Hold On Until Friday

This week has felt a little like a roller coaster.

Not one of the nice new ones with smooth tracks and comfortable seats.

One of those old wooden ones where you're reasonably confident everything is structurally sound...

but it makes enough noise that you occasionally reconsider.

Still.

It's Friday.

We made it.

After successfully recovering from the chaos I created by deciding to sleep on my school assignments and submit them Wednesday morning, things eventually returned to something resembling normal.

Work is still work.

Fires are still fires.

But at least I can see what most of them are supposed to be doing now.

That's progress.

Yesterday even brought one of those rare moments when I simply had to give up.

We had a company Town Hall.

I tried to join.

Nope.

Tried again.

Nope.

Eventually it became pretty clear this wasn't a Michael problem.

It wasn't even an Analytics problem.

Apparently Microsoft had decided nobody needed to attend the Town Hall.

Fair enough.

What helped was getting an answer.

Yes, there's a problem.

Yes, we're aware of it.

Yes, people are looking into it.

Sometimes that's enough.

You don't always need the problem solved immediately.

Sometimes you just need to know someone else can see the smoke.

Today's staff meeting may be slightly less whimsical.

We have annual goals due at the end of this month.

Goals we've known about for a year.

And some of the things required to even hit threshold haven't happened yet.

That's a problem.

I could move the date.

I could adjust the calendar.

I could make everything look considerably more comfortable.

I'm not going to.

We talk a lot about failing forward.

I believe in it.

Try something.

Take a risk.

Learn.

Adjust.

Go again.

But failing forward doesn't mean moving the finish line because we didn't start running soon enough.

Especially when we control the track.

The other side of that conversation belongs to me.

While I'm asking my leaders to finish what we committed to this year, I also have next year's goals sitting with me.

They're there.

The work is mostly done.

Now I need to package them, make them digestible, and get them to everyone by the middle of next month.

That's the tightrope sometimes.

Hold people accountable without pretending they aren't carrying a lot.

Finish this year while giving them enough visibility to prepare for the next one.

Push without simply piling on.

Know when a deadline needs grace and when moving it would undermine the very discipline we're trying to build.

Director stuff.

So...

That should be a fun conversation.

Happy Friday, everybody!

Meanwhile, back at home, the boys are already on their way to school.

Zoey is getting up.

Still a little later than we're aiming for, but we're getting there.

And Asher is currently vegging out with one of his favorite books.

Honestly, none of us particularly wanted to get out of bed this morning.

Maybe it's the storms coming.

Maybe it's the storm that was this week.

Either way, coffee exists.

We also had a sad moment somewhere between Wednesday evening and Thursday morning.

We lost one of our chickens.

We don't really know what happened.

No obvious injury.

Nothing suggesting something got into the run.

Just one of those things that leaves you with more questions than answers.

The rest of the flock seems okay.

And they're laying more and more eggs now.

It's strange how quickly something like gathering eggs becomes part of the rhythm of your home.

And how noticeable one absence can be.

I also have absolutely no idea what I'm making for dinner tonight.

This seems like information Friday Dinner Dad should probably acquire at some point.

Preferably before dinner.

I'll figure it out.

Then tonight, hopefully, I get some time with friends.

Games.

Laughs.

A drink.

Good conversation.

A chance to let the workweek stay on the other side of the door where it belongs.

Tomorrow brings another lesson with the kids.

We're getting close to the end of our Apostles' Creed project now, and I'm unbelievably proud of what we've built together.

What started as Dad trying something has become something I genuinely look forward to.

A few weeks left.

Then we'll get to see what the whole thing looks like finished.

Saturday also brings another great family adventure:

Taking everything we own for camping out of the shed and proving that we still own it.

The camping trip is only a couple weekends away.

So it's time for the Great Gear Layout.

Tents.

Sleeping bags.

Cooking gear.

Things I distinctly remember putting somewhere logical.

Things nobody has seen since the last time we organized the shed.

You know.

Camping.

And, weather permitting, David has baseball practice.

I'm looking forward to that one.

We're settling into the rhythm now.

A little work at home during the week.

Practice on Saturday.

Games on Sunday.

Throwing.

Hitting.

First base.

Finding the things that need work and putting in enough repetitions that eventually they don't need quite as much work anymore.

He's taking it seriously.

Not too seriously.

He's still a twelve-year-old kid playing baseball.

That's important.

But he's listening.

He's practicing.

He's asking questions.

He's putting in some work.

And I'm getting to stand nearby with a glove and watch him figure it out.

That's a pretty good deal for Dad.

I've also been following the baseball playoffs through all of this.

"Following" is doing some heavy lifting there.

I'm not exactly sitting on the couch watching every pitch.

Time remains annoyingly finite.

Mostly I'm checking scores, reading what happened, and keeping track of October baseball somewhere in the middle of everything else.

But I'm hoping to change that when the World Series arrives.

I want to watch some of it with the kids.

Actually watch it.

Sit down.

Put the game on.

Let it take as long as baseball takes.

Because some things don't work quite as well later.

You can record a game.

You can watch highlights.

You can pull up every important play whenever you want.

But you can't completely recreate sitting together while nobody knows what's about to happen.

The tension before the pitch.

The crack of the bat.

Everybody reacting at once.

Knowing that somewhere, millions of other people just jumped off their couches too.

Some things are better live.

I want the kids to have some of those.

Sunday brings church.

Then baseball.

If the weather cooperates.

And after the rain stole last week's game, I think all of us are ready to hear the pop of a glove again.

And amongst all of this, my wife has a pretty cool project of her own taking shape.

I'm intentionally not saying much about that yet.

It's hers to share when she's ready.

But watching her dive into something for herself has been awesome.

There's an excitement there.

Ideas turning into other ideas.

Pieces starting to come together.

And I love watching it happen.

Naturally, I'll continue providing helpful husband ideas that occasionally increase the scope of the project by approximately 400 percent.

It's a gift.

You're welcome, honey.

But first...

Friday.

One staff meeting.

A few conversations.

A decision about dinner that Future Me would really appreciate Present Me making.

Then games with friends.

Family.

Faith.

Camping gear.

Baseball.

A wife building something of her own.

And whatever else the weekend decides to throw at us.

The roller coaster hasn't stopped yet.

But I can see the station from here.

Some weeks aren't particularly profound. They're just full. Work problems, hard conversations, school schedules, kids growing, projects taking shape, plans for the weekend, a chicken unexpectedly lost, baseball scores checked between everything else, and dinner that somehow needs to appear again tonight despite the fact that I swear we just ate yesterday. Maybe the trick isn't trying to make every piece fit perfectly. Maybe it's knowing which things need us now, which things can wait, and which moments are worth deliberately making room for before they're gone. The week isn't quite over yet, but I can see the weekend from here. That's enough for this morning.

Much love.

Stay safe.

Wash your damn hands.

And I will see you, next time.