I’ve written an article for Biznik, and it’s one I feel can apply to everyone, as we all make decisions.
Click on this link to see the 4 Steps to Makings Decisions With No Regrets!
If you currently have a Biznik account of your own, please rate the article.
The world is not perfect.
In fact, it’s far from it. We enter into situations armed with high hopes and a hefty set of ideals. We have, for example, an “ideal” weight, an “ideal” mate, and an “ideal” salary. Ideals become benchmarks – guidelines, if you will – as to how we would like our lives to progress. These ideals are used, unfortunately, to measure our happiness and success.
This is all fine and wonderful IF the ideals to which you live by were created by non other than yourself. If you’re the one deciding what you would like out of your life, then ideals provide you with a framework to get you moving in the right direction. But when you measure your life against what others have told you is ideal, you’ll be taking on your fair share of misery, as you’ll forever be grading your happiness on someone else’s scale.
I don’t know what situations you’re dealing with at this moment, but please take a minute to look at your life. Whose set of ideals are you living according to? Yours? Someone else’s?
If you fear your ideals stem from other people’s perceptions, then create you own personal set of ideals today. You can always adjust them as you grow and encounter new experiences and learn new lessons in life.
I’d love to hear from you! Where do the majority of your ideals come from?
As I was mowing the grass yesterday, I got to thinking about joy. (Strange, huh?) A dozen questions about joy invaded my mind: What exactly IS joy? What causes joy? What does joy look like and feel like? What causes some people to have more joy than others?
I started my quest for answers by finding the actual definition of joy. Here’s what Webster has to say:
Definition of JOY
- the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires
- a state of happiness or felicity
- a source or cause of delight
Although I really already knew that joy was “a state of happiness,” what I was particularly interested in was the definition that describes joy as being a feeling that is “evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires.” Yes, there are definitely things in life that bring us joy. Being in the presence of a loved one or being offered a job that we’ve been hoping to land can certainly raise our happiness level. There’s nothing like some good news to brighten up our day. Life is full of little daily perks. Consequently, life brings about its fair share of downers. Still, there are people who have one rough spot after another, and they seem happier than ever. Think about someone you know who is like this. Most likely, every time your path crosses with this person, he/she has a smile for you – almost bubbling up with unrestrained joy no matter what the circumstances are. These types of people challenge Webster’s definition that states joy is caused by having good fortune. They experience unemployment, marital distress, or perhaps poor health, and they are still joyous.
Are you one of those people? Or are you the type of person who is joyful IF this happens and THAT happens? Is your joy conditional? Are you letting circumstances define your level of happiness?
As I reflect on people whom I consider to be joyous, I have come to the conclusion that these people have some common traits – ways of living, if you will.
Joy can’t be bought. It’s not inherited, and it’s not just for the “lucky.” It can, however, be learned. If after reading this, you’ve come to the conclusion that your joy is conditional upon what you look like, how much you get paid, how perfect everything appears, etc., then change your outlook now. There are five ways listed above to help you get started.
So, which one of the five are YOU going to adopt first?
Joyfully yours,
Sharon
It’s laundry day at my house. Actually, laundry day is every day around here. But today, I am feeling extra into it. I’m folding things more carefully and praying for my husband and kids as I sort their clean clothes.
Some time ago, I opted to replace all of our bath and hand towels with plain white ones. It’s been one of my better moves, as I can easily bleach them to retain their simple, elegant beauty and freshness. I also keep all of the towels for the family in my closet – the purpose being to keep the kids from grabbing a new towel too often.
Today, as I walked into my closet to put the laundered towels away, I took extra notice of where I store them – my mother’s cedar hope chest from her teenage years. As I opened the hinged top of the chest, I smelled the beautiful scent of cedar that once held my mother’s special dreams in life. Then it hit me. All I know about this chest is that it was a gift from her parents when she graduated from high school. What I didn’t know is what she kept in it. Did she keep her photo albums in here? Letters from her boyfriend? Magazines that displayed her favorite actors and actresses?
In the thirty seconds it took me to set the towels in the chest, I was flooded with questions, but none compared to the one question that kept resurfacing throughout my day – Why didn’t I ask her what she used to keep in it? I wish I would have taken the time to be curious when I was younger. She passed away when I was twenty-nine and busily going through my day with a 4-year-old and a 2-year-old. It’s too late now. She’s not here.
So you have a fresh new set of hopes?
How fitting it is that her hope chest now contains something so pure and clean and white as the towels that dry off the faces of those who loved her so much. How fitting also that its contents symbolize a clean slate – a new beginning. This got me thinking about what I would put in this hope chest if I ever decided to use it as an actual hope chest. As a woman in her early forties, I have lived out so many of my hopes and dreams already, but if I had to put more “hopes” in the chest, I would include these:
It’s never too late to have hopes. There’s much to look forward to. So, if you will, please tell me what YOU are putting in your “hope chest.”
Sharon
The Notre Dame Cathedral
I’m invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?” Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I’m invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock to ask, “What time is it?” I’m a satellite guide to answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” I’m a car to order, “Right around 5:30, please.” I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude – but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She’s going, she’s going, she’s gone!
St. Basils Cathedral
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a hair clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, “I brought you this.” It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe . I wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: “To Charlotte , with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.”
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, “Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.” And the workman replied, “Because God sees.”
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, “I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.”
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s bringing
The Russian Cathedral
home from college for Thanksgiving, “My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.” That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, “You’re gonna love it there.”
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
-author unknown
I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did. We ARE building great cathedrals, only we’re so involved in the building process, we can’t always see the beauty in what we’re doing. I find it both sad and unsurprising that we don’t know the name of the person who wrote this story. My guess is that she was invisible too, but what a beautiful cathedral she left behind for us!
Leave a comment…share your thoughts…leave a story or encouraging words below.
When’s the last time you took a few minutes to remind yourself of the things you believe? Today is a great day to voice those things aloud. Be sure to add your beliefs in the comment section below! What do YOU believe in?
If you’re naturally a happy person, you’ll most likely understand this post. Matter of fact, you probably already have a smile on your face – a perma-grin, as some like to call it. You walk around work with twinkling eyes and a tune in your head. Maybe you’ll hum a bit of that tune or tap your foot to the beat. Your spirit is insanely positive, and your hope is to radiate sunshine into every space you occupy.
I can remember one particular job I held in my early twenties. One of the coworkers used
to call me Prairie Dawn, that sweet little happy puppet girl on Sesame Street. She would hum a little tune, “La, la-la, la-la,” and skip along on the hand of the human who controlled her. It wasn’t long before my coworkers would sing that little tune every day when I walked in the office door.
Yeah. I’m happy. Some people aren’t so sure what to make of it. A couple of months ago, a woman at the local junior high saw me smile as I walked down the hallway. She said, “You’re waaay too happy.” Considering that all I did was smile gently and say “hello,” I thought her critique was overly gloomy.
My own children have requested I smile less. “Your teeth show too much,” they say. But they’re teenagers, and something tells me that one day, they’ll look back at their mother’s smile and find it comforting.
I’ve also been accused having a seemingly perfect life. People who make that assumption stay away from getting to know me, mainly because it bugs them that they aren’t so happy with themselves. I challenge anyone who thinks I have a “perfect” air about me to join me for a cup of coffee. In ten minutes flat, I can convince them otherwise. But I’m still happy, regardless of life’s circumstances. You see, I have God’s approval. End of story.
I also know that some people “unlike” the SharonTOGETHER facebook page because they don’t appreciate my eagerness to help others love themselves. It’s a scary thing – loving yourself. Not many people want to work hard at that task. They are told God loves them, but they still don’t think they should love themselves. Go figure.
Perhaps you’re rolling your eyes at this particular post. It’s okay. I really don’t even notice. I’m too busy smiling.
Wishing you the ability to smile at life along with me,
Sharon
I’ve been “officially” coaching for two years now. I say official because I really have been doing it most of my life, but two years ago I received the necessary education to earn my title and launch my business. Since then, hundreds of women have connected with me on Facebook and Twitter, thousands have browsed the pages of my website, and dozens have corresponded with me through email and phone conversations.
From them, I have learned so much more about myself. I certainly never thought I knew all the answers, but helping these women understand themselves has helped me equally in return. I can’t tell you how many times a client shares a very honest thought with me and I catch myself thinking “I’ve thought the same thing before.” It’s so refreshing to know that others share our quirky thoughts or our unexplainable feelings. 
So, because you all have been such a tremendous help to me, I’d like to return the favor by sharing with you the Top 5 Most Common Self-talks Women Have. It’s a collection of the popular thoughts and feelings I’ve heard from the wonderful women who share their life story with me. Here it is…ENJOY!
Top 5 Most Common Self-talks Women Have.
What self-talk would you add to this list? I’ll happily respond to them all. 
Sharon
There comes a time in a woman’s life when she looks around and asks herself a very important question – one she doesn’t readily have the answer to. “Who am I?”
Perhaps you’ve asked yourself this very question. Maybe you’ve even asked yourself this more than once. I know I have! I still remember the answers I came up with too: a wife, a mother, a lover of animals, a friend. I wasn’t happy at all with my answers. They weren’t a true reflection of who I am. Instead, they were a collection of titles and labels and roles that I play. It was also a list of what I am to other people rather than a list of my individuality.
The question “Who am I” is a very limiting one. It forces us to actually be someTHING. My reason for emphasizing “thing” is to say that we are so much more than a collection of things! We are a beautiful collaboration of emotions, needs, requirements, gifts, interests, and talents. There’s no way we can squeeze all of who we are into a neat little answer. It’s not impossible, but it IS unfair.
Let’s ask ourselves a better question – one that allows us to show what really lives within our heart and soul – one that doesn’t put limitations on us. Let’s ask ourselves “What keeps me alive.” Hmmm…that puts an interesting twist on things, doesn’t it? Once we look past the obvious answers like food, water, and shelter, we could have a lot of fun with it. It’s a much more exciting answer. We’re looking for more than just a heartbeat; we’re looking for what sends positive, exhilarating messages throughout our bodies.
How would you answer this new question? Does creating something make you feel alive? Or does connecting with other people keep you alive? What about running – does that make you feel alive? Taking care of the elderly? Strolling outdoors? Being part of a mission trip? Walking the dog? Listening to music?
This is the meat of what makes you You! Get to know yourself again. Once you understand what makes you feel alive, you can better understand what types of things to bring into your life. It’s the first step in understanding yourself.
So, are YOU alive? Please leave a comment below that tells what keeps YOU alive. It’s good to share; others will benefit from your response, and so will you!
Wishing you breaths of joy and contentment.
Sharon
It was just a few weeks ago when my husband asked me where I had placed the registration renewal cards for the snowmobiles and quads. Typically, a question that begins with “where did you put…” makes me nervous. It’s not easy to recall where I file paperwork for five people. Worse yet is the question that begins with “where did you HIDE the…” When I hear those words, I know I’m under pressure to recall the whereabouts of an object quickly. But when my husband asked where these registration cards were, I proudly replied, “They’re in the same place I put our bills that need to be paid.” To my surprise, he said he had already looked there. 
“Are you sure?” I questioned in disbelief. “I know I put them there.”
“Yep,” he said.
So then began a search through the ever-growing stack of mail that was waiting to be sorted. I carefully went through the pile – once…twice…three times, only to come up empty handed.
Again I asked, “Are you SURE they’re not where I said? Because I remember putting them right….,” and I pointed to the location where I had put them.
And there they were.
My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief. “How could you miss them when they were right there all along?”
“I thought they were yellow,” he answered with a grin on his face. You see, the whole time he was looking for for yellow cards, the white ones were right there under his nose. We had a good laugh, and as I walked away, I mumbled something about looking beyond our own limited thinking.
It makes me wonder…how much are we missing because we’re so focused on what we THINK we know?
Wishing you unobstructed views in your life.
Sharon
Rosann (5)
Emerald (2)
Anne @ GreenEggs&... (1)
Audra (1)
Christy (1)
Deb C (1)
Holly (1)
Michelle (1)
Olivia (1)
theresa casey (1)
