Let me preface everything with this: I have NO REASON to complain. By most anyone’s standards I am a success. I am doing what I have always wanted to do.

When I was a toddler, I would walk myself up to the TV during the news and point at the numbers on the weather map as the weatherman would point at them. I was a news junkie as a kid. I liked the way information came through the screen. I loved the way how television news used peoples’ stories to show others something about their world and maybe help them in some way.  So at a young age, I decided the story I wanted to live was to be a part of the news that came into peoples homes everyday, especially the homes of St. Louis, my home. I went to the best journalism school in the country, worked my tail off in three other cities honing my skills. On April 22, 2008, I started as a photographer at FOX 2 in St. Louis. I did it. I made it. I completed my story.

Happily ever after…

No. Not quite. It turned out I was living a false story, one I thought I had wanted all along but one that came with a hollow climax and an unsatisfying resolution.

I’m not going into the laundry list of why, because this shouldn’t be a gripe session. But this is reason 1: I’m tired of seeing people at the worst moment of their lives and feeling helpless to do anything. Allow me to explain.

This is the apartment building I stood in front of on June 27. This picture doesn’t do the sky at this scene justice. It was an electric orange, a mix of the impending sunset and storm clouds that broke loose with streaks of lightning, a “Glory of the Lord shone round about them” kind of sky. As for the building itself, the burnt façade is from a fire earlier that day.

This is a family gathering to mourn. An 11-month old boy was in that apartment, and he couldn’t be saved. The woman looking toward those glowing heavens is his mother. The pain and confusion she’s going through at the moment is something I never wanted to know. But at that moment, with the glory of God shining around us, and a light rain that just as easily could be the tears of the angels, we were all feeling that pain. We were all in that family, even me, a stranger trying to invade with a camera. I knew I needed to help. Not just her, but everyone.

“Blessed are those who mourn...”

So here is the plan for my new story.

I want to be a trauma/grief counselor. Simple enough.

But I hate offices. I despise hospitals and clinics. The best part about my job now is being on the street, out with people. So the grander part of my plan is to eventually start a group of what I can best describe as a “psychological first responders.” These exist in some form today with the Red Cross and other agencies, but it seems they tend to focus on large-scale disasters. I’d like to be able to help with the smaller in scale, but still devastating personal disasters: the loss of loved ones, the loss of a home, the loss of safety and security. We would meet them where they are as soon as possible after the event, and begin to help them navigate the emotion that comes as it comes. We would help also afterwards and continuing on, because the way emotional hurt comes is a lot like what happens after you’re in a car wreck. You feel ok at first, fine even, but as the adrenaline wears off, the pain starts to appear. And this would all be free to those we helped, of course.

I will need training, going back to school and learning all I can about psychology and social work. I will need people willing to be there to help counsel the grieving with me. I will need money to pay for all of this.

Now the hard part.

When I was in college, one of my professors always preached the value of conflict. “Conflict is what makes news good. Without it, there is no story.” Others have echoed this sentiment through out my life, my pastor, authors I’ve read. (More on that in a minute.)

So naturally, my new story must have some sort of conflict in it. Doing this will force me to step out of where I usually stay, in the shadows of any traumatic event hiding behind my camera, a shield of glass and plastic. This will force me to find people at their worst and start to bring them back from the brink. The conflict in that alone will be intense, and I fear but somehow want embrace it.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  Matthew 5:4

“In this beatitude, Jesus praises… those who can enter into solidarity with the pain of the world and not try to extract themselves from it.”
-from Jesus’ Plan for a New World by Richard Rohr with John Bookser Feister


Despite knowing what I would do is a godly thing, the greatest obstacle in the way of this new story happening is: Myself.

The idea of walking away from what I’ve already accomplished, leaving a very comfortable life that can continue as such for years if I so choose, scares the crap out of me. People at my age, on the edge of 30, don’t leave their well-paying job and go back to school to pursue something that “might” happen. They’re settling down, buying houses, starting families. And I want to do that too.

I remember when I was in college. The long hours, the intense studying, the ramen noodles. I don’t have to go back to that if I really don‘t want. I can stay where I am and not worry about papers to write and chapters to read and bills to be paid somehow. I can eat real food.

But then I remember all of the people I’ve seen in my years in the news. All the mourning, all the sadness. Their lives are in shambles, and I’m worried about being comfortable and buying a house? I’m tired of being so selfish.

The fear is gripping. Just writing this blog has been torturous. I’ve paced the floors of my apartment, thinking about if this is what I want to do. This is a big step. Making public the facts that I don’t like my job, I want to leave, and that I’m freaked out about is a milestone in this journey if it‘s to begin. Because now it’s out there. People know.

Now it also means others can help me. All of you who read this, here’s what you can do:

-Remind me of what I‘ve set out here today. Don’t let me get comfortable again. Push and encourage and prod until I make it happen.

I’m hoping to receive some more encouragement at the end of September. One of my favorite authors, Donald Miller, is hosting a seminar in which he will show how people can live a better story with their lives. Here's more about it: www.donmilleris.com/conference. It’s something he’s written much about lately, and his words have been the fertilizer on the seeds of my new story. And by fertilizer, I’m don’t mean they’re manure. You know what I mean… anyway, here‘s Don to tell you more about it!

I want to go to this seminar to get the gentle nudge in the ribs, or rather the swift kick in the ass, to send me on my way.   


I know I spent a bit of verbiage on why I wouldn’t want to do this, why it frightens me. But I wanted to close with why I think this WILL somehow happen, my own encouragement.

I’ve already made it once. I set out on what I wanted to do - work in St. Louis TV - and I did it. It came with a lot of work, a lot of sacrifice. I did it once, and I can and will do it again.

I realize my story is part of a bigger story, a better story, God’s story. It’s the story of people helped, people redeemed, people saved. It’s a story of love.

And God’s story doesn’t end in failure because we know love does not fail.

People may fail with in the story, and what most would consider a “happy ending” is not guaranteed, but the end game, the resolution of the story will never be failure.

So, I will go on with this. I’m not sure of timetables or logistics yet, but I hope to be soon.

I got to go to the City Museum here in St. Louis for the first time yesterday. For those who don’t know, it’s basically a giant playground built into an old shoe factory. The bonus is that it’s big enough for adults to enjoy, too, and I did enjoy it. I jumped and climbed on stuff and ran around like I was 10 again, but with the aches of an older man later to show for it.

I was at the top of one of their massive slides, sitting there with my feet dangling over the edge, ready to go. I had seen others go before me, and they slid fast! A couple of kids got burns on their legs and one kid went backwards and slammed his head on the bottom.

And while sitting there, I had a moment of fear. This could hurt. Maybe this isn’t the best idea. But then I had a better though. This is awesome! This is going to be fun! And I pushed myself over the edge.

And I dropped.

So only 3 months between blogs, that’s pretty good, right? It is for me.

One of the best things about weebly.com, the website that hosts this blog and the rest of the awesomeness that is DonovanPotts.com is that it gives me statistics on the site, including the all-important page views. And that’s great because I love statistics! I especially love basketball statistics (ask me sometime about my NCAA tournament spreadsheets, yes, I said spreadsheets… na-HEY!). I like what numbers have to tell us about things, how patterns can play out,  and I hope someday if I look at enough numbers I might figure something out.

Plus, I sort of have this curiosity about how many people give a rip about what I have to say, and about my little corner of the web. It’s purely egotistical, of course.

But unlike other good websites with much more consistent numbers, my numbers are a little more up and down. For instance, on July 10, I had a total of 39 page views and 14 unique visitors. On July 11, both of those numbers dropped…

To Zero.

Nobody looked at the site on July 11.

See, the problem I have with statistics is too many people identify themselves with them.

“How much money did I make?”

“How many widgets did I sell?”

“How many people came to this website?”

They take a measurement of something arbitrary and make it into a measure of their self-worth.

People are more than numbers, and what they do are much more important. Our self-worth should come from God and from our relationships with each other.

So, I’m cool that no one came to the site on July 11. Because I’m worth more than web page views. And, it went back up to 20 on July 12. Maybe if I put more on here, you guys will want to keep coming back… so there definitely is more to come.

I've always been a curious person. I was the kid who was always taking apart things to see what was inside them, and then not being able to put them back together.  I've dismantled more household appliances than the Maytag Man. When our old family computer bit the dust, I was there with a screwdriver ready to take that baby apart. Did I fix it? Of course not. I wasn't in it to fix it. I wanted to see the circuit boards, and the hard drive, and the disk drive. It was almost like an autopsy on a computer. My diagnosis? It was a piece of junk.

I've always wanted to know. Know how things work and are made, how to do it, why it's here. 

So naturally, I was also always the kid who asked the question that titles this blog: What if?
As in, what if I rip the disk drive out of this old computer? or What if I want to go into TV news? These questions helped me develop the base of knowledge (You can debate amongst yourselves how deep it is) that I've come to have.

It was one of these "What if" moments that led to my belief in God. I was 16, working in Mr. Schaal's biology class, reading up on the Krebs Cycle in corn plants. This process happens in every organism that needs oxygen to live, so that means you and me too.  I couldn't explain it to you now if I wanted to as there are a lot of big words and abbreviations involved, but it's a complex chemical reaction that makes the energy we need to live. It seemed too complex to even be able to happen, like it was the result of some sort of  command. This couldn't be an accident. All of this, all of what we call life, and earth, and the universe simply couldn't have just happened. It's just too much.
That's when it hit me:
What if this is something that was supposed to happen? What if something, or someone, made this happen?

But my problem is I've only used "What if" for other things, never for myself.

But recently one of my favorite authors, Donald Miller, posted something on his blog about the power of "What if" in our lives and how it pushes us on to living better lives. Or as he so beautifully puts it, "living a better story." Now Don has issued what he calls the "What If Challenge". The point is to think about the "What ifs" we have in our lives and to act upon them. Because, as Miller once again wonderfully wrote, "People grow when they are in motion."

So, I've taken him up on his challenge, and taken it to another level. I didn't want to just write them down in a notebook and forget about them, so I got some post-its and started writing them down. I found some blank space on the wall at the foot of my bed and started sticking them up. Let me show you the new "What if Wall".

On each of these post-its is something for me to do, a goal I would like to achieve, or a personal trait I would like to embrace more. They're all phrased as "What if I..."

Some are simple things I should do each day.

Some are what I need to do to help myself.

Some are what I need to do to help others.

Some scare the crap out of me, which I hear is a good thing.

And some I use to suck up to Donald Miller in hopes he reads this. Seriously though, I so want to be a part of
The Mentoring Project when it goes nationwide. I come across examples every day of why it's needed so desperately here in St. Louis. I'll do whatever I can to help it along.

So that's my "What if Wall." There are 13 ways I can change my story for the better up there right now, and I will surely add more as I think of them.

I challenge all of you to do the same. It only took me 30 minutes to come up with all of these. Miller suggests you start with five, but I have a lot on my mind right now.

Two tips before you begin:
1. Be sure they're things that you can control, and things you will do from here on. No "What if I had taken that job 2 years ago?" This is not a forum for regrets. This is about  how you will move forward and change your world for the better. And because these are things you will be doing...

2.  When you write them down... use present or future tense verbs! I caught myself using past tense when I was making the wall, like "What if I lost 25 pounds?" or "What if I went back to school?" I immediately stopped and changed the ones that were past tense. So it reads "What if I go back to school?"
Many of the "What ifs" others posted in Don Miller's blog comments were the same way.  Remember, these are things you should be doing and past tense makes them feel like things you should have done. Again, no regrets here.

I'll be sure to keep you posted on what happens when these "What ifs" hopefully become "What happeneds!"  Be sure to leave me a comment if this is something you'd like to try. I'll be glad to help anyone out. Good luck to you all, and here's to better stories!

I am writing this blog from a special guest location: the newsroom at KOMU-TV. It's 12:30 am and I am hanging out and talking to Rod and the morning producer. Amazing how that seems like an odd statement to make now considering I spent most of 2001-2003 hanging out at KOMU and talking to Rod.

I really don't want to go into too much detail right now, but I'm doing a personal video type project that has me shooting, editing, and even writing (!) a story. Keep in mind I haven't written a script for a story since um... 2003. I think. 

It seems only fitting that I would do it in the same newsroom where I started this whole TV news journey. I remember when it began, too. August 17, 1999, my 19th birthday. Just before the start of my sophomore year, I came out to ask if there were any odd jobs I could do out at the station. Lots of students do it, it's still the best way to get involved. And they gave me something to do... 5 minutes after I walked through the door. I was standing in the newsroom when one of the reporters, Raquel... I can't think of her last name... said she needed to shoot a standup nearby and needed someone to help her. She saw me, asked if i was doing anything, then we headed out to the standup. With next to no experience with a camera, I shot her standup that afternoon. And as far as I can remember, it looked ok.  

Whirlwind to 10 years later, and I'm here again. It feels no different now than it did then.

Got to go edit now. I'm a lot faster at that now, I know that for certain. I can't believe I would stress out over 3 hours to edit a story. I would give my left eye for three hours to edit a story these days.

So for the first new blog here on the site, let me reveal a deep dark secret about myself. (See, I know how to get attention.)

I have a problem where in I buy books more than I read them. There's nothing I like more than to wander the aisles at my nearest bookstore, be it Borders, Barnes and Noble, or the many great local bookstores here in St. Louis, which I need to check out a lot more in days to come. Of course, I come out of the aisles with a stack of new volumes to add to my collection. Or, which I am doing more of these days: I will see the book, pick it up, read a little of it, note the title and go home and buy it on Amazon. (Advantage, me.)
 
The issue comes up when I actually get the books home. I like books, I like the concept, it's just that the reading... with time committments and such, it's a challenge. So this acquisition without comprehension has left me with a rather sizable surplus of books. I've got 'em, but I haven't read 'em.

So, as part of the New Year's Plan to tell a better story, I figure I need to read some better stories. I took all of my unread books and put them into what I now refer to as the Book Box.

It's just an old milk crate with 25 books I've never read in it. The topics vary from God to Pistol Pete Maravich, as evidenced by the two books on top there. It includes authors like Fitzgerald, Kerouac, Krakauer and Feinstein.

There's also two out of the box and on my nightstand which I'm plodding through now, The Long Snapper by Jeffrey Marx (So far, so good) and A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genuis by Dave Eggers (OK, kinda plodding and self-aggrandizing, but he warned me in the prologue of that).

So the grand total is 27 books, probably closer to 26 because I'm partway through the two on my stand, so that leaves 26 books in 52 weeks, or 2 weeks a book to finish them all by the end of 2010. I will review them as I see fit here if you care about what I think about what I read.

Oh, and there will be other blogs here too. Maybe more dark secrets. See, I can keep you coming back, too!