Labor Day, in its simplest understanding, is a day to honor American workers. The collective group who are contributing or have contributed to our nation's strength and prosperity.
Labor Day celebrates the work we can see. Overlooked in that celebration, however, is the work many are doing that very few ever see. The work of healing. The work that many do before they ever get to their day jobs; the work that is always going on in the background once they get there. When I work with groups on this idea of healing, I am always awed by the stories people have overcome to get to a place of wanting to learn how to better help heal others. It has often been quiet work. Behind the scenes. Work very few others know the depths of. It has helped me come to know that so often the work we see and celebrate pales in comparison to the unseen work so many are doing. This Labor Day I want to tell you that I see it. I see the days it's hard to get out of bed and yet you do. I see the days when you smile to make others feel better while they mistakenly assume that smile comes easy to you. I see you working through emotions that sneak up on you from places you can't see or remember. Emotions that leave you feeling like you must be broken. And yet you march on, broken. I see you telling the voice inside you calling you worthless that it has no idea just how full of worth you are. That's not easy, because the voice inside you doesn't just go away after one conversation. It continually challenges your belief in that worth. I see you fighting to please everyone because that's the fight that has always made you feel safest and most accepted. I see you coming to understand you'll never feel safe and accepted until you first please yourself. I see you coming to own your broken heart instead of hiding it. I see you doing the same with your loneliness. I see a world that is so good at honoring the work and successes and achievements that play out in broad daylight, while failing to see and lift up the work of healing so many are doing in the dark. The work that doesn't get handed trophies but is instead labeled as baggage. I just want you to know this Labor Day that I know your baggage. I have carried it; I continue to. I know how heavy it is, and in my world, you are more deserving of a trophy than most anyone I know. In my world, this Labor Day is for you. I see you and I honor you. And I encourage you, keep laboring, whether anyone sees it or not. Keep walking into rooms owning and sharing your stories, because those stories are changing lives. Those stories are healing. I know that firsthand. I know it because of all the labor you've done that has poured into mine. Thank you.
0 Comments
Oprah Winfrey estimates she has interviewed over 50,000 people in her career. She says the one thing they all have in common: they all want to know that what they do and what they say and who they are matters.
Oprah says that's what we ALL have in common. I find it interesting. Oprah has interviewed some of the most 'accomplished' people in the world. Famous people who have seen and done it all. And yet, there they are, still wondering if they matter. Maybe they are the best people to help us understand what really does matter. So many people don't get happy answers to the 'do I matter' question in their closest relationships in life, so they begin trying to force happy answers through their accomplishments. They pursue prestige in their careers. They pursue dominance in athletics. They pursue large crowds with their performances. Many people pursue those things and GET them, and yet, there they are, wondering, does what I do and what I say and who I am matter. Last weekend the boys and I threw the ball at a local field. We laughed. We cheered. And you know what, I could tell they knew they mattered. They had nothing to prove. And neither did I. In that moment, I knew I mattered too. The thing is, nothing in the world we do, nothing we accomplish, will answer the question does who I am matter. Only love will do that. Only a love that says I see you, I know who you are, I am cheering for you, I am your biggest fan - only a love that says I believe everything you say and do matters. Only love answers the question we ask the most. Does who I am matter? No collection of trophies, no job title, no bank balance, no paparazzi, none of those things say you are loved. People do. Or people don't. You will interact with people today. Isn't it a beautiful thing to know that what they want most from that interaction is to know the interaction matters, is to know that THEY matter to you. Don't make them try to impress you to matter to you. Let them know what they do will never matter to you more than who they are. The reality is we all have one thing in common - we're all running around trying to figure out if we matter, when we should have something completely opposite in common. We should all be running around with hearts that long to make sure EVERYONE knows they matter. So let someone know they matter today. Let's stop asking ourselves questions and start giving those around us answers. 8/28/2024 0 Comments It's possible for life to be falling apart and coming together at the same timeI am sitting here this morning, looking at this picture - 4 years ago today - and in many ways I remember it as sort of a dream come true. Yet, very few people had any idea the nightmare I was living at the very same time.
Is it possible for life to be falling apart and coming together at the same time? I was at the Soles4Souls headquarters in Nashville, Tennessee four years ago this morning. I was running the final 5k of my Great Virtual Race Across Tennessee (and back 😭). The final 5k of a 1220 mile summer. I look back at that this morning and find it incomprehensible that for 118 consecutive days I ran 10 miles or more each day. That is not my current training plan!!! I look back at that this morning and find it miraculous that we set out to raise $1,000, yet so many friends came along side me and helped move that over $6,000. All to support a cause that remains very dear to me. Yet, when I look back, neither of those two amazing feats are what I remember most. What I remember most is a summer of running. Not running a race, but running from life. The most miraculous part of every mile of that race is not just that I didn't want to run any of those miles, most days I had no desire to get out of bed. Honestly, most days I had no desire to continue doing life. You would think when you see someone posting daily about getting closer to a finish line in an amazing race, seemingly full of life and miles and energy, that they are not at the same time wishing the finish line of life was coming much more quickly than the Tennessee state line. But I will tell you, you can't always assume that about people's posts. It was a summer of grief. A summer of life falling apart as if the whole virtual state of Tennessee was being pummeled by a great virtual bomb. Only there is nothing ever virtual about grief. There is some great irony, as I think about it, that I spent a summer running a race in Virginia while pretending to be in Tennessee. Because at no point that summer did I not find myself wishing I could be anyone but me. The good news, the great news, maybe even the miraculous news, is that is not where I am today. Today I would not choose to be anyone but me, or live any life other than my own. I don't race toward many finish lines these days, (Tennessee is a big state😊), but I also don't wish for any finish lines before their time. As I write you these words, I wonder, how did that happen? How did the darkest period of life land here? In possibility, hope, and light? I suppose it's the pattern of my life, in many ways. No matter how complicated things get, and life can get complicated, I keep moving. It hasn't always looked pretty. Or healthy. But I have always kept moving. In this case, during the dark summer of 2020, it helped that I was moving toward a beautiful group of people and an organization I love, backed by people encouraging me to just keep going. And so, I kept going. I guess I just want you to know this morning that sometimes life coming together feels a lot like life falling apart. Sometimes dark hides the light, but the light is still there. It's still there if you'll keep moving. Moving in love and service to others, even if at times that feels like it is doing no service to you. Just keep moving, please. Sometimes getting where you're supposed to be means going through places and spaces you wish you'd never have to go. But go. Go and just keep going. Because it's absolutely possible to be falling apart and coming together at the same time. In fact, I've come to believe that is almost always the order of things. If you don't believe me, just keep going, and see for yourself. The boys and I took a hike three thousand feet above the world yesterday. I frequently call these hikes escapes. But the more I learn, and think about it, I believe it's more accurate to say these hikes are a search for balance.
Our brain has two hemispheres. A left and a right. They are created to be in an ongoing conversation with one another. But if we're not careful, like everything it seems that has two sides, one side of our brain will try to gain dominance over the other. And in the case of the brain, it's almost always that left side. The left side of our brain is obsessed with facts. It is always analyzing and has a need for definitions. The left side of our brain has this belief that the more it memorizes, like the alphabet and times tables and scriptures, the more control it will have over making all the right decisions on our behalf. I believe the left side of our brain has an ally. It's called society. So much of our lives, when it comes to education and work and even our relationships, are driven by memorizing and analyzing and judging and needing to know how this is all going to work out. Then there's the right side of our brain. It embraces the present moment, context, and the beauty of the undefined. I looked at the boys yesterday, staring down at the valley, the sun out beyond the mountain tops and the shadows covering tiny distant signs of civilization below, and I said, "isn't it beautiful." But the thing is, on that mountaintop, we all had different definitions of beautiful. It looked and felt and sounded different to each of us. None of us were pressured to know the definition of beautiful to experience beautiful. In fact, that WAS the beauty. That WAS the peace. The freedom to experience beauty without having to know what beauty really is. The freedom to live life with enjoyment without analyzing whether or not this should or shouldn't feel like joy. It's interesting, the right sides of our brains developed first in life. As babies, we lived in the moment. We observed and soaked up the fluid and everchanging world around us before anyone ever started defining what that world was. As babies, we were totally consumed with being present. I think about that a lot these days. When I get to feeling anxious or depressed or overwhelmed, I think about going back to those days of being a baby. Where you just observe and take it all in without any pressure of having to know what it all means. I think of the power I have to retreat to that most primitive part of my brain. I think about taking a hike to the top of a mountain. It's important that our brains have a balance. Facts and figures do have a place in making sense of our lives. But if we're not careful, we'll become dominated by those facts and figures. We'll become consumed with knowing the definition of a mountain to the point that we won't allow the mountain to simply define itself. We will need to know what beauty is before accepting beauty's invitation to get to know it. In a world that often thinks it needs to know the answers to experience peace, isn't it ironic that the greatest source of peace might be in places where there are none? Maybe you don't need to escape today, but it's possible you need to find some balance. Maybe for you it's not on a mountaintop, but in music or art or in a long walk. Don't feel pressured to know the definition of balance in your life, simply seek it. Life can make it easy to believe that feelings are rather random. They arrive from out of the blue and then we in turn respond to them.
Believing that, especially if there are feelings we long to feel, makes it easy to settle into a waiting game. We begin living life at the bus stop of feelings, waiting for ours to arrive, waiting until we eventually start wondering, dejected, did I purchase the wrong ticket? What if we don't have to wait? What if we have more power to create the feelings we want to feel than we sometimes acknowledge? I delivered a presentation yesterday. To be honest, I didn't feel like delivering it. I was tired and a little worn down. But what motivated me to show up wasn't a pep talk: get it in gear, Keith. It was the feeling of connection I knew I'd feel once I had delivered the presentation. And I did feel that. When I got home from the presentation, the last thing I wanted to do was go to the gym. I really didn't feel like it. What motivated me to show up wasn't a pep talk: get your butt to the gym, Keith. It was the feeling of being energized I knew I'd feel once I finished my workout. And I did feel that. Sometimes I don't feel very grateful toward God. I don't feel like raising my hands toward him and saying thank you when there are some things in my life I've asked him to tend to that still feel very unattended to. But I raise my hands anyways. Motivated by obligation? Commandment? No, I do it because I want to feel attended to. I want to feel God's promise that just as he has been there before, he is there now, leaving absolutely nothing unattended to. I want to feel grateful in spite of my ungratefulness. And so I raise my hands, and feel so thankful for God in my life. Maybe stop waiting at the bus stop for the feelings to show up you long to show up and go raise your hands and grab hold of them. Feelings do come and go, but we have a lot more say in what those feelings are than we often acknowledge. The result, then, is too often living under the control of our feelings instead of the other way around. Trust me, I know changing that's easier understood than implemented, but it starts with something as simple as raising your hands. If you're looking for a feeling today, try raising your hands. I believe there is something to be learned in every moment in life. Without exception. If I don't learn something from this moment, it won't be because there was nothing there to learn, it will be because I didn't take time to explore the lesson.
Learning for me is forward motion. It is anticipation of what is to come. When your mission in life is wisdom, you never run out of reasons to look forward to tomorrow. I haven't always been that way. In fact, I'm less than a decade into this passion for learning. For gathering all that the world wants to teach me. To know and to share. Some would say that's age; wisdom comes with age. I don't believe that. Wisdom doesn't come to all who age. It just doesn't. Wisdom comes to those who long to be wise. Wisdom comes to those who have the capacity to change the way they see the world. For me, a lot of that change came with the way I see regret. Maybe I used to collect regrets far more than I ever collected wisdom. Or collected anything, really. I blamed the moments and choices in my life that I regretted most for stealing life from me. But when you decide that wisdom is your greatest treasure, your greatest pursuit, your regrets can become some of your greatest teachers. You come to realize that regrets stole nothing, and in fact, you can come to see your regrets as great givers of gifts. There is much to be learned from things that felt like they went wrong but were actually just asking you to consider a different direction. Everything behind you - every moment, every choice, every experience - those things are all indeed behind you. All that remains of them is what you choose to see when you dare to look back. I used to look back with blame and guilt and shame. Judgement. Today, I am committed to looking back with curiosity. What more can you teach me, dear regrets? I am no longer going to blame you for where I can't go, but I will instead look to you for guidance. New directions. I see you for what you are, now. You are like every other moment in life. You are a teacher. If I have one regret that remains, it's that I didn't see you for what you are sooner, regrets. But I will learn from that as well. For today, I won't allow myself to be even for a moment on a collision course with regret. Because no matter what comes my way today, it is coming to teach me something. It is offering the gift of wisdom. If I don't accept the gift, it will have nothing to do with age, and everything to do with choice. No regrets. Wisdom. Friday night, the boys and I watched the original Alien movie. It was created in 1979, 45 years ago, and yet, it was the first time I'd seen it.
Then yesterday, we went to the theater to see the newest of the Alien creations. Only this one was created in IMAX, with ultra-high-definition visuals, immersive sound, and even CGI that created entirely lifelike extraterrestrial worlds. On the way home, the boys and I marveled at just how far technology has come. (Uhm, it's obviously come MUCH further for me than you, boys.) We talked about how the impressive images and vibrating sounds made some of the scary scenes scarier, the anticipation scenes more intense, and the flame throwers a little hotter. Technology has clearly added to the movie experience. But as I thought about it, no matter how far technology comes, it is the emotions we take away from a movie that impact us. Years from now, it will be how a movie made me feel and not the effects that made me feel that way that I'll remember. Certainly, technology can help deepen the emotional experience, but technology can't REPLACE the total lack of an emotional experience. It made me think about us. Me and you. We are all living out our own movies in a way. And from time to time we invite each other into them. But I wonder, with that invitation, are we inviting people into our fancy productions, our state of the art recording studios decked out with the most expensive equipment, with hopes of dazzling our way out of an emotional experience? Are we hoping we can send people away impressed by our stories even if unmoved by the experience? We have fancier ways than ever to share our personal movies with the world; reels and tiktoks and YouTubes, but are we using them to guide people through emotional experiences that will impact the way they see and feel life, or to protect ourselves from having an emotional experience at all? Listen, we all need a little IMAX in our lives. Entertainment for the sake of entertainment alone. But as I look back on the arc of my life from 1979 to present, I'd have to confess I spent a lot of time developing my IMAX productions as a way of protecting myself from the risk of any emotional experiences. I'm happy that's changed a lot the last several years. I've had the chance to enter into the movies of a lot of people who haven't been afraid of sharing their emotions, and who have created safe places for me to do the same. The result has been being a part of some pretty life changing movies. Some of these people have been fancy movie equipment folks. Others have been the old black and white or silent movie crowd. But none of that made any difference. The difference has been the joy or sadness or fear or hope or gratitude they've shared in their stories. The difference has been their smiles or their tears. The difference has been the meekness in their voices or the overwhelming confidence. The difference has been their willingness to share an emotional experience and not a theatrical production. Because as much as we all need to connect with a little theater now and then, it's emotional connection we can't live without. It's emotional connection that makes life memorable or forgettable. Movies have come a long way. Technology has made them better than ever at sharing an emotional experience. I wonder, though, has it done the same for me and you? Life happens. Then we assign meeting to what just happened.
That's the order. Always. It's an overlooked superpower, this capacity we have to assign hopeful meanings to things that happen in life, to the things that people say and do, meanings that will lift us and not bury us. It's easy to believe negative things happen to us in life. But did negative things really happen, or did we assign negative meanings to the things that happened? I'm not trying to dismiss the reality that some really difficult things happen to people. But looking through the lens of my own life, I can see a pattern of instinctually and habitually assigning negative meaning to things I've had the power to assign more hopeful meanings to. Meanings that treated me more like a friend than an enemy. I have faced rejection in life. I have often assigned a meaning to rejection that told me I was unwanted or unworthy. But what if that meaning is redirection and not rejection. What if the meaning is actually that there is something better suited for me ahead? I have faced criticism in my life. I have often assigned a meaning to criticism that told me I'm not good enough. But what if that meaning is guidance. A guide toward an opportunity to learn and improve, or to determine the critic isn't a reliable judge of my goodness. I have witnessed the success of others in my life. I have often assigned a meaning to that success that told me I'm falling behind. But what if that meaning is not that I'm falling behind, but that I'm being shown the way? I have heard people speak negatively of me. I have often assigned a meaning to that negativity that told me everyone thinks poorly of me. What if that meaning is actually that I poorly pick the people I listen to? I have faced significant challenges in my life. I have often assigned a meaning to those challenges that told me I can't handle any more of this. What if that meaning is actually that I'm being prepared to handle more than I ever imagined I could handle? I have faced divorce in my life. I have often assigned meaning to that divorce that told me I am a failure at relationships. What if that meaning is actually about the success I've been prepared for in my next relationship? Maybe you get the point here, the meaning. Maybe you are being introduced to your own superpower. The power to stop and ask yourself on the other side of life happening, what meaning do I want to assign to the life that just happened? Because we have that power, we have that choice, we get to decide what everything in life means. Will that make life easy? I doubt it. But will it potentially allow you to assign meanings to life that allow you to go easier on yourself, that allow you to look at life through the lens of possibility and not defeat? I think so. Stop and ask yourself today, what does this mean? Then answer that with the most hopeful answer possible. You have the power to do that. A dear friend sent me a gift the other day. It was a hat from South Africa where she'd recently gone on a mission trip. I wanted to let her know how much I appreciated it, so I took a picture of me wearing it and sent it to her.
But you know, for a moment, before I sent it, I got caught up wrestling with the question - is this a good picture? I got caught up wrestling with how I would be perceived more than what I wanted to express. I wanted to express gratitude. I've come to know over the last several years, though, if we can't be totally grateful for who we are, we'll always fall just a little short of being totally grateful for anything else. My wrestling was short-lived. I wanted her to see who I was in that hat only seconds after I opened it. So I sent it. First take, no edits required. I've said often that my writing has improved significantly over the last several years. The biggest improvement has come from focusing on what I want to express and not on how I want what I express to be perceived. If you're reading this right now, I couldn't be more grateful that you are. But I couldn't care any less about what you think about the person who is writing it. What I care about is you knowing my heart and mind as real as I can express them, with some hopes they will reach the realest parts of your heart and mind. And maybe with some hopes you will become brave enough to share those parts of you with the people around you. I've discovered that's a really likable place to be - where real meets real. It was a great gift to finally start believing there truly is no down side to being me. There is no down side to how I look in this picture or how I sound in this conversation or how I show up for this meeting or when my kids show up to this dad. This is me, and I wouldn't trade me for anyone. Because I'm the greatest human in the world? No. Not at all. I wouldn't trade me for anyone else because it is truly life-sucking and destructive to long to be anyone but me. And, because when I truly start exploring the real value in me, the value I always coveted in others no longer seemed as valuable. In this world, rapidly transitioning to more things artificial, it is brave to be the realest version of you. I for one am rooting for your bravery and hoping you'll discover that no artificial you will ever be better than the real you. You'll be tempted today to pretend to be someone else. It's just the nature of the world to bombard us with that temptation. Trade temptation for freedom, today. The freedom to be the real you. I have witnessed a lot of outrage lately. And from the outside of outrage looking in, I make this observation.
Outrage is frequently premature; we seem to get outraged at the nature of things that we go on to discover wasn't actually the nature of things at all. And even more frequently, it is my observation, outrage seems to be quite ineffective. But then again, I don't know. I don't know what effect people are trying to have with their outrage. Because there rarely seems to be a desired outcome of the outraged other than to let out rage. Or, maybe, to out outrage the outraged. I have found myself wondering lately, because I spend a lot of time working with people who have a lot of pent up rage, rage that in many cases, after I hear their heartbreaking stories, seems reasonable even if unhealthy, but I find myself wondering, are people letting out rage to deal with rage they have found no way to let out? Are these mass explosions of outrage more symptom than disease? I know my observations are heavily influenced by my love for Jesus. I try to follow his example on things like outrage. And here's what I know about that dude. He was hung on a cross, a completely innocent man, nails driven into his hands and feet, mocked by his killers and the rowdy spectators looking on, and all he offered was humility and forgiveness. There was no outrage. Oh, there will be those who will rightfully point out that Jesus could get outraged. And yes he could. Jesus drove money changers and sellers from a temple because they were exploiting worshippers. But Jesus was IN the temple with his outrage. Jesus frequently got outraged with the Pharisees and religious leaders for their hypocrisy, but Jesus was WITH the Pharisees with his outrage. Jesus got outraged with his disciples when they wouldn't let the little children come to him. But he was WITH his disciples and he was holding the little children with his outrage. Jesus was always in the arena with the people he was defending with his outrage, not screaming his outrage a half world away from the arena itself. In the end, though, when it came time for Jesus to defend all of us, humanity as a whole, when much of humanity then and thousands of years from then would look on, it was humility that Jesus embraced, not outrage. Was that a gift from Jesus or a lesson? For me, personally, I think the latter. Jesus has placed a great commission on my heart and on my life, a large piece of that commission is to spread the story of his humble kind of love for me and for you, and outrage just seems to me to be a poor tool at best to spread that story. A very destructive one at worst. I am sure there will be some who will be outraged by this article. And I know there will be a point to it. Chances are, though, I won't get that point. That man who humbly died on a cross for me, he has witnessed me do some pretty horrendous and outrageous things in response to his sacrifice for me, and yet, he has never once expressed outrage toward me. Not. Once. So again, I am sure there is a point to outrage. I confess, though, I really don't get it. |
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
CategoriesAll Faith Fatherhood Life Mental Health Perserverance Running |