Lessons In Humility

Dusty's Run Home

2011-12-20T06:09:00.000-08:00

Whenever we went out riding, there would come a time when my pony would run home. Dusty, my spunky Shetland pony would get tired of the ride, or bored. He was a stocky little guy, pure muscle and covered with such a thick grey-brown coat that we often referred to him as our big teddy bear. His course, thick mane stuck straight up in the air around his face, giving him a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein. He often gave us the impression he was much too intelligent to be bothered with our simple little girl musings.

If my sisters and I were just hanging out in a meadow, watching the clouds, talking about nothing, he’d decide he had enough of the girl talk and it was time to go. He had several techniques for this. He could nonchalantly wander farther and farther away from us as we lay in the grass, thinking naively that since we were in clover he’d stick around. He was never bold about it. It was always sly and sneaky. He’d eat a little here, wander a bit, eat a little more there, and continue this until he knew he had enough distance between us that we couldn’t catch him - and he’d make his getaway.

Even if we were still riding him, he had several clever techniques to gain his freedom. He would suddenly come to a stop, dropping his head low, and let me go flying over his head, then turn and run home as if it was exactly what we had wanted him to do, leaving me there in the dirt scrambling to my feet in vain. Or, he would seemingly be cooperative, running smoothly along the road, only to run past a mailbox so tightly that it would catch my leg, pulling me off his back, and he would continue running as if there were nothing unusual about losing his rider, and head home.

Yup, he was crafty. And smart. I didn’t realize until I was older just how smart he was. Whenever the ride wasn’t what he had hoped for, he ran home. Now, you’d think this meant he wasn’t interested in riding, as hard as he worked to find ways to go home. But that’s not true. He was always the first one to the gate as we ran down the gravel road after school, whinnying for us in anticipation of the ride. I’d grab his bridle and he’d practically put it on himself as he nudged his head up into it. He was always so anxious that it made it difficult to get on him – he’d be in a hurry to go so you had to learn how to jump up on his back while he was moving. Standing still just didn’t work for him. And then, he’d run. Oh boy would he run! The little guy would pound the ground as if he could increase the spin of the earth just by tearing up the dirt with his powerful hooves. There was no point to using the reins. He had his own idea on where he was going and it was best to just use both hands to grab handfuls of his course, graying mane, and do all you could to match your movements to his and become a part of the freight train flying down the lane, rather than a part of the dust left behind.

Once he made his first initial sprint, he’d begin to slow, and at some point would give a snort and shake his head, as if you needed a cue to wake you up and remind you that you were suppose to be steering. Then, for as long has he deemed it interesting, he would allow you complete control and follow your every command flawlessly. His power would become your own, each step an extension of your wish, each turn a reflection of your vision. It was pure joy, freedom, and control. Until he was ready to run home.

And he always knew where that was. I remember once my friend and I had gone on a full day ride, farther than I’d ever gone before, miles from home. Dusty seemed to enjoy it. We went down roads we’d never been on, across cricks, bridges and through woods that were new and exciting. And then he was done. He pulled the head drop bit and next thing I knew I was picking gravel out of my butt and he was happily trotting down the road towards home. I spent the next two hours on the back of my friend’s horse, panicking about all the terrible things that could be happening to my poor lost pony. When we finally cantered onto my lane, we spotted Dusty happily eating the clover on the hillside by the barn. He looked up and gave what could only be described as a laughing whinny at her poor, tired horse who had carried us both for so far and who most assuredly gave him a growl and a glare in return.

I learned a lot on the back of that spunky pony over the years. He gave me a strength I didn’t have when off his back. For me, the movement of his muscles beneath me rippled their strength clear to my soul and was a much more solid place to be than the packed ground he stood on. On his back, I could yell at my sisters, and sometimes even my parents. I could show anger, frustration, determination and conviction. I sat tall in my saddle, even when sitting on nothing more than his thick winter fur.

In the years since Dusty was no longer a part of my day, I’ve often returned to those memories for strength. I’ve even been known to lay in a meadow talking to him as though he were still just feet away nibbling on the clover as always.

And it’s the holiday time, like today, that I remember his countless tricks and schemes to get me off his back so he could go home. At the time I took it personally, I thought he had gotten tired of me or what it was we were doing together. I understand now that it was bigger than that: it wasn’t what he was running from, it was where he was going. He was running home. He always knew how to get there, and he always knew it’d be there for him.

Shouldn’t we all be so lucky? To know that whenever life isn’t quite what we want it to be, that we can always find our way home. And that even though we need to be home now and then, that we also know it’s a place that will support us when we need to go for a run.

This holiday season, may you find your way home or be home for someone else and never forget it’s okay to run away now and then.

A Hug From Dad

2011-11-30T09:25:00.000-08:00

Since I dedicated this blog to my Dad, and I've decided to use it to blog whatever topic is inspiring me, I think I'll also use it to share some bits of who my Dad was and maybe he can inspire you too.

My Dad passed away about four years ago from cancer. Last night I had a dream about him. It's the first time since his death I dreamed about him and it was so real I'm still shaking about it. My husband, my daughter, and I, were at our table having supper and I looked up and saw my Dad standing in my kitchen. I immediately jumped up, yelled "Dad!" and ran to him. He smiled one of those big, wide smiles where his blue eyes twinkled and said "Hi Babe" as he wrapped his big arms around me.

I could feel the pressure from his hold on me, firm, constant, just like it had always been. I could feel his scratchy face on my cheek and even smell him. My Dad always had this unique combination of fragrance and odors: Old Spice, mechanics grease, sweat and earth. It was the most wonderful smell in the world. It matched him: solid, strong, a part of what God created, and maybe a bit outdated but quirky enough to love for it.

As I stood there soaking up his strength through his hug, feeling it all the way into my heart and soul, a little voice in my head said, "He can't be here, you must be dreaming." I squeezed him tighter, feeling his hand on my back firm and solid and said aloud, "I don't care why or how. You're here!" And heard Dad laugh as he continued to hold me close.

Then the voice in my head got louder, arguing why this could not be so, and somehow, from somewhere, I began to pull away from the dream and knew it. I squeezed Dad tighter, willing it not to be and started crying and saying "Don't go, don't go!" It began to slip away, visually. But I could still feel his hug, I looked at his grey stubble on his cheek and saw his sparkling blue eyes just as they were fading, all the time chanting "Don't go, don't go, don't go."

And it was gone. I was squeezing my pillow, crying and chanting. I shut my eyes and willed it to return, for the waking up to be the dream part and for Dad to be real again.

Now, hours later, I can still close my eyes and feel the hug all the way to my bones.

I miss my Dad so much during the holidays, he was our "cruise director", the guy who made everyone laugh, gave us all a project to do together, made us all appreciate the fact that we were together. Each year since his death it's actually gotten harder and harder for me at this time of year. I really needed that hug.

Leave it to Dad to always know when to give it.

Thanks Dad.

And I also know my Dad well enough to know it wasn't just for me. He didn't just hug us to hug us, he gave hugs to show us how to show others we care. He was a "pass it on" kinda guy. So this morning, I called my Mom in Florida and spent over an hour on the phone - a verbal hug if you will. And I know that this will make her want to talk to one of my sisters for a long time too, who will then call another sister to tell them about the call, who will then call me. And, just like every other holiday season, we'll feel close: because Dad gave someone a hug.

Invitation to Lead

2011-11-15T13:06:00.000-08:00

At the 2012 NAFCC Conference in Las Vegas, the board gathered for a day of training and at one point went around the table to share their stories of how their journey to their leadership position began. As story after story was told, a theme began to emerge: at some point in their career, someone had reached out and encouraged them to take that step up to the next level.

I think we can learn two things from this. First, that we should all be open to this opportunity. When someone invites you to your first conference, or your first national conference, or your first board meeting, or your first advocacy event – say YES. All too often we talk ourselves out of these opportunities by telling ourselves that they are only for the “leaders” – those who have already reached those levels. Not true. They are for everyone who cares about the work they do. Do you care? Then you qualify. So say YES! You don’t have to know what a conference is all about, you don’t have to be an expert on being on a board, you don’t have to know all your legislators – you don’t have to know everything others in that group know. But what you have to know is that you want to learn. We encourage our children to be life-long learners, right? Doing these things, taking a chance on the next level of involvement, is how we practice what we preach.

I served on a board for 2 years before knowing what words “Roberts Rule” meant. I went to my first national conference having never heard of Tom Copeland. I had my first face to face meeting with a senator about a child care policy issue just one week after going online to find out who my senator was. But each time, I took the chance because I was passionate about learning more, doing more. I wasn’t sure WHAT I was going to do, I just knew I wasn’t going to continue to do nothing. In other words, take a chance on yourself, you might be surprised.

The second lesson I think we learned that day the board shared their journeys, was that it’s important to reach out and take someone’s hand, to let them know you’ve noticed them, that you see potential. Invite someone to join you at a conference, to come to a board meeting, to join you as you advocate. It’s not about pushing someone, because pushing puts them farther away from you. It’s about pulling someone in. Letting them know you are there to answer their questions as they start up those steps but that you believe in them so much that as you make that journey up the steps, there may even be a time where you will step to the side and encourage them to go even farther up those steps then you did.

I’ve had several people who did this for me. Peggy Haack reached out to me and encouraged me to join the WFCCA board and Early Learning Coalition. Sharon Mras reached out and invited me to join her at my first NAFCC Conference. And board members at NAFCC that had pulled me to them were the ones who also the ones who suggested I run for President. I have been blessed and honored by these individuals and it’s my goal to do the same for many others. So let me start here…

I want to personally invite each and every one of you to attend the NAFCC Conference next July in Atlanta Georgia. I’m not doing this because I’m hoping to raise our attendance, or because I think it’s an amazing conference with incredible learning opportunities, I’m doing this because I will never forget being a new provider, with no idea how to do a single thing in my business except love children, and the day my friend Mary Anderson called me up and asked me to join her support group. That was my first step. I know from experience, and the stories of all our board members, that we all need someone to reach out that hand.

I feel so strongly that attending the NAFCC Conference will become a step to your potential as a leader that if you decide to go, I want you to send me an email (pdischler@wildblue.net) and I will make sure we get a chance to talk at the conference about your experience.

I also want to invite all the current leaders, whether you’ve just taken a step in this journey or are an old pro, to do the same and find someone to reach out to. Invite them to a meeting or conference and see what happens.

I’m posting this on my blog as well, and I invite everyone to post a comment to let me know you’ve accepted these invitations, and share the stores of how you either invited someone to lead, or accepted the invitation yourself.

We’ve all got leadership potential. I can’t wait to see yours!

Putting Play Into Our Day

2011-10-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

Welcome KIDBIZ followers! In the interest of simplicity, I'm using this blog from here on out. As most of you know, I wear many hats, and I'm betting you do too! So having one place to share all the ideas whirling in my head on different issues not only helps keep me more grounded, it'll offer you a wide variety of ideas for the many hats in your life as well.

Today, I'm thinking about all the stuff I hated about doing child care. Yes, I said it, hate. Okay, so some of it I disliked greatly, but sometimes I hated it. (I believe honesty is the only way to solve this issue!) Some of those things were wiping runny noses, wiping poopy butts, cleaning up puke, cleaning up food and milk spilled on the floor, listening to a child scream when I couldn't make them stop, and listening to a parent complain when I couldn't make them stop, among other things.

But, as I said in this months KIDBIZ Newsletter (click here to sign up), reading the book "Fish! A Remarkable Way to Boost Morale and Improve Results" has inspired me to see if there is a way I can make these tasks into something I not only enjoy, but result in my "customer" (the kids, parents) feeling good.

I asked my newsletter readers to post their ideas. I'll let you go first. Pick one from my list above, apply the principles I wrote about and tell my how you would turn this around and make it more playful and fun!

Rejection Letters

2011-03-01T08:34:00.000-08:00

Good news: the blogging is working out, I seem to have managed to figure it out! Bad news: my "real job" of getting books published isn't going as well.

Did you know that Dr. Suess sent The Cat in the Hat to 26 publishers before someone accepted it? This tidbit of information has been my lifeline in the decade I've been attempting to break into childrens publishing. I kept telling myself not to let the rejection letters get to me until I reach 27. Well, I've hit 27 and still no publisher.

I had a bright light a couple of weeks ago, I had an agent accept me! I was so excited! The only way to pitch the big publishers is through an agent so I had switched my efforts from sending my stories to publishers, to sending them to agents. However, once I got their contract and decided to do a bit more online research on the company I was crushed to find out it's actually a scam. They send emails saying your accepted, then others saying your work needs editing and btw they can do this for a fee. Thank goodness my fellow writers have posted enough about this that I found out before sending any money! Lesson learned: research, research, research. And don't believe in something or someone just because they have a cool web page.

But now that leaves me back at square one. No agent. No publisher. And to be honest, no idea if my childrens books are the problem or I just haven't sent them to the right person at the right time. More about that problem in my next post!

I Need A New Dictionary!

2011-02-11T06:02:00.000-08:00

I have successfully posted my first blog entry on adoption.com! It took almost 2 hours. I know most people cringe when they are told they need to write something 400-500 words, typically because they can't imagine how to come up with so much. But for me, I cringe because I know it's nearly impossible for me to write anything (even an email to a friend!) without it being 1,000 words or more! So, after an hour of painful editing, I managed to get my article to 497 words! Yeah! But wait, there's more! Now I have to read through the 5 pages of instructions I was given and this is where I really got stumped.

There are so many new words now because of the computer age that my poor old Mr. Webster that I "borrowed" from my high school just didn't have a clue how to help me. Words like "trackback" "pingback" "widget" left me staring blankly at my computer. I only recently figured out what "post" meant! But after several mishaps and emails to my new boss, I managed to get it done. No fancy links or funny symbols, but my words are there and I even managed to get in a photo (that's such a long story I won't even bother to share it here!)

So for now, I'll call it a success. I just need to get a new dictionary!

A New Challenge!

2011-01-28T06:05:00.003-08:00

New challenges in our life are opportunities for success - or failure. So I'm embarking on one now that I'm afraid will fall in the failure category, but I'm going for it anyhow! Why do that? Why jump into something you're not sure you can accomplish? Because the challenge will help you grow. Even if I don't succeed, I will have learned from the experience. That's the point of this blog. Sharing the things I TRY, whether I succeed or not. Hoping that you will try a few new things too, and together we can learn a few new lessons that will help us to grow.

My new challenge? I'm signing up as a blogger for adoption.com. Yes, I know this is a blog, but since it's mine there's no deadlines or pressure. When writing for someone else there are expectations - a weekly post, average of 400 words, photos, reference to what is happening in the topic in the news, and links to social networking like Facebook and Twitter.

The reason this is a challenge is because I am terrible at every thing on that list! I get busy and miss deadlines, I have a really hard time writing anything short (got the long-winded gene from Grandma!), I hate watching the news, and if it wasn't for the help of my 10 year old I wouldn't even know Facebook and Twitter exist. I think I've posted less than a dozen times on my Facebook page and only once on Twitter.

But I'm giving it a shot because it's time I learned all these things. I'll share with you how it's going, share with my what you're challenging yourself with!

Wish me luck!

My First Lesson in Humility

2010-12-28T09:50:00.000-08:00

My Grandmother would use the phrase: "He's getting too big for his britches!"

This had nothing to do with pants, what she meant was the person was beginning to feel a bit too conceited, or in other words: thought of themselves as more important than others for one reason or another.

We all dream of becoming famous, or important, in one way or another. We long to be recognized for our contributions and we can get a little "too big for our britches" when that recognition comes sometimes. Here's a moment I had where Grandma's words hit home...

I was speaking at a national conference for the first time since my first book had been released. I was definitely feeling important - I had finally accomplished a life long dream of being a published author! So what if I wasn't on the New York Bestseller list, it couldn't be too far off, I was on my way!

I was in the Exhibit hall at my publishers booth talking with another one of their authors. (Someone much more established and known.) A group of women came down the hall, screamed and pointed at us saying "It's the author!"

My chest puffed out with pride, I thought for sure my moment of fame had come, I had been recognized and had fans walking my way!

The three women ran up to the author standing next to me with squeals of delight, then one of them handed me their camera and said "Could you please take our picture?"

The author stood proudly between the women and I took the picture, handing them back the camera, and basically disappearing from the scene. They never looked twice at me.

At first I was very deflated and hurt. Then I started to replay the scene in my head and Grandma's words came back to me. I had certainly gotten too big for my britches, standing there assuming I was so important that strangers would clamor to get a picture with me.

So, even though it felt like a "failure" moment in my life, it actually help me improve. I remembered that the reason I started writing wasn't because I wanted fame and recognition, it was because I love the written word. I love putting ideas to paper and just seeing it in print was amazing to me. The rest didn't really matter. I had accomplished my dream and I wasn't done yet. Maybe someday the screams would be for me, but I'm good for now.

Another thing I thought about was how the other author never took the time to tell the women there was another author there with them. I learned from this as well. Everyone is special. Everyone is important. And everyone deserves to be recognized. I made a promise to always take the time to connect with others, to give others recognition, to honor them.

"You get what you give" was another Grandma quote that came to mind that day.

So, next time you are in a situation where you think you missed the mark somehow, or are being left behind, remember that there's a lesson in there, and when you find it you'll be a better person for it.

Thanks Grandma, my britches are feeling much more roomy today!

Welcome to my new blog!

2010-12-08T09:26:00.000-08:00

The poem listed on this page, "At Day's End" is one that I first read in grade school in the church bulletin. I loved it so much that I cut it out and stuck it in my scrapbook. It's something I've never forgotten, and remember often. Especially the last line:
"And at day's end, do you think God will say,
you've earned one more tomorrow
by the work you've done today?"
This powerful line always helps me to put life in perspective. I hope it helps you to do so too.

My goal for this blog is to write about my life journey, the good, the bad, and why they all matter. I sub-titled it "A Blog to Celebrate Failures" because I realize that much of life is about failure, or coming up short of expectations. But that "failure" can often lead to something even better, or a path previously not seen, and become a "success" moment in our life. So I plan to share lots of my "failures" with you, I hope you can relate to them, and like me, see them simply as a step in the right direction, bringing you closer to your successes.

In my training, "Teaching the 3 Cs: Creativity, Curiosity & Courtesy" I point out how making mistakes is an exciting thing to an inventor or scientist - it means they have ruled out something that doesn't work, which then means they are closer to finding the solution since there is one less mistake to make! This is a great way to live and I think the philosophy can apply to all areas of our life. As my Dad always said, "A mistake is a mistake only until you've learned from it - then it's a lesson. So let the lessons begin!