C’mon, this is my Holiday Letter?
Merry. That’s what I want to be. But, I’m having a tough time finding the right words. The holidays are a time to reach out to your friends, family, coworkers and clients. Every year I send out a twisted holiday email. Every year I bang my head against the wall. Again, I wanted to say something snazzy. Again, I plucked a few keys, focused on typically merry messages. Again, I hit delete. Uggh.
Last year I told everyone to Go Big in 2008! But, it’d be cheesy of me to just say “Go Bigger.” Wouldn’t it?
So, I starting asking myself: what would my personal heroes do?
What would profound people say? What would they do that’s amazing?
I admire a lot of people in this world—some of whom are receiving this email.
Maybe the world’s thought leaders would have a powerful quote I could use—something brilliant. Maybe I should look to the world’s great leaders for the perfect message. Maybe I should consult wise, weathered old men who won’t pull punches—they’ll tell it like it is, and use foul language. Maybe I should consult people with big jobs. Maybe I should consult famous celebrities. Maybe…maybe…maybe…
I searched for days, trying to discover the perfect message. I hung my holiday lights. I dragged the biggest tree we could find into the house. I listened to hours of Christmas music—hoping the merriest message would be revealed. I called my Grandma. I called business leaders. I searched online. Nothing stuck out.
I needed the advice of someone brilliant, poetic, and inspiring. I needed a hero to say something amazing for the holidays, for the new year and for the future.
Yet, again, back at the keyboard. Pluck. Delete.
Frustrated, I slumped into my favorite yellow chair. And, as the chaos and clamor of the Nordstrom house ensued, I gazed out the window—searching for a great idea, and a mantra to use as my holiday message.
That’s when a small hand reached up and grabbed my forearm.
“Daddy,” said my son. “C’mon.”
Although, the word “conversation” doesn’t quite accurately define the communication exchange between me and my 2 year-old son, and myself, I would soon hear a message that I would have never considered.
My son smiled, ear-to-ear. He took my hand and led me toward the hallway. Then, he looked directly into my eyes and said something that resembled, “Heat the pokey and sneeze, Daddy.”
Huh? Heat the pokey and sneeze? I had no clue what he was saying.
“Buddy, what do you want?” I asked. “What are you saying?”
He grinned, giggled, and headed for his sister’s toy box. He dug through the box for a while, grabbing at a few items before tossing them back and becoming obviously frustrated.
“What are you looking for?” I asked. “What can I help you find?”
He stopped digging. He sat frozen—trying to capture words for what he wanted to say. And, I wondered if he would be my holiday hero. Maybe the thing he was seeking would communicate the perfect message. Maybe my 2 year-old would save the day. Maybe he would say something absolutely brilliant. Maybe…
“What are you looking for?” I asked again.
“Daddy juggle,” he said. “Juggle.”
That’s it? That’s the holiday message? Juggle? It can’t be.
Nevertheless, I did juggle. And, as I tossed three small stuffed animals in the air, I suddenly realized something magnificent. Glancing down at my son, I noticed the expression on his face. He watched me juggle with an expression of absolute wonder, excitement, and utter amazement.
“Juggle Daddy, juggle!” he screamed with glee, his body trembling with joy.
There, for a fleeting moment, I realized that I, in fact, was my son’s personal hero. I was the person he looked to for amazement. And, even though I wanted to capture that instant, that smile on his face, and that look in his eyes, my mind quickly turned to self-doubt—wondering when, in life, he would get old enough to realize that I’m really not all that magical. For all the things I’ve done in this life, I have never felt that level of admiration. In fact, I have never felt that much pride in myself. Someone truly admired me. I was a hero. And, sadly, one of my first thoughts was, “When will it end?”
What’s the point?
I doubted the admiration of my own son. Where did doubt come from? Why does this happen to us as we grow older? When did we stop believing we could be heroes? To those around us, and to ourselves?
Often we all look at our heroes for inspiration, entertainment, and amazement. But, maybe it’s time we look at becoming our own fans—stop doubting our own greatness, stop looking to others to save the day, and start believing in the dreams we held as children.
Why can’t we be brilliant? Poetic?
You, your biggest fan?
In 2009, what could you do that would impress the tar out of yourself? What could you do to make yourself swell with pride and amazement? What could you do today? What could you do right now—to make you proud of you?
Forget being humble. Forget humility. Forget what anyone else thinks. These are bragging rights between you and yourself.
Am I crazy? Am I overly dramatic? And, am I sounding like one of those cheesy motivational posters?
Well, maybe I am dramatic and cheesy; but, quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m “GOING BIGGER IN 2009” and I’m rounding up as many people I can think of to get magical, be amazing, and be proud of their own greatness with me.
This year, I will devour every opportunity. I will trust in myself. And, expect more. I will strive to make magical things happen—always. And, I will tell those people in my life just how amazing they are—that they are my hero…because everyone deserves to feel the level of admiration I felt from my son that day.
Heck, maybe I’ll learn to juggle 4 stuffed animals. Or…5?
Whatever you do, and whatever you dream, become your hero in 2009. I will cheer for you. And, I hope you will cheer for yourself.
Oh, and please, be Merry in the process!
Respectfully,
Todd Nordstrom
P.S. Statistically, 50% of you will still skip to the post script this year (even though I busted you last year) before reading any other content. It’s okay. It just means that nearly all of you will read the following post scripts.
P.S.S. My Co-Author, Dr. Lundell recently began scratching certain achievements off of his “bucket list”. One of those items was to finish a triathlon. In November of this year he participated in the Arizona IronMan Competition. Here’s the bad news…he can’t cross triathlon off his “To-Do” list just yet. It turns out, Dr. Lundell not only finished the race, but won his age group and qualified to race in the IronMan World Championships in Kona, Hawaii (where only the world’s most elite athletes are allowed to race). Cool eh?
P.S.S.S. Huh? You still haven’t read my book? Buy it now, and just because you’re my friend we can knock 30% off the price. Just enter the promo code NORD when ordering. www.thecureforheartdisease.net
P.S.S.S.S. Didn’t get last year’s holiday wishes greeting, you can read it at: http://toddnordstrom.com/thoughts/?m=200712
|
