Happy #84: Push through the fear.

The I.R.S.

Scary, right? (Unless you're one of those structure people who LOVES paperwork and keeping impeccable track of things. In which case, you probably don't read my blog and/or should stop reading now because you will only end up shaking your head at my humanness...)

If I could make the text for the IRS really big right here, give it a wild font, and make it pulse all by itself on the computer screen, I would do it. The IRS seems to have a life of it's own and makes nearly everybody nervous. (Except, of course, for you structure types. And you're not supposed to be reading anymore anyway.)

I did something today that was on my freak out list. (It's #2 on my "change my life" game plan: do one thing, every day, that makes me want to run and hide.)

I called the IRS.

And I want to share this. Because pushing through my fear and making the call gave me a surprising return.

I'm not proud of how horrible I am with paperwork. It's my greatest weakness. So it was no surprise to me when I called the IRS, to find out that I was not one year behind in filing my returns, I was FOUR years behind. Don't judge me.

Pick your chin up off the floor and take back whatever unmentionables you just thought and/or exclaimed about my negligence. I guarantee you I beat myself up enough for all of us. And I assure you, I used to be REALLY good at getting my returns in. On time. Like clock work.

But that was then.

It wasn't purposeful. My (out-of-state) accountant, a back and forth with paperwork, my negligence in signing things and returning them in the mail, trying to finish a master's degree, take care of my home and family as a single parent, traveling back and forth to WA trying to get a business going (not to mention a boat load of other things/events/details I won't bore you with here...), and some things fall through the cracks. It just happens.

However, your tax returns should NOT be one of those things. So you can understand why, when I finally called the IRS to check-in, I was stunned and terrified when Mr. Green broke the news.

I had given the truth to Mr. Green. I didn't make any excuses. I simply offered my desire to fix the problem.

Shuddering at the possible consequences and the thought of the DAYS, maybe even weeks it would take to gather my documentation, contact my mortgage company, etc., etc., etc., I explained I would need time to complete my filing.

Then something wonderful happened. A miracle, really.

Trying to get a word in edgewise, Mr. Green explained they had everything on record. He said he would put an envelope (I'm picturing a large envelope here...) together with all of my paperwork and send it off in a nice little package. He shared with me I'd be able to take the entire packet to my accountant, provide a little bit of further information and the returns could be filed. Just like that.

If I could have jumped through the phone to kiss Mr. Green, I would have. I was so relieved. I exclaimed, "You are MY HERO!" (those are words that should sparkle on the screen), and I shared with him how very happy I was with how much he had helped me.

With a smile in his voice he said, "Well, I guess you can imagine we don't hear that very often around here." : )

In these moments I was reminded that when we push through the fear and do the things we have difficulty getting around to, the people on the other side of what we need to take care of typically step up to help us. Think of them as your friends on the other end of the phone.

Push through the fear. People are on your side.

Life is supportive.

And Mr. Green, with the IRS, ; ) you truly were my hero today. Thank you for helping me so kindly and for making the dreadful situation I found myself in seem manageable and hopeful.

Here's to you. :D

And here's to all of us imperfect people trying to be better by degrees, one day at a time. :-)

Happy #83: Remember "And it came to pass."

I need a beach with soft white sand, sunshine, palm trees, and the blue green water of tropical islands. Seriously. NEED...

I think you do too. Wanna know how I know?? Because EVERYONE seems to be in a funk lately.

I've been shocked by the number of people who have shared this with me over the last few weeks. Post holiday blues, winter wallows, and general blahs seem to be common and prevalent. Almost everybody I talk to seems to be wrestling with a hovering cloud.

So I've been thinking about it, have increased my exercise to compensate (and actually feeling pretty good as a result so I highly recommend it...), have tried to up the greens and reds in my diet (and I'm not talking about the fully decorated Christmas tree still standing in my front room), drink more water, etc., etc., etc., and tonight I read something that blessed me with the hope of spring.

It's from my friend Peggy's blog. In this post she talks about her experience with this year's winter. In her last paragraph she makes a reference to the snow looking like glitter. That got me, loving things that sparkle like I do. She had me at sparkling. ; )



So I'm sharing this, my favorite paragraph from her post, and including her link so you can read her writing for yourself.

(For those of you who are new to the online writing/publishing venue, when you see text in a different color such as THIS, you click on this highlighted text to get to the link. So fun.

Peggy writes, "Last week I was in a 4th-grade classroom, where my job was to walk around the room and help kids with their math. This particular teacher plays classical music during math time, and she also has an abundance of wise and happy thoughts on every wall in the room. I kind of want to be a 4th-grader in her class. On this particular day, it was very cold and gray, and it was snowing outside, but I felt warmth, peace, and hope. When I looked out the window, I noticed that the snow that was falling was so fine that it looked like glitter, sparkling as it drifted down. I could not see the sun, so I was puzzled by where the light was coming from. It struck me that enough light must be getting through the gray to light up the snow. I think I just didn’t see it before, because my focus was on my fear of the dark. Suddenly every single thing I need to do in the next six months was illuminated in my mind, and I did not fear it. I knew that spring was not far off. Winter would pass, as it always does, and I might even miss it when it was gone."

I loved that. "Winter would pass, as it always does..."

So Happy #83 is simply a reminder to remember, "And it came to pass."

Whatever it is.

It passes. It can't last.

So if for you it's sadness, or the winter blues, or worry, or whatever, it will pass.

And if you have joy and well-being, grab it and hang on. Try to make a memory with it that will serve you the next time you're waiting for winter to pass.

And hope for spring.

Then pass it on.

Thank you, Peggy. :D

Happy #82: Find some faith. Then get to work.

I'm going to keep this brief. Mainly because the effort to say something I've thought would be meaningful to you (combined with finding the time to actually write something meaningful) has resulted in writing very little lately.

Not that you've noticed... ; )

But this morning my friend and like-minded collegue, Roma, sent me a link to The Napolean Hill Foundation that is worth passing on.

In browsing the site, I found Dr. Hill's (hey, that's going to be me in a few years...) Success Scrolls--17 Principles for Success.

This one struck me in particular. So I'm sharing it with you.























Where will I find the $65,000,000.00 I need to create the Wharf development for the Port of Blaine and the faithful little community there praying for help with their town? I have no idea.

But I have faith. And creative vision. And so do they, for that matter. And we're all doing the work to make it happen.

So it's as good as done. And I do mean, done.

Watch and see. : )

In whatever you hope to do for good, find some faith. Then get to work. We'll all feel better. And maybe even make some miracles happen.

Hand in hand with God, we are.

Isn't it great?

Happy #81: Quietly voice your difference in thinking.

I don't get sick very often, but I came down with a terrible cold several days before Christmas. Not wanting to pass my illness around and wishing to limit the need to speak (because it hurt and because I sounded like a bar maid who smoked her whole life), I've been quiet and limited my social engagements for nearly two weeks.

It would have been an ideal time to write, had I been feeling better. But I wasn't. So I hung out with my children, lounged fireside watching movies, and napped for most the of the holidays.

But how long can you hibernate, really?

Medicating myself with about four over-the-counter cough and cold drugs a few nights ago, I went out for the evening with friends.

During dinner I was sitting across from Joe, 12, and his 9 year old brother, Sam.

Here they are, precious boys.



In the habit of being quiet, I mostly listened to others talk while we ate. The boys were engaging (very much a back and forth) with each other and with their dad. At one point Sam spoke, then listened for awhile to his father. He didn't interrupt. He didn't argue. He just listened.

When Bryan (Sam's dad) finished, nine year old Sam paused, looked directly at his father and said,

"I know how you think about it. I think about it differently."

And he went back to eating his dinner.

He was done. That was it. That was all he said. He didn't feel the need to explain or to try and change his dad's mind. It was enough for him to simply say he thought differently.

Priceless. And wise beyond his years, little Sam.

I knew immediately I wanted to write about it. So I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture for you. (Ok, I snapped several...)

I realize this has nothing to do with "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy New Year!" holiday wishes, but I think it's relevant to our season of change. And certainly relevant to learning. Which is what I want most these days.

I wonder what would happen if in our civic, social, and personal dialogue, we learned to respond the way Sam did when we disagree?

So Happy #81 is this: Quietly voice your difference in thinking. By quiet I don't mean silent. We can disagree kindly and respectfully, clearly and quietly. Like Sam did. Speaking up (or disagreement) doesn't have to mean argument.

A very happy New Year to you, btw. And all the very best for all of us in this bright and hopeful 2011.

Now, where's my Nyquil?