No More ACTing, Just Being

On January 1, 2013, I posted my resolution/word for the year--to act.

"The possibilities are numerous once we decide to act and not react."

--George Bernard Shaw

I summarized my three-part goal by recording this statement that day:

"I want 2013 to be a year of intentional action, a year of controlling my reactions, a year of prayerfully finding 365 ways to serve others."

I started out the year fully committed to acting--planning my days, controlling my temper, and daily praying for ways to serve others--and through the course of 2013, I held myself accountable by posting a monthly evaluation of my efforts.  I even wore a necklace (imprinted with the word "act") around my neck nearly every day for the entire year--a permanent talisman to focus my year and my days and hours on acting.

My dedication to these three ways of acting  fluctuated greatly.  January was stellar, and I told of palpable change in myself.  Most months, however, found me recounting failures and shortcomings--never fully regaining the change I had experienced earlier in the year. Ironically, I started to not berate myself so much on how often I failed (which was most of the time), but I began to see how I was growing and softening and changing in bigger ways.  I wrote this in July:

"This month I realized that what I had always dubbed "failure to accomplish" is actually just called "room for improvement." That realization led to fewer days where I beat myself up for falling short of what I had hoped to accomplish goal-wise. This was a big step for a goal-oriented gal like me. I wouldn't say that I've reached a point where this falling short is acceptable, but recognizing that it is okay is the first step."

I began to understand what Jeffrey R. Holland meant when he said, "Not failure but low aim would be the most severe indictment [of a person]." When I had originally aimed high, I thought that success would only be attained by perfection.  I began to see that the journey and the attempt were achievements of their own. One day in September, as I was absentmindedly fingering my act necklace (which I was wearing daily by this point), I noticed something different about it.

The once-round pearl was now flattening on the side where it rubbed constantly against the silver disk.  Daily wear and the movements of life had actually changed the shape of the pearl.  I rubbed it for a moment, then I understood that this pearl was a parallel for my soul.

I had experiences during the year that taught me great lessons about acting--I saw how others controlled their reactions (especially from Ben when I forgot to register him for the ACT, irony notwithstanding), and I recognized small changes in myself when I controlled my reaction when a young woman rear-ended my Suburban.

I then looked at the necklace in the mirror, and I noticed that not only had the pearl changed shape from bouncing against the disk, but the disk had also changed from daily contact with the pearl--a small crescent-shaped groove had been worn into its face.

Not only had I been changed, but my actions had changed others around me as well. I gave lunch to a wandering homeless man one day, and on another day, I interrupted my crazy holiday dinner shopping to help an older gentleman find the butterscotch morsels his wife had asked him to buy.  I played with my children even when I had pressing homework assignments, and I stepped out of my comfort zone to follow a prompting and reach out to a dear friend who lost her unborn twins.  The biggest compliment I received all year was from Heidi when I was visiting her a few weeks ago.  She said that she noticed a change in me this past year--mellower, more accepting, less intense.

The lessons don't end there.

When I removed my necklace this evening to photograph it, I noticed a very, very small dark spot on the upper corner of the disk. I could see that this spot on the disk had been worn down by the clasp of the chain which was forever twisting around to the front by the charm and rubbing a little groove at that small spot. Until that moment, I hadn't even seen this change to my necklace, and that's when the final lesson of 2013 came to my mind. The difference between who I am now as compared to me one year ago can't just be measured in the 365 days of one year, and hopefully, these improvements will manifest themselves in very, very small spots and interactions throughout the rest of my life.

So in this final blogging act of 2013, I write as a changed person--not the completely purposeful, fully controlled, and ever service-minded woman I had envisioned a year ago, but as someone I never anticipated.  Someone who isn't just acting, but someone who has become.

Someone better. 

The Final ACT

On January 1, 2013, I set a New Year's Resolution.

"I want 2013 to be a year of intentional action, a year of controlling my reactions, a year of prayerfully finding 365 ways to serve others."

Although November 30th came and went without me posting, I knew I couldn't neglect my next-to-last update for the year.

Where did November go, anyway?  

When November started, I took a long look at how I've improved this year. I recognized instances where I had acted to serve others in October.  I saw where I had fallen short in some of my personal habits, and I learned one of the greatest lessons of the year from my son Ben.  I realized that I had been spending way too much time focused on things I needed to do, ignoring the highest priorities in my life--serving my family and playing with my kids and reading to them and being present with them.  

So . . . 

I switched gears for November.  Whenever a child asked me to read to them or play a game with them or help them or talk to them, I would consciously turn from whatever I was doing (usually homework on the computer). If it was possible to leave what I was doing to help them, then that's what I did. I noticed that I was up later doing homework a couple of nights--later than I'd hoped.  I noticed that my house was a little messier most days, and that the laundry piled up one week.  I also noticed that most of that stuff didn't matter.  My homework still got done.  My house was mostly clean most days, and the laundry eventually made it to kids' drawers.  I also noticed that my kids and Brad need me.  They need me to take them stuff when they have an emergency.  They need my attention when they're struggling with a homework assignment.  Then need me to read to them and play with them and shop with them and talk with them, because that's how they know that I love them. 

It made a difference.  I realized how self-focused I had become, and I began to see some of my previous priorities as selfish or unimportant. I wasn't perfect, to be sure, but I recognized the difference it made in my family's day when I would take time for their needs, not just for the next thing on my to-do list.

Here it is--December--and I have to say that I have stayed focused on my New Year's Resolution better this year than any other.  I have thirty days left for this experiment of ACTing to take residence in my soul before 2014 rolls around.  I've thought about how I want to approach my ACTing for these last thirty days, and my goal is to keep ACTing as uppermost in my thoughts as I did in January--

• I am going to plan each day with purpose.  This is harder in December than it is in January--why is that?  I hope that ACTing with purpose will make this most festive and stressful of months easier on me and on my family.  I'm hoping to finish my final paper tomorrow (fingers crossed!), and by completing it six days early, I think I'll gain a whole extra week of December to accomplish all of the wonderful craziness that defines the holiday season.
• I am going to control my reactions.  As the due date for my final paper gets closer, I find my fuse getting shorter, and the holidays often sap my patience faster than any other time of year anyway (I'm not the only one, am I?).  I want to be positive and happy, not ruled by what others are doing or how others are acting around me. By controlling my reactions and remembering that the purpose of this season is to remember the birth of Jesus Christ, I hope to bring a different spirit to my holiday season this year.
• I am going to prayerfully ask for ways that I can serve others through my actions.  I have a few tasks already on my calendar that focus my attention on others, but the rest of the month I hope to leave the days open and be willing to ACT as the Spirit guides me, find those who need my help, and then have the courage to follow through with those promptings.

What I really want is to have another month of big changes like I experienced back in January--I want 2013 to be recorded in my soul as a year that I orchestrated some big changes in myself, so I can look back and know that I really did give this resolution to ACT everything I had, for all 365 days of the year.

ImPACT from Unexpected Sources

Just when you think you have a handle on everything, the handle slips out of your hand and you fall.

Ten months down in 2013.  Two left to go.

I've spent this last year trying to focus on the word ACT--acting with purpose, controlling my reactions, and training my actions to serve others around me.

I had more downs than ups this past month, but I think I learned more about this complicated word during October than I have in any other month of 2013.

Acts of Service

 A dear friend experienced the loss of her twin boys this month. While it is not my place to tell her story, I would like to share a few things with you.  I firmly believe that God uses us as angels on this earth to help those who are hurting.  Twice I thought to act in ways that weren't my own thoughts.  I had spent the entire afternoon writing this post, anxious to hear what would happen with the babies.  My mind was flooded with memories of my own loss, and suddenly I remembered a short list of things I wish I had known before losing my baby--things I wanted Heather to know before it was too late.  Twice I was prompted to send a text, and twice I dismissed the idea, fearing to intrude at such a private and difficult moment.  Finally the idea came a third time, and I decided that it was better to be inopportune than to be too late. 

I sent the text. I later found out that I was just in time. 

A few days later, my family was preparing to go out of town for the weekend, and I felt like I needed to stay home one more night before joining them.  As it turned out, Heather's mother called me the evening that my family left, asking me if I could play a musical number for Church, since she was leaving town to be with her grieving daughter.  We talked at the door for a few minutes when she dropped off the music, and as she left I realized that if I had left with my family, I would have been unable to help.

Sometimes, thoughts come to our minds and we wonder, "Is this thought my own or is it from God?" And even more rarely do we get confirmation that we were acting as His hands here on earth.

Acting with Purpose

I experienced something this last month that I haven't faced in a long time.

I got into a full-fledged funk that lasted almost two weeks.

I couldn't make myself do much of anything.  I couldn't make myself get up early like I did for the entire month of September. I went to my yoga classes, but I couldn't make myself do yoga on my own.  I couldn't muster the energy I needed to do my homework. I couldn't force myself to make to-do lists or even stay on top of my cleaning  or scripture study or prayer. 

Funny how this behavior is a surefire downward spiral into the land of "feeling worthless."  I would crawl into bed each night, reflect on my day and feel like I had done even less than the day before.  I was miserable on the inside and trying to keep it all together on the outside. I thought back to Elder Jeffrey Holland's talk just a few weeks ago--Like a Broken Vessel.  How he said, "if the bitter cup does not pass, drink it and be strong."  I knew what I needed to do to bounce back into the joy of my regular life; I just needed to make myself do those seemingly insignificant but perspective-altering small daily things that make all the difference.  I needed to reacquaint my body with my spirit.

Little by little I wriggled myself back to where I know I need to be.  I'm sure it will happen again, but I learned that losing my focus on acting with purpose can have a devastating effect on my self-esteem.

Action, Not Reaction

 Mothers are supposed to be the teachers and kids are supposed to be the students, right?

The greatest lesson I learned this month (maybe even all year) I learned from Ben. 

Ben took the ACT (appropriately enough) last June.  He got a great score, but he didn't finish the math section, and he knew he could do better, so he decided to take it again on October 26th.  He took a prep course and studied for the test as often as he could find the time.  Friday night was Homecoming, and because he was taking the ACT at 8 am the next morning, he came straight home from the dance to get some sleep.  By 6:30 am, he was up, showered, fed, and studying again.  Around 7:15, Ben came into our room and said that he couldn't get his admission ticket to print.  I headed downstairs to see what I could do, but for some reason the website wasn't recognizing his password, and customer service isn't open on Saturday.  I fired off a quick email  to ACT then thought I'd try to call, just in case someone was there to answer day-of-the-test questions.  An operator answered, pulled up Ben's account, then told me, "We have no registration for today's test for a Benjamin Denton.  I'm sorry."

I screwed up.  Screwed up big.  I hung up the phone and then turned to share the horrible news with my son.  Before the words could leave my mouth the tears stung my eyes and began to roll down my cheeks.  The weight of my mistake was killing me.  My son who had just spent four weeks cramming for a test would be unable to take it because I had forgotten to register him. "I'm so sorry, Ben.  I must have forgotten to register you.  I never forget stuff like that.  I'm so sorry.  I can't believe it." Not only were the tears streaming down my face, but my body began to wrack with sobs. Hyrum walked into the room and immediately walked back out again, not knowing how to handle his distraught mother. How could I have forgotten something so important?

My Ben.  My sweet, peacemaker son looked me in the eye, wrapped his arm around me, and instead of lashing out in justifiable anger, he tried to soothe me: "Mom, it's okay.  There's nothing we can do about it now.  It's okay.  Really.  I guess it was meant to be this way. Don't be so upset about it.  It's okay.  I promise." Over and over he repeated these words to me, trying to stop my tears.

Not a single word of reprimand. Or anger. Or recrimination. Or disappointment. Or . . . anything.  Nothing but kindness and understanding came from my son.

As it turns out, Ben can take the ACT one last time (in December) before the final fall 2014 fall application deadline.  As it turns out, Ben was right.  It will be okay.

Before he even knew he could still take the test, Ben had forgiven me for my mistake. How could he do that? I kept replaying in my mind how I would have reacted in a similar situation. I know I couldn't have mustered such control in a similar circumstance, but because of his example at that pivotal moment in his life, I now know that it is possible, and I know that, for the rest of my life, I will look back on that morning many times, hopefully mustering control and kindness and forgiveness in situations that appear unforgivable. 

How I was blessed to have a son like Ben I'll never know.  What I do know is that he is a much better person than I in so many ways.

2013--I'm going to give you everything I've got these last two months. 

ACT.

RefrACTing the Light

Nine months of 2013 are gone already.  Where did the time go?

The end of the month brings my ninth update on my yearlong goal to ACT--a year of intentional action, a year of controlling my reactions, a year of prayerfully finding 365 ways to serve others.

I find myself coming up short of my goals so many days each month--so many times when I look back on the day and want to hit the restart button. But then again, so many times this month I have had the word refract go through my mind: to make (light) change direction when it goes through at an angle.  I've noticed how I have taken inspiration I have received and how I've let it go through me and how that light has spread to others.

Act purposely: September was a month of adjustment around here.  Not only did we have the big wedding to prepare for, we also had to adjust to Mom being a graduate student.  I initially thought that school would be easy and not too time consuming, but I was wrong.  Less than two weeks into my first class I realized that I would not have enough time in my days to complete my schoolwork, my exercise, my carpools, my grocery shopping, my homework assistance, my game attendance, my shoe tying, my photography, my kid bathing, my house cleaning, my date nights, my showers, my cooking, my Sunday School lessons, my blogging, and my family time if something didn't change. 

I remembered a talk given by Sheri Dew many years ago, when she revealed how she had added time in her day to write a biography of President Gordon B. Hinckley. Already completely overwhelmed with her life schedule, Sheri arose every morning at 3 am to find time for her writing.  I knew that 3 am was completely outside my abilities, but 5 am wouldn't be.  I asked Heavenly Father to help me get up that early so that I could find an extra hour in my days, and He has helped me.  On mornings when I'm feeling especially lazy, I remind myself that my purposeful action works in tandem with God's guiding hand in my life, and I have seen the blessings that have come from those bonus early morning hours--whether I've used them to exercise, to write, to read, or to do laundry, the time has been well spent each day. I've had to let a few things slide--my house hasn't been as clean as I would like (that one's been hard), and meals have been a little more last-minute, but I think I will be able to find a new normal very soon.

Act not react:  The wedding and its preparations were my focus for acting and not reacting this month.  Every morning before the wedding, I would include a plea in my prayers that I would be able to control my reactions during stressful times and keep in mind that what I really wanted for this wedding was the happiness of others.  I got really annoyed a few times and got my feelings hurt twice, but I just swallowed my bitter reactions and moved on without reacting.  I truly wanted the happiness of others more than my own, and I saw the benefit of controlling my tongue even when I wanted to lash out. And guess what?  It was fine--who knew?

Acts of service:  I did throw a huge party for 90 this month, and I did help put on a huge reception and wedding, but I as I look back on this month, the small act of having lunch with a friend will linger in my mind.  As I listened to her pour out what was weighing down her heart, I was so grateful I could be her friend right at that moment.  The longer I think about this service goal, the more I realize that it's the little things we do that make the difference in the daily quality of our lives.

Despite my weaknesses and failures, I feel myself changing each month, each month bringing more light into my life, and each month bringing more opportunities for me to refract that light into the lives of others.

No Foto Friday--Finding a Little TrACTion

Where did August go, and how did summer disappear with it?

Since it is the end of the month already, I need to recap my yearlong journey to ACT--a year of intentional action, a year of controlling my reactions, a year of prayerfully finding 365 ways to serve others.

July brought a new approach to my goals.  Changing my perspective from "Perfection is the only option," to "This is a weakness that I'm working to improve," made all of my missed attempts in August okay in my mind.  I had a few setbacks, to be sure, mostly because this past month was so full of busy and crazy and good and new and challenging things.

A few things I this month that fell inside the parameters of my yearly goal:

• I hosted a moms' back-to-school celebration.  I kinda wanted to do it and I kinda didn't want to do it, but once moms and their preschool kids began arriving--bringing food, noise and friendship into my home--I was glad I had stepped outside my inwardly focused life to reach out to others.  It was a good thing.
• I set a goal when summer started that I would help Micah focus on his piano--help him realize how important it is to count, to finger, and especially to slow down and learn the piece completely before speeding it up.  This would be a trial of my patience for sure, and a surefire way to test my resolve to control my reactions.  Now that three months have passed with me consistently helping him at the piano, I can hear marked difference in his musicianship and his approach to his music.  I know that he has the ability to be a great pianist one day, but it's my job to teach him that the work behind the performance is more important than the performance itself.  This was really gratifying to see such progress over such a relatively short period of time.  He changed and I changed, and that was more than I had hoped for at summer's start.
• Usually when school starts, I am the mom skipping through the quiet house, ready to return to the routine school brings, but when school started on August 7th this year, I wasn't ready.  At all.  But it started nonetheless, and I applied my intentional action to homework time after school.  Hyrum, a brand new first grader, has a little more homework this year, and although he is familiar with our routine after school, he has been balking at completing his work when he first walks in the door in the afternoon.  I remember one specific afternoon when I made a healthy snack and prepared the homework area before the boys got home, hoping that this preparation would make the afternoon go more smoothly.  It didn't, unfortunately, but what that preparation had done was get me in the right frame of mind to be completely present with my boys as they were sitting with their math problems, and it made me more patient when Hyrum's frustration rose to the surface.  Gold star to me that day.  (That gold star may have gotten a little bent and tarnished other days this month, but at least I can look back on one day and know that it was possible. Just that once.)
• Preparing for my half marathon and then starting grad school have both required a lot of intentional action--training when I really didn't want to, running when it was hot or early or late, buying books and figuring out foreign computer terms and apps, launching headlong back into academia with two papers and a quiz and a project all due within the first week.  I'm realizing that school will be harder and more time consuming than I originally planned, but I know that as long as I keep school in its proper place--behind faith and family--then it will all work out.
• And with Tucker's wedding only 21 days from today (Yes, that is right.  No, I'm going nuts.), I have spent many hours helping with wedding plans and addressing announcements and buying wedding party clothes and attending showers and preparing the kids to move to Provo this weekend.  As time consuming as all that stuff has been, when I remind myself to put the stress in the perspective that I am serving two people that I love, it is all worth it.  And in 21 days, I will have a new beautiful daughter.  That's way shorter than pregnancy, right?

September will unavoidably bring slightly cooler temperatures, leaves changing everywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere, and more schoolwork for me and for the kids, but I also hope it will bring with it a little greater resolve to keep my resolution to ACT more in the forefront my mind.

Have a fantastic Labor Day weekend.  Football season opens tonight.

GO HEROES!!!

ACTing and Other Talents

 August 1st.

Another month of 2013 has passed, the seventh month where I have tried to focus my thoughts on my yearlong goal to ACT-- a year of intentional action, a year of controlling my reactions, a year of prayerfully finding 365 ways to serve others.

While I must admit that I didn't make as much progress this month as I had hoped, I can say that July brought a few new approaches and attempts at being better, acting better.  I recognized how difficult it is for me to focus on my goals while our family is surviving through vacations, camps, and school preparations.  I realized that what I had always dubbed failure to accomplish is actually just called room for improvement. That realization led to fewer days where I beat myself up for falling short of what I had hoped to accomplish goal-wise. This was a big step for a goal-oriented gal like me. I wouldn't say that I've reached a point where this falling short is acceptable, but recognizing that it is okay is the first step.

I also spent the entire week we were on vacation trying to focus on serving those around me.  I discovered that although my intentions were good, those I served sometimes misunderstood my intentions, especially if I neglected to be patient and kind while serving them. My biggest mistake was failing to serve prayerfully.  I know that if I had added prayer to my efforts, it would have been better.

I also admitted to myself this month that this goal to act is more than just a goal--it is an attempt to develop talents with which I was not plentifully blessed.  This process will have ups and downs.  It will have setbacks and achievements.  And I may never be as good at intentional action, controlling my reactions, and serving others as I had imagined in January, and that's okay.

But I fully intend to keep working on it, and I hope that I will emerge from 2013 better than I was in 2012.

ContrACTions

I'm like the universe; either expanding or contrACTing at any given moment. 

--Sean Astin

On July first last summer, I was living my life-long dream of catching fireflies and spending weeks away from civilization in rural northeastern Pennsylvania.

Just seeing this little grey house bathed in the sunset of our first Wyalusing sunset fills me with waves of joy.  It was a summer I will never forget--a summer of profound lessons and once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

Since I had no big adventure planned for this summer, I purposely filled my days with kid activities and experiences, hoping to make this summer memorable on its own.

I will be the first to admit--summer has been hard on this schedule-driven girl.

Scratch that.

June has been hard on this schedule-driven girl.

Days have been overloaded with piano practicing and school work and chores and driving from swim team and yoga and dentist appointments and play practice and basketball camp and dive team and swim meets and friends' houses and movies

and back home again.

Oh.  And Tucker and Karli got engaged.  Forgot that small, time-consuming detail.

My house has been a wreck most days. Kids have gone days without proper bedtimes or proper meals or proper baths (pools count, right?).

Amidst all this bustle and pandemonium, something important has been neglected.  Someone important.

Me.

The mom.

June has made me more aware of a few things about myself.

• I need my schedule--my schedule, not a kids' schedule that pre-empts mine five and six times every day. I need my schedule like lions in the zoo know when it's feeding time or like workers in a factory know what time the shift whistle blows. 
• When this schedule is interrupted or irregular, I get lost in the sea of chaos. I lose those things in life that make me me.  I've gotten behind in my scripture study and prayers.  I've neglected my laundry (sorely neglected) and taken too many naps from staying up too late.  There has been no time for home organizing or home redecorating or even home straightening. My camera hasn't left its bag for days on end.
• As I have buried myself deeper and deeper into my kids' lives and activities, I have lost sight of my goal to ACT.  I have seen my progress contract from where I was just a month ago.  My patience level has decreased and my laziness had increased. I have found no time to serve others or focus on their needs.

Lucky for me, the busy segment of our summer is over.

As of July first, dive team and swim team are over.  Swimming lessons are finished.  Aida is done.  No more basketball camp.

We have some time that is just us--our family--with no outside distractions to derail us.  Boredom may set in.  Kids might get stir crazy, but I do know that July will be good for one person.

Me.

I hope to regain the ground I've lost in June.  Refocus my soul on what I know is important. Reposition myself to ACT--live purposely, act not react, and serve others.

July is a fresh slate.  A new start.  The last month of summer before school starts.

Here's to lists and chores and organization and purpose.

Here's to July.

For Every ACTion There Is an Equal and Opposite ReACTion

What would your reaction be if you found this scrawled on your family desk?

Admittedly, mine wasn't stellar.  (Stellar may be the wrong word choice. It was impressive both in decibel level and intensity, but that isn't what I've been working on for the past five months now, is it?) I won't incriminate the guilty party, but let it be known that Mom's displeasure rang from the rafters.

May has been a month of extremes--joy and sadness, achievement and disappointment. Tucker returning from his mission was one of the happiest days of my life.  Along with his return comes the challenge of learning to parent an adult living at home (temporarily--he's headed back to Provo in the fall).  School is out for the year, and some grades and experiences were better than expected, while some were much worse.

I wish I could say I weathered it all with dignity and skill, demonstrating to all around me the self-mastery skills I have been working on this year, but that would not be the truth.   My reactions have not always been tempered by reason, my tasks have not always been guided by purpose, my days have not always been filled with service. If I were completely honest, I would have to admit that my goal to act was far removed from my conscious mind most days during the month of May.  I felt like my head was barely above water most days, and then on a few other days, my head was buried so deep in the clouds of happiness that I lost focus on reality and my job as the mom around here.

I don't know about you, but the end of the school year is almost as big of "a leaf turning over" as New Year's Day for me.  I have high hopes for this summer.  Big dreams of what I hope to teach my kids.  Big.  BIG. 

Here's to a "new" summer resolution to act--with purpose, with control, with an eye for serving others. I'm not giving up.

And if any of you are interested in signing up for the Healthy Lifestyle Challenge I've issued, you can check out the rules/requirements here.  We'd love to have anyone and everyone join us!

Employing New TACTics

 April has been a month of struggle against my natural instincts, to be sure.

I seemed to set goals for the week on Sunday night--goals that would bring me closer to my envisioned end--only to crash and burn sometime Tuesday afternoon.

Last Saturday was the worst of all.  I woke up exhausted, looked at myself in the mirror, descended the stairs to a messy house (reminders of the two birthday parties I hosted on Friday), and then, because I was completely disgusted with my house and my body and my mental state, I crawled back into bed until 9 am.  Unfortunately, even another few winks of sleep couldn't dispel my dark mood.

You see, I have set these goals for myself--high, yet seemingly attainable goals--and NEVER do I achieve them all in a day.  I fail.  EVERY SINGLE DAY.  Every day.  Every night I go to bed and tell myself, "Tomorrow is another day (with full credit to Miss Scarlett for that mantra)," and when I wake up I think, "Yep, it's today," and that night I get back into bed flooded with feelings of failure and insecurity.

This was the mood that filled my soul Saturday morning.  Nothing I'd been doing was measuring up to my standards.  Nothing was right with the world.  All was wrong and failure and incomplete.  I knew down deep that I should exercise and that I'd feel better afterwards, but getting my running clothes out of the closet was as far as I got before I discarded them on the bed and crawled back between the sheets for another thirty minutes of mindless sleep--a retreat from all the negative self-talk and messy environment around me.

By the time I escaped the call of my bed for the THIRD time that morning, it was 10:30 and I knew my exercise window was closing.  With all the gumption I could muster, I pulled on my clothes and shoes, snagged my iPad from Brad's nightstand, and headed down to the treadmill in the dungeon of our house. I set the speed low--low like my mood--and pulled up my blog list.

Here are a few of the gems I found that morning:

original image from here

I clicked over to Nester's weekend links and found myself smiling ten times in a row as I worked through mile four.  It worked.  The simple act of smiling lightened my mood and my mind.

I found a link to this article, You Don't Have to Pander, on Centsational Girl's weekend reading list. Blogging is a beautiful, fantastic, sometimes humiliating and self-defeating endeavor.  Why are some blogs hot and others (like mine) flounder in the less popular bracket? After reading Seth's blog and his perspective, I reevaluated my writing, gave myself credit for some achievements (out of over 280 entries, my pantry was featured at I Heart Organizing! That's huge!), and remembered a few recent conversations when people had told me my blog had touched them in some way. Those little comments make me so happy--just knowing that what you write is being read . . . yeah.  Happy.

I read Why I Rock by my college roommate Paige. Go read it.

Glad you're back.  As I read her post, I began a mental list of all the things I had accomplished during the week.  Although my exercise goal had been three miles every single day, I had missed three days (sigh.  I even hate writing that.). But AT THAT MOMENT I was on the treadmill.  That counts for something, right?  And even though my total goal for the week was eighteen miles, I logged a total of six miles that morning, doubling my total for the entire week. Six extremely sweaty miles that fell far short of my sixty-minute completion goal.  Sometimes, the achievement needs to be marked in the distance, not in the time it took to get there.  I had done it. Thanks, Paige, for the kick in the pants.

It took the entire six miles for me to untangle all the negative self-talk in my head--to find where I really should be and to give myself an as-objective-as-one-can-be-with-oneself evaluation of my progress towards my goals of acting with purpose, acting without reacting, and acting to serve others.  How had I really done this last month?

I may have had a messy house that day, but I spent the entire day serving two of my favorite children and their friends, celebrating birthday milestones with mountains of crepes, sheets of soft pretzels, gallons of paint--making memories for life.

I may have broken my eating goals almost every day this last month, but I identified some triggers and some issues that I can address to make things better in the future.

I may have slacked in my running, but I attended yoga four times that week, and I am improving my balance and strength each day.

I may have missed opportunities for meaningful service to others, but I did spend over an hour talking with our neighbors one night, helping them sort through a crisis of belief and hopefully helping them reach a satisfactory solution.

Yes, I had failed on numerous occasions.  Yes, I did not have a single day in April where I felt I had achieved my goals perfectly.  What I did realize this month is that life is an all-out war--war against our natural tendencies towards easy and lazy.  It's an uphill battle--one that is constantly waged daily in the trenches of life.  Little skirmishes litter the way, and often we lose those little skirmishes to our weaknesses.  The key is to keep focusing on the larger war--the uphill battle.  Am I farther up the hill than I was a month ago?  A year ago?  What have I learned about myself and others as I've been battling?  How has this changed who I am intrinsically and spiritually?

Most importantly, that six-mile jaunt on the treadmill focused me on another issue--I need to act kindly not only to others but to myself as well.  My cousin Myke is embarking on a similar journey this year, and his latest Steinbeck quote hit me deep:

"It requires a self-esteem to receive—not self-love but just a pleasant acquaintance and liking for oneself."
                  — John Steinbeck, "About Ed Ricketts" 

Hard to read.  Harder to do. 

Just like Dory, I'm going to just keep swimming.  Swimming, swimming, swimming. 

And the answer to the battle questions?  In all honesty, I do feel like I am farther up the hill than I was a year ago.  I may have lost some ground in April, but the next battle is beginning, and I think I have better field position this time.

March ReACTion

Three months into 2013, and I think most people have completely forgotten their New Year's Resolutions: the reformers who vow every year to change but lose sight of their goal at the second or third hurdle they encounter; the naysayers who confirm the fact that most resolutions don't work by observing all the failures around them; the optimists, the pessimists, the atheists, the agnostics, the God-fearing.  I don't know what the statistics say about the successful completion of these resolutions, but I'm sure the numbers aren't positive. I can only speak for myself and my own experiences with setting goals and resolutions.

I've always been a goal setter--as long as I can remember.  The fear/knowledge/possibility of not attaining those goals has never prohibited me or intimidated me away from trying to improve myself.  Having said that, I would venture to say that I don't think I have ever kept a resolution foremost in my mind for an entire year.  Attribute it to my lack of attention span, my innate ability to self-implode, my human-ness, whatever.

This year has been different.

Maybe it has something to do with the talisman hanging around my neck most days. Maybe it has to do with the planets or climate change or  . . . maybe I finally picked a goal and a word and a direction that are exactly where I need to focus.


I've been pondering a lot over the last week about writing this post and what I would write.  I have little time to articulate exactly what I'm thinking and even less time to edit my prose, but it's important for me to get this posted today, before the month is over.

"The possibilities are numerous once we decide to act and not react."--George Bernard Shaw

Admittedly, I struggled to focus my actions during February.  I saw myself slipping and losing sight of my goals.  March began not much better I'm afraid, but as the month progressed, I gained a few important insights into my character--my strengths and weaknesses.

I believe these words from Moroni with all my heart and soul:
And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.(Ether 12:27)

Over the last month, Moroni's statement has come to mean even more to me than it did before.  As an inherently prideful, independent, and generally capable person, I often suffer from the misconception that I can do almost everything on my own if I just put enough thought or effort into it, but in March I came to realize that I can only get so far on my own without relying on God to help me the rest of the way.  In fact, I can NEVER get where I want to be on my own.  Not only is that thought frightening, it is also quite liberating.  As much as I've been fighting with myself to conquer my reactions to my family or my ability to act with purpose instead of passively watching, I see that I truly can't change who I am by myself.  As much as I want to change and as much as I know that permanent change starts with my desire to change, if I don't swallow my pride and ask for His help, I will never end up where I want to be.  I will never see that miraculous change in me--where my weak things become strong.

My cousin Myke has recently posted a couple of well-written and thought-provoking entries on this same idea of permanent change and the miracle that accompanies it. I especially enjoyed watching Stephen Tobolowsky describe when he broke his neck horseback riding. It takes 20 minutes, but it is worth every second of your time.

With all that said--and looking at myself as objectively as possible--I can say that I feel the change that I've been craving.

I can say that I am different than I was three months ago.

Am I where I hope to be at the end of my life?  No.  Am I where I thought I'd be in ninety days into 2013?  Also no.  But that realization and that admission right there is the biggest lesson I learned from March 2013. I was disappointed and disgusted with myself until I began to truly understand that life is a journey--a marathon and not a sprint. Setbacks are natural and normal; change comes slowly and consistently through effort and prayer.

I'm headed in the right direction.  I may not be making the enormous strides I had envisioned in January, but my baby steps are making a difference, and I know that if I keep working and focusing on my end and praying and relying on God, He will help me from His end.

That is what Christ's Atonement means to me--steering and altering and changing my desires to be in line with His.

And that is the best gift I could ask for on Easter weekend.

And Like All Good Things . . .

. . . February is coming to an end.

The end of "winter" weather where we wear long pants and sweaters almost every day.

The end of late sunrises that encourage kids to sleep late.

The end of "every day is park day" sunshine without sweat.

Brad is the monkey in the middle. See the rugby ball above his head?  He stayed there for a while.

The end of allergy season (not really mourning that one, although this year has been exceptionally mild).

The end of soft rain and cold cold two-blanket nights.

If you live anywhere else but here, March signals the possibility of spring--the whole "in like a lion, out like a lamb" thing--but if you live in Arizona, you see March as the beginning of the end, because temperatures in the 80s and 90s and 100s (and 110s) are lurking somewhere in our immediate future. (I remember it hitting 100 during the second week of March one year.)

I thought that today, February 28th, was as good a time as any to update you on my word of the year and how I've been doing with my resolution to act with purpose, to control my reactions, and to act on inspiration to serve others, one-twelfth of a teaspoon at a time.

One particular moment sticks with me from this last month.  I was pushing Evie through Sam's Club on one of those major shopping excursions I take twice monthly, and I remember the thought crossing my mind that I had been lax in my efforts to find ways to serve others.  I uttered a quick prayer in my heart, asking God to help me recognize those moments where I could be helpful.  I loaded the kid and the stuff in the Suburban, and not two blocks later, I was rear-ended at a stop light.  No one was hurt, but when I got out to look at the car, I saw a few dents on my car and fluid and steam pouring out of the silver Explorer behind me.  A young woman, no more than eighteen, was apologizing and making sure we were okay.  We proceeded through the light and turned into the closest parking lot where we inspected both vehicles.  This young lady--Kelsey--was so upset that she had tears rolling down her cheeks, and her trembling hands dropped her cell phone twice as she tried to call her mom.  Instinctively, I reached out and gave her a quick, tight hug and told her everything was okay.  No one was hurt, and it was just a car.  I could hear her mother on the other end of the call, consoling her daughter and saying she would be there quickly.  After taking her information, I gave her another hug and told her all would be well.

When I got back in my Suburban, I realized the service I had offered her--no judgment, no guilt, no anger, just compassion and kindness.  I had added 1/12th of a teaspoon that morning, and I was filled with gratitude that I could see how I had helped her through a scary time. One day I hope a total stranger will extend such kindness to one of my children in a similar situation.

Sling or no sling, this boy still has some killer light saber moves, even left handed

These last two weeks I've found myself slipping back into some old habits, and I don't like what I see.  I found one lazy day dragging its feet into day two--and once even to a third day--where I muddled through without accomplishing much of anything important.  I have been reacting more than acting, and since I had shown noticeable improvement in that respect during January, my sudden unkind reactions have surprised my family--and me, too.  Every time it happens, I recognize the latent old me, swimming to the surface for just enough breath to hide beneath the surface again for a while.

Although I've slipped in my commitments to myself, and I did experience 1-2 days where I berated myself for my weakness and backsliding, I have come to a new place within myself. We are all human, we all make mistakes, we all relapse on occasion; the task is to remain positive and redirect your efforts at your goal. I see that I have another barrier facing me, and I can either belittle myself for my weakness (what I would have endlessly done before), or I can rise to the challenge and act with more purpose and deeper resolve.  I have found that there is power in this retailored thinking, not that the circumstances have changed, but my attitude towards them has.

 I am up for it.

March--Bring it on.