Musings and insights

Posted on

Overcoming the dog syndrome

After watching my Dad and in my twenty some years in the workplace, mostly spent as a middle manager, I found that executives are also human. And that comes with all the frailty humans bring into their interactions with others. This includes self-doubt, wanting to prove themselves and a desire to be valued for the gifts and talents they bring to the table.

On the other side are the people they manage who have those same desires. Often to them, however, success isn’t measured by a title or salary, it is by getting shit done. Checking off the list and moving onto the next thing. This doesn’t mean they don’t want to understand or even be part of the development of the strategy. They do – and they want to see the results of those efforts. They want to experience the thrill of the strategy being executed and obtaining goals. They want to get shit done.

These might be individual contributors like my Dad was or they could be middle managers like me. When these two levels come together – the middle manager or individual contributor and the executive – there is bound to be conflict.

Sometimes the conflict is on the how, and more often is it on the what. Newer leaders often say, “hey, what if we did xyz?” and portray it as an original idea, as their own. When in reality, last week or even last year, the middle manager or individual contributor did just that or even mentioned we should do xyz. However, the newer leader or executive needs to leave their imprint. To put it bluntly, like a dog, they need to piss on another’s work or ideas to establish their territory.

It doesn’t take much to realize how demotivating this is to the team. I’ve seen it happen. The team disengages, doesn’t feel empowered and just waits to be told to do the next big “original” idea that is going to ‘fix’ what is broken. In the meantime, the team moves blithely along doing what works for them because even if they did want to contribute differently, it would be devalued or stolen as an executive initiative.

It is obvious as I write this to see that this behavior isn’t helpful to grow, expand or motivate people or evolve an organization. What should be done? First, start by releasing the ego. This is the first, and hardest thing for executives to do. They reached the heights they did because of their egos and to let go of that, to take a more servant leader approach, is threatening to them. It means change – and for as much as executives talk about change management they aren’t good at it – especially when one of life’s main (de)motivators gets in the way – fear. Fear of losing their job, fear of not looking smart and fear of not looking capable. Fear is behind the executive leaders behaviors – including behaving like a dog and staining their territory.

To overcome the dog syndrome is to be self aware and curious. Be aware when you as an executive leader are peeing on your team. How do you do this? Before spewing an idea, ask your team and be curious. “What do you think if we…” Or, I’ve noticed you’ve been doing things this way and it looks more complicated than it needs to be. Is that a right observation? What would help you do your job better?” And the all time classic, “Have you all ever done this before?”

This simple starting point of curiosity will acknowledge your teams competence, without diminishing yours. It also is a step to inviting your team into new ideas or changes, making them not just part of the solution, but part of the ideation, growth, evolution. You’ll ignite a spirit of possibilities to get to the heart of their motivation – getting shit done.

Not only will you bring out the best in your team to move your organization forward, you will also bring out the best of yourself.

Posted on

A Culture of And

I switched jobs at the beginning of the year. I liked my previous job and the company, and it was time to move on. And. It is a word I am using more these days.

I left and came back to my previous company. My dad was glad I went back. He didn’t say it at the time, but he thought I left too soon after Mom’s death. Going back provided me stability. It was a good run. Yet, my previous company was a deeply patriarchal, intensely political, public, Fortune 500 company. It was driven by profit, at the expense of the people – no matter how many times they said people mattered. It is was also a “but” company.  

A ‘but’ company looks for fault. Someone presents on a project. The leadership looks for what is wrong, poking holes which stops forward movement. The presenter then reworks, revises and re-presents a multitude of times, answering all the ‘buts,’ yet never getting the yes. A ‘but’ company is not prone to taking risks nor does it help people reach their fullest potential.

That is how I felt for years – always hitting the ‘but’ and not moving. The numbers proved that out as well. For the last four years, the division I worked in experienced slowing growth, and in some areas contraction. The ‘but’ prevented the company from investing in newer technologies, procedures or training. The ‘but’ stops, not starts.

I now work for a Fortune 500, non-profit services company. The CEO is a woman, the division in which I work is also led by a woman. The people are kind, collaborative as well as supportive. And, it is an ‘and’ company. An ‘and’ company validates your opinions, builds on your original thinking or initiative and progresses. An ‘and’ culture makes a plan, works the plan and asks, what else? It is forward thinking. The ‘and’ starts conversation, builds momentum and allows great minds to flourish.

Moving to an ‘and’ company has been a shift for me, and it is a culture I like. I find I do not get caught in this spiral into nothingness. I am beginning to shed the layers of protectiveness and armor and sink into this culture of ‘and’. It is liberating, and a bit scary.

A culture of ‘and’ means accountability. There is nothing to hide behind, no lack of leadership to blame. A culture of ‘and’ demands that people step up, try, fail quickly, learn and move on. And, it is a culture of freedom. I can bring thoughts, ideas to the table. I don’t need to have the details fully fleshed out because I am one in a group of smart people, each bringing diverse talent and skills to the table. Unlike a ‘but’ culture, I am not alone or commiserating with other. I am an ‘and’. And you. And us.

I am still growing into this new role, this new culture. And I think my Dad would be proud that I found my space, feel like I can reach my potential. I am coming into my own. I like it. I like the liberation from buts, moving into the space of ands. I now catch myself when I am about to say, ‘but’ and quickly think, how can I make this an ‘and’. How can I share in and be part of this beauty to bring the best of myself to the table, and create the space and opportunity for others to do the same? An ‘and’ culture works, and that is exciting.

Posted on

Five Years & Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day and June marks five years since my Dad died. I’m not sure how I am “suppose” to feel about that. I often see people on social media post their grief or “miss you every day,” with some happy picture. But I can’t say I miss Dad every day, because I don’t. What I am, the feeling in the deepest part of my heart, is grateful. Grateful that God chose my Dad to be my Daddie.

There is a societal expectation (or so it seems) that one should be in a mourning on particular days or milestones, such as noting five years since a death. I did note the day. How could I forget that day? Or the days preceding his death? I don’t, and am I sure others don’t either. But to be in despair, to cry or feel the need to formally or symbolically publicly show those feelings isn’t what I want to do, rather feel I have to – as if I am reinforcing the belief my siblings vocalized or portrayed, that I am a bad daughter. So I posted the token picture on Facebook, but in my heart there wasn’t the need.

I learned a lot from my Dad. He have a gift of hospitality and welcome, which he shared generously. He was strong and gifted as a carpenter and handyman, not unlike Joseph, Mary’s husband and Jesus’s earthly father. He was kind, but could be scary with his deep bass voice when he yelled. He was my Dad, and like all of daddy’s little girls, I was proud of him.

On those days of note, the anniversary of his death, Father’s Day and just around the corner his birthday, I remember and my heart overflows. My heart overflows with joy, with gratitude and with love. For I was loved, very deeply and unconditionally.

Posted on

Betrayer or Betrayed?

This holy week, I’ve been drawn Judas. My heart hurts for him. He was called by Christ, not unlike the other 11. And his role in betraying Jesus is well documented. John’s gospel also tells us that he held the money and was “skimming off the top,” to use today’s terminology. Not the best role or legacy.

But let’s take a new lens to Judas. He was weak in faith and therefore susceptible to Satan and his deceptive ways. The gospels tell us Satan had a hold on him that hopefully none of us will fully know. And so when his doubts were coupled with Satan’s manipulation, his guard was down. So what did he do?

He went to what he knew – his church and its leaders. Instead of being a mirror to Judas and counseling him, what did they do? They took advantage of his weakness for their own ends. They knew he was monetarily motivated and so with 30 pieces of silver, they bought his soul and sealed his place in biblical history.

After hearing that Jesus had been condemned to death, the gospel of Matthew tells us that Judas was .filled with remorse. Again he went to those who were his church leaders saying, “I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood.” (MT 27:4) How did those leaders respond? Did they offer help, compassion or empathy? Did they offer forgiveness? No. They responded, “what is that to us?” (MT 27:4). Judas throws the silver at them and leaves. We know what he did. We know where he went. His heart was broken beyond his ability to repair. He was so filled with grief and remorse, he went to a field with rope. He found a tree. He looped the rope around a strong branch on the tree and wrapped the rope around his neck. He then fell and hung himself. But what if…

What if Judas instead of going to the church leaders had gone to Christ. What if he begged at the foot of Christ hanging on the cross and asked for forgiveness? How would Jesus responded? Would he rejected him? Would Jesus let himself die on the cross without healing Judas’s heart? We know that wouldn’t have happened. Not unlike Jesus offered forgiveness to the criminal hung beside him, he would have given grace and forgiveness kneeling before him. He would have healed the broken heart and renewed his soul.

Imagine how different history would have been? Imagine the story Judas could have told. “Look, it was my betrayal that put Jesus on the cross. He wouldn’t have been there had I not sold out for 30 pieces of silver. And you know what, he forgave me! He stitched my broken heart back together. Man, if he can do that for me, believe he will do the same for you. Have faith. Trust him.”

When I had thought about this alternative path for Judas, I truly stopped during a walk and got teary. I said out loud, “Oh Judas. If you had only believed and trusted in the one who chose you, your story could be so different. If only…”

Today take a moment and look around. Think about how a life could be made different through forgiveness and grace that Jesus can offer – or you can offer on his behalf.

Posted on

The Other Sacrifices Made

When I was a child, it was my responsibility to set up the nativity scene at Christmas. One of the figures in our set is the donkey. My dad often said to me, make sure he is near the hay. He’s earned his food.

As an adult I reflected on that wisdom from my Dad. The donkey carried a nine-month pregnant woman across the country in the heat, with limited water and likely little food. He had earned his keep. This led me to think about those other characters, others who helped but really weren’t acknowledge, and in some cases even mentioned in the gospels stories.

Today is Good Friday 2020. We are still in quarantine due to COVID-19, but I’ve been listening to the scriptures and reflecting on that moment when the crowd cries out and ask that Barabbas is freed, opening the path for the crucifixion of Christ. Tradition and scripture tell us Barabbas was a notorious prisoner, possibly part of the insurrection against Roman rule. And in the gospels of Mark and Luke, we are told he committed murder.

Knowing that Barabbas committed murder gave me pause, and I thought about the family and friends of the people Barabbas killed. They aren’t mentioned; we don’t even know who Barabbas murdered. But those people, those unmentioned in scripture or history, had to feel something about Barabbas’s release.

Having just come out of the grief of the loss of a loved one, believed that in Barabbas’s arrest there was some justice being served. Now he was on the streets again. Were they worried he would come after other members of their family? Would they lose another love? Would they start the cycle of grief and tears again?

My heart hurts for those people whose sacrifices are silent. Their stories and place in the gospel story, their critical role in the fulfillment of the glorious story of Christ’s death and resurrection shouldn’t go unnoticed. And I hope that by writing this, they are not forgotten. Their role may have been minor, but their fear, anger and feelings of injustice with the release of Barabbas was likely very real.

We are told in the beatitudes that “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (MT 5:4). History may have not noticed those who suffered because of Barabbas’s deeds, but God won’t and hasn’t. And hopefully, neither will we.

Posted on

No Ordinary Sunday

I find that in the midst of COVID-19 and #stayathome orders, I am reverting to behaviors I discovered and developed while I lived overseas my junior year of college as well as later in life for work. The moments and traditions I treasure can’t be captured or created in the usual way, so I don’t try. I think about how can I make this different, fulfilling in a new way given the new circumstances.

Today is Palm Sunday, the holiest week of the year for those who follow Christ. For me, it is my absolute favorite time of the year. The liturgy is rich with nuance and meaning, the readings hold the essence of our faith and the music, oh the music. Let’s just have a humble brag and say the my choir knocks it out of the park. I love this time of the year. You can have Christmas, I’ll take Lent, through Palm Sunday, Easter, and right up to Pentecost. It nourishes and fills my soul.

It isn’t a wonder that not being able to experience Palm Sunday and Holy Week in my usual way has me feeling unbalanced and unfulfilled. But last night I was thinking that I had to create something to move me. I couldn’t grieve the loss. Rather I needed to create something new. Something that would make this year stand out as different, because it is.

I’ve tried watching the Mass online but it just doesn’t do it for me. As a Catholic, Mass is all about community and participation. To simply watch and individually participate at home doesn’t work for me. Even if I was in a room with family or friends, I still think it wouldn’t fulfill me.

This week, I prayed and asked, what can I do to start this holiest of weeks in a way that is going to put me in the right state of mind and fill by heart. Fortunately I live close to the Cathedral of St. Paul, in St. Paul, Minnesota. As a national shrine, the Cathedral has been formally recognized for its special historical, cultural and religious significance. It is our “local” place to pray outside of Rome. And on Palm Sunday, they would be outside distributing palms from 9am – 11am. I felt it pressed on my heart to “make a pilgrimage” to the Cathedral.

Cathedral of St Paul Minnesota
Cathedral of St. Paul, St. Paul, MN

I pulled on my coat and gloves, put in my ear buds and listened to today’s scripture readings as I took the 20 minutes walk uphill to the Cathedral. I arrived fairly close to 9am. Two priests were outside handing out baggies of palms. I was at that time the only one to have walked up. I’m sure I wasn’t the last as the Cathedral is very much in the neighborhood.

As I listened to the scriptures during my journey, I felt incredibly moved – I thought about the victims of the criminal Barabbas and the pain felt at his release. I thought about Judas, going to the chief priests to return the silver, I thought about the crowds crying out “crucify him. “

After receiving my palms, the priest asked me if there was anything else he could do for me. I asked for a blessing, which he graciously offered. The tears at that point began to fall from my eyes and down my cheeks. I turned and began my walk home.

Along the way, I saw a tent of a homeless person and another person with a sign asking for money. I so wanted to open my little baggie and offer a palm. But I didn’t. What held me back from that simple gesture of prayer to another human? Was it fear – not fear of personal harm, but fear that it wouldn’t matter or make a difference. They would just simply cast aside my palm seeing it at something not practical that they can use – like clothing, a blanket or even cash. Again, I wept for my own lack of courage.

I came home and made a cross and a heart from my palms. I taped them to my windows and the sunlight powers through the branches as I write this. And my mind continues to whirl with thoughts. Palm Sunday. Not what I expected, but certainly one I won’t forget. Amen.

Posted on

Roll Away the Stone

Today is what my choir friends and I call Roll Away the Stone Sunday, named after the song by Tom Conry. The gospel is John 11: 1-45 in which Jesus travels to Martha and Mary’s because Lazarus has died.

The first time we sang this song, we repeated the refrain many times. We were captured in the moment and it felt right, spirit led to sing those words over and over, “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.” It was as if our voices were willing the stone to move. It wasn’t forceful, it was faith-full. As we repeated the refrain again and again, out of seemingly nowhere, we hear our soloist cry out, “Lazarus, come out!” It was one of those powerful moments when chills run down your back and the hairs on your arms stand up. Even as I write this, I remember the sensation of that moment.

We haven’t been able to recreate that specific moment, but we relive it every time we hear that scripture reading and sing this piece. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”

As we are staying home to protect others and ourselves during this COVID-19 pandemic, I was reflecting on this song. “Roll away the stone.” It isn’t a huge leap to start to wonder, what stones has God rolled away in my life and allowed me to see the glory of God?

To cover them all – the stones, the pebbles or rocks – is a long winding road. Many have heard the stories, some are part of those tales. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) there is not a stone in my life that God hasn’t removed, allowing me to not only see but to deeply experience God’s glory in miraculous as well as tiny, every day ways.

Each year, I pick a theme rather than make resolutions. I have been doing this long before it was cool and trendy. My theme for 2020 is Glorious Unfolding, from the song by Steven Curtis Chapman (yes, music is a theme in my life). The song speaks to allowing God to unfold wonders in my life, just to trust in the journey. It calls me to stop doing what I am well known for doing – planning and being freakishly efficient and organized. Lately, I have found myself drifting back into that pattern, especially amid the stay at home order. I make my lists, I cross off items and continue to feel that sense of accomplishment.

Yet, despite the fear and unknown of this virus, I feel called to slow down. And, that is a blessing. I’ve been moving very fast for about the last five years. But now that I have settled into my home office and adjusted to the temporary moment of physical distancing, I am called to be still, to take in and to see the Glory of God.

I will miss singing this powerful song this weekend with my friends, my spiritual family. Yet, not singing has forced me to pause, to relive in my heart a powerful moment and remember the stones God has rolled away – not just for me, but for those around me. Now I ask God to reveal to me what I have yet to learn as I take this time to pause. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”

Posted on

The Strength that Surrounds Me

In June of 2004, my Mom was officially diagnosed with breast cancer. I had suspected for much longer, but she refused to go to a doctor. Since that summer day, my life seems to have been a stream of change – cancer, moving to Germany to work overseas, being laid off while living overseas and moving home, a new job, selling my townhouse, moving from the suburbs into the city, a new job, mom’s remission to cancer to dying in 2011, yet another job and then getting laid off again, another new job, my Dad dies, selling my childhood home and the memories therein.

There was also the change around me. A member of my choir and friend died in a tragic boating accident, two of my dear uncles passed away as well as an aunt. I’ve had neighbors move in and out as well as the societal changes from flip phones to smartphones, the end of beloved TV shows, buildings being torn down and others put in their place to new presidential administrations.

When I lay it out in this linear fashion, I am reminded it was a lot of change to endure. Many of these changes were also big, life changes – the loss of loved ones, new jobs, moving.

I turned 50 in December. Before and since, I’ve been reflecting on this life journey of mine. Perhaps this passage of time and the changes within it are more visual when you have children, something biology didn’t allow for in my life. You see your children practically immobile, to rolling, to crawling, to walking. You see them continually learning, talking and growing into themselves. But reflecting individually on the passage of time and the changes we walk through isn’t as visual and maybe not as noticeable.

As I turned 50, it was important to me to embrace this milestone birthday. It gave me the opportunity to celebrate and bring the many people in my life together. During that evening, I spoke about each of the groups of my friends and family and how they helped craft me, carried me, consoled me, sang with me, challenged me and most importantly loved me. Despite all my flaws, the times I may have unintentionally hurt or caused pain, they loved. My people provided a constant flow of forgiveness and kindness. They created a safe place for me to be the best and worse of me, to which I can always return, return to myself.

People have often said that I am strong. Perhaps I am in comparison. But the reality in my mind is that I am not strong, I have strength around me. I have the strength of my friends, the strength of my family and the strength of my God. This is the strength that surrounds me and carries me.

My life is a bit more settled now. I feel 50 has brought me peace, security and a liberating confidence. There is much I have let go and so much more ahead. I am excited to see how it unfolds. Most importantly, I am excited to share this journey ahead with my people, for they are the strength that surrounds me.

Posted on

Respect is Earned, Not Given

One summer, I was working as a waitress at a community hall. My Dad helped me get the job. It was a great summer job with great tips. The uniform for the position was black pants, white shirt and black shoes. It was the early 1990’s and it was common to tuck your pants into your socks. As I was sitting in the living room, Dad told me I shouldn’t tuck my pants into my socks. It wasn’t the uniform.

I was home from college and of course, immensely independent. He mentioned something about the chef set the rules for attire and I wasn’t obeying the rule. Dad said, the chef is the boss and deserves my respect. The chef wasn’t the best person. He was grabby and sexist. He was moody and definitely not a leader. I snapped at Dad when he commanded that I follow this guy’s direction that respect is earned and not given. Dad stopped in his tracks and said, “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

I encounter this idea that because someone holds a position, and only because they are in that position, that respect should be given. “He’s the boss” was the phrase used with me just the other day. Yet, the behavior isn’t worthy of my respect.

There is a balance we need to maintain. Between earning respect, giving respect and the practicality of living. You don’t want to lose your job, but yet, you don’t want to be disrespected. How do you balance? Simple – be worthy of respect first. Respect is a two-way street. Be one who is worthy of respect, and respect will also be given.

You can’t control others – their behaviors, beliefs, values. But you can control your own. That doesn’t mean you tolerate what is intolerable. But it does mean you can respond differently. Take in gratitude. Learn from the interaction about who you are, how you react and what you can become. Continue to become who you were designed to be. Respect is earned, not given. That goes for you too.

Posted on

Treat Me Nicely

On Christmas Day, 1994, my Grandmother had a stroke. When we got the call, we of course jumped in the car and drove the 40 minutes to the hospital. Once there, we visited with her, got the download from the nurses. Then, we sat in the hospital room in silence for a long time.  We listened to the dripping of the IV and the tone of the heart monitor.  Mom and Dad left no more than a half hour after they arrived. They went to the house to see how Grandpa was and to check if he wanted to come to the hospital. Still weak from his own surgery and hospitalization, Grandpa couldn’t drive.  Grandma and I were alone .

Nurse Mary came in. She handed Grandma two blue sheets of paper stapled together. “Adeline, have you thought of a living will? It is a statement of how you want to be treated.  Federal law requires that I ask you about it and provide you with information.  It is just a statement of how you want to be treated.” “Nicely,” Grandma said. “I want to be treated nicely.” I felt my chest tighten and a tear swell up in my eye. “Nicely,” she said again. “I’ll have the chaplain come by tomorrow and talk to you about it.” Nurse Mary left.

Grandma looked at the paper on her tray. Then she handed it to me. “You look at it.” Her eyes had grown weak from diabetes and she had difficulty reading anything with small print.  I took the blue sheets from her. I read them over. They asked her to consider her values and life. Did she want her life to be prolonged by artificial means if there was no other way she could live? Did she want to donate her organs? I told Grandma all of this. “Nicely” was enough.

Those few words have stuck with me, Treat Me Nicely. What a great message for leaders. The other day, I wasn’t treated nicely. I was called out at a meeting with many people for something in my mind is simple, easily corrected with a little kindness and conversation. The worst part, is it was our general manager for the division. Not cool boyfriend. Not cool.

I think sometimes those in the highest leadership positions forget the impact their words and actions can have. In many organizations, the face-to-face interaction an executive may have with a person is short. If they aren’t thinking I need to make a strong, powerful impact in this short moment to motivate, inspire and lead, they are missing an opportunity.

I understand life and business moves fast and can be stressful. But, in those moments it is even more important to step back, take a breath and be thoughtful with our choice of words. Yet, I find the simple practices of kindness, humility and service to others are absent in today’s leadership teachings. Maybe it is my company, but maybe not.

It seems like the leadership philosophy today is dependent on command/control, the hierarchy and “trickle down” to bring a strategy to life. And yet, so few leaders with whom I interact are taking the time to bring out the best in their people. What is most concerning is, it isn’t hard to inspire people. Be kind. Be honest. Be courageous enough to talk to people 1:1 when there is an issue. Help him or her work toward a solution, rather than complain about the problem.

Leading isn’t as hard as people make it. Leading is basic human decency. It is as simple as my Grandma made it, treat me nicely.

Follow me on Twitter @dadslastproject or e-mail me at dadslastproject@gmail.com