Beneath the Snows

"When the night is cold and lonely and the road has been too long
 . . . just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snows,
Lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring becomes the rose."
~Amanda McBroom, "The Rose"

I've been dealing with a lot of grief lately -- it's been one of those years. Things have been happening in my family that have been pretty hard, and while I know there are others who are dealing with much greater difficulties than mine, the grief is there just the same.

Grief affects each of us differently, it seems to paralyze me. The smallest tasks feel way too hard, and I don't have much interest in doing them. If it weren't for deadlines and appointments, I probably wouldn't get any work done. (I kept trying to get to my blog here and just couldn't seem to attend to it.) Days pass slowly, and I use all my energies to keep the grief from overtaking everything completely. 

I think of songs like "The Rose" quoted above and try to remember that even this grief is just for a season.

But then Christmas time started happening and all around me were decorations, lovely Christmas lights, and for me, the advent focus on celebrating the birth of Christ.

When I encountered carolers outside my grocery store, they were singing of another Rose, a flower that came "amid the cold of winter," a flower whose fragrance "dispels with glorious splendor the darkness everywhere" (Lo How a Rose E're Blooming).

And I remembered again that I do have a Light -- even in the midst of my grief -- one that has nothing to do with my own self. A light that is here for me even without my asking for it. A hope that transcends anything that may be happening in my world. I felt so thankful to know that.  

I think regardless of what you might believe about the deity of Christ, the fact remains that Jesus did bring a message of peace when he came into the world: about loving your fellow humans beings on this earth, about hope for having peace in our own hearts. And for those who do believe in Him, a message about being loved by God in a way that is beyond human comprehension.

Taking that in once again this Christmas was truly a gift for me.  

I smiled at the thought of changing "The Rose" lyric above to "with the Son's love" because I believe His love for us will be the way my family and I get through our grief, and what will allow the seeds of hope that lie beneath our winter snows to flower.

So today, as I say goodbye to the difficulties of this year, I'm not trying to conjure up some motivational speech to tell myself about starting a new year. I'm quietly sitting with where I am -- grief and all -- and with the blessed assurance of an unfailing Light, Hope, and Love. 

Wishing you light in the darkness and hope when you're lost,
Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

The Bow

It's been a month since my last post. The first couple of weeks I was traveling -- seeing family and sharing happy times with them. I thought I could post while I was away, but that proved to be unrealistic for me (still finding my way through Blogland it seems). Then soon after I got home, one of my family members was in a car accident and that has consumed my time and thoughts as well. So, again, no posts .

Now this is me persevering and trying to get back on track . . .

Experiencing all this family interaction though made me think about families in general and all the dynamics that are part of a family's culture. More specifically, about family roles.

People in families tend to assign specific roles to one another, especially as the family is developing. We hear it all the time: "she's the baby," "he's the cut up," "he's the serious one," "she's the ringleader." Before too long, we become aware of the role our family has assigned us  -- one that we may or may not like -- and we find that we are always laboring with that image in the family dynamics.  We are either enjoying being seen that way or we are constantly trying to break out of it. This not only happens within our family of origin, but with new in-laws as well.

It's also a phenomenon in other family-like situations too -- a group you may belong to, an organization, even an on-going class in which you participate. You start out being how you see yourself and then discover others have determined the role you'll have in that group. It's a natural thing that we all do -- it's one of the ways we try to deal with a group, how we organize and process our own interaction with other members.

This can prove to be pretty frustrating though, and at times, discouraging (especially if it has gone on for years), because at the heart of the matter is the disappointment that others are not really knowing you. A legitimate feeling because once people pidgeon-hole you somehow, they tend to keep you that way and may not allow new information to reshape their image. So much of what's inside the person themselves goes into those decisions --  positions, perspectives, our own needs and motives, and perhaps even a modicum of personal identity struggles.

Although we may feel like a salmon swimming upstream at times, the trick is to not allow those assignments to dictate how we behave in life. For example, just because someone may not see you as a person with serious thoughts or ideas, it doesn't mean you should quelche the ones you have and not keep trying to express them in that context. Or perhaps they may not see you as particularly skillful at something, but if you want to volunteer to do the job, you still should. The truth is, you are who you are and that's a fact -- no matter how someone else sees you.

I think about this sometimes when I'm sitting in the bow seat at rowing. The bow of the boat is the front; it is the part of the boat that crosses the finish line first and where the racing numbers of the boat are displayed. The coxswain (the person commanding the boat) faces forward to the bow, and seats are numbered beginning with the bow seat (#1). Yet, because the rowers themselves sit backwards, they invariably refer to the bow as the "back" of the boat, or to the rowers in the "back" of the lineup. While this is accurate when speaking relative to the rower's back, the fact remains that the bow is the front -- the forward part -- of the boat.

We need to remember this in dealing with our family (or group) roles. We need to see that while we may not ever overcome those assignments (just as I've no doubt rowers will ever stop calling the bow "the back"), all that matters is the truth of ourselves and determining how we want to define that role in the context of who we truly are. 

Family dynamics are pretty complex things, but if we have our facts straight, we can find a clear picture of what we want to believe in dealing with them.

Wishing you great moments of discovery with your own family,
Kay
www.confidentconflict

Results

I had a good day yesterday. Many things went well, work was very productive and I had fun in my leisure time.  As I was falling asleep last night, all I could think about was "how can I recreate this good day again tomorrow?"

It's really great when something seems to work; we always feel the pull of wanting to keep doing what we've done before. However, when people come to me for conflict coaching, it's because they aren't happy with the status quo -- they want to do something different. The way they are handling relational difficulties isn't working for them and they want to make a change.

The source of this dissatisfaction can sometimes be a particular person, a specific conflict, or perhaps a negative pattern they see in their own behaviors. Regardless of the motivation, the desired result is the same.

When it comes to dealing with relationship issues, we really don't want to essentially keep having the same fight over and over (but experts say this is what we do). The best thing is to develop new behaviors so that we can actually change the conversation. Rather than learning what to do in specific circumstances, if we change ourselves, we can successfully maneuver in any context.

Sometimes clients are interested in a quick fix, not necessarily in making a lasting change, and it takes them a little time to make this paradigm shift in how they view the results of their efforts.

Of course, the best pitch for this viewpoint is employing a new strategy and experiencing the difference it makes as we interact with others. Just as I was delighted to have a day that worked so well for me (and wanted to repeat it), we are encouraged when we discover something that 'works' for us in conflict.

But what about those results? How do we measure our success in this effort? When we're talking about human behavior, we need a different measuring stick.

The best part about this is when the focus is on you -- on your being different in a relational situation -- then any improvement, anything you do differently is a successful outcome. If you stay calm five minutes longer, if you stay in the conversation without cutting the other person off and walking away, if you listen for one more clue about how the other person's feeling (or even spend time caring about that when you usually don't!), you have been successful.

If you are trying to be better in a particular situation right now -- if you're trying to do something differently -- I want to exhort you in this. As I've written before, movement is progress. Think about what you used to do -- and something more that you do now. Celebrate. Realize your results -- and try to do it again.

Wishing you happy successes in finding what works!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Keep a'-Goin'

"The question isn't who is going to let me, it's who is going to stop me? " 
  ~Ayn Rand

I only recently discovered this quote even though it's been around for a long time. When I did a brief internet search, I found that many people have written comments about their reactions to it. I, too, found it to be very thought-provoking, and rather inspiring, as I considered the perspective it offers. 

Those who have gone before me have already discussed the idea that often the answer to the "who is going to stop me?" part can very likely be, "me" -- that we can be our own worst enemy in this regard.

I've realized though that I don't really think so much about whether or not someone will let me do something, nor am I too daunted by obstacles that might prevent me from moving forward. My struggle is simply trying not to stop -- in other words, to keep going.

We can get so weary at times traveling along the roads we choose for ourselves, and it is part of the human condition to want to stop: to cease an activity, to put an end to an action, to discontinue. 92 years ago, a gentleman named Frank Stanton wrote a poem entitled "Keep A-Goin." He was a Georgia boy and had his own way of urging his reader to sing when you feel like sighing and keep a'goin' (if you've ever seen an old Dick Van Dyke show with guest star Henry Gibson, you've already heard the first stanza of this poem).

The truth is the absolute sure-fired way we will not reach what we hope for is to stop -- to abandon our desires and give up -- to stop moving forward, stop taking action. The good news is that it is also true the decision whether or not to stop is completely up to us. 

I've been dealing with some health issues this week and have been finding it particularly difficult to resist stopping on so many levels. I kept thinking about this post though, and of how much I do want to cultivate this in my own life. 

So I'm going to join the ranks now and say, not only to you but to myself as well: 
Don't Give Up.

Don't give up on trying to be the person you know you want to be.
Don't stop being the mother you want to be, or the spouse, or brother, or friend.
Don't stop working for the family you want to have, or the business, or the ministry.
Don't stop pursuing what you know is the right thing to do.

Remember 100% of the decision to continue is yours -- yours alone -- and whatever efforts you make will bear fruit in due season, if you'll just keep a'-goin'.

Cheering you on!
Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Monday People

One Monday Morning Sky

On Monday mornings I get up earlier than usual, get some coffee, and go for about a 3-mile walk. I have a particular route I take on that day and through the years I've seen many of the same people as I travel on my way: gardeners out trimming bushes and working on landscapes, shopkeepers coming to work, the repairmen at my local pool store getting ready for their Monday house calls.

This past Monday though, the weather was bad and I didn't do the Monday routine til Tuesday morning. I thought for sure I wouldn't be seeing the folks I typically see on Mondays, but it turned out that many of us didn't get to do our Monday activities -- we were all in the same boat. We remarked how odd it was to be doing these things on Tuesday and how we felt a day behind in starting our week.

That day seemed to set the tone of the whole week for me -- things have just been odd and out of focus! I've been turning right when I meant to turn left, going out of doors I was supposed to go in, getting all the way home and realizing I didn't drop off the mail at the post office. It was even the week of this month's Blue Moon! (the second full moon in August.) I had to keep reminding myself what day it was when I looked at my planner so I could keep my appointments straight, and yesterday I completely forgot to write my post for this week.

Scientists tell us though that shaking up our routine is good for our brain -- it actually nourishes it. Engaging in activities that make us think harder promotes brain health. The more we can change behaviors that have become rote to us (like how we arrange our daily activities or where we sit in our living room), the more we stimulate our brains. Alternating the hand we use to complete simple tasks from time to time is another suggestion. (Of course, when I do that I just feel uncoordinated.) 

I'm not too sure when I'll be able to get back on track. Since this Monday is the Labor Day holiday I'll probably be off a day again next week, so I may have more times of brain exercises ahead of me. But in my frustrations and my "do overs" (and being late for appointments), I guess I'll try to see the situation as something good -- for my brain at least.

I'm going to try to remember that every once in awhile we do need to have crazy weeks like this (sigh), that it's a healthy thing to be feeling like my brain is being taxed, and that sometimes, Monday people just have to do things on Tuesdays.

Happy September!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Keeping Our Balance

I've been thinking a lot about balance this week -- balance as a state of equilibrium. Balance can refer to bodily equilibrium or to mental steadiness and emotional stability. It has also been defined as a state of rest.  

Mostly though, I've been thinking about maintaining balance. 

If you've ever tried to keep your body balanced while standing on one foot, or walking on a curb as if it was a balance beam, or even trying to ride a bike with no hands, you know that while you may first establish your equilibrium with both of your arms out to the side, to maintain the balance as you go forward, you start moving your arms up and down -- each one a little differently -- to whatever degree you need. You are constantly aware of making these necessary movements.

Have you ever noticed that you only need to make small adjustments to do this? You only move your arms slightly. In fact, if you make too big of an adjustment, it can actually throw you off balance. (I will leave it to the scientists out there to explain the physics of all this.) 

Furthermore, experts tell us that if we want to improve our balance, we should focus on strengthening our core muscles -- the ones located in our torso -- because these are the muscles that provide the support for the spine and pelvis. In other words, it's really not how we use our arms that is the primary key to maintaining our balance, it's how we use these core muscles to hold our torso steady. 

Keeping our balance in relationships is quite similar to maintaining our bodily balance. When we experience equilibrium in a relationship -- both internally for us as individuals, as well as between us and the other person -- we enjoy that state of rest and our relational interactions are good. But frequently something knocks us off balance -- a look, a remark, an unexpected emotion -- and our stability is compromised.

What's interesting is that when we experience being off balance in this realm -- when that mental or emotional stability is affected -- small adjustments feel counter intuitive to us. In that moment of sudden instability, our first instinct is to make a huge gesture -- something with a lot of power behind it. We quickly discover that the big reaction does nothing to help our equilibrium, it only pushes us more off kilter, sometimes even in the opposite direction!

I recently experienced this myself when my emotional equilibrium was thrown off in a couple of conversations. My adjustments were too big and I saw they took me where I didn't want to go with my interactions. It also required considerably more work to get things back on track and created additional dynamics for me in trying to regain my emotional balance.

If we understand the law of small adjustments, we can learn how to temper our reactions. We can see that we don't need use as much emotion in our words when we say them, or to go on the offensive so strongly. We can recognize that the small adjustments to maintain our personal balance can contribute to keeping the balance in the bigger relationship picture.

Also, the remedy for improving our mental and emotional steadiness in these conversations is the same as the body work: we strengthen our core -- the innermost, essential part of who we are, the truths in our hearts and minds that can keep us steady in those moments. If we learn how to strengthen our core abilities, we can find ways to keep our composure and cultivate a habit of calm behavior.

When I went to rowing practice early this morning it was still dark outside; the black sky was full of bright, glittering stars. As we practiced though, the sun came up, causing all of those beautiful stars to disappear. It was somehow comforting to me to know that they weren't really gone, but only that the elements of the day had altered my seeing them.

Just like those stars, our core abilities for our own equilibrium are always with us. In the times when we're not seeing them, we just have to remember they are there and go to the place of using them as that primary key to keeping our balance. In the meantime, it's good to know the pathway of small adjustments can help lead us there.

Here's to your trying some small adjustments this week!
Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Gratitude

This week I'm going to do things a little differently -- I'm going to use my post to write to some specific people in my life.

Yesterday I enjoyed the blessing of being a guest on Marnie's Friends, a Blog Talk Radio show. It was the first time I'd ever done anything like that and I was feeling the normal emotions that surround anticipating an unfamiliar encounter.

Prior to the show, I spoke with and emailed my family and some friends to let them know about the upcoming event, but mainly I wanted to ask for their support and prayers in this new adventure. 

Of course, being the dear people that they are, they called, emailed, and texted to let me know they were cheering me on. Their messages -- written and spoken -- were ones of encouragement and confidence, and with every one I could feel that support. (A few of these people even gave hours of their time to help me prepare!)

When I began this blog, my very first post talked of how I'd been feeling about beginning something new and jumping from the known to the unknown. I made the remark, "There just doesn't seem to be any bridge to take me easily across the divide between my comfort in the known and my total lack of experience . . ." 

This week, these marvelously thoughtful people were that very bridge for me.

On the actual day of the show as I was utilizing all my strategies to "gear up" for the occasion, I became keenly aware of that divide again. So I recalled their sentiments, reread their emails and texts, replayed their voicemails, and received the new communications of their thoughts for me on that day. I let all of their words wash over me and flow into my heart.

As I did this, I could feel the bridge being constructed -- I could feel all their kindnesses lifting me safely across that divide.

Words fail me here in describing the depth of what that meant to me, but words are all I have, and through this blog, I also have a way to publicly speak of their goodness to me. Maybe in knowing this heralding is being published on the internet, they will somehow understand the level of honor I'm longing to express.

So to each of you, Dear Wonderful People of My Heart,

Thank You!

Know that your effort was no small feat; it absolutely hit the mark.
Know that I truly couldn't have made the leap without your faith in me; your support carried me through.

And know -- above all else -- I shall forever be grateful.

Love to all of you,
Kay     

Being You

I've been working on a project this week that has really been challenging.

Challenging, in part, because I'm just learning how to do this particular task, but mostly because I ultimately need to do it in a way that is authentically me.

This is a tricky situation because when you don't know how to do something, you generally seek out the instruction of others who have gone before you and try to follow their footsteps, learning their principles of success. But, confusingly (for me), what keeps popping up is often their biggest success principle is that they blazed their own trail. (sigh) 

Frequently, we hear the advice, "be yourself" or "pay attention to your own light," or even "follow your passion." You'd think that would be simple to do, easy advice to follow. But I haven't found that to be the case. I hear myself responding with thoughts like "well, who in the world am I?" or "I don't even know what my light looks like!" or "What the heck is my passion?"

I have come to the conclusion that "being you" can be a pretty tough trail to blaze.

As I was struggling with all this, one of my devotional readings this week was the biblical account of David and Goliath (1Samuel 17). Many people have heard this story even if they're not Christians.  It's about a young man -- a shepherd -- going up against a great big fella, Goliath, in a battle between the Israelites and the Philistines. Goliath was a formidable combatant and very intimidating to all the armies. Anyway, David ends up fighting him in the name of his Lord with only a slingshot and stones from a nearby stream -- and kills him, much to the astonishment of all.

Now, the part I want to get to is this: As David was readying himself for the battle, the Scripture says that Saul, the king, put his own armor on David, along with his helmet and sword; then David took some time to walk around in it all and see how he could maneuver because he wasn't used to fighting with all those things on him -- some translations say "he hadn't tested them." But then, David took it all off, declaring he could hardly move and that these were not proven weapons for him. So he picked up his shepherd's staff, his slingshot, and the stones to arm himself for battle.

Even though the king (and probably many of the other soldiers all around him) was in essence saying to David, "this is how you fight this guy -- you need armor, and a helmet and a sword -- (which was fine because they were experienced soldiers and these weapons were proven to be successful for them in battle), when it came time for David to face Goliath himself, he had to rely on what he knew worked in his own experience -- even if it meant doing something different from the advice he'd been given.

As I was reading this, it dawned on me that was exactly what had been happening with me in this project. I'd been trying to walk around in someone else's armor -- trying to use someone else's weapon of choice in fighting the battle for success. I saw in David's courageous decision to stick with what he knew from his own experience -- what he had already tested for himself -- the way that I had to "be me" in this project.

David grew up herding sheep -- he'd fought his own battles and learned a thing or two --
and even though his battles were not among armies, but with fierce animals that were threatening his sheep, he recalled his experiences and had no doubt about his strengths. As I saw this, I realized I had been trying so hard to learn what I didn't know that I completely forgot to notice what I did know!

Now here was something I could get a handle on! I could think about what kinds of things I already knew worked for me -- and what didn't -- what things helped me be my strongest self, and what made me feel weak or insecure. I could "try on" everyone else's armor -- their advice, their rules for success -- and if I couldn't "walk around" in some of them, I gave myself permission to lay them aside and to truly identify my own "slingshot and stones."

God was with David in facing Goliath that day -- and David's greatest faith was in His power. It is my faith for my project that God's presence in it is my greatest power for success as well.  I also believe He has somehow put proven weapons of my own in my hands.

I'm sure this will be an on-going journey for me (and I will undoubtedly blog in the future about variations on finding myself!), but for this week I learned what I needed to: that it is essential to trust what I have already learned in my life, and to make the courageous decision to behave in ways already proven to be a fit for my greatest strength.

It remains to be seen whether or not my project will be successful, but either way, I am delighted to know I'm one step further on the path to being me.

Wishing you "David" moments of being you this week!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Light

One summer when I was in college, I had a friend who was from Texas. He played football for his Texas college team and had a warm, Texas-size heart. 

We knew each other because our fathers were Army officers at the time stationed at the same Post. When we went to our respective homes for summer break, we met and became friends. I really enjoyed hanging out with him -- he seemed to make everything fun.

One evening we were walking to the Post movie theater and decided to take a short-cut though a small forest. There was a lot of moonlight that night, but as we moved through the thick of the trees he took my hand as if to guide me, and then he told me, "Only step where the light is -- you don't know what the dark places are."

Neither of us realized the life wisdom he was imparting to me in that moment. His instruction that night to step with care, to only move forward with the sure-footedness that came with clearly seeing the illuminated places ahead of me, has often been my inward counsel as I have tried to navigate my way through what seemed to be the "forests" of my life.

Of course, the concept of light for one's steps isn't new, much has been written and said about the topic. The Bible talks about the ancient practice of using foot lamps to light a path with each step, and a well-worn book of mine is Stormie Ormartian's, "Just Enough Light for the Step I'm On." My friend's advice, however, feels subtly different to me, because it is not so much about what the light is going to do, but more about how I am to move in relation to the light.
 
That summer night in my desire to keep up with his stride, it was very tempting to just go ahead and step in the dark places even though I knew he was right (one of them could have been a hole!). I wanted to move faster -- it slowed me down to look for the light first. I had to resist my impulse and exercise some discipline.

I think this restraint is hard to come by in our own life's journeys: to be patient when we want to move ahead, to wait for something to illuminate where we're going -- that next insight, new knowledge, or the counsel that is to come our way. We may feel pressure from people around us to take a step of action quickly (or perhaps internally we think we ought to be doing something more to move forward). It might even be hard for us to admit that we can't see the next step.

But it isn't good for us, and it's not good for our situation, to move ahead blindly -- to step where it's dark. We need to believe that it is wisdom to only operate in that clear vison light can bring.

There's a confidence that comes from stepping where we can see. I recognize that feeling. I recognize the absence of it too -- the anxiety, the sense of blindness or confusion, the insecurity of not knowing if that darkness holds solid ground. I myself have come to believe in the importance of this principle of moving in the light and in resisting the temptation to behave to the contrary.

We need to pause until the light comes -- for come it will. In the quiet waiting, in the searching, in the praying, it comes.

I want to encourage you today to understand the truth in this. When you can't quite see what to do next, when that step is in darkness, but you're feeling some sense of urgency to move ahead anyway -- stop for a moment, take a deep breath, and be still.

Then, for whatever amount of time you need -- unapologetically -- wait for the light.

Here's to your finding light for every step!

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

You'll Be Fine

I have a terrific rowing coach.
She is a teacher by profession, and is quite focused when it comes to our practices. She always has a plan for how she is going to push us to higher levels in our rowing development, and her self-assurance consistently comes across in her work. Nothing seems to rattle her. 

In observing her coaching, I've noticed a particular behavior of hers. When she engages our team in a new challenge and encounters an insecure hesitation on our part -- stemming from either a novice rower's lack of confidence, or a seasoned rower's uncertainty of the challenge -- she says to us, with a calm, steady voice, "You'll be fine."

She doesn't say it dismissively or in a patronizing way. She simply states the words as fact: "You'll be fine." With these words, she simultaneously communicates her belief in our abilities and the conviction of her experience that tells her this is true. Even if we are unsure about what's going to happen, her confidence is so strong, we trust her and move forward. And you know what? We are fine.

When this happened again the other night at practice, it made me think of a time I experienced an event that threw me into turmoil. The rug had been pulled out from under my feet and I couldn't seem to steady myself. Then a friend of mine spoke similar words to me; he said, "Kay, everything is going to be alright." At that moment, I could feel peace coming into my body -- almost involuntarily. I don't recall whether or not I believed what he was saying, but I do remember the difference it made for me to hear those words from him.  

I think sometimes we just need to be reassured about what is to come -- to be told that we're going to be ok -- because in the moments of upheaval, uncertainty, or heartbreak, deep down inside we are so wanting that to be true. But it is beyond what we can think for ourselves. We need someone else to believe it for us. We need them to do what my coach does -- to draw on their experience of the bigger picture and impart their confidence to us.

Generally in these times of doubt, I am most comforted when I sense God reminding me it is His constant presence and unconditional love that will make everything alright. I also experience tremendous comfort in the reassurance of another human being.

Today you might be in that place of uncertainty from being challenged to a new level, or maybe your life has become completely undone. If this is so, please allow my words to reach inside you and strengthen you in moving forward. Although the answers for your situation may not be currently visible to you, what I do know of life -- and the faithfulness of God -- permits me to follow in my coach's footsteps and tell you that somehow, when all is said and done, you'll be fine.

Wishing you people in your life to believe this for you,
Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Hurricanes

I live in Central Florida where hurricanes are a fact of life. 
Every year from June through November (hurricane season), the possibility of these storms invades our everyday existence.  

Initially, the idea of a hurricane was pretty disturbing to me -- this massive storm, full of power and energy, descending upon my home. But that was before we moved here. Once I came to Florida, I discovered a few things.

I learned that our meteorologists start tracking the storms when they are far away in the Atlantic, so we know several days in advance when one is coming. I learned that all the various weather conditions can be predictors of the storm's path, so we can have an educated guess where it might make landfall, and I learned there were things I could do to effectively protect my home and family. 

This was good news to me. Somehow it made me feel less at the mercy of nature and the possible turmoil that came with the storm. I could prepare; I could learn some good practices, and certainly, with each hurricane I experienced, I became smarter about how to weather the next one.  

The same thing happened to me when I was studying about conflict. What I knew of trying to work through relational difficulties was how I viewed hurricanes: this was a big powerful storm that happened all of a sudden, and I was ruled by the chaos that accompanied it. But then again, I learned some things.  

I learned that relational conflicts are simply a fact of life. I learned that there are predictors of when they can happen so we can prepare and develop good practices. Best of all, I learned that with each experience, we can become better at handling these difficulties the next time around.

As long as I live in Florida, hurricanes will be something for me to contend with, and as long as I have relationships with other human beings, conflicts will be too. Even though I don't have total control over them, what gives me hope on both of these fronts is the knowledge that I am not defenseless either and that I can actively weather them come what may.

Here's to your learning about the hurricanes in your life too!   

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com

Roses

People who are close to me know that I love roses.  
I love their gorgeous colors (including the white ones); I love their fragrance. I love that they change from a tightly wrapped bud into open flowers even in my living room.

I love going to the April Rose Show at Leu Gardens here in Orlando, and if there's a rose garden anywhere in the world where I happen to be traveling, I try to visit it. I love the rose bushes my husband so kindly planted for me in our front yard.

Often when I work with these flowers -- either with the bushes in my yard or when someone gives me long-stemmed ones to put in my favorite vase -- I invariably prick my finger on the thorns. Sometimes more than once. It's pretty painful and usually produces bright red blood on my finger. One day, I seemed to do this an inordinate number of times and I thought, "Why do I put myself through this? There are other flowers to like that don't have any thorns at all!" and my mind immediately responded: "For the beauty." I thought about that for a moment -- it was true. I endure the roses' pricks and pain (and the special tending the bushes require), because I see such beauty in them, and having that beauty in my life overshadows any sacrifice I need to make to keep it there.

The experience made me think about people, and how each of us is like the rose: a combination of the beauty and the thorns -- both wonderfulness and the capacity to hurt others. We are constantly answering the question in our relationships of whether having a person's beauty in our life is worth resolving the pain they may have caused us. We may even wonder if we have it in us to deal with the pricks, the hurts. It is then that we need to be propelled by the beauty within them again. We need to see their faithfulness, their friendship, and their love.

I know that I love the rose's beauty so much I will pay the price to keep it within my gaze, and I definitely have people in my life I very easily feel that way about already. But I want to try and remember this when it's not so clear to me -- when I'm tempted to throw in the towel, when I'm finding it hard to push through pain and restore a relationship with someone. In those times, I want to remember to see their beauty, and allow it to overshadow the sacrifice that might be required do this. I want to believe it is worth the struggle to keep that beauty in my life, worth enduring the thorns.

After all, isn't that what I am hoping others will see and believe about me?

Kay
www.confidentconflict.com