Did you know? REJECTED TWICE!

Yea, Baby!  I find great pride in these two rejections.  Do you know why?  It means that I am actually DOING SOMETHING about what I really want to do!

Now, mind you…I have about 8 more that I am still waiting for.  Rejections, that is.  And that is okay.  Part of growing is learning.  Part of learning is being rejected.  Part of being rejected means that you have PUT YOURSELF OUT THERE to be targeted.

Oh, yeah, Baby!  I’m a walking target with a bullseye on my back.

If my back is my story.  And my story is my back.

I have actually submitted a children’s book.  And I have also submitted a portion of the chapter book I am working on for young readers.  Two different parts of me that I am personally proud of—I have sent in to other people to dissect and have the option of rejecting.

Two have wholeheartedly agreed that my book is definitely not for them.

You would think that would make me sad.  In fact, it puzzles my oldest daughter, Adelyne (age decade plus 1).

I told her excitedly one day after she arrived home from school, “Ada!  Mommy’s book was rejected!”

Scrunching her face up into what can only be described as utter confusion, she proclaimed, “You were rejected!  How can you be so happy????”

Sometimes kids just don’t get it, right?!

I replied, “I may have been rejected—BUT THAT MEANS I DID SOMETHING TO REJECT!”

Walking away muttering to herself (probably something like CRAZY WOMAN!), I giggled after her.

You see.  Rejection is not failure, it’s strength.

You did something brave.  You put yourself out there.  And you got results.

Perhaps they were not the results you desired.  But there were results.

Next time may resemble the previous time.  But there will be a day when the No will become a Yes.

Because you did not waver in strength!

So, go!  Be brave.  Be strong.  Be crazy.  And don’t be afraid of a little rejection.

After all, it’s not the 9,999 times you fail.  It’s the 1 time you succeed that matters.

Just look at Thomas Edison and his lightbulb!

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Here’s a great article from Forbes titled “How Failure Taught Edison to Repeatedly Innovate”

Happy Mother’s Day #failblog to Me!

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!” My 3-year-old son shouted at me today.

Yes.  On Mother’s Day.

The sacred day for Mothers.

Why would a 3-year-old shout that he is not understood?

Well, for starters, his 2-year-old sister slightly colored on his Spiderman coloring picture and I told him it was going to be okay.

I even cut around the pencil scratches she made…

But, apparently, it was NOT OKAY!

I don’t understand…

And then he wanted crunchy toast for lunch.

So I made it.

Buttered bread, into the oven, voile!  Out comes crunchy toast.

But NOOOOOOOOO!

He wants the bread in the oven first to get crunchy…THEN…And, apparently, only THEN…can I butter his toast.

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, MOMMA!!!”

Yes, Maxwell.  This is where you are 100 million 25 billion 49 quadrillion 237 gazillion correct.  I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU!

Happy Mother’s Day to me?????

Absolutely!

Because just when all sanity was lost, a dear friend showed up delivering flowers on behalf of my husband who is 1 trillion kilometers away…

Flowers…on a day when I was LOSING.  Like BIG TIME!

Flowers…for me!

Winds of change…This surprise uber lovely visit shuffled all children AND crying 3-year-olds outside where they began to ride, run, and play in the great outdoors.

Lunch still untouched—but, hey!  Who needs lunch????

Friends…I don’t understand my kids.

My 10-year-old…A mystery!

My 3-year-old…A puzzle!

My 2-year-old…A NO Monster!

If this was baseball, I would be STRUCK out!  Out of that Old Ball Game!

But that’s the thing about mommies.  We don’t strike out.

Well, technically, we MAY strike out…BUT WE DON’T leave home plate.  We make sure that they pitch it again and again and again…hoping for a hit!

Which sometimes we actually make.

The crack of the bat.  The connection of the ball.

We run and run and run…And round those bases so that we can bat again.

Recently I had posted a picture of my 2-year-old trying to escape out the front door to find daddy (who is a trillion miles away).  Her diaper sagging.  I called her #soggybottom.  My soggy bottom baby.  And I captioned the photo: Because sometimes we fail at parenting.

But then an angel wrote and said, “It’s not a parenting fail…It’s well hydrated!”

That’s when it hit me…

I didn’t fail.  I succeeded.  She was well hydrated.  That meant she wasn’t dehydrated.  Which meant, I could avoid taking her to the doctor for fluids.

Complete victory!

My daughter was well-watered.  Forget the soggy bottom baby trying to escape.  At least she was trying to escape hydrated!

More power for her long, long journey!

I absolutely LOVED how that perspective changed my entire view of the situation.

And, so, I’ll leave you with the same advice my mom used to give me when I’d fall, “Hop up and get going again!  You are fine.”

Dear Moms out there…

You’re not failing.  You are hydrating your children.  Forget all of the details in between…

And, when you need it, remember the words HOP UP!  GET GOING!  YOU ARE FINE!

Because you are…

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

A masterpiece of work in progress!

“He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it…” Philippians 1:6

You’re not so bad yourself…

You know, I am highly emotional right now. 

I am crying at the drop of a hat.  Literally.  Don’t drop your hat.  I’ll cry.

And then, on Sunday, they spoke about our ministry that started in Poland when my husband served 3 cups of hot tea to a few homeless men that were at the train station in Poznan.  Today, those 3 cups of tea have evolved to nearly 100 tons of food being distributed in the same city each year through our ministry.  But I won’t get started on that because then you’ll have me talking all day.

Well, needless to say, I bawled my head off in church when they spoke of our foundation.  But they didn’t stop there.  They ended the service showing the story of a little boy, around the age of 12, looking for a forever family to take him in as their own.  He just wants a nice dad that will take him to the library.  A nice mom that will make him cookies.  Two nice sisters and one nice brother. 

Let’s just say, swollen eyes, snotty nose—and, yes, I was in public.

Oh, but it’s not just emotional stories.  I am tired because I am on the less than 10 weeks countdown to popping out a baby.  Woot-woot.  So yesterday I looked at my husband, who is actually in America for ONE more week before he heads to Ivory Coast, and say, “I am so tired I could cry.”

He said, “Well, let’s see it.”

And sure enough…tears.

On top of it all, I have gestational diabetes.  No, I am not the only preggo, aging woman in the world with this diagnosis.  But I just might be the hungriest.  So simply thinking about fasting for two hours after eating a meal makes me…You guessed it.  Cry.

Woe to all that encounter me at this stage of life 😉

Let’s continue, shall we?!  So, my daughter has officially been home for just over a week and I’ve already had to do the threats and the counting and the don’t make me call your dad thing.  It seems like a million times and she has literally only been home 9 days.  How is that possible?  It’s possible, my friends.  It’s possible.

So on top of being emotional, tired, and hungry—I am feeling a bit down about being a kick-awesome mom.  And then today I watched this…This amazing video where they brought in a bunch of moms.  And each mom was brutal about their failures.  And then they brought in their kids.  And each kid.  Well…I don’t want to ruin it for you, so I hope you’ll take a moment and see this video (And, yes, I cried):

http://www.upworthy.com/these-kids-finally-say-what-they-really-think-about-mom-and-her-reaction-priceless-9

This beautiful video made me pause and think. 

You know…I fail.

I get tired.

I threaten too much sometimes—and unnecessarily at other times, especially because she’s just being a kid.

I am impatient.

I am moody.

But, ultimately, I am mom.

And, yes, my daughter will remember my failures, but, I hope when asked to describe me, she’ll also remember my beauty.

After all, forever her mother I’ll be.

 

And the answer is yes!

What’s so special about YOU?

You know…We are special, right?

I mean, after all, my mom tells me I’m special.  My dad tells me I’m special.  My husband tells me I’m special.  My daughter, Adelyne, tells me one million times a day that I’m special.  She has even said that if I am the only present Santa brings to her this Christmas season, she is okay with that.

In fact, on another occasion, she has said, “I want Mommy to do it because Mommy is special.”

My husband inquired, “If Mommy is special, what am I?”

She answered, “Handsome.”

At least he left happy with her response.

But, let’s even think about this a bit more…

What is it that makes me special?  What is it that makes you special?

We figure out what makes us special.  We take tests that tell us how we are special.  We apply for jobs and talk about our “assets” that are so uniquely special the interviewer should toss all other resumes and immediately call us for work!

Yes.  Special, special, special!

I studied Special Education in college.  When I became a teacher and it was time for the awards ceremony at the end of the year, I realized that none of my students would ever receive a special award from the school based on the school’s criteria.  After all, the school demanded great grades, superb attendance, active participation in school functions/sports/clubs/so forth, wonderful behavior.  As the list went on and on and on I realized that not a single student of mine would meet any of that criteria.

Why?

Because—they were crack babies or FAS kids.  They suffered from brain damage or constant epileptic seizures.  They had such severe learning disabilities that they couldn’t even read or spell rat/cat/bat/fat in the 7^th grade.  Some smelled so badly it was required they took showers upon entering school premises in the nurse’s office for their sakes.  And, to be honest, the behavior of many of them was more gangster than Dangerous Minds.

Yet, to me, each and every one was so extremely and uniquely special.  Don’t get me wrong.  Many afternoons when the school bell dismissed the swarm of teenagers, I sat behind my desk crying—amazed that I made it through another foul language-laced day filled with fights and security escorting students from my room.  There were even times I wondered if the student was going to or planning on harming me.

And, still, each and every student remained special.  Somehow, in some way, I was able to look beyond what they had become to what they could potentially have in store.  In a sense, I felt as if I was the only one at times to think this way.

So, when the school ceremony came, I asked that I award my students, too.  The administration didn’t even blink.  Maybe they were growing accustomed to my varying ways.  And, on that candle-filled night, I (with my other S.E. teacher) awarded 2 of our students with awards that we deemed worthy of them.

At the end of the evening, one mom came up to me crying.  Her daughter was often the source of frustration to so many and even more frequently forgotten or dismissed due to her very severe medical disability.  This award, however, showed her mom that someone cared.  Someone, besides her, cared about her daughter and also knew that her daughter could one day be or accomplish greatness, in her own life, to the best of her ability.

The other parent, a single dad of two teenage daughters, just was…He just was.  Silent.  Strong.  Proud.  His daughter’s learning struggles were intense.  Yet someone recognized that she was a star and had potential and could become someone, in her own right, someday.  His lack of words spoke enough that no words were actually needed.

This…what I just wrote…this is how we at our foundation/fundacja Bread of Life feel about each and every person we work with through our foundation.

It’s not even that we feel it.  It’s that we know it.  If we look beyond what they have become and instead look at what they can become, then their futures are so bright.  In fact, so bright that we all better wear shades!

We have an expression at Bread of Life, “Rescue Even One!”  The people we work with truly are special-it’s just no one ever took the time to tell them, to discover it, or to honor them for their lives.

Now, isn’t that sad?  I think so.

What makes you special???  Perhaps it’s your willingness to help someone else realize they are special, too.

Related Articles:

Lying on the Street in Waste:  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-aq

I Once Lit a Homeless Man’s Only Sweater on Fire:  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-4l

The Day that Santa Died:  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-ee

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This article was originally written for our foundation on our now defunct blog page.  Our new foundation’s page is http://www.rescuetheforgotten.com — Please check it out and help us Rescue the Forgotten!