What Does Your Calendar Say About You?

11.8.16

Last week, my kids celebrated the end of their first quarter with a Recognition Rally in the school gym. As I sat in the bleachers with the other parents, watching the principal award each honor roll student with a certificate, it hit me: We are already in the second quarter! Where has the time gone?

Before I sent my baby off to full-day kindergarten, I was worried that I would be depressed and lonely. How would I spend my time? Maybe I would go back to work part-time? Focus more on writing? Get my photos organized and the “2016 Family Album” caught up? Or, finally clean out my storage room? Maybe I’d start cooking more meals from scratch and stockpiling my freezer with casseroles and soups? All great ideas in theory, but not in action…

Instead, I find myself rushing from drop-off to work out…to Costco/Target/Trader Joe’s…to the physical therapist’s/dentist’s/hair salon…home to change a load of laundry, clean up the house and to make dinner…and back to pick-up. Occasionally, I’ll sneak in a volunteer meeting or lunch with a friend. But, mostly, I feel like a little gerbil on a wheel: Running, running, running, but not really getting ahead on any of my grandiose plans…

I remember reading an article in the New York Times by Carl Richards titled, “Your Spending Choices Often Reflect Your Values.” In it, Richards asserts that if a future cultural anthropologist were to stumble upon one of your credit card statements, he could make basic assumptions about your values based on how you spend your money. He encourages the reader to take time to look at what you say you value, versus the values reflected on your receipts…and, to be more proactive about aligning the two.

When I look at my family’s crazy schedule on my iCal, I recognize that there isn’t a lot of free time right now. Our after school hours are jam-packed with homework, dinner and the juggling of three kids’ extracurricular activities. My husband’s evenings are often consumed with meetings and various call shifts. We are all racing against the clock to get everything on our “to do” lists accomplished before bedtime.

If a future anthropologist were to find my iCal, no doubt he’d think we were a little crazy and over-scheduled. But, he’d see that I value my family (they take up most of the space on my calendar). And, I value my health; I deliberately carve out time each day to exercise. He’d also see that I value my friendships, extended family and volunteerism. (Luckily, my iCal does not reveal all of the time I waste on mind-numbing Bravo TV and other guilty pleasures.)

As I sit and ponder where all of my time has gone, I realize that I need to be more intentional about setting aside time to do things that are important to me…and intentional about defining what is important to me. As my blog gets ready to celebrate its first anniversary, I need to decide if I want to make it a priority – or if I want to pursue other goals…

I also want to encourage you, my beloved reader, to look at your own calendar and to see if it reflects what is most important to you. Because, it’s true: Our time is finite, so we must cease the day!

xo Kara

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Grateful and Authentic: A Work In Progress

10.21.16

I recently celebrated another birthday; this one carried very little pomp and circumstance. However, it encouraged me to take a step back and to look at the big picture…to celebrate all of the experiences that have brought me to this point and to ask myself, where do I want to go from here?

During the past year, living a grateful and authentic life has become my personal mission statement. While I clearly have not mastered the art, I have learned a few things along the way:

1. Be thankful and ask for help. Last January, I began keeping a prayer journal. Each morning, I try to take a minute to document my blessings; I celebrate everything from my strong cup of coffee to the sweet freckles on my daughter’s nose. Then, I pray for help… This simple ritual starts my day off on the right foot, with a thankful perspective and a calm heart.

2. Collect authentic friends. I hear myself telling my kids to fill up their lives with friends who lift them up, make them happy and like them unconditionally.  Lately, I’ve had to remind myself to follow this advice, too.  Life is simply too short and too busy for “friends” that add stress and subtract joy.

3. “No” is not a bad word. I’ve learned that saying yes to one thing means saying no to another. There are only so many minutes in each day. And, we all have a limited number of days. So, I have become more selective about how I fill up my calendar. Just because I think that I have time to take on another volunteer project or other commitment, it doesn’t mean that it’s the right thing for me (or my family).

4. Each day is a gift. Ever since my birthday, my enthusiastic five-year-old (who loves everything birthday-related) keeps asking me, “Are you 41? Are you still 41?” Each, innocent question connects me to my aunt, who passed away at 41. It reminds me not to take anything or anyone for granted…

5. Be brave and try new things. Writing this blog is completely outside my “box.” Putting my thoughts out into the “Universe” for others to read and judge is terrifying. Whenever someone mentions that they are following me, it makes me feel a little self-conscious (like I forgot to wear my cover-up to the pool). But, I appreciate the encouragement; it’s much more fun to have an audience than to write for myself.

So, thank you for joining me on my journey. I encourage you to take a step back and to admire your life…If you’re inspired to create your own “mission statement,” I’d love  for you to share it, too.

xo Kara

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Waking the Labyrinth of Life

July 3, 2016

I recently visited my dear friend, who lives in Denver. Our 17-year friendship is very yin and yang. She is extremely extroverted, optimistic and laid-back; I am the opposite. She is also one of the most spiritual people that I know. Her life has been a series of unplanned blessings, while I rarely make a move without listing the pros and cons and weighing them obsessively…

Lately, she’s begun walking a local labyrinth on a regular basis; it provides a path for moving meditation and focused prayer. My friend can be quite persuasive and talked me into trying it after happy hour one evening. She explained that the winding path would untangle my mind and make my own way clear… She handed me a brochure, which provided these simple instructions:

Prepare. Before beginning your labyrinth journey, pause at the entrance and take a few deep breaths; close your eyes and focus on any aspect of your current life. It could be something that is troubling you or a goal that you are working towards; walking the labyrinth is a time for spiritual growth and personal realization. This short walk may yield fruitful outcomes and exciting prospects simply through an ancient form of directing your mind’s eye at your life’s path without the complication of personal doubt and resistance.

Release. As you enter the labyrinth, focus only on the rhythm of your breath and path set before you. Let go of the meticulous details of your life and focus on the bigger picture through silence of mind and strength of heart. 

Receive. Once you reach the center, take time to reflect, meditate or pray; open your mind to enlightenment. You may ask a question and listen for answer(s) on your way out.

Return. When you are ready, follow the same path back to the entrance.

Exit. Exit and reflect.

As I walked the labyrinth, it seemed to illustrate my own life’s path in a tangible way. As I felt myself getting closer to my goal of reaching the center, my path was pulled in the opposite direction to the farthest possible point. This pattern was repeated again and again until I found myself standing in its center and contemplating all of the twists and turns that it took for me to get there. It illustrated the importance of putting one foot in front of the other and trusting your path even when you cannot see how it’s going to get you to where you want to be.

Lately, my path forward has not been clear. At times, it feels like I’m moving in the right direction, only to be whisked in the opposite way. I often find myself wishing that I could skip ahead and skim the last chapter of my life, just to make sure that everything will end up okay for me and my little family. This short experience made me realize that life is like a labyrinth. I must choose to trust my path and to have faith that my steps will lead me to where I’m meant to be. The journey requires faith and hope… and lots of love (always).

Curious? Visit http://labyrinthlocator.com to find a labyrinth near you.

 

 

 

Treasure or Trash?

5.16.16

I spent my childhood chasing golden trophies, wooden plaques and blue ribbons. The bookcase in my old bedroom was lined with gleaming statuettes of poised swimmers and golfers; my bulletin board displayed ribbons and medals, each one representing countless hours of hard work and determination. As a young girl, I considered these awards to be my most prized possessions.

My parents are in the process of downsizing, so I spent this past weekend trying to pack all of the remnants of my childhood into a single tote that will go into my own basement (where it will likely collect dust for the next 30 years). I approached the project with the attitude that I would simply put all of my old stuff into the dumpster and move on with my day; my own storage room is a disorganized mess and the thought of adding anything else to this massive project is overwhelming.

However, as I started to sort through the boxes labeled “Kara,” I found it difficult to separate the memories from the things. I found myself saving essays written by my fourth grade self about what my life would look like when I grew up. (It included long-forgotten dreams of living in New York City with my handsome husband and adopted twins; I did not want to have kids.) I lost track of time as I went through my elementary school class photos, looking at all of the young, familiar faces of old friends and beloved teachers. And, I felt joy as I discovered my long-lost, complete set of Garbage Pail Kids! The idea of consolidating my childhood into a single box suddenly seemed draining.

So, I started with my big, bulky trophies and tossed them into the trash bin. Next, my plaques and a large zip lock bag filled with ribbons from my old swim team. It made me a little sad to see them go, but I realized that they had served their purpose and that I really don’t have space for them in my life.

As I prioritized what would stay and what would go, I found myself placing more value on my childhood journey than my accomplishments. I couldn’t part with the Garbage Pail Kids that I spent countless recesses trading with my best friend Kelly, my reflective essays with thoughtful comments by Mr. Hall (my favorite English teacher), or a single photograph. I know that there is value in setting goals and working towards them, but the real treasures of my childhood don’t include any awards for “Best Sportsmanship” or “Hardest Worker.” The real treasures of my childhood are simply childhood itself: The friends I made, the time I spent with family and the love that was given and received…all things that cannot fit in a box.

I hope that I can keep this perspective as I coach my kids through their young lives. Yes, it’s important to work hard and to maximize your potential…to set goals and to go after them. But, it’s equally important to enjoy the journey: To develop close friendships and to foster relationships with family. Because in a blink, they’ll be sorting through their own dusty boxes from my basement and wondering if their childhood treasures are trash or antiques?!?

 

Life is all about collecting new experiences.

4.28.16

Sometimes an off-handed remark can challenge your way of thinking.

I recently traveled to Kansas City with my daughter’s dance group, so she could participate in workshops at various studios and perform at different venues around the city. While our daughters were dancing, the mothers made small talk.

As the weekend went on, we moved past our daughters’ dance resumes and started to have more real conversations. As I was talking with an intelligent attorney and mother-of-three, she mentioned that her family was in the process of narrowing down where they’d like to live next. She explained that her company was relocating to another city and that her position would be ending within the year. I told her that it seemed exciting to plan a “second act” for her family. I asked her how the kids felt about moving and she said, “Life is all about collecting new experiences.” I nodded in agreement.

As I consider her philosophy on life, I realize that I’ve approached life from the opposite direction. Thinking back, most of my new life experiences have been unintentional. It’s not that I deliberately avoid them; I just feel more comfortable going with the tried and true.

I remember when my husband was in medical school and was interviewing for residencies around the country. On a whim, he applied to do his internal medicine year in Hawaii. We did a quick analysis of what the residency would cost us, factoring in my loss of income, the high cost of living and the incredible moving expenses. The value of collecting a new life experience was pushed aside for practical reasons. Our decision to stay put for his internal medicine year enabled us to save for a house and to get our feet on steadier financial ground, but it cost us the experience of living in Hawaii for a year. All of these years later, I find myself wondering if the money saved was worth the experience lost?

When it came time to interview for medical residencies around the country. I was supportive, but firmly in the “stay in the Midwest” camp. I reasoned that we’d be starting a family soon and that I wanted to be close to family. When my husband matched in North Carolina, it was a complete shock. I had never been to the state. I didn’t know anyone who lived there. It was 900 miles away from Kansas City. And, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. This life experience was the ultimate, unexpected gift.

When we decided to move back to Omaha, I wanted my children to grow up near my childhood home and to attend the same elementary school. I hoped they’d enjoy swimming on my old swim team and develop a mild interest in tennis, so they could play with their dad. Eight years later, I am shooting zero for three: My elementary school was not the right fit. None of my kids embraced competitive swimming. And, the simple question, “Anyone up for tennis?” is consistently met with unanimous groans and eye rolls. In other words, despite my intentions, my children have forced new experiences on me; I’m grateful for them.

I’ve learned that as much as I’d like for my children to enjoy everything that I loved about my childhood and to embrace the interests that my husband and I share, you can’t force a square peg in a round hole; they will follow their own hearts. I need to meet them where they are, not where I want them to be. My son will choose books and robotics over organized sports every time. Given the opportunity, my daughter would spend all of her free time dancing. My youngest loves Legos, sports and learning right now; I look forward to following his journey as he discovers “his thing(s).” By following my children’s lead (not my own plans), our family will collect new experiences, friends and pieces of wisdom along the way.

Looking back, I can see that my accidental collection of new experiences has exponentially increased my own happiness throughout the course of my life. In the future, I will try to be more intentional about collecting new life experiences and supporting of my husband and children when they don’t choose the tried and true route through life. Collecting new life experiences requires a little leap of faith, but the risk is worth the reward.

Do you deliberately collect new life experiences or do you tend to choose things that are familiar? Why? Thanks for sharing your thoughts; your feedback is the fun part.  🙂  Kara

Success is a Marathon

2.5.16

Sometimes it takes a funeral to put life in its proper perspective.

At the end of one’s story, what really matters?  How is success defined?  By the size of one’s fortune?  By the number of degrees earned or honors bestowed?  By the level of fame achieved?

Yesterday, I had the privilege of attending a funeral that celebrated the life of my friend’s father.  I heard the story of a man who lived the American Dream.  He started a small community bank in the early 70s and grew it into a company with more than 1.25 billion dollars in assets today.  He was a devoted husband, proud father and grandfather.  He was a pillar of the community, giving generously to worthy causes and serving as a church leader.  The church was packed with family, friends and community members who braved a blizzard, accumulating more than 18 inches of snow, to honor his life.

As I listened to his loved ones tell stories about him, I was struck by a common theme.  He was not remembered for his achievements, but for his kindness.  In the end, it is not the lines on one’s resume that really matters.  It is about love given and received.

One of his favorite sayings was: “Success is a Marathon.” Having completed one marathon in my life, I think I understand this analogy.  I remember committing to a plan, mapping out my long runs and preparing both mentally and physically for the race.  During the actual marathon, there were times of euphoria when my steps felt light and easy, experiencing what is called a “runner’s high.”  I also remember a time when I looked at my watch and realized that I still had hours to go and a cramp in my side. . . I will never forget the final stretch, which was a slight incline, but it felt like I was scaling a mountain with thighs made of heavy lead.  Other runners had fallen and were literally crawling up the hill to reach the finish line. It takes grit and determination to finish a marathon and to experience success.

This last week has not been an easy stretch.  My dad was back in the hospital and I found myself facing some discouraging challenges.  I felt uninspired to write about gratitude or to write period.  But, the funeral served as a beautiful reminder that success is a marathon.

For me, my ultimate goal is to succeed in living a loving life.  When times get dark and heavy, you need to keep your eyes focused on your goal and to keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Oh, and lots of prayers help, too.