{"id":35880,"date":"2024-02-15T13:07:14","date_gmt":"2024-02-15T21:07:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/?p=35880"},"modified":"2024-02-15T13:07:14","modified_gmt":"2024-02-15T21:07:14","slug":"the-day-that-changed-everything","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/the-day-that-changed-everything\/","title":{"rendered":"The Day That Changed Everything."},"content":{"rendered":"<p>When I was 3 years old, my family was coming home from a vacation in Portland, OR, to Los Angeles. As we approached Bakersfield, a city about 90 miles from Los Angeles, my dad was pulling off the highway so we could rest. Sadly, a semi-truck was behind us, and the driver was drunk. He slammed into our station wagon, and our lives were forever changed. The car flipped once and rolled over twice, landing on its roof. My 10-year-old sister was killed, my 12-year-old sister was in critical condition, and I had a huge gash in my foot, which kept me in the hospital as well. My mom, dad, and brother were all fine.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938.jpeg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"size-medium wp-image-35881 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938-243x300.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"243\" height=\"300\" srcset=\"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938-243x300.jpeg 243w, https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938-150x186.jpeg 150w, https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938-300x371.jpeg 300w, https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/02\/IMG_9938.jpeg 388w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 243px) 100vw, 243px\" \/><\/a>Obviously, my parents were devastated. I only remember the ambulance ride; sadly, I don\u2019t remember my youngest sister, Barbie. This was in the early 60\u2019s, and mental health plans and counseling weren\u2019t readily available, and my mom went very dark. The end result was her wanting to protect her family, but mainly me, because I was the youngest, and she was very overprotective. She would tell me no to everything I wanted to do or try. I wanted to play football, and she said no, I might get hurt. I wanted to go to the Air Force Academy and be a pilot and she said no, I wasn\u2019t smart enough. (Now I know she just didn\u2019t want me to leave home). Most sports or anything risky was off the table, and her fear created fear in me to push any boundaries.<\/p>\n<p>So, the surprising result of all this for me was that I became a risk taker (just not in sports). I think it was my way to rebel. I had no fear when it came to making decisions or doing something crazy (and stupid too). But I also didn\u2019t look down the road to see the cost of my decisions either, which is a whole other story. Poole speaks a lot about fear in her book; for the good or the bad, I don\u2019t have that fear.<\/p>\n<p>I have been a leader most of my life, starting when I was in Cub Scouts. When I was 21, I was a manager of a grocery store; then, after college, I got into sales, and within a few years, I was a sales manager. for the most part, I have never looked back, managing pretty much the rest of my career. I held leadership positions in some of the churches that I was a part of. It all comes naturally to me \u2013 there is no part of fear at all. What I loved about her book was the word \u201ctemplates\u201d. I have never thought of them in that way. \u201cIf you have already had a wide range of challenging conversations, you will have a whole library of templates to draw upon\u2026\u201d.<a href=\"#_ftn1\" name=\"_ftnref1\">[1]<\/a><\/p>\n<p>But I don\u2019t know if I would use \u201cchallenging conversations\u201d as a template. Sure, I have had many, and those experiences dealing with difficult customers or situations definitely helped me, but I would probably lean more towards bosses, mentors, and heroes to be my templates. They showed me what managing people, dealing with customers, and raising leaders were like. I am reminded of the WWJD bracelets that were so big a few years ago. I can look at being a leader and wonder how my boss or pastor would handle that situation. Those who surrounded me are responsible for my successes with work, ministry, people, or situations.<\/p>\n<p>My father taught me about character. He was my hero, and to him, everything was about character. I wonder if that is one of the reasons I took leadership roles at an early age. Poole says, \u201cCharacter protects your future ability to lead because it is the very thing that will save you when everything else is stripped away.\u201d<a href=\"#_ftn2\" name=\"_ftnref2\">[2]<\/a> If I didn\u2019t have the correct template for a situation, I seemed to know the right thing to do, which is a direct attribute of my father.<\/p>\n<p>Even though he did nothing wrong, I don\u2019t think my dad ever forgave himself for the death of his beloved Barbie. He was hard on himself. But the one thing that did come out of that tragedy was who he became because of it. He was the best dad ever. He was involved in my life and in everything I did. He tossed the ball with me almost every night, coached all my games, and helped me when I started my first business. He was involved in my life and led by example in everything he did. The character traits he modeled and softly spoke to me about were invaluable. I could not create or dream up a better template than he was for me, and for that, I am grateful.<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"#_ftnref1\" name=\"_ftn1\">[1]<\/a> Eve Poole, <em>Leadersmithing: Revealing the Trade Secrets of Leadership<\/em> (London: Bloomsbury Business, 2017), 125<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"#_ftnref2\" name=\"_ftn2\">[2]<\/a> Ibid., 56<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>When I was 3 years old, my family was coming home from a vacation in Portland, OR, to Los Angeles. As we approached Bakersfield, a city about 90 miles from Los Angeles, my dad was pulling off the highway so we could rest. Sadly, a semi-truck was behind us, and the driver was drunk. He [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":201,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-35880","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","cohort-dlgp03"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35880","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/201"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=35880"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35880\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":35882,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/35880\/revisions\/35882"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=35880"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=35880"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.georgefox.edu\/dlgp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=35880"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}