Here's an Idea

Developing things is a delicious process, especially when those things have malt, grain, water, hops, and yeast.  By themselves, these fruits of the field fill our pantries with food so we can eat breakfast, lunch and dinner - which is better than not eating breakfast, lunch or dinner. However, when they are added with other ingredients, mixed into something bigger than itself...or better yet, fermented...this developed “fruit of the field” nurtures a memorable experience with those I am around.

We are all “bettered” from eating three meals a day, but something more comes of it when we develop those ingredients into another idea. Take bread and wine for example: When I have a gathering, and responsibly introduce these developed ingredients, the gathering develops into fellowship. Conversation, community and connection begins to happen amongst my guests, and many have shared how they experience real relationship - with me and others - after spending time over this developed meal. We all see evidence of this at weddings, holiday celebrations, or various feasts throughout the year.  Obviously, it’s no secret that I am a social person that likes good beer and good wine. That is because bad beer and bad wine takes a lot longer to drink. 

Developed Pears (L) & Oktoberfest (R)

This week I was given a large amount of pears to do something with, which was better than letting them go to waste.  I had the chance to start the development of fermenting these pears, and convert them into 24 jars of sauce and 4 gallons of wine.  Additionally, I’ve had an Oktoberfest recipe sitting on my shelf for a while, and I started the process of developing the ingredients into what should be close to 5 gallons of a fairly tasty beverage in another couple of months. My basement office (which, for the last five years, had been used as a place of forecasting, typing, conference calling and the like for wonderful companies I was employed at) has now been developed into a small chemistry lab complete with tubes, hoses, glass carboys, and 6 1/2 gallon fermentation containers. This developed office is really wonderful because, while my beautiful wife Jennifer appreciated my hard work as a former Account Exec., I think she is easier to lure into my office-turned-lab when it is filled with alcohol. I wish I had developed that office-to-lab conversion much sooner...

Now, if you’ve made it this far reading my entry, you are probably seeing a thread of thoughts that are not alcohol related: Development and Betterment. If your thoughts are elsewhere, you should probably talk to someone about them. Here is where I am going with this:

On Tuesday of last week, my beautiful wife Jenn and I took a tour of a local Community Development Corporation in Detroit. Their executive director is a very talented woman who knows a lot about community development, margaritas, and vacuums.  For the last 18 years she and her husband have built an infrastructure of employment, workshops, tools-for-loan, home renovations and countless other meaningful programs for their community.  They are now working on an aquaponics effort to farm fish for their new garden installation for new local economic development. On our tour, we were introduced to some of the staff, saw their very own produce store, and even where the best places are to sit and enjoy a good margarita. 

The big take away for me was listening to her explain the concept of going beyond “bettering” someone, to “developing” someone. Handing out a bowl of soup, loaf of bread, or clothes to wear is a terrific thing to do. In fact, the recipient is better for it. However, the development of that person is what their organization is aimed at doing.  This development takes time, but most of all, relationship - and genuine relationships aren’t formed overnight. Developing someone to learn the real value of the soup, bread, or the clothes is a longer process. However, the result has more fruitful returns: the recipient can gain dignity, respect, and even healing. That same recipient can even start to produce soup, bread and clothes for themselves and the community around them.

Jenn and I appreciated the lesson of “betterment-development” and made our way home. We thought about this wonderful mentor, who unbeknownst to us, would cause us to develop our own thoughts about the work we do.  Thinking a lot about development in our own community, as well as a margarita on the rocks, we took a challenge to explore our own actions during routine tasks so we could see how we might be used to develop those around us - our kids, neighbors, family and friends. 

So, this week I hope to add “development thinking” instead of “betterment thinking” into my routine - whether I am enjoying the smell of fermenting pears, or coaching some neighborhood kids on care and respect of our community. Maybe this new way of thinking is the “developed” change I need to be.

Shish-Mut-Mum

Muscle memory is one of those things that professional athletes know about. After extensive training for years and years, ones body grows into a formation familiar to the task it is has trained for.  Baseball players know exactly how to position their legs, and arms, to swing a bat at precisely the correct time to hit a roughly 3” round object that travels somewhere around 90 miles an hour. Athletes in the mixed martial arts world know exactly how to hold their arms to defend against blows, and then put their opponent off balance with the right kind of grappling technique. One hand or foot in the wrong place and you could lose your momentum, putting success at risk.

In ancient days fishermen were skilled at casting nets from their boats and worked as one to do so.  As the ships crew learned how to work together as a team, they did so with precision and talent. They learned the mechanics of where to stand in the boat, how to hold the net with the proper grip, when to let go of the net and what to do next.  When a ships crew added a new person, you could expect clumsy mishaps simply because the new persons muscle memory was still in development. More on this later.

This past week offered the chance to have muscle-memory grow in me.  Being home full-time now for 21 days has allowed me to spend more time with my kids than ever before.  What a privilege to do it! And what a respect I have for stay-at-home moms (and dads too) who do this 24/7.  Specifically, I noticed that my business skill set of forecasting, networking, negotiating and “closing” is still quite good (and very much needed to work with my kids), but the area needed for muscle-memory improvement is “Multi-Tasking”. 

In my post on April 8th (Ideas, Experiences and “Journey Bumps”) I shared about my routine being off.  My wallet was lost, someone attempted to break into my car, and other things impacted my routine.  Now, two weeks later, I think I see that this “off-routine” was really an observation of several tasks (including kids, household chores, external tasks, etc.) that needed to be managed at the same time (hence, multi-tasking).  

Now, I have always thought myself to be pretty good at managing several tasks at once. After all, that is what I’ve been doing in the business world for more than 13 years.  However, this may not be the case! Allow me to explain...

My beautiful wife, Jenn, has the blessed talent of helping our 5th grader with math, make spaghetti for dinner, and receive regular interruptions from our 6yr old, while helping our 9yr old on her science project (I believe that most young mom’s are familiar with this routine). She typically responds with genuine patience, and appears to have complete peace and control over each need that she responds to. As an “official” observer of this, it looks graceful to me: she sort of flows in and out of each need and then back again. I’m very much like this, but without the grace, patience and peace - not so much a “flowing” either...more like a clunk-n-thud from one interruption to the next. Sure, I can easily multi-task several needs, but it must be one at a time, and the need should be completed before I go on to the next task.  I guess I should call this man-tasking, and I believe that most young dads are familiar with this routine.

Essentially, mom’s that are like my beautiful wife Jenn have the real deal when it comes to multi-tasking; it is innate to them and they really know how to flow with it gracefully.  Dad’s that are like my beautiful wife’s husband, do their very best at faking it and they try very hard to keep blood pressure at reasonable level, while they thunk-n-clud their way through the multiple household tasks demanding their attention.

Listening to the homily last week, I saw how Christ’s own disciples were working on muscle memory.  Fr. Vic shared how Christ said to his disciples (who were fishing at the time), to do something outside of their comfort zone, or muscle memory: “Cast the net on the right side of the boat...” (see John 21:6 if you like).  This would have been a very backwards experience for them and probably quite clumsy.  They had a routine for casting nets on the left side of the boat, and now they are going to use different movements, and stances to throw the nets. The result of their probably awkward actions netted 153 kinds of fish (unique to the known species of fish in the sea at the time) and they could not haul it in by themselves - another boat needed to come and help with the catch. So, I can appreciate the importance of trying something different on tasks that I do routinely, and see what my “net” brings in from it.

As I experience “multi-tasking” I’m recognizing that my muscles of patience, grace and peace are just starting to break in. I’m also learning what my limits are and when to gently ask for help (or 15 minutes of quiet and a shot of something single malt). I don’t expect to have Schwarzenegger-ish Multi-Tasking Muscle Memory (or Shish-Mut-Mum for short) in the next couple of weeks, but I am grateful for the opportunity to stretch and grow some muscles that I didn’t recognize they needed to grow at all. Hopefully with enough time I will be a better person for it.  In the mean time, I’ll practice the patience bit of this by brewing some Oktoberfest. See me in about two months or so...we can taste how good patience really is.   

Oh, and by the way...my wallet? It’s found. It was in a jacket that I haven’t worn in months. Don’t ask me how...I’m still working on the grace to figure that out...

Santa Maria

This week’s adventure was one that took an unscheduled 2 hours out of my day - but an adventure that I’d gladly give to again. Allow me to share the adventure with you...

**Writers Note: This story includes graphic descriptions of a hurting canine friend. Good people will find this very sad. The reader’s discretion is encouraged**

After dropping the kids off at school, picking a few things up at the grocery store, and then making a surprise visit to see family, my beautiful wife, Jenn, and I began to make our way home through one of the many routes available to us. Jenn is driving, and we are moving along a very busy eight-lane road when we spot a dog limping up ahead on the sidewalk. (Writers Note - This story, is about that dog and we will call him “Santa”, or Saint, and you’ll see why as you read on).  The closer we come to Santa, the worse he starts to look. 

So, with our heart-strings plucked, we pull into a gas station and I get out to take a better look at him. From my view, he’s hurt and it looks very bad. His ear is torn, ribs show through his fur, and the right front leg is terribly mangled with approx. 4 inches of dried out white bone completely exposed. His paw is severely rotted, barely connected, and it is dragged lifelessly as he limps on this stump of a leg.  I make my way closer to him, but he is understandably scared and hobbles away, headed north. I make pursuit, and Jenn pulls the car around following behind. 

As he limps away from me, he suddenly cuts left across four lanes of north-bound traffic, arrives at the median, and then he crosses the four lanes of south-bound traffic.  I follow him the entire way flagging cars to slow down so he doesn’t get hit. He arrives at a building that seems to be familiar to him, and parks himself near an unused doorway. I wait with him a safe distance away and say to myself “now what...what do I do?”

Jenn meets up with me and parks on a side street just a few feet away (the side street is called Santa Maria).  At this important moment, I am so very thankful for smart phones! She and I conduct searches for the Humane Society, make some calls and get transferred to Detroit Animal Control (DAC) and are then placed on a list for “emergency pick-up”. However, because of the rough financial situation that Detroit is in, there is only one driver that covers the entire 140 square mile city of Detroit. With the countless stray cats & dogs spread over acres of urban prairies, development and blight, this “emergency pick-up” may not actually happen until tomorrow.  These good people have a very busy backlog of work and if I walk away, Santa probably won’t stay put and DAC may never find him. So, we stick around and think of more options to help poor Santa. 

Since Santa is on the property of this office building, Jenn heads inside to explain what the circumstances to the office folks,  and their concern drives them to come outside and brainstorm more options with us.  We start calling area veterinarians to inquire if an emergency service is available to collect Santa. No such luck. So, we try bribery (offering $50, or even $100 to anyone wanting to make a quick buck) and no such luck there either. We then start calling private animal control companies, critter control, and others in a similar business - but we can’t get any traction.  

As we were thinking through some options, the office folks bring out some of their own lunch, fresh water and even their trash cans to sort of barricade Santa in a safe place - making it less likely for him to get away.  Finally we get a break: a phone call comes in from a concerned nurse at one of the local animal clinics that I spoke with earlier.  She was on her lunch hour and offered some help. She arrives and between the handful of us there at the moment, we try to capture Santa. However, after a few attempts with the nurse’s leash and “treats”, the dog grows angry, growls and is not going to let us help. He is very threatening now, so I distract him giving a chance for the nurse to back away. The nurse suggests a better idea with some different tools, and she sets off to retrieve it. 

Meanwhile two ladies driving down the road see Santa in his bad condition, and out of concern they stop to help. While we were exploring our options, the nurse friend returns and the handful of us make an attempt at him with a catch pole. After a couple of attempts with it narrowly missing Santa, he gets spooked, and he evades us - hobbling over the trash cans, and taking a nasty spill on the sidewalk. He makes his way toward the busy road, but I route him back to the building.  He cuts left, and makes for the side street.  The handful of us block his path choices and he scuttles his way under the vehicle belonging to one of the ladies, parked on Santa Maria Street.

Now, with the office staff, the two sisters, the animal nurse, Jenn and I, we try to get this poor dog out from underneath the vehicle - but he is not having it. He barks, shows his teeth and refuses to cooperate. Honestly, I can’t blame him. I can only imagine what has been done to him by humans in his life. Varying kinds of stress, or abuse, or maybe torture are real possibilities here. How would he know that we are here to help? It makes me wonder how many people are in a similar situation like this dog? People who are chained to addictions, crippled by abusers, are homeless, angry, or depressed, carry their burden in different ways. I can appreciate Fr. Greg Boyle’s comment that says, “stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgement at how they carry it” (from his book Tattoos on the Heart).  Santa has a huge burden to carry, and he is carrying as best as a four-legged creature can with no safety net. 

Realizing the rock-and-hard-place that we were in, it wasn’t hard to feel discouraged by the situation. Then, all of a sudden, as if sent by angels knowing our cause, the good people at Michigan Anti-Cruelty arrive just in time. Now, equipped with the right talent, and some professional-grade tools to catch this dog and then safely transport him to shelter, it only takes the next 15 minutes to lasso him out from under the vehicle. 

After this long 2-hour ordeal, our team finally earned success and 
moved Santa into a secure crate with a blanket.  We rejoiced in the fact that whatever the outcome now, Santa will be far better than if he were left exposed - literally rotting away. Fresh meals, a secure environment, warm shelter, pain medicine and caring people would now nourish him from here on. 

Sadly, Santa was humanely put to sleep the morning of Saturday April 13, 2013. However, we can rejoice knowing that Santa received undeserved grace from total strangers on Santa Maria street. It was right and just that his final experience with people was from those who genuinely cared for him and physically embraced him (literally) as he passed into the next life. 

There are so many lessons to read from this unexpected adventure. The grace Santa received (whether he knew it or not) is one that we all have a chance to experience - regardless of the burden we have, or how we carry it.  Take time today to ask God how you might be used to share grace with the environment around you. It may be a stray dog, an abandoned home, a next door neighbor, a community center, a homeless person “downtown”, or someone close to you - like your spouse.  What or whoever it is,  remember to take the time you have been given and share it gracefully. 

Ideas, Experiences and “Journey Bumps”

Here’s a thought: For me, ideas are sort of like plants..... They start out as a single seed, or multiple seeds packaged together. Some seeds are planted, some are scattered over an area, and others never really leave the package they were purchased in. Some of those ideas begin life by sprouting roots - but no visual change is seen above ground. At this point, the idea seems very young, immature and not yet complete.  While some roots are evident, executing ideas (or demanding fruit form this immature plant) at this stage is risky, because the greater concept of what it could be may not be fully realized. Here, exercising patience really is a virtue.  Instead, one should nourish the idea with some water, sun, and the wisdom of family, friends, parents and priests. Perhaps seek out those who might not have had success at growing (executing?) a similar idea.  Let the idea ferment and become something different. Eventually it will become a living concept, which might possibly be more grand than what is shown on the picture of its packaging. 

So, this week I began living a new idea...a new identity actually: A new trade, and a new faith. And.......it was a little bumpier than I expected: the kids were [climbing the walls of my...] home all week during Easter/Spring break, the heater fan on my van decided to be underperforming and temperamental, my wallet went “missing” somewhere on Grandriver Ave., my son’s overdue homework restricted his (our) activities and someones attempt at breaking into my car resulted in a missing handle on the drivers door. Really, though, the thing that rattled me the most was that my routine was just “off”.  After all, I’m a Detroiter.  I can handle a lot of craziness, just put it in my schedule and I’ll be fine.

You think that with all the planning and strategizing that goes into taking a year off, that the first week should be the easiest and best. Not exactly the case here. However, what I learned in a very hands-on way, was that guarding ones own time is crucial. Even when I have plans and I can articulate exactly what I am going to ultimately accomplish; if I don’t guard my minutes, they wind up going to some "passed-due" emergency that is someone else's problem - which I’ve adopted.

Change of gears...
Celebrating Easter this past week was monumental for me.  If you read last week’s post, you’ll know that I’ve been exploring the ancient Christian faith for several years.  On March 31st, I was brought before my community of parishioners, family, friends, and strangers to taste God, to smell God, and to touch God through ancient sacraments of Grace. It felt like a wedding. Tasted like a birthday. Sounded like July 4th (Independence Day), and Smelled like spring - and I won’t trade that moment for anything.  Now that I am part of this mysterious “ancient communion of saints”, it feels like I’ve added another necessary piece of luggage to carry out my sabbatical of faith and journey. 

As I embark on this journey into a new week, I do so with the compliments of many strangers. Several of whom I’ve met at a community of christians in the distant northwest suburbs of Detroit. These strangers became warm smiles, cheering us on as we shared the story of the work that is being done in my Detroit community. I find it interesting that, despite our differences, there is so much good in what we are focused on.  They are cheering us on with all kinds of support. We are pushing forward with all kinds of passion. It is good to recognize and appreciate that some are called to be the engine that moves an idea forward, and others are called to be the fuel that keeps the engine (or idea) turning.  It begs self-reflection for a moment: what am I? Am I moving ideas forward with demonstrated patience and kindness? Perhaps I am collecting and distributing “fuel” to support others so that they can move ideas forward. Either way, we are all equipped can (and probably should) seek out meaningful work in either camp.

So, to wrap up, I will reflect on the ancient words that I pray would keep me in check each time I feel the need to whack someone over a broken door handle, “missing” wallet, overdue homework, or just a bumpy experience... “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world”.