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Making
things happen - with integrity. A weekly CyberMemo designed to keep you on task. Monday January 14, 2002 Volume IV Number 2 |
FOCUS - Club Membership
Something happens when you become a member.
It means that you’ve reached the place where you are willing to say openly that you identify with the Group, their Purpose, their Values, their Meeting Times and you want to become a part of the Association. During that period of due diligence, when you are considering membership, you remain an outsider. You’ll hear all the reasons why you should saddle up, you are beckoned to “jump in, the water’s fine,” they say (mixing metaphors without a moment’s hesitation), and there’s a still small voice raising the question of your sanity, and hatching all manner of psychological theories about what kind of Freudian neuroses might be driving this need for even considering one more commitment in your life, but then you finally overcome the inner barriers and the objections and the concerns, and you sign the dotted line and you are welcomed into the Grand Fraternity of the Association of Members.
You don’t really like the label “Joiner.” It suggests that you are something other than the self-reliant independent that is so distinctly American. Rugged individualism has its appeal. You like your freedom. But this time you are willing to forgo your comfortable seclusion. The benefits outweigh the burden. Just this once, because of your affinity with the others, you’ll go ahead and submit to the Conditions of Association, abide by the Rules, pay your Dues, show up at Meeting Time and enter into the life of the Club.
And there’s a pay-off. It’s a sense of belonging. The development of friendships that go deeper than a business transaction or a casual “Hey, how ya doin’?” It’s a new window on your world, a new role to play in your community. These people are tapping into your talents and your interests and your abilities. And there’s a new level of satisfaction; you’re a part of something bigger and larger and broader and wider than if you had Declined, stayed home and read a book or watched yet another prime-time sitcom.
When you become a Member, you have a new Status with the other members. Non-members do not. They are on the Outside. We are pleasant with non-members. Cordial. But they are not one of Us. They’re not privy to the Insider Stuff. They don’t really understand. They never will. Unless they, like us, join. Then they’ll get it.
Some clubs are formally organized. They have a Constitution. A Charter. A Budget. They may even file an information tax return that is available to the general public. These clubs develop their own Traditions. Soon, they are in possession of a History. It’s part of the deal. The higher ranking members know and revere that shared Grand Tradition. You can become a member of a church, a community service club, a business or professional association, a Country Club, a special interest group, a therapy group, an investment club (thanks to the world-renown Beardstown Ladies, the investment group who as it turns out, exaggerated their returns by a silly little miscalculation – oops), a political party, a parent’s group in the school district or a gourmet cooking club to name just a few.
But other clubs are informal. There are no recruiters. No application forms. No annual business meetings. No board of directors. No minimum requirements. No initiation fees or regular dues. No written agendas. No Roberts Rules of Order. While there may be plenty of “How To” volumes available at your local Barnes and Noble or on-line at Amazon.com, there is no generally accepted document we might call the Code of Conduct or Expectations of Members of Conditions of Association. It’s a learn-as-you go proposition. And most every member starts out as a rank amateur.
One such informal membership grouping is one we call Club Parenthood. This club gets broken down into sub-groups. Club Motherhood. Club Fatherhood. Club Grandmotherhood. Club Grandfatherhood. And there’s only one way to become a member: have a kid of your own. The advancement comes when one of your kids has a kid.
Once you have that little child, your’re in. You are a card carrying, certified, bonded, fully engaged member of the Club.
* * * * * * * *
Watch the change in a person who transitions from non-member to member. It’s profound.
It certainly is not that one becomes superior to everyone else when one becomes a member. One of the primary skills of membership is to learn the language of inclusion and tolerance and treat non-members with the same courtesy and warm and acceptance as members.
That said, Members enter into a new level of connectedness. Camaraderie. Esprit de corps. A whole new world of conversation topics opens up. What was once irrelevant, unnecessary, non-essential, unimportant, suddenly becomes central.
In the case of Club Parenthood, the generation gap, which heretofore yawned wide and impassible, narrows. Parents and their children who become parents enjoy a new level of bondedness. A new degree of understanding.
And as comrades, there’s a new shared awareness of the toils and dangers and snares that threaten to unsettle our predictable world of tranquility; unwelcome and unanticipated twists and turns that go beyond the reach of our control.
Like Thursday morning, for example.
* * * * * * *
I often think about the little milestones in my life as becoming a member of a club. When I pass over the threshold, I drive an imaginary stake into the ground on the timeline of my life and figure I’ve joined up. I’m in.
Here’s a list of some of the informal clubs of which I am a member – I’m in the Over Fifty Club. I’m in the Dad Club. The Husband Club. The Land Management Club (we’ve got some property that is in perpetual need of maintenance). The Kid(s) in College Club. The Father-of-the-Bride Club. A couple other clubs I’ve belonged to all my life – like The First-Born-Child Club. The Left-Handed Club.
Whenever I meet another member of any of these clubs I generally high-five them as though we are members of the same Fraternal Order. Because, well, we are. As many of my friends cross over the great divide and celebrate their fiftieth birthday, I welcome them to the Club. It seems to bring them some degree of comfort.
I’m about to join a new club – Club Grandfatherhood.
I’ve been on the fast track towards membership for five months now.
But this week, we had a little scare.
* * * * * * *
Kristyn (our first born, married to Ben) went to bed Wednesday feeling an unusual amount of pressure in her abdomen. In her twenty-second week, she’s been feeling a wide array of new sensations in her pregnancy, so she didn’t think much of it. After a long and demanding day teaching science to her seventh graders, she hit the pillow, and quickly fell into a deep and welcome sleep.
At two thirty in the morning, the pressure woke her up, and with a shocking suddenness, her amniotic fluid burst forth like a busted fire hydrant, and she believed in her heart that the birth process had begun with brutal abruptness… way too soon… way premature. She was terrified. Bewildered. Focused. Like never before.
Immediately Ben, a soon-to-be medical professional, was by her side, awake, alert, helping, assessing, holding, and fumbling for emergency phone numbers. Post haste, he was on the telephone with their OB-GYN physician, who responded to the emergency page which startled him out of his own deep sleep.
The two of them raced to the hospital where the doctor and a team of emergency caregivers from the Perinatal High Risk Unit gave Kristyn just what she needed. They knew that a delivery at this stage (five months, just over half way through a normal pregnancy) would certainly mean the loss of their little baby. They stabilized the young mother-to-be. No other signs of labor appeared. She slowly began to relax. Deep breathing. Let it go.
She was possessed by only one thought. Her baby. His protection. Whatever it takes. I’ll do whatever it takes, she thought. Please, God, please, protect my baby.
Ben shared that sentiment. Entirely. Together, exhausted, alone in a sterile hospital room, Kristyn attached to tubes and monitors, they held on to the Hope that this little guy (just a couple weeks before, the ultrasound gave the young couple a clear picture – this is a boy) will overcome the odds.
And somehow, they knew it. They weren’t really alone.
The news turned our world upside down. Nothing else mattered. We cancelled all of our plans for the day, and as soon as we could, we rolled down the Interstate towards the hospital.
All the way, we were mostly silent, praying Kristyn’s prayer right along with her.
And we added a request… that God protect them both.
Mother and child.
* * * * * * *
Maybe it’s premature to say that Ben and Kristyn are members of Club Parenthood. I don’t know the technicalities. Because they are both science majors, the two are unusually analytical. Kristyn informs us that her baby is no longer a fetus. He is her baby.
Ben finally went home for some sleep. But instead of sleep, he fired up the Internet to research amniotic fluid and membranes and viability other related medical issues that might help him understand what Kristyn and their little boy need.
Mainly, the doctor says that Kris will of necessity remain immobile. No more school. No more long walks. She will spend the rest of her pregnancy lying down. No more sitting up. Any strenuous activity could well trigger contractions then labor then delivery. Extraordinary care is required to keep the baby safe in the womb for another fourteen weeks. Probably in the hospital room.
I leaned over the rail to kiss and hug our beautiful daughter. She looked up at me, one more of those moments I will never forget, and she smiled. She gave me one of those looks that said, “I’m OK dad. Don’t worry. I’m gunna make you a Grandpa yet.”
“You’ve heard that something inexpressible happens to us when we become parents,” I said, wanting to say something profound. “Something happens inside. Without even hesitating, a mom or a dad would readily give up his or her own life if it meant sparing that little child, you know what I mean?”
She nodded.
“I think you and Ben experienced that last night.”
She nodded again. And smiled. “I think so, too,” she said.
In my mind, she’s a bona-fide member of the Club. Ben, too.
* * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning.
Because you are a leader you’ve joined up and taken on membership. Probably more than once. Some of those associations have brought rich rewards. You play lots of roles, and sometimes it feels that those roles make you a member of a special group, and you know the camaraderie of hanging out with other like-minded members.
Parenthood is one of the most demanding of all the Clubs. It's not for everyone. But it you are a parent, association with other parents, particularly peers with children close to the same ages as your own, brings with it a near immediate bond. You are sharing a life-stage in common.
Perhaps you're not there yet. You may be longing to become a member of that club… but circumstances have left you waiting. And anxious. And impatient. Take a lesson from Kristyn… “whatever it takes.”
I’ll look forward to high-fivin’ ya the day your membership becomes effective.
Membership brings along with it responsibility. Sometimes terrifying and unwelcome developments. Sometimes hardship. It’s all part of the deal.
Crisis can bring good things to the surface. This one did for me. We’ll be waiting now, patiently, knowing that the risks are real. But one thing we know.
We are in it together.
All of us.
And we’re not alone.
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2002
LeaderFOCUS is brought to you by Good Stewardship Associates
Special Thanks for Design by my good friend David Belcher, owner of Rhino Media Group and creator of WisdomGram
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