Calling it even

“Come Friday, we’re even.”

I had called the man years ago looking for a job. The man had worked for years and years at his job, and though the hours were often long (well over 40 hours) and the pay was not good, he continued to pick up his pay check each Friday and considered his account even.

Square.

Paid in full.

No matter how difficult the task had been, in his mind, the check he received at the end of the week covered the debt. Each week, he marked the account paid in full and moved on.

Do you?

Or, do you, like me at times, look at your compensation for a job well done and complain that it isn’t enough, complain that you aren’t appreciated more, complain that the task was more than expected, complain that the glory doesn’t equal the effort?

To make matter worse, each week we keep carrying that balance forward, adding a little more to the “what’s owed us” column.

We will never be paid what we think we’re worth. We can never be appreciated to the extent we think we should. Friends will never be as loving as we think they should. Traffic will never go as fast as we think it needs to.

Peace of mind can only come when we change what we think . . .

. . . when we get to the end of the week and mark it even;

. . . when we get to the end of the day and balance the books with our friends and family;  

. . . when we realize that give and take sometimes means giving more and taking less.

And when you’re okay with that, you’re finally okay with everything.

PHOTO: so why Jenny Mae? Because I don't know anyone who lives this philosophy more than she does. This is a photo of her after the Chicago Marathon... 26.2 miles and still smiling, regardless the finish, regardless the time. Every day she accepts what life gives her and calls it even. 

Things to remember when I’m too old to remind you

I like baths. Hot baths. Pay the extra money to have someone put me in a bathtub versus just giving me a sponge bath. Spend money on things you can enjoy. Enjoy life.

When it doesn’t seem that I remember you, I really do. Believe that.

When I’m gone, physically move closer to each other. You’ll be all each other have. Drop what you’re doing whenever the other needs something. And, don’t wait to be asked to help. Assume they need it. Pride kept me from asking for help way too much. Help others.

When you go on cool vacations, take some of my ashes and scatter them where you’ve been. By the time your life is over, all my ashes should be gone and I will have had a great time. Live boldly.

Don’t let fear ever stop you from trying, even if you’ll look stupid from failing. Be brave.

Don’t rethink decisions. Every time I didn’t go with my gut instinct, I regretted it. The world will tell you differently. Ignore them.

It’s okay to cry. I do it all the time. And, then I feel better without anything else changing except me. Crying isn’t about being weak; it’s about knowing there’s something better out there and wanting to have it. Cry, then make a plan and go get it. Go get some.

Jenny, quit working so much; Wil, work a little more. And, when the pendulum swings, go the opposite direction. Life isn’t so much about balance as it is balancing in the extremes. Walk tall.

Read.

It all seems impossible at first glance. Look past your nose. Figure out a way. The answer is there. Look again.

When God doesn’t seem anywhere, He’s everywhere. Close your eyes and listen.

I was always proud of you, even when you didn’t think you deserved it. I never wanted perfection. I just wanted you to be happy, and we’re all happiest when we’re exceeding past that point where we thought we couldn’t go. Believe in yourself.

Not what I expected

 
Everyone said the recovery from shoulder surgery would hurt. 
Everyone. 

Not just some. Not a few. Not even most. 
Nope, everyone. 

So, why am I so surprised that after five weeks, my shoulder still hurts and therapy makes me what to throw up? I thought it'd be different.

I thought it would be different ...... for me. After all, I've run half marathons; surely it will be different. I've taken care of myself for 15 years, alone and independent; surely it will be different. I raised two kids through college nearly by myself; surely it will be different. Bring it on because I'm ready. 

This is not what I expected. 

And, because it isn't, I've had to change what I think, change how I do things, change how I look at the world and how I interact with it. 

 The unexpected will do that to you. 

With my right arm unusable, I've learned to trust my left to carry the load. I didn't think it was up for it when I first began. It was weak, awkward. I hadn't really paid much attention to it. Yet, when I learned to rely on it, something happened. It came through for me. Sure, it wasn't good at first, but I'd never asked it to wash dishes alone before. After learning what didn't work, we soon figured out what did. And then we did it again, then again, with lots of tasks and challenges. 

And, so it is with the people in our lives. We learn to expect what we expect without ever imagining that it might be different... that life might be different. 

Start looking at life differently. You might just find it's not what you expected; it's better. 

Read more at:  http://likemylife.homestead.com/creamoftartar.html

Photo credit: Heroes are made every day when we do what isn't expected; photo by JudyMae @ Carmi

What would you say to her?

"To give life a meaning,
one must have a purpose
larger than one's self."

~Will Durant

"I need to learn to live life to the fullest, so I need your help to give me things I should and should not do while living life."

I stared at this new email message in my LikeMyLife.com in-box.

Nothing.
I had no words of inspiration for this woman, this searching soul, who needed my help, my guidance. Nothing.

Why couldn't I answer her? For heaven's sake, I publish an inspirational website. If you google "living life to the fullest," my LikeMyLife.com website is ranked #1 out of 700,000 websites. I should know something about this.

Maybe I worry that what works for me won't work for her, or what I had to go through in living a full life is too much to ask of someone else. 

Maybe until this moment, I really haven't believed I was living my life to the fullest. Certainly, I was living my life at a dead run...too tired to care if it was "fullest" as long as it was "full." Still, there have to be some shared experiences we can all agree define fullness.

I try to have more good days than bad, more tears from happy moments than sad, more kind than hateful actions in a day, each day. But is that life at its "fullest?"

I know I soak myself in my children's interests and activities. I work passionately at causes I believe in, maybe too passionately at times. I fret when those who have refuse to give to those who don't have. But is that life at its "fullest?"

I know what My Lord asks of me and though I do many of those things right, I sometimes do things wrong. Am I still living life to the fullest when I fail to live life righteously?

So, tell me, what would you tell this woman? Really, I want you to comment here on the blog and tell me. She's asking you what she should do and not do in her life. What will you tell her?

I know my "ahhhhh" moment won't be the same as yours or as hers, but maybe, between you and you and you and me, we can inspire this young woman along a path of finding joy in the journey we call life.

Photo credit: Not sure who took this photo at Jen's wedding, but little Lily certainly seems to be living to the fullest.

Just a bit farther down the road

My new job has me traveling to new places, so my friends at my old job got me a TomTom as a going away present. Only problem is, if you don't have an address, the TomTom can't get you there.

I was headed to the Lawrence County Fairgrounds, so I called the office there to get directions. I scribbled some notes and headed north. I turned west as the directions indicated when I realized my notes were a little fuzzy about just how far I was supposed to go. Surely I can't miss a fairgrounds, I thought, so I kept going. . . and going . . . and going until I thought apparently you can miss a fairgrounds, so I turned around.

I watched both sides of the road, certain I would find a fairgrounds this time, and had faith until I drove all the way back into Lawrenceville.

I turned around again. And, again I started off and went as far as I thought I needed to go and stopped. With no fairgrounds in site, I called a coworker who gave me directions. Armed with knowledge, I returned to the path until I got to the point where my coworker said "if you get to here, you've gone too far." Somehow, I had missed it again.

Late beyond repair, I stopped at a house where a man was mowing his yard, and I asked for directions.

"You have to keep going," he said. "You've stopped too soon. The fairgrounds is farther down the road."

It was then I realized that the directions from my coworker were from HER house. I was coming from the opposite direction, so what was "too far" for her was only the beginning for me.

I had to keep going.
I stopped too soon.

How often do we do that? Stop too soon. Fail to take one more step. Fail to do the one last thing that will put us where we need to be. Fail to plot our course. We misinterpret signs and take the advice of friends who aren't where we are and aren't who we are, and we miss the place where we're supposed to be.

I got back in the car and drove, and then drove more, past the point where I had stopped before and there, just a little bit farther down the road, was the fairgrounds. It was there all the time just waiting for me to find it, claim it, enjoy it.

What is waiting for you, just a bit farther down the road?

Photo credit: Tyler Ackerman, CWCHS cross country runner who understands what it means to go just a little bit farther down the road. Sorry, can't remember if this was my photo or his mother's photo, but too good not to share!

Live Out Loud

For years, I've been a bystander of the Fourth of July.

After the divorce, the kids always spent the holiday with their father's family. I knew they enjoyed their cousins, so I never fussed over it. The first couple years, I would walk uptown to watch the fireworks display, but it just wasn't the same as before.

Fireworks are a "two-persons-minimum" event.

The beauty of fireworks isn't the spectacle in the sky; it's turning to the person next to you and saying "ahhhhhhhh" and "ooooooooh." You can't experience it the way it should be experienced by yourself. I tried, but without someone to interact with, I was merely a bystander, someone who, although present at something, didn't take part in it.
Lately, I've realized that, in many ways I've become a bystander of my life, present, but not taking part. I've become a spectator of my own game of life. I've let life dictate to me,  and I've just gone along for the ride.

It's time to stop.
It's time to actively choose where I go.
It's time to participate fully in the rest of my life.
It's time to go watch the Fourth of July Fireworks and Live Out Loud.

Photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman, 2010 Fourth of July Carmi Car Show

No mountain is climbed with one step

It isn't pretty to watch me run, but since both my kids run, I learned if I ever wanted to spend time with them, I needed to learn to run. So, I run.

I changed my course through town a few days ago. The final quarter mile includes a steep hill, and the first two days, I stopped running and walked to the top of the hill. It was just too much, too high, and I was just too tired. After all, I had already run over two miles and from the bottom of the hill, it was just too much.

Yesterday, I tried a new strategy. No, I didn't change my route. I didn't walk before getting to the hill.

I simply didn't look up.

I looked right at the sidewalk in front of my feet. Each step was simply the one step I needed to take to make it to the next step. And I did that over and over and over again ... until I made it to the top of the hill and over.

Now, nothing about me changed; I didn't suddenly drop 25 pounds. I didn't become a runner overnight in my sleep. I didn't take a magic pill. I simply changed my mental perspective on the task. I stopped looking at it as a whole, and started looking at it one step at a time. From the perspective of my feet, this stretch of road was no different than all the steps I had taken to get to this point. Just put one foot in front of another. And then, do it again. See you at the finish line.

There will always be time for one more thing

I have lost control.
I have allowed life to take over my life, and I did it without even putting up a good fight.

I'm beat; plain and simple, I am beat and ready to put some white undies on a stick and wave surrender, only I haven't done laundry in days, so there isn't a clean pair to be found. Henry Kissinger may have said "The urgent takes all the time from the important," but I'm living it.

When did I lose control? Has it been slipping away a bit at a time, or did some big catastrophe set my world wobbling? I'm not sure. All I do know is that when I heard the words "I'll be glad when my kids don't need me so much" came out of my mouth, you might as well have slapped me in the face.

Since when did I become so self important that anything became more important than what my children need from me at any moment?

I know it's been a tough week. Disappointments in my career, piled on top of scholarship deadlines for Wil, worked in around wedding planning with Jenny, added to an already ambitious work schedule has put me teetering on the edge of collapse (others would claim I've already tumbled over that edge with a mighty thud).

How selfish of me to complain and pout and throw a tantrum because my children needed more of me than I thought they should this week. One day they'll be busy with new lives they create, and I'll ache for the day they needed me, wanted me.

I taught about phytochemicals in nutrition this week, except I call them "fighting" chemicals. Each phytochemical gives fruits and vegetables their super-hero fighting powers. Just like Spiderman can weave a web and Superman has his x-ray vision, phytochemicals have secret powers that make them superheroes against disease.

So, I asked the third graders at NCO who their favorite superhero was.
"You," exclaimed one young lad.

Yep, I think there's still time tonight to proofread one more scholarship, check out one more wedding bouquet website and play superhero for a bunch of kids who just want someone to love them. Besides, clean underwear is really overrated.

The next time I wish my children's childhood away, you have permission to wash my mouth out with soap.

photo credit: By me of my two great kids! May you always be kids in my heart

There's an app for that

Sometimes life just slaps me in the face.
Today, it was a good slap.

Facebook, the online social networking service, operates a lot like the old party-line telephone. Pick up the phone at any time (or log on in the case of Facebook) and find out what your neighbor is doing, what friends they're talking to, or who's over for a visit. It's almost like being back in Green Acres. Sometimes, it seems as if you're peeking in the windows of your friends' lives.

You can play several "games" on Facebook. One lets you pretend to be a farmer. You "click" to plant and harvest crops, build barns, and more. Other games allow you to send "gifts" to friends, receive daily horoscopes, or answer quizzes about your friends.

So many of my Facebook friends play these games, their antics often clutter up my Facebook diary, but Facebook allows me to "hide" these game postings with a simple click of my mouse. Today, a friend posted her results from a game called "Gifts From God." As I went to hide this posting, a message popped up asking me to verify the action. The message stated "Are you sure you want to hide "Gifts From God?"

Wow.
How many of us do that every day; how many of us hide the gifts God has given us?
We fail to share the gifts of the spirit. We fail to find joy in little things. We fail to see the beauty of life around us. We fail to lift up our fellow human being. We fail to forgive and forget.

We fail and fail and fail again.
We fail to use our voice to lift up His goodness. We fail to give our wealth to the care of others. He fail to pray for our adversaries.

We choose complaining over comforting. We choose sarcasm over sympathy. We choose bickering over blessing. We choose self over sacrifice.

We choose to hide our "Gifts From God."

And, we choose it day after day after day until we forget we ever received any gifts. Stop hiding your gifts. I, for one, would like to see what God has given you to share. I'll be right here on the "other end of the party-line."

Photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman. Photo of Emily & Jenny, best friends who aren't afraid to share the gift of music God has given them. 

Calling it even

"Come Friday, we're even," the man said. "That's how I look at my job."

The man had worked for years and years at his job, and though the hours were often long and the pay was not so good, he said he picked up his pay check each Friday and considered his account even.

Square.
Paid in Full.

No matter how difficult the task may have been each week, in his mind, the check he received at the end of the week covered the debt. Each week, he marked the account paid in full and moved on.

Do you?
Or, do you, like me at times, look at your compensation for a job well done and complain that it isn't enough, complain that you aren't appreciated more, complain that the task was more than expected, complain that the glory doesn't equal the effort?

To make matters worse, each week we keep carrying that balance forward, adding a little more to the "what's owed us" column.

We will never be paid what we think we're worth. We can never be appreciated to the extent we think we should. Friends will never be as loving as we think they should. Traffic will never go as fast as we think it needs to.

Peace of mind can only come when we change what we think . . . 
. . . when we get to the end of the week and mark it even.
. . . when we get to the end of the day and balance the books with our friends and family.
. . . when we realize that give and take sometimes means giving more and taking less.

And when you're okay with that, you're finally okay with everything.

photo credit: Jenny Mae Bingman - Puerto Rican Parade, Chicago 2009 during American Idol Auditions

Living a life triumphantly unnoticed

I've struggled what to blog to note Wil's 18th birthday. I want a story that is uniquely Wil. As most moms have learned, you can raise your kids exactly alike; yet they still turn out to be different. So it has been with my two kids, and it seemed that what came easily for Jen, Wil sometimes struggled with. I recall vividly the night of Jen's eighth grade sports night where she came home loaded down with awards. It was the same day Wil found out he didn't make the cut for Little League (or one of those competitive baseball divisions). Still, as Jenny's biggest fan, he hid any disappointment he might have felt as he supported her triumphs.

I believe that is one of Wil's most endearing qualities; to be comfortable in his own skin, to not need fuss or attention or recognition, to work with no thought of reward. To be a Michael Collins.

In 1969, the Columbia Missourian newspaper interviewed Michael Collins, the third astronaut joining Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong, after their historic trip to the moon.


"While the world breathlessly watched and listened for the moon walk by Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, Mike Collins cruised in orbit overhead. His job was to undertake emergency action if something went wrong, or to pick them up from the lunar module for the return to Earth if everything went right.


"His great achievement -- his fondest hope -- is to be triumphantly unnoticed."


It is easy to become discouraged when the lion's share of the attention falls on one or two. Some folks seem made for attention. They thrive on it, work better in the midst of it. But all the attention in the world wouldn't have helped Neil Armstrong get back to earth if Michael Collins had decided to grab a little attention of his own and fly on home without him.

We need the Michael Collins in this world.

We need the Neil Armstrong's too, but too often, while the Armstrong's are retelling their stories to whomever will listen, the Collins' of the world are still out there plugging along, doing their work, "triumphantly unnoticed."

Sometimes we forget that.
Sometimes we forget how important the little things we do are to people. I teach nutrition to children every Wednesday and Thursday, and every time I walk into their classroom, little children run up, hug my belly and tell me how happy they are to see me.

Am I changing the world? No.
Am I changing theirs? Yes, and you can bet they change mine every Wednesday and Thursday.

I'll never be famous.
I will never be Neil Armstrong, and that's okay.

Wil's choice to join the military is just another example of the way he's lived his life all along, but his unselfish actions will never go unnoticed by his loving mother.  There is no greater compliment I hear than when people say "Wil's a good kid."

Happy Birthday to my Good Kid!

Promises to myself

The new year is always a good time for resolutions. I prefer to call them promises, promises I make to myself. Unlike many, though, my promises have remained the same for years, and I use the new year to remind me to be more kind to myself. Here they are if you also need reminding as well.

I will not let small, simple minds make me doubt my own worth or capabilties
I will not look to others for my strength.
I will not allow the size of my worries to determine the depth of my joys.
I will not throw away my belief in the goodness of humankind because of the cruelty of a few humans.
I will not expect miracles, but I will accept them.
I will not expect my children to act, think, respond or love like adults.
I will not cry in sorrow, only for joy.
I will not try to get even; who wants to be equal to an idiot.
I will not allow money to dictate my decisions.
I will not allow my problems to be an excuse for not helping others.

I will look upon the morning sunrise as if it were the last one I'd see for eternity.
I will believe in fairness, knowing it rarely, if ever, happens.
I will remind myself how lucky I am to have children who wear jeans to church (because at least they're going), who leave dirty clothes on the floor (because at least they came home that night) and who tell me I'm not being fair (because at least they asked for permission first).

I will do without and realize how much better I am without it.
I will marvel at how the world works and chuckle at those who think they discovered why.
I will remind my children that perfection is not their mother's desire.

And, I will look at this list whenever the world causes me to forget.

Photo credit: Jenny Mae Bingman

Be who you were born to be

When Ozzie Smith learned he had been chosen for the Baseball Hall of Fame, a TV reporter asked him why he had decided to play baseball. His reply was simple: "I played because it's what I was put here to do."

Oprah Winfrey said this: "That whisper you keep hearing is the universe trying to get your attention . . . When you're true to who you are and what your spirit is telling you to do, that truth will indeed set you free. . . . Wherever I'm faced with a difficult decision, I ask myself: What would I do if I weren't afraid of making a mistake, feeling rejected, looking foolish or being alone? Remove the fear, and the answer comes into focus."

I believe we spend a good part of our life running from what life asks of us (just as we spend a good part of our life running from what God asks of us). We're afraid saying "yes" means saying "no" to so many other things we've grown accustomed to. But peace, I believe, can only come when we're true to the life we were meant to live.

Martha Beck, in her book "Finding Your Own North Star," said, "Your body is free but your heart is in prison. To release your heart, you simply reverse the process which locked it up. First you begin to listen for messages from your heart--messages you may have been ignoring since childhood. Next you must take the daring, risky step of expressing your heart in the outside world. ... As you learn to live by heart, every choice you make will become way of telling your story. ... It is the way you were meant to exist. If you stop to listen, you'll realize that your heart has been telling you so all along."

A gift acknowledged

Ten years ago April 9 at 11 p.m., my mother called and said, "Brenda (my sister) has had a heart attack and she's going to die.

"You're the closest one to Kentucky, so you need to get there before she dies."

You don't forget calls like that. In shock I drove to Bowling Green, asking the toll booth attendant for directions to the hospital. Little did I know that one shock would lead to another for years to come. Brenda didn't die then, and for ten years, she fought a brave fight.

She was in and out of the hospital her last year, many times very critical, but each time she fought back. She had been approved as a heart transplant candidate, but the latest heart episode had taken its toll on my 56-year-old sister. She struggled to awake from the sedation, to breathe on her own, and regain her strength to stand, all pre-requisites for the transplant.

That Saturday found her finally coherent, trying to communicate with sign language, and for a moment, there was hope.

That Sunday, something went terribly wrong, resulting in her brain death.

I drove the six hours to Chicago to say goodbye before they shut off the machines which were keeping her heart beating and lungs breathing. We had learned so much on this journey of Brenda's illness, but our greatest lesson was yet to come.

Since she had no children,m her husband relied on "the sisters" to guide him. A representative of the "Life Goes On" organ donation organization quietly asked us if we knew if Brenda had ever spoken of being an organ donor. I had never asked her, and she had never said. The decision, it seemed, was up to us, but how could we decide something so important without knowing for sure. Finally, we agreed that since we had been willing to get someone else's heart to keep Brenda alive, it seemed only fair that we be willing to share what Brenda no longer needed to keep someone else alive. Yes, we would donate Brenda's organs, but little did we know what that would require of us. .... There's so much more to this story, and I hope you'll click over to read it all at A Sister's Love.

The real point of today's blog is this (I know; took me long enough to get there): we received a letter from the young woman who received one of Brenda's kidneys, and she is living life with new hope, thanks to Brenda's final gift. She spoke of her renewed strength, and, I wrote back about the woman who gave her that second life. I closed with this: "We wish you only happiness and health in the future. I hope your family treasures you as much as Brenda's treasured her. If so, you'll have all the love you'll ever need."

If you'd like to give the gift of life, make your intentions known at www.LifeGoesOn.com. Don't leave that decision to your sisters!