Eighteen years ago, back in December 2001, I had my last Christmas in my hometown in Canada. We didn\’t know yet then that it was our last, and we were all engaged in fairly normal activities. My mom was working, my siblings were attending high school or junior high, and I was reaching the end of my first term of college.

I had a benign bone tumor on my left knee that had been there at least since I was a little kid if not forever, but I was on a waiting list to have this removed as I was beginning to experience issues with my knee during physical activity (and if I knew then what I know now, I\’d have left it! My knees are both worse!). Because Christmas was looming before us, the hospital got a cancellation and called me to see if I could schedule my surgery for right before Christmas.

One week before Christmas, a very sad and tearful young version of me was wheeled into the operating room. I was truly terrified, less so of the surgery itself but I fear anything that \”puts you to sleep.\” I remember being wheeled in and then from that point on I hardly remember anything up to and including the New Year!

Let\’s just say anesthesia seems to hit me pretty hard!

However, a few days before Christmas, when I was a little more with it (though still in quite a bit of pain), my dear friend came over to my house through the winter night, with a bag of A&W onion rings and the intent to clean my bedroom. I am a neat freak, and she knew that, and she knew that over the course of a few days of being an invalid my bedroom had fallen into a frustrating state for me.

I honestly don\’t really remember it very clearly, but there are quite a bit of pictures highlighting our fun that evening in my dopey state. And I am very glad because it is the last time we got to spend any time at Christmas together.

Good friendships, the kind that come and clean up after your mess when you\’re down, are the kind of friendships we should all feel blessed to have at Christmastime!

It\’s the most wonderful time of the year!

I was thinking about my Christmas memories, some of which are now amusing, some sad, some heartwarming, and I realized for the millionth time how blessed I have been.

I grew up poor. How poor, I probably will never really have any idea. Just today I was discussing with my sister the burdens my parents had at my age that I will never understand. Four children, financial constraints, health issues to contend with from both my dad and siblings, my mom and dad must have been at their wits\’ end in a way I cannot imagine.

But Christmas time at our house was always very warm, happy and full of light. Even though my parents must have been counting pennies and worrying about how to make it all work, my only memories are thrill, delight and warmth.

I think my earliest Christmas memory must have been when I was three years old, as I recall my infant sister being there. I have zero childhood recollection of believing in Santa Clause, but I have many memories thinking \”my parents are naive if they think this Santa guy is real!\”

When I was four and five years old, my parents had embarked on their Great Adventure (discussed at length in historical posts if you\’re curious) where for 18 months they rented out their home and we lived in a motor home, traveling the western half of North America. I have incredibly distinct memories of these Christmases. One was spent in Why, Arizona (you\’ll have to go look that up!), and camped out in a very rural RV park in the middle of the dessert, we decorated a creosote bush. I have vague recollections of seeing a Christmas display or parade in nearby Ajo, AZ.  Our other American Christmas was spent in Del Rio, Texas – and my sister was busy chatting with the bunnies and birds and cactus plants, while I was riding my first bicycle!

One of my favorite of all childhood Christmas memories was when I was seven. Remember in the Santa Clause movie with Tim Allen when they talk about the toys they really wanted most as children? The weenie whistle?! Well my weenie whistle was the Pretty Crimp\’n\’Curl Cabbage Patch doll. I wanted one so bad. I thought they were about the most amazing thing ever, and I had loved my original first edition Cabbage Patch doll so much. On Christmas morning, I couldn\’t believe my eyes when my sister and I each opened our very own dolls. Mine was Jillian Paulette, and I still have her to this day.

As we got a little older, the family tradition became to open first one present on Christmas Eve and then at some point we began doing all our presents on Christmas Eve, saving Christmas morning as a day to sleep in, be a little lazy and hang out as a family. I must have a million pictures of each member of my family making goofy faces as they open and display a new gift. My dad was always the biggest ham of all, the biggest kid at Christmas, and we have hundreds of pictures of him laughing and smiling with his gifts.

To this day, I still like tacky retro tinsel, Oak Ridge Boys Christmas songs, and cheesy, meaningful ornaments hanging on my tree. I am very grateful that no matter the circumstances they were going through, my parents made an effort to preserve in our memories the happiness of Christmas.

I had the pleasure of talking recently to someone who was sharing with me her immediate plans of changing jobs. She is leaving what she currently does in order to go back to being a hair stylist on her own. I am always intrigued and celebrate people making bold changes in their life – especially if there is an entrepreneurial vein to it – and told her I think this is a great idea. She shared that she wants to do it because she feels like she will be better able as a stylist to connect with people one-on-one and make a difference in their lives.

I loved this. It\’s so nice to hear people talking about what they are doing to give back or help! And I started thinking that if we are not right now in a place where we can be a blessing, we need to make some changes and get into a place where we can be a blessing.

But it\’s hard to think about a place to be where there is no opportunity whatsoever to be a blessing to others. I can think about the people who make a difference or brighten my day in all kinds of ways.

For starters, my own hair stylist. I have been seeing her once a month since 2013. I feel like I am closer to her than many of my friends. Once a month, we catch up, she remembers the details of my life. We share jokes, she offers a perspective on different situations that I tell her about. She is very encouraging, and I have never once walked out of her salon without feeling like I enjoyed her company tremendously.

I have had Uber drivers share stories with me that have brightened my day. I have had clients that I talk to on the phone say things that they probably didn\’t realize were a blessing. Service technicians, delivery people, fitness instructors, my neighbors, my family doctor – these are people who at various times have all found a way to be a blessing in what they are doing.

We all have the capacity in what we are doing to be a blessing wherever we are at. And if you seriously don\’t have the capacity, then you are not where you are meant to be.

Social media and \”infotainment\” news has been lit up recently with the now much maligned recent Peloton television commercial, where a husband buys his wife a Peloton bike for a Christmas gift.

In the commercial, the wife seems shocked but not unhappy to receive the bike, and in the short clip is seen chronicling her fitness journey in a series of videos. At the end of the clip, she shares a video saying that she didn\’t realize how much this bike would change her.

Both Peloton and the male actor portraying the husband have received a beating by the media over this. It is being labeled \”a symbol of patriarchy\” and an exhibition of sexism.

Most people who know me know I am the first to have my feathers ruffled when blatant or old fashioned sexism is on display. I can easily swing into soliloquy mode when I think people are misunderstanding true gender equality. I am not a feminist kook by any means, but I believe passionately in true equality and respect for both men and women.

So, when I heard the fuss about this ad I went to pull it up on YouTube (I don\’t have cable so I am thankfully oblivious to much television advertisement), and I was left a little confused.

Man gives gift (a very expensive gift at that). His wife is not overweight at all, but she looks very pleased. She commits to working out, and at the end of the ad appears pleased to have taken this fitness journey.

Perhaps people object to her use of the word \”change\” at the end of the ad, indicating that maybe he believed she needed to change. But nothing about the ad hinted at that. Any journey will change you, or should change you, whether that journey is physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. Anything worth the effort will change you at least a little. That isn\’t a bad thing.

Back in 2016 the most wanted item on my Christmas wish list was the Fitbit Aria scale. It wirelessly connects to the Fitbit app so you no longer have to enter weight manually, and it somewhat inaccurately measures body fat percentage. I very much wanted this as I had recently lost quite a bit of weight and was taking my fitness journey very seriously.

My husband got me the scale, and I was thrilled. I know some people scoffed that a man would give his wife a scale. But it was expensive and I wanted it. My husband knows me. He knows when I set a goal I want all the tools to achieve it. He got me exactly what I wanted – and I still use it!

My fitness journey has \”changed\” me in several ways and probably in all of those ways my husband is pleased. It has made me healthier. It has made my figure better. It has made me mentally tougher. It has boosted my confidence. What part of this should my husband dislike?

The man in this commercial gave his wife an awesome gift that she appears to have loved and achieved goals that she seemed really proud of at the end. As a woman, as a feminist, as a concerned citizen, I just cannot see what the fuss is all about.

Love yourself. People say this all of the time. \”You gotta love yourself\” or \”make a point to love yourself.\”

To be honest, I have always struggled with this concept. These comments are usually made in some context where it comes across as almost defeatist. Like, \”this is who I am and that\’s just too bad.\” It seems like it is said most by people who want to give into their weaknesses and vices, stop making progress, stop trying to embrace positive change.

Everyone who knows me knows I have high expectations for myself. Whatever I am or decide to be I want to be a good one, the best, or close to the best. I perpetually put myself outside of my comfort zone to break my own barriers. I hold myself accountable not only to my poor choices, but also to the times when I do not give my best effort. I don\’t make excuses about \”I tried my best\” when I know I really didn\’t. I take care of myself, with physical and mental and emotional care. I celebrate my successes. I take my required alone time. But I also believe caring for myself means challenging myself, expanding my mind and stressing my body in a way that helps it stay healthy and improve.

I have never to this point in my life said \”I love myself\” or that anyone else should love themselves. I am more inclined to say that as a society we need to get it together and try harder.

But then I think about how I love other people. It\’s not an excusing, always super soft way of loving. I can be known to give tough love when required. When someone laments a failed pursuit to me and we both know they didn\’t put in the effort, I will call them out on that. But when they do make the effort, succeed or fail, I am there to celebrate. I will be the first to encourage, and push if I must, for people I love to take better care of themselves. I will remind them of the disservice they do to the people who care about them to be negligent with their well being. And on the other hand, when my help is required to make those positive changes, I will bend over backwards to help them. I forgive and do not hold grudges, but cherish the highlights, happy moments and the accept the quirks and the flaws.

And if this is the same way that you can turn love around onto yourself and \”love yourself\” then I can sort of see it. I read a quote that sort of inspired me to write this that said, \”Whatever you are not changing, you are choosing.\” If you hate your body, your career, your social circle, your attitude, but you don\’t do anything to make progress on that, you are choosing it. And you need to own it.

If you truly love yourself, you should do for yourself what you would truly do for other people you love – cherish, care for, hold accountable, challenge, and celebrate!

I remember when I first discovered Nathan Pyle\’s Strange Planet comic on Instagram earlier this year. The humorous encounters within the short comics are great observations about life. These beings, as Pyle calls them, experience life in a way that when we observe it we see it as funny, ridiculous, silly and sweet. These beings indeed live on a strange planet.

I pre-ordered the book as a gift as soon as it went on sale, and sure enough that same person reciprocated and ordered it for me and we exchanged eagerly last month. Despite following the comics on Instagram and Facebook there is new content in the book that has been a delight to view.

The beings communicate in English – but very formal English. They don\’t state they are getting a sun tan, instead they are getting star damage. They speak in simple, obvious phrases – but not obvious. No one speaks like this, but we say the same things when we are being serious. But stripped down to formal English and simple phrases, the beings appear comical – a reflection in so many ways of how we would look if other beings could see us.

The beings themselves are cute, nondescript and for the most part, nameless. There are larger beings, the adults, and then smaller beings which are the children. There are pets. There is music. There is life and the story-line is hilarious and charming.

I\’m not sure if the word is viral or famous or renowned, but whatever it is, these comics have become it and it is a delight to see. People love them, everyone! It crosses age, gender, background, political bias or personal taste. These comics are hilarious, but they are completely wholesome, and a testament that we do not need to be vulgar to get a laugh.

One of my favorite comics includes where the beings throw a surprise party for their friend. As the being enters into the room, unsuspecting, the other beings jump out and yell, \”we deceived you!\” Who wouldn\’t smile?

In a world of shock value, I smile every time I see one of these comics in my newsfeed, reminding me of all the hilarity and charm of everyday life. This book was worth the wait and is a great collection of these comics. It makes you wonder how Pyle\’s imagination works!

It sounds funny to write about hair, long or short, it is just hair. But people are funny about hair, especially women – but especially men!

I have cried over one bad hair cut. I was eight years old, and my mom had left (I stop short here of saying the word abandoned) my sister and I with my grandmother for a visit. Juvenile memory recalling events (perhaps exaggerated) but as soon as my mother was on the road my grandma took me for a hair cut, and possibly the worst bowl shaped hair cut of my childhood which was riddled with bad hair cuts. That is how bad it was. There are pictures.

But since then, no matter the cut, I have never cried about it. It is hair, it grows back. I am lucky to not be bald or have a hideously misshapen hairline. I haven\’t always loved my hair cuts but I have never given them such thought to be upset by them when they are bad.

However, generally I love my hair. I wear my hair very short. I cut it all off to a short bob when I was 30, and then at 33 went even short and there it sits today. One might call it a long, asymmetrical pixie. It is very short in the back (a 4.5 gauge on the clippers), with a bit fuller on the top and longer side bangs. I love it, it\’s sleek and unusual. As short and dark as it is, I rarely encounter scenarios where a woman in the room has similar hair to mine.

But I read an article the other day about a woman describing her relationship with her hair over the years. She describes herself as a plus sized woman who, even without realizing it, would hide behind her hair. Her hair was long and feminine and was in a way a consolation to her – so she says – for her figure. But she finally took the plunge and cut her hair. In her article she describes how this made her question her femininity and also she describes the difference it made in how others seemed to view her.

And reading it really in a way made me hate how narrow minded people are about feminine expectations.

I do not feel unfeminine with my short hair. On hair cut day and a few days after, if you run your hand up the back of my head it doesn\’t feel much different than my husbands – except that my hair is super thick and plush! My hair is fully cut around my ears, so there is no hiding behind it.

When someone looks at me, for better or for worse, they get my face. Which, as far as faces go I hope mine is feminine. I hardly wear any make up – I wear black eyeliner and mascara and that is basically it except when I add a little lip color. Between short hair and make up, I can be in the shower, out, and ready to go in 17 minutes.

I am not a skinny girl by any means, though I am fit and have a nearly textbook hourglass figure which perhaps \”saves\” me in the eyes of some that I can go out with this \”brave\” haircut. My haircut is not brave. Firemen are brave. My haircut is perfectly safe. Never once has it put me at risk.

Sure, some people don\’t like it. That is fine. Some people didn\’t like my bob and some people didn\’t like my long hair either (namely me!). If I started living my life to make the greatest number of people happy with my choices, I\’d have to crawl back into the womb and be reborn as someone else.

Women worry so much about what men think, and what other women think, and it is sad to me that our viewpoint on what constitutes femininity is so narrow that hair length is considered. I think back to 20 years ago when I worked in Canada with this girl who shaved her head in support of someone with cancer. Totally bald that girl was adorable and cute and feminine. Turns out, our female charms don\’t just hang out in our hair.

When I first cut my hair short a few years ago a coworker said to me, \”I love it but my husband would kill me if I did that.\” All my hackles engaged by that I replied, \”Really? My husband loves me for more than my hair.\” I couldn\’t be married to someone who was insistent upon my hair being long. I need a more enlightened life partner than that.

I\’ve also had men say to me, \”don\’t worry, it\’ll grow back.\” If they only knew how much money I spent each year keeping it this short on purpose.

If hair is a security blanket for women, so we can hide behind it, then I don\’t want it. I want my face to be seen, this is me and I am liberated by that. My imperfections make me who I am. And without going into too much detail because I don\’t think it\’s super productive to dwell on what we hate about ourselves, but my least favorite feature is in the center of my face. And even still I do not distract from it with long hair.

To the girl in the article I mentioned above, I give kudos for stepping out of her comfort zone, for I think that is where we always find the best of ourselves. I think so much about our beauty or attractiveness comes from confidence and once we learn to be confident we can rock any hair style we want. And people then don\’t see the length of our hair, they see us.

We are approaching the time of year when people begin making resolutions. I love resolutions! I am goal driven. I love a good list of things to achieve and then start checking them off. Big and small (this is partly why I started using DayZeroProject several years ago!). I make New Year\’s Resolutions but I also don\’t wait around until Monday or New Year\’s Day to make changes. I make them as soon as I realize what I need to do.

People will say \”2020 is going to be my best year\” and they list off their goals to save money, get fit, pay off debt, get promoted, go back to school – any number of great things that will benefit their lives.

And then the first few weeks of January are a flurry of activity. Getting a machine at the gym is a nightmare in January. By usually by February this has died off almost completely.

People want to be motivated. But motivation doesn\’t work like that. Motivation is not something most people just wake up everyday and have. If I spent my life waiting for motivation to strike, I\’d never get out of bed.

This quote is so true. To build motivation, you must take action. I think about getting my master\’s degree. I really wanted it. But some days all I wanted more was to quit. It is frustrating being a grown woman trying to have a career and social life and marriage and go to school. But I took action, which did to some degree build motivation. And further, that developed something even more important: discipline.

Discipline is what gets me to workout on the days I really don\’t feel like it. It is what keeps my house clean when I don\’t feel like cleaning. It is what helps me excel in my job when I am having a bad day.

When you think about people who excel in most things and compare them to people who are average or struggling, usually the difference is not that they have some super human talent or ability. It usually boils down to discipline. Being able to apply oneself to a task when the emotions within don\’t match up.

This can be hard to do. But as my favorite line form A League of Their Own states, \”It\’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn\’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great!\” This is one of my favorite quotes ever. Being able to develop discipline sets people apart. It takes someone from achieving to being great!

I think discipline is something anyone can develop, but it requires commitment. First, a commitment to take action. And to continue to take action when the motivation isn\’t there yet. That builds motivation. Actions inspires more action. Seeing the results of this progression over time helps build discipline.

Whatever your goals  and resolutions, whether they come on New Year\’s Day or next Wednesday afternoon, you are so much more likely to achieve them once you build that discipline.

I get asked that a lot, \”where do you find your motivation?\” But I don\’t wait for it. It\’s awesome when I wake up motivated. But when I don\’t, I take action anyway. I have literally never regretted making progress on something even though I wasn\’t \”in the mood.\” I am always happy that I took action.

It is Black Friday, no longer the beginning of the wild craze of the shopping season because the sales started weeks ago, but rather the pinnacle or culmination of all American holiday season commercialization. We are fat off turkey, feeling generous and opening our wallets both in stores and online.

There is no doubt that Christmas has been commercialized – as have all holidays – and the insanity of it can be exciting or overwhelming depending on your outlook. I think it is an unfair burden we place on ourselves when we buy gifts at the expense of increasing our debt burden, in the end that isn\’t very helpful to anyone. And while I celebrate the spiritual significance of this season, I don\’t really object to the shopping sprees either, so long as they are financially sound.

I love giving gifts. Giving is not the language of love I most like to be spoken to me, but it is my favorite way to speak love. I love to give, and I love to find surprising and creative ways to show thoughtfulness.

I found a great quote by Maya Angelou that says, \”I have found that among its other benefits, giving liberates the soul of the giver.\” I love this. I find tremendous joy in giving gifts for any occasion, or no occasion. I love to surprise people!

Gift giving at Christmas is symbolic in several ways. It mimics the wise men giving gifts to the infant Jesus after they found Him. It also depicts the love God has for us by giving us His Son. Giving is a demonstration of love and a joyful practice!

On the other hand, shopping is an addiction. We go overboard. Would I love to get my husband everything he has ever desired? Yes. But I don\’t suppose he\’d appreciate it much if I depleted our savings or drove us into debt to do so.

I am rarely an emotional eater, but since I got my first job at 14, I have found that I am an emotional shopper. If I am sad, stressed, delighted, feeling celebratory, lonely or just content, I can easily be persuaded into buying for others or for myself.

When way back in the old days my husband – who was my boyfriend at the time – broke up with me, I went on a spending spree. I bought tons of CDs and new clothes.

During times of celebration, such as finishing my degrees, getting promotions and so on I have gladly treated myself. And just recently, seeing significant fitness progress, I made a large and expensive upgrade to some of my home gym equipment.

I think of myself as a fairly disciplined person but it\’s easy to see how one can fall down the slippery slope into a shopping addiction!

So as we work out way through the holiday shopping season I will attempt to do so with moderation. My Christmas shopping has been done for a couple weeks, and so I will attempt to be content to wait for Christmas to give and share, and try to avoid every well placed ad that calls my name!

I love the holidays. From about mid November until New Year\’s Eve I am as festive as it gets. I have decorations up, music playing, my Christmas t-shirts are washed and my Christmas headgear is ready to go. I am done my Christmas shopping every year before Thanksgiving, I am just so excited to pounce into the Christmas season!

However, for many people, the season is less than festive. It is a reminder of grief and loss of loved ones who are no longer around to share. Several people come to my mind that I know really struggle through the Christmas season.

In years past I felt ill equipped to offer any opinion on this because I had no relevant experience. Who was I to weigh in on such a sensitive topic with no background experience?

However, as many of my readers know, about this time three years ago, my father\’s already poor health began to rapidly decline. The last time I saw him stand up was Thanksgiving of 2016, and he passed away the day after Christmas.

Many of my coworkers and acquaintances made delicate comments to me like, \”I worry how you\’ll handle the holidays. You love Christmastime, and now not only have you lost your dad, but at Christmas. It\’s so sad!\”

As I sit here, I think of my dad and smile. My dad loved Christmas. Even that last Christmas, it was he who insisted that the tree be put up, the decorations be displayed. My dad loved Christmas music. My dad loved the Christmas movies. My dad loved a hilarious white elephant gift exchange. And yes that 2016 Christmas was incredibly sad and difficult to get through. But my dad did not raise me to shrink from the joys and delights of life.

In some ways, I always feel like I learned how to grieve watching my dad. I never met his father, and barely knew his mother. But he talked often about his parents. He talked about them warmly, with humor. He told funny stories about who they really were, not idealized images of \”perfect\” parents, but warm stories of their quirks, their personalities, and their love for him. He would laugh and smile and then sometimes he would sigh and say, \”I miss them everyday.\”

But my dad lived his life. He loved his family as it remained, he enjoyed the holidays and yearly celebrations. My dad loved gift giving, he was a fantastic and generous gift giver. He loved to try to convince his adult children that Santa was actually real. He loved to surprise my mom with a fantastic piece of jewelry at Christmastime. Maybe he missed his parents everyday, but he didn\’t let a moment pass where he didn\’t love those still living and in his circle.

Will I miss my dad over the holidays? Very much so, yes. But I miss him everyday. I don\’t miss him any more on Father\’s Day than I do on a random Tuesday. And I will miss him on Christmas Eve when we are opening our gifts and listening to music. But I miss him when I cannot share a successful moment at work with him. When I can\’t tell him I beat a new level in a video game we both played. When I cannot tell him the lamest and funniest dad joke I ever heard.

But my dad would be proud of us all that we share the joy of Thanksgiving and Christmas even though he is gone, that we extend the warmth to our friends and acquaintances. He would be proud that we shine the light, spread the cheer, and live for every joy. My dad would want our reflections to be on our blessings and on our Savior and on our love for one another.

Perhaps in his honor I\’ll play some extra Christmas songs, drink an extra glass of eggnog, or surprise someone with an unexpected gift. How can I best honor his legacy other than keeping the warmth he taught us go on for the holidays without him?