Boy, I loathe that sense of entitlement. I hate it when other people develop a sense of entitlement. I remember as a young undergraduate making the mistake of calling one of my professors by the first name. (Let’s call him John.)
“Hi, John?” I said. “I have a question.”
Dr. John “Smartipants” Smith removed his glasses from his exceptionally long nose, placed them on the podium, closed his eyes with a deep sigh, and said, “The name is Doctor Smith.”
I almost laughed. (I had enough sense to restrain myself.)
At the time I knew I would never be one of those professors who felt entitled to have everyone bow down to my intellect and call me Dr. Fife.
And then I got my PhD. Read more »
The 70% Rule.
Speaking of failures, amidst my many shortcomings, I’ve had this nagging something plaguing me of late. It’s okay to fail at writing, it’s okay to fail at my profession, and it’s okay to fail at losing weight and exercise. But I cannot accept failure at being a dad.
But I’ve felt like a failure lately. It seems that 90+% of my interactions with my kids are contentious. And all the while, I keep thinking, I’m one of those dads. You know what I’m talking about, right? The sort of dad that’s always butting heads with the kids, the sort of dad that the kids are conditioned to resent long before maturity sets in (and with it, the humble realization that dad may have been right after all).
But, I did little about it. I suppose I was so preoccupied with my other endeavors to do anything about it. (Bad idea). Read more »
It’s been eleven years now since I learned that lesson. I was living in Michigan, serving as a missionary. For those unfamiliar with Mormon-dom, let me tell you about those fellows who wear white shirts, ties, and black name tags. The pair of them must be within eye sight of one another 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The only break they get from one another is the occasional “trade-off” where they switch companions for a day.
And did I mention you don’t get to choose your companion?
And it can last anywhere from six weeks to six months (and sometimes more).
Guess what….. Read more »
I warn you now–I’m gonna lay it out there–exposed my sinful heart for the world to see. But maybe by doing that, I’ll find what I’m looking for.
How do you know when you’ve forgiven someone?
This question seems to pop on quite a bit in Sunday school. How do you know when you’ve forgiven someone?
Well. I don’t know if I have the answer. But I do have an answer that made a difference in my life. And, it changed my perspective too. Read more »