Incentives

Today is a good day at work. This morning I was plugged in, starting my Bible listening while I worked through some e-mail, when my boss peeked around the corner. She had that good news, head bobbing walk and in her hand she was holding, or rather waving, a single piece of paper. Wen she flipped it over, I knew exactly what it was, by the format. Our incentives were in. Based on the goals last year, the company was paying each of its employees a little share. This is awesome because, hey, extra money. More importantly, I got to print the incentives for my team and hand deliver them. I imagine I had my own head bobbing swagger. It's fun to make people happy, even if it is just for a moment.

Anyway, this had me thinking about incentives, these and others. While I know these have been given out because of my work and the work of the company, it feels very remote from me. It was 5 months ago when I close my last task which would potentially help these incentives and I am only one piece of the pie. So, while I do like the financial nod, if feels pretty disconnected from me. In some ways, it feels more connected to the work I'm doing right now, although it will be a year before they produce the same fruit, if they do at all.

Not that long ago at home, we had what might be considered an incentive problem. Everyday, immediately following any meal, the kids would all begin asking, can I have candy? At first this was just the way it worked, it was a kind of sugar control, but over time it got a bit obnoxious. No, you can't have a candy bar immediately after your high sugared breakfast... Or any breakfast. If I just told your sister yes, why would I tell you no. No, you can't eat a whole chocolate bunny. The problem was not with the children, the problem was with the incentive. See, there was no penalty for asking at ridiculous times, or pushing the reasonable limits and if you didn't ask you didn't get any candy. So. It makes since to ask as often as you can and work to get candy constantly. The system rewarded the persistence, which was starting to grate. So, we had a dinner meeting on it and talked about what was reasonable and the kids decided that two small or one large candy a day was reasonable. They then made the agreement that they would limit themselves to that limit and if found violating that rule, they would forgo candy for a couple days. The incentive shifted, there was no value in asking, the limit was set and they could have the candy when they wanted.

Mr. Wizard

The book was about the size of a magazine, perhaps a little bit thicker and bound better. On the front was a cartoon of a trio of scientists filling a cart in a supermarket. I think one of them was holding a smoking beaker, but I'm not sure. Along the top was the yellow title, Mr. Wizard's Supermarket Science. It was a fantastic collection of experiments you could do at home, making Rice Krispies dance or making a straw go through a raw potato or turning water into wine (sort of). I remember often flipping through the pages looking for something to try, do one of these things that seemed like magic, but were really just practical science.

When I started Youth Group at church, I had already had this book for a couple years, but it was still something I actively looked at. The youth group at my church was great. It was something every kid wanted to get into, they did all the fun things, went to Cedar Point, they sometime had lockins where they partied all night. Once I started, though, the thing I enjoyed most about the group is it seemed you were actually listened to. Up until that time, it seemed to me there was a clear delineation between me and the adults of the church. I was to listen to them, although rarely were they talking to me and they listened to the words I would say in a play, but they knew what they knew about me through my parents. Really, this is the way childhood is; children are not good presenters of their own thoughts and adults who work to get to know children who are not their own, are creepy. Jan, the leader of the group when I first came in, changed this. She listened, was interested, was invested in us. As it turns out, that was more significant that the many trips we would take to Cedar Point.

The other youth an I sat around the table listening to Jan as she talked about an up coming service project. Cleaning Silver. In my mind I think I tout is was hers, but in hind site I think it was the churches. Anyway, she was talking about brining in rags and cleaning solution and how much work it was going to do. While I listened my mind tingled. Mr. Wizard was talking, telling me we didn't have to do it that way.

"We don't have to clean the silver that way," I heard myself saying. Jan stopped and listened. "I have a Mr. Wizard book at home that says you can do it with tin foil and some other stuff. You can just dip the silver in and it comes out clean."

Jan said we could try it that way, but we would have the other stuff there just in case.

When we were doing the project we sat around the table with the pile of silverware, plates and cups in the middle. Many of the kids brought rags and started working in the spoons. I spent the first little bit lining the biggest pot I could find with aluminum foil. I half filled the pot with water and added a little baking soda. The group progress was slow. I hadn't done any and I didn't even know if this would work. I put the pot on the stove and turn it on high. The article said I needed to boil the water,

Jan, probably because I was working with hot water and a strange method, helped me. When the water started to boil we gathered up. A few of the pieces of silver and dropped them into the pot. Two minutes later we pulled them out, ran them under water and the tarnish just washed off. The looked like new. Cleaner than any of the hand polishing which was being done. Soon the whole group was in on the process. Left in the hot water for 90 seconds or so, pulling them out and rinsing the tarnish off. What started as a slow task was getting done very quickly.

In an hour, it was all done. The group satisfied. Jan happy, even saying she would be doing this at her home. Mr. Wizard had won the day.

Life is a Sandbox

With a couple of my friends I've had an ongoing conversation about style of games. It seems that in any long standing, multi-session game, predominately RPGs, they fall into one of three types. These are part the style of the game, part the method of the storyteller and a little set by the demands of the players.

The first style, and in some ways the most common style, is a rail game. You complete an objective and you move onto the next objective. You can't turn a look anywhere else, you are following a tight story or path. The advantage is you can share the experience with people who are not playing in the same game you are. The drama is precise and calculated, meaning by the time you get to the boss you know why it is important to kill him. The downside it, it can leave the players feeling like their choices don't matter. The player can't add anything to the world, they just come to experience it.

The second style has been coined as theme park. The idea behind these style games is there are lots of things to do, but it is not infinite. For those who play World of Warcraft, it is somewhat like the way they do quests. You can choose half a dozen hubs, none of them are required, but each opens up its own stuff. The who choices you make do have some impact, but it is not universal. You can't effectively create a new encounter, you have to choose from the available encounters.

The third, and final, kind of game is a sandbox. These games let you go anywhere and do anything. The world bends around the player. Every choice they make has some impact on not only what they can do, but how events in the world unfold. They give the player the maximum reward for all their choices. The drawback to these game, though, is if players don't have a drive to explore, test and do things, they can become boring. Imagine a huge fantasy world where you decide to just stay in your hut. Yes, you can probably do that, but it is not going to be a very good experience.

Whether you care about, or believe in, these labels doesn't really matter for the thought which has come to me as I have been writing about this. The thought goes like this, games simulate life in various ways, so in someways we look at life not completely unlike a game. It is important to understand the kind of game life is. If you look at life like a rail game, you want life to open up to you and don't really believe you will have any impact. This is wrong. Completely wrong. If you look at life like a theme park, you expect you have a variety of options, but those options are limited, in someways this is true, but in others is is also wrong. A theme park mindset leads you to limit you life options to just the things which are normal or obvious. Really, if you think about it, you can attempt to do anything, whether you should is another thing, but you can. Additionally, as you make choices, the world bends around those choices, you gain skills, friends, enemies, based on the things you do. This is largely true. The problem with this, though, is the same problem which can happen in the games, you have to have drive and desires, or it is going to seem aimless.

Come see us

Where will you be on Friday night? Perhaps you will be doing what you always do. Maybe you have a wedding or family get together. You might just be lucky enough to have an open evening. I love those rare nights when there is nothing I have to do.

This Friday at around 7:30, I expect to be standing at the back of darkened church. The only light around me will come from the lobby behind me and from the small lamps over the sound board. I'll be dressed in a beige robe and a dark blue and white striped tunic tied with a belt. The kind of dress which gets you a second look at the supermarket.

On the stage the lights come up and the choir, which includes Shelly and Sierra, and the musicians come to life. The narrators unfold the story of humanity of our sin and of God's plan. We see women approach the tomb in the early morning. I see their shock and prepare myself. They need to tell someone and they are coming to tell Peter and I.

They make their way down between the audience members and back to where I am standing. I work to understand what they are saying. Then, I am off. I have to see for myself. I leave Peter in the dust. Must see for myself. The play has begun. The most important story is unfolding before us.

You should come see this. In addition to Shelly, Sierra and I, Shelby and Sienna are also participating. They are in the children's choir.

I've Seen Jesus is the name of the presentation and it begins at 7:30 PM this Friday at Praise Baptist Church in Plymouth. If you can, I would love for you to come see this and it would be even better if you brought a friend.

Hopefully, I will see you there.

Cooking

I don't know about you, but I like cooking. I like the process of imagining the flavor, using and playing with a recipe, tasting along the way and then presenting a final product, it builds layers of anticipation towards the meal and the enjoyment of sharing your creation with others. The primary downsides of cooking are the time spent and the planning required.

I don't remember that first thing I cooked, but I remember it was long ago. My mom, pretty early on, decided that her two sons would not be entering the world not knowing how to cook. So, for a while, my brother and I would take turns preparing one of the family meals. We got assistance where needed, of course. We would flip through a few cook books a few days before, so my Mom could pick up the stuff at the store. It was fun.

Recently, though, my cooking has been held to pretty simple things and grilling. There is nothing wrong with this, but I don't get the same enjoyment adding a little color to some hotdogs and cooking some frozen French fries.

Two weeks ago my boss had all of the leaders under her go to a cooking school, where we participated in a duel. The team was divided in half and we cooked the same recipes, with our own tweaking to be presented to a judge and a winner was declared. It was a blast. It also fired that desire to cook up in me. I came home, told my wife and told here I wouldn't mind doing the cooking all the time. She looked at me like I was crazy, perhaps a look of experience, and said deal.

Well, tomorrow is day one, and so far the hardest part is deciding on the menu and coming up with a shopping list. I've downloaded an app to help called Meal Planner, which allows you to import from pretty much all the major recipe sites, but you have to decide on what you want. It is hard to choose what is good and what everyone is going to like. Fun, but hard.

So, if any of you know of some great recipes you think the Smith's should try, let me know.

For my wife and her friends, I will not be joining Pinterest to pick up the recipes you find there.

Garden Crasher

Da'ath stood in the position of honor, the untouchable centerpiece of the vast living landscape. The green, fruited, vines and branches rolled out from her roots in ever direction. Perfectly sweet grapes in green and purple, nine pound lemons and dragon fruit. They held to the branches, always ready to drop, so perfectly ripe, but never letting go until the attendants, those given change of the garden, were ready.

Da'ath, the great tree, though was different. Her branches were high and her canopy was vast and complex. The attendants would sometimes spend hours picking out the faces and animals the branches seemed to make before them. The watcher found this both interesting and annoying. Why should these ignorants be so blessed? They should strive for more, but the chosen never needed to strive for anything. The Lord who rebuked him, lavished so much on these dimwits. The watcher agreed that Da'ath was beautiful, after all, she was why he was here, but it was the fruit which held the real beauty.

If anyone had bothered to look at the watcher, they might have noticed his discomfort. He was used to being much larger, much more obvious, but that would never do here. He couldn't risk Michael stumbling in and discovering him. That would not go well. So, he exchanged his usual dragon form for a much smaller, tight fitting, lizard. Yes, it was a nod to his real self, but he couldn't help it; someone here needed to be clever. God wouldn't look at him. The slow attendants were much more interested in other things.

Why God had placed the attendants so close to the Da'ath, the watcher couldn't say. Perhaps is was just the beauty of the place, perhaps it was he wanted to keep the things he loved together, perhaps there was some plan the watcher couldn't divine. It didn't matter. The opportunity this produced shown like a beacon to the watcher. Ha, light to the light bringer, he thought, but that was from a past life. Before he had been rejected.

The watcher ran in the canopy of the great tree, looking down on the attendants who went about their business. The moment was so important. A moment of weakness or confusion. A small twist was all it would take and these chosen, but dimwitted, attendants would be broken. They could bear the weight of his gift, they would cause God to turn from them and the watcher would be waiting. He looked at one of the footprints of God and thought, if I can't have your thine, then I'll take your subjects. The lizard smiled to himself and the branch he was on lowered to the woman.

It didn't really matter what he said, as soon as he proposed the idea of eating the fruit, of breaking the rules, he knew he had her. And, just as the watcher knew would happen, she presented this same fruit to the man. It was easier being disobedient and drawing others into your disobedience, than it was being lonely. The juice of the fruit did its work and their eyes were opened. It was as if they saw each other for the first time, and they were exposed. They ran and hid.

The watcher moved away from them, pleased with his work. He moved again along the branches of the canopy, looking for God. He knew God would know already and he wanted to see his pain.

God sat, as he sometimes did on the bench beneath the cherry tree. He shined with an intense brightness and blooms of flowers covered the ground near him. He wasn't alone. Beside him sat what could best be described as a younger version of himself. He looked a lot like the male attendant. In fact, it had been he who had planted the trees and laid the bed of the river and place the walking paths before the attendants has arrived. He was creative and a creator.

God looked at his younger self and rested a knowing hand on him. There was love and sadness and the overwhelming sense that what had just happened was what needed to happen. Had been planned.

"You will be made flesh, like them, and dwell among them, and die like them."

"And for them. I'll die so they don't have to. Only, when I die, there will be so many more than the two there are today."

The watcher was shaken by the words. He could already smell the death and despair he had brought, yet is brought him no comfort.

A cherry fell to the ground beneath the tree, and in the distance you could hear various fruits falling through leaves and to the ground where they would rot. God got to his feet and began calling for the attendants.

Advice

I was listening to a podcast earlier this week and it was talking about the long history of the advice columns. I don't remember all the details, but they started sometime in the 1600's and the first one immediately gained competition and they grew in subscriptions and spread geographically. They have been relatively popular, although, changing in topics, pretty much from their creation.

If you think about it, these initially filled a kind of group communication role before there was conference calls or the Internet. They let you post anonymously and receive feedback from "experts". You could see other people's problems and concerns in a way that just wasn't available in proper society.

As I listened to this podcast, I could help but think about how much this role if filled by the Internet. You can google nearly every topic, every problem. Any issue you have, you can probably find a support group for. Want to see people complain about their problems, open up Facebook. In seconds you can find dozens of problems and dozens of different solutions for each of those problems. In a certain light, social networks are like a giant advice column.

From here my mind started to consider the problems with this. The problems with having the amount of information available to us. The first is this, because there are so many writers and groups on any given topic, it is hard to have a sense of community. See the advantage of reading a Detroit paper about a Detroit person, who has an issue, is I have a geographical connection to them. I know the places and things around them. I feel connected. If the only thing connecting us is a problem, that connection goes away when the problem does. The second thing is this, I can find a wide variety of advice, much of it conflicting, on any topic. This all comes from people I don't know, who may have a particular bent on something I am unaware of. So, while I can find advice on anything, who do I trust? I am not even connected enough to any of them to ask.

This brought me to the thought, which I want to pass by you today. It seems we living in a time when we can read the words our friends and build a community out of them. I can and do, play games and discuss topics of the day with people from Florida and Texas and Virginia and New Mexico. While geographically separate, we are one community in a way which wasn't possible in past generations. Yet, the most common social medium we are connected to, Facebook, seems to be completely devoid of real practical, particularly Biblical, advice. I want to change that.

Now, for full disclosure, I am not a Bible Scholar or a preacher. I would be coming from the long line of advise givers who claim expertise, but that expertise is debatable.

This would not be a daily thing, which would replace this blog, it would be a periodic thing as questions came in.

I would repost the e-mails sent to me, but I would try to keep the author private. I would try to back up all of my advice with scripture, but not give "churchy" answers. I want to avoid theological terms and just give back the common sense I think God's word gives us.

So, what do you think? Bad idea? Too prone to gossip? Too hard to protect identities? Or, good idea? You think it would be something which would be useful and interesting? Please help me figure this out.

Looking Back

On Tuesday Reuben, who I normally walk with came back from a sick day. In his left hand he carried a large red back of Ricola cough drops, I suspect cherry flavored, and when he talked he had another mans voice. If a lady bullfrog had taken Barry White up on his seductive offer, and this illicit encounter had produced offspring, I imagine his voice would have been the same a Reuben's. Clearly, he was still sick. In no way does this mean I was going to take it easy on him.

Leading up to our usual walk time, I'm already asking him if he is going to walk and when he croaks that he doesn't think he should. I tell him how good it would be for him, to hack up all that phlegm. My jabs escalate, but in frequency and childishness until it is time to walk. He is unmoved. So, I switch to Robert, a new guy in our area who also walks, and ask him if he would like to go. He looks outside and sees the light snowfall, which lasted only about as long as his gaze, and tells me he'll walk inside.

I am off. I tell them what wimps they are, let them know I can't believe how much they are letting me down. I read them the riot act and all the addendum. Robert, perhaps encouraged by Reuben, who is weakly giving into a little throat issue, stands firm. Their resistance only encourages me, I mean what are they going to say, I'm the one going walking. We stand by the window, so I point, with all the drama I can muster, like Babe Ruth pointing into the stands, down to where I will be walking. "While you wimps are being lazy inside, you look down there and you are going to see me looking up, looking up at you guys who couldn't hack it." Then, not to delay any longer, I put my shoes and coat on and I'm off. I walk toward the exit, knowing who is the superior man.

The cold air hits me when I open the door, but it doesn't slow me, it invigorates me. I will show those guys. I pick up speed, walking even faster, perhaps faster than the quick pace Reuben and I normally set. My mind races through a dozen more barbs I can throw when I get back.

Just off the stairs, I get to the point in the walk where I can see around the corner of the build, make eye contact with whoever would be behind the darkened glass. I look to my right and locate approximately where I know Reuben and Robert are standing. I go full stinkeye. I want them to feel my distain, to know that I am thinking about their inabilities. I move even quicker to prove my point.

What I didn't know was, was that my quickly moving left foot had just landed cleanly, nothing to tell me anything was wrong, just to left of a cement footing, which supported a fifteen foot tall, six inch in diameter, steel light pole. The collision was spectacular. When the left side of my head, exposed because of the ferocious glare I was giving, hit the lamppost, I could hear the bulb bang against the inside of the globe. I could hear the wire on the inside of the steel structure slap back and forth as the pole rocked threatening to break from the ground. I heard this all from my back. You know how sometime when you fall you have that moment to adjust you legs, or put out your hand, or other wise brace for impact? There was none of that. I was immediately leveled.

It is quite amazing how fast ones wishes can change. Even more than I had wanted them to see me down there looking up at them, I really was hoping that had not taken me up on that offer. Dear God, please make it so my employees didn't see me. I get up very quickly, certain that I am going to draw attention in seconds. I resume my pace hoping I'm not flagged down by security and forced through a medical examination. I worry about some stranger asking me if I am OK. I should probably thank my Dad here, because I seem to be built for this kind of thing. My head doesn't hurt at all, but my pride was aching. I look ahead. I look up to God, acknowledging he just offered up some humility. I look out to the parking lot. I do not look back at the window. Any thought of throwing barbs is gone. I'm not going to talk about this walk at all. I wipe salt off of my back and butt as I walk.

I finish my walk, the full two miles and I am fine. i hope that in the 25 minutes or so I have been gone, my incident has been forgotten. I make it through security without them stopping me, perhaps they were in the back posting the security footage on YouTube. I would probably prefer that to them stopping me. I just want to go hide in my cube for a bit. I make it into the area, and no one says anything to me. I almost make it into my cube, but Reuben sits right across from me. It was his window I had pointed through. He looks up at me and say, "Are you OK?" The concern for the moment is genuine. "You really wrecked that pole, I mean is was swaying back and forth." His hands are n either side of him, dramatically showing what my head had done to the pole. "Yes, other than my pride I'm alright." Then, he laughed.

For the remainder of the day, every time I saw Reuben he laughed. Robert, who had also been watching laughed. Brenda, who heard the gasps, but wasn't quick enough to see me on the ground, laughed. Joslyn, who had suggested they might want to get their coats on and go see about me, but decided they couldn't catch me, laughed. Karen, who was home sick, but reachable by text and IM, laughed. I laughed with them.

Christian Resolution, Matthew 18

I have no less than three situations in my life in which I am advising the use of Matthew 18 to come to a Godly conclusion to a conflict among Christians. I still find is surprising how few people know the basis of this and of those that have the basis mess it up. I have been in church leadership meeting where this has been mishandled. So, today's blog is for my Christian reader who are in conflict, but are not sure how to resolve the situation.

Matthew 18:15 - "If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.

Look at the specifics of this verse. It calls to action the wronged person, the person who has been sinned against to take action. This mean, if someone wrongs you, you are called, by this verse, to go to them. There is no sulking in silence, there is no going to other people. You don't get a go between to talk to them for you, you go to them. As a note, I recommend you are prayed up and it is clear to you the sin which has been committed. If you run to them without a clear head, it will increase your burden.

Not only are must you, and no one else, go to them, but you are to do it privately. A phone call, an email, or even better face to face. You don't involve your mutual friends. You don't post or hint at your beef on Facebook. This is a private a personal matter and needs to be handled delicately. Usually when I have seen these situations, by the time I have become involved, this part of the command has been disobeyed. As a note, this means, you need to go to that person and confess before them that you were spreading their business around. They may have sinned against you, but you turned around and sinned against them. Just to be clear, two wrongs do not make a right. God is not please by you handling sin by adding to it more sin.

If this works, and if handled right it most always does, you will have a stringer relationship with that person then you did before. Unfortunately, this doesn't always work.

Matthew 18:16 - But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses.

Again, this verse puts the responsibility on the sinned against. Again it is pretty specific on what we are to do. It says you are to take one or two others with you. Now, this can be tricky, so lets walk through what this means. First, it does not mean you tell everyone and see who will take your side.. It does not mean that anyone is an eligible candidate. You are to only talk to the one or two you select. To them, and only them, are you to explain the situation.

You should pray for God to lead you to those people. They should be wise and able to rightly divide the word. They should be capable of understanding the serious of the duty you are asking them to do. They need to be someone that you trust enough that if they tell you, you are wrong, you would be willing to listen to them. You may feel victimized, when in fact you are not. See, this person, or people, are these to clearly establish the wrong. They are there to make sure the sin you are charging is, in fact, a sin and it is clear the the person you are accusing has actually committed it. Note, they are not to confront without you, they are to go with you. You can't sic them like dogs to do your work, this is still yours. They are your wise witnesses. It helps, if possible, to make sure they are someone the person across the table respects and will listen to. The goal is to make it clear to the sinner that a sin has been committed against you, and give them an opportunity to repent.

Matthew 18:17 - If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church. And if he refuses to listen even to the church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.

It is at this point, and only at this point any of this should become public knowledge, in this day when we know everything about everybody and keep silent in those things we should speak up about, this nearly never happens. I would also note, that the public I am talking about is the church and the goal of this is not to embarrass, but so they would understand their wrong. If step one and step two have not been done, we can't skip to step three, it is inappropriate. If the earlier steps are mishandled in anyway, there needs to be repentance for that sin. It will complicate, but does not invalidate this process.

Someone has sinned against you, take it to them. No gossip, no silence. If they won't hear it take a couple wise people. Again, no gossip, no self pity saying I tried and stopping. If they won't hear the group of you take them before the church.

I would add that if it gets to that point and they reject the council of the church, the church is to remove them from the congregation. Such a person will destroy and hurt you ministry if they are not removed.

Gathering forces

High school was a significant upgrade to middle school, but not without its perils. Yes, I went from an environment with populars and lunch table politics to a place which was too large to really have either. On the other hand, we walked between buildings. On those walkways between Canton and Salem, I dodged pockets of leather clad smokers. I tried to not bump into anyone, but not have what might be considered aggressive eye contact. I trudged with the school, a mass of thick winter coats and down turned heads, keeping me from danger. Small fish in a big pond.

If you had to give my group a name, it would have been the nerds, but that really falls short of who we were. We had a burnout and artists, a jock and mathaletes. The common element which drew us together was gaming, role-playing gaming. We played a variety of games, but our staple was Dungeons and Dragons. It was not uncommon for twelve of us to go to Tim's apartment and play all night in his living room floor. I was the DM, the guy who ran the game, so in a group made this way, I was their de facto leader. I was asked if we were doing something on the weekend, where we were going, what we were going to play. I became the hub of what was sometimes a group of misfits.

For a long time, I never knew the value of this position.

Justin, not my brother, came into German and sat down beside me. Something was wrong, but I didn't bother to ask what it was. I was worried because of how hard German was for me and Frau Burnside was unforgiving. I was hoping Justin, who was brilliant, could help me. Becky, another good student, came over to see if Justin was alright. I listened and it turned out that someone was messing with him. I ask a few questions, but I don't remember what at this time. I remember thinking about how to push back the danger, how to stop what would surly escalate.

For the next few hours, I told the tale of this kid, this bully, who was picking on Justin. Now it should be said, that Justin was a black belt and probably able to handle himself, but that didn't slow me at all. We should have to put up with that. I told Eric, who had a nearly psychotic fascination with blade and Art, who tried to do his red hair like wolverine and imagined himself much tougher than he actually was. I told my brother, who really was the reason I was friends with the other Justin and Minotaur Dave. The word traveled and I asked them to tell others, gather their siblings and none gamer friends.

As the word travelled, the plan started to form. Lunch the next day. The kid we found out always ate in the hallway, which looking back probably meant he wasn't much of a threat, but in the moment just meant I knew how to find my target. I had seen him, had him pointed out to me later as the word was still traveling. I tried to remember his face, I said nothing.

The next day I got the affirmations of the kids who were going to be there. Those that had his lunch and those that would skip to confront him. As the time got closer I got more and more shaky. I had no idea what was about to happen. This felt a little right and a lot wrong.

The bell rung and we started to gather. Some were talking about violence, what to do if he tries something, if we should just beat him to make our point, or if maybe we should just let this go. I was not going to let this go, but I didn't want to get into a fight either. We numbered in double digits, but who exactly was there has slipped from me now.

In the hallway the kid leaned against the wall and ate his lunch. He wasn't the giant I had worried about, a little bigger and heavier than me, but not by much. I called his name and he looked up, I told him we needed to talk.

I don't remember how it all went down. I imagine he stepped out and we surrounded him and said something heroic, maybe even speech worthy, but adds are it was nothing like that, I might have not completed my sentences, because of the nerves, and my friends, who didn't like confrontation, might have stood back. I suppose it doesn't matter. He didn't want any trouble, he said he'd leave Justin alone and we walked away knowing we had each others backs.

Two Headed Snake

Steven and his brother Sean walked among the trees at the edge of mountain past their backyard. They were young, elementary school age, but familiar with these woods. They had walked all the way up to the deer stands near the peak and swung on the thick wild grape vines on the far side. Today, though, they stayed along the edge, playing in the water of the small stream, which was there because of last night's rain.

With muddy hands, the older boy, Steven, pointed to the pile of dead wood, which used to be a fort, and told his brother to get supplies for the dam they would built. Not yet to the phase of life when he would argue everything, Sean did just that. He half skipped, half ran, to the pile of sticks and salvaged plywood. Immediately, he started tugging at a thick branch still lashed to the pile. Every once in a while he had to pull the strap back up on his overalls, or push his blonde hair out of his eyes, but he kept at it.

"Stevie," the boy shouted, "Stevie come look."

He hated that Sean insisted on calling him that, but he must have had something interesting because he was squatting and moving as something on the ground caused the leaves to rustle. When he got close enough to see what it was, he could hardly believe their luck. It was the kind of think you would see in a museum in cloud water. It was a two headed snake.

The creatures skin was grayish brown, with a pattern of tan scales creating light stripes. It coiled and uncoiled causing it to move in a starting and stopping pace. The two arrow shaped heads bit at each other, at rivaled to have to share this single body. It made the thing slow and so distracted the younger boy could easily touch it.

"Keep watching it," Steven said, and took off running toward the house. He needed something to put it in. A box, or bucket. Something. This was going to be the coolest pet of all time. He entered the backdoor of the house and started going through the cupboards. He found it, an old sun tea jar, which had faded yellow sun chipping away on the outside of the glass.

With the large jar in one hand and the lid in the other, he ran back to where Sean still watched. He was about halfway between the fort and the stream now. He plopped the jar down next to the snake, but it seemed not to notice. Coil, then uncoil.

"I don't want to pick it up," Sean said.

"Me neither."

With a couple sticks the older boy half lifted and half flipped the snake into the jar. It coiled into a circle at the bottom, except the heads, which seemed to each believe the other was responsible for their predicament, so lifted up and violently attacked each other. The two boys peered through the glass in amazement. Steven used an old nail in a board to put holes in the lid and they had their pet.

They talked about naming each head, but decided instead to call the Big and Little. If you looked you could see one was clearly larger and more dominant. It was also meaner, Sean observed. So, they rooted for Little, even though it us hard to tell while is the winner in the battle of a two headed snake with itself.

They discovered pretty quickly, that Big Little would eat crickets, but you had to put the lid back on fast or the fat black insects would hop out of their fate. The snake, having to contend with itself, took time to get the bugs. Also, when it did get the bugs, much to the boys dismay, it was almost always Big who did the eating. The talked about the fairness of such things, especially as Little was the one they felt deserved the meal.

So, a plan was devised. They figured out the snakes would eat the crickets even if they were dead. So, they could gather and freeze them before they dropped them into the jar. This kept them from having to immediately recluse the lid. Also, with the jar open, they could take there mother long handled wooden spoon, and hold down the head of Big. With a few mistakes and problems worked out, Little had his first meal. The boys celebrated, by sneaking a little before dinner candy.

This became the pattern. Each day, they would keep Big pinned and let Little eat. Each day they would celebrate. Then they noticed something happening. The size and demeanor of the heads had changed. Big was now smaller than Little and his aggression had been diminished. As an experiment, the boys dropped a cricket into the jar, not pinning Big and it was Little who got there first.

The boys stopped manipulating the feedings and even eventually went back to using live crickets. It was always Little, now who got to eat. It seems the size of Big was shrinking. While the snake grew, the once dominate head did not. It didn't eat, so it didn't grow. In fact it withered.

Perhaps a year later, with the snake graduating from the sun tea jar to a proper aquarium, the boys looked in and though their snake had doubled, that the two heads now had two bodies. Big Little had become Big and Little, each with their own head. Upon closer inspection, though they realized their mistake. He had shed his skin, but something unusual had happened. The shrinking head of Big had come off with the dead skin, it lay dead clinging to the thin paper husk. Starved and discarded. Little, with his fresh skin and new freedom never looked so good.

Busy Days

It might seem like a contradiction, but I have been happy and busy over the last couple days.

I have spaced out my one on ones with my staff to go across two days, rather than one, which has created this situation, but it provides me just enough breathing room to do something other than meet. So, I can make good use of the things they are telling me. Today I was able to pull quick stats the Karens were asking for. I was able to spend a little while seeing how Brenda was making use of Microsoft Project. I have been able to keep walking with Reuben.

Additionally, I've been able to participate in other meetings, like an improvement project which is kicking off in Credentialing. I love tweaking processes and fixing issues and making good things better. It is part of my job, I really enjoy. Yesterday, I was able to begin developing a process to cover a gap we didn't even know existed. I pulled in several people from three different areas and everyone walked away happy. Good stuff.

My e-mail has suffered a little bit, but nothing critical has been missed.

It feels like that moment when you are running, running fast, but you realize you can do. So, rather than dwell on the pace, for just a moment you enjoy the wind on your face.