Prologue
It was just over a year ago that our funding ran out for the startup we planted in Colorado Springs. Though we knew the time was coming to an end, we didn’t realize the sponsoring agency was actually going to cut the project so quickly. About the time my Smiling Son was born, I was told we had 30 days to find a new position.
We had several offers around the country, but ended up taking a great post in Oregon. Unfortunately, all of our time and energy was consumed by the process of buy and selling houses, packing, and transitioning to our new home. Not to mention the time and energy it takes to give birth and nurture a newborn.
When we landed in Oregon, The Wife and I kept talking about how surreal it was. For five years we poured our hearts and souls into Common Ground. The people, the process, the friendships – this was our life – but suddenly we found ourselves 1200 miles away with none of that. It was hard.
It wasn’t until this past weekend that I was able to bring it all together.
We had been making plans to visit my BIL and his wife in Denver as they anxiously awaited the birth of their first child. The plan was to fly out the day after Christmas to allow enough flex in case the baby arrived late. We would have the added benefit of visiting all the family as they came in to see to see the baby – plus my brother, his family, and my Dad who live in Northern Colorado.
But, plans change. “Life is what happens when you make other plans,” said John Lennon so eloquently.
Two weekends before Christmas, we got the call telling us that Jennifer’s uncle, in Nebraska, had died. Fortunately, we didn’t have airline tickets for the Denver trip so we had a lot of flexibility. We wrapped up things at home, through a couple of tons of gear in the car, and headed out to Valentine, NE.
Over the past two weeks we’ve been able to spend time with friends and family all up and down the Colorado Front Range. But it wasn’t until this weekend that we were able to spend with our dear Colorado Springs Friends.
It has been a very healing time to see these people. This healing and nostalgia caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it. We saw friends in Pueblo who treat our Darling Daughter like their own granddaughter.
When our friend “Uncle John” picked up my daughter and pulled her close for a long, long hug – it brought tears to my eyes. She has no other adult male who does that for her – or shows that kind of unconditional affection for her.
We even got to ride on one of Uncle John’s many horses.
I was able to make amends with a dear friend who I had hurt badly. I was looking for that opportunity, but didn’t know if it would ever come – and the phone just wouldn’t be sufficient. It needed to happen long ago, but I needed to understand my deed first – I believe.
We stayed with good friends in Parker and very close friends in Colorado Springs.
Sunday morning we got together with about 25 friends at Mimi’s Cafe. It was good to catchup, exchange hugs, and share our journeys with one another. At the end of the meal, I got up and clinked my glass with a fork. These were the people I used to lead, mentor, and coach.
There was some closure.
Ending our gathering with nothing more than chit-chat just didn’t seem to be enough. So there, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, I made a little speech. There was some closure.
I feel like I can return home now. I feel like I’ve wrapped up my “stuff” here in Colorado Springs. We drove by our old house – and while it was good to see – I had no desire to be there again. We chatted with former neighbors. One couple is pregnant, another lady no longer needs a cane or walker, and the neighborhood looks just the same – Colorado brown with a lot of sunshine.
I spent some time with a neighbor across the street from our former house. The last night in that neighborhood, he shared with me the struggles with his alcoholic wife and the downward spiral of their marriage. Yesterday he described a saga of restraining orders, affairs, guns, arrests, and kids caught in the crossfire. I just listened.
I’m ready to go home. I feel like we’ve closed this chapter of our lives. Both of our kids were born here, we bought our first home here, and we poured our hearts and souls into the lives and relationships of this city. But we’re done. It wasn’t our choice, but it was – and we are.
Some of our friends continue to ascend, some are not.
This all caught me unexpectedly. I didn’t realize how healing this visit to Colorado Springs would be. I will treasure this weekend forever.
Two is Company, Three is…
Several years ago as The Wife and I were trying to start a grassroots spiritual community in Colorado Springs, we would often have people over to our house. In fact, we chose that house design for its ability to hold large groups of people. We threw our lives into social networking and community building and we had a lot of fun in the process!
As a certified introvert, and generally quiet individual, sometimes I had unusual challenges to overcome as we sought to build community. The Wife, on the other hand, is a social genius and her gift of hospitality is always appreciated by everyone. I learned a few things over the course of time, but only recently did some of it begin to make sense.
Though I liked these people, the situation was excrutiating
Often I would find myself sitting with three or four other men, while the women hung out in the kitchen. Though I liked these people, the situation was excrutiating. It exhausted me to sit in a room and “chit-chat” for what seemed to be hours. I soon learned that I could handle one or two couples, but three was too much for me. The Wife, reluctantly, agreed to not invite more than two couples at a time.
Now the weird thing about this is that I can work a party as well as anyone. Put me into a houseful of people, a backyard tiki party barbeque, or a club-like setting and I’ll do fine. So why can’t I survive a simple gathering of couples.
Last week, while surveying the beautiful, big-sky horizon of the Nebraska skyline, I had an epiphany: “Two’s company, three’s a crowd.” I’ve thought about that as we’ve been driving all over the midwest, and it began to make some sense, at least in my life. I realized that I do well in small groups with no more than two others. I can do well in larger groups, but I have to be careful – often I can become the dominate jerk that I’ve worked hard to get away from. So, instead of dominating the conversation, I tend to struggle with the chit-chat.
The reason I can do well at a party? It’s because parties are often no more than a large collection of small conversations. When one conversation gets boring, or I get distracted, I move on to another small group of people. If none of the smaller gatherings interest me, I can hang out in the shadows and take it all in – without giving too much of myself.
It is emotionally draining to me
What’s really weird about all of this is the fact that I regularly stand in front of 100-300 people and give presentations. How does that fit in? Well, first of all, whenever I speak to a crowd I am exhausted afterwards. It is emotionally draining to me. Second, the public speaking gig gives me permission to set the course and tone of the conversation, without being a jerk. So, I tend to take the topics to a deeper level – and that’s where my brain finds satisfaction.
And what about Twitter? I currently follow close to 400 people and converse with many on a regular basis, how does that work? Well, first of all, Twitter is a low contact sport. Second, it is more like the party scenario, I can pop-in, or pop-out of conversations at will – or just hang back in the shadows and lurk.
Unfortunately, for whatever it’s worth, I just don’t do the chit-chat thing very well. It’s something I need to work on, but I find it very exhausting. Interestingly enough, it is those who do well in the chit-chat scenarios that seem to do well in leadership.
Nebraska Cowboy
Aubrey Lord, 1922-2008
Occasionally we have an opportunity to meet someone out of the ordinary. Over the course of the last several years, I’ve had just such an opportunity, but I didn’t realize what an honor it was until just recently.
Aubrey Lord was a true American cowboy.
It’s been said that there wasn’t a horse that could throw him and in his day he was considered one of the best rodeo riders in North America. He was not a one or two event rider; in fact, he often competed in all rodeo events – including bull riding.
Aub is The Wife’s uncle. I first met him about eight years ago. He was not a talkative man – in fact, I’d be surprised if he spoke more than a paragraph a day. He was a hard worker and quite stoic.
While visiting the Lord Ranch last August, I was busying myself repairing the garage door. Aub came out to help me find a tool and during the course of the “conversation” I discovered that he was a WWII vet and as an infantryman he had walked nearly all the way across Europe.
But it wasn’t until I was officiating at his funeral last Thursday that I discovered what a great cowboy he was. A crowd of over 200 people showed up to honor Aub. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a collection of well-dressed cowboys in my life.
It’s a new day on the Lord Ranch
As I sat behind the podium listening to two of Aub’s friends tell stories about him, I was overtaken by a sense of honor. It isn’t often one gets to meet a man of Aubrey Lord’s stature.
Later, Aub’s son, J.B. Lord, a professional rodeo cowboy with an impressive record, was telling me about his father. He told me how his father really encouraged him to be a bull rider – and what it was like to ride a bull – and get thrown off of one! J.B.’s 15 year old son is also a rising star. The legacy continues.
I’ve grown up idolizing TV cowboys. Chuck Conners, James Arness, Ben Cartright, and others. But for this little boy in a man’s body, it was an honor to meet a real cowboy. I will treasure my memories of Aub Lord.
On the morning of the funeral I watched the sun rise over the sand-hills on the far end of the ranch. It was a beautiful sight. A flood of memories washed over my soul. I remember riding the 4-wheeler out amongst the cows with my then 2 year old Darling Daughter. I remember Aub telling me about what it took to raise Black Angus cattle. I remember rescuing an antique farming wheel from the dirt – it’s now propped up against a tree in my back yard. I remember being awoken by the lowing of cattle.
Those were good times. But it’s a new day on the Lord Ranch. I have witnessed the passing of an era.
Confessing my Dad Attitude 