One of my favorite quotes is by author Katherine Center. You may have noticed it on the sidebar of the blog: “You have to be brave with your life so that others can be brave with theirs.” This quote came to mind when I received Elizabeth Maxon’s guest post. She’s brave and gracious to share her story with us today:

Fine

by Elizabeth Maxon

Some days writing is like trying to squeeze the tiniest drop of moisture from a dry sponge. Other days, it washes over me.

When I offered to write a guest post for Angie I was dripping. I had been inspired by her kindred spirit for authentic “spill your guts” writing, and I couldn’t wait to contribute to the tapestry of beautiful truth she is weaving together on her blog. And then I laid my fingers on the keyboard, and in an instant I was dry as a bone. My old friend fear had stepped in. It’s one thing to write on your own blog, on your own terms. It’s another thing to have one shot at an audience you admire and want to connect with. I feared I would fail her, fail you, and ultimately, fail myself. And so I went seeking puddles to jump in. This is where I landed…

There was a moment—10 years ago—in which I recall taking those first fumbling steps toward freedom. My marriage was failing, and there was great fault on my side that had led to this situation. But it took three phone conversations over the course of a month before I was able to tell my mom about my impending divorce.

When you’ve lived your life as the good girl who’s always “fine,” no one ever really expects you to drop a bomb like that. The rhythm of the conversation would always dance around my latest achievement or my concern over someone else. Admitting that a storm was raging in my life would mean admitting my failure to keep the sun shining. Isn’t that ridiculous? To think that any person could be responsible for the weather? But the weight I placed on my own ability to control the world around me was nearly equal to that.

On the phone with my mom that day, I suddenly found myself in a situation that I could not “fine” myself out of. And so my first step toward living an authentic life came with this statement: “I’m not doing well.”

The words were so hard to choke out all those years ago but they’ve gotten easier.  I’m in the habit of saying them now because the truth is, there are days for all of us when things aren’t going so well.  And the crazy thing is, ever since that admonition, my life has gotten better. I guess everything wasn’t really riding on my success after all.  Freedom was found in the failure.

Growing up in the church, I knew that perfection was not a prerequisite for faith. But I did strive to be really good. When all the things I was really good at failed me, I had nothing to hold onto. And sometimes when we have nothing—that’s when we really begin to find something. A life based on Truth and Grace.

Many years ago, a half-drunk guy sitting next to me on a flight attempted to engage me in a philosophical discussion. Once he learned I was working on my Ph.D. in psychology he suggested I write a book. I guess a couple of gin and tonics made me sound like a genius. Interestingly, that guy spoke aloud a dream that I had held quietly in my heart for a long time—the dream of being a published writer.

I recently read these words from Emily Freeman in her book Grace for the Good Girl: “Maybe you are hiding from your dreams because to face them would mean admitting they are there. And to admit that they are there would mean you aren’t living them after all.”

In my life dreams aren’t the only things I have hidden. Writing has been the means of drawing me out of my hiding places—the places that felt safe but were slowly killing me. Once I moved from writing for myself to writing for others I finally began to move from the shadows and into the light. I began to experience a desperate need to vulnerably step out into the open.

There is surprising healing in that place. For myself, and for others. Out in the wide open with heart laid bare you find that you are not alone. Your arm doesn’t have to stretch far before you are grasping onto the hand of another broken person right beside you. And together we step forward. In truth. In grace. In freedom.

Elizabeth Maxon lives in Charlotte, NC and is the Children’s Ministry Director at New Charlotte Church. You can connect with her on her blog, Words and Wonder.

Donloyn Gadson, Guest Blogger

When our friend Angie asked me to guest post on her blog, I was so humbled and excited. When she asked me to share the things I had learned from Phylicia Rashad, I was spilling over with thoughts to share. It wasn’t until I actually sat down and the words began to fill the screen that I surprisingly became flooded with conflicting emotion.

Ms. Rashad had impacted me in a way that was beyond what I had expected, and I was blind-sided with a delicate realization.

I saved what I had typed, read it to my husband, wrestled with my fears and wrestled some more.

Two days later, Abigail Green shared Telling Your Truth on Angie’s blog. Her words struck a nerve with me, almost as if it had been written especially for my circumstance. It gave me the strength to honestly share what I have learned from Ms. Rashad. It gave me the courage to tell my truth.

From the time I was 12-years-old, Phylicia Rashad has been a part of my life.

From the ages of 12 to 20, she was there, every week, as the beautiful, intelligent and fearless Clair Hanks Huxtable. Those were my formative years…the years I began to lay bits of the foundation of whom I would later become. Many of those bits came from Clair. The sassy and sophisticated, strong and self-confident pieces…the self-reliant, sharp and courageous pieces…I recall finding those qualities, which already existed within me, being validated, encouraged and strengthened each time I saw them demonstrated through her.

Now that my foundation has been laid, the walls have been framed and each shingle has been carefully placed; at age 39, I have found myself in the decorating phase…the phase of seeing my potential and highlighting and enhancing my unique features…the phase of remodeling and creating additions, while being careful not to compromise my structural integrity. And Phylicia, as herself, is here now.

When I was an older teen, I remember wishing that she were my mother. I remember seeing in her all the things that I needed…all the things that a mother should offer a daughter…an open relationship that encourages a young lady to be all that she can and more…an open relationship that encourages a young lady to explore and discover her own creative self.

I have a mother, and, though we share many wonderful memories, the relationship is strained. It has been since the time I began discovering my own thoughts and opinions…the time I began to assert myself as an individual. That was the time I began to fantasize about having Clair as a mom. My mother wanted to mold me into what she wanted me to be. She wanted me to think as she did…do as she did. And, if I didn’t conform to her ideology, then I had to endure silent treatments and spiteful glares. My mother’s relationships with my sisters are basically non-existent, and there is so much distance within my family. It’s always been this way. I don’t mean to say this in a non-caring, disrespectful or flippant manner; I love my mother, and I know she has done the best she could given her life circumstance.

In retrospect, my rollercoaster ride of a mother-daughter relationship is probably a good thing, for it is the bumps and bruises that have conditioned the strongest of hearts…my heart.

You may be wondering, “How is Phylicia Rashad here for you now?”

In November of 2011, I had the glorious pleasure of interviewing Ms. Rashad for an article on Family that appears in the February/March 2012 edition of Living Roots Magazine, Phylicia Rashad: Lessons on Family, Humanity and Love.

She was all that I thought she would be and more. She was all that I knew Clair to be.

She was deliberate in her speech, taking the time to thoroughly weigh her thoughts, feelings and the facts before delivering a well-crafted response. She was powerful and engaging, gently commanding your full attention when she uttered a word. She was wise, and she generously shared that wisdom as if it were her duty to impart knowledge on those who are where she has once been. She was caring and nurturing, taking the time to pay attention to my life circumstance and giving me personal advice based on that. She was committed and endearing as she spoke to the significance of family.

On that day, November 17, 2011, I realized it is for the above reasons that she is synonymous with Clair Huxtable. It is because of her embodiment of motherly guidance and wisdom that she is mostly noted for roles as the wise female head.

I learned many other things on that day.

• I learned that family is sacred, and should be held together and fought for.
• I learned that deep inside I am still that little girl yearning for positive female connections, and that yearning is what lies at the heart of all I have become today.
• I learned that the time for fantasizing is over. Clair Huxtable is a scripted character and Phylicia Rashad, like my mother, is also a flawed human being.
• I learned that if my mother’s relationships with her daughters are to be repaired, then I have to be the catalyst that sparks that change.
• I learned that my mother has always been a fine example for me—During her shining moments, she was an example of what to do—During her not-so stellar moments, an example of what not to do.
• I learned that had it not been for my human relationship with my mom, then I would not be the woman I am today, seeking to empower, uplift and inspire other women and young girls.
• I learned that I owe a debt of gratitude to my mom.
• I learned that I love her now more than ever, flaws and all.

Ms. Rashad left a lasting impression upon me, one that I reflect on regularly. During our interview, she spoke of relatives who are no longer here. Although she misses them, she cherishes the memories of their love. Through her words, she has taught me that I must do all I can to rebuild the crumbled relationships that exist between my mother and her daughters.

What Life’s storm has damaged, Love’s power can restore. When my mother is gone, and, sadly, one day she will be, I don’t want to be amidst the rubble, alone and confused, filled with regret.

Thank you, Clair. Thank you, Phylicia. Thank you, Mama.

Donloyn “Dee” Gadson is a freelance writer and owner of Creole Magnolia Creations. When she’s not running after eight (yes eight) children, she blogs at the Creole Magnolia Cafe.

Friends, please join me in welcoming author Brock Heasley. The internet has a way of leading us down rabbit holes, and I’m glad one of those paths led Brock this way. He’s a gifted writer and awesome dad. His story reminds me of the kind of friend I want to be. 

Cami

by Brock Heasley

Talking about being the parent of a special needs child is just about my least favorite thing to do. Not because I don’t love Cami and don’t think she’s quite nearly the most brilliant and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen (she’s definitely in the top 4), but because conversations about Cami still have to adhere to the two-sided rule of communication.

I talk, then the other person talks. Repeat.

Monologue would be so much simpler.

Unless you’re the parent of a special needs kid yourself (and a lot of times not even then because the needs, being the special thing that they are, are as unique as the kids themselves), you don’t really know how to talk to a parent of a special needs kid.  Talking to a parent about their kid with the mental and physical handicaps is an almost universally uncomfortable thing for people to do. I know that because it comes across during even the simplest of exchanges.

And I know it because I wasn’t always the parent of a special needs child.

Cami, today. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Cami will be seven-years-old in March, but most people assume she’s about three. She’s very small and her muscles are so weak she expends twice as much effort being cute and amazing. She can say a few words, like “hi” and “bath” and, just recently, “I did it!” She also knows a few basic signs like “please” and “thank you” and “more.”

Cami is very social. She loves everybody and loves to give hugs. She used to wear glasses and need a walker. Though she’s still pretty wobbly, watching her walk on her own brings me intense joy, every single time. She is the sweetest, most pure thing on this planet. She has been the source of my biggest smiles and I’ve never cried harder than when I’ve wept for her.

They say that having a special needs child is like grieving. They’re right. You have so many hopes and dreams for your child and they all go up in flames in a fire that never stops burning. Over the past 6+ years, we’ve gone through all the stages of grief and it’s only recently, after all the experts and tops in their fields have weighed in and come up with nothing–no diagnosis, no treatment, not even any idea as to how long she can expect to live–that we’ve finally just accepted. We accept Cami for who she is.

My wife and I are Cami’s parents today. Yesterday has so much pain in it that we don’t think about it that often. Tomorrow we know nothing about and I’m tired of guessing and fighting against that. I accept, totally, who Cami is today. I love her for it. I don’t know what’s next and I don’t have to know. I don’t even really care any more, because now is when we have her and all the light she brings.

That’s what I want to tell people when they ask about her, but I don’t. Because that’s a lot, and, frankly, I know most people aren’t interested in hearing it.

Some people are arrogant. They let their curiosity get the best of them because they don’t know what else to say, vomiting their “educated” guess as to Cami’s condition as if the discovering of it will somehow allow them to move past their discomfort (it doesn’t). These people almost always have a third cousin whose kid has Down’s and are very quick to tell us how little they know about him.

Some people resort to platitudes. My favorite is the one that says my wife and I must be really special ourselves to be entrusted with the care of such a special spirit. As if we’ve won some secret lottery that they themselves are grateful they never got a ticket for. It’s a comforting falsehood meant only for the one speaking it. Special needs kids are born to both the loving and the crack addicts.

Some people have mental blocks when it comes to Cami. They see her, they seemingly recognize that there’s something not quite right there, but then it’s like they forget. They’ll go on and on about how their 9-month old just got up and started running one day. Meanwhile, my kid sits on the playground with the other kids running around her.

And she’s four.

Cami, at age four. Photo provided by Brock Heasley.

Some people just don’t talk to you at all. Sometimes, that’s kind of nice, but those people always stare. It’s weird and they’re weird for doing it and it makes you feel weird.

I get it. I know it isn’t always easy to know the right thing to say. Goodness knows my foot takes up such frequent residence in my mouth that I’ve given it a drawer. But knowing the right thing to say or do isn’t the most important thing when talking to a parent of a child with special needs.

There are the people who just listen. Who ask honest, simple questions and remember to let you talk about how you feel about your child instead of telling you how you should feel. These people accept your child and you at face value, without comparison or judgement. They aren’t always going to know the right thing to say, but they’re in tune enough to recognize when they haven’t.

Cami, at three. One of Brock's favorite photos.

We call these people our friends. Because they speak to us with love.

Brock Heasley lives in Fresno, California with his wife and three daughters. Brock’s memoir, Raised by a Dead Man, a coming-of-age story between two shootings, is represented by Bonnie Solow of Solow Literary. Visit him at BrockHeasley.com

When Lurenda Avery left a comment on this post, I asked her if she would share her story with you. She graciously agreed. As we enter the season of Thanksgiving, I’m reminded that the “good” in our lives doesn’t always sprout from good. Sometimes our blessings emerge from loss and tragedy. Please welcome Lurenda. 

On May 29, 2006 my entire world changed forever. At 24 weeks into what seemed to be a completely normal pregnancy, our first child, Olivia Nichole, was born weighing only 1 pound 8 ounces. My husband, Ben, and I were given grim statistics of her chances for survival. We were told she would likely only live a couple of hours. Devastation, shock, grief, anger. The feelings were so overwhelming that I truly couldn’t feel any of them. I was numb. How does this happen? Why did this happen? What had we done?

Olivia went on to surprise the doctors for a few days, but after one amazing week of life our precious baby girl went from our arms to Jesus’ arms. The heartbreak and grief were beyond comprehension at times. However, even in my darkest moments I always had a sense of peace. I always knew deep in my heart that I would one day be able to smile a real smile and laugh a real laugh, I just didn’t know when that would happen. Looking back on those first few weeks and months, I can say with confidence it was His peace which gave me the courage to face each new day.

Our lives have since moved forward. Ben and I have been blessed with two beautiful children, Jeffrey, 4 and Chelsea, 18 months. The day Jeffrey was born I can recall feeling true happiness for the first time in more than a year. I carried him to 36 weeks and 1 day! He was the happy, healthy baby for whom we had prayed so faithfully to hold in our arms. After he was born I felt the need to give back and I began volunteering with The Footprints Ministry, whose mission is to share Christ’s love with families in the neonatal intensive care unit. Being a Footprints volunteer gave me the opportunity to connect with families like ours and provided a great sense of healing.

On June 5, 2010 my entire world changed again, but for the better. This was the day Chelsea was born; four years to the day from when Olivia passed away. God gave us the gift of life and hope on a day which had been one of loss and sadness for several years. Her birthday was made even more special because the same doctor and nurse that delivered Olivia just happened to be on call that day and were with us for Chelsea’s birth. Needless to say, tears of joy were flowing in that delivery room.

Soon after her birth, Chelsea was admitted into the NICU for slight breathing problems. At the time it seemed like a cruel joke. I was back in that dark place all over again, asking God why this was happening and imagining the worst case scenario. However, Chelsea was okay, she just needed some help adjusting to life outside of the womb. We spent five days in the NICU with her. On our last day there, I was spending time holding my new baby girl and praying. I wanted to know what He was trying to tell me through all of this. As I sat in silence an ever still voice said, “Do more with Footprints.” I thought to myself, “I already volunteer, what else am I supposed to do?” I’m thinking that was when God just laughed.

Two weeks later I was at home with Chelsea and my phone rang. It was Kim Wilson, the director of Footprints Ministry. She called to tell me our Birmingham chapter coordinator needed to step down and she asked if I would be willing to take on the role of leading our chapter. I just laughed and told her that I believed this is what God was calling me to do.

Since that day I have been blessed to meet numerous families who have journeyed through life in the NICU. I’ve prayed and cried with families as they watched their babies struggle. I’ve laughed and rejoiced with our miracles who have gone on to prove the doctors wrong. I’ve hugged the grieving Mommy whose world has just stopped. Through it all, I’ve seen God at work. I’ve seen the amazing love He has for us even in life’s toughest storms. I’ve experienced what He can do with our sadness and grief if we will just let Him. I’m grateful He has given me the willingness to listen to His calling and my prayer is that I will always have the longing to follow.

Has something good in your life blossomed from something terrible? Please support Lurenda on her journey and share your stories in the comments. 

by Giulietta “Julie” Nardone

I’m an inspirational quote junkie.

And from the tweets on Twitter, I’m not alone.

Many of us seem to be searching for ways out of our ruts, the ones we’ve been conditioned to hunker down inside. So, we send each other quotes said by folks who came before us, folks who, perhaps, found a way out of their own ruts.

Here are a few of my favorite rut ejectors.

Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise. Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible. “

~ Cadet Maxim

Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks. Yet most people don’t. They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever.”

~ Philip Andrew Adams

You must do the things you think you cannot do.

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

I especially love the Eleanor Roosevelt quote because it saved my life.

No jest.

Someone left her quote by accident (or on purpose?) on a subway car. It tumbled onto my lap, so I tucked it in my purse and brought it to work where I taped it on the hideous beige wall next to my desk. Prior to that quote confrontation, I’d never thought about quotes. I didn’t know someone else’s words could speak to me. That’s how shut off from inspiration I felt.

I’d been slowly dying in my work rut, rotting from the inside out, with seemingly no way out.

It wasn’t a lack of what’s commonly called education. I’d gone to grad school. It wasn’t a lack of good colleagues. They were fun. It wasn’t a lack of a good location. In the beautiful city of Boston.

It was a lack of freedom, an inability to call my own life shots, a feeling that I had to obey my boss’s stupid orders or I’d lose this job I hated. How ironic was that?

The Eleanor Roosevelt quote attracted more quotes. Pretty soon they covered most of the wall. I listened to what they had to say, which enabled me to listen to what other folks had to say, which eventually allowed me to listen to what I had to say.

I wanted out.

I developed a loose, semi-plan and made the leap. Within one year, I had a much better paying job with flexible hours and the best boss I ever had. Other than taking a few classes, I didn’t even go back to school to get this job. I decided to be something and just became it.

Who knew?

That decision snowballed into many other decisions. I saw for the first time that my rut had a ladder out of it.

All it required from me was the courage to climb out one rung at a time.

By the time you get out of school, you’ll probably be blinded to the fact that every rut comes with a ladder. Otherwise, how would you have gotten down there? We’re taught to obediently climb down and stay down, held there by nothing but the fears and insecurities drummed into us.

I’m here to encourage you to look around until you see that ladder.

See it?

Why not test out the rungs? They’re stronger than you think.

Giulietta “Julie” Nardone is an inspirational rebel, graphic designer, essayist and karaoke singer. Please visit her blog at giuliettathemuse.com.

Elizabeth Horton & Family

I enjoy featuring women who’ve taken inspiring leaps of faith. So today, I introduce Elizabeth Horton, creator of Nostalgic Graphic Tees. Elizabeth has great insight into what it takes to be your own boss, and she’s offering one of her creations to a lucky reader of this blog. If you have a special child in your life, read on:

Angie: Why did you leave the corporate world to start your own business?

Elizabeth Horton: In 2000, I married my “dream guy” and landed my “dream job” as a senior art director for a Charleston-based company. The position was fast-paced and glamorous, but, on the flip side, it required very long hours, a lot of time traveling away from home, and a lot of stress. After a few years, a strong desire to start a family emerged. I began to think about starting a home-based graphic design business that would allow me the flexibility to raise my children while earning an income doing a job that I loved.

What are some of the most valuable lessons you’ve learned as a small business owner?

Find partners who understand your business and share your vision…and form lasting relationships with them. I have partnered with the same printers, programmers, and vendors for the past 8 years. I trust them to provide me with great quality and service so that I can provide the very best product to my clients. Keep your promises and provide a quality product so that the same lasting relationships can be formed with your clients.

Another lesson: having your own business doesn’t mean you get to create your own schedule. I’ve spent many nights working after the children are tucked into bed, and many weekends locked away in my office while my husband is on “kid duty” to get a job completed on time.

What scares you?

The unpredictable economy. I wasn’t prepared for it. When my biggest clients all seemed to shut their doors at once, I was left spending a lot of time staring at my computer screen, trying to figure out what I should do! With the extra time on my hands, I decided to try out an idea that I had been thinking about for a while…designing vintage-inspired silhouettes for children’s clothing. Branching out has kept me in business.

What inspires your designs?

Seeing my children grow and develop their imaginations made me feel nostalgic about some of my own childhood memories. I remembered the joy in picking a flower, playing on a see saw, twirling in a tutu, catching that first firefly of the summer, looking at clouds against a blue sky, blowing bubbles, fishing in grandaddy’s pond, riding a bike. I loved reliving those simple moments with my own family and wanted to capture them in some fashion.

Also, I’ve become more conscious of what I buy, and I try very hard to buy things that came from a person…another mom, just like me…rather that something mass-produced in a foreign factory. Etsy has been a great resource and the perfect way to showcase my products worldwide to others who are also interested in buying handmade.

How do you balance working from home while staying home with kids?

I have a tough time with balance. Home life and work life are always intertwined. Sometimes, I just force myself to turn off the computer, promise myself to leave it off for a full day, and take the kids to the beach. I never regret doing that, though sometimes it’s very hard to do.

What have you had to let go of in order to make it happen?

I have had to let the housework go! There is always a big pile of laundry to tackle.  And I don’t get quite as much sleep as I would like.

Any advice to someone thinking about going into business for themselves?

Research your idea and surround yourself with supporters who can help you make it happen. There will always be nay-sayers. Don’t let them squash your dreams.

Elizabeth has set aside a Nostalgic Graphic Tee for one of you. For a chance to win, just include who the gift is for, and why, in your insightful and lovely comment. I will draw the winner’s name from the proverbial hat.

And, if you’d like to subscribe to my blog, click here.

photo credits: Christine Hamrick Photography. Wagon photo courtesy of Danette Kay Photography and baby photo courtesy of  Ellie Bean.

by Shauna Heathman, Owner of Mackenzie Image Consulting and one of the Charleston Regional Business Journal’s 40 Under 40.

You’re at point A. You know what point B looks like and even what it may feel like. But the in-between — the getting to point B from point A — is the hard part. How is it possible to have such a distinct vision of your prospective future, but the path is such a blur?

I launched my company in 2007, starting at point A.  As any entrepreneur or self-starting individual knows, you typically don’t have all the answers up front. When you set out to do something with a sense of passion and determination, the path doesn’t matter as long as you have the ability to visualize point B. This intention to do something, to be something, to end up in a more positive place, is ten times more powerful when you do have that distinct vision of the future.

My first few months in business, I filled an entire notebook of ideas, notes, and brainstorming scribbles and then filed it away. Two years later, I came across it as I packed for a move. I flipped through the pages of those “point A” moments of my life and while most of the memories of those notes were reminiscent, others were completely forgotten; like the second to last page of the notebook. At the top of this page it read, “My professional life in April 2009.” Following the header, there were bullet points after bullet points of intentions for the next two years. I had outlined exactly what my professional life looked like two years after inception. I was stunned as I read them. Finding this forgotten page of intentions was not the biggest surprise, however. I found that out of 43 items listed on that page, by August, every single thing except for one had been accomplished.

It wasn’t until earlier this year that this idea of setting intentions really came full circle. A speaker at a workshop I attended shared with us the idea of setting intentions rather than goals. A goal is not the same as intention, she explained. A goal is an aim, a desired result. An intention, however, is one’s purpose or a design for a particular end. Setting intentions allows you to feel the success even if it hasn’t tangibly happened yet. The bullet points on that page of my notebook were not written as if I didn’t have them; they were written as if they already existed. They were intentions that allowed me to be okay with the in-between haze of point A and point B.

I encourage you to convert your goals into intentions. Write them down to help you visualize your point B, whatever that may be. The stress of the unknown path will start to fade as you step into your intentions and live them on a daily basis. No need to force the faith, because faith in the result comes naturally when your intentions are genuine.

What sort of intentions do you set for yourself? Have you noticed a difference in outcome when you’ve set intentions rather than goals?

Connect with Shauna on Twitter and Facebook. If you’d like Angie’s blog delivered to your reader or inbox, click here.

by Doretha Walker, author of We Can Fly

I think I have always been waiting for my THING to come, but more recently the search has become much more urgent since I no longer have a full time job. I am learning, however, that the THING will not be rushed and I hope will not be delayed. I cannot tell you exactly what my THING is because I have yet to obtain it. I will know it the minute it arrives. Don’t be jealous because my THING is not the same thing as your THING. We all get our own. That is how the universe works. Everyone gets at least one THING. Your THING is coming. The key is to recognize that and not settle for less.

How do I know we each get our own thing? I know because whenever I get something that someone else raves about, rarely do I feel euphoric. I want what I want and you want what you want, and our wants are rarely the same thing. I can be happy when you get your THING and maybe a tab bit envious, but generally that THING is not on my list of things to do, and therefore it is not mine.

Although I do not know exactly what my THING is, I do know what it isn’t. It does not involve math, steel-toed boots, hard hats, safety glasses, or swimming in open water. It will probably include writing, speaking, empowering others, smiling, and traveling. In all honesty, I would love a regular column.

I told the placement counselor that I was looking for an out of the box project.  That is because I do not want to discount any of my skills and experience. I just want to apply them in a different way. He said he understood. I am glad because there is no way I can know all of the potential job possibilities that exist and maybe my THING is everything I think it is woven with something that I never knew existed.

My thoughts on the subject are not always rosy. Waiting for my THING brings some bad days. When McDonalds advertised that it was hiring 50,000 people across the nation, I was tempted to head to there and apply to be a French fry cooker. There is a story in that, but that is for another time. Long story short, I did not go. I will admit that I think about applying at every establishment I pass that says hiring. I even had an interview for what I was so sure was my THING, but it did not work out.

I am sure that I will find my THING because I deserve it. I have put up with some pretty crappy jobs, situations, and paid my dues too many times not to get it. Plus, I believe in it. It is coming. I may have to take another detour in order to put food on my table, but I promise not to sell my soul to the devil in the process this time. It is so hard to get it back.

In the meantime I will continue teaching part-time at the Art Institute, training for my third triathlon and working diligently on finishing my dissertation. Check back with me in a month or so, and I will give you an update.

Are you waiting for your Thing?