Adults have many love languages. There are books that teach you how to adopt them and adapt them and implement them. It's all very scientific, and I'm not entirely convinced we ever perfect any of them.
Or even get very good at them. But kids, kids from all over the world, they only have one love language. It's called show up. Presence. We visited a facility yesterday for kids suffering from malnutrition. Many have health challenges associated with that. And most don't have anyone in their lives who can or will take care of them. One of the stipulations of the kids being in the facility is a family member must come visit them at least once per week. There are 21 kids there; 7 adults. While we were there the air condition wasn't working on a 90 degree day. It was uncomfortable. And yet, within minutes, the kids were all smiles and all hugs hanging out with us. I don't think it's because the kids were desperate for attention. I think it's because a child's heart long's for what all of our hearts were created to long for: presence. God speaks often of the pure joy we will feel in his presence. A presence he invites us to experience every second of our lives. I think kids feel the simplicity of that presence kind of joy more than adults. Adults are writing books about the best ways to experience presence; kids simply participate in it. Kids whose lives have been valued least often seem to have a greater attunement to the value of simply being in the company of another human being. It makes me wonder if we aren't all losing a little value while writing books about what company is supposed to look and feel like instead of simply looking for the treasure in the company. When we were leaving yesterday a young Honduran pulled up on a motorcycle outside the gates of the building. One of the young boys who'd been hanging out with me went to the gate, gripped it with his hands and stared through the slats of the gate out to the motorcycle. And he smiled. The little boy just smiled and pointed. I don't think he knew the young man; I think he just sensed showing up. Presence. I encourage us all to quit overthinking presence and just find value in it no matter what it looks like. I encourage us to quit analyzing presence and live in it. I encourage us all to have a longing for one another that leaves us standing at a gate smiling at someone's arrival. I think we all have some sort of longing to receive that kind of smile. Maybe it starts with knowing we all have one common love language. Presence.
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I was having dinner Saturday night with my friend Laura Baumgardner. We were reflecting on the end of a beautiful event - the annual Run for Respect in Pontiac, Illinois.
Laura and her long-time friend Beth Bradley Shelton started this event 11 years ago. The work they have done with their special needs students through this event - and through over 3 decades of working with them in their life skills class at Pontiac Township High School - has contributed to one of the most inclusive communities I've ever visited. Because of the work they do, kids in the Pontiac school system start hearing messages of inclusion in kindergarten, and they keep hearing them - and participating in them - until the day they graduate high school. It's a beautiful thing. When you leave something behind that you've built - Laura and Beth are retiring at the end of this year - there is naturally some worry about what will become of it. When you build something, no one on the planet will be able to tend to it with the same kind of care you poured into building it. I get it. And I get that it's easy to get stuck in protecting what we built at the expense of spending a lifetime celebrating the beauty of the building. Because beauty has momentum in Pontiac - and well beyond the borders of the town and the state of Illinois - that will never be undone. Even more, they have set in motion the seeds of a beauty that will never stop growing. Multiplying. The ever present reminders of evil in this world can blind us to the world that was designed to receive beauty. It is in our bloodlines to long for it, and to welcome it as a long lost friend when it comes into our lives. A beauty that we forever treasure. And share. Beauty has a momentum that evil can only dream of keeping up with. People in every state in this country have run for respect, and run on with the messages that the race has gently place upon our hearts. People on every continent in the world have done the same. These messages have become beliefs and practices and beliefs and practices treasured friendships. And a greater appreciation for the beauty of a collective one another. I think we all need to be reminded of that. Evil exists because it knows better than us the power and unstoppable force of beauty. It comes at us in cruel and ugly ways to distract us away from and to create internal doubt toward beauty's reach. Because we are the creators of beauty. We are its momentum. And one of the most beautiful things about beauty is once we have poured it into the world it never comes back. It just keeps going. Like a race that never ends. We must remember that. When the race itself DOES end, the beauty doesn't. Once we've offered it the world becomes a giant thank you note for the beauty we've offered. We must read that note often. Looking forward and not back. And be reminded that there is no greater offering each and every day than beauty. When we throw beauty into the world the world catches it as if receiving a long lost friend. And it forever treasures it. I walked into Pontiac Township High School (PTHS) yesterday afternoon after driving 12 hours to get there. I walked into the school commons area. Jamie saw me first, and with a voice as loud as only Jamie can yell with, he yelled "Keith."
He jumped up and came to hug me and said, "I've missed you Keith." I've missed you too buddy. I would drive 12 hours for that shout - for that hug - every day of the week. Jamie is a 20 year old special needs student in my friends Laura and Beth's class at PTHS. Many years ago, I joined in their effort to replace the r-word 'retarded' with the r-word 'respect' through their annual 5K race - the Run For Respect. Most years I have run the race virtually in Virginia, but Laura and Beth are retiring at the end of this year, making this the last Run For Respect as we know it. So not coming to Illinois to run the race in person was NOT an option. These teachers and these kids have challenged me to be my best self more than they will ever know. I've run some of my longest distances fueled by their belief. A belief not in me, but a belief these kids have in themselves. It's true these kids have some limitations, but I have watched them attack life like they are the only ones unaware of that. They have also shaped the way I see other human beings. In a world where we can be quick to see and look for the worst in one another, when we can be quick to judge each other, all these kids have ever done is accept me. I walk into the building and they shout my name, not because they have special needs, but because they see me as special. And here's the thing, they don't see me as special because I am special, they see me as special because that is their starting point with everyone. Everyone they encounter gets the starting point: you are special. With these kids, that starting point is an instinct. I am trying to make it mine. Some days I am better at it than others, but I'm better at it than I've ever been. A lot of that is because of Laura and Beth and these beautiful kids. Thousands upon thousands of us are better at it than we've ever been. Because year after year people in every state and on every continent in the world have joined in this Run For Respect. Most races end at the finish line. Most of them.... Today I will run one final Run For Respect. One final finish line at one of the most meaningful races I've ever run. And maybe there will be tears. But those tears will be for the memories, the ways this race and these amazing humans have touched my life. But long after that finish line there will be joy and appreciation. Because this race has started a race whose momentum has only begun. Long after one last run for respect, respect will run on. Because this race was never about the miles, it was about creating a world where we can all feel included. Well Jamie, you have never been retarded to me. You have only been one of the most amazing humans I've ever met. And I love you buddy. Laura and Beth, thank you for having the vision and the courage and the hard fought patience to continue this run. Mission accomplished sweet friends. Thousands of us have run for respect. Many many more than that are living more lovingly and with more acceptance than ever. That makes the Run for Respect one hell of a race. And I can't wait to tackle it. One. Last. Time. I have pictured God in a conversation lately. It's a conversation with God where I am begging him to give me what I need to get where I'm going. Give me these final few things God, and I will get there.
And I'm frustrated in this conversation, because God knows these things I need. He knows it better than me, if he'd simply hand them to me, I will be there. Today. Only in this conversation God isn't handing me these things; he's shaking his head. And he's mumbling. And more and more I can here what he's mumbling. He's saying, "you're going the wrong way." God isn't depriving me, he's preventing me. God isn't depriving me opportunity, he's preventing life from stealing it from me. Because it's true, what most often prevents God from doing what God wants to do through me is Keith finding ways to do what we Keith wants to do through himself. And because it's true, maybe one of the most infrequently asked questions from me to God is, where do you want me to go? How often am I frustrated at God for not providing me the things I need to get where I want to go before I've ever asked God where it is he wants me to go? Often. And how often, when it's my frustration that I don't have what it takes to get where I want to go that it's God's even greater frustration that I have more than what it takes to go where he wants me to go? Often. I am reminded today to ask more often in the midst of my frustrations, God, where do you want me to go? I am reminded today when I get to feeling like I don't have what it takes to get where I want to go, that I am not without the right stuff but without the right directions. God longs to be far more a guide in our life than a provider. Because the reality is, when we lean into his guidance we discover we already have everything we need. But too often, we want to be our own guide in life. Which leaves us feeling ill-equipped and incapable of getting there. Well often we are not ill-equipped and incapable, we are simply going the wrong way. Do you ever watch those Olympic springboard divers? They bounce on that board, trying to get every bit of lift that board will give them. In the earliest moments of what they are about to do, they know that board is their best friend.
These days, I see myself as a springboard diver. Without the speedo shorts of course. 🤦♂️ I'm getting all the lift I can get. Not so much to escape where I am, but to leverage all the lift I can get to propel me to where I am going. Edith Eger says, "you can live in the prison of the past, or you can let the past be the springboard that helps you reach the life you want now." We have that choice. Always. Stay in the prison of our past. Sink deeper and deeper into it like quicksand. Because our past has no mercy. It will swallow us and move on to its next victim without a second thought. So it's OUR thought that matters. It's me who decides, I'm climbing this springboard and bouncing my way up and on. Not up and out; but up and on. Because our past doesn't move on. Our past doesn't heal. Our past just sits there, an eternal invitation to come back. And sink. Our past never quits suggesting, you shouldn't have done that. Our past never quits suggesting, you're a bad person. Our past never quits suggesting, you're ruined now. The past never quits suggesting until we decide I'm tired of the past's suggestions. The past doesn't suggest things we refuse to listen to. The future has a voice too, you know. We simply need a springboard to hear it. To hear you're going to make it. To hear your best self is in these best days ahead. To hear your past is ugly, but your future is going to make miraculous beauty of it. And that future voice, it isn't suggestion; it is promise. It is promise if we'll climb that springboard. And spring up. Not up and out, but up and on. And on.... Writing has never come easier to me. It's because more than ever it comes from my true nature. It comes from a place of being genuine.
It hasn't always. There was a day I wrote things to be loved. At the same time I would leave words out for fear they would make me unloved. Back then my writing involved a lot of thinking - processing - filtering. Today, my writing simply involves putting into words the things I experience. The things I feel. Today my writing isn't an expression of some version of me; it's who I am. I've thought about the woods. Nature. And how my first step into a forest brings me peace. Nothing else required but the step, and then immediate peace. There is nothing pretend about nature. Nothing in the forest prepares itself for my visit. Nothing in the forest is worried I may not like her. She is just the forest. Delighted by my visit. And equally fine with herself if I choose not to visit. She will not change to lure me in. She will never desire me to change in order to stay. I think of my writing that way these days. I'm delighted if someone visits. I'm equally delighted if they choose not to. I'm delighted if somehow my words speak to someone. I'm equally delighted if my genuine nature is not the same as someone else's genuine nature. I want my writing to be something that encourages us to be our true self, not talk someone in to a different or more loveable self. I fear our connections with one another are not often enough walks in the forest. I fear they are walks fueled by a desire to be loved and not shared commitments to genuineness. Because for many of us our greatest fear is being unloved; our greatest protection against that is looking loveable. Even if the loveable me doesn't look like the real me. I'd like for us all to be more like the forest. I would like for people to know they can visit us, and in the midst of our genuineness feel the peace that allows them to explore their own genuineness. Too many people have spent so much of their lives being who they thought they were supposed to be that they've never had time to explore who they really are. They've never been invited into the forest. I dream of a world that is one day one giant forest. It starts with you and me. The REAL you and me. 4/16/2023 0 Comments Come out of hidingI am not good at relationships.
I am better than I was, but I am not good. I don't say that with discouragement. Quite the opposite. I'm discouraged when I'm in a bad place and have no idea how to get out. But I know how to get out of this relationship struggle, and that is hope. I had the pleasure of working with a group of people last week who, like me, came with some relationship struggles. Some had fears of them. Resistance, maybe. For some the mention of relationships felt downright awkward. And I get it. At the end of our training - after spending 3 full days together - we did a closing activity. We invited some guests from a previous cohort of trainers I'd led in that area to join us. At the end of the personal story sharing activity, a young lady from the previous cohort said, "it felt so nice to be able to come in and feel like I was jumping in a lake of truth. I wish I could find more lakes like this." So many of us live out this destructive internal conflict every day. We are hiding from our truths while at the same time longing to find lakes of truth to jump into. Sadly, many of us are better at finding places to hide than lakes to jump into. I know; I spent nearly five decades perfecting the art of hiding. I'm reminded this week that relationships aren't built on 'come out of hiding when you're done struggling' - relationships are built on 'come out of hiding and let's struggle together.' That's hard for many of us to accept. Too many of us have come to believe that the goal of the life game is to avoid struggle, to avoid brokenness, to avoid sadness, to avoid loneliness, to avoid fear, to avoid..... When the reality is, healthy relationships aren't built on avoiding any of those things. They are built on accepting the reality of every single one of them and celebrating the chance to jump into the truth of them together. The lake of truth. So many times last week I was awed by one observation: I was in the midst of 17 people, all with very different personalities and character traits and world views and backgrounds, and yet, in less than 72 hours, all of us were sharing parts of ourselves we rarely share. Some shared parts of themselves they had NEVER shared. How does that happen? More and more I've come to know we are never compelled to share our stories, we are invited into sharing with curiosity and acceptance and honoring. Which begins to feel like safety. And look like a lake - a lake of truth. A lake that says come out of hiding. Jump in. I'll close with these beautiful lyrics from the Steffany Gretzinger song Out Of Hiding: Come out of hiding You're safe here with Me There's no need to cover What I already see You've got your reasons But I hold your peace You've been on lockdown And I hold the key I did an activity during a training yesterday. I sent 15 people to the same spot along the lake where we were all gathered. I asked them to stand in the same spot and capture the following:
What did you sense? What images came to mind when you sensed it? How did those images make you feel? What thoughts did you have in response to those feelings? And how did those feelings make you want to behave? It's a process all of our minds go through every second of every day while sensing our surroundings. There was a controlled burn taking place at the park yesterday. So there was a lot of smoke in the air. The first two women to report out after the activity reported they smelled the smoke; that was what they sensed. The first woman said it brought to mind her house that caught fire and burned down when she was a child. It made her feel anxious and made her want to run. The second woman said it brought to mind camping trips and campfires as a kid. It made her feel warm. She said it made her want to go make smores. The same spot. The same smoke. But two very different definitions of that smoke. Two very different responses. That's us. All living together in the world yet seeing it very differently. I don't think we often enough know this world we're looking at today is largely a reflection of the world we lived in yesterday. And since all of us lived in very different worlds yesterday, the worlds we see today are very different. Same spot. Same smoke. Completely different interpretations. Too often we want the world to see the world exactly as we see it, with little consideration that we've never lived in the world they've lived in. We fail to consider that the world someone else views is through a lens no other human has looked through. One might wonder how one would could possibly turn down a campfire and smores. Another might wonder how one could possibly find joy sitting so close to a fire. Often we wonder about the wrong things, though. We wonder about the story someone is choosing and not the story they've been through. And sometimes, even, we judge the story someone is choosing without considering the story they've been through. Same spot. Same smoke. Different stories. Not everyone likes smores, but many times it has nothing to do with the smores. Too often, I think, we spend our lives searching for meaning. We hop on the treadmill of life, let it meander us through the days and weeks and years, always with an eye peeled for meaning to jump out of hiding any moment now.
Because surely if we just keep going, meaning WILL jump out. A lifetime of searching WILL lead to finding. Surely. But what if life is about building more than riding? What if life isn't about finding the meaning that speaks to us but sharing meaning we know will speak to the world? I believe we all have meaning in us. Meaning that is unique to us. Our job is to find that meaning within and not be distracted by the belief it's somewhere out there. The problem is, we don't often feel like our meaning is meaningful enough. It doesn't look or feel as meaningful as someone else's meaning, so my meaningful must still be out there. I'll go search for it. And often, never find it. Maybe life isn't about finding meaning but finding courage. Finding the courage to build on the meaning you've already found. The meaning that wakes you up at night. The meaning that has you daydreaming while you ride the treadmill of your day. The meaning that only you can bring to the world; the meaning that will never jump out of hiding if you don't make it jump. Today, stop looking for meaning that isn't there and start building on the meaning that is. It's enough. So are you. Quit riding; start building. It's the end of another holiday weekend. For many in my world, it's time to get back after it after a week of respite. But maybe more than any other celebration, Easter is one we should reflect on a bit before getting back after it.
Easter is one that should leave us feeling more holiday energized than holiday hung over. For Christians, the grand theme of Easter is Christ overcame death. In a world where our greatest fear is often our own mortality, discovering there is no such thing as death is a pretty big deal for us believers. That can't be ignored. But if you think about it, in the grand scheme of the Christ story, the Easter story was just one 3-day miracle in a lifetime full of miracles. There were plenty of Jesus miracles before Easter and maybe more importantly, there were plenty AFTER Easter. Jesus lived life serving others. Jesus paused to give us assurance of eternal life. Then Jesus went back to serving others. Again, I don't want to minimize the significance of Christ dying on the cross. That's a big deal. But it's also a pretty big deal if we miss the point that Easter was NOT the end. Not for Christ. And I'm pretty sure it was never intended to be the end for us either. I think us Christians always have a pretty good idea what to do with the risen Christ. Maybe what we wrestle with more is what do we do with the risen us. Christ rose from the grave and got up and got going. Isn't he asking the same of us. Is it possible that he's actually demanding it. I rose now you rise. Is it possible Christ went to the lengths of dying on a cross to prove a point far more about living than dying? Did Christ walk away from the grave to encourage us to walk away from our fear of it? Did Christ walk away from the grave on Sunday saying I've shown you what I can do with Sunday, now how about you show me what you're going to do with Monday? Because isn't Monday what it's all about? Does the story of Christ rising on Sunday have any meaning at all if it doesn't make the story of my Monday radically different? Christ showed us what Friday was about. And Saturday and most definitely Sunday. But now Christ is looking at us. Now Christ has put the resurrection story in our lap. And he is asking. What is Monday all about. Christ has risen. Will I? |
Robert "Keith" CartwrightI am a friend of God, a dad, a runner who never wins, but is always searching for beauty in the race. Archives
November 2024
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