by Amy Newmark
But joy alone is not enough. My ultimate goal was forgiveness. I played that India Arie song, “Heart of the Matter,” again and again until I stopped crying when she sang, “It’s about forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.” I understood that my ex did not love me anymore. I also understood that it was okay, and I had to forgive him. And myself.
I was not exactly sure how to make that happen, so I practiced simple gratitude. I was grateful that my fancy law job had given me a severance package, and my mother’s untimely death had given me a modest inheritance. It was not lost on me that I enjoyed a life of health and privilege. I made sure that pro bono legal work and donating to charity were part of my rebuild. Every night, I also made sure to hug myself in my beautiful canopy bed, in my peaceful little house, and give thanks for all that I had.
I also made myself think nice things about my ex. I did not do this willingly. I did it in part because it seemed that whenever I let myself think really dark, vengeful thoughts, something bad would happen. I’d drop a plate. I’d stub a toe. I would remember my mother’s notebooks and understand that my heart wanted to be light, not dark. “Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself.” I’d read that line and felt its truth.
I made a list. We had both supported each other’s post-grad education and career over the years. He had never cheated, and I saw how deeply that particular betrayal cut into women’s souls.
I forced myself to say nice things about him, especially to the kids. Sometimes, I had to spit out the words, but I made myself do it. “Well, Dad is good at that.” “I got that idea from Dad.”
Eventually, the gratitude became easier. I’d see the pleasure (and surprise) on the children’s faces when I said good things about their father, especially when I actually meant them. The day I told my daughter that I would be happy, truly happy, when my ex remarried, I realized I meant it. So did she. She gave me a big hug.
Now when I drop off the kids, I am happy to see the signs of blossoming in their life with him. Most of all, I am happy to drive back to the rich life that I built, piece by piece, joy by joy.
The work of happiness paid off.
— Joyce Lombardi —
Happiness Is an Inside Job
Life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.
~John C. Maxwell
At my first Lions Club meeting I found myself sitting next to the happiest person I have ever known. In his late eighties, Lion Ken was a soft-spoken man with a weathered face and an impish smile. Over the next few years, I would learn about his sixty-six years of perfect meeting attendance and service.
As Ken entered his nineties, it became increasingly difficult for him to drive, so I volunteered to pick him up so he could continue to attend his beloved Lions meetings and service events. I soon cherished our weekly drives together as Ken began to share nuggets of his life with me. Over the next seven years, he thoughtfully unfolded his life story, layer by often-painful layer.
Growing up as an only child, Ken’s family had little money, yet he was determined to attend college. By joining the Army ROTC, he could realize his dream to become a dentist. The year was 1942. As America found itself in World War II, Ken found himself crouched down in a landing craft crashing through the waves toward Omaha Beach. An incoming shell burst into his craft and he was wounded. He managed to scramble to safety on the beach. He would receive a Purple Heart. Shortly after, he volunteered to lead a night mission to break a Nazi stronghold. He would be awarded the Bronze Star for bravery.
Ken was among the first American troops to liberate Paris. He was appointed the Commandant for Paris and was responsible for the anti-aircraft positions protecting the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame Cathedral and numerous historic bridges. Decades later, he was knighted by the President of France in recognition of his efforts to preserve those historical French treasures.
Ken also fought through the horrific Battle of the Bulge. Full of hope and anticipating the end of World War II, Ken advanced into Germany, only to come face-to-face with the atrocities of the concentration camps.
Sharing these painful stories, Ken always found a way to end each car-ride vignette by sharing a positive human story of hope, whether it was about a soldier or a war-torn family that was helped. Ken would challenge me to maintain my perspective and focus. When I would say, “I have to go to work,” Ken reminded me to re-frame my mind to say instead, “I get to go to work.” It is a seemingly small change that reminds me I have the incredible power of choice and gratitude in my life, including the choice to live a life full of happiness.
Over the years, I made my pilgrimage on Saturday mornings to Ken’s nursing home for coffee, donuts and conversation. One Saturday after grabbing my donut and coffee, I went to the regular table where Ken and I would visit. Ken was not there. As I stood scanning the room of seniors, a nurse approached me and shared the news. “Ken’s just suffered a terrible stroke and has been rushed to the hospital.” My heart sank. I will never forget walking down the long hallway of the rehabilitation facility at the University of Minnesota Medical Center. I would glance into each room to see those going through rehab as a result of stroke or brain injury. It struck me how young most of these patients were. Many were just kids.
As I approached Ken’s room at the end of the hallway, I wondered, “How does this affect a ninety-five-year-old?” I expected the worst. As I entered the room, I saw a frail Ken sitting in a wheelchair. He glanced up slowly and recognized me. Quickly, he flashed his distinctive impish smile, but this time it was only half of his usual happy smile. The other half was unresponsive due to the stroke. After greeting and hugging each other, Ken proclaimed with glee, “Look, this side works!” He waved his good arm and leg.
I have often thought of that moment and wondered, Would I have reacted in such a positive way? That day, I learned a valuable lesson from Ken: Do not waste time worrying about what you do not have. Instead, use your energy to celebrate those things that you do have. Happiness is not conditional. Stop waiting for other things to make you happy. Choose to find your happiness in the present. Ken taught me that true happiness is an “inside job” and only realized when we can be happy alone within ourselves.
Ken fully recovered from his stroke, and I was able to enjoy more time with him until he passed at ninety-seven. Lion Ken taught me much about happiness. He would tell me, “Few things in life are fatal. It is certain that life will throw lemons at us, but it is up to us what we choose to do with them.” I am so blessed to have been a part of his life and to hear his personal stories. Ken had become my best friend, and by the way, he was also my dad!
— Tom Guetzke —
Right Turn Only
To bring anything into your life, imagine that it’s already there.
~Richard Bach
I was engaged in my daily job search, and the ad just seemed to pop out at me. The job was within walking distance of my home, and it was the last day to apply. I wondered how I’d missed it before.
“I want that job,” I whispered to myself, and then, trying to muster up some confidence, “That job has my name on it.”
Anyone who has been out of work for a lengthy period of time knows how badly job loss can affect one’s self-esteem. One moment, I was an asset to the company; the next moment, thanks to internal restructuring, I was deemed surplus. It was quite a shock. I began to question my abilities and myself.
But now, for this perfect job, I pulled up my résumé and composed what I hoped was the perfect application. As I pushed Send, I closed my eyes and told myself with every ounce of certainty I had, “I’ve got this job.”
I started thinking about the job as if it were already mine. I pictured myself walking to and from the office building that was just one right turn away. It was a happy feeling. Being so close to home, the weather wasn’t a concern, so I imagined variations of the same scene during different seasons.
A couple of days later,
I received an e-mail inviting me to an interview. I was absolutely delighted! I selected what I would wear and began to envision how the interview would go. As I ran everything through my mind, I could feel my confidence build.
“I know this is my job.” I spoke the words to my reflection in the mirror the day of my interview. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit nervous, but I knew that I was going to put my best foot forward and make a great impression.
It was a gorgeous summer day, and the sunshine seemed to energize me. I entered the office building and took the elevator to reception. I could clearly see myself doing this every day.
I was led into a conference room where the human resources and department managers greeted me. They had my résumé in front of them and took notes as I answered their questions.
“And when would you be able to start?” asked the department manager.
“I can start immediately,” I replied, hoping they could hear my interest. A look passed between them, and I crossed my fingers. Pick me!
What I had seen of the office appealed to me, and I could already picture myself sitting at my desk. A sense of belonging filled me. When the interview was finished, I realized the time had passed quickly.
“We’ll be in touch,” said the HR manager as she escorted me back to the reception area.
“Thank you.” I smiled before entering the elevator. The heavy doors slid to a close. Now it was time to play the waiting game.
I filled my mind with thoughts of success. It wasn’t always easy to squelch the doubt that tried to creep in, but I did my best. I found the easiest thing to do was to continue to imagine already working at the company.
The next day, I discovered the company’s human-resources department was in the process of checking my references, and I knew the wheels were in motion. By the end of the week, the desired call arrived, and my dream became reality. I accepted the job, and my heart leapt with joy.
The moment the alarm rang that first morning, I realized how wonderful it was to have time on my side. I didn’t have to rush because I didn’t have to worry about traffic. By the time I was ready to leave home, I was relaxed and eager to begin my day. The sun was a brilliant beacon in the sky. As I walked, a familiar feeling rose inside me. I’d taken this walk to work many times in my mind, but now it was real!
— S.K. Naus —
Think Like a Winner
The key is not the will to win… everybody has that.
It is the will to prepare to win that is important.
~Bobby Knight
“I don’t know why I buy raffle tickets. I never win anything!” If it hadn’t been a friend saying this, I would never have gently suggested this might be the reason she never won. At almost every charity event, I overhear someone say those exact words. I have always believed if you think you’re a winner, you will be.
Had that moment with my friend not happened the other night, I would not have thought about the day in late 1979 when our phone rang with amazing news.
That summer I had been thumbing through magazines and, just for fun, filled out three contest entry forms: one for cat food, one for a free trip for two to Hawaii, and one called “Join the Pepsi Generation.”
In September, the cat food company sent me a check for fifty dollars. A week later, a Polaroid camera arrived from the airline that was running the travel contest; I didn’t win the trip to Hawaii, but I did get the camera. And then I received a bike outfit from Pepsi because they had asked for my favorite sport on the entry form.
A few months after I did so well in those three contests, I spotted an interesting class that was being offered at Everywoman’s Village, which was near our home in the San Fernando Valley. The brochure said, “Learn the art and skill of winning contests and sweepstakes.” I drove over to Everywoman’s Village and signed up.
Much of the fun of taking these classes was playing a guessing game with my husband. Whenever I signed up for a new class, he had to guess the subject in twenty questions, and he always nailed it. But with this latest one, I was gleeful when he got to the twentieth question without even getting close.
After describing the class, he scoffed and said, “Yeah, right. You really think there is a skill to this?” Not one to resist a challenge, I got huffy and predicted I would win something in excess of $5,000 by the end of the year. It’s not that I was disgustingly confident, but I had always believed in positive thinking. And if there were some clever tools, then I intended to find out and throw my energy into this new challenge.
The teacher told us about her many “winnings” and suggested we all subscribe to a contest newsletter. Rule #1, she emphasized, was to follow the rules — exactly! If a company required entrants to send their information on a 3”x5” card in a #10 envelope, that’s what one had to do. If they specified block letters, don’t write in lower case. We also learned that the major prize might be a free trip to Hawaii, but the sponsor often gave away a multitude of lesser prizes — thus the Polaroid camera I got from the airline.
We were all surprised to learn that you were never required to purchase a product in order to enter a contest. We also learned the difference between a contest and a sweepstakes. A contest required only name, address, phone number and little else, while a sweepstakes might require a brief essay on why one liked a particular product.
At the end of the four weeks, the teacher reminded us of her motto: the “3 Ps” — Patience, Persistence, and Postage.
I suggested she include Positive Thinking.
I stocked up on #10 envelopes, 3”x5” cards and postage stamps. As the weeks went by and my husband saw me putting stamps on envelopes, he resisted saying anything negative.
Soon, our mail became quite interesting. We received an almost constant stream of stuff: seven Polaroid cameras, assorted T-shirts, flowers, exercise balls, potted plants, costume jewelry, books, wallets.… It was a weird but interesting mixture of “sub prizes.” We gave most of them to our amazed friends.
And then, in late November, it happened — a phone call informing me I had won a fully loaded Ford Escort station wagon! It was so much fun to call my husband at his office. “Hi, honey. Sorry to bother you at work, but do you remember a prediction I made last February when I took that class in contesting?”
There was dead silence on his end until he said hesitantly, “Don’t tell me you won something big.”
“Yep,” I said, milking the moment, and then I told him about our new car — worth more than the $5,000 I had predicted.
So, was it a large national company that awarded me the car? Nope. It was a promotion by a local newspaper. They required only a postcard with my name, address, and phone number. That was it — but I had carefully read the rules. They had specified “One postcard per family” so, of course, I followed that simple rule. When I went to the newspaper to collect my prize, they made a big deal of interviewing and photographing me for an article. I could not resist asking if there were people who did not follow the rules. I admit to feeling a bit smug when they said they had carefully gone through the entries and discarded the ones from people who had sent in more than one per family. Little did those people know that every single one of their postcards had been tossed into the round file.
The other night at a charity event, I won a nice bottle of wine and gave it to my friend, saying: “Here, enjoy! Consider it a reminder of the power of positive thinking!”
— Bobbie Jensen Lippman —
I Woke Up this Morning
A cloudy day is no match for a sunny disposition.
~William Arthur Ward
One of the few benefits of receiving weekly chemotherapy is free valet parking. As I got out of my car awaiting my twenty-fifth treatment, I gave my keys to a man who seemed old enough for Medicare. “Have a good day, my man,” I said.
He grasped my hand and replied, “Son, I’m having a good day. I woke up this morning.”
I thought about this man and his greeting for the next four h
ours, waiting for the last drop of the Abraxane drug to enter my bloodstream. Yes, I woke up this morning, and today is a good day! I woke up this morning next to my beautiful and faithful wife — the one who refused to believe that I was going to die, even though the doctors told us that I had inoperable stage IV pancreatic cancer.
At the time, my prognosis was measured in months — not years. After I learned that I had terminal cancer, I visited many medical centers, doctors and specialists. Quickly, I found that I did not qualify for surgery — the only cure for pancreatic cancer — or any clinical trial. Ironically, I received the best advice from a podiatrist, who told me, “Don’t dwell on your illness. When you do that, you are only hurting the people you love. Stay positive.” He was right, demonstrating that he knew as much about people’s heads and hearts as he did about their feet.
I could tell by the expression on their faces when we talked about my illness. They were feeling the pain more than I was.
“I woke up this morning.” I did, and I’m grateful for my family has always sustained me. My wife laughs at my bad jokes and rubs my feet when my toes are numb from the chemo and radiation. I am surrounded by my grown children who have become wonderful parents to the grandchildren I love and cherish. My son sends me articles about the latest medical research while my daughter makes me “secret salsa” and shares the latest cancer-fighting recipes. My granddaughter lovingly pats my bald head while my grandson tells me, “Pop, you live fearless. Do you still have cancer?”
I woke up this morning and thought about how I’m healthy enough to continue working, with few side effects from my treatment. I teach talented students who have dreams that inspire me. I have friends who support me and cheer me on. One special friend calls me every Sunday night at seven just to check in. Initially, I told him that he didn’t need to call so often. But he insisted, and now I look forward to those conversations every week. I am more than a little superstitious that these calls are bringing me good luck!