Mother’s Day Weekend has passed again and as I sit in the after glow with my Monday morning coffee I am filled with an abundance of gratitude so acute it almost hurts. It is a special day for me, special because I have been in active duty now for 35 years. Plus 15 years as a grandmother. I wouldn’t trade a single day. Not even the stormy ones.

Yes, it’s true…I had an early start. Sometimes life throws you a curve ball and you hit a home run.

Although, I didn’t wake one day and say, “Gee…I think I’ll try being a sixteen year old mom, won’t that be a smart idea!”  I did learn more from that rocky road than all of the other hard knock classes I took put together.

I learned about unconditional love. I learned about commitment. I learned about priorities. (You learn about that sort of thing in the middle of the night with an asthmatic child who can’t breathe and you haven’t slept in three days.) I learned about money. I learned about not having any.

Yep…kids teach you everything. All of mine have taught me new things. My oldest, being the pioneer daughter, blazing the trail for the others, had it the hardest. She had to dig her way through the hardest clay, my skills as a parent, untried and alone for the most part. We experimented together. Frick and frack, figuring it out as we went along. We learned a lot together. The rest of them should send her Mother’s day cards.

When she was 16, she wrote a poem and gave it to me for Mother’s Day.

I appeared like lightning piercing the sky;
Greatly unexpected, a hindrance was I.
Washing away goals, changing dreams like the tide,
I crushed her youth the moment I arrived.

But her love flourished with each passing day,
As she accepted her life, the gift that I gave.
Our life was not charted, predicted, or planned;
We faced our troubles hand in hand.

They flooded our lives, right from the start,
But made us two people; stronger of heart.
She welcomed my presence for she did know,
That when a storm goes by, it leaves a rainbow.

 I CRIED……

But it was true. All of my children are exquisite rainbows with the most glorious colors in the universe.

I know that all of the mothers out there feel the same way about their rainbows too. So for mothers everywhere this weekend, I am sharing my gratitude for all of our children and for everything they have taught us, shown us and shared with us.

For the gift of being a mother.

Happy Mother’s Day Moms.

[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptkWYhX79N8]I have been blessed.

*Original post from 2008 updated to reflect current Mother’s Day Gratitude. I am grateful always.

We sat down as a family to watch live television. It won’t take a psychic to figure out what we were watching. It was the same thing on every single channel. We were watching the map of the United States of America change colors from grey and black to blue and red. We were watching the results of the 2008 election.

Not turning on the TV until almost 8:45 Chicago time meant that we had missed the slow part of the evening and enjoyed a peaceful quiet family night. We tuned in just as things got pretty exciting. I had my laptop humming along next to me, keeping track of incoming data and twitter while the family flipped channels on the tube. I would report to them and they would report to me. We would see how close mainstream TV and and the web were keeping up with each other. ( not too bad last night, I think.) It was fun.

Then, California and the west coast closed their polling places and everything hit the fan at once and Obama was immediately declared the winner before anyone could turn the lights out in the polling locations.

California, with Zero percent of the vote in had declared him the winner! IN AN INSTANT!

What an amazing world….

How fun was that! ?!?!

We let the kids stay up late, way past their bedtimes as we were all glued to the TV watching our political process in action. My youngest ones at home are 11 and 14. We all sat huddled together with the two dogs as John McCain came out and gave a very gracious and generous speech congratulating Senator, now President Elect Obama, on his victory. I felt proud of him once again, proud of his service, proud of him as an American and grateful for the olive branch that he extended across party lines to begin the process of uniting this country for the huge tasks ahead.

Then, Obama, President-elect Obama, entering the stage with Michelle, his two beautiful girls, (who my daughter referred to as the future “angels of the white house” ,) and the crowd of supporters, spanning out as far out into the distance as the cameras could reach.

It felt like we were witnessing a miracle. And as we listened, and as he spoke, weaving his words with the magic of hope, promise and vision, I saw in my children’s eyes a look that I remember from my own childhood so very long ago.

A recognition, that no matter what you you thought or believed hours ago, if you were a part of last night, you witnessed a life-shifting moment in our culture that changes everything. There was a ripple that began to spread and grow until it became a wave and then a tsunami and eventually was felt as a tremor the entire world over last night. You could feel it in the air, you could see it on the faces of those watching, in the posture of those listening, in the hearts of those believing.

A new day dawned this morning. A new day, with a new type of faith. People woke up feeling like they belong. Like they have a voice, like they matter. Like there is a banner shining brightly that says YES YOU CAN to their hopes, dreams, ambitions and needs that will not put them down, trample them to the ground or tell them no you can’t, you have no hope.

Was it always there? Probably yes. It just took a man with the belief in himself to show us the way.

My children will never forget last night. Neither will I. Before they went to bed, we talked about how some moments in history are just so special that they stay with you forever.

They asked me what the closest thing to this was for me in my childhood.

My answer was instant.

I watched Neil Armstrong walk on the Moon.

I was nine years old. I sat huddled in front of an old snowy black and white TV screen with my entire family and several of our neighbors, all pressed close together to hear the garbled, scratchy sound. I remember the tight constricted feeling in my chest as he hovered over the spacecraft steps, the burning in my lungs as I finally gasped when he took that first step and I realized I had been holding my breath…maybe unknowingly terrified as a child that there WOULD be Martians or that he would spontaneously combust on impact with the ground. Then he took another step and touched ground and we witnessed that  floaty anti-gravity walk that has become so famous now but that when seeing it for the very first time was nothing short of miraculous.

Then the words…ONE SMALL STEP FOR MAN, ONE GIANT STEP FOR MANKIND…

I remember that moment, feeling as if I could burst from the pride of being an American. Burst from the exhilaration of the MIRACLE that was occurring before my very eyes. To think that …A KABILLION miles a way..a man was STEPPING and TALKING on the moon and it was coming to us LIVE on a snowy black and white TV in our living room was BEYOND any comprehension my nine year old brain could fathom.

Frankly, my almost fifty year old brain still struggles with it as well. But…we as a world are a little more jaded with our miracles these days…

Last night…was one of those moments again. One of those nights that in the somewhere distant future you will say…”I remember exactly where I was and exactly how I felt and…it was amazing.”

I could almost hear Neil Armstrong whispering in the background.

We were there. Along with many other loyal and heart-broken patrons. Sometimes, no matter what we need or want, it’s just time for others to move on, to move in a new direction and begin a new adventure. It’s not always about us. Even if we wish it could be.

Believe me, if it could be, we would wave a magic wand and preserve The Bistro 22 for all time- to be there when we need comforting, be there when we want to celebrate, be there when we want quiet conversation, and always, always, when we want to trust that the food will be divine…every single time.

My husband proposed to me at this restaurant. At our table. Table Fourteen. In the cozy little seating area next to the fireplace. The entire staff knew ahead of time and went out of their way to make the night an evening of enchantment, romance and love. 

We celebrated our wedding rehearsal dinner there too. Marc, the Chef, sat with John’s mother and us during the planning of the party and went through every fine detail. He treated John’s mother like a queen. We felt as if we were the most important people to ever celebrate an occasion there. He had wonderful menu selections for our guests and created special gourmet dishes for our vegetarian guests that were astounding. Wine recommendations were carefully thought through, tasted and selected and his special attention to creating unique little desserts that appealed to everyone was unparalleled. The evening was a tremendous affair, elegant and relaxed at the same time, a feat that the Bistro was well known for. The wait staff always made us feel as if we had come to their personal home for dinner. We were always made to feel welcomed, appreciated and taken care of.

John and I have often joked that our rehearsal dinner was the real wedding feast and that the next night was just for the dancing. You just can’t top the The Bistro.

As we sat there Sunday night, finished with our last supper as we were sadly calling it, John and I had time to leisurely sit at the bar and reminisce about what had made our relationship with The Bistro so different then any other place. What made it OUR place? As we discreetly could hear bits and pieces of conversations drifting by, the same words were floating to the surface with a reoccurring awareness. The ambiance. The atmosphere. The warmth. The genuine caring of the staff and owners. The ambiance, the warmth, the relaxing feel, the ambiance….

What was it, I started to wonder, that had created such ambiance-since that was what we all seemed to be coming back to?

Tea Lights and Time. Casual Elegance.

We were sitting at the bar. A beautiful oak bar with a wide granite countertop that connected in a relaxed corner shape. The chairs were comfortable and spread far enough apart as to give you elbow room and an illusion of intimacy in your conversations. Kent, the owner, took great pains to decorate the bar with a seasonal display of natural materials that would reflect the casual elegance that they were known for. In the autumn, for example, there may be golden miniature squashes with tiny brilliant orange pumpkins displayed with a few select pieces of colorful grasses or fall leaves. Surrounding and intertwining all of his displays and tucked into crystal clear wine glasses and other luminary containers were tiny white tea lights all lit up and glowing, creating dancing flickering shadows across bottles of wine, cocktail shakers and displays of artistically arranged mouth-watering food.

In the corner, on the weekends, a quiet acoustic guitar player would serenade the conversations with a backdrop of lazy ballads that would add a layer of romance, tranquility and peace to the evening. The Bistro was a haven from the chaos. A retreat from the hectic busyness that life can become.

What did it cost him to create such casual elegance? A stack of ten-cent tea lights set against a few bottles of wine and some baby pumpkins? A guitar player who played for the dollars tossed in his glass jar?

I realized that every time we had been there, he had been out there, lighting his tea lights, chatting with the customers, listening to the stories of how their day had gone, what was new in their lives, talking about the new wines he had found, pouring out a taste here, a taste there, lighting a few more little candles, making the rounds, speaking to everyone. He made us EACH feel as if WE were his favorite ones, the ones he had been waiting for all night long, but in truth, he had a genuine love for all of “his people”. He had built his restaurant on tea lights and time. He took the time to get to know each and every one of us, what we liked, what was important to us, what our stories and lives were all about.

Yes, a lot of the glow came from the lights. But the true ambiance came from a man who understood that above all…more important than the best food, the best menu, the best prices and the best wine, a great restaurant is built on relationships. It started at the top and trickled down to a staff that had the lowest turn over of any restaurant I have ever known. The exact same people were there to say goodbye to the week they left as were there when we first met them. As we said goodbye to the staff, we continuously heard how much they were going to miss working for such a wonderful boss. His relationship building skills create very loyal people in his life.

I have no doubt that in his next exciting adventure he will continue to be very successful. The ability to make people feel special, loved, relaxed and comfortable is an amazing gift and people will always flock to be near him and work with him.

What is the lesson for the rest of us? Sometimes I think we are caught up in our material world. We think our dingy surroundings dictate that we can’t create an ambiance worth remembering. It isn’t true. We can create it in our businesses, in our homes and in our relationships with just a few simple things if we will slow down, take a few minutes and get creative. A giant bag of white tea lights are only a few dollars. Nature gives us ambiance every day. And….it doesn’t cost a penny to care about someone. It doesn’t cost a single penny to take a moment, walk around, and say, “How are you? I’m so glad you are here.” Making people feel special, carrying about them, listening to them, treating them as if they are important to you takes only a moment of your time.

You might never know when a door is going to close for the last time. You might not get the chance to say farewell. I am so glad that this time we did. So glad that we had time to say thank you for the memories, for the way they touched our hearts, our families and our lives. Some of the special moments of our life happened at The Bistro and I will always carry it in my heart. It reminds me that often, we take for granted these people and these moments in our lives and also, WE have the chance TO BE one of these kinds of people for the rest of the world.

Thank You to Kent, Marc and everyone at Bistro 22 for making our memories special.

There never IS enough time to do all the things we want to do. Let’s make the most of the time we have.

Make it Special.

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 THIS IS MY LETTER TO THE WORLD
       ~Emily Dickinson

This is my letter to the world
That never wrote to me
The simple news that Nature told
With tender majesty

Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see
For love of her,
Sweet countrymen,
Judge tenderly of me

Have you ever had a message you wanted to share with the entire world? Something that if you could, you would climb to the top of a mountain, or sail down a river or take out an ad or scream at the top of your lungs into the wind?

Or hire a Carrier Pigeon.

Or write a book.

Or start a blog.

When I started Life’s Little Inspirations back at our old house, our first little community center before Harry came along and built us this beautiful lighthouse, I didn’t really have a great inspired plan. I just wanted to write. I had been reading some interesting blogs, and came across free wordpress, touched a button and oops-I had a blog. So I wrote a post. There was the amazing Brett who responded only a few moments later and a blogger was born. And we… myself and an amazing number of friends and readers have created this inspiring community of Life’s Little Inspirations that has become something more then I ever would have fathomed could be possible.

This community has changed my life. It has fanned the flames of a dream and a heart’s desire that has re-awaked after thirty one years (and still happily counting) of being both a full-time career woman and mother. Yes- that dream is to be a writer, with all my heart I want that. Yet that alone is not enough.

Coming here to the lighthouse has made me understand why. It’s all very clear at the map. When Harry designed our new place, he installed google analytics, something I had never heard of,  didn’t understood and won’t even pretend that I do at this point. But it has this intriguing map that I can’t tear myself away from that tells you where all of your visitors are coming from.

 SO…right here and now…to all of you bigger and greater bloggers to which, what I am about to say is a drop in the bucket, and to everyone else…I wouldn’t know if these numbers are good, bad, or ugly…I can only tell you that I…am…overwhelmed. That map has opened my eyes to an amazing reality about the vastness of blogging and the smallness of our world. It has made me think that there are a few things I want to say…

My Letter to the World

Dear World,

WE-our community- has been here for less than a month. In that time, people from fifty-five different countries have been coming here to read and visit the pages of Life’s Little Inspirations.

I had no idea. Were you always there? At the old place too? Did I not fully understand the impact of one little blog, one little voice that- I thought- didn’t have very much to say? Last night, I want you to know that I sat there, at that map, for a very long, long time and I ran my cursor-shaped like an outreached hand-carefully over each and ever country-large and small- and watched as it lit up under the hand. I thought about you. I wondered what your day was like, what your thoughts were, what inspired you, what you wanted most in the world. What is our common ground? What makes you happy? What makes you sad?

I wondered which ones of you comment and those of you who don’t, why are you silent? How much more we could be, and how much more we could do if every voice from every 55 places spoke up, made their opinions count, made their situations more real to us, helped us to understand each other more clearly, bridge the gaps with respect, dignity and honest conversation?

My eyes welled up with tears and your countries became watery and I saw you through a blurry film. I realized that is how we all see each other. Through our own clouded vision. Is there a way to help each other see more clearly? Can we talk? Can we share? You are reading…I really want to know you. I know others here want to know you as well. I am reaching out to you. Will you reach out to me? Tell me about yourself. Tell me what your world is like, what your day is like, what is important to you.

I want to know. Talk to me. Talk to us.

I floated the cursor back onto my own country of America. Even here, the places that readers come from are as diverse and as far reaching in such a large stretch of land that we might as well be divided. How can we become closer? How can we bridge the gaps that divide us? Can we talk?

I thought of the post I had written on the power of words. I believe in it with all my heart. Is it the answer? Can sharing our words in a respectful manner help us to get down to the common core of values from which all love, hope and true change springs forth? Can real change and real peace happen?

I think it can.

I sat there last night staring at the map and thought about the power of bloggers to change the world one reader at a time. To make a difference. To find the common ground. To change hearts through wide open listening and bridging the gaps. The problem isn’t cultural, the problem is not caring enough to put aside our differences and reaching out to find our common ground.

When representatives from 55 countries can meet at a little blog in less than a month of starting up, that tells me that on the big ones there are huge numbers of people meeting from all over the world. I am one little voice. How many blogs are out there talking to how many people all over? What could we do if we tried?

One little thing I am committed to doing is to participate in Blog Action Day 08. I hope you will join me and make a difference in the war on poverty on October 15th. There is still plenty of time to sign up. But it is just a start. It is just one day. Let’s keep talking all 365 days a year too.

Hello world. I want you to know how much I want to hear from you. I want you to know how much I care. Please don’t leave without saying hello! Please share your world with us and tell us about yourself!

 Will you please be a part of helping Life’s Little Inspirations Grow? If you enjoy reading these posts, please leave a comment and subscribe, and Digg, Stumble or spread the word any way you can. Thank you very much!

No one is perfect, but boys, making the effort to be perfect…is what life is all about…If you’ll not settle for anything less than the best, you will be amazed at what you can do with your lives.
~Vince Lombardi

This morning I woke up with that quote on my mind. It ran through my head in the background of my thoughts the way an annoying pop song will get lodged in there sometimes. Only today as I stood in front of the coffee pot, empty cup in hand, it was Vince-growling in my head- yammering on and on and on until I finally had to pay attention to him.

“What are you doing in my head?” I asked. “Why are you bothering me? Why don’t you be quiet and let me drink my coffee?”

A few sips of the black hot liquid and with journal and pen in hand, the answer to my questions started to ebb into my brain. It was all Steph’s fault and Brett’s fault and James’s fault and their round robin Blog discussion of Buzz Lightyear which lead to Faking It which lead to comments from Steph about perfectionism on her blog In Other Words in the comment section. All the rest of the day yesterday I mulled over some of the comments on her blog. Striving to be perfect, the dangers of trying to be perfect, how trying to be perfect can actually help us to strive to improve and be our best. Check it out. It was very thought-provoking. I should know. It provoked me.

Ahhh, perfectionism…my old nemesis. Vince Lombardi. The ultimate perfectionist. No wonder he was up there floating around, preaching at me, nagging at me, haunting me from the rafters.

I got up from my morning coffee, reached over to the bookshelf and pulled out my worn down copy of Winning is a Habit. It is a small book filled entirely of quotes by Vince Lombardi on everything from winning to success, faith, racism, football and business. One hundred and forty pages of straight from the mouth Vince Lombardi words of wisdom. And he doesn’t mince them. The Green Bay Packer Football Coach had an ability to motivate and drive men to succeed in such a way that has made him a legend for all time. He was hard, uncompromising and tough when it came to giving anything less than everything you had.

We…shall play every game to the hilt with every ounce of fiber we have in our bodies.

Vince understood that Winners were in the habit of acting like winners. That winning is an attitude, a frame of mind, a behavior, a level of commitment and perseverance and yes…a drive and a desire to be the very best player on the field. Of striving for perfection in everything you do.

When we talk about being a perfectionist it is often as a negative thing. Something that needs to be fixed in our character. Sometimes it is. When the need to be perfect is so intense that it freezes a person to inaction instead of action, it has gone too far. When you won’t start a brilliant idea because you know it will never turn out as perfect as it is in the safety of your imagination then your perfectionism is a handicap to your creativity and your inventiveness. When you are constantly in the pattern of sabotaging yourself right before the big day, the shining moment, or crossing the finish line…look in the mirror and see if you can find the twin fears of failure and success staring back at you. They are the children of perfectionism.

But then again…Vince Lombardi didn’t take the Green Bay Packers to the Super Bowl by saying “Let’s all play good football here, Let’s do a good job and see how it goes.” OH NO. He said:

I’m going to tell you the facts, gentleman, and the facts are these: At Green Bay, we have winners. We do not have losers. If you are a loser, mister, you’re going to get your ass out of here right now. Gentleman, we are paid to win. Gentlemen, we will win.”

Losing wasn’t an option. Settling for anything less than the very best wasn’t an option. It was unthinkable. Not giving 110% wasn’t allowed. 100% wasn’t good enough. That was for other teams. Teams that weren’t destined for greatness. Not good enough for Vince Lombardi.

They call him a legend. They call him a hero. Certainly not by everyone though. He was criticized for being too tough, too hard. Some say that those days are gone now in our society. You can’t talk that way, can’t *treat* people the way that coaches like Lombardi or even Ditka talked to their players. People can’t be expected to live up to those kind of standards. We’ve lowered the bar, lowered our expectations about what we expect.

We settle. Often. We go for good enough when nothing short of the very best we have to offer is going to make the dream happen. Then we wonder why our feet are still on the ground.

I’m no different. In some things I race after the target full speed ahead charging for the mark with all engines firing at full speed. Don’t get in my way when I’m that focused. You might get run over. But in other areas of life I am lolly-gagging all over the place and disappointed with the results. I can do a better job at giving my very best effort in everything I do. Not just some of the things.

Maybe that’s why the conversations yesterday stuck with me and followed me around all day. Maybe I see areas that I have been settling in. I need to kick it up a notch. Maybe that’s why I woke up with Vince Lombardi haunting me in my head. I need to get back in the winning habit. Focus on excellence and strive to be the very best I can be in every  facet of my life.

The quality of any man’s life has got to be a full measure of that man’s personal commitment to excellence and victory, regardless of what field he may be in.

I think I’ve got the message. Can I have my brain back now Vince? It’s getting loud in here with both of us yakking so much.

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