Yeah, Write

Thankful

I am so very thankful.

For snow.

For babies. (Well, one in particular...)

For a doggie that seems to understand how special and fragile babies are—and behaves herself accordingly.

For a husband who is head-over-heels in love with our little girl.

For a cozy fireplace and warm socks.

For a teenager who has great taste in music and enjoys jamming with his stepmom. (He on guitar, me on piano.)

For the Bravo network, which manages to play America's Next Top Model marathons whenever I or the baby take a sick day. (It's my new favorite guilty pleasure.)

For employment.

For health.

For faith.

For friends, both real and virtual, who have been sharing wholeheartedly in our baby joy.

For warm baths.

For tiny hands that wrap around my fingers and squeeze tight—I had no idea how much I'd love that particular detail.

For online connections that keep me from feeling isolated and alone at home.

For Burt's Bees Herbal Blemish Stick, which has literally transformed my skin. It's clearer than it's been in decades!

For the opportunity to work from home, building my own business. (Thanks, sweetie, for your support.)

For newborn sighs and cries and infant sneezes and all the adorable noises that now fill my day.

For wonderful parents who live close by.

For a father-in-law who brings over his snowblower when the weather has been particularly rough.

For that $30 mani-pedi at the Da Vi Nail Salon located inside my local Wal-Mart.

For mother's intuition.

For a roof and four walls, uninterrupted heat, and plenty to eat.

For birthmothers who make unbelievable sacrifices so that others' lives may be whole.

For prayers.

For family.

For being alive and in my shoes right here, right now.

My First Week as a Mom

Keira is now 10 days new. And she just hit her one-week anniversary as a Lucas. My heart is full.

 

I am a mother. I've yearned for this for 11 years, ever since I fell in love with my tiny newborn niece, Haylee, on April 22, 1999. Five years later, I was married, and another six years later, I finally brought home my own bundle of joy. And now, at least a dozen times a day, I look at the darling in my arms and say to myself in wonder, "I'm holding a baby right now! And I get to keep her!"

Expected: How fun it would be to hear people say "your baby."
Unexpected: The jolt I felt the first time someone said "your daughter."

Expected: That being a new mother feels something like falling in love for the first time.
Unexpected: The euphoria I feel every minute. The whole world looks brighter, newer. I'm full of creative ideas and overflowing with inspiration (if only I had a spare minute to follow through on any of them). I half expect to see little cartoon birds lifting the bed covers each morning while singing mice lay out our outfits for the day.

Expected: That I'd be very, very tired from the feedings every two hours.
Unexpected: How little I care about being tired. I'd rather be tired. I love being tired. After six years of being well rested but empty handed, I'm ready to be physically exhausted with a cuddly infant in my arms.

Expected: That Travis would be a wonderful dad all over again, just like he's been to Jeremy.
Unexpected: How quickly he fell in love with Keira Jane. "I had no idea," he said to me the other day. "About what? How cute she'd be?" I asked. "About all of it," he said.


Expected: That there'd be lots and lots of laundry.
Unexpected: How much I love folding baby clothes. (Just don't ask if any of the grown-up clothes around here have been laundered in the last two weeks.)

Expected: That there'd be a learning curve as I adjust to being a new mom. I'm not the fastest diaper changer in the West, not by  long shot. (I've been known to go through three new diapers during one changing session, thanks to Keira's air-exposure-pee-reflex. But Travis has the record with four.) Nor do I have the onesie wrestling down quite yet. (Slipping a wriggling, floppy newborn into a tiny, form-fitting, fabric tube should be an Olympic sport.)
Unexpected: How much I already know from years of watching sisters and sisters-in-law, friends, and neighbors with their children. It appears I've been a sponge for the last 10 years, quietly gathering everyone else's best ideas and learning from their experiences.

Expected: That I'd be grateful to my baby's birth parents.
Unexpected: How deeply I love, admire, and respect my baby's birthmom. How fervently I pray that she will have absolutely everything she wants and needs out of life, that she will be happy, that she will be treasured and loved by all who know her. How I hope for every happiness for her birthdad, too.

Expected: That being jolted awake every two hours by a crying infant would wreak havoc with my sleep habits.
Unexpected: How vividly I remember all of my dreams. I usually remember dreams only occasionally, but now I enjoy the pleasure of clearly recalling three or four weird dreams every night! (Only one so far has involved misplacing the baby.)

Expected: That new babies bring joy and wonder with them right from the start.
Unexpected: The outpouring of gifts, visitors, well-wishes, and more from friends, family, and even strangers who are sharing in our happiness. (For just one wonderful example, visit The Daily Trumpet to see what Wendy and her cohorts put together for baby Keira.) I wish every baby born on this earth could be greeted with such a celebration.

Expected: That being a new mother would change my life entirely.
Unexpected: That I still feel exactly like me. I think, all this time, I was imagining an enormous, transformative change to come over me—that a pillar of light would rain down from heaven, and I'd be endowed with motherly wisdom, power, and instant immunity to all disgusting bodily liquids.

Yes, the change is and will be total, but it hasn't been an overwhelming or sudden shift in the fabric of my very existence. It's been quiet and gradual. It feels as comfortable as slipping into a soft, fluffy robe that fits like a dream and that I never, ever want to take off.

Photos taken by Travis with his dad's vintage Polaroid Land Camera and then scanned.

There Are No Words

Our first glimpse of baby Keira Jane Lucas, all dolled up by her unbelievably sweet birthmom and birthdad.

Somebody pinch me. I must be dreaming.

It's a Girl!!!

If there were ever a time to use multiple exclamation points in a title, this is it!!!

We've kept the news to ourselves for a little while, but I'm ready to share my miracle.

Baby Girl Lucas is due on October 13, 2010. And we found out just a couple of weeks ago that she gets to be ours.

We're not even done with our adoption paperwork yet (it's being fasttracked, of course!). We don't even have our "please choose us!" adoption profile completed. And the agency we're using (LDS Social Services) is very highly subsidized by the LDS church, which makes it highly affordable compared to other agencies, which means there are 900(!!!) prospective LDS couples on the waiting list and not nearly that many babies, which means couples wait for 2 years on average to be matched with a birthmom. Our situation is going to skew those statistics just a bit, I think.

Here's the story.

I'd been sitting on that infertility post I wrote for honestly 2 months. I'd been thinking about writing about infertility for even longer than that, but I couldn't muster up the courage. But on the day before I was planning to publish that post anyway, I got a phone call out of the blue from a beautiful, young mother-to-be who wanted to meet us. 

I had about three hours notice to get my house ready for the visit, and I'm eternally grateful for that, because had it been any longer, I may have been a basket case by the time she arrived. Who knows what I would have attempted to remodel in time for the visit?

You see, the birthmom is a relative of a relative. She's not biologically related to me, but she is biologically related to three of my nieces and nephews. She's my brother-in-law's niece. And I loved her the moment she showed up on my doorstep. Not just because of the unimaginable gift she has chosen to give us, but because of the courage and character she has shown through an incredibly difficult time in her life.

And to make it even more perfect than it already is, I have no less than SEVEN friends or cousins who are either giving birth or adopting babies within three months of my baby's due date. And even better, six of the seven babies are girls! (Did you hear that? "My baby"??? I've been waiting for six years to say that about someone other than a 105-lb. French Mastiff or a 45-lb. Olde English Bulldogge.)

As the events of the last several months have unfolded, it has become more and more obvious to me that there is a larger plan at work here. Whether you believe in fate (which I don't) or in divine intervention and guidance (which I do), it's abundantly clear that even heart-wrenching, difficult, grief-filled situations can be made good and right. I can't even begin to express all the tender feelings that are in my heart right now. We've been walking on air for weeks. And as every day passes, it becomes more and more real.


Isn't she adorable? (I know the pictures aren't doing the frame justice. It's hard to photograph behind glass.)

About the Frame
There is so much more to this story than I'd ever have room for on this blog, but I have to share a few more highlights. The birthmom, Anneliese, created the beautiful frame you see pictured above. She's a scrapbooker. (See? I told you it was perfect!) And my sister is an ultrasound tech, so she was able to get a beautiful profile picture of the baby for Anneliese to give to us. And this, of course, meant that my sister got the privilege of hearing our news about a week before we did.

Anneliese and the birthdad both arrived at our house for their third visit with us, this time to meet and get to know Jeremy. We had planned a game night (Anneliese's idea!), since games can be a great way to get to know people's personalities and temperaments in a short time. We played Catch Phrase first, girls against boys. (And the boys won 2 out of 3 games.) Then they had brought the game Balderdash.

While Travis prepped the game, I stood up to open a window to let more air into the stuffy room. "Oh!" Travis says, "Maybe I should go get our version of this game. This one's wrapped up all cute." Then I hear Travis pause, "Uh, Angie, maybe you should open it."

Inside the box was the gorgeous frame and three darling little outfits. I was stunned into silence. (Sometimes, for people who talk a lot usually, as I do, they showcase their strongest emotions by clamming right up.) My eyes welled up, Travis hugged me, and I think I was able to stammer out, "Are you sure?"

She said they were sure after the first visit, but they wanted to find the right way and the right time to tell us. (And did you catch that the box says, "Balderdash: the hilarious bluffing game." How perfectly poetic is that? See, you love Anneliese already, too, don't you?)

So, in about 5 weeks, I'm going to be a mother. Or perhaps less than that, if Baby Girl Lucas decides to make her appearance a bit early. And although the nursery's not quite ready and we still need to find homes for all the stuff we're moving out of our spare room, I'd be fine with that. After all, Baby Girl Lucas sure has taken her own sweet time to get here!

I Am Infertile

This has been a hard thing to admit. And while I don't always believe in the pop-psychology, shout-it-from-the-rooftops approach to dealing with one's internal struggles, it's important for me to say this out loud. To say, "I am infertile," without choking up with unwanted tears, wanting to hide under a rock, or immediately trying to reassure people "but I'm OKAY, really."

I was inspired by a woman I saw on a local tv show, Studio 5, the day after my sister-in-law Becky and I appeared on a breast-cancer panel as part of their "Finding Strength through Hard Times" series. I didn't want to identify with Kerstin Daynes, or be inspired by her. But I was. She said:

Talk about it. One of my mottoes is "talking about infertility is much better than not talking about infertility." Sure, it is hard and uncomfortable—it is an intimate part of life, after all. But, as you talk about it, it becomes more normal and you find a voice for what you are dealing with. Additionally, you will likely find others who are dealing with the same thing you are! You might also find that once you start talking about infertility, it is sometimes difficult to stop. Don't be ashamed of infertility. Say it…"I am infertile. I don't like it, but I am not afraid to talk about it." Louder…"I am infertile. I don't like it, but I am not afraid to talk about it." Doesn't that feel good?

 

It's not like it was a huge secret, anyway. If you're a Mormon woman who's been married for going on 7 years and you haven't produced one, two, or possibly three offspring in that amount of time, people around you will assume that you're infertile before they ever assume that you're choosing a child-free lifestyle. And in my case, they're right.

I mean, it's not like people with cancer can always hide it. They may not like it, but hiding from it doesn't solve anything. By being open, as Becky was, you give the people who love you a chance to share in your sorrow, and to help you if they can. And, as in Becky's case, you can also inspire and strengthen others by facing your struggles with courage and conviction.

So this is me, saying it:

I Am Infertile

Thank you for being here as part of my self-help therapy session.

Part of the reason I never wanted to admit this out loud is that I didn't want to encourage all the unwanted advice. "You know, if you'll just relax and calm down about it, you'll get pregnant." (Oh really, so it's my fault then?) "You should adopt. I know ten people who adopted babies and then found out they were pregnant the next month." (Yes, this does happen, but I never wanted to pursue adoption as a means to an end. I wanted to adopt when it felt like the best choice for me, which it finally does.)

And the thing is, after all these years, it's not precisely clear what's wrong with me/us. I've been told I'm "borderline PCOS," which means I have a few of the symptoms of PolyCystic Ovary Syndrome, but not all of them (e.g., the blood test came back negative). This was not welcome news. Women with PCOS can deal with hair loss, unwanted facial hair, acne, difficulty losing weight, extremely painful menstrual cramping, and increased risk for breast and ovarian cancer. "Great," I thought. "I'm going to grow up to be a fat, pimply, balding, bearded, dead woman."

The fertility specialist I met with said that, based on the amount of time we've been trying, it looks like we only have a 2-3 percent chance of getting pregnant unassisted. Great odds, right?


While I was in the midst of my infertility treatments a couple of years ago, I created a layout that I needed to keep to myself for a while. It was incredibly therapeutic to honor my struggle in this way. I put words to it, and pictures. I made it a visual, tangible thing. This layout says that my grief is and was real, and that it's a part of my life.

A few more thoughts:

• As strange as it sounds, and as much as I've always longed to be a mother, I've known in my heart that the time hasn't been right before now. This is out of my hands, and I've relied on my faith to see me through it. And I'm seeking joy in my life in the meantime. I was recently called to be the Primary President in my church congregation. This means that, every Sunday, I am in charge of the spiritual education of 48 children between the ages of 18 months and 11 years. I am doing what I can to influence and bless the lives of children.


• I'm grateful to be a stepmother. I know that children are unbelievably adorable at 6 months, and 2 years, and 5 years old. But Jeremy is living proof that 7-year-olds, and 10-year-olds, and, yes, even 16-year-olds are delightful too. I met Jeremy when he was 7, and I felt very bonded to him very early on. Children bring a fresh perspective and youthful energy to life, and I'm grateful he's been here to make every Mother's Day a happy one, not to mention the days in between.


• I'm grateful that I've never been pregnant. In other words, I thank my lucky stars that I haven't had to endure miscarriage after miscarriage. That's a silver lining for sure. As hard as my situation can be sometimes, it could definitely be worse. (I can just hear myself channeling my Grandma Neva: "If you can't have the things you want, be grateful for the things you don't have that you don't want.")


• I have not exhausted all medical possibilities with regard to infertility (no need to go into the gory details). But at a certain point, it stopped feeling like the right path for us. And you have to trust what feels right. No one else but you knows what's right for you. These days, there is literally no limit to the amount of time and money a person could spend trying to become pregnant. No limit. I've learned to let go of the guilt of supposedly "not wanting it badly enough" to keep pushing beyond where I felt comfortable.


• I am not unhappy. I am not unfulfilled. I do not wallow in misery every day of my life. About every three months or so, I throw myself a pity party, and I roll around in my sorrow and disappointment until I'm just plain sick of feeling sorry for myself. I call my mom or a sister or a friend and talk, talk, talk. Then I pick myself up and soldier on.


• I have been able to survive baby showers unscathed, and I welcome the news of family and friend pregnancies with true happiness for them (eventually, if not right away). I've had six nieces and nephews join the family during the time I've been trying to have a baby, and I love them all dearly. The initial news is always hard to hear, but by the time the timer goes off, I'm just as thrilled as anyone could be. Just because it hasn't worked out for me does NOT mean I hope it doesn't work out for others.


• That said, the initial news can be a shock, depending on my mental state. My advice (from my personal experience) is to break pregnancy news to your infertile friends personally, rather than at a big party or gathering or via Facebook. Especially if she's a close friend, let her feel special by entrusting her with your news before it goes public. All you have to say is, "I wanted to tell you first. You have no idea how much I also want this for you, and how happy I'll be when it's your turn to share your news with me." If she cries (which she likely will, either there or later), give her a hug and tell her that you love her. Please don't begrudge the fact that she may not be thrilled for you right away. She'll get there.


• On the flip side, if you're infertile, do your best to "get there" and be happy for others. Try to be thrilled for your pregnant friends, just like you'd want them to be thrilled for you. Pregnancy can be very hard, for some more than others. Allow your pregnant friends to complain a little if they need to. Your friend may be going through something profoundly difficult for her, just like you are. (If the complaining seems excessive, insensitive, or unnecessary, you can gently say, "Believe it or not, I very much look forward to being nauseated for 9 straight months." I think most women would respect that.)


• Please don't feel too sorry for me. For those of you who have kids, remember that just because you cannot imagine living one day of your life without your kids (because you know them and love them beyond words), that does not mean you'd be a quivering heap of misery every day of your life if you had never met them in the first place. You wouldn't quite know what you were missing.


• A huge step in my journey has been the ability (only recently) for me to say and truly believe (at least sometimes), "I can imagine living a happy and fulfilled life, even if I never have children." I can be the best stepmom, aunt, and future step-grandmother on the planet. And Travis and I have a darn good time together, so I can be grateful for that. As a sweet new friend quoted to me just last night, "Come what may, and love it." For me, this means being open to every eventuality, while maintaining hope for the one thing you want most.


• For the first time in five years (and I've been praying about this all along the way), adoption feels like the right path to pursue. I'm 90 percent excited and 10 percent terrified, and I can't wait to see how things work out for us. At the moment, we're in the middle of massive amounts of paperwork and red tape. We are officially "applicants for parenthood," auditioning for the role that other people fall into naturally and even sometimes accidentally. We have to be "chosen," and there's no small amount of pressure involved in that thought.

Wish us luck.

 

Advice for Stepmoms

Some of your comments from a few weeks ago (in response to my "just a stepmom" mention) got me thinking about this topic. So I've gathered up some words of wisdom that have helped me over the past 8 years I've been a part-time parent.

First of all, let me say that step-parenting can be tricky, and every situation is so different. Experiences vary greatly based on factors like:

• the age of the child(ren) when you joined the family
• your age and level of life experience
• how long the child(ren)'s parents had been divorced by the time you joined the family
• whether you have a stepson or a stepdaughter, or a couple of each
• whether there are half-siblings and step-siblings in the mix a well
• whether the biological mom is in the picture and how involved she is
• whether the child also has a stepfather at the other home
• how amicable the relationship is between the ex-spouses
• whether you have custody or just visitation
• how much time you spend "in charge" of the child when your spouse isn't home
• etc. etc. etc.

The following words of advice have worked well for my specific situation, and that's as far as my experience with step-parenting goes. If you have other thoughts about other circumstances, feel free to share them in the comments!

 

{My Situation}
Jeremy's biological parents divorced when he was 5. I met Jeremy when he was 7 years old. I became his stepmom officially when he was 9; he's now 15. His dad, Travis, and I don't have any other children yet. Jeremy's time is split equally between his mom's house and our house. He has two biological parents, two step-parents, one half-sister (at his mom's house), eleven living grandparents and great-grandparents all together, and two dogs—all of whom are very involved in his life.

 

{My Advice}
1. Appreciate the Uniqueness of Your Relationship
 And most importantly, don't covet the mom role, especially if the mom is around and involved. Right from the beginning, I made it clear that Jeremy should call me "Angie," and that the "Mom" label is reserved for his mother. I told Jeremy several times, "I'm not ever going to try to compete with your mom. I'm your stepmom, which is a different relationship, and I'm proud of that. You will never hurt my feelings by putting your mom first." I didn't want to add to the confusion any young child feels when they're split between two households. And he still always made sure I felt special and included on Mother's Day. One year, when he was in elementary school, he wrote a little song on the computer called, "Song for Mom and Angie" and gave a copy to both of us.

2. Be an Actress in a Supporting Role
I'm not saying to put on an act, of course; I'm using the term figuratively. But when it comes to parenting, I mostly think of myself as a support for my husband—especially since 75 percent of the time that Jeremy's at our house, Travis is home too. I'm here to help lighten Travis's load; to offer love and guidance to Jeremy; to help Travis with parenting decisions and dilemmas; to assist with the driving and the homework; to add more fun, creativity, and femininity to the house; to be a good example; and to model a healthy marital relationship for Jeremy.

I've learned that it's best to leave the discipline and most of the decision-making to dad. "I'll ask your dad" or "Let's see what your dad thinks" are my standard replies to most requests. At first, I sometimes felt powerless in my own home, but then I realized how freeing the lack of power can be. (See "Live Guilt-Free" below.)

3. Don't Shy Away from the "Step"
At first, I felt a little funny about introducing Jeremy as "my stepson," for fear that might seem like I was belittling the relationship, especially to him. I do love Jeremy like a son, and I try to make sure he knows that. But I've come to understand that the "step" prefix is just an explanatory label; it holds no emotional weight unless you assign it emotional weight.

And sometimes the "step" descriptor is important. (After all, Jeremy looks like he's 17, and people who've known me a while know I wasn't knocked up in high school.) Other times, the "step" doesn't matter at all. For example, when Jeremy was about 10, a mall clerk said something like, "Your mom sure is nice to buy you that." I just smiled, but Jeremy stammered a bit and said, "Oh, um, well, she's, uh, actually my stepmom." Later I said to him, "You know, if we're never going to see a person again, it's okay if they don't know the whole situation. You don't have to feel like you need correct people, unless you want to. It's okay with me if people think I'm your mom!" Depending in the situation, I also sometimes say "my boy, Jeremy" or "my teenager" or "the resident 15-year-old."

4. Don't Hold Back
When Travis and I were newly married, I felt I was walking an awkward line when it came to Jeremy. How much affection should I show? How much should I stay in the background out of respect for his relationship with his mom? Will I confuse him or make him feel like he has conflicting loyalties? But I've learned not to hold back just because Jeremy already has a mom; I can love Jeremy with my whole heart, and all that does is enlarge his world. Jeremy can feel secure that someone who doesn't HAVE to love him (as there's no biological imperative) loves him anyway, because he's a great kid.

And he really is a great kid/almost man; I can't discount how lucky I am in this regard. I have always found it easy to relate to Jeremy. He's talkative and curious, he likes to read, he has wide-ranging music tastes, we both play an instrument, we both love dogs, we have similar senses of humor, we're both creative and artistic, and our personality types overlap significantly. In my efforts to relate to this budding teenager, I even got pretty good at Nacht der Untoten ("Night of the Zombies"), an unlockable level in the Call of Duty: World at War video game. Don't knock it until you've tried it!

5. Live Guilt-Free
Every mom I know experiences a fair amount of guilt. Have I done all the right things for my child? Have I been there enough? Have I said the right things? Am I making mistakes that will ruin my child forever? As a step-parent, I get to just sit back and enjoy the ride. Jeremy is being fully parented in all ways by his mom and dad. Dentist appointments, doctor's appointments, and the majority of parent-teacher conferences happen without my involvement. I feel like anything I do for Jeremy is just icing on the cake. A bonus. And when he misbehaves or acts out—as all children do now and then—I rarely blame myself or think it's a reflection on me personally. After all, he could have learned that behavior from any one of his four parent figures, or it could be just the product of his sometimes-difficult situation. There's always someone else who could be to blame for things. And that's not such a bad situation to be in.

{My Conclusion}
While I sometimes seem to minimize my role by calling myself a "part-time parent," I'm not minimizing the impact I could possibly have on this young man's life. It's more of a way for me to acknowledge that I don't carry the full burden of parenthood 365 days a year. Half of the time, I'm on duty, making sure I know where Jeremy is, who he's with, whether his homework is done, and whether he's consumed any vegetables that day. But I'm also off duty half of the time, and someone else takes care of those things.

Nonetheless, I am a parent. And I've earned that title. Once you've cleaned up someone else's vomit, checked his fevers, tucked him in at night, shopped for his school clothes, helped solve his pre-algebra problems, sat next to his hospital bed, reminded him to wash his hands for the thousandth time, or run his forgotten homework to school in the middle of the day, you definitely count.

A Godin Afternoon

I attended a luncheon today sponsored by Startup Princess featuring Seth Godin. Proceeds from the event will benefit Red Cross relief for Haiti. I walked out feeling inspired, enlarged, and empowered.

 

I ended up sitting right on an aisle, and as Seth walked past me, he said, "Thanks for coming, Angie." I played it cool and simply said, "Happy to be here." The guy behind me gaped and said, "You KNOW him?" I smiled and pointed to my name tag. Seth can read and he's a nice guy. That's all. :-)

Here are a few highlights from the lecture:

* In many ways, today's public schools are designed to create compliant workers. They want you to fit in so they can ignore you. The only thing graduating with an A average means is "I'm good at school." If you get a job after high school that requires you to take in and memorize information, and there's a test every two weeks, you'll do awesome! But being successful and happy in life takes more than doing well on written exams.

* We live in an age that doesn't need Encyclopedia Brittanica anymore. Facts are cheap. Facts are available to almost everyone all the time. (You can google almost any fact and have your answer in seconds.) What we SHOULD be teaching in schools is to:
1) Solve interesting problems.
2) LEAD.
3) Make decisions when there's no obvious path.

* In the past, it's been about training the next generation of factory workers. The bosses had the machines, and the workers operated the machines, and both the workers and the machine were replaceable. But today, EVERYONE has access to "the machine." It's called an $800 personal computer, and with it, you can create the next big idea and spread the word about it yourself. This is a new era. And this new era is about being an ARTIST in whatever field you're in. Everything is now connected, and you have the whole world open to you. There's no middle man anymore. (You don't have to convince an editor to let you write anymore; you can self-publish a blog or an eBook or even a hardbound book.)

* The way to succeed is to become irreplaceable. The way to be safe in your job is to STAND OUT. If your boss tells you exactly what to do and you do nothing more than obediently follow it to the letter, then you can be replaced. Your boss can find someone else to follow his or her instructions, and probably cheaper. The question is: Are you someone who can solve a problem in a new way? Then believe in yourself and make yourself into more than just a "compliant cog." This is a moment to stand up and say, "Don't fit in MORE; fit in LESS. Do what hasn't been done."

* If you want to be a writer, write even when you don't feel like it. If you want to be a violinist, practice even when you don't feel like it. Just show up and do the work. There's no such thing as "plumber's block." Why do you think that is?

* In a nutshell:
make art (in whatever field you're in, do things new and differently)
give gifts (be generous with your talents)
do work that matters
connect
lead
ship (whatever you're trying to make or produce, just get it into people's hands)
make a difference

* If the current challenges in the world (economic or otherwise) are discouraging you from even trying, remember this quote:
"Just because the tide is out, that doesn't mean there's any less water in the ocean."

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p.s. In the lecture, I learned that Seth Godin collects pictures of: groups of lunch ladies, and baseball bats flying into the stands at baseball games (capturing the shock and terror on people's faces as they duck). I think that's hilarious! What quirky thing would you collect pictures of?

Coping With Loss

After I finished writing that last post, I continued thinking about how scrapbooking equips us to deal with certain challenges better than we otherwise would. I was reminded of an article I wrote a couple of years ago—an article I consider to be the crowning achievement of my Simple Scrapbooks career. It's definitely the best piece of writing I churned out in my 5 years with the magazine, and I got permission to republish it here. The lessons and the layouts are still very relevant.

If you can't read these pages in your browser, just click each image for a slightly larger view.

 

 

 

 

 

There was a fifth story that we had to pull from the article at the last minute. Like all of these, it was a story that left an indelible imprint on me, and it ultimately inspired me to create an album for a friend of mine whose father passed away suddenly last November. I'll share that story, and the album, tomorrow.

(Article copyright Creative Crafts Group/New Track Media. Posted with publisher’s prior permission. Originally printed in Simple Scrapbooks magazine, September/October 2007. simplescrapbooksmag.com)