On being imperfect

I made an amazing discovery today.

I am stunningly imperfect. 

In a good way. 

I'd been walking through the woods in Branson (which is easy in Branson, since they are everywhere), pondering life, the universe and everything.  I'd just gotten off a phone conversation with one of my best friends, who had taught me a bunch about gratitude and appreciating life for what it really is.  I came to some rustically dilapidated ruins that looked like they could have been the remains of someone's attempt to build a porch in the middle of nowhere, on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Ozark hills and Table Rock lake.  I helped myself to one of the bent wood surfaces, hugged my legs, and leaned my head back against the dilapidated railing. 

There in front of me was the world.  Tiny weeds poked through the slats I was sitting on.  Gravel spread on the surface around me in someone's attempt to civilize this place.  To my right, the hill sloped steeply downward, only to zoom back up again on the other side of the small ravine.  The autumn trees covering the slopes were painted red, yellow, brown, and green in a way that can only happen in a Branson autumn.  Beyond and to the direction I faced were the waters that shine so brightly in summertime, but now reflected the deep dull grey of the sky.  Above, ravens circled and called to each other.  It was a classically flawed and beautifully telestial landscape.

Just like me.  And everyone else I've had the privilege of meeting on this journey. 

We are all imperfect.  And that, my friends, is the point. 

Think of it.  In all of eternity, you only get now to experience pain.  Or mosquitoes.  Or the irritating sensation of feeling so much for another human being but not having language to communicate it.  Only now do you get to experiment with arguing.  Or being sick.  Now you know what it is like to be late.  Or feel frustrated because you say one thing and do another. 

I'm all about the quest for perfection.  Anyone who knows me knows this.  Still, I'm finding that true "perfection" in this life comes from accepting what is - all the trials and fatigues of mortality - with all of your heart.  Only when you love what is can you really understand what can be.  The true joy of life is not in no mistakes, but mistakes with grace. 

To life, exactly the way it is! 

Today.

Reflections on November 7th

I woke up this morning wondering what I could do for my country. 

I have wanted to rush off and start a campaign, to create posters, to advertise on TV.  I listened to the voice that directed me, and It tells me to love myself, to start a family, to make sure I feel beautiful today. 

I have wanted to go and help and assist and provide for all of the people in need.  I was told to make sure I was confident in the direction I was going first.

I have wanted to start a business that will teach and change people to make millions so that I have influence, and push it through to completion.  I was directed to be like the Lilies of the Field, and that if I trust in the Voice, I will be provided for.

I have wanted to follow the path that the rest of the world points out to me – that of career, “responsibilities” (which is often only another way of saying “distrust” in anything higher than me to provide for me), and the “realities of life.”  I have been told that politics and business and the economy determine my destiny, and that I must fight these battles against other people in order to have a place in this world.  Instead, my directing Voice tells me that I am to be still – even in the world of 2012 – and I shall know who is God.

As I pondered these things this morning, wondering how it is that I can focus on small, individual things like this when the world is in such chaos – and even worrying that unless I join the fray, what I truly care about will be lost, when the following realization came to me once again:

It was not intended that we find a way to make ourselves free, happy, and prosperous on our own. 

Our human efforts, no matter how great they are, can never free us.  It was never intended that they could.  We have only two options.  We either serve the God of this Land, who is the God of the whole earth; or we serve something else.  If we serve something else, we will never be free.

When I say that I am committed to doing whatever it takes, to doing my part regardless of any cost, I really mean it.  Sometimes, though, more often than not, my part starts with being able to look at myself in the mirror today and say “I love you.” There are generals who would rather face an army of enemy tanks than do that.  But unless we are willing to do that, how can we possibly do any of the rest?  How can God guide and save people who will do anything for Him except receive His love? 

So today, and every other day, I am in it to do my part, now and forever.  I am not waiting until the next Presidential Cycle, or the economy to crash, or war to happen in my own or other lands.  I am in it to truly live in a way that the God of this land wants me to live, all the time, every day, today. 

You can

So, at last, I'm back, a repentant procrastinating blogger. :) I'm not making any promises - my life is far too exciting to say that I will never leave you so long neglected again - but here I find myself with a couple of hours on a Sunday when I have no other plans, so I'm taking advantage of the opportunity. 

I'll admit it.  I'm radiantly happy.  I feel a deeper and fuller sense of life now than I think I ever have ever.  I know who I am, and what I'm on this planet to do, and what I need to do to get there. I'm making more money and influencing more people for the better than I ever have before,  and I know Who I'm working for. It honestly makes every single day an adventure.  I was talking to my best friend and personal assistant the other day, and she said "I used to watch movies or read books of people who changed the world, and I wondered what it would feel like to be them.  Well, now I know." Touche. She hit it right on the head.  Yes, this may be the "calm before the storm," but I prefer to think of it as the "calm in the eye of the storm."  I know what it takes to do what I do because I'm already living it every day. 

Take last night, for instance.  I had the opportunity to do a presentation for a beautiful family in Ogden.  About half-way through, I felt a nudge to call out one of the young men in the family and invite him to do something he had been procrastinating for years.  I obeyed, and there before my eyes I watched him change.  Not just a little change, but a big, huge, powerful, destiny-shaping change.  It made everyone in the room cry, including myself.  I have so much confidence in him, and in the world because there are people like him.  I can't wait to see what he does.

I'm a big disbeliever in the idea that this world is lost, that there is nothing that we can do, and that we should just "grit our teeth and bear it." This is not the time for losing, this is the time for winning, and the people that we reach through our choices can be and will be affected forever.  So, dear reader of this blog, can you. 

Little (and big) things

The longer I live (and it is now the ripe old age of mid-twenties), the more I realize that it truly is the little things that make all of the difference in our lives. I know that is the case for me. Some of the most sacred and special experiences of my life have come when I was in the kitchen making potatoes for dinner, or waking up from an afternoon nap to help myself get over a cold, or especially when spending time with a child. It is the little things that help me move from fear to hope, mediocrity to greatness, doubt to perfect love. At this Christmas season, I'm learning again just how powerful my own "little life" really is, how much help I have to offer, how much my smile can uplift, how much courage God has given me to be able to do His work. I believe this whole world would change for the better if we all started to focus a little less on the big thing just around the corner and a little more on the "little things" of here and now. Like this blog. It is a little thing, but I keep writing because I care about you. As a good friend of mine says, "I love you big."

A key to life

Humility is not putting yourself down, just like it is not puffing yourself up. Humility is a dedication to the absolute truth, and the truth is that without God we are nothing, but with Him we are everything.

Mud

Five inches deep, maybe more. My toes gushed into it, and I felt a thrill largely akin to that of a five-year-old who gets to sink their hand into a bowl of brownie mix. It was almost the same color as well, and the texture of chocolate pudding. If I hadn't known better, I might have tasted it to see if the graininess was undissolved sugar. As it was, I watched the river run by on the other side of the rock that sheltered my gooey bowl of goodness from the full force of the current, and thought.

What a helter-skelter life this is. I'd finally resorted to the park - and mud playing - after several days of running around crazily trying to balance what one of my friends described as the "hundreds of spinning plates" of life. It seemed, especially yesterday, like the moment I got one going I had to run off to try to fix another, and by the time I got back the first one had stopped spinning.

I had just recently returned from a miraculous weekend in the mountains of Colorado. There, with three of my best friends, several dozen young people, and a smattering of ambitious adults; we crossed toxic rivers, saved lives, proposed new systems of education to the unknowing world, looked into each other's eyes, ate, danced, played, and generally found ourselves. As always, I came away with new best friends, new perspectives, and a new opportunity to find who I really am. I went into it feeling confident, and came out transformed.

Every time I take a group to do a youth conference, the members of my team challenge each other individually on ways we can each take things to the next level. We live by the motto that if we want the youth to become something, we'd better do it ourselves first. This time, we sat around a picnic table next to the lodge. There was a feeling of confidence in the group - two of them were veterans of this kind of event with me, all three had participated in the large youth conference I help with every year, and one had even been at last year's Colorado trip with me. We knew what we were getting into, and we were poised and ready for what the next few days might bring. After some small chat, I asked who wanted a challenge. K. asked first, and after a moment of pondering and inspiration, we gave him one that literally changed the dynamic of the entire conference. I have never seen one person's love affect the entire group quite so pointedly.

Then it was my turn. I asked, and S. thought for a moment, and then said "Don't talk." I know how that sounds, however, our trust was such that I knew exactly what she meant. I'd already told them how sometimes my weakness has been to step it up too much when that saygobedo voice tells me to be still. (strange enough for me, who used to not be able to say anything in a group!) I told her I accepted, and that I had a reciprocal challenge for her: "Take charge." There, just an hour before the youth were slotted to arrive, we switched roles. She was to run the schedule, make things happen, and communicate with the leaders, I was simply to inspire the youth, coach her, and have the time of my life.

Wow. The next three days were powerful, for me and for all of us. It had been quite a bit of time since I was not the "responsible" one who ran everything, made decisions, took the lead and delegated. It gave me an entirely different conference experience. Thinking back, my favorite moments include playing with magnets with four or five 13-year-old boys, letting them draw me pictures off of Pokémon cards, or sitting on rough ground and chatting while waiting to be led blindfolded up the hill during our simulation. I was able to love the moments and taste the pure joy of simple human interaction. I love being me, and being present.

Getting home, I thought I knew the way to keep that feeling forever. Then, the whirlwind of life struck me and I was caught again in the furious game of spinning plates. After two great days, a mediocre day, and a couple of really difficult days, I found myself at the riverbank, playing in the mud.

It had taken me about four hours to get to the point where I felt free enough to play. I’d been vision questing all day, seeking answers and direction for my life. In contrast to the Native American tradition from which the term comes, I didn’t have three weeks to spend fasting and praying in the wilderness for my “totem,” vision, and name to present to the tribe that I might take my place and identity as a man (or woman) among my people. All I had was six hours in the park, but I was determined to make the best of it. I wanted to know myself and my purpose so clearly that I could take myself and the people I lead to the place where they want to go – who we were meant to be.

I learned a great lesson from mud playing, and from the Colorado mountains, and from looking at Pokemon with a 13-year-old simply because he thought it was the greatest thing in the world. First, play is perhaps the most definite sign of maturity. It is only a truly mature person who chooses to enjoy the moment for the moment in the way that children constantly do. Many times, we get too caught up in trying to spin plates – and showing other people how many plates we can spin – that we miss the whole point. Life is not about spinning plates. Life is about living.

Second, I learned that the best things generally happen when we cease to worry about who is in the spotlight and start thinking about how we can serve. I had one of the best weekends of my life while helping my friend lead. Truly successful businesses and organizations follow this principle.

Third, I learned that direction comes to those who seek it. Heaven favors those who take the time to set aside the demands of other people and truly live. If you try this, you may just find themselves up to your knees in mud – and loving every minute of it.

Dear World,

To whoever may be reading this, I have a message:

I LOVE BEING ALIVE!

Life is so worth it. No matter how hard it seems in the moment, miracles are probably just around the corner. If my life is any indication, they are!

Love to you,

Emily