Beyond the Duct Tape Fix

Enter: the new thing in life right now.  In June, my husband and I joined the Marching Ravens because that's what music teachers-who-are-too-old-for-DCI-and-too-nerdy-not-to-give-up-the-once-held-passion-of-performing-in-front-of-massive-crowds-of-unsuspecting-fans-who-thought-they-were-going-to-watch-a-football-game do.  Every game day, we arrive at the practice facility several hours before kick-off to practice the pregame and halftime show.  During this rehearsal, a brief incident (probably 15 seconds, max) took place that I've been thinking about on and off ever since.

A little background info, first: At the end of the pregame show, we form RAVENS on the field and launch into the fight song.  I stand at the top of the R which lines up with the rest of the other letters in line across the field.  The move immediately prior requires that I march in a backward diagonal leading into this line.  For anyone who has marched before, you know that keeping in the form trumps getting to your exact, assigned blade of grass on the field.  So if you're in a line or form that is moving too slowly, you sacrifice your exact destination for maintaining the shape.

So we were moving into this shape, but the line was about a yard closer to the sideline than it is supposed to be.  On the last step, several people in the middle (where everything is based off of) realized this and took a huge step backward on the last count.  Because I (and others close to me) had been in line but couldn't react to this compensation, we wound up being about a step closer to the sideline and slightly out of formation.  Now, this is practice.  It's the time to fix things and make final adjustments.  As soon as the song concluded, another band member stormed over to me and yelled, "You HAVE GOT to stay in LINE.  You are WAY too far forward!"  I expressed that I had been in line but couldn't react in time when the center of the line took a big step back on the last count of the move.  She swore, spun around, and went back to her spot.  

This woman has never spoken a word to me before, she isn't a section leader, and felt that, regardless of reason, me being a step out of formation was justification enough to walk 15 yards to loudly confront me about it.  I don't mind that she said something to me about it, but in mulling it over a bit more, I started seeing similar patterns. What is it that allows us to feel yelling at someone is an acceptable thing to do?

What is yelling anyway?  I'm not talking about calling the dog from outside; I mean angrily expressing one's point of view toward another.  It assumes fault based on personal perspective and conveys, "You screwed up, you inconvenienced me, you should feel badly, and now go fix it!"  Yelling dehumanizes the other person by devaluing them... and usually over something simple that really isn't that big of a deal.  I'm certainly not advocating for a coddling culture, nor am I suggesting that we habitually overlook things that should be corrected.

But what if we considered briefly, before opening our mouths, that the recipient of our words (and, perhaps more importantly, the tone of our words) is someone who has purpose and put thought behind their actions?  We would see the person as more important than the actions they do.  We might discover that the action we thought needed to be corrected is just a byproduct of incorrect thinking.  If we discovered this, we could more quickly get to the root of the problem rather than a duct-tape fix on the surface.  

...Though duct-tape is pretty amazing.

Of Writing and the Me Monster

Now that our house is back into the swing of the school schedule (it's more like a tire swing spinning around and around than a leisurely back-and-forth-pump-your-feet type of swing), I have been trying to prioritize the various aspects of my life.  What is energy sapping but worth it?  What is energy sapping and not worth it?  What keeps me going and brings joy to those around me?  What can I do with my time that blesses and uplifts my husband?

I decided in May that I wanted to build regularly writing into my schedule once the fall started up rather than just fitting it in when I felt inspired.  For a few years now, I have been tossing around an idea for a book on a subject that published media seems to be severely lacking.  It seemed like now would be a good time to build the discipline of regularly writing to coincide with this whole book endeavor.

In the two weeks that have passed, I have quickly realized the big temptation that is present when the idea is to capture thoughts into words on a topic that little has been written... With the eventual intent that others will read.  That temptation is to allow, as Brian Regan* so perfectly puts it, the "Me Monster" to influence my attitude.  The Me Monster manifests itself by suggesting, sometimes subtly, other times with zero subtlety, "Wow, you're pretty important, aren't you?"  "Yeah, yeah.  I AM pretty special.  I am sure something else, huh!" I don't mean to say that what I am writing is NOT important, but what is becoming more evident is that whenever we offer our own opinion on a given subject, whether through conversation, a blog post, a potential book manuscript, it can be easy to think much higher of oneself than is realistic.  Yes, what you have to say matters, but it isn't the end-all-be-all-trump-card of opinions.  Please pray that God would continue to grow me through humility.

*if you don't know what I am talking about, see the first minute or so of the following stand-up gem: