Showing Up For The Game

I’ll never forget attending my first professional football game. I was living in San Diego, and the company I was working for had reserved a block of seats for employee use. I was so excited to sign up for a set of tickets for me and my friends that I just had to pinch myself. That excitement turned into utter elation when I found out that the Denver Broncos would be the opposing team that weekend against the Chargers…and one of my favorite quarterbacks, John Elway, would be at the helm of the ship.

You see, I thought the man had class. He played a clean game, ran some unbelievable plays, and performed to a level that often-times inspired his team to victory. And even beyond his developed skill or raw talent, he was just down-right likeable. Truth be told, if you were looking for a sports hero, he pretty much wrapped up the total package.

So game day came, and my friends and I took off early from work so that we could get there early enough to grab some good eats and settle in for all of the pre-game hoopla. I felt like a wide-eyed 10 year old as I sat and watched the festivities unfold before me. By game time the anticipation was almost unbearable and I found it quite impossible to stay in my seat as each team hit the field to battle their way to victory.

But play after play, possession after possession passed, and I had yet to see Elway come alive. He was there, sure enough…in his navy and orange uniform…right in front of my eyes. But something just wasn’t quite right. His play was flat. There was not rallying of the ranks…no passionate spurring-on of his teammates…no dynamic transformation when he stepped onto the field and took hold of the football. He was in the game…but disappointingly, he just never really “showed up”. What promised to be one of the most memorable events in my life, ended up as nothing particularly extraordinary…not nearly as thrilling as it could have been.

As I remembered that feeling of let down…of dashed expectations and disappointment…I had the thought that what we do in life is a lot like the big game. Each day in our job, in our families, in our dealings with clients and fellow employees, we have the opportunity to really “show up”…completely engaged, inspiring and affecting everything around us. OR we can simply play the game, get the football down the field, get on the bus and go home.

It’s completely our choice in life & well within our power to make what we do undeniably memorable & absolutely extraordinary…simply by choosing to show up for the game. I guarantee you this: you truly show up…and your fans will have memories that they will cherish for a lifetime…and they’ll share them with everyone they know. The art of showing up…such a simple thing…but it’s transforming power makes for strong, connected families, pleasant work environments, elated customers…and an irreplaceable sense of satisfaction at the end of the day. Hey, by the way: GOOD GAME!

From Good to GREAT!

On the way to work this morning my thoughts were fixed on the topic of greatness. It sounds much nobler than it really is...quite honestly, I struggle to even remember HOW I got to work this morning. But for some reason, I just couldn’t shake the thought, “What makes up the difference between good and GREAT?”

I envisioned the usual morning chatter around the office...everyone swapping stories about their weekends. For some it was good, but for others it was GREAT. But WHY?!, I wondered. I thought about great places I like to shop, great people I love to hang around, great food I love to eat, and how much I enjoy listening to really great live music. But what on earth is it that makes these things GREAT?

The answer came to me the minute I stepped through the office door and heard people sharing the details of their time away from work. It’s in the little things. It’s the pine nuts and goat cheese on top of the Brixx salad I love so much. It’s the cut of the dress...or the tiny bits of beadwork detailing it. It’s the way someone makes you feel when they’re around...how they make you laugh, or forget your worries...or inspire you. It’s the musician that infuses his plucking of a string with boldness and creativity that makes for a unbelievably killer bass line that cuts straight through your soul. It’s all of the little things that add up into something wonderfully memorable...something far beyond good...something simply GREAT.

Performance Psychologist, Todd Kays says,

”Greatness requires going beyond the normal everyday requirements and doing all of the little things when no one else is watching… simply for the love of doing it.”

So this week, as you’re enduring the not-always-so-joy-filled task of dealing with overly demanding people or unruly kids, or as you're driving from Point A to Point B for the fifty-seventh time...be sure to remember: it’s the little things that you do while no one’s watching, simply for the love of doing it, that can transform whatever mundane thing you might be doing into something wonderfully memorable...omething far beyond good... something simply GREAT!

And I really mean this when I say it: HAVE A GREAT WEEK!

The Race of Endurance

Life has a funny way of giving us reality checks. (see: re·al·i·ty – noun, “actual being or existence, as opposed to an imaginary, idealized, or false nature” or “the totality of real things in the world, independent of people’s knowledge or perception of them”, or my favorite, “something that has real existence and must be dealt with in real life”).

My reality in this season of my life is this: I’m 40 years old. Yep, I’ve entered the fourth decade of my life, and I have to say, it’s had a profound affect on my “perspective” already. Maybe it’s the eventual surrender to the fact that my body will never again fit quite the same way into the blue jeans I wore in college. It seems there are changes in my physical person that are a frontal assault to the eternal youth that delightfully resides, unaltered, in my spirit. And I will never again know the weightless sweetness of being indebted to no man. Whether it’s the inevitability of paying taxes, church ministries I’ve accepted responsibility for, or relationships that entail nurturing and full involvement to thrive—I’m forced to come face to face with the very real fact: I will never again be “my own man”.

You see, I’ve lived quite the “life of Riley” in my young adult years. I’ve been single without children for most of my post-college career days. I’ve moved from the South to the West Coast to the East Coast, and back to the middle again. I’ve taken in a movie on a momentary whim…without any planning or preparation of any kind. I’ve had the luxury of sitting in Southern California’s rush hour nightmare, entertaining the idea of just how great a new outfit might look and feel…and taking the closest exit to make that idea a reality. All without any calls home to coordinate my late arrival or discussions about budget line item priorities or childcare. In short, I’ve spent the past twenty years of this life honing my skills as a Sprint Racer.

Oddly enough, this parallel came to me yesterday as I swam the final laps in my half-mile workout…in preparation for the triathlon a friend (now my husband) and I are conquering in September. Now, most of my friends and family at the hearing of this news are probably raising eyebrows in alarm or sheer astonishment…but the process of winding up at this place is worth explaining. Wanting to meet the daunting marker of my 40th birthday with courage and complete acceptance, I desired most to do something “significant”…something “unexpected”…something “BIG”. And the deciding factor came when I was whining to my friend about the aforementioned physical changes taking place…and how my shadow hadn’t crossed the threshold of a gym in six months...and how I was fed up with my lack of motivation. “Motivation?” he asked…”You need motivation?! Enter a triathlon…that’ll supply your motivation!”

So tapping into the spontaneous nature of my sprinter’s heart, I did it. Crazy or not, I signed up for a triathlon. But it wasn’t long into my first workout, that I began to think, “They want me to run HOW FAR?!?!” I have trouble running to the bathroom…let alone running THREE MILES!!! But what do you know, a few weeks into it and I was walking longer on the treadmill, lifting weights, and still feeling like I had energy to burn at the end of it all. Surprising how your body and mind can adjust so quickly.

The first time I got back into the pool, after a short thirty-year hiatus, the scene was pretty ugly. I get into the water thinking, “It’s like riding a bike, right?!” But about half way down the lane, something went terribly wrong. My body rebelled against my best intentions and highest goals…and I felt a panic washing over me with the sudden realization that no matter how much I breathed in, it simply was not enough. I needed more air…more AIR…MORE AIR!!! What was going on?!? For crying out loud, I’d done this before! I’d been a sprinter on the swim team in junior high…this should be easy. But every muscle in my body was screaming in pain…my lungs felt like they were exploding…my head was spinning and my vision blurred. And the voice in my head said,

“They want me to go HOW far?!? How sick ARE these people?! They’ve GOT to be kidding. There’s no way on earth!”

Amazingly enough, within two weeks, I was swimming 36 links…a half a mile! Incredible. That first day, I had no hope of ever reaching that milestone…and the weeks that followed carried a growing concern that I didn’t have what it takes to meet the challenge…that I’m too weak, too frail…that it is just too late in the game to try a stunt like this. But with some digging down deep to find that courage that hides out in the deepest part of my heart, with some disciplined consistency, and with some much-needed encouragement from my friend in my weakest moments, yesterday I broke through a barrier of sorts that loomed in my head and heart like a thick stone wall. I had done what only two weeks before was unthinkable.

So there I was, victoriously swimming the last laps of my half-mile workout, and I began to hear my Father speak to my uncovered heart once again.

“Melody, you’ve been a sprinter for most of your life.”

And as He showed me the unencumbered way in which I’d lived my life, I began to understand what He meant.

“You’ve done a great job of living in the moment…of burning bright and fast…of wringing the life-stuff out of every day. You’ve been busy, involved, connected. And wasn’t it you that only months ago said that you wanted to do something ‘significant’, ‘unexpected’ and ‘big’?”

“Yes Lord, that’s what I said I wanted…more than anything.”

“Well”, He said, “more than anything, what I want is to forge in you the heart of an endurance racer.”

“An endurance racer, Lord?” I asked with feelings of intrigue and sheer terror running through my heart.

“Yes, an endurance racer,” He said with the tenderness of a Father who’s in teaching mode.“You’ve been through days when you felt like you were going to drown before getting to the end of that lane, right?”

“You mean when I was struggling financially, and…”

“You’ve tried to run the race of life, huffing and puffing like a fish that’s been thrown up on shore, right?”

“You mean when I moved and everything seemed so foreign, so out of sync…”

“You’ve had to bear up under the heat, push through the pain, and do it when you just felt like giving up altogether.”

“You mean when I went through the unexpected divorce…”

“You see, this race you’ve entered…this triathlon…is much like this life you’re a part of. There are different tasks you will be asked to complete…each one challenging in it’s own way. There are external influences that will come against your progress…causing you to tire and lose heart. There will be highs and lows, joys and sorrows. There will be days when you break down walls, and days when you will be broken.”

“So now is the time to prepare…now is the time to draw from what you know and put it into action…now is the time to build up your endurance. Be strong and courageous when the challenge seems bigger than the hope that’s in your heart. Be gentle with yourself…and pace yourself. Don’t forget to rest, do things that inspire your heart and soul…and just like your Momma always said, don’t forget to eat your vegetables. Because how you handle yourself now directly affects your performance later. But more important than anything else, Melody, you must finish the race. You must not give up…you must not lose heart…you must not quit. The race will not be finished today…the race will not be finished tomorrow, or next week. But one day, you will most certainly taste the indescribable joy of crossing that finish line. And know this: I will be waiting right there for you…cheering you on. Waiting to celebrate your efforts of a race well run…the victory of spirit over flesh…the final defeat of the one who whispers, “You don’t have what it takes to meet the challenge…you’re too weak, too frail…it’s just too late in the game to even try.”

As I pulled myself out of the pool that day, I felt an unexpected and overwhelming sense of new-found courage mixed with the savory sweetness of accomplishment. And although some of my family and friends would already like to think me crazy, I have to admit that I heard voices…the echoes of a cheering crowd somewhere in the far distance…and the all-familiar sound of my Father’s voice, shouting,

“THAT’S my girl!”

1 Corinthians 9:23-25: “I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings. Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”

Romans 15:4: “For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” Hebrews 12:1-2: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Charlie Hall, “God of Hope”: “Your hope inspires my endurance/God of hope fill me up/Your hope is my anchor/And though you slay me I will hope/Your hope inspires my endurance…”