I’m standing here, breathing in the final moments of the show.

Recalling the highlights, the laughter, the flubs, and the tender moments.

Reliving the looks on my actors’ faces at Intermission as I shared audience responses, technical issues, and notes regarding their projection, tone, and enunciation.

Bittersweetness washes over me, as the sounds in the room change: hammers pounding pins into flats, men hoisting the bar off the stage and back onto the floor. Brooms sweeping the floor, costumes being piled on the table, set pieces being returned to their homes in storage… and the chatter of the cast and crew as we wrap up, pack up, and clear away any trace of the production.

Strike always gets me.

It’s the completion of the circle of life of a show. We begin mostly as strangers, with a bare stage. We rehearse, almost in secret, in an upper room of the theater. It isn’t until the bulk of the set is present that we take to the stage and begin the process of bringing vitality to these two dimensional characters.

Then the lights, sound and music emerge, creating new challenges, adding new dimensions to the tapestry.

And the curtain goes up on opening night… and the friends I’ve come to know disappear as they slip deeper and deeper into their characters, becoming those people for a fortnight. Then, as quickly as they stepped into those roles, they’re stepping out again, pulling down set dressing, saying our goodbyes one last time.

It’s in this moment that I see the show’s “life” flash before my eyes – much like the flash of the camera as the show’s highlights are snapped off one after another by the photographer. I’m reminded that everything comes to an end – and in that ending, an opening is created for a new beginning.

But tonight, I enjoy the company of my cast and crew, our producer and managing partner. We celebrate a great review, the kinship of this rag tag bunch of actors, and relive some of the humorous moments of the show.

It will be a bit sad to head home tonight, and I know I’ll probably mourn this show a little. But right now, I’m just enjoying this moment, soaking in these wonderful people, this wonderful place, and all the memories we’ve created for ourselves and our audience.

We’ve touched people and changed lives. That’s something of which we can be proud.

I’m already thinking about what my next project will be, and how to make it happen faster, so I’m not living in the limbo. But for now, tonight, I’m here. Enjoying, drinking it all in, until the next circle begins.

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.

Our mission is to help 10,000 mompreneurs and working mothers bring balance to their life and work without apologies or excuses. It was a mission God laid on my heart nearly two years ago to the day.

The journey from there to here has not at all been what I planned nor imagined.

“My ways are not your ways.” says the Lord.

Quite.

In truth, for all the forward motion and “tally-ho!” attitude I bring to my work and my life, I’ve probably been the biggest heel dragger of all when it comes to growing this business.

I never really thought of myself as a “mompreneur” or a “wahm” in the first place. I’ve written before about the negative perceptions people hold about those labels. I, too, held some prejudice about those labels. So much, that I felt compelled to create a new “brand” of working mother – The Renaissance Mom.

Renaissance is about re-birth. Despite any scriptural connotations that might bring to mind, we carefully chose our logo to bring to mind the two most recognizable symbols of rebirth – the phoenix and the cross. Simply put, this company is committed to helping working mothers make the transition from reluctance to renaissance.

Why then, have I been dragging my heels on this business? Several reasons:

1. It’s not my business. Yes, I’m the founder, and my name is the owner of record. No, it’s not a company in name only. This is God’s business, not mine. Often times, I get up in the morning inspired to take actions so far removed from my comfort zone, I have a hard time doing them. I constantly ask “why” and find myself doing it anyway. Today I met a charming guy at a local ad agency. We talked for more than an hour as he shared generously some ideas to help promote The Renaissance Mom Experience to a more local audience. I went in with no real idea of what to expect. I walked away with so many blessings, I wanted to cry. It’s hard for me to invest myself fully in something that’s not mine. I’ve been burned by other partners in the past, and trust is hard won from me. The silly thing is, if I can’t trust God as my partner, who can I trust?
2. I like being in control. I like having an agenda that I’ve laid out and can work from. God is more extemporaneous than that – at least with me. And although it bugs me a little, I’m trying to go with His flow. But it’s hard, and sometimes downright frustrating. Letting go is not something that comes easy to me. Particularly when I’m “letting go to let God” so to speak. I have many “other” things to do, and sometimes I think I have better things to do. God and I don’t always see eye to eye. Luckily, He still loves me anyway.
3. Show me the money. To be frank (perhaps a little too frank), The Renaissance Mom has been entirely funded from the beginning by my other business endeavors. I’m not complaining, just noticing that the company is not profitable, and while I’m doing my best to remain faithful to God’s calling, it would be nice to turn a profit from the work we’re doing to help working moms. Perhaps it’s a bad time to start a company like this, but the demand for what we’re doing has been so overwhelming that we can’t stop now. For an unknown start-up, we’ve had the privilege of helping hundreds of women (and a few men) since January gain more balance and clarity in their lives, and the feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. It’s odd for me to run a company that’s not paying for itself, and if this is the mission God has laid on my heart, then maybe it’s not supposed to be profitable. I haven’t figured that one out yet.

That’s been my journey for the past few months, and through it, I’ve made some tremendous realizations:

1. God is always in control. That may sound like a “blatantly Christian” thing to say on a blog, but it’s true. Every time we’ve had a need for this event, there’s been a supply. I’ve been shy about giving the glory for it to God, and that ends today. God deserves the glory, because there’s no logical reason that this event should be happening at all, let alone happening successfully. And it is happening successfully. Whoever heard of bootstrapping an entire 3-day conference? God is miraculous and I need to stop dragging my heels telling other people about it.
2. Business is still business. Partners, sponsors and others connected to the work we do still want to see a return – they want to know what’s in it for them. Having a great idea isn’t good enough. Communicating that idea isn’t good enough. Providing the return makes the difference.
3. I still have a lot to learn. I’ve never claimed to be anybody’s guru. That’s a role for someone other than me. What I do is connect the dots for people, point them to resources, and hopefully help someone along the way. Very much of my success has been accidental, but now I’m in a position where a significant number of people actually look to me for advice/help. God help us all.

There are other lessons, to be sure, and my own renaissance is ongoing. When you step out in faith in a very public way, there’s bound to be obstacles. I’ve tried to stay low-key for a long time, and it’s just not going to work anymore. You may have already seen the shift, heard the undertones, and wondered what’s going on.

I’ve been pulling together a new approach for clients and folks like you that want to move forward with confidence  - out of reluctance and into renaissance. It’s very uncreatively called “30 Days to Renaissance”, and it is my new tool for stopping the heel dragging.

And you can have it free.

In light of my profitability comments earlier, free may be a bad choice, but it’s an e-course, delivered daily to your in-box, so it feels weird to charge you for it. Plus, God said to make it free, so I’m not going to argue with HIM.

You can fill out the opt-in box on our home page or Click here to get more details.

If it takes you from Reluctance to Renaissance, please share it with a friend. In the meantime, I’d love to hear your revelations about moving forward in faith in your life and business.