dry heat
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You’ve heard that, right?  “It’s a dry heat.”  It’s 110 in the shade, but it’s a dry heat. That’s what they say, anyway.  Well, whatever they’re selling, I’m not buying.  Dry heat!  If there are 3 digits involved, it’s hot!  My idea of perfect weather can be summed up by my golf game.  I usually shoot in the 70’s.  If it’s much warmer or colder than that, I don’t play.

And then I went and spent a week in the desert.

Last week I attended a conference in Phoenix.  I was prepared to be miserable when I saw the forecast range of 103-109 every day I was scheduled to be there.  I was extra nervous because a part of the schedule included two mornings of golf.  In case you missed the pun, that thing about shooting in the 70’s is completely temperature related.  I’m a crummy golfer.  Thank goodness, the golf game was about strategic networking and not golf.  When I play with people who take golf seriously, it is not fun for anyone.

How hot was it?  It was so hot, the soles of my golf shoes came unglued!  After 10 holes, both soles had completely come off and I felt like I was walking around in ballet shoes.  At least that is my assumption, since I don’t have any personal ballerina experience.

Actually, I don’t think the heat in Phoenix had anything to do with my shoes coming apart, but it makes for a great story.  And who am I to let a little truth get in the way of a great story?

Here’s a story from the desert that is absolutely true.  I deliberately didn’t check the temperature while we were out that day, because I didn’t want to be psyched out.  Around hole 13, we were sitting in the cart waiting.  It was a rare shady spot and there was a little bit of a breeze.  It was downright pleasant, so I risked checking the weather channel app on my phone.  It was 101 degrees!  Not only was the temperature 101, the app said it felt like 97.  Seriously.  Summer wind chill in the desert!

I’ve come to the conclusion that there might actually be something to that whole “dry heat” thing.  I’ve sweated more carrying my briefcase to my car on summer mornings at home than I did in an entire week in the valley of the sun.

This requires me to admit something:  I am sometimes wrong! And the sooner I admit it, the better off I am because everyone else knows I am sometimes wrong.  Our lives don’t just matter to God when we are right. Confessing when we are wrong leads to healthier relationships and gives us the opportunity to extend the grace of forgiveness to each other.  There’s great power in that.

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While we were outside after dinner one evening a little shower came up.  I just sat there.  It was a dry rain.

Question: How easy is it for you to admit it when you are wrong?

About

Just an ordinary guy living an amazing life. Amazed by God and joining Him in His amazing activity in the world. Seeking the flourishing of fellow travelers. Author, Blogger, Speaker, Singer, CoachSultant, Husband, Dad, Grandpa.