Yes Man

I just went to see Jim Carey's new movie, "Yes Man," and YES, I recommend it. The main character makes a covenant to say "yes" to anything that comes his way. ANYTHING. Of course, the fun is in watching that idea played out to its ridiculous extreme, but I admit it really made me think about how playing it safe is a learned, and sometimes dangerous, behavior. Just a few weeks ago, Barry and I were getting ready for a trip, and in the madness of wrapping up work projects, arranging for the dog sitter, cleaning house, paying bills, and doing all kinds of last-minute errands, I suddenly remembered the days when I could just throw a change of clothes (or not), a clean pair of underwear (or not), and a toothbrush (or not) into a bag and GO!

For our honeymoon, we had a plane ticket to Greece and the first two hotel nights booked. That was it. And we had 4 weeks off! Nevermind that the trip turned out to be a total disaster. We've enjoyed years of storytelling mileage from it. And even though that trip ended with us literally panhandling on a German train to get back home to Amsterdam (long story), we have great, albeit quirky, memories--like waking up to a Mediterranean sunrise on a ship to Crete. Or like the waiter in Crete who kept giving us the "nudge, nudge, wink, wink" and asking us how many times we "did it" when he found out we were newlyweds. Or the old men who sat around the open squares gossiping and playing with worry beds. Or the lone mountain goats on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Australian hitchhikers who were grateful for a lift in our rental half-car. Bored cafe owners who would send us into the kitchen to point to our dinner selections. If we had not said yes to the disastrous bits,we'd have missed all the fun bits.

I can think of two reasons we learn to say no: 1) We are wiser. We've been there and done that, and we SHOULD say no, OR 2) We are afraid. We have been there and done that and we are scared. We're afraid to be vulnerable to hurt, pain, loss of control...whatever. Maybe the good thing about getting older is that if we are really honest, we can know when we are being wise and when we are just chickening out. I think risk-taking is probably like the "use it or lose principle" in exercise. The less risk we take, the less we are able to take. I'm going to work out my risk-taking muscle a little more by challenging myself to one new "yes" a day. I'll let you know how it goes.

"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" Isaiah 30:21

Time to fly. It's so hard to know this isn't it? When to stay and when to move on? (Seth Godin has a great little book about this. I highly recommend it: The Dip.)

I've always said that "one day" I wanted to be a freelance writer. When the opportunity finally presented itself, much to my surprise, I found myself fighting it! I looked over the precipice and thought, "Now, that I'm here, I'm not sure I'm brave enough to jump!" But another voice, a much wiser and more sure voice, keeps saying, "This is the way. Walk in it."

So, I'm walking ahead once again into unknown territory, and while it makes me a little nervous, I love the thrill of discovery. I don't want to be reckless, but I also don't want to trade the adventures that God puts in my path for a comfortable safety that leaves me fraught with restlessness.

My time as an employee has ended for now, and I am officially on my own. Here goes...

http://www.lkayjohnson.com/.

The Noble Art of Cussin'

True story. When my Southern girlfriend Kim was 4, she was playing with her brother and a neighborhood girl, named Jewel, who was about 10. Kim was enamored with Jewel as the older, wiser woman of the world, so to show off, Kim decided to try out some cuss words. She tried each one on like shiny shoes, seeing how each fit and, more important, what kind of reaction she could get. Jewel obliged with deliciously satisfying shock and dismay.

Kim was thrilled. Then, things took an ugly turn.

“I’m gonna tell yer Mama that yer cussin'.'” Jewel declared. Kim laughed wickedly, unafraid, but when Jewel took off running, fear overtook!

Kim recalls the chase vividly and says it was like one of those slow-motion nightmares where you feel like you’re running through mud. Jewel, being older, had longer legs and could easily outpace Kim. Jewel's long, brown curls flew in the wind, taunting little Kim, who ran with all her might to overtake Jewel and take her down! Alas, Jewell arrived at the kitchen door before Kim. To Kim’s horror, she saw the door open, saw her mother standing there, hands on hips, and heard Jewel blast the dreadful accusation, “Miz Montgomry, Kim was cussin’!”

Kim gasped, horrified. She ran forward and shoved Jewel out of the way. “Nuh uh, Mama, I was not! That’s a damn lie!"

Special thanks to Kim Cullen for providing all the damn details.

Top 10 Ways to Get Sidetracked during a Conference Call

10. Check email.
9. Assume a comfy position.
8. Pay bills.
7. Plan your vacation.
6. Shop online.
5. Try to figure out how to mute and unmute. (Pray that you actually ARE on mute.)
4. Watch a movie about some woman being stalked or abused on Lifetime Television, starring Meredith Baxter Berney.
3. Go to the bathroom and hope no one asks you a question.
2. Flirt or make out (preferably with your spouse)

And the #1 way to get sidetracked during a conference call...

1. Create top ten lists.

Death by Twitter

OK, is it me or are you feeling twittered, face-booked, emailed, IMed, and linked-in to death? Trust me, I'm the Queen of Connectedness (my TOP strength, for those familiar with the "strength" profiles). But for Pete's sake, is this really connectedness, or is it just a recipe for insanity? If I really keep up with all of these social networking sites and tools, it's a sure bet I will soon be walking around with a Crackberry in my hand, reduced to a driveling idiot who is connected to the whole world but has no real friends to show for it.

Whatever happened to just meeting a friend for coffee (sans the Crackberry, thank you very much)? Oh, and by the way, ever try to have a conversation with someone who has a Crackberry glued to their hand (and mind)? Don't get me started. Or how about sitting in a meeting with buzzing Crackberries going off the whole time? (Ok, we get it. You are important!)

I think it's time for a lunch break. Outside. Without the phone.

Father's Day

After a day full of the requisite Father's Day cookout, I took a minute to think about my Dad ("Daddy," of course, just like any good Southern girl will say). In my case, a lot of people agree when I say my Dad is the best. When I was younger, people used to tell me all the time how great both my parents were. I thought they'd feel otherwise if they had to live with them. Of course, now I know they were right.

Daddy is an artist, and I got his artistic temperament. My mother and sister are the left-brain organizers of the family. (I often think now of how crazy Daddy and I make them.) Over the years, I've grown to appreciate even more the way Daddy taught me to see the world through his artistic eyes. Even on a simple walk he notices every detail. ("Look at the color of that moss on that branch." or "Kate, look at the fiery color of those leaves. That's a hickory.") He knows the name of every tree. He ought to! He and his cousins spent most of their youth running around the Alabama woods from sunup to sundown.

One of my favorite memories of Daddy is listening to classical music with him. I can still picture the covers of those albums. One had Monet's ballerinas on the front, and since I dreamed of being a ballerina, this was my favorite. Daddy is a country boy from Adamsville, Alabama, but he loves classical music.(His mother, my Nanny, came from a family of 11--all of whom were musical or artistic in some way.) We'd sit together and listen to those albums, all the while Daddy pointing out some subtlety of the music.

Daddy is famous for his easy-going, laid-back nature, another trait I've inherited from him. I love this about him because it makes for easy, comfortable, not-in-a-hurry conversation. I think this, along with his steadfast faithfulness as a father and husband, are what I love about him most. I can think of no better tribute to a great father than this fact: I have always known I was safe and loved. I still do.

Underappreciated? Think How God Must Feel!

Yesterday, I was in full-on whining mode with Barry about how nobody listens to me at work. I’ve been smarting from a dismal workplace reality: You may have (or think you have) knowledge, insight, wisdom, experience, and talents that could solve real workplace problems. But the sad truth sometimes is this—nobody cares! Because I’m in a creative job, people often look at what I do as "fun" and—worse—they figure they can do it better. (How hard can it be if it’s so fun, right?) So you get to listen to people hurl insults at your best efforts and proceed to take over your fun job, because it can't be that difficult. Ouch. (I need some serious chocolate. You may want some too. I warned you this was some serious whining.)

Then I read my little email devotional for today.* It focuses on some remarkably specific instructions that God gave to David as he approached a battle. (2 Samuel 5:23, NLT) The writer of this devotional notes how David had learned from a lifetime of experience to seek God’s advice and, more important, to act on it. Though David was a proven and remarkably capable leader, he recognized God as the ultimate source of wisdom. Logically speaking, David had excellent reasons to rely on himself. He had a stellar track record! But he didn't rely on his accomplishments or his own strengths. Instead, he doggedly pursued God's council, and then he humbly obeyed it.

How gratifying that must be for God! I wonder how often God looks at us and shakes his head, thinking, “I coulda told you! But nooo--did you even ask? Don’t ask me! I’m only the ruler of the Universe!” How delighted God must be when we actually seek out and listen to his advice. Parents, how nice would it be if your kids actually sought your wisdom and experience once in a while?

My kids--asking me for advice? Never!

So, while I may be left feeling that my "brilliant" insights and skills are not always valued, I have gained the tiniest glimmer of insight into how God must feel when I go about the daily business of life without ever consulting Him for input. And when I do, I often ignore the nudge that tells me to “turn here,” or “wait," or "better not do that," or "go now!" What makes me think I can ignore the Architect of the Universe? I usually wave him off, saying “I’ve got this, God! You just go back to your world-ruling thing." The truth is--I'm not God, and my input really may stink, but His is priceless and deserves my best "sit up and pay attention" attitude.

* Encouraging Words, http://www.christianitytoday.com/tcw/, Look under “free newsletters."

Scattered to the Winds

How strange it is to have your kids blown to the four winds. Isaac is in Cleveland, Ohio, undergoing training for the restaurant where he will work here in Sarasota. Michael is in boot camp on Parris Island. I know this is how it's supposed to be (they grow up, they go do their own thing), but it's still a strange feeling. I wonder if this is like that "invisible itch" that an amputee feels?