But I'm Only Going To Do It One Time!

You Never Know Until You Try.

Lately I've been thinking about an object lesson I used years ago when I was a daycare teacher in a Christian school. I don't remember the exact Scripture for the day, but the lesson it contained was that doing something just once can have a huge, lasting negative impact on your life as surely as doing something just once can have a huge, lasting positive impact on your life. I thought my illustrations were fitting, even though a couple of people I told about them thought they were a little violent. Maybe they were, but the kids, first through fifth graders, didn't seem to think so, and they were still talking about the lesson several years later. Besides, they all knew that I loved them and would never hurt them in any way. They always practically fell over each other in trying to be my helpers when I asked for volunteers to help with illustrations.

That day was no different. I think I called on fourth-grader M., pointed to the window, and asked, "What if I threw you out that (second story) window?" M. looked suitably shocked, and like many boys his age might, playfully put up his fists to fight, a big grin on his face. I then added, "What's wrong? I'm only going to do it one time!" He responded that he could still break his leg (or his neck) in the fall, and I drove my point home by asking, "So doing something just once can cause trouble?" M. said an emphatic, "Yeah!" I thanked him for his help and asked for the next volunteer.

In total, I called on three students to assist me, and the result was always the same--they loved the illustrations because they were silly things that they knew I'd never do: staple my head or jab a pencil into someone's ear. Each time I seriously stated, face set in earnestness, my "intention" to perform some outrageously ill-advised deed, the class erupted into a chorus of "No!", their facial expressions showing their understanding that performing the proposed action would clearly mean that I'd lost my mind. Each time, I set my face in an expression of confusion and said, holding up one finger, "But I'm only going to do it one time!"

My point most emphatically made, I talked about other activities that were more likely to come up in life, such as being tempted to try drugs, cheating on tests, drinking and driving or riding with someone who has been drinking; you get the idea. And so did my kids.

I think that's a good lesson for all of us. I try to keep it in mind when I'm contemplating something. Though we shouldn't let it paralyze us into inaction, it's something to think about. How will doing this thing, even just one time, affect me? My friends and family? Humankind? Doing something once can have a lasting impact on countless lives. Granted, the terrorists of 9/11 flew into both towers of the World Trade Center, but they only hit each tower once.

I talk a lot about never knowing for sure how something will work out until you try, and while that's true, we have to use common sense. It's one thing to try something that has potential to make our lives, and those of people around us, better; it's another to do something that we know deep down is likely to end in pain and trouble. That's not what God wants for us, anyway.

He wants us to be willing to take a leap of faith and try the big, scary, unknown something that might propel us into a new level of prosperity--be it emotional, spiritual, physical, maybe even financial. He doesn't want us to do something that will visit heartache on us or those around us, maybe for generations to come. Yet not only does He love us enough to let us use the free will He gave us, He's there ready to comfort us and help us pick up the pieces when we make a mess of things. As a smart woman who hasn't always used the smarts God gave me, I'm extremely grateful for that.

"It Is What It Is": Cop-Out Or Acknowledgement?

You Never Know Until You Try.

I had an interesting chat with my Pastor today. Since he's a patient, compassionate listener, we talked a while when I called him to arrange a sit-down meeting to discuss some issues I've been dealing with. I highlighted a few of the things on my mind, including my frustration over my current career situation, trying to avoid sounding overly whiny or faith-less. After all, I know the Lord will work something out. I just have to be patient (Ha!) and do my part.

Over the course of the conversation, I quoted my best friend K.'s oft-repeated sentiment, "It is what it is." What I meant was that, as much as I wish things were different, they aren't, and I have to gut it out and make it to the other side of this irritating time, knowing that God is on my side and will help me through, like always.

Apparently, Pastor M. has heard "It is what it is" a lot and asked, somewhat exasperatedly I thought, just what exactly it means. He suggested that maybe it means the person saying it has just given up and is taking the easy, lazy way out rather than work to change the circumstances. Being a Pastor, I'm sure he has heard just about every problem and excuse known to humankind, so it isn't surprising that he might think that.

I was surprised, though, because it had never occurred to me that someone might use the saying as an excuse. I told Pastor M. that I'd heard that saying countless times from K. during the 3 years that her husband was struggling with employment issues. One company went out of business; several others ended up outsourcing the work, so poor T. was left unemployed--again and again. Since K. is on Disability, with T. not working regularly, their bank account dwindled and they faced the real possibility of financial ruin. (Thank God that didn't happen and T. has been working steadily at the same company for several years now.) During those dark days, K. didn't have a meltdown; she kept a positive attitude and often said, real acceptance in her voice,"It is what it is."

Unlike now, when I hear it all the time, like Pastor M., from everywhere, when K. said it, I didn't remember having heard that bit of wisdom, so it stuck with me. Analytical control freak that I am, I found that it helped me to borrow it and repeat it to myself when I got upset that some situation, despite my best efforts, wasn't changing fast enough to suit me.

I think Pastor M. understood my explanation, and I think he's probably mulled it over, as I have his "take" on the saying. I think they're both valid ways of looking at a person's use of the saying. We can quit and refuse to try again to change some situation we find objectionable, using "It is what it is" as our excuse, or we can say "It is what it is" to help pull ourselves out of the pit of frustration, anger, or even despair that we can fall into when something isn't going our way.

It sounds a lot like "The Serenity Prayer" to me:

1. Accept what we can't change ("It is what it is," so why make everyone crazy trying to change it?)

2. Have the courage to change what we can ("It is what it is," so accept that the situation is horrid, quit stewing over the unfairness of it all, and do what we can to change it, even if it means trying several methods before one works.)

3. Know the difference between number 1 and number 2. (No potty jokes here, okay? This is serious.)

4. Most importantly, ask God to give us the serenity to do so. To be serene is to be calm, at peace, not freaking out. That's not a natural state for many people--we're too "wired." But with God's help, we can be serene. Just ask my friend K.

Sift Through The Fluff

You Never Know Until You Try.

I had the kind of day anyone looking for a job sometimes encounters: I got frustrated, irritated, aggravated, agitated, alienated--you get the picture.

I really didn't feel like going to my computer class this afternoon, but I went anyway. FYI: Goodwill Industries has free computer classes available. I'm taking the one on MS Office 2007, and it has been fabulous. I came home feeling better because having the class added something positive to my day.

I called my best friend to let her know I followed up on a tip she gave me. Unfortunately, it was the bust she and I both thought it would be (a long story best left untold). I thanked her and we had a good laugh about several of the absurdities I've encountered this week. Before we hung up, she said something that really struck me for some reason. She said you've got to "sift through the fluff" to find the substance. You could also say "mine for the gold" or some other such phrase, but it all means the same thing: even if it means looking for the proverbial needle in the haystack, keep searching until you find what you're looking for.

That's what anyone looking for anything has to do. Whether it's a job, a vehicle, a house, or someone to share it all with, just keep looking until you find it.

That's what I'm doing now, even if I do get frustrated, irritated, aggravated, agitated, alienated, or any other "ated." One day my faith in a positive outcome will be vindicated.

Valentine's Day

You Never Know Until You Try.

I was talking with a friend last Friday night and asked what his plans were for Valentine's Day. He stated that he had no plans and that furthermore every holiday is no big deal to him, just another day. He's not even 50 years old, and he's burned out on holidays.

I can understand being upset over the commercialism of the big American holidays: Easter and Christmas are about God's love for us, not presents and chocolate bunnies; Thanksgiving is about being thankful, not about stuffing ourselves, etc.

So how did I respond to my friend? I simply said, "Come on; you can show love for yourself!" I could've added that he could show his love for his parents and friends, but I felt that he was feeling a little down about his life. Maybe I was projecting my feelings onto him, but regardless, I encouraged him to do something nice for himself on Valentine's Day.

I haven't talked with him since Friday, so I don't know if he took my advice or not, but I took my own advice. I awoke with a horrible sinus headache yesterday, so I gave myself permission to stay in bed most of the day without feeling guilty. When I finally felt semi-human again around 6 pm, I made myself a balanced, from scratch, home-cooked meal and enjoyed every morsel. After I watched a little tv, I cleaned up the kitchen and had a relaxing bath before propping up on pillows to call it a day and hope my headache would be gone Monday morning.

It wasn't, but it was better. At least I'm upright now, whereas yesterday at this time I was asleep. Today I'm thinking how glad I am that I loved myself yesterday and took it easy on myself. I'm not talking about the kind of selfishness that can get everyone in trouble--putting yourself before everyone else. I'm talking about being kind to yourself, taking care of yourself, and respecting your boundaries. That means expecting others to respect them, too.

Relationships with others can be really nice, and romantic relationships can be especially rewarding. But the bottom line is that you and God are the only ones you are with all the time. That's why I try to show both of us the love we deserve.

Learning Curve--Part Two

You Never Know Until You Try.

Yesterday I attended a reception honoring a friend's retirement. It was much like any other such occasion, and I imagine it started most of us to thinking as we compared ourselves to the honoree and wondered what might be said at our retirement parties.

As I sat listening to "A's" coworkers and friends praise him, I couldn't help but think of the line in the 80's movie Dirty Dancing, where "Johnny" says of "Baby" that she's taught him about the kind of person he wants to be. The same is true of my friend "A." I thought back over our 20-plus years of friendship and
what it has meant to me. My mind flew back in time to our first meeting and came forward, resurrecting those years in some ways I'd rather they had not been resurrected.

When I left the reception, I had mixed feelings: gratitude for having known such an exceptional person; a little embarrassment that during our long friendship I've been, at times,a less than exceptional person; and gratitude that I'm not what I used to be. I've grown a lot since I met "A," and he gets a lot of the credit. Don't get me wrong; I liked myself when we met. I'm just a better, more mature person now. Like everyone, I've always done the best I could at a given moment, given the circumstances. Sometimes I've failed horribly; sometimes I've succeeded fabulously.

So I entitled today's post "Learning Curve-Part Two," because I hope we all will give ourselves a learning curve and not only allow ourselves to make mistakes when we're trying new things, but to allow ourselves to make mistakes, period. Don't be so hard on yourself regarding mistakes you've made--things you said or did that you wish you hadn't, or things you didn't do or say that you wish you had. Again, I stress that no one is perfect. Even "A" has regrets. He just doesn't let them ruin his day. He learns and moves on. So should we all.

New Horizons: Give Yourself a Learning Curve

You Never Know Until You Try.

With all the recent changes in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what happens when we're faced with trying new things. Sometimes we have to get our courage up to even try something new. Maybe we're "Type A" people who want to do it all--and do it exceptionally. We're scared out of our minds at the prospect of looking foolish, out of control, less-than-perfect.

Guess what? We all not only start out less-than-perfect, but we're still that way when we die, too. No creature is perfect. So why let fear keep us from trying?

A baby certainly don't leave the womb, put on a suit, drive herself to a corporate office, and land billion-dollar accounts. A baby eats, sleeps, cries, burps, etc., and slowly grows and learns about life. And if you've ever watched a toddler explore her surroundings, you've seen how fearless the little darlings can be. You've heard the cliche' before: they absorb lessons like little sponges and keep trying.

We don't expect a toddler to ace a public-speaking event, complete with a dazzling PowerPoint, but we often expect ourselves to perform like pros at something we've never done before. Or we turn down opportunities that would've enriched our lives and the lives of those around us because we're scared. We forget that even the pros make mistakes. We usually give everyone but ourselves a learning curve. (Or not--maybe we're critical of everyone; that's a post for another day.)

You probably learned to walk many years ago, and I'll bet you still occasionally trip over things. I know I certainly do. I'll also bet that it doesn't keep you from walking anywhere, like on a new walking trail, from your office to a colleague's for a meeting, or from your car into a new club. I hope you also don't beat yourself up about it when you do trip on something. I know, I know; the stakes are higher depending on the circumstances. But the principle is the same--we miss out on some really great things when we worry so much about failing or looking foolish, whether we're doing something for the first time or the fifty-millionth.

That's my "sermon" for the day, and I'm preaching it to myself as well as to others, because we all succumb to the fear on occasion. When I feel it creeping up on me--driven, idealistic, perfectionistic soul that I am, I try to remember the book Who Moved My Cheese, which I highly recommend. In it is the question of what would you do if you weren't afraid.

So, as I navigate the waters of my life post-graduation: employment-seeking,etc., I'm going to try to ask myself that question and act with faith instead of letting fear hijack my actions. Put simply, I'm going to give myself a learning curve.

You Can't (Completely) Judge a Book By Its Cover

You Never Know Until You Try.

I went to a funeral yesterday. A dear man from church, Mr. R., died last week, almost 6 years to the day after my husband's death. When I went to the house Mr. R. shared with his wife of 31 years, the scene was much what I expected: lots of family members and friends had stopped by to extend condolences. I also knew that even in her grief, Mr. R's widow would be calm and upbeat. She's waged a battle with cancer for several years now and has yet to give in to self-pity.

She's a lot like my late husband, who had faith that would put most people's to shame. I wish I were more like that, but even though I trust completely trust God to have my best interests at heart, I'm still a "Type A" who worries more than I should. Like most people, I just don't like to hurt, and many of life's experiences are painful.

Before I left, I spoke with Mrs. R's daughter, "M," and told her to call me if she needed to talk. I said I know people often say that but that I meant it, partly because I've been there and know what it's like. "M" said that I've done very well these last 6 years and commented on my "strength."

I've heard that one before, and to a certain extent, it's true. I thanked "M" and said that lots of times over these 6 years, appearances have been deceiving--that I may have been holding it together on the outside, but inside I was screaming. I said that was my concern with her mom; that even though I know she's strong and has tremendous faith in God, that being human she still has normal fears and pain.

I told "M" that I've spent many hours literally yelling at God and feeling like I was losing my mind, and that it meant the world to me when people dug a little deeper, looking beneath my facade to the wounded animal inside. Those times, it helped to just talk about how angry, or scared, or lonely, or any number of negative emotions I was. "M" responded that she, too, had been like that--able to "soldier on" despite feeling like she were on the verge of "losing it."

I suspect that most people can relate. Part of it is that we don't want to seem too whiny or out of control. The great American "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" mentality. I think we're also aware that at any given time everyone has some issue going on. As much as we might want to be there for others, most of us are swimming, nearly drowning, in our own issues. Yet it's when we encounter someone willing to take time out of their lives to delve beneath our surface "I'm fine"'s and we let our guard down and really share our heartache, that we feel better. The situation may not change, but we feel less alone in the midst of it. At least that's how it's been with me.

That's the refresher lesson I had recently--look beneath the surface and try to really connect with someone in pain, because that's what means the world to me for others to do when I'm hurting. It's a cliche', but it's true: you really can't (completely) judge a book by its cover.

When I finish at the computer, I'm going to call Mrs. R. and "M" as I promised to do. Is there a phone call you need to make? Maybe you need to reach out to someone in pain, or you're in pain yourself. Either way, please pick up the phone and dial.

Tales of a blogging newbie

You Never Know Until You Try

Do "they" still use the term "newbie?" Regardless, that's what I am. After years of hearing people trumpet the virtues of blogging, I'm taking the plunge myself. I've kept a personal journal since I was 13, but until now, I hadn't set up my own blog.

To be honest, my lack of participation hasn't been from anything but plain old busyness--everything from personal issues to going back to school to finish my degree. That's a long story that I'll cover another time. My point is, I graduated in December with a B. A. in Communication Studies--summa cum laude, thank you very much, so I now have more time to devote to the art form known as blogging.

I'm sure entering the blogosphere will broaden my horizons. I want to learn from others and pass on the "wisdom" I've gained from my 40-something years on planet earth. We are all together in this thing called life, after all. My motto has always been "you never know until you try," so I went through the slightly confusing process of setting up my blog. I'm sure I'll tweak it as time goes on, so hang in there with me if you find the layout less than intriguing--or worse, intriguing in a bad way.

I hope you'll join me on the journey that is life.