Sad but True

I am a "high-energy person". I put that in quotations because, I've found, I almost need to tatoo that as a disclaimer on my forehead when dealing with most people.

I've been this way as long as I can remember. I ask my mother, and she says the first time anyone suggested her taking me to see "a specialist or a councillor; someone in the know" I was 3. In a quarter century, very little has changed.

Yes, I've found that that energy, when unfocussed, is a great deal like sitting on a high-powered streetbike with no idea about the controls. I'm going somewhere -- might not know where, but I'll get there really fast. Focused, it's the greated gift in my life that allows me to share my joy and enthusiasm with people. It's not really an act, because when I'm tired I don't feel the need to push myself.

So I work for the church. Did I mention that? Did I also mention that, apparently, for people like me -- and I'm the only one I've really met, which may tell me something -- there are a series of numbered responses that people learn:
1) Why are you like this?
2)did you know a lot of people don't like your attitude? (which I've only ever heard from church leaders; people in congregations seem to like it just fine); and,
3) you're headed for burnout.

I have yet to actually reach the limits of my energy. I've been working hard this year at finding its limits and they just don't seem to exist. It's good to know.

But then I saw this. I don't think Bill Watterson (the creator of C&H) penned it, but it almost makes me cry.








I am what I am. Legions of 'professionals' -- educators, teachers, and yes, even pastors -- point out my base identity and way of interacting with the world like it's a fault.

But I would rather life my life of joy than die for an existence of plumbed whitebread consistency.

I hope that I have the strength and the courage as a parent to encourage my boys to indulge their imaginations and their energies, to tell them that yes, they can fly, dinosaurs live in our backyard, and that stuffed tigers can be our best friends.

And that, in the midst of a world enforcing conformity of behavior (especially in regards to "seriousness") they may find that a laugh can be more meaningful than a measured silence and a pretentious statement.

I'm going to go play with my tiger, thank you.