Accountability
Hello, Lemonader’s!
This is the last post of my Goal Post Series and I am grateful you have taken this journey with me! I’ve liked having a theme for the month. Do you? If so, let me know in the comments so I can plan more themed parties for us!
The last piece of the puzzle is Accountability. This is a new one for me, but I have so many goals that I wanted to report to someone so my goals wouldn’t get lost in the melee of my big, beautiful life. At the end of my list of Promises I added one more new category: Giddy-Up Goal Celebrations.
I wanted to be able to celebrate all of my small wins and be encouraged in my journey. I ended up with 4 accountabilities (of course, you can have as many or as little as you like). I have a Podcast Accountability group with two other awesome women that keep me on track with my podcasting goals. We meet via Skype every Tuesday. I have a Book-Writing Accountability team member who we simply email each other every Wednesday on our progress and encourage each other. I have a Speech accountability that I do every Thursday with guess who? Myself! And last, but definitely not least, I “hired” my best friend, Lizzie to check in with me monthly and then quarterly on my entire goal list.
And guess what? She is making me a gold star chart! How cool is that? She is most definitely a mom and wanted to make some sort of chart to show my progress and we giggled about gold stars, but then thought…why the heck not? It will be fun and you can bet I’ll be fighting for each of those earned gold stars!!
Goals are great. Goals written down are in a much higher percentile to actually happen and get accomplished. Goals that you have to report back to someone?? Over 90%, baby! I’m adding this element to rock my Promises this year!
And there you have it…4 blog posts on Dreaming Big, Reflection, Bite-Size Chunks, and Accountability. Now get out there and get ‘er done! I believe in you!
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Who I Am
Who I AmLearning to Sleep in the Bed that I MadeNo TV. Ok, well I do own a TV and am honestly a huge movie buff with lots of movies and some sitcoms, but I do not have a cable network of any kind. No channels. No commercials. Been that way for over 20 years now. I still get hooked on sitcoms! I owned every season of Gilmore Girls and if Agents of Shield has a season on DVD, I’ve bought it and watched it in marathon order over a couple of weeks (if it lasts that long).My current addiction is Arrow. In a recent episode I learned the origins of the character, Felicity Smoak. (Third Season in case any of you are Arrow buffs, too) While it wasn’t anything too horrific…think Bimbo mom and illegal computer hacking stuff, it was something that she was embarrassed and ashamed of.One of the point’s I’d like to make is that we all have things in our past that we are both embarrassed or ashamed of. The first of those are the decisions that we have no control over. Felicity did not choose her mom or her circumstances growing up. The second are decisions we make that may cause shame as we see them as mistakes or just plain ugly bad choices. In Felicity’s example it was creating a super crazy computer virus from her college hacker days and nearly spending her life in prison.But where is she now? Working for a millionaire dude (who’s handsome and sexy by the way) and The Arrow as a computer genius who is calm under pressure, knows her stuff inside and out, and has made herself indispensable. She is also friendly and is loved by just about everyone who meets her (except the bad guys, of course).Which brings me to my second point. Her upbringing and her so-called “mistakes” brought her to this part of her life. Her life is not without mistakes now and it’s not perfect, but those life experiences made her who she is today. They shaped her into the woman she has become.Your life up to this point has made you who you are today. Right now in this present moment. Who are you? Where did you come from and where are you going? I’ve been pondering a lot about this lately in my own life.This is WHO I WAS:
I believe my upbringing was pretty darn good. My mom taught me to choose the right and how to be strong. She showed me that she was human and made mistakes like everyone else. I learned to ride horses, ride a bike, and do good in school. I loved to read and compete in spelling bees! In unfortunate typical fashion, my parents were divorced when I was 11 and my mom re-married a wonderful man with 5 boys. As per usual in most divorced families, it’s just tough. Tough to figure out your identity, tough to reconcile your mom and dad not being together. Tough to adjust to doubling your family size and learning to get along with not only 2 brothers, but 7! (It’s just a flat out miracle that mom was never committed to a looney bin. She gets huge props for that.).Imagine 9 kids; 7 boys and 2 girls all under the age of 11. I know I had it tough, but my mom and step-dad are down-right saints in my book. We were all on the local swim team and all of us did some kind of sports. I remember doing basketball for 6 years, soccer for 3 and swim team for 3. I was also in the band with a killer marching ensemble for parades and half-time shows. My parents did the best they could and honestly, even though I might not have agreed with my mom and dad’s “parenting skills” (what child does??) if I had followed their advice, my life would have turned out better than the decisions I made for myself.The rest is all me. I made my bed and I laid in it. Every good and bad decision was up to me. It still is. I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve learned that I love to work outside the home. I love the challenge of new opportunities. I’ve been a property manager, an Ombudsman to a Naval Ship during the 9/11 conflict, worked for the Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society, made burgers as the Drive-Thru Queen of Burger King (age 18, cut me some slack for that one), lasted one whole week at Taco Bell, sold MaryKay and Pampered Chef, and yes, even the dreaded Amway for a spell. I’ve owned my own business for a lot of years and was even a stay-at-home mom 9 years straight which was the hardest “job” I’ve ever had in my life.I’ve been married more than a few times with the common denominator of failure always being me in those relationships. My two older kids are no doubtedly scarred for life due to my inability to have, find, and keep good marriage relationships. While it is not an easy thing to talk about or simply admit, it is most definitely part of my past that made me who I am today.This is WHO I AM:
I am in a beautiful marriage relationship with my best friend and hero, Eddy. He has given me a safe place to grow and learn about myself and who I have the potential to become. I will forever be indebted to him.I love to sing. I like to knit and hate to scrapbook. I love riding my mountain bike and I love to cook. I like making my house feel like a home where anyone that comes in will feel comfortable and at ease. I stink at keeping green things alive. Many a plant has died at my hands over the years. I love to read Louis L’amour and I love to watch action movies and chick flicks. I love to speak with people and connect with them. I love the mountains, but don’t much care for the beach.I believe in God and love my church family because they show love to me unconditionally. I am a WFPB health crusader (yes, I eat plants and yes, I get enough protein). I have two dogs that are sweet as pie. They are both black and both boys. It seemed only fair as I have three daughters and my hubby was the only testosterone representative in the house. I love making goals and then checking them off my list. Did I mention I was a list-maker? I LOVE LISTS! The best part of my lists is marking the things off I’ve accomplished.Some of my favorite things are freshly cleaned sheets, new pillows, the sound of the dishwasher or dryer running, Kelly Rae Roberts, my courtyard fountain, the smell of jasmine in full bloom, Brooks Cascadia trail-running shoes, and getting packages in the mail.This is WHO I AM BECOMING:
First and foremost, I am always working on being more kind and being of service. First to my husband and children, then my neighbors and then my community and ultimately the world. I’m also working on being more cheerful and not complaining so much about bad drivers. 🙂I’ve recently started collecting pull-over hoodies…don’t know if that trend will stick, but it seemed worth mentioning.I want to learn how to pop a wheelie on my mountain bike. I want to replace the rest of my VHS tapes with DVD’s. I want to take a trip to Whistler and ride some killer trails up there. I want to find out who my Gram’s biological parents were as she was adopted at age 5.I want to write a book, public speak to women who need a confidence boost and power uplift in their lives. I want to do a weekly podcast starting in February of 2016 to support these same women to help them believe they are capable of more than they think.I just had to highlight this last paragraph in orange because I’ve accomplished it since I wrote this post in October of 2015. My book came out in 2018 and the podcast is now over 2 years old – go me! I would like to do more speaking to women, but I have done that as well. Setting goals is oh so important! Party in the house right now after reading this again!!!Oh, and I want to own a Model X Tesla…
Please comment below and tell me some things you already know about yourself. Be proud!
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Rising From the Ashes with Renewed Hope
2013 FireOut of the Ashes We Can Find Hope
This story of hope begins in 2013, when our county experienced a terrible fire. We were evacuated from our homes on a moment’s notice. The picture you see below with billowing orange smoke bombs was taken from my friends camera as we stopped to look back, perhaps for the last time on our neighborhood. I remember calling my mom while sitting in the long line of cars trying to leave and telling her of the situation. She expressed concern and told me to stay safe, but when I sent her that picture, she freaked out! It’s a lesson learned on how pictures speak louder than words. My husband and I truly thought that our home would be gone and that we would be starting from scratch. At the time, it just didn’t matter. I had just driven out of there with flames on the side of the road consuming trees that were 100 feet tall. I was alive, he was alive, I had rescued our kitties and our daughter had been at school. All was well as far as I was concerned.
This particular fire burned hot and fast. It consumed everything in its path and in the end burned over 24,000 acres from a little valley, crossing the mountain range and ending at the ocean. Everything was black, sad and black. The smell of smoke and ash would be our constant companion for weeks. Words could not describe what we saw. We had people come drive out to see us and not truly get what had happened until they saw it for themselves. It is now just over two years as I write this and our beautiful mountains still carry the scars of this fire.
The firefighters were the true heroes of the day. They miraculously saved our entire housing community. They had used our hose as our house faces a hill that was burned. A tree was knocked down by a fire truck. Trees surrounding the outskirts of the neighborhood were singed and blackened from the fire, but every home was safe. How was that possible? I saw the fire as I left. I saw the crazy big flames and felt the heat so hot that I had to roll up my car windows to not feel like I was getting burned. I had zero hope.
(Our housing surrounded by blackened hills)As I look back, I’ve likened this very physical and temporal experience to a spiritual battle I had in my own life. So much is the same. The darkness was real and hope was not on my radar. Not so much as a little blip on the screen. When I read the saying that someone had “temporarily turned the light off at the end of the tunnel”, I could completely relate. (Stay with me now, because I found that silly little light-switch to turn on my own light!)Now, unlike the fire, I have no one to blame but myself. I made choices that brought me to that tunnel without a supposed light and had removed myself so far out there that my radar was actually damaged and couldn’t see that blip that turns out, was just hiding, not gone. Part of my lesson was realizing that I didn’t know how dark things had become. When you make wrong choices, consistently over a long period of time, they become your reality. My tunnel light had not been turned off, but there was so much smoke I had created that it just wasn’t visible to me anymore.My dark choices will not be the same as yours. We all have our own enemies to fight so I won’t bore you with the details of my battles, but I did win this particular war. The only way to win the war is to do exactly the opposite of what got you there to begin with. In my case, that meant not making decisions on my own. If I had tried to battle our physical fire around our homes I would have lost! I did not have the skills or expertise in that field. Everyone would have suffered the loss of their homes. The firefighters were the experts. I needed an expert in life. That meant turning to my spiritual power of prayer and getting on my knees and begging God to help me. He was my firefighter and I needed all of his expertise and knowledge of life to help me fight. All of my choices had brought me to that place…dark, lonely, afraid, sorely sad, and just plain miserable. Surely God could help me make better decisions than the ones I had been making.And indeed he did. It took some time, but I am grateful for my experiences I have had in my life. They have made me who I am today. Just like our mountains, I carry the scars from those days, but I believe, “A mended heart is stronger”. They remind me see that if I can make it…anyone can! I truly mean that with all my heart and soul. Ladies, if I can make it…so can you!Some people see the fires that burn hot and fast, while others experience a slow burn, but my goal in writing this blog today is to give you hope. Hope that you can become a magical electrician and wire your own switch for a light at the end of your tunnel. Hope that you see the sun and feel the warmth on your skin and in your soul. Hope that you find a flashlight along the way. Hope that your friend can loan you a flashlight until you can locate yours. Hope that out of your darkness and ashes, you rise like the fabled Phoenix to start again, renewed and strengthened for your journey ahead. Because once you are on that path, you need to loan your flashlight to others who can’t see their light and help them on their journey.Yours in Hope and Positivity…#makelemonade -
A Letter to My Gram
A Letter to My GramBeing Sad and MadOur name for her was “Gram”. She was my mother’s mother who was born September 3rd, 1926 and adopted from an orphanage in Los Angeles when she was 5 years old. Her adoption records are sealed and so we might never know who her birth parents were, but the couple that adopted her were ever so kind and she grew up with loving parents in a beautiful home with lots of opportunities.
She married, had four children, two girls and then two boys with a big gap between the girls and boys. For example, my uncle was in kindergarten when I was born and he had to bring something to class that started with the letter ‘B’. He brought me because I was a baby! She had a love for horses, dogs, and cats and made the best snickerdoodles you ever tasted. She always had cars that were fast and usually red even though she didn’t drive them fast. She didn’t have a lot to say, but I loved it when she laughed.
Her house was always neat as a pin. We visited her more often as children and she always came to our house for Christmas bringing McDonald’s gift certificates for all of us. I have pictures of her at a few special occasions such as my 8th grade graduation and when I was first married. I remember meeting her for lunch at the Smorgy or The Depot in Oroville, CA for lunch.She was not what I would call a playful grandma like my mother is now for her grandchildren. In truth, it is because my Gram was not very involved that I believe my mother has been so determined to be in her grandchildren’s lives and is doing an incredible job…she makes me exhausted! Being a new Gram myself, I appreciate her efforts even more.This last Sunday morning I received news that my Gram had passed away. I was surprised that I was sad. I was more surprised that I was mad. Over the last 15 or so years, my Gram had alienated every single one of her family members and any friends she may have had.I am mostly sad over the years that were already lost. I am mad that she let this happen. I am confused because I simply don’t understand it all. I’ve sent birthday cards every year, emailing her on her birthday as well. I sent Christmas cards, all with no response.There will not be a funeral, no one would come. She pre-paid to be cremated and have her ashes spread over the fields where some wild horses roam around the place she last lived.In the wake of her passing the last few days, I have thought much about the circumstances that brought her to such a sad place. How awful it must have been to lead such a small and selfish life. It also got me thinking about all the good she brought into this world.She was an excellent mother to her children. She sewed beautiful dresses for my mom and aunt. She took them on camping trips and supported them in all they did. My aunt had excellent advice to remember her how she was and not who she became. On that note, I add a story she wrote to her granddaughters when I was 12 years old. It shows how much she cared in those days to be a wonderful Gram.
She was my last living grandparent. I am her first grandchild and oldest granddaughter. I am here because she lived. I am grateful for her love of life in her younger years. I am grateful for her quiet moments. I am grateful for the afghan she crocheted for me. I am grateful for a couple pieces of jewelry she thought to give me about 20 years ago. I am grateful for her talent in the kitchen and what I hope I have inherited of her talent for storytelling.Thank you for being patient as I write this on my blog this week. I promise to have some more uplifting thoughts next week, but such as in life, there are ups and downs. Please take a moment after reading my Gram’s little story, The Day My Dolls Danced, and get in touch with someone you haven’t talked to in much too long. You know who it is…please do it. Leave a mark…no, leave a legacy.May 13, 1983To my sweet granddaughters: Lauri, Holly, Heather & Sarah.In this, the Springtime of your lives, may you still enjoy a fairytale.Much love from your “Gram”THE DAY MY DOLLS DANCED
It had been a long and busy day but the house sparkled and the clothes were washed and put away. There was an apple pie fresh from the oven, warm and spicy, for special dessert that evening. There was some time left before I needed to start dinner so I decided to take a little rest. I went into my bedroom, took off my shoes, closed the drapes and lay down on the bed.As I always do before closing my eyes, I looked at each of my little dolls, 14 in all, that stood on the shelf above my vanity. There was another larger doll that stood on the vanity. They were all dressed elegantly in long gowns of pink, blue, green, yellow, and lavender and I had given each of them a name; Jasmine from Japan, Heidi from Holland, my Irish girl Colleen, Cherie from France, Ann from Israel. Joining them were Leah, Honey, April, Sarah, Shirley, Lauri, Heather, Sunshine, Holly and my tall Southern Belle – Elaine. They were my little girls, dainty and sweet and beautiful.My eyelids grew heavy and just as I was drifting off to sleep I heard faint tapping sounds coming from where my dolls stood on the shelf. To my astonishment, the tiny ladies had come to life and are taking off their shoes! I wondered if perhaps I were dreaming but I lay very still and waited to see what would happen next.After each girl had removed her shoes she placed them side-by-side in the exact place that she stood on the shelf. Then one-by-one they tiptoed to the ends of the shelf and let themselves down the turned posts on either side of the mirror to the vanity below. Each girl in turn went to a small cart of silk flowers that stood on the table, selected a flower that matched the color of her gown, and laid it at the feet of Elaine, as though she were their queen. Elaine smiled and nodded to each lady in acceptance of their tributes.After their acknowledgement to their queen, the girls became carefree and playful, darting among the bottles of perfume and playing hide-and-seek with one another. While they were occupied with their games, I very quietly turned on my radio to music that seemed to match their bright spirits. They were startled and seemed almost fearful at the sound. Then, quite suddenly, my vanity became their stage and I was about to become an audience of one at a Ballet of the Dolls!Their tiny bodies moved with charm and grace and their joy at dancing was reflected in the sweetness of their faces. I was completely absorbed in the performance when suddenly, outside, a dog barked rudely. The dancing ended abruptly and the little ladies glanced my way, but I stayed very still. I was hoping they would decide it was safe to continue to dance, but the spell was broken. They scurried to put everything back into proper order. One-by-one, they returned to their Queen Elaine, curtsied and picked up the flowers and put them back in the cart, then made their way up the turned posts to the shelf. Each girl returned to her own pair of shoes, slipped them on, smoothed her gown and hair, smiled sweetly at their queen, then became motionless once again.Quietly I turned off the radio and marveled at the sight I had just been privileged to see, and hope that sometime I will see them come to life and play and dance on my vanity once again. Perhaps I had just dreamed the whole interlude. It would be quite fantastic to see dolls come to life and dance on the vanity. It must have been my imagination working overtime.Several days passed and one evening as I prepared for bed, I noticed a tiny object lying on my vanity. I picked it up and discovered that it was a shoe! I was very excited because I realized that I hadn’t been dreaming and it wasn’t my imagination and that my little ladies did really come to life after all! I laid the tiny shoe carefully on the shelf above, turned off the light and went to bed. I wondered if, perhaps, they would dance this night.The next day was house-cleaning time and as I reached up to dust the shelf where my girls stood, the little shoe was not there! I carefully picked up each doll and to my amazement, their shoes were all on their feet! They had indeed come to life and danced again while I slept. I felt a little sad that I hadn’t seem them. However, my ladies had known that once I had watched them dance and play, for as I turned to dust my radio, there, lying on the top was a lovely silk flower, a gift from my little girls!
