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Introspective Sojourner

The journey inward following Christ’s path to that person I was uniquely created to be.

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If I’d Asked For Help

I broke something that meant a lot to me today because I wouldn’t ask for help. Just a little two tiered serving dish. I could probably replace it inexpensively – except to me it’s so much more than a serving tray.

I was washing it and had not taken it apart when it was dry. I laid it on the counter, but I was afraid it would roll off accidentally. I tried to unscrew the pieces but it was wet and it just kept spinning. My husband was busy shoveling snow and even though at that exact moment he came into the kitchen, I didn’t want to bother him and so I didn’t ask for help. I knew I needed help and that it would have taken him a second and he wouldn’t have minded at all. But I didn’t want to bother him. There’s been a lot of snow here in Ohio lately and he’s worked very hard to keep things safe and snow free. And so my tray slipped and fell just an inch or two. But it chipped.

You may be thinking, it’s just a plate. But this little plate was given to me after Gramma Brown passed away. I was included in a family that is not technically my family to choose something to remind me of her. You see my own family does not include me, but my best friend’s family has always treated me like family. When I go home to visit, they are the first place I stop. My bestie has four adopted children legally but I’m really they’re first adopted kid. I was chosen, always included and always loved. They have been a lifeboat in the storms of my life. They are truly a gift from God to remind me that He also chose me. That I am adopted into His family as well. I know exactly what it feels like to be truly treated as family and wholly loved.

But this blog is about something more. I knew I needed to ask for help. I should have asked for help. Jerry would not have minded.

I was a single parent for several years and I needed help often. My nature is to do it myself and not ask for help, but single parenting is really hard. A Pastor of mine who was also a friend told me once that I needed to accept help, receive help or I was taking away someone else’s blessing. It’s a blessing to give. Most people are happy to help others in need, they just don’t exactly know how to help. I think that’s because most people are like me and they think they need to do it alone and they resist asking for help. They don’t even bother to ask. I’ve had several people come back later when I was thanking them for their help and let me know that they were happy to have been able to help. Thank you for that advice, Stephen Sloat.

Except I didn’t follow that advice this morning, and now my serving plate is chipped.

Christmas is a hectic time. You may find you need to ask for help. Maybe you just need a friend to vent to or maybe you need someone to shovel the mountain of snow Ohio left at your doorstep. I know it’s against our nature and that those who take and take and take have ruined the gift of giving for many of us. We don’t want to be a bother. We don’t want to impose. Our striving for self sufficiency hasn’t left any room for receiving that gift of assistance.

Life wasn’t meant to be lived alone. People actually do want to help. They probably would help and move on without it ever crossing their mind again. But life is so much richer and fuller and more connected when we live it together. When we reach out in need and when we see a need and reach out to help. That connection to others makes us feel whole.

God asks us to love like He loves us. Well, he has adopted us into His family. If we receive His gift in faith, we are His sons and daughters. We are part of the family. We are loved and whole together. Part of the greatest family of all time, actually. As your sibling, I’m telling you we’re happy to help. We are only an ask away. Don’t struggle. Don’t burn yourself out thinking you have to do it alone. God put us in your life for a reason. Don’t take away our blessing of helping you and loving you the way that God loves us. Everyone needs help once and a while. Leave room to receive it. Be open to the idea that God may have already sent your husband into the kitchen at the exact moment you needed him.

Don’t let your serving dish get chipped this Christmas. Reach out. We’re here.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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Fake Connections

I didn’t make it to church today. I had an excuse – there are always excuses. It was very cold, and our dog isn’t allowed unsupervised in the house because she eats doors. I hate leaving her in the dog run, even though we heat it some and it’s covered and has access to the yard. It was just an excuse. I’m struggling with having excuses come Sunday morning. We watch the service from home. The sermon was great. Our pastor does an excellent job.

It’s become a pattern in my life. Excuses to keep me from making real connections with people I love. It’s easy to find excuses… I’m not feeling up to it. I’m tired. I’m working or taking care of this thing I need to do. All of my connections, not just attending church; going to visit my friends, even family, going to Bible study, even just going to the store. My circle is closing in on me.

When I was younger, I loved going to hang out with friends and hated being alone. If I was stuck being alone, I was on the phone grasping at the connections I desperately wanted. Now, if you call me without texting first, I will probably screen your call and call you back – reluctantly. I will guilt myself until I do call you back, so I’m not really sure why I hate picking up. I don’t actually mind talking on the phone, especially if there is distance between us and visiting is impossible or difficult. Still there will be at least a moment or two of panic and dread as I answer the call.

This morning, I saw one of my favorite families walk down the aisle to the front of the church and I was sad I had chosen to stay home. I realized how I’ve given up true connections for false connections. I avoid going out to hang out with friends and families. I settle for a phone call. Actually, I prefer a text. I have fake connections with friends from my childhood and youth. People I don’t really know but we enjoy the same silly memes and jokes. Instead of going out and doing things, learning new things or just enjoying crowds who like the same things that I do, I doom scroll through social media or binge watch TV.

Fake connections have been invading my life since childhood. First the phone and TV, followed by the internet and now social media. Slowly electronic connections, which give me a false sense of connection, have eroded my desire for real connections. Maybe not my desire but certainly my follow-through. They pacify my hunger like cheap sweet or salty snacks. That’s a blog for another time. They don’t really feed the nutritional need for connection. They just keep me from being hungry.

Yesterday we had a big group of family and friends get together to celebrate some birthdays. The connections were true, and it filled my soul. I got to spend some quality time laughing and enjoying my kids and grandkids.

As kids we were always surrounded by family and friends. Someone was always dropping by, or we were going to visit. Being Generation Jones, we left early in the morning and showed back up when it got dark. We spent every moment with friends. If we ended up at someone’s house, there was often a group of adults hanging out as well, somewhere near-by. We might try to stick around and just watch tv Saturday mornings but one or two cartoons in, our parents were kicking us out to go play. I never played alone. If my bestie was unavailable, I’d find another kid, or we’d end up at the park or pool and spend the afternoon with a friend or two amongst a crowd of a friend or two.

Today, I work from home. I connect via the internet with coworkers that don’t even live in the same state as me or each other. I text my kids and best friend. I send memes and videos to people while scrolling on social media. I binge watch fake connections on tv that resolve problems in an hour. My circle becomes smaller and smaller as the enemy makes it easier and easier to isolate myself and find excuses not to make the effort to have a real connection. Even my devotions are via my smart phone instead of picking up the Bible right beside me. Real connections feed me, but I settle for the fake ones because of excuses. I can find a million of them. Ironically, I worry about some of the people I love who are very introverted, who don’t like things that are too peopley. Maybe I should be worrying about me. I definitely get more out of church when I attend, so I’m not exactly sure why I find excuses. Unless it’s the enemy. If the enemy can’t take away my faith, it can hobble the connections and my impact with excuses. Pretty clever plan actually.

Just like the sweet or salty snack, I will make the wrong choice knowing it’s the wrong choice at times. But perhaps I can move towards correcting this if I acknowledge it’s an issue and I want to change it. 

Next week, I’ll see that church family in person. At least I hope I will, because I miss their faces and the sound of their voices. Next week I’ll feed my soul the nutrition it really needs, a real connection. If you attend church with me and I’m not there next week, feel free to tag this post and remind me. Because my soul needs it. God built us for connections, real connections, and I need to stop finding excuses for fake ones.

By Vicki L. Pugliese.  

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All My Life You Have Been Faithful

All my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good.

‘Cause your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Titusville Presbyterian church with the wall of organ pipes that are like the breath of God, where I first sang songs to you.

From the vacation Bible study somewhere in Cherrytree Pennsylvania where I learned the joy of singing of your love.

From the Hydetown Baptist church where Pastor Larry Hellein touched my heart, and I first came forward to your alter. Where I was baptized and pledged my life to you. Where a youth group strengthened my faith and Gordon Turk and Ken Jackson taught us your word. Where I sang my first solo and almost never sang another, that was so scary.

From the Free Methodist youth group that showed me everyone is accepted and loved.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Navy Chapel in bootcamp, to the one on Fort Meyers where I clung to what I knew.

From the Assembly of God church, and the boy’s God parent’s, Gary and Sharon Seifrit, who scooped up a broken little family and took them in and set us on a right path again.

From the Navy Chapel in Pearl Harbor and the choir that adopted a little single parent family. Where the officer’s women’s Bible study took in the one enlisted female looking for a morning Bible study and loved her so well. From the Navy Chapel’s choir and single’s group that helped me renew my faith. Where Pastor Stephen Sloat led and deepened my walk with you and looked out for a young me searching to be loved.

From a Pearl Harbor Sub Base Chapel and it’s choir that accepted and loved me and Jerry and started our walk with you.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

From the Folsom Presbyterian Church that became Journey church, with Pastor Del Burnett who made Jerry and I part of a church family. With Pastor Keith Posehn who made Jerry and I youth group leaders and filled our lives with the joy of service, and the youth group kids who loved us as much as we loved them. From Pastor Toby Nelson who taught us Greek and “Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that works in us” Eph 3:20.  From Pastor Mike Umbenhaur and Pastor Dave Huusko who continued our faith journey at Journey church. And the choir we sang in so diligently. Learning how to sing with all our souls from Anne Indermill and Len Jones. Where Anne and Mark Indermill and Bob Surridge encouraged me to try another solo. That was probably my last.

While the prayers of a Bible Study with Marya Morgan, Ann Patchen, Yvonne Roe and Jan Williamse prayed for me constantly and loved me through the death of my father.

Where Journey church and Hope Church taught me that splitting a church is never a good idea, and my heart was broken, as half the people I loved chose to move away from the other half that I loved. Where my heart died a little more as members moved on to other cities and other states.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

Where Sophie Agricola and Lee and Jen Stacy showed me, I could find another church family at Vintage Grace church. Where Pastor Drew Sodestrom rekindled my faith and gave me phrases like #ButGod #WithGod, “God’s better is better” that preserved me through a dark season of job loss and a pandemic. Where my faith became trust and seeking your face deeper than I had ever before. Where a Life Group sustained my daily walk with love, and hands that showed me your love in a very tangible way.

Your goodness is running after, running after me.

To Ohio and the Rivertree Massillon church and Pastor Jake Garmany who has continued our journey as we live closer to my family. To the Bible study led by Doug and Sonji Gregory who deepen my faith and give me a home to talk of your great love and amazing power.

And all my life you have been faithful. All my life you have been so so good. With every breath that I am able. I will sing of the goodness of God.

So many friends who I’ve met at church and work and school. You have filled my life from every corner. Through every season. My life is so full it is overflowing and I pray your love spills out of me to everyone you have brought me to love, and everyone who is in my life. From the stranger in line at a cash register to the best friend I could ever ask for Faith Thompson. To my faith journey partner Jerry Pugliese who encourages me and supports me and worships you with me. May your love spill over into their lives so that they might feel your presence as I have… all my life and into the lives of my children and grandchildren.

May the years I have left be more of the same. Thank you God. Thank you Jesus, I am so grateful for your goodness and love.

Oh Lord hear my prayers and worship.

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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God’s Appetizers

Sitting in my sunroom this morning during devotions, I felt content. The sky was blue and vast making me feel cozy and warm in my favorite chair. There was smoke billowing from a neighbor’s chimney and my home felt nestled in. Just a smattering of snow dusted the roof and birds were singing and playing about reminding me as I clutched my warm cup of coffee that spring was on its way. My dog was hunkered down beside me and the house was quiet and still. I was grateful for this life that God has given me, so filled by its goodness.

A little post from my best friend on the park we used to spend a lot of time at as kids, made me remember all of the fun we had hanging out. The many walks to and from the various parks that surrounded our little town filled with fun conversations and strong bonding moments. I don’t recall conversations, only feeling close to my friends as we spent time together. I can hear our laughter and feel the smiles and happiness we shared. My childhood was filled with so many friends that loved me dearly for exactly who I was. Hours and hours spent with each other. The mundane filled with something indescribably fulfilling. 

Which is a bit ironic because a week ago, I sat in that exact same chair. It felt far more wintery than spring. There was more snow, and the sky was gray, and I was feeling empty. I was focused on the dead plants surrounding me (they were still there this morning), and how the sunroom seems to be becoming more of a catch all storage room than my favorite devotions hang out. That same quiet peacefulness felt like a blanket of heaviness, and I felt disconnected and dissatisfied. I was ruminating on the trauma from my childhood and its correlations to the current feelings of being overwhelmed I had that day. 

I was looking back to that same childhood focused on the pain and how I couldn’t wait to get out of that town. The desire to flee the expectations of perfection that I would never live up to. The weight of the responsibility that I felt had been inappropriately laid on me. How my inability to be perfect ruined everything and caused all of the troubles our family had. How alone and rejected I felt, incapable of being the person I was expected to be. 

What changed? Well, there was a great sermon about this life being the appetizer and not the meal. The weather has warmed up and the sun was out. The birds are coming back and showing signs of spring – but mostly what I was focused on had changed. All of the other changes were minor, perhaps assisting me to focus on the things I love, but life had not changed. I had the same memories of childhood last week as I did this morning. I just was taking out the happy ones and reexamining them, feeling those emotions.  Letting that memory fill me up with contentment. I wasn’t brow beating myself over my shortcomings. I wasn’t holding others to a measure no one could meet. Happiness today wasn’t being measured by “what have you done for me lately” and how my life had threads of pain all through it. But happiness today was being measured by how full my life has already been and the expectation that I have more time to add to that aresenal. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m such a drama queen. My life is such a rollercoaster when nothing has really changed. But life is so much more exponentially full if I reexperience the highs and lows in my memory. If I feel the laughter my best friend and I had as we played at the park; the spinning of the merry-go-round, the feel of the wind in my hair as we pushed our swings higher, or the excitement of the unknown on the teeter totters. Mostly when I remember the feeling of love and acceptance of hanging out with friends. That knowing that I could just be myself. 

This world is the appetizer, and it is not meant to be the meal, but appetizers can be so good. Appetizers can whet your appetite for the good that is to come. They can open conversations and let the fun begin long before your order is ever prepared. I need to remember to enjoy the appetizer because it’s all part of the experience God prepared for me. And it can fill me up until the much anticipated meal arrives. 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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That’s my son

I knew the second I laid eyes on him, even though his back was to me. No doubts – none at all. I immediately started to cry. Seconds before, at the fish tank, at the entrance of the restaurant, I had just said, “Wow, that kid looks so much like Thomas.”  – our grandson.  They lived on the other side of the country, thousands of miles away. The thought that it was Thomas never entered my mind. 

My husband had decided to take me to lunch. We rarely did that because where I worked wasn’t close. I should have seen that as a clue. They had cleaned the house too. That was the big clue I missed. I wasn’t complaining. Seriously though, really clean, and that was the big clue.

My son and his family had conspired with my husband and daughter to surprise me with their visit. I had absolutely no clue. They had been coming and then there was some valid excuse that they couldn’t. I had no reason not to believe they couldn’t make it. By the time I walked into the little Chinese restaurant, it was forgotten. 

But the second I saw his frame – I knew. The clues fell into place. My son had come home for a visit. My daughter-in-law smiled up at me from across the table with her precious face. It filled my heart. It was the best surprise ever.

Our church uses a word “communitas” – not community. It signifies that deeper relationship – the idea of doing life together or serving together. A little like the way that my small home town was more like a community or the way we made our fellow veterans our family when I served in the Navy.

The type of relationship we all search for. That knowing the second you see them – there is someone I love – who loves me. The way I knew that was my son even though he was facing away from me.

It’s that kind of relationship that gets my super introverted family to go to church. They belong there and people know them and love them exactly as they are, no hidden agendas, no wish list of things they should do better at, or be better at. The smiles of those we’ve known and loved for years now, tell us that we are welcomed. Just the way we are. Just as far along in our journey as we have come. No one there sees us with a big list of how we’ve failed or let them down. They’re just happy to see us – as we are them.

I suppose it isn’t a perfect church – that was never the point. It’s our communitas. Other Christians who aren’t perfect, who love us even though we aren’t perfect, even though we make mistakes.They want us to be there. They want us to be part of their journey and to experience God’s love through the way He moves in all of our lives. It brings us and keeps us closer to Him. The one who called us by name before we ever took a breath. He knew what knuckleheads we would be. He knew the mistakes we would make and yet He loved us so perfectly. There’s no stronger desire than to be loved that way, completely loved and fully known.

We have to lay down our lists. Our lists of the wrongs others have done to us. Our list of the disappointments we have felt. Our past hurts. Our lists of how we think this person in our life “should” be. Expectations that set us up for barriers in our relationships that do exactly the opposite of what we desire. To be truly loved in spite of our mistakes and bad choices.

We have to stop judging our church services and having roast pastor for lunch. Stop the hate. The “I hate this kind of music”.  I hate when the church is too full or too empty, too dark, too loud. I hate when other Christians aren’t perfect…   because just like us, they want to be loved while imperfect. 

God put so many wonderful people in my life and none of them are perfect. What an amazing blessing that is. Others just like me, on a journey to spread the great news about how God loves them and isn’t fooled by their masks, or public faces. He knows my heart and loves me more deeply than I could ask. That’s such great news. He put a whole group of people to journey with me, so we could help each other to deepen our relationship with Him and reach out to those who are yet to believe. What a mind blowing blessing that is, don’t you agree?

I hope you find your communitas, or that you create a communitas. So that everyone can know, somewhere out there is someone who loves me so much that they’ll cry at my sight. They love me so much that they recognize me instantly from far away or with my back to them even if I was supposed to be miles away. Someone who knows what a dunderhead I am, but choses to love me anyway. Just the way our Savior does. Just the way I am.

By

Vicki L. Pugliese

Make America Kind Again

We’re expert judges. Shows like So You Think You Can Dance, Dancing With The Stars, American Idol, The Voice have given us years of experience and a feeling that we’re entitled to notice the mistakes of others. We have no problem, even though we are not in the industries discussing how a contestant is a little “pitchy”.  It’s easy to walk right on passed the line and declare a song or a dance a disaster, as if we could easily do better. Over a decade of judges like Simon Cowell and their harsh comments have desensitized us and sometimes find their way into our own words or at least our thoughts. We easily compare two dancers, singers and even songwriters now, forgetting that each person has their own gifts and strengths.

I can’t throw the first stone. As I have learned what the judges are looking for I now spot those tiny imperfections and jump to give my opinion to those watching with me. Not that I could ever dance or sing at those levels. I dismiss their hard work and dedication and the situation these reality shows have put them in as if it’s an easy undertaking.

Social media is not much different. We judge politicians, and even the general public without knowing these people at all. Sure some of us are very informed, but all of our life experiences and those things we hold dear color our perception of them. Words are taken out of context and compared with something someone else says. And for some unknown reason we have decided it’s fine for us to judge even common people we’ve never met. We make meme’s of silly pictures, ridiculing them. I can count myself among those who quickly share. I do enjoy a good chuckle. 

When social media first took off we were more careful, cautious with our words. We didn’t get into lengthy discussions with others of issues, some of which, don’t really mean that much to us. We simply get caught up in the conversation. Bullying on the internet is a well reported phenomenon and perhaps many of us have found ourselves on one side or the other of biting comments. We know better. We don’t treat each other this way in person. We’re much more apt to hold our tongue when we disagree face to face. Or maybe that’s just me. Little by little we slide. Little by little we change the line of what’s acceptable – so that we no longer expect people to be good citizens, kind and polite. We shrug off bad days and laugh when we feel like “what a B*!ch I was”. Little by little, that becomes the norm. Our language slightly looser than it was a decade ago. We’re actually impressed when someone is a decent human being. Suddenly they’re considered a hero. Someone who kindly brings a meal to the homeless, or helps a child with their bike chain. These are no longer common place and so, now, we consider them special for being so kind.

It didn’t happen all at once. The slip was slow and constant. I have seen the change in myself. In my expectations, my language and my actions. It’s easy to shrug them off instead of being saddened by the change, or embarrassed. It’s not really embarrassing anymore, if everyone around you is the same, is it? Or is that just me.

For me it’s time to turn around. Start the walk back up that slope. Be intentional about acts of kindness. Put others before myself – at least as often as I put myself first. It’s time to take my standards and place them somewhere above my expectations, not below. I’m only one. I can’t change anyone else’s mind. I can’t drag people up the hill with me. But I can openly admit I’m turning around, so at very least there are others out there who might question me if they find me heading back down. Accountability. I need that and if you find yourself on the other end of my unkindness – feel free to point that out. Because I want those standards of years gone by, and if my actions or my words might inspire you to join me – even better.

Today perhaps America or even the world is the tiniest bit kinder because I made that choice.

 

Written By

Vicki L. Pugliese

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If I had only known…

I wish I would have known while my dad was alive. I only traveled home about yearly, or bi-yearly. I only called about monthly, sometimes longer. Every time I would go to his house, he would invite me into the living room and ask me to catch him up on what was going on. My parents made me nervous. I felt like I never shut up around them. I felt like no one could get a word in edgewise. I was instantly tossed back in time, just a kid struggling for attention. I wasn’t a neglected child but there were six of us, and I was not the golden child – ever.

Still, every time I called, every time I visited, dad would focus on me, and ask about the details of my life.  How was my job, my kids, and my husband? What did we do for fun? He would get me started and a year’s, or a month’s worth of data would vomit out of my brain. I even asked my husband to give me a subtle nudge if I was talking too much. I don’t talk that much at home.  Oh, I’m not completely silent, but I don’t go on and on – most of the time. When I was around my parents, I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

I worried that they thought less of me because I couldn’t shut up. I tried to ask about their lives too, but they always turned the focus back on me. I never seemed to know much about their lives. I worried it was my fault. I wish I would have known. I would have called more.

My kids are grown now, with lives of their own. Still connected to mine, but separate. It’s wonderful when we get together and just talk about what’s going on in their lives. I want to know about their jobs, their friends, their kids, and spouses. I want to know about their dreams, even if they never come true. I want to know about their struggles and heartaches. Everyone has them. I don’t think less of them for having them too. I cherish the fun we have in group texts, and out for pizza, or playing cards. I cherish family gatherings. Mostly I love hearing about their lives, even the mundane things, because I’m not there, and it makes me feel connected. I wish I would have known.

You grow apart too easily. Life slips by too fast. There are too many chores, and not enough free time. There are too many good choices, and too much life to live. I want to hear about it all. They could talk a mile a minute – I wouldn’t care. They could tell me the same story two and three times over; I like hearing their voice. I like being with them.

To those of you out there who still have your parents, call them, write them, text them, keep in touch. Never feel like you talk too much. Stay connected. I say this knowing I need to call my mom, and my step mom. I need to catch up. I say this, missing being able to call my dad. I wish I had known. We weren’t super close but we weren’t estranged either. I was blessed. I am blessed with family connections that will always be there, even after a month or two, or a year. We get together and pick right up where we left off. Catch me up. Tell me your stories. I want to hear.

You could never talk too much. I wish I would have known.

Tell Me Your Story

I want to hear your stories.
I want to hear about that time.
Tell the one that made you laugh,
The one with your partner in crime.

Tell me how you took the train,
Across these great big states.
Tell the one about Uncle Horace,
And the cows getting through the gates.

I want to hear about it all,
To live a thousand lives.
To meet one hundred characters,
Get on memory lane and drive.

I want to hear your stories,
I’m waiting patiently.
You pick the topic, I’m all ears.
Oh won’t you please tell me…

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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CEO of OurHome.Inc

Young man do you have big dreams of being the next Steve Jobs, Mark Zukerberg or Bill Gates?  Do you dream of being CEO or captain of industry or even a local manager at your own firm?  Leadership skills are often thought to be natural traits, one God wrote in the very fabric of the design of natural leaders.  Perhaps those potential leaders  naturally utilized  those God given talents.  Possibly those natural leaders took advantage of a training ground provided by God and learned to hone their leadership skills like any other skill you might learn instead.  Possibly you have been provided this same training ground on which you can learn leadership skills but you have not taken advantage of this supportive atmosphere.  Perhaps God actually expects you to step up and lead this little band of people that look just like you.  He expects nothing less than your best everyday.  Generations of people count on your abilities and performance actually!

Now if He gave you this training opportunity, He gave you a “second in command” who gives you a lot of input.  Are you wisely taking this input into consideration and utilizing the gift that is your second in command to the best of your ability, or are you shutting down this gift?  You took vows, you know her well.  Are you ensuring that your second in command is fully fed spiritually, nurtured and loved by you so that she is capable of passing on those qualities to the rest of your company, your children?  Are you praying daily for your second in command so that she is built up to fight any battle that comes her way?  You know there will be germs, hormones, trials and everyday things.  She needs all that support to keep her safe and spiritually filled.  She needs that support to be ready to help you lead that family of yours.

Many young men come home and have a need to talk about their day.  They need to unpack the events.  They go to work all day.   Jobs can be frustrating.  They just want to come home, have a moment or two to themselves and eat dinner.  They like to unpack their day and then after dinner just go and play a game on their cell phone or computer and let their attention disappear into the game.  They like to unwind that way.

They fail to see that their second in command who has been stuck at home alone with their children with little or no adult interaction also needs to unpack her day.  She spent her day prepping the meal, doing laundry, picking up after the kids for the hundredth time, assisting with homework, breaking up fights and helping with melt downs.  She also had a need to unload her day.  That young man may fail to see she needs to be filled up emotionally and spiritually.  He may miss signs that she is starting to run on empty and is in desperate need of prayer and his spiritual leadership.

God gave him this wonderful practice company, practice ground if you will, for him to learn excellent people skills, and leadership skills, all in an environment where everyone wants him to succeed! The problem is that the company of home wants him to succeed at leadership and not in any way shape or form at selfishness, that’s where it gets a little stickier.

God gave man a company of tiny people to manage.  Man just has to look up from his phone.  He has to remember that God gave him that responsibility but that he also chose them and to that end he should begin on his knees. He should remember that his wife and children have that same need for validation, connection, intimacy and love that he does.  Their needs being met are his responsibility even if he needs to delegate some of it. He, as their tiny tribal leader needs to monitor that this is completed, especially for his wife.

His family is a true practice ground.  He loves them perhaps more than he loves himself. They will be his legacy and a testimony to the skills he acquired.  They will also be more patient than any corporation ever would as he learns and fine tunes his skills.

It’s up to him to view it as a leadership opportunity and directive from God. A chance to prove to God he is grateful for the blessings that God gave him when God gave him his beautiful family.

Will he start each day on his knees?  Will you?  Will he put his phone down or put away other distractions ?  Will you?  Turn your TVs off and plug back into your family!  Make sure your second in command’s needs are met.  Make sure her spiritual cup is filled because those children feel like a spiritual battle some days!  Make sure she is fully ready to support you in your leadership mission and goals.  Use the gift of a second in command wisely! Listen to her, God may be speaking through her.  The best leaders work as a team.

Put your pride away, it has sharp edges and you’ll poke someone’s eye out.  Use every resource you have and train every day!    Use this great opportunity given to you by the great provider!  Learn to be the best leader you can be.  Soon someone outside the home will notice your skills, how could they not?!  There are so few truly good leaders out there.

Be a great leader.  The one God designed you to be.  Then go do something really awesome!

 

by Vicki L. Pugliese

 

media by Elizabeth Balch
http://www.elizabethbalch.com

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The Next Shiny Thing

IMG_2044Living without focus or hyper focusing on one thing until I’m tired, bored or burned out, while ignoring all other aspects of my life seems to be a pattern for me. You may have missed me, or perhaps you hadn’t noticed that I ignored you recently. Sorry that I ignored you. I was focused on writing a book, one that is completed now and fully edited. I sent out my first volley of queries for it this morning.
Before I hyper focused on writing, I was working toward my Distinguished Toastmaster’s M … – I don’t even know what the M stands for. I dove into that goal and rocked out all of my advanced speeches and my leadership requirements that were not time bound in about a year. I got burned out on Toastmasters. I struggled to attend at all. Then I gave another speech, participated in a contest actually – and I was nervous! All those speeches that I gave building on each other, strengthening that public speaking muscle until it was strong and chiseled. I could throw together a speech in a day and still polish it up to a point where I was satisfied. I have high standards for myself. Yet, I was nervous. I hadn’t been nervous, really nervous, in so long that I can’t even put my finger on it. Somewhere in my first set of ten speeches, I’d guess.
I managed to pull off that speech and then I practiced again, for an audience of one, at work. My nerves receding already. I gave the speech again in preparation for the next level of competition and my nerves were manageable again. The muscles just needed to be used again. I had nearly tossed aside that goal of DTM. I’m usually pretty focused until the last mile or so.
Before Toastmasters, we trained to run a half marathon. I was diligent in my process that Disney put out for those who are new runners that want to complete a half marathon. I built up my long run, week after week. We ran in 10Ks, and split a half marathon all to push ourselves to complete that goal. I got just a little behind on the schedule and had only ever ran 12 miles prior to the actual event. That last mile and a half was the worst.
That darn timer lady was there over and over again as a silent goal. Once she reminded those of us running just behind her, that if we weren’t in front of her at the mile marker, Disney picks us up. That’s the rules. I’m a slow runner but a long line at the bathrooms put me with her for the last three miles. I pushed thru at twelve and put some distance between us hoping that would make it easier. The last mile and a half was brutal.
I injured myself and haven’t really run well since, my muscles losing all that I had gained, so I threw my focus into Toastmasters, then writing.
What will I take on next? Why am I driven to focus and achieve something, anything, one more thing? I didn’t use to be like this. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been one to lose interest in things easily, my whole life – that’s a “functions as designed” thing.

It was really an unpleasant trait as a child and in the Navy. Detail oriented people don’t understand that there are those of us who aren’t actually lazy or malicious, we just miss details, even with check lists. It took me a long time to love that part of myself.
I have other talents that detail oriented people do not possess. I just have to remember to use my “powers” for good and not evil. Evil is shinier and catches my attention, my sense of humor. It gets me in trouble a lot. Still, I have learned to love that part of me.
Nonetheless living in this hyper focus and unbalanced life is taking its toll. I have to find a love for myself even if I don’t live up to my inner standards, even if I don’t finish my goal, even if I gain back all that weight. I’m still worthy of love. No one else seems to be telling me I’m not, just that inner me, that voice that pushes me to improve.
Somewhere along the way I became my enemy. Christ asks us to love our enemies. I need to include myself – my imperfect self. God’s not done with me yet … as the song goes. If you miss me, if I disappear again, it’ll be something else shiny. Perhaps the next time, though, I won’t apologize because that’s just how I’m hard wired and I learned to stop questioning God’s ways.

 

By Vicki L. Pugliese

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