That whole seasonal affective thing ...

For whatever reason, I've never been a big fan of February.

It actually goes back to my early teaching days in Milwaukee, when something about the shortest month of the year with its 4:30PM cover of darkness, classrooms filled with vitamin-D deficient students, and overall interminable gloom just settled in a took up a warm cozy residence in my psyche. It's just always a hard one for me.

Sure, there's plenty to appreciate about February, I suppose. Valentines Day.

Um.

President's Day.

My sister's birthday! (That's a good one, actually!) And my Dad's birthday! But those celebrations are within a week of the end of this wintry month, so they really don't count.

It's weird that February brings me such a bummer-vibe. You'd think it'd be March. Now there's a month that was gloomy in Milwaukee. But having grown up in Missouri, March - for me at least - really has always just "felt" like a harbringer of spring. I was Confirmed in March. Granted, it was overcast and extremely wet and cold, but hey - it was also Palm Sunday so it "felt" spring-y. Nope, March is all good.

Right now I am in the holding pattern - almost halfway through February and really ready for some sign of winter's demise.

So, here's my pondering today - how do all of my dear friends out there battle SAD (isn't that ironic, eh?) Seasonal Affective Disorder, I'm not saying I have it - but let's be honest the symptoms seem to be popping up all over! And this isn't a slight to folks who battle depression - we can talk about that in a future post. But the reality is - gloomy cold, hibernating communities breed a sense of "ugh." So how are you beating it? 

Extra workouts? Cooking your favorite recipes? A new devotional/prayer ritual? Extra emphasis on time with friends? Maybe our January new year resolutions are better saved for February as opposed to being introduced in the hectic mayhem of the first month of the year.

I'm curious. And eager to learn because this year seems more difficult than others. I think with the new house, big stresses at the office, an on-the-go toddler, new directions for Leon's career and other "big" ticket issues on the brain, I just feel more inclined to be melancholy this February. So I am looking for some reasonably logical strategies, perhaps a good kick in the gloomy-butt, and maybe a chance to meet for tea with some good friends to help us all pull through.

Swan Song: A Gen X Perspective on Retirement

Tonight, those of us at CPH celebrated the retirement of a venerable member of our team. In his early 70s, this gentleman is happily moving into a new chapter of life; retiring without apology to sunny Southern California (near his grandchildren).

Watching him perform the final act of a long and successful career has been an interesting experience these past few weeks. And it's been pretty impossible (if you are a person prone to any degree of reflection and introspection) not to consider what the end of a career must mean, should mean, will mean someday.

I've found myself appreciating the incredible good humor, relaxed attitude, and startling clarity and insight that this co-worker has provided since he announced that his time was – at long last – almost up. And while I (like many at the office) have speculated that it shouldn't take a person until the very end to behave with such freedom – in the end I think that perhaps that's precisely how it must be. After all, when else in your career can you perform so totally unfettered from the worries, politics, and expectations of the workplace? There should be something really unique about the last chapter of a person's professional life.

Long time employees and leaders who are preparing to retire are an
incredible asset to an organization.

The last parting shots they choose to lob your way are replete with wisdom and perspective – because the 40-year veteran of an organization is a dying breed in and of themselves. So listen up. I did, and here’s what I discovered:

Primarily, the lesson I discovered in Larry’s enthusiastic exit wasn't that we should all conduct ourselves like we are on the way out throughout all of our job-focused days. The lesson is that we should conduct ourselves with such passion, integrity, and no-regrets-ethic that when our last chapter comes, people are drawn to the energy we are still giving, the insight we are still sharing, the unique perspective we are still lending - right up until we walk out the door on that last 5 o'clock afternoon.

You don’t ever, ever check out. And you always exit with grace and passion. After all, it’s the final chorus of what you’ve spent the majority of your waking hours doing for 40plus years of your life. Make the conclusion a fulfilling end to the story, eh?

Here’s what I’ve learned from Larry:

1. Old-fashioned business sense matters, and provides a necessary balance to our new approaches for solving time-worn marketplace struggles masked in contemporary skin.

2. A solid handshake and a direct look in the eye cannot be undervalued, and means a tremendous amount in a world of fast paced, touchless communication.

3. If you want to impress a person, you better work at it. Contrary to what I hear a lot these days, you do have to earn the respect of the older crowd – not because you “have to”, but because you should want to.

4. If you are impressed by every somewhat talented person who stumbles across your path, you aren’t really too bright. Be on the watch for the real gems, and push them to excel.

5. Sometimes business is hard. Actually, often time business is hard – and you don’t do anyone (or any organization) any favors by curbing demands for performance.

6. Good leaders aren’t there to blow sunshine at you – and if you don’t like that, well … that’s sort of the point. Go work harder.

Taken alone these lessons don’t equal organizational success, and in fact in a new order marketplace they definitely don’t equal success. But they are necessary, and bring balance to the “new” mode of relating in business, and applying them (or at least acknowledging them) is useful.

When I met Larry, I was prepared to really not like him too much. He was gruff. Abrupt. His emails never more than about 10 words. And he absolutely didn’t fall all over himself in love with all (or any) of my ideas just because I presented them professionally and with energy. He actually made me cry (not at work, but on the long commute home) on more than one occasion. Frustration was there.

I had to work – really, really hard – to impress Larry. At the end of the day, it paid off. And he gave me some of the best, most valuable, and most meaningful praise I’ve ever received. He also left me with some pretty straightforward marching orders about my future in business. And that’s given me plenty to mull over.

So here’s to you, Larry. Thanks for being hard, old-school, and infinitely difficult. I’ve learned an incredible lot from your example.

Go enjoy that sunshine. And please leave us a number where we can track you down once in awhile.

Offline Living 101: Balance, Margin, Space to Breathe

We’re on family vacation! And even though we flew out to Colorado last summer this time it feels like a bona fide family trip; Sydney, me, and Leon adventuring together! We had a long layover in Dallas (and I’ve spent more than my fair share of time in that airport), and found Mommy’s favorite terminal (D, the international terminal because of the great restaurants and super interesting people you find there) and ate a yummy supper at Chammps (where Leon couldn’t hardly tear his eyes from the TV playing ESPN, and I felt the same way about another screen which had CNN … we’ve been satellite TV deprived this summer). We read books on the plane. Sydney got to watch Dora on the mini-DVD player. And we laughed. A lot.

Best of all, of course, was the time to just BE together; even when Syd had her 10:00p.m. melt down in the Colorado Springs Terminal (just sat right down at the end of the jet bridge and started to cry, “No! No! No!”). In big moments and small, I felt like my heart was expanding; my perspective reshaping; my mind set literally “un-kinking”. And as it always does, the thought came quickly to mind that time away is absolutely essential to making the time “there” more purposeful, centered, and balanced.

That’s not a revolutionary insight, by any stretch. So why is it that we need to be reminded again and again how important it is to include margin in our lives; space, breathing room, whatever we want to call it? Apparently because we’re not quick studies; and it’s only getting worse. In the fine print that comes along with the incredible advantage of carrying our communications tools, and indeed access to the entire world via the Internet, with us, we also carry work life and responsibilities always with us.

It’s tough to escape, and there also is a noticeable growing expectation by some that you really should NOT escape (Generally, these “some” are defined by external things, like work, rewards, improvements. The notion of a life lived with OTHER priorities must seem frighteningly absent of affirmation…just my thought on that). But add to this growing feeling my protestant guilt and ENFP people-pleasing personality type, and you’ve got a pretty powerful equation for never going truly offline.

When I took my new position, I made a pact to use my vacation. I believe I said something like, “I get 5 weeks, and if at the end of the calendar year I have that left over-shame on me.” Well, let the shame begin because the year is more than half over, and I’m not even close. Unfortunately it’s not because I am consumed by the office (okay, maybe that’s it a little bit), but more that the family calendar just doesn’t seem to open up for all of us at the same time (Sydney is so busy, you know), and then there’s this small problem with how quickly time goes by.

But then I really consider that, and I start to feel just a bit uncomfortable; because in the end it still is a question of priorities.

A dear friend of mine often says “life is always about choices.” And this is true. We always have a choice. Not that responsibilities and expectations won’t or shouldn’t be important, but we need to be clear about our priorities in life (our callings, many in my immediate circle would term them).
So, how do we do it? As a working mom, who loves her husband, her daughter, her career, and her own interests, too (forgot about those, eh? Things like cooking, reading, jogging, being with friends, singing in the choir, etc.) – what is the sure-fire method to figuring out how to live a well-balanced, margin-rich, offline life in an online world?

Here are my thoughts on the matter, and I would love to hear yours-we learn by sharing these things:

• Know Thy Core: God. Faith. Family. Everything else is an extra blessing and opportunity for service. Don’t destroy the core, nothing works right if that is not intact.


• Think It Through: the same friend who sagely notes that life is about choices also advocates thinking things through. Really thinking it through. Here’s an example, a co-worker had the chance to attend a function for the office, which was frankly a pretty cool/big deal, OR take his son on a road trip to experience a once-in-a-adolescent-father-son-lifetime sporting event. Talking it through, he came to the conclusion that not only would the choice to be with his son be more fun (and the work thing was really easily adjusted), but it would also teach his son valuable (potentially life-shaping) lessons about priorities and how to be a Dad. When faced with choices, vacation needs, competing priorities, really think about it. Think short term. Think long term. And choose accordingly.


• Be Prepared for Sacrifices. The truth of the matter is that you really can’t have it all. Something always does have to give, and so will you. Sometimes, that is really tough. If it gets to be too tough, go back to thinking it through. Maybe it’s time to let something really big move on.


• Family Matters - make sure you've got them in your corner. I’m a working mom. That’s our reality, and for many families it just wouldn’t work. For us, it does. And that means that I am a different kind of Mom for Sydney and a different kind of spouse for Leon. Sound like a rationalization? You betcha; that’s precisely what it is. And my family, namely at this stage my husband, and I are firmly on the same page, and so it works for us.


• Communication Is Key and ongoing. When you decide to live life with margin, you’re going to have to constantly advocate for that choice. You’ll have to convince your co-workers that this makes you a more effective leader and colleague. You’ll need to tell the PTA, the other parents on your block, and maybe even your own family that your family won’t be saying YES to every experience offered. In the process, you’ll actually help people. And you do have to earn it, not just demand it. Margin and balance is something, unfortunately in today’s environment, that must be earned. Some people are just plain lazy, you are not one of those people. Some people try to be superwoman and do it all, and balanced living isn’t that either.


• A Season. Recognize that there truly is a time and a season for different aspects of your life and activities. I recall once early in my teaching career when I was literally running ragged. I think I made some inaccurate rationalization for my being over-extended that connected to the parable of the talents – you know the one, where basically the lesson learned is that burying your talents will not earn you much in the long run. I even tossed in the old ‘To whom much is given …” reference. Well, to this my Father (at least I attribute this to him) very wisely said, “True, but scripture never says you need to use all of your talents all at precisely the same time, either.” It’s a recipe for disaster, your energies and investment won’t yield near as much it could with a spiritually refreshed, rested, clear-minded person.

So, that’s my recipe (at present) for a little offline living in my life. It’s a formational approach, meaning that as I think this through it will change and shift and adapt. Perhaps I am being naïve, but vacation always seems to bring the right clarity – you NEED clarity to be at your best.

So, that’s enough of my rambling. I’m headed to the family room to be a tickle monster with Leon and attack Sydney. Then we’re going out for ice cream. That’s the OTHER great part of Vacation.

Just because everything is different doesn't mean that everything has changed.

Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

Just this morning, I was contemplating change.

I was thinking about how for the past 8 months, the constant mantra I have heard from well-intentioned friends and family has been, “Your life is going to change in ways you can’t imagine.” Some people share this [fairly] obvious insight with a gentle smile, others with a knowing grin; a few deliver it with a devious snicker, and still others with a grimace of impending doom. The result has been that in my over-emotional, physically tapped mind I have started to fear change … which is definitely not my style. I have started to worry about change and to wonder if I am up for the task of facing (not just parenthood) but this whole notion of CHANGE that seems to be so paramount in the language of so many well-meant “advisors.”

I have also started to notice that some people say my LIFE will change, while others say I (my SELF) will change. Is there a difference? Me VS. My daily grind? Me VS. My priorities?

In preparation for Sydney’s birth, I have been talking to loads of people. I have been reading loads of magazines. I am subscribed to far too many blogs, Web chats and e-newsletters. Overall, source after source assures me that upon the birth of my child, my life will be forever stripped from me. That my own sense of self, my interests and my cares will be “lost” in the mad scramble of parenthood.

Lately, I have been reading these pieces of wisdom out loud to Leon with disdain in my voice. I then usually hurl the offending resource against the wall (laptop excluded). Where is this emerging anger coming from, I wonder (besides the obvious pregnancy hormones!) … Are Leon and I selfish people that we balk so adamantly against the suggestion that we will be ourselves no more because of Sydney? Shouldn’t we be “okay” with this? What kind of people are we to not willingly surrender our entire selves for the good of our baby?

Well ~ maybe we are awful people, but Leon and I are absolutely bored with hearing how we won’t have any time for our own thoughts; that we won’t have any sense of our “old life”, and that even our marriage will be forever stripped of what it once was by the presence of our baby. We are bored of it and we refuse to believe it!

Interestingly, while I think the point of most of these articles and blogs and ballsy advice givers is to suggest that a baby will be more than worth such sacrifices, the speakers never really get around to saying that as convincingly as they warn us of all we are about to lose forever in a vast abyss of toys, dance lessons, Mommy and Me classes, piano recitals and baby gear. I have been more and more troubled by the attitude expressed by so many that children stamp out, destroy, and even strangle personal hopes, dreams and wishes … the idea I hear and read and absorb from so many is that a child replaces any sense of personal or marital identity.

I think I am going to boldly suggest that can’t possibly be true. (And yes, I can already picture which of you dear readers is laughing into your morning coffee at my next thoughts, which will probably seem either endearingly naïve or innocently just plain stupid, but bear with me) …

Leon and I are walking toward parenthood with the idea that, after 10 years of married life, Sydney is adding to, not replacing our hopes and dreams and goals; that the change that everyone “warns” us to expect is a welcome change that we do actually understand more than folks might realize.

Do I understand the “realities” of day-to-day care for our baby? Of course not. But do I “get” that life is changing in ways I can’t anticipate ~ definitely; after 32 years of living I have rather figured out that life provides lots of stages where things change completely and this prepares us for the next stage …

Sydney is an added piece of our life; not our entire existence. She is a gift from God; entrusted to us for care and parenting. She is His and we have the opportunity to love and nurture her; and to provide her with opportunities for growth and joy and learning and faith.

Now, this doesn’t mean we won’t be guilty as charged when we behave like typical Gen X parents and hold forth about every little burp our baby makes. But we’ll try really hard not to obsess that way too often. And I am also not suggesting that we will be like sitcom parents (think Ross and Rachel on FRIENDS for example), whose baby never enters conversation and who is largely forgotten except for at “milestone” events ;-) (I always wonder when I watch these shows, where on EARTH is their baby??) But I think what I dare to suggest is that I will be a lousy parent if I lose my identity because of Sydney. What a road to resentment and what a tremendously uninteresting mother I would be!

I don’t want to be afraid of my daughter’s arrival because it means I am at the same time committing hari kari on my own spirit. And I don’t think I am missing the point of the sacrifice of parenting and motherhood to make that statement …

Maybe Leon and I are wholly wrong. Maybe in a year or two, someone will come up to either one of us and ask us to define our selves or to express our deepest goals, and we won’t even recall what those were before life with Sydney. Maybe.

But my guess is that even if and when those things do change, when the inner person shifts and is so redefined, it won’t be a mindless slide into a person-less oblivion … but considered and connected to who I was before my child and to who I plan to be with my child and who I would like to be when my child is grown … I suppose time will tell.

It's not only children who grow. Parents do too. As much as we watch to see what our children do with their lives, they are watching us to see what we do with ours. I can't tell my children to reach for the sun. All I can do is reach for it, myself. ~Joyce Maynard