The other day I did a reading of my book for a dynamic group of men and women (I will share more about that at a later time). At the reading someone asked me if I was single, I paused answered yes...it's my Achilles heal question, because I asked myself everyday in the process of writing my book, "who the hell am I to write a book on love?" -but in powerful moments of faith I kept trudging along...and through the completion of the book, and feedback/reception from others, I have come to see being single as less of a lack of experience and more a testament to a truth of life, love and prayer.
Today, I was watching a Facebook post of a friend. -she had posted a video of a man sharing about a recent experience at a restaurant. He placed his order, all the people at his table were brought their food, even a table next to his with a group who came in after him, were all served before him. In a space of frustration he asked the server why he had still not been served, the server replied, your order was complex and took longer for the cook to prepare.
In that moment he had an epiphany, he realized that the greatest prayers of life are answered at a rate that is in direct correlation to the complexity of the request.
In a tangible illustration, take a young Barack Obama, let's say he prays for an Ivy League educated woman, who loves hip-hop, is strong in her core beliefs, oh and in the future, when she is 48, she will be on the Ellen Show doing push-ups like its a piece of cake....you see in metaphorical terms his prayer is a "complicated order" thus, not surprising they were well into their 30s when they married.
So whether, it's marital status, job status, physical status, or whatever the prayer, know that often times the time required for response is in direct proportion to the complexity of the request.
Now, more often than not, I sit in a place of contentment, in faith (not conceit) that the prayers upon my heart have not falling on deaf ears, but on the ears of a Cook who needs a little more time to fulfill the order of my request.
Number Twenty-Three
Like me, I am sure you have heard the story of Michael Jordan being cut from his high school varsity basketball team in ’78, what I did not think about though, until recently, is the larger lesson there for us to consider when thinking about one of basketball’s all time greats.
In The Invitation to Love, I speak about possibility, and the idea of speaking to others potential. I shared in one story about my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Whitt. Recently, I got a card from Mrs. Whitt after she learned that I had mentioned her in my book. After all these years, the love I have for Mrs. Whitt and she has for me is still there. She spoke about how she was not surprised to find where I had landed in life, and spoke of her pride in me.
As I read the card, I reflected on my days sitting in her class, and I also reflected on the story of Michael Jordan. Both my teacher and Jordan’s coach, I am sure, knew the power and potential that we both had to contribute to our respective field…for Jordan it was on a court, for me, a classroom. –but what the teacher and coach did not do, was allow the potential and possibility of the future, to compromise the truth in the realities of today. – that’s a lesson, a large one at that!
You see, I have mastered the practice of telling people they are great, my admiration in who they are, and my confidence in what they can contribute to the world. What I have not been as skilled at doing, is taking that possibility in potential and complementing it with descriptions of current day realities.
Michael and I were both people with potential, and we needed teachers (and coaches) who reminded us of the possibility of what we could become. Beyond the pep talks, encouragement, and hope in our future selves, what we also needed was realistic articulation of our current performance. It does not serve Michael well to brag on his skills on the court, when in all reality he is not ready, and/or able to perform at his fullest potential. Similarly, it would not have served me well for Mrs. Whitt to say how bright I was, and not remind me that I was failing classes in school.
Life is all about lessons. Now, I pause before offering my praise of someone else. I question, am I speaking to their possibility while giving accurate space for their current reality, or am I glossing over areas of ineffectiveness, bolstering the ego of others, to the detriment of them having an accurate understanding of themselves. Love is in the truth, and diluted versions of the truth are diluted versions of love. With our kids, partners, and with ourselves, we need to take time to love ourselves enough to delight in our accomplishments, give gratitude in our potential, and at the same time remain humble like that famous number twenty-three and know when I current performance (or the performance of the ones we love) is not at varsity, its not their season, and practice off the court is required for their true greatness to emerge.
June
We have had one of the most peculiar starts to summer here in Chicago I have ever seen. Many days have felt more like San Francisco, than a great city in the Midwest. Temperatures in the mid-to-low sixties have made jackets a friend, and a sweater an ally. Beyond making me grateful for warmer days of yesteryear, what this unseasonably mild weather has also done is reminded me of the power of faith.
I was sharing with my small group at church about how the weather, while milder than what I would like it to be has not discouraged me from my hopes and plans for the summer, because I have experienced June before, and I know that these blimps of cold weather will soon be followed by warmer, more seasonable temps.
How do I know? -Because I have seen the promise of Mother Nature in the past. This is not my first time experiencing colder temperatures in the summer, or having to put on a jacket in June because of unseasonably cold weather. I know that this is just a passing state, and the promise of better weather is sure to follow.
Similarly, my faith in all situations can be learn much from my faith in the weather. Like this past June, we all experience “blimps” in our own metaphorical weather patterns, but just as sure as warmer days are promised to come, so too are better days yet to come if we use the promises kept of the past to sustain us in the present.
I recently read that, “victory is won through patience.” I love that, just because it is sixty degrees one day in June does not mean I need to pack my bags because days of relaxing at the beach are not to come. No, rather, I sit patiently prepare myself (and my calendar) for time and space for when the opportunity arise where the temperature is closer to eighty and shorts, sunglasses, and warmth by the beach presents itself.
I pray all that read this consider their own “June season” knowing that on the other side of this unseasonably cold weather, is the promise of warmer days if we have the spirit to endure, and the faith to sustain us in the meantime.