Tag: challenges

What Would Get You to Take It All Off?

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

Last week, my sister took it all off. In front of hundreds of people, she bared herself in a way she has never done before. And she did it for money. If you know her, you’re not too surprised at this behavior. She tends to do stuff like this.

 

hanger

 

Stuff like raising over $1500 for childhood cancer research by shaving her head.

Did you think I meant something else? Sigh. Get your mind out of the gutter, people.

My sister, Theresa, shaved her head last Friday as a way to raise money for St. Baldrick’s childhood cancer research. As a fun incentive for people to donate, the organization (named as a combination of “bald” and “St. Patrick’s,” since the first event was held March 17, 2000) encourages people to raise funds for research by pledging to shave their heads.

 

trying to capture the two of us--and her hair--in one last photo
trying to capture the two of us–and her hair–in one last photo

 

Theresa is a teacher, and her high school has been supporting St. Baldrick’s for a few years. At the very moment she was speaking with a teacher about being a “shavee” this year, another colleague walked into the room and shared that his grandson had to have his eye removed in his battle with cancer. It was a powerful coincidence that fueled my sister’s commitment to participate. Not surprisingly, she chose to sponsor this boy in her efforts. (The boy has since gotten his labs back, and, thank God, he is now cancer-free.)

 

since she is donating her hair, it needs to be in ponytails
since she is donating her hair, it needs to be in ponytails

 

My sister and I hate cancer. (Is there anyone who doesn’t?!) It’s not only taken our dad, but affected too many people that we know and love. And—just too many people, period. It is an insidious, horrible disease—but research is making strides. As the St. Baldrick’s website notes, “In the 1950s, almost all kids diagnosed with cancer died. Because of research, today about 90% of kids with the most common type of cancer will live. But for many other types, progress has been limited, and for some kids there is still little hope for a cure.”

 

quite the transformation
quite the transformation

 

I am very proud of Theresa for “taking it all off.” (I won’t gush much more, as she already accuses me of posting schmaltz.) She not only raised a chunk of money for research, but she was also able to donate her hair to an organization that will use it to make hairpieces for disadvantaged children suffering with hair loss for various reasons. Shaving her head was a double win.

 

check out the hair she is holding in her hand to be donated!
check out the hair she is holding in her hand to be donated!

 

And, in a way, it was also a kind of triple win, as well—at least for Theresa—because her decision to shave her head had another layer of personal impact.

You see, my sister and I both started going gray in our early 20s, and we are now predominantly (and prematurely, mind you!) gray. As I’ve shared before, deciding when and if to cease the coloring madness is not easy. Both (originally) brunettes, if we stopped coloring our hair, we would have to deal with a defined line of brown-to-white until it all grew out. Who wants to look like variations of a skunk tail for months? Not me.

But when my sister committed to shaving her head for St. Baldrick’s, she also decided that she would let it grow back au natural. I found this to be a brilliant plan. No ugly outgrowth! Just new, healthy hair. That is just smart all over the place.

Who knows? It may be the route I take when I decide to make the transition. I will watch my sister’s journey and perhaps it will inspire me to one day do the same. (After all—I have time if I am to follow in my sister’s footsteps, as she is MUCH older than me. You’re welcome, T.)

 

with "Shelly the Head Shaver"
with “Shelly the Head Shaver”

 

Doesn’t she look great?

So far, she is loving it. As she recently shared on Facebook:

Shaving head for St. Baldrick’s – $1,585!
Savings in hair products per month – $17
Time saved every morning – 25 minutes
Startling myself every time I pass a mirror – PRICELESS!

Her bold commitment has also, in a way, set her free.

Of course, when I wrote the title for this post, I was hoping that the salacious nature of it would make you want to read it…

But there is a “real” reason for it, too. Those who shave their heads for St. Baldrick’s are ready to drastically change their appearance—at least for a while—to help the battle against cancer.

What are you willing to commit to? What will move you enough to say, “for this, I will endure some discomfort/pain/sacrifice/risk”?

I know I’m not ready to shave my head quite yet. While I did do the AVON 39 Walk to End Breast Cancer a few years back, I’m not courageous enough to go cue ball like my sister. But understanding what it is that you are willing to “take it all off” for is an important thing to know about yourself, don’t you think?

What will you put yourself on the line for?

If you feel comfortable enough to share in a comment below, please do.

And…way to go, T!

 

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10 Great Reasons to Forgive

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments

I took my mom to the bank drive thru the other day. I think these mainly still exist for people in my mom’s generation—though having the little canister get sucked up into the tube is pretty cool. The transaction turned out to be very frustrating because the tellers didn’t see something they should have and ended up treating us rather poorly.

My mom was…ticked. She wanted me to get the teller’s name and complain. I told her to take a breath and let it go. We have bigger fish to fry. But it took her a while to get past it. (Actually, I think given the chance, she’d still give the teller an earful.)

I know I can be guilty of the very same kind of misspent energy, and I bet you can admit to the same. While forgiving little slights isn’t too hard, there are times where it’s just easier to steam at the injustice.

And then there are the bigger fish that do indeed need frying. The kinds of hurts that make it even harder to let go and offer forgiveness.

But no matter how big or small the “fish,” we should always strive to forgive, and here are my ten great reasons why…

  1. God commands us to. As a Christian, I have the greatest model of this in Jesus…who offers forgiveness even to the very people who crucified him. What a powerful example of practicing what you preach. Other major religions—Buddhism, Islam, Hinduism, Judaism—also teach forgiveness. With nearly six billion people in the world identifying with a religion, we should be awash in forgiveness.
  1. We need it every day. At least I do—and I’m pretty sure you do, too. So if we need it but choose not to offer it to others who need it, then we need to strap on our hypocrisy hats.

 

bridge

 

  1. We benefit from offering forgiveness to others. Receiving forgiveness is obviously awesome, but I have had some significant experiences in my life of offering forgiveness, and the healing that comes from it—both spiritually and emotionally—is powerful and freeing.
  1. We lose negative and gain positive energy. Not only is the impact of forgiveness spiritual and emotional, but it can be physical, too. There are times when I have forgiven someone and felt an immediate physical change—as though weighty scales have fallen off of me and tangibly lightened my being. These times have served to remind me how damaging it is to hold onto negative energy. Positive rocks. Negative sucks.

 

ice zags

 

  1. It helps others. We know how amazing it feels to be forgiven. The grace and mercy that comes our way is transformative. Why wouldn’t we want to facilitate that amazingness for others? Share the wealth.
  1. In withholding forgiveness, we can suffer more than the one whom we believe needs it. Sometimes the hurt you’re feeling may not even be on the other person’s radar. One-sided pain is just that: one-sided. Granted, these kinds of offenses are usually on the smaller side—feeling angry at a driver who cut you off or maybe feeling snubbed by someone—but they still result in negative energy that attacks your spirit.

     
    winter shore

  1. Because we can. In many walks of life the cliché “just because you can doesn’t mean you should” rings true. Not here. We have a choice to forgive. What a powerful privilege. See numbers 1-6 and 8-10 for why we should make that choice. 
  1. It’s hard. We need to do the tough stuff. Facing something very painful and working through it to get to forgiveness takes effort and strength and courage. All good things to call upon. Grace and mercy aren’t too shabby, either.
     
    (If you’re like me, the absolute hardest person for me to forgive is…me. For some reason, offering forgiveness to others is much easier than letting myself off the hook. I think this is where a lot of us really need to up our game.) 

     
    summer shore

  1. Modeling forgiveness lets others see how it works. Seeing something in action can really be persuasive. I’m not one of those parents who tries to keep all conflict hidden from my kid. To me, that would be a false representation of life. He knows that sometimes people argue—and showing him how people forgive completes the lesson.
     
    ice breaker
  1. It embraces our mutual brokenness in a broken world. We all sin, fall short, disappoint, hurt, mess up…all of us…continually. There’s no getting around it. It is our truth. Knowing that we can both offer forgiveness and be forgiven allows us to persevere and thrive in an imperfect world. Hope can continually bloom under the light of forgiveness.

Of course, this by far isn’t a definitive discourse on the merits of forgiveness, but I hope that you have found a little something here to remind you how key forgiveness is to a healthy life. And if you didn’t and instead feel like this has been a waste of your time, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me!

 

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I Just Need to Lift My Hood

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

Among the many flaws and weaknesses I have, there is one that masquerades as a positive quality—at least that’s how I’ve seen it for most of my life. It is only within the last few years that I realize that it isn’t a sign of strength but more accurately a sign of stupidity.

You see, I’m not very good at asking for help. I like to take care of things myself. Asking for help is a sign of weakness, of inability…of failure.

 

help

 

Stupid, right? Yeah, I know.

Unfortunately, that’s how I’ve been wired since I was a kid, so seeing it for what it is has really taken me some time. (Or maybe I’m just a really slow learner.) And then changing it? Well, that evolution is still underway.

But let me share a recent lesson in my progress.

The other day I was on “band carpool” duty. My son’s school shares a band with another school, so one day a week, we have to get up extra early, drive farther out to the other school, have class, then drive the kids back in time for their “real” school day to begin. It pretty much sucks. (Support the Arts in school, people!)

My husband does this every week…and I am very grateful. But last week he needed me to do it, and I did. All went just fine…until I forgot to turn my headlamps off. It was bright enough daylight that I didn’t see that they were still on while I sat in the car with the motor off and waited for the kids. It was very cold…and therefore didn’t take much for my battery to die.

 

ignition

 

Yep. As I went to start the van to get it warm for the kids, it sputtered and whined and then passed out.

Let’s say my language was colorful as I swallowed my disbelief and tried to understand what this meant in my little world. No van. Need to get kids back to school in a tight timeframe. Freezing. Idiot.

Actually, the idiot part happened right out of the gate.

I called my husband and shared the situation with him. He offered to drive out and help, but I knew that meant a lot of time to add onto the solution. It dawned on me that maybe I could ask one of the other parents to be my booster car.

You see, I am very well versed at jumping cars. Being the “I’ll take care of it” person that I am, I’ve done it many times both for myself and others. The only help I need is…another car.

 

cables

 

And that was my problem here. My plan was to get my cables out and ready and wait for one of the other parents I knew to show up. (They don’t sit and wait but return at pickup.)

I wanted to save time and do all that I could to be ready, so I got the cables and then popped my hood.

 

hood up

 

As soon as I lifted the hood and propped it up, the man who was helping direct the school buses for that school came over. He was wearing a yellow safety vest and a kind smile. “What do you need?” he asked. I told him I needed a jump, and he grabbed his walkie talkie and started to tell the guy on the other end to get the cables. I showed him that I already had those, and he smiled and said, “Well, give me a second!”

Indeed, within seconds, he had his truck over and his assistant and he were hooking up the cables. (I must admit that I quietly intervened and changed what the assistant did since he put them on in the wrong order.) The van popped right off within a few seconds.*

Problem solved.

We made it to school right on time.

(As it turns out, of the two parents I was looking for to help, one didn’t come that day and the other was running late. So my planned solution would have at best made us quite late.)

By lifting my hood, I inadvertently put the call out for help…and received it.

I may have had the cables and the knowledge, but I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed someone’s help. And I was not weak for needing it. The reality is I simply couldn’t do it on my own no matter what—I needed another car.

 

battery

 

Sometimes help is “needing another car.” Not being less than or incapable. Not being weak or not enough. Just not having all the Xs and Ys to solve the equation.

I’m still learning to embrace that…rewiring takes time. But I am learning. One of the things that helps me grow is remembering how I feel when I am able to help others. I don’t feel like I’m stronger or more capable or anything like that—I feel grateful to be able to help. I feel needed.

When I don’t allow others to help me, I am denying them that feeling. That’s lame. Remembering this pushes me to be better about asking for help.

As a work in progress, I am growing to accept that it’s okay to prop my hood up and signal that I need help—that I can’t do this on my own. That I need someone to be my booster car. One jump at a time, I am getting there.

 

*Turns out that the man in the yellow vest and the kind smile is actually the principal of the school. Seeing him help with the buses and then with my car, I never would have guessed it–and he never let on. Class act.

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The Brushstrokes of Life

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 5 Comments

Divot in shin—knife drop, Easter Saturday, 2010. Forehead pockmark—head-butt on bathtub faucet, 1969. Knee “freckles”—torn meniscus, soccer game, 2012… I could go on and ON. My body is full of scars and imperfections. I’m guessing you might have a few, too.

We typically look at these kinds of marks on our bodies as flaws or eyesores. After all, they rarely, if ever, add beauty to a person’s body, right? Stretch marks anyone? But what if we considered them not as imperfections, but brushstrokes that come together to help create the work of art that we are?

 

brushes

 

In a way, each mark that we acquire through our lives is a mark of our journey. They may not necessarily “represent” anything in particular, but they are a part of us. Maybe if we cast a kinder eye on those scars we would be better able to see them as an essential part of ourselves.

You don’t get through life unscathed.

And what about the scars below the skin—the ones that we carry on our hearts? Maybe your heart is marked with the death of a loved one. Maybe there are rejections you’ve suffered in love, work, or friendship. Maybe you’ve gone through a trauma that you have yet to give voice to. Maybe you have been treated unfairly or abused. Maybe you’re battling an illness. Maybe you’ve failed in some capacity. Maybe many or all of these things have touched you in some way.

These kinds of hurts definitely leave their mark. Some much deeper than others, but a mark nonetheless. And while it is critical to work toward healing in every way we can, we will never be able to bring the heart back to what it was before the scar.

We are forever changed.

 

art 1

 

But what if we also look at these scars as brushstrokes on the canvas of our lives? Each mark helping to form who we are? Though this perspective doesn’t take away the pain of the “heart scar,” it may help us to see that there is meaning within it.

I know some of my heart scars have equipped me to be a better person. I’m using the term “better” here in a relative sense—as in what I believe is important. Compassion and empathy are important to me, and my heart scars have led me to be more compassionate and empathetic.

Of course, hindsight helps me understand this. For example, my dad died of cancer when I was 21. Obviously, that is a major heart scar with many facets to it—some obvious and some not so obvious. But I had no idea when I was going through it how many times I would be able to be there for a friend who was going through the loss of a loved one or battling cancer. Simply being there with some firsthand understanding ended up being of some comfort to several people in my life since then, and I am grateful for that. It means that the loss of my dad and the pain that is left behind from it in some way served a purpose. The heart scar has meaning.

 

art 2

 

And since we know we won’t get through life unscathed—either physically or emotionally—it helps to recognize that those brushstrokes are helping us become works of art even through the pain.

At least it helps to know for me.

In my mind’s eye, when I stand back and see how my “brushstrokes” are coming together, I see the work in progress that I am. I see how many things, when observed in isolation—can only be seen as ugly or painful—but with some perspective, are essential to the creation of the work as a whole.

Though some days my life canvas looks like something painted by Pollock or Picasso when I’d prefer Degas or Hopper, it is a work of art nonetheless. And that work of art is me.

I wonder what challenging brushstrokes you’ve been through…and what does your painting look like?

 

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A Vehicle for Change?

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 10 Comments

On January 1, I did not leave the house and stayed out of trouble. On January 2, I was pulled over by a police officer. On January 3, my van had a brief relationship with a cement wall.

This is my story.

For those of you who follow me (thank you!), you know that I have been looking forward to the proverbial leaf turning of 2015. The years 2013-14 have kind of been jagwads to me and my family, and…I’m looking for a new start.

 

cold prism
Today’s sun-kissed greeting.

 

But…does this sound like a new beginning to you? Or does it seem like more of the same crappola?

Well, of course, it’s not as simple as that, now is it? Let me tell you my story…

Just a week or so ago my son and I were driving and talking. He noticed someone on their phone and said, “I thought that was against the law?” to which I replied, “Yeah, well it looks like one of those laws that aren’t enforced because I see people on their phones all the time.”

Flash forward to January 2. I am running very late to get my son from a friend’s house. I decide that I should call the mom who is hosting and ask her to please have my guy ready to walk out the door because I’m only two minutes away. Though I have a Bluetooth, I rarely have it in because I’m not the greatest fan of talking on the phone, so when I make the call, I am not hands free. Cue sirens. So much for the law not being enforced…

I drop the phone as I tell the mom with a colorful word or two “I think I’m getting pulled over for being on the phone!” I can hear her saying, “What?…What??” but I realize that now is probably not the time to finish the call, so I hang up.

The officer approaches, tells me I was driving while using a handheld device, and asks for license and insurance. I tell him I am sorry, that I’m running late, yada, yada, and he simply holds his hand out for the information he asked for. He then disappears into his vehicle.

Now, if you’re like me and let’s say, maybe have a little experience getting pulled over now and then for maybe speeding…you know that the longer the cop sits in his car, the stronger the reality that he is writing you a ticket. I hoped that maybe my sobless sob story might be tugging at him, but…tick…tock…he’s not coming back quickly.

Doing an amazingly effortless job of mentally kicking myself, I decide instead to say a prayer. I pray that if there is any way I could have this end without my having to pay for a ticket, I would super appreciate it. We so do not have money right now to be throwing after stupid.

Another moment of waiting passes, and then the officer walks up to me and asks, “Do you know any cops in this town?” I look at him a little confused and say that I do. He asks me who, and I give him the name of an old friend. “Ha! Just give me a couple minutes.” And then he walks back to his vehicle.

I sit there wondering…what just happened??

Another two minutes later, he walks up and hands me a warning. He explains that while he was calling in my name on the radio, my friend heard it and said, “Wait! Hold up!” and I was then graced with a warning. My officer friend then drives up beside me and smiles. I am profuse in my gratitude, and he is gracious in his response.

 

warning

 

It was only then that I couldn’t hold back my emotion…because it sure felt to me that my prayer was answered in an extremely serendipitous way. What are the odds that this man would be on duty? That he would catch my name being called in? As we who watch Downton Abbey would say, I was gobsmacked.

While driving the next day, I couldn’t help but think that maybe that episode was a little message from God that though things can and will be hard, sometimes a tiny miraculous ray of light shines through. I felt like this was 2015 turning the corner for me.

And then I kissed a cement wall with the rear corner of my van.

It’s a long story that involves backing down a ramp, but I won’t bore you with it because this post is already near 800 words, and I haven’t gotten to my main point yet.

 

holey bumper

 

It was easy to fall right back into feeling the tug of the negative. It pulled hard on me. Lots of self-disgust bubbled up. It’s the same crappy karma of 2014 after all, isn’t it?

Or…is it?

I am really striving to see even this “holey van” incident as a message that things will most definitely continue to be messy…but…I’m okay. We’ll be okay. The van has many battle scars, and this is yet another one. But…it’s okay. The incident happened while I was on my way to something new and exciting that I’ve begun…and that didn’t stop just because I ran into a cement wall.

In fact, I’ve thought about making the hole a day brightener in its own crazy way…

 

holey flowers

 

It is so easy to get sucked into the negative—especially when I too often feel surrounded by it. But I’m not giving up that easy.

As I shared last week, my word for 2015 is journey, and I find it ironic that these two crazy incidents from the first three days of the year involve me traveling.

It appears I’ve already hit a couple of minor speed bumps on my journey!

But I’m still moving forward. And my little prayer answered resonates deeply within me that I am not journeying alone.

 

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2015: Time to Sally Forth

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

What is it with a new year? I mean, it’s merely a way of marking time…there is no literal change going on, except perhaps the hanging of a new calendar. Yet it matters, doesn’t it? For some reason, there is a sense of new beginnings…a new chapter…a clean slate…a chance to change the lackadaisical flow of things or corral the madness of the overwhelm of life.

I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get started.

I know a lot of people who like to hang onto their Christmas decorations for as long as possible. Me? As far as I’m concerned, they can come down on the 26th. Well…I’m not quite that brutal, but I am definitely eager to pack them up around the New Year. I like to get it over and done with so that I can face the 2-3 bleak months of Chicago weather without holiday clutter. Well, that’s not exactly it—I’m just ready to move on.

And I am so ready to move on from 2014 (and ’13, for that matter).

 

life's journey_1

 

Last year was the first time I chose a word for the year as a kind of theme to guide my heart. I chose the word ripples because I felt a strong connection to understanding the way life and the choices we make ripple out into the world and impact other people. As it turned out, my word choice resonated throughout the year in spectacular fashion—in both good and bad ways. In ways I hoped for and in ways I didn’t know were coming. Diplomatically speaking, 2014 was a challenging year. And I’m not too sorry to say goodbye to it. In fact, I am currently handing 2014 its hat and showing it to the door. Adios, asshole. (Oops. Did I just type that out loud? It appears that I might have.)

My word for 2015 popped into my heart without invitation. It just showed up and makes complete sense. 2015’s word for me is journey. (And I don’t mean the band. Though their song titles of “Don’t Stop Believin’” and “Open Arms” certainly work with my intended meaning.)

 

life's journey_4

 

I used to read this comic strip years ago called Sally Forth. It was about a woman and her family’s daily life. I liked the reality of it, and I also liked the play on her name—to sally forth means to energetically set out on a mission or adventure—and for Sally, her life was the adventure. To me, the phrase is similar to raising a fist and crying “Onward!” when what you are looking at is an uphill journey.

 

???????????????????????????????

 

The journey my heart calls me to is both professional and personal. I have a lot of ground to cover. So far, it has indeed been uphill, but I am rallying my internal troops to make the climb. From the time I was a little kid, I’ve always loved the song “Put One Foot in Front of the Other” from Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town—it’s a great way of reminding us that getting started only takes one step. And then another. And another.

And I am working on taking my next right steps to make the journey of 2015 (and beyond!) a meaningful and fulfilling one. I’ve got my metaphorical hiking boots on, and I’m ready to sally forth!

How about you? Are you finding that you, too, are on a pivotal journey? Or ready to begin one? Or ready to start thinking about being ready to begin one? Well, at some point, we’ve just got to get that foot ready to put itself in front of the other. If I can do it, you can do it. And if there is a stumble on the journey, I know from all of my past trips and falls that I will get back up (maybe catch my breath) and get my feet moving again…and you will, too. We have to…because the alternative sucks. Staying down and licking any wounds means you remain right where you fell…which probably isn’t that good of a place to hang out.

 

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So journey with me. Not alongside me because we are probably on different paths—but sallying forth to our next life adventure.

I’m so ready for it that I just want to say to 2015…

“Let’s get it on…”

 

 

May your New Year be a blessed one—and may the journey that you walk be filled with grace, joy, kindness, compassion, and love.

Happy New Year!

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