Baby Steps to Success

I read a very good quote from another all-star athlete just this morning on a basketball camp flyer. (Two great "sports quotes" in two days -- serendipity!) This time it's Boston Celtic legend, Larry Bird, who's got the good word. He says:

First master the fundamentals.

Boy. Doesn't that sound waaaaay obvious? But for those of us with little patience, low tolerance for boredom, and dimished capacity to delay gratificaton, it's a tall order.

Makes me think of my whole experience with the flute...

I was a freshman in high school when my older brother (a splendid trombonist) said at the dinner table one night, "Linda, why aren't you in band? You already know how to read music (I sang in the church choir). You oughta be in band."

I shot back, "Because I don't want to play the clarinet." I had played the family clarient in fourth grade and that entire year I wished I were playing flute instead. The clarient and I just never "clicked", and I hadn't told anyone the reason why I dropped out of elementary band.

Happy to learn that I really wasn't down on band, just didn't like one particular instrument, my brother offered to bring home a loaner flute that weekend for me to "try out". By Sunday evening, I was sure the flute was my instrument. The next day I signed up for beginning lessons at school, private instruction being beyond our means. My recollection is sketchy, but it seems that the "lessons" consisted of the flute section leader meeting with me weekly in a practice room to review my progress. He was not an apt teacher and I was often confused, but I enjoyed playing anyway and signed up for band the next semester.

I was assigned third chair flute and played my parts well enough, I suppose, picking up what technique I could from the first and second chair players as well as the method book. I was just happy to be in band, even though I was basically self-taught. The following year I moved up to second chair and continued loving it.

Upon arrival at college, however, the game changed. I auditioned for the stage band, which was augmented with flutes, clarinets, an oboe, and a french horn. I was thrilled to somehow have made it, but mortified to learn of a requirement that I have a private lesson with the assistant band director. I didn't want to bear the humiliation of having my homegrown technique exposed, especially in front of a teacher. Even though I felt I had progressed fairly well under the circumstances thus far, I knew my skills weren't going to pass muster now. Thankfully, my desire to play in the band outweighed all self-consciousness, and I showed up for the lessons.

Having a real instructor (who was very encouraging and affirming, by the way) to insist that I correct my poor form and poor technique set me on a path for growth. He, like Larry Bird, understood that I needed to first master the fundamentals. Since no one had been monitoring my progress in high school, I made the rather immature decision to skimp on scales and other drills, breezing on to the more "fun" melodies. After all, the fundamentals were boring. But my failure to really master them severely limited how much I could accomplish as a flutist: I had inadvertently put a ceiling on my potential. I'm so glad someone intervened and insisted that I revisit the basics so that I could really take off. I so enjoyed playing the more challenging pieces, and I'll be forever grateful to that teacher.

And so it is with other aspects of life. Taking the time at the beginning of the process to go over the drills, to practice the basics, to really master the fundamentals without yielding to the temptation to skip the early stages of an endeavor, cut corners and go straight to the "fun" parts, the "melodies", if you will. Focusing on and allowing time to integrate these baby steps actually positions us to take flight.

So slow down and repeat those beginning steps until they flow naturally. Then build on that foundation. You'll never regret time spent mastering the fundamentals. It's the only way to really soar.

Hockey, Anyone?

I'm not really a hockey fan. In fact, the most hockey I've ever watched at one time was the Disney movie Miracle, about the 1980 USA Olympic Hockey team, starring Kurt Russell. I know that it's a sport/game played on ice by fearless people in skates and lots of padding, weilding sticks with the intent of getting a puck in the goal more times than the opposing team. I've even heard of penalty boxes, slap shots and power plays, but don't ask me to define them. The only hockey names I recognize are Mario Lemieux and...

Wayne Gretzky. "The Great One". Number 99. The NHL's all-time leading scorer. Won four Stanley Cups in his career. Holds almost every scoring record in NHL history. In 1,487 games tallied 894 goals and 1,963 assists -- for a total of 2,857 career points. NHL Hall of Fame inductee.

[Don't be impressed; I learned all this just minutes ago at the NHL website.]

The reason I've shared some facts about Gretzky's phenomenal career is to lend ballast to a quote I read today. With his stellar accomplishments, I think the thought is very compelling:

You miss all the shots you don't take.

-- Wayne Gretsky

Memorial Day Tribute

This Memorial Day, I'll be standing along a downtown curb watching a parade along with thousands of other Columbia residents. My 16-year-old son will be following in the tradition of his two older brothers who also marched in Memorial Day parades with their junior high and high school bands. Paratroopers will dazzle, vintage airplanes will pass overhead and veterans of all branches of the military, young and old, will remind us of what it cost to preserve the freedoms we so easily take for granted.

This particular Memorial Day ritual has meant much more to me in recent years, ever since my dad joined us for the parade about ten years ago. Despite his significant loss of flexibility and nimbleness, I watched Dad repeatedly bolt out of his lawn chair and render a crisp salute to many of the WWII veterans as they passed. In most cases, their eyes would lock for a moment, communicating a knowing far beyond the grasp of the rest of us. This unspoken language, this bond, this mutual honor -- these seemed almost sacred to my observing heart.

America is losing these WII veterans at a rapid rate: their median age during the last census (four years ago) was 76.7. As a tribute to my dad, those he served with, and especially those who did not come home, I offer a link to a touching song and photo essay by a doctor who has cared for many of these men and women. His group is called Dr. Sam and the Managed Care Blues Band. Please share.

Thank you is just not enough.

What's Your Banner?

We will rejoice in your salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners!

-- Psalm 20:5 NIV

The other verses in this psalm indicate a military context for "setting up banners", which just might be relevant to my struggle to overcome several character defects. As I considered the banners that I raise in my efforts, I concluded that I all too often hoist one emblazoned PERFECTION.

• I fuss and stew over decisions regarding certain purchases: Is this the best bargain? What if I buy this item now and find a better deal later? Am I sure this is the best way to spend my money?

This is perfectionism masquerading as prudence. I can get almost totally paralyzed not wanting to make a "mistake" with my budget and rob myself of the freedom of making, then accepting a reasonable decision, without fear of judgment (my own).

• I hang on to magazines and books long past their actual usefulness to me: Will I need this information later? Will I want to read this again? What if someone I know wants to borrow this book?

This too is an attempt to protect myself from making mistakes. This time it's a fear of letting go of something and needing it later. I end up burying the beauty and tranquility of my home under an avalanche of printed matter that I rarely review.

• I don't start working on projects that need to be done because I can't finish them in one fell swoop: I can't start cleaning up this room because I don't have time to put all the clutter away, get the vacuum out, dust, empty the trash, etc. etc... I can't start clearing the science projects out of the refrigerator because I don't have time to empty all the shelves and wash down the entire interior.

Again, a manifestation of my addiction to the emotional surge that comes from having done something perfectly. If I merely bite off a small chunk of the project at hand, let's say empty the trash and put away some clutter, it won't "feel" right (translate: perfect). If I merely toss out the funky vegetables and wipe up a few milk spatters the frig won't sparkle. But in both instances, the small portion of the project that would actually get done would be a big improvement, just not everything-all-at-once.

Having made my case regarding the Perfection banner, I'd like to go on record as wanting to replace it with a banner called ACCEPTANCE:

• It's OK to pay a little more for an item and not spend hours consumed by a rather minor decision.
• It's OK to read a magazine or book and then just recycle or give it away.
• It's OK to accomplish a small portion of a larger task rather than continue to delay it waiting for an elusive big block of time.

But Perfection is not the only banner that I'd like to exchange.

• WANTING OTHERS TO KNOW I'M RIGHT. Exchange for: MEEKNESS.
• I OWE MYSELF THIS INDULGENCE (could be an edible, or putting off an unpleasant but necesary task, or using more than my share of conversation time, etc.) Exchange for: SELF-CONTROL.
• AVOIDING CONFLICT AT THE EXPENSE OF DOING WHAT'S RIGHT. Exchange for: BOLDNESS WITH KINDNESS.

Mindfulness of my tendency to operate under these self-defeating banners seems to be the first step in letting go of my habit of reaching for them. Having a bead on what I'm actually doing will free me to choose to raise a fitting replacement instead. Gradually, if I stay on task, lifting positive banners will become the norm.

ACCEPTANCE PEACE HOPEFULNESS

PROGRESS FORGIVENESS PLAYFULNESS

LOVE CONFIDENCE MEEKNESS KINDNESS

ENDURANCE BOLDNESS FAITHFULNESS

In Gratitude for a Wonderful Gift

Today is another special birthday in my family. (There are a lot of them in May for some reason.) This one happens to belong to my husband's mother.

I would like to pause and express my tremendous appreciation for her role in blessing me one of the very best gifts ever -- her son. Everything she did to provide for his development and nurture was done without ever knowing that I would be the direct beneficiary of her efforts and love, since we first met after my husband was an adult and had left the nest.

But that doesn't diminish her impact on my life. Two things I'd like to single out for special recognition: her formidable work ethic (she's a Western Kansas farm girl) and her single-minded devotion to God. These two attributes took root in her son and continue to give shape to his character to this day. She is also a very generous person and a perpetual learner with an interest in many, many topics. I've been the recipient of her thoughtfulness on many occasions, as well as her storehouse of knowledge and information.

Happy Birthday, Mother-inLaw of Mine! And THANK YOU!!

Who's Packing Your Parachute?

[The following is excerpted from the book Insights Into Excellence, by Charlie Plumb. Captain Plumb is currently a sought after motivational speaker.]

Recently, I was sitting in a restaurant in Kansas City. A man about two tables away kept looking at me. I didn't recognize him. A few minutes into our meal he stood up and walked over to my table, looked down at me, pointed his finger in my face and said, "You're Captain Plumb."

I looked up and I said, "Yes sir, I'm Captain Plumb."

He said, "You flew jet fighters in Vietnam. You were on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot down. You parachuted into enemy hands and spent six years as a prisoner of war."

I said, "How in the world did you know all that?"

He replied, "Because, I packed your parachute."

I was speechless. I staggered to my feet and held out a very grateful hand of thanks. This guy came up with just the proper words. He grabbed my hand, he pumped my arm and said, "I guess it worked."

"Yes sir, indeed it did", I said, "and I must tell you I've said a lot of prayers of thanks for your nimble fingers, but I never thought I'd have the opportunity to express my gratitude in person."

He said, "Were all the panels there?"

"Well sir, I must shoot straight with you," I said, "of the eighteen panels that were supposed to be in that parachute, I had fifteen good ones. Three were torn, but it wasn't your fault, it was mine. I jumped out of that jet fighter at a high rate of speed, close to the ground. That's what tore the panels in the chute. It wasn't the way you packed it."

"Let me ask you a question," I said, "do you keep track of all the parachutes you pack?"

"No" he responded, "it's enough gratification for me just to know that I've served."

I didn't get much sleep that night. I kept thinking about that man. I kept wondering what he might have looked like in a Navy uniform - a Dixie cup hat, a bib in the back and bell bottom trousers. I wondered how many times I might have passed him on board the Kitty Hawk. I wondered how many times I might have seen him and not even said "good morning", "how are you", or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot and he was just a sailor. How many hours did he spend on that long wooden table in the bowels of that ship weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of those chutes? I could have cared less...until one day my parachute came along and he packed it for me.

So the philosophical question here is this: How's your parachute packing coming along? Who looks to you for strength in times of need? And perhaps, more importantly, who are the special people in your life who provide you the encouragement you need when the chips are down? Perhaps it's time right now to give those people a call and thank them for packing your chute.

Truths You Learn from Children

I went to my grandson's birthday party this afternoon. He turns three on Monday -- just getting to the age where he'll teach his mom and dad important truths like these:


[I've had these for about 10 years, so I have no idea who to thank for sharing them.]
1. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing pound puppy underwear and a Superman cape.
2. It is strong enough, however, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20’ room.
3. Baseballs make marks on ceilings.
4. When using the ceiling fan as a bat, you have to throw the ball up several times before you get a hit.
5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on.
6. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long ways.
7. The glass in windows (even double pane) doesn’t stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
8. A 6-year-old boy can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 6o-year-old man says it can only be done in the movies.
9. A magnifying glass can start a fire even on an overcast day.
10. If you use a waterbed as a home plate while wearing baseball shoes, it does not leak. It explodes.
11. A king-size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2,000 sq. ft. house almost 4" deep.
12. You probably don’t want to know what that odor is.
13. Always look in the oven before you turn it on.
14. Plastic toys do not like ovens.
15. The fire department in San Diego has at least a 5-minute response.
16. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
17. It will, however, make cats dizzy.
18. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
19. A good sense of humor will get you through most problems in life.


Happy Birthday, Chase!

Cool Rock Formation

Look closely at the picture. Then tilt your head to the left and look again. Pretty neat, huh?

[This was forwarded to me in an email, but since I only copied the image to my files, I don't remember who to thank.]

My Kingdom Divided Against Itself

Every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation, and every city or house divided against itself will not stand.

-- Matthew 12:25b NKJV

When I read this verse several months ago, I made a note to myself to ponder it further. As I glanced at it this evening, I realized I have a real life experience to illustrate this one.

[I will take the liberty of applying the principle of being "divided against" (which in this verse is related to a kingdom, city, or house) to an individual. Since a person has many properties in common with a kingdom, city or house -- definitive physical boundaries, resources, sovereignty over one's being, etc. -- it stands to reason that when a person is divided against himself, his stability and well-being are compromised.]

My most recent bout with "being against myself" began when I woke up on Mother's Day feeling sad -- a non-specific but definite sadness. I tried to shake it off. After all, it was a lovely day, and more than that, it was my day. My husband and four children were solicitous of my needs, wants and desires. I was their focus and everything was going "right" but the sadness kept interfering with my day with my family, so I decided to make it my focus.

As I quieted myself to investigate, I discovered an internal dynamic that resembles the scripture from Matthew 12. There were a number of thoughts that had been flitting through my mind, not just earlier on this day, but for several days previously. These were not just your garden variety thoughts either. These were decidedly negative thoughts and they sounded like this: "I'll never have the things really want." "I 've failed my children." "I'm where I'm at in life because I've made stupid mistakes." etc. etc. ad nauseum. (I could go on, but trust me, it went downhill from there.)

I decided to dump as many of these thoughts as possible onto paper so I could get a bead on what I was dealing with. They all had stinkin' thinkin' in common: all or nothing, black and white, always/never, can't, can't can't, etc. A couple of them were even judgments against God's goodness and faithfulness. Yuck. I "know" better than this. So what's up with this barrage of negative thoughts? (Sorta makes me think of that expression "being your own worst enemy"...)

Let's take this thing about never having the things I want. It is indeed true that I experienced several formative childhood years when our family's finances were absolutely bare bones. In fact my parents struggled to provide even absolute necessities for their five children, so it was no doubt "reasonable" for me as a young girl to conclude, under the circumstances, that I would probably "never" have things I desired. However, since then, over the course of my adult life, I've enjoyed many, many of the things I wanted, so this particular thought is no longer valid. Yet here I was "feeing" this way.

That's when it dawned on me. My feelings were "divided against" my rational thoughts. I would need to come to agreement within myself in order to experience well-being. After listing all the negative thoughts (which had been successful in ushering in the accompanying "sadness") I began a list of what I knew to be true about each negative thought. For example, while there are a lot of mistakes I've made as a mother, there are many, many wonderful gifts I've passed on to my sons and daughter, and that ain't nuttin'! And as far as the stupid mistakes I've made to get me where I'm at in life: hey, I've been affected by other people's mistakes too, not just my own. But more importantly, I've made many, many good decisions which have influenced the course of my life too, as have others.

So, I find myself in a process of persuading my emotion-based thinking to conform to my logic and adhere to what's true and accurate. I've been repeating the positive affirmations which counter those negative thoughts and this should enable the truth to gradually seep into my deep feeling thoughts. Until that transformation is fully rendered, I consider myself a little ahead of the game just being aware of what's happening in the Kingdom of my Soul, and insisting that those antiquated feelings get in step with reality.

Oh, and once I gave those sereptitious "lies" the boot, the rest of my Mother's Day was a joy.

Mother's Day with Lori Borgman

If you've been following amusing moment for a while, then you probably know I really like Lori Borgman's blog. She posted a tribute to mothers last Friday called "The Motherhood Development Chart". As I read, I kept thinking about my two friends who've had babies in the last two months. And I also reminisced:

Childhood development charts that help new parents track every burp, gurgle and coo of a new baby are bountiful and plenty. It’s motherhood development charts that are hard to come by. Experience tells me that a reliable one would go something like this:

Week 1: The new mother may cry if over- or under-stimulated. Complains about not being able to find things. Like her waistline. On average, awake for 22 hours a day, but alert for only two. Head bobs forward in sitting position, especially after 7 o’clock at night.

Here's the rest. Enjoy.

And If Your Computer Is Really Acting Cranky...

...you could always punch its ticket...

[Thanks, Tena, for sharing these photos.]

If Your Computer Acts Up...

...you might threaten to call these guys! [Not that this tactic is actually working on my misbehaving printer...]

Who Was That Masked Man?

For you Busters or GenXers who might be wondering, the masked man in the photo (Thursday, May 4th, "Away From My Desk") is the Lone Ranger.

For the actual legend of the Lone Ranger (immortalized in my beloved 50's television series of the same name) visit Endeavor Comics. You just gotta check out the silver bullets you click on for the website menu items -- veeerrrry cool! I mean, did you know that "Kemosabe" is a Potowatomie Indian word for "faithful friend"? And there's even a link to the William Tell Overture. Whoa! -- is that cool, or what?

It's a Boomer thing.

A View of Stuff

Yesterday, my husband and I were in a conversation with several other people when he shared something pretty cool. He'd run into a good friend recently who asked him how things were going in his congregation (he pastors a small church), to which he responded, "Great!"

The friend said, "Really?"

He replied, "Actually, things are in about the same shape as they were last time we talked, but I've just decided to look at them more positively."

Everyone in the group smiled. Including me. Don't we all recognize the universality of his experience?

Or are we the only ones in whose life stuff happens? Why, in just the past couple months, for instance, one of our sons broke his nose ($250 deductible, a surgery and two very uncomfortable splints in his nostrils for a couple weeks), another son lost a roommate and totalled his car in a couple days' time (he's moved back home to regroup for a few months), and we've had vandalism to BOTH our cars (a neighbor kid went a little nutty with a BB gun and shot out some windows -- a hassle to get fixed on my own, my husband beingout of the country for two weeks! Soooo uncool to drive around town in cars with clear plastic duct taped to the window frames awaiting scheduled repairs!).

I could go on, but no doubt you could fill in the blanks with your own stuff. The point here is not really the stuff, but how we view the stuff.

So, why not take a page out my sweetie's playbook? When stuff's happening, even lots of stuff, and you're tempted to slide into negativity, remember...

No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to man; but God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will also make the way of escape, that you may be able to bear it.

-- I Corinthians 10:13 NKJV

* * * * *

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.

-- Romans 8:28 NKJV

* * * * *

For He Himself has said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."

-- Hebrews 13:5b NKJV

Give 'Em Hell Harry

"I never did give anybody hell. I just told the truth and they thought it was hell."


"I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it. "


"If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen."


"My father was not a failure. After all, he was the father of a president of the United States."


"The only things worth learning are the things you learn after you know it all. "

Redefining a musing moment

Several weeks ago, while rereading Robert Fulghum's It Was On Fire When I Lay Down on It, I suddenly realized what this blog is all about. I put in the blurb "about" a musing moment that we'd figure it out as we went along, and I'm excited to tell you that it has occurred...

My favorite thing in elementary school -- was it just in kindergarten or did we do it in first grade too? -- was Friday afternoon's Show and Tell. I thought about what I would bring or talk about all week. Most of the time it was just something that had sentimental value to me and would give my friends a peek as to who I was and what made me tick. But once in a while I'd think that what I had to share with my teacher and classmates was perhaps the coolest thing of all that week. Since there was no applause meter, this assessment can't be accurately verified, but if my level of enthusiasm is an indicator, those moments of sharing were very significant.

And so it is with a musing moment.

During most days I'm thinking about things I'd like to share and I'm eager to sit down and post them. But then once in a while...

Those are the days when I think I'll burst before I get my thoughts and ideas dumped into a post to share with my friends. These originate from a more soulful place in me and, even at this stage in life, I imagine they are the coolest posts of the week (and thankfully there's still no applause meter to pop my bubble).

Thank you for showing up for my Show and Tell all these months. These things would have been special to me regardless, but sharing them with you has been a delight.

Away From My Desk

If you checked in during the past week and found absolutely no new posts -- my apologies for not giving you a heads up before I left to attend a conference in Minneapolis.

I'm back in the saddle now, so "Hi-Yo, Silver!!"

[Those of you who admit to recognizing that expression are definitely dating yourselves...]