I just started reading Cheryl Sandberg's Lean In and I've got to respond. I'm only 4 chapters in, and I've resonated with more of her story than I expected. Especially Chapter 3 on Success and Likeability. I was the smart girl in grade school and high school. I hated the label. You might think, what's so bad about being the smart kid? That sounds like a good thing. Well, yes. And no. My peers didn't like me. I can still remember the exact words my best friend said to me in a moment of anger. What did she attack as a way to put me down and elevate herself? My enrollment in the district's program for gifted kids, and the view that I lorded it over everyone else (not true). I'd bet that she forgot those words a long time ago, but I replayed them over and over in my head as evidence of how I was viewed by other kids. Through that encounter, and several others, I learned that being successful at school meant being disliked by my peers.
In high school, I changed schools between my freshman and sophomore years, nervous about an unknown environment, but looking forward to shedding the "smart girl" label. It didn't take long for a few of my teachers and several of my classmates to recognize that learning came easily for me, however. Even though I didn't have the stigma of a clearly defined label, it was evident to those who took notice that I was still successful at school. In that environment, however, I wasn't the only highly successful female student. I "successfully" blended into the crowd, not taking AP classes or challenging myself too much.
I went on to study mechanical engineering in college. Every person you meet when you're in college invariably asks, "What's your major?" For me, the nearly invariable response I got upon answering was, "Wow!" I say nearly invariable because I can count on one hand the number of people who had a different response. I doubt most of those folks would have reacted the same way if I had been male. I went into engineering because I was good at math and science, and because I made better grades than a good number of my male peers. I graduated, with honors, then made some decisions that sent my career path down an entirely different road. For a while, I enjoyed the "normal" reactions to my jobs, which were widely accepted "normal" jobs for a female to have: legal assistant, financial administrator, bookkeeper. Right now I'm at another crossroad in my career, bored with the typical female roles but intimidated by the idea of breaking out of the mold (again). I know I must, so reading this book is one of my tactics to gather some courage.
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Observations at the zoo
The other day it was warm and sunny, so on a whim I went to the zoo. (I have a membership to the zoo, so that makes it easy to just go on a whim.) With my membership, I have been to the zoo several times over the last year, and basically know the layout. But each time I have a different experience. This particular day, the sun was melting some snow that had accumulated the day before. While walking under trees, I was in danger of getting dripped on, or, worse yet, getting smacked in the noggin with a handful of cold wet snow as it loosened its grip from a branch above me. There are a LOT of tree-covered paths at this zoo, but I managed to dodge the larger payloads during my visit.
Aside from dodging snow bombs, here are my other unique experiences from this visit:
The moose was being groomed (brushed) by a staff member while some volunteers looked on. One of the volunteers brought over a tuft of the fur to show me. There were two different types. There was the fluffy fleecy stuff that looked like it would keep mr. moose quite warm. Then there were these straight, thick strands about 3 inches long, interspersed within the fluffy stuff. The lady said those strands helped to protect the moose from burrs and such. Who knew?
The wolves were out and walking around in the middle of the day, making pathways in the melting snow. Their enclosure is a steep slope with many trees, so they can easily hide. Usually I only see them in the evening or when they are being fed, so it was a treat to see them casually walking around.
As I came close to the tiger enclosure, I saw that he was walking on a path that came directly toward me. So, I stopped right where I was, to see how close he would come. (Yes, there was a fence between us.) He followed the path, and paused about 4-5 feet on the other side of the fence. Then he turned and walked uphill in the snow to lay down. I think that is likely the closest I've been to one of those gorgeous animals. I didn't make a move to pull out my camera, because I didn't want to startle him. So, no picture to go with the memory of my tiger encounter. Alas.
I did snap a few pictures of the hippos while they ate.
Did you ever play the game Hungry Hungry Hippos as a kid? In the game, the mouths of the plastic hippos go up and down, devouring as many marbles as possible. Up, down, up, down, up, down. Straight up, and straight down. Well, a real hippo munching on hay makes the same chewing motion! Most animals have a bit of side to side motion when they chew...but not hippos. Just chomp, chomp, chomp. I guess they can move the food around with their tongue, so they don't need to move their jaw as much. In any case, I found it pretty funny that a cheap kids game bore a decent resemblance to real life.
There you have it, my observations at the zoo. Creation is quite fascinating!
Aside from dodging snow bombs, here are my other unique experiences from this visit:
The moose was being groomed (brushed) by a staff member while some volunteers looked on. One of the volunteers brought over a tuft of the fur to show me. There were two different types. There was the fluffy fleecy stuff that looked like it would keep mr. moose quite warm. Then there were these straight, thick strands about 3 inches long, interspersed within the fluffy stuff. The lady said those strands helped to protect the moose from burrs and such. Who knew?
The wolves were out and walking around in the middle of the day, making pathways in the melting snow. Their enclosure is a steep slope with many trees, so they can easily hide. Usually I only see them in the evening or when they are being fed, so it was a treat to see them casually walking around.
As I came close to the tiger enclosure, I saw that he was walking on a path that came directly toward me. So, I stopped right where I was, to see how close he would come. (Yes, there was a fence between us.) He followed the path, and paused about 4-5 feet on the other side of the fence. Then he turned and walked uphill in the snow to lay down. I think that is likely the closest I've been to one of those gorgeous animals. I didn't make a move to pull out my camera, because I didn't want to startle him. So, no picture to go with the memory of my tiger encounter. Alas.
I did snap a few pictures of the hippos while they ate.
There you have it, my observations at the zoo. Creation is quite fascinating!
Saturday, March 09, 2013
All right in the end
The weather outside is frightful, with snow showers and extreme wind. So, it seems a good day to stay inside, read, bake, and think. I just finished reading Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen. I had received it for my birthday last summer, and this is only the second time that I've read all the way through the book. It's so good. I would guess that my affection for the character of Fanny Price stems from her resemblance to myself. I see myself in the way she thinks, the way she hides her feelings, and the way she refuses to give in to her peers. In the end, it turns out well for her. I suppose that is why I like Jane Austen novels. Everything turns out all right in the end. What seems impossible at the beginning of the book becomes entirely possible, and almost expected, by the end. The situations, triumphs, challenges, and experiences mold the characters into people who welcome that which was previously reprehensible. Isn't that so true in life as well? Our experiences shape who we are, and how we view certain things.
Sometimes I wish that my life was a Jane Austen novel, so that I would be assured that everything would turn out well in the end. (This is of course assuming that I were the heroine of such a novel.) Unfortunately, life does not carry that type of reassurance. Tragedy hits; that which we hope, dream and plan for never comes to pass; something comes up and life doesn't take the expected path. Even in the midst of that, there is yet a reassuring hope. There is an Author for the story of life. One who creates purpose out of trials, triumphs, and experiences. This Author is not predictable, and there will still be hardship. Even so, I have an illogical undying hope (almost a 6th sense) that it will all turn out well in the end. That somehow, someday, somewhere, there will be a happy ending. Am I crazy? Or is that called faith?
Sometimes I wish that my life was a Jane Austen novel, so that I would be assured that everything would turn out well in the end. (This is of course assuming that I were the heroine of such a novel.) Unfortunately, life does not carry that type of reassurance. Tragedy hits; that which we hope, dream and plan for never comes to pass; something comes up and life doesn't take the expected path. Even in the midst of that, there is yet a reassuring hope. There is an Author for the story of life. One who creates purpose out of trials, triumphs, and experiences. This Author is not predictable, and there will still be hardship. Even so, I have an illogical undying hope (almost a 6th sense) that it will all turn out well in the end. That somehow, someday, somewhere, there will be a happy ending. Am I crazy? Or is that called faith?
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Trusting the directions
So, a couple weeks ago I was in a different state for a wedding, and I was driving on unfamiliar country roads without GPS (or a smartphone). I had printed directions off the internet and had also gotten an overview map of the entire state from AAA. My trip would take an hour and a half from my start point to the wedding location. Prior to leaving, I consulted with someone familiar with the area, and they agreed my directions were the most direct way to go. So, I started out, closely following the directions. As I got closer to my destination, a sign caught my attention. Of course I was watching the road signs carefully, wanting to be sure not to miss my turnoff. So, when I saw one that had the name of the town where the wedding was, I thought that might be my turn! I slowed down a bit, I'm sure the car behind me appreciated that, and I peered more closely at the sign and at the side road. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't my turnoff. My directions told me to turn onto a different road. So, I sped back up and continued until I found the right sign.
The thing is, it would have been so easy for me to turn onto that road. There was the sign, pointing me exactly where I wanted to go. But, it would have been a longer trip. I had to trust the instructions I had already received. The funny thing is, I passed two such signs before I actually turned off. And when I turned off, there was nothing about my destination. But I got to the wedding, and pretty quickly after I turned.
Its funny how some things are obvious, and some things are not. For a different part of my trip, I heavily relied on signs to get me somewhere. But for this portion, it seemed better to rely on the directions I had printed. I had to go by faith, not by sight. I had to trust that the directions were correct, and would not lead me astray.
It seems life is like that. Sometimes our path is clearly marked, and the best thing to do is just follow the arrows. Go this way, then that way, it all seems natural, easy flowing. Other times the arrows are pointing in a direction that doesn't seem good, or goes against previous direction you've received. It's during those times that you have to trust the directions, and ignore the obvious arrows. Go against the flow a bit. It might not feel totally comfortable at the time, and you might be guessing whether you're really doing the right thing. But, it will be worth it. The key is discerning when to follow the obvious route, and when to go against the flow.
The thing is, it would have been so easy for me to turn onto that road. There was the sign, pointing me exactly where I wanted to go. But, it would have been a longer trip. I had to trust the instructions I had already received. The funny thing is, I passed two such signs before I actually turned off. And when I turned off, there was nothing about my destination. But I got to the wedding, and pretty quickly after I turned.
Its funny how some things are obvious, and some things are not. For a different part of my trip, I heavily relied on signs to get me somewhere. But for this portion, it seemed better to rely on the directions I had printed. I had to go by faith, not by sight. I had to trust that the directions were correct, and would not lead me astray.
It seems life is like that. Sometimes our path is clearly marked, and the best thing to do is just follow the arrows. Go this way, then that way, it all seems natural, easy flowing. Other times the arrows are pointing in a direction that doesn't seem good, or goes against previous direction you've received. It's during those times that you have to trust the directions, and ignore the obvious arrows. Go against the flow a bit. It might not feel totally comfortable at the time, and you might be guessing whether you're really doing the right thing. But, it will be worth it. The key is discerning when to follow the obvious route, and when to go against the flow.
Monday, November 12, 2012
EMI video
In September, an EMI team went to El Sembrador, Honduras. And they had a videographer with them.
To see how EMI impacts people, check it out:
http://vimeo.com/52329368
This was created as a promo video for EMI, but some people may recognize the setting. (My aunt, uncle, and cousins spent a few years at El Sembrador.) The EMI staff are all from the Latin America office, located in Costa Rica.
To see how EMI impacts people, check it out:
http://vimeo.com/52329368
This was created as a promo video for EMI, but some people may recognize the setting. (My aunt, uncle, and cousins spent a few years at El Sembrador.) The EMI staff are all from the Latin America office, located in Costa Rica.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Tragic, but not unbelievable
On facebook this morning, many of my St. Louis friends are posting elation about the Cardinals amazing postseason win last night, my Denver friends are posting disbelief, sadness and horror over the discovery of the body of a 10-year-old girl who went missing last week, and my Colorado Springs friends are posting on a wide range of topics. Proof positive that despite our global news feeds, and the availability of instant information, we really only care about what happens in our own backyard.
I learned this truth poignantly when I moved across state lines. You see, the case of Jessica Ridgeway to me is not an unbelievable horror. Tragedy, yes. Unbelievable, no. Why? Two reasons:
The first reason: another “unbelievable” story happened 19 years ago…a girl of ten went missing during her walk to a friend’s house. She was carrying a personal alarm, thanks to another child abduction in our city. The alarm was found, still going off, in a neighbor’s yard along her route….. about a mile from my home. Many days later, the girl’s body was found, badly decomposed, in a field downtown….about a 45 minute drive from our neighborhood. The unbelievably terrible happened in my backyard, and I had to wrestle with it. A few months later, I moved to a different state, and was shocked that no one in my new area was familiar with the story. It didn’t happen in their backyard. They didn’t seem to care.
The second reason I don’t find this unbelievable: I live in a world where evil is present, and I’m not surprised when it rears its ugly head. Satan is real. His demons can convince people to do wicked things more gruesome than I want to think about (much less see in a movie.) However, I know a man who walked on this earth and told people, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world,” and, “my kingdom is not of this world.” That man is Jesus, and he was (and is) more than a man. He was the son of God who taught that we ought to love one another. My ultimate hope is in Him, even when I see and hear about tragedy. Even when the news is shocking and doesn't make sense, when I can't fathom how someone could do such a thing. Yes, there is evil. But, there is also good. Good was personified in Jesus, and he will have the last word.
I suppose people in Denver, and especially Westminster, will remember the name Jessica Ridgeway for years to come. I understand. I will never forget the name of Cassidy Senter.
I learned this truth poignantly when I moved across state lines. You see, the case of Jessica Ridgeway to me is not an unbelievable horror. Tragedy, yes. Unbelievable, no. Why? Two reasons:
The first reason: another “unbelievable” story happened 19 years ago…a girl of ten went missing during her walk to a friend’s house. She was carrying a personal alarm, thanks to another child abduction in our city. The alarm was found, still going off, in a neighbor’s yard along her route….. about a mile from my home. Many days later, the girl’s body was found, badly decomposed, in a field downtown….about a 45 minute drive from our neighborhood. The unbelievably terrible happened in my backyard, and I had to wrestle with it. A few months later, I moved to a different state, and was shocked that no one in my new area was familiar with the story. It didn’t happen in their backyard. They didn’t seem to care.
The second reason I don’t find this unbelievable: I live in a world where evil is present, and I’m not surprised when it rears its ugly head. Satan is real. His demons can convince people to do wicked things more gruesome than I want to think about (much less see in a movie.) However, I know a man who walked on this earth and told people, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart, for I have overcome the world,” and, “my kingdom is not of this world.” That man is Jesus, and he was (and is) more than a man. He was the son of God who taught that we ought to love one another. My ultimate hope is in Him, even when I see and hear about tragedy. Even when the news is shocking and doesn't make sense, when I can't fathom how someone could do such a thing. Yes, there is evil. But, there is also good. Good was personified in Jesus, and he will have the last word.
I suppose people in Denver, and especially Westminster, will remember the name Jessica Ridgeway for years to come. I understand. I will never forget the name of Cassidy Senter.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Looking ahead, and looking back
The other day I went to a worship night at my church. More than just music, there was also a bit of truth spoken. As it turns out, they have been going through the book of Philippians. The same book I studied last summer, and attempted to memorize vast sections of. The section from the other night? "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but the everything will come out so that Christ may be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body it will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two. However, I am confident that I will remain in the body..." (Melissa paraphrase)
Anyway, the theme was death. A man who has been a leader in the church and in the community had recently died, so the subject was already on the minds of many in the room. The question was asked of everyone, what do you want to be remembered for? Not as something to respond to verbally in the group, but something to ask of yourself, and ponder. Fifty years from now, what will your life look like? What will be important to you? You'll likely be nearing the end of your life.
I took the opportunity to write a letter to myself, with the idea that I would read it 50 years from now as an 83-year-old. The exercise for me led me to the conclusion that what I want out of life does not really matter. What matters is that I do the will of the one who put me here, who has called me according to his purpose. At the end of my life, I want to be able to say that I did the work that God had prepared for me to do. That, to me, will be a full and successful life.
Later, as we resumed the music and singing, I started thinking more what it might be like to be 70 or 80-something. Then I thought of my grandmothers, one living and the other with Jesus. I called my grandma just today and asked if she would be around for Labor Day weekend. Her response? "If you're coming, I'll be here." Relationships....people....family. Those are what she values. My other grandma I remember as a woman of prayer who knew Jesus well. I know that she prayed for me, I don't doubt it. She only had/has two grandchildren....myself and my brother. I am the legacy that she left behind. I am the result of her prayers. I don't for a minute think that I have gotten to where I am solely on my own hard work or merit. People have prayed for me. Many people. As I stood there and pondered that, the weight of responsibility ...maybe that's not the best way to describe it...the sense of history and the responsibility of carrying on that gift, or calling, or whatever you want to call it...to be worthy of so many people who believed in me, believed in the power of Christ within me. Wow. It was almost overwhelming.
Anyway, the theme was death. A man who has been a leader in the church and in the community had recently died, so the subject was already on the minds of many in the room. The question was asked of everyone, what do you want to be remembered for? Not as something to respond to verbally in the group, but something to ask of yourself, and ponder. Fifty years from now, what will your life look like? What will be important to you? You'll likely be nearing the end of your life.
I took the opportunity to write a letter to myself, with the idea that I would read it 50 years from now as an 83-year-old. The exercise for me led me to the conclusion that what I want out of life does not really matter. What matters is that I do the will of the one who put me here, who has called me according to his purpose. At the end of my life, I want to be able to say that I did the work that God had prepared for me to do. That, to me, will be a full and successful life.
Later, as we resumed the music and singing, I started thinking more what it might be like to be 70 or 80-something. Then I thought of my grandmothers, one living and the other with Jesus. I called my grandma just today and asked if she would be around for Labor Day weekend. Her response? "If you're coming, I'll be here." Relationships....people....family. Those are what she values. My other grandma I remember as a woman of prayer who knew Jesus well. I know that she prayed for me, I don't doubt it. She only had/has two grandchildren....myself and my brother. I am the legacy that she left behind. I am the result of her prayers. I don't for a minute think that I have gotten to where I am solely on my own hard work or merit. People have prayed for me. Many people. As I stood there and pondered that, the weight of responsibility ...maybe that's not the best way to describe it...the sense of history and the responsibility of carrying on that gift, or calling, or whatever you want to call it...to be worthy of so many people who believed in me, believed in the power of Christ within me. Wow. It was almost overwhelming.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Natural Disaster
Did I happen to mention that I'm back in Colorado Springs? At the rate I blog, I guess not. Well, I'm back, working at EMI (Engineering Ministries International) in the finance department. Which means that I was in town during the natural disaster that took place at the end of June.
The Waldo Canyon Fire will be talked about for years to come, probably decades. (We're still talking about Haymen, and that was 10 years ago.) It started in (coincidentally...or not) Waldo Canyon just to the west of Colorado Springs on June 23 (my birthday). Mountainous terrain does not make firefighting easy, and it soon spread. The town of Manitou Springs was evacuated. A ritzy neighborhood between Manitou and Garden of the Gods was evacuated. Glen Eyrie was closed. (And the church picnic for which I had paid $5 to attend, was cancelled....as it was to be held on the grounds of Glen Eyrie.) Up til this point, I was at my parents house in the south Denver area, celebrating my birthday. Upon hearing the picnic was cancelled, and much of Colorado Springs was covered with smoke, I stayed put for a while longer. I returned on Sunday evening, Jun 24th, to a smoke-filled sky. Monday came, and with it a few more evacuations, though Manitou Springs residents were allowed to return home. The fire was starting to spread north a bit, so a few neighborhoods on the west side were in potential danger. Garden of the Gods was closed. Monday night I could see flames from my condo on the southeast side of town. I was over 10 miles away.
Then, Tuesday came. In the afternoon, a thunderstorm came through bringing a LOT of wind and virtually no rain. They interrupted the normal 4 pm press conference to bring down immediate mandatory evacuations on several neighborhoods in West Colorado Springs. The fire came racing down the slope, powered by winds of 65 mph, headed directly for the Mountain Shadows neighborhood. A mass evacuation ensued, with scared people waiting in long lines of traffic to get out and dramatic fire photos coming in from the media and everyone else. (I don't have any dramatic photos, because I was on the south side of town. Look up other sites....there are plenty!)
Here is the photo that I did take about 5:30 pm of the smoke and clouds that I could see during my drive home from work.
As we would find out later, in that one afternoon and evening the fire almost tripled in size, destroyed 346 homes, and killed 2 people. (A couple in their 70's....no one is sure why they didn't evacuate.) Another photo of the smoke, taken at 9:00 pm Tuesday night, from downtown Co Spgs.
As it stands now, the fire is almost 100% contained, and people are returning to their homes...if they have a home to return to. President Obama visited, and the governor. It was on national news, and everyone made a big deal about it--the most destructive fire in the history of Colorado.
Watching it play out in the media, and hearing the stories, it makes you think. What is really important? If you had two hours to pack your car of anything that you could fit in, with the idea that a forest fire was racing toward your house....what would you grab? What would you leave? One thing I learned through the stories I've heard....don't forget to pack a suitcase like you're going on a trip. Even those whose homes were spared, they still were away from their homes for a week or more. One mom talked about trying to pick things for each of her kids, who were away at camp. I would have enough struggle making those decisions for myself, let alone for someone else. Photos, financial records, those are portable things that cannot be replaced. But what about the antique furniture handed down in your family for generations? You can't fit that in a Honda CRV, or a Mini Cooper, or even a Suburban. You'd probably want your computer, but what about the love notes exchanged between you and your spouse back when you were dating? Maybe a favorite outfit, and your most comfortable pair of jeans (or sweatpants, if that's your style.) What about your personal journals, or original artwork created by members of your family?
What would you pack in your your car? You've got two hours or less, and the fire is coming fast and furious. Choose wisely.
The Waldo Canyon Fire will be talked about for years to come, probably decades. (We're still talking about Haymen, and that was 10 years ago.) It started in (coincidentally...or not) Waldo Canyon just to the west of Colorado Springs on June 23 (my birthday). Mountainous terrain does not make firefighting easy, and it soon spread. The town of Manitou Springs was evacuated. A ritzy neighborhood between Manitou and Garden of the Gods was evacuated. Glen Eyrie was closed. (And the church picnic for which I had paid $5 to attend, was cancelled....as it was to be held on the grounds of Glen Eyrie.) Up til this point, I was at my parents house in the south Denver area, celebrating my birthday. Upon hearing the picnic was cancelled, and much of Colorado Springs was covered with smoke, I stayed put for a while longer. I returned on Sunday evening, Jun 24th, to a smoke-filled sky. Monday came, and with it a few more evacuations, though Manitou Springs residents were allowed to return home. The fire was starting to spread north a bit, so a few neighborhoods on the west side were in potential danger. Garden of the Gods was closed. Monday night I could see flames from my condo on the southeast side of town. I was over 10 miles away.
Here is the photo that I did take about 5:30 pm of the smoke and clouds that I could see during my drive home from work.
As we would find out later, in that one afternoon and evening the fire almost tripled in size, destroyed 346 homes, and killed 2 people. (A couple in their 70's....no one is sure why they didn't evacuate.) Another photo of the smoke, taken at 9:00 pm Tuesday night, from downtown Co Spgs.
As it stands now, the fire is almost 100% contained, and people are returning to their homes...if they have a home to return to. President Obama visited, and the governor. It was on national news, and everyone made a big deal about it--the most destructive fire in the history of Colorado.
Watching it play out in the media, and hearing the stories, it makes you think. What is really important? If you had two hours to pack your car of anything that you could fit in, with the idea that a forest fire was racing toward your house....what would you grab? What would you leave? One thing I learned through the stories I've heard....don't forget to pack a suitcase like you're going on a trip. Even those whose homes were spared, they still were away from their homes for a week or more. One mom talked about trying to pick things for each of her kids, who were away at camp. I would have enough struggle making those decisions for myself, let alone for someone else. Photos, financial records, those are portable things that cannot be replaced. But what about the antique furniture handed down in your family for generations? You can't fit that in a Honda CRV, or a Mini Cooper, or even a Suburban. You'd probably want your computer, but what about the love notes exchanged between you and your spouse back when you were dating? Maybe a favorite outfit, and your most comfortable pair of jeans (or sweatpants, if that's your style.) What about your personal journals, or original artwork created by members of your family?
What would you pack in your your car? You've got two hours or less, and the fire is coming fast and furious. Choose wisely.
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