When I was a kid, I remember being bullied a fair bit. I was small for my age, bespectacled, shy. The teachers didn't help by putting a target on my back by making me Vice Head Prefect. I would get my stuff just taken away from me by bigger kids, dragged out into the field to be tickled until I collapsed (much less fun than it sounds), and pushed into the storm drains. Not all the kids were full-blown bullies of course. But I remember some of them standing by, and politely holding my spectacles (so they wouldn't be broken) while the bullies did their work on me. Most of this stopped when I got to secondary school, where a much larger proportion of my fellow students were now just as nerdy! And of course I grew up too. I don't really look back on those days with any kind of animosity, because I think it never occurred to me that it was unusual. But I do think my experience made me a bit more sympathetic about people around me who...
Someone told me recently about a "life exercise" in which one compiles all the stuff that makes up your life, and puts it in a pie chart. So let's say for me, something like this. The idea is to visually demonstrate to myself that, in the event I lose one of these things, then I can see that, hey life is not so bad, that wasn't such a big deal. Say for example, if I suffered a blown ACL, and couldn't run or play basketball any more, like this: At first blush - I'd say, hey, I still have my wife, children, parents, career, church life - so, chin up, things are not so bad. Pretty good life visualisation tool to bring some optimism back into play! ... But what if, a month later, something happens at work, and boom, career gets sidetracked, I lose my job, or get put in cold storage somewhere, like this: Oops, now only half my life is left! With only half of life's meaning left to me, what do I do? And what if something happens to...
I heard an interesting viewpoint this weekend. A family is not inherently a team. Hmm. Sometimes at work, often in church, and most of the time at home, you hear people say to each other that we are family. And often, we really are. We care for each other above and beyond transactional matters. It matters to me when my colleagues and cell group members (and of course my actual family members) go through illnesses or family issues or work challenges. I root for their success at presentations and projects and relationships. I care about what they care about, even if it has little direct impact on my own life. In a way, a family is sort of an amalgam of people who support each other in pursuit of each member's personal goals. For example, as a father, I support my children in their academic, career and ministry goals. But where they go to school, the grades they get, and the careers and ministries they build - they're really their goals, not mine. Ditto for my role as a c...
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