Blog Archives - trish hermanson

What Forced Me to Slow Down

2/28/2019

I wish I could report that I broke my foot in a skiing accident. But no, I was making my bed, tripped on covers on the floor, and went splat! So humiliating.
     Now for six weeks I’m modeling the Big Foot Fashion Look, wearing this cumbersome boot 24/7, and moving as slow as a slug.
     Sometimes as I lie in bed, I yell out “BORING!” because I’m not fond of inactivity. Then I get over my whining and remember others have it much worse than I do - and sometimes for a lifetime. So I’m taking this opportunity to retreat in order to be recharged. To listen more to God and others, and less to the voices in my head. To gain new perspective.
     Honestly, I’ve longed for a break like this, but just couldn’t force myself off my daily treadmill.
     So I’m on a forty-day intermission from regular life. Others have been transformed during forty-day hiatuses more severe than this: Noah floating in an ark during forty days of rain; Moses camping out for forty days on Mount Sinai; Jesus wrestling for forty days in the wilderness.
     I’m not comparing myself to those giants. I live a simple life in one of the backyards of the world. But I’m still raising my antennae heavenward to receive whatever there is for me to learn during this time.
  Because none of us are Energizer Bunnies. We all need recharging.

Do You Hear Voices?

2/21/2019

That’s me standing next to all 6’11” of Ervin Johnson at a volunteer gig where he kept us hustling as we sacked food for kids. Some people claim you’re loony if you listen to “voices," but not Ervin. He didn’t play basketball in high school. Then while working at a Baton Rouge supermarket for nearly three years after graduating, something strange happened - he grew eight inches. One day at work he heard a voice: “Go. Back. To. School.”
     Ervin says, “I looked around, and no one was there.”
     He learned that the University of New Orleans basketball team needed some height, so he approached the coach. That meeting “was a divine appointment because it was the last day he could sign players.” The coach awarded him a scholarship, but warned that Ervin had a lot of catching up to do.
     Ervin hit the gym at 6 a.m. to learn the game. Hard work paid off, and eventually he led the Privateers to three conference championships and two NCAA tournament appearances. After that, he played center for NBA teams in Seattle, Denver, Milwaukee, and Minnesota.
     He sensed that after he retired professionally he’d have another calling. “God showed me this in a dream; I was standing in front of kids and talking.” And that’s what has happened. He’s a Denver Nuggets Community Ambassador and coaches the EJ Hoops Basketball Club. “It’s more than just basketball,” Ervin says. “It’s about life lessons.”
     So perhaps we’d better pay attention when we get "nudges." The Master Coach may be handing out directions.

Dumb Luck or Incredible Skill?

2/14/2019

Was it incredible skill or simply dumb luck that someone tossed these sneakers onto a power line in my neighborhood? Dumb luck, I think. Contrary to that, my accomplishments come the hard way - repetitive practice.
     That’s what a young musician, violin case in hand, learned when he got lost while visiting New York City. He asked an old man, “How do I get to Carnegie Hall?” The man waggled his index finger at him. “Practice. Practice.”
     How much practice? Author Malcolm Gladwell says it takes ten thousand hours to become accomplished in something. Take, for example, the artist Pablo Picasso. Legend has it that he was sketching in a park when a woman recognized him and insisted he draw her portrait. After studying her a moment, he drew her likeness with a single pencil stroke. She was thrilled with it and asked his price. “Five thousand dollars,” Picasso said.
     “But it took you only a second to draw this.”
     “Madame,” the artist replied, “it took my entire life.”
     All this could be discouraging, because few of us can carve out ten thousand hours to develop an expertise. Yet I’m amazed by my friends who develop impressive abilities simply by pursuing their interests.They’ve become experts in grilling, gardening, quilting, crafting, woodworking, hosting, leading meetings, socializing, and extending kindness to others. Their examples encourage me that it’s never too late to develop a skill - if I’m willing to practice, practice.
  Because mastery doesn’t happen with dumb luck.

Honestly, Abe Was Depressed

2/8/2019

If he lived today, Lincoln would not be known as Honest Abe, but as Depressed Abe. He suffered so severely that sometimes he fell into an unresponsive, catatonic stupor even in public.
      Lincoln certainly weathered events that warranted despondency: lost elections, the death of a child, a fractured marriage, and a fractured nation. But his gloom was so deep that today he would probably be classified as genetically or biologically depressed.
     How did he survive? Lincoln found some relief by telling jokes, reading poetry, and gaining perspective through scripture, according to Joshua Wolf Shenk. In “Lincoln's Melancholy: How Depression Challenged a President and Fueled His Greatness,” Shenk says the president’s misery actually shaped his character so he could carry our nation through its Uncivil War.
     We all face depression at times. Some find help from medicine. Others of us turn to activities such as walks, music, and friendship. When we can’t shed our sadness, we can take heart in what first century teacher Paul of Tarsus learned, that suffering produces perseverance, which produces character, which produces hope when we realize that our troubles aren’t in vain. It’s amazing: as we lean on God, he recycles the bad into something good.
  Honestly, that can help us weather our worst Uncivil Wars.

The Tragedy of Losing Yourself

2/1/2019

The moment after I told my friend Jan to smile for the camera, I showed her the photo.
     “Who’s that?” she asked.
     “It’s you,” I said.
     “Really?”
     Jan didn’t know who she was anymore. I pointed to a photo on her wall. “That’s where you taught school in the Philippines.”
     “Me?”
     “Then when you returned you volunteered as a hospice chaplain.”
     “You sure?”
     I’m sure. I’ve known Jan for years, always observing her gentle ways. Once when we were out to eat, she picked up the tab for another woman who was hard-pressed for cash, while Jan wasn’t flush either.
She had wit. In her sixties, she attended a rock concert with younger women, wearing a fake nose ring just for fun. When little confusions set in, friends brought in food, made sure her bills were paid, and hired help for housework. Then that awful time came, and we cleaned out her home.
     First it was assisted living. Then memory care, a cruel name because Jan had no memory to care for. When I visited, we’d sing, but she couldn’t remember the familiar words to “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Yet I knew Jan was still there, like a fragile caterpillar trapped in a dark cocoon.
     Then it happened - the butterfly broke out of its shell and took wing. Jan slipped through the thin veil separating this world from the next. Now she knows herself better than ever and grasps what a friend she has in Jesus.
That's a great rescue to look forward to.