An Unexpected Gift

Throughout our 21 years of marriage, Tom and I, along with our extended family members, have built many traditions around Christmas. These traditions are probably similar to those that most families associate with the holidays, and they’re comforting in their ritual, steadfast in their execution. As our children have grown, we’ve delighted in carrying out these traditions, and watching the kids embrace them into their hearts. Every year, whenever someone would ask what our plans were for Christmas, I’d have the speech down cold: we’d go to mass as a family on Christmas Eve, head over to Tom’s parent’s home for Swedish meatballs, the rosary and gifts, and be home in time for Santa to appear in the darkness as the kids watched from the banister above; Christmas morning would bring presents under our tree, and then we’d head over to my parent’s house for presents, games and dinner. As we approached our traditions this year, our schedule was quite off. So off, in fact, that I feared being shaken and perhaps a tad bit traumatized by the inconsistencies that we were going to encounter. Most of all, I feared that I wouldn’t get to experience the “true Christmas” I’ve come to expect. Since Kenzie had to work the weekend shift at the nursing home, she wouldn’t be able to attend Christmas Eve mass or dinner at Tom’s folks’, and wouldn’t be able to spend the afternoon at my parent’s house on Christmas Day. So, we regrouped. And, as un-usual as the weekend shaped up to be, it was a beautiful one. An unexpected gift.

We went to a different mass at a different place. We said the rosary without Kenzie, but she felt its power and missed being there for it. Tom dressed up as Santa and greeted her at the door at 11 p.m. when she walked in after her 8-hour shift. The four of us plopped on the couch and giggled about how many times they saw Santa as young kids while Dad was "sleeping". During the day, we had time to take walks with the dogs and have extra family time. We moved our Christmas Day to the 26th, and reveled in the 3-day celebration that we normally wouldn't have had. 

My Mom always says, “I’m nothing if I’m not flexible”, and I’ve started to take this mantra on myself. As our children grow and become the adults we’re raising them to be, we must learn to embrace the traditions we’ve created, yet remain flexible with our time. And it is in this flexibility that we enjoyed a Christmas I’ll remember for a long time – and not because of any material gift I received, but because of the gift of the joy of the unexpected.     

Quit whining, already!

Yesterday morning we woke up to six inches of snow on the ground and bitter-cold temperatures. On any normal Thursday morning, this would have been okay with me. I have the luxury of working from home, so my normal routine would include getting myself a cup of coffee, spending a little time with my bible, and settling into my comfy office chair in front of my computer for the day . . . occasionally glancing out my window from my toasty-warm quarters. But, yesterday was unlike a typical Thursday. Our family was scheduled to spend the day helping out at the Sister Carmen Community Center in Lafayette, a tradition we began with Tom’s side of the family a few years ago when we wanted a more meaningful way to express ourselves during Christmas. On this very uncomfortably cold day, I dreaded bundling up and heading out. I whined to Tom that there probably wouldn’t be many people showing up at the center because of the difficult driving conditions, and I said that maybe we should have thought about scheduling it for another day after hearing about the impending snow storm. I secretly hoped that we’d get a call saying that the center was going to be closed for the day so that we could reschedule on a more pleasant day. Shame on me, I know! We got the call that the center was open, so we bundled up in layers, not knowing what to expect, and headed out as a family. I was immediately impressed by the operation. It is a very large facility with amazing staff members who kindly showed us around (all 24 of us!) and explained their wonderful programs – not only for food distribution, but education and safe house help. My cold heart began to thaw a bit. We were asked to split up into groups and tackle different projects before the people started coming in. Kenzie, Taylor and I went over to the waiting area and began sweeping and cleaning the area filled with toys and activities for kids to occupy their time while their parents “shopped” at the food bank. In the middle of my sweeping job, one of the staff members asked if I wouldn’t mind working at the front desk answering phones. Sounded warm and fun, so of course I obliged. Throughout the day, as I answered the calls that came in, my greeting, “Good morning, Sister Carmen Center, may I help you?” was answered with sometimes desperate pleas. One woman called saying that she needed help with rent. Another called and told the story of her husband getting laid off, saying that they had no food in the house and was wondering if the center could help. Still another called confirming her appointment with the Safe House counselor. With each call, I felt horribly ashamed for my whiny attitude earlier that day. And the calls continued. Many other volunteers called in asking if we needed more help that day . . . it wasn’t normally their day to come in, but they wanted to see if they could come in . . . despite the road conditions and cold temperatures. The final call melted my heart to the core. A woman called in asking if the center could provide her some food. I was supposed to ask each caller where they resided so that I could determine if we were the right center location-wise, or if they needed to contact a center that served their area. So, I asked the question, “where do you live?” After a brief silence on the other end, the woman replied that she was homeless, and found herself between the Louisville and Lafayette areas most of the time. My heart went up into my throat, and I assured her that she should come in right away and get some food. One of the other volunteers there told me that the center could most likely help her with shelter as well. When we hung up, I flashed back to my cozy office space back at home, the freedom I have to crank up the heat or flick on the fire whenever I was chilly, choose from a closet full of clothes every day, make a cup of cocoa or grab a snack whenever I was hungry, take a bubble bath at a moment’s notice. Oh, how good I have it. I’m grateful for all of those good things, but it wasn’t until I contrasted it with this poor woman’s plight, that I was deeply grateful for it, and quite humbled. Next time I find myself whining about the inconveniences that show up in my life, I’ll remember this woman, and so many more like her, who have nothing. Thank you to all of the wonderful people at the Sister Carmen Community Center, who through your tireless work, compassion, and love, give these people a helping hand. This Christmas, I’ll count my blessings, even amidst the minor inconveniences and trials of my most wonderful life.

Getting Through the Brick Wall

December 14, 2011 – When is the last time I sat down to write? Early November? Where have the weeks gone? Seems I’ve been caught up in a time of transition. These things happen to me periodically. I get to a brick wall that seems insurmountable and I feel like I’m in a battle to find my way to the other side, beyond the wall, to a place where I know who I am, what I want to do, and how I’m going to live my life to serve God. So, the battle began about 6 weeks ago, I suppose. I tried to scale up the brick wall. Hard to do. The surface is flat with no foot-holds to secure my climb. I move over to a different part of the wall to see if I can leverage anything on that side that will help me make my way up. No luck. Maybe if I tunnel under the wall! Oh, but that wall’s foundation is deep. I use my little shovel and furiously dig, dig, dig to find an opening to tunnel my way to the other side to no avail. Perhaps I should go around the wall! I go to the left, but end up walking for miles in that direction and find no end to it. The road to the right finds me in the same precarious position. No way around this one.  If I can’t go over it, under it, or around it, I suddenly realize that in order to break through the barrier of my brick wall, I must go through it. I chip away at the wall, bit by bit, rediscovering the person I am, the person I’ve become, the plan God has for me. I realize that all this climbing, digging and walking around the brick wall was to no avail because in order to come through on the other side, one must find their own truth and persevere through the unknown.  As I chisel through the wall, I wonder, how thick is it? When will the light begin to peek through so I’m back on track and can see my path again? All I know for sure is that it’s the hard work, perseverance, and faith in the light on the other side that makes it all worth it. Wait! Is that a light I see?

Why We Struggle

I sometimes think that life would be much simpler if I could just pick up my family, move to some tropical island, and spend the days floating on the water, sipping pineapple juice, and building sand castles. We’d be sheltered from all problems, all suffering, all fear. Sounds perfectly perfect, right? But, in the long run, would it really be all that good? Would we really be the people we are today if it were easy all the time? We’d all love it if our lives were easy, problem-free, and painless. Why is it that we have to endure pain, heartache, uncertainty, fear, loss, and despair?
I found a glimmer of the answer in a reflection I was reading on Genesis 37 by author, Hanna Whitall Smith. She writes, “It is no matter who starts our trial, whether human, or devil, or even our own foolish self. If God permits it to reach us, He has by this permission made the trial His own, and will turn it for us into a chariot of love which will carry our souls to a place of blessing that we could not have reached in any other way.”  
Think about the trials you’ve endured and come through on the other end, whether it was the loss of a loved one, a serious illness, the shame in something from your past, or a stumble that turned into a big-time face plant. No matter what, you are likely different, and better, for having come through it. Had you never experienced the depths of the trial, you wouldn’t be the person you are today. And the biggest comfort in this truth is that He is with us every step of the way. As the author reveals, God takes our trials on as His own. He only lets those in that will “carry our souls to a place of blessing that we could not have reached in any other way.”
Indeed, in our struggles, we find God walking right alongside us, anticipating the great blessings that will come into our lives from having done so. And it is in this parternship, that we find true comfort and joy. Let Him hold your hand today as you move through your journey, and be comforted in the truth that you are being led to a place of abundant blessings, a place that you wouldn’t have known had you not endured the struggle.   

Are You The Walking Dead?

Are You The Walking Dead? An apropos question for the day before Halloween. In the midst of your daily grind are you walking around in a blur, with no central focus, no mission, no hope? I find myself in this state every once in awhile when I get too focused on the “stuff” of life instead of the miracles that take place before me daily. Walt Whitman wrote, “To me, every cubic inch of space is a miracle.” He hits the nail on the head with this observation, but how often do we really look for and see miracles in our everyday lives? When we aren’t looking for them, we are essentially “the walking dead”. When we look for them, we might be surprised by what we see and how we can be instantly transformed from the walking dead to the spiritually awakened. It happened to me just yesterday. I was driving to church and heard Third Day’s song, “Revelation”. The lyrics go,

“Give me a revelation, show me what to do.

‘Cause I’ve been trying to find my way, I haven’t got a clue.

Tell me should I stay here, or do I need to move?

Give me a revelation, I’ve got nothing without You.”

So, I’m belting out the song, knowing that something is missing in my life. I’m the walking dead. I don’t know how to “move” but through this song, I asked to be shown. Sitting in mass, the gospel reading hits me like a ton of lead. I feel as if the spotlight is on me. I’m exposed. It was Matthew 23: 1-12, which our priest later deciphered as “the masks we wear”. Without being able to describe it myself as I drove into town listening to “Revelation” I realized that I was being burdened by all of the masks I wear. The only consolation was the reminder that we all wear them, but I’ve been particularly burdened by mine, and as our priest said, ”it’s exhausting!” That’s the truth. Instead of being who we truly are, we put up these masks to protect, to hide, to perhaps give the illusion that we’ve got our act together. Exhausting, to say the least! So, as I went up to the altar to take the chalice and then distribute it to the members of our congregation, I saw my reflection in that golden cup. And it was just Cindy. No mask, no hidden self. Just me. What a lovely miracle. As I walked outside after mass, I noticed a single, solitary, perfect red maple leaf smiling up at me on the steps. I went to pick it up and saw another miracle. It was the miracle of change, of letting down my mask, of hope, and of revelation.  I got into my car, and set the leaf down on the seat beside me, turned on the car, only to hear the song “Beautiful Things” by Gungor:

“You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make me new, You are making me new.”

It’s a miracle, and I am new. Make that transformation for yourself today. Let every cubic inch of space be a miracle, remove one mask at a time, and be transformed.

Life Around the Kitchen Table

When Tom and I moved into our first home 20 years ago, we bought our first, real kitchen table. It was sturdy, solid oak, and had room enough for six. At the time, it was only Tom, Kenzie and me, but that table followed us as we added Taylor to our family, moved two more times, invited people over for meals, and used it as a place to do homework, roll out Christmas cookies and dye Easter eggs. Last weekend, I said goodbye to our long-time friend, as we passed it along to a family with four young kids. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched the table and six chairs leaving on the back of their truck, knowing that it would be well used and loved just as much.

That very same weekend, we ventured out to find our new table, and it got me thinking how this new table would be a central part of our next 20 years. It’s a glass top table – now that the kids are older, no worries about someone falling and breaking a tooth on it (well, we still have Taylor at home). It is counter-height – no need to pull a high chair up to it. The chairs are leather – don’t have to stress over them being torn up . . . well, again, we still have Taylor. And, it only seats four, nice and comfortably. Sort of like the next phase of our lives, or so I imagine it to be.

Like the song Landslide goes, “time made you bolder, children get older, and I’m getting older too.” Well, I am. Bolder and older, that is. Bold enough to get rid of the past and move confidently into the future as our family morphs into a new phase. Older as I watch our kids become adults. And, when we all come back together on one of those special evenings where we can sit around our new table to talk, eat, and laugh, I think, go ahead and get finger prints all over the new glass table. I just love spending time with you.

Roots to Wings

Remember your child’s first day of Kindergarten? Perhaps you haven’t yet sent any children off on their big day and are dreading the moment when they leave your safe and comfortable nest to explore a new world. I remember the day that my daughter went off to Kindergarten. As a matter of fact, I have a picture of her first day that hangs in my bedroom. She is dressed up in her new red sweater with her little plaid skirt, sitting at her desk with her cute smile and arms folded over the tissue box she brought as part of her school supply bundle. I look at this picture and think back to all the feelings I was experiencing when my baby first started school. When we send our children to Kindergarten, they are exploring a new world, making new friends, discerning good behaviors from bad, and getting used to a new routine. Isn't this also true when a child leaves for college?

My daughter recently did that very thing. Despite the many parallels I can draw between beginning Kindergarten and beginning college, the one critical component she was missing when she was 5 was her ability to make her own decisions, and to draw on her roots, which were really just starting to be formed. In Kindergarten, the decisions are made for you. My daughter knew when she was going to go to recess and have lunch, what she was going to wear each day, when she was going to get to go home, and what her bedtime was. It was in the comfort of these seemingly small routines that stuck with her and enabled her to begin making decisions for herself.

One of my own mother’s favorite sayings is, “We give our children two things – one is roots, and other, wings.” I know now more than ever that all of the hard work we do as parents to establish good routines, good habits, and good lives allows these roots to strengthen and take hold. Difficult as it may be throughout those elementary, middle, and high school years, I’m here to tell you that it’s all worth it. We model for our children, give them strong roots, and in turn, they develop a sense of who they are, and more importantly, that they’re loved. So, fear not, dear parents. Root them in love, God, and all of the things you want them to be, and then, give them wings.

Stopping Worry In Its Tracks

While we certainly don’t have manuals when it comes to being mothers and raising children, there is one thing we all seem to have bestowed upon us when we enter into the wonderful world of motherhood, and that’s the keen ability to worry. It starts early. When we’re pregnant, we worry about whether the little someone growing inside is getting the right nutrition. We worry about how the delivery will go. Once they’re born, we begin a roller-coaster ride of worry, and while the types of things we worry about are different at each age, the worry doesn’t get any less overwhelming. Worry is like a little worm that enters your head and just keeps munching away at your thoughts, taking you one direction and then the next, calculating all of the possible things that can go wrong. While I am no stranger to worry, I’d like to share a recipe for extracting that very hungry little worm and letting the worry go.  It works for me when I find myself in a state of worry and I invite you to try it next time you are caught in this same trap:

Step 1: Acknowledge the worry. Most times when we worry, we let our rational minds go, and instead, let our irrational minds take over, sort of like a cassette tape that plays in an endless loop. Stop, and acknowledge the fact that you’re worried about something. Perhaps even write it down if you are a visual person, or say it out loud if you are an auditory person.

Step 2: Draw a line in the sand. Once we acknowledge the fact that we’re worried about something, we need to put it into perspective. Look at the big picture. Most of our worries have to do with what’s going on in the here-and-now, and we tend to extrapolate that situation out into the future, when in fact, we really have no control of the future. All you can do is focus on the present moment and draw a line between you and your worry. Make it stop right here and step over to the other side for just a moment:  the place of peace and non-worry. Now, consciously sit in this space for a few moments, knowing that the problem and worry are still there, but that they’re on the other side of the line. This step allows you to distance yourself from the worry instead of sitting in it.

Step 3: Give it to God.  This has to be a full-on effort on your part. There’s no such thing as halfway giving it up. Trust me, I’ve tried it. In order to fully release the problem to God, sometimes it takes being very demonstrative about it. Sure, you can simply pray about it, and this usually suffices for the smaller worries. But if it’s one of those big, hairy ones, try one of these actions:

1. Write down your worry on a piece of paper, and then crumple it up and give it over to God. You could place it next to your bible or a cross or perhaps even burn it to ashes.  You can also hand it over to your spouse or a friend letting them know that you have given this worry up to God.

2.  Ceremoniously wash your hands as you say out loud that you are washing your hands of this problem and the worry that goes along with it, and letting Him take control.

3.  Journal about it. This can be very therapeutic, especially if you journal as if you are writing a letter to God. Tell Him all of your issues and then let Him know that this letter serves as official notice that you are putting it into His hands.

No matter which way you hand it over to God, this next step is critical, and that is to replace your worry with love. Look at the person you’re worried about with love. See the problem through the eyes of love. Know that love is powerful and can fix everything. I don’t know that worry will ever go away when we’re moms, even when our kids are grown, out of the house, and raising their own families. It’s just a way of life when you’re a mother, but as I’m sure you’ll agree, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Getting Unstuck

Have you ever felt like you were just stuck? Perhaps a good visual is one where you are standing at the bottom of a deep well, looking way up at the sky and not knowing how to make the ascent up and out of that dark pit. Or, maybe you’re high up in a tree, “out on a limb”, not able to make your way down to stable ground. Either way, stuck is stuck. Maybe you didn’t realize you were stuck for a long time and then one day it just hit you . . . stuck in a routine, stuck in a relationship, stuck in a dead-end job, stuck in a habit that doesn’t work in your life. Or, perhaps you’ve been wallowing in your stuck-ness for awhile – uncertain of your next steps. Sometimes, it just becomes easier to stay stuck than to try and move out of it. We get stuck because we have so much coming at us at all times that rarely do we get a chance to sit, and just be.  

When we allow ourselves to just be, we are able to put the mind-chatter aside and look deeper into ourselves. It’s during these times of just sitting, and being, that we’re able to ask ourselves the important questions:  What’s working in our lives? What has become a road block? Where are we moving forward? Where are we just dragging our heels? The next question is, then what?

Well, unfortunately, many of us stay stuck. Whether it comes from fear of the unknown, complacency, fear of change, or something else, we stay stuck because it’s much easier than moving. But, when we examine the people we are when we are stuck, compared to the people we can become when we move forward, it’s easy to see which person we want to be. The recipe for getting unstuck is to change something. Get out of your routine. Try something completely out of the ordinary and out of your comfort zone. Change is all about growth and making life the way we want it to be. Plan in your mind what you are going to do that’s out of routine today or completely out of your comfort zone. Last weekend, I participated in a Gregorian Chant choral group (and I can’t sing). The next day, I followed my passion and went on a bird watching hike (something I’ve always wanted to do) and spent my time amongst experienced birders who knew every bird’s call and the name of each feathered-friend we encountered. I could have felt out of place in both situations (and I did, at first) but the newness of those adventures did more for me than maintaining a routine that wasn’t moving me forward. Try it! Next time you feel stuck, go sing in a chorus (even if you can’t sing). Sign up for a class or go to a networking group. Or, take baby steps and just take a different route into work or talk to someone you don’t know at the grocery store. As we take these steps, we begin to see that we in fact, CAN change, and we have the power to make our lives the way we want to. The challenge is taking that first step. Why not take one today?  

It's Like Giving Birth All Over Again

This weekend was my daughter’s 18^th birthday. Our tradition is, on the night before our kids’ birthdays, to tell them the story of their birth. We begin with the events of the day that led up to my water breaking, that turned into a trip to the hospital, that resulted in contractions, some pushing, and a brand new life in our hands, along with all of the emotions that went along with that entire experience. This year was particularly poignant, not only because of the fact that Kenzie was turning 18 and was officially an “adult”, but on this very same weekend, she had moved into her residence hall and was ready to begin her first year of college.

This brought many parallels to mind as I spoke of her birth-day 18 years ago, and wrestled with my having to give birth to her all over again, this time letting her go and explore life on her own, hopefully with the good values and lessons that we tried to instill on her throughout those 18 years. I thought of the anticipation of Kenzie’s birth, much like my anticipation over her starting college. I remember 18 years ago being excited and scared all at the same time: excited for the new adventures we were about to embark on, afraid of all the unknowns. As we left for the hospital that evening 18 years ago, we felt calm and ready . . . much like we did when we loaded boxes in her car this weekend, and helped her unpack.

But on the night before her 18^th birthday, as I told the story of her birth, I couldn’t help but well up with tears as those 18 years flashed before my eyes. From diaper changing to teething. Learning to walk to making new friends on the playground. Wearing a school uniform and discovering a love for learning. Trials and errors. Friendships and tears. Love and heartbreak. I still find myself in disbelief that my baby daughter is off on her own, but I am comforted in the feeling that we did the best we could with her. Our jobs as parents are to raise happy, social, straight-thinking, emotional, loving human beings. And, she is every one of those things. This new birth story is one I’m certain I’ll be telling for another 18 years.

Blessings from Heartbreak

How can something so heartbreaking be so filled with blessings? That’s the question I kept posing to myself over the course of the last week. My Grams, as we called her, my Mom’s Mom, passed away on Friday morning, August 5. I was deeply heartbroken by the fact that this icon in my life would no longer be here in physical form. Even though she lived thousands of miles away, my recent visits and phone calls have been burned in my memory and replayed more than once over the last seven days.

I was also deeply heartbroken by the fact that my Mom no longer had her Mom on this earth, and of course it made me think what it would be like to lose my own mother. I don’t even want to think about it. She has been such a constant in my life, in the lives of my own family and the family she raised. I shudder at the thought of losing her. Despite all of the sadness, a rush of abundant blessings unfolded over those days. As I write about it, I well up with tears and my heart feels like it’s going to burst. There were so many beautiful things that happened over the course of those days, and I will share the three that made a lasting impression on me.

First, Tom and I made the decision that Kenzie and I would attend the services. She is leaving for college in a week, and was so compassionate towards me about Grams’ death that I just felt that it was the right thing to do. I knew that she would be a comfort to me so I could be a comfort to my Mom. Having her there was a joy that I can’t express. To see her all grown up, interacting with my relatives, sobbing at the sight of her Great Grandma, standing at the podium and beautifully speaking the first reading at mass, and having her ask at every turn, “Are you OK?” was an incredible blessing and joy to me. To have your own daughter be your rock. It’s a turning point in the raising of children. It’s when you suddenly realize that you’ve done a good job, and that they’ll be good contributors in the world. I was so proud. 

Second, I was asked to deliver the Eulogy at my Grams’ mass. While speaking in front of groups is something I do regularly, ensuring that I said just the right thing weighed heavily on me. After the sorrow of seeing my Grams in her open casket during the memorial the evening before, I felt that the mass, and my eulogy, would be a time to send her off and to comfort all those who remained here. Seeing her made it clear in my mind that this was just her shell while she was here on earth, and her beautiful soul was already with our Lord. This gave me amazing strength as I walked up to the podium to remind my relatives, and friends of Grams what an icon she was, and how we will each remember her in our own special ways. What an honor and blessing it was to be able to do that for her. I was humbled and felt so at peace.

Third, I felt that despite the reason for Kenzie and I being in Buffalo those three days, it was such a wonderful time for me to connect and reconnect with family members and friends of the family. The connection was an overpowering feeling, and I believe that it was because our dear Grams was smiling at us from above, looking at the family she had been matriarch to, and she was happy. On the way home to Denver, Kenzie and I sat next to a young man who we ended up talking to the entire flight. He runs a Christian-based company out of Colorado Springs that goes around to college campuses and poses questions, engages them in conversations, and provides uplifting messages about life and God. What a perfect person to be sitting next to! One of his traveling companions, towards the end of the flight, asked him how he got so lucky to sit by us . . . as he could see how engaged we were in our discussion. He responded by saying, “I’m not really sure, but I just feel so blessed right now.” So did I.

Letting Go of That 7-Letter Word

I admit it. I'm a control freak. That 7-letter word follows me around as I move through my work day, interact with my husband and children, and go through my life. I know that the more I try to control a situation, the less control I actually have, but I still try. I also know that God moves more freely in my life when I give up control, but that doesn't always stop me, either.

So I decided to write on this topic after my day yesterday, when I was presented with three "cases" for letting go of control. I really didn't realize that each of these things were related to control until I tied them together just before drifting off to sleep last night. Maybe someone is trying to tell me something.

First, I was reading the morning paper and came across an article about how people view their finances. The article said that many people live a life thinking that "life is hard and you have to work hard for every little morsel you might get out of it." That quote stopped me in my tracks right after reading it, because I thought not only about how hard I work in my business to make things happen, but on the flip side, how many good things have come into my life with seemingly no work at all. That is, when I consciously "let go and let God" things come into my life with a greater ease, a little more magic and surprise, and a lot less control. This sort of set the tone for the day.

Later in the day, I read a story about a man I really admire, Archbishop Charles Chaput. He has been serving the Catholic Church in Denver for 14 years and is truly an inspirational leader. He received a phone call in July and was asked, on behalf of the pope, if he'd accept the position of Archbishop in Philidelphia, a city undergoing a great deal of turmoil with their recent Archbishop. Without doubt, a very difficult situation to walk into, yet without hesitation, he said yes. Now, would I do that, I thought? Never. I'd never say yes right away to something that had such great implications to my current life and lifestyle without giving it a great deal of thought and consideration. I'd need to be in complete control of that situation before giving my answer. When asked how he could make such a life-changing decision like that in a split second he said, ". . . I am a man of obedience and I know - with joy and peace - what wonderful accomplishments happen when people are obedient . . . you say yes without calculating its implications for yourself." Whoa. Now I'm no archbishop, but I thought - how wonderful it would be to just say "yes" with that much faith.

Later on in the evening as I was winding down the day, I watched a new TV program called "Name Change". The show takes a famous person, in this case, comedian Kathy Griffin, and has her trade lives with a not-so-famous person with the same name. The not-so-famous Kathy Griffin had to live the famous Kathy's life, including appearing on a TV talk show and delivering a 5-minute stand-up comedy routine. While the not-so-famous Kathy was a professional business woman, poised, and well-spoken, she was scared out of her mind to deliver the stand-up routine. She was definitely out of her comfort zone, and she broke down from anxiety before the show started. In the final moments before her routine, she pulled herself together, got on stage, and ended up delivering a routine that invoked laughs from the audience. It was a huge accomplishment for her personally, because having to step out of her "control-zone" was the most liberating thing she had done for herself in years.

Aren't these examples exactly the way we should think about living our lives? While most of the time I'd like to be completely in control of a situation, perhaps next time I'll think about the times that things just magically happen in my life when I let go, or the times when I should just say "yes" without thinking, or the times when I need to step out of my comfort zone and just go for it. What would life be like, then? Out of control? Maybe. But perhaps more likely, it would be a life worth living.

A New Look At Gratitude

What if, when you wake up tomorrow, the only things that remain in your life are those things for which you were grateful today?

This was a question posed on a radio station the other morning, and it stopped me cold. While I believe I'm a grateful person for the most part, this question posed a more fervent and immediate call-to-action for me. I try to "count my blessings" and be grateful for what I have on a regular basis, either before I drift off to sleep, or throughout my day as I encounter the wonderful things God has placed on my path. But, am I remembering to be thankful and grateful for everything? Even the little things that seem to annoy me sometimes, but later, remind me that I'm not perfect and perhaps that person or situation in my life is trying to teach me something? Now, I'm starting to think about gratitude in a brand new way. I'm not just grateful for the things I love, but also for those things that I struggle with, because this is what makes life worth living. We can't possibly feel joy without knowing sorrow, health without experiencing illness, security without knowing uncertainty. So, the next time you count your blessings, count them all . . . and wake up tomorrow morning to live your beautiful, not-so-perfect, wonderful life.

Turning Procrastination into Productivity

I'm all about lists. I make one every day and get extreme satisfaction as I check off each item. If I do something that wasn't on my list, I must confess that I add it to my list and immediately check it off (makes me feel like I've accomplished something!) I find that if I'm procrastinating doing something, I need to make yet another list. A sticky note works really well because I can post it wherever I am. If I need to get something done on the computer, the sticky note goes on the monitor. If I need to run an errand that's out of the way, the note goes on my car's dashboard. When the procrastinated job is done, the list gets tossed. Ahhh. The simple pleasures in life!