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K: Keeps – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… I think at times we all struggle with keeping in general – keeping up, keeping touch, keeping time, keeping watch, keeping promises. Like a safe, we keep with us what we value and hold dear. Judgment plays a huge role in deciding what we keep and what we discard if presented with too many choices. I was once told that if it no longer serves you must stop holding on and let it go. It takes a strong sense of courage to be faced with a decision to release something that you once valued to potentially replace it with a more purposeful keepsake. Keepsakes are meant to hold pieces of precious memories. Time pieces are meant to keep time. Time is kept to place a “born on date” on memories in order to ensure proper freshness for consumption. Some of the items that we keep have no expiration date. I am finding that as I get older I am much more likely to compromise on the release of material items if in return my mind would have the capacity to keep and store more memories. Keeping up with the Jones’ falls into similar categories as the poor company you keep and not being your brother’s keeper. Innocence makes us believe that bad things may never happen to us. When major adversity strikes it is difficult to keep the faith. In these situations it is important to keep your head, sanity and enthusiasm in proper working order. I think the line is, “KEEP SWIMMING!”, right? It is also important to protect what we value most and keep it safe. Besides your family, your dreams should be kept with great regard. Dreams should be protected with the watchful skill of a goalkeeper, maintained with the meticulous eye of a greens keeper and held close like a short-yardage quarterback keeper. Keep them as fresh as possible like a Tupperware food keeper, but readily and easily accessible like the Velcro on a Trapper Keeper…even if they are wild and possibly in need of being tamed by a zoo keeper. As corny as my analogies are and all joking aside, the things we keep are serious business. Life is all about playing for keeps. Casey Kasem had it figured out when he said, “Keep your feet in the ground and keep reaching for the stars!” By accident or total coincidence, Kasem also begins with the letter ‘K’. This post just keeps getting better and better all the time! ...

I Miss You Today

I woke up with a frown on my face. Looked out the window, saw the rain, and questioned what reasoning I had to get out of bed. I sluggishly put on my t-shirt and faded blue jeans. Not caring about what I looked like, I paired my outfit with some broken sandals tied together by a thin black string. I wondered what might be so different about the day when so far, everything was as somber as usual on a Monday morning. I went downstairs to get something to eat. I opened the fridge twice, maybe three times then shut it empty handed. I moved over to the cabinet. Opening it twice, maybe three times before closing it – again empty handed… I suddenly lost my appetite. I sat on the couch as thoughts of you ran through my head. Tears fell from my eyes as a memory of you passed through. But it’s never just one tear. They come in waves, and some days I drown in them. The world looks different without you here, almost as if the sun doesn’t shine as bright, but the moon shines brighter. There is more light in my darkest days because I can close my eyes and remember you. But the light in my brighter days seems dull, because I no longer share this light with you. I go through my day like I normally would when you we’re here, but the memories creep into my head and stick like molasses- distracting me from making any progress. And I tell myself I need you, as if you’re not around anymore. As if you disappeared off the face of the earth. As If I will never see you again. But I will see you again. And even though the thought of seeing you again seems like a fantasy played over and over in my head time after time I believe it’s true. I try to let go of the pain, but your absence makes it harder to tell myself that you’re okay. Instead of letting my pain go, I hold on to it like a leech on my back. This pain, sucking the blood out of my veins, turning me cold. I set aside my own life to grieve but grieving has started to become my life. The very day I noticed I greive 90% of my day and have a half-hearted smile the other 10% is the day I put an end to the pain of your absence. I realized that holding onto this pain will not help me get through anything and that focusing on the good times we had together will help me face the reality that there is nothing I can do to bring you back. I never got to say a proper goodbye to all of you…. I wasn’t there for any of it. But as time goes on I see that it isn’t goodbye that I have to say. It’s “I’ll see yas later.” Aunt Tina, Uncle Tink, Aunt Terina, Aunt Karen, Grandpa Platt, and Andrew, my love has not ended for you. My love has only gotten stronger. And as I lay my head on my pillow tonight, I smile for all the things I did and all the things I will do in your honor each day I live. I may not ever hold your hand again or hear your voice, but inside my heart none of you are dead. You’re all fully alive and when I am the same amount of alive as you are I will see you again. I missed you today, but not in the same ways that I will miss you tomorrow....

Too Many Choices!

Over the last year my wife and I have attempted to emphasize the importance of making good choices with our toddler. It has been an extremely daunting task to not only teach him what a choice is, but help guide him toward decision making that we find acceptable. We both feel that the quickest way for him to learn is to have a high level of autonomy over minor situations so that he can practice the skill while we still make most of the major decisions for him controlling and modeling proper behavior. So far we have seen vast improvements in his understanding of choice, but like most children this age it is a test of wills between parent and child. So much of our lives are driven by choices. We make thousands of them each day. Even as an adult I find myself struggling with the ability to choose especially in a culture that now seems to demand entitlements of individualization and variety. Our culture seems to have shifted from a nation who wants this and that to a nation of this and this. Personalizing options are meant to help one feel in control, satisfied and fulfilled. These popular trends produce high pressure to keep up with demand. How then, can I find the freedom to choose to feel so restricting? I get a restrictive, suffocating feeling when I am at Zaxby’s in front of a Coke Freestyle machine. If you have never seen one of these it is a touch-screen automated fountain machine that boasts over 100+ Coca-Cola brand selections. During each visit, in what feels like an excruciating eternity, I will eventually settle on a drink selection after flipping through the entire catalogue several times. This greatly frustrates my accompanying dining party as I am either made fun relentlessly of or told to get out of the way. This may seem funny to you that such an inconsequential decision would be so difficult to make, but for me taking a leap toward the perfect selection from a huge assortment is virtually paralyzing. Too many choices are distracting. Our good choices routine with our son backfires when we allow him to choose an episode of one of his favorite television shows to watch before going to bed. In addition to his decision making development he has also (finally) developed a diverse TV palette beyond Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. He has learned the evil powers of the TV remote and the on-demand capabilities of the DVR. His frequent back-and-forth waffling on what to watch often leads to an unwanted outburst that inevitably delays bedtime. Much like his father in standing front of the Coke Freestyle machine, my son is distracted by too many choices. Some of the biggest fights between my wife and I have not been over money, household chores or child care responsibilities. A number of these conflicts have been over where to go to dinner/get take-out or what movie we want to watch on Netflix. It’s not every day we eat out or take a few hours to relax in front of the TV. We both try way too hard to choose the perfect selection to make it worth our while. Flipping through local restaurants on Google Maps and movies on the Netflix genre guide are eerily similar to the previous dilemma I described with the Zaxby’s Coke machine. Too many choices! I remember as a kid before satellite television we got the four local major network stations (six channels on a clear weather day!) from our roof-top antenna. Show listings were published in a paper TV Guide that came out weekly in the Sunday newspaper. If you missed an episode of your favorite sitcom you would not be able to watch it until it re-aired during the show’s off-season. In addition, growing up in a small town we had very little selection when it came to dining out. The nearest trendy eateries were a 30 mile drive away. My father was never convinced any meal was worth that far of a drive. Back then food and entertainment selections were made easy due to a lack of choice. Ahh, the good old days. The next time you become frozen in the cereal aisle at the supermarket or break into a cold sweat when flipping through your satellite radio just remember that large selections are intended to make choices easier, not harder. I will try to keep telling myself that the next time I am in front of the Coke Freestyle machine…and I will continue to stand their motionless....

The Question That Made Me Realize My Stress Was Hurting My Husband. A Lot.

Last year I came across a blog post that encouraged me to ask a question, just one question, of my spouse. The couple who wrote the article said it did wonders in their marriage, so I tried it. I asked Kyle, “What do you need from me?” I fully expected him to answer something related to him, to his love languages, something like, “I need more encouragement and support from you regarding my job” or “I need more quality time with you.” His answer broke my heart. “I need you to be less stressed.” Remember the post I wrote last April? There are no April goals this month? I wrote that post in the midst of a really stressful, icky season of life. I was nearly killing myself trying to do everything and be everything, and it was taking a major toll on my health. To start with, I had horrible insomnia. I would wake up most nights at 2 or 3 a.m., my mind racing and heart beating fast, and never fall back sleep. I was also having mild anxiety attacks at work. I actually sought out counseling, because the girl with the “I can fix anything” mentality was at a loss for how to make the anxiety go away. Normally, I was pretty good at juggling an overloaded schedule and the stress that went with it. This was pretty out of control. In the midst of all the madness, I was so focused on myself and the craziness I’d allowed into my life. I didn’t realize the toll my stress was taking on Kyle. Kyle was literally experiencing trouble breathing when he was around me. My stress and anxiety was partly to blame for the weird, deep breaths I noticed he had been taking. It was a strange new habit that he couldn’t control. Kyle’s answer to my question, “What do you need from me?” shouldn’t have surprised me, but it totally did. His answer changed so much. It turned my problem from one in which I felt like a victim to stress into a problem in which I realized that, through my stress and busyness, I was actually victimizing and hurting the man I love most. Kyle and I decided to take a week off of work and head on a road trip to our favorite part of the country, the South. I shut off the rest of the world for a week. I’m getting emotional typing this as I think about what a difference that trip made. That trip was a game changer. I became myself again. I was the fun, happy, goofy Diana that Kyle loved and missed so much. I missed her, too. On the way home, we resolved to not let that Diana go away again. Life was not magically transformed when we got home, but that change in mindset has been absolutely huge in dealing with my stress and busyness since then. I’m not perfect, and I definitely still freak out sometimes, but the improvement is very noticeable. (I’m also happy to say Kyle is back to breathing normally.) What do you think your man would say if you asked him this question? Maybe he would say something similar. Even if he didn’t answer the way Kyle did, I bet most men would agree that they’d love for their girlfriends/fiancées/ wives to be less stressed out. I think that’s a powerful motivation for us as women, to not only guard ourselves from unhealthy amounts of stress, but to guard our marriages and relationships from that as well. Wanna know my main goal related to stress and my marriage? My goal is not to never ever have stress or ever feel overwhelmed again. That’s not realistic. Plus, stress is actually not always as bad for us as we think. My goal with my stress is to keep it at a level that I can be authentic with Kyle about my feelings without overwhelming him. If I am way too stressed out to be able to accomplish that goal, it means I have to either 1) hide how I’m truly feeling from Kyle in order to protect him or 2) let it out and be okay with causing him anxiety. I’m not okay with either of those options, so I’m working to avoid them. Girl, I believe God wants to use your life in a meaningful way. I believe he has plans for you, and specifically plans for how your marriage or relationship will produce fruit by serving others and pointing others to him. Don’t allow stress and busyness to hurt that plan. Get intentional about how you spend your days. Most of all, pray for God’s strength and peace and that it would permeate you and your marriage. I’ve got your back, and God does, too!...

J: Judgment – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… Judgment – some have more of it than others. Some good, some bad. Its juxtaposition has its dilemmas: When to advance/when to withdraw When to have one more/when to close the tab When to take a risk/when to take a conservative route When to adjust course and audible/when to stick to the game plan The ultimate lesson in judgment comes from the sage lyrics of Kenny Rogers’ – “The Gambler”: You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em Know when to fold ‘em Know when to walk away Know when to run You never count your money When you’re sittin’ at the table There’ll be time enough for countin’ When the dealin’s done I remember as a boy playing this album on my parents’ 78 RPM record player and singing the lyrics at the top of my lungs. At the time, I really had no idea what the lyrics meant. All I could picture was a bunch of cowboys sitting around a table playing cards; which could not have been any more badass to a young boy. This song pops into my head or plays on the radio every so often. Each time it plays the lyrics seem to ring a bit less hollow as I age. In addition, the older I get the more I understand and realize a high percentage of most people do not possess the capacity of judgment, let along good judgment. You are always told, “use your best judgment” when tasked with non-critical decision making. I think some aspects of judgment are hereditary and others are learned behavior. Some are just plain stupid. I am convinced that there are people whose inner voice screams much louder when it comes to identifying what is right and wrong. An example of this lack of the inner voice is when someone would risk pleasing another while jeopardizing the well-being of themselves and others. The situation I am about to describe is likely not what you are thinking. It is a classic case of Southern hospitality gone bad. Since moving to the northern suburbs of Atlanta I have discovered an epidemic of questionable judgment while driving. In South Georgia it was more common to not use your turn signal that it was to use it. While the majority of ATLians signal to turn and switch lanes, several of its rural suburban drivers possess a habit to yield the right away. Never in my life have I have seen so many people willing to completely stop their car, at the risk of being rear-ended, to allow a person stopped at a stop sign to advance in front of them. Recently, I was a waiting to turn left at a ‘T’ stop sign. When I looked to my right I saw an oncoming car approaching at the rate of approximately 45mph. I patiently waited for the car to pass by before executing my left hand turn. As I looked right to check the opposite direction and look left again I noticed that the car I was waiting for to pass by was at a complete stop in the road at the 2 o’clock position in front of me. I figured they were making a cautious, un-signaled turn left in front of me. Instead I became shocked when I noticed the driver gesturing for me to turn left in front of her. My jaw about hit the floorboard of my truck. Only two days before I saw a similar scenario play out in front of me that nearly became a horrific 5-6 car crash. With precious cargo in my vehicle (my son) I decided that I would stay put. The driver refused to take no for an answer as she denied my waves for her to continue. I became angry towards her for putting me and my son at risk and substituted the wave gesture to an emphatic slow 180-degree shake of my head while screaming, “NO! NO! NO! YOU GO!” The standoff seemed to have lasted five minutes, but was probably 20-30 seconds total. By the end of the confrontation the line of traffic waiting to advance to the stop sign began honking their horns at me to move and there was a line of right-of-way traffic mounting behind the overly generous female driver that I am now convinced was trying to get me killed. I finally checked one last time to my left and floored it out of there. If I were to have got into an accident there who would have been at fault? Me. Just follow the rules of the road! This is one example of EXTREMELY POOR JUDGMENT. A few days ago I was scanning through news headlines online. I read a title that alarmed me. The headline previewed a story that highlighted a police officer that should have discharged his weapon in the line of duty for the protection of himself and the welfare of the community but feared doing so because the criminal suspect was an armed African-American teenager. In the middle of an armed altercation the officer cited that for a split second he actually considered not returning fire with the armed suspect out of fear of becoming the country’s next Darren Wilson (the officer who shot Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri over one year ago). Lapse in judgment and lack of clarity can be catastrophic in life or death situations. In this instance, it prevented this officer from properly doing his job. Passing judgment is the worst kind of judgment. It can be difficult to rid your mind of stereotypes, labels and pre-conceived thoughts toward individuals you do not know. Even if you think you know someone it can still occur. Many of my male colleagues have wives that do not work. There are times after my wife and I have had a long week of work I find myself building up resentment toward some of those families. The feeling gets stronger each time I pay the bill to my son’s daycare. Part of me feels robbed not only economically for the deep financial commitment for preschool, but to the time that my wife and I lose with our sons because we both choose to work. Passing judgment just as yielding the right-of-way may not be in the best interests or the well-being of you and those around you. Truth be told, when it comes to the assessment of your judging others you’ll probably be the judge of that....

There’s No Place Like Home

As my time to leave New York quickly approaches, I prepare for the tears and overwhelming emotions that I know are about to take control of my mind and flow silently into my heart. Each year I am blessed to have a family who supports me in most of my decisions, who encourages me to be successful, and who loves me unconditionally. There are truly some people I could never go without thanking enough for giving me a path to follow that is all mine. Being in New York with my family is an entirely different experience every year. I go different places, I see new things, and most of all I appreciate what I have around me more. I spend time with those I love, who I know love me just the same. I build a new foundation every summer. A new place to call home. But at the end of every summer my “home” is broken down, as I am sent back dragging myself along to North Carolina. Although NC is where I have been raised since I was 7 months old, I can’t help but think that it’ll never be my home. The constant downpour of love and support comes from a very few bunch of people, but it’s those people that allow me to grow as a person without worry or struggle. It’s the time I spend here that shows me what makes a house into a home. Money doesn’t matter. If someone is struggling, you probably won’t ever know. Family is family, and they help when and if they can. The beautiful scenery and the fresh air remind me all too well of a place I’ve made up in my head called home. For a foundation like this I owe thanks to my mother. Had it not been for her moving me away from NY I wouldn’t have a foundation this solid in this beautiful state. Instead it would’ve been like everyone else here that see each other day in and day out. Eventually I would get in a routine and that routine would turn into a habit and that habit would eventually grow old. NC is a habit that has grown old. Somewhat of a disease I can’t get rid of. Had I grown up in NY, I would see a whole different disease right at my finger tips…. the addiction of a warm heart. Never once have I experienced multiple people excited to see me and welcome me into their home… not worried and unquestioning about anything in my past. In any family there are ones who try to bring you down, but the ones that lift me up are irreplaceable and rarely found. If this wasn’t home to me and this wasn’t my Utopia, then I’d probably never visit at all. NY may not be London, Paris, Mexico, Brazil, or Italy, but it doesn’t have to be big and fancy to make me feel like this is where I belong. Leaving a select few in this family is one of the hardest, most heart breaking things I face each year. In the few days before I leave I wake up hoping time stood still throughout the night just to make my time last longer. The biggest problem with all of this is that this isn’t where I will end up. The even bigger problem is that this isn’t where I’ll have my children grow up and as cheesey as it may sound, I have followed the yellow brick road each year and it has never failed to lead me home. A piece of my heart is left behind but that piece is meant to stay. This is my home….. and sadly I let myself leave each year, telling myself I’ll be fine without it all…. but I never am. I wait all year for this….. and my heart is split in places my arms just cannot stretch. So as I say goodbye to my life in NY, I remember that good things can’t all come at once….. and that one day, the place I am meant to be will drag me to it. And if the tears don’t flow when I leave, I know I haven’t left a piece of my heart, letting me know it isn’t home…. & that I need a new place to start. After all, there is no place like home....

The Greatest Gifts are Small Packages Wrapped with Love

Have you ever felt like you were doing something just to be doing it but you really didn’t know “why” you were doing it? Or… have you ever felt as if you had this grand vision which caused you to work yourself to the bone but the end result only left you feeling exhausted, deprived, and unfulfilled? One day I was door to door marketing for my Rejuve-N-Luv Body Scrubs when I came across a sweet lady who really supported my vision and mission. Not only did she invest in my body scrubs but she also gave me a purple wooden paddle that quotes, “Do Small Things With Great Love”. As my heart overflowed with warmth and my eyes filled with tears, it was a simple reminder that the greatest gifts come in small packages and are wrapped with love. The funny thing is, before ever meeting this kind woman, I have always told customers that my Rejuve-N-Luv Body Scrubs were handcrafted from the heart with love. Even though it is something so small, I pour my heart into the creation of each product; and although I have a grand vision for empowering moms, I will not let my final destination consume “me” or the greater purpose behind “why” I do what I do. In the beginning of my journey I got caught in all of the hype of trying to be a successful a mompreneur and life coach which caused my focus to be misaligned with my what my heart desired and the greater purpose that I was serving. See, what often happens is that our eyes start to get bigger than the view in front of us and then we easily get distracted, side tracked, and rerouted all because we lose touch with where our heart and true desires were leading us. Be intentional! Whatever dream, goal, or vision that you are setting out to achieve, know that it does not have to have be monstrous, glamorous, or shiny in order for it to light up the world. As long as you follow your heart, act intentionally, and execute it with great love, no matter how small or how big the deed is, your light will shine… and it will shine BRIGHT! But most importantly, remember that a woman who listens to her heart and walks purposefully towards her dreams will attract the divine opportunities and people with her light. So the next time that you are “going”, ask yourself, 1) what is the greater purpose that I am serving and 2) am I following my heart and acting with love. . ...

I: Innocence – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… This week I was blessed to witness the birth of my second son. Beyond the pregnancy preparation and build up to delivery there is a substantial amount of clarity that I have cherished experiencing when looking into the eyes of a newborn. Thoughts on Innocence: Superman underwear and blanket capes Neighborhood backyard baseball, football games Summer bike rides for transportation before driver’s licenses Childhood heroes Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy Snipe hunts in your Uncle’s bushes Holding hands and sneaking your first kiss at recess The voice of a father reading “’Twas the Night Before Christmas” on Christmas Eve The uncontrollable giggle child being tickled The expensive toy and the priceless box When it’s homemade Monsters in your closet, lava around your bed Blanket forts A child and his first pet Wearing Daddy and Mommy’s shoes Hug and a kiss to make it all better “Do you like me? Yes, No, Maybe – Circle One” The seasons of innocence: The stillness of morning before the sunrise The calming of daytime winds at sunset The untouched ground after new fallen snow The birds’ song of an awakening spring The peepers/crickets’ song during the spring The soft, steady summer thunderstorm rain The crisp, fall breeze through a wind chime 12:00:01 on New Years’ Day HOPE OPTIMISM FAITH DREAMS Rather than live in fear of all that can harm my children in the large world of the unknown I am eagerly anticipating all my boys have to look forward to. Today I am walking straighter, speaking clearer and seeing farther. Today I am a father (again). ...

H: Holding On – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… I just got off of a Facetime chat with my brother where during the conversation he made fun of an old baseball t-shirt I was wearing. It is usually customary for him to follow up ribbing observations with a few jabs to get his point across. He followed up his statement saying something to the effect of, “…all these years and you still have your letterman’s jacket on…” Clothing is something that I do not compromise with when it comes to wearing an item and wearing it out. I’m cheap. Most of the garments I own are worn until complete exhaustion. Each year at least quarterly my wife will boldly announce while folding laundry, “if you can see through the underwear, it is time for them to go!” After doing a bit of cleaning and reorganizing this weekend in preparation for our new baby to be born I started thinking: What is the appropriate line/balance for holding on? Presently, I am experiencing holding on for dear life. My wife is scheduled to give birth to our second son in a matter of days and school will have started by the time you are reading this. In addition to all of the madness of cleaning and prepping for the baby’s arrival at home, I have had to almost completely start over at school (new room, new classes, creating sub plans for my lengthy absence, etc.) Although we have been in our new house for almost a year, I spent the better part of my weekend going through boxes packed away to make room for our newest family member. Between moving our residence and relocating my classroom, I have begun to completely root out all items that are non-essential. There are very few things I hate in life; moving is one of them. When my wife and I moved in together for the first time she immediately took notice to my archive of items that I had brought along to our new home. She particularly focused on the massive number of t-shirts and several boxes of books and notebooks I had kept from high school and college. What began as a mockery soon turned into scorn with no suitable place to store the boxes as there had been in my parents’ basement. The harmless boxes and stacks of t-shirts turned into a source of conflict and begrudgingly I started to throw out some of my reserve. Each of the four times we have moved over the past four years a little bit of accumulation has been eliminated bit by bit. Let’s get this straight: I am not a hoarder. I do not know why I act as if I live in the Depression Era and that I must squeeze every ounce of use out of an item before discarding it. I have tried to think back to why I might have developed this habit. It may have started as a young boy the first moment I saw my dad’s basement hardware shelf. He had carefully and meticulously organized all of his loose nuts, bolts, washers, nails and screws into glass Gerber baby food jars. After my brother and I finished the food from the jars they were cleaned and recycled by my father for hardware organization. I bet you cannot guess who currently also uses that same organizing system in his garage. I blame you, Dad. I can make the same arguments for several items like my school notebooks and t-shirt collection. Justification, in my mind, can be made to items that I continue to hold on to due to their effective and overall resourcefulness. For example, the padded seat tops to broken barstools are now a booster seat at our dining room table for my son. Many could argue that I show the classic signs of initially becoming a full-blown hoarder and am well on my way into starring in an episode of Hoarders or My Strange Addiction. You need not worry about that happening because I cannot stand clutter. I am thoroughly convinced that most items have multiple uses and you may never know when you might need an item down the line. My cell phone is an iPhone 4S. Many people have asked me why I don’t upgrade. Much like some of my see-through, holy underwear I choose not to upgrade because it still works. Currently on my phone I have 1,767 pictures, 23 videos and approximately 100 apps. It is common for there to be under 20MB of space left on my phone, forcing me into a huge dilemma of what to keep and what to delete. I certainly do not regularly use the 100+ apps that I have downloaded. Usually, they are the first to get cleaned out. However, I find myself running into the same problem that I have with household items. Just because there is a chance I may use it someday down the road makes me feel inclined to keep it. Out of the near 1,800 pictures on my phone most of them are of my son. I am preparing myself for another major phone cleaning to guarantee adequate memory space prior to my second son being born. I have several backups of the pictures on computers and external drives. For some reason, I can’t get myself to completely wipe away all of the pictures and start fresh. Why do I hold on to something that I know I already have stored? Applying this question is not only applicable to phone memory but human memory as well. What items do we choose to hold on to and what are we able to retain? Just like the items in my house and the pictures on my phone I fear of losing what is important or could potentially be used in an alternative capacity later on. Hanging on to things can be both positive and negative. Hanging on to a picture or a pleasant memory might be good. Hanging on to a grudge might not be so good. What causes us to continue hanging on? Survival, necessity, nostalgia, force of habit? Everyone will have a different answer. Take it from a guy who white knuckles a few things in his own life – don’t be afraid to audit your own inventory every once in a while....

G: Gratitude – What It’s Really Like

This post is part of a series titled, “A-B-Cs – What It’s Really Like”. Each week a new letter and its word will be revealed. Each word’s explanation will illustrate significant personal meaning, application and ultimately demonstrate, What It’s Really Like… (The above image is a handmade Japanese Thank You card that I received a few years ago from a colleague of mine. The symbol means, “Grateful”. I kept it and hung it nearby as a reminder to always to show gratitude toward so many of the blessings I have been granted.) “Too many of us conduct ourselves on the Cafeteria Plan – self-service only.” – GMa Gratitude is a form of expression that routinely gets lost upon us throughout our lives. Most of us see what is around us and constantly desire more rather than appreciate all that we have. I recall back to sometime around 2009 when Gatorade was attempting to rebrand itself with a marketing campaign using the simple slogan, “What is G?” Their video commercial spots were of past, present and future standout athletes and their milestone achievements while endorsing or using Gatorade. This created a buzz around the sports drink because people actually began to seek out the answer to the company’s question, “What is G?” Many of us likely remember thinking that Gatorade was getting set to launch a brand new sports drink line with an updated formula, only to find that “G” is the same old “G” that it always was. So what is G (Gratitude)? To me, it’s what it has always been. A regular dose of good old fashioned humility mixed with respect and appreciation for things that have been granted to you. Few have the recipe memorized, many need to write it down, and most have lost or forgotten the ingredients all together. I fall into the category of needing to write it down; much like I am doing right now in composing this post. However, I have discovered over time the more you cook with it the easier it is to remember its taste. “We stand on the shoulders of those that have come before us.” I coached football with a man who regularly recited this quote to remind our players that a great gift and responsibility had been granted to them; one that was built by those who came before them. It was crucial that while representing oneself and family to uphold its legacy with honor and integrity. This is the ultimate non-verbal form of gratitude. I am in no way a self-made man. I owe most of what I have to my parents because I am a testament of their love, hard work and dedication in raising me to who I am today. Beyond parental efficacy and self-determination, how did I get here? I certainly didn’t accomplish this on my own. I would be remiss if I did not recognize the shoulders my family and I have stood upon in order to build what we have today. So many friends and family have provided unbelievable grants toward opportunities that my wife and I could have never imagined. The depth of gratitude goes beyond monetary assistance that never could begin to be repaid; like the introduction to a new career and the opening of a home for temporary residency until a permanent home could be found. None of our recent personal/professional advancements would be possible without my brother and sister-in-law. Before that it was a chance my friend’s finance (now wife) took on me as an employee of a local university to help me get admitted to graduate school when my GPA did not qualify. Presently, it is the belief and encouragement from a high school friend that allows me the ability to connect with you doing something that I love. For that I am very grateful to you for the opportunity, Sara. The depth of gratitude can never be measured because the weight of its importance is infinite. Gratitude is more than manners. It is mindful, genuine appreciation. It’s a handwritten note that recognizes and expresses thanks. It’s a gesture to reciprocate. It’s paying it forward and then paying it back. It’s time we start cooking up more of that “gratitude attitude” rather than just on the last Thursday in November....