The 9/6 Perspective

June 9, 2014February 26, 2025 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

There are few times when a finger is pointed at you that it’s a good thing. Maybe you’re getting picked for a game of kickball or maybe you’ve raised your hand to be chosen for Let’s Make a Deal…but usually a finger aimed at you is a call-out of some sort.

Merriam Webster defines it as “the act of blaming someone for a problem instead of trying to fix or solve it; the act of making explicit and often unfair accusations of blame.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m getting exhausted with our culture of finger-pointing.

The polarization of society is something that really hurts my heart. Be it politics, religion—any number of social issues—people are so busy being adamantly, unwaveringly “right” and often just denigrating and denying the other side’s perspective, that our world is filled with hatred and so-called “righteousness.”

When I taught high school English, one of the exercises I created to try to get students ready for a healthy debate was what I called the 9/6 Perspective. (I had to put the numbers in that order because calling it the 6/9 Perspective would cause too much giggling in a room full of teenagers).

The exercise was very simple. I wrote a figure boldly on a piece of paper, set it on a desk, and had all of the students circle around. Then I’d have two students stand on either side of the desk and tell me what they understood to be written on the paper. Without fail, one would say “a 9” and the other would say “a 6.”

I’d ask them “Are you sure?”

“I know my numbers, Ms. Ancona….”

“Of course I know a 6 when I see one…”

They were certain of the facts in front of them.

Then I would ask the rest of the class, “Well….who’s right?”

This would result in multiple voices speaking up…”They both are!” “It depends!” “If you’re on either side, it looks right!”

And so on…And eventually we would put words around the reality that each “side” saw their own truth—though the answers were completely different.

But it was still their truth.

How you see things matters. Where you’re coming from matters.

And the same goes for the other person.

Now don’t think I see myself as righteous in this respect—my own stances can be passionate for sure (ask me about equal rights, gun laws, or preaching love over law and be ready for an impassioned response)—but I know that when we shut the other side down with scorn and disdain, we simply grow farther apart when the real challenge is learning to live together.

Acknowledging and listening doesn’t mean agreeing or embracing. To listen to a 6 when you are a fervent 9 doesn’t mean they win or you give in, but it hopefully brings the debate to a healthier level where opinions are offered without calling names or spewing hatred.

The ease with which we can “plant our flags” and take stands on Facebook and Twitter has only made the situation worse. It always saddens me so when I see someone share their hatred of “the other side” in a post, and then see the “likes” and comments that follow.

Before the ease of social media to share such things, the circles of disdain or hatred were smaller—or at least more under the radar. Now people share how others “disgust” them right after they post what a great time they had at the beach.

I think we can be better.

The person who sees a 9 when you know a 6 is right is still…a person. So while we can hold tight to our belief in 6, let’s not just be “disgusted” by the 9-seer. Let’s instead work toward what we might be able to do to get that person to walk over to our side of the desk and see the 6. Or maybe we need to do the very same to see their 9. And maybe when we’ve done that neither side will have budged a bit, but at least we might better understand why they believe in what they do.

I don’t mean to simplify life’s complex issues and people.

I know it’s not easy to extend grace when we are passionately entrenched on an issue…

…but I believe it’s what we are called to do.

And I very much believe in what the late, great Maya Angelou said time and again: “We are more alike than we are unalike.”

And if we look at one another that way rather than with contempt, we just might have ourselves a better world to live in.

Failure’s Fortune

May 19, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Barbara Walters retired last week. While I find her to be grating at times, she is certainly due much respect and kudos for being a pioneer in the news business. I watched some of her farewell coverage, and one thing stood out among many significant things she has accomplished in her life:

Her epic failure.

In a groundbreaking move for 1976, she was paid an annual salary of one million dollars to co-anchor the nightly news with Harry Reasoner. He was ticked that she was earning twice his buck, plus he hadn’t been asked if he even wanted a co-anchor—let along a woman. (Anchorman, anyone?)

He didn’t hide his disdain. In the video below (click the pic), they give a quick summary of the relationship. In this day and age of the “photoshop mentality,” where we gloss over everything to make it look the “best” it can be, I find his raw contempt remarkable.

The ratings tanked and the duo failed. I’m sure in part it was due to the anti-chemistry that Reasoner created, but Barbara herself has said that news anchor wasn’t her strength. Later that year, she found the very thing that would turn her career around—the Barbara Walters Specials that became a resident part of our pop culture.

But first she failed miserably and nationally.

It was kind of like she got pantsed for the whole world to see.

On top of that, first Gilda Radner and then Cheri Oteri did hilarious parodies of her, too. It was easy to laugh at her—she was Barbara Waawaa.

I can’t imagine what that must have been like. My feelings can get hurt if someone doesn’t like the gift I thought they’d love, and here she is being patronized by a coworker and made fun of for her speech impediment on national TV.

I certainly wouldn’t have blamed her if she just licked her wounds and said “enough.”

But she didn’t. She just kept working at it. She developed her skills and found the perfect niche for her abilities.

Flash forward nearly 40 years, and as part of her recent tribute, women currently in the national news industry came out to say thanks to her for paving the way for them. Scores of women. It was an amazing testament to the impact that Barbara Walters has made.

I wonder if she hadn’t failed as that news anchor…would she still have accomplished all that she did? I know there’s no way to really know that, but…I wonder.

Failure can indeed propel us toward fortune. I don’t just mean monetary fortune, but the fortune of our calling…our creativity…our heart. When we fall, we have to make that decision to get up or give up. When we choose to get up, we do so knowing that we could fall again. We consciously decide it’s worth it, even with the pain of falling.

And yet it is so hard to risk it. At least it is for me. I’m not a fan of getting pantsed. I’m not a fan of falling on my face. But if I only choose a path where I can ring up successes, then the path must be pretty flat and probably leads nowhere.

For several years I helped out with our school’s rollerblading unit for our younger grades. So many wobbly little ones trying to stay upright. Often I would tell a child, “You know what I think is the best thing to do to get over your fear of falling? Fall.” They would look up at me like “Who is this crazy lady helping me?!” but then I would tell them how once they fell, they would know what it feels like…and maybe it wouldn’t be so scary anymore.

Inevitably, they would indeed fall, and if I was there to help them up, I would ask, “So…what do you think about falling now?” and they would typically say “It’s not so bad!”

Of course, there are falls that you don’t bounce back up from. Some that can really break you, and I don’t mean to sugarcoat life’s devastating falls.

But Barbara Walter’s public failure is a great reminder to me that failure can be the first step on the road to fulfillment.

I need to let my wobbly little self continually put on my metaphorical roller blades and have at it. Hopefully every time I fall I’ll look up and say, “It’s not so bad!” And if it is bad, let’s hope there’s someone around who knows how to dial 911!

Can’t Wait for the Weight

May 12, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

My niece’s wedding is a few weeks away. Heavier than I’ve ever been…except for pregnancy (and I’m pushing that), a few months ago I thought, “If I could just lose a pound a week…maybe I could look good for the wedding!”

Of course…that didn’t happen.

And now I am left with either feeling the absolute weight of my weight—and all the bad stuff that comes with that—or really trying to accept myself for who I am—someone who has “more to love.”

Do you ever feel like you’re missing the life you have for the life you’re never going to get? In feeling bad about myself, days tick by—ones I’ll never get back. To what end?

Now, I’m not saying I should give up the pursuit of trying to feel and look better—to be healthier—but I do need to stop beating myself up for those extra pounds. That’s no way to use the life God has given me.

Of course, I say this, I know this, but I don’t truly feel this. So many of us fight this battle. The mirror is the enemy. Photos are wince-inducing. The internal “little voice” hurls negatives at every turn. Failure.

Even my about-to-be 88-year-old mother is down enough about some additional pounds she has recently acquired that she’s commented that she just may have to skip her granddaughter’s wedding…Of course, while this is pretty much an idle threat, it illustrates the depths of her frustration with herself. Age does not necessarily breed wisdom.

Of course, me being me, I encouraged her to realize that no one will be looking at her weight—they’ll just think it’s great that a grandmother gets to see her granddaughter get married. “You can’t let a few pounds stand in the way of being a part of a wonderful experience, Mom. Don’t let the negative win over the positive…”

And it was in that very moment of cheerleading for my mom that I thought how very hypocritical I was being. How could I expect her to take what I was saying to heart when I felt so similarly?

Isn’t the negative winning in my own body battle?

Don’t I need to shut my little discouraging voice up and tell her to hit the %#$*ing road?

What if…what if…I grabbed onto my love handles and…didn’t hate them? What if I looked at my “extra me” and said “It’s okay if you never go away. These bumps and curves do not define me…they just are me…a part of me that doesn’t take away from the rest of me.”

How would it feel to let that sense of failure go?

I can’t honestly answer…because I’m not there…yet.

I am striving to make this truth, but it is a major struggle.

Because attempting to “accept myself” aside, I still want to lose every damn extra pound hanging around. There is no loving the love handles. Not yet.

Ultimately, I think this is the dichotomy that I must accept: To strive to fall in love with my body regardless of its shape, while at the same time attempting to put it in the best shape possible. Not so that I won’t hate the reflection in the mirror, but so that I will take care of myself and feel my best both inside and out.

Not settling, but not loathing, either.

I can’t wait for my weight to go down so that I feel better—and I can’t let my “more” make me feel “less.” Life is too short.

But as is the case with so many emotional things we can approach intellectually, it sure as hell is easier said than done.

So I strive…and stumble…and strive some more. And stumble some more. In fact, I think it should count as exercise! But I am not giving up the struggle.

I have no idea what I’m wearing to my niece’s wedding, but I know I will aim to look my best, curves and “extras” included, and with the haunting of the “pound a week” failure knocked off the guest list.

At least until the wedding photos come in…

The “Yo” Man

April 21, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

I’m never enough. Each day passes and I feel I have not been enough in any aspect of my life. I could have done more as mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister, worker, writer…even pet owner.

Even though my days are consumed with doing, I feel like I should have done more. The “shoulds” are never-ending.

I’m thinking you might be nodding your head in understanding.

Life can be overwhelming—some days more so than others. But it is during those overwhelming times that I try hard to step outside myself and remember that just a little can go a long way.

Moments count. They matter. In fact, they are often what matter most.

When I remember my dad, lots of memories swirl in my head, but there are these little things that come to mind and mean so much more than one might take at face value.

My dad was the “yo” man. This was a greeting that he used…and one that I still use to this day. It was just a part of who he was. But my fondest memory of his use of this word was a little something that he did that my sister and I found hilarious.

We would be in the car driving with the windows down and my dad would call out “Yo!” to some unsuspecting person walking down the street, and then we would all look innocent like we didn’t say anything. The person would look all around like “who’s calling me?!” and we would just look straight ahead. Oh, my, that sent us into major giggle fits. It was silly. And small. And something that is a loving memory of the goofball that my dad could be.

Maybe we were on our way to run errands that might have taken up a great deal of our day—but it was the “yo” man that stuck with me. Not the errands.

Joy in the twinkling of a moment.

We often put a lot of pressure on ourselves to carve out experiences for our kids that are momentous in a big way…when it’s often the little ways that stick around.

A few years ago we were fortunate enough to travel with some friends to Florida and go to Walt Disney World. It was a great trip and we made lots of wonderful memories, but recently when my son wrote a story about it for school, the thing that was his most powerful memory was his finding a frog, picking it up, and learning that it was petrified dead.

The Magic Kingdom? Oh, yes…we had a blast. Beach and pool time? You bet. And while he remembers all of that with a smile, his face lights up when he talks about that damn frog.

And while the “big trips” of life should happen for sure, they simply can’t be a measure of our success in how we care and provide for our loved ones.

As a mom, sometimes it’s taking twenty minutes to shoot a game of Horse in the driveway, or snuggling during a Full House rerun, or even making lunch together. As a wife, sometimes it’s making sure to carve out a few minutes of real “face time” or watching our favorite TV show late at night after the rest of the world has gone to bed. As a friend, sometimes it’s texting a simple “how you?” to let them know you are thinking about them at whatever hour of the day.

That’s what I need to remember when I am in the swirl of a day that is getting away from me. A day where nothing is working the way it should. A day where my ToDo list seems to grow like the plant in “Little Shop of Horrors.” A day where I look at the clock and realize I’m way behind schedule. A day where I feel I have let everyone down once again.

Stop.

And take a moment.

To be the “yo” woman I know I can be.

Just maybe she’s enough after all.

Trusting in Tomorrow’s Manna

April 14, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 10 Comments

I’ve always been fascinated by the story of God’s provision of manna and quail for the Israelites in the desert. Learning about it as a child, I wondered what it would be like to live on “honey wafers” for forty years. And was the quail ready to eat? Or did they have to kill the poor birds first?

But the message behind it was clear: God provides. Listen to his instructions. Don’t deviate, or you’ll end up with maggots in your jar.

If you’re not familiar with this Bible story, God instructs his people to trust that he will provide daily food for them while they are wandering in the desert. They should only take what they need for the day (and double the day before the Sabbath so they can rest). Each morning was manna (carbs!), and every evening was quail (protein!) For those who took too much, they saw their stash turn rotten.

Take what you need and no more. You will have plenty, and there will be more tomorrow.

As a control freak with an anxiety disorder, I’m pretty sure I would have found out about the maggot deal first hand.

I so would have wanted to gather up extra manna and quail so that I could rest assured that tomorrow was taken care of. It makes total sense to someone with control issues. Why would I leave extra manna on the ground when it’s right there to collect? It’ll go to waste…who wants waste? What if I’m unable to get out there tomorrow and get my share? I better gather up some more…

For me, this is a continual life struggle:

Trusting in tomorrow’s manna.

Today’s manna is right before me, but…what about tomorrow?

As my family is in the early stages of a new life chapter with my husband starting his own business, boy do I wish I could see tomorrow’s manna.

But that’s just it. I don’t get to see it—I have to trust in that which I cannot see.

Let’s just say I’m not always a natural at this.

I’ve had this lesson played out for me so many times it’s ridiculous. I am so grateful God is patient with me. I picture him just shaking his head with a wry smile that I am again trying to scoop up extra manna. “There she goes again…That girl is a knucklehead. I love her, but…man, she’s a knucklehead.”

It’s hard for me not to worry about tomorrow when I am me—and especially as a mom and wife. But that is exactly what we are continually reminded to do. Period.

And while there is the physical provision of life, there is also the spiritual provision that is promised, too. I find that when I am caught up in the worry of the “physical manna” that my “spiritual manna” suffers more, and the irony is that whenever I make it a point to gather the spiritual, the physical feels bolstered, too. You’d think I would remember the order of priority, right? Knucklehead alert.

It often feels like a battle of multiple personalities. On the one hand, I know to trust. And on the other, I trust that I need to know. One day will feel calm and secure in the belief that the manna will be there every day until we reach the Promised Land. The next day I might be awash with anxiety for what tomorrow may—or may not—bring.

Thankfully, one thing I have absolutely unwavering faith about is that God loves knuckleheads. This bodes very well for me. On the days where I find myself scrambling for more manna than I should, I know I am forgiven.

And as a continual work in progress, I am grateful to see that through this past chapter of life challenges I have found myself growing in trust of tomorrow’s manna. Maybe it’s just exhaustion that is helping me say “enough” or maybe I’m finally catching on. Whatever the reason, I have a weathered sense that tomorrow when I wake there will be plenty to fill my jar.

Plenty and just enough—the way God intended.

Beyond the Status Line

March 31, 2014April 6, 2014 ~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Do Facebook status lines ever pop up in your head? Or maybe you have something cross your mind and think, “Hey, that would make a good tweet”?

Just like television news helped our attention spans shrink down to “sound bites,” it looks like our love of social media is training our brains to share in 140 character life snippets. Or at least that’s what we frequently present to the world.

Oh, but there’s so much more…right?

Everyone’s got a story…and it’s a helluva lot richer than any Facebook status, Instagram filtered photo, or even series of tweets can do justice to. Don’t get me wrong—I love “the Facebook” and “the Twitter”—but we must not fool ourselves into thinking we know people through these mediums. We can know more about them but not truly know them.

I’ve written before about how social media filters our lives, but I want to go beyond that here.

Beyond the status line.

“Real” life offers us a chance to look people in the eye and ask them how they are…but often it goes something like this:

“Hey, how are you?”
“Fine. How ‘bout yourself?”
“Pretty good. You have a good one.”
“Yeah, you, too.”
And…scene.

Maybe that’s why so many of us love Facebook—I have to admit that in the years I’ve been on it, I’ve never seen a status that says, “Today I’m fine.” No…people typically share a specific something, be it a fun moment of the day or a frustration or where they are enjoying a meal…We get a glimpse into a detail of their lives.

But it is a glimpse—and a crafted one at that.

Here's a little something I shared a while back. — Here’s a little something I shared a while back.

What is the real story? Beyond the “I’m fines” and the pictures of spring break excursions lurks…real life.

I’m a big fan of real life. It’s messy and chaotic and often quite hard.

But it’s real.

In between getting the work done one night at one of my part-time jobs, I learned about a single dad’s journey to take care of his daughter, a family’s anguish over having to make a choice about life support for a loved one, a man struggling to be a good role model to his seven kids, a young woman trying to find her way in life, and a friend’s hospital stay.

And I wasn’t pretending to be Barbara Walters by asking probing questions—I just paid attention and listened.

Obviously, each and every one of their stories helped me to know them better. To understand that their lives have complications and challenges that, while they may not be similar to mine, are something that I can connect with and share in. We talked beyond the status line.

While I may not have that many stories shared with me every day, it does amaze me how much I can learn about someone just by being interested and listening.

Everyone has a story…a life…that is layered and multi-faceted and…theirs. And we need to remember that when it may seem like others are skipping through life without a care, leaving us feeling like “they” have their acts together and “we” don’t.

Life is hard. It can be downright exhausting, overwhelming, and scary. And while some may seem to have it “easier” or “better” than others, life isn’t supposed to be a competition, is it?

I’ve never understood the joy some people have over seeing a Justin Bieber or a Lindsay Lohan struggle or fail. Someone’s downfall doesn’t inherently raise anyone else up. Why the delight? I have no idea what it must be like to be so famous, but I bet it isn’t as awesome as many people assume. At least I know my friends like me for who I am (or more accurately in spite of that) and not what I can do for them. What must it be like to never know if people love you just because you’re you? I bet it’s damn hard.

Maybe that grass is greener…and maybe not.

Everyone’s grass can be green…or brown…or trampled on from time to time. Everyone’s grass needs nurturing. Everyone’s grass thrives with some care and watering and weeding.

We should rejoice not only in our own green grass, but the rest of the world’s rolling green lawns, too. I mean, why not? Doesn’t it just make for a more beautiful world?

But I digress. (Now that most of the snow is gone (for now…trust me, I’m not taking it for granted) I guess my mind is stuck on the green of spring!)

Sometimes the “I’m fines” are all we’re up to offering, I know. I totally get that. While I’ve always been a pretty good ear for others to bend, I’m but a youngster in the world of vulnerability. It’s not easy—but I am learning that it is critical in truly connecting with those I love, so I’m working on it.

But some days even 140 characters is more than I want to share.

I guess that what I aim to encourage here is that we remember that what we see in the world around us probably isn’t the full story…and the full story is worth knowing.

That beyond the succinct status lines of life, the full story can lead us to understand that we are not alone in this world. That while our blessings and challenges may be different, we still share in them…and can encourage one another…and lift one another up.

And that makes the grass greener for the whole wide world.

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: