Achieving The Impossible Has a Cost
Note: I wanted to say doing the impossible ain’t cheap, but cheap is a relative term.
There’s a definite value to being able to do something other people say you can’t. Being able to recognize both the cost and the value, however, is where the rubber meets the road.
Today, my first real day “back to work” since Creating Irresistible Presence (#CIP) in Atlanta, I had to do both.
A potential client set up a pre-screening call to discuss her goals and for me to get to know her business better. This is something I regularly do before developing an online strategy for a new client. It helps us hit the ground running when the actual strategy session takes place.
I called at the appointed time. No answer. I left a message and sat down to fill my time with another project until she called back.
Here’s where I waffled: I called her again 10 minutes later to see if maybe we missed each other. We connected and I spent the next 20 minutes discussing her business, her goals, and what she’d like to accomplish.
Since this was a barter arrangement, I explained my fee, how the barter program works, and what she could expect when we scheduled an hour of time to work on her project.
She balked. BIG time. And I could feel the terror of “losing a client” rising inside me.
While she went on about how she couldn’t see the value in working with me for only an hour, justifying in her mind that she really didn’t want to work with me at my current rate, something transcendent happened. Her voice seemed to fade as other voices rushed in:
My assistant warned me yesterday: “She seemed to have a bit of an attitude, and didn’t sound excited.”
My #CIP friends: “You are a-ma-zing!”
Past clients: “I can’t believe how much we accomplished in an hour!”
And on.. and on.. I almost feel bad for the woman on the other end of the phone. I really wasn’t listening to her.
I was listening to ME. To my gut, to my God-voice telling me that this woman will be more headache than she’s worth and that I shouldn’t be trying to work with her.
So while she was trying to find reasons to not work with me, I was trying to justify not working with HER!
Finally, I politely said, “Well, I can understand that if you don’t see the value in working with me, or that you’re not able to afford it at this time, that’s no problem. I have to let you go now, I have another appointment in a few minutes. If you change your mind, you’ll know how to reach me. Have a great day!”
And I said it with confidence, clarity, and courage. Without desperation oozing from my voice.
Frankly, I hope she never calls back, but if she does, she’ll know that working with me provides great value, AND there’s a cost.
Opportunity costs are the things we give up in order to get the things we have. Sometimes the costs are small: a few dollars to have lunch with a friend instead of a new blouse. A new toy for our child instead of a new book for our learning library.
Opportunity cost means sacrificing one choice in favor of another.
Before I went to #CIP, I was presented with three incredible opportunities:
- The #CIP, 3-day intensive, where I could mix, mingle and learn in a live environment
- An 8 week virtual course, that literally helped me make $5000 without even registering for it.
- A trip to Vegas to hob-knob and rub elbows with some movers and shakers at a private party for a friend of mine.
I chose #CIP. And as Robert Frost said, “That has made all the difference.”
Before Atlanta, I struggled with the voice of The Renaissance Mom. Who was she? What was she really about? How do I connect to her and through her to my audience?
This was the reason I chose to come to Atlanta. At first, I was afraid it wasn’t happening. I wasn’t going to be able to find that voice. I had to let go of what I thought I knew.
I thought my “audience” was mompreneurs/working moms. That’s part of it, but not every mompreneur resonates with me – and a lot of my followers aren’t moms at all (you guys know who you are!).
Finally, I had to recognize that The Renaissance Mom… is me.
That was incredibly hard for me to swallow. Because I didn’t want to believe it was about me. I wouldn’t even put my face on the cover of my albums because even my music wasn’t about me.
And that, too, has a cost. Becoming a superhero means creating (and living up to) an identity. An identity I didn’t want to embrace.
Because I’ve never thought that my business was about me. It’s always been about helping other people achieve their heart’s desire – in life, in business, whatever. That’s been my passion.
But the opportunity cost has been too great:
- Lost income opportunities
- Lost relationship opportunities
- Lost business opportunities
All that self-deprecating was getting me nowhere fast.
It’s time to give up on what I thought I knew and embrace the new truth: it is about me.
It’s not that I’m arrogant, or becoming some kind of an elitist. It’s just that it’s time to give myself proper credit, and value myself in the same way I coach my clients to value themselves.
To stop chasing clients that are wrong for me, and be confident in who I am and what I do for the clients that love me.
Inasmuch as I have a super power, I must have a super hero name. Wonder Woman was already taken.
The Renaissance Mom is about re-birth, renewal, and transformation from the old “impossible” mindset into a new way of viewing all the possibilities in life and the world around you. To STOP believing in the impossible, and instead, embrace creative ways to achieve the improbable.
I’m trying to convince my husband that he’s my trusty sidekick, but he’s not buying it yet.
The phoenix is the brand on my chest. Like Superman’s “S” or the bat on The Caped Crusader’s yellow emblem. The ultimate symbol of re-birth, renewal and transformation at the elemental level.
Gosh, everything seems so much clearer now, doesn’t it?
So strap in, my friends, because this is the beginning of a very public re-birthing process for The Renaissance Mom. My plan is to make the impossible happen, right here, where you can bear witness.
It will probably be messy. When you’re first learning how to be a superhero, it can be quite awkward and clumsy. I’ll probably dive into the phone booth a couple of times and smash my face on the glass. Les McKeown said in his book “Predictable Success” that “sometimes reality just refuses to be neat and tidy.”
You heard it here first.
So to that woman on the phone today, please understand that I’m not slighting you, I’m choosing instead, to value myself. If you’re going to stand around, hemming and hawing, you’re not ready to grow your business like a real business.
That’s an hour of our lives we’ll never get back, so why waste it in the first place?
Read MoreYou Don’t Know What You Think You Do
Several years ago, I signed myself up for one of the most horrible experiences of my life.
Just in writing that sentence, I have removed myself from the room repeatedly for tissues, water, and any other “logical ” distraction to keep me from posting “out loud” an experience that ultimately defines a big piece of who I am today.
Mind you, I didn’t know it was going to be so horrible when I signed up. Our church provides a women’s retreat for members of the church to come and walk closer to God, connect with other women of faith, and in general give them a better, perhaps deeper, spiritual connection in their busy, sometimes awkward lives.
One of the elements of this retreat is called “the box“. Participants in the retreat are not supposed to know about the box before hand. Before the retreat, letters are solicited (on the sly) from loved ones, friends, and “supporters” of the participants. They are collected in a box, along with letters from past participants and hosts of the retreat weekend.
Because I open the mail in our home, I found out about “the box“. I was eagerly waiting this part of the retreat all weekend. Surely my husband would encourage the boys to draw a picture, write a note, or he himself would offer some words of spiritual encouragement.
I spent most of the weekend anticipating the box. Frankly, most of the retreat was a blur for me because I just kept waiting for the box to arrive. I wanted to see what was in it for me.
And when, after much “spiritual and emotional work” we were probably at our lowest point as participants, out comes “the box“.
I was like a kid on Christmas morning for about 15 seconds. As I tore open the box, I was so excited, my hands were shaking.
I pulled out a form letter from a past participant. It was nice, had a pretty picture of Jesus on it, and said something about hoping I had a transformational weekend.
Then another one, it had a dove or something on it.
Then another, and another, and soon, I just started skipping over the “form letters” and digging through the box. I was watching other people around me reading letters from their family and friends. They were crying and rejoicing and sharing with each other.
I just kept digging – down, down, down… to the bottom of my box.
And there was nothing there (that I chose to see at that time – more on that in another post).
No letter from mom, or any of my friends. No funny pictures, words of encouragement from my spouse, or anything personal and meaningful from someone I actually KNEW.
Quite frankly, it sucked.
But I put on my “game face” and portrayed a happy participant that was encouraged and touched by the “outpouring of support” these form letters were supposed to provide. Inside, I was angry, hurt, jealous, and probably felt a bunch of other stuff I can’t put into words even now.
It got worse.
At the end of the retreat, the church hosts a reception, where all the participants gather one last time – this time with their family and their emotional support group – singing songs, eating cake, and generally closing the event on a positive note.
My husband had made other plans to be somewhere else that afternoon, so there was no one there for me. As people started all that hugging and carrying on, I slipped out into my car.
And I grieved. Heavily. Kind of like I am right now.
That gut-wrenching, body heaving crying that you do when you’ve lost a piece of yourself. When the tears come so hard that you can’t see to drive the car, so you just sit in the parking lot for 20 minutes a happy faces come and go outside your vehichle as the place starts to clear.
It was the most horrible experience I have ever endured. Worse than the death of either of my parents, it was the death of a truth I through I “knew”. It still hurts today.
But it’s a good kind of pain.
In the moment of my deepest, hurtingest, sob-filled wail (yeah, that sounds pathetic, no?) the voice of James Earl Jones, in his best Darth Vader impression, echoes through my head:
“Your ways are not my ways.”
“Screw you God! That doesn’t help me very much right now.”
Yeah, I’ll probably go to Hell for that, but that’s what I shouted at the top of my lungs in the church parking lot.
God just persisted (he’s funny like that).
“My ways are not your ways.”
And while I was recovering from the grieving, I uncovered a new truth. That this horrible, painful experience, was very necessary to move me to what comes next in my life. I eventually went on to host that same event, and made a point of staying up all night to write a personal note to each participant because I didn’t want them to feel the disconnected “emptiness” of expecting something that was pretty much a “sure thing” and not getting it.
Fast forward to Sarah Robinson’s Create Irresistible Presence event.
I came to Atlanta with a singular purpose: To help refine the voice of The Renaissance Mom and give clarity to the message and audience that we’re trying to reach. In short, I knew I blew a huge opportunity with the live event we “made virtual” earlier this fall, and believed that it was because I just didn’t do an effective job of honing my niche, crafting my message and getting it out fast enough to get butts in the seats.
At some point yesterday, I started feeling like I was blowing an opportunity. A big one. I felt like I knew stuff, I’d done most of the exercises we were learning, and while I was learning, I still felt very disconnected from everything. An awareness came to me at o’dark thirty this morning that I’ve spent most of my life “trying”: to be first, to be best, to be heard.
So today, trying to be all “self aware”, I decided it was a “no-mascara” day. That if I was going to “try”, I would try to be more patient, not be first, and to let others have space to “be” and be heard around me.
It is incredibly excruciating for a person like me to wait. It’s the worst kind of torture in the world. I want to hurry up and help people so they can get to what comes next.
“My ways are not your ways.” The stupid God-voice replies.
At the break, my head was pounding. I finally broke down before lunch and got some meds (Thanks, Lori!)
For me, a massive energy headache like this is a sign of big things to come (and probably a thunderstorm later today – you’ve been warned).
And I sit in the not-knowing right now. Because what I thought I knew isn’t true.
I mentioned during our session that I came to Atlanta looking for something, and expecting one thing – and I’m not getting it. Right now, nothing is what I through it was going to be. My assistant, Bonnie, will probably kill me if I tell her that, right now, I feel like scrapping everything and starting from scratch. We’ve been building this brand for 9 months. I still believe that God set this “mission” on my heart to serve these women, but I’m not feeling it, I’m not connecting to it.
I’m not getting it.
So I’m grieving and sobbing and mourning the loss of the thing I thought I was going to get. Because that thing, as important as I thought it was, is nothing compared to what God is trying to set in my hands right now (and I’m still not sure what “it” is).
His ways are not my ways, sometimes.
Sometimes, God can be unwieldy, and messy, dirty or cumbersome. God does his best work in the hardest situations, because that’s when we finally throw our hands up in the air and give Him the opportunity to grab hold of our (now open) hands and pull us to safety.
So today, my hands are up, as I grieve the loss of what I thought I knew about myself, my business(es), and the way I THOUGHT God wanted me to show up in the world.
It is horrifyingly painful, wretched, and excruciating. I wouldn’t will it on anyone.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Read MoreUmarketing, Jesus, and a Sinful Confession
I confess: I’m a double – sometimes treble – fisted reader ((more on that in a future post)), often going on “book binges” where I’ll be taking in two or three books at a time.
There’s a system to the way I read, and I’m zealous about books that make me think. ((Sorry, no real time for romance novels. I’m a practical, tactical girl, thanks.))
So I took Jim Collins’ “Good to Great” with me on my trip to NC. While I was in NC, I finished it, passed it on to a new client who really needed it, and went hunting at JR’s for more brain fodder. ((Anyone that lives near Statesville, NC, will know what I mean about finding great gems at JR. Wish I had one near me.)) At JR, I picked up 3 books (none of them “UnMarketing”. We’ll get there, keep your shirt on!) – most of which are hard to find anywhere but Amazon, all of which inspired me to give them a read.
One of the books, “Jesus Brand Spirituality” , was written by a pastor from Michigan (ironic, I know). I was also working on an ebook copy of “A New Christ” (Wallace Wattles of “The Science of Getting Rich” fame) before I picked these other books up.
Reading, for me is a full-contact sport. ((The way my hubby talks about the Lions? That’s the way I talk about books!)) I don’t just flip through pages, I have a “process” for getting the most out of every book I read. I have notebooks that I keep with me to outline my ideas – kind of like “Cliff’s Notes” - so I don’t have to flip through extra book pages to find what I want at a later date. See when I read a book, I keep a notebook with me to jot down thoughts, ideas and ruminations (that are sometimes cross-pollinated by other books I’m reading). The notes are the juiciest bits that I actually think will serve me (or my clients) best long after I’ve loaned out the book and never gotten it back.
My family thinks I’m a bit off my tam-o-shanter ((actually, I’m part Irish, so I guess I’m off my Eske)) because I have nearly as many notebooks as I do books in my library. The truth is I often pass my books on when I’ve “finished” with them – unless it’s a real keeper. That, and there’s something visceral about the tactile sensation and the mind-body connection of writing with an actual pen on actual paper. ((Yes, I said visceral and tactile in the same sentence. I like $2 words. Deal with it.)) It ingrains the lesson, the learning, and most of all the new ideas I get when I write down my “takeaways” from the work of others.
So I’m writing in my notebooks and about half-way into “Jesus Brand Spirituality”, I get this overwhelming sense of how Jesus had to be one of the best marketers in the world ((I’m already working on a book about it, so don’t go getting all plagaristic on me, okay?)). He was a freakin’ rock star – respected teacher, voice of authority, and tended to by people of privilege.
And I start thinking about how Jesus was all about relationships. I think you can see where I’m going now (was it worth the wait?).
Enter “UnMarketing: Stop Marketing. Stop Engaging.” by The Honorary Renaissance Mom of the Year, Scott Stratten (aka @unmarketing on twitter). ((Warning: That’s an affiliate link and a shameless plug all rolled into one. Caveat Emptor. Cogito ergo sum. Carpe Diem.))
Now save your religious isms for someplace else. This isn’t about religion, unless your religion is the First Church of Building a Legacy - which requires relationships – not totems, symbolism, other icons or gesticulation – to incite passion, create a following, and move you to take action.
Jesus had this figured out some 2000 years ago.
No, I’m not comparing Scott to Jesus. He’s a pretty good guy and all, but he hasn’t built the enduring fame of Jesus. Yet.
Although he’s got the chops, if his first book is any indication.
And yes, this book is a keeper. I’ve already talked with Scott about using it as a text book for a class I’m teaching later this year.
How did I come to this conclusion?
After all, if you’re reading this review, you probably don’t know me from Joe (few people do). ((Joe would be a male name. My name is Lisa, a decidedly female name where I come from.)) It would probably be helpful to share with you how I can confidently say this book is a keeper.
When I sit down to read a book, I usually wait for it to come to my local library. Frankly, I don’t want to waste time in a bookstore unless I know the book is worth the buy ((lead us not into temptation, shall we?)). Because I actually KNOW Scott ((not in the biblical sense. I mean in the “we’ve DM’d and talked on twitter and via email” sense)) and read his blog posts (which were excerpts from the book), I gladly drove across town to the only bookstore that had a copy in stock and paid FULL PRICE for the hardcover edition. ((Nope, don’t want a medal for it, just want to keep the FTC off my back with full disclosure on it.)) I did not wait. In the words of Inigo Montoya, “I hate waiting.”
That was the first indicator. ((Well played, Scott, for sharing preview content on your blog and hooking me months before the book was due!)) The second indicator is the highlighting, underlining, and general note taking I’ve made in this book. If a book is good, I’ll take notes. If it’s a keeper, I’ll tab it, highlight it (usually in multiple colors), underline and make notes in the margin. In college the first time, I was taught that books were meant to be written in and the wide bottom margin of Scott’s book was just enough for me to start brainstorming. ((Which is one thing I do incredibly well, imho.))
And well, once I’ve marked up a book that much, no one else can really get much use out of it, so I guess I have to keep it.
That’s my definition of a keeper. One I can’t/won’t share with someone else because I’ve gotten so much out of it, and put so much of myself into it. Amid the hundreds (maybe thousands now) of books I own, I only have a handful of books that are “keepers.”
Scott’s is not a perfect book. That in and of itself is both refreshing and perplexing. I was raised on “proper” writing and all that. Scott’s extensive use of “inappropriate” footnoting drove me to distraction. ((and yes, I installed a footnote plug-in on my blog just for this post!)) There were grammar issues only a mother of a third grader could love, and it was riddled with Scott’s, shall we say curmudgeonly ((as defined thus: “a crusty, irascible, cantankerous old person full of stubborn ideas” – except for the “crusty” and “old” parts)) style.
But that’s where it gets endearing. Scott’s not known to tip-toe or badmouth. He calls ‘em as he sees ‘em, and isn’t afraid to use profanity when it’s warranted. ((I think he held back a little, actually.)) Somewhere between Mark Twain, Henry Ford, and John Wayne, you’ll find Scott, riding roughshod, taking no BS, and doing his best to put out a quality product – with honesty, integrity, and his own brand of personality.
That said, when I recommend a book to others, it’s got to meet a few criteria:
- Readability. Any time you say 56 chapters, someone’s head will explode. I’m calling them sections, instead. They’re short. Maybe too short in places, but Scott said something about a sequel, so perhaps he’ll expound in a future revision. They’re easy to read. And Scott’s footnotes make it easy and FUN to read. A business book that’s fun to read. That’s scary good, when you think about it.
- Entertaining. I readily admit that not everyone is as geeky as I am. They won’t sit through 10 minutes of reading an instruction manual to assemble a child’s toy ((are you listening dear husband of mine??)) let alone plow through 250+ pages of marketing education. Whether we want to admit it or not, we are an “edutainment” age, and Scott’s book – particularly the footnotes – scores big on entertainment factor.
- Crave factor. I bought it and read it cover-to-cover in the same day. I was bummed there wasn’t more to read, and actually started re-reading sections to see if I missed anything really juicy the first time. If a book leaves me wanting more in a way where I don’t feel gypped, I know it’s good enough to share with others. If I feel ripped off, like the author left out the most important part or something, you can bet I won’t recommend it.
- Learnability. That’s my word for the likelihood that you’ll actually walk away from this book having learned something you can implement right away. To quote Scott, “holy crapcakes!” UnMarketing is chocked with examples, stories and specifics that will make you take notice. Some of them you’ve probably experienced yourself as a customer, but the bigger lesson is how are you implementing those lessons in your own business? Learn from history or be doomed to repeat it.
A few people have suggested that Scott’s book is re-hash, or more of the same old lessons, or Social Media 101. I’m reminded of the story about an elderly minister that gives the same sermon four Sundays in a row. When asked if he realized he was doing it, he replied “Of course! And I’m going to keep giving it until it sinks in!” ((That’s what I meant by curmudgeon earlier.)) But here’s the thing you’re probably missing in Scott’s lessons: the sad reality that it hasn’t “sunk in” for most people in the business world.
Scott’s book isn’t about social media, viral videos, selling to women, coffee, shoes, or any of the stories he uses to illustrate the point. Scott takes a full 250 pages (and then some) to tell you that those stories illustrate an endemic condition in business (and the world) today: the failure to build enduring relationships that aren’t about selfish gain.
The 4 hour phone call for Zappos. Seminar organizers that virtually ravage their speakers. The $1,500 saw. All examples of how the relationship SHOULD be the most important point of contact – and the fact that you never know where it can end up if it is.
That’s a major learnability factor in my book.
So what’s this got to do with Jesus?
Jesus got this stuff. He wasn’t looking to be an Amazon best-seller. He had a mission, a message, and a passion for sharing it with the people that would listen. The people that believed. He built a following, not because he went on about his experience in delivering results for his clients, his MBA from NYIT, or the thousands of followers that touted his expert status. He took no prisoners, pulled no punches, and did his best to deliver the same quality message day after day to the people that mattered most. He listened to people that talked to him. He responded, not by telling them what they wanted to hear, but by sharing his truth. And in sharing that truth, he started a revolution that’s still the subject of fierce debates, wars, and riots to this day.
There is one thing in Scott’s book that really perplexes me. It’s not enough to keep me from calling this book a keeper, and in fact, may be part of why I’m calling it a keeper. On the one hand, Scott calls out work at home moms for hurting themselves by embracing that moniker ((the chapter “Why Being A Work At Home Mom Is Bad For Business”)) (“I want to hire you… because you will get the job done”), and yet, his own slip is showing in the editorial issues that don’t detract from the content, but leave me feeling like there’s something not quite right about my coffee. ((A reference to Scott’s chapter “Stirring Coffee”)) Scott himself acknowledges that part of his “branding” is his lazy nature and the typographical errors that abound in his writing. To me, that’s a cop-out for writing that’s “good enough” when he could have been more diligent in the writing, research and review of his book.
Jim Collins reminds us that “good enough never is.” And yes, I know I’ve opened the door to having the red pen hurled at me when I finally release a book. I do hope that people will be merciful with me. Still, Scott threw he gauntlet down, not me. And frankly, if that’s the only major fault I can find with the book, then that’s pretty dang good. ((I was going to make that sentence a footnote, but I’ve already got a crap ton, and I thought it would be a nice way to cushion my previous criticism.))
And lastly, one of the biggest reasons for recommending this book is because Scott’s a Renaissance Mom in so many ways. There’s a reason he won that award, and his book only justifies it more. The book begins with “For UnJunior” and ends with “To Aiden and Owen…” – proof that the guy understands that the most important relationships are the ones we build at home.
Well played, Mr. Stratten. Well played, indeed.
Christians Swear? The Horror! [Day 0 - 30 Days to Renaissance]
One of my bad habits is holding back the full truth until I can’t take it any more. Then it becomes some sort of “moment of confessional”, when I come across more dramatic than even I intend. Sadly, this realization comes now, just as I need to get something off my chest – again.
I have been known to utter profanity. Sometimes very loudly, sometimes under my breath, and yes, it might be aimed at you.
Well, not you specifically, but you get the idea.
See, when you publicly declare your faith for all the world to see, suddenly every action and misdeed is under a microscope – kind of like the Hollywood A-listers. But unlike the a-listers, forgiveness is rarely found for the person who claims to be a Christian.
Like it or not, we’re humans first, Christians second, and while that observation does not excuse my behavior, it certainly illuminates it.
I don’t make a point of swearing, but yeah, I’ve been caught on video speaking an expletive or two. While I admit it’s not the most proper way to present myself, it’s also dishonest of me to pretend I’m someone I’m not. I’ve tried to live my entire life thus far as an open book. Don’t ask if you don’t want to know, and all that jazz.
But here’s the thing. I would prefer you know, like and trust the REAL me – not some phony facade I put on for work. There’s something horrifyingly dishonest about being less than myself. And it’s time to nip it in the bud.
And you know what? I couldn’t be happier about it. Dave Lakhani says that polarizing personalities sell – you either love them or you hate them. I’m not out to win any popularity contests, and I don’t seek to offend people, but really, if the occasional burst of vulgarity bothers you, we need to part company. Sooner rather than later.
My entire business is built around teaching people to build a life they love without being apologetic or making excuses for who they really are. How can I hold myself out in any other fashion?
Tomorrow we begin the 30 Days to Renaissance journey here on the blog. Many of you have already jumped on board the e-course, and I hope more of you will take me up on this challenge as well: To live your life in balance without apologies or excuses.
For many of you, it will be like getting a fresh start. For others it’s confirmation of a process you’ve been “working on” for a while. But here’s the situation: You must insist on being 100% yourself. Anything less is a ripoff.
So for those of you that are wondering, I’m clearing the air here:
1. I swear – usually when I’m incredibly upset or incredibly happy. In those moments, it’s generally because I’m speechless (yeah, me. go figure).
2. I love God. I was born and raised as a Christian and have no plans of changing anytime soon.
3. I believe science and God can co-exist. Was God an alien? Who knows? Does it really make God any less powerful? Do we have all the answers worked out yet? Nope. And that doesn’t prove or disprove the existence of God in my book.
4. I try to do right, but I still screw up. If my mom hadn’t already given me a middle name, “bad choices” might be mine.
5. You can be a mom, a wife, and a business owner. It’s freakin’ hard work, it’s not for everyone, but if you’re willing to do the work, the rewards are amazing.
6. Balance doesn’t look like the scales of justice. Very often, it looks more like a contortionist. Everyone has a different sense of and need for balance. Finding your balance point will ease much of the tension and stress in your life.
7. Helping you guys find success on your terms is my mission. I can’t NOT do this. I believe God planted this in my heart and until he uproots it, I’m not going anywhere. he gave me a gift to help you brainstorm, find solutions and hold you accountable. So here I am doing my darndest – with your permission, of course.
8. I can’t make you successful, just like I can’t make you like me, trust me, or buy from me. What I can do is offer suggestions, guidance and prayer for your situation. god gave us all free will, so the rest is up to you.
9. My life isn’t perfect, it will never be perfect, and whilst I may grumble from time to time, remember I am human just like you – regardless of my religious affiliations. I do the best I can with what I have.
So there. As we take this 30 day journey together, realize that not everything I say will make you happy. That’s not my role. My role is to open your mind, and offer you options you may not have considered before. Stop being reluctant in your own life and embrace the renaissance waiting for you.
We begin in the morrow.
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About Me
Edutainer. Results-getter. Performer. I'm expressive, results-oriented, and a connoisseur of ideas. When creative people are ready to stop making excuses and make something happen, they call me. Sometimes I talk to God. Sometimes God talks back. Sometimes I talk back. I'm building an ark here. Wanna ride? Be sure to say hi, leave a comment and get involved. That's how I roll. Lisa’s Music
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