Sheep-hating 101

When I first sent my resume to a gal at Sullivan Higdon & Sink whom I had worked with at another ad agency, I really didn't know much at all about the company where I've worked for the last 10 years. So I did what any person who is serious about getting a job does ... I got online and researched SHS and learned everything I could about the agency. There were a lot of things on the company website that intrigued me, not the least of which was the company tag line ... We Hate Sheep. Now before those of you who are animal lovers get all bent out of shape, let me explain. SHS doesn't really hate animals of any kind; in fact, there are a bunch of us who are big on rescuing animals ... you might want to go back and read what my co-workers did to celebrate my 10-year anniversary. The We Hate Sheep mantra refers to the kind of advertising we create ... again, let me explain. Sheep are known for being followers, for all being the same, for not standing out from the flock. A lot of advertising falls into the sheep category ... it follows rather than leads, it's the same as all the other advertising, it blends in rather than stands out. So ... We Hate Sheep means that we at SHS do our best to create advertising that isn't sheeplike in any way.

I remember that I had to go through a couple or three interviews before I was offered my job at SHS, one of them being with a group of 12 or so people. I also remember that one of the guys who was part of that group walked in and said, "This is what we call the posse interview." And I remember thinking ... posse interview??? The only thing I knew about posses was that they generally were not good things for the person they were chasing in the old western movies I had seen ... it seemed to me that the person being pursued by a posse usually ended up dangling at the end of a rope. Obviously since I've been working at my job for 10 years, my posse interview turned out to be a good thing ... a really good thing. I've got so many memories from my 10 years at SHS, and my posse interview memory always brings a smile to my face.

It wasn't long after I started at SHS that I was introduced to something we call The 7 Ways ... seven tenants that we live by, our creed of conduct so to speak. I'm not going to list them ... if you want to know what all of them are, you'll have to come work with us at SHS. I do, however, want to talk about one of them ... one that has always been extra meaningful to me over the last 10 years, one that I've come to appreciate on a whole new level over the last few months. While it's meant to refer to the way we do business, I've come to understand that it's about so much more. It's not just about the way we work for our clients, though that is part of it. It's not just about the way we interface with one another and do our jobs, though that is part of it, too. It's not just about the way we treat each other within the walls of our building, though that is part of it as well. The biggest part ... the biggest part of it is about who we are inside ... the biggest part of it is about who we are as people.

So what is it, this tenant that means so much to me? Be pure of heart. That's it ... four small words ... be pure of heart. Small words with big meaning. Small words that invoke deep emotion. Small words that possess great power. Small words that can forever change a person ... be pure of heart. I'll be honest ... though I've known for years that I work with some amazing people, I didn't understand how truly pure of heart so many of them are until last year. But. I. Do. Now. I've been on the receiving end of some truly compassionate, selfless, loving, giving acts from the sheephaters of SHS over the 10 years I've worked there, but none so true, so deep ... so pure of heart as I've experienced over the last few months. Just today, four different people said things to me like, "Stay strong, girl," and "I just want you to be happy," and "I'm so glad you didn't follow through with your plan last year," and "It's a good day to take a picture of you for our Ellen montage." Yep, that Ellen. Some of the gals are trying to help me get on Ellen's show by taking pictures of my various Ellenesque outfits, and then they're going to put together a collage or montage or some sort of "-age" and send it to Ellen.

So here's the thing, friends ... it's not really about what my fellow haters of sheep said to me today, or what they've said to me in the past ... it's about the pureness of their hearts that I've seen demonstrated time and time again. It's about knowing that they really and truly care about each other ... it's about knowing that they don't just say the words "I care" ... it's about knowing firsthand that they wrap their hearts around those words and then they do something. They understand those four little words in a huge way ... be pure of heart ... be pure of heart ... be pure of heart.

In case I haven't told you lately ... thank you, my fellow sheephaters ... your pure hearts are having a big impact on my weary and aching one ... a great big old impact indeed. 

"The goal of this command is love, which comes from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith." 1 Timothy 1:5  

 

You Can't Be Sad

I've never been much on accepting dares ... well, except for that time I let those guys hold my feet while I hung upside down over the interstate and spray painted the overpass. OK, and that time I climbed the church steeple and draped a ... ummmm ... Confederate flag over it. And maybe the time the only liquid I put into my body for seven days was beer ... maybe. So last week when someone in my office double-dog dared me to wear suspenders to work every day this week, my reply was, "Hmmmmm ... I'm not much on dares." I wore khaki suspenders to work on Monday. And I wore navy blue suspenders to work on Tuesday. And I wore dark gray suspenders to work today. And tomorrow I will wear black suspenders. And Friday ... well ... Friday is a special day, so I think I'll let that day's color be a surprise. But I'm not much on dares ... nope, nope, I'm not.

The truth is the person who issued the double-dog suspenders dare to me last week had no way of knowing that this week would be a hard one for me ... a week when finding my smile has been an effort ... a week when I've had to dig deep every morning to fight the urge to pull the covers over my head and hide away in my house ... a week when that all too familiar sadness has threatened to overtake me once again. When the person said, "I double-dog dare you, Terrie," he had no idea ... no idea how much I would need to wear suspenders every day this week ... he had absolutely no idea.

I suppose it should no longer surprise me that God chooses to use so many different people in so many different ways to try and get my attention. Though it shouldn't surprise me, it does ... no, "it" doesn't surprise me ... He surprises me. It seems the more I struggle with where I fit with God, the more He uses people I don't expect to remind me that He hasn't gone anywhere ... that He is still there ... that He still cares. Those of you who read along with me (especially those of you who know me personally) know that my faith has taken quite a beating over the last couple of years. And so much more important ... God knows ... He knows ... He knows and He still cares enough to send some unlikely people to say, "I want to help you to find your faith again," "I talk to Him more because of you," "I'm going to church because I can't help you believe again unless I believe myself." He cares enough to use a double-dog suspenders dare to speak to me ... He does indeed.

I've said countless times since I first debuted my black suspenders at my office holiday party that a person can't be sad if he or she is wearing suspenders. I've even gone so far as to say it's impossible ... it's impossible to be sad and wear suspenders. My daddy used to always say, "You can get glad in the same britches you got sad in." Well, Daddy, you were right ... but only if those britches are held up by suspenders. You just can't be sad and wear suspenders ... you just can't be.     

Guest Blog Post # 2

So I tried to come up with some really clever title for posts from my guest bloggers ... obviously, I wasn't successful. Maybe because I'm tired today; maybe because I'm simply not that clever; maybe because the title for my first guest blogger's post back on December 31 (Be My Guest) really is the best title ever for a guest writer's post, and I can't top it. At any rate, tonight's post is written by a gal I met several years ago at one of my speaking engagements. She's got like a million kids and dogs, a husband, and an ill father whom she cares for every day. She has a giant heart and truly cares for other people in a big way. She writes amazing poetry, and she included a couple of her poems in her post tonight (which made me happy when I first read her post a few weeks ago). Read her words with your heart ... pay attention to her message, because it's a great one. 

"When Terrie first asked me to write a guest blog for her, I was thrilled and my immediate response was, “Yes, of course I will. What do you want me to write about?” It was, I’m pretty sure, at this point in our phone conversation that I was interrupted by one of my five children screaming, yelling, fighting, or needing something. (That happens a lot at my house actually… especially when mom is on the phone.) So when I was able to rejoin the conversation, the question had been left and we never quite got back to it. I have done a lot of thinking about what I would write about for this blog, but nothing really came to me for a long time. Then all at once at 2 a.m. on a Monday morning, it did come to me. I was having a conversation with another friend of mine and we were talking about how we see ourselves. I was telling my friend that I wished that I could show her what I saw when I looked at her. I realized that I had said almost the exact same words to someone else just two days before. That was when it hit me… why do we look at ourselves with such a critical mirror? Why is it that so many people around us can see the beauty and goodness in us and we cannot? 

This is a subject that hits close to home for so many of us, myself included. It is something that I have struggled with my whole life. In fact, I have written poetry about it that I have decided to share here. I am sharing this because I think that it is important for us, as human beings, to share with each other our struggles so that we can grow from knowing that we are not alone, that other people have the same problems. And maybe, just maybe, we can teach each other how to come out on the other side as better people. That’s the idea anyway. So here is a little look into my head and heart… maybe some of you have the same kinds of feelings. 
                                                                 Who I Am
  

It’s hard to know who I am really
I feel like I’m searching for this woman

A woman I am? Or will be?
All these things swim inside my head
Titles that name but do not truly encompass my identity

Mom… Wife… Daughter… Friend
Words that describe but do not define
Fat… Funny… Loyal… Possessive… Messy
To add all these things together
To sift through and find truth
That is the hardest job of all
What does it all mean?
I hope to be more than the sum of the words and titles

I hope to be real… someday


Reflections

Mirrors are not my friends
Cameras are scarcely better
At least the latter allows for choice
Mirrors that burn images into my head that I do not want to see
The only image that seems true is the one I see face close to the water and breathing
hard

She is as shaky as I feel
She is my truest reflection

Unreal and shaky… that is how I feel most of the time. So how do we come out on the other side of feelings like these? I think that part of it is in looking for our self-worth in different places. It dawned on me while thinking about writing this blog that there is no possible way to see your worth in a mirror.  That may sound so simple and obvious, but that is sure where we look to try to find it. We check our mirrors constantly to make sure everything is in place. That’s the problem… it isn’t our mirrors that can show us that… it is our hearts, our souls. It has to come from within. The Bible is full of stories about Jesus showing worth in those that society deemed unworthy. What if we looked to God to tell us if we were good enough? What if we saw ourselves the way our friends see us? The way our God sees us? I think that we would all be surprised at what we saw then... yes, I think we would certainly be surprised."

Watching Him Work

If you would have asked me when my sons were teenagers which one of them would become a filmmaker one day, hands down I would have said it would have been Matt. That boy was completely obsessed with the television show Dawson's Creek, and he dreamed of being just like Dawson Leery when he grew up ... a young man who wanted to make movies and become famous. But the dreams of youth are often just that ... the dreams of youth. Matt is now Dr. Matt and is a professor of family studies at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada. It's Bradley who grew up to be the filmmaker in our family ... it's Bradley who fell in love with making movies when he was young, and it's Bradley who honed his skills in college and now owns and manages his own film production company.

I spent a couple of hours last Saturday morning with Brad, watching him as he did some filming for a video project he's working on. I watched as he meticulously unpacked all of the lights, cameras and tripods he would need to get the shots he wanted. We chatted as Brad went about setting up all of his equipment, and I smiled several times as he checked and rechecked various items, getting everything set just right. As I watched my son go about his work, I thought, "He loves this so much ... this is what Brad was born to do." Born to do ... those are big words ... my son was born to make movies ... it's his calling, his destiny, his place in the world.

As I drove home after taking Brad and one of his friends to breakfast, my mind was filled with a million different thoughts, one crashing on top of another in rapid succession. I thought about how much Brad loved to pretend when he was little ... one day he was a cowboy, the next Spiderman or an astronaut or Dick Tracy. See, even way back then, Brad was making movies in his mind, constantly creating his own storylines as he played. My son has a gift for telling stories through film ... that's what makes him so amazing at what he does ... he can take a story and make it live and breathe and move and speak on the screen. From the first project he did for his video production class back in high school, I knew that Brad's talent was more than just talent ... he has a gift, a true gift.

Thanks for letting me spend the morning with you, bud, and for letting me watch you work. I'm proud of you, Brad, for so many reasons, but most of all for the man you've become. I've known it since I saw your first film, one of these days ... one of these days, son ... I'll be sitting on the front row at the Academy Awards, crying like a crazy woman when the presenter says, "And the Oscar for best director goes to Brad Johnson."

 
 

Cheese, Taffy, Soap and Love

It's been a while since I've been to visit my daughter and son-in-law in the town they live in about an hour and a half south of where I live. It's been a while ... actually, I haven't been to see them since last October ... the last time I was in their home was the day I went there to have that most serious conversation with them. As I drove there this morning, I couldn't help but think of something a friend has said to me many times since last fall ... "What a difference a day makes." Truer words have never been spoken ... what a difference one day really can make. I'll always remember that day in October, and I'll always remember it for one reason and one reason only ... love ... unconditional, unfailing love.

I think perhaps God meant for me to attend the church this morning that my son-in-law pastors ... I think perhaps He did. I don't think it was an accident that the first person I encountered when I walked into the sanctuary was a tiny person ... not a short adult, mind you, but a two-year-old little girl. This little gal had never seen me in her life, and yet she walked right up to me and reached out and touched my hand. I leaned over and chattered with her until someone more interesting to her appeared and off she went. My son-in-law Barrett greeted me with a warm hug and a kiss, and Meg beamed when she saw me and then made her way to give me a hug and kiss as well. Several other folks shook my hand or gave me a hug and welcomed me into their midst. I haven't been to church on Sunday morning, well, for quite a long time ... a long, long time ... and I must admit that I felt more than a bit out of place as I settled into my seat on the pew where Meghann always sits. But then ... then my daughter stepped into the row carrying that adorable tiny person who had touched my hand when I first arrived at church.

Those of you who read along with me know that I miss my granddaughter C.J. terribly. I want so badly to be able to hold her and play with her ... some days I just miss her so much. I think God knew this morning that a cute little girl sitting on my lap sticking a bottle of hand lotion under my nose and giggling as I scrunched up my face when the scent drifted into my nose would be like a soothing balm to my lonely Granny heart. Little Josie sat in my lap and grinned and laughed for several minutes, and though it was bittersweet for me as I thought of my C.J., I smiled and soaked in the pure joy of holding a little one ... a little one who was full of life and laughter and love.

Meghann sang a beautiful song before Barrett preached ... a song that made me cry, as I do almost every time I hear my daughter sing. It wasn't the song this morning that made me teary, it was all the memories that crashed into my mind as I watched and listened to my baby girl. Though she stood on the stage as a mature young woman, I saw her laying on my chest in the delivery room when she was born. I saw her in pink footie pajamas sliding down the stairs with her brother Bradley. I saw her standing on a chair making sugar cookies with my mom. I saw her sleeping on the couch with her beloved Cinnamon the wiener dog. I saw her all dressed up for senior prom. I saw her on her wedding day. I saw my daughter ... I saw my daughter in a completely different way than all the people sitting in the church this morning saw her ... I saw my baby girl ... my only daughter ... my beautiful baby girl who has become a beautiful young woman.

I have said since the first time I heard him preach that Barrett is one of the best preachers I've ever heard. He preaches straight from the Bible, something that many ministers have foregone in today's world. His sermons always speak to me, and this morning was no exception. The text for his message was Matthew 23:1-12, an interesting passage to say the least ... one that you should read and ponder on for a while. Jesus was kind of railing on the religious leaders and warning the people not to become hypocritical in their faith. I had never really thought much about the truth contained in those verses, but Barrett's insight into a couple of them in particular has made me think off and on all day about how many times I've missed the lesson that Jesus was trying to impart ... to the religious leaders of the day, yes, but to me as well. Being a follower of Jesus Christ isn't about the robes we wear or the length of the tassels on those robes ... it's not about how well we dress or the size of the Bible we carry or the amount of good deeds we do or how much money we toss into the offering plate. Being a follower of Jesus Christ ... a real follower ... isn't about how others see us on the outside, it's about how God sees us on the inside. 

To the mom of the little gal on my lap this morning, thank you for sharing your little one with me today ... it meant more than you will ever know. To you, Meg ... I love you so very much, baby girl, and I'm so proud of who you are and what you are doing. To you, Barrett ... you touched my soul today, young man, in a big way ... I love you, son-in-law, I truly do. Thank you for the way you love my daughter, the way you love God, and the way you love me. Today was a good day ... I went to church, ate lunch at the local diner and paid a visit to the coolest store ever where my kids bought me cheese, taffy and soap. Today was a good day ... today was a day of love, laughter and living. Cheese, taffy, soap and love ... it doesn't get much better, friends ... it doesn't get much better.