Thankful: Full of thanks

Over the past month, I've read my friends "thankful" posts - triggering me to think of my own each day. The problem with this is that once I start thinking of all of the things/people/experiences for which I'm thankful, I can't stop. It has made me a happier person.

I have had the incredible privilege to live my amazing life. Each moment, each person, each experience and encounter, all of those and everything in between, has gotten me to where I am: so full of joy and thanks that it is often disturbingly powerful. Because of you, my friends, family, acquaintances, loves, and furbabies, I am grateful, hopeful, and driven to be a kinder, more thoughtful, and loving person.

My family and friends have picked me up when I was at my lowest moment, laughed with me and at me when it was appropriate and, of course, completely inappropriate. My journeys have carried me to see amazing sights and meet wonderful people. I have loved and lost, overcome and succumbed, given and taken, provided and been provided for, and lived beyond my imagination.

Today, I am grateful for everything mentioned above, but most of all, I am grateful for loving one of the most kind, considerate, forgiving, tolerant, patient, compassionate, goofy, loyal, and supportive people I know. I am grateful for the past three years that I've been able to spend with my family, by their side as they have been by mine. I am grateful for the conversations I had with my dad before he left this earth, for the hugs and smiles I will always remember, for his colorful language and demanding nature, and for his love. I am grateful for my mother's strength and love, for her hugs, for her amazing cooking skills, and for her belief in me. I am grateful for my siblings and their spouses for their friendship, love, support, jokes, children, kindness, warmth, and unconditional caring for me, each other, their children, and our mother. Finally, I am grateful for my sweet girls who wag their tail each time we walk through the door, who roll over as you approach them in hopes that their tummies will be rubbed, who dig the largest and deepest holes I've ever seen in 5 seconds flat, who think the raised garden bed is their personal sandbox, who crawl in bed with me on Saturday mornings, who swim and run with such glee and joy you can't help but revel in their happiness.

I am thankful for all that has happened, continues to happen, and for what the future holds. I have a feeling the next year will entail more adventures, more love, and an incredibly powerful journey.

Your conversations with God

I don't know what happens when you die. I wish I did. I wish I knew what really happens. Is it different for everyone? Is it similar? Do others come to greet you? Are you swept away into a new adventure immediately? There are so many thoughts on this subject, but really, we just don't know.

Of course, I've been thinking about this so much since May 20th. My dad passed away on the 21st, but the death process started on the 20th. I saw him on Sunday, the 19th - I had just gotten back from a week long vacation. I remember talking to my sister, her urging me that I should go see him and mom, immediately leaving the restaurant and heading up the road to Harbour River, where they were. I got there and Gil was sleeping, but I went in to give him a quick kiss anyway. He woke up all smiles, asked me how my vacation was, what we did, told me he liked my tan, and then I let him go back to sleep. I wish I had talked to him more. I wish I had known. But he seemed fine! Well, as fine as he had seemed for the past year, but he wasn't.

The next morning, I went to work and was crazy busy. You know how it goes after being out for a week at the end of the fiscal year. I get another email/call from my sister letting me know that she was on her way down and that I needed to go up to Harbour River. I finished my meeting and immediately left. The entire 45 minute ride - I couldn't get there fast enough - I replayed in my head the conversation I should have had with him that Sunday. Why didn't I ask more questions? Why didn't I make him stay awake longer? Why didn't I tell him how very much I loved him, how much he changed my life, how I couldn't imagine life without him... I needed him to tell me what to do, and yet, he was the only one who couldn't.

By the time I arrived, he was already fairly out of it. The hospice nurse had come who had known him for the length of his illness, and she told us that she was afraid to leave - as she would most likely get a call as soon as she got down the road: it would just be a few hours. That was around noon on Monday. Like he did, however, he refused to be on anyone else's timeline. He hung in there, in and out of consciousness until around 11pm on Tuesday evening. My sister, mother, and I were reading their love story book to them. We were laughing and crying. Finally, after hours of telling him all that we needed to say - of telling him how much we love him and how thankful we have always been for him coming into our lives, my mom tells him that it's ok. He can go. We will be ok. In what seemed like seconds, he took his last breath, and just like that, he was gone.

I'm not sure how the world kept spinning, but it did. The days past, the arrangements were made, the stories were told, and lovely notes were sent. But I wonder what Gil was doing? What did he see before he passed away - I know he was seeing something, but it definitely wasn't here. Was Jackson there to greet him? Were his pups Coco Butter Bradham, Millie, Lizzie, and Feather? Were his parents there? Or did God meet him first? What did he say to God? Can you imagine the questions he must have asked? For those of you who don't know, he was inquisitive to say the least.

So I've been picturing this lately - his conversations with God. I can see him pushing back on explanations, trying to understand, giving God a run for his/her money. I hope he's flying - he would love that. I hope he's drinking really great Gin and telling the tallest of tales. I hope he's surrounded by love and his dogs, and mine. I hope that he is warm. I hope that he is happy. I hope that he's in such a wonderful place that he doesn't miss us, although that is a difficult hope to have when we miss him so much.

I guess at the end of the day, we are only really left with hope. Hope for those we love, hope for cures, hope for happiness and adventure, hope for all of our lives and what comes after. I'm so incredibly thankful for all that Gil gave me, but most of all, I am thankful for the hope he continues to bring out in me.

I love you Crowdaddy - thank you - try not to push God too much... ok?

Moments

Life is full of moments: big moments, little moments, and every breath in between.

I haven't written in a while - sometimes all of these moments are a bit overwhelming, and to put them into words seems to bring about more emotion than I'm willing to concede.

The past three years have been some of the most wonderful, joy filled, agonizing, gut wrenching, fabulous, awakening, sad, beyond sad, and powerful moments of my life. I don't want to forget a single one of them. I find myself holding on to each moment, trying to savor them and lock them permanently into my mind in hopes that I can pull them out whenever needed. It's not really working.

These memories tend to just pop up whenever they wish, with complete disregard to what I am doing or where I am. It's quite rude, actually. I'm fairly certain it is a power greater than me giving me a little slap upside the head when I need a reminder of what really matters in life.

And here is truly the point of this post - the moments are what matter. The time I spend with all of the people so incredibly important in my life are some of the most amazing moments that I refuse to miss. I've missed so many already. The moment my dad took his last breath - that mattered. The moment I saw my niece and nephews for the first time, their first birthdays, their parent's weddings - those moments matter. The times I've been able to hold my mom when she needed me the most - those moments matter. The times my sister and I downed bottles of wine, the time she rescued me from the ski slope as I lay under a snow blower, the time my brother told me to give Atlanta 9 months, and if I still wanted to leave, he would come get me, the time my mom dropped me off at boarding school and then again at college, the times Gil took me on motorcycle rides and told me stories on rainy nights about his adventures, the times I have loved and been loved, the times that I have really lived, those are the moments that matter.

I so easily get caught up in the day to day that I rarely stop to take in the world around me - the moments that are being created right in front of my eyes without my awareness. I hope those times get fewer and farther between. I hope that I pay more attention to what matters and that I let go of what doesn't. With that thought, I'll sign off so that I can watch cartoons with my niece and her baby doll Marsha.

Be in it for you

It was my birthday in 2008, and I wasn't happy. I was tired and lazy, sad and robotic; I was anything but me. I was constantly on the road, making bad food choices (I mean who is watching what you eat when you eat alone and in a hotel room four nights a week?), not exercising, becoming a very odd mixture of an introverted extrovert. It was during a grocery run for my typical Pumpkin Spice Latte birthday treat that I came across a Taekwondo school in the same shopping center.  My parents enrolled me in martial arts as a child, and I remembered enjoying it immensely.

Maybe this was what I needed. Maybe I needed something I would really enjoy, something that would be mine - all about me. I walked in the door of that amazing school as "less than", and two years later I walked out with a new family, a new sense of self, self awareness, pride, strength, courage, and a smile. I took my black belt test on December 4th, I believe, and I moved on December 12th, 2010. I was excited for this new chapter in my life, but I was not excited to leave my dojang. It wasn't long before I started to feel a bit lost, overwhelmed, weighted again.

I had a blast over the next year and a half - making mistakes, making friends, having adventures, throwing myself full force into a life that would fully become mine over a few short months. I spent time eating wonderful foods, creating long and true friendships, loving my family with everything I had, working, and living. Unfortunately, as life does, you sometimes find yourself in a similar place to which you promised you wouldn't return. I was working out, sure, but I wasn't healthy. I realized, as I took a new job that kept me home, it was time to drink the kool-aid, again.

I started Crossfit three months ago. I started to really understand food and my body. I started to get up at 5:30am to go through a tortuous and wonderful hour of sweat, cussing, and personal bests.  It is amazing how happy this makes me - this taking care of myself. How crazy is it that we always think we need to "be in it" for someone else. SURE! Love someone, give to them, be supportive and available, but what about you? Don't you think you deserve some you time? When I walked into the dojang, I couldn't focus on anything but what I was doing. If I did, well, I would mess up or get kicked in the head - neither of which was appealing. I did Taekwondo for me. I did not do it for my relationship; I did not do it for my friends or family; I did not do it for work or school; I did this for me. The beautiful thing in this is that all of my accomplishments were also for me. What an amazingly healthy way to be selfish.

And so here I find myself in it for me, again, and I hope always. My accomplishments, changes, pushes, challenges, sweat, and all things that go along with Crossfit are all for me. It makes me a better friend, daughter, sister, aunt, girlfriend, employee, and doggie mom.

And so, all of that rambling leads to one point - be in it for you (at least once each day). Find that thing - whatever it may be - and go do it. If you aren't happy with who you are, do something about it, seriously. The choice really is yours, but I promise once you make it, it seems to matter much less what other people think and bad days seem less bad. After all, at the end of the day, you're making you happy and others are just adding to it.

Timing

It's all about timing. What is? Everything. All of it. All of the time. Timing.

Am I ready? Are they ready? Will we ever be ready? For babies, marriage, the next job, the next ask, to clear off one small shelf in the closet so they stop leaving their stuff on the floor?

There's never a perfect time... or is there?

Perfect is a bit strong in relation to timing, unless, of course we are talking about releasing a football or hitting a baseball or anything related to a tangible object, a definite answer, etc. As it relates to people, perfect doesn't exist. There is no perfect time or perfect person (trust me, I've looked). There is right now. There is what and who is in your path today. So what is perfect in that moment? This is the question to ask.

I was working with a great group last night on making the ask, but more specifically, talking about the challenges of recent past asks and next steps. While the end goal for the organization is to raise significant dollars, the donor may have a different end goal. Have you asked them? Where are THEY right now? What does your organization mean to them? Where do they want to see you go? How would their passions match up with helping you get there?

I often compare fund development to dating and marriage. You go into it, perhaps, knowing a bit about the person; heck, maybe they are your friend, but you've never seen them in this light. Hmmm, they look so shiny and new and a bit scary. You've called to ask them to meet up. You're nervous. You rehearse what you are going to say as you get ready. You put on your best outfit and check out how you look in the mirror. You then stop and realize that you BOTH know why you are meeting. There is no doubt that this is a date. You are going into this to see if there is something more or if you should remain just friends.

All of your nerves were for naught. The dinner was great! You both had a delightful time and now you know that they are interested. You are excited to see each other again and so it goes... date after date. Thank you notes and phone calls. Mailed articles of interest and next meetings. And then the day comes. It's been ten months. Do you take the next step? Are you ready? Are they ready?

****back to the actual point of the blog****

The reality is that some donors may be ready after meeting you twice, while others may not be ready for 18 months. There is no timetable on ready. The only question you can ask is, for what are they ready right now? More cultivation? Further engagement? The only way to find out is to meet, talk, discuss, and LISTEN.

So get excited. Be giddy. Do the happy dance. Clear off the shelf in your closet "just in case," but dear lord do NOT tell them you've done it!

When will they be ready? You'll just know... or so I've been told.

Failure, please, failure is just a motivator to succeed.

I was having a conversation with someone the other day who asked me what my biggest failures have been.

I laughed, literally, out loud. This seems like such a silly question. My biggest failures? You want just one? Do you mean the biggest hurdles? The times that seemed like failures until I realized they weren't? The creative ways for the world to kick my rear back to where it should be?

I have "failed" so many times that I've lost count. How many times have I seen crazy great things come out of insanely insurmountable challenges? A few. But then again, I guess no challenge is totally insurmountable.

I was having a conversation with my dad a couple of months ago. He was saying that he felt like he had wasted this last year - hadn't done all he could do to REALLY take advantage of the year.

My response was that amidst all of the chemo, radiation, doctor appointments, birthday parties, portrait unveilings, christmas, and new years, he spent more time with his family in this last year than he had probably ever done prior - combined.

What he initially saw as a failure on his part was the largest gift ever given to me.

Don't forget to look for the reasons why you are dusting yourself off as you stand up from being thrown down.

True Colors

In the world of google, there can be little doubt that, eventually, your and/or your organization's true colors will come shining through.

I heard this song on my way to a client this morning and it struck a chord more so today than in days past. Transparency, honesty, integrity, and loyalty are, to me, the most important character traits one can possess. Yes, I love it when a person or organization pushes the envelope. I love it when people stir the pot and create a new line of thinking. I truly enjoy walking into a room where no one person thinks just as the one to your right or left.

It is how we act and respond when we encounter situations such as these that really bring out our true colors.

In response to the Invisible Children campaign that has gone viral and has  now made Kony an unfortunate household name, good for you. Regardless of how you feel about Kony or Invisible Children, this media campaign has shed light on a situation that has not been paid much attention. Now, I have strong feelings about a mass of people all of the sudden giving to a cause about which they know little. This is politically charged and we are talking about people's lives. The reality is that often times funding to these types of issues does not actually get into the hands that will affect good change, but into the hands of those who oppress.

So while there are positives and negatives to this, the world is no longer ignorant. Emotions, resources, and inertia are now in play. A movement, should positive motion occur, has been started.

How this organization and others like it respond will make a difference. Either way, their true colors will come into play.

Your true colors come into play every day. Don't be tempted to give in to episodes of childish and irrational behavior simply because you want to prove a point or don't like what another organization or person is saying or doing. The only point you will prove is that you don't make wise choices in the face of confrontation.