May 8 2012

Can inspiration be drawn from state government?

I am no expert on state government, I don’t get involved in local politics and I am not into advocating for different ordinances. I have consistently paid my state taxes on time and I have been a state employee. Based on these items, I felt compelled to write about my thoughts when a letter from the State Department of Revenue arrived in the mail.

First, my history working with the state was not a fulfilling, healthy employment experience. Once I realized my position in middle management I understood my battle to supervise staff could never be won with the hypocrisy of administrators managing things above me. At times I described my situation as trying to reverse a freight train of unproductive behaviors, beliefs and systems that would/will perpetuate the wasteful spending and abuse of the system. Ultimately this effects every single state taxpayer by draining their pockets to continue this cycle whether they realize it or not. Just think every state taxpayer has something they wish would be improved in the state – education, healthcare, roads, support for the military – and we continue to hear about limited budgets and financial crisis. My experience working for the state felt immoral, illogical and toxic at times since I maintained my common sense and strong ethics. I was able to appreciate the job for educating me on how my tax dollars are blown, for the knowledge of how the state tolerates negligent employees and an understanding of how individuals work their way into positions of power not by evoking change for the positive, rather schmoozing up the ladder by helping others to cover-up situations and make themselves look better.

Needless to say, when a letter from the State Department of Revenue arrived and declared the state does not have a record of us paying state taxes in 2009… Anger erupted from the dark black box inside of me where I have been burying hatred from this job and the recognition of what is wrong with the state government. And at the same time I realize, it makes sense they would loose the paper work for our taxes. It makes sense they wouldn’t look this over back in 2010, maybe, and try to correct mistakes then. It makes sense they are out of money and have to go back years to collect on it now. It makes sense that governments can be corrupt, spend wastefully and demand that we have to go out of our way to provide them evidence when they loose it. Who is there to make the government accountable for change?

I wish I knew the answer for effecting change in such a damaged system. Going back to the title of this post, I hope there will be inspiration to change the status quo of our government systems. I hope at some point sooner then later, the populations living within these government systems realize how to unite to hold the governments accountable for the disasters they have created for us big and small.

Until then this disgruntled, former state employee had better go resubmit my 2009 state taxes to settle my small disaster.

May 3 2012

The Master of Disaster

My husband affectionately coined the name Master of Disaster for my daughter. She, as toddlers typically are, has an extremely healthy level of curiosity and a seemly endless amount of energy to explore. We did the usual child-proofing measures of putting locks on drawers, the gate at the top of the stairs and plugs in sockets. While she continued to grow in bravery and independence we quickly learned to clear clutter in her path and try to keep her confined when possible. Since I have not discovered how to be a hovering mom AND accomplish household tasks this has led to the nickname Master of Disaster.

For example, this morning she sat in her booster chair eating her breakfast while I was in the kitchen. I take advantage of the moments when she is strapped in and with food to occupy her so that I can clean the kitchen and complete tasks like emptying the dishwasher without an assistance climbing in. She sat eating in a cheerful mood, talking throughout her meal in her indistinguishable baby garble. My overly productive morning quickly turned to the realization that my back was turned to her too much when she indicated “All done,” and I saw how she had used most of her yogurt as lotion for her pants.

Her favorite disaster creating media is water. She could spend hours in the bathtub, sprinkler, or faucet just playing. The unfortunate part is that we don’t have all the time int he world to be playing with those things and she sometimes tries to make do with the dog bowl. I have found her with a measuring cup from the drawer scooping water from the bowl to the floor. I have scolded her for using her play kitchen set spoons to stir the dog’s water bowl. And I have noticed a pattern in her intentionally dipping her hands in the dog dish in order to get to play with the water in the faucet since the only rational step after putting hands in the water dish would be to wash hands.

By far the most comical, yet disgusting, Master of Disaster move I have seen yet with the dog’s water bowl happened as most of these incidences started. I am busy trying to keep up with my household mess and trust she is innocently playing with her things until I realize she has been quiet and independent for too long.

“Parker” I call from the kitchen. Within seconds she steps into the doorway from the dining room to the kitchen, facing me, hands to her side, silent with a pacifier plugged in and avoiding eye contact. “Have you been in the water dish Parker?” I ask.

She loosens from her frozen position and moves past me in the kitchen to the refrigerator magnets. I can almost see the thought bubble in her head trying to distract me from questioning if she takes position with an approved activity. I continue to look down at her and recognize her hand is wet, of course she has been entertained by the water bowl. Crouching down on her level I show her that I noticed. She finally looks up at me with her big brown I’m sorry don’t I look too sweet to punish eyes. She resumes use of the pacifier in her mouth and I can tell from the wet escaping with every suck that it too has been submerged in the dog’s water dish.

Apr 27 2012

A not so great reminder of why living in the mid-west is GREAT.

Sometimes it’s hard to see the “silver lining” when the clouds continually present themselves. I decided to create my own meaning for a few could-have-been-disasterous events which have happened recently. And I relate this meaning to reminding myself why I love living in the mid-west.

Earlier this month my family and I were riding back to Kansas City through the scenic Flint Hills. We decided to get an early start on the travel home so that we would have some relaxation time when we got there, turns out we needed that relaxation time for a major hiccup in our plans. Less than thirty minutes into our journey my husband had to pull to the side of the road as the driver’s side front tire deflated.

Together we maneuvered our 2 dogs, yes our whole family was in the vehicle, from the back to the front in order to get to the spare. Unfortunately, we lacked the key needed to remove the flat tire from the car. Standing dumbfounded on the side of the interstate with the Acura manual open, a truck pulled up behind us. A gentleman from a small town, also headed east for a meeting the next day, offered to help us. He was off duty and employed by the department of transportation. After figuring out there was nothing we could do to change to the spare without the key the gentleman took my husband into the nearest town to find a way to rectify our situation.

My toddler loved the opportunity to play around in the front seat as we waited for their return. She bounced around smiling, turning the stereo up and down dancing, and pretending to steer the wheel. Luckily the weather was perfect to have the windows down and feel a cool breeze. I made a conscious effort not to look at the time, as I knew it would make the minutes cooped up in the car on the interstate progress in slow motion.

Her entertainment distracted me from two other vehicles who separately pulled up behind us to check on our wellness. I was surprised each time to see a friendly smile appear at the window asking if we were okay. Living in the mid-west where it is not out of the ordinary for people to go out of their way to help each other, it still seemed extraordinary that we would have so many generous offers for help. I believe the larger of my protective guard dogs sensed the sincerity in their offers since he did not bark at the strangers. In fact, the only noise he made was growling at the curious herd of cows coming to the fence to inspect our situation.

During the time my husband was away, a third car pulled up making that four individuals stopping all together. This time it was a highway patrol officer and after hearing our situation put his lights on behind us and stayed until their return. The officer eventually assisted us in calling a tow-truck as we discovered there was no way to unlock the tire and put on the spare. Despite being irritated from our derailed trip home, my husband and I enjoyed the conversations with the tow-truck driver and highway patrol man as they brought us into town. The Manhattan Wreckers driver and I discussed my afternoon on the highway and the unexpected offers of help I received. He recalled his experience with the tornado that came through town three years ago and how members of the community chipped in to ensure everyone was taken care of.

My poor dogs were stressed enough from the days events and finally we were at the brink of getting new tires and ready to head home. Another saving grace to the day happened to be friends in town who picked up our pets to give them a break from being in the car and some time to play in a backyard. We are forever, and repeatedly indebted to the Schottlers, for everything they do for us!

Eventually we made it home tired and safe, adding about 7 hours to what we anticipated it would take for our ride home. The car had a full set of new tires and drove smooth again.

Exactly nine days later, in our other vehicle, I was again on I-70 when I felt the same feeling of the tire deflating. “CRAP – How could this happen again?” I thought as I pulled to the side of the interstate. Determined to be an independent woman and put the spare on all by lonesome, my aspirations were squashed when I couldn’t event figure out how to get the jack to loosen from the side compartment in the trunk.

Midwest generosity to the rescue again… A friendly stranger happened to stop behind me to check his own equipment at first and when he realized I was in need of help set aside his own priorities to make sure I was taken care of. While initially I asked for help loosening the jack, he insisted on completing the whole job. While he cranked the car up he told me about the grinder he had just purchased and the inventions he had made and sold. I got a lesson in recycling carpet for plastics and oil, more importantly I received a lesson in going out of my way for others in need.

While I may not be of much assistance pulling over to help someone with a flat tire, there has to be more ways I can pay it forward in order to repay the individuals who have helped me. These two incidences of flat tires in such a short period of time initially had me irritated and wondering why I had such negative karma being delivered to me. After the bitterness settled, these situations reinforced my faith in the people living in the community around me. It is nice to know I’m not all alone when I need help. Despite the craziness of the world there are good people who do good things with no expectations of a return on their investment.

Dec 9 2011

Integrity for sale on Craigslist?

In our house “spring cleaning” doesn’t seem to cut it for clearing the clutter. It’s like a wild fungus that recreates it’s self four times over every time items get hauled away to be donated. More frequently than just in spring, I get the urge to purge our unwanted and unused items. It has been easy to bring various clothes, small furniture and decorations to the thrift store benefiting veterans down the street. Lately I figured some items with more value I would try to utilize the power of Craigslist to see if I could make a little cash.

It has been an interesting adventure to say the least, with some unique inquiries and pushy buyers. Due to being up to date on the horrors of meeting people over the internet I have been careful to set meet-ups in well-lit public settings. Most transactions have been simple and uneventful.

On Wednesday afternoon I made a call to the phone number given on an email in response to my ad about a printer I had posted for sale. After some discussion the gentlemen agreed to make the purchase and wanted to arrange to meet that day since his printer had broken and he needed one to replace it right away. He suggested that I could just drop it by his shop, I perked up at the thought that it would be a public setting and I could make it convenient for my buyer. Although when he told me the street it was on, I sank recognizing this as the street named almost nightly for crimes on the 6 o’clock news. Thankfully he agreed to meet me in front of a store a few blocks from my house (that part he didn’t know).

I arrived at the store and quickly located his blue rusting pick-up truck. It was the kind of truck my uncle used to have, back when me and my cousins could hop in the back and ride down the gravel path to the neighbor’s house. Back then no one would frown at us for how unsafe it was to not be buckled in the moving vehicle. I tried to be friendly and show him where the directions were located. He did not even seem to make eye contact as he snatched the printer, delivered the cash and went on his way. In fairness I did arrive late to our meeting, and from his appearance he probably had a hard-working day at his shop. On my quick drive home I felt satisfied with the two crisp twenty-dollar bills in my palm and wondered briefly if my asking price was too low. After all, the all-in-one printers are sold for hundreds of dollars new at the store. It didn’t matter, I was richer then I was when it was sitting in my office collecting dust. I didn’t think about it again and probably would never have thought about it again until I received a text message on Thursday afternoon.

“Isnt the value of ur own integrity to ur self worth more than forty dollars ?” the text message said. I would have been completely confused as to who the message came from and what it was pertaining to had $40 not been referenced. I knew that it had to be the man who bought my printer and I was quick to assume there must have been a problem with the printer. The feeling of anger poured over me to partner with being offended. How quick this man was to assume that I had tricked him into buying a piece of junk? The urge of wanting to return his message with another hateful statement was strong so I put my phone away to think about it for a while. When I relaxed enough to realize his statement had nothing to do with me, I wondered if he had experiences buying bum equipment in a similar fashion before. I thought maybe he didn’t know how to install it properly – not that I could be any help. I considered not responding and just slipping away with my money and letting him believe he was right about the kind of person he believed me to be.

It took me about 30 minutes to come up with a response to his question. I text him my reply, “Yes.”

Following this message, a conversation ensued beginning with the man apologizing for making a negative assumption about my character. I explained that the printer had worked the last I used it and we agreed to meet again to make a Craigslist return.

It seems as though my integrity was restored, in that individual at least, and for the favor a bit of karma came my way. Let me explain…

While working on the sale of the printer I also had another sale in the works. Some small VHS blank tapes for the old school type video cameras were also cluttering my office. I knew they weren’t incredibly valuable and I figured someone could make better use of them than I was. Sure enough I was in touch with a buyer who wanted to make the purchase for his dad since he was taking a trip to El Salvador this summer and wanted to capture it on tape. On Friday afternoon I met him in a parking lot where he expressed great appreciation for being able to get the tapes for his dad and handed me a fifty dollar bill. I told him that I didn’t think I had any change as I had listed the tapes on Craigslist for a fat $10 bill. The young man seemed confused and stated that he couldn’t remember if we had discussed price and that he planned to offer me $50. Interestingly, this price would have made the difference in the loss of $40 from the return of the printer. Yet again another moral dilemma where I could have kept silent and walked away richer.

I handed him back the fifty and told him that it would be too much for these tapes. We exchanged a smaller amount and he happily took his purchase home to his dad. While I maintained my integrity through lessons from Craigslist.

I don’t remember where I first heard the definition that always stuck with me… Integrity is doing what is right even when no one is looking. I love the definition although sometimes it is hard to know what the right thing to do is.

Dec 1 2011

Keeping in Touch.

Earlier this week I went out of my way to an appointment to quench my craving for chai tea. I have never been a fan of coffee, it seems to be one of those drinks that I try a sip every few years to reassure myself that I still don’t care for it. However, after my first taste of chai tea I was hooked. Even while I was pregnant and gave up soda with caffeine, I knew my tiny bun in the oven would appreciate and excuse this warm, tasty, slightly caffeinated beverage. The ode to my little addiction was not really the intent of this post – it was the event at the coffee shop that got me thinking…

I parked at the drive through at Latte Land when the gentleman through the window stopped to ask me my name. He recognized me from going to middle school together – apparently I have not changed too much from the wire mouthed, frizzy haired kid in 16 years. While I did remember his name I had no memory of what he looked like back then and no recollection of him looking at all familiar now. It was almost embarrassing that he remembered me so easily and not be able to return the gesture. He kindly put me at ease by saying that he is good at remembering faces.

After leaving the drive though it got me thinking about how I wish I had a better memory for faces and if there is a way for me to build this as a strength. Something less invasive and more practical than taking pictures of everyone I meet and creating flashcards to practice in my free time. So far, I have come up empty on ways to improve facial recognition. Maybe it is just a strength I will have to appreciate in other people, like my old classmate at the coffee shop.

However, I also realized I have my own strength in relation to people which may not come as naturally to others. My strength is keeping in touch. I hold on tight to people I have grown close with over time where otherwise friendship might have faded and those people would have just been a memory to me. In these days with social networking, this is an easier task. With one click a distant cousin, old college roommate, co-worker from your first job or neighbor from a childhood home can become a Facebook friend. I have been keeping in touch for much longer than Facebook though.

Whether family, friend, co-worker or neighbor – people who I have grown fond of, I keep in touch with. I make frequent long distance phone calls, send cards or letters and organize get togethers. I feel like these individuals have made a positive impression on my life and it’s sort of my way of letting them know that no matter how long it’s been between when we have seen each other, I still appreciate them and what they have meant to me.

This week I have been preparing my holiday cards to mail out, and due to my eagerness to keep in touch with so many people my stack of cards is getting pretty high. My husband tried to quaff at the extraodinary cost of stamps and secretly I know he supports this as he adds in his own friends he wants to make sure to connect with. As my handwriting is generally only readable by me, I carefully addressed each envelope and I wondered whether all of these acquaintances would even care to hear from me. It didn’t take me long to realize it didn’t matter what they think of me. The gesture of trying to keep in touch is letting people know that I care about them, I care about the relationship that we have or had even if it was several years ago.

So, I apologize if I have met you and don’t remember your face. I also apologize if you have penetrated to my inner circle of friends and you can’t get rid of me – most are stuck there for life.

Nov 19 2011

Food for my spirit.

Have you ever had the experience of going to a restaurant where you wondered how you ended up there? Either someone recommended you try it or it was a random stop on the highway when you needed to eat. Once you enter the place you notice the atmosphere and begin judging that it will be an awful experience. The dive looks dark and worn down, years of wear that no one bothered to keep up with repairs and decor. It feels uninviting and you are ready to leave if it weren’t for being shown to a table – a sign that you were committed to staying. Then when the server approaches it gives you an even further sinking feeling that this experience is going to get worse. The server also appears a little rough around the edges and slightly abrasive. You are careful to be extra polite to ensure that she doesn’t end up cursing about you to the kitchen staff. Finally when your food arrives and the first fork full enters your mouth you are forced to pause as the judgement about the establishment begins to melt and all you can think is “mmmmm…”

Every morsel is devoured with the same “mmm” of satisfaction. The food is so amazing that you cannot believe that it has taken you all of your life to be sitting there enjoying it. It’s the kind of meal that excites every taste bud on your tongue and in turn gives you goose bumps down to your toes. Between the delectable bites you begin to see the restaurant with a new set of eyes, even the server stops to engage in a conversation with a slight smile. And once you have licked your plate clean, paid your bill and exit the doors of your new favorite secret spot – you can’t help beginning to plot when you could possibly get back there to enjoy the experience all over again.

I know this feeling. I have been in a situation where my thoughts started “What was I thinking coming here.” I have been intimidated by the server. And I have experienced an awakening in my spirit when I visited this secluded location.

This place that I am referring to is not a restaurant, though. And the server is not presenting food – at least not to me.

I had the honored privilege of getting to stay on the grounds of Endangered Animal Rescue Sanctuary (EARS) in Citra, Florida. My sister had moved there to volunteer for a couple of months and urged me to come visit. Of course being an animal lover with an insatiable travel bug buried within me I jumped at the opportunity. When I arrived at the airport I was met by my sister and the co-founder of EARS. The co-founder’s name is Gail, and she is much like the server I was referring to earlier. She probably did greet me with a smile, however, all I remember is her larger than life presence which made me feel on edge to begin with. She wore a tan safari like shirt with the sanctuary logo, thick mascara on her eye lashes and big hair to match her Georgia drawl.

During the car ride to EARS, Gail spoke firmly about exotic animal breeding and the unwanted animals she had rescued. She talked about her first experiences with animals, training Elephants overseas, how she ended up in Florida and beginning EARS with Jaye. I didn’t think that I had ever done anything cruel towards animals, although in that car ride I felt that if I had unintentionally Gail would be able to sniff it out and scar me for it. My first impression of wanting to stay on her good side ended up being a laughable fear by the end of the trip.

As if my anxiety wasn’t high enough being in the truck with the intimidating server, when we got to Citra it was an even deeper feeling of discomfort. It was the walk into the restaurant. Citra is a small town that most would miss on a drive through Florida, empty stores and buildings falling apart. No nearby ocean or amusements parks there. Once we entered the gates of the sanctuary all of the wondering “what am I doing here” was gone.

EARS has many big cats – tigers, leopards, lions, cougars. They also have other unwanted animals like a wolf, bears and monkeys. And then there are some not so wild animals who needed a safe home like dogs rescued from flooding in New Orleans, random ducks and chickens. Amazingly, all species seemed to be living in harmony (most separated in appropriate enclosures). It was an unexplaineably comfortable and content feeling to be on the grounds.

My sister with Delila. She came to EARS after being found during a drug raid, I guess the dealer thought a pit bull just wouldn't do.

My sister and Gail toured me around the property. It was clear that the animals had a trusting relationship with their human care givers. This was not just a fondness for the hands that deliver the food, rather true recognition that Gail, my sister and other volunteers truly care and want to protect them. This was evident especially by the tiger’s chuffing response to them approaching. I had never even heard that tigers chuff until I was there in person to hear it. It would be similar to a cat purring in approval, chuffing sounds sort of mechanical like short and rapid puffs of air. Gail explained where all of the animals came from, she recalled details with dates for each. The stories varied from a rejected tiger from Las Vegas because he wasn’t pure white, a cougar kicked out of the zoo for walking with a limp, a bear meant for a circus act with mangled paws from a poor attempt to declaw him, and many big cats who were unwanted when they got too big for “pictures with a cub” jobs. All of the stories were unfortunate, many horrific. Gail went on to explain that these are the lucky ones because many big cats are killed when they don’t fit into an owners plans.

I learned more about the sanctuary itself and the vision that Gail and Jaye (the other co-founder) have for it. They strive to have the animals living with dignity, which means excelling state regulations for sizes of cages and time in turnouts. They act on what is best for the animals instead of minimal guidelines, it also means having to turn away animals in need so that they don’t forfeit the standards for the animals already there. It is quickly apparent when talking with Gail and Jaye how dedicated they are. Both live on the property in side by side homes. They sacrifice personal time, human relationships and steady incomes to be able to provide a good quality of life for the animals, a sort of priceless dedication most people could not fathom.

Both Gail and Jaye are relentless educators and advocates. Gail provides group tours on occasion to help encourage donations and teach the public about the dangers of breeding exotic animals. Jaye drives all over the south delivering food to other sanctuaries for a minimal profit to help keep EARS running.

Leopard brothers, Tafari and Odoki. Swahili for "one who inspires awe" and "little brother"

Being able to spend time getting to know Gail and Jaye, working the labor intensive weekend at the sanctuary, seeing the tigers up close and witnessing their personalities, waking up to lions roaring not far outside my window, letting a vervet monkey pick threads off my shirt, feeding animal crackers to a bear… It was a weekend that warmed my soul and reinvigorated my spirit. I was re-energized to dedicate myself to my passions and to do it with integrity. The memory of this experience, this place and these two women will stay with me indefinitely. I left there immediately plotting how soon can I get back? I know that the best place for exotic animals is in the wild and if they can’t be there – the next best place would be at EARS with Gail and Jaye looking out for them.

If you would like to know more about the animals, the co-founders and the sanctuary I would encourage you to check out their website at: www.earsinc.net

ps. There is a sound bite of the tiger SuSu chuffing under the multimedia section – Check it out!

Nov 15 2011

JoJo LOVES Theater.

JoJo, Sheila and me

My friend JoJo just celebrated her 30th birthday. She is outgoing, and I remember this vividly because it was the first impression that I had of her my freshman year of college. We met as floor mates in the dorms at K-State the moving in weekend. JoJo introduced herself to me, and most everyone on the floor, and invited us to a house party. Looking back it’s hard to differentiate whether that was JoJo being outgoing and friendly or if part of it was pressure from her brother and his friends to bring some college freshman girls to their house party. Whichever the truth was, we have been friends ever since.

Several years after leaving the dorms we became roommates and shared a house with another friend Sheila. While I know that I invested more time in my education in college than I ever came close to in high school, I also realized that JoJo dedicated way more time to her degree than I did mine. She was so passionate about the theater program, theater activities, people from the theater program and theater classes that sometimes it even consumed Sheila and I’s time participating with her. It felt like I was living and breathing lighting design for those years living with JoJo. She went on to get her master’s in the field and teaches it at a major university currently.

Just tonight I talked with JoJo and she brought up a moment when she felt challenged by her investment in this passion. Her sophomore year of college she had her first opportunity to be the lighting designer for a KSU production. The same day that she needed to be in the theater setting up the lights and writing cues happened to be the same day that Mason died in a car accident. Mason was a friend of hers and if I remember correctly, he lived in the house where we went the first weekend as freshman to party.

The timing of these two events happening on the same day for JoJo strike me as significant. There is never an okay time for a tragic loss like Mason’s. However, in that moment she was shown that some sacrifices may have to be made in pursuit of her passion. “The show must go on,” so JoJo finished her job with the lighting while friends of Mason gathered to share stories and mourn the loss together. Today it still sounds like JoJo regrets missing that time with friends while in the theater. Despite the learning that she had to have processed that day about what she may have to give up for involvement in theater she continued to pursue the job she loves.

I wonder what it would be like if everyone had a job they could be passionate about? She inspires me to think about what am I dedicating myself to and is it worth the effort if it is something I don’t really love?

Okay so theater did involve a lot of long hours, late nights and some monotonous tasks. It did also have its perks – a long list of larger than life cast members who love to cut loose and have a great time too. We had a fantastic college experience together full of important traditions, funny memories and support for each other when it was needed. I put a photo album together for JoJo to recognize her birthday and our friendship.

Photo album generated with Smilebox

Nov 15 2011

Appreciation for my husband.

A quiet moment in the leaves, a daddy in love with his daughter!

It seems there are so many times that my husband will go on and on verbalizing, what sounds like thinking out loud regarding plans for what to do month to month, week to week. Often times I will catch bits of what he is saying and end up tuning a lot out. Or I have my own train of thoughts going on in my head that overshadow and drown out what he is communicating.

At one point this past weekend while my husband had initiated one of these ramblings of immediate plans, I became aware of my own thoughts and made a determination to focus on his words. The conversation was like many we have had before, it was not urgent or pressing. My engagement in the conversation was unique as I tried to quench thinking, problem solving or judging that comes natural. As to not simplify this process, I want to be clear that I had to continue refocusing and stopping my own intrusion of thoughts. However, what I discovered was rewarding.

I know my husband wants to be a good person, wants to be a good dad, a good husband, yadda yadda yadda… However, following this moment of really trying to listen to my husband, my awareness of how strongly this motivates him was raised. My appreciation of him as a person, the father of my daughter and as the man I am choosing to spend the rest of my life with was put into a clearer perspective. Listening this way helped me to set aside knowing that I love him and really reinforced one of the reasons why I love him. It also allowed me an opportunity to validate his position as a leader striving to provide a happy life for his family.

If there is one thing that I know about marriage whether it’s from 3 years of personal experience or from every other married person’s advice… Marriage is work. It takes a daily effort to show and receive affection, to share and to listen. I thought I was working daily on my marriage, it’s now that I am aware I was not really doing the listening part well. Dropping my own thoughts and taking in what someone else is saying is hard work, and it is worth the effort. Really hearing my husband’s words no matter how big or small the issue will help maintain on our relationship.

Inspired Living KC

Inspiration can come from everywhere, you just have to slow down and notice it..

Category Inspired by People