Between Leaders and Followers

When I was young, around 4th grade, I had a “friend” who was not really a friend.  Well, one day she was my friend and the next day she wasn’t.  One day she was nice to me and the next day she was absolutely cruel.  One day we were making plans to marry brothers and live next door to each other and the next day she looked right through me like I was Casper the friendly ghost. (Could people see him?)  I don’t know, maybe it was a 4th grade version of PMS, but I think it was just a dramatic grade school girl taking her anger out on an easy target–quiet, little, me.

These days her treatment toward me would be called “bullying”.  Back “when I was a kid”, however, bullies met you on the street corner and knocked your teeth out with brass knuckles.  I didn’t really see the way she treated me as bullying.  In fact,  she was my BFF.   I remember experiencing the highs and lows of that friendship during my 4th grade year.  I remember shedding tears after she purposefully broke a cute little pin I wore on my stone-washed jean jacket.  And I remember being excited as I packed my clothes for a sleep-over at her house the very next day.  This was the way our relationship went–one day off, one day on.  It was a heart-wrenching, not to mention pathetic, cycle.

I still remember the lecture encouragement my Dad would offer when I would tearfully lament about her treatment of me.  Summer, you’re letting her put a ring in your nose and drag you around with it.  Don’t let her drag you by a ring in your nose. (For reference, nose rings were not nearly as prevalent in the 80s and 90s so his illustration had some impact.)

My Dad didn’t fight our battles for us.  He advised from the background, but very rarely stepped ahead of us.  He wanted to empower us.  We heard that lecture encouragement often through the years–the one about the ring in the nose.  It even got to the point where all he would have to do is put his finger toward his nose, as if grabbing a ring, and we knew what he wanted to say.  In fact, we still bring it up from time to time as a point of humor. 

We laugh about it now, but my Dad began to teach us early that we don’t have to be followers–we don’t have to follow.

I’ve been thinking about that lately–what it means to not be a follower.  In an age of social media and the 2-second news cycle, opinions and thoughts rage with the intensity of war.  It can feel so over-whelming at times, and to be honest, to me, it is.  The obvious conclusion regarding how not to be a follower is to be a leader, right? However, how is it possible not to be a follower, when in reality, you aren’t a leader? 

Friends, I am not a leader. 

Just the other day I was braiding Chanelle’s hair before school.  It was a french braid and, because I’m left handed, her braids always sit on top of the hair, rather than in her hair.  In short, her french braid looks different than most french braids.  As I was talking to Chanelle, while finishing up her braid, I said, I’m sorry that your braid doesn’t look like a normal french braid.  Her response was quick, I don’t care, I don’t mind being different.

Out of the mouths of babes. . .

I don’t mind being different. 
I think what Chanelle was trying to say, without having the words to say it is, I’m fine being who I am. 

I think there are more than two choices–there aren’t just leaders and followers.  No, there is a huge grey area in between–an area that is filled with people–people who are just being who they are.

I like this idea.  I like the thought that I don’t have to be heading up a large group of people, but I also don’t have to be bringing up the rear of a large group of people.  Instead, there is this place of exploration and discovery that seeks out the depth of who we are.  Who I am.

I am in the midst of reading an awesome book by Emily P. Freeman and she says this. . . 

Art is what happens when you dare to be who you really are. . . When we live free, we are able to give freedom.  When we live loved, we are able to give love.  When we are secure, we are able to offer security. . .

In essence, it comes down to being who we are–leaders, followers, introverts, extroverts.  Artists, scientists, writers, mathematicians.  Book worms, party animals and all the people in between. 

Suddenly, the noise from the outside doesn’t feel so loud.  The buzz of the media about the way I educate and feed my children or the lure of social media to keep up with the Jones’ doesn’t feel so loud.  Somehow, just focusing on what is right in front of me brings a much needed simplicity to life. 

Running Chatter always brings me back.  It always reminds me of the simple things. The things that count.  I wonder if I’ll be writing here when I’m 90.  Perhaps not.  I guess it’s here that I’m reminded that just being is enough.  It is when I am here that I am able to quiet the noise and remember when all is said and done, the important things are right in front of me. . .

So much good is right in front of me. . .

Visiting friends. . .

We were thrilled to have our friends with us for the weekend and to introduce them to our crazy life.  They were kind enough to not point out any of the dust in my corners or fingerprinted windows. . .

Meadow was so happy to meet her new friends that she kept her volume level on extra loud for the entire weekend.

Discovery. . .
We are discovering new places and it is so wonderful. . .

Animal Sweetness. . .

Fall. . .

This Face. . .

This one. . .

This one. . .

. . . . there is so much right in front of me.

And maybe this makes no sense to anyone–to anyone but me.  Sometimes I just need to remind myself.  It’s okay not to be a leader.  It’s okay not to follow.  Sometimes I just need to clear my mind and be okay to just be me–somewhere between the leaders and the followers.

Have a great day, Friends.