Archives For November 30, 1999

I have been attempting to soak up the unusually warm temps as of late by walking.

My walks used to be filled with pets and little people, but more often than not nowadays, I walk with only my thoughts keeping me company.

My thoughts and, because I like to chat, other people I discover along the way.

To the older couple sitting on the bench together: Although I only met eyes with the husband while the wife lovingly tended to their dog on her lap, I am glad you smiled and waved back. I realize you didn’t see me at first while I watched you both looking at each other and talking about what I’d like to believe were days gone by. Living with growing confusion and disdain around how so many people have their noses in their phones and are so distracted. Wondering how everyone could voluntarily ignore such beauty all around them because they are too preoccupied with keeping track of how others are capturing their moments online.

But not you. You were choosing to remain focused on what was important, WHO was important, together. And I simply thought that was awesome.

To the young couple walking every which direction following one child while simultaneously pushing your baby around in a stroller: Oh do I remember those walks. Way back when, I can’t say I was too fond of those walks. Because there was more wandering than walking. More whining than appreciating. More sweating than soaking in the sun.

Today, however, I felt a tinge of sadness while watching you. Knowing that my children weren’t stressing me out on my walk because, well, they weren’t with me on my walk. Yes, had I asked any of them to, they would have accompanied dear old mom, but there would be no wandering off to play in the creek or swing on the weeping willow branches because they are growing out of such things.

What do the parenting experts say? You are doing something right if you feel like your kid can make solid independent choices without you. What they don’t tell you in any parents’ guide is that seeing your child make independent choices doesn’t always make your heart swell with pride. Sometimes that realization makes your heart ache for days gone by. Days when you pushed the inconsolable baby in the stroller while chasing down a wild toddler.

To the neighborhood kid who always says hi and acts wiser and friendlier than most adults: I love the fact that you warmly welcome conversation. I am amazed by your life’s journey even at the tender age of 11. As the son of an airman, you’ve seen far more of this world than I have. You acknowledged how different it is to live in the Midwest rather than on the coast. It makes me smile to hear how you are looking forward to playing catcher this summer and why you like that position more than pitching, and how you’ll be painting your nails in neon so your guy can see the right signals.

I hope you enjoyed the movie you were so anxious to see this afternoon. And I wish you luck this baseball season.

To the strangers on my walk today, don’t be a stranger.

Written by Heidi Woodard

How others see you

December 26, 2016

I’ve read several people’s personal opinions on social media and have heard others talk about how 2016 needs to end already due to the fact that a lot of terrible things have happened this year.

Being able to tuck my three children into bed at night (metaphorically speaking as they each grow more independent by the day) and seeing my husband’s eyes looking back at mine reminds me that I don’t have anything significant or real to complain about. Hanging out with my parents, my sister, and extended family over the holidays gave me much perspective in terms of what I have. As compared to what so many others do not.

I’d imagine if you asked people who ran into me this last year how they might describe me, you would hear something like “happy go lucky” because that is how I try to carry myself. Even when I am feeling neither happy nor lucky.

I shared back in August how I lost my cousin. A beautiful, vibrant person who took her final breath and left this earth far too soon.

You learn more about the people whom you choose to associate with when times are tough. During this low point in my life, it was easy to see which of my relationships were strong and which were seasonal.

friends-are-like-trees

I entered a new role within a new company around the same time. Whenever you apply for a job, the potential employer wants to know what’s in it for them. Rightfully so, in exchange for a paycheck, they want to make sure they are getting a great R.O.I.

I’ve taken several professional personality tests over the years and here are my Top 5 “what I bring to the table” strengths according to one such test:

1. Maximizer – I love honing my own strengths and helping others maximize theirs.
2. Positivity – I realize bad things in life happen; I simply choose to focus on the good things.
3. Woo – (Winning Others Over) I enjoy finding common interests with people in order to build rapport.
4. Communication – I like to explain, to describe, to speak in public, and to write.
5. Developer – I like to see the potential in others and help them experience success.

If I could add one more category that wasn’t an option included in the possible testing outcomes, I’d say I want to add value to something remarkable. That’s not too much to ask, right?

My hope for me and for you is that 2017 turns out to be a remarkable year, however you define that to be. In order to move onward, we must say goodbye to the bad stuff in order to remain open to what awaits.

Written by Heidi Woodard

Of life, lyrics, and legacy

November 13, 2016

I am not embarrassed to admit, although I probably should be, that the first time I heard Leonard Cohen’s song Hallelujah was while watching the movie Shrek. That film was released in April 2001, before my children were even born. Yet I remember it was one of my boys’ (now 12 and 14) all-time favorites growing up.

I must not have been the only one who heard those lyrics for the first time care of DreamWorks entertainment because over the next decade, you couldn’t make it through a single season of any of the reality talent shows without hearing young vocal hopefuls belting it out on stage after stage.

Not a single version held a candle to the rendition I heard on Shrek. I don’t know if it was because the male singer had a haunting yet beautiful melody that I didn’t expect to hear in an animated film or simply because his was the first performance of those soulful, yearning lyrics that ever graced my ears.

After learning that Leonard Cohen was the song’s writer, I studied his life and legacy. I was transfixed by the different lyrical interpretations for Halleujah. I added it to my list of Songs that Move Me and I Have No Idea Why so Stop Wondering and Just Enjoy Them Already.

When I learned he passed away on November 7, a familiar thought resurfaced.

Every person should have an understanding of what their life means to others before they leave this earthly world for their next adventure.

So, Mr. Cohen, thank you for giving not only me, but also my son, this classic melody that transcends generations. He learned the words for his third grade talent show and due to his hours upon hours of practicing, so did his little sister. I believe they were 9- and 4-years old, respectively, when I asked if I could record one verse.

https://youtu.be/4dlmRDq7g_8

 

A few weeks later, I held back tears as I watched my son stand in front of all his grade school classmates and sing this classic without fear or hesitation.

If you’re anything like me, you sometimes wonder when going through the daily motions of life if what you do really makes a difference in the grand scheme of things. How does one know if you are making the most of the years you are given when you are not in control of the quantity of those years, only the quality?

I plan, God willing, to live a long life – struggling to maintain humility and gratitude while living with the knowledge I make mistakes every single day. I also try to make people (myself included) smile every day. To not take life too seriously because we are all in this ride together and one never knows when you’ll be asked to step off the train to allow room for new passengers.

When Leonard Cohen originally penned the words to Hallelujah, he’d have no way of knowing that he would eventually give a mom he’d never meet a memory I will never forget.

Enjoy your week ahead with the other passengers on the train whom you inspire with or without your knowledge.

I’ll leave you with a couple more performances of Hallelujah for your listening pleasure.

Written by Heidi Woodard