As I left work the other day, my friend Jenn said, "Wait a minute, your backpack is open," then she came over and closed it up. I sheepishly replied, "Oh. Thanks. Beth normally does that."
The fact that I can identify a person who zips up my backpack as I walk by her office, is pretty humiliating. I ride a motorcycle for crying out loud. I can't go zipping down the street with stuff flying out the back. What am I, 8?
I have some issues with attention to detail and follow through. So, when things like this happen, a word from my childhood comes crashing in on me, "Irresponsible."
You know those words. We all have them. They're the one's we call ourselves when we blow it... again. We heard them from parents, teachers, friends, well meaning people, trying to help us grow. We heard them with enough frequency we grew to accept them as the truth of who we are. Now we are our own accusers, defining ourselves by our limitations.
If we allow we allow ourselves to fixate on them, they become an overpowering, depressive self image.
Fortunately, I work with some great people and have an amazing wife. And they helped me learn a couple of things. The first is, they usually don't mind covering for my weaknesses. They kind of all have this "Jeff needs help," understanding.
The second thing is, they need help too. Do you know there are people who have no idea how to read a room? They can melt people's faces off in a meeting, then leave thinking, "That was a good talk!" Then I have to say, "Dude, you're backpack is open" and explain why he might want to have some followup conversations.
We all have weaknesses. We should know them so, in humility, we can acknowledge our need for help. We should do the same with our strengths, never minimizing how God created us. Accepting them can sometimes be difficult. But when we do, we are released to thrive in our gifting.
Meanwhile, we can work on our weaknesses. The day after Jenn helped me, I packed up to head home and carefully checked my backpack to make sure everything was closed up tightly. I was pretty proud of myself. I made it all the way to the stairs before I realized my wallet and keys were still in my office. Baby steps. Baby steps.
The fact that I can identify a person who zips up my backpack as I walk by her office, is pretty humiliating. I ride a motorcycle for crying out loud. I can't go zipping down the street with stuff flying out the back. What am I, 8?
I have some issues with attention to detail and follow through. So, when things like this happen, a word from my childhood comes crashing in on me, "Irresponsible."
You know those words. We all have them. They're the one's we call ourselves when we blow it... again. We heard them from parents, teachers, friends, well meaning people, trying to help us grow. We heard them with enough frequency we grew to accept them as the truth of who we are. Now we are our own accusers, defining ourselves by our limitations.
If we allow we allow ourselves to fixate on them, they become an overpowering, depressive self image.
Fortunately, I work with some great people and have an amazing wife. And they helped me learn a couple of things. The first is, they usually don't mind covering for my weaknesses. They kind of all have this "Jeff needs help," understanding.
The second thing is, they need help too. Do you know there are people who have no idea how to read a room? They can melt people's faces off in a meeting, then leave thinking, "That was a good talk!" Then I have to say, "Dude, you're backpack is open" and explain why he might want to have some followup conversations.
We all have weaknesses. We should know them so, in humility, we can acknowledge our need for help. We should do the same with our strengths, never minimizing how God created us. Accepting them can sometimes be difficult. But when we do, we are released to thrive in our gifting.
Meanwhile, we can work on our weaknesses. The day after Jenn helped me, I packed up to head home and carefully checked my backpack to make sure everything was closed up tightly. I was pretty proud of myself. I made it all the way to the stairs before I realized my wallet and keys were still in my office. Baby steps. Baby steps.
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