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On drawing lines

Mon, Jul 6, 2009

Leadership

“I’ve just about had enough.”

A phrase most often coupled by parents with “Don’t make me come back there.”

Some how, some way, we all want to set boundaries on what we can live with.  And often, we want to back that up with some promise of force or other action if any one is so bold as to cross that line.  After all, don’t people need to know that invading boundaries invokes consequences?

I’m a boundary-loving person — but not big on consequences.  That’s not to say that I don’t impose consequences.  I’m just not thrilled about it.

Yet, consequences are a natural . . . well, uh . . . consequence of life.  Any action I take or word I speak holds tremendous potential for ripples.  And when the boundaries are the right ones, then the attendant, well-reasoned consequences serve a noble purpose — even if the consequences are difficult.

But what happens if my “line in the sand” is misplaced?

Perhaps because of my distaste for imposing consequences, I’m fairly even-handed in dealing them out.  My difficulty, it seems, comes in staking out the wrong boundaries or sometimes the right boundaries for the wrong reasons.  That’s not to say that the lines I draw aren’t close to the right vicinity.  However, if I can’t explain why they’re there, do I dare defend them?

William Ury in his book, The Power of a Positive No, addresses this problem with his concept of packaging a “No” as three answers.  The first answer is a “Yes!” to yourself and your own values.  The second is a firm “No.” to the person or persons making demands or asking you to shift your boundaries.  The final answer is a “Yes?” that can spur further conversation.

Even though I violated all sorts of writing styles in including them, the punctuation on those answers is important.  The exclamation point on the first “Yes!” shows the enthusiasm and positive energy we should feel in recognizing where our own interests are.  The period on the “No.” makes it a calm, flat statement.  A negative answer is often delivered with anxiety and in a way that provokes argument or, even worse, ends all conversation.  A healthy, well-meaning “No” leaves room for continued dialog.  The question mark on the final “Yes?” invites others into a discussion of what could be.  In other words, “Yes?” says, “Your position or request is outside of my current boundaries.  Could we talk about our common interests and see if there is some place we could agree?  Who knows?  Perhaps our boundaries could use adjustment.”

I’m not sure that my “first yes” in all situations bears that exclamation point.  I doubt whether I’ve always invested in discovering and testing those personal boundaries. Since it’s the first piece of a positive “no,” my work is cut out for me.

I’ll be taking drawing lessons in the near future.  Who would have thought that sketching an exclamation point could present such a challenge?

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Tweets from Joey & Foster Dog

Just Thoughts
  • Hope seen . . . slowly softens the crust of worry. Hope celebrated . . . melts worry away. Melted worry is the compost that feeds faith and destiny.

  • An abundant life is not one free from worry, but one filled with hope.

  • Have you ever been in a really big hurry?

    Have you ever been in a really big hurry  . . . and everything seems to go wrong?

    You drop your keys just as you get to the door. You leave your phone on the nightstand. You hit “reply to all” on the email that should have gone to one discreet individual. You can’t seem to hit the trash can with that one wad of paper. You find yourself face-to-face with the one person you don’t “really have time to deal with.”

    Frustration builds inside. Anger, dismay, and depression grow like grass in a flower bed. What can you do? What is the most effective action step for the moment.

    Slow down.

    That’s it. Slow down. Take a breath. Whisper a prayer. Hum a song.

    Slowing down allows tension to melt away. Slowing down allows your emotions to moderate. Slowing down allows you to gain control . . . by easing your grip.

    So, slow down . . .

  • “Constantly Pleasant.”

    That’s how she was described. Not a person attending the memorial service would have disagreed.

    As I sat and listened to the accomplishments of this remarkable person, I was somewhat awestruck by the thought that I had been blessed to know an individual who touched so many and did so much . . . while being constantly pleasant.

    What if I could become constantly pleasant? What would that change? How would I change?

    Thanks, Colleen. For being constantly pleasant. It’s just one of many ways that God shone through you.

  • If you’ll just let go, your hands will be free to  . . .

    • comfort a friend in pain
    • carry a stranger’s burden
    • steady yourself when your world is rocked
    • graciously accept a gift
    • smooth the wrinkles from the fabric of life

    If you’ll let go . . . empty your hands of things and your heart of worries . . . you’ll be delighted with what you find in those sacred hollows.

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