"How's your daughter doing in college?"
We passed each other, her coming and I going, at the local YMCA.
"She is doing well", I responded. "She is playing for the volleyball team, and loves that, but of course she won't make a living playing volleyball."
"That's fine. Most of us are more than what we do in our work. We are many things. It's great that she is playing a sport."
We're inundated with "right brain, left brain" jargon. We hear that some people think with their feelings, senses, and emotions; others with facts and figures. Clearly we don't all think—or learn—alike.
Educators have found at least four separate learning styles, each with its own optimum teaching methods: innovative learners, analytic learners, common sense learners, and dynamic learners.
When I feel out of breath from doing too much, I ask myself, How did I get into doing all this? How did it all end up on me?
At first, I list the immediate reasons: The project took longer than I thought it would. I wasn't planning on two people quitting the committee.
But when I dig deeper, I usually find buried in my heart the real reason: I wanted people to like me. My desire to help was partly a desire to love and help someone, but it was also my insecurity saying, "Love me! Affirm me! If I volunteer, maybe I'll get that!"
I slipped into his room late one evening as I arrived home from work only to find him wide awake, snuggled under the covers.
"Hey Dad, it's Wednesday," my 12-year-old said. "Tonight was our date night, Dad! You forgot!"
Several years ago, during an unusually intense season of ministry, I made a comment to a friend that surprised us both. Before I could censor my thoughts, I heard myself saying, "I'm tired of helping other people enjoy God; I just want to enjoy God for myself."