My inside voice

I wasn't feeling so well that morning. Not sick, but not up to par. Not at full strength. But as the teacher I still needed to control the room full of third graders and hopefully to teach them something. 

I may have flicked the lights - in those days a common trick to get attention. At any rate, I began in barely more than a whisper to explain to my students that I needed their help in being extra attentive because I wasn't able to speak very loudly.

To my delight, it worked. How cool! They got serious and even lowered their tones to match mine. It worked so well, in fact, that I decided I should remember this tactic.

...

Is there still some lesson for me today?  For me, the friend, the neighbor, the mentor, the writer, the influencer? In the classroom that morning, I learned that sometimes...  maybe rarely, but maybe  at least once in a great while... silence can speak louder than noise.  

Actually maybe not so rarely. That being the case, could my soft voice (or my silence) be as effective (or maybe even more effective) than my loud voice? Could my whisper cut through the noise better than a strong, bold statement?

I want to be a truth-teller, but maybe that doesn't always have to be with bold, strong statements. Maybe there should be more whispers of affirmation and encouragement from these lips. Certainly I could be using a soft voice more than I do - a voice that is kind and gentle rather than strong and persuasive. I'm not so confident in my ability to be strong and persuasive anyway.

So...  how about I practice using my inside voice? My gentle voice.  Maybe, just maybe, it will cut through the noise and maybe even calm the chaos. And quite possibly it will speak peace to ears that are aching from the surrounding din.

...  Edited and reprinted from my early days of blogging

The gift of un-busy

"Slow down.

Clear your calendar.

Take time to breathe deeply
and enjoy the season."

A few years ago I worked hard to get to a place of un-busy.  Sure enough, I very much enjoyed the feeling of simplicity.  I asked myself about that the other day - how I did it and why I let it slip away.

Oh, yah, it was because we were out there living on the road…

• Away from our world and our peeps
• Away from our roots.
• Away from friends and family
• Away from any kind of social life
• Away from time commitments

It was nice to not be so busy.  

To not always be scurrying or feeling behind

But it wasn’t perfect.

I missed my peeps, those little grands, our kids, and dear friends.

I missed having at least a bit of a social life.

So here we are a couple years later and we’ve again put down roots. Even though we knew hardly anyone when we moved here, we found ourselves surrounded by wonderful people who soon became friends.  Options and opportunities abound in this place so I just had to try everything.  

Until I couldn’t.

Until I remembered that I can’t do it all.

That I might have to re-teach myself how to pick and choose only the best.  I had to admit that my old tendency to over-commit had returned with a vengeance.  I needed to step back and make some changes.

For three months now I have been intentionally finding my way back toward un-busy.  Not there yet, but I am beginning to breathe easier.

This would be the perfect spot for my magical list of three easy steps to find un-busy.  Sorry; I haven’t found time to come up with a neat list all tied up with a bow.  I’m still in the trenches on this - reminding myself to notice how I’m doing and to ask the hard questions about my choices.  I’m still finding my way back to sanity.  I choose to give myself the gift of un-busy again.  To live at a healthy pace.

Maybe next month I can come up with a handy-dandy list.  

Or maybe not.

King Friday XIII

Once upon a time there was a wonderful neighborhood ruled by King Friday XIII.  I had known of the neighborhood before because of Mister Rogers, but had never spent much time there until recently.  In the last few months I have been so impressed by Mister Rogers and wanted to know more about him.  

Just this week I was introduced to King Friday XIII having only heard of him.  Turns out that he is “the imperious monarch of the neighborhood."  According to Wikipedia, "he is relatively egocentric, irrational, resistant to change, and temperamental, although open-minded enough to listen when told he is wrong. He has a fondness for giving long-winded speeches and using big words.”

Yikes!  He feels really familiar to me - maybe because I am a little like him…  

• Relatively egocentric, huh?  ...Yep, but then aren’t we all?
• Irrational?  ...Okay, sometimes guilty.
• Resistant to change?  Oh, dear; that could be me.
• Giving long-winded speeches and using big words?  ...Seriously?!?  Yah; don’t ask my family about that one!

I certainly did not expect to discover how much I am like King Friday. To the contrary, here I have been really hoping to emulate the mild-mannered Mister Rogers.  I am convinced that the world would be a better place if more of us would learn to be more like him.  Because you see, there are lots of us who are egocentric, irrational, resistant to change, temperamental, and yes, even imperious*.

The most obvious trait I want to learn is that of kindness.  Mister Rogers used to say… “There are three ways to ultimate success: The first way is to be kind. The second way is to be kind. The third way is to be kind.”

Yah, sounds redundant and maybe even silly; right?  

But it gives me pause.  

That’s the way I want to live my life.

That’s who I want to be - someone who treats all people with kindness.

So how do I do that?

Perhaps by following yet another of his examples - that of listening.  Really listening.  Listening to learn how it feels to be in the other person’s shoes. That kind of deep listening requires me to become comfortable with silence. To give myself time to think before reacting.

Oof!!! I admit that I am not good at that one! Silence can feel awkward, as if it needs to be filled. But Mister Rogers believed that “Silence is one of the greatest gifts we have.” 

Oh, dear. Here I’ve been saying all week that I want to be like Mister Rogers and then I find out that I might be more like King Friday! How will I ever upgrade to those more admirable traits?

But wait; there was one other trait that I might share with King Friday…  One that I’m kind of happy about.  I did notice that he is “open-minded enough to listen when told he is wrong.”

Good for him!!!

And good for me when I can do that.

Because that’s how I can become better. If I can be open-minded enough to listen, then maybe I can be kinder and more understanding…

But then...  even while I’m trying to be better...

What’s that I hear off in the distance... ?

“You are special and I like you just the way you are.”

Thanks, Mister Rogers!

I’m learning to like me just the way I am, too.

And that’s another really good step toward liking other people just the way they are.

...

* Vocab words for you to look up...

Maybe not a writer that day

(Written on December 12, 2010)

Tis a lovely day in the neighborhood. 

There's nothing quite like the view outside my window. 

Amazing.

Inspiring.




I sit here in awe, wishing to describe the beauty, but the words won't come together adequately.  

Maybe I'm not a writer this morning. 

Maybe it's a day for rest. 

A day for wonder.

For peace.

A day to breathe deeply.

Maybe I'll just sit and bask in the beauty. 
Ahh...

An awkward silence

It was an innocent question, a simple question, asking about the welfare of a mutual friend. However… the friend in question had died 12 years ago. The person to whom the question had been asked didn’t say anything for a really long time. At least to me it seemed like a really long time. He was likely taking some moments to consider the kindest way to phrase the answer – one that would minimize the embarrassment of the questioner. I found myself wanting to jump in with a quicker answer, but am thankful that I refrained – because it wasn’t my question to answer, but also because it provided an important lesson for me.

In hindsight, I remember standing there thinking, “Why doesn’t he say something?” Even later I marveled at his deliberation and then it occurred to me that this man often does that… often takes some moments to collect his thoughts before giving an answer. Whoa. Think before you speak. What a novel idea.

Then it dawned on me that I had witnessed an illustration of two kinds of conversational response. My internal reaction was immediate, almost impatient, feeling that somebody needed to get the answer out there a.s.a.p. On the other hand, the response that was eventually given seemed to emerge instead from a philosophy that valued taking the time to give a measured response. Duh. “Slow to listen, slow to speak…” Yah, I’ve heard that somewhere before. And no, I’ve never been very good at it. Could it be that I am uncomfortable with silence in some social settings? Do I feel compelled to fill it in before it can become too awkward?

In this case I think I would have given a fine answer. I am sensitive enough to have been kind and gracious, but I would have tried to do it quickly. This was just an ordinary conversation between old friends – so maybe it didn’t really matter – but in a more volatile situation the speed of the answer might have made a big difference.

So, let this be a lesson to me. How many times have I wished that I had stopped to think before speaking? What will it take to help me change? Maybe one step would be to recognize that a moment of silence is not a terrible thing and that it is not always my job to fill it with words. Maybe I could learn that. Just maybe.

My inside voice

I wasn't feeling so well that morning. Not really sick, but not up to par. Not at full strength. But I still needed to control the room full of third graders and hopefully to teach them something.

I may have flicked the lights - in those days a common trick to get attention. At any rate, I began in barely more than a whisper to explain to my students that I needed their help in being extra attentive because I wasn't able to speak very loudly.

To my delight, it worked. How cool! They got serious and even lowered their tones to match mine. It worked so well, in fact, that I decided I should remember this tactic.

Last night I read a blog post* by Jon Acuff, entitled "When God goes quiet" at Stuff Christians Like. His point was that even when He is quiet, God is still there. I'm glad that I have seen the truth of that in my own life and it's good to be reminded of it.

The article reminded me of that classroom incident and I realized there are other lessons as well. Jon Acuff's lesson was for me the child, the student, the learner, the follower. But what about the lesson for me the teacher, the mentor, the friend, the writer, the influencer? In the classroom that morning, I learned that sometimes, rarely, at least once in a great while, silence can speak louder than noise - and maybe not so rarely. That being the case, could my soft voice (or my silence) be as effective (or maybe even more effective) than my loud voice? Could my whisper cut through the noise better than a strong, bold statement?

I am to be a truth-teller, but maybe that doesn't always have to be with bold, strong statements. Maybe there should be more whispers of affirmation and encouragement from these lips. Certainly I could be using a soft voice more than I do - a voice that is kind and gentle rather than strong and persuasive. I'm not so confident in my ability to be strong and persuasive anyway.

So how about I practice using my inside voice? Maybe, just maybe, it will cut through the noise and maybe even bring a better kind of control to a loud situation. And quite possibly it will be more able to speak peace to ears that are aching from the surrounding din.