Leadership 101

“Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lappidoth, was leading Israel at that time. She held court under the Palm of Deborah between Ramah and Bethel in the hill country of Ephraim, and the Israelites came to her to have their disputes decided. She sent for Barak son of Abinoam from Kedesh in Naphtali and said to him, "The LORD, the God of Israel, commands you: 'Go, take with you ten thousand men of Naphtali and Zebulun and lead the way to Mount Tabor. I will lure Sisera, the commander of Jabin's army, with his chariots and his troops to the Kishon River and give him into your hands.' “ Barak said to her, "If you go with me, I will go; but if you don't go with me, I won't go.” "Very well," Deborah said, "I will go with you. But because of the way you are going about this, the honor will not be yours, for the LORD will hand Sisera over to a woman." …“

Judges 4:4-9 (New International Version

Leadership 101

Uncle Mike died.

I just did not expect to hear that or read that so soon. Capt. Michael J. O’Brien (i.e., Uncle Mike) was larger than life to us. The oldest of five children, he was my mother’s oldest brother. The pecking order was Mike, Mom (Ann), Bobby, Kathleen (for whom I was named), and Steve. Perhaps being first born prepared him for leadership in other capacities throughout his life.

Actually, all of my mom’s brothers have been very successful in their lives and their careers. They have all had some extreme challenges, too. But Uncle Mike was our family’s “Kennedy”, if you will. He was a Viet Nam veteran and a leader in the United States Coast Guard, serving as Chief of Staff Enlisted Personnel and Liaison Office to the White House among other positions. Subsequently, he led numerous lucrative initiatives for the Grand Bahama Port Authority in the Bahamas. He retired with Honours from the United States Coast Guard and so will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery in October.

Visiting the O’Brien side of my family was a treasured experience for me as a child – the earliest memory I have of being around my uncles was actually while playing “Old Maid” with my grandmother (we called her “Nanny”). In hindsight it is obvious that they would signal to her what cards she should pick from my hand because I always lost that game, and I seem to remember finally catching them at it.

I’ve always been proud of my uncles. My mother held them in the highest esteem and I followed suit. I knew I had the best uncles a person could have. They represented strength, humour, goodness and honour to me. I felt their hearts were inclined to do the right thing in all circumstances. That was their objective.

My mother’s brothers are all very well educated, intelligent and politically astute – they are the type of people that can quickly and accurately assess situations and respond on their feet, though they waste no words generally speaking. I’ve always appreciated just sitting and talking with my uncles and getting their perspective on situations in my life or in the world at large.

One of the most memorable perspectives I received was in 1997. I was incredibly fortunate to be able to take my mother on a trip to Florida and the Bahamas for Uncle Mike’s second wedding. At that time, the news of the day included a big court case involving the Virginia Military Institute’s (VMI) policy disallowing women into their programs. I was eager to get Uncle Mike’s perspective on the situation simply because he was a leader in the military himself previously. When I asked him for his take on the issue, he paused for a moment, then looked at me and said, “You can either do the right thing, or have someone make you do the right thing – which would you prefer?”

It seems so simple when stated like that. He captured the whole case in one statement – clearly, the leader of VMI had a choice. Yet clearly, he had wrongly chosen to fight the issue and indeed, later that year, the institute was forced to accept women into their school. Imagine how much stronger a leader he would have been, though, if he had chosen to do the right thing himself instead of being corrected and forced to do so by a judge.

Life’s challenges and temptations seem to put me in the same position as that VMI leader every day. And I can either do the right thing, or face correction just as that military institution’s leader faced. This is my training ground right here, right now. How will I choose to live?

Lord, I thank you for the lesson available through the study of Deborah and Barak. And I thank you for all of my uncles, and in particular right now, my Uncle Mike. Thank you for allowing Mike a long life, a life well spent in loving others, encouraging others, defending others and leading others. I pray that you comfort his family and others who will keenly feel his absence from their lives, including me.

Rolling with the Punches and the Beet Leaves

“Praise the Lord, I tell myself;
with my whole heart, I will praise his holy name.
Praise the Lord, I tell myself,
and never forget the good things he does for me.
He forgives all my sins
and heals all my diseases.
He ransoms me from death
and surrounds me with love and tender mercies.”
Psalm 103:1-4 New Living Translation

Rolling with the Punches and the Beet Leaves

Yesterday was a fantastic day. It started off with playing tennis with a great bunch of people – some from church, some from work, and some from I don’t know where! We have a great time every Saturday morning from 7 am – 9 am during the very short summer here in Edmonton, Alberta. Anyone is welcome to come play with us; we play at the outdoor tennis courts in the centre of St. Albert on Mission Avenue.

After tennis, I took off for the St. Albert Farmer’s Market. A beautiful day and a little less crowded market made for a happy shopper and I loaded up on my weekly sundries, such as yoghurt cheese & pita bread, salmon bruschetta, salmon to cook, kohlrabi, some tomatoes and some lemon honey. I saw delicious looking beets, too, but for reasons explained below, I did not purchase any. Though the prices are high this year, I am making a concerted effort to eat a bit healthier, so I indulged.

The best part of the day was yet to begin. My friend Oralee had invited me to her place to learn how to make a very special Ukrainian dish. Edmonton is like a mini-Ukraine – pierogies are a staple for every holiday meal and there are many places throughout the Edmonton area that offer pierogy dinners. The best place to go for a pierogy dinner here is in the northeast part of the city – I believe the name of the church is The Exaltation of the Holy Cross – at 153rd Avenue and 90th Street. $12 buys you an all-you-can-eat pierogy dinner that includes salad, fried codfish, sausage, pierogies (with unlimited caramelized onions, bacon and sour cream), and dessert. Delicious!

Oralee was going to teach me how to make beet rolls another Ukrainian specialty. Honestly, the first time I tasted Oralee’s beet rolls, I wanted to convert to Ukrainianism if at all possible. These are a most amazing delicacy.

Peter and Oralee Kozak live on an acreage in Gibbons, Alberta. I had never visited their place, but had visited mutual friends down the road – Craig and Jill Burns and Henry and Nellie Readner. So, I already knew how to get there. The drive is only about half an hour from St. Albert, and it was a gorgeous day, so I rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, cranked the stereo and sang my heart out on the way there. Bet E. and Stef’s “Day by Day” was my greatest enjoyment as I drove east to Gibbons. One stanza in that song resonates with me: “Strength is not a stranger, I take it day by day.”

Strength is not a stranger to Peter and Oralee. They are in their late 70’s and have faced many of the same challenges we all face. Currently, Oralee is dealing with an ankle with bones that have kind of crumbled and a back that requires surgery. In the x-rays, her spine looks more like an “h” than an “l” or perhaps more like a bolt of lightening than a straight line. Further, it appears to have split a little as well, and so the nerves have been affected. One of her legs and one of her fingers just will all of a sudden stop working correctly for no apparent reason, and though very subtle, her speech is affected as well.

But Oralee is as full of life as ever and exhibited the sometimes lost art of hostessing when I arrived. We shared coffee and cookies and then were ready to get started on the beet rolls. Oralee graciously allowed me to help, but she was able to maneuver around her kitchen – their house is an old farmhouse that was actually moved physically out of the city to their acreage, and so the kitchen is quite small and actually perfect for Oralee currently because she doesn’t have to travel much to get to each spot!

As 1 cup of rice was boiling with 2 cups of water and some salt, she slowly sautéed probably ½ cup each of shredded onion and dill in about ½ cup of margarine for several minutes. When the rice was done, she mixed the sautéed concoction into the rice along with some pepper and set the pot on the table. She had prewashed a lot of beet leaves. We stacked up probably 50 to 60 in a bowl at a time and blanched them with boiling water, pretty much immediately dumping the water out (otherwise, the leaves rip too easily while rolling). We dumped the leaves on a plate and began the rolling process. In each beet leaf, we rolled 1 heaping teaspoon of the rice mixture, folding the beet leaf so no rice would escape, and put the rolls in aluminum bread loaf pans, piling them perhaps three layers deep. I wrapped those pans that would be frozen in plastic wrap, but in the pan we were to cook to accompany dinner, we poured cream and baked the rolls at 350F for one hour. When done, we put the little bundles of goodness on the table, to accompany lovely chicken, potatoes, carrots and a salad with cranberries and macadamia nuts. For dessert we had what their grandchildren affectionately refer to as “Raspberry Yum” – red and white raspberries covered in whipping cream with brown sugar on top and quickly broiled to caramelize the brown sugar. And, of course, dessert was accompanied by delicious tea.

Throughout the afternoon, Peter and son Willis piled up more beet leaves for us (we did a second batch), and in addition to the many loaf pans of beet leaves to freeze, I took home with me beets, potatoes, onions as well another heaping plate of the dinner we had cooked for another meal!

Well, we retired to the living room for a post-dinner chat and exchanged family stories. Peter and Oralee have been married 55 years. They have been a part of my church, North Pointe Community Church (formerly Central Tabernacle), since before they were married. It is wonderful to sit with those that know the history of our church, have served and continue to serve God faithfully there, and still have strong relationships with others throughout our congregation. They have experienced the storms in our church and weathered them all with God’s strength and perseverance. Peter sings in our choir and is a soloist for many of the holidays – he can do a pretty mean Elvis!

I discovered that Oralee’s maiden name is Brown and her roots are in England. We agreed that once I receive the genealogy books from my father, I would see if there is a connection, since my father’s side of the family has roots in England as well. Either way, I am connected to Oralee, as we are both a part of God’s family through Christ who gave up his life for both of us.

I tried to leave at a reasonable time, since rest and healing go together and I did not want to tire Oralee out, but I still probably overstayed my welcome. But you know how it is when you are visiting people who have great stories – it is hard to leave!

Once again, I opened my windows and sunroof on my drive home, though I kept the stereo quiet for a while. As I drove west, the sky was divided in appearance. As I looked to the left, the sky was a serene blue and lavender with some long narrow fuzzy white lines of clouds, and a crescent moon directly in my line of sight. But as I looked to the right, there was a monstrous cloud that filled up the horizon and was multicolored like a severe bruise, with what looked like a beard of rain falling from it, in addition to some smaller purple clouds with angry fire behind.

As I continued driving, I thought how none of us would choose to drive toward that storm – for sure, at the first opportunity, we would choose to turn to the left toward clear skies and serenity. But life is really like a drive between storms and serenity and sometimes, the storm comes to us anyways, in the form of challenging relationships, health issues, work problems, money issues, etc. But if we choose to spend our lives as Peter and Oralee have done, honouring God and his desires for us, then strength is not a stranger, and we can take things day by day, with the help, grace and mercy that only the Lord himself can provide.

Ah, Lord, I am filled with gratitude to you for your goodness to your children. Thank you, Lord, for a great Saturday at the end of this year’s summer in the prairies. Thank you, Lord, for faithful Christians, who have followed you throughout their interesting and challenging lives and who now inspire me to seek you with all my heart as well. Lord, I pray for those of us who are in a storm right now. I pray for Oralee and her health and for both Peter and Oralee as they cope with different roles even in their own household!

I pray, Lord, that while waiting for this storm to clear, that peace like a river attendeth their ways and sorrows like sea billows roll, for it is well with their souls.