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.

The wind has changed

I feel as if I'm Mary Poppins.

Remember that moment when the children first heard that Mary Poppins was leaving. She turned to them and said "I only promised to stay until the wind changes."

Well, the wind has changed. . . in my life and in the life of the 4-H program where I've had the honor of playing a real-life Mary Poppins.

I had the best job in the world. I got to spend most of my time having fun with kids, and along the way, got to see them grow and excel and mature and become better than they ever thought they could be.

With a spoon full of sugar, the kids completed tasks and grew a little taller while they did it. They helped others with their tuppence or two and learned to think about what others needed before they worried about what they wanted. Along the way I met some of my best friends who weren't above jumping into some sidewalk-chalk adventures with me. 

I left the office Friday evening knowing that there is a favorable wind blowing now in White County 4-H, and if everyone continues to think the best before assuming the worst, think of others before thinking of themselves, think twice before bickering over the unimportant, then things will be just fine. My only request is that you continue to give all you have to keep the wonderful program thriving in White County.

As for me, I'm ready for the next step in my life. Haven't got a clue where that will lead me yet, but oh the fun it will be finding out.  My umbrella's open and I've caught a favorable wind.

Photo credit: Wil Bingman in Chicago

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