Learning Non-Negotiables in Work / Life Balance

I'm learning from various folks how they protect their family time from the ever-encroaching demands of work and service.

Lately, the concept of "non-negotiables" comes into these conversations. Wise mentors, for example, refuse to travel more than once a month. It's a non-negotiable. Others protect family dinner as a non-negotiable. Still others insist that Friday evening is always family night--it's a non-negotiable.

Non-negotiable, if you remember, means not open for discussion or modification.

I'm learning more and more how different families use the non-negotiables to stay in balance in a world where work never ends.

If you have a moment, would you share your non-negotiables when it comes to work / life balance?

Maybe She Needs To

This morning I see a groundhog racing around a field as I'm driving to campus. I know this field; sometimes a dozen or so groundhogs will scurry across and then dive into their underground tunnels. I imagine this whole network of tunnels and an intricate Groundhog City. I wish I could see it and understand it.


There's so much hidden underneath the surface, I think. I consider their secret lives all morning.


Later, I walk into my building only to see some student sitting right there in the middle of the staircase so no one can pass by without difficulty. She's talking on the phone, ignoring everyone as she sits there like she's the most important thing in the world.


I squeeze my way around her, astonished--angry really--at her impertinence. How rude! How selfish!


As I pass her, I think of the groundhog. It's the strangest thing; I think about the intricate tunnels inside that girl's heart. There's a whole life I cannot see. Maybe she's sitting down because she just received the worst news of her life. Maybe she's sitting there because she can't possibly find the energy to move even an inch.


Maybe something's happened to her, and, for whatever reason, sitting there, blocking everyone's path is an inconsequential thing by comparison.


Or, she's just selfish.


I don't know. But for once, I consider how rude and selfish it is to judge others when I cannot see their underground lives and the intricate network of joy and pain within.

If You Dominate Every Conversation

I've become aware that I control every single conversation.

I confess! I repent!

My friend kindly tells me that it's my leadership style and perhaps my teacher's heart (and I excuse it as my curiosity), but it's really my bossy, nosey, impatient, and controlling personality.

It's my power-hungry, obnoxious self.

I'm a conversation thief. I steal what you want to talk about, and I make it about what I want to talk about. I also direct the path of conversation. In the classroom, this serves me well, but outside of the classroom, my conversation style doesn't love others. I didn't even realize that I like the position of power in a conversation. Oh, who can save me from myself?

When I think about this today, I realize that I want to transform my interrupting, dominating, controlling conversational patterns into a more loving kind of exchange. But it's too deep, people. When I share how I'm growing, for example, I'm embarrassed by how my very techniques reveal that I still believe I'm in charge and still concerned with my own power.

Case in point: I say things like, "I'll let you ask the questions, or I'll let you talk about what you want to talk about," as if I'm allowing something that I ultimately control. I can't escape myself! Or I imagine saying, "Who would like to direct this conversation?" to grant authority to someone else (as if I had it to begin with). I think I need to stop talking altogether.

What has happened to me?

I want to listen and let others direct conversation. With God, all things are possible, right?