It's my hundredth post, and so as to not stress about what to say on such an important milestone, I'm cheating and posting this very funny video.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Weekend away
We got out of the house this weekend to go to the Leaders' Weekend Away with our Church. It was a truly amazing time of meeting with God and getting to know some new friends. Nick Sharp is an ex-con, an ex-paratrooper who met Jesus when he was 30+, as he sat in a jail cell waiting to be tried for assault and other nasty charges. He is someone who really has a grasp of what it means to be "saved". Not saved from some eternal punishment after death, but really and truly saved from a life he didn't want to be living. He talked about encouragement and exhorted all of us as leaders to learn to be encouragers. His basis was that God is absolutely for us and wants us to be encouraged, not only to feel good about who we are but to be spurred on to do the things God has for us with confidence that he has given us everything we need to do them. The Holy Spirit is the Encourager, and when we encourage one another we are doing something that he gets excited about. Encouragement is the key to prophecy and to mobilizing a church. Nick said it all much more clearly than I am summing it up, and his bottom line was this: When we walk into church we should be asking ourselves two questions. "How can I praise God? and Who can I encourage?" What a great posture in which to walk into our meetings.
Besides having great teaching, we had many chances to get out of our heads and let God meet with us at a heart level. There's something about a weekend like that where we spend time praising God with songs and spend lots of time crying out to him, repenting, asking for his presence, asking him for prophecies, asking for anything he wants to give us, that clarifies life. We let go of so many questions and just meet with the living God who cannot be boxed. He comes along and declares that he is the one who made heaven, earth, the sun, moon, and stars. He declares that he is bigger than anything we are facing, and yet small enough that he can come alongside each of us and tenderly care for us. He may not solve all our problems, in fact most likely not, but he makes us forget about them for a little while, and when we get back to life we have a new perspective and zeal, and it is good.
My eyes are red and swollen, but my heart is light, my soul is strong, and I am filled with love and passion and grace and vision. Not bad for a weekend, eh?
Besides having great teaching, we had many chances to get out of our heads and let God meet with us at a heart level. There's something about a weekend like that where we spend time praising God with songs and spend lots of time crying out to him, repenting, asking for his presence, asking him for prophecies, asking for anything he wants to give us, that clarifies life. We let go of so many questions and just meet with the living God who cannot be boxed. He comes along and declares that he is the one who made heaven, earth, the sun, moon, and stars. He declares that he is bigger than anything we are facing, and yet small enough that he can come alongside each of us and tenderly care for us. He may not solve all our problems, in fact most likely not, but he makes us forget about them for a little while, and when we get back to life we have a new perspective and zeal, and it is good.
My eyes are red and swollen, but my heart is light, my soul is strong, and I am filled with love and passion and grace and vision. Not bad for a weekend, eh?
Lenten Progress
I haven't quite managed to keep up with my Lenten sacrifice of sleep. I put this down to the fact that I've only slept through the night twice since Lent began. Other nights I've been up one, two, three, four, five, six, lost-track-of-how-many times. I don't know what's going on with my kids. I've been the object of jealousy and resentment on more than a few occasions because my kids are such good sleepers, and I must admit I've been more than a little proud of this fact. My humble, "Oh, I've just been blessed with sleepy babies" has really meant, "Yeah, that's because my parenting skills are amazing." Well, that's all been washed away after having slept through the night five times since before November. Besides jet-lag, all three of them had the stomach bug and two colds, then there were nightmares, teething, a night-time cough, dirty nappies at strange hours, and general wanting of the mommy. On the nights that I lost track of my comings and goings from bed, I just couldn't face a six o'clock alarm, and so my much-needed dates with my running shoes and with my blog have been sorely neglected.
But, I slept through last night, and so I am groggily trying to put down into cyberspace some of the mad thoughts rushing through my brain before I have to face the wonderful and terrible three who will be my taskmasters today.
But, I slept through last night, and so I am groggily trying to put down into cyberspace some of the mad thoughts rushing through my brain before I have to face the wonderful and terrible three who will be my taskmasters today.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
And the verdict is...
Since it is MY BLOG and all, I thought I'd share MY perspective on this Netherlands pitch before giving you the verdict. No cheating! Do not scroll to the bottom of this post to find the answer. You'll get there soon enough.
My mom was here for the week before and during the pitch, and rather than having an extra pair of hands for the week, my mom just replaced Tim around the house and with the kids for the week, since he was working until the wee hours of morning on this pitch and then was gone for two nights to actually do the pitch. The girls and I sacrificed hours with Daddy to do our part for the elliottyoung empire, and so we (well, I) were more than a little anxious about the outcome. If we won, would that make the hours of single-parenting worth the effort. Would our kids benefit more from us winning than from having their daddy around for those evenings he was at the office? For the last two and a half years we have been making these sacrifices in an effort to grow a business that we hope will support us until we decide to retire, and periodically we reassess and ask if it's all worth it. Would it be better to settle for a lower income in exchange for more time with the kids and with each other? Then the sacrifices would be fewer trips to the States and holidays closer to home, and no meals out ever, and a smaller house, and less flexible time working from home. But would those be better than sacrificing time with family? We seem to ask these questions every few months, or every time the work load demands longer hours than normal, and each time we decide to give it a bit longer and see if things level out. For now our kids seem happy with the amount of time they get from Disco Daddy, and Macy did say "dada" before she said "mama" so she must be seeing more of him than it seems, and I am capable of doing dinner and bedtime by myself a couple times a week as long as I get my date with my husband on a Thursday, so we're sailing through, for now.
And things are getting exciting. I've watched my husband grow from a guy who decided to try running his own business with a mate, when he thought he'd give this a try and then perhaps dabble in some other things, like limo hire and a coffee shop, to the director of a well-respected marketing firm with prospects of venturing into publishing and marketing consultancy. His business sense and God's provision have grown the company from a team of two part-timers to two directors with four full-time staff, a free-lance artworker and a part-time accountant. Clients include the largest pharmaceutical supplier to the NHS (the national health care system) and the largest exhibition company in the world. At the pitch they made Ogilvy look like amateurs. And they won the biggest client they've ever had. That's right, they won!!!!
I am so proud. I would have been proud, regardless, because I know Tim and Dan worked hard and did their best, but the sweet taste of victory is fresh in my mouth, and my heart is swollen with admiration for this man who started with a couple of little jobs and a vision and turned it into a successful business that is supporting his family. Well done, baby.
My mom was here for the week before and during the pitch, and rather than having an extra pair of hands for the week, my mom just replaced Tim around the house and with the kids for the week, since he was working until the wee hours of morning on this pitch and then was gone for two nights to actually do the pitch. The girls and I sacrificed hours with Daddy to do our part for the elliottyoung empire, and so we (well, I) were more than a little anxious about the outcome. If we won, would that make the hours of single-parenting worth the effort. Would our kids benefit more from us winning than from having their daddy around for those evenings he was at the office? For the last two and a half years we have been making these sacrifices in an effort to grow a business that we hope will support us until we decide to retire, and periodically we reassess and ask if it's all worth it. Would it be better to settle for a lower income in exchange for more time with the kids and with each other? Then the sacrifices would be fewer trips to the States and holidays closer to home, and no meals out ever, and a smaller house, and less flexible time working from home. But would those be better than sacrificing time with family? We seem to ask these questions every few months, or every time the work load demands longer hours than normal, and each time we decide to give it a bit longer and see if things level out. For now our kids seem happy with the amount of time they get from Disco Daddy, and Macy did say "dada" before she said "mama" so she must be seeing more of him than it seems, and I am capable of doing dinner and bedtime by myself a couple times a week as long as I get my date with my husband on a Thursday, so we're sailing through, for now.
And things are getting exciting. I've watched my husband grow from a guy who decided to try running his own business with a mate, when he thought he'd give this a try and then perhaps dabble in some other things, like limo hire and a coffee shop, to the director of a well-respected marketing firm with prospects of venturing into publishing and marketing consultancy. His business sense and God's provision have grown the company from a team of two part-timers to two directors with four full-time staff, a free-lance artworker and a part-time accountant. Clients include the largest pharmaceutical supplier to the NHS (the national health care system) and the largest exhibition company in the world. At the pitch they made Ogilvy look like amateurs. And they won the biggest client they've ever had. That's right, they won!!!!
I am so proud. I would have been proud, regardless, because I know Tim and Dan worked hard and did their best, but the sweet taste of victory is fresh in my mouth, and my heart is swollen with admiration for this man who started with a couple of little jobs and a vision and turned it into a successful business that is supporting his family. Well done, baby.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Another one from the hubby
Because my computer crashed, and then the computer on loan from work was taken back for the new employee, and because Tim has been working on his computer night and day on the pitch described in the following post and subsequently on taking care of the clients he neglected during said pitch, I have been computerless, and so my hubby has been posting more than me on MY BLOG!! But really, I'm happy to share. As long as he keeps saying nice things about me. And so long as he finishes the post that he made me take down last week before he asks me to post another one. And so long as he wins said pitch and makes us enough money to buy me a new iMac. And maybe a nice weekend at a spa.
Without further ado, I give you Tim.
Perhaps I should get my own blog. But then, I'm not the one with an international fan club, so nobody would read these epistles. Can't have that!
The joy of setting myself up for disappointment
I hate waiting. I pretty much hate waiting for anything - let alone waiting for the verdict on whether or not someone wants to pay for the sacrifices of my heart, soul, wife, and children.
Tomorrow, with a spot of luck, I'll be put out of my misery one way or another. Tomorrow I discover if a prospective client in Holland prefers my company over three others. If he doesn't - then several weeks of stress, Ibuprofen, caffeine, family neglect, sleep neglect, current client neglect, and generally everything that's good for me neglect... will be flushed into a Dutch sewer. I've lost count of the number of pitches we've taken part in since starting the company a little under four years ago - and while I know that we've won way more pitches than we've lost, for some reason, this particular pitch has gotten under my skin.
I think that over the past two years my general capacity for life has stretched far beyond what I've ever thought capable of. Much more than in myself, I see it in my wife on a daily basis. The past few months, for example, have been hellish for us - with at least one child (if not, one adult) continually sick or restless resulting in broken sleep for approximately 99% of the time since before Christmas. The night shift is largely (though not totally) borne by Greta, and while she's very tired most of the time, she's like some freakin' mother machine that (provided she gets some regular fuel by way of food, water and some rest snippets) can withstand extended periods of being pushed far and away beyond the manufacturer's recommended limits. On one hand, I watch her in proud awe. On the other, I know that she's no advertisement for anyone who's a little worried about whether they should become a parent of three young children lest they find that their lives are entirely taken over by such a project. Pah! (sarcastic sneers from me). Those who can't take the heat need to consider fail-safe contraception. A picnic it ain't. But if you have ever considered having the rough edges knocked off you good and proper and be forced to grow up into a real grown-up by way of exponentially increasing responsibility, then let the love flow, or adopt, and dive into the game. So... as I take a regular peek at Greta's 'this is how much I've grown this afternoon' chart, it makes me think about how much I'm also changing and growing. I can't see it quite as clearly as I see Greta's evolution, but I can EASILY see that this time last year I shared a shell with someone who ain't nuthin like the person I'm currently sharing it with. The responsibilities I'm carrying right now have recently come close, a few times, to knocking me flat on my arse (ass). A year ago, they'd have definitely knocked me on my arse (ass), and stomped me several feet into the dirt, and squished my face, and laughed while doing so. So... seeing change more clearly, albeit on something like an annual scale, also means that I see my boundaries more clearly - and when I'm invited to tender some work to a new client I'm getting an increased knowledge of just how much of a sacrifice that person, or persons, is/are asking of me and my family. And, since my capacity is increasing, so is the quality and thoroughness of my work. And, so is my awareness of all this. And it's this heightened awareness that has meant that this last pitch has, well and truly, dug its claws deep into my soul. All parties concerned put their hearts into this most recent piece of work - my business partner even sent his family to his in-laws for a week so that we could get it done with particular pride. In short, on one hand we've set ourselves up for disappointment on a scale we've never done before. On the other, within 24 hours of writing these words I could receive news that our proposals have been accepted, which will mean that the business will be taken forward, overnight, almost twice as far as we've managed to push it within four years.
This time tomorrow, I'm either going to be crying, or I'm going to be cracking open a bottle of champagne with my wife. We may even have one each.
And here's the point of all these musings... whether we win or lose, I never again want to meet a new client where I don't hand over my heart and soul. I don't mean that I want to pull out every possible stop available to me and risk driving my family and/or me over the edge - but I do mean that a standard's been set that unless I'm proud to the point of 'this is going to hurt real bad if you reject it', then I don't want to give it. Anything less is beneath the standards of my business, and beneath the value of the fee that we'll be charging for our work.
There have been plenty of pitches in the past where I've thought 'ah well, it doesn't matter that much if we lose', and I now feel ashamed that I ever thought that. They should all matter. And I should feel pain if rejected. And if rejected I should pray for speedy healing so that I can get back on my bike and try again. And if we win, it'll make the taste of victory all the more sweet. And oh... I love sweet things!
Here endeth whatever it is I'm trying to say.
Amen.
Without further ado, I give you Tim.
Perhaps I should get my own blog. But then, I'm not the one with an international fan club, so nobody would read these epistles. Can't have that!
The joy of setting myself up for disappointment
I hate waiting. I pretty much hate waiting for anything - let alone waiting for the verdict on whether or not someone wants to pay for the sacrifices of my heart, soul, wife, and children.
Tomorrow, with a spot of luck, I'll be put out of my misery one way or another. Tomorrow I discover if a prospective client in Holland prefers my company over three others. If he doesn't - then several weeks of stress, Ibuprofen, caffeine, family neglect, sleep neglect, current client neglect, and generally everything that's good for me neglect... will be flushed into a Dutch sewer. I've lost count of the number of pitches we've taken part in since starting the company a little under four years ago - and while I know that we've won way more pitches than we've lost, for some reason, this particular pitch has gotten under my skin.
I think that over the past two years my general capacity for life has stretched far beyond what I've ever thought capable of. Much more than in myself, I see it in my wife on a daily basis. The past few months, for example, have been hellish for us - with at least one child (if not, one adult) continually sick or restless resulting in broken sleep for approximately 99% of the time since before Christmas. The night shift is largely (though not totally) borne by Greta, and while she's very tired most of the time, she's like some freakin' mother machine that (provided she gets some regular fuel by way of food, water and some rest snippets) can withstand extended periods of being pushed far and away beyond the manufacturer's recommended limits. On one hand, I watch her in proud awe. On the other, I know that she's no advertisement for anyone who's a little worried about whether they should become a parent of three young children lest they find that their lives are entirely taken over by such a project. Pah! (sarcastic sneers from me). Those who can't take the heat need to consider fail-safe contraception. A picnic it ain't. But if you have ever considered having the rough edges knocked off you good and proper and be forced to grow up into a real grown-up by way of exponentially increasing responsibility, then let the love flow, or adopt, and dive into the game. So... as I take a regular peek at Greta's 'this is how much I've grown this afternoon' chart, it makes me think about how much I'm also changing and growing. I can't see it quite as clearly as I see Greta's evolution, but I can EASILY see that this time last year I shared a shell with someone who ain't nuthin like the person I'm currently sharing it with. The responsibilities I'm carrying right now have recently come close, a few times, to knocking me flat on my arse (ass). A year ago, they'd have definitely knocked me on my arse (ass), and stomped me several feet into the dirt, and squished my face, and laughed while doing so. So... seeing change more clearly, albeit on something like an annual scale, also means that I see my boundaries more clearly - and when I'm invited to tender some work to a new client I'm getting an increased knowledge of just how much of a sacrifice that person, or persons, is/are asking of me and my family. And, since my capacity is increasing, so is the quality and thoroughness of my work. And, so is my awareness of all this. And it's this heightened awareness that has meant that this last pitch has, well and truly, dug its claws deep into my soul. All parties concerned put their hearts into this most recent piece of work - my business partner even sent his family to his in-laws for a week so that we could get it done with particular pride. In short, on one hand we've set ourselves up for disappointment on a scale we've never done before. On the other, within 24 hours of writing these words I could receive news that our proposals have been accepted, which will mean that the business will be taken forward, overnight, almost twice as far as we've managed to push it within four years.
This time tomorrow, I'm either going to be crying, or I'm going to be cracking open a bottle of champagne with my wife. We may even have one each.
And here's the point of all these musings... whether we win or lose, I never again want to meet a new client where I don't hand over my heart and soul. I don't mean that I want to pull out every possible stop available to me and risk driving my family and/or me over the edge - but I do mean that a standard's been set that unless I'm proud to the point of 'this is going to hurt real bad if you reject it', then I don't want to give it. Anything less is beneath the standards of my business, and beneath the value of the fee that we'll be charging for our work.
There have been plenty of pitches in the past where I've thought 'ah well, it doesn't matter that much if we lose', and I now feel ashamed that I ever thought that. They should all matter. And I should feel pain if rejected. And if rejected I should pray for speedy healing so that I can get back on my bike and try again. And if we win, it'll make the taste of victory all the more sweet. And oh... I love sweet things!
Here endeth whatever it is I'm trying to say.
Amen.
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