My dad lives in Sullivan, a small town in southern Indiana. He spent his life building his physical therapy practice, along with my step mom who also is a physical therapist. Together they helped thousands of people in their community through physical therapy. I will never quite know the large impact their career choice has made to others. I do know that my dad has impacted my life in many ways.

My favorite memory of my dad is watching him in the drivers seat, pulling out of the drive way and heading straight south to our timeshare in Orlando. He always dressed for the occasion, with a Hawaiian shirt and a straw hat. He was a closet smoker for the longest time, even though we all knew every time we’d make a pit stop, he’d smoke one of his Black and Milds in the rest rooms. Now as a parent of two very energetic children, I can completely relate to the need for a break on a road trip! We enjoyed playing the ABC game where we would race to be the first to find each letter from A to Z from the signs. He knew where every Dairy Queen Brazier sign was along the way and he would make small talk about how if he ever owned a store, he would call it JQXZ to help people who also played the game.

Although he never really played a musical instrument, no one could master the air microphone like he did on those road trips. He’d grab anything near by and sing in to it with soul. He has a lot of soul. If it weren’t for his skin color and the culture of the small town he lives in, he could have been the next BB King. One of my earliest memories was hearing my step mom and him sing, “Afternoon Delight” together when they thought I was sleeping in the back seat.

He has more style than his own good, especially that one vacation memory I have when we went to Newport Beach in California. I was 17 and had just gotten relaxed on my towel ready to do some sun worshiping when I looked up and saw my dad. I was sporting a Body Glove brand swimsuit, tangerine orange. Almost in slow motion, as if Father Time himself was branding it deep in my mind while laughing at us, I looked over towards my dad, walking along the beach, wearing a Body Glove bikini, nectarine orange.

Forgiven, but never forgotten. A great visual that makes me smile every time I think of it. Thankfully, I have a lot of memories of my dad, in his prime of fatherhood. I’m grateful of the memories I had with my dad, like when he taught me how to tie my shoes, ride my bike, do a cartwheel and drive a stick shift. I love when he tells the story of the time I fell from my bike in attempt to ride without training wheels. I went full speed down a hill without mastering the brakes, the only thing stopping me was the big tree. I fell, hurt my finger and he came to my rescue and made me a glass of Nestle Quick strawberry milk. I chugged the beverage, and as my dad tells the story, I wiped my mouth and said, “Mmm. Berry.”

Today, my dad is teaching me more and more about character. For the past few years, my dad has developed a neurological disorder. It started on his 60th birthday when he noticed problems in his knees and arches of his feet. He then started noticing a deterioration in the muscle tissues in his hands. The deterioration has increased and his independence to work and live as he once did will never be the same. After many tests and professional opinions, the illness has no formal name but from what I can read from Dr. Google, I liken it to ALS. To watch my dad go from wearing a bikini at the beach when I was a teen, to now being pushed in a wheelchair has been difficult.

He is a testament to all of us in challenging times of maintaining a positive attitude and accepting our circumstances. Rather than complain, be bitter and shut down, my dad has made the most of his circumstances. And, although his speech is becoming less and less clear, he still has his sense of humor. At times I have no idea what he is saying but he will laugh and well, I just laugh with him. And for that, I am grateful.

Dad, this tribute is for you. You are a good man, teacher, memory maker, boo-boo healer and entertainer and I am thankful for you. Happy Fathers’ Day to all of you dads out there too, for the way you love your children and the way you live your lives, makes a difference in more ways than you realize.

For some of us, when we think of generosity, our initial thoughts immediately are directed to dollar signs. No matter what you call it: money, moula, cabbage, greenbacks or just cold hard cash, the all-American dollar has taken over as the standard in which we measure value in our culture. Each year about now, we are faced with tax season when we review our assets and liabilities, our income and expenses and naturally are determined to increase our net worth while trying to keep our tax payments to a minimum. Our net worth is considered as a number and sadly, some people seek their own value based on that number. Regardless of the itemized contributions, when we give freely from our wallets to help others in need, we face another opportunity to be generous.

Did you know there are more areas for you to reach out to show generosity other than with your time or money?

The spoken word holds a monumental, life-impacting value too. The words you offer to others is a form of generosity. There is great power in our words, power that can help- or harm others. In recognizing the level of influence your words have, it is important to be mindful of the opportunities in your life where you can be generous with your speech. I’m not talking about the quantity of words you share with someone. Talking excessively is not considered a form of generosity. The quality of words you offer another can be an asset that is far more valuable than anything your accountant could measure and record for you.

There are many ways in which you use words to help better others. You may be able to help someone just in a brief moment of sadness or crisis he or she may be experiencing. You may also provide that person with just the encouragement he or she may be needing to change his or her entire course.

Hopefully we can all recall that special someone who believed in us and took the time to share their insight with us. My guidance counselor in sixth grade encouraged me to take better notes in class so that someday I might be able to design perfume bottles, a creative profession that I had not yet considered. That was just the nudge, the connection I needed at that time to get me on the right course and I am thankful that he invested in me. He did not receive any monetary return on his investment.

After all, that is what being generous is about, giving freely, without any reward or recognition. Are there people in your life who have invested in you freely? More importantly, are there people in your life today who you could invest in with your encouraging words? It may not take you too long to see a need around you. There is a need we all have in our hearts for words of encouragement. And there are moments in our lives when just a speck of encouragement is the spark we need.

The first time I realized this area of need was from a woman who I admired greatly. Although I hadn’t been introduced to her formally, I knew of her and she had many attributes that I admired as a Christian working mom. She had given a presentation at an event that I attended. Following her presentation, I saw her in the ladies room. Although she intimidated me, I simply gave her a simple compliment about her presentation while washing hands next to her. She smiled, gave me direct eye contact and politely said, “Thank you.” A few months passed when I saw her at another event. Someone introduced us and she smiled and said, “Oh, I remember you. You were so generous after one of my presentations.” I smiled, shook her hand and inside my own head thought, “I was, generous?” Since then, I have often thought of that interaction as it was very impressionable to me and my understanding of generosity.

The words that are the hardest to say are usually the most valuable. Words like, “I’m sorry,” and “I forgive you,” have great power when you set aside your differences with a generous heart.

Giving words of encouragement can also be misused just like giving money and time can be given for the wrong purposes. These virtuous acts can be devalued and worth nothing if something is expected in return. Giving freely is what generosity is about. Sometimes the measure of generosity is found in the sacrifice we make when we give to others.

Generosity doesn’t have anything to do with how much money or time you have, or how talented you are, the condition of our hearts is what determines our willingness and courage to give freely. When our hearts and motives are pure, and we give generously, we realize that our lives have great influence and purpose.

Despite the condition that the world and our own community may be in today, there is a greater need that all the money, time and talent can’t penetrate, won’t fix and couldn’t heal. A simple uplifting word has more power than you may ever know. I encourage you today to consider to reach out beyond your insecurity, comfort and fear and speak generously to someone.

Andrea Cook is a contributing columnist to the “Culver Citizen”. Entrepreneur, Toastmaster, writer, illustrator, fitness instructor, wife to Phil Cook and mother of two diva daughters, she has relaunched her marketing and design agency, The Midas Center located in downtown Plymouth. She welcomes your feedback and comments and encourages you to comment on her blog, “One Column At a Time” online at http://andreacook.wordpress.com .

First of all, I encourage you to give yourself permission and take the time to dream. Track your dreams in a journal so that you can watch your lifelong list dreams come true and add more dreams throughout the years. Call it a dream journal, a bucket list, your resolutions. Regardless of what you call it, your dreams are the reflections of your values and your purpose. And your values and purpose are as critical to your day to day living as they are to your legacy that you pass along to the next generations.

There are no real rules to your dream list. Have you watched Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson in the movie, “Bucket List?” It’s about two men who have been diagnosed with cancer. Told they would have only a few weeks left to live, they write down a list of all they want to do before they die. The list is not practical given their circumstances and as their destinies cross, they are given the opportunity to live out and experience their list of dreams.

This film helped me to formulate my list just last year. Another motivator for me was realizing those who have passed by throughout my life and who have missed out on their chance to live their dreams.

I am reminded of my own mother who died at age 62 and my father who was forced to retire earlier than planned from his thriving physical therapy practice and is now sitting in a wheel chair unable to travel, golf and care for his new garden. Realizing our parent’s mortality is difficult but it also forces us to realize our own purpose and need for self care and life planning. Living life to the fullest and reaching your dreams means that you can’t just put your hopes and dreams floating out there in the future somewhere next to “someday.” You have to take the steps to actually check off the items on your dream list today.

One of the dreams I have always had deep within my heart was running a 5K. And, it clearly illustrates the next step of the process from realizing your dream to living it. Since grade school, I have struggled with my weight and running a 5K seemed like such a far-fetched goal to me. I made a lot of excuses allowing me to push this 5K dream in between “Somewhere, Sometime” and Neverland. A friend of mine encouraged me by helping me realize that the best way to be a runner was to just start running. “What? You mean, I didn’t need to lose 20 pounds first? (shrug) It was worth a try,” I said to myself. So I put one foot in front of the other and just went for it!

The first time I went out to run, I couldn’t run for longer than ten seconds. So, I ran for eight seconds, then walked for eight minutes. Then I ran for eight seconds again. This was a technique that my friend recommended to me. It was called, “From Couch to 5K in 6 Weeks.” Although, it actually took me about 18 months to get from the couch to my first 5K, I am not discouraged by the lapse of time. I don’t focus on the struggle, the delays, the setbacks. I see only success as I check off one of the items from my bucket list!

The process of getting off the couch to a 5K is a great example of dreaming! You have to realize your dream, write it down. Then, you need determination. Getting some support from friends and family doesn’t hurt either. (Thanks Karen and husband Phil!) Along with that determination, it helps to plan and set realistic goals too. In fact, transforming your dreams into manageable goals is another important step towards success.

Why is it that some of us are afraid to dream and succeed? Is it that we feel we don’t deserve a good life filled with joy and good health? Or, perhaps we believe that our true dreams are unreachable. We are calloused from disappointment; discouraged by our circumstances, and consumed with our struggles, delays and setbacks. This is such a dark corner to back yourself in, yet it is so easy to get stuck in that place.

The holidays in fact can magnify these insecurities within our souls. As I approach the holidays this year, I am refocusing my eye pieces so that I see my dreams not with nearsightedness nor farsightedness. I place my sight on both sides of my dream list, those that I have accomplished and those I have yet to experience. And I remember words from my mother, “The best is yet to come.”

Look beyond that list of all you need to do for everyone else today and start preparing your dream list. It is the first step in seeing your own dreams come true.

Andrea Cook is a contributing columnist to the “Culver Citizen”. Writer, illustrator, fitness instructor, wife to Phil Cook and mother of two diva daughters, she recently has relaunched her marketing and design agency, The Midas Center located in downtown Plymouth. She welcomes your feedback and comments.

With my handwritten map folded in my pocket, I eagerly attempt a 40 mile ride. But, the busyness of my life has kept me from riding recently and I realize about ten miles into this ride that my ambition has gotten the best of me. Yet, I keep moving forward, taking in the rustic rainbow colors streaming from tree to tree, leaf to leaf. This particular point in my bike journey is long and flat and the amber waves of grain look like rows and rows of gold glowing in the wind. The white clouds are as perfect as a child’s coloring with the v-shaped birds in blue skies.

The midwestern autumn scenes are majestic. Each season of our Indiana climate is a reminder to me of our ever changing seasons of our lives. There are seasons of new beginnings, life and hope just as there are seasons of death, trouble and pain. These seasons are inevitable. These gorgeous leaves will fall and winter will follow. I used to get anxiety over the change of seasons. I would want to squeeze so much into the summer that when signs of fall would arrive, I would be agitated. Now, I take comfort in the opening of a new season and a closure of the season past.

Another mile along on my journey, I catch the scent of smoky air from someone’s wood burning stove. Steeped in contentment right in that moment, deep in thought, I am stopped by a barking dog protecting its property. A large snarling black dog shows its white fangs at me. In an instant on my long journey, I went from a breath-taking experience to a pee-my-pants freeze in fright moment. Refusing to turn my bike around and go back, I feebly shouted for help. The owner called for his dog and I put one pedal in front of the other and moved forward, not glancing behind me in fear that I might make eye contact again with the doberman.

I was reminded of first grade when I was attacked by three dobermans. They didn’t hurt me, they just all jumped up on me, knocked me down in the snow and hovered over me. It was terrifying for a little girl walking to school. I still have a fear of dogs at times.

Turning north, I see a mile long pasture of black and white dairy cows. Another beautiful sight brands itself in my mind. As I approach the group of cows, we make eye contact and one cow starts to run along towards me. Then, another cow runs towards me. And, as I steer my bike to the other side of this long lonely road, all I can think of is mad cow disease and I imagine the headline, “Biker Girl Dies by Stampede of Mad Dairy Cows.” You may think I am exaggerating, but there were about 100 cows chasing me. I have no idea why, I mean, after all I am 95% vegetarian! Nevertheless, they were running like wild horses and they were after me. Luckily, they weren’t too interested in me to jump the fence and I was able to escape.

This journey is so typical of themes in my life. Numerous attempts, too many to count of handwritten maps detailing my hopes, dreams, ambitions, only to get interrupted by the unexpected happenings. I keep moving forward though. And, how about those times in our lives when we are faced with fear. Do we just turn around and go backwards, or are we strong enough to put out a meek yelp for help? Do we move ahead, facing forward or do we keep looking back and remain frozen in our fears? And how do we handle those conflicts we don’t understand? When life doesn’t make sense, when the cows are supposed to be minding their own business, grazing on grassy pastures and not attacking you. What do you do?

Well, this is what I say, you put one foot in front of the other. Keep your head up and pedal. You move forward. You ride on.

And so I did. At about mile 18, I decided it was time to cut my ride short and head back home. I turned west, hoping not to find any more barking dogs or mad cows. And as I just kept putting one foot in front of the other one, I kept moving forward, striving for home.

It has been two years since we have lived here in Culver. While navigating this new social world of a small town, I am flabbergasted about the percentage of small talk that is fueled by gossip. Do you remember playing the game of Operator when you were a child? You sit in a circle, the first person whispers a sentence into the second person’s ear. One by one, they pass along this sentence and by the time it gets to the last person, the sentence is so altered that when the original sentence is compared to the final sentence that was passed around, everyone laughs out loud. This is a fun game and it is also a great testimony to the truth about gossip.

I was shocked recently while sitting with friends on two separate occasions. One friend made this comment, “<gossip, gossip>… And you know this is such a small town, if you hear the same thing from more than one person, it must be true.” When she made this comment, I smiled and chuckled at her sarcasm, until I realized she was not being sarcastic. She actually believed this to be true.

Another gossip fallacy I heard just a few weeks ago was told like this:

Friend A: <Gossip, gossip, gossip….>

Friend B: That’s not true. Where did you hear that?

Friend A: <Name> told me. It has to be true. She has no reason to lie.

Pause. One eyebrow raised. Seriously? Do people really believe this? “So-and-so” may have distorted the truth just a tad as she heard it from the person she heard it from then told it slightly differently to the next person and so on and so on. Just like the game Operator, the original truth can be altered. But, when you are sharing information about someone’s reputation or character that may promote public disdain or ridicule, it is not a silly game.

Gossip is hurtful, and it not only injures the victim of your conversation, but it also damages your own character while you show your lack of trustworthiness.

Gossip is sneaky. In no other topic of conversation do people huddle in, look over both their shoulders while lowering the volume of their voices into a top secret manner. While the recipients’ eyes widen, deeply interested, they rub their hands together as if they are about to devour a hot juicy steak.

I admit, I am tempted at times. When a friend starts off a tid-bit of conversation with, “I don’t mean to gossip but…” or, “Have you heard about …?” I am attentive and eager to hear what she has to say. Maybe it is my curiosity or boredom. Sometimes it is my insecurity of not wanting the person about to gossip to feel badly. But I often leave the conversation feeling more dissatisfied and the worst of it is I walk away feeling guilty.

When I told some of my friends that I was thinking about writing a column about gossip, there seemed to be an interest in the topic. People were curious to better understand what constituted gossip. One friend even shared with me a term she blames for the human need to gossip. The term “schadenfreude” is defined as delighting in others’ misfortune, our mind’s response to envy.

Unveiling the truth of gossip, we are now left with an awkward silence during our next dinner conversations that I do not want to be held responsible for! It is human nature to be curious, to share information, even to laugh a little bit when you see someone trip.

I am reminded of my mother’s sage advice. She used to tell me, there are people who talk about people. Then, there are people who talk about things and places. And then, there are people who talk about ideas. She used to challenge me to be the kind of person who discusses ideas. Even though she and I would enjoy talking about people, places and things from time to time, we knew deep down inside, we both longed to be people who aspired for more interesting topics of conversations.

]]> http://andreacook.wordpress.com/2009/08/14/the-truth-about-gossip/feed/ 1 andreacook http://andreacook.wordpress.com/2009/07/10/dont-just-sit-there-celebrate/ http://andreacook.wordpress.com/2009/07/10/dont-just-sit-there-celebrate/#comments Fri, 10 Jul 2009 20:38:20 +0000 andreacook http://andreacook.wordpress.com/?p=14 ]]> What have you celebrated recently?

The past several weeks of my focus have been centered around the Tri Kappa Chairs for Charity event. In fact, we started working on this project back in October and my creative energy has been thoroughly invested into the overall planning and coordinating of this program. One of my favorite past-times has been coming up with ideas for chairs! One of the chairs that I created is called the Celebrate Seat. It was designed with the purpose that it can be sat in by someone who is celebrating something special. It seems that during larger family dinners or parties, there are extra chairs that are always brought to the table from the basement or closet. Since family gatherings are usually planned around a time when someone has had a recent birthday or monumental achievement of some sort, I thought a Celebrate Seat may be useful.

In our family, we have a special plate we call a “Celebrate Plate” that is stored front and center in our china cabinet. Savana loves it whenever she gets to eat off of it. Although we only use it for special occasions, our Celebrate Plate has gotten a lot of play! Especially over the past several weeks when Savana finished first place in the first grade spelling bee. We brought the special plate out again when Phil was served a special breakfast in bed the day after he received the Culver Academy’s Spivey Award. As the matron of our home, I am always looking for reasons to use the celebrate plate. It always seems to bring a smile to the person who gets to eat from it. Although I’m thankful that I get the opportunity to make someone smile,  I actually enjoy having the Celebrate Plate around more for the reason that it helps me to focus on good times. I find myself looking for any excuse to celebrate someone.

In these days of the downturned economy, it is second nature to see lost jobs, foreclosed homes and depreciated 401K accounts. This is the reality that we live in today. It is even more critical then that we celebrate the moments in our lives that make us smile. It is our duty to our friends, our family and even our co-workers. In the workplace, it can be challenging to celebrate the good times if we are feeling stretched so thin, pressed for time and energy. But, it is during those times when people need it the most. It is during those rough parts of our journey when we need to be looking for what is praiseworthy. Being a change-agent or a merry-maker isn’t easy, but someone’s gotta do it!

One of the principles that I held on to from a conference I attended many years ago was about the value of celebrating successes. As an entrepreneur, creating goals and making action plans to meet those goals can lead you on a path to success. It is a slippery slope when you move forward with creating more and more goals and you forget to celebrate the small milestones that you worked so hard to achieve. That is one of the areas I struggled with in my own experience in corporate America. It is easy for greed, ambition and insecurity to take over when you fail to measure the milestones and then celebrate them before moving on to the next steps.

With all of the inspirational quotes that are available online, you would think there would be a lot about “celebrating.” When I was repainting my Celebrate Seat, I spent a lot of time looking for a quote that would give my chair the real purpose I had created it for. I searched my brain and even put out a call to my friends on “Facebook.” Although I did receive a lot of quotes with the word “celebrate” it them, none quite tickled my fancy. I started wondering if the act of celebrating others was outdated or boring. Search Google for quotes about success or thankfulness and you get endless quotes, most of them commonly used and seen in frames hung on walls. People are comfortable with the acts of success or thankfulness, but the act of celebrating? Some may equate celebrating with drinking alcoholic beverages. Sure, sometimes that fits the circumstance, but there is more involved to celebrating others than buying a round of drinks. Celebrating others means that you notice and acknowledge someone. You make them feel special, appreciated or honored. You don’t have to wait until their birthdays or worse, funerals to celebrate the people in your lives.

Why don’t people step up and celebrate others more often? It doesn’t have to cost anything from your wallet. But it does come at a cost. It takes a generous heart to praise another person for a recent victory. It means setting aside your own pride, jealousy and sometimes anger. And, you have to be mindful and sacrifice some time, even if it is just a few minutes to pick up the phone or a few seconds to acknowledge someone in the produce aisle at the grocery store. Acknowledging someone for something special makes you special too. Celebrations are as important for the person who achieved the milestones as they can be for you. Realigning your focus off of your own problems and onto another person’s success can bring you as much joy as it does to the person you encourage and celebrate. It is during these times of celebration that all the worries and stress don’t seem to matter much.

Being thoughtful and following through with your thoughts is a character investment, not only in yourself, but in the person you uphold and esteem. When you take the time to celebrate others, you are pulling a weed and replacing it with a flower in the garden of life. This makes the world a better place, not only for you, but for others to enjoy.

I decided that I needed to make my own quote for that chair: “Celebrate the moments that make you smile.” That sums it up pretty well for me. That is when life happens. It is in those moments, those key moments when you move into your first home, when your son comes home for a surprise visit on military leave or when your wife earns that college degree that she put on hold while she raised the kids. Birthdays, anniversaries, reunions, those Kodak days, celebrate them! Don’t get so lost in your busy schedule and worries that you lose sight in all the good times. Kool and the Gang said it best, “Celebrate good times, come on!”

Celebrate Seat, designed by Andrea Cook

Reflecting on Mother’s Day, I realize that it has been two years and two months since my own mother has passed away. My mother and I had a tumultuous relationship throughout the 35 years of our lives together. There were years layered and sandwiched when we were the best of friends, and then other years when we were estranged, on non-speaking terms. Even with the challenging seasons of our relationship, I miss her terribly.

Those of you who have experienced a loss of your mother may understand my grieving process. Although we all grieve differently, you may be on a different grief track than I am on. My grief actually started before her death. I had to realize that she could not be the kind of mom that I had wanted or needed from her. She was limited by her own health and her own needs and nothing I could do would change that. As I matured into my 30s, I realized that I needed to let go of that ideal image of what a mother was in my own heart and mind. Once I made the decision to just love her as she was, our relationship improved. It wasn’t the perfect relationship I would have wished for, nor the type she wanted from me, but it was a mother-daughter relationship that had grown to be strong and healthy, finally.

We talked on the phone often, almost every day. She was a best friend to me in those last days. She would not only listen to all the details of my day, my job, my children, my garden, but she would actually want to know about all the trivial details of my life. No other person has or probably will ever take that role in my life. This void in my heart reminds me of how much I miss her, all the goodness she brought to me. She was my biggest fan.

I was especially reminded of her the other day. I was in Plymouth delivering fliers for some upcoming Tri Kappa events and I ran into some familiar friendly faces of some ladies having lunch at Sisters’ Tea and Eatery. As I was walking by them with a smile and a friendly hello, they pulled a chair out for me and graciously invited me to sit with them for lunch. I sat down and listened to them talk about places they traveled to, their favorite places to eat, and shop. It was a short and savory lunch with some stylish and sassy ladies and as I drove home that day, I was tearfully reminded of my mom in that light and lively lunch conversation.

Since moving here to Culver shortly after my mom passed away, I never had the chance to tell her all about this new phase in my life. She hadn’t heard about Phil’s new job, Savana’s new school, Sophia’s new playgroup or all the new friends I’ve made. Yet, there are so many moments in my day to day interactions that still make me feel close to my mom, like that impromptu lunch. I have another friend who last fall called me out of the blue to invite me to go antique shopping with her on a sunny afternoon in her convertible. That shopping day spurred on a new friendship and also rekindled happy memories of my own mom. I have been so blessed by so many new friends, all different ages, fitting different roles that my mom once fulfilled, either by being grandmotherly to my daughters, motherly to me, or just friendly and fun.

I bet these ladies don’t even realize how valuable the time was that they shared with me. Likewise, I bet you may not realize what an impact you can have on others by reaching out, spending time, listening to others around you. Spending time with others is an investment and it can be risky to reach out to someone you might now know very well. But, reaching out as either a motherly figure or mentor may not only create a new friendship with a special person, it will enrich your own character, and strengthen our community and its future.

Mother’s Days come and go. Make this Mother’s Day more momentous than just buying a card this year. Reach out to someone who has been motherly to you, or a younger person who may have lost his or her mom. Invest in that special place in someone’s heart where the childhood needs and memories still live. Reach out and give a motherly hug, or let someone hug you today.

After a long weekend of family birthday celebrations that induced multiple visits and short road trips to visit extended family here and there I am thankful that it is Monday morning.

Our lives are back to normal, SA’s at school, PC’s at work, SO – who just turned three this past week – is sitting here, nestled up to me, watching cartoons. We are both still in PJs lounging on the fluffy down comforter in my master bedroom.

It has been a year and a half since I have left corporate America. I left a six-figure salary, my dream job. I said good-bye to my company and brand that I built from scratch, along with the excitement and exhilaration of new business growth, client lunches and travel reward points. I still thumb through my stack of business cards as a high school quarter back peruses by the school trophy case. (And, I do welcome freelancing, so feel free to let me know if you need some design, marketing or writing work!)

I have taken on the role of being a stay at home mom as if it is a new full time job, a job that I approached with personal goals on a weekly basis. A job, however, on a number of days I am very unqualified and lost without proper training, gifts or talents. At times I feel overwhelmed and begin to question my role as a stay at home mom. My time seems devalued by everyone; and my opinion, once valuable has now fallen lower than the DOW Jones index. No longer am I an expert and consultant to business owners, chief executives and managing partners in large law firms. These days, my own children don’t even listen to me!

Once I was the breadwinner in the family and we focused on investing in my career vision. Now, my husband is the one whose career is thriving as he makes plans for enhancing his education, we plan on his career growth. He is the one who comes home late and attends conferences in the big cities with famous keynote speakers.

Although many days have filled my thoughts with regret and grief, today, I give myself permission to enjoy this new position in my life. God, the author of our lives, has already written our roles and jobs in His book. He has designed us as a masterpiece to fulfill His purpose for us. Throughout the entire life of my career, I relied on God’s provision and timing and He blessed my family and me with success. There were times when I needed to cry out to God to help me through rough times. Today, in my new role, it is no different.

He also blessed us with misfortune that changed our journey significantly. You may not see misfortunes as blessings. It has just been recently that I have realigned my perspective of our latest and greatest challenges as blessings. Within three months, my mother fell ill and passed away unexpectedly while my oldest daughter, at age five was being diagnosed with Asperger’s and ADHD. During this personal time of bereavement, there was no time for me to cry. Steeped deeply in deadlines and meetings with busy people, little empathy was stretched to me as a woman trying so hard to be strong and professional. My husband and I realized that we needed to adapt and change our lifestyle so that I could spend time on self-care and health for my children and myself. My five year old had many doctor and therapy appointments and my youngest who had just turned one wasn’t getting the best of her mommy, only left-overs from a busy, harried lifestyle.

We moved and changed our lives within a crisis moment in time. At times, I feel like our lives would have been better had we worked it all out and stayed put. It is during my pity parties, I struggle with regret and anger. I think, “God has created my mind for more than just this! Maybe we should have stayed in Chicago! Did we move away too quickly? Did I give up my career too hastily?” It’s the whole “grass is greener on the other side” motto. But lately, I have been feeling renewed again.

I feel the freedom of God’s plan that He designed just for me and just for our family. I relax in His hands. And, I smile. I smile that I get to spend quality time with my little girls. Surely there are power struggles that beat me down stemming from the dysfunctions of autism spectrum and ADHD issues, but there are also cuddles and giggles that sustain me. I smile that I get to see my husband grow and develop into the man God wants him to be. I smile and breathe a deep breath of clean air from a small mid-western town. I smile realizing that I don’t have to wear uncomfortable shoes in a rushed and stalled commute to the rat race in the big city. I smile that I am who I am and I don’t have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don’t have to prove myself anymore. I can just be me, in the moment.

Today, I give myself permission to relish being a stay at home mom who watches Dora and enjoys yelling at Swiper with my three-year-old little girl. I give myself permission to enjoy the mound of laundry today. And, I thank God for giving me this lot of my life today.

And, I ask you, “What will you give yourself permission to do today?”