Celebrating the Wins

I'd like to get to the point where writing the annual year in review feels like fun reminiscing as opposed to an obligation, but rereading the last couple iterations reminds me that I do very much enjoy having the summary and memories on paper (ish). My Christmas letter skills were all exhausted to co-create a respectable final edition for the Z family, so I'm left keeping with the online version. 

With that, I enjoyed the theme of 2020, looking at the wins of the year in an effort to see the positive in the past to better prime my brain to see it in the present. So, even though I'm typically documenting the successful completion of my annual resolution (still not convinced I was successful this year), here are the top 10 wins of 2022, in no particular order:

- I completed a year in the new job, and am more than halfway to my Black Belt certification. As mentioned last year, it's going to be a while before my confidence in PI grows enough that I feel comfortable. But I'll take the incremental wins of mentoring my first lean belt through certification, presenting a poster at our Quality Improvement Symposium, teaching my first Lean Boot Camp, helping plan team retreats, leading my first Kaizen, surviving my first Command Center ordeals, and most importantly, completing my first Black Belt project (final readout in three weeks will dictate whether or not it passed muster). Stuff I would repeat: cooking class with the team, go-karts and trampoline park adventures, food truck lunches, escape room. Stuff I'd rather not: presenting to the C-suite and senior executive team.

Cooking a delicious steak au poivre on a "work" retreat

- Committing to regular volunteering, even if it does stretch me WAY outside my comfort zone. There were some hiccups in the beginning, including a new youth minister, but we're about 8 months in and I'm still standing. So is the youth house, which seems more amazing, given that the teens know where the lighters are. I'm certainly not wowing anyone with my catechetical eloquence or spike-ball prowess, but I am showing up reliably. And as a former youth group junkie, I know that in itself matters.

- An amazing trip back to Italy with an amazing group of women, mostly strangers to start, but fast friends once we got going. Culinary highlights of homemade pasta (and more homemade pasta), cherry gelato, flaky croissants, bacon-wrapped zucchini flowers, and of course, Baci truffles warred with Catholic highlights of visiting JPII's tomb on his feast day (so amazing!!!), climibing la Santa Scala on my knees (not really a highlight physically, that wood is HARD!, but meaningful anyway), loads of relics, and the Angelus with Pope Francis. Throw in some art and history - Caravaggio, the David, the Colosseum, the Pantheon (only 1900 years old) - and some amazing photos, and I'd say it was a pretty bang-up adventure. 

Dusk in Venice

- Four trips to Omaha, including the blessing of serving as C's godmother at her baptism (I mean, I'll be her godmother for life, but the baptism was a highlight). I had a few false starts in my early trips attempting to work remotely from the basement or the screened in patio. Neither of which actually buffered the toddler screaming or made the saved PTO worth it.  Within the Nebraska adventures, we managed to get 6 of 7 former college roommates (+1 honorary) from 5 states together for a Memorial Day grillout. Omaha Humidity 1, The House 0.

Omaha with the goofballs

Not really the most flattering of any of us, but fun anyway

- Surviving a multi-night backpacking trip with total strangers deserves it's own game of yay-boo. Finally got the layers right for temperature swings- Yay. Phone battery, brick charger battery, and SteriPen batteries all died in the cold- Boo. Aquamira drops saved the day for drinking water, even when filling bottles from a pretty gnarly pond- Yay. Getting surprised in the trees by a bow-hunter while digging a cat hole (at least my pants were still up)- Near Boo. Perfect weather and gorgeous sunsets- Yay. Our guides thinking that Gushers were a good idea for trail snacks- Boo. Sharing stories of my past adventures (Camino, Kili, mission trips, etc.) and realizing that I've lived a pretty blessed life- Yay. Being the oldest on the trip by nearly a decade and having a bedtime about 2 hours earlier than everyone else- Boo. Can I reuse getting the layers right? Seriously people, the right gear is worth its weight in gold, and my apparel and sleeping setup had me very comfortable- Double Yay!

Rim Lake in the Flat Tops Wilderness

Other noteworthy events of the year include a summer roadtrip to Montana with the Kolbster, a solo birthday getaway to Granby (highlight- whiskey tasting at Fraser Valley Distilling; lowlight- postholing to mid-thigh on a lake hike), a few trips downtown for some theater (Pretty Woman, The Musical and Much Ado About Nothing were amazing, Cats was less so and I really don't get it), live music at the Greeley Stampede, good sister time on a variety of occasions, and another Silverthorne Thanksgiving complete with the Hallmark movie drinking game. 

That Thanksgiving family time of course proved to be the beginning of the end for mom (yes, let's take someone with minimal lung function to 9,000 feet), but it was a nice way to force some togetherness. The year was punctuated with mom moving on to her eternal resting place on the eve of the Immaculate Conception and I'm convinced that her graces were multiplied many times over by having so many masses offered for her on that feast day. Five hundred in attendance to send her off, and 7 priests and 4 deacons on the altar as witnesses to her life of faith and generosity, proved to be significant consolation. And now our patron saint of Euchre is on the other side with her prayers pulling more weight. 

Discovering it had been a while since mom cleaned out the closets

So I start 2023 grateful for the wins of last year, and also recognizing that there were many hard things and many goals remaining for the coming months. In a new twist, I will end with the word I have landed on as my word of the year for 2023: Receive. I look forward to learning to receive better, receive my identity, receive love, receive compliments, receive rest, receive suffering, receive wonder and beauty. And likely receive humility as I stumble along the way. But it's a word to fully encompass the hope I have for the year, that I may live out the brillant quote from Pope Benedict: "The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness."

Heading into 2020...too. Yikes!

 The end of another year, another failure to send my inaugural Christmas letter. So, instead, per usual (which is one letter off from perusal, and yes, that's how my brain works), I present the year-end summary. Also per usual, I reread last year's chronicles in preparation and for inspiration and realized that I had been feeling a tug toward a new profession for much of last year. Prophetic? Maybe. God? Certainly. 

The obvious earth-shattering news of the year is my departure from the world of Pharmacy. And while surprisingly, I don't miss Pharmacy (though I truly "left" Pharmacy when I took a leadership position, let's be honest), and I certainly don't miss many aspects of leadership, I still find myself in this weird duality. On the one hand, I know with certainty that God dropped this opportunity in my lap, and so I feel at peace with the change and with the new direction. On the other hand, any career about-face is unsettling and I have been living the pain of Brene Brown's FFTs for the last 5 months. I don't think anyone who hasn't gone through this massive shift really understands the way it can feel like NBD and such a massively huge deal at the same time. Logically, I know that it will take months, if not years, for Process Improvement to feel like my home, and that the learning curve will remain steep for some time. I am playing a long game, but knowing that doesn't make the present feel any easier. There are some days that I feel I am using my strengths and crushing it, and other days that I feel like I'm spinning my wheels. And for the love, if someone gives me the generic platitude "you're doing great" one more time, I will scream. Non-specific feedback, even positive feedback, is worthless. Rant over.

New work team, easing the pain of transition

The other big news of the year was losing the wombmate and the littles to Nebraska. There are few other cities that would have felt as manageable given the flight costs, driving distance, annual lecture trip, friend base, and general familiarity, but that doesn't make it less sucky. I'm grateful for a job that will accommodate frequent trips; grateful that even though Southwest keeps changing my flight times, they provide inexpensive and usually hassle-free transportation; and especially grateful for the 'rents watching the dog and being my airport shuttle service. Two 2022 trips are already booked, with presumably a few more later in the year. Video chats with the kiddos definitely don't hold a candle to games of tag and collect-the-acorns and movie nights and watching E crack an egg for our baking extravaganza.

Family photos before the big move

Taking a look at the perennial New Year's resolution, part of me thinks that such a massive career change would count as all three things outside my comfort zone that scare me. I'd even let you break it down into different elements of stretching me- working from home, totally new field, and a new boss after 6 years of A+ management, taking a pretty hefty pay cut. I guess if you were going to force me to branch out a little, I could also name leading a really massive project at work while my boss was on maternity leave (we had a project manager, who quit, and then I became the project manager), going to my first Denver meet-up with a bunch of strangers and actually making conversation, and attempting caramel for the first time as part of a crazy Easter present for my brother-in-law in which my kitchen almost exploded. Totally worth it once, but never again. 

The amazing Garden and Gun Caramel Cake

My comfort zone accounted for a much larger percentage of the year, with old hat hobbies like ultimate frisbee, a softball tournament, lots of baking (still a big fan of the Great British Baking Show, still making Mary Berry's florentines), checking in campers for Camp Wojtyla, hitting a couple new breweries (now at 111 if you count off-shoot "brewhouse" as a brewery), lots of Hallmark movies, lots of podcasts and books for both growth and enjoyment, another Creighton lecture (probably my last since I don't even work in the field anymore), a distillery tour, a few wine tastings, too many hours wasted on killer sudoku, and far too few meaningful encounters with friends (though the ones I did have fed my soul and showered graces upon me).

My new place for the year was Montana, visiting Aunt Carol and experiencing the wildlife of Yellowstone- bison, bighorn sheep, coyotes, wolves (awesome!), a bald eagle, thousands of elk. 

Bighorn Sheep

Cold Bison

No moose, despite our best efforts, but I made up for that by having a run-in (literally) with a moose while driving from Gunnison to the Uncompahgre Peak trailhead at zero-dark-thirty in August. Fortunately, I was not driving and more fortunately, super minimal damage to my friend's truck. Uncompahgre was a worthy 14er, made much easier by starting at the upper trailhead and slightly harder by the snowfall the night before, which made the chimney a little more treacherous. 

Uncompahgre Peak, super interesting profile

At the top

Thankfully, my health has held this year, and for the most part, I can say the same of those close to me. A few scares throughout the year were enough to have me counting my blessings. After several months of physical therapy for a torn labrum, I can say with confidence that I make a terrible patient. Case in point: I injured my shoulder about 4 years ago and only sought diagnosis and treatment this spring. So I'll continue my morning walks, my lack of vitamins, my attempt at vegetables, and my occasional bike ride, realizing that the deeper I get into my 30's, the less sufficient that will be. 

Writing this obviously turned into more of a word vomit for myself than a humor-laced retrospective for an outside audience, further proof that I'm not ready for a clever tongue-in-cheek Christmas letter. Still worthwhile to take stock of a difficult year and remind myself of the hard lessons and the silver linings.

I'm optimistic that 2022 will bring a renewed intentional focus on friendship, hopefully some progress in my work, possibly a return to more normal travel (Italy, here I come?), more baking adventures before I decide that sugar is bad for my gut and my energy levels, a few more significant hikes, intellectual growth in my faith, and being an awesome godmother to a new niece or nephew. Or maybe a godmother to a new awesome niece or nephew. 

Worth a Thousand Words

One of those dating website gimmicks of 'pick which one describes you better' got me thinking recently. It was something to the effect of 'snap a photo' or 'experience the moment' and I realized that I live in both camps pretty regularly and some of my biggest regrets are picking the wrong one for the experience at hand. The elevation of the Eucharist atop a cold and rugged Blanca Peak...I chose not to snap the photo and I'm forever regretting it. Playing with Little Bit and trying so hard to snap a selfie of the two of us that is Insta-worthy...I should've just savored the moment because they'll soon be far too few. I want to be the person like the photographer at the end of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty who says "If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don't like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it." It's got me wondering why I so often want to take the picture and why I find it so much easier to remember the joy or wonder of a moment when I have the photo in front of me. There are certain photos that truly are worth a thousand words, or a thousand seconds of reminiscing, or a thousand attempts of reflection on the good. 

This picture could just be me and E at Christmas time. But there's so much more that this captures for me. This was taken around the time that she was independently and frequently signing "auntie" when she saw me. It warmed my heart so much to see not only the recognition in her eyes, but to have someone so light up when you walk in the room covers a multitude of insecurities and loneliness. This picture brings all of that back. It was also taken while I was in the middle of a shift at the hospital, and it reminds me of some of the best parts of working at South: the relationships I've built over the years, the purpose of our work, the generosity to the community, the unique gift of working at the same place as my sister, my own professional growth and how I've helped others grow.

Wind, wind, wind, click. Wind, wind, wind, click. Ahh, the magic of disposable cameras in 2002. This is one of those moments where I probably should've just basked in the wave of the Holy Spirit that washed over the crowd as JPII rode by instead of frantically trying to snap a lousy photo on a cheap camera. But while there are far more compelling images of our late great pope, this one is mine. It immediately brings back the heat, the soaking wet sleeping bag, the meals in a bag, the flags and banners, the hard gym floors, the fast friendships, the foreign languages, the massive rows of port-o-lets, the bus (mis)adventures, and the soul-altering experience of being surrounded by 800,000 Catholics hearing "JPII...he loves you too." Even the storm clouds bowed to the sacramental presence of God that final day, and this picture still makes me tear up. 

It's Christmas Eve day. It's both an eve and a day. It's a Christmas miracle! Obviously it's not Christmas Eve day in this picture. But again, the photo means more to me than it does to anyone else looking at it, and it's why I think I treasure them so much. This reflects my 14er adventures (Mt. of the Holy Cross, a beast conquered too soon after my flatlander lungs moved back from Omaha) and getting to share those adventures with my family, some of my favorite TV (the above Christmas miracle reference is from a particularly memorable episode of Bones), and most importantly, the fun of sharing inside jokes and constant movie/TV quotes with the wombmate. Only we get it, but that's enough. I love going back through my 14er pics and remembering the good of those days, because in the moment there was good of course, but also a lot of struggle and pain and questioning my sanity. Like with Kilimanjaro, where the farther past it we got, the more awesome the trip was, these pictures are a positive-memories-only version of battle scars. 

I'm tempted to not even write about this picture and just leave it here in all its glory. Definitely one of my favorites for the shock value. But also one of my favorites because that summer was one of the hardest and definitely one of the best things I've ever done, sundaes not withstanding. I credit Totus Tuus for some really solid formation, a chance to stretch myself in ways I didn't know was possible, the ability to drink black coffee, praying regularly for my future spouse, familiarity with Liturgy of the Hours, relationships with some of the amazing men who would become priests and Companions of Christ (leading to Brian Larkin Sundays, Catholic Stuff You Should Know, Gregorian Rant, and other nuggets being a part of my life), and this photo as a reminder that things are never quite as bad as they look. 

I could keep going with pictures that represent more than the image. And I'm realizing with music playing in the background that I could do this with songs too. The story is where the magic is at. And I've been reminded frequently the last few weeks that we were made for story. It's been good for my soul to live for a minute in the stories of these pictures, and to find the goodness, truth and beauty in them. 

2020 in Hindsight

I put off writing this for a while, because despite my wholehearted intention to let this upcoming year be one of opportunity and 'yes', adventure and hope, that's not at all how I feel about last year and I wasn't quite ready to relive it. There are still parts I'd rather bury, but looking back on the good primes your brain to look for more of the good. If I can't see it in the past, I risk walking right past it in the present. And I'd hate for the wins of the year not to be logged for posterity. So here are the biggest wins of the year, in the random order they're coming to my brain:

In March, I saw four years of tireless work come to fruition as my article on cosyntropin use in pediatric postdural puncture headache was finely published. I could've written a whole post on that ordeal and the lessons learned. Pretty much everything about the research project was done backwards or wrong, but eventually I got the right people involved, the right data collected, the right words to paper, the right edits and concessions, etc. I actually reread the article last week as I was sending it to a former classmate, and I am very proud of the finished product. The most ironic part is that I don't even have full text access to my article. The journal didn't send me the final proof so I had to have a colleague, whose job allows her extended primary literature access, send me the pdf. If you're only interested in the abstract, you can find it here.

The celebration of said article brought another milestone achievement in the form of my 100th Colorado brewery visited. Several years ago, an article highlighted the growing craft beer scene in Colorado and listed a relatively comprehensive list of breweries. I made it a game to start my own list (around 40 at the time) and watch it grow. Once I got to 95 or so, I had the grand idea to pair the 100th brewery with the publication of my article. It turned out to be somewhat short-sighted as I had to crawl my way to the finish line, enduring outright rejection of the first submission, copious edits from a second submission, and a delayed online release. The party happened to fall as the city was shutting down in the first wave of COVID closures, but it was still the social highlight of my year, celebrating with friends and using the publication and the 100th brewery as an excuse to see my favorite people.

"In non-technical terms, this trail sucks. It is 1,600 vertical feet of misery. Climb three steps forward and slip two steps back. It feels like walking on greased marbles, except that these marbles have sharp edges and wedge inside your sock and prick your sole. More swear words have been uttered by hikers climbing Mount Columbia than any other Colorado 14er. This mountain twists ankles, skins knees, and shreds bottoms of pants." That's a dated description of the hike up Mt. Columbia. Another win from this year is the work that CFI (Colorado Fourteeners Initiative) continues to do on the trail, turning an outright slog into a relatively enjoyable hike. Ten years after our first failed attempt took us off route north to scree fields from hell, dad and I enjoyed the renovated trail and summitted. The trail work is not complete, and the final few hundred vertical feet were a glimpse of why the mountain was so hated, but it was a wonderful hike, exactly what a 14er should be, including not being able to walk for two days after.

False summit, amidst the "greased marbles"

The bulk of my professional year was dedicated not only to COVID, which despite the relatively low impact on pediatric patients nevertheless threw our hospital into upheaval on a pretty regular basis, but also to the completion of my Lean Six Sigma Green Belt certification. Starting with 80 hours of class at the beginning of the year, and progressing through a 9-month process improvement project, the experience was the very definition of growth. The excitement of learning new skills and tools was tempered by the missteps of leading an interdisciplinary project team comprised entirely of not-my-direct-reports. My mentor was incredible, and even though I gained valuable experience for my own professional development, the biggest win was her guidance and friendship. The other biggest win was putting on my new green belt. ;)

Shouldn't have thrown away my old karate belts!

The rest of the year is really a bit of a blur. I rode in my first "Courage Classic" which only sorta counts because it was virtual and only twenty-something miles. I successfully navigated my first solo (8th overall) Creighton lecture, and even got invited back to speak to a student group about a career in pediatrics. I said goodbye to my faithful Stella, the CR-V that transported me for the last 12 years, and replaced her with...another CR-V. Name still TBD, it's hard to top Stella. I played mentor and mentee- mentor for the School of Pharmacy's Exemplary Professional Development program which was actually right in my wheelhouse and very fulfilling, and mentee in the hospital's Mentoring Matters program which provided a needed balance to the other stories and advice in my professional life. I did a couple things for myself- a mountain retreat and a virtual conference, which both inspired and taught me and also made me wonder if I need a new career. I did a lot of baking--and watched a lot of The Great British Baking Show--including highlights of Aunt Carol's sticky buns (the second attempt at least), iced brown butter maple pecan oatmeal cookies, my first choux pastry, millionaire shortbread, and at least two batches of Mary Berry's florentines. I also failed pretty epically at a couple attempts with a sourdough starter and decided to stick to store-bought yeast. 

Millionaire Shortbread with Little Bit

I got a new phone which means my normal process of scrolling back through my calendar to find other notable events is off the table. 

I think some of the unsettledness I felt through 2020 came from not necessarily loving the right things (or from mourning the loss of things that weren't the right things). A recent podcast summarized some of Augustine's teaching on desire, and that the life of a Christian is about learning to love the right things, ordering our desires toward the greater good God has for us, rather than settling our desires on lesser things. He says: "The entire life of a good Christian is in fact an exercise of holy desire. You do not yet see what you long for, but the very act of desiring prepares you, so that when He comes you may see and be utterly satisfied. This...will be effective only to the extent that we free ourselves from desires leading to infatuation with the world." May 2021 be a year of aligning my desires with the desires that God has for my life. 

In the Words of the Saints

November was a tough month to find inspiration for writing. I actually took a formal step back from my weekly 'Monday Musings and Motivation' emails that I craft for my team because writing was feeling like a chore. And yet, I reread one this week from late summer and was reminded how much language holds. Power, emotion, inspiration, release, growth, knowledge, curiosity, uncertainty, conviction. Words are sustenance, sometimes created or consumed in little snack-sized bites, and sometimes building blocks of a veritable feast. So I sit back down to write, knowing that I can't simply wait for inspiration to strike, knowing that this is a practice more necessary when it is not easy. 

When I am short on inspiration, the Church never fails to shine a light into dark corners, but also often feels too heavy for a blog post. Last week had me hunting for sound bites from the Saints, and that feels a little more digestible. 

This gem from St. Thomas More: Occupy your minds with good thoughts, or the enemy will fill them with bad ones. Unoccupied, they cannot be.

If there were ever a prompt for starting your day with prayer, this would be at the top of my list. I find that setting aside ten minutes in the morning for the daily readings with my coffee doesn't stick well, in part because by the time I hit the office door, those thoughts are long gone. But that's ten minutes that my mind is occupied with good thoughts and unavailable for hijacking by the enemy. Maybe if I was more consistent with the practice, the thoughts wouldn't vacate so quickly. It's frighteningly apparent that the bad thoughts are waiting at every turn to assault our unoccupied minds with lies dressed in glitter and charm. This concept, the cousin of entropy, applies to holiness, virtue, relationships, learning, health (mental, physical, emotional, spiritual). If you aren't moving towards the good, you are moving away, however slowly it might appear to cast the illusion of stagnation. I have felt the conviction in the last few weeks to live the present more intentionally, and I think it starts with good thoughts. St. Paul adds his eloquence: 'Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.' Phil 4:8

A very Chestertonian pearl from St. Augustine: Miracles are not contrary to nature, but only contrary to what we know about nature.

The few nonfiction books sprinkled into my reading the last several weeks continue to hammer home the message that God is bigger than our finite human minds. His ways are not our own. If we are not expecting great things from Him, how can we possibly receive them? The tiny sliver of the picture that we grasp pales in comparison to His omniscience. I imagine God as a parent, just waiting for His child to ask for something that allows Him to show off His love. I have prayed for miracles and seen them granted, and yet I so quickly forget that I can ask. I've always expected big things of myself, but I've never expected big things for myself. Maybe it's time to start praying big again.

And another because Augustine was the man: If you believe what you like in the gospels, and reject what you don’t like, it is not the gospel you believe, but yourself

This year in particular seems to have highlighted so many iterations of self-aggrandizement, self-justification, egocentrism, whatever flavor of the day falls far enough from Orthodoxy to be culturally appropriated. We are urged to 'get with the times' and chastised for defending the Truth, a practice so easily misinterpreted as passing judgment. Moral relativism seems to be an assumed universality, and worse, a prerequisite for willing dialogue with many. Yet I was comforted by the words of Archbishop Chaput (which should come as no surprise), reflecting on those who view the Sacramental life as a right regardless of their moral character and obedience, when he said "the believing community has a priority right to the integrity of its belief and practice." This captured what I could not put to words- the sense of injustice I feel when people pick and choose teachings of the faith as if they were not beautifully, perfectly and necessarily intertwined to form the whole. Catholicism is a privilege, one we should be joyfully and desperately sharing, which is received and not created or modified or arbitrarily defined. I feel a tug when wanting to share my faith, between a desire for others to know the home I've found and the hesitation that it will be distorted and only selectively accepted. I applaud those who stand firm and courageous in their evangelization. 

There are so many more snippets of wisdom to choose from. I often wish that I knew the Saints better, knew them well enough to turn to a friend during a difficult moment of the day and seek intercession, and well enough to share them with others who need their example and prayers. Even this brief exercise tonight reveals that they can inspire and challenge and fill my head with the good thoughts that will keep the enemy from sneaking in. That's enough for tonight. 

 

 

 

Checking the Boxes

While I admire those who are unashamed and unafraid to speak the truth in these difficult times, I also see the backlash and repercussions of doing so and am sad to say that I have let cowardice take the day in my own life. A recent attempt to engage in dialogue landed badly, and so the fear is rewarded. Nevertheless, silence is not the answer, and in order to speak up, I need to get my thoughts in order. Hence the blogging. 

A recent well-written and, if I may say, blunt post by Mama Needs Coffee called out those who have justified their positions as pro-life while abandoning the most vulnerable and marginalized among us. The idea that supporting a candidate who has done more to protect the unborn than any other in history means that I don't care for the environment, the immigrant, the impoverished, or the minority is as absurd as the idea that all issues are equal and that we should support the candidate who checks the most boxes, regardless of what those boxes are. 

Even our own judicial system doesn't believe that all sins are equal. Can you imagine the outrage if we suddenly started sentencing shoplifters the same as serial killers? There's a reason for hierarchy and weight because there are some rights that are essentially prerequisites to all others.  

As a hiring leader, this all-are-equal stance is akin to saying that I should place all desired candidate qualifications in a table and when choosing between two candidates, the candidate who possesses more than the other should be hired, regardless of the boxes left unchecked. My hiring qualifications may read something like: Doctorate of Pharmacy, Colorado pharmacist license, completion of accredited residency, experience in hospital pharmacy, experience in pediatrics, experience in codes, familiarity with our electronic medical record platform, communication skills, ability to receive feedback, a growth mindset, self-awareness, work ethic, attention to detail, demonstration of longevity, creativity, flexibility, ability to problem solve, and the list goes on. There are obviously "required" qualifications in that list, without which the candidate doesn't even get past the recruiter. They are non-negotiables. And I would argue that there should be non-negotiables in your moral compass. I believe the right to life to be one of those. Some of the other characteristics are still more important than others. I have never thought less of an applicant because they don't have experience with our EMR. It's a nice-to-have. But it will never trump self-awareness. I can teach pediatric nuances, or how to effectively provide medication support in a code, but I can't work with someone who has no interest in self-reflection and self-growth.

Some extremists might say that I should hire her only if she possesses all the qualifications. There is no such thing as a perfect hire, just as there is no such thing as a perfect political candidate. You will never find someone who has it all, and if you think you have, you haven't looked deep enough. But that doesn't mean they can't do the job well. I've watched colleagues sit on an open position because they passed over many qualified candidates who didn't fit their "ideal" only to watch COVID eliminate that open position in favor of financial stability for the organization. While I don't believe that you should fill a hole with any warm body, somebody probably would've been better than nobody. Our country doesn't have the option of sitting on an open position until the perfect candidate comes along. And sometimes you have to take your non-negotiables and learn to work with the gaps. This may look like surrounding the candidate with colleagues who possess strengths in those areas of the candidate's weakness (hmm, also seems to apply to politics and our checks and balances government).

For those who might not be with me yet, let me put it another way. If we look at marriage (again, realizing that for your lifetime partner, you would not settle for the better of two evils, but bear with me), many people generally have a list of what they are looking for in a spouse. Let's pretend I have two prospects:

Now, I'm not saying that candidate 1 doesn't have a sense of humor. But let's pretend that in objective comparison, candidate 2 is funnier, smarter, more active, etc. I hope I don't know anyone who would choose candidate 2 because he has more boxes checked. You could even move two more 'x's to the left and candidate 2 would still be numerically better. But it's kind of like "Mom's vote counts for three" when it's her vs. the two kids and they are deciding on dinner. Fidelity kind of trumps the other characteristics (assuming you believe in the sanctity of marriage, which I realize in current culture is not an assumption to make lightly). 

I don't ever want to be a one-issue voter, just like I hope to never be unwilling to think outside the box as a hiring supervisor. But until our country respects the dignity of the unborn, the tragedy of those millions of lives lost dwarf the tragedies of racism (though abortion is racist), poverty (though the poor comprise a significant majority of the aborted), police brutality, environmental destruction, and the issues of immigration, education, and healthcare. Standing for life is a prerequisite for standing for the family, which I believe to be the single most important change that needs to occur to turn our society around. The family unit, honored and protected and upheld, must flourish for our country to do so. 

Your Next Job Interview

I may be an anomaly, but I will literally find myself in the middle of an experience, particularly difficult situations as work, when I think ‘this would be a great story to tell in my next job interview.’ Have I applied for a new job? No. Am I looking for a new job? No. Am I preparing for my next job interview? Abso-freaking-lutely! I prepare for my next job interview every single day, even if I have no idea when or where or for what that interview will be. Part of this is probably driven by the shift in interviewing questions (at least in my world) toward a more behavior-based mindset—“tell me about a time when…”. Interviewers are looking for examples of how the candidate has historically exhibited certain behaviors that predict success in a particular or universal situation. If you can be self-reflective enough to recognize why you succeeded or failed in a particular circumstance, and speak intelligently to how that has driven adjustments to your behavior or skill sets to increase the likelihood of your future success, that tells me far more about you than your resume. 

The challenge is, you never know in the moment when an event or experience will turn into something relevant for teaching you how to learn, grow, or improve. Therefore, every day could be the story you tell in your next job interview. It could be how you gracefully handled the unsolicited feedback you received from a coworker. It could be how you navigated the hurdle of a catastrophic IT downtime. It could be how you put forth a little extra time and energy into developing a relationship with a peer who seemed to be struggling that ultimately led to effective collaboration. And when you are living it, it may just be one more good or bad day. But if you take advantage of the opportunity to reflect and process, it may become the characteristic example of one of your strengths in your next interview.

One of my former roommates was a medical resident navigating the transition from her first year as intern to her second year as resident having to supervise those darn first year interns. She came home one day complaining about a difficult conversation with one of her interns who had shown repeated unprofessional behavior. She was frustrated by his actions, more frustrated that she was expected to be the one to correct him, but mostly exhausted because the crucial conversation had drained her physical, emotional and mental energy. This is where I think I’m an anomaly because my first words to her were, “Yeah, but what a great example you can use of effective communication, constructive feedback, and courage when you are interviewing for jobs in another year!” It was true though. Those moments that feel so challenging and hard to navigate often teach us the most- about ourselves, about how to be better, about skills that may be worth investing in. 

Granted, viewing every day as preparation for my next job interview is really just a surrogate for viewing every day as a chance to improve myself, but that doesn’t mean I can’t write down these experiences for future reference. If you are not actively looking for a new job, spend a week pretending you are and ask yourself how your behavior in each situation would have made you a better or worse candidate if you were to share the story in your next job interview. And then tomorrow, be the better candidate.

Success Between Grit and Grace

 Attempt #3 of my exhale via writing: 

How do you define success? It’s a question asked in many contexts, and previously I’ve given a lot of thought to how I would answer it in a job interview. I’ve wordsmithed my way around what I think sounds the most professional and what I consider my greatest successes to date. Usually I land somewhere in the camp of maintaining a growth mindset and helping the team achieve goals, which is true, and I generally find myself most fulfilled when I am effecting positive change for the team. But in reading Between Grit and Grace today, I realized it doesn’t have to be that complicated. Dr. Sasha Shillcut defines success for herself as living authentically and measures her achievements in work and in her personal life against that standard. Rephrased to capture the wisdom of Brene Brown, she lives into her values. I recognize living into my values as living authentically, but never before have I equated it with living successfully. Game changer.

After hours of agony attempting to define my top two values (you don’t get more than two; read Dare to Lead to learn why), I pared everything down to Accountability and Home. I could write a whole blog post on why those are my top two, but it ultimately doesn’t matter for the purposes of using these values to redefine success. The world—secular, capitalistic, egocentric culture that we live in—would judge my success based on my salary, my title, the length of my CV, or even, if measured against millennial standards, my work-life balance or the breadth of opportunities provided to me. By those measures, I have made it. So why do I so often feel like I’m not succeeding? Because I’m not always (or even often) living into my values.

Granted, it’s been a challenging year, with personal and global crises putting Murphy’s Law to shame. But in the midst of it, I have had successes, and it’s apparent that those were the times when I let go of the outside drama and drilled down to what mattered most to me. Green Belt classes and project read-outs? That one is all Accountability. Even when the VP was expecting me to throw in the towel and blame a pandemic, I honored the commitment I’d made to myself. Monday Musings and Motivation? Both in equal measure, attempting to hold myself and my team accountable while still inspiring them to be their best selves in a culture that treasures individuality and uniqueness. When I think back to what hasn’t felt like success, or even those missteps I’d go so far as to name failures, I either dropped the ball on giving my best or using my talents in the most meaningful way (missed Accountability) or I sacrificed relationships or warmth or empathy in the name of accomplishment or task completion (nowhere near Home). What I know without a doubt to be true is that if I live into my values, I can be successful by my own standard, but interestingly also by the standards of the world if that is what I am aiming for. My best, lived as my best self, is good enough.

One could argue that there are many ways to define what has led to success and failure in my recent months, and given the circumstances one could even make a good case that what we previously defined as failure may be reconsidered in light of new obstacles. But what matters to me and how I show up every day is whether I feel like a success. My emotions don’t lie, and they certainly can be a lot more stubborn than logic. So reframing success and giving myself a foolproof way to achieve it every day is a hopeful way to start the next several months. Accountability is my grit, Home is my grace, and that is me living authentically.

Be Not Afraid

Attempt number two of my new writing efforts:

All the good ones are Schutte. This phrase, uttered by my family many times over the years, passed through my head as Mass this morning closed with Blest Be The Lord. Without a hymnal (hazards of mid-COVID liturgy), the words nevertheless returned with perfect recollection, the mark of a great song. Growing up in the Catholic Church from the mid-1980s on meant repeated exposure to the post-Vatican II musical stylings of the St. Louis Jesuits- a prolific quintet of composers so named because of their inception during their time as Jesuit Scholastics at St. Louis University. While not all would go on to complete their formation, the moniker stuck. Songs like "Be Not Afraid", "Here I Am, Lord", "Though the Mountains May Fall", "Come to the Water", "The Cry of the Poor", and "One Bread, One Body" were ubiquitous in my upbringing. That "all the good ones were Schutte" wasn't necessarily true, but his did seem to be some of the more frequently sung- "Table of Plenty", "You Are Near", "River of Glory", and "City of God."

I had the privilege of getting to know one of the famed St. Louis Jesuits during college and while they were no longer making music (aside from an early 2000's reunion album resulting in one of my favorite new liturgical songs- "O Beauty, Ever Ancient"), I was still a little star struck by Fr. Roc O'Connor. Fortunately, Fr. Roc oozes humility and hospitality and joviality, so it wasn't long before he was just another priest, and the lead clergy in our weekly Eucharistic Adoration nights. Every once in a while, his musical prowess would make an appearance, reminding me of the mark he'd left on liturgy. Each week, a different student would take point on the Adoration programming, noting the daily readings, selecting music that fit the Scriptures, and preparing a short reflection for the other students in attendance. One week I led, I selected "Lift Up Your Hearts" for our opening song. While sometimes music was selected for relevant lyrics, other times I was just seeking a familiar well-known song that would promote participation. This week, it was just a familiar, faithful standard and one I didn't give a second thought to until Fr. Roc, with his 12-string guitar, started enthusiastically jamming out with accompaniment. #facepalm Of course I realized after the fact that he had written the song, and of course he would play it with gusto. 

Another memorable night found the Adoration planning team gathered in a Jesuit lounge in the Admin building. Not the "upper room" lounge, reserved for very special occasions and those with high connections (I claim at least two such VIP nights, ending in access to the coveted rooftop), but still a much cozier atmosphere than a classroom or the library. We held these planning nights once or twice a semester, but this night we hosted a very special guest, Fr. Roc's fellow St. Louis Jesuit, Fr. Bob Dufford. "Duff", as Fr. Roc called him, put us quickly at ease with a witty sense of humor and ready smile. He told us the story of writing "Be Not Afraid", arguably one of the most beloved, relevant, and masterful liturgical songs of our generation. But it didn't start out that way. He had written a first draft and felt like he had a real winner on his hands, so he eagerly shared it with the others. After he finished, they (he probably told us which Jesuit specifically and I've forgotten) jumped in with criticism. Each of the lyrical lines we know so well today have been edited from the original version. 

You shall cross the desert, but you shall not die of thirst

You shall wander far, though you do not know the way

(Taking artistic license as I don't recall the exact words but) The lyrics and cadence of the melody had put all the emphasis on the "You". And the St. Louis Jesuits wanted the emphasis on the despair of the circumstances and the journey, ultimately on God, not on the person who was faltering. By adding a couple key words and modifying the syllable structure of each line, the song went from mediocre to pure genius. As a songwriter, I remember this lesson so vividly and treasure that we got to hear this story straight from Duff's mouth. 

One fall semester, I found myself on an adventure retreat on the Western slopes of Colorado with a few members of the Candlelight Mass choir. The second night of our trip, they were planning music for our outdoor mass and wanted to incorporate the majestic beauty of the mountains surrounding our campsite. "Though the Mountains May Fall" seemed an excellent choice but none of them could remember the words of the verses. I could, because all the good ones are Schutte, which meant I was suddenly an honorary choir member for the night. Less vocally gifted to be sure, but lyrically confident. 

I doubt I'll come across many outside my family and a couple other Creighton Adoration alumni who feel such a continued connection to the St. Louis Jesuits and the music that changed an entire generation, but I am blessed by these memories and by the songs. 

The Writing Bug

While I'm not looking to change careers, I've been thinking a lot about broadening my horizons and developing skills sets or side gigs or introductions to using a different part of my brain. Last night I saw an advertisement for a copywriting class. You know, one of those "people say you can't make a living as a writer, but one of my students is now making $8,500 a month and setting her own hours" type of pitches. I'm not looking for a lucrative hustle and I know less than nothing about copywriting, but my wordsmithing has been in high demand lately, so it took very little for me to climb down the internet rabbit hole. Turns out there is a website (or several) where you submit a writing sample and then folks who need something written in a certain voice hire you to produce on demand. Since the bulk of my writing is crafting carefully phrased emails of a sensitive professional nature, I'm not sure my existing portfolio would suffice. So, this may be a one-and-done post, but I'm going to start with the intent of writing a variety of samples. They say write what you know, so while the freelance-writer-for-hire website suggested something more akin to a travel blog, I'm starting with this: 

“Are you on any meds?” My mind fumbled a little bit through the words forward and backward and forward again to make sure I had understood correctly. I would expect the question if I were filling out admission paperwork in an Urgent Care. Less expected on a second date. Of course, the first date had a nice awkward middle when he informed me that he was not interested in switching churches, so “let’s talk about religion.” Apparently, he missed the unofficial, nonexistent class on what topics to avoid on a first—or second—date. I thought everyone took that class. Instead, I was trapped in a car with a guy traumatized by a past girlfriend who was bipolar (and on medication for it, obviously) and determined to learn the medical history of every potential romantic interest before things went too far. This is the price I pay for being single more than a decade removed from college, when every possible organic avenue for meeting people has been exhausted. Sports leagues? Check. Work happy hours? Check. Blind date with a friend of a friend? Check. Speed dating? Not organic, but still tried it three times. A girl reaches a point where she’s pretty sure it’s her, right up until the point where prescriptions are suddenly more important than hobbies. Then it’s definitely him. We also managed to hit politics before the end of the date, at which point he told me he didn’t see us working out. Darn. Atrocious conversation skills aside, this gem got me thinking about human connection and the desire that lives deep inside all of us to be known. What questions can you ask to uncover the heart of someone? What sneaks below the superficial banality of typical introductions? I’m the prototypical melancholic introvert, which means that when I meet someone who could become important in my life, I want to skip the pleasantries and dive straight into what makes them tick.  The easiest path to this is to get them talking about something they’re passionate about, regardless of what that might be. Not only is passion attractive—a benefit when the person you are attempting to learn is your date—but it is also contagious. Even the political, religious, psychiatric-medication-obsessed weirdo was attractive when talking about his passions. My point is, there’s a better way to get to someone talking about passions than “What do you like to do for fun?” We’ve lost the art of conversation. Blame the online dating profiles that give you all the details before you even meet. But I think the art is in the ask. Try “What experience in the last five years has made you feel most fully yourself?” Or “If you could live one day over again, which would it be.” I’m literally making these up on the spot, not that I haven’t thought a lot about it. Even for someone who’d rather eat bugs than talk to a stranger, it can’t be as hard as we make it. I guess I could always just start with “What’s the strangest question you’ve ever been asked on a date?”

Another Year in Review

If I don't do this annual traipse through my memories, I'm liable to think that others had all the fun in the last twelve months, traveling to other countries (wait, I did that a couple times), getting new jobs (also me), or having babies (definitely not me).

So without further ado, I present, probably for only my own sentimentality since I don't blog often enough to have anybody reading this, a summary of my adventures in 2019. As always, it's easiest if I catalog the year in reference to my perpetual New Year's resolution of going somewhere I've never been and trying three things outside my comfort zone that scare me a little. In no particular order...

The year started with a bang as I took an unexpected leap into formal leadership, transitioning into a supervisor role at work. Probably one of the scariest (and definitely one of the hardest) things I've ever done, definitely fitting the criteria of being outside my comfort zone. I committed to a lot of personal growth via trial and error, mentorship, reading (see previous blog), and classes. Probably should have added prayer to that list. Might have gotten me where I am faster or with fewer missteps. While I can't always honestly tell people that I "love" my new job, I am 100% convinced that it is the right place for me to be right now.

Never thought I'd end up in France before making it to Greece or back to Italy, but when the trip of a lifetime literally lands in your lap, and you don't have to learn any French or do any planning, you make it happen. I did sort of try to learn French, but it's really hard when your brain keeps defaulting back to forgotten Spanish--seriously, at the airport on our way out of Paris, the guy at the sandwich shop asked if he had my order right and I said "si" instead of "oui". What a doofus. Aunt Marianne took care of most of the translating at the hotel and restaurants. And because Normandy is such an American-friendly region, English and gestures were functional pretty much everywhere. One of the things that surprised me the most was the gratitude and welcome offered to Americans. We had been told of such sentiments, but I had a hard time believing it given the opposite stereotype often described of France, especially Paris. But it's true- the people of Normandy have not forgotten the sacrifice of the American (and British and Canadian) soldiers who fought to free them from the German occupation. I wish that I had blogged about the trip when I returned so I wasn't reliant on just pictures to remember.

With Uncle Carver and Dad at the TO monument at Utah Beach

The annual Z Family Christmas letter also highlighted another "outside the comfort zone" adventure: waterfall exploring in the Dominican Republic. Any activity that requires the combination of a helmet and a life jacket is probably not for me. The last time I think I was so attired, I almost died in a whitewater rafting boat dump. So the comfort zone exists for self-preservation. Nevertheless, if my 60-something-year-old mother can do it, I suppose I can too. Think combination of canyoneering, swimming, and bumpy painful water slides worn into the rock. Next time I'm joining E to swim with the dolphins.

In the quick look back over the year, the last New Year's resolution check box was hit at Camp W, finally capturing my first outdoor rock climbing experience. With nuns. So that's awesome. I felt a little embarrassed that I didn't make it to the top of the route until I found out that only two people (plus our guides) achieved the top that day- one of the counselors who climbs regularly, and a camper who had done pretty much every route in Jurassic Park over the last 4 years. It's a lot harder than it looks. You watch something like Free Solo and suddenly think grip strength is not that big of a deal. So wrong.

I think this year marked success in finally figuring out how to plan and execute a solo adventure trip. I've done them for years, but never have they felt quite so right as my jaunt to Traverse City: hiking, biking, kayaking, wine, beer, whiskey, pie, and Brene Brown on audiobook to keep me company. To counter the intense planning that went into that one, I then jumped on a Creatio pilgrimage to Chimayo, NM which required zero planning on my part, but turned out to be one of the most physically difficult things I've ever done- walking 44ish miles in 2.5 days with a large pack, sleeping on floors, snacking on the trail, lots of prayers offered up in suffering. Worthwhile, but not something I'm itching to repeat.

Arriving at the chapel in Chimayo after 3 long days!

And that's about the extent of my year. There were of course new(ish) things within my comfort zone (cross-country skiing, foot golf, joining a new Bible Study), old stalwarts (Toxicology lecture, wiffleball and softball, a couple new breweries, Film on the Rocks), and lot of the mundane day-to-day that often brings the most reliable small joys. Oh, and after four long years, my labor of love journal article was finally accepted for publication. Still waiting on the final proof, so maybe that'll be part of next year's annual review. Until then, verso l'alto.

Your Ego is Not Your Amigo

(*Disclaimer: started this a few months ago and forgot to finish it, so I'm actually now 10 months in, but all still true)

I'm officially 6 months into my leadership journey (if you count from when I officially started and not from when I found out about the promotion and scrambled to start educating myself and mentally preparing), and to be quite honest, it's kind of bowled me over. It's been a long time since I've felt so much like I'm just making it up as I go, trusting my foundation and hoping for the best. There are adjustments I expected (two-day weekends...who tolerates that?!?) and some I didn't (just crawling along at a snail's pace over here because nothing ever gets done on my timetable), but I think honestly the piece that has set me up most effectively for success is that I've been consuming as much inspiring leadership juju and advice as I can. From friends, established mentors, total strangers, best-selling authors and rock star spirit animals (I'm looking at you, Brene Brown). For my six months in leadership, I present the six books that have filled my evenings and weekends, not because I felt like I had to read them, but because I would genuinely get home from work and want to dig deeper. From their pages, I've learned so many valuable lessons, been inspired to try new things, found strength to have crucial conversations when I'd have rather stuck my head the sand, and I'd like to think, been as strong of a leader out of the gate as I possibly could have been. I'm still slipping here or there, putting my foot in my mouth, having to backtrack, solving things through trial and error. But I'm better for having read these books, and I don't want to forget their wisdom.

Big Potential
by Shawn Achor

I was first introduced to Shawn Achor by a video that my boss made all of us watch during our quarterly one-on-ones. (https://www.ted.com/talks/shawn_achor_the_happy_secret_to_better_work?language=en)  She felt like we could all use a little inspiration toward positivity. And she was right. As soon as I found out I got the job, I checked this book out from the library. And proceeded to take seven and a half pages of notes as I attempted to capture the idea that seeking and fostering positivity in the workplace (through five key tools) would lead to success, not the other way around. The book is essentially arguing that your potential can exponentially increase if you tap into the power of your team and spend your energy making them better. One of the things I loved most about the book was that intertwined within the rah-rah inspirational concepts were published data demonstrating that the theory works. For example, when talking about the power of surrounding yourself with positive influencers, Shawn cites a study that showed that if you stand at the base of a hill with a friend at your side, even if they are silent, you judge the hill as 10-20% less steep than if you were standing alone. There were many great lessons demonstrating the power of social connection, a culture of praise, redirecting the energy of stress into motivation, etc. Favorite quote from this book: "The size of your dreams must always exceed your current capacity to achieve them. If your dreams do not scare you, they are not big enough."

Radical Candor
by Kim Scott

One of the elements of leadership that scared me the most was having direct reports and finding the balance of effective feedback, whether positive or negative. I can't remember how I found this book, but it was the second library win and was probably the most influential in terms of empowering me to have crucial conversations. The subtitle of the book, "Be a kick-ass boss without losing your humanity" basically sums it up. Scott argues that humanity is an asset to effectiveness, not a liability, but that you don't do anybody favors by staying silent when the individual needs to hear constructive criticism. So how to find that balance of candor and compassion? She places feedback on two axes, one for the level of caring, one for the level of challenge. Challenging without caring is "obnoxious agression". Caring without challenging is "ruinous empathy" (think about a time when you've felt "why didn't someone just tell me" and consider how much you felt cared for; that's not true caring). Not challenging or caring is "manipulative insincerity". And finally, caring personally for someone while simultaneously challenging them directly is "radical candor." There are lots of nuggets in the ensuing chapters about how to understand what motivates your employees, how to navigate change when your staff does and does not have a say, how to navigate employee performance plans and find the time to successfully implement them, and how to set the example of humanity and vulnerability first. Favorite story from this book: Whoops the Monkey is a stuffed monkey that is passed on to a different team member at the start of every staff meeting. Staff share their mistakes and what they learned from them, and the team votes on which mistake had the greatest lesson learned. The winner gets the monkey When Scott first initiated this "honor", she understandably was met with silence. So she put a $20 bill on the monkey's head. Staff spoke up immediately, and it didn't take long for the value to be seen. We share so we learn. It's balanced with a Killer Whale stuffed animal who is gifted to the employee nominated by his/her peers for crushing it that month. 

Dare to Lead
by Brene Brown

I can't say enough about Brene, her books, her talks, her vulnerability, her research, her humor. I have read and loved 5 of her bestsellers (Daring Greatly, The Gifts of Imperfection, Rising Strong, and Braving the Wilderness being the others), but this one really landed with where I was in my professional journey. Two weeks before I transitioned jobs, our core team had a mini retreat based on this book. We learned to Rumble, we honored each others top Values, and we learned how powerful our team is by what we all bring to the table. In case you were wondering, my top two values are Accountability and Home, but explaining the why of each of those would take a whole other blog post.

Reality-Based Leadership
by Cy Wakeman

Cy actually came and spoke at the hospital shortly after I transitioned, so getting to watch her talk was one of the first gifts I received as a new leader. In all of her work, she talks about eliminating drama in the workplace, using self-reflection to kick your ego to the curb, and many other common sense power tools for both gut-checking yourself in tough situations and coaching your employees. Many times while reading this book (or listening to one of her many podcasts or video blogs), I thought for sure Cy had been looking over my shoulder while at work, given how accurately she had just described an encounter, an employee, a sentiment, a conflict, etc. But as she says, "humans may not be rational, but they are predictable." The same drama shows up everywhere, so her lessons are valid everywhere. My favorite chapter title: If you argue with reality, you lose (but only 100% of the time). I wrote six pages of notes while reading this book, so clearly there were a lot of takeaways. I think the part that hit the hardest was her dissection of limiting beliefs that the world-at-large holds to be true--things like "There is no such thing as a stupid question" or "There is no 'I' in team". I won't spoil it for you, go read it yourself.

Nine Lies About Work: A Freethinking Leader's Guide to the Real World
by Marcus Buckingham and Ashley Goodall

This book was eye-opening and provided several excerpts for my weekly inspirational email that I send to my team. It takes nine commonly-held, obvious truths, things like "People care which company they work for" and "Work-life balance matters most" and uses research to carefully show why they actually aren't that true. I think the most relevant for me was "The best people are well-rounded" because I work in an environment where our staff literally have to do everything, wear every hat, serve in several roles, and do all of them well. And so it seems to me like the team members that would have the most success would be well-rounded. The authors use the bizarre example of Lionel Messi and his prolific left foot to establish that those with strengths, who know their strengths and hone their strengths and become better at their strengths than anyone else, who also integrate with a team with different strengths, actually are most successful. Some of the tenants of the book are less convincing, or more controversial. But on the whole, it was probably the book that led to the most discussion among my leadership team.

Five Languages of Appreciation in the Workplace
by Gary Chapman and Paul White

Slightly less profound for already having read (and lived) The Five Love Languages, but nevertheless a very solid reminder that what you give to your employees (in the form of expectations, feedback, praise, etc) is not necessarily what they receive. We already have our team members self-identify their recognition style when they are hired (blue, green, red, brown...I'm a green in an entire department of blues), but that focuses more on what you like to be recognized for whereas this book talks about how you like to be recognized or appreciated. It led to some fruitful discussions with my direct reports and some own self-reflection into when I do and don't feel appreciated. I don't think that it's as easy or as obvious as the authors often made it sound, but it's worth incorporating into any recognition program.

Honorable mentions: The Four Disciplines of Execution (would have been near the top of the list if I had finished before it was due back at the library, but alas, only read the first half); Great Leaders Have No Rules (I liked tossing the concept of "open-door policy" after reading this); Finish: Give Yourself the Gift of Done (less leadership, more self-help; ironically took me forever to start, but I finished quickly); Extreme Ownership (in progress); The CEO Next Door (in progress); Mindset: The New Psychology of Success

Maybe the reason it feels like I am working all the time is because I spend all my non-work time reading books to make me better at work. #facepalm

This is almost an annual Christmas Letter

I really thought I had it in me to send out an official Christmas letter this year, but as with many things in my life, execution doesn't always match ambition. However, this year saw a lot of ambition leading to execution in the form of a somewhat modified New Year's Resolution. Instead of my tried and true "do three things outside my comfort zone and go somewhere new", I set out to attempt a new hobby for every month of 2018. I've never really had a hobby that I considered my "thing" and I'm convinced that if I just keep trying new things, I'll discover something that brings me immense joy and at which I also happen to inherently excel. Spoiler alert: still looking. My attempted hobbies for the year ranged from "I never need to do that again" to "Let's do this every week!" and while I didn't quite achieve 12 months of success, I figured I better write down what I did do so I have proof.

2018 introduced me to:

Backcountry skiing to a 10th Mountain Division Hut– Skiing uphill is way harder than downhill.  I put this firmly in “never again” territory for 9 months, and then signed up for the 2019 hut trip.  At least this time, I have a better understanding of how much whiskey to bring. And blister avoidance techniques.

Yup, that's me, carrying a backpack that's almost as big as I am

Broomball– Think outdoor ice hockey in tennis shoes with tiny brooms instead of sticks. At least it was so cold that when I wiped out, I had layers to cushion the fall. Maybe I should talk to the league about allowing YakTraks. 

Axe throwing– New hobby for the win!! This is apparently the latest Denver craze, and one I highly recommend. If I was more willing to deal with downtown traffic, I would seriously do this every week.

The one I threw is in the bullseye right beside me

Baking a Pie From Scratch- It was edible. And I wasn't so intimidated that I wouldn't try again. 

Cycling- While I won't call myself a cyclist, I did manage to train for and complete the 2-day, 140-mile Bike MS with my dad.  Some of you may recall that the Zapapas family Christmas letter from 2010 described this father-daughter outing, not incorrectly, as “child abuse.” Still, I am the proud owner of not one but two pairs of padded bike shorts and intend to use them (albeit somewhat less) in 2019.

Exhausted, and made it just before the downpour started

Doctor Dolphin- While I had my first introduction to Camp Wojtyla last year, this year I was solo for the week, serving as camp medic for 60 middle school girls and their counselers, surviving a state board inspection, and rocking the hammock. Thanks to an enthusiastic sherpa, by the end of the week, people were calling me Doctor Dolphin at least as often as they were calling me Doctor Laura.

Vinyl- I think you can count this as a hobby? I bought myself a record player and have SLOWLY started building my collection. I think I'm up to nine records, but it's amazing how hard it is to find an album where you like the whole darn thing. Used record stores FTW (#dollyparton, #bingcrosby) 

Making Vanilla Extract- Some relative (maybe great-grandma?) used to do this, and I thought I'd give it a whirl.  It's actually pretty darn easy, not too expensive (would be cheaper if I had used a more thrifty ratio of bean to booze), and makes great Christmas gifts. 

A couple notable not-first-time fun things: hiking a 13er (South Arapaho Peak), mass on a 14er (Mt. Evans with the Capuchins), being a really cool Auntie (it's easy with the best niece ever), stand-up paddleboarding (twice), solo camping trip (remembered the sleeping bag this time), Escape Room (hooray Kinders!), rifle shooting (harder when you're left-eye dominant), wiffleball (switch hitter!) and volleyball and softball, and another dozen Colorado breweries checked off the list (plus a couple in Austin).

And friends, I think 2019 is gonna be a big year! Til next time.