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Forever engrained in my mind will be a scream so maniacal, so ear-piercing, so desperate that my older daughter ran and put her arms around her baby sister. They were afraid … but no more afraid than I was of myself. Yelling was my cry for help … my distress flare into the atmosphere … my lowest point of desperation. That scream, the one that actually hurt my throat, is one of my greatest regrets and one of my greatest blessings.

Although I didn’t know how I was going to soften my harsh edges and release the toxicity from my home, I was certain I didn’t want my children to grow up afraid. I wanted to be remembered for my smile, not my scowl. I wanted my children to wear love like armor, not scars from sharply delivered words. I wanted to be a safe haven, not someone to avoid. I wanted my children’s inner voice to sound like grace, not inadequacy.

Fast-forward seven years to today. I’m no longer a loose cannon, a joyless manager, or a critical taskmaster. Yes, I get sad, frustrated, angry, hopeless, and insecure, but there is a profound difference in what I do once I get there: I don’t stay there. My ability to come back to love, patience, grace, and positivity did not happen overnight. Maintaining a sense of calm in challenging situations took years of work and painful introspection which I catalogue in my first book, Hands Free Mama. But for this purpose, I’m going to start small. I want to help someone right now with one actionable step. This small-step approach to change is the premise of my latest book, Only Love Today, as well as the essence of my new online course, Soul Shift. When taken to heart, the stories and strategies I share in this eBook have the potential to soften your voice, change your perspective, and repair broken bonds. The strategies in this book can lead to a happier home where people can breathe and thrive.

The tools shared in this book can improve any relationship, not just the parent/child relationship. The tools in this book provide what I believe is most vital to creating a positive home – and that is hope, hope in who you already are and hope for who you can become.

Love,

Rachel

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Believing is the First Step

We were supposed to leave the house in nineteen minutes. In my hand, I held my child’s holiday dress and her pretty tights.

“It’s time to wake up and get dressed for the Christmas Eve service,” I said gently to my then seven-year-old daughter who was barely visible under a mound of blankets.

“I’m too tired,” she moaned without opening her eyes.

Two hours earlier I’d suggested she take a nap since we’d be up late, but now I was regretting it. My lethargic child looked as if she could sleep for several more hours.

“Come on, I’ll help you get dressed,” I offered.

Avery didn’t move a muscle.

This was not like her, but yet I was starting to feel agitated. “You can have two more minutes to rest, then it will be time to get up,” I firmly stated using a tactic that worked well with my

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former special education students.

After tidying up a few things around her room and glancing in the mirror at my unusually put together appearance, I told Avery it was time to get up now.

“I don’t feel good,” she cried.

I expelled a long, hot breath before speaking. “I’m trying to be patient with you, but I am starting to feel impatient,” I said honestly. “I’ll take you to the restroom and then I bet you’ll feel better.”

At the pace of an elderly person with bad arthritis, my child gingerly crawled out of bed and plopped down on the toilet.

“I will put on your tights right here,” I offered knowing we needed to leave the house very shortly if we were going to get seats in the candlelight service.

“I don’t feel good,” she repeated once again—but this time the word “good” turned into one long cry; her face crumpled in pain.

A few years prior, this is when I would have lost it. This is when I would have gruffly shoved her feet into those tights and barked that we were going to be late. This is when thoughts of my own agenda, my own appearance, my own timetable, and my own demands would have overruled all else. This is when things would have gotten ugly.

But things are different now.

I stopped trying to put on the tights. I leaned back on my bended knees and studied her a moment. I saw my small child (who ordinarily wants to please and do as she is told) not being herself. I considered for a moment letting her go to church in the Dri-Fit clothes she was wearing with her hair sticking up like a cartoon character. I reminded myself being a few minutes late would not be the end of the world.

That was about the time my daughter began throwing up. Violent heaves wracked her small body in waves.

Miraculously, I didn’t think about my lovely dress that I’d never worn or the time on the

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clock or the fact she missed the toilet all together. I didn’t think about the fact our dinner party that night would have to be canceled or that all our fun plans for the evening would be ruined. My only thought was that my precious child was sick on Christmas Eve, the night she’d been so excited about for months.

As I bathed her and tucked her back in bed, I prayed she would feel better tomorrow morning.

With the innocence of a child, she meekly asked, “Do I have to go to church, Mama?”

I kissed her gently on the cheek. “No, baby. You are sick. Daddy has offered to stay with you while the rest of us go to church.”

“Thank you so much, Mama,” she said closing her eyes with relief.

Thirty minutes later, I sat in a candlelit sanctuary, my breathing now slow and steady as my older daughter rested against me. And that’s when it hit me—the difference between then and now. During that episode with my daughter I had every reason to become frustrated, impatient, and upset – but I didn’t.

I was able to look at her as a child, not a miniature adult.

I was able to realize yelling or forcing were not going to help the situation.

I was able to keep what really mattered in perspective while my best laid plans went terribly awry.

A few years prior, I never would’ve thought I could respond calmly in a time like that. A few years prior, it was unfathomable to think this kind of change in me was possible. I was too Type A. I was a perfectionist … a control freak … a drill sergeant. I’d made too many mistakes. I’d controlled for too long. I’d already lost too much. This was just who I was … who I’d become … who I’d forever be.

But there was a little voice of hope inside me that said, “No. It doesn’t have to be this way. You can be the parent and the person you yearn to be.” Through God’s grace, I chose to believe I was not too far gone, that it was not too late.

That day I chose to believe in the possibilities of today, I took one baby step toward the person and parent I longed to be. I locked my phone in a drawer, shut down my computer, pushed

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aside my to-do list, and I went to my child and held her. Her response was so positive that I continued to make myself fully available for small increments of time. Those I’d wronged responded to my presence with love.

With love

My change to a less distracted life started with ten minutes. Ten minutes of putting aside the phone, the computer, the to-do list, the regret, the resentment, the impatience, the guilt, the pressure, the doubt. I pushed it all away so I could be fully available to love and be loved.

Ten minutes. That is where I started.

And today, that is where you can start too.

You may have a mile-long list of mistakes and failures,You may have yelled at your loved ones just a few minutes ago,You may feel undeserving of another chance,You may believe you cannot change,

I know. I remember.

But in that initial ten minutes of meaningful connection, I experienced a healing peace I hadn’t felt in years, maybe even decades. That is when I realized life was meant to be lived …

Not managedNot controlledNot screamedNot stressedNot strangledNot guilt ridden Not regrettedNot wasted by thinking it’s too late to turn things around. Because as long as you are breathing, it’s not too late to try. Believe one small step can make a difference. Believe ten minutes of open hands and attentive eyes can bring healing love and meaningful

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connection back to your life.

Believe your life is meant to be lived … enjoyed … even celebrated regardless of what happened yesterday.

And if you are having a hard time believing, offer a few minutes to someone you love. Watch what happens when you offer yourself—messy, scarred, and broken, it doesn’t matter. By offering to give love, you are offering yourself a chance to be loved.

Be loved. Be loved. Be loved.

My friend, if you have ten minutes and a willing heart, it might just be enough to make a believer out of you.

As long as you are breathing, it’s not too late to try.

Positivity Remedy #1: Sense When a Collision is Coming

My ability to better control my anger changed when I started thinking of my harmful words crashing into my loved ones like a car colliding with another object and causing severe damage. This was my epiphany:

I can sense when a collision is coming. When sibling bickering, messy bedroom floors, and bad attitudes are about to collide with my foul mood, my sleep-deprived state, and my anxiety-ridden mind. And when those factors intersect, that moment of impact cannot be undone.

So just like a driver who is anticipating a damaging collision with another vehicle, I let off the gas … I pull back … I pause to avoid permanent damage.

In those moments when I am about to explode, I remain silent just long enough for the hurtful words to dissipate. I hold the words under my tongue as I repeat ONLY LOVE TODAY … ONLY LOVE TODAY … ONLY LOVE TODAY … until my heart rate slows, and I can think more clearly. I’ve discovered even a few seconds of pause can prevent tragic results and the pain of regret.

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In those few seconds of pause, I can see my beloveds’ faces staring back at me. I can remember they are children. They are children learning through mistakes and small steps of growth. They are children who trust me to care for them and love them through it all. And just taking that moment to see them—really see them—I can grab some perspective and think about the mother I want them to have and how I hope to be remembered after I’m gone.

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Soften, So You Can Truly See

I received a booklet from each of my daughters for Christmas. Some of the pages made me laugh. Others made me cry. But a few pages stood out.

I love when you talk to me like a friend. I love that you love my opinion. I love how you are never mean to me. I’d be lost without your love.

It’s not often a person receives tangible signs of progress—an unexpected measurement of how far she’s come.

My Hands Free journey started as a mission to let go of my millions of distractions and my need for perfection. As those outer barriers dismantled, my inner barriers did too. I felt myself being less of a controlling manager and more of a peaceful nurturer. As my inner barriers weakened, my ability to respond more lovingly, more patiently, and more openly grew. A good word for this process is softening. I just love the image that word creates and the feeling of calm it brings.

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To me, softening has come to mean pausing, breathing, reflecting, surrendering, accepting, opening, and revealing.

But there is more – and this is the kicker:

Softening means seeing—truly seeing.

By responding to others and myself with more compassion, patience, and acceptance, I’ve begun to see less in black and white and more in color. I had no idea my loved ones had so many colors until I began to soften so they could shine.

As New Year’s resolutions or “word of the year” bounce around in your head right now, I hope this one sticks: soften. It is doable. Its benefits reach far beyond you. It is life-changing and life-giving. And even a little bit of softening goes a long way.

The following vow is something I could have used a few years ago before my inner barriers began to crumble. I can’t help but believe there’s a little something in this vow for all of us—no matter where we are in the process of pausing, surrendering, breathing, revealing, and accepting. I can’t help but believe our world could use a little softening right now. My hope is that we can start or continue the softening process with this vow and perhaps, in time, we’ll receive a note, a look of surprise, or a loving sentiment indicating just how far we’ve come.

My Vow to Soften

I’ve had enough of my hard edges.I’m tired of straining my voice.

I’d like to loosen up and laugh a little more,Be a positive rather than a negative.

I’d like to feel the upward curve of my lips.I’d like to surrender control of things in which I have no control.I’d like to let things unfold in their own time, in their own way.

I’d like to participate joyfully in this fleeting life.

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I’d like to be softer towards him, towards her, towards me.

Thus, 2018 shall be the year of my softening. And this is my vow:

I vow to listen to opinions – I don’t always have to be right. I don’t always have to agree or have the last word.

I vow to hand over the hairbrush, the pile of laundry, the school project, the task before us. “How would you do it?” I will ask.

I vow to step aside and respect a new approach. Success might be difficult to see at first; I vow to keep looking.

I vow to be more accepting of quirks and mannerisms.

I vow to be more accepting of tastes and styles unlike my own.

I vow to remember he is in the process of becoming; she is in the process of finding her way. And they are more apt to do it if I stop telling them how.

I vow to regard “weaknesses” as hidden strengths. Inner gifts can be nurtured when I stop plotting ways to alter, change, and “improve”.

I vow to greet my family and myself with a loving smile, no matter what happened yesterday. Grudge holding only hurts us all.

I vow to pause before correcting. I shall take a moment to consider if the mistake even needs to be mentioned at all.

I vow to stop nitpicking until it bleeds.

I vow to demand less and inquire more.

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I vow to listen Consider

and expand my thinking.

I vow to be a voice of encouragement in a demeaning world.

I vow to be a silver lining spotter in my family’s little world.

I vow to be softer today than I was yesterday—a softer voice, a softer posture, a softer touch, a softer thought, a softer timetable.

I vow to be softer towards the imperfect human being inside me and beside me.

By being softer, I can hear more, learn more, feel more, and love more.At last I will fully see.

I will see his colors. I will see her colors. I will see my colors

Perhaps for the very first time.

The colors might take my breath awayBring me to tears

Or offer long-awaited peace.

I shall soften in order to illuminate the colors of the soul.

I shall soften so the human being within me and beside me can shine.

Positivity Remedy #2: Create a Distress Signal

At the height of my criticalness, I noticed my daughter’s door was shut more often than not. When I realized she’d rather spend time alone than with me, I knew I must become less of a criticizer and more of an encourager if I wanted to salvage the gap between us. Things changed for the better when I made a conscious effort to notice all the things she was doing right instead the things I perceived to be “wrong.” In fact, I learned there

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were times when her “mistakes” didn’t need to be mentioned at all—after all, she was growing and learning and needed room to try, fall down, and get back up without a critic standing over her shoulder. My goal for our time together was to improve on her day rather than detract from it. Having this goal in mind brought respect and kindness into our conversations and led to enjoyable time spent together once again. Imagine what could happen if the moment we started being critical, sarcastic, or unkind, the recipient of our words placed his or her hand on their heart. It would create a momentary pause – and a moment is all we need to prevent lasting damage.

Create a distress signal with your child, teen, or loved one today.

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Finding Your Way Back to Love

When I was young, my family would drive from Iowa to Indiana every December to visit family for the holidays. It was always a big deal when we’d cross state lines. Everyone in the car would look up from whatever they were doing to pass the time and celebrate our progress. Going from one territory to another was exciting, but there was nothing like crossing into my home state at the end of the trip. Knowing I’d be sleeping in my own bed made me feel giddy with delight. When my dad pulled the car into the garage, my foul mood suddenly lifted. The familiar smell of home filled my senses and made me forget how much my sister annoyed me the previous nine hours. I’d jump out of the car, eager to move my stiff ligaments and see my beloved orange cat Tigger.

Although I seldom take long car trips now, my Hands Free journey to live better and love more causes me to think about state lines every single day. These lines are not physical territories, but rather emotional boundary lines—and I’ve discovered they are critical for a peaceful, positive, joy-filled existence.

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Let me explain …

With adult decisions, daily responsibilities, kid mishaps, constant pressures, and blatant distractions, it’s quite easy to cross over fragile state lines:

From a state of calm … to a state of impatienceFrom a state of caring … to a state of apathyFrom a state of presence … to a state of distractionFrom a state of hope … to a state of despair From a state of joy … to a state of infuriation

You could have the best intentions to be calm, present, and joyful, yet sometimes all it takes is just one incident to cross over the line. One sibling squabble … one added work assignment … one painful rejection … one burnt dinner … one dog-chewed retainer … one upsetting phone call, and before you know it, you’ve crossed over into dangerous territory. Suddenly you find yourself in that place you never wanted to be (again).

I know. I remember.

It was the indescribable look of fear on my child’s face when she spilled a bag of rice that helped me see what I could not see before. I was crossing those fragile state lines into angry, desolate, critical, and cheerless territories far too often and for reasons that were quite insignificant in the grand scheme of life.

Seeing my child terrified of my reaction to her innocent mistake was a powerful motivator for change. I didn’t want my children to grow up with a mother who spent most of her life living on the negative side. I wanted to be remembered for my smile, not my scowl. I wanted to be a safe haven, not someone to avoid. I wanted to be a Silver Lining Spotter and teach my children to look on the bright side too.

My vow to have a more peaceful and predictable demeanor did not mean I promised to never cross those fragile state lines. I am human after all. Even now, many years into this journey, I still cross those fragile state lines. I get sad, frustrated, angry, hopeless, and insecure. Yes, I still cross those state lines, but there is a profound difference in what I do once I get there.

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I do not stay. I come back. I come back to love before I get too far down a damaging path.

It happened recently as I was pulling my car into the garage after picking up my daughter from swim team practice. It was dark outside and the rain was coming down hard. For some reason, the garage door opener was not working. I pulled the car up as close to the door as I could, but it still would not open. I ended up going through the house to lift the door. When I eventually pulled the car in, it was at a different angle than usual. I proceeded to scrape the side of the car against the brick wall.

Suddenly I felt like a young, inexperienced driver who was going to have to confess to her parents that she damaged the car. My inner perfectionist quickly sabotaged any calm, rational thoughts I’d hoped to have in that moment.

“Why did I do that? Why?” I cried out. “I should have been more careful!” I slammed my fist against the steering wheel in frustration.

My younger daughter Avery put her hands over her ears while my older daughter Natalie was a voice of reason. “Mom,” she said firmly, “It was a mistake! It’s okay!”

And that’s when I heard the life-saving words that distinguish me from who I once was to who I am now.

“Come back,” my loving internal navigation system whispered. “You don’t have to go any farther down that damaging path. Come back. Come back.”

I forced myself to look into the eyes of my children in an effort to gather some perspective and remember they are learning how to respond to life’s challenges by watching my responses.

“We are all okay, aren’t we?” I said quietly, reminding myself what was really important.

There was a collective sigh from the backseat. It wasn’t too long ago that I would have had difficulty coming back. The old me would have gone on a rant, broke down and cried, or berated myself endlessly. Shortly thereafter, I’d arrive at Regret—and Regret, as you know, offers a lot of one-way tickets. It’s one of the hardest places to ever leave.

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“Maybe it’s not so bad,” I said hopefully as I got out of the car to inspect the damage. And to my surprise, the sound of the scrape was much worse than it actually was.

“See, Mom? It’s okay! We’re okay!” my little optimist Avery said surveying the damage with a smile. Miraculously, I was able to smile back at her even while standing next to my damaged car. I was relieved I’d chosen to come home.

Perhaps you’d like to come back to love but aren’t sure how. Perhaps the words of this poem will come to mind next time you yearn to return to a place of peace and connection in times of challenge and stress:

Come Back

It doesn’t take much to cross over those fragile state lines,From a state of grace … to a state of unkindnessFrom a state of clarity … to a state of doubtFrom a state of gratitude … to a state of negativityFrom a state of harmony … to a state of turmoilFrom a state of ambition … to a state of inaction

Just one lost homework paperJust one mediocre work reviewJust one blow to your self-esteemJust one wrong turnJust one stupid mistakeJust one more ear infectionJust one more sleepless night Just one more let down

Before you know it, you’ve crossed over And find yourself in that place you never wanted to be (again).

Don’t stay there.And certainly don’t go any farther down the road to the inescapable state of Regret. The journey of life is too short and too precious to spend in such dismal places.

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Come back.

Forgive yourself.Forgive the one who wronged you.

Decide this isn’t over. Decide you’ve only just begun.

Lower the bar. It’s good enough for the people who love you. Scale back. Surrender the pressure to “do it all.”

Take ten minutes to do something you love. Take an old hand or a young hand in yours. See loving memories and future possibilities in their palms.

Whisper: “Let it be. Let it be.”Declare: “I cannot control, so let me release.”

Turn up a good song.Call up a good friend.

Hug the person nearest you.Hug the person farthest out of reach.

Put something of value in someone’s empty cup.Put something of value in your own cup.

Walk outside and spot something beautiful. Dig inside and spot something beautiful you thought was gone.

Come back. Come back.

Crossing those fragile state lines is part of being human.But don’t stay in a place you cannot thrive.

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Come back. Come back. The door might be difficult to open.And it might not be a flawless entry. But once you get back to a state of peace, it’s easier to see what’s important. “It’s okay. We are all okay,” you or a loved one might say despite the scrapes and bruises you see.

Come back.There’s no map needed.Just listen to that little voice reminding you that love can bring you home.

Positivity Remedy #3: Apply the Reasonable Test

When my family is in distress, this calls me to be steady—to respond consistently and calmly with love, understanding, and compassion regardless of what is coming at me. This is not easy, but it is possible.

What helps me is something I call The Reasonable Test. I use this test to be a calming presence in a chaotic period. The Reasonable Test is most helpful when I’m met with pushback and conflict is quickly escalating. That’s when I check in with myself using these three questions: • Is what I am asking or saying reasonable? • Do I sound like a voice of reason?• Does my body language match my calm voice and words?

If the answers are no, there’s a good chance I’m contributing to the instability and conflict. I then make adjustments in my words, tone, body language, or expectations so I can better understand and be better understood.

But if the answer to any of the three questions is yes and the other person is not responding reasonably, it most likely means there is a deeper issue at hand.

That’s when I offer one of these reasonable solutions to get to the root of the issue:

a) Help

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It might sound like, “I know you are under a lot of stress right now, how can I help?”

b) Compassion

It might sound like, “You really wanted it to work out differently. I am so sorry it didn’t work out that way.”

c) Space

It might sound like, “I’m going to give you some time to yourself. I’ll be right out here if you need me. Perhaps in a bit we can talk about why you’re so upset.”

To a scared soul, these options feel like comfort.

To a drowning mind, these options feel like oxygen.

To an insecure heart, these options feel like acceptance.

We may not have the ability to improve our loved one’s situation or fix the problem, but we can hold their moving world steady long enough for them to get their footing. And with our loving support, we can lift our people up just enough so they can see light ahead. Together, we will keep moving towards the light, no matter what tries to derail us.

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The ‘Show Up to Love’ Challenge

It was this, the second to last question during my interview on Better Worldians Radio, that stirred something inside me:

“With the success of your book and popularity of your website I imagine you could be busier than ever. How do you keep the balance and keep living Hands Free?” asked Gregory, one of the show’s hosts.

I briefly described several strategies I used when I began my journey that are still in practice today. Wanting to place emphasis on what I feel is the most important one, practicing daily distraction-free rituals, I shared this story …

The night before the Hands Free Mama manuscript was due to my publisher I was working furiously to meet my deadline. My parents had come from Florida to help me any way they could.

It was around 8:30 p.m. and I was bent over the keyboard surrounded by empty soda cans, crumpled papers, and used sticky notes.

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I felt my mom gently touch my arm. She’d just come from my older daughter’s bedroom. “Natalie requested her nightly Talk Time, Rachel,” she whispered softly.

Without hesitation, I got up from my work and headed straight toward Natalie’s room.

Suddenly my mom called out after me, neither of us knowing that what she was about to say would become one of my greatest Hands Free motivators. “I tried to tell Natalie that you had a lot of work to do tonight but she adamantly said, ‘Grandma, Mama always comes.”

Mama always comes.

I stopped midway up the stairs in an effort to wrap both my brain and hands around those sacred words and accept them as mine.

It hadn’t always been that way, you see. But somewhere along my Hands Free journey, I’d become someone my child could count on to come to her bedside each night to talk—no matter what.

As my radio interview began to wrap up, I was amazed that out of all the things the host could reiterate from our hour-long discussion, he chose this:

“I think these three words are words we all want to hear sometime in our life, even just once: ‘Mama always comes.’”

Hearing the interviewer say those words made me feel just like I did when my mom spoke them that very first time. I was crying now. I desperately hoped the show’s listeners could not sense that I’d become a blubbering mess. With tears dripping down my face I realized something I could only know now, looking back in retrospect:

I could have easily kept working the night my daughter asked for Talk Time, but I didn’t.

Why?

Why did I not explain that I was under a tight deadline and it would all be over the next day? Why did I not mention that my author advance and reputation were riding on a punctual submission? Why did I not quickly run upstairs and give Natalie a kiss and promise we’d have Talk Time in the morning?

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Of all the times I could have said, “Not tonight,” I didn’t. Why?

Because I chose love.

Just like I did the night before … and the night before that … and the night before that … and the many nights before that.

I chose love that night just like I did on the very first day of my journey when I had no idea how to transform my distracted, joyless, maxed-out life into one of meaningful connection and peace. I wasn’t sure of anything that initial day of my journey except that love was the right choice. Love could never be the wrong choice.

But here’s the most critical element, the piece that made this choice a doable, repeatable action that stuck:

Sometimes I showed up to love without a smile. Sometimes I showed up to love feeling ugly, worthless, and inadequate. Sometimes I showed up to love alone and scared. Sometimes I showed up to love when I didn’t know what I was doing. Sometimes I showed up to love when it was the last thing I wanted to do.Sometimes I showed up to love even though I had so much to do before the day’s end. Sometimes I showed up to love when my patience was gone. Sometimes I showed up to love when I had no love to give.

Despite the obstacles … despite the excuses I could’ve made … despite the pressures and distractions of the outside world … despite the mean voice of my inner critic, I continually showed up to love.

Why?

Because I never left the same way I arrived.

I always walked away a little lighter … a little more at peace … a little more hopeful … a little more grateful … a little more joyful. Love was always the right choice. I never once regretted choosing love over all else.

So I showed up to love again

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And againAnd againAnd again

Until one day I was known as The One Who Always Comes to a little girl whose opinion mattered more than the world.

Making it a habitual practice to choose love changed my inner fiber, the wiring of my brain, and my entire life perspective regarding what was important. Thus, I’ve come to believe there is one single action that has the power to transform negativity to positivity … distraction to presence … disconnection to connection: Choosing love—choosing love as much as you humanly can.

Despite the progress I’ve made, my Hands Free journey is far from over. I am a work in progress, consistently seeking to become a more loving, more present, and more grateful version of myself. Lately I’ve been feeling like there is more joy, more connection, more passion, more creativity, more conversation, and more healing waiting to be grasped if I make the conditions right. I cannot think of a better time than the new year to create a habitual practice of choosing love. Therefore, I’m committing to a “Show Up to Love” Challenge. Take a look. Perhaps you’d like to join me …

Why Choose Love

Tackle an extra hour of paperwork or love?I choose love. I will be more productive after taking a much needed break. Scream at the driver who just cut me off or love? I choose love. It will be better for my blood pressure as well as the ears in the backseat.

Read a text message at the stoplight or love?I choose love. It could save my life, my loved ones’ lives, and spare me from taking a life.

Hold a grudge or love?

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I choose love. Let resentment be someone else’s life-long companion.

Say ‘I can’t play with you’ or love?I choose love. Seeing her smile as she sets up the game board fills me with a sense of peace I can’t find anywhere else.

Get in the last word or love?I choose love. Our words will be better heard when we both cool down.

Rant about the spilled milk carton or love?I choose love. Spills can be cleaned up; broken hearts are harder to mend. Post a picture of this moment to social media or love? I choose love.I will remember it more vividly if I capture this moment solely with my eyes.

Complain about the way she’s dressed or love?I choose love. I will encourage her to shine her unique light and be herself by loving her “as is.”

Berate myself for messing up or love?I choose love.Accepting my humanness offers my precious ones the freedom to be human too.

Today I will choose love. Tomorrow I will choose love. And the day after that, I will choose love. If I mistakenly choose distraction, perfection, or negativity over love, I will not wallow in regret. I will choose love next. I will choose love until it becomes my first response … my gut instinct … my natural reaction. I will choose love until it becomes who I am.

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My friend, consider the possibilities for a moment: What might result if love becomes your default choice for the week ahead? The month ahead? The year ahead? What opportunities might open up? What connections might be repaired? What moments might you capture that otherwise might be missed? Who might you become?

Instead of The One Who’s Always Too BusyThe One Who Overreacts All the TimeThe One Who Never ListensThe One Who Rarely Slows Down The One Who Always Looks MiserableThe One Glued to the PhoneThe One Missing All the FunThe One Who’s Given Up You might just become The One You Always Wanted to Be …

A ListenerA HuggerA ForgiverA Take Your TimerA Belly LaugherA Risk TakerA Silly GrinnerA Moment GrasperA Liver of Life

Why? Because good things start with love.

Show up to love today. Don’t worry about what you look like or what yesterday looked like. Just show up to love. Something tells me you’ll walk away a little better than when you arrived.

Then do it again.

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Positivity Remedy #4: Make a public declaration

Making a public declaration of my goal was instrumental to breaking my pattern of negativity. I informed my daughters what I was going to work on. I let them know that when I felt like I was losing control, I would say these words: “I’m having a hard time right now.” When they heard that phrase, they knew I needed space or to do what I was asking them to do. Talking about it before it happens provided a heads up to be gentle with me when I was on the edge.

Other public declarations might sound like this:

I’m making an effort to use a kinder tone of voice. I may need your gentle reminders.

I’m making an effort to let you do more things on your own without my comments, judgment, or criticism. When you say, “I got it, Mom,” I will step back.

I’m making an effort to use a peaceful response in times of stress and overwhelm. Would you put your hand on your heart when I am hurting you with my words or tone as a reminder of my promise?

Post your declaration and read it often. I keep it by my bedside to recite it each morning before I get out of bed:

“Today I will choose love. If I mistakenly choose distraction, perfection, or negativity over love, I will not wallow in regret. I will choose love next. I will choose love until it becomes my first response … my gut instinct … my natural reaction. I will choose love until it becomes who I am.” –Rachel Macy Stafford, from the book Only Love Today

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Remembering is Your Weapon Against Failure in 2018

During my break from the online world over the holidays, I listened to one song over and over while I walked outside. It was I Remember Her by Ingrid Michaelson. My favorite lines are these:

“She would kiss my handShe would kiss my headAnd she’d fall asleep with meIn my tiny bed

She would sing me lullabiesGave me my hazel eyesAnd then she called me beautifulShe made me beautiful

I remember her, I remember herI remember her so well.”

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At the live concert in November, I noticed Ingrid’s confidence … her willingness to bear her scars … the comfort she had in her own skin. And now I know. She walks around this earth wearing her mother’s love.

And I couldn’t get enough of the song that told that story.

Maybe it was because my own mother was in my home for a visit, her hands weathered and bruised but loving no less … or maybe it was because I stood next to my sister at church on Christmas Eve and every rendition of Silent Night we’ve sung standing side by side came rushing back … or maybe it’s because I watch the nightly news and worry about the instability of our world, and I want my children to wear my love like protective armor as they walk this earth.

So often I wonder what they will remember about me. I want them to remember love, like Ingrid does.

An answer came unexpectedly while lying in bed with my daughter Avery. Our faces glowed under the tiny, white lights she strung up for Santa – lights that stayed securely in place when the rest of the holiday decorations came down. Beneath her beloved twinkle lights, I showed her video clips of her recent basketball game.

“Go, Avery!” you could hear me cheer in one particular video. My daughter watched that 31-second clip seven times.

“What do you say at the end, Mama?” she asked curiously.

“I say: I can’t handle it.” I smiled.

She looked confused.

“I get nervous and excited and my heart beats right out of my chest when I watch you play!” I explained. “Sometimes it feels like too much to handle.”

“I love you,” she said in response to her emotional mother. As she cuddled in closer she whispered, “I am glad you are my mom.”

“And I am glad you are my daughter,” I responded. That’s when I almost got up. Our heartfelt exchange seemed like the perfect time to kiss her cheek and say goodnight … plus, there were

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dirty dishes in the sink and holiday disarray still filled the floor.

But my heart said: “Stay. Just sixty more seconds.”

I am learning to listen to it. I’m learning my heart knows.

And in those extra sixty seconds, I received an answer to my long-wondered question: What will she remember?

“I remember laying my head on your lap at church when I was little,” Avery began unexpectedly, “and you would run your fingers through my hair. I would look up at the high ceiling and pretend I was walking on the wooden beams. You lifted me up there. I was on top of the world.”

The hairs on my arms stood up. I remembered those days in our former church vividly, but my recollection was vastly different than hers.

At the time of this particular memory, this child was very attached to me and did not want to go anywhere – not even church childcare – without me. We were newcomers to the state. I’d left my parents behind in the move. My husband traveled during the week. I was a little lost and completely overwhelmed.

And in the same moment my child felt my love, tears dripped down my face as the pastor spoke, and I wondered how badly I was failing.

The disparity between her memory and my memory was almost laughable now.

But it was also greatly comforting.

You can feel like you’re failing and still BE LOVE.

You can feel like you’re in the dark and still be someone’s light.

You can feel like you’re going under and still lift someone up.

You can feel like you’re failing and still BE LOVE.

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Thank you, God.

I’d been wondering.

But there was more, and you need to hear this.

The other day I went to visit a friend who had major surgery. Due to anesthesia, her mind was fuzzy and she easily lost her train of thought.

“I was going to tell you something when you came over,” my friend said scratching her head. “And now I can’t remember.”

“It’ll come to you,” I assured having gone through a few surgeries myself just one year prior. My friend and I moved on to other topics like holiday travels, hairstyles, and the pros and cons of pain medication.

“Oh! I know,” she said excitedly, gently propping herself up on a pillow. But before she told me what it was, she said the most beautiful remark: “Thank you for staying long enough for me to remember.”

Suddenly, it all came together … my obsession with Ingrid’s song, my daughter’s unexpected recollection, my friend’s gratitude for staying a little longer …

THIS is the message we need as we begin 2018: Thank you for staying long enough to remember.

Please listen carefully:

2017 was a tough one for many. Maybe it was one of your lowest … darkest … most uncertain years to date … but you stayed long enough to remember what you came here for.

In the dictionary, remembering means to recall to the mind with effort – to think of again – but it also means to return to original shape or form.

Maybe 2018 isn’t about making drastic changes, setting elaborate goals, or overhauling our lives – maybe 2018 is about returning to our original form …. returning to what we already know … returning to love.

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Close your eyes and think of a time when you were love. Maybe you were love as a small child with your first pet or when you gave something of value to your best childhood friend … maybe you were love when you picked flowering weeds and gave them to your mother or stuck up for your sibling … maybe you were love when attempted to bake your first cake for your beloved or when you held a friend as she cried against your chest … maybe you were love when you bent down and gave what you had in your pocketbook to a desperate soul … maybe you were love when you crawled into a tiny bed with aching knees to shoo away a bad dream … maybe you were love when tears streaked your face, and you didn’t even know you were love because you thought you were failing.

You can feel like you’re failing and still BE LOVE.

I know this now.

As we begin a new year fresh with possibility, let’s remember what we already know …

Love prevails over failures, flaws, and disastrous days.

Love makes good things possible.

Love doesn’t have to be perfect to be felt, absorbed, and transformational.

Love is always a good place to start a new beginning.

Let’s remember that because of us, there are people walking around this earth wearing love like armor, and they didn’t ask for it; it was just given.

Because of us.

My friend, if the start of a new year feels like pressure to change and be something you’re not, take a deep breath and remember:

You already possess what you need to get 2018 off to a promising start.

You already possess what you need to create a fulfilling and memorable life for yourself and the ones by your side: Love.

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It’s in your voice when you cheer from the stands.

It’s in your fingertips when you smooth away stray hairs.

It’s in your tears when you hurt and worry and hope and pray.

It’s in your view when you choose to look forward, not back.

My friend, let’s declare 2018 The Year of Remembering …

Remembering the beautiful potential of who we already are

And who we can be

When we choose love as much as humanly possible.

My friend, you don’t have to change a million ways.

You don’t have to undo years of damage.

You don’t have to re-invent yourself.

Because you are love, and love holds the greatest of possibilities.

This I know for sure.

And I bet you do too.

Let’s remember together as we set our sights on the high beams of 2018.

Positivity Remedy #5: Be Human

Sometimes by eight o’clock in the morning, I can already name something I wished I’d done differently. But instead of beating myself up over it, I remind myself of this: My humanness allows my loved ones to be human. My courage to get up after I stumble gives my loved ones the courage to get up after they stumble. Loving myself despite my failures, flaws, and imperfections gives the people in my life permission to love themselves “as is.”

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We have all overreacted. We have all misjudged. We have all done things we regret. If your behavior has created a divide, own up to it. You can say or write, “I’ve given it some thought, and I really wish I’d reacted differently the other day.” Say you’re sorry. Say what you learned from the experience. Say how you are going to do things differently in the future. Not only is this a step toward healing the brokenness between you, but you are also modeling something we all want our children to do: Be human and have the ability to reach out to those we have wronged with remorse, love, and hope for a better tomorrow.

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Closer Than I Was Before

My angry words spilled out. I spoke too soon. Morning got the best of me. But I didn’t let guilt consume me like I used to.

I said I was sorry and asked to begin again. That’s progress.

I am closer than I was before.

My inner perfectionist reared its ugly head. I compared. I criticized. I told myself it wasn’t good enough.

But then my heart spoke up and said, “Stop. That’s not what matters.” I looked past the mess and the mayhem and saw the flowers instead of the weeds.

That’s progress. I am closer than I was before.

My day was too packed. I overscheduled. I underloved. I was too rushed, too hurried, too frenzied. But then I stopped in the middle of the chaos and removed the ticking clock weighing

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heavy on my soul. I touched the fading summer freckles on my daughter’s nose and felt the pressure wane.

That’s progress. I am closer than I was before.

Every second is not grasping what matters, but now I have awareness I didn’t have before. I am only human. I am learning too.

Love, forgiveness, and grace will be the fiber that holds this day, this family, this one precious life together when it threatens to come apart at the seams.

That’s progress. I am closer than I was before.

Positivity Remedy #6: Look for Signs of Progress

A slip up does not mean you are back to where you started. It does not mean you should throw in the towel or hang your head in shame. A slip up means you are human. So start again, and look for Signs of Progress. Even the smallest gains are signs of hope. Who you are becoming matters more than who you once were. Today matters more than yesterday.

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