This week I was reminded of a reality I’d forgotten… The simple power of giving courage.

Too often I find myself praising others (Great job! You’re so pretty! Well done!) and forget that at its core, encouragement is actually about instilling courage into someone’s heart and intentionally driving out their fear.

Encourage:
v. early 15c., from Old French encoragier “make strong, hearten,”
from en- “make, put in” + corage “courage, heart”

Is my encouragement pouring in courage? Is it driving out fear? Am I simply praising (stating a fact, making a comment) or am I adding something new?

Fear weakens. Courage strengthens. Listen closely, are my words leaving people the same, or perhaps.. weaker?

My challenge for this week, which I extend to you… let’s intentionally use our words to chase fear out of someone’s heart. In its place, let’s pour in courage and watch the difference it makes.

He drew a circle that shut me out —

Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.

But Love and I had the wit to win:

We drew a circle that took him in.

-Edwin Markham

Photo cred: Riccardo Romano

Zac and I are staycationing this week. We always intend to keep the conversation off church, seeing as that’s our job. But who are we kidding? Our first conversation was about our love for the Church. It’s part of the reason we fit so well together, we have a great respect and deep love for her. The Church may be where we work, but it’s also where our hearts lie.

But still, we try not to talk office, we talk us. We talk passions, frustrations, lessons learned, lessons shared. Prompted by a question Zac asked this week, here are some things I’ve learnt so far leading the Guest Services teams at Riverview…

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“I would never recommend imitation as a strategy. You’ll be Second, which is a very long way from First”

– Peggy Olsen

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it

– William Arthur Ward

Last night I was awake in the early morning. The dog barking to go outside. Work dreams. Too hot. Too cold. Meanwhile our baby sleeps, snoring softly in his little sleeping bag a few rooms away.

The gumption to raise yourself out of bed in those early hours is incredibly hard to conjure. But as I waited for Chester to stop sniffing the outside air (seriously, that dog!) I couldn’t help but smile. I remembered a night, not too long ago, where I woke up to feed Judah and my sweet husband, effectively asleep, mumbled, “Thank you for all you do for us”.

The man was barely conscious, and that’s what made it such an unexpected and special gift to me. All walls down, all defenses were at rest and at the forefront of his heart was a desire to express his gratitude.

Months later, Zac’s ‘thank you’ is a gift that keeps giving me joy, hope and strength. Especially as I wait for my imbecile dog to come back inside and let me go back to sleep for goodness sake.

A few weeks ago, Zac asked me something in passing and I caught this thought before I could even finish it:

“Surely after almost five years of marriage, he’d know by now…”

But that thought, right there, is the biggest killer of romance.

Romance isn’t the unnecessary fluff of love, it’s the reflection of a commitment to growth. Romance says “yes” to the possibility of change. Romance is the expression we give each other to say, “Hey, you, I’m still so interested in discovering who you are.”

Assumption immediately cuts off romance. It uses the past as precedence and is closed to future. Assumption faces the future based on old facts. When I assume, I’m not listening, I’m not discovering, I’m not open.

We buy flowers to say, “I’m still committed to pursuing you.” We go out for dinner together to say, “I’m setting aside time to get to know you better.”

I’m humbled to say, Zac totally gets this already. Every morning, he hauls himself out of bed and turns on the coffee machine. Every morning he asks me, “Want a coffee?” and every morning I say, “Yes”.

Zac could easily assume that I want a coffee (it is the same answer. every. damn. morning) but he doesn’t assume… because he knows… sometimes I might say something different, and he’s open to that.
Now, isn’t that romantic?

I was 16 and it was a school trip overseas. Florence. Rain hung thick in the air and the sights and smells of the tourist squares were dizzying. Wading through nausea, fever tugging my mind away, I slumped on an ottoman in the Uffizi. Thoughts muddling, eyes darting, resting on whatever could hold their attention.

And then there she was.. larger than my entire field of vision. Caught off guard by it, I drew in a breath and took in the details…

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As I closed the door, I winced. I could hear him rolling over and that meant one thing, my chest wouldn’t be there to crash into, he’d notice my arms weren’t holding him, the whimpering would start, then the crying. It happened every nap. Sometimes he’d make a half-hearted noise and that would be it, sometimes he’d cry for a few minutes before suddenly stopping, fast asleep. Sometimes the wailing would start… It was different every time, but one thing that never changed? I was intently listening, just outside the door. The whole time. I knew that this was something my son was old enough, healthy enough and safe enough to do. For him, his world was lonely and dark. But I was there. He thought I couldn’t hear him. But I was there. He wondered if I would ever come back. I was so much closer than he realised. So as her son learnt to fall asleep, this mother diligently stood outside his door, heart in her throat, wishing he knew how much love existed for him in that moment. And I heard my Father in heaven whisper to me…

“See Clare, just because I choose not intervene every time you cry, does not mean I am ignoring you. I never ignore the cries of my people. I am far closer, far more involved than you could ever know.”

So to those of you crying out with no apparent answer, please know your Father is so close. He may not be choosing to intervene right now, but He is not ignoring you. You will forever be the focus of His loving attention.

I think every creative feels the tension of the edge. Shy too far from it and you slip into obscurity, dance over it too much and you fall into irrelevance. The edge is where ideas are powerful.. beautiful… the edge allows you to cut through the noise of everything else. It’s a special place.

But if you journey to the edge in the wrong way, the damage to your creative soul will be hard to repair.

Are you pushed to the edge out of fear? A domineering boss, keeping up with relentless pace of output, comparison, insecure, afraid you won’t be valued if you don’t stay sharp? When you’re in that place, the edge is exhilarating, but it’s the kind of exhilaration that exists when you suspect there’s danger. The work you create can still be great work, but it leaves you, its creator, hollow. Always anxious, for the next edge experience, so your fears don’t become reality.

I’ve only recently experienced a new way of getting to the edge. At first, I was skeptical. The process of getting to the edge this way meant that the work was very average, for what felt like a long time. Everything I feared! But the edge has been getting closer again and the way it feels is so different. Before the edge was lonely, isolating, every man for himself. Now the edge is safe, enjoyable, the sun is shining.

The difference?

Team.

Now I don’t feel afraid of the edge. I know that I can confidently explore it, knowing that I have a team up top pulling me back if I get irrelevant. If I fall over the edge into la-la-land, the team is there, ready to catch me, and get back to balancing the tension. There are lots of us on the edge now. Lots of possibilities, more ideas, better ideas than before.

The secret is that the team isn’t afraid, they’ve spent the time, energy and done the emotional work to face the fear and live bigger together.

Team makes the living with the tension of the edge sustainable. Team makes it healthy. Team makes it worthwhile.

Start where you are.

Use what you have.

Do what you can.

-Arthur Ashe

When I create, when I sit down to do a job, the temptation often sneaks in to excuse my lacklustre work on… well… lack.

Lack of resource, experience, time, self esteem, recognition, talent, money, collaborative ‘challenges’, upline managers who don’t ‘get’ it [do I need to continue?] poor lighting, workspace, inspiration, etcetera.

We all do this, but when you’re watching someone else in this space doesn’t it frustrate you? Doesn’t it make you want to say, “Uhhhm.. I love you, but get on with it!”?

Here’s my encouragement… I’ve always found that my most creative, beautiful, inspiring work comes with an acute sensation of feeling crushed – either by a deadline, an insecurity, resource challenges. More often than not, by whatever it is I feel I lack.

But crush me every day, because it’s in the process of crushing that the creative juice really starts to flow.