In our line of ministry, one on one meetings are essential to success. We only have a few shorts years (or a semester or two) with those we get to know on campus and, if discipleship is a priority, it looks a lot like sitting down and having loads of face to face conversations. Often though, what happens during those conversations is hard to delineate without experiencing it first hand or a few trials and error. Much is written about what not to do, but besides employing a vague script or a short discipleship curriculum during the meetings, it is difficult to express how a good one on one goes.  After watching all of the seasons of Jerry Seinfeld’s show, I can see many reasons why I would point to his interactions with his guests as a good model for strong one on ones. Hear me out….  First, Jerry is a great host. He picks up his guest in a car specifically chosen for them, he even matches his shoes to the car. Whether it is the size of the car, the beefy-ness of the engine

While sitting at my husband’s Spiritual Direction closing ceremony last week, a comment was spoken that struck me as rather extraordinary. The woman said, “remind people that most things can become sacred by adding the word ‘holy’ in front of the activity”. Holy resting.  Holy listening.  Holy eating.  Holy playing.  Holy working.  Holy researching.  Holy walking.  Holy learning.  Holy teaching.  Holy writing. Holy cleaning. To some people, it might sound silly to think of our everyday activities as holy. To some, it might sound like overly religious chatter. Yet, for others, it might help alleviate pressure or cause us to do our tasks with more intention. Choosing to see how we spend our hours as ‘holy work’ asks us to bring a level of seriousness to our tasks. It’s a reminder that everything we do should be given proper time and attention. Also, it helps to see that there is no need to rush to get through something just to get to a more important task

This is the end of my seventh New England winter and I just discovered the discipline of cleaning and waxing boots before storing them away for the summer. The squalls are over and the snow piles melted a few weeks ago, but this chore remains.  Just like all the winters before, I could have put the boots away without caring for them. I could have shoved them to the back of the closet or in the bin under the bed for the next six months, complete with their salt and mud stains. It’s easy to tuck away the dirty boots when the lure of the cute flats and flip-flops calls.  Maybe it’s middle age or maybe I am tired of needing my boots in the fall and finding them unkempt. Maybe it’s both. But what I am learning is that the damage from the long winters of snows and salts just takes time to repair. If I spend the 15 minutes of wiping off the storm residue and rubbing the leathers with oils, the cracks can be minimized. The oils act as a balm and a waterproofer. It’s healing and pr

You need some backstory. It began when I was 15. My friends and I went on a Spring Break trip with a church youth group. One of us decided a quick game of softball would be a fun way to waste a few minutes. But that ended after the first hit when the ball landed on my face. What was supposed to be a fun, 3 day get-away turned into an emergency trip to the dentist to get my tooth shoved back into my gums. I’ll spare you the gore, but blood, puking, swelling, stitches, strange glue holding my teeth together, infection, a round of antibiotics shot directly into my left cheek (not the one of my face), and innumerable dentists visits are all a part of my story.  However, not until many years later did the UPS get involved.  You see, whatever dental magic was done to me between that fateful day and on through my early 30’s was no longer doing it’s job and I needed a dental implant. The prosthetic dentist told me this was a fairly easy process and set my appointment. Since my d

Just near the border of Connecticut and Rhode Island, there is a tiny tree surviving- and maybe even thriving- because of it’s thin connection to the earth. I am not sure what happened to cause the tree to be in the condition it’s in, but I can see how it is not giving up. You see, the tree seems to be precariously growing out of a dead looking stump, only the stump is about 4 feet high, all dried up, and falling apart and it being held up by planks of wood. You can see the bare roots stretching through the air the length of the stump. Somewhere, about half way down the stump, the roots begin tunneling inside the stump and become unseen. It looks like someone glued together a wheel barrow of mulch. Somehow that mulch tower is providing just the right amount of structure to let the fighting tree make it.  Something about this tree grabbed my attention. I wasn’t too sure in the moment, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that this little tree looks a lot like the w

At the time, I had two small daughters. My husband and I were directors of a campus ministry and our schedules were so busy that we often high-fived each other as we swapped duties both at home and on campus. My daughters were born 19 months apart, so between October 2005 to sometime in the spring of 2007, I was carrying a baby in my womb, breastfeeding a baby, or carrying one or both on my hips. My heart and arms were full and life never stopped moving. I was tired but I loved it.  I was relentless with my schedule. My girls and I had our days super planned so that we had an idea of how things might go, but be willing to shift plans when something else came up. I also knew that if I got behind in my day, I would have to scurry to catch up, so I rarely let time slip. It was impossible to be still.  The schedule kept my attention. The schedule was intentional.  The schedule was necessary.  Soon after my younger daughter was big enough to be left with a relative for