I was instantly mesmerized, hypnotized, totally enthralled by the store display of golden angels, reindeer in endearing poses, red cardinals perched on snowy twigs, shiny ornaments for the tree, and, well, you get the picture. It was a winter wonderland of glorious colors and Christmas cheer all begging me to take them home.

I held several in my hands while I imagined where they’d look best in my home.   

Suddenly, good sense showed up.  I don’t know what pulled me out of that hypnotic state, but reality and reason returned.

I have more than enough Christmas decoration all neatly organized in containers in a section of my attic ready and waiting to be displayed. 

In this challenging economy, I’m glad I stepped away from the decorations.  Now I need to step away from the sweet potato casserole and cookies.

Sometimes Moving Forward means stopping, taking a deep breath, and then moving past temptations and shiny objects. 

Snoopy

Snoopy, the Peanuts’ dog, sat forlornly at the door of his doghouse, lamenting, “Yesterday I was a dog.  Today I’m a dog.  Tomorrow, I’ll probably still be a dog.”

Like Snoopy’s sad declaration, Thomas had every right to lament:  Yesterday I couldn’t learn.  Today I can’t learn.  And tomorrow I probably still can’t learn.  Thomas didn’t make it through first grade because his headmaster said he was mentally retarded.

But instead Thomas decided, “Not only can I learn, I can make science come alive and be productive.”

Thomas Edison.  When you hear that name, light bulbs come to mind, don’t they?

But some would argue that isn’t even his greatest accomplishment.  Many say because Edison designed and had built the first research and development laboratory, and it became the model for research and development labs everywhere, that’s what he should be remembered for.

Like Edison, yesterday is not the benchmark for your today and tomorrow—unless, that is, your name is Snoopy.

When I was in Kindergarten my teacher handed out a paper with the outline of fall leaves all over it.  We were told to color it.  I chose a blue crayon and began to make each leaf a different shade of blue.  Some darker, some lighter, some barely blue.  But all blue.  I turned my paper in.

Later that day, the teacher held my paper up in front of the class and said, “Sharon, who do you think you are?  If you think you’re special, you’re not!  And if this is the kind of thing you’re going to do, you’ll always have trouble in life because leaves are not blue!”   With that, she crumpled my paper into an angry knot and threw it in the trash can, with a great flourish of disgust, in front of everyone.

I know, that was a long time ago. I know, I was a child.  Now I’m an adult, and it should be long forgotten.  But it amazes me how many years that incident affected me. 

I’d become interested in writing before I went to kindergarten.  I’d learned to read early and was intrigued with the idea of words and books. 

Once that teacher told me that I was always going to have trouble because of the ridiculous way I’d colored my fall leaves, I locked the idea of writing in a dark, cold, well-hidden place.  I didn’t tell anyone!

Now, decades later as I travel and speak, I’m astounded at how many people tell me of incidents and experiences from their past that stop or, at the very least, impede their moving forward.

Okay, Snoopy, yes you’ll be a dog tomorrow and every tomorrow to come.  But you can make walking on four paws an asset.

Moving forward isn’t changing your past, it’s changing your future.