Stick With It

I used to love reading Louis L'Amour books. They weren't too long, they were easy to understand, and they were inspirational. If the hero can get shot four times, drag himself across the desert, and still fight off the bad guys while rescuing a woman, then surely I can get my floor vacuumed. His books made me want to be stronger and work harder.

In my younger years, I was basically a lazy, undisciplined person. I grew up with the attitude that if something didn't come easy for me, I would have little to do with it. Or if it made me uncomfortable or didn't show immediate results, I would quit too soon.

But then my own children came along, and I began spouting all of these motivational sayings to teach my children certain lessons. I quickly realized that I had to start practicing what I preached because they were learning more from watching me than listening to me. If I expected them to keep their rooms clean, then I'd better be willing to do the same. If I expected them to stick with something until they figured it out, then I'd better show that I wouldn't give up too easily on something as well.

Math was never my strong suit, and I assumed the part of my brain that dealt with algebra was simply missing. But one day I sat down with the determination to complete an algebra problem just to see if I could do it. It took me an hour, but I did it. I realized there were quite a few areas in my life that I'd avoided because I hadn't been willing to take the time or work hard enough to figure them out.

Some years ago, starting the lawnmower was another aggravation that I gave up too easily. But with this new-found determination (and the shock that my 96 year old great aunt still mowed her lawn), I decided that no matter how many pulls it took, I wasn't going to quit until the lawnmower started. I learned that it took between twenty to twenty-five pulls to start my lawnmower. What freedom! What a sense of empowerment! I was so proud of myself, I started mowing everything in sight. After several weeks, though, my niece and nephew showed me that little bubble primer thing you're supposed to push that allows you to start the mower in one or two pulls. Oh. The little bubble primer thing. Well, I guess that saved me from having an arm like Popeye's.

My daughter and I started taking care of the library lawn when I was the library director in Cotulla, and the first time I mowed those slopes, I thought I was going to have a stroke. I'd have to go stand under a tree and pant every so often. I was proud of completing the job, but then I dreaded having to do it the next time. But I began telling myself that this was good exercise, and that a lot of people pay good money to join a fitness gym to sweat and work just as hard. Looking at it from that point of view really changed my attitude about something that started out so miserably. I began to think of it as my lawn mowing exercise program, and eventually started taking care of five yards. I seriously considered contacting Richard Simmons to do a Mowing with the Oldies fitness video, but the dramatic before and after photos would only include the lawns.

Success and failure in life truly are matters of attitude and will. The negative is either to avoid it and don't try at all or to start something and quit, while the positive is making the attempt whether successful or not, and if not, keep trying. That's the key: keep on trying.

And if you still need some inspiration and motivation to stick with it, go visit the Sackett boys.

One at a Time

I was talking to a border patrolman one day, and I asked him about his job. He shared with me some of the risks of getting hurt, and even the chance of being exposed to disease. He said he was careful to change clothes and shower before he hugged his children after work. But he also said he'd gotten to know many of the illegal aliens by name because he had come in contact with them so many times, picking up the same people over and over again.

I asked him if he ever got discouraged since there seemed to be no end in sight to the flood of people coming across the border. It looked like he was attempting to plug up a huge number of cracks with only so many fingers in a bursting dam.

He told me, "You can't look at it that way. If you do, you'll get discouraged and defeated, and you won't be able to do your job. You have to take one day at a time, one person at a time, and just do what you were told to do."

That advice really stuck with me, especially how it relates to so many aspects of my life. At times I become overwhelmed and discouraged looking at the big picture of a job, instead of breaking the job down into manageable portions and focusing on one task at a time. I used to try to find a stopping place when I first started working at the library, but would find myself working hours after closing time and never actually finding a point where I could say, "It's finished for today." Most folks think that all a librarian does is shush people, check out books, and read bestsellers all day long. Before I started working at the library, I actually thought librarians did have a lot of free time on their hands, but I learned quickly that library work is never-ending. And I eventually learned to just stop when the library closed because the work would still be there waiting for me the next day-- just like housework.

Thinking about the never-ending tasks of housework used to be enough to paralyze me into sitting down and doing nothing. But when I finally learned that filling dishwasher and wiping the cabinet only takes about ten minutes, or mowing the lawn means about a half hour of exercising, or disinfecting the bathroom or sorting the laundry takes about five minutes each, and so on, I can tackle those jobs if I focus on the task at hand instead of the whole shebang. And a whole lot of little jobs can quickly add up to accomplishing a great deal.

Charitable organizations and ministries would be crushed under the weight of the burden of helping the needy if they constantly focused on the huge numbers of people needing help. But they can't look at it that way or they'll get discouraged and defeated and won't be able to do their jobs. They have to take one day at a time, one person at a time, and do what they were told to do. And one by one, and family by family can add up to a multitude of people that have been helped.

Even in the midst of difficult or simply mundane jobs, we can still find jewels in the mud and the muck if we just keep our eyes open:

• watching a bumblebee get nectar from the wilting flowers I'm having to water for the gazillionth time this year...
• the mockingbird serenading us from the telephone pole as we work in the yard...
• the student who actually got excited about learning something we were teaching in the midst of too many other kids who think school is interfering with their social lives...
• a helping hand or a smile of encouragement during a frustrating moment or day or week...
• a comment by a reader who said my book or blog really touched them, and to tell me to keep on writing.... after I've been sitting there staring at my computer struggling to write and wondering if I should keep doing this...

You have to take one day at a time, one person at a time, one task at a time, one shovel at a time, and a mountain can eventually be moved. 

Keep Learning; Keep Improving

I'm currently reading a book called Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, another one of his books that makes one stop and think. He talked about how successful people like Steve Job and Bill Gates and the Beatles had opportunities to hone their crafts from early ages, and that he figured it involved 10,000 hours of dedicated practice to get them to their level of proficiency. Other people say that figure is debatable, but there's little doubt that excellence in any talent or skill takes a lot of time to develop.

I did a presentation at a school function yesterday in front of three adults and one child. That's the first presentation I'd done in about a year, so I needed the practice or I start to get the jitters all over again when it comes to public speaking. The last presentation I'd done before that was at a reading conference at a college in front of over a hundred people. I try to be prepared whether it's speaking to one or one hundred, and I don't rank the success of any speaking engagement based on numbers. I ask God to bring whomever needs to hear the presentation, and trust that the message was meaningful and helpful to someone there.

I told my daughter it's part of the 10,000 hours. : ) I have no idea where I am when it comes to the total of time spent honing these skills, whether it's writing or speaking, but I know that for as long as I'll be doing either or both, I'll continue to learn and try to improve along the way.

My mother worked in a bank for many years, and she made it a point to learn whatever she could while she worked there. When she finished her responsibilities, she always helped someone else finish their work. By the time she retired from working there, she could do the work in any department in the bank.   She multiplied her skills while she worked there.

Don't sit around and watch the clock when your work is done. Learn more than what your position requires. You become more marketable that way. You add new skills to your resume. Become indispensable and your boss and co-workers will definitely feel your absence when you're not there.

Keep learning. Keep Improving.

To Covet or Not to Covet

Her name was Tina, and I was jealous of her. She was petite, like her name, and wore starched petticoats that would make any square dancer proud. She had a piercing, feminine scream that could shatter glass. My limp petticoat (singular) did not stand at attention, and my scream sounded more like a male moose. But more than anything, I was especially envious because she wore cute glasses and a leg brace.Why couldn't I have cute glasses and a leg brace in the third grade? Some kids were just luckier than others, I decided.

Isn't it odd some of the things we covet throughout our lives? Somehow Tina's attitude about what many would consider disabilities didn't make us feel sorry for her, but rather desirous of what she had. And how many other folks have we known that seem to have everything going for them and were still discontent?

What is it about us that causes us to always want what someone else has? If it's not material things-- bigger house, nicer car, fashionable clothes, the latest toys or electronic gadgets-- it's someone else's looks or personality, talent or skills. Why can't we learn to be content with who we are and what we have in life?

We are visually assaulted daily by advertisements trying to convince us that certain products or lifestyles or body shapes are the secrets to happiness. Capitalism would literally crumble without the tremendous support of covetousness and self-indulgence.

My grandparents left such a wonderful example of living simple and contented lives, but I was too busy to notice. They worked hard and lived frugally; they never lived beyond their means. They didn't buy something until they had the money saved to do so, and that included new vehicles and even a new house. My mother told me her stepfather never paid more than $17 in interest his entire lifetime. That is amazing! Most of us wouldn't know how to function these days without credit cards and interest payments.

When will we get it through our thick skulls that the true source of our joy and happiness is not in material things or circumstances? My grandparents had so little of what the world considers material signs of success, and yet they seemed to be so content with life.

My friend Tina's disability didn't disable her. I actually had to start wearing eyeglasses two grades later, but by seventh grade I was too embarrassed to wear them. And I was blind as a bat without them. I didn't realize back in third grade that it really wasn't Tina's glasses and leg brace I wanted, but rather her attitude about them.

And I think that's one of the few things that it's okay to covet-- a good attitude.

The Only Expense was Time

The Casey family on Easter Sunday before heading to church in Dell City 20 miles away; 

This is near the part of the yard where we spread the blanket to watch the meteor shower in the middle of the night

"Wake up! It's time," my father said to us in the middle of the night when we lived out in the middle of nowhere in far West Texas. We stumbled sleepily out of the house to a blanket spread in the front yard. We lay there looking up at the night sky, witnessing something we'd never seen before and haven't seen since. Falling stars covered the sky like a fireworks show. It must've been some kind of heavy meteor shower. I'll never forget it, nor many of the other experiences Dad and Mom took us through. And when I think about it, the only cost in most of those experiences was time-- their time.

Hiking up Bone Creek Canyon at the foot of Guadalupe Peak ten miles from our house

I can still look up in the sky and find Orion, the Big Dipper, the Seven Sisters, and the planet Venus that Dad taught us to recognize. For years we took empty baby food jars with us on vacation to collect soil samples from all over Texas and the other states we visited. We had every kind and color of soil imaginable, including pale caliche with bright yellow specks of uranium in it. [That accounts for our glowing personalities and nuclear appetites]. We visited educational places such as museums, historical parks, and the State Capitol, and went beach combing for shells and unbroken sand dollars at the coast.

The Casey Kids on vacation in the mid-sixties in our usual firing squad pose

During one of my dad's FAA training stints in Oklahoma City, our budget was very tight. For entertainment we found the book mobile nearby and discovered the joy of reading, or we'd walk several blocks to play in a park, and one day we even toured a meat packing plant. They warned us that we'd probably never be able to eat another hotdog or bologna sandwich after that, but unfortunately, it didn't phase us. Mom and Dad still had to knock us away from the dinner table. [that uranium thing].

My parents pose in front of our home in Salt Flat before heading to a party; 

the picket fence in the backyard housed the "fort" playhouse

Dad built a cool playhouses for us out of a large equipment crate during our elementary years when we lived in Fort Stockton. Due to its huge size and the fact that it didn't cost anything to build, it had to remain when we moved out to far West Texas to a place called Salt Flat. But the next big equipment crate that arrived turned into a cavalry fort within the picket fence yard behind our isolated house. Our imaginations soared in a place where TV reception was almost non-existent. Mom and Dad taught us many games and played with us often. We lived twenty miles from the very small town where we went to church and school, and ninety miles from the nearest doctor, dentist, and adequate grocery store. We spent many, many hours in a vehicle together, which allowed for plenty of singing and conversation, as well as the occasional debate [Did, too! Did not!], and wrestling match. [pre-seatbelt days]. 

Visiting friends in Cloudcroft, NM 

I started reading a book recently that stated all families were dysfunctional, and the unrealistic Walton and Brady Bunch mentality about happy, functional families were why people in general were so messed up. I put the book down. My family was far from perfect, but my parents were onto something right when it came to spending time with their children. They had the same number of hours in the day everyone else had. They were and have always been there for us kids. We never had to question their love for us.

Those things don't cost money, just a little time.