Bold Celebrations

Celebrate. 

Celebrate was the word I chose for 2019. 

I made a list of every big and little holiday, adopted Lou, the Webb Zoo’s version of a Flat Stanley, purchased a journal scrapbook to capture each and every celebration with Lou and started celebrating. 

Then March happened. A challenging situation kicked my butt big time. Lou ended up tossed in a corner and for two months straight the only thing I could think of to put in my journal scrapbook was a big crap emoji. 

My year of celebration was over in just three short months. 

It became a year of rediscovering myself. It became a year of me realizing that I needed to be the same strong woman in a Christian organization that I was in the business world. It became a year of me finding my voice again… the voice that I had lost in church ministry. It became a year of me promising myself that I would never shrink to make others feel good again. And it became a year of bold moves. 

This evening, as I reflect on the last twelve months, I can say without hesitation that it not only has been a year of bold moves, but it truly has been a year worthy of celebration. Each and every moment of this year - the good and the not-so-good - are all worthy of celebration because each of those moments played a part in my personal growth and accomplishments over the last year. 

Celebrate. Bold. Both incredible words that describe my 2019.

What word describes your 2019?

Are You Coachable?

Today I saw a quote that circulates on Facebook every now and then. Maybe you've seen it.

It goes like this:

UNCOACHABLE KIDS BECOME UNEMPLOYABLE ADULTS. 

While that sounds great in theory, I'm not 100% sure that it's accurate. I mean, I think that we've all worked with a few uncoachable adults . . . so obviously, they can get a job . . . they just make the rest of us miserable.

Someone told me once that "it is very difficult having a coach for a mom." Now that . . . that I have to agree with and I have to own it. And my kids would probably give that statement a resounding amen.

But here is the thing, one of the greatest compliments I've received about one of my kids is that they are coachable . . . and I have heard that about each of them.

Now listen, my kids ARE coachable . . . you don't grow up with a coach for a mother and survive without learning to be coachable. Our entire parenting approach is more coaching than anything else.

At 18 years old, Ken Levine, who is an owner/operator for McDonald's said something to me that totally rocked my 18 year old self. He said, "Sherry, the crew and other managers will copy what you do wrong almost 100% of the time and they will do it twice as well. On the other hand, they will only copy what you do right 50% of the time and they will do that only half as well." 

That stuck.

It not only stuck but it put even more pressure on a young adult with an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. Thanks Ken. Thanks a lot.

But here is the thing . . . it didn't just stick and put pressure on me. It became a core value in my life. I determined to be the best version of me . . . way before "being the best version of yourself" was the cool saying it is today. There was no way I wanted to be responsible for anyone doing what I did wrong twice as well.

Before I go any further . . . Do. Not. Start. With. Me. At 50 years old, I know damn well that back then, I took it to an unhealthy place and I know damn well that I am not responsible for the choices other people make.

But here is the point, I made a full-on commitment to continued professional and personal growth because I wanted to be a healthy (not perfect!) example of a parent, a spouse, a leader and a friend.

As I began to surround myself with individuals I could learn from, I had to learn that no one can coach you in all areas of your life . . .

I have a fundraising coach that I hired and at first paid for out of my own pocket . . . while I was a volunteer Executive Director. Yes, I paid for my own professional development as a volunteer. I have a spiritual dad that is only a phone call away. I have a friend that is a business owner and has served on several nonprofit boards . . . we meet for lunch from time to time. We eat sushi and I pick his brain.

I know someone that has worked in nonprofits most of his adult life. I talk to him probably only once a year. Each time he kicks my butt, accepts no excuses from me but at the same time, he always reminds me that I have the skill set to be successful. I have a close friend that works in law enforcement and when I want blunt, nothing held back, advice . . . I call him.

Listen, I won't ask my fundraising coach to guide me spiritually. I won't ask my once-a-year-call coach for advice on parenting. I won't seek out my spiritual dad when I need to brainstorm new fundraising ideas. I'm not going to ask my police chief friend for advice on leading a devotional. And I'm not going to ask my business owner friend for advice on security at my nonprofit.

But I have chosen to be coachable and each of these men wear a coach hat in my life. Each of these men make me better.

Who is wearing a coach hat in your life? What example are you setting to your kids? Do they see a coachable parent . . . or one that thinks they don't need to be coached?

Coachable adults raise coachable kids. Period.

What the . . .

Do you ever have those "what the . . . ?" weeks? You know what I mean? Those weeks that everything is crazy, nothing is going right, and you just shake your head when what you really want to do is shake a few people and scream "What are you thinking? What the hell is wrong with you??" 

It's been one of those weeks but I haven't shaken anyone . . . not even the roofer, so we're good.

On Monday, as I was standing in the rain with three kids and a freakin dog . . . three kids and a dog that I had just raced out of the house with after being given a 30 minute notice to tidy my house and get out for a showing, I thought this is as bad as this week will be. I mean, I was thinking . . . seriously, if this is the worse thing that happens this week then it's gonna be an amazing week. I gave myself a big pep talked and rocked on.

Then Tuesday happened . . well, Tuesday was worse than Monday.

Then today . . .

Today was a doctor's appt. Not just a doctor's appt. A girl doctor's appt. Fun times.

Ten years ago, after a year and a half of being shuffled from doctor to doctor while in severe pain, a Hershey Med doctor quickly diagnosed my issue, performed surgery and gave me back my quality of life. So while my current Primary Provider is a UPMC Pinnacle doctor, I see the specialists at Hershey.

Now Hershey Med is a training hospital. So I know that it is not uncommon for students to be in the exam or operating room or "practicing" on you. Today, my nurse says, "Your doctor will be right in and she does have a student with her today." Okay. No. Big. Deal.

Then I hear this quiet but masculine voice, "Miss Webb, can I come in?" In walks this super adorable kid about the age of my sons. He begins to ask me questions . . . it's awkward . . . although he tries so hard to make it not awkward . . . which honestly made it more awkward. He asks me a few questions and tries to show his knowledge while I'm thinking "oh hunny, no that's not the way that works." He gets ready to leave the room and tells me he will be back with my doctor.

This gives me time to text my friend . . . who somehow finds my traumatic situation quite comical. I've got the emojis to prove it.

The doctor takes her time with the student to give him a good experience without traumatizing me too much. Listen, I'm still not over the student that could not put in my IV . . . and had to be stopped by my mild-mannered bestie, before I passed out. That student probably decided not to be a doctor after an interaction like that.

But today the student survived . . . and I survived . . . and I was reminded of two very important life lessons . . .

#1 The week can always get worse . . . always.

#2 You've got to be able to laugh at your life and at yourself. Really, you do. You can find the humor in almost any sucky day or awkward situation. When you learn to laugh at yourself, you've learned a total game changer. Don't take yourself or your life too seriously. Just laugh.

Now if you're like me and sometimes you struggle to laugh when everything is going wrong, I'll introduce you to my friend. She laugh at you  . . . I mean for you. ;)

The Great Bear

I'm not a fan of roller coasters. Not at all. But two summers ago, I rode the Great Bear at Hersheypark. The desire to not look weak won out over a potential panic attack.

My translation of Wikipedia's description of the Great Bear experience goes something like this . . . 

Your hands will be shaking as you buckle yourself into the seat. Then you'll yank on the belt a dozen times wondering if the stupid thing is gonna fail. As the train begins a 90 foot climb, you will be terrified that you are going to pee your pants but you'll forget all that as you're swinging around into the 124 foot drop that leads into a loop and another loop and a roll. You'll wonder: "Am I going to fly out of the stupid contraption and plummet to my death?" Finally there will be a sharp turn and a corkscrew and two wide turns before the train enters a short brake run and returns you to the station.

Failure. Shaking hands. Fear. Drops. Loops. Rolls. Swings. Sharp turns. Corkscrews. 

I don't know about you but that all sounds a little like my 2019 so far. And my 2018. And my 20. . . well, you get the picture.

You know what I didn't mention in the Sherry's Wikipedia description of the Great Bear experience? The artistry. The amazing artistry. It's crazy but I kept my eyes wide open. I don't know. I guess I thought I could keep myself from dying if my eyes were open. But about 15 seconds after that initial 90 foot climb, I came to terms with the fact I am not manager of the universe and that if I was gonna die, I was gonna die and I couldn't control that.

But, you know what? I still didn't shut my eyes. In fact, at that point, I really opened my eyes and was amazed at what I saw . . . shapes and colors and snippets of scenery. It was like these amazing geometric shapes and colors were coming right at my face. It was an incredible experience. 

Here's the thing. Way too often, you and I are too focused on the drops and turns and rolls and fears and failures, so we don't see the positive things right in front of our eyes.

This year I've been working really hard to give up my role as the Universe Manager. I'm committed to relaxing more and watching for the amazing artistry coming right at my face.

How about you? What would change in your life if you stopped focusing on the drops and rolls and turns and fears and failures and instead relaxed and saw the amazing things right in front of you?

CHOICES

Choices . . . 

Ezra Taft Benson is credited with this quote about choices: “You are free to choose, but you are not free to alter the consequences of your decisions.”

In the Webb Zoo, we say it like this: "You get to choose and with each choice comes the consequences - good or bad - of that choice." 

You choose not to follow the phone rules. You choose not to have a phone. Your call Chief.

You choose not to go to bed at a decent hour. You choose to feel like crap the next day. But know this - you will not make the rest of us suffer from your crappy attitude.

You choose to drink before your are 21. You choose to suffer the consequences. Period. I will walk right beside you, but you will own it. Not me.

You choose to confront an adult who has pissed you off. You go girl! I'm secretly proud that I'm raising a strong young woman!  But know that I will not protect you. I will stand back and watch as you handle the consequences of that choice. 

You don't understand a school project so you just wing it. Cool, we all wing it sometimes. But eventually that will bite you in the butt and when it does, know that YOU, not I, will reach out to your teacher and you will deal with the consequences. I will not make it easy for you.

You choose not to keep your room clean. That's cool. I'm not going to scream at you. Your choice. But you will not expect me to help you find your stuff, because I won't. You will go to rehearsal without your dance shoes or your script and deal with a ticked off director. Not my problem. 

Simply put . . . I do not care.

I. Do. Not. Care.

What I care about is this: It is my responsibility to raise several of the next generation of leaders in America. That's my job.

I will not lower my expectations. I just won't. Nor will I take responsibility for their crap. They will own it. Period.

Here is the thing . . . I actually WANT my kids to fail WHILE they are living in my home so I can walk with them, help them process it all and grow from it. I want them to learn to see a not-so-great choice as an opportunity for growth. 

Listen, I would much rather allow my kids to have the natural consequences of being super tired, having another adult be tough on them or . . . yes, even seeing them get picked up for underage drinking than to protect them from all of that.

You see, life . . . it's not going to be easy on my kids or on yours. Randy and I, we won't be always be there to yell at them, to nag them or do things for them. So we decided early on in our parenting journey that we wouldn't do those things . . . that we would allow natural consequences to be their guide.

Our kids aren't perfect (I know you are shocked!) but as a type this . . . my daughters are out costume shopping for a benefit event that is being held tomorrow at the nonprofit I work for . . . they are making costume choices without me . . . AND then they are stopping to pick up my shirt order for the same nonprofit.  They are cyber schooled . . . they've finished their school work, their rooms are clean, they've pitched in around the house . . . all without ANY guidance from me . . . and now they are having fun together while they run errands.

My friend, Gail, says, "different mommies have different rules" and this approach to parenting may not work for every family. I get that. But if you find yourself yelling all the time and not getting the results you want . . . maybe it's time to consider the benefits of parenting with natural consequences.

Save the yelling for high school football games! 

This Is Me

Some days I'm kicking butt and nailing it in a conference room. Others days I'm literally curled up in a corner, overcome with anxiety.

This is me.

Some days I am very confident as I ask for someone to contribute 10k to the non-profit I work for. Other days I fight all kinds of demons to ask for a $25 donation.

This is me.

Some days I look in the mirror and think "I'm still looking pretty good for a 50 year old woman." Other days I look in the mirror and recall the day when I said that I looked ugly in a picture and my biological father told me "the camera only takes a picture of what it sees."

This is me.

Some days I keep my house is incredibly neat. Some days I leave the house with dishes in the sink.

This is me. 

Some days I forgive easy and love unconditional. Others days my heart hurts and I react out of that hurt.

This is me.

Some days I make the most amazing and healthy food. Other days I'm so busy that I am literally feeding myself and my girls Hot & Ready Pizza from Little Caesars . . . at 10 PM at night . . . in the car . . . as we drive home.

This is me. 

Most days I know that I am an amazing mom and wife. And then other days I feel like such a failure.

This is me. 

Some days I'm grateful for friends and the seasons that each one has walked with me. Other days, I want to hide away and not risk letting another friend hurt me.

This is me. 

Some days I am flipping awesome at balancing life's demands. Then everyone once in awhile I have a day that makes me laugh at the word balance and wonder what moron ever thought that you could actually live a balanced life . . . and I laugh even harder at the Sherry of 9 years ago that wrote a book on balance and I'm almost happy that a freak mishap kept that book from being published.

This is me. 

It's true. This is me. All of it. The good. The crappy. The in-between.

This is me. 

This is real life. No mask. (I'm claustrophobic so I couldn't wear a mask even if I wanted to!!)

This is me. 

It might be you too. If it is, if you relate to any of this, then let's do this crazy thing called life together . . .

Follow along. I promise you that you will not be bored and maybe, just maybe, as I learn and grow and share my life with you, you'll learn and grow from my experiences. And then again, maybe you'll just laugh with me or even at me. Either way, you won't be bored.