I’m an introvert.

Several years ago I spent some time with a professional counselor. He was recommended to me by a friend who is also a very capable professional counselor. My first visit to my new counselor was a very significant moment for me. It was my desire to find a counselor who did not go to my church, who did not know me, and who was not that familiar with the various ministries of our church. 

I've just returned from a week in Chicago. The week started with my leadership team from Crossings joining me in two days of evaluation, planning, and dreaming. It was a very productive and inspiring time together. The team came back to Oklahoma City Tuesday evening and I remained in Chicago for the annual Global Leadership Summit debriefing, which is a meeting I look forward to every year.  

I do yard work.  Lots of yard work.  

Seven years ago, we were very fortunate to buy a home that sits on two and a half acres. Most of the land is fully landscaped with beautiful year-round dark green fescue grass.  The previous owner spent a fortune on trees, shrubs, ivy, ground cover, a beautiful stone-lined creek, and a waterfall providing the soothing sound of water rushing over rocks.  

She’s a grandmother.  

I know you think I’m not telling the truth. Just look at her! Grandma? No way. I guess I can say she’s a “young” grandma. Truthfully, neither one of us care how old we are or how young or old we look.  The reality is that I look my age and she doesn’t.  

I am a grandfather.  It feels weird to say it.  

At 58 years old, it is fairly typical to have grandchildren. My first grandson was born when I was 54.  He’s now 4 years old and his brother is almost 2 years old.  What’s even more shocking is I am married to a grandmother.  How is this possible?  

And the bigger question for me is: how can I feel so immature and childish and be a grandfather? Why didn’t someone tell me that when I reached the age of 58 I wouldn’t feel mature, wise, or complete?

When I was a kid, I loved summers. No school. I loved summers all the way until my college graduation. And then, all of a sudden, the fun summers ended.  The real world hit me in the face in an abrupt and head-spinning way telling me I would now work most of the summer, and along the way there would be two weeks of vacation. Two weeks?  

Now in my thirty-sixth year with Crossings, I’ve earned a few more weeks of vacation time. The 24/7 nature of leading a church can take its toll. And not just on me, but on every staff member at the church.