Decisions

Learning to Wait

Within days of waiting quietly for hours (see here)—and appreciating the experience—I had a chance to practice what I learned about waiting. However, this time, I was in a noisy Walmart instead of a solemn courthouse. This time, I had a to-do list rather than a cleared day. This time, the result of my wait would update a photo album, not help change lives.

An 8×10 photo stapled to its receipt should have been a quick fix except the associate helping me reorder went on an extended break, and then, the printer went into a scheduled 30-minute “cleaning session.”

“Let’s enjoy the wait,” I told my husband who was stuck with me. “Let’s be happy.”

We did, and we were. (He usually is.) We compared the TV screens on display. We observed an associate using his eyeglasses as a Bluetooth device. (Who knew?) We listened to a mother—while uploading photos—preach a fifty-minute sermon to her children. I peeked at a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Can I just tell myself to enjoy waiting? Is it that easy? Can I learn to find the events and people surrounding me interesting, perhaps even entertaining? I guess I’ll see.

Decisions, Relationships

It’s The Little Things That Matter #2

Last week, I wrote about the lasting impact of a snapshot. (See here.) It was the result of three small decisions I made—taking, printing, and sending. However, someone else’s decisions made the moment possible.

A and L told me they would not be at the evening church service because A did not drive at night. I liked these women, and they expressed disappointment at missing the installation service. Therefore, I was sad about their situation, and then, delightfully surprised to see them appear.

What made it possible for A and L to be at church after dark? An elder in the church called and did more than offer a ride. He chose words that were inclusive, welcoming. He said, “My wife and I will pick you up at 6:30.” He implied that their presence was a given and not an imposition.

Why don’t we do more of the little things? Because, although actions may seem “little,” they are time consuming. Who wants to waste valuable time on something that, on the surface, seems “little?”

Along the way, I am learning that the “little things” are remembered the most.

Have “little things” impacted your life?

Decisions

Paris Olympics: Forgoing Perfection

My memories of watching gymnastics began with Soviet Olga Korbut during the 1972 Olympics. She might have been on the other side of the Cold War, but she enchanted us all. Not only did Korbut popularize the sport, but she also reduced tensions between the U.S. and the Soviet Union.

I followed Olympic gymnastics from the Olga Korbut era until 1996, and then returned in 2012. I was struck by a change that seemed especially pronounced these past weeks in Paris: the importance of sticking the landing.

In my earliest memories, sticking the landing was almost a prerequisite for a spot on the podium. In Paris, sticking the landing was the icing on the cake, not the cake itself. The cake was height, complexity, and innovation. Commentators informed me that the difficulty of a gymnast’s routine made sticking the landing uncertain, but that same difficulty could overcome penalties. Risk triumphed perfection.

I’ve known that perfectionism was an enemy, but watching gymnasts accept potential mistakes in order to reach the podium was a good reminder.

Many people think of perfectionism as striving to be your best, but it is not about self-improvement; it’s about earning approval and acceptance.

Brene Brown
Decisions, Parenting

They Didn’t Do It All*

In 1998, I flew to Tennessee to celebrate my precious grandmother’s 88th birthday. On the plane, I decided to ask a great-aunt how she juggled raising two daughters with church and community responsibilities. I don’t know why I chose Aunt Dottie. I liked her, but we were not close. Maybe because she was kind, cheerful, patient, modest, long-suffering, and—as an empty nester—she had started a successful home business.

Great-Aunt Dottie (2000)

Our only time alone was driving Aunt Dottie to pick up fish dinners for the family meal. I vividly remember the exit of the restaurant parking lot where I started the conversation. More intensely, I remember Aunt Dottie’s answer and what it provoked: vindication and regret.

I didn’t take on additional responsibilities. None of the mothers did. We didn’t expect that of each other until our children were older.

Great-Aunt Dottie

I had wrongly accepted the unrealistic expectations of others and myself. Women have come a long way since Aunt Dottie’s child-raising days, but we have also regressed. I wish I had asked sooner.

Do you have an untapped source for advice?

*Edited and republished for the fourth anniversary of 100words.

Decisions

Goals: Wishing, Practical, and Backup*

You are never too old to set a new goal or to dream a new dream.

C.S. Lewis

My sons had graduated both high school and college, when I heard thoughtful, helpful advice about goals.  A cousin’s college goals were too ambitious, but we never want to discourage others’ dreams, do we? God can make them happen if it’s his will.

My cousin’s guidance counselor told her to have three college goals: a wishing goal, a practical goal, and a backup goal.  The vocabulary reflected reality, not judgment. Wishing should be encouraged. Practical is important. A backup means you have planned well.

Thinking about wishing, practical, and backup goals showed me another truth. Wishes can soar higher when you have two nets to catch you: practical and backup. While raising children, I wish I had known this excellent way to encourage our collective and individual dreams, and yet, ground our hopes.

In 2013, I fulfilled the wishing goal of visiting Alaska. This photo was taken while I was closest to Mt. Denali, North America’s highest point.

Any new wishing goals while considering practical and back-up ones?

*Edited and republished for the fourth anniversary of 100words.