Peeing Myself. AIRBORNE! and Pursuing God-Sized Dreams

I had to pee - really bad. I was an 11 year old Little League Baseball All-Star loving the game in the sweltering Arkansas summer humidity. It was an extra long inning, as I recall, and I was focused on the next pitch. The inning would not end and I made the decision rather than take myself out of the game that I would pee myself. 

The inning ended and I ran to the dugout with my glove over my fresh wet spot. I was scheduled to bat second and so I put on my helmet, grabbed my bat, and stood in the on-deck circle. Note to self: if you pee yourself the on-deck circle is no place to hide.

Our coach, Mr. John Lisle, a former 82nd Airborne Division paratrooper, prominent lawyer, and State Senator told me he believed that I was going to get a hit. He then grabbed a hand full of dirt and began to throw it over my pee stain. I began to do the same, all over my jersey, like it was some sort of camouflage. Never saying anything to me about peeing myself. More on camouflage (Army) later. 

I couldn't script this any better, I swung at the first pitch, connected with the ball, ran to first, rounded second base, and slid head first into third base. I was a dirty mess as I motioned to the umpire, called a time-out, looked down at my dirty uniform, looked over at Mr. Lisle and received a cherished "atta boy" from my coach.

Years later, two of his sons and I would follow in the footsteps of Mr. Lisle and become paratroopers. The thought of Mr. Lisle occurred to me again while I was attending the Basic Airborne Course at Ft. Benning, Georgia. About 200 hundred soldiers crammed into a makeshift barracks at the edge of an airfield. We were issued our parachutes, received our inspection, and then we waited...and waited some more. I had to pee. Does this story sound familiar?

I approached the Sergeant Airborne Instructor in the distinctive black hat and asked permission to quickly go to the bathroom. He chewed me out and said that I would have to pee myself. I swear to Oprah I said to him, "No problem, Sergeant Airborne, I've done this before and I'll do it right now in front of you." He knew I was serious, busted out a laugh, unhooked my reserve parachute, and I ran to the porta potty. Came back and Sergeant Airborne helped me with my reserve parachute, gave me a final safety inspection, and sent me on my way to jump from a perfectly good airplane.

Mr. Lisle passed away. In his later years, he would wear his 82nd Airborne Division hat, flirt with the waitresses, and continue to inspire us.

I was reading in scripture the other day about King David and how he danced in joy nearly naked before his troops.

His wife scolded him.

I love his response: “I will become even more undignified than this, and I will be humiliated in my own eyes.”

I learned something about myself. I'm not a quitter and I'm willing to be vulnerable. And I have a walnut sized bladder.

If you’re not willing to look goofy in the eyes of others, you will never make it to your God-sized dream.

This maxim, and others, can be found in our upcoming book: men@pause: life 2.0 maxims.

Chris Lisle, son of Mr. John Lisle, and I join our buddy Dr. Bryan Cornwall and share the Be. Know. Do. as men in the changing seasons of life.