Don't Quit

by Kyle Wilson

  Peering at present-laden adults, the little girl inquired who they were and who they were looking for. They worked for Santa they said…and they knew her name! YES! Santa is real! He didn’t come, but he sent others. There were presents galore! Board games, robes for the girls, records, candy, perfume, and more candy! It was the best Christmas ever! “See Mom,” said the youngest, “If you believe, it will happen! I told everyone to believe.” Their mantra that day became―believe and what you need or want will come to you.

  Mom began to believe too! Raising three girls alone proved difficult. Navigating public housing, food stamps, and public health care were difficult trials. The youngest daughter always wanted and expected more. She hated the green lunch card that meant she received free/reduced-cost lunches. Sometimes, Mom saved money so the little girl could buy chocolate milk like other kids. Mom knew how mean kids could be. The little girl wanted to celebrate her elementary school’s 50th birthday with a celebratory pin. Mom couldn’t afford it, but one day a quarter appeared on Mom’s desk at work with instructions to buy that pin so the little girl would feel proud. She was a Girl Scout, earning “all-around best scout” honors, selling the most cookies, and raising funds for her troop. This was even though her family still had troubles paying monthly bills. Someone donated money for the uniform, sash, and the badges she earned each month. Someone, somewhere, quietly gave so that this little girl could experience life. Each month, a school book club order form arrived. She took home the flier, circling every book she wanted to read. Most of the time, Mom redirected her to the library. Yet, often, there was someone…someone that gave just enough for the little girl to order her books. Sometimes she even got a free poster!

  This little girl convinced the local newspaper that she could deliver newspapers at age 10, even though their minimum age was 14. She had her own checking account and learned about budgets early because someone trusted her. She conducted fundraisers at age 11 for those less fortunate. She proved responsible and reliable. And even though receiving help, she still helped others. She saved money to “fit in,” buying OP shirts, Nike shoes, and lunch from local vendors. Goodbye, green lunch card. Although poor, she lived without shame, well, not much anyway.

  As the little girl grew, she played softball well enough to make a traveling team but had no money to travel. Somehow, a parent always offered a ride, a room to share, and food from their coolers to feed the girl. Somehow, someone always helped Mom: by buying a ball glove, paying for a uniform, or providing snacks and transportation. At age 14, the not-so-little girl defiantly said, “I will not live my life poor!” Mom wasn’t angry, as welfare kept her kids alive. Mom was proud to see her youngest seek a different path. In high school, she needed a car for work, and a car materialized. She wanted to join the spirit squad. There was no money. But someone gave.

  She had a uniform, right down to the right shoes. She was a worker and didn’t especially like being a charity case. Her work allowed her to speak to service organizations, to youth clubs, and to boards of directors. She gained skills of persuasive speaking and influencing others.

  Scholarships and grants were given so that the girl could attend college. She did. Mentors and older family members showed her how life could be lived when one does have money. She graduated. She decided to get a master’s degree. She works today…and she gives. Today, this girl’s name is on a wall of benefactors to a community foundation, and on a wall to keep a park alive in her mother’s name, leaving a legacy. She established a memorial foundation in her mother’s memory. She works with other women giving money, time, and talent to help children. She helps kids believe.

  She asks family members to ring the bell with the red kettle each Christmas season. She gives. She gives because others gave. Someone always believed in her when it mattered.

  It’s hard to imagine how life would have progressed for that little girl if “Santa’s helpers” didn’t show up that Christmas morning. Would she have lost her faith, turned cold and angry? What if no one gave money for her to partake in a school’s party? Would she have become a loner and a hater? What if she wasn’t allowed to compete in softball? Would she never have known the hurt of losing, the humility of winning, the pride of earning a trophy, the emptiness of coming in second, even though everyone played their best? What if she never had the joy of having her very own books?

  Would she have explored with the characters, realizing there was more in life than what she could see? What if no college scholarships existed? What if no one had believed in her, just as she believed in Santa all those years ago? What if she and her mother didn’t have that pact, “If you believe, it can happen?” What if?

  We never really know the significance of our donated dollars, until perhaps many years later. The dollars and items donated throughout this young girl’s life made a difference. They gave her something she needed to succeed. Hope. They gave her chances. They gave her opportunity. Sometimes the money that was donated took away the shame of being poor. Sometimes it gave her confidence, courage, and faith.

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  It gave me life. I am proud to be the daughter of Rose Atkins: fighter, survivor, caregiver, supporter, mom, and believer. She gave me everything I needed and a lot of what I wanted. Sometimes I wonder how she found those donors, those agencies, those helpers. That, I’ll never know. But I do know…others gave, and they affected my life significantly. Because others gave, I give today.

  And I still believe in Santa Claus.

  Rose Atkins

  9.12.29 – 7.1.11

  My Mom…My Hero.

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  TWEETABLE

  Believe and what you need or want will come to you.

  Believe. Always believe!

  We never really know the significance of our donated dollars. Often, the impact is far greater than we could ever imagine. A small gift at the right moment changes the trajectory of whole lives. #ChangeALife

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  Storyteller, teacher, trainer, author, advocate, friend, sister, aunt, wife, and daughter all describe Tami Damian, president of Leadership Education And Development Group. Tami’s passion is helping others find their passion and purpose. She has a way of seeing strengths in others and then challenging them to utilize and further develop their strengths. She also speaks for those who have not yet found or perhaps have lost their voice. She is a known difference- maker in her community, volunteering for the United Way and several local nonprofits. Tami is a Ziglar Legacy Certified Trainers with Ziglar Inc. She is also the author of the Life Lessons Learned series. “Life gives us the lessons,” Tami says. “It’s up to us to learn them.”

  tdamian@LEADGroup.net , www.LEADGroup.net , 402-560-8264

  CHAPTER 22

  The Man Who Owned 100 Homes but Had No Bed to Sleep In

  by Eric Luneborg

  I f I didn’t calculate all the grievances against me and carry my badge of victimhood, I had no identity. As long as I was able to hide behind a computer screen, none of my clients, associates, or tenants would know how dirty and ashamed I felt. As the world turned, I sat still. My feelings were safe, my ego was safe, and my fear of failure and success was shielded by my apathy towards the outside world. My isolation was my best protection, and I soon found myself clinging to the pain of homelessness.

  From the very beginning, I believed money grew on trees. I had been financially self-sufficient my entire life. At eight years old, I was making about $650 during the Christmas holiday. My pitch was perfect, and I sold out every year. “Mistletoe! Mistletoe for sale! Take as much as you need. Make me an offer, and I guarantee your kisses will come true!” The old ladies and high school girls ate it up. I was born for this! As a child, I had a tremendous high level of hope and aspiration. I believed the world was my sandbox, and it was created just for me.

  But, betrayal entered my life at the age of 10. My mother walked out of our house, leaving four children and her absentee, workaholic husband, and never returned
home. My two brothers are deaf and have other needs, and my younger sister was four years old. My father never taught himself sign language. Overnight, I became a full-time interpreter and homemaker. This was the birth of my codependency. With a heavy sense of responsibility, I self-elected myself and began a self-righteous mission to keep the peace in a volatile home and to serve my family.

  The summer I was 17, I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. I was caught in possession of a controlled substance. I was arrested and held as an adult in the Lew Sterrett Dallas county jail. I entered my senior year of high school with $40,000 in attorney fees and restitution debt. The next four humiliating years under the thumb of probation officers put me on a path of mania and desperation. But, I knew this was not my destiny. I was determined to find out what would happen if I didn’t give up. I had to make some big decisions.

  The financial weight of my debt led me to quit college. I spent the next two years working alongside my friend and owner of the Kharma Cafe, James Blundred. It was the best place in North Texas for live music, coffee, and girls. We were able to attract shows like the Grammy award-winning bands Brave Combo, Tripping Daisy, and Edie Brickell & New Bohemians and even blues master BB King. But, as our business floundered, so did many friendships that were purely based on what I was able to provide.

  But, I was still young and naïve. By the time I was 23 years old in 1994, I had ratcheted up over $80,000 in debt with $16,000 of annual income. My debt was like a mole on my body that no one could see. I was unaware it was a result of my codependency, acute depression, and anxiety. The weight of my debt and the agony of trying to fill the hole in my heart began to define me. I was prideful and ambitious. I was marvelous at showing off as a front to cover for my lack of financial discipline. Fake it till you make it would continue to define everything from how I managed my business ventures to how I parented my children. My principles waivered based on how I perceived other people’s expectations of me. At great cost, I wanted to be accepted.

  By the late 90s, I was committed to building my real estate businesses. By the age of 34, I had accumulated five real estate partnerships, owned a construction company, and managed over $25 million in real estate assets. My entire self-worth and identity was wrapped up in my ability to provide. I had mastered the art of buying and selling real estate. But something else had mastery over me. My identity was grounded in the perceived power and knowledge. My ego grew to a point at which I thought failure was inconceivable (even though I was still deeply in debt). But my need for acceptance and a desire to feed my insecurities kept growing.

  Then, I got the call. “Eric, it’s your dad! You have to come now!” The night before, my dad had said he had something very important to tell me. After I hung up, I rushed over to his house, but an hour before I arrived, he had passed away. There was no reason to expect he would die. When I walked into his home, everything I knew that had definition and meaning in my life evaporated. My marriage was already on its last thread of hope. Owning and managing a nightclub and my other businesses while juggling hundreds of thousands of dollars in personal bad debt proved to be a path that would soon hit a dead end.

  I felt like my father had abandoned me. What was he was going to tell me? Hurt and angry, my attitude towards my wife and my life’s work as an entrepreneur was clogged up with deception, debt, pain, and neglect. I became the person I fought so desperately to avoid. My satirical humor became a beacon of self-hate. I was not trustworthy, and my behavior wasn’t welcome home anymore. With one sweep, my wife kicked me out of the house, cut all my credit cards up, emptied all the bank accounts, and filed for divorce. I was physically stuck, broke, and depressed. My depression led me to homelessness. I owned and managed hundreds of homes but was not healthy enough to provide and care for myself. After living out of my car, I found shelter in a dirty one-bedroom duplex in a shady part of town. With only the clothes I could carry and my computer, I managed to barely keep my business alive through the 2008 collapse. I gave myself permission to be broke because everyone else was suffering too. But, no one knew I was grieving, homeless, and overwhelmed with loss.

  I had given away too much of myself in exchange for other people’s acceptance. I was willing to do anything to be liked, accepted, and respected to the point of bearing losses on real estate deals to save partnerships. Motivated by the fear of exposure, I covered up real estate losses by eating them myself. I finally came to see the perceived failure I carried dates back to how I coped with my mother leaving. I was determined to keep the peace and success alive at all cost. I came to realize I had believed if I gave enough of myself, at any expense, my ROI would be two-fold.

  Eventually, I knew I had been betraying myself. The biggest secret a depressed codependent believes is they’re a failure, not worthy, and responsible for the resolution of any grievances. As a child, I took on that burden. My self-deception was so strong, I worked overtime to find contentment in my personal relationships. It was an addiction to satisfy my ego. My head was filled with falsehood, and I did not know how to honor my own feelings and principles first. I would give to the point of being starved. I had convinced myself the only value I had was the value someone else gave me. If my investment in others was not returned, I usually doubled down and tried harder. Eventually, anger and depression set in. Then the shame of my hollow attempts would lead me into isolation, and self-pity became my best friend.

  The rough and unforgiving business of real estate development and construction had run its course, and I was mentally fatigued. During my divorce, I did not know who I was anymore. I had nowhere to live, and I was ashamed to have my children see me. I did not trust my own decisions and didn’t think I would ever be accepted again.

  Pain and many misunderstandings had kept me from speaking to my mother for many years. One evening, I was hungry and trying to squeeze out a little money to live on, but I was so weak. Since she abandoned her family 20 years ago, I wasn’t sure if she would accept my call. I had no one left to turn to. When she answered the phone, 20 years of heartache opened up like a fire hydrant. I could not stop sobbing. She invited me into her house and demanded I stay. In that moment, she accepted me when I could not accept myself. It was the only grain of hope I had.

  I was 37 years old and living with my mother. I had hundreds of homes but did not have one for myself. I felt betrayed by best friends, my father, ex-wife, and business associates, and I was emotionally bankrupt and in financial despair. That next year, the hits kept coming. With an IRS debt figure higher than I could count, debt collectors, child support, my ex-wife’s attorney bills, and other personal debt, shame and isolation was my only safe place. I had no means to prove my worth anymore. I was stripped from everything I knew to be true.

  A friend suggested I visit a group of men who had been through similar situations. As I began to tell my story to a group of incredibly gracious men and unravel all the lies I had bought into, my life started to lift up above all my circumstances. Each week for the following seven years and counting, I’ve committed myself to being authentic with others and aware of the tricks I can play on myself. I discovered there is no fame at the end of my ego and there is only so much rhetoric I have to offer.

  God was persistent with me. The process of healing and sanctification moved me into a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ. As God revealed more of Himself to me, I saw myself through his eyes. The mental torture of believing the lie of “I am only worthy of love and respect if I have something to bargain with” disappeared. I had always believed in God, but I never took time to get to know Him. Diving into a personal relationship with Him has provided a freedom that has allowed me to give without any expectations of a ROI. Unlocking this bondage has filled my heart with His love and has enabled me to give in a way I never thought possible.

  It took time, but in huge part thanks to my personal growth, I climbed out of my financial hole. And, through persistence, today my business is 10x bigger than ever. The power of reconciliation
with my kids has led us into new entrepreneurial endeavors at the early ages of 18.

  I now mentor and teach other professionals how spiritual warfare can affect our entrepreneurial vision. My success isn’t defined by any financial destination. Instead, I allow God to work through me as I teach my children the difference between taking a job versus creating a job as they watch me plan new multifamily construction projects, invest in existing cash flowing properties, and create new partnerships, Although, it’s a life long road trip, I know I have mastered the art of financial discipline. The peace I have is priceless. I know I am loved no matter how much money I have to bargain with.

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  TWEETABLE

  We are, at our core, worthy regardless of what we have and what we produce. Accept your worth and unlock the power to give without expectation of an ROI. This is how you nurture your spirit, create booming businesses, and master the art of financial discipline.

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  Eric Luneborg is an entrepreneur, investor, and real estate broker. Through his network, he creates new opportunities in building real estate income portfolios and mentoring young professionals. A native Texan, but also an expert in real estate of Costa Rica and Belize, Eric’s partnerships and counsel has helped investors balance their work life. Learn more at www.calreigroup.com caluneborg@gmail.com

  CHAPTER 23

  One Rock at a Time

  by Greg Zlevor

  D uring my early professional years, I taught science at a high school in Wisconsin, coached football, coordinated youth groups, went to graduate school on the East Coast, and worked on staff at Boston College.

  Eventually, as I built experience and confidence, it became clear that I needed to start my own company. I wanted to take my education, training, and experience and use it to create customized experiences for high potential leaders. In a practical way, I wanted to design encounters that help people accelerate their insight and development.