Letter To Me

In October of 2007, Brad Paisley wrote a song titled, “Letter To Me” and it became one of his many hits.  As typical of Paisley, his lyrics are at times poignant and at other times comical; at times sentimental and at other times a warning, mostly encouraging. 

He wrote this letter (song) to his seventeen year old self, an interesting time in adolescence when kids wrestle with who they are or who they might be, and who they might become.  It is a time when there are golden dreams and harsh realities, when sometimes a gentle hand is followed by a not so gentle smack on a butt, because it seems that both are needed every now and then: a gentle hand to let them know we care about them and love them, and a smack on the butt to, well, let them know we care about them and love them.  Personally, I prefer the gentle touch over a smack anytime.

During one of our recent snow days when school was closed, I watched Good Morning America and on it was a very nice segment that dealt with a before and now with the hosts of the show.  A picture of a time long ago appeared next to a picture of near present day, and the host talked about what they might tell their younger self if they had the opportunity. 

Robin Roberts counseled her younger self not to take herself so seriously, that things would turn out in the end, and to be patient with herself, that we aren’t made to be perfect, because mistakes will happen, do happen.  George Stephanopoulos advised everyone that the bumblebee striped Rugby shirt he wore in his younger self picture is now out of style, which drew a laugh from his co-hosts, and he went on to advise his younger self that what seems important at that time might not be so important now, and to make sure to take the time to smile and laugh more.

Letter To Me.

Even though it has been about two weeks since that GMA segment, it made me think.  Probably even more since I heard Paisley’s song a couple of times since that segment.

What would I say to myself should I be given the opportunity to write a Letter To Me?

Hmmm . . .

I think I might begin by telling myself to enjoy my hair while I have it, because it will become much less and change from the dark brown to gray- that is, the little amount of hair I actually end up with.  I might tell myself to enjoy and take care of the body I had then, because it becomes all too easy to reach for the second (or third or fourth) cookie, and to sit more than it is probably good for me to do.

But more importantly, I would tell myself to watch my dad more often, to listen to him more often- though he really wasn’t given to too many words.  I would tell myself to be more patient with my mom because she did the very best she could, given her life and her circumstances. 

I would tell myself that those who are near and dear to me will one day leave: some because they might take a different path, some because they might not have the need to have me in their life anymore, and some because they pass away.  Too many pass away.  So, appreciate them while they are in your life at that moment, in that time, and never ever be afraid to express that appreciation with words or actions.

Like George, I would tell myself to smile and laugh more.  Like Robin, I would tell myself to be patient because mistakes do and will happen, sometimes at inconvenient and inopportune times.  But I would also tell myself to never be afraid of mistakes because it means that I’m trying, that I’m doing, and that I’m actively involved in life rather than being just a passive spectator.

Like Paisley, I’d tell myself that, the girl I thought I loved is nothing, absolutely nothing, because I will end up marrying my best friend, and that I will have three wonderful children with her.  Like Paisley, I’d tell myself that, “You've got so much up ahead; You'll make new friends; You should see your kids and wife, And I'd end by saying have no fear, These are nowhere near the best years of your life . . . And oh you got so much going for you going right; But I know at 17 it's hard to see past Friday night . . . I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be; I'd say have a little faith and you'll see; If I could write a letter to me; To me.”  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:

Great News!  Shattered Lives, the second book of the Lives Trilogy, will be available on Amazon in eBook form on Friday, March 20, and in paperback shortly thereafter.  It continues the storyline and journey that began with the prequel, Taking Lives, and with the first book of the Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives. 

If you are interested in taking this journey with me, you can find Taking Lives at http://www.amazon.com/Taking-Lives-Joseph-Lewis-ebook/dp/B00MG2JAWE/ref=pd_sim_b_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0HHJWXB9TJMYDW1VZRCS

Stolen Lives at http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-The-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=09505ZZ1MQS2BTXMEN 2

Thanks,

jl

A Life Will End

What is it that you truly fear? 

 

What is it that makes the small hair on the back of your neck stand at attention, gives you goose bumps, causes you to shiver at the very thought of it? 

 

What is it that paralyzes you to inaction?  What is it that drops you to your knees and makes you want to disappear?

 

We, each of us, make decisions each day.  Sometimes the decision is great, but most of the time, the decisions are small.  Most of these decisions are not life changing or life altering in any way.  They are simple decisions such as the choice to eat this or that.  Perhaps it might be the choice to drive this way or that way to work.  As I said, these are not very big decisions and most of the time, we make them without much thought, never thinking or worrying about the consequences.

 

As a principal in charge of a high school community of approximately 1900 students and staff, I’m charged with making decisions, both big and small, and these decisions affect folks.  In the face of a great or big decision, the thought of making a wrong or poor decision is worrisome, but it doesn’t necessarily cause me fear.  I strive . . . aim . . . to do the right thing.  I gather input from many.  I listen to their ideas and suggestions.  Ultimately, I make a decision by looking at the big picture and taking into the consideration the best interests of everyone.  And in the end, not everyone agrees with me necessarily, but it is a decision I make and I own it, along with the consequences of that decision.

 

Legend has it that during the Tet Offensive in 1968 during the Vietnam War, General William Westmoreland had his senior officers write their own obituaries.  If this legend is correct, I’m not sure what the reason Westmoreland had for doing this, but as I reflect on this, I believe that one could surmise that once these officers clued in on the fact that their lives might end . . . indeed at some point will end . . . the fear of the consequences of their decisions somehow became less.    

 

As a dad, the thought of one of my kids getting hurt, or worse, is perhaps my greatest fear, along with the fear of something happening to my wife, Kim.  Unfortunately, that fear came to an ugly realization when my son was murdered this past July.  His death still hurts, still haunts.  It affects me each day, sometimes at various moments of the day, and I know it affects my wife and two daughters, just as I know it affects others whose lives he touched in one way or another. 

 

On that sunny afternoon, the decision was made by another human being that had drastic and dire consequences that had never, ever entered my mind.  But yet, the decision made by another individual cost my son his life, and it cost my family greatly.  I had no control over that decision.  My son didn’t have control over the decision that ended his own life at that moment.  For me . . . for my family and for others . . . on that sunny afternoon in July, my worst fear was realized.

 

Fear is real.  It is an ugly emotion.  It can paralyze.  It can stunt growth.  Fear robs you of joy and happiness.  Fear takes you away from living in the moment and causes you to live in the shadow of “if” and “perhaps.”  That is an ugly place to live, if one can even call it living.

 

But if we come to realize that a job will eventually end, the decisions one makes in that job become less fearful.  Instead of fearing the outcome of the decision, we can accept the consequences of the decision if we know deep down in the valleys and recesses of our heart and soul that we did the best we could, made the very best decision we could at that time.

 

And like the officers under General Westmoreland, if we realize that our life will someday end, we then have permission . . . the duty . . . to live our life in the very best way possible, doing for others instead of doing just for ourselves.  We can extend a hand and lift others up.  We can encourage and help, rather than discourage and erect barriers.

 

We can do this because our jobs, like our lives, will one day end.  And when we realize this, we are then given a choice to live in fear or to proceed as best we can, with whatever resources we have at hand to make our life, and the lives of others, better.  Something to think about . . .

 

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

 

To My Readers:

The second book of the Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, will become available on Amazon.  It carries the story forward that began with the prequel, Taking Lives, and forward from the first book of the Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives.  You can find the first two books on Amazon at:

 

Taking Lives: http://www.amazon.com/Taking-Lives-Joseph-Lewis-ebook/dp/B00MG2JAWE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407974964&sr=8-1&keywords=Taking+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

 

Stolen Lives: http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415927661&sr=1-1&keywords=stolen+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

 

Thanks,

jl

Breaking The Horse

When I began teaching and coaching, my first three years were at the second smallest school in the state of Wyoming.  It was a social studies position in a grade seven through twelve school.  Seventy-two kids in the high school, and 117 kids total.  It was located in Veteran and practically in the middle of nowhere.  I lived in Yoder, which was a short distance away.  And I loved it.  I look back at it and wonder just how I managed to do it being young and dumb and naïve as I was, but I’m thankful that I had the opportunity to learn and grow so much.

Keith was one of my students, an eighth grader when I first began.  Quiet, hard-working, a ranch kid.  He could ride and rope and I still have this picture of him up in the saddle with his cowboy hat on, leaning on the saddle horn, a smile on his face as he looks off in the distance.

His horse had a foal and he had to train it, which also meant Breaking it. 

Breaking The Horse sounds rather harsh, doesn’t it?  I mean, when you break a dish, a window, or a mirror, it shatters and pieces fly everywhere, not to mention seven years bad luck for shattering a mirror, allegedly.  It’s work to clean up the mess and too difficult to repair, so we end up throwing it away never to use it again.

In essence, that’s what takes place to the horse’s spirit . . . sort of. 

Keith was very gentle about it, though.  He would talk to the horse (the original horse whisperer, I think), pet it, lead it, and would lean on it.  Get the foal used to him, to a human, to his scent and to his touch.  I remember the foal fighting him a little when he tried to place a bit and bridle in its mouth, but eventually the foal would allow him to do so.  And in time, just like the foal’s momma, or mare, the foal was as friendly as could be.  It would come when Keith called to it.  As long as he was nearby, the foal would allow me to pet it, and if Keith road the foal’s momma, the foal would tag along, actually allowing Keith the lead it by the bit and bridle.  In Keith’s case, the foal started out skittish, but ended up friendly and fairly docile.

Breaking The Horse.

At times, it seems we Break each other.

I’ve been broken a time or two in my life.  Probably more than a time or two.  I’ve been in various jobs and positions where because of fear, I was afraid to act, afraid to make a decision.  I didn’t know what to say, what to do, or how to think or act.  My boss liked it that way.  Various people who thought they were my boss liked it that way.

I didn’t. 

I was unhappy.  I was sad, perhaps depressed.  I hated going to work.  My wife, Kim, said I aged before her eyes.

And I’ve watched adults Break kids.

Think about it . . .

I’m an adult and I suffered.  I had various abilities and ways I could cope, but I still suffered.

Imagine a child at any age when an adult Breaks him or her.  Their spirit.  Their hope.  Their inquisitiveness.  Their creativity.  Their sense of identity and their sense of purpose.  All Broken.

Sometimes the adult will “justify” it, saying to anyone who will listen that it is for their own good.  Their own good.

Exactly who’s good?  The child who walks through life Broken, without hope and fearful of what is in store for the future?  The child who is so afraid he or she cannot decide, afraid to live for fear of what might happen next? 

Or . . .

Is it for the good of the adult because he or she likes order, likes the control, likes to be in charge?  Maybe likes to win?  Perhaps, in a darker view, likes the victim to be “in that place” whatever place that is.

I’m thinking that guidance and training and discovery is better than Breaking.  Done with love, with care and compassion, a child will flourish and grow and become.  Like Keith and his foal, some gentle talking . . . whispering, some petting, some leading and gentle leaning showed the foal what Keith’s intentions were.  So too, an adult can, with love and kindness, with compassion and care, show a child what the adult’s intentions are.  And in the long run, we don’t Break the child’s spirit, the child’s passion, the child’s purpose, the child’s identity.  We guide and love, not Break.  Because once the child is Broken, the pieces are too shattered and scattered to pick up and repair. And a child should never, ever, be thrown away.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

To My Readers:

The second book of The Lives Trilogy, Shattered Lives, was sent off to the publisher.  It should be out the end of February, 2015 or the beginning of March, 2015.

To catch up, you can find Taking Lives, the prequel on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00MG2JAWE?ie=UTF8&at=aw-android-pc-us-20&force-full-site=1&ref_=aw_bottom_links and the first book of The Lives Trilogy, Stolen Lives at http://www.amazon.com/Stolen-Lives-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00PKKN6W4/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1415908221&sr=1-1&keywords=Stolen+Lives%2C+Joseph+Lewis

Thanks,

jl