I love accountability.
Accountability means somebody cares.
Accountability means someone has noticed.
Accountability means that someone has taken the time
to call you out on something
or ask you to look deeper
…..to get involved.
Accountability can be painful.
But the accountable kind of pain
is a good thing.
Accountability is messy.
I love to get messy.
My friend, Lorin, posted this status update just over a week ago:
April 3 at 4:49pm
Lorin : I have high hopes of a fruitful and productive, and somewhat restful break this week. Hold me accountable for CLEANING OUT MY OFFICE/SCHOOLROOM. Sorry for the caps, but the mess is driving me crazy. I pray that everyone keeps safety foremost in their minds as they drive hither and thither. Let me know what you’re up to this week…
Her next post was comical:
Lorin : AAAAAAAAAK. She came. With. A. Camera. And documented the frightening office. I was screaming like they do on What Not To Wear … the ones who are so mortified about being nominated that they run from the camera. That’s my office. It’s the “What Not To Wear” of rooms. So Karen IS keeping me accountable. Thanks! (I did get to show off the cleaned-out hall closet and Sophie’s bedroom to her!)
I arrived at her house, sneaked past her little people and started taking photos.
To be honest, she didn’t get a great deal done last week. While others were enjoying spring break relaxation, working Masters or traveling, she was nursing an injury. While working on a project for an Autism fund raiser, her husband had an accident with a table saw. All four of his fingers were cut, through the bone, but not disconnected. Surgery saved all of his fingers, but it was a tragic accident that will take a while to heal. Thankfully, we live in a time when doctors can put us back together and his prognosis for full recovery is very positive.
But, this post isn’t as much about Lorin’s progress, as it is about her willingness to be open…..
to bare herself before her friends and be held accountable.
I cherish this type of openness. Like most, I want to be right all the time. I want to think that I know it all. I want to be praised. But, more than that, I yearn to be called out when it’s warranted and be connected to my friends. And, though I fail from time to time, I desire to embrace any criticism, whether worded tenderly or not. It’s tough. It hurts. But, it’s good for us.
May I ask you a question: Are you afraid to get involved? Do you embrace being called out, even though it hurts?