Blocked!

My ten-year-old son played in a football championship game over the weekend.  A game I’m thrilled to say we won—our first undefeated season.  After a trophy ceremony on the sideline with pictures galore, we climbed into our vehicles to attend a banquet in the team’s honor. 

On the drive over, I noticed my son was surprisingly subdued.  With a lot of coaxing, he finally said, “I didn’t play very well.  I never sacked the quarterback once.”  As the nose-tackle, it was something he had become accustomed to doing in every game leading up to this one.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.  While slamming with all his might, play after play into the offensive line, he hadn’t realized what was happening around him.  The double teaming strategy they used against my son to keep him out of the backfield opened up holes for his teammates.  The linebackers had a field day, sacking the quarterback and stopping offensive plays in the backfield instead.

It’s a problem of perception we all deal with.  When our trials are close, towering in our faces, it’s hard to see the value gained from the struggle.  It often takes an outsider, or an occasional mommy, to help you see what you have accomplished. 

This is true for me as well.  Sometimes I wonder if all the hours spent at this blasted computer typing…deleting…typing again will ever payoff.  Then someone will tell me how much a blog I wrote was exactly what they needed to hear.  And viola! There you have it—victory enough to keep me moving forward.

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Four-year-old advice from the farm.

My four-year-old

Farms are full of hazards that could maim or kill you.  Don’t play on or around haystacks, they can tip over without notice.  Stay clear of resting farm equipment, they have sharp features that can impale you.  The animals are unpredictable and might charge, so keep a wary eye when out in the pastures.  And a host of other things.  My four-year-old son experienced this first hand over the Thanksgiving weekend, but in return, his youthful innocence reminded me of an important life lesson.

Gone for Black Friday with my mother-in-law and sister, I left my children in the care of their grandpa and dad.  When I returned from shopping in the late morning, my four-year-old wandered into the farmhouse with a massive bump on his forehead.  It was so large I couldn’t believe the skin hadn’t cracked open.  He had run into the end of a metal pipe, called a water line, my oldest son had been carrying. 

I knelt on the kitchen floor, crooning and touching his wounded head, consumed with the size of the injury.  How could he possibly enjoy the rest of our vacation with this?

His little hand pulled mine away and said, “If you stop touching it—I fine.”  Then out he went to explore and play.

I shook my head at his response, until I realized the wisdom in his words.  Everyone experiences the pain of an injury in their life.  The physical gashes we can see or the emotional ones hidden within, it doesn’t matter—they all hurt.  But to obsess over these past wrongs is dangerous.  You’ll only find yourself engulfed in misery, unable to see the joy of the world around, waiting to be explored.  Don’t magnify these injuries, let them go.  Like my son said, “Stop touching it,” and you’ll be fine.   

(The picture was taken three days after the accident.  Also, notice the teeth marks on the cheek.  Yep, one of the farm dogs bit him too.  He still can’t wait to go back to the farm.  I tell you, nothing gets that kid down.)

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The fear of success.

The knot in my stomach, once the size of a baseball has ballooned into something closer to a bowling ball.  Each Saturday it grows a little bigger, leaving me nauseous for hours afterwards.  Good grief!  What ails you?  I’m sure you are thinking.  Surprisingly, it’s because the little football team my ten-year-old son plays on will be entering the playoffs undefeated. 

For those of you rolling your eyes, let me explain.  This team, formed with the castoffs other teams didn’t want, spent the prior three seasons being crushed by almost every opponent we went up against.  Often, I found myself saying things like, “They tried their best,” to the other parents on the team, or “Ooo, look at that, they got a first down,” and even an occasional, “Hey, we got a touchdown.”  Cheering, with every fiber in me, no matter how bad we lost.

Like a slow trickle, something happened to this rag-tag team of outcasts.  Under the tutelage of an amazingly patient coach, they’ve become executing assassins, wiping out teams that mocked us in seasons past.  But with each win, the expectations for them to continue in kind also rose.  And that pressure almost cost us the final game of this season.

This really is a general model for us all.  Failing is easier when it’s all you’ve ever known, but once you taste success, failure is multiplied by the bitter recognition of the achievement you lost.  I’ve met people who actually choose to lead mediocre lives because of it.  They fear the pain of a stumble, so they don’t try at all.  What a pity.  For even if my boys (after so many seasons together, I consider them such) lose in the playoffs, they’ve experienced the power of dedication and hard work that can’t be taken from them.  Life is not about the stark wins and losses in our lives, it’s the baby steps we take to discover what we really are capable of doing.  You’ll never know until you try.  Even if, for me, throwing up before each of these playoffs games is a strong possibility.

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Give the oar back!

To the women of the world, both old and young, each of you is a valued, beloved daughter of our Heavenly Father.  In his eyes, we are equally loved, yet, especially as the female gender, we tend to tear at each other’s weaknesses. Why? 

The woman working at the desk next to you, the young woman eating in the school cafeteria across the way, is on the same river of life as you.  We each have been issued a rickety rowboat to traverse it with.  Some may dress theirs up, with fancy paint and adornment, other boats may look slimmer than yours, but the tiny holes (our insecurities) are still there.

Stop ripping the oars (our self-esteem) out of each other’s hands, with our cuttings words, and cliquish ways.  You only have two hands in which to row with, so what do you need a third oar for?  The journey of life is not a competition.  Do you really think the Lord will be pleased if you cross some imaginary finish line first at the expense of your sister? 

Women everywhere, search your hearts.  We all have shortcomings, so who are we judge another for theirs?  We are supposed to be the softer, fairer sex of the human race.  It is time to revive the kindness that is diminishing inside us, and show the world what humanity really means.

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Honesty in the workplace?

A paperclip here, a stamp there, most people would never dream of robbing a bank, but don’t even hesitate when taking small things like these from their employers.  Some are even willing to adjust their time card, adding minutes they didn’t work.  After all what’s fifteen minutes here, or thirty there, as long as we don’t get caught it’s okay, right?

No, it’s not okay, and it’s one of the biggest lies society spouts today.  The rampant lack of honesty and “Can I get away with it?” attitude in this country is part of the reason we are spiraling down the economic toilet.  If the seven-billion people on this earth each stole just one ten-cent paperclip from their job, seven-hundred-million dollars in revenue is lost.  Hmm…I wonder how many jobs could be created with that kind of money?

Inscribe in your hearts the motto, “An honest day’s wage for an honest day’s work.”  Live by it and teach it to the rising generation.  If we are going to save this great nation, both employer and employee must revert to the core values that made this country “great” in the first place.

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Loyalty, another quality to take along with you when you enter the workforce of life.

In the economic climate in which we now live many think loyalty in the workplace is the last thing you need.  With the mounting job losses growing in this country and diminishing wages, it seems ridiculous to suggest it.  “The companies we work for aren’t loyal to us!”  It’s every man for himself now.  Right?

As teenagers, and the rising generation, don’t be fooled by the cynicism around you.  The moral compass of society is veering because virtues like loyalty are being held for ransom.  “If you’re loyal to me, I’ll be loyal to you.”  The world has forgotten that virtues are not something given or taken on a whim, or when it’s convenient.  They are the fabric that makes you, YOU, and should be reflected in your everyday actions. 

It is not foolishness to be loyal in the workplace.  The world will continue to crumble until the “us vs. them” stops.  You need employers—they give you money and help you live.  Employers need you to expand their business.  The only way to dig ourselves out of the economic hole we are in is together.

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Qualities to take along when you enter the workforce of life.

Whenever people talk about the qualities of a successful person, you’ll hear words like driven, smart, demanding, and hard worker.  Traits we’re told to assimilate into our own lives, if we want to taste success as well.  And while these things are not necessarily bad, there are other, less recognized virtues, I would rather have in someone I employ.

Imagine how different a workplace would be if people had more humility.  No one would feel spiteful resentment when the boss corrects a mistake.  All the backbiting and gossip would stop, because when your mind is full of your own shortcomings you’re not going to bother looking at others.  A humble person is teachable.  They want to do their best.  Someone like this would be easy to train, even in the most difficult of trades.   

Yes, in this demanding world you need to work hard, use your brain, and stay focused. But a good dose of humility will make you bearable to your coworkers. 

Next week, I’ll discuss another overlooked virtue in the workplace, loyalty.

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What a farmer does on vacation.

After only a few short months of marriage, I went on a trip with my husband (rancher’s son) and his family to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.  A consummate workout-a-holic, with no children yet, I was in the best physical shape of my life.  The horseback riding still kicked my butt.

The day began early, as all grueling events do.  Arriving at one of the local dude ranches, we were met by a man who looked over the seasoned riders of my party and said, “Since you’re all experienced riders, how about I take you somewhere special?” 

Experienced?  At this time, my riding experience had consisted of sitting in the saddle holding onto to horn while someone else led me.  But my husband and his family were so excited to go somewhere “special”, I didn’t say anything.   

My nervousness must have shown on my face because my husband whispered as he checked the cinch on the horse given to me.  “Just keep the reins loose and stay behind my mom.  I’ll be right behind you.” 

And stayed right behind me he did, though I’m not sure it did me any good, as we climbed higher and higher, traversing small ledges with our horses I don’t think I would have done with my two legs.  Still I said nothing, just squeezed with my knees, kept the reins loose, and prayed the animal beneath me was a sure-footed one.

After many hours, we reached the top of a mountain so tall it had some of last year’s snowpack still on it.  The views were breathtaking.  I could see the Grand Teton mountain range and Yellow Stone National Park at the same time.  Though my legs ached—especially the inside of my knees—I did enjoyed eating lunch while soaking up all of nature’s beauty.

It wasn’t until we remounted the gravity of the situation hit me.  You know the old adage—what goes up must come down—going down tiny ledges on a horse is by far scarier.  The death grip my legs had on the mount I rode would have crushed the average person.  I literally wore the skin off the inside of my knees by the time we finally reached to the dude ranch again at dusk. 

Looking back and fully recovered, I’m grateful for the “special” trek I found myself on that day.  The huge herd of elk that passed by, the amazing vastness portrayed on the peak of that mountain, these are few things people ever experience.  And with a blindfold for the steep areas and several sets of bandages for my knees, I might even try it again one day.

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A reminder for mothers everywhere

When I look at the world, I feel insignificant and small.

Can I make a difference?  No, not really.  Not at all.

Then I turn to my children and see, the world in their eyes is me.

The hours spent talking and playing is never a waste.

I’m teaching them about values, and laying a strong base.

When I die, no crowds will morn or monuments stand erect.

Those accolades are saved for the world’s most elect.

But my life and legacy will live on, all because three little monkeys called me mom.

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What now?

Sometimes even when we’ve given our best—done all that we could—we fail.  In that bitter moment of loss, we often question why.  I am no different.

Back in high school there was an exclusive choir group, made up of only twelve students.  Any student in the 10th-12th grades could tryout.  So even in my small school, the competition was fierce.

Near the end of my sophomore year, I joined the throng.  There were only two soprano positions open, but I felt confident one would be mine.  (I know that sounds cocky, but I had won enough solos while doing community theatre throughout the years, any doubt I could sing was gone.) 

At the tryout, I confidently belted out a song I had practiced hundreds of times.  When I walked off that stage, I knew I couldn’t have done any better.  I nailed the performance.  But in the end, I didn’t win one of those coveted spots.  It crushed me.  For a time, I thought of little else but the why until I realized, or more than likely my mom told me, I needed to get over it.  I wasn’t doing myself any favors.

 Wallowing in the why of life holds us captive to past events we can’t change.  And there we will stay, until we finally ask ourselves, “What now?”

My ‘what now’ required a lot of humility to return to the larger choir group the next year, and not belittle those who had made the smaller one instead of me—even when I beat them all out for the lead role in the musical that year.  The final test of my ‘what now’ came at the end of my junior year, when I tried out for the smaller group again.  Nothing like a second lashing to see how tough you really are, but at the time, it was what I wanted more than anything.  And turned out to be the sweetest victory of my high school years.  More than fifteen years later, I still have the t-shirt from that small group tucked away in my drawer.

Your life will be full of all kinds of highs and lows.  When a low strikes, forget about the why, it is a question that usually can’t be answered.  Life simply isn’t fair.  Stop expecting it to be.  All you need to decide is what now?

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