The Extraordinary Life

He came through the door of the conference facility and wandered in a question-mark pattern up to me. As he drew closer, I’m guessing that the flash of recognition struck him about the same time it did me.

“I know you,” I said.

“Yes, you do,” he said.

And thus began a short reminiscence that would review the past 30 years or so — not only of our lives but of all of our high school classmates.

Since I seemed to be a little more plugged into reunion information, he eventually asked me, “So did anyone in our class do anything extraordinary?”

I struggled at first. Probably the most famous of our friends is a university professor and author who has also touched thousands of lives through his leadership of a non-profit association of private schools. Then there’s the one who went to work with an international company and has done very well. And the middle school principal. And the teachers. And the truck driver. And the barber. And the housewife. And those who have struggled with illness. And those who have lost that physical struggle. And those who have weathered divorce and estrangement from family. And those who experience joy in every day. And those who are bent over with sadness and depression and loss.

All of those classmates didn’t come up in that conversation. But I began to think about them during the long drive home that Saturday night.

By Sunday morning, I was feeling a bit blue. When Preacher Mike pulled us to scripture, my spirit was lifted as he began to talk about the honored placed that each of us holds in the body.

Being a part of the body is extraordinary. To see the way that my high school classmates have dealt with daily life is an extraordinary journey in itself. To see children born or adopted and raised. To see sickness and death taken on headfirst. To see people who have been beaten down by life stand and laugh at the Tormentor. To see individuals who truly believe in God and trust in Him.

This is to live extraordinarily.

And so, after further thought, my answer is, “They have all lived extraordinary lives.”

Out of Step

I just read a summary of a report. Not the actual report. Just the highlights as detailed by the report’s authors.

It was well done and articulately written. The committee who gathered the data and debated its meaning were all good people.

I missed the oral presentation of the report. I am also certain that the committee was affirmed by its audience following the presentation. I feel certain I would have affirmed them as well, had I been there.

But in the austerity of my little office at home, the report raised questions. Without inflection of voice and positive body language, I read some things that disturbed me. Like the acknowledgment of legitimate concerns that should be addressed in an unfolding process — but not allowed to alter the outcome of that process.

I’m probably out of step. But it seems to me that process should allow more than a mere acknowledgment of legitimate concerns. They should be scrutinized and weighed and tested. Did the report indicate that the committee had already scrutinized, weighed, and tested? And that the committee had decided that the concerns lack merit?

And what will be addressed about the concerns? Will solutions be offered that actually touch the concerns? Or will the concerns simply be targeted as irritating obstacles to someone’s intended outcome?

I’m probably out of step. I’ve been told that by several. It could be true. I just wonder, though, when that’s always the ultimate answer when I pursue a line of questioning. Maybe my questions have no merit.

I’m probably out of step. After I all, I tend to veer away from what people try to force on me. A likely result stemming from my belief in process.

Okay, I’m out of step. I have three possible ways to go with this: (1) get in step; (2) walk more loudly and attract people to my way of stepping; or (3) stop and let the parade go by.

What do you do when rumor has it that you’re out of step?

Unpredictability

Much of our local news and the talk in the neighborhood coffee shop has centered on the unexpected.

In fact, in the middle of last week’s 85 degree temperatures we were all laughing at our meteorologists’ assertions that we would see snow on this Easter weekend. A late April Fool’s day bit, perhaps? Even the news anchors were scoffing at the concept of a late freeze. It’s April in West Texas, for goodness sake!

But our annual Easter-egg hunt with our granddaughter was an inside affair yesterday. I’m sure some of the video I shot of Landye scurrying through the living room grabbing hidden treasures was framed with the constant floating of snow outside the window.

While we all adore perfect weather, I think we also love its unpredictability. It gives us something to talk about and presents adventure to our lives. We seldom get angry at the weather. After all, it’s a natural occurrence — and what could we do about it anyway?

Other periods of storm and calm circle around us. Not the kinds with sunny skies and spring rain — or even snow. Instead these times of widely variant and often unpredictable forces aren’t precipitated by high pressure ridges or the jet stream.

No, these unpredictable changes in patterns are in the relationships we have with others. I was surprised by one this week. Not a big thing. Hardly even noticeable by most. But a change in relationship that I don’t point out to others. Unexpected.

The challenge this week is moving on with the knowledge that the friendship has changed. To know that something I took for granted is not there. If it had been forecast in the middle of last week, I wouldn’t have believed it.

The unpredictable brings freshness. But it also brings fear and sadness.

Do you think that Jesus’ followers scoffed at His prediction of the cross? And then when it happened, do you think they rejoiced in the unpredictable?