Life Lesson #4 - Just TRY. T.R.Y.

In this podcast you will be welcomed back to a fun, growing community of Ordinarily Beautiful women and men.  A community of ordinary, beautiful people who love and support one another; as they listen, learn, grow and share stories about navigating life. 

• Hear excerpts from a retro-historical memoir, Life Lessons of an Ordinary Woman, written by the host, Kim Farnes.  Excerpts that bring memories of growing up in the 80's to life, and help us remember what life back then was all about.
• Hear inspirational quotes about how important it is to try new things in life and how to stay inspired, when things don't go exactly as planned.
• Be encouraged to like, follow and share this podcast so that others can become a part of this community.
• Have opportunities to share your own, personal stories about your life triumphs; through using the fan mail button on this podcast, or emailing the host at: Lifelessons.ordinarywoman@gmail.com

Transcript

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Good morning this morning, my ordinarily beautiful friends. Hope you had a great week and thanks for joining me today. I continue to be inspired by all of you and the amazing things you accomplish every day, and I'm excited to be on this journey with you, and I hope you're enjoying it too. I received a lot of powerful and even some funny stories from you on the things you've done to leave your mark in this world, from running and walking in various fundraising marathons and building habitat for humanity homes, and trying to teach your teenagers how to drive. I have to say I have some fun and amazing followers out there. Several of your stories made me laugh, so thanks for that. We all need more laughter these days, that's for sure. I actually heard a cute joke the other day. It goes, Why do women's brains cost less than men's? Because they're used. Sorry to the guys who might be listening, but I thought it was funny. We're gonna get right into the life lesson today. I hope you like it and it gives you a little inspiration to start your week. So here it goes. Life lesson number four from my memoir, Life Lessons of an Ordinary Woman. It's called Just Try T R Y. The first word I ever learned to spell was try TRY. It was a word spelled and said daily to me as I was potty training. Both my grandmother and my mom would say it to me as I sat stonefaced on the toilet, refusing to give up my belly full of whatever I had eaten that day. I preferred at one and a half years old to do my business as I played with my toys, and trusting that my diapers would do their job. My potty training babyface staring back at them as they repeated, just try T R Y, with growing frustration visible on their faces each time they said and spelled the word. I of course learned to do my business at the appropriate age and time and place, but the word and its spelling stuck with me. It almost had to, as it continued to be spelled out for me when faced with dinner items I didn't enjoy, with sports I didn't want to play, and with chores I didn't want to learn. All new lessons and fears and feats that were successful after some tries were met with the same enthusiastic joyous sentence. I knew you could do it, or good job. I wasn't always certain I could accomplish things as I passed on from one grade to the next in school. I had a very profound lisp, epilepsy, and a gap between my two front teeth, and parents' reputations in the community that preceded my enrollment in school. I was often referred to as David's daughter or poor Kim with that mom that can't talk by the teachers, and so I was often dismissed by adults and overlooked by other kids in school when choosing teams or receiving invites for upcoming birthday parties. Although lonely, I never felt truly alone. My sister was only one grade ahead of me and she chose me for all of her activities and made sure I got turns on the trolley bars and the highly sought after foursquare spots during recess. The other kids liked her a lot and I benefited from her popularity. She would never let me feel like I was less than anyone else, and because she believed in me, others did too. It didn't bother me that it was by default. I took what I could get at the time. If there was something that I didn't think I could do, she used the same technique my mom and grandmother did with me. She would spell try, T-R-Y, to me, and eventually I found that I could successfully navigate whatever it was I was attempting to do. When I turned twelve, I was allowed to start babysitting. My sister had been getting babysitting jobs for a year, and I had stopped by her various babysitting gigs and learned a trick or two from her on how to calm and soothe crying children. I watched her change diapers, and although it made me gag, I thought, well, I think I can do that too. So on my twelfth birthday I made a sign on the typewriter that my mom used to use and hung a few of them up around the neighborhood. When I got my first call I was ecstatic. The parents of two young children asked if I could babysit for a few hours every day after school, between school letting out and them getting home from work. I wasn't offered much money, but I didn't care. I'd been offered a real job. My parents both said I could take the job, and the next day after school I went to their house to meet the kids. What are you doing here? The girl who was taller than me asked me as she opened the door. I knew she wasn't old enough to be the mom, but with as tall as she was, I didn't think she would be the one I would be babysitting. I am here about the babysitting job, came my reply. Oh, just a minute, I heard from somewhere in the house. I'm coming. Just then a woman as old as my mom came to the door. Her hair was a mess. It looked like she had at some point put it into a ponytail, but the hair was fighting with her to stay inside the stretchy band and was making its escape on the top, bottom, and sides. I wondered why she just didn't take it out of the holder and let it do its own thing. Her eyes had deep dark circles under them and they were puffy as if she'd been crying. She was holding a phone up to her ear, and the long stretchy cord that tied it to its base was tucked under her arm, and it fell when she reached out to shake my hand. She introduced herself and said, Come in. She picked the phone up off the floor and hung it back up in the kitchen. I'm sorry about that, she said. You must be Kim. As she said my name, her eyes looked relieved a little and nervous. I was taken aback that she was talking to me like an adult. I shook my head, yes. My eyes surveyed the room. The coffee table is barely visible underneath the toys, bowls of half eaten cereal in them, Coca-Cola bottles and color books. The TV was blaring the latest episode of the Inspector Gadget cartoon. The couch was hidden underneath the piles of laundry. I wasn't sure if the clothes were clean or dirty, but it was a lot of clothes. Sorry about the mess, she said again, when she noticed I was slowly taking in the scene. Oh, it's okay, I said again. It was odd to me that she was talking to me like an adult. I'd never had anyone apologize to me for the way something seemed or looked. It felt odd. Come in, she said, sit. She pushed a pile of clothes over on the couch and motioned for me to sit. I complied. She explained to me that the person they'd been using to babysit had to move. Her dad had gotten a job out of town, and the whole family moved to be closer to his work. She went on to say that she only needed a sitter for three hours a day and couldn't pay much since her husband had lost hours at work and had to work the swing and graveyard shift. I didn't know what any of that meant. I just thought it would I would make a few dollars, wouldn't have to be home after school, which I was I was excited about, and that her husband worked at a graveyard, which I thought sounded really cool. You won't have to do much to help my daughter, she said, as she pointed at the girl that opened the door to me. You got that right, the girl said, as she looked angrily at me. I can take care of myself. Looking at her and visually measuring her height, I knew she was right. It's my son that needs the most help, she went on to say. Come with me, I'll introduce you. I followed her down the hall and turned into a small bedroom to the right. This is my son, she said, as she gestured to a small frail boy in a dark room, sitting in a chair with wheels. He didn't look up. I'd never seen anyone close up in a wheelchair before. I'd been to the county fair a couple of times and seen people being wheeled around in one, but the people I had seen had been old, grey haired people in large wheelchairs. This boy was in the smallest wheelchair I'd ever seen. I didn't know they came in sizes that small. Do you want to say hi to Kim? The boy's mom asked him. He turned himself around in the wheelchair and said hi. When he turned the light coming in from the window between the drapes allowed enough light for me to see his face. He was a cute little boy. He was six years old but seemed small for his age. He had blue eyes and blonde hair. Hi, I said back. As you can see, we need some help with him getting his snack after school than any help he might need with his homework, his mom went on, explaining what my babysitting job would entail. His sister helps sometimes, she continued, but she's busy herself with her schoolwork, and we try to let her go hang out with her friends after school, so she's not always around, she went on. I didn't mean to, but I kept staring at this little blue eyed boy and wondered what his life was like. How did he go to the bathroom? Would I have to help him if he needed to go? Did he have friends, play any kind of games, or did he just come home and sit alone in this dark room all day? I had so many questions running through my head and wondered if I could take on this role of being his babysitter. It all felt surreal. So what do you think? his mum asked. Her eyes spoke volumes as she looked at me. She needed me to say yes. She needed help, and I heard myself say okay before I really felt sure I could do it. Oh, thank you, she said happily. She was walking off talking to me as she walked. She gave me the full tour of the house to show me where everything was, and then ushered me out the door with a quick thank you, be here tomorrow right after school, okay? Okay, I said, as I stood on the doorstep. The door had closed behind me before I could say anything more. I walked home wondering if I had taken on too much. My parents asked me about my new job during dinner and I didn't tell them everything about it. I was afraid they would tell me that I couldn't take the job. I wanted to earn money and I wanted an excuse to not come straight home every day after school. I prayed that I would not do a good job for this family. I packed some of my favorite toys to bring to their house after school for the kid that I was now in charge of to play with. The first day of my babysitting job is a blur. I remember we met. I cried a little when I didn't know what to do. I tried calling my sister to ask for advice, but before cell phones were a thing, you dialed a number and just hoped they happened to be home to answer. She wasn't. So I did my best. I made him a snack and helped with his first grade homework. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with learning the alphabet or numbers or something. The next few weeks the little boy and I started to have a rhythm. His big sister left us pretty much alone, preferring to spend her afternoons in her room or with friends outside in a cul-de-sac. She would come in sporadically to grab a snack or a jacket when it would get cold outside. Their mom always arrived home right on time, and with the passing week she began to grow more confident in me and relaxed a little knowing that I was there. The season was starting to change from fall to winter, and the little boy and I started to talk about Christmas. We both shared a love of the holiday and would watch holiday cartoons together and talk about our Christmas wish lists. On this particular day he asked if I could help him make a card for his mom. I was always kind of a crafty person, so I said sure. I got the colored paper, crayons, and scissors. He stopped smiling as I gathered the items. When I handed him the scissors he flinched. He pulled away from them as if they're on fire. What's wrong? I asked him. I can't use those, he said. I thought maybe it was because of his age, that maybe his mom didn't want him to use pointy scissors. No, he said, as if he was reading my thoughts. I can't use them. He held out his hand with his fingers in their frozen bent shape. I knew that he struggled to use those fingers. That was the reason why I was helping him make snacks and do his other tasks. I looked at him, then I heard it, as loudly in my head as I said it with my mouth, just try T R Y. We navigated that project for the remainder of the afternoon. The Christmas tree had a unique shape and flair. The words Merry Christmas were pretty illegible. The edges of the card were shredded instead of cut neatly. The Christmas card was far from perfect, but it was uniquely his and his mom loved it. I continued to babysit for this family for that entire school year. The family ended up moving away to another state so the mom could help take care of her sister who had become very ill. But the time I spent with them and the memories I have of that little boy, his sister, and their mom remain forever in my heart. Whenever I would think that something was too hard for me to do, I would picture the little blue-eyed, blonde-haired kid who bravely reached for those scissors and grasped them to the best of his ability to make his mom her card. I would could hear my mom, my grandma, and my sister spell try, just T R Y, and I know that I can do whatever I set my mind to. I just have to try. In doing research for this episode, I actually shed a few tears. I pictured my mom and grandma both sitting there with me through many of my struggles, urging me on to give things a try or to try again. Since my mom couldn't talk due to her stroke, this was one of the few sentences she could say. I could still hear her loud and clear say, just a try, T R Y. She always added uh to everything. Just a try. Although they've both been gone now for several years, we all still say it to each other when we're trying to do something new. I'm sure I can still hear them whisper, good job to me when I try and accomplish new things. Trying new things is essential for growth. It means to make an effort, attempt, or endeavor to do something. It's about perseverance, focusing on the courage to face your fears and take risks. It's also being willing to embrace failure as a temporary stepping stone and to keep going despite any setbacks. There are many famous stories about trying and persevering even though things get hard. The lives of Helen Keller and Florence Nightingale are two that I read and that inspired me most as an adult. The story of the tortoise and the hare and the little engine that could, you know, the train that thought he could, so he did, inspired me as a kid. There are also many, many quotes about trying. Wayne Gretzky's is one of the most famous where he says, You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Another one I really like goes, courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is a little voice at the end of the day that says, I'll try again tomorrow. I looked up the opposite word for the word try because I was curious. You know what it is? Inaction. That's it. One word in action to do nothing. How many times have I not tried to do something I wanted to do out of fear of failure, so I did nothing? Thankfully not too many. But there are definitely a few and I still regret those missed opportunities to this day. Not all the things I've tried to do have been successful, though, but when that happens I do try and remember that getting back up after a fall or failure is what builds inner strength and determination. Those then have become some of my best life lessons. I appreciate your continued support on this podcast journey I'm on. The encouraging emails, texts, and the fan mail I've received from many of you as I learn how to do this have been invaluable to me. This has been something I've wanted to do for a very long time, and I'm really enjoying trying it and learning how it all works. I've heard my mom and my grandma whisper just to try T R Y more than a few times over the last month as I put together these episodes. I'd love to hear your feedback and stories about something you've tried and grown from. You're all inspirations to me. Please like, follow, and share this podcast to help our community of amazing, beautiful, kind, fun community members grow. You can email me at lifelessons.ordinarywoman at gmail.com or click on the fan mail button on this podcast to reach me. Or you can leave me your own inspirational stories on my Facebook page, Life Lessons of an Ordinary Woman Podcast. Until next Monday, remember that I love you and your presence is a present to those around you.