, all over the place.  Animal Farm Takes on The Farm Family, might be one headline.  But my need to write on this has little to do with the conglomeration of issues being vetted by these orphaned idealists.  In a mix of angst, they rant against pot legalization, wealth distribution, ecology issues, 3rd world poverty and any number of things a nation might pitch a fit over when banks quit lending and jobs are as scarce as an Alabama dentist.

But to me, just me mind you, the irony of this organized effort is so obviously baffling as to really make me wonder exactly how far America has fallen.  We used to be a nation that really knew how to galvanize around a core, build a throng, grab a torch and storm the castle.  What’s wrong with us?  We have been reduced to pandering and loitering in camps that get excited when they close a museum, as happened in Washington D.C. recently.  Give me a break.

Are you telling me that I am to believe that 99% of the people in the richest country on earth actually believe they have been victimized by this Democratic Government? Seriously.  Not buying it.  Here is what I do know.  If you are willing to work, someone will hire you.  Our issue is not there are haves and have-nots- that IS history.  Our issue is that we built an economy based on ingenuity, productivity and progress, an economy that suffers from a severe case of entitlement, consumption (of all classes), and a deep desire to get something for nothing.  Work effort is nominal.  Play effort is exertion.

We used to make things, build things and help countries do the same.  Now we eat $5 meals that clog our arteries, pad our waistlines, and slow our thinking.  We give more thought to eating than to the work needed to pay for it.  Everything is cheap, easily consumed and without the value it once had, when it really took effort to produce it.  While I agree that the 1% of America’s wealthy could contribute more, the 99% of which I am one (I think), should stop trying polarize the tallest pigmy and realize that in comparison to every nation on earth- we are all the 1%.  And if this nation doesn’t really take seriously our personal responsibility of what that means, we could become as irrelevant as the protests we are seeing.

What should the NBA fallout be called:  the bottom third 1% to the top tenth of 1%?  Now that is a victim.

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My Mid-Life Try-sis

I am sitting in my office in Louisville, Ky watching the Fall season actually begin- something television proclaims but it’s a false start really.  Leaves are gold and brown, some red and they fall hard this time of year, almost as if they are angry that another turn as come and gone and they must play their second role, namely, feeding the earth.  The practical side of me is reminded that each leaf that falls mounts up an urgency for work, and with so many large and beautiful trees in our yard, I am in a constant stop and start:  love the beauty, hate the mess.

Fall Season Begins

Seriously, I have to decide to pause on the beauty to enjoy it.  My mind has been fashioned by my world, unfortunately, to somehow get this season and this awesome picture into 140 characters, squeeze the tube, grab a rake and blower and move on.

Officially, I am sitting here because I am in between ‘the next thing.’  I am both contemplative and anxious, this being the fall of my years on the planet, my ‘turn’ as it were- and knowing that in another 10-15 years, my leafs will be falling and knowing that with this latest change in my season, I have a rare opportunity.  Some would brand this book as a mid-life crisis, but it really isn’t.  I am at once trying hard to really listen to God and get His leading on my next steps on the journey, while the corporately trained Coyote in me is vigorously punching at my skin to move to the next thing.

The next thing is actually the next ‘things.’  For some time, I have worked with a small team to develop what could turn out to be a catalyst in how companies of all sizes communicate.  That sounds really large and it is.  In fact, one day, what we have developed will be as normal to do as placing a quick call or jotting a note used to be.  That has exciting prospects, but for that to ignite the next few years of my life, it will take God’s continued, unmistakable intervention.  Every time I feel like this is as far as this big idea can go, another door opens, and I walk through, with minimal expectations, waiting for there to finally be a room that ends the journey, but for now, as long as the doors open, I am a loon enough to bonk in and have a poke around.

Then there has always been a dream of mine to help companies build passionate sales teams that operate efficiently and effectively- and make a difference in both the clients world, but also in the lives of those doing the hard work of selling.  Growing up in sales, beginning with my very first sale at Glenn’s House of Shoes in Atlanta, to a quiet woman who was unsure about buying, only looking, until I told her it was my first day and she would be my first sale, ever.  She bought.  A $19.99 cap-toe, sling back, mid heel navy pump made by Capri, a Brown Shoe Company off brand.  I was 16 and greener than a spring shrub.  But something about living on the razor’s edge, rejection lurking around every corner, failure whispering to you, doubts assailing- and that feeling that happens when the 90 rejections turn into a win and then a winning streak.  I have seen so many great sales people, teams and companies, and having the ability to share in those successes-and failures, gives me the desire to seed some of that in companies that need a spark and some direction.

And then there is the real draw of investing more years in larger enterprises, helping them shape teams, focus on the vision and take another hill.  Been there and done that, but if the right situation came along, something that made sense and I was able to integrate with leadership, and the culture of the company wasn’t a toxic clean-up- then that bridge is open as well.  Part of me has outgrown a general sales vp role, and I say that not out of cockiness or pride, but that I have learned to see things intersecting at higher levels- and thus the push to have a bit more control.

Regardless, the truth is, this is more of a ‘try-sis’ than a crisis.  And it is impossible for me to shape it into a simple string of text.  I am full on aware that Fall season has begun, and given the speed with which the Spring came and went, I am doing my best to be thoughtful, prayerful, and listen.

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You Don’t Get the Sense I’m Saying

Most people don’t.  But then again, if they did there would only need to be one shade of Brown and not the seven we have foraging around our house for snacks at all hours of the day and night.  When I over heard Victoria long ago, frustrated by her older shades when she was only three and they twice her age- belt out in a ferocious and meaningful end to their conversation, “You don’t get the sense I am saying,” my mind slowed down to watch that one go by.  

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The World Is Changing and The Ice Cream Truck Just Passes By

Somewhere my grandmother is rotating beneath the Georgia earth, knowing that I am repeating her quips with more frequency, when I used to just roll my eyes. She used to tell me the world was always changing, and her implication was not always for the better.  She survived the Great Depression, and then seemed to take a little bit with her the rest of her life.

Summer and the Ice Cream Truck

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The Day the Gulf Stood Still

As the comedian Brian Regan points out, “We can put a man on the moon, but we couldn’t keep a phone cord from getting tangled.”  As a comedian, he rocks.  Cause his point is simple, ‘if we hadn’t put a man on the moon- would phone cords getting looped really bother us at all?’  We invested a lot of money in the space programs over the years, that outside of giving us some bragging rights, funded research that has made us smarter, and created a number of useful products.

The Tar Ball Rolls Ashore

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5 Things I Am Learning As A New Parent- Again

Several times over the last 20 years of raising kids, I have found that the art of communication is an on-going, persistent- sometimes numbing exercise in words embedded with inflections, hand maneuvers complex enough to be studied by linguists, and ultimately enough repetitions to generate jet propulsion.  And it’s not like that ever changes as the kids grow up, until they actually do. Continue reading

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