Author: Barb

There were no cell phones. There was no TikTok, Instagram, or Facebook either. There was, however, a little tv show that aired on Sunday night only. It was The Wonderful World of Disney.  And, you didn’t want to miss it because there were no re-runs either.

What I loved the most about this show, was the beginning. The spectacular Disney castle would appear as Tinkerbell flew across the screen with her wand sprinkling pixie dust everywhere. All the while, the iconic Disney song, When You Wish Upon a Star, played in the background.  I was enthralled. I envisioned living in that castle and having Tink visit my window. I was just a kid so I believed that maybe if I had some of that magic pixie dust, my dreams would come true too.

I was thinking about the opening lyrics of that song yesterday.

“When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are

Anything your heart desires will come true

If your heart is in your dream no request is too extreme

When you wish upon a star as dreamers do”

When I got a little older, I stopped wishing on stars and believing in dreams coming true.  I started to believe, instead, that dreams were simply unattainable things. That they were lovely distractions to think about when our world had become too hard or too demanding.

But I don’t believe that anymore. No, I’m not saying that Tinkerbell is going to show up with her magic wand and grant me my wishes. But look at the third verse in this song.  “If your heart is in your dream, no request is too extreme.” 

Hold up, Walt! That changes everything!

Maybe it’s not the pixie dust that makes a dream come true but a good old-fashioned sprinkling of hard work and determination. Maybe by putting our heart into our dream and working for it, we’ve got a shot at achieving it!

So, dream.  Dream big.  And I mean really big! Like the most extreme dream you can imagine and then put your heart and soul into it.  Work for it. It’s why you’re here.  It’s why God woke you up this morning. He sprinkles us with faith to do the extreme, the radical, the extraordinary, and the impossible.

So, dream big and then work even bigger!

And anything your heart desires will come true!

Photo courtesy Julia Avamotive on Pexels.com

A couple of years ago I began selecting a “word of the year” in place of making a traditional New Year’s resolution.  In the past couple of years, I have chosen words such as shine and grow. 

This year my word is emerge. 

The definition of emerge is to move away from something and come in to view; to become apparent or known.  When I think of something that emerges, I think of something that has been in existence but finally comes into the light.  To me, the word also suggests a slow yet prominent force that, once apparent, cannot be denied. 

And so, I am ready to emerge.  To become visible.  I see 2022 as a year of growth, open doors, and immeasurable change.

If you are ready to find your “word of the year”, I have put together a list of steps to help you get started.

Step One:  Spend a little time thinking about an area of your life you would like to improve.  Is there an area that you are struggling with?  Is there an area where you would like to grow?

Step Two:  Make a list of word choices that define an area you would like to focus on.  Write down anything you can think of and then choose a word that is actionable.  Here are just a few words to get you started:

Align

Balance

Better

Breathe

Calm

Confidence

Dream

Empower

Forgiveness

Gratitude

Thrive

Step Three:  Keep it simple all you overachievers! Choose just ONE word.

Step Four:  Make that word your “word of the year”.  Make it visible and practice it daily.  Tape it on your bathroom mirror, place it on your cellphone screen, print it on card stock, and attach it to your keychain.  Anywhere you will see it as a daily reminder.  Remember, what you focus on, expands.

Step Five:  Come up with a plan to incorporate it into your daily life and have an awesome 2022!

“In a gentle way, you can shake the world.”  Ghandi

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

It’s Christmas Eve and I am drawn to childhood memories that surround this special holiday.  One thing I remember was attending church the night before Christmas. Everything about that night was special.  Besides the obvious coming of Santa Claus that very evening, there was also this quite unusual visit to church.  It all seemed so mysterious, dressing up and heading across town when normally it would have been time to head to bed. 

And I was always excited knowing that at some point in the evening, I would be handed a little white candle with a cardboard ring around the bottom.  Not long after that, someone would light it, and together we would all sing Silent Night.  I remember being fixated on the candle that I held diligently in front of me and I knew that it was something special.

“Longest Night” or “Darkest Night” church services are usually held on the longest night of the calendar year, December 21^st, or on Christmas Eve and are centered around the birth of Jesus. Other times, however, these services center around quiet prayer and healing as many people find that Christmas can be a painful time.

And so, I wonder how this same service, this darkest night service that always brought me such wonder and joy can be the same service that so many seek out to find solace from the world.  From painful memories, lost jobs, lost loved ones, or simply a hard life. 

The thing is, whether you view the darkest night from the wonder of a child or from a weary life in need of relief, the message is still the same.  A child came to us in the darkest of times, on the darkest of nights, to heal a broken world and give us peace.

And so, this Christmas, when we all sing “all is calm, all is bright” in a world that feels vastly different from that, I hope we can remember the love and peace that is always with us. Tonight we will light a small candle as a reminder of what is to come.  Even in our darkest of nights, we welcome the light of the star of Bethlehem and the newborn King bringing peace on Earth and goodwill toward men.   

It was nearly dusk when we arrived at the small white house, its faded shutters only partially visible behind the sheets of plywood that had been haphazardly nailed over its windows.  It seemed somehow smaller now. It was as if the whole house had slumped its shoulders, breathed its last breath, and given in.   It was hard to believe that only a few weeks ago it had been my home.  

My father opened the car door.   It protested with a loud screech that cut through the quiet air.  “Stay here,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”  I knew we shouldn’t be there, even an eight-year-old child could see that.  “It’ll be okay,” he tried reassuringly, “I just want to grab some of my things.”  I nodded silently and sat watching as the sun sank further down on the horizon.

I looked out the window, wondering how he was going to get in, as he slipped into one of the long shadows at the edge of the house.  I waited with a fear that would not let me move even if I had wanted to.  Moments seemed like hours when he finally returned, threw a bag and some belongings into the back seat, and forced a smile at me.  But it wasn’t one of his real smiles.  It wasn’t the one that crept across his face and into the corners of his eyes.  That smile was gone, it had been replaced by this imposter-smile. “How about we go get a donut, okay?” he said shifting the car into reverse.

Sometimes, when you’re a kid and maybe even when you are an adult, things happen that you don’t understand.  Maybe you find that the things that had been planned are instead postponed.  And just when you think that life is taking you in one direction, suddenly, you are headed in another. 

There is a quote that I love from the movie Hope Floats:

“Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most.  So, when you find yourself at the beginning, just give hope a chance to float up. And it will.”

We’ve all had some scary beginnings.   And we’ve already had some sad endings too.  But mostly we need to remember that we live our lives in that middle space.  Between the things that scare us and the things that make us sad.  It is only in the middle that we can find a way to make peace with the past and forge a plan for the future.

Hope does that for us.  Hope lives between sorrow and sadness.  Between beginnings and endings.  At times when we think we can’t go on.  Or, maybe, when we have lost our smile.  Hope provides the pathway to our dreams.  It is ever-present and ever-abundant.  And, it serves as the promise for expecting better things to come. 

I have a habit of writing in a journal each morning.  I have accumulated stacks of large binders filled with words.  Every couple of months, after I have exhausted all the sheets in one binder, I am excited to pick up a brand new spiral-bound notebook with its crisp new pages.  Each time, the perfectionist in me wants to make a vow to write perfectly in this new book.  To be ever so diligent in not making one mistake.  To start from page one, writing perfectly, never missing a day, and, of course, with immaculate handwriting.

The sage in me knows better.  She knows how long the road is.  She knows there will be twists and turns.  She knows that even with the best of intentions, days will be missed, and that lovely penmanship will turn into hurried scribbles.  She knows that perfection is an illusion we create to hold ourselves to a standard that we can never achieve.  That we are only human, and that willpower is fleeting.

The sage in me knows that by releasing perfection from her life she is free to create habits.  Good habits that will carry her through those times when willpower wanes.

So, this morning, I ignore the new book with its crisp white pages, and I scribble my thoughts no matter how scattered they are.  I wince at my atrocious handwriting and I continue.  I write until my hand aches and my pen runs out of ink.  My perfectionist blanches as I start anew with a different color pen.  My sage whispers, it’s okay, just keep going.

I strive each day to deny the perfectionist within me so that I may move past her whining, idiotic sentiments about how things should be done.  Without her, I can move closer to my dreams.  And I watch for my dream like a star that blinks against an inky black sky.  It twinkles and it beckons to me.

I listen, instead, for the sage.  She reminds me that there is a dream that is meant just for me.  No matter the years that pass.   I continue my journey, writing and following and learning and hoping and becoming and living.  Some days are hard and some days are even harder.  And, some days I just want to quit.

Instead, I get up early and put pen to paper.  I brew coffee and I renew the commitment I made to myself.  I stop counting the mistakes I have made.  I stop blaming myself for being beyond tardy in my blog posts.  I remind myself that perfection would love to freeze me in my tracks.  I look to the sage and I do the only thing that I can do.  I write.