8 Ways to Lead a Less Lemming Life

Say that ten times fast.

Seriously though, I’m a huge advocate of people tapping into their God-given talents and living them out with exuberance. It can get mighty tricky to do this if we’re spending our valuable time trying to do as so and so says and live as such and such does.

We all fall prey to this behavior. Must have a Facebook fan page. Pinterest is the new black. Man, those jeans make her look good. Where can I snag a pair of those? What, I’m not a good mom if I don’t have each of my kids enrolled in at least three activities?

How do we break the cycle? How do we become intentional about not parading off the cliff? How do we lead a less lemming life?

8 Ways. Here. Now.

Remember Our Assignment

Mystery of the earth solved. We’re here for one reason—to glorify God. What does that look like? What the heck does that mean in your life? Well how the heck should I know. That’s part of the assignment, figuring out what that does look like in your life. (Major hint: Not to get too kumbaya on you, but I guarantee it will always start with, continue with, and come back to love.)

Pay Attention to Our Footsteps

The past matters. We’re wise to learn from it. It’s worth it to pay attention to where we’ve been as it carries the potential to strongly influence where we’re headed.

Make Sure We’re Well Fed

Desperate and hunger-starved souls are quick to follow any crowd if there’s hope of being fed. Dive off that cliff? Well, golly sure.

Let Go of the Guy in Front

No coattails coasting here. Pave your own way. Create a path. Bushwhack if necessary. Don’t expect someone else to pull you along. Or ignore this advice and have him pull you right off the cliff with him. Your choice.

Appreciate the Scenery

You’ll be less likely to jump if you’re taking in the beauty all around you. The sky. The vast surging ocean. You’ll trust your instincts. Discern with a sharp assessment of the situation. Hard to constantly compare our walk to another’s when we’re constantly looking up with a spirit of gratitude.

Don’t Be Afraid to Step Out of Line

Take risks.

Shake Your Groove Thang Every Once in Awhile

Get in the practice of being bold. Jut a hip out every so often. See how it feels when your body jiggles to the music inside your head. Then shake, shake, shake senora. I happen to believe this is one of the steps on the road to learning how to glorify God. I also happen to believe He’s thrilled to watch us dance and move to the music he planted inside our souls.

Learn at Every Turn

It takes a long time to reach the edge of the cliff. Larry Lemming taught us the value of gathering food back there. Lisa Lemming revealed how essential it is to go against our natural instincts toward solidarity and to stick together when she got eaten by that wild animal. Llama Lemming taught us not to spit on other lemmings (ever). Okay, this post is taking an odd turn. Time to wrap up.

There’s a reason you’re here. A significance. That thing you do. That specific way you make others feel. If you’re still trying to figure out the path you need to take here’s the best piece of advice I’ve ever read…

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord.” Jer. 29:13  (NIV)

or put another way

“When you come looking for me, you’ll find me. Yes, when you get serious about finding me and want it more than anything else, I’ll make sure you won’t be disappointed.”  Jer. 29:13 (Msg)

And if you happen to leap with the rest of them off the cliff, truth is, God’s arms are wider than the ocean. He’s a good catcher too. He’ll put you back up on solid ground to learn this all over again.

Which less lemming way spoke to you most today?

 
*note that the “mass suicide” of lemmings is actually a misconception, but hey, it made for a creative post idea so I went with it

**photo by stock.XCHNG

Collecting Stories

I’ve always liked the idea of collecting spoons. Haven’t pursued that with fervor yet. I do own over a dozen Willow Tree figurines. My mom and I got into a groove of exchanging those for years. I’ve pretty much maxed out my collection.

It hit me the other day. I don’t actually collect anything physical—anything I can hold in my hands.

What I really collect...stories.

I’m building a library inside my brain.

It’s not actual books I enjoy having in my possession, as I take out many books from the library and tend to give my books away readily.

It’s the stories.

And every single story has a way of fueling my love of writing.

That library—the one I’m building inside my brain reminds me of the infamous line, “If you build it they will come.”

My Field of Dreams lives inside my own characters, characters stitched together from my experiences, my robust and sometimes stubbornly present imagination. My Field of Dreams is fashioned from the hundreds of stories embedded in the depths of my memory and make up. I carry these influences with me everywhere. They alter my perception, increase my will to empathize, and encourage my passion of communicating through the art of story.

The lush benefits of reading and writing are so intricately intertwined it’s oftentimes difficult to discern which invigorates me more.

But make no mistake. This is no chicken and egg, which came first conundrum.

Reading came first.

Writing was born out of my love of reading—the powerful force, the electric charge that strums the soul when a character comes alive with felt relevance for the reader.

Nothing I hold in my hands has the potential to do what only stories are meant to.

Are you building a library inside your brain? Do you collect anything of great significance to you?

This is my 600th post

After 600 posts (no reposts) I think I’ve finally (temporarily) run out of words.

No list of eight. No Moving Thoughts Friday question. Nothing plucked randomly from the endless cavern inside my brain.

This means…

You’re on.

Take it away.

Today is your post. Own it.

Fill in the words that I can’t seem to find.

 
*photos by stock.XCHNG (I realize none of them have significance for 6 or 600. Hey, I tried. And they’re purdy.)

Causes of Career Atrophy

Here’s a question…when you go to the zoo and walk by the gorilla exhibit what are you hoping to see? Probably not the band or troop catching some Zzz’s. Conked out.

Nope, you want them in action. You want them at their playful best.

There are ways we become sleeping gorillas in our chosen careers—ways we’re at risk of atrophying our message and impact.

Today I’m going to swing around the vines of just a few…

Letting Rejection Reign

Ever seen a baboon turn its back to you? Sort of funny to watch, but not very entertaining. If we allow rejection to seep into our souls, let it influence us, encouraging us to turn our backs on the industry and the professionals involved, we’re letting it win. And we’re not all that fun to watch in the process. No one likes a pouter.

Neglecting to Set Goals & Allowing Set Goals to Slide

It’s an accountability system. It works. Stick with it. If it’s difficult to remember the last time you created a goal sheet, well today is a fine day to begin anew.

Focusing on the Wrong Things

This is the monkey staring at the kid banging on the glass. Kids, don’t bang on the glass. It’s mean and it makes monkeys look at the wrong thing. Throws their whole world out of whack.

Isolation Station

A thumb-twiddling gorilla gets pretty boring to observe. Not near the same excitement and community potential that comes with gathering around other baboons.

Paying Attention to Discouraging Voices

Remember the kid banging on the glass? Behind him is his mom saying things like, “Look how red his butt is” and “How ugly.” You’re beautiful. You know it. We know it. Ignore the mom with the Fran Drescher voice. Carry on, monkey. Carry on.

Losing Sight of the Big Picture/Long Haul Approach

You belong in the jungle. Just because you’re stuck behind a glass enclosure now does not mean that you’re not meant for bigger things. You’ll break out. I can see it in that sneaky grin, the blueprints you stash behind your pile of leaves, and every time you bulk up your arms by swinging like a circus acrobat. You’re jungle bound, baby.

Validation Station

Here’s the monkey throwing bananas, performing twirls, and undulating like a mad monkey to get the laughs. But while screaming, “Like me, like me” in monkey talk the poor guy has to know it’s a short show. And unless he loves what he’s doing the reality is the clapping stops, the cheering ends. People walk on. Banana throwing needs to be an inbred love. Because suddenly the crowd is in an alligator mood.

Falling Out of Love with the Craft

What’s one of the most fascinating behaviors to witness in monkeys and gorillas? Their grooming. They devote such care in to plucking out miniature mites. It’s noticeable when we stop caring for the craft. Everything gets itchier. For us. For our readers. Mite-y uncomfortable (ba dum dum).

So, let’s not be caught sleeping gorillas. Let’s throw bananas. Make amusing noises. And band together.

And while I’d love to claim writing isn’t monkey business, sometimes it is. Time to get your monkey on.

Can you think of other causes of career atrophy? Any other fun monkey-related thoughts?

*Oh, and I know a gorilla is not a monkey, but an ape. But it was too much fun to smash all these monkey types together.

**photo by stock.XCHNG

Wrestling with Feeling Small

I recently began reading The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb. Since I was a child I’ve had a fascination with all things P.T. Barnum. The book snagged my attention.  Though the main character stands only two feet, eight inches tall, I’m finding I have far more in common with her than I could ever have imagined.

There’s a memorable scene where Mercy Lavinia “Vinnie” Warren Bump is reflecting on when, as children her siblings scratched all their names in the bark of a tree. Creeping myrtle and tall grasses have grown over where her name had been etched.

She describes the feeling:

“It was as if a shadow had fallen over just me, while the rest of the world remained illuminated by bright sunlight. At that moment I felt hidden from all eyes; looking at my name, covered over by weeds, I saw how easily it could disappear forever. I saw how easily I could be forgotten, compared to my brothers and sister, compared to everyone else, everyone who was taller, more noticeable, more visible to the rest of the world. I did not want to be forgotten. More than that, I wanted, desperately—I fell to my knees and began to tear out the weeds, the vines, by their very roots—to be remembered. I wanted my name to be known, beyond this tree, this hill, this pasture, this town.”

Earlier in the book Mercy depicts how she decided to pose herself in the classroom the first time her students would see her:

“I was standing calmly in the middle of the room. I did not to attempt to hide my size by staying behind my desk or perching upon any kind of platform. I simply stood there, as dignified, as tall, as I could possibly make myself appear.”

I’ve been through all kinds of wrestling lately. Faith wrestling. Wrestling that is prevalent during painful spiritual growth. Wrestling that comes before and after surrender.

But I viscerally feel, and keenly identify with Mercy Lavinia “Vinnie” Warren Bump’s pendulum emotions. I want my stories out there. I sometimes stand as tall as I can in hopes I’ll be noticed. But there are times I feel dust mote small.

The scene when she’s looking at her name in the tree bark ends like this…

“My hands were stained green. But my name was now plainly visible…My fierce desire soon faded away into the twilight…and I saw the warm, beckoning lights of home twinkle on, one by one, as Mama began to light the lamps, which shone, at that moment, more brightly than the faint stars on the horizon…so I was content to turn around and return home, content with what I knew was waiting for me there.”

This brings a verse to mind.

“Take a good look, friends, at who you were when you got called into this life. I don’t see many of ‘the brightest and the best’ among you, not many influential, not many from high-society families. Isn’t it obvious that God deliberately chose men and women that the culture overlooks and exploits and abuses, chose these ‘nobodies’ to expose the hollow pretensions of the ‘somebodies’?...Everything that we have—right thinking and right living, a clean slate and a fresh start—comes from God by way of Jesus Christ.” 1 Cor. 27: 30 (Msg)

And so it is.

There’s hope for all of us who wrestle with feeling small—hope that He will lead us to do BIG things for Him, in Him, and through Him.

Has a book stirred deep thoughts in you lately? Do you ever wrestle with feeling small?

Moving Thoughts Friday

Every Friday I’m going to ask a question. The questions I choose might be ambiguous on purpose. The goal is to have you answer the question according to your beliefs, where you’re at in life or a circumstance that might have recently impacted you. The only thing I ask is that you provide an explanation for why you answered the way you did.

It’s my hope to understand you better through this and also to gain a greater understanding of humanity and how people make decisions.

If you could say one thing to yourself and believe it assuredly starting today and every day in the future, what would you say?

*photos by stock.XCHNG

Out & About

I’m excited to be out & about this week. Yesterday, I loved having a guest post at Lisa Jordan’s place (Sickness & Health: Before the Vows). And today I’m thrilled to be featured on PW Creighton’s blog (Putting the Hurt on to Create a Compelling Page-Turner).

Would love for you to swing by!