Going Home, Excerpt: The Basics (8V)

Chapter 8 ~ The Basics

Once the welcome party is over and Gran’s had a chance to pinch our cheeks and remind us of our manners, what’s next?

In the interest of our recently awakened awareness, Gran recommended we call home. If we can’t call, write, and if we can’t write, send smoke signals. It’s just to let folks know we’re alive and well and not dead-in-a-ditch-somewhere (apparently that’s a distinct possibility, as often as I’ve heard about it).        

As the excitement wears off, we may discover we’re ready for a nice long nap. My big sister used to come home so exhausted she’d go to bed first thing and sleep half the next day. Gran said she needed rest in a place that felt safe and had a few less distractions. That was frustrating, ‘cause I wanted her to play with me, not sleep, but she was too tired and grouchy to play nice anyway. Besides, once she got that nap in, she was a ball of fire.

My friend Lynda called this “Resting in the Knowing,” which I thought sounded pretty amazing.[i] Gran said we’d sleep like we’ve never slept before once we reach that place.

After our nap we’d have time to grab a snack, visit old friends, and check out if anything new had happened on Main Street. It’s the little things we notice most. Like when the county paved the road to my childhood home. Visits were never the same after that, not without gravel crunching under the tires for that last mile. Sure, it made the drive faster and the house less dusty, but I still thought it was a poor call. We do hold onto things, don’t we?

If we want, we can send postcards next, Gran said, to let our friends know we’re doing well and thinking of them. There are all kinds of postcards, from the pretty-pictures-on-paper ones we send from the beach to the ways we reach out to loved ones, from phone calls to dreams – and that was long before we could text, email, and tweet our days away. Come to find out, Grandpa Harry’s visit – you remember, after he went home – came as no surprise at all to Gran. She thought that was just about as normal as picking strawberries come spring. 

Once we’ve settled in and gotten the little things out of the way, we can move on to bigger items. There’s one I bet you’ll never guess…

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[i] Rest in the Knowing, by Lynda Allen, a poetic glimpse of darkness and light

 

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
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Going Home, Excerpt: Remember Your Manners (8IV)

Chapter 8 ~ Remember Your Manners

Although the specifics of good manners are debatable, Gran thought their observance in general is more important than we realize. Not just for the sake of knowing where our napkin goes, which maybe isn’t all that important in the big picture, but because of the patterns and processes and ways of being that develop based on these guidelines.

We become aware of how our actions affect others the same way we notice when we’re chewing with our mouths open. You know, that incredulous stare from the other side of the table, if our parents didn’t get that fully drilled in. How we do what we do shapes how people see us, whether we like it or not, and actions speak louder than words. After all, there’s more to body language than just how you shake hands.

Gran thought the most important reason for learning manners was that this taught sensitivity to others, like a beginner’s class in diplomacy. First and foremost: Pay attention. If you find yourself in a sticky situation, slow down. Hitting speed bumps at full throttle is never recommended.

No matter what, as one friend advised, just show up and be your best self, which may include planning a few defensive maneuvers and remembering that “a soft answer turns away wrath.”  Be respectful – of your differences, each other, and yourself. When in doubt, looking for ways you’re similar is a good place to start. And if you need time or space to process, take it. Everyone will be glad you did.

At the same time, if we’re acting from our center, we may not get as impatient or angry when others do things we find offensive. We’ll be more compassionate and understanding, and we’ll know when to share our needs, to give the other person a chance to meet those needs. If someone chooses not to do that, we have other options. We can s-t-r-e-t-c-h to let go of that need, we can accept their choice, we can take our company elsewhere, or we can stuff our frustration down inside until it reaches the DANGER HIGH EXPLOSIVES level. That, Gran said, is generally counter-productive.

Whatever we do, we want to remember that those who share our lives – especially our youngest companions – are watching us and learning from our choices, helpful and not so helpful. Gran thought that’s why artists often portray children with great big eyes and little bitty ears. They may not listen much, but they watch everything.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
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Going Home, Excerpt: Visiting (8III)

Chapter 8 – Visiting

But wait! Before we get too far from that front door, Gran said we might want to slow down and remind ourselves of a few things so this could, indeed, be the Best Visit Ever. She had three very practical suggestions for visiting – whether it’s your grandma, your best friend, or the Reverend Lovejoy at the end of the street.

#1. Always bring a gift for the hostess, even if it’s just your smile and a big hug.
#2. Remember: All guests, no matter how nice, begin to stink after three days (like fish).[i]
#3. If it’s a potluck, don’t bring chips – or hummus – except maybe every third time. Mix it up a little.

This might also be a good time to brush up on house rules. These change, depending on the place.  Different homes have different rules, and what’s appropriate in one may be atrocious in another, so it’s a good idea to get this straight from the beginning.

As far as Gran could tell, all these rules were pretty much right. Just different. So if I wasn’t sure which fork to use, she said to look around and see what others were doing. It’s good manners not to act or think that my way is always right. According to Gran, this meant I couldn’t always do whatever I wanted. Well, I could, but like any choice, that would carry a consequence, and those consequences can be downright inspiring when it comes to decision-making.

Gran said these different rules are one reason our reflections of home can seem a little out of focus. In our one true home, it’s simple – it’s all about love, no question about it. But along the way, as we learn our lessons, there can be a bit more involved, and sometimes it seems like the love part gets lost in the shuffle.

That’s why Gran said we want to do our best to make sure others see a true reflection of home in us, and not one that’s smeared with dust or someone else’s fingerprints. When that happens, people may do things they don’t mean to do, or say things they don’t mean to say. Feelings get hurt and we act all angry so no one sees how sad we are inside. That hurts the other person, who starts acting angry back, and our poor little reflection gets more and more muddled ‘til it all but disappears.  

Gran said if I polish my mirror each day, and fix any cracks or tarnished spots, I’ll be a good reflector. And if everyone does this, we’ll all be good reflectors. Can you imagine how shiny the world would be then?

We polish our mirrors when we forgive others, and even when we forgive ourselves. The granddaddy of all cleaners, Gran said, comes with the practice of rewriting our stories about the people in our lives, writing these scripts big enough for each of us to grow into, like a new pair of shoes, letting go of our fears and judgments and creating something entirely new.

It’s like bringing your dirty laundry home. That’s fine and dandy, but you don’t have to walk in the front door wearing it. It’s also best not to leave it outside the bathroom door: Take that stroll to the laundry room. And if you start a load, it’s nice to ask if anyone else has some whites. And remember that it really isn’t in anyone else’s best interest to do this work for you, even though it may seem like it at the time. A good friend might help you with it, but remember, it’s still your dirty laundry.

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[i] Thanks, Mama Rosi, for this tidbit of wisdom

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
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Going Home, Excerpt: Welcome Home! (8II)

Chapter 8 ~ Welcome Home!

Once you’re sure you’re in the right place, what’s next? Per Gran, be ready to party! If you don’t have your happy hat on, better get it quick.

After all, you’ve come home to love, to yourself, to all the good things you can hardly imagine, they’re so great, and all the wonderful people you’ve ever known in your whole existence! There is nothing to fear, Gran said. In fact, we should toss that idea out the window right now, ‘cause it’s getting in her way and she’s ready to feel the looovvve. You ever tried to have a party and carry around a suitcase full of fear at the same time? Doesn’t work very well, does it?

So if any sneaky little pieces of fear managed to make it past all your inspections along the road, now is the time to leave them at the door. We don’t need ‘em anymore. Only room in here for me and my party hat.

The best part of any trip is the welcome home party, right? With balloons and streamers and cake and punch and a big “SURPRISE!” as you walk in the door. Oh, and look at all the beautiful leis. Aloha, sweet friend! It’s so good to see you. My heart has missed you.

Wow. How did all these people know I was coming? Someone must have called ahead… I wonder if Gran had anything to do with that.

Fair warning: You better be prepared for a few tears. These welcoming parties can be pretty emotional, ya know. And while your arrival is definitely something to celebrate, it comes with its own set of emotions to process, like everything else in life. Maybe we start with some sad tears as we say goodbye to the road behind and close the door. Then there are all the happy tears we cry next. You know, when you feel so good you can’t keep it all inside and it starts leaking out the corners of yours eyes.

Personally, I like those tears, and a few makeup stains never hurt anybody.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Come visit: http://www.facebook.com/marybatson2 | http://www.frontporchrambles.com

Going Home, Excerpt: One Note (8I)

Chapter 8 ~ You Have Reached Your Destination

No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~ Lin Yutang

At the end of each journey, which is really just the beginning of another, we reach our destination. Depending on the trip, we may stay for a short visit or a long one – just hanging out. And, of course, bearing in mind that like Mikey’s favorite board game, arriving at Go! only means it’s time to begin again, this time with a few more houses and hotels of wisdom and hopefully a nice stash for those bad rolls of the dice. 

Even being at home has its lessons. But for now, let’s focus on your arrival. What does this look like? How does it feel? Gran said in the beginning this is all about coming home inside oneself, with one caveat: Until a person comes home inside, he’ll never be able to reach home anywhere else, ‘cause he’ll run into nothing but roadblocks along the way. He can try to skip ahead, but he may discover himself sliding down a ladder in the wrong direction, landing further back than where he started.

And yet, Gran said, we learn from those moves, so it’s all good.

~~~

One Note

First things first: How do you know you’ve arrived? Gran said we’ll feel this before we see it. We’ll feel it in our bones, an overwhelming sense of home. On our first journey, arriving home feels like we’re finally whole and complete. We’ve become one with all the voices inside, knowing that everything we do is guided by our center.

If we’re still not sure, we have a few clues to check – we brought ‘em along and didn’t even know we were doing it! Remember that address in your lunch box? Does it match? Check that photograph we tucked away with the help of Gran’s reminder marble. Anyone look familiar? What’s your heart saying? Yes, that heart with all those scars across it. Hearts always know. The sooner we accept that, the faster we’ll progress on the rest of our journeys.

Another clue we’re home appears when we look in the mirror and see our reflections more clearly than ever before. Maybe we’ll see a part of ourselves we’ve always dreamed about – there it is, in living color, bright as brass and glowing like spun gold.

For me, this coming home meant finding my muse again. My gift, which had a pen-and-ink-quality, died a long, slow death, culminating with the passing of Gran. Everything good ended then, or so it seemed. It took me a long time to find her again – to find myself, somewhere in between. For a while I didn’t even want to look. What was the point?

Knowing our time together was limited, Gran had left a few clues behind for me to follow when I was ready. She saw who I was a long time ago, and she looked deeply enough to know I had a tough road ahead. So she took it upon herself, Gran-style, to leave a few trail markers here and there along the way. Like the manuscript, or like the sheet I pull from my journal as I write, flipping it open to see a copy of my first paycheck. One hundred dollars, payable to ten-year-old Mikey for a story dated 1984. Gran had kept this tucked away, and years later she mailed it to me with a note scrawled inside: “Seems like you were always a step ahead of everyone else.” Did she have any idea how much that would mean to me? I think she did.

These clues could be helpful, but Gran’s favorite way of explaining how we’d know we were home came with a high-tech-deep-science flavor. She couldn’t resist it, she said – she’d run across the idea in one of her magazines, and as soon as she read that headline, the whole thing played out in her mind like a beautiful symphony. She could see it all, from beginning to end.

“Which symphony?” one visitor asked over apple butter and biscuits.

“The symphony of life,” came Gran’s reply.

Then she’d launched into what she’d read about this new string theory everyone was talking about. She’d simplified it, of course, so she could understand it a little better. Gran’s version of string theory basically said that the whole, entire universe, and maybe whatever is outside it, is like a huge symphony, and each thing in it is just another instrument in the orchestra – one more tuba, maybe a slide trombone or a French horn. Personally, I wanted to be the triangle.

But, Gran said, we don’t even get to be a whole instrument by ourselves – we aren’t that big! In fact, you and me, right here, right now, we’re just one tiny little vibration of one note, being played by one particular instrument, in one particular movement, of one particular song, in that whole, entire symphony.

How did this relate to knowing we were home?

Well, Gran said, we’d know we were home when the song sounded just right. We play better when we stop trying to be a whole, unique instrument and start looking for the little place where our note fits into the song playing around us.

We don’t have to try to be the whole symphony or five or six different instruments – it won’t work anyway. All we have to do, to fulfill our mission in life, our purpose for living here on this little ol’ planet, is to play our One Note as best we can, loud and true and strong, in that exact moment when we know it is our time.

Then, Gran said, we’d know we were home.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
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Going Home, Excerpt: Stronger Shoulders (7XII)

Chapter 7 – Stronger Shoulders

Like everyone else, Gran had made some tough decisions along her journey, ones she’d just as soon have avoided. Eventually, each fork in the road we ignore reappears, no matter how many times we think we snuck past it undetected. Gran noticed that whenever she took the easy road, the one that seemed to lead downhill, before long she’d find herself right back at that same fork, or at least one that looked suspiciously like it.

She could keep going ‘round in circles – that was her favorite option for a while. After all, we get to pick our trail. We can drive uphill or down, on steep, rocky terrain or a smooth, dirt-packed road. But when we keep choosing the same leg at that fork, we grow tired of the slant of the hillside, and the ruts in the road grow deeper until just making it around that circle becomes an unbelievable struggle. When Gran reached the point she could no longer bear the idea of the same old road, she’d chosen the unknown.

Yes, that path led uphill. It also went through some long, dark tunnels that were almost more than she could bear. All the stale air in those tunnels must have messed up her odometer, Gran said, or at least her depth perception, ‘cause somehow she felt like each mile in that darkness took her much further than it measured in the light of day. That more than made up for the few times she’d thrown ‘er in reverse, ‘cause in her bones she could feel it – with each turn of those wheels, she was nearing home.

Now and then as Gran ascended this new road, she’d come around a corner to find the most beautiful view spread across the valley below. A chance to breathe and soak in the splendor: Just what she needed after that long, steep grade. She’d pull over and stretch her legs, maybe peel an orange or a chocolate or just relax for a bit.

Sometimes she’d sneak in a little hike, just for the fun of it. Over time she noticed her body was responding to all this exercise, legs and lungs growing strong, back and shoulders widening for the pack she always carried. She realized she could carry more, walk further, faster, climb steeper grades than ever before, without even getting winded. That’s how she knew she was growing.

She thought her mind had grown the most. She’d gotten a little wiser along the way. She’d learned to pack her bag well, leaving everything but necessities behind. The further she traveled, the less she needed. That toothbrush handle, why, that’s an extra three ounces… forget that!

She’d also learned how valuable the rules of the hiking road were: “If you can’t pack it out, don’t pack it in!” She’d learned to quit asking others to carry her pack for her, and to stop saying yes when others asked her to carry theirs. In the end this only exhausted her and weakened them, until she’d realized it was best to focus on her own journey, her own pack.

At first when others had asked Gran to carry their bags, eagerly eyeing her broad shoulders, she’d complied, feeling a little flattered. Even after she stopped that, she’d tried sharing what she’d learned on all those trails, but that never seemed to work well either, so she finally gave it up. She felt a little sad about that, but she knew it was highest good.

What she didn’t know, what I could see from a distance, was that several hikers were watching her, how she packed her bag, trimming weight here and there, heaviest stuff in the bottom for balance, light things on top, water bottle handy, and a rain cover over the outside. They were watching how she picked her trail, how she sighted her line of travel. And they began to do the same thing, at least when no one was looking. 

Gran just kept doing her thing, following her own path. When she had the chance for an overnighter, she’d build a fire, pitching her tent when rain threatened, gazing at the stars when it didn’t. In the morning she’d break camp quickly and methodically, minding her own business, unaware that eyes were following her movements, hands rolling and zipping to mirror her own.

Somewhere down the path she’d look up and smile, surprised to see a familiar face. She’d nod respectfully, then turn back to her trail as this new friend passed, moving quickly along his way, just like it was meant to be.

Every now and then Gran would strike out into virgin wilderness, to test new ideas, new equipment. It didn’t always go well, she was the first to admit. But again, as always: stronger shoulders, stronger back, stronger legs… and so it went.

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Starting next week – Chapter 8: You Have Reached Your Destination!
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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Come visit: http://www.facebook.com/marybatson2 | http://www.frontporchrambles.com

Going Home, Excerpt: Home Stretch (7XI)

Chapter 7 – Home Stretch

So, where were we? Oh yes, coming into the home stretch. At this point we tend to punch the gas a wee bit, eager to pull in and put ‘er in park.

But there’s one home stretch we tend to dawdle on. Our final trip to that Big Rocking Chair in the Sky sparks mixed emotions, ‘cause this going home means saying “see ya later” to all the homes we’ve had here – the ones we shared with friends and family, the ones that held our hopes and dreams. No matter how much we want to go, it can be hard to say goodbye.

This can be hard on everyone involved – not just the one who’s leaving, who at least has a new adventure to look forward to. For the ones left behind, it can feel hard ‘cause they’re still in the old adventure, and one of their favorite players just left the team. Sometimes that makes it hard to keep going, to finish the race.

It can be hard ‘cause this represents change. Gran said she’d never gotten very good at enjoying that. The thing with change – we don’t know what that means. And we’ve been socialized – oh boy, have we: Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. But is that true? I gotta say, in my life, sometimes what I found around that corner was a whole lot better.

We fight this change so hard we hold on much longer than is good for us. Sometimes because we don’t want to go for ourselves, sometimes because we don’t want to go for the ones we’ll leave behind. We know they’ll be sad and probably have to deal with some darkness until they figure out how to move on with their lives. We want them to move on ‘cause we love them – we may even tell them that. But we also know that most likely they’re going to forget this for a while. Sometimes a long while. And Gran said that was ok. It’s only human.

So we’ll hang around, dragging things out when we know it’s better to rip that bandage off all at once. Sure, it hurts like crazy. But Gran said at least then somehow the pain can seem a bit more bearable. She didn’t say how though. She didn’t always answer my questions, just like she didn’t always answer anybody’s questions. And for the same reason – she knew I’d have to figure out this one on my own.

This can feel especially hard when the person saying goodbye is young. When this happened, Gran would remind me of the saying about good people dying young. She suspected that might not be too far off, ‘cause when we’ve done our work the best we can, we’ll want to go home and take a rest – all this learning wears us out. So when someone makes this trip earlier than we’d like, Gran figured that meant this was just a fast learner – ready to move on, lessons complete. That didn’t make the goodbye much easier, but somehow the idea felt soothing, like a sip of peppermint tea on a hot summer day.

Sometimes we fear this journey so much we get stuck along the way. Halfway home, we can go no further, ‘cause that extension cord we’re hanging on to isn’t long enough. Or maybe someone roped the trailer hitch as we flew past, and there we are, dangling between here and there, lost in the darkness. There’s only one thing to do then, Gran said, and that is to lovingly and gently let go of anything we’re holding on to here, and to do what we can to help those left behind unhitch their end of that rope as well. They may not even be aware they’re holding on, but we’ll know it.

This applies to deaths of other things too – like the end of a relationship or a job, anything that means a lot to us. We go through this process consciously when we give up one thing to make space for another. Sometimes we know we’re doing this. Other times, Gran said, all we know is that something is going away, something has been lost, and we’re just hanging on for dear life.  

That’s when we have to be patient with ourselves and keep plugging away, following our path, even when it leads away from roads that have been a big part of our lives for a long time. Gran said it was very important to ask for guidance in these moments, to pray that highest good be served, and then to listen and watch for the stars that will lead you home. That’s when you learn to see in the dark, when you close your eyes and hold out your hand, trusting that Someone is there to take it, and then, follow your heart.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Come visit: http://www.facebook.com/marybatson2 | http://www.frontporchrambles.com

Going Home, Excerpt: Maintenance (7/X)

Chapter 7 – Maintenance

There are other things involved in traveling – like all the stops. There are expected stops for snacks and bathroom breaks, and sometimes there are a few unexpected stops, too.

In general, the more of the first we make, the fewer of the last pop up. If we stop every so often to stretch a bit and check the tire pressure, we’ll notice if one develops a slow leak. That’s hard to see if we sit strapped in place for twelve hours straight. Even then, we can choose to keep on driving without doing anything about it. We’ll wonder what’s going on later when the car starts pulling to the right, hopefully early enough to prevent a blow-out. Whether we stay alert enough to notice that first tug is up to us, Gran said. Either way, sooner or later, a bald tire will make itself known.

Preventative maintenance stops serve all kinds of purposes. Once pressing needs are taken care of and the gas tank is full, we can take a minute to check our fluid levels and wash our windshield. This is also a good time to make sure we’re still headed in the right direction. We might need to do a little recalculation. Or if our memory’s gotten fuzzy, maybe it’s time to pull out that picture of home for a quick refresher. And since getting there is half the fun, we may want to buy one of those little bobblehead dogs for the dashboard –they’re good company for the road.

If we don’t make enough of these stops, our car may start feeling neglected and demand some attention. And no matter how many stops we make, we still want to be prepared in case of an accident – in case something or someone gets hurt – maybe even ourselves. Depending on what happens, we may be fully prepared or we may be up a creek.

In this case there’s nothing left to do but set up those reflectors and start dialing for help. We can just stand there, holding our pride in our hands, but that won’t get us far if the transmission just fell out. Pride can be a heavy burden to bear, Gran said, and it can get awfully expensive sometimes.

We can treat our wounds while we wait for the tow truck. If they’re not too big, it’s best to leave scrapes and scratches open for sunshine and fresh air. Others we’ll need to cover with a bandage or two, to give ‘em time to heal in a protected space. Gran said this is like when we experience major life changes, when we need time to lick our wounds in private. It’s only natural, and not a process to be rushed. If we push too fast, we may get hurt again, even worse than before.

When it’s time to take those bandages off, we have several options on how to go about that. This being a five-year-old’s field of expertise, I wrote up a list of my favorites, to which Gran added a few thoughts.

1. Grit your teeth and rip it off as fast as you can. (This hurts like the dickens, but it’s fast if you’re feeling brave. – G)
2. Ask someone else to pull it off for you. (Like pulling someone’s tooth, this doesn’t always work, and sometimes it hurts even more.)
3. Pull up the side and poke around ‘til you see blood, then stick it back down. (That’s good for causing infections.)
4. Pick around the edges ‘til they start peeling up. Keep doing that ‘til the whole thing falls off. (Very creative. This may be the least painful option, but it takes a lot of time and energy.)

Gran had tried each of these herself and a few more I hadn’t thought of – she said pain can spark amazing ingenuity. Each is a valid choice, and each has pros and cons and consequences. We just have to pick which one feels right at that moment. If Technique #3 hasn’t worked well for us in the past, maybe we won’t use it next time.

The neat thing about all these rules is that there’s always an exception or two. For example, if you’re in a full body cast, Gran recommended getting some assistance with its removal – it can be a delicate job and probably requires professional help. Hammers don’t count, and neither does your well-intentioned neighbor with the hacksaw.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Come visit: http://www.facebook.com/marybatson2 | http://www.frontporchrambles.com

Going Home, Excerpt: Leaders (7/IX)

Chapter 7 – Leaders

Sometimes we travel in a team on our way home, picking a leader to guide the group. Gran thought true leaders are made, not born, as they pass through the fires of their own challenges. Whom we choose for this role is very important, she said, because their directions may mean the difference between a safe trip and an ugly one.

When selecting a leader, our truest guide will always be a healthy heart. How does this person feel? Next, test their directions. If everything feels right, keep on going, but never be afraid to question if something feels off or the person in charge falters. Even good leaders run out of steam. Either way, we’re responsible for whom we choose to lead us. And if democracy isn’t an option, we may want to reconsider the whole thing.

One nice part about traveling in a group: If you’re feeling a little off, you can ask for help. That’s when a good team and a good leader really comes in handy. If she knows the ropes, your leader can help you get started again, while the others cheer you on, and further down the road, you may be the one encouraging someone else.

A good leader helps each person grow and develop, although this may not look like the help we’re used to seeking. Hand-holding is limited, as true teachers show us our own strength, rather than encourage us to lean on theirs.

A good leader will know when we’re ready, and will also know when we’re not up for a particular challenge. In that case, depending on the possible outcomes, she may caution us to slow down or she may step back and let us learn this for ourselves. After all, a true leader is less concerned with being liked than she is with uncovering our full potential. She’ll do whatever it takes to facilitate this, although we may not care for her techniques until we recognize what’s really happening.

Never stop questioning, Gran said. Good leaders will never be offended by this, and if someone is, that’s a good sign you want off that team pretty darn quick anyway. Blind faith only gets you to the promised land if you’re following Moses and he hasn’t stopped to build a golden calf again. And remember: Group travel may be safer, but it’s slower in movement, decision-making and change. Traveling alone may be faster, but it carries higher risks. Only you can know which best serves your purpose and your abilities.  

And if you find yourself in a lead position, be sure and share Gran’s cautions with your team, in case you ever give out wrong directions. Remind everyone of the rules of the road, and ask them to make their own decision whether to stay with the group or strike out on their own. Then cultivate each person’s leadership skills from day one, so if you ever realize you’re no longer fit for the job, you can step aside and let a stronger person stand up.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
Come visit: http://www.facebook.com/marybatson2 | http://www.frontporchrambles.com

Going Home, Excerpt: Asking for Directions (7/VIII)

Chapter 7 – Asking for Directions

Getting lost can happen to the best of us. When this happens, we don’t need to be afraid to ask for directions, but we’ll want to be discerning about whose we follow, especially if it arrives unsolicited. When that nice man in a strange city eagerly directs us into an empty parking space directly below a No Parking sign, we may want to keep going.

Some strangers know about going home. They’re worth listening to, although they usually don’t talk much. Sometimes those who speak the least are really those who know the most, Gran said. You can recognize them by the twinkle in their eye. If you’re afraid you’ve gotten off your path, sit down next to one of these twinkly-eyed journeyers. Sit and be for a bit. Soak up those sparkles, like the smell of laundry fresh from home, where Mom has that special fabric softener you can’t find at your store.

Other strangers think they know, and down deep they really do, but their sunglasses may be a little smudged on the surface. Maybe they aren’t really sure, ‘cause they don’t remember enough about their own road. If they can’t find their way, how can they remember yours?

When well-meaning strangers share their directions, you’ll want to consider if what they’ve told you feels right. Again, just like that shortcut, check it against your heart. Does that ping come back with a wide open feeling of love? Or does it feel more like someone just stomped on your foot? If that’s the case, Gran said, it’s probably a good idea to let that advice just fly on by.

What if that person is lost and doesn’t know it? Strangers get lost too, you know. In fact, if this person is lost, maybe you can help him get back on his own path with a few words spoken in love. It never hurts to try, so long as we keep our egos in check. At the same time, you’ll want to pass on Gran’s caution to check whatever directions you share against his own heart. The road you walk may not be his, and it’s best we never forget that.

Sometimes when you’re lost, you may feel drawn to a specific person. This may be someone you can connect with, when others can’t hear you or seem to have any idea what you’re talking about. If you’re feeling this way and a stranger catches your attention, seek her out. She may be a friend sent to help you see the lights of home burning as clearly as you once saw them.

Are her eyes twinkling? Take a good look. That may not be a street light – it may be those home fires shining right on through to you. You’ll know ‘em when you see ‘em, Gran said.

Just remember to keep checking your heart as the road twists and turns, always make your own decisions, and you’ll be just fine.

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© Mary Batson, Going Home, Front Porch Rambles, and Gran’s Apple Butter Blog, 2010-2011. All rights reserved.
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