Blog Archives - trish hermanson

Chalking Up My Circles of Life

9/26/2019

I know there is a God and I’m not Him, so why do I fret so much? Does my huffing and puffing solve the world’s problems and save the environment and keep the grass from dying from my neighbor’s dog pooping on it? I don’t think so.
     So, with the “help” of my grandson Oak, I’m corralling my ever-expanding concerns through Stephen Covey’s book “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.”
     Covey says we each live in a large Circle of Concerns, things we care about or that affect us even though we have little or no control over them. Instead of being distracted by them, he encourages us to focus our energy in a smaller sphere within that, our Circle of Influence, where we can, perhaps, make a difference.
     Good advice, but I’ve discovered two other spheres within my area of influence that I must ask hard questions about or I get into trouble:
     * My Circle of Responsibility - am I fulfilling what I’m actually responsible for?
     * My Circle of Capacity - am I exceeding the limits of my emotional and physical strength?
     If I ignore these questions, I develop another set of circles - under my eyes - from my distracted striving. I tackle what’s not my own, and forget to show up for my own life.
  And that is a colossal waste.

Getting Swept Away?

9/19/2019

I did it again - I allowed myself to get swept away in busyness. Why do I do that?
     I don’t have the excuse of obligations of someone like Eugene H. Peterson, a world-renowned author and lecturer. Yet even with his full schedule, Peterson admitted he sometimes got caught up in busyness simply “because I am vain. I want to appear important. Significant.”
     Ouch. Do I bloat my schedule to try to look important?
     Vanity isn’t the only thing that tricked Peterson into busyness. He said that sometimes it was laziness. “I indolently let others decide what I will do instead of resolutely deciding myself.”
     I’ve done that, too, trying to please others by doing what THEY think I should do instead of setting boundaries.
     So instead of getting swept up with busyness, I want to make some sweeping reforms in my thinking and my schedule. Otherwise, my life may be as futile as Shakespeare described: “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”
     What a tragedy that would be.

My Miracle Friend Jerry

9/13/2019

If my friend Jerry had been been born with Down Syndrome a century ago, his life expectancy would have been ten, but instead, a group of us recently celebrated his fifty-second birthday by slicing into his favorite cake, chocolate-cherry.
     Instead of a sheltered life, Jerry’s a rock star wherever he goes. At the rec center, he wears his Incredible Hulk t-shirt that says “I’m Kind of a Big Deal,” and he fist bumps others as he cycles under the instruction of his personal trainer. He keeps his own apartment with the help of a personal assistant to nag him about housekeeping, and he worked for nearly a quarter century at a supermarket until he retired.
     As I observe Jerry’s full life, my heart breaks that most parents who discover prenatally that their child has Down Syndrome still choose to abort. They do so because of “misinformation of the ancient past,” says Dr. Roger Ladda of the Milton S. Hershey Medical Center. They don’t understand that “survivability and quality of life has been transfigured.”
  So at his party as I watched Jerry read aloud the well wishes in his stack of cards, I was filled with gratitude to know this super hero who really is a big deal. He’s turned his malady into “Up Syndrome,” and reminds me that often I understand the most from those considered the least in this world.

Partying! with Down-and-Outers

9/4/2019

I’m helping dish up a picnic in the park to several hundred down-and-outers: a woman with a burn covering half her face; a man with all his possessions in a Sears shopping cart; a woman who was homeless for seven years before squeezing into a crowded apartment; bikers and their babes; a woman with one hand.
We serve a banquet on tablecloths with centerpieces that say “You Are Cherished.” We hand out four kinds of meat, corn on the cob, salads, chunks of watermelon, two kinds of beans, cake and more cake. “Yes, come back for seconds and thirds,” we say, “then take some with you to wherever you rest your bones tonight. Let your kids blow bubbles and run in the grass, and take a stuffed animal home to hug, whether you’re six or sixty.”
     If I swallow my pride, I admit I’m one of them, scarred and broken by what life has done to me or what I’ve done to myself. And Jesus invites us to come for seconds and thirds and to party in the park of His life.
     Who can turn down a banquet like that?
     ***
     More information about Mean Street Ministry that sponsored this picnic is here.