Walkenhorst Family
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Fever
My youngest child had a fever yesterday. She was at least 102 degrees at one point and was like a little furnace in my arms. I love how my children want to cuddle when they get sick, but I hate seeing them miserable. I held her for quite a while as she burned the virus to a crisp. She is so precious. Holding her like that tugged my heart in two very different directions. Thankfully, she's feeling much better today. The fever lasted about a day and a half. She slept a lot more than normal during that time and was generally pretty lethargic and miserable. It's nice to have her back to full health, but I do miss the extra cuddling. Thankfully, she's given me a few hugs this evening to make up for it! She really is an angel.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
A Perfectly Imperfect Life
My oldest son is pretty hard on himself sometimes. I think he inherited that from both of his parents. His perfectionism comes from his dad - a blessing and a curse. Of course, I could turn around and blame my dad for that trait. But he could turn around and blame his ... and on and on through the generations until we ultimately blame God. We might as well just cut to the chase and blame God straight out. Or we could take responsibility for our lives and deal with our weaknesses. That reminds me of a quote from the movie "Meet the Robinsons" - some poor sap (depicted below) at one point says, "Let's see. Take responsibility for my own life or blame you. 'Blame you' wins hands down!"
Anyway, back to my son. He routinely makes little mistakes and beats himself up for them. Although we've tried to tell him it's ok to make mistakes and the important thing is to learn from them, lecturing hasn't done a whole lot of good. He beats himself up so much, he can't learn from them and he repeats them more often than he normally would. The repetition of the same mistakes gets him so down that he beats himself up more thinking that will help him overcome them, but it's just a vicious cycle. A couple nights ago, he started to beat himself up for forgetting something he had just learned and I had the feeling I should share with him some of my most recent mistakes. I told him some big ones, explained how they had stressed me out and how I got in trouble for one of them ... and you know what? He was enraptured. He doesn't get to see too many of my mistakes up close and he was amazed! After I was done confessing all my recent faults, I grabbed his shoulders, shook him back and forth, and shouted "It's OK to make mistakes! Everybody does it! Especially your dad!" He went to bed that night more relaxed and confident than I've seen him in a while. And it seems to be lasting ... at least for a couple of days! Hopefully this will help him relax about his own human frailty.
A few days ago, we were reading together as a family some of the words of Isaiah: "For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." and I paused to explain to my children what refining means. The application to our lives, I explained, is in the necessity for us to go through trials to burn away the impurities inside us just as the fire heats the metal to burn away everything impure in it. I kept it pretty simple for my children, but let me get some more of my thoughts down here.
I propose that one of the main objectives of this life is to "become" something new and ultimately to grow and achieve our full potential. It seems to me that the act of becoming requires us to struggle, to be introduced to life with inherent weaknesses and work to overcome them. If this is so, then one of the highest purposes of life is the process of dealing with and overcoming those weaknesses. In philosophy, once we introduce the idea of an all-powerful, loving God, we are immediately faced with "The Problem of Evil" and its attendant "Problem of Suffering" or "Pain." Without going into too much detail on what those are, let me just propose that the type of world we live in is perfect in its imperfections. A loving, all-powerful God could not have created a more suitable world for our progression.
A world like this requires us to pit ourselves against great challenges (i.e. opportunities). Evil and its attendant sufferings present us with opposition, which is necessary for our growth. Growth also requires freedom on our part to choose. Without the freedom to choose evil, there can be no freedom to choose good. And the exercise of that freedom is necessary for our growth, even though it carries with it the risk of our destruction. If we choose evil, we may inflict unnecessary suffering on others, particularly innocents like children and animals.
I believe these two major problems of philosophy disappear when we consider individual growth and development to be a key purpose of life. What falls out from that is a need for freedom and opposition. These necessarily create the opportunity for evil and suffering to flourish. Thus, an all-powerful, loving God, created the perfect world for us to grow and develop, which world must necessarily contain evil and suffering. It may not be fair, but "who says life is fair? Where is that written?" (Princess Bride)
As we read that passage in Isaiah, I described to my children the need for challenges and trials to burn away the impurities and "refine" us as metal is refined. That process of perfecting us requires some amount of suffering and we should look at those challenges as opportunities to grow. They are, after all, what life is all about. Though I couldn't explain the necessity of suffering in as much detail as I've tried to do here, I think my children understood the idea in their own way. My son is learning at a young age just how much it hurts to grow and develop. I'm hoping the lessons of 1) the universality of weakness and mistakes and 2) the necessity of challenges will help him to relax and enjoy life in all of its imperfections.
Anyway, back to my son. He routinely makes little mistakes and beats himself up for them. Although we've tried to tell him it's ok to make mistakes and the important thing is to learn from them, lecturing hasn't done a whole lot of good. He beats himself up so much, he can't learn from them and he repeats them more often than he normally would. The repetition of the same mistakes gets him so down that he beats himself up more thinking that will help him overcome them, but it's just a vicious cycle. A couple nights ago, he started to beat himself up for forgetting something he had just learned and I had the feeling I should share with him some of my most recent mistakes. I told him some big ones, explained how they had stressed me out and how I got in trouble for one of them ... and you know what? He was enraptured. He doesn't get to see too many of my mistakes up close and he was amazed! After I was done confessing all my recent faults, I grabbed his shoulders, shook him back and forth, and shouted "It's OK to make mistakes! Everybody does it! Especially your dad!" He went to bed that night more relaxed and confident than I've seen him in a while. And it seems to be lasting ... at least for a couple of days! Hopefully this will help him relax about his own human frailty.
A few days ago, we were reading together as a family some of the words of Isaiah: "For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction." and I paused to explain to my children what refining means. The application to our lives, I explained, is in the necessity for us to go through trials to burn away the impurities inside us just as the fire heats the metal to burn away everything impure in it. I kept it pretty simple for my children, but let me get some more of my thoughts down here.
I propose that one of the main objectives of this life is to "become" something new and ultimately to grow and achieve our full potential. It seems to me that the act of becoming requires us to struggle, to be introduced to life with inherent weaknesses and work to overcome them. If this is so, then one of the highest purposes of life is the process of dealing with and overcoming those weaknesses. In philosophy, once we introduce the idea of an all-powerful, loving God, we are immediately faced with "The Problem of Evil" and its attendant "Problem of Suffering" or "Pain." Without going into too much detail on what those are, let me just propose that the type of world we live in is perfect in its imperfections. A loving, all-powerful God could not have created a more suitable world for our progression.
A world like this requires us to pit ourselves against great challenges (i.e. opportunities). Evil and its attendant sufferings present us with opposition, which is necessary for our growth. Growth also requires freedom on our part to choose. Without the freedom to choose evil, there can be no freedom to choose good. And the exercise of that freedom is necessary for our growth, even though it carries with it the risk of our destruction. If we choose evil, we may inflict unnecessary suffering on others, particularly innocents like children and animals.
I believe these two major problems of philosophy disappear when we consider individual growth and development to be a key purpose of life. What falls out from that is a need for freedom and opposition. These necessarily create the opportunity for evil and suffering to flourish. Thus, an all-powerful, loving God, created the perfect world for us to grow and develop, which world must necessarily contain evil and suffering. It may not be fair, but "who says life is fair? Where is that written?" (Princess Bride)
As we read that passage in Isaiah, I described to my children the need for challenges and trials to burn away the impurities and "refine" us as metal is refined. That process of perfecting us requires some amount of suffering and we should look at those challenges as opportunities to grow. They are, after all, what life is all about. Though I couldn't explain the necessity of suffering in as much detail as I've tried to do here, I think my children understood the idea in their own way. My son is learning at a young age just how much it hurts to grow and develop. I'm hoping the lessons of 1) the universality of weakness and mistakes and 2) the necessity of challenges will help him to relax and enjoy life in all of its imperfections.
Friday, April 16, 2010
A Comment on Comments
I'm enjoying this experiment of blogging. It gives me a creative outlet and a way for me to document some of my more elusive thoughts. In order to post them, I have to organize my thoughts sufficiently to publish them and that process makes them more my own. But this is also a mechanism for me to connect with family, friends, and people I've never met and that connection works much better when it occurs in both directions.
Although my blog doesn't have a lot of readers yet, I know there are a few of you out there and I appreciate your interest in what I have to say. I want you to know that I'm interested in what you have to say too. If something I write strikes you as odd, funny, insightful, or whatever, please let me know. Don't feel like your comment needs to be profound. If it comes from your heart, I will appreciate it. Thanks to those of you who have commented. It gives me a measure of how well my thoughts are getting across.
Although my blog doesn't have a lot of readers yet, I know there are a few of you out there and I appreciate your interest in what I have to say. I want you to know that I'm interested in what you have to say too. If something I write strikes you as odd, funny, insightful, or whatever, please let me know. Don't feel like your comment needs to be profound. If it comes from your heart, I will appreciate it. Thanks to those of you who have commented. It gives me a measure of how well my thoughts are getting across.
More on David Hume - Correlation vs. Causality
Another aspect of David Hume's philosophy (see my first post on David Hume here) was a study of psychological association and the laws by which rational concepts are created from sensory experiences. These associations between ideas or events may be classified as "correlation" and "causality." When two events occur close to one another in space and time, the mind tends to "associate" those events, building up an ensemble of data that reflects correlation between those two events. This means when one of the events occurs, we learn to expect the other to occur nearby and close to the same time. We might even train ourselves or others to respond to the expectation of an event by creating another event that is correlated with the first. An example of this is Pavlov's experiment with dogs. He correlated the ringing of a bell with the presentation of food in the dogs' routine. At some point, the dogs would expect food when they heard the ringing of a bell and Pavlov was able to "measure" this effect by the dogs' salivating. But such an effect doesn't need to be manufactured. It may often occur naturally.
Now, the intuitive leap we often make next seems to be a product of an innate desire to establish causality between two events. Nothing in the external world seems to say that one event must necessarily cause another ... and yet, that is what we seem to be psychologically wired to explore. It's hard to say whether the dogs made that intuitive leap in thinking that the bell caused the food to appear, but we as humans certainly tend to do so. When we see events that occur together, we may rightly conclude that those two events are correlated. But we often jump to the conclusion that one event must necessarily have caused the other. And usually we determine which event is the cause of the other by which occurs first in time. This leads to some pretty silly conclusions sometimes.
Here's a ridiculous example. I may observe that the air becomes cooler as the sky becomes colorful near the end of the day. In my mind, I may justifiably correlate these two events. If I'm not observing enough data or paying attention to some of the important aspects of the sky, I may also determine that the colorful sky causes the air to become cooler. What I have missed in my jump from correlation to causality is the presence of an underlying cause driving both correlated events. The sun's rays refracting off the air and water in the atmosphere at an oblique angle cause the colors. The oblique angle condition occurs as the sun is setting, without whose heat, the air becomes cooler. The setting of the sun is the cause of both events. The relationship between the two events is a function of the sun's effects.
A common cause for two correlated events is one possibility. Or perhaps the two events are related causally, but through a sequence of events and with multiple events driving the sequence. There are probably many other conditions that could account for two events being correlated without being directly causally related. It's interesting though that we seem to be eager to establish causality even at the risk of drawing ridiculous conclusions. Something in our nature seems to yearn to understand our surroundings. Maybe we want to feel comfortable or safe in some knowledge of what to expect from our environment. The danger is that we become complacent or lazy in our half knowledge and draw conclusions that the data doesn't support just to feel good about ourselves. I'd rather cling to truth even if it forces me to acknowledge myself an idiot than delude myself with half-truths to make myself feel better.
Be cautious about what you think you know. The beginning of wisdom is skepticism about one's own knowledge. The great philosophers of the ages, beginning with Socrates I believe, recognized this principle and encouraged intellectual humility in their disciples by challenging their preconceptions and prejudices. Maybe they knew something that we, in our modern arrogance, have forgotten.
Now, the intuitive leap we often make next seems to be a product of an innate desire to establish causality between two events. Nothing in the external world seems to say that one event must necessarily cause another ... and yet, that is what we seem to be psychologically wired to explore. It's hard to say whether the dogs made that intuitive leap in thinking that the bell caused the food to appear, but we as humans certainly tend to do so. When we see events that occur together, we may rightly conclude that those two events are correlated. But we often jump to the conclusion that one event must necessarily have caused the other. And usually we determine which event is the cause of the other by which occurs first in time. This leads to some pretty silly conclusions sometimes.
Here's a ridiculous example. I may observe that the air becomes cooler as the sky becomes colorful near the end of the day. In my mind, I may justifiably correlate these two events. If I'm not observing enough data or paying attention to some of the important aspects of the sky, I may also determine that the colorful sky causes the air to become cooler. What I have missed in my jump from correlation to causality is the presence of an underlying cause driving both correlated events. The sun's rays refracting off the air and water in the atmosphere at an oblique angle cause the colors. The oblique angle condition occurs as the sun is setting, without whose heat, the air becomes cooler. The setting of the sun is the cause of both events. The relationship between the two events is a function of the sun's effects.
A common cause for two correlated events is one possibility. Or perhaps the two events are related causally, but through a sequence of events and with multiple events driving the sequence. There are probably many other conditions that could account for two events being correlated without being directly causally related. It's interesting though that we seem to be eager to establish causality even at the risk of drawing ridiculous conclusions. Something in our nature seems to yearn to understand our surroundings. Maybe we want to feel comfortable or safe in some knowledge of what to expect from our environment. The danger is that we become complacent or lazy in our half knowledge and draw conclusions that the data doesn't support just to feel good about ourselves. I'd rather cling to truth even if it forces me to acknowledge myself an idiot than delude myself with half-truths to make myself feel better.
Be cautious about what you think you know. The beginning of wisdom is skepticism about one's own knowledge. The great philosophers of the ages, beginning with Socrates I believe, recognized this principle and encouraged intellectual humility in their disciples by challenging their preconceptions and prejudices. Maybe they knew something that we, in our modern arrogance, have forgotten.
Thoughts on One Aspect of David Hume's Philosophy
David Hume was a Scottish philosopher who lived in the 1700s. In the lectures on philosophy I mentioned earlier, I learned a little about him and his "psychologizing" of philosophy. I believe he laid the foundation for modern psychological inquiry. One thing he claimed, as I understood it from the lecture, was that our knowledge of reality is limited to sensory experiences, which experiences are necessarily abstracted at least one layer from reality. What we perceive as reality, or truth, then, is really just an image, a shadow, or a simulacrum in our mind. Hume doesn't dispute the existence of reality or our ability to comprehend it, but he seems to insist that such understanding is derived through an abstraction, namely, our sensory experiences. This is not a radically new idea and I'm afraid I may have rendered it inaccurately by smearing it with the philosophies of others. But hopefully the essence of his idea is there.
Thinking about this idea, it occurred to me that we not only perceive much of reality in this way, but we also communicate these perceptions through abstract media. When I wish to convey an image in my mind to someone else, I wrap it up in words and pitch it over the air. The job of the hearer is then to carefully unwrap those words in the hope that they will be able to correctly reconstruct that image in their own mind. Our success in connecting in this way depends on our mutual understanding of the meaning of certain words and our success in accurately wrapping and unwrapping that concept, or shadow of reality, with those words. Successfully connecting in this way is very satisfying, but can be quite difficult. It takes patience and a lot of practice. So it seems to me that none of us communicate directly, but through these abstractions of sense and language. We are, in this way, cut off from others in this life. We're very much alone. If all communication is abstracted through language and the senses, how can one soul touch another soul?
Well, I don't believe in that limitation exactly. At times in my life, I have experienced a type of soul-to-soul communion. I have felt a connection with the Spirit of God on occasion when He touches my soul and seems to communicate with me on a level that is more foundational than speech. At times like these, I don't feel so alone. And if God has direct access to reality (presumably His perception is not abstracted through limited sensory experiences), then this direct mode of communication offers me direct access to reality and truth.
This line of thinking led me to think that perhaps after this life, we'll be able to touch others on such a foundational level. Perhaps we'll also be able to interact with the rest of the external world on such a level - with reality itself - directly. If such direct communion is possible between people and between individuals and their environment - trees, animals, earth, air - by this, perhaps we can directly touch reality and no longer deal with "shadows." Perhaps then our perspective will be illuminated by the true "Form" of an object or a concept rather than a crude copy or shadow of the Form. By Form, I mean a concept similar to what Plato described in some of his works, though not, I think, quite what Plato theorized. I'm sorry to be obtuse, but this is just a blog and I'm no great philosopher.
I believe that my knowledge is often limited by an imperfect, abstracted perception of reality through my senses, which senses may often deceive me. Regardless of my speculation in the previous paragraph, my experience tells me that the only knowledge or truth I can confidently claim to know is that given to me during those times when the Spirit of God touches my soul. This is one area in which I differ from Hume. I don't believe our knowledge of reality is limited to sensory experiences. Neither did Immanuel Kant, by the way, and I find his arguments on "pure" or non-empirical knowledge to be quite powerful, at least as far as I understand them. Although I agree with Hume regarding the limitations of the senses, valuable though they are, I believe there are alternative and better paths to truth. Though difficult to put into words, experiences where I successfully commune with God seem to make reality directly accessible to me and constitute the only source of truth on which I can completely rely.
Thinking about this idea, it occurred to me that we not only perceive much of reality in this way, but we also communicate these perceptions through abstract media. When I wish to convey an image in my mind to someone else, I wrap it up in words and pitch it over the air. The job of the hearer is then to carefully unwrap those words in the hope that they will be able to correctly reconstruct that image in their own mind. Our success in connecting in this way depends on our mutual understanding of the meaning of certain words and our success in accurately wrapping and unwrapping that concept, or shadow of reality, with those words. Successfully connecting in this way is very satisfying, but can be quite difficult. It takes patience and a lot of practice. So it seems to me that none of us communicate directly, but through these abstractions of sense and language. We are, in this way, cut off from others in this life. We're very much alone. If all communication is abstracted through language and the senses, how can one soul touch another soul?
Well, I don't believe in that limitation exactly. At times in my life, I have experienced a type of soul-to-soul communion. I have felt a connection with the Spirit of God on occasion when He touches my soul and seems to communicate with me on a level that is more foundational than speech. At times like these, I don't feel so alone. And if God has direct access to reality (presumably His perception is not abstracted through limited sensory experiences), then this direct mode of communication offers me direct access to reality and truth.
This line of thinking led me to think that perhaps after this life, we'll be able to touch others on such a foundational level. Perhaps we'll also be able to interact with the rest of the external world on such a level - with reality itself - directly. If such direct communion is possible between people and between individuals and their environment - trees, animals, earth, air - by this, perhaps we can directly touch reality and no longer deal with "shadows." Perhaps then our perspective will be illuminated by the true "Form" of an object or a concept rather than a crude copy or shadow of the Form. By Form, I mean a concept similar to what Plato described in some of his works, though not, I think, quite what Plato theorized. I'm sorry to be obtuse, but this is just a blog and I'm no great philosopher.
I believe that my knowledge is often limited by an imperfect, abstracted perception of reality through my senses, which senses may often deceive me. Regardless of my speculation in the previous paragraph, my experience tells me that the only knowledge or truth I can confidently claim to know is that given to me during those times when the Spirit of God touches my soul. This is one area in which I differ from Hume. I don't believe our knowledge of reality is limited to sensory experiences. Neither did Immanuel Kant, by the way, and I find his arguments on "pure" or non-empirical knowledge to be quite powerful, at least as far as I understand them. Although I agree with Hume regarding the limitations of the senses, valuable though they are, I believe there are alternative and better paths to truth. Though difficult to put into words, experiences where I successfully commune with God seem to make reality directly accessible to me and constitute the only source of truth on which I can completely rely.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Imagination and the Power of Creative Thought
The other day, my oldest son started doodling on a piece of paper. He created shapes one by one with random strokes of his pencil, studied them to determine what they could become, and then filled in the gaps to make something recognizable out of those shapes. As I recall, he made a camel-bunny, a cy-fish (cyclops fish), a ghost waving hi, and about a dozen other odd creatures. As I watched him, I thought what an amazing power our imagination is. We can look at a real object and "see" something that isn't there. We can then manipulate our environment to create in the real world what we see in our mind. The power of creativity is amazing. Where did that power come from? It seems to me like a divine trait.
Architects employ their creativity to see a structure of wood, concrete, steel, and other materials where nothing exists; they capture that image piece by piece on paper or computer; and they work to see that image created out of raw materials. Pretty cool, huh? I recently read a book called "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand in which the hero, Howard Roark, as an architect, is the prototypical creative man and she captures that creative power of his very nicely. The book's virtue isn't limited to its depiction of creativity, but that's one area where her passion really shines through.
Be careful with Ayn Rand - I can't agree with her philosophy on sexuality, but I found Fountainhead to be an excellent read. I had read her "Atlas Shrugged" years ago and I loved it and hated it. There was very little in Fountainhead that I didn't like. In my opinion, Roark was much closer to what a hero should be than the hero in Atlas. I was reading Emerson about the same time and I found some interesting similarities between his philosophy and Rand's depiction of Roark. Of particular interest was Emerson's "Self Reliance" - a great essay.
Architects employ their creativity to see a structure of wood, concrete, steel, and other materials where nothing exists; they capture that image piece by piece on paper or computer; and they work to see that image created out of raw materials. Pretty cool, huh? I recently read a book called "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand in which the hero, Howard Roark, as an architect, is the prototypical creative man and she captures that creative power of his very nicely. The book's virtue isn't limited to its depiction of creativity, but that's one area where her passion really shines through.
Be careful with Ayn Rand - I can't agree with her philosophy on sexuality, but I found Fountainhead to be an excellent read. I had read her "Atlas Shrugged" years ago and I loved it and hated it. There was very little in Fountainhead that I didn't like. In my opinion, Roark was much closer to what a hero should be than the hero in Atlas. I was reading Emerson about the same time and I found some interesting similarities between his philosophy and Rand's depiction of Roark. Of particular interest was Emerson's "Self Reliance" - a great essay.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Mr. Mom
I'm playing Mr. Mom again this week. Emily flew to California to visit some aging relatives and I get to play mom again. We came home last night from a short trip to Florida and she caught an early flight this morning. Between unpacking from the Florida trip, cleaning up, doing laundry, and getting ready for the California trip, it was a short night. And today was a long day, but I really do enjoy this role. In fact, if I could figure out how to permanently switch roles with Emily, I would.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Saving Nature
As I was mowing the weeds (i.e. lawn) yesterday, my daughter was running around trying to save some of them. In one patch of the yard, there were a large number of weeds with very pretty purple flowers. As I was cavalierly destroying this beautiful work of nature, she was busily picking the flowers to save them from destruction. It was so sweet! At one point, she yelled over the engine noise asking me to avoid running over a moth. She was concerned because the innocent creature looked just like a leaf and I was about to mow that section of lawn. This coming from a girl who staunchly defended a man's right to cut down a tree for various reasons. Her labor of love yesterday sort of reminded me of a fictional girl named Fern working to save the life of a poor runt pig she later named Wilbur.
A Gift From My Mother
I remember being a very inquisitive child. I have memories of pestering my mother with questions. My favorite questions began with "why". I remember she would get annoyed occasionally, but I also recall a time when she told me that although she sometimes got frustrated with my constant questions, she never wanted me to stop asking "why". She encouraged me to keep questioning and learning everything I could. I have no idea how old I was. My guess is I always somewhere around 6-8 years old.
I thought of that incident recently and it occurred to me what a courageous, inspired thing that was to say. She probably wanted to throttle me, but instead, she gave me the gift of encouragement. She taught me at a young age how valuable it could be to be curious. I now have a thirst for knowledge that lies at the core of who I am. I don't believe I owe that state of being entirely to my mother, but I don't know that it would be so ingrained in me if I hadn't been encouraged in my pursuit of knowledge at a very young age.
Thanks mom.
I thought of that incident recently and it occurred to me what a courageous, inspired thing that was to say. She probably wanted to throttle me, but instead, she gave me the gift of encouragement. She taught me at a young age how valuable it could be to be curious. I now have a thirst for knowledge that lies at the core of who I am. I don't believe I owe that state of being entirely to my mother, but I don't know that it would be so ingrained in me if I hadn't been encouraged in my pursuit of knowledge at a very young age.
Thanks mom.
The Reluctant Leader
For the last two years, I have been reluctantly acting in a management role at work. I accepted the responsibility because I felt that if I didn't, I wouldn't be able to do the kind of work I wanted to do. My preferred field of research is somewhat narrow and, while I was working with a colleague who had similar interests for several years, when he left, I realized that if I didn't set up my own camp, I would be sucked up into someone else's and would be re-directed toward research that I don't enjoy.
George Washington, one of my heroes and another reluctant leader
From the beginning of this new role, I have often felt overwhelmed, just trying to keep my head above water. I also found that by sacrificing my time doing technical work, I saved the work I loved, but I could no longer do it myself ... at least for the most part. There have been times when I have wanted to run away.
I took a business trip a couple weeks ago with a colleague who is much older, more experienced, and through a strange twist of fate is now working for me, though he should probably be my boss. He's not interested in that, by the way, but I would prefer that arrangement. He's semi-retired, he's walked in my shoes and for some reason, he has taken it upon himself to help me. We enjoy working together, so I'm really grateful that he is willing to share his experience and wisdom with me. He's really a great guy.
On this trip, he helped me gain a new perspective on things. While traveling and over meals, he offered me his story of being dragged into management kicking and screaming. In many ways, we have had similar experiences, though there are definitely differences. He helped me to see a new way of looking at things that may make my business more successful and he has helped me to see a new way of looking at my duties that brings out the joy in them.
I have always enjoyed teaching and have, for many years, considered a career in teaching. Talking with my colleague, I came to see how I can teach AND lead in my current job at the same time. I can get the joy of both with the extra freedom of being my own boss - which, in my company, I basically am. How did I get so lucky? God must really be looking out for me.
For many years, I have avoided leadership in any form. Although I enjoy getting my way and being the center of attention, I have weaknesses that make such leadership positions dangerous for me. I am naturally arrogant and self-centered and I see a threat to my well-being and my character by being looked up to as an example or in giving guidance or direction. With the help of C.S. Lewis ("Mere Christianity") and Ezra T. Benson ("Beware of Pride"), I have seen the nature and ugliness of pride and I have studiously avoided anything that tends to increase that vice in me. This has included leadership. In recent years, it seems the fates are conspiring against my plan and have thrown leadership at me in my professional employment, in my church, and in my home. I have grown a lot and although I'm still very susceptible to pride, I seem to be able to manage the pride better right now. I don't know if that will last, so I still feel guarded.
Driving to work one morning last week, I realized that the things that make my work difficult as a manager are the very things that can teach me how to lead in other areas of my life. I believe they are the things that are designed to stretch me most right now and help me become more like God. Leadership with humility can make positive differences in the lives of those who look to those leaders. Although I'm still not always sure I want to be a leader, with the help of my friend and colleague, my wife, and God, I'm starting to see that this is exactly what I need right now in order to grow and become the man I need to be.
George Washington, one of my heroes and another reluctant leader
From the beginning of this new role, I have often felt overwhelmed, just trying to keep my head above water. I also found that by sacrificing my time doing technical work, I saved the work I loved, but I could no longer do it myself ... at least for the most part. There have been times when I have wanted to run away.
I took a business trip a couple weeks ago with a colleague who is much older, more experienced, and through a strange twist of fate is now working for me, though he should probably be my boss. He's not interested in that, by the way, but I would prefer that arrangement. He's semi-retired, he's walked in my shoes and for some reason, he has taken it upon himself to help me. We enjoy working together, so I'm really grateful that he is willing to share his experience and wisdom with me. He's really a great guy.
On this trip, he helped me gain a new perspective on things. While traveling and over meals, he offered me his story of being dragged into management kicking and screaming. In many ways, we have had similar experiences, though there are definitely differences. He helped me to see a new way of looking at things that may make my business more successful and he has helped me to see a new way of looking at my duties that brings out the joy in them.
I have always enjoyed teaching and have, for many years, considered a career in teaching. Talking with my colleague, I came to see how I can teach AND lead in my current job at the same time. I can get the joy of both with the extra freedom of being my own boss - which, in my company, I basically am. How did I get so lucky? God must really be looking out for me.
For many years, I have avoided leadership in any form. Although I enjoy getting my way and being the center of attention, I have weaknesses that make such leadership positions dangerous for me. I am naturally arrogant and self-centered and I see a threat to my well-being and my character by being looked up to as an example or in giving guidance or direction. With the help of C.S. Lewis ("Mere Christianity") and Ezra T. Benson ("Beware of Pride"), I have seen the nature and ugliness of pride and I have studiously avoided anything that tends to increase that vice in me. This has included leadership. In recent years, it seems the fates are conspiring against my plan and have thrown leadership at me in my professional employment, in my church, and in my home. I have grown a lot and although I'm still very susceptible to pride, I seem to be able to manage the pride better right now. I don't know if that will last, so I still feel guarded.
Driving to work one morning last week, I realized that the things that make my work difficult as a manager are the very things that can teach me how to lead in other areas of my life. I believe they are the things that are designed to stretch me most right now and help me become more like God. Leadership with humility can make positive differences in the lives of those who look to those leaders. Although I'm still not always sure I want to be a leader, with the help of my friend and colleague, my wife, and God, I'm starting to see that this is exactly what I need right now in order to grow and become the man I need to be.
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