Fight for what's right

I am enjoying Oprah’s lifeclass. I’ve never been a die-hard Oprah fan. This format works so much better for me than the talk show. It allows me to “do my own therapy.” And for me, therapy is a lifelong process. I have seen roughly 20 therapists. And my experiences with them run the gamut of good, bad, and ugly. Not all therapists are good. I don’t know how you tell the good from the not good, other than to quote Oprah when she talks about that little voice in your head that says, “hmm, something just isn’t right.” If you sense that something isn’t right about your therapist, listen to your gut.

If your therapist ticks you off, that is not necessarily bad. In retrospect, those who were not brave enough to take a risk did not help me. I’m not paying someone to tell me I’m right. I want to know where I’m wrong, where my blindspots are, and what patterns I’m stuck in that are not for my best. My best therapist took time to get to know me. She gave me homework and suggested resources I could investigate on my own to learn more. She didn’t label me or allow me to label myself. Although we are both Christian, she didn’t use “shoulds” in the sessions or preach to me.

My worst therapists either looked at me like a bug under a microscope with no emotion, slapped me with their version of the truth in a harsh, non-empathetic way, or weren’t smart or brave enough to tell me I was allowing myself to be victimized by an unsafe person. One said words to the effect of “well, if you can’t afford to change it, you can learn to accept it.” Ok, time for big, bold letters.

Anyone who tells you to accept disrespectful treatment should not be giving you advice! Do NOT accept that. It’s wrong, lazy, and damaging. (wow that felt good!)

Yes, there are therapists who damage people with their ignorance. And, I’m sorry to say so, but just because the person is a priest, minister, PhD, or “relationship expert” does not mean that person is qualified. Anyone can still be misguided, sick, deluded, on drugs, or just plain messed up.

I know so many people who are unhappy and could benefit from good therapy. But they don’t know whom to trust. I always seem to want more for them than they want for themselves. Now I will happily tell them about Oprah’s lifeclass. And it’s free. She asks good questions and encourages people to seek their own answers. Like a good therapist. You go Lady O. I love what you are doing!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

I have had not one, but three "clairvoyant" experiences lately. They all had to do with death. How's that for a day brightener? Two were ex boyfriends. In each case, the friend of the ex popped into my head and we made contact just in time for me to find out my ex had recently passed away. For some reason, God wanted me to know. Frederee had the same sense of upcoming events. She would call me and say "you've just been on my mind...is there a reason?" And there usually was.

In each case, I watched a mental movie of my relationship with the person who passed. In one case, I saw my own behavior and didn't feel very good about it. My lesson learned is that I could have been more gracious. In the other case, I realized that I developed the strength to turn loose anything or anyone that drags me down. (I must credit Frederee again for that phrase)

It has become a theme in my life -- saying no to disrespect and abuse. There is so much confusion on this topic, especially among women. A friend asked me why I, as a believer, was unforgiving toward the ex who abused me. The question surprised me, and then I wondered why, as women, we are often too forgiving and willing to reconcile only to find ourselves abused again. I told her that forgiveness and reconciliation are two different things. Unforgiveness is harboring pain and anger. Reconciliation is giving my trust again. Why would you give your trust to someone who has proved untrustworthy? Especially someone who tries to make you feel guilty for respecting yourself? Someone who tears you down? That's the work of the bad guy, not God.

I'm not saying my ex was the devil. But he allowed dark forces to work in him, and he was trying to drag me there too. Dimming my light made him feel better about himself. He wanted to feel powerful. He wanted to keep me tied to him out of fear and insecurity. My "self" was a threat to him, and made him scared that he would lose me.

I don't hate him. I just opted out of the game. There was no way to have a healthy relationship with him. So I did what he most feared -- I broke up with him. He responded by stalking me, trash-talking me, and putting himself in my space with other women on his arm. Even years later he called my sister and tried to get her to convince me to let him back in my life. All of those behaviors confirmed that he was not someone I wanted in my life.

Now he's gone. I feel a humane concern for his loved ones. But I don't feel any personal loss. I went through that many years ago.

I'm grateful for the lessons I learned from that experience. I can say "no" to disrespect and abuse. Even if it means ending a relationship, being publicly trashed, or leaving a job without finding another one. I've heard all the backlash -- "quitter," "not Christian," and "not the person I thought you were." I made mistakes too. I never belonged on a pedestal as a role model. But these are my demons, and this is my life. Look at the plank in your own eye, and so will I. What's really sad is that those who throw the most stones are usually victims themselves. They don't understand that they have choices. The battle cry of my life is that you always have a choice. Don't choose to be a victim. Choose to be a victor.

The greatest commandment is to love God and love one another. Love yourself too. And it's okay to love some people from a safe distance.

Frederee said "the way to get respect is to give it." Nice when it works, and it's a good effort. I say that you never earn someone's respect by accepting disrespectful treatment. Bullies want to know what you're made of. If you give them your power, they will take it and use it like a whip. That is not of God. Respecting yourself and others is of God. It's okay to respectfully detach. God will help you through the backlash. And, when you look in the mirror, you will see someone strong and worthy of respect -- a glorious creation.

Frederee and “The Help”

I wrote a blog about my relationship with Frederee, who worked for my family as a domestic, and a friend suggested I read “The Help.” I did and I loved it. I also just saw the movie. It brought up a lot of thoughts and feelings for me.

Meaning no disrespect to my parents—my closest relationship was with Frederee. She was my rock. Was my mom too burned out to raise me? Was the fact that my parents’ marriage was troubled the issue? I’ll never know. But I bet Frederee knew. She never told me. She just filled the gap—with love, attention, laughter, and home cooking. She didn’t have to. She chose to. And our relationship lasted well beyond her working years. We were close until she passed away at age 95.

“The Help” tells the story of working as a domestic from the maids’ point of view. It made me wonder what Frederee’s hopes and dreams were and why she chose what she called “domestic work.” What was her school life like? I bet she made good grades. Did she want to go to college? What factors drove her choices? Did she feel that she had choices? I wonder these things more than what her job was like for her. I think she could have been like Oprah. She was interested in people, had a way of getting to the heart of a matter, she could lead, and she was decisive. She didn’t take any crap, but she was not combative. She said the way to earn respect was to give it. And she could sing. I think she would have been a marvelous actress. Or talk show host. Or CEO. Or all of them.

Did she settle? Many people do, like Jimmy Stewart in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” You get the cards God gives you and play them the best you can. Just like the guitar player who lays tile, the interior decorator who works as an administrative assistant, the singer who teaches, and the songwriter who writes book descriptions. Did we settle? Did we get in our own way? Were we happy with our Plan B?

I don’t know what Frederee felt her choices were. She said she felt blessed, that she enjoyed her work, and she had a wonderful life. My mom was good to her. Her job was relational. She wasn’t rich, but she bought her own home. She invested her life in mine. Much of who I am came from her leadership, advice, encouragement, admonishment, and the role model that she was. She was my Oprah before Oprah became a household name.

“The Help” included many points of view, including the perspective of the child raised by a maid. Through my eyes, Frederee was not an employee, she was my family. When a boy in my class made a disparaging remark about “black people,” I got in his face. I think Frederee was family to my mom too. They used to play the piano and sing together. When my mom got sick following my parents’ divorce, Frederee stayed by her side in the bedroom and held my mom’s hand while she cried. She continued to work for my mom after I moved away and there were no kids in the house. Frederee retired after my mom remarried. She said, “I can retire now that I got you married off.” And Frederee was with my mom in the hospital a few days before my mom passed. Frederee continued as my “bonus mom” until she passed away seven years later—after she “got me married off” too.

“The Help” showed me the ugly side – the prejudice, how mean people can be, pettiness, and seeing others as “less than.” It’s not ok to limit another human being’s freedom or hurt their dignity. It’s not ok to disrespect someone because of their color. Frederee used to say “beauty is only skin deep, but ugly’s to the bone.” There will always be ugliness in people. Racial prejudice is one of many forms. I almost felt embarrassed to be white. It’s demeaning to see being beautiful and catching a rich husband depicted as what women should strive for. Yet there was some of that in my upbringing. My mom actually said, “Don’t marry someone who will help you with the chores. Marry someone who will get you someone to do the chores.”

Well, I still don’t like chores. But I respected Frederee’s work. I repeat her many wise sayings, like “Love many, trust few, learn to paddle your own canoe.” She shaped my life. She made a difference. She helped me become a better human being. Sounds a lot like Oprah.

Mountain Ministers

How do you feel when someone talks down to you – a boss, a spouse, or a colleague? In a pastor, it is especially grievous, as humility is a characteristic he is supposed to value. But sometimes a pastor or “religious person” can come off “holier than thou,” which is a real turn-off as well as not representative of the ultimate Spiritual Leader. It’s true that Jesus did not sin. But he did have troubles. I’d call an angry mob publicly killing you a real problem. He had haters and he still does. He was human with real emotions. He had empathy for hurting people, he suffered loss, and he wept. He didn’t belong to a country club, drive a fancy donkey, or own a big home. I never read about him vacationing in Tahiti. He talked to anyone and lived modestly.

Unlike him, we all fall short of perfection. I certainly do. Whether it’s a little thing like thinking mean thoughts about someone or a big thing like betraying a friend, my scorecard is lengthy. When I got divorced and it was largely my fault, I thought my days as a Christian musician were over forever. I had no business representing the Lord. I was blessed when a good friend said to me, “I don’t want a perfect minister. I want a minister who has been through stuff like I have.” I guess that means someone else who sinned. Um, like pretty much everyone.

I certainly don’t find fault with someone who has managed to avoid sinning better than I have. But those who have been through what I have can show me how to recover, because they have. I also think that once you’ve lost everything you’re less likely to rebound into your formerly arrogant self. You don’t have to choose humility anymore because it chose you. If it were easy to do the things we know are right, we would not need the teachings of Jesus, which include contrition, repentance, and forgiveness. Churches are not museums for saints: they are hospitals for sinners. Sin is like heartbreak: you’ve either just been through it, are going through it now, or you’re about to go through it. It’s ongoing.

I guess by choosing a pastor who has lost everything by his own transgressions and rebuilt his life from the ground up, I could be hedging my bets that he won’t go through it again for awhile. But mostly, I feel he understands imperfect me. And he has compassion, as do I, because of our painful experiences. He talks to his flock face to face. He’s not on the mountain. He’s on his knees. That’s the kind of minister I want.

A girl who can't say no

July has been a Month. A MONTH even. Two gigs to prepare for, two non-local memorial services, two family birthdays, a high school reunion, and one anniversary celebration for someone dealing with advanced lung cancer. Of course, it's also my most high-pressure month at work. So let's throw in a cubicle relocation too. And how about a "right now" freelance website copy job as well? I'm not complaining. I'm imploding. I feel like putty. When the going gets tough, the tough go to sleep. It's my only hope of recharging.

Ironically, I'm probably going to miss church today, and the teaching topic is "simplifying your life." I know it involves how you decide what to say "yes" or "no" to. I want to say yes to everything and everyone! I have friends in town I would like to see. But I have conflicts. And one of those conflicts is my own bandwidth.

My kingdom for a helicopter. Getting around So Cal is a time robber. (hey, that rhymed!) Four hours and 15 minutes from Westlake to Dana Point door-to-door. The stop in Westwood was a bad plan. The Santa Monica Blvd. onramp is only one lane due to construction, causing drivers to sit in stuck sweatville moving one car length with each change of the traffic signal. Whining, no, WARNING -- yes! Even sigalert.com can only tell you so much. Watch out for those side streets off the 405.

It all looks so doable on paper. I'm glad I did what I did. And I'm sad for the "no's" I need to say. I will leap tall buildings, spend money I don't have, and even sit in sweat traffic to attend a loved one's memorial service.

Tami Sue, you were an extremely valuable part of my life. Your legacy lives on through your children. And the legend of the wide-mouthed frog. And the look on your face when you ate that sundae at Farrell's. (love this picture!) You said "yes" to life. You lived with passion. You ate the ice cream and you ran it off. As a nurse, you made your patients laugh, and treated each one like they were your own family. You taught me the value of honesty and loyalty. You made me a better person. You showed me how to be a trailblazer. You were a force. I can't wait to hang out with you in heaven.

And Papa Bear, thank you for always treating me like your own daughter and for making my mom laugh. She sparkled when she was with you.

As for the gigs, I'm so grateful for the opportunity to share the gift of music, to touch hearts through song, and to stand up and bare my soul. It's what I do, who I am, and my life's passion. My songs are my children. They are my gift.

For now, sleep is needed. Down time. White space. "Margin." Until 1 pm when I'm due at the next event. Vitamins, please. And thank you God, for giving me life that is rich with friends and loved ones. I pray that I am prioritizing properly. As I said in "Hippie at Heart," people matter more than stuff. The greatest gifts are peace and love. How you treat each other comes back around.

Sorting out the must-haves from the do-withouts

I want to say I know two kinds of people -- those who must have (things) and those who are okay doing without. The "must haves" HAVE stuff -- iPhones, iPads, newer cars, designer clothes, nice watches...whether or not they can afford them. When I am with them, they apply subtle pressure to spend more than I can afford. I don't think they even look at the prices on a menu. They are budget saboteurs. They "encourage" me to "loosen up a bit" because "you only live once." Get the Mercedes. Have that chocolate shake. Take that trip to the tropics with your tax refund. Don't be so stuffy. You're too conservative. You get the picture. I am tempted to stereotype them -- but it's not that simple. (is anything?)

Life is a process of deciding what is a must-have and what you can live without. And when we comment "persuasively" on each others' preferences, we are not seeing the whole picture. So we get into these (what I find to be) very uncomfortable conversations about money. "I can't afford that." "How much did you pay for that? I found it cheaper." "I did that entire event for only $2,000, and here's every deal I cleverly made to keep it under budget." YAWN. Why are you telling me this? And why do I feel tempted to answer with my must-have-do-without scale? What do you want from me? Do you want me to know you are smart? Successful? Happy? What?

Do you want to know what I really think? Probably not. But here is is. Whatever choices you make, good for you. I hope you are happy. Whatever choices I make, I don't need to explain. If I want to order water and a salad while you get the macadamia nut pancakes, I just want us both to be cool with it. I like my old car better than a new car payment. I truly don't enjoy paying $20 per calorie at a restaurant. I think martinis are a rip-off. I like nice clothes, and if money were no object, my wardrobe would be Kardashian-esque, but it's not in the cards right now -- because I'd have to use credit cards to do it. I like not having credit card payments. Oh well, I guess I just explained, even though it's nobody's business. But if you are tired of this like I am, maybe it gave you a smile. I hope so.

There are a lot of things that bring me happiness that do not cost money. Can we please find something else to talk about? Because talking about must-haves is definitely something I can do without.

My week in review

Sometimes I feel so lost in administrivia I need to sift through the events of the week to see if there were any nuggets amidst all that sand. The week began with Weinergate. Lots of folks talking about it, and it made me cringe. It wouldn't have been nearly so noticed if it weren't for the irony of his name. Sure, what he did was wrong and embarrassing, but making fun of someone because of his name is so...kindergarten! The tabloid caricatures rear their ugly heads, and I'm not just talking about the new Conan commercial. Then there was the LA Times story about California wasting millions of dollars on teacher education that has not proven to raise test scores. What is the point, that teachers don't need education? That the education they are getting is no good? That test scores are the be-all and end-all measurement of whether kids are learning? In the online blogworld blame game, fingers were also pointed at parents, who don't discipline their children and therefore their children's bad behavior makes it hard for kids to learn, and poverty, because kids who are hungry and not well cared for can't learn. So everyone got to blame someone and the kids are still not performing well on standardized tests. All in a good day's work I guess. I can't go into too much detail about work, so the short story is there is more change for the sake of change that feels like moving the deck chairs around on the Titanic. Lots of top-down orders and very little listening to those on the front lines. I try not to dwell on it and go back to doing my work to the best of my ability while continuing to learn and improve. School's out for the summer and that's an awesome high for my teacher friends. My songwriter friend Alan has his #1 hit from 1977 featured in Spielberg's new movie -- so happy for him. The highlights of my week were those happy moments for my friends, walking my dog to the park to socialize with other neighborhood dogs, and watching the sunset together on the front porch. The rest feels like noise. Yet it's so hard to discern the important from the unimportant in the day-by-day moments. I am getting better at turning the channel in my mind. Now it's time to fortify the filter.

Reflections of a step-mom/adopted mom

Today at church our pastor asked all the moms to stand. I felt like a bit of an impostor when I stood up. When people ask me if I have kids, I say yes, then follow with the caveat that I had stepkids whose mom died, and then I adopted them. Why? Because I did not bear them. Barb did. And clarifying this is my way of recognizing her as their mother. She carried them, bore them, fed them, changed them, supported them, nurtured them, and loved them. When their father moved out, she had to share them with a stranger, who had never had children, and was 10 years her junior -- me. While she was alive and I was the weekend stepmom, I felt my best options were to feed them and play with them. Be kind of a "bonus parent." They could be sweet, fun, and great company. They could also be messy, loud, and annoying. Yep - so can I.

So, that's family life for you. Slowly and in an unnatural order, I began to learn how to put their needs ahead of my own, while still not totally undermining my own value. I'm sure I had my selfish moments. But I began to understand why people say having kids is worthwhile.

Barb was diagnosed with breast cancer during the first year I was married to her ex-husband. Four years later she passed away. I was a fulltime stepmom to Erin, 15, and part-time stepmom of Matt, 17. That's when we all started going to church. I found the guidance I needed there. I learned how to love better, although I did my share of messing up, including burning them at the beach. Sometimes I yelled like a "real mom." I also cooked, cleaned, ran taxi service, taught them to drive, and cleaned up vomit.

Before she died, Barb called me and expressed concern that her kids would not be properly parented after she passed. I told her I couldn't even imagine how she must have been feeling and what she was going through. I assured her that I loved her children. I hope it gave her peace.

Six years later I formally adopted them through the Ventura County court system. Since they were over 18, it cost $19 per adoption. They thought it should have cost more. Believe me, it did. But the rewards were worth it.

Eleven years later I have a 31-year-old, a 34-year-old, and three grandchildren. I'm not married to their father anymore. They have a loving stepdad in Bob. (is the man married to your stepmom your double stepdad?) And he has been good to them. He has helped me be a better parent too.

God was good to me. He gave me these wonderful young people to help grow me. They are kind. They are honest and caring. I hope Barb is relieved. And I hope she doesn't mind that I say I'm their mom too. They'll never forget her. And neither will I.

Another candle lights my fire

A medley just popped into my head as I anticipate turning another year older. "Put another candle on your birthday cake" from Sheriff John and "Light my fire" by the Doors. Because if you remember Sheriff John, your birthday cake is probably ready to start your house on fire, just like mine. I really don't mind my age. Most of the time I see myself as ageless and don't think about numbers much. But rarely do I stop and think, "what do I want for my birthday?" Most of my wants have to do with getting more sleep or having fewer commitments. Having someone come clean my house would be cool. I guess an iPhone or a Smart phone would be nice. But that means paying a monthly fee for a data package, and I'm just not down with that yet. I started poking around Amazon and saw that Elton John's "Yellow Brick Road" CD is available, as is the DVD of how they made that album. Sounds pretty cool. I like concert DVDs. I'd like a bikini-ready body too, can someone please wrap that up for me to open on the big day? So how do I want to spend that day...hmmm...maybe horseback riding. Possibly wine tasting. I haven't had a birthday party in a long time, and I don't think I really want one. Unless it's a music party. That might be cool. I could pretend I'm turning some age I really liked, like 16 or so, and play music from that era. James Taylor. Elton John. Carly Simon. Carole King. Bread. Jim Croce. Eagles. I think that sounds pretty fun. Anticipation. Don't let the sun go down on me. Peaceful easy feeling. I've got a name. You've got a friend. Don't let me be lonely tonight. I think I'll live it up in Hotel California. Music makes everything better!

Selfish or self-honoring?

One of the hardest things I’ve ever done is make a decision to honor my heart even though I knew it hurt someone I loved. There was so much internal pressure to do the “right” thing, the “dutiful” thing, and stay married because I had promised to love, honor, and cherish. But can you promise love? I mean deep down “you’re my soul mate” kind of love. How can you promise what you can’t control?

I was raised to be dutiful. My parents were from “the greatest generation.” They married in July of 1941, and after Pearl Harbor was attacked, my dad enlisted in the Navy. He had an extremely strong work ethic, and my mom ran our home like a Ritz-Carlton, even down to custom menu items. My mom never said “you’re on your own for dinner tonight.” Food came like clockwork, beds were always made, the house was always clean, and my clothes were always purchased, washed, ironed, and put away. I have no doubt that my parents loved each other. And I have no doubt that early on in their 32-year marriage, they found incompatibilities and value differences that were put in the back of the closet but infected the whole house. They stayed together until I was 16 out of duty to us. I give them an A for effort but it breaks my heart that they chose self-sacrifice over the truth and a shot at real happiness for all those years.

I will make sacrifices for those I love. I will go without something to have money for a gift, I will cook when I’m sleep-deprived, and I will sit up all night in the emergency room with a friend when her kid is having surgery. But I couldn’t love so much if I didn’t love myself too. I want to have a happy and truthful relationship, not a gritted-teeth illusion founded on duty. And I want that for everyone, including my ex. Would it have been honoring to him for me to cheat him of the opportunity to be truly loved? Some people go through a rough patch and then fall in love again. I had to make the best decision at the time. It hurt my heart. But my heart would hurt more if I stayed married while pining for someone else. And I think that would have been the less honorable thing to do. I knew it would hurt either way. And the scars are mine to wear. I’m convinced nothing hurts more than living a lie. And I’m glad I don’t have to do that. The truth truly does set you free.

Humanity Makes All the Difference

I've lived in Westlake for almost four years. During the first three I wondered if I had made a mistake by moving from our cheaper, but less happy, home in Simi Valley. Westlake is beautiful, but I wasn't enjoying it. I'd drive to work and count the minutes until I could run home for lunch, and then home for the evening. I wanted to work at home because writing is best done away from people in a quiet space. I resented my job for keeping me away from home. Bob's job "devolved" and our hours weren't going together, so I didn't even look forward to the weekends. I'd look at the house and think "this is all I have, a house." His work hours were arbitrary too, sitting at a desk every Saturday night even when there were no events to support, just punching the clock for a boss who couldn't step one single hangnail out of the box if his life depended on it. We had been dumbed down, stepfordized, and were on the path to stupid robot world. I went to college for this? His 30 years of expertise meant nothing? The driving force was "conform or be punished." We had become two-year-olds in the nursery from hell. Well-meaning people encouraged us that the Lord had us in these ill-fitting cribs for a reason, to "be a light" to people. I was not buying it. It just sounded like "here's why you need to settle." Being happy with what you have is one thing. I'm happy with my 10-year-old Jeep. I'm not hungering for a Mercedes. But settling for something miserable is quite a different thing. It's sick to think that's the best you can do. So I jumped out of the box and went on a 5-month freefall. I landed somewhere wonderful. Bob has now jumped and is in freefall. Well, you never get hurt in the air! I'm confident that wherever he lands, it will be better. And the kicker? Life is a million percent better. I wake up and look around and feel blessed. I get to live here? Really God? I go to work and am amazed by the smart people I get to learn from. I get to work from home when it makes sense. So I work MORE. I give MORE. I grow MORE. Out of my gratitude, I am a much more productive employee. Oh if only companies realized when they treat people badly what they are losing. Stripping people of their uniqueness, humanity, a personal life, and their souls should be a crime. But people who allow it contribute to the problem. Speak up. Do whatever you must to honor your own humanity. Because when you honor yourself, you honor the world. You make it a better place. The bad guys don't win. They're left standing there, looking at the empty crib, thinking they wish they had the courage to fly away. Take wing all you free spirits!

Frederee & Me

One of the subjects of many conversations in my work with educators is cultural sensitivity. I thought it was something I rarely thought about or experienced. I'm a WASP and was raised in a mostly WASPy neighborhood. I'm a white middle-class girl. I ate white bread, white rice, bologna, and mac 'n cheese. Today it hit me. I had two white parents and one bonus parent -- a woman of color named Frederee. Frederee's version of the story begins with my mom bringing me home from the hospital, handing me to Frederee, and saying "this one is yours." I was the fourth of four girls and a late-in-life "oops" baby. I didn't know what color anyone was or who had what place in the social statusphere. I didn't even know what food was yet. But I knew Frederee. And I felt her love for me. I experienced her "beneath her skin." I felt her heart. She did what moms do -- fed, bathed, rocked, carried, talked, and sang to me. I was about four years old the first time I commented on her skin color. I asked her why she was brown. She said it was the pigment in her skin. I heard "pigment" and I thought "pig" and "dirty," so I asked if I could wash the brown off. It meant nothing significant to me. It was just a feature like height or weight. And I still think of people of other cultures that way. Born in 1912, she had seen many historic events and had a lot of stories. She talked about race quite often. It struck me today that our relationship and her stories might make a good book. "Frederee & Me." I'm writing this now to commit this idea to existence. I'm excited. More to come.

Know when to walk away

A good friend of mine just broke up with her one-foot-in-the-door boyfriend. One foot just wasn't enough. Someone else close to me just left a job without having another one. I've been musing about the similarities and differences between relationships and jobs. No one says "be sure you have a relationship to go to before you leave." In fact, that is considered bad form. People don't usually call you a "quitter" if you leave a relationship that isn't working. Why is it different with a job? Because of money? Is settling for a job that isn't right for you until you can find something else noble? Why is staying in something you're not fully invested in more respectable than leaving? We're encouraged by our teachers and loved ones to "go for the best in life" and "reach for the stars." When you know you're in the pit, why would you stay there? There aren't any stars in the pit. You can't soar with the eagles when you're hanging out with turkeys. I wonder if more people left their jobs, especially due to bad managers, if it would help weed out the turkeys and improve companies. I really think so. Every time I have left a company after realizing it was not right for me, I've never regretted it. It hurts for awhile and adjustment can be difficult. But it just requires creativity. You don't earn respect by accepting disrespectful treatment. And you don't learn to fly by hanging out with turkeys. Likewise, you won't find your prince if you're afraid to leave a frog. Kenny Rogers had it right. "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away and know when to run." Sometimes you just have to take a gamble. I wish you a full house and no more snake eyes!

Focus on the Future

I’d love to write a recap of 2010. Actually, I’d love to want to. But I think I have broken the habit of looking back and I’d rather look forward. I’ve taken some time to count my blessings. And I’m grateful to have an awesome job and a wealth of love in my life. I’ve removed some thorns and done some pruning. My foundation is solid. Now I’m ready add some posts, beams, and framework to the life I want to build. Here’s my list:

Healthy eating and drinking. Keep a sober mind.

Aerobics classes.

Embrace learning.

Daily quiet time.

Pursue creativity in everything.

Be intentional about what I read, watch, and listen to. Seek the positive.

Nurture my spiritual life through learning, serving, and tithing.

Do some fun stuff with Bob.

It’s going to be a great year! God wants the best for His kids. I believe it and I claim His promises. Arise, go forth, and prosper. Love and peace out.