Tag: lesson

The Be All and End All

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments
Go ahead and pull for HOURS of fun!
Go ahead and pull for HOURS of fun!

Stretch Armstrong had his 15 minutes of fame when I was a kid. He was a rubber doll whose claim to that fame was his elasticity. You could stretch him to extremes and he would eventually revert back to his six-pack abs self. I didn’t actually own one, but a friend of mine did. It didn’t take us long to decide—along with probably every other kid who owned one—that we would see if we could stretch poor old Stretch beyond his limits.

It didn’t take long till we met with success.

And you know what lurked inside Mr. Armstrong? Jelly. Well, I don’t know what the official substance was inside of him, but it was certainly jelly-like. It oozed. Poor old Stretch wasn’t invincible after all.

Over the years, I’ve found myself relating to Stretch—I’m sure you can relate, too. The pulling and tugging of life in many different directions leaves me ready to ooze all too often. Of course, if being stretched thin meant I actually was thin, I might be better able to deal with it, but…it really means that I may be one tug away from seeping jelly.

I know I fall into the trap of thinking that if I am not everything to everybody, I will let people down. People I love and care about. And who wants to do that? But if you think about it, not only is this a ridiculous way of thinking, it’s actually a bit prideful. Am I really that awesome that I can do everything for everyone? Pretty heady, don’t you think?

The origin of the phrase “be all and end all” is attributed to Shakespeare’s Macbeth, and it has come to mean that if you are the “be all and end all” of something, you are the ultimate—there is no need to look further. Well, if you know anything about dear ol’ Macbeth, things didn’t turn out exactly as he had planned.

In fact, his thinking that he had to be the Be All was his End All.

No, I'm good. Really--I'm good.
No, I’m good. Really–I’m good.

And letting myself be Stretch Armstrong can be my End All, too. While I’m not hoping to assume the Scottish throne, I must come to terms with reality: I am not a superhero. Elastigirl resides elsewhere.

And that is okay.

And for every other person who is being yanked and pulled and tugged…it’s okay for you, too.

This means that occasionally, the word “no” should come out of our mouths in order to make our load more manageable. This means that sometimes people will be unhappy with us because we were not able to do something for them. This means that it is okay to lie down and take a nap when we need one. This means that pancakes for dinner can be an absolutely fine choice when it helps you survive the day’s schedule. This means…that you have permission to give yourself some grace and fall short of what you had hoped to accomplish for the day.

This means you can let yourself off the perfection hook that is a big, fat lie anyway. (More on that another day.)

Maybe what we should do with our Stretch Armstrong bodies is give ourselves a hug—because we could sure use one. Well, now that I think about it, that would look pretty weird. After all, we don’t want to look like we’re making out with ourselves. People would talk.

Maybe instead we should just lighten up and remember that we’re doing the best we can—even when it’s a far cry from where we really want to be. Because being the “be all and end all” isn’t the be all and end all after all.

Always at the Bottom of the Slide

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments
Resting up after some pool time.
Resting up after some pool time.
(That’s me in the middle.)

Over time, the memories we have of people can almost become analogies for who they are to us—especially those who are no longer in our lives to make new memories. We hang on tightly to those vital reminders of what is no longer tangible to us.

My dad died just after I turned 21, and I am now well past the mark where I have lived longer without him than with him. Thankfully, even with my fuzzy brain these days, I still have many important memories of him, as I’ve shared here before. Continue reading “Always at the Bottom of the Slide” →

What Have We Done?

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments
Me at 11. Note McD's t-shirt (Also check out the nifty satin jacket behind me.)
Me at 11. Note McD’s t-shirt.*
(Also check out the nifty satin jacket behind me.)

“When I was your age…” is the start of a sentence that will almost certainly bring an eye roll from the intended audience. And, I must admit, as I get older, I hear myself say it more and more often. I mean…there have been leaps and bounds in day to day life from the time I was a kid till today, and they are amazing to note.

Indulge me for a minute or two, will you? Because while I will begin by pointing out some things that readers around my age will nod at with perhaps an “Amen, Sister,” I do have a little bit of a soapbox point I want to get to.

When I was a kid…

I didn’t ask my mom or dad to “play on their phone.” (Though I did play on the phone, technically, if you count prank calls), and I’m pretty sure we all knew the length of the kitchen phone cord for our “safe zone” when Mom was on the phone.

We had Pong and thought we were pretty cutting edge until the neighbors got an Atari. Living large, they were.

At the start of my schooling, if I had to type an assignment, I had to use a line paper gauge…remember those? And God forbid there were footnotes involved. Then you had to calculate how many notes would be on the page and how many lines you’d need left at the bottom. And if you were wrong? Holy cry. Do it all over again. It was totally exciting when the “element” typewriter came along where you could just backspace and type over your error without having to use the little white-out strip. And word processing? Well, the heavens opened up on that one.

We remember, yes? Now to get to a question I feel worth asking…

I remember when it was big news that we got a McDonald’s in our town. It was a BIG DEAL. And if my mom and dad said we could eat there, we were drunk with excitement. A burger and fries! Woohoo! Life is good!

So…how did the need arise to give kids TOYS to eat junk food? At what point was the food itself not enough? I mean, it’s not like you’re taking your kids to McBrusselSprouts or McLiver. Why the bribe? Why the reward for eating something that the average kid would be happy to eat all by itself? Wasn’t it a “happy meal” already?

What did it sound like around the conference table when that corporate decision was made? “Well, Ronald, I think that in order to convince the kids to eat the French fries, we should give them toys. This way, they can get something for getting something! And then they’ll scream and whine for their parents to get them a Happy Meal for the latest toy, and the parents will cave in in order to get them to shut up and then they will come to McDonald’s more often! Make sense? Let’s vote!”

Oh, joy...another piece of crap. Exactly what we needed!
Oh, joy…another piece of crap.
Exactly what we needed!

I look at the toys they give today (YES, I have purchased many a Happy Meal for my kid), and I think of all the plastic waste generated from these ridiculous payoffs for eating what should already be a treat in and of itself. (And NO, I’m not looking for an argument on whether or not a child should even eat fast food. I live in the real world. My kid eats fast food here and there. If yours doesn’t, that’s great, but I don’t really want to hear about it.)

After about 30 seconds, the average meal toy has used up its entertainment value. I’m sure that landfills are stuffed with these unnecessary prizes, as well as many a kid’s bedroom. All of this just adds to the sense of exaggerated entitlement that “these kids today” are being raised with.

But along with their über sense of entitlement…is the flip of this issue our lowered expectations? Maybe we should start expecting more of our kids so that we don’t continue to foster the belief that the world owes them something. Because you and I both know it doesn’t. It doesn’t owe anyone a damn thing. In fact, we owe it. We owe each other. And that can be a challenging principle to uphold in a world where a treat deserves a treat.

Whew. Okay. I have dismounted my soapbox. If you’re still here, thank you for listening. Now let’s go through the drive-thru…

*The McDonald’s shirt was something I received for participating in a basketball tournament. At least I had to sweat for it.

More Than You Know

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 16 Comments

FriendHug-FeatureThis past week, a janitor from my work retired. Many years ago, in a “random act of kindness” mindset, I sent him a card telling him how much I appreciated the work he did and the way in which he did it. The next time he saw me, this soft spoken man said to me, “Thank you so much for the card—your words meant more than you know.” It was just a small gesture, but it mattered. From that day forward, there was an extra measure of warmth in our greetings to one another.

Saying farewell to him got me thinking about the ways in which things touch our hearts and how much it can mean to share those sentiments—and how often we miss opportunities to do just that.

When I was in my senior year of high school, a friend of mine signed the back of her class photo (do they still do that anymore?) in a way that took me by surprise. Though the exact wording is hazy in my memory, it was along the lines of “your friendship means more than you know.” It made me feel like I mattered to her and it opened up a conversation that we never would have had without her sharing her feelings in tiny blue handwriting.

We are still friends today.

We are meant to matter to one another. Except for the occasional recluse, we are social beings where mattering to someone else matters to us. So why is it so hard for us to let people know “more than they know”?

Sometimes I think it’s because we’re too busy—caught up in the minutiae of life. And that’s really a shame, when you think about it. Every day is a race…but to where? And for what?

Sometimes I think it’s because it’s just plain hard to find the right words. As a writer, I know that I am a much better communicator with my fingers than my lips. It gives me a chance to think through my thoughts…usually a plus in Communication Land.

Sometimes I think it’s because it’s just too scary. If we share with someone that we care about them, and it’s met with anything less than reciprocation, it’s a bit of a bummer. When things are too often a one-way street, realizing you are traveling alone hurts the heart.

Whatever the case, too often we miss opportunities to connect with someone and let them know they matter. And whatever the excuse, those missed opportunities are a loss. For both giver and receiver.

My heart is heavy these days. A very dear friend of mine has suffered yet another devastating blow in her battle with cancer. There is nothing that I can say to her that will be of any real help. But I know with certainty that she knows she matters to me and that I’m praying for her. I know that she feels the love of many. And while this doesn’t lessen her pain or change her diagnosis, it does matter. She matters.

Please know that I am no one to teach or preach on vulnerability—my husband jokes that I am a CIA agent because I can be so guarded on things—but often I write because it is the very thing I need to hear. So…go tell someone they matter to you. It may be “more than they know”—and exactly what they need to hear.

Life Lesson Courtesy of a Face Plant

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 9 Comments

pontoon2With vacation over Saturday, I already have that “did that really happen?” feeling…The routine of life is back, and I need to remind myself that it was just last week that we stepped out of our reality. While we had a delightful time, there are some memories that I want to stick with me over others.

Every summer we go to a family place in the Northwoods of Wisconsin where we see familiar faces as well as new ones. This year we met a new family through an unusual experience. My husband, Mike, and I were out fishing on the dock one afternoon when one of the pontoon boats was returning. It had been just a few minutes prior that we wondered why there was a new wooden ramp added to the end of the dock, and in a minute, we were about to learn why.

The boat looked like it was headed straight for the end of the dock instead of pulling up alongside of it. I looked at Mike like, “Do these people know how to drive?” and as the boat ran into the dock, I suggested to them, “Are you sure you don’t want to come in on the side?” and the woman who was driving answered, “Well, they said I should come in on the end…” and it was at that moment that I really looked at them and saw that the man on the boat was in a motorized wheelchair. Then it all clicked. The ramp was so that he could get on the boat…and they needed to line up with it so that he could ride off. After I shook off my “dork moment,” I offered to help them dock the boat. Mike and I pulled them in and anchored them as tightly as we could, and then I bent down to pick up the ramp so that it could face the opposite way for the man to drive off the boat.

Problem. The ramp was fastened to the dock. As the man drove to the edge, the boat sunk down much lower than the ramp. What to do now?

Geniuses that we were, we realized that if we all moved to the back of the boat, the pontoon’s front would rise up and as the chair got closer to the edge, it met up nicely with the downward facing ramp. Problem solved, right?!

Yeah…no. We watched the man drive his chair to the edge, meet the ramp, and begin to drive down it. But with the majority of the weight of his chair no longer on the front of the boat, the boat began to rise…and the chair’s smaller back wheels that were still on the boat were lifted up…and the chair sprang forward. It was a slow-motion scene that I saw happening but couldn’t act on fast enough, and we all watched the chair throw the man onto the dock for a major face plant.

Thankfully, the chair—which we later learned weighed 400 pounds—did not land on him but returned to its normal position after jettisoning its occupant. A couple of other guys on the dock saw the fall and came running to help. Obviously, we were all very concerned about the man—now lying with the side of his face pressed against the dock. Kneeling next to him, I asked him if he was okay. He was a bit shook up, but he calmly said, “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Just very matter of fact.

And in that moment, I saw the vulnerability and strength of this guy. It was one of those times where so much seems apparent in just a second. He couldn’t do anything to help himself—he just looked kindly into my eyes and half smiled. Here was a vibrant person, face down on the dock, knowing that’s exactly where he’d remain if it was all up to him. He was completely dependent on others, and there was nothing else to do but accept that and keep doing things…like going on family vacations and taking a boat out with his wife and sons to catch some fish.

Wow. For someone like me, who is striving to be more vulnerable in this world, it was a real a-ha moment. Granted, I don’t really know how this man handles his challenges overall, but in that moment, he was graciously accepting complete surrender.

After we assessed that he was okay, his wife explained that he was 200 pounds of dead weight. We took a collective breath and formed a quick plan of getting the chair in a safe position and then lifting the man back onto it.

With some teamwork, we successfully got him seated and ready to roll. His knees and elbows were banged up, but other than that, he was fine. He took the face plant with amazing grace.

And that’s how we met Jay and Melissa and their two sons.

Melissa shared with us that they go through life laughing an awful lot—because what else is there to do? With the exceptional challenges their family faces, they keep laughing and living and trying in the best way that they can.

The “fish” I caught that afternoon turned out to be some really good soul food.

I’m so glad I got a chance to share in Jay and Melissa’s world even for just a teensy bit. Not only were they lovely people, but they helped me remember that no matter what “chair” you’re in, the best thing to do is just keep on rolling. And when the occasional face plant comes your way, accept help with grace and gratitude, and remember that we are all in this together.

Cooling the Core

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 2 Comments
And...inhale...
And…inhale…

I’m on vacation, but it’s Monday, and holy mother of pearl, I am keeping my 41-week streak (?!) of writing The Juggle Struggle going. Because that’s how I roll.

Yes…I am blessed to be on vacation. And that got me thinking about the value of being able to escape for a bit.

Much of the country has been dealing with heat waves this summer, and that means cities open cooling centers. These cooling centers are more than just a chance to give a brief respite from the heat—they can actually help a person without other decent ways to cool off lower their core temp and be better able to sustain heat later. Cooling your core can be the difference between life and death.

This vacation is my chance to “cool my core,” as well. Not because we escaped Chicago’s heat wave (though there was a 40-degree temperature swing from the day we left to our first evening away), but another “core”—my life core.

This year has been one crazy curve ball after another. Serious, life-changing curve balls. In February, I wrote about already wanting a 2013 do-over, but it only got harder from there. Without singing the story of my woes, let’s just say that 2013 can go suck it and suck it hard. The overall stress level has risen immensely when it wasn’t exactly low to begin with.

Let me take a moment to say that I know so many people who are also struggling with major life challenges. This is not a story unique to me, by no means, and I am well aware of that. My prayer list for those I love and care for is ridiculously long. So please know that this is not a whine fest (though if it was a wine fest, I would totally be participating.)

Okay, so back to my point before you were sighing and thinking I was simply going to moan and wail. Really. Don’t you know me at all?

Here I am on vacation. A vacation that is allowing me to take a break from life’s daily challenges and issues and recharge my batteries. And thinking about the whole “core cooling” idea, I realize that this time away not only serves me right here and now, but will also let me “sustain heat later.”

This chance to step out of my reality and do crazy things like just be instead of doing/solving/serving/going all the time will equip me to step back into reality and sustain life’s “heat” for a good while longer.

It is truly a blessing, for I know many people are unable to take a vacation for one reason or another, and it is often the very people who need it the most. I am indeed incredibly fortunate to be able to hang my gone fishin’ sign.

And so I will take the job of cooling my core here very seriously. A key element is to remind myself in the moment how awesome it is that I can take some time to hang with my family, read, relax, and just absorb the surrounding beauty. My biggest challenge of the day will be figuring out if I want to play tennis, go for a bike ride, or try to retain my crown of catching the most fish each year. Tough choices, no?

And when I get back home, I will strive to take some time each day to do some mini “core cooling,” and not let the day swarm over me like angry bees. (This, of course, just made me think about the movie Killer Bees from my childhood that totally creeped me out and fueled my bee phobia. Sorry about that. I should have used another simile. My bad.)

But hopefully my point is made decently enough to make sense: Taking a time-out—whether it is a huge one like a vacation or a tiny one like a cat nap—can serve us well beyond the moment. And now I intend to do some serious core cooling and curl up with a good book. Lucky me.