You get to define what success looks and feels like for you – which means you also must decide what will get you from here to there.
Those considered great among us can confirm that their success required (and requires) sacrifice – even when they make it look easy.
So what are you willing to sacrifice in the short term to see that vision or goal become your permanent reality? How will you be a better steward of your purpose or dream?
As I continue to “bake” a new book – and prepare a few surprises for readers friends along the way – it is requiring some sacrifice.
Less TV time and limited hangout time, just for a season. Earlier morning risings. Deeper dwelling in my “writing cave.”
Additional quiet time to reflect, brainstorm and be. (For writers, this is part of the process.)So if you have a writer in your life, grant us some grace if you see us staring off in space or at a blank wall. We’re creating!
And for everyone else moving in your flow, don’t apologize for needing to shut things down for a while. Your results will someday offer clarity on your behalf. Stay the course, and win in your own way.
Nothing can trump my love of being near water, but being in the mountains is a close second.
A recent weekend visit to Carter’s Mountain in Charlottesville didn’t disappoint, and in the days to come, I’ll enjoy some of the fruit of my efforts – handpicked apples that I mostly pulled from trees myself.
The pic below was taken before my bag was full, but I left the mountain with it bulging with some delicious apples and a few gems for life.
For what we choose to fill our bags with can both feed us and fuel us. No one gets the mix right 100 percent of the time – my sweet tooth wins more often than it should. However, just enough filling of goodness, wisdom, love and hope can add weight and substance in our life’s favor.
What will you fill your proverbial bag with today? This week?
I’m throwing in some creative juices for my writing,
some sneakers for the miles I want to walk,
some generosity and fun for myself and my loved ones,
some courage to push past fear and take a few more risks,
some prayer for those who are grieving or angry with the world,
and some kindness and grace for all I encounter.
Be intentional. Make sure you enjoy filling the “bags” you’ll carry along your way.
You’ll be more likely to find them weighed down with blessings and lessons you won’t mind holding onto.
A friend and I have been challenging each other to get things done this fall, and to take baby steps, if necessary.
We check in once a week with a reminder to devote at least 30 minutes that day to our goal.
No matter how busy I am that day, can I fit in at least 30 minutes of creative writing? And can she accomplish an art-related task or project for at least half an hour?
We both are certainly devoting more time throughout the week to our endeavors, but this check-in at the start of each week is a helpful reminder that if we put our minds to it, we can do it.
Encouragement and climbing together matter.
Consider finding yourself a challenge partner – one who won’t stress you out or condemn you on the days you falter – someone whose gentle belief in you will help you believe in your dreams all the more.
You’ve got this – one step, half-hour commitment, or day at a time.
If you are of a certain age, you’re among the many of us who have a September 11, 2001 “Where were you?” story.
Mine involved focusing on things that have long mattered most to me:
striving to be a caring mother
striving to be a courageous storyteller
intentionally using my words to make a difference.
That day was my first day back at work as a newspaper reporter, after a 12-week maternity leave.
I’d placed my infant son in his babysitter’s arms and dropped off my daughter at a nearby preschool, and was settling at my desk just before 8 a.m. in the quiet newsroom.
Suddenly, a photographer ran past me and yelled to turn on the TV – a plane had hit one of the Twin Towers in New York City. Then a friend called to welcome me back and to share that she’d just seen live news reports about the plane crash. Together, we watched as a second plane hit the second tower, and we knew the world had changed.
After reminding myself that both of my kids were in good care, with people who loved them and would keep them safe, I did what journalists do – went right into reporter mode, knowing that I’d have to somehow help make sense of this madness for residents of Central Virginia and beyond.
Within the hour, I was driving down a winding road south of the city to visit a local mosque. Despite growing fears for safety in the wake of the terrorists attacks, the Imam (spiritual leader) trusted me enough to let me inside the building, which was teeming with young children, because it doubled as a daycare and preschool.
There was mayhem. The phones kept ringing with death threats, frightened parents showed up to pick up their children and the Imam sought to keep everyone calm.
I saw fear and hurt in his eyes, both over the tragedy that had occurred in our nation and over the need to defend himself and the Muslims he knew and loved. He requested that I use my news article to remind people that not all Muslims are terrorists and that he, too, was grieving.
On my drive back to the Richmond Times-Dispatch newsroom, the radio waves were eerily silent and my cell phone wouldn’t work. I returned to learn from colleagues about the attack at the Pentagon and the crash of another plane that was believed to be headed to Washington, D.C.
I sat at my desk and wrote about the Imam’s plea for people to look past ethnicity and into hearts, and not to harm Americans who looked him or those in his spiritual care because of the hateful and evil acts of others – acts he also denounced.
That conversation with him, and witnessing the distress at the mosque that day, led me to write a year-long series of newspaper columns about people of various faiths – Muslims, Quakers, Sikhs, Buddhists, Christians and more – and to use their personal journeys to educate readers about the principles of each religion, so that perhaps we could really “see” our neighbors, colleagues and strangers and find some common ground.
What my readers (and I ) discovered through my columns is that regardless of the different commandments, laws and practices of the various faiths, the primary mandate of absolutely ALL of them is to LOVE, and to use love as a guide to honor God, live peaceably with others and flow positively through this world.
Sometimes love must be giving.
Sometimes love must be sacrificial.
Sometimes love sets boundaries.
All of the time love can heal and produce hope.
This isn’t as easy at it sounds, of course, which is why people of faith are always “practicing” their faith. But leading with love never fails and never goes out of style.
Twenty years later, as we remember this significant and painful day of loss and fear, may we also remember the love that followed in the aftermath. And may we continue striving to look past what we see on the surface and give others’ hearts a chance, while having the courage to share our own.
On this Labor Day, may we find some time to pause, breathe, reflect and reset.
In doing so, perhaps we can lean into what we love about having the opportunity to work and the opportunity to live with purpose.
Regardless of whether our life’s purpose intersects with our day-to-day work, I imagine that one feeds off of the other – with our job providing the resources and space we need to execute our life’s calling, and our calling being shored up and reflected in the formal work we do consistently.
So today, my challenge to you is to be grateful for your opportunities to live, work and be.
In doing so, you contribute to your own wellbeing and that of your loved ones, while in many instances also fostering greater good in the world around us.
Whatever kind of work you do, it matters, especially during a pandemic that has significantly altered over the past two years what formal work looks and feels like, and perhaps has led you to set aside your hopes and dreams.
Today, pick them back up.
Consider what pushes you forward even when you’re tired,
what wakes you up before the alarm sounds,
what brings you joy, in season and out.
That thing called purpose won’t be fickle, and when you recognize it and honor it, neither will you.
Do the work to discover the work you were born to do, then give it your all. And even if you’re in a season of retirement or between formal jobs, explore and discover how this new phase or next chapter still can be deeply meaningful.
Someone asked me recently why I routinely see life’s proverbial glass as half-full – especially at times when the tug to focus on half-empty is just as strong.
I don’t have an elaborate, philosophical reason; and the truth is we all have bad days, sad days and the like. This is what makes us imperfectly human, and I’m right there with you.
I’ve learned through living, however, that our journey is what we make it, and the hours we’re given each day can be eaten up with negativity or treated as the treasures they are.
I’ve had a sister survive a double lung transplant, friends survive a devastating fire and several others surmount cancer. I’ve lost loved ones, tangible treasures and valuable opportunities. This has ingrained in me to take no one and nothing for granted. And through it all, I’ve kept my eyes on what’s most important – powerful lessons learned, deeper relationships with those who remain, a stronger sense of self, beautiful surprises and unexpected blessings.
I’ve also remembered that God loves me most, and clung to choices that make my heart smile.
Those things are my “whys” and they drive me to keep seeking joy on my journey, appreciating the simple aspects of each day, and serving others with my gifts and personal passions.
What drives you or lights your way?
Give this question some serious thought, and when the answer comes, embrace it. Honor your “whys” and you’ll walk in the power of being a unique and necessary gift to this world.