Indiana Jones was lucky enough to have John Williams write his anthem.

My composition skills are a little rusty, and frankly, I was too busy this year to compose my own anthem. Maybe next year.

With just under 45 days on my boat trip to the shores of adventure (where I’ll burn my ship), I’m starting to feel queasy. To distract myself from scuttling the journey all together, I’m considering what my anthem will be for 2011.

In October last year, I had my first-ever annual planning session for my business (yeah, I know. That’s another topic for another day). At that session, I picked one word to define what 2010 would be all about.

Uncommon.

That was my goal, my single-minded objective. I wanted to build a life (and a business) that reflected that word. I made an inspiring little video, and trimmed my sails for the “uncommon” adventure.

“What if there’s something bigger for me out there
Than the comfort of a life on this middle ground?
I’ve played it safe but now I can’t help but wonder
If maybe I’ve been missing out,
Cause I look around and see a sea of people.
Everybody’s moving in the same direction,
And I think it’s time for me to break away…”

Careful what you wish for.

When I returned from that planning retreat, my world was literally up-ended as problems with my oldest son escalated. His anger and violence degraded into petty theft, property destruction and more than one visit from the neighborhood police. To stop things before he ended up in jail (or worse), we enrolled him in a wilderness camp for emotionally troubled boys. It was about this time last year we took him off all his medications and one month later, placed his day-to day care in the incredibly capable hands of some compassionate men in Ohio.

In a day, he’ll come home for his longest “visit” yet. Home visits are usually a couple of days, and “test the waters” to determine if a child’s ready to re-enter the family setting. The holidays bring him home twice in roughly a 4 week period. In the next month, he’ll be home for nearly two weeks.

I’m scared.

Scared it’s going to be horrible, terrible, and the worst holiday ever.

I’m scared that it’s going to be incredible. Wonderful, fantastic, amazing, happy and the best holiday ever – and then he’ll return to camp for another winter.

All year, he’s been splitting wood, sleeping on a plywood “bed” outdoors, building tents, learning about the big, wild, outdoors, and working on some incredibly challenging goals.

Without me.

Yeah, I write letters, and send him “stuff” and tell him I love him. But it’s hard. Damn hard. I know grown ups that can’t achieve some of the goals he’s set for himself – like learning to have a good attitude even when things don’t go his way.

This will be the first year I won’t celebrate his birthday with him. He’ll be 14, and I won’t be there.

“What if the right thing was harder than the wrong thing
But I did it anyway?
Standing strong even when no one else was watching.
What if I really lived that way?”

When I was a kid, I couldn’t fathom a parent that would “give up” their kids, send them away, or just let go and not be a part of their child’s life. To me, it seemed like the ultimate admission of defeat, tantamount to being a bad parent that couldn’t care less about their kid.

Then, I became one of those moms.

“What if I made it to the end of my days here
only to find that my legacy was nowhere to be found?
I don’t want to waste another second.
Give me the strength to start right now.”

I rearranged everything in my life to accommodate the 6 hour drive (one way) to Ohio every other weekend. The parent meetings, reviews, pick-ups, drop-offs, and every chance there was to catch even a glimpse of my kid on the few hours this year I was able to spend with him.

It’s still hard. I’m learning things I never knew about my kid, my spouse, myself. I recognize I wasn’t the best mom for my kid – and I did the best I could with what I had and what I knew. Now that I know better, I’m trying to do better, to be better, to love better.

“I don’t care if it makes me look different.
I’m never letting go of my convictions.
Let the world see the life I’m living and call it Uncommon.
I’m done with the easy way out.”

In a previous post, I discovered my super power, and made the realization that I do things the hard way – but harder’s not always better. “Harder” is what you do out of necessity. “Harder” is why faith was birthed in us: nurtured by some, shunned by others.

Faith makes “harder” easier to bear when we can’t find “easier”.

I don’t like “harder” any more than the next guy, really. I’d much prefer a little “easier” for a while. It appears, however, when you’re on that boat to your next big adventure, that the waters may be pretty choppy. Remember to pack the Dramamine and keep rolling.

“I want to finally take the road less traveled.
I want to run away from anything typical.
I want the world to see the life I’m living and call it Uncommon.”

As I stare down the barrel of the next 35 years of my life, I recognize that the bar I set, the “wish” I make, the goal I set may be hard, but it’s  far easier than sitting still and doing nothing.

“Every heart has it’s defining moment.
This is mine and I’m not going to miss it“

I’ve made a short list, realizing that whatever anthem I select really will shape and color what next year will look like.

Fear not, no rose-colored “wonderful world” stuff here. I’m thinking more along the lines of breaking barriers, building on the super-hero-in-training work I’m doing here.

Something to live up to.

Something to make the greatest impact in my life in all the right ways.

Something to think about.

But this weekend, we talked and talked and talked. And then we talked some more.

I had been praying for this breakthrough for a while. During the week before our departure, my husband suggested we create a list of topics to discuss on the trip so he could be “prepared”. Me? I don’t need preparation. I was great at impromptu debates and speeches in school. Give me a topic and I can talk for miles. Not so, my husband. So we made a long list. And we hit nearly every topic during our twelve hour ride.

We talked about football, politics, and my upcoming live event. We discussed marketing ideas, gardening, and the very sensitive topic of finances.

Then it happened: The Game Changer.

My husband said, in a somewhat off-hand manner, “I admit that choosing to keep our finances separate when we married was a mistake.”

Whoa.

I had to stop him. This seemingly trivial statement of hindsight changed the entire playing field of our marriage. Not only because he acknowledged making a mistake (draw your own conclusions, ladies), but because he vocalized it in a serious conversation with me.

I thanked him and observed how that small acknowledgment was actually a major Game Changer in our relationship. I then noted how often those kinds of off-hand, seemingly insignificant moments are the real Game Changers in our lives (and our businesses).

For me, there are BIG moments that changed my life – those are the easy ones to recall. Childbirth, marriage, moving across country, choosing a home-based career. Those are some of the defining moments of my life.

But let me tell you about a Game Changer that, once you hear the story, it might just change your mind about the details of your life.

I met my husband through an online dating service. We were ‘chatting’ and we planned to meet for the first time, just an hour later. It was very impromptu, with no real planning behind it. He lived about an hour away, so I figured we had plenty of time to make it to the appointed destination, which was closer to my home than his.

Not only did he arrive slightly early, he held in his hand a flower he had picked up on the way.

That flower was a Game Changer and neither of us realized it until this past weekend.

You see my husband watched me to see how I responded to the flower. It was nice, and I thanked him for it. As the server came to our table, I asked for a glass of water (no ice) for the flower. I didn’t really know what else to do with it, since I didn’t want to put it on the chair or the table because it might get squished. So I cut the stem, right there in the restaurant, and placed it in a glass of water for the duration of our meal.

Doesn’t seem like much, does it?

But my husband was impressed with how I cared for that flower – how I almost seemed to cherish it. I didn’t see it as just a toss-away gesture that some guys make when they’re trying to impress a girl on a first date. I was impressed that he managed to be on time AND stopped on the way to bring me the flower. We didn’t plan it, so he didn’t have time to strategize, and he’s not one to just keep a flower on hand in case an “emergency date” turns up on his calendar.

That flower, that seemingly insignificant gesture, led to 9 dates in 2 weeks’ time. Nearly 7 years later, we have a 4 year old child and a 5 year old marriage that would not have happened, had it not been for that little flower.

Game Changers aren’t the huge, defining moments of our lives, but very often, they are the details that make the difference.

It’s the admission of guilt, which doesn’t change the damage done, but paves the way for forgiveness.

It’s the invitation extended to a stranger to join you for lunch, in an otherwise crowded cafeteria, that paves the way to a big business deal.

It’s the unexpected in the commonplace.

It’s a small kindness that pays a tremendous return – without expectation of any kind.

Those are the Game Changers. And I had a couple this weekend. You’ll learn more about them in the coming weeks, but be assured that these small details are everywhere – if we’re looking for them.

This Game Changer reconfigures our financial landscape. What that means exactly is still being determined, but it’s one more positive step in the process of becoming a true partnership, not just two people married to each other.

What are the Game Changers in your life? Can you point to the seemingly little things that made a big difference in who you are and what your life has meant? I’d love for you to share your thoughts in the comments below.

“Am I doing this right?”

“How do I know if I’m doing this right?”

That old demon, fear is rearing it’s ugly head again, tyring to keep you from realizing your greatness.

The fact is, the only way to know if you’re doing anything right is by actually doing it! Otherwise, you’re not doing ANYTHING!

It struck a chord when I read Seth Godin’s blog this morning. Read Everything Is Not Going To Be Okay and you’ll understand what I mean.

We all walk around wondering, hoping and wishing for someone to tell us that we’re on the right path – and that we’re doing the right thing.

As moms, we’re especially vulnerable. I remember when I first brought my son home from the hospital (who’s now a teenager). I said to my friends, “I wish babies came with instruction manuals.”

I was met with comforting words and encoruagement that I was “going to be a great mom.” and that I “would know what to do instinctively.”

They were wrong.

I struggled and struggled at trying to figure out how to be a mom. It’s like pouring salt on a snail and watching him shrivel up. That’s how I felt each and every day of his young life. I wasn’t prepared for 2am feedings when I had to be to work the next day. I didn’t understand why I had to pay for a week of day care if teh kid was only there for three days. There was so much that was pretty much left to chance when my son was small that I began to feel like I was doing everything wrong.

So I came home, where my family offered a modicum of support.

Whether that was “the best” choice or not, I’ll never know, but it was the only one I felt I had at the time. Doing what you believe to be right in the moment is sometimes all you have to go on. Questioning that decsion only leads to indecision, stagnation, and more fear.

What happened when I returned? It was like being a child all over again – being told what to do and how I was doing everything wrong. I remember one of my aunts telling me my child would end up in prison if I kept on raising him the way I was.

Of course, that was before his diagnosis. Before the diagnosis, I was viewed as a horrible mother with a problem child. After the diagnosis, I was “doing the best I could in a situation with a special needs child”.

Funny how the dime turned, huh? I thought so, anyway.

So here’s your diagnosis: You’re doing the best you can in your given situation. Don’t let the unknowing, disapproving looks from family or friends screw with your brain. You’ll never know if what you’re doing is the perfect solution to any problem until the end of time, when you look back and assess the full value of the life you’ve lived. If you spend all your time now wondering, you’ll never live the life you were called to fulfill.

Fear likes to keep you in a space where it thinks you’re safe. Hey, you’re not dead yet, so you must be doing okay. That’s hogwash. Fear doesn’t understand that you need to take a step or a leap out of your “comfort zone” to be the person - the mom, the busness owner – you truly want to be. It only understands that you’re trying something new, something it hasn’t experienced before, and what if everything isn’t okay?

It won’t be okay. It will be uncomfortable at best and excruciatingly painful at worst. Just know it, accept it, and plow through. There’s fear in the doing, but most often, hen we come out on the other side of the doing, we are much better for the experience.