Doing the improbable

It's not impossible, just highly unlikely.

Someone once said that to me about a dream I had to be a professional athlete.  Baseball specifically.  Right fielder for the Red Sox.  So I stopped chasing that dream, but baseball remains the one passion I have that I feel I should have not given up on.  Something I should have kept the flame burning for.

I talk a lot about dreams with people I know.  I try to empower them to find a dream, and then chase it.  Not giving up because one person says your dream is a little weird, or too far outside the box.  Not to walk away when you hit a snag or run full stride into a wall.  Dreams are not always easy, especially when you dream big.

My daughter has a dream to become a rock star, and a princess, and a mom of many adopted children, and a teacher and a pastor and a few other things.  Not separately, all at once.  And I have not once attempted to crush her dream.  Not because she's my daughter and I love her enthusiasm, but because she is a dreamer on a large scale just like her father and I believe that her dream can be achieved.

What I also realize is that with my dreams I need to include systems and networks and an entire plan.  I can't just run after them and hope that they mysteriously or supernaturally come together.  And yes sometimes my dreams leave no room for error, others leave miles and miles of errors in their wake.  But the dream, the goal, however improbable it may seem, is always being crafted and pursued.

Here's an example, not the baseball dream, but a new crazy idea.


I have a plan that could possibly end homelessness, poverty and hunger not for the world but for a few countries at least.  Ok maybe the world.  Here's the system that would need to take form.

It begins with selecting a few families in a given area and training them to do specific work (outlined below).  Take a large section of every major forest or jungle in the world.  Clear cut, using those who are stricken with poverty and homelessness to do the work, paying them competitive wages and providing them meals during their shift.  Using the same people, build timber frame housing with the clear cut trees that the workers mill themselves and piece together frames and trusses and so on.  With each house comes a 40 square foot garden that must grow essential vegetables.  Provide equipment so each house can make bread and other food staples.  Each division of housing will have an animal pen for food grade chicken, lamb, beef and pork (as customs allow).

When the gardens begin to produce, governments will pay the land workers a salary to train others to clear cut, mill wood, build frames and houses and run a garden.  With the infusion of money into these new communities the people can build and run small stores to increase financial freedom and food provision.  Each community falls under the leadership of the closest city or village and over all the countries governing body.  Wells will be dug, proper waste disposal introduced and suddenly you have a viable community that has lowered the poverty rate, hunger issues and homelessness for given areas.  The added benefit, it will take the stress away from overcrowding, and disease within local water and food supplies.  And people are training each other how to live and be a part of the work force.

See it's improbable but not impossible and who knows maybe someone might actually do this, the point is I don't think the dream is too large, or really all that crazy.

What's your improbable dream?

Thankful

Waking up in the night to the sound of ice pellets bounding from your windows and dancing around the asphalt shingles on the roof, along side the bone chilling screech of tree branches scrubbing the flesh from each other and sensing the invisible force that moves mountains ripping away at the mortar of the chimney, is not what I picture as inviting, or even amusing.  But that is what I faced over night leading to Wednesday morning.  I shouldn't have been surprised, the weather forecast was calling for snow and freezing rain, but as experience has documented, never trust the weather man.  So I went to bed, half expecting it to be warm and sunny in the morning, only to be jolted by what I imagined was a group of ninjas creeping along the sides of my house tormenting me and my innocent family as we tried to find rest, or that the assembly of mythological creatures I sometimes read about on line, had come to prove their existence to me when I was most vulnerable.

No I didn't eat anything weird before bed, and had is been a thunderstorm I would have slept through it, but for some unknown undesired reason I shot up awake.  Also did I mention I was on the couch?  My family has gone through a long, sorry loooooooong bout of sickness.  With no exaggeration we have been cycling in and out of different illnesses since last May, including basic colds and severe allergies.  On the weekend I was sick with our middle child, he more so then I was, and it was not enjoyable. 1 hour of sleep through the night, waking up to the sound of 'Daddy I need to tell my throat not to puke', good thing I had a popcorn bowl handy.  So we were both shut down for Sunday and Monday.  Which brings us to last night, our daughter has had a cold, but out of knowledge of the belly monster and fear of top bunk puke, I traversed the hall way with daughter in arms to the living room, onto the the oh so comforting and inviting couches.

Maybe it was the fear that she was waking up tossing the last days meals all over her blankets, but every sound sent me into the defensive 'who's there' mode, lunging for the bucket to get it near the girl before she made our everything stained carpet a little worse, with no results.  So I made my way back to the couch, curled under the Thomas the Train blanket, folded up the too thin pillow and closed my eyes.  Sleep is coming.  For 10 minutes. Coughing, what sounded like a gag, a quick sneeze and then it happened.

The dog licked my face.  

With the smelliest, slimiest tongue that has entered the atmosphere, my face was covered in slobber and dog bowl water, at least it wasn't from the toilet.  And at least it wasn't puke.  I pushed him away, he went and curled on his lazy boy, yes my dog has a recliner that he has claimed for his own.  And none of us dare try to claim it back, that chair is disgusting, even if it does have a built in heater and massage function, which are broken but not beyond repair.  It's his and we all know it.

Back to sleep.  Wake up to my alarm clock, to rain, to a happy, healthy, coughing daughter.

And all I can think is, I am thankful for angry trees and roof dancing ninjas, and the loch ness monster, and the nasty smelling dog snot on my face.  Because at least it wasn't a hacking, gaging, puking daughter that woke me up.  That's one thing I can celebrate today, even in a dreary, wet, fall emulating spring day.

What are you thankful for today?  What sounds do you hate waking up to?

The envelope

Ever noticed how after writing a letter, signing it, folding it and preparing it for 'stuffing' you think, I hope this fits, and as though it was destiny, you seem to have miscalculated the fold sizes and one fold is too large.  You know you can't open it up and refold it, you really don't want to rewrite it on new paper, and you certainly can't buy a larger envelope, that would just look awkward, an under filled envelope, who has ever heard of such a thing?

My solution to this is actually the first one, to unfold it and refold it.  The new crease has no bearing on how the letter will be read.  It does not disrupt the envelope in any way, and I can't imagine that the recipient even cares that there is an extra crease.

When I get the letter with the double crease I know the person who sent it cares less about the presentation then the content, just as I do.  They shrug their shoulders as the letter gets crammed into the envelope, and they cringe while licking the adhesive strip.  But all the while their mind is on what they have conveyed in the letter, the words of hope and encouragement, maybe a birthday wish, possibly some financial aid being passed on.  It's the content in the letter, not the paper and how it appears.

But what of the envelope, the vessel that holds all that wonderful or biting content, what does it look like?  White, pink, brown maybe even green or blue.  So many colors, shapes, sizes and patterns.  Some with tears, too much postage, not enough postage, a little dirt, taped up, no return address, a sticker on the back. So many eye catching descriptors on the vessel that carries the message.

But the envelope is overlooked.  And when it comes down to the point of it all, this makes sense, and really, it's not so bad.

After all our lives resemble the envelope.

Often we are overlooked for how the envelope appears.  A size too big, a flaw in the packaging, not the color we like, piercings, contrasting fashions, so many things we find an excuse over, in order to not listen to the inner message.  But it's what is contained within us that makes an eternal difference, not the packaging, that's just the vessel that brings the message.

Life is too short and too hard to focus on the way the message of life, hope, grace and love is brought to us.  It's the story that makes the difference, the vessel is simply the mode of transportation for it.

So next time you feel like jumping to conclusion because someone is covered in body art and they don't appear the person you expect, remember that the envelope can be overlooked when what you really want is the letter inside.

The Loneliest Number

Many of us can recall the lyrics to the Three Dogs Night song, 'One' - one is the loneliest number.....  This can be true, being alone, as one person can be absolutely paralyzing at times.  Imagine the impact it has on your mentality, you show up for this large event you have planned, and you are the only one who actually shows up.  Or you decide to go out and try to make a difference in the community and you organize a time and put up fliers and no one else comes.  There you stand, alone, one.

Broken and destroyed by the lack of others you vow not to attempt anything big ever again, no longer will you be trampled by 'the better things to do' excuse and 'sorry I'm busy' remarks.  Leave it to someone else, they'll do it.  Maybe they'll be better at promoting it, or they are more popular then you, so people will flock to their side and aid them in their quest to change the world.

But what if no one takes up the charge?

As it turns out, one is not the loneliest number, far from it actually.  If we think back into the history of our world, what we come across is an entire list of one's who changed the course of history.  Maybe they each had moments where no one showed but themselves, maybe they were shook by that experience, or maybe they were strengthened by it.

So you are one person, and maybe in your context you are one in about 37 million others around you, maybe it's only one in 9000, but you are still ONE.   

Can you imagine the impact you will have as you walk through your community, in the schools, hospitals, retirement homes, and show love and grace to people.  One person changing the lives of so many others, because one is not a lonely number, zero is.

Zero people can never spread grace, zero can never buy groceries for their hungry neighbor, zero can't even screw in a light bulb.  But one can.

So you are only one person, get out there and go change your world, BEFORE some one else does.