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Archive for January, 2009

I like metaphors. Perhaps I’m a bit simple-minded, but I’ve encountered a few metaphors that seem to help me as I stumble my way along my path. One illustration that incorporates a lot of meaning in many circumstances is The Story of the Jar. I won’t repeat the story, but please click the link if [...]

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Everybody’s got a story.
As I listen to reader reactions to Relentless Grace, I’m more convinced than ever of this truth: everybody’s got a story.

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Last week I wrote about The Story of the Jar. I won’t repeat the story, but please click the link if you’re not familiar with this metaphor.
As I’ve discussed this demonstration with various groups, I’m always struck by the variety of lessons that emerge. Today I’d like to think about the finite capacity of the [...]

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MLK

I recall Martin Luther King as a scary figure.
Unrest and violence seemed to surround him. As a kid I really didn’t appreciate the significance of the issues, didn’t recognize the injustice. I grew up in the mostly white Midwest, and all I saw was disruption to what seemed a pretty safe, peaceful world.

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A teacher stood before his class. On a table the students observed a large glass jar and a pile of fist-sized rocks.

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Average

One interesting aspect of working with young adolescents involves observing their efforts to discover and define their identity. It’s a fascinating, often painful, and frequently humorous developmental challenge for each individual.

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“Life won’t ever be normal again.”
Something happened. Illness, injury, death, or loss changed the fundamental character of the journey. Immersed in grief, it’s nearly impossible to avoid the overpowering sense that “normal” is forever lost.

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If I’ve learned anything from the accident that confined me to a wheelchair, it’s the principle that my journey is not the product of luck or fate or blind random chance.
The path I follow is determined by my choices.

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I’ve been following the progress of two friends who currently struggle with life-altering medical situations. Both express their grief over the loss of “normal life.”
I’ve been there; paralysis destroys anything resembling normal. I wasted many years lamenting the fact that I’d never be “normal” again. I’ve learned slowly and painfully that there’s no such thing [...]

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A teacher stood in front of a class. On the table before him were two large glass jars and a pile of rocks.
He carefully placed as many rocks in one jar as possible, then asked the class to acknowledge that the jar was full.

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