Broken bones, but not broken dreams

This is what a broken and dislocated forearm on a 9-year-old girls looks like. Unfortunately this belongs to my youngest daughter, Emme, who accomplished this after trying to catch herself from hitting the floor after falling off the balance beam at gymnastics. Accidents happen - and sometimes they really hurt! - but sometimes they affect more than just your physical well-being.

If you watch sports or have a child who plays sports or were an athlete yourself, then you know that injuries are often part of the game. Not everyone experiences bone-crushing fractures or career-ending injuries - most of the time it's knocks and bumps and the occasional bruise. But there are those moments where you watch an athlete's future dissipate before his or her eyes by an injury that prohibits them from coming back. And that is hard to watch.

As someone who has never really experienced any of this in the athletic arena, I've often wondered what it's like to receive the crushing news from a doctor or trainer that you might not be able to compete at the same level again. Even if you are just a weekend warrior and enjoy recreational sports leagues - which are awesome, by the way - I am sure that not being able to play at the same level as you once did can be frustrating if not even depressing.

So as I watched my budding young gymnast lie on the ground in obvious pain, my primary focus was making sure that she was okay and taken care of. But then as we were riding in the ambulance to the hospital, the inevitable thoughts came into my mind - Will she be able to do gymnastics again? And even if the physical healing is 100%, will she want to jump on that beam again after what happened? Will she even want to?

Sure, she's pretty new to the sport, but she is incredibly driven and has big dreams - she's already considering UCLA and Alabama for college because, according to her, "They have the best gymnastics teams." And she recently joined a team that will begin competition soon, which she has been working really hard to be ready for. How would she respond to the fact that even if she does make a full recovery it will still be months before she is able to even attempt the kind of moves she was doing before the accident? And what about us as parents - how will we help her through the potential disappointment of not being able to compete, both now and perhaps in the future?

It was right then and there, as these thoughts swirled through my brain, that I realized it would not matter to me one bit if my daughter ever wanted to slip on the leotard and get back to the gym. I am proud of her for trying her best and for being so brave to try a sport that I personally find pretty scary. And then she showed us more of what she is really made of.

After surgery and a brief time in recovery, she said she was ready to go home. Once there, she read out loud all of the get well cards that her classmates sent her and then she invited her friends over to hang out. She shared her Chick-Fil-A fries with them and hung out on the couch watching cheesy Disney shows with them, making sure that they were properly entertained and cared for. When she needed help from me or my wife, she was unafraid to ask for it. She also said she didn't want the pain medication that the doctor prescribed - she didn't like how it made her feel. And not once has she complained about being in pain or the fact that it could be months before she can go back in the gym again. The only disappointment she showed was not being able to go to school tomorrow.

I gotta be honest, it's times like these when I really look up to my kids and hope I can learn from them. As an adult, it's not a broken bone that concerns me but rather the potential for my dreams to be shattered. Yet here is a nine-year-old girl who is unafraid to take what life gives her and make it into something sweet.

Sometimes our dreams aren't the dreams that God has for us and sometimes we just need a little extra time before we can see our dreams fulfilled. But regardless of the circumstances, it is up to us to determine how we will handle life's ups and downs along the way. Jesus told us not to worry (Matthew 6:33) and Paul echoed that sentiment (Philippians 4:6). And they did so not because what we experience does not affect us or is unimportant but rather because God is greater than any difficulty or struggle we could ever encounter.

Dreams are great and we should keep on striving to live the dreams that God has placed in our hearts. Sometimes life will throw a wrench in our plans and derail these dreams, even if only temporarily. But if we keep our eyes on Jesus - "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness" - then we can know that regardless of the outcome that we desired, God will always give us exactly what we need - "and all of these things will be added unto you."

Open hands and letting go

Several weeks ago I ran across an article that described the kind of person that I am to the letter. The writer described a group of people that he referred to as "introverted extroverts," those who are outgoing and not shy about being in the public eye yet are just as comfortable being alone with a book or sitting in a quiet place.  If you know me, then you know how much I love to talk and be with people, but it might surprise you just how much alone time I prefer (and need).
In spite of my hidden extrovertedness, I realize that life is not meant to be lived alone. We were made for relationships, first with God and then each other. Consider God's words to us in the Old Testament book of Genesis:

So God created man in His own image; He created him in the image of God; He created them male and female. (Genesis 1:27)

Then the Lord God said, "It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper as his compliment." (Genesis 2:18)

So the Lord God called out to the man and said to him, "Where are you?" (Genesis 3:9)

From these verses we know that God created us in His image so that we could know Him in a real and personal way and that as human beings we are better together. In particular, the family unit includes those kinds of relationships that God had in mind from the beginning. My wife is absolutely my best friend and closest confidant and my children bring great joy and satisfaction to my life.

Which is why this past week has been such a challenging week for the Griggs' family. On Thursday, my wife and I moved our second oldest daughter, who is only fourteen, into the University of North Carolina School of the Arts High School, almost four hours away. The school itself is amazing and the academics are top notch. She has a super cool roommate and the students are well taken care of on a very secure campus. This is an unbelievable opportunity for her to grow not only as an artist but also as young woman.

The struggle for me is not how she will do away at school or whether or not she will be okay. Instead, my biggest concern is how I will do at home with her so far away. As a family of six, we are all so very different from one another, yet we also have shared a unique relational rhythm for the past eighteen years. With the addition of each child to the mix, my wife and I were able to adjust to a new normal and we thrived a little bit more as our family grew. Now that we have subtracted a child at least for a season, the gap in our family dynamics feels like a gaping hole at times.

As I begin to adjust to a newer kind of normal with my daughter away at school, I am keenly aware of just how precious relationships are to me. I am grateful that our family is so close and that we can allow our kids to go and experience the world with open hands, even if they are more ready to go than we are to let them go. This experience has also reinforced just how important my other relationships with friends and co-laborers are.

It is hard to let others that are close to you move on so that they can flourish. Yet it is so rewarding to see them ready to go, knowing that you have invested as much as you can in their lives to prepare them for these moments. Life is indeed better lived together.

Boredom is all in your mind

"I'm bored."

"There's nothing to do."

"Can we go somewhere and do something?"

Growing up, I am certain that I uttered those same phrases at least a million times, especially during the summer months. It didn't seem to matter that I had two older brothers close to my age, a huge backyard to play in, neighborhood pool that never seemed to close, and was surrounded by woods and creeks that never ceased to invite me for an adventure.

Yet even then, I often struggled to find things to do. Since this was the era before computers and cell phone technology, sitting in front of the television was about as lazy as I could get away with until my mom made me go back outside. Most days I was out the door after breakfast and had to be called home (via my mom's vocal chords, not a phone!) for dinner. Boredom wasn't much of an option or a privilege for me and most of the friends I knew.

Now don't get me wrong - I'm not claiming to have lived some idyllic childhood where we churned our own butter and went on Robinson Caruso type adventures. But I do believe that my generation was better equipped to deal with how we would solve the problem of too much time on our hands.

Look around you today and you will see that people in America are as busy as they have ever been yet seemingly more bored than all the other past generations combined. Everywhere that you look, teens and adults are glued to their phones in hopes of finding something - anything - to entertain them for the next few minutes of their lives. Texting, SnapChat, and other forms of social media have replaced real live conversations. And no, FaceTime does not count.

Do I love my phone? Yes, I do. I admit that I have to fight the urge to waste precious minutes and hours on my phone looking at everyone else's pictures and posts and reading up on the news. But I also grew up learning the value of a book, of spending time outside, and being with friends talking and laughing with each other deep into the late hours of the night. Face-to-face, not phone-to-phone. These are the things that I still so greatly value.

Boredom doesn't really exist. What does exist is the fact that we've often forgotten how best to utilize the time that we've been given. Gizmos and gadgets are artificial ways of stealing what precious time we actually do have. They can't truly teach you anything. Rather, they often rob you of what you already have.

Imagine how much sweeter life would be if, instead of grabbing that rectangular device every time we've got a few moments to kill, we would instead choose a book or an adventure in the woods or a conversation on the porch until late in the night. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound boring at all.

Life in the new hood

This past Saturday night my new neighborhood - Wrightsville Green, aka The Hood - celebrated its annual 4th of July gathering. Before we even moved in, several of our neighbors were quick to tell us how fun and amazing this night was. Our home owner's association sent us emails reminding us of the festivities and we were asked to sign up to bring food at the community mailbox.

Seeing this as an opportune chance to get to know pretty much everyone in all 50+ homes, we agreed to bring cantaloupe (because you can't have a party without melon) and a cucumber/tomato/onion salad (because if they didn't eat it, I would). The days leading up to the shindig were filled with stories of past 4th of July celebrations and how this year's was going to be the best ever.

Finally the big day had arrived. The party officially started at 4:00 but we planned to be fashionably late because it's really awkward when you don't really know many people and you are the first ones to show up. Our posse left the house at 4:30 to make the short walk down to what is known as the common area, which is composed of the back yards of several houses that share Bradley Creek as their border. This creek is a meandering salt water marsh creek that eventually feeds into the Atlantic Ocean and it is an ideal spot for launching a small boat, kayak, or stand-up paddle board, which I haven't done yet but plan on doing soon.

As we rounded the bend of one of the houses, I was immediately struck by the decadent smell of smoked pork. Jamie, whose house lies in the common area and is also the pit master, lifted the lid to a rather large smoker to show me a behemoth of a pig that was almost cooked to perfection - all 140 pounds of it. He let me know that he also had a secret sauce that was willed to him by man whose barbecue sauce was locally famous but who would not give up the recipe until after he had crossed the threshold of heaven. I ain't gonna lie - that was some good sauce! Another neighbor, Steve, was also there and very attentive to the needs of this simmering sow.

It wasn't long before the rest of the neighborhood began to roll in (we weren't as fashionably late as I had hoped) and that's when the party really started hopping. Kids were absolutely everywhere! And the food just kept coming - chips and dips, rice and beans, chicken wings and some green rolled up things, as well as cookies and brownies and lemon squares, which I'm pretty sure Jesus Himself enjoys as a late night snack. When the pig was done and the men had begun to chop her into a million little pieces, the feast officially began.

Our two oldest daughters, who didn't know a soul, played it pretty close to the vest at the beginning, preferring to hang near mom and dad. Not so with our two youngest ones. You would have thought that they shared crib space with all of the neighborhood kids! Meeting new people has never really been a harrowing experience for my wife and I either, and we quickly found ourselves engrossed in conversations with people whom just a few moments before had been perfect strangers.

My wife met another neighbor who is also a professor at UNCW, teaching in the area of creative writing. I may or may not have told her to read my blog to see what she thought. There was sophomore at UNCW who will be living in his parent's newly purchased home (they live in another city) during the school year and who is interested in some of the same areas of ministries in which I have served. Chris is a guy from England who I kept having a conversation with because I enjoy discussing English soccer but mainly because I loved to hear his accent. There were also surfers, entrepreneurs, stay-at-home moms, an MMA trainer, photographer, a couple who helps rescue girls from the sex trade, and many, many others.

The evening culminated in the grand finale for the 'hoods annual celebration - a fireworks display that was not only illegal but incredibly dangerous. The aforementioned Jamie and Steve were also a few of the pyrotechnic experts who had assembled an obscene amount of gun powder fueled entertainment, much of which I am pretty sure would get you locked up in Mexico.

Positioning ourselves a "safe" thirty-some yards away from ground zero, several of us oohed-and-aahed at the amazing display of glittered colors in the sky as the more responsible adults assembled the kids a safer distance away. Even more entertaining than the fireworks were the antics of several grown men as they lighted wicks and danced out of the way before certain disaster happened.

As the evening was about to come to a close, a near catastrophe of cataclysmic proportions happened. A mortar tipped, sending its wayward cargo shooting in all directions, including straight at me and my youngest daughter who decided to join me closer to the action. Instinctively I stuck out my sandaled foot as a shield to block the fiery missile, hoping for a split second act of heroism to save the day. Thankfully, it fizzled out right as it was about to make contact, saving both my lower leg and my Rainbow flip flops. Several of my neighbors reacted with horror at the fact that they had almost killed the new guy, but we were able to nervously laugh it off once we saw that no damage was done.

Indeed, this was a memorable night in our new neighborhood, one that we won't soon forget. We are grateful for the new friendships that were made and can't wait to grow and foster them more in the future. Lying in bed later that night, my wife and I were recounting our day when we both realized that something really cool was occurring in this neighborhood of people that we had just met: They were doing an amazing job of living in community with one another.

Community is what so many of today's churches are seeking after yet are failing to achieve. Relationships are built on more than just shared belief; they thrive on a shared connection, one that is rooted in a genuine interest in not only the well-being of others around you but in also sharing life with them - the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all.

I think we're gonna like it here.

That's not a tear, I just have something in my eye

Yesterday I attended my fourteen-year-old daughter's last dance recital. I say "last" because she is heading to high school next year at the University of North Carolina School of the Arts in Winston-Salem where she will focus on music, specifically the clarinet. She has made it clear to us that she sees her future in music, not dance, and that she is ready to move on to the next chapter in her life.

The next chapter? At age fourteen?

As I watched her dance in her three performances, so much flashed before my eyes. I recalled her first dance classes as a three-year-old. For three solid weeks all she did was stand there stiff as a board, unwilling to participate with the other girls as the teacher was instructing them in all the finer points of dance that a three-year-old can digest. Finally, my wife laid the gauntlet down - either you dance or we're going home for good! Miraculously, from that moment forward dancing was never an issue with her.

Memories of her first recital, with the poofy costumes and the awkward but unbelievably cute dance moves, came to mind. For a moment she was my little girl again, complete with glitter and feather costumes that served as dress-up play clothes for years to come. Then when the littlest girls from the dance school came on stage after my daughter's performances, it was like a flashback to the past and I saw her again as my little girl up on the stage with them. I'm not gonna lie, I may have had a tender moment right then and there.

This is not unique to just my second oldest child - I am living through it with all four of my children as they grow up before my eyes way too quickly. And it's not that our children don't need me and my wife anymore, it's just that they now need us in different ways. "Mommy" and "Daddy" have been replaced by "mom" and "dad" and hand holding has been supplanted by hand outs. When my wife and I started to have children, I remember someone saying to us that we would blink and they would be grown up. I never realized how right that person would be.

As of this past Friday I now have a junior in high school who is bravely going to a new school in Wilmington next year; a freshman in high school who will be four hours away at the UNCSA; a fifth grader who is one step away from middle school; and a fourth grader who is smarter than I could ever hope to be.

I wish I could stop blinking but I find that I have something wet in my eyes that forces me to close them on occasion.

Better heroes than you will find on TV

My wife and I were sitting on the porch the other day sipping coffee together and reminiscing about how easy life was when we were little kids. We tend to do that from time to time when our schedules get out of whack and it feels as if the calendar is our nemesis rather than sheets of paper held by magnets to our refrigerator. Memories have the ability to allow you to escape like that.

On this particular morning we were talking about our grandparents on our mothers' sides, all of whom have already passed on from this world. I brought up the old show Hee Haw that I watched on so many Saturday evenings in my grandparents living room when my wife lit up and told me about the many times that she too had lounged in her pajamas in her grandmother's living room in Topeka, KS, and watched Roy Clark and Buck Owens lead a cheesy cast of comedic characters across the old tube television set with the wood grained sides. 

My wife never had the pleasure of knowing her grandfather as a child, but her Grandma Becky more than made up for that. She spent countless days with her grandmother as a girl while her mom was at work, helping out at the Mason Lodge and running errands across town for one event of the other. She sighed gently and smiled as she recalled those many hours listening to Grandma Becky's stories and tall tales.

For years Grandma Becky published a family newsletter entitled The Kansas Korn where she would voice her odd mix of conservative and liberal views for the benefit of her family and closest friends. While the rest of the family would silently groan when they saw the thick envelope in the mailbox, my wife would readily pull open the sticker tab and read every word that Grandma Becky put on those pages. Most of what she wrote would be considered political satire, but that woman had a way with words and she wasn't afraid to share them with the world. When age began to overtake her and she passed on several years ago, more than just a comical newsletter was taken out of circulation. My wife lost one her best, and at times only, childhood friends. 

My grandfather on my mother's side was affectionately known as Pop and his wife, my grandmother, we simply called Grandmother. Pop was the only grandfather I ever knew since my dad's dad had passed away before I was even a thought in his mind. He was a WWII veteran who worked for the USPS after the war before opening up a mom-and-pop store with Grandmother called Food Land. Pop was a large man but even if he had been skinny as a pole he would have still been larger than life to me. He was funny and witty in an archaic kind of cool way. Pop never talked about the war - I only learned about the B25 bomber he had flown on in the Pacific theater and saw the amazing pictures of Papua New Guinea after he died in 1990 - but he was quick to share with me stories about everything else in life. 

On Sunday mornings at Antioch Baptist Church I would love to slide in next to Pop on that hard wooden pew because he had a way of entertaining me during the sermon so that I wouldn't fidget my way into too much trouble while at the same time maintaining a laser focus on the pastor as he preached. More than anything I loved to hear Pop sing. I can still hear his deep baritone chime in on the secondary chorus of I Surrender All, a staple invitation song at sermon's end. 

There were many Sunday's when we would take the short drive down Palmer Lane to Grandmother and Pop's house where Grandmother would have a literal feast prepared. You would have thought she had invited the entire neighborhood! Cube steak and gravy, fried chicken, collard greens, corn, green beans, biscuits, banana pudding, and sweet tea were just a few of the options that we would gorge ourselves with before collapsing on the couch to snooze between innings of an Atlanta Braves baseball game. Breakfast at Grandmother's was even better - country ham with red eye gravy, thick sliced Neese's country sausage, grits, chipped beef with gravy, biscuits, and sweet stewed apples - but that's another story for another time. 

Eventually time and age took us to different places in our lives. My wife left Kansas at age 19 and I met her in Clemmons, NC, a year later. We fell in love - and are still falling to this day - got married, had four amazing children, switched careers about half a dozen times, and finally settled on the coast of North Carolina, which I am convinced is a little slice of heaven. We have been unable to figure out how to get our kids to stop growing, so as a result we spend much of our time trying to stay caught up with their lives and activities. My parents and my wife's parents are now our kids' grandparents, and we diligently try to keep them connected from four hours away. FaceTime and texting seems to have taken the place of Saturday evenings in front of the TV watching bluegrass inspired family comedy. 

Yet not a day goes by that we aren't grateful for grandparents who in a big way served as larger than life heroes. By the time high school and college rolled around, we didn't think that an evening in their house watching TV with only three channels was such a fun idea, but as an adult there is no doubt that those were some of the best and most meaningful times in our lives. Which is why when we go home to visit, we sometimes hide in the background as our kids lounge on couches with their grandparents watching Discovery Channel shows or root around in their kitchens looking for a snack that they can help bake or help pick weeds around the flower beds out in the yard. With all of the negative options that my children have in this world, I am so grateful for grandparents who can serve as heroes just as our grandparents did for us.  

Don't be THAT parent!

My son played in a local recreation league soccer game this past weekend against a team from another part of our county and, as has been the result all season, they lost. Each week I go to watch my son play and support him from the sidelines, and this winless streak has been really challenging to digest. You see, this is the third season in a row where his soccer team - which have all been different teams with different players - has yet to win a game. They say that losing builds character. Honestly, I don't know how much more character my son needs.

When you have a child who plays a sport, you of course want them to win, but at the same time you have to realize that your nine-year-old child is probably not drawing a lot of college scouts at this point, so it's okay to not stress over the outcomes too terribly much. When I am on the sidelines, I am there to watch my son play. What I mean is, I don't holler at him and try to coach him from the cheap seats. He has a coach for that. I go to support him and then when we get home we talk about the game and I encourage him and offer instruction in areas that may need improvement. He doesn't need me to push him unnecessarily. Most kids don't need or want that anyway.

But of course, if you are THAT parent, this is exactly what you do.

THAT parent had a child on the other team that my son played and lost to on Saturday. THAT parent constantly verbally challenged the referee on the calls that didn't go his team's way. Ironically enough, THAT parent was incorrect about almost every challenge that he verbalized, but I didn't want to interfere with his delusion. Finally, THAT parent's son challenged a ball that our goalkeeper had already grabbed, kicking at the ball when our keeper already had it well under control. The referee cautioned this young man against committing such an action again, when THAT parent decided it was time for him to take over the game.

THAT parent loudly called out from the sideline to his son, "Good job, son. Do it again." Was THAT parent actually encouraging his son to kick another player when he had the ball? Uncertain of what had just been said, the referee stopped play and looked at THAT parent and cautioned him against such behavior. Sure enough, THAT parent yelled to his son again, "Hey son, good job at trying to kick that ball away. Do it again." The referee then cautioned THAT parent that, if he has one more such outburst, he would be asked to leave the field. Guess what happened? THAT parent called to his son one more time, "Do it again son, you're doing great!"

Imagine the scene for a moment. Here is THAT parent encouraging his son to commit a sports act that was forbidden in the rules. Think of a parent yelling from the bleachers for his son, who is a baseball pitcher, to throw the ball at the next batter's head. Yeah, that's not very cool. Yet this is what we were all witnessing and the kids on the field from both teams just stood there and took all of this in. Parenting Fail 101 in full display.

The referee approached THAT parent and asked him to leave the field, which to no one's surprise he refused to do. The referee then had to approach the coach of the team for THAT parent's son and asked her to intervene, which she did. She told THAT parent that, if he did not leave the park, then their team would have to forfeit the rest of the game that they already had well in hand. At this, THAT parent threw his hands up in innocent protest and walked to the parking lot, where he attempted to take in the remainder of the game from a distance.

Once the game was over, the first thing my son said to me had to do with the incident involving THAT parent. Sure, he was upset about another loss, yet more vivid in his mind was what he had witnessed THAT parent doing and saying on the field of play. We had a brief conversation about the incident, but there was no need for me to tell my son about the ethical nature of that situation. He had seen THAT parent acting the fool and no one needed to explain to him what he had seen.

Look, I want to win just as much as the next guy. I long to see my son attain soccer glory and hoist the league cup one day on the shoulders of his teammates. Yet I also realize that if fail to teach my son how to win with grace and lose with class, that I have indeed failed my son. I could imagine THAT parent taking his son to Chuck E. Cheese's after the game and reveling with him over his near miss at inflicting injury on another player. And then I can only hope that THAT parent's son will be able to detach himself from such insanity and realize that there are certain legacies that are not worth attaching himself to.

Winning will always be awesome and losing will always stink, but the greatest victory is the character that we as parents can instill in our kids as they play the sports that they love. One day my son will win his fair share of soccer games and I hope that he goes far as an athlete. But either way, I am committed to avoid being THAT parent in front of my son and his teammates. He could win every game from here on out, but what would it matter if I lose all respect in the process?

My favorite season is family

As I type these words, I am finishing up an awesome 24+ hour guy time marathon with my son. As soon as my son learned that my wife and daughters were going out of town overnight, he announced that it was guy time and thus far here is a list of all that we've done:

• Watched a Jason Bourne move. Actually, one and a half of them.
• Ate chicken wings and banana pudding
• Watched Wake Forest beat Boston College in basketball
• Rented the Goosebumps movie (which was surprisingly good)
• Spent time reading a book before bed
• Slept in
• Had cookies for breakfast
• Checked a book out of the library
• Made a purchase at the local candy store
• Had sushi for lunch
• And now he is in his Eno reading his library book while I type

So yeah, this has been a really good time with my son, time that I won't forget or regret taking.

Did I just say regret making time for my son? I can understand making changes in your schedule to have time for your kids but regret taking that time? Do parents really regret taking time with their kids?

No, they don't. At least they shouldn't.

I've never known a parent to say that the quality time that they have spent with their kids was a big mistake, but I have heard my share of parents express regret over not spending enough quality time with their kids. I've also heard parents say that it's difficult to make time for their kids. That's a pretty crappy excuse if you want to know the truth. We can't make time - time is a constant and we know how much we have and don't have to spend. It's a precious commodity that, once lost, can never be found again. So when it comes to the time that you have, there are only two choices that you can make:

1. You can choose to manage your time
2. Or your time will manage you

If you have kids, then I want you to think of their lives as a season, perhaps your favorite season, which for me would be summer. Each day that I get to spend with my kids is like another day of summer. But as with every season, there is an end date to it. As the end of August draws near, I begin to dread losing the warm weather, days at the beach and the pool, and the less stressful lifestyle that, for me, summer represents. I hate to see it end.

The same is true of the time that you have with your kids. Just as you long for your favorite season to last a few days or weeks longer, you will want to take advantage of every moment that you have with your kids. Yes, there will be days when your schedule is a whole lot busier than you want and your time will be consumed by work, projects, and other responsibilities that have to get done. But you will still have lots of time in the bank to what is most important. Regret only exists if we miss out on the opportunities that matter the most.

The best leaders lead from the front, not the back

This past weekend I had two conversations regarding the state of public education in the state in which I live. Okay, they were more muted down diatribes delivered by yours truly than they were conversations, but I had a captive audience and I just couldn't help myself.

If you are resident of the great state of North Carolina, then you know the rough state of affairs that our public schools and teachers are facing. With four children of my own in public schools, I share your concerns. And as one who tries so hard not to be overly political with issues - I call them as I see them and am a proud registered Independent - it's hard not to get frustrated with the perceived lack of concern for our public schools from those in Raleigh whom we all had a hand in electing. Besides, I've yet to see a legislator sitting in a classroom in my community striving to understand exactly what is going on before he or she casts their next vote.

It gets frustrating to see a revolving door of seemingly qualified school leaders that get the boot when the least bit of trouble comes along. It seems as if those who hold the keys to power like to knee jerk and replace superintendents and principals every other year when test scores or performance standards aren't met.

This confuses me because I don't know one principal who has the time or ability to sit down with each individual student and personally tutor them and monitor their progress. Yes, that is where the teachers come in, and the ones that I know do the best they can to ensure that students will succeed. But let's be honest - when our teachers have to go to their second job of the day as soon as the final bell rings, that tells us that not only do they not have the proper amount of time in a given day to invest in the students as they would like, they also aren't paid enough to do the work that otherwise they would gladly do. At some point parents come into play in this whole equation, yet their influence is often not even mentioned when it comes to the success or failing of our students.

What am I getting at here? Am I about to go off on a political rant? No, not even close.

My point is that when we see any system in our world - whether education, business, non-profit, etc. - in action, we should do our best to learn from what we see. Leadership is such a broad subject to tackle and I don't pretend to be an expert on all things leadership. But I know what I see and I am able to discern the good leaders from the bad ones in hope that I will be considered one of the former.

So here is my point: The best leaders are those who lead from the front, not the back.

It is so easy to call the shots sitting in a cushy chair behind a glass window. That's what a manager does. But leaders are those who leave the office and get on the ground level with their employees, choosing to treat them as co-workers and not hired hands. Leaders steer the car. Managers are back seat drivers.

As one who has been entrusted with overseeing people, I never want to be that guy who points his finger and tells people what to do without actually being there with them to do it. The greatest example I have ever seen of this was Jesus. He recruited twelve men to minister with Him and gave each of them certain tasks to perform. And when He sent them out on their own, He didn't retreat to the casa and wait for them to come back. Instead, He stayed in the field with them so that He could observe their progress and celebrate their successes with them.

Jesus never led from the back and we shouldn't either. As the ultimate leader, Jesus did what we could not do - He gave His life so that we could know God. But from this we understand just how important it is that we lead from the front, modeling the same style of servant leadership that He mastered. And we do so not to be promoted or have a banquet in our honor, but rather so that we can see others around us flourish as they are striving to reach their God-given potential. When others around you succeed, we all win.

Throw-away kids

"Steven" had another bad day. That's what the school administrator told me as I sat in a comfy chair across from her desk. This young man, barely halfway through his elementary education, would be spending the next couple of days at home. Again. And no, she didn't break confidentiality by telling me his name - I actually guessed.

I was there to discuss with her ideas about using high school students after school to tutor and mentor elementary students and, before I rose to leave, I told her that if there was an immediate need that I could help with, please let me know. That was when she mentioned a student - whom I guessed to be "Steven" - who was really struggling and was facing yet another suspension from school. She called him a "throw away" kid, not because she didn't see his value (she did and she showed him much love), but rather because the rest of the world around him didn't seem to recognize it. 

Hearing this story literally broke my heart. Since I knew who he was, I asked if I could speak to the young man briefly before I left, and she called him out of class to come down to the office. I pulled "Steven" aside and told him how much worth and value his life had and that, if he even needed another advocate in his life, to please call me. I then gave him a big hug because the tears in my eyes were preventing me from saying anything else. As I watched him walk back down the hall to his class I felt a burning rising up within my soul. This young man was not a throw-away kid. He is an incredible creation of God who had yet to discover just how great he could be.

Look around you. There are these so-called throw-away kids everywhere. And the reasons for this are many. Some come from families that either cannot or will not support them, and that is tragic. Others have no role model in their lives and so they have no idea how to grow up to be a responsible man or woman. Tragically, many of these young people will continue to struggle until they either drop out of school or find themselves frequent fliers within our penal system.

If you are reading this, then you are probably envisioning a throw-away kid that you know about. Maybe you've looked upon that child with pity and tried to help or perhaps you shake your head in disgust and wonder where his or her parents are. Regardless of what your perspective is, the bigger question is, "What are you going to do about it?"

Proverbs 22:6 (ESV) tells us, "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." Some see this verse as a guarantee that if you raise your kids right, then they will turn out right. I wish that was always true! What this verse is actually telling us is that if you instill the love of God and a heart for Jesus in a child, whether or not he/she grows up to follow after Him, the truths that you have seeded into their lives will never go away. They may be able to run from God's truth but they can never hide from it.

When I think about kids like "Steven" and others like him, I am compelled to do more. I want to be a part of the solution in his life, not one who condemns him for his problems. I hope you feel the same way. Now more than ever young people need mentors to pull alongside of them and show them the better path for them to take. It can be as simple as volunteering to help children with homework after school or as deep as becoming a foster parent. But regardless of what you choose, please know this - you have what it takes to be an advocate for these young people what will allow them to shed the throw-away label once and for all.