My dog and I have taken to running late at night, when the trail is empty except for the occasional stray cat or passing cyclist. We run down this long stretch, humming songs and slowly I begin to feel the worry leaving my soul. It takes me about 12 minutes to run from one gate to the next where I stop, catch my breath, and look at the night lights that have been hung in a distant yard. I find myself wondering about the people who took the time to decorate their backyard so pretty for those of us night owls out running. It’s like a little piece of heaven has been strung between the trees to assure you that yes, Elisa, there is a God and He does hear your silent prayers.

We turn around and begin to run our way back, my dog and I. I know that I am getting dangerously close to my favorite spot on my trail when I get to a specific song on my play list. I sprint the last quarter mile and run every last, little bit of stress out of my body that I can muster. Once the song ends, I slowly enter the best part of the trail.

It’s completely wooded, on both sides, and trees hug the trail in a tight embrace. It’s awesome during the hot, summer days, but at night? It’s incredible. The moon barely sneaks a peek at me, while I am on this portion of the trail. The darkness is encompassing.

Any normal person would be completely freaked out running into something that dark, and secluded, but not me. My music goes off, and I listen.

The only sounds I hear are the crescendo and decrescendo of the crickets, sometimes in harmony, serenading me as I pound past them. They rise and swell with each passing step, as if welcoming me home from my long hiatus. The wind blows and it adds to the song that is being created just for me. The rustling of the leaves through the trees; the faint roar of the crowd at the baseball field, and the pounding of my shoes as they hit the pavement. This is my song, the one being created on the spot just for me.

Every so often, I can hear the badonk, badonk, badonk of someone drifting too close to the edge of the interstate and the low hum of a passing freight train all while the bugs crescendo and promptly decrescendo—in harmony. It’s the perfect accompaniment as I work through the thoughts that are troubling my soul.

We keep running, my dog and I, and hear a sprinkler turn on and the chickens that live just off the trail bedding down for the night. My dog catches sight of our distant shadow and utters a low growl, while perking his ears to make sure that we are safe. And alone. Not once am I afraid. I feel at peace, here on my trail with my night sounds.

This .57 miles is the best part of my whole run. The loud stillness that surrounds me while I am decompressing is engulfing. Peaceful. It ends all too soon, and I am back under the street light, seeing the headlights of the passing cars. I peer at those lights, wondering who is in that car, and where they are going. Are they happy? Are they living a fulfilled life? Those questions and more fill my mind as I greet the passing lights.

I slowly turn around and repeat the .57 miles again, retracing my steps back home. The darkness swallows me whole and sometimes I wish I could stay there forever; Basking in the quiet solitude that I have found. Just me, my dog and the night sounds that serenade me.

I keep going, gaining more speed, feeling the wind hit my face and realize that I have a smile on my face. I have shed my worries and sorrows as I have run down that .57 miles and I am coming out the other side refreshed and reborn. I can face another day.

Until it’s time for my nightly ritual with the trail, the night sounds and my old dog.

At the beginning of every year I swear that I am going to get my act together enough to send out super cool Christmas cards. I actually even go through the motions of thinking about what I would put on said Christmas cards, planning the witty monologue that will accompany the beautiful photos of our adventures throughout the year.

Good intentions people. I has 'em.

About this time every year I realize I am a total and complete stress case and have again not done the stupid Christmas letter and if I want to avoid stabbing someone in the eye I have to start eliminating things off my "To Do List".

Like  Brag Letters Christmas cards.

Crossed off.

As I sat here feeling sort of like a big fat dork-wad I realized that there was no need for it. I still had time to create my little Brag Letter Christmas cards, I was just going to have to be a little more creative this year and use the technology that God blessed us with to mass produce and reach all tens of one of you that read my little ole' blog.

Here it is. The first ever, and I do mean ever (as in I have never in 20 years written a Family Brag Christmas letter) Tales from the Motherboard: A Year in Review.


Twenty-thirteen found Jefe doing the same thing he is super good at: Bringing home the bacon and frying it up in a pan. Both figuratively and literally. He's perfected our Sunday morning pancakes and bacon and it rivals any five star joint I've eaten in. Those pancakes melt in your mouth and the bacon is cooked just the way I like it. Quite honestly, I prefer his breakfast goods over most of the restaurants that we frequent.

He's still a partner at a local law firm, carrying large buckets o' money from one side of the room to another, helping people buy and sell companies and commercial real estate. He spends his free time (ha ha) watching the kids play sports and coaching Moxie's soccer team.

He is a dedicated Dad and finds complete joy in being present at every single practice and game that the kids are involved in. He doesn't want to miss one, single minute and I love him for that.

He still really digs fly fishing and I'm trying to talk him into ditching us for a week or so this summer to hit up the rivers of Alaska with a couple of his buddies.

I know. I'm totally nice.

Twenty-thirteen found me starting a new job with an airline. I have worked in the travel industry on and off since I was 17 years old and was thrilled to death when this opportunity presented itself. It was a little sooner than I had planned, but I am so glad that we bit the bullet and did it. I absolutely love my new job.

I started out in Reservations and worked exactly 9 shifts before I promoted to an internal support team. I'm in the same type of department that I was in when I worked for Morris Air Service back in the 90's and it absolutely feels like I have come home. I thank heaven above daily for the chance that I have been given to be back in the industry that I love.

Working from home is just the icing on the cake.




Jefe and I took off on a whim for San Diego for the day for our Anniversary and spent it riding bikes up and down Mission Beach, eating fish tacos on the pier and visiting four different beaches.

Seriously, I could not think of a better way to celebrate nineteen years of marriage than hanging out with my man in my favorite place on the planet, eating amazing food getting all zen-like together!

Jefe's only rule for our trip was: Plan nothing. And we didn't. We flew, literally, by the seat of our pants and it was the funnest thing we have done together in a long, long time. Completely spontaneous and an utter blast!


I was able to take the little girls to New Port Beach for a week of sun, beach and Disneyland. We bailed Utah on the first snow storm of the year and had a wonderfully warm vacation! We went with a couple of our friends and had a wonderful time playing and just hanging out.

We danced like fools on Route 66 in Radiator Springs, vegged on the beach, ate tons of fish tacos and soaked up all the sun we could. We made some fantastic memories and I can't wait for our next adventure!

Twenty-thirteen found Thing 1 finally graduating from High School.

Yes. She. Did.

She is all growed up, people, and thinking she should be an adult or some other stupid thing like that. She spent her high school days lazily working on the school magazine as an editor, whilst earning over THIRTY college credits. She graduated from High School with only 24 more credits needed for her Associates Degree.

Yes. The girl's got mad smahts.

She's decided she wants to serve an 18th month mission for our church and will turn her papers in to get her assignment in April. She will pay her own way for 18 months, living where she is assigned to live and serving the people in that area. Her Dad and I both went on missions and know the great benefits that come from learning how to serve without monetary reward. It's hard work and she will come home a completely different woman.

We are thrilled to death with this decision and just pray that she is sent to South Dakota. Or somewhere equally boring. AND SAFE.

Twenty-thirteen found Thing 2 starting 9th grade, playing not only outdoor football, but indoor football at the UofU as well. He was also on the track team and is CRAZY fast. He turned 15 this year and spends most of his free time either sleeping, listening to music, watching football or begging us to let him drive the car.

The last one is what nightmares are made of.

He's taking his first AP class this year and in Honors Math as well. We're thrilled that maybe someone in our family has some math sense, since it completely bi-passed his Father and I.

He's quite the hot commodity with the ladies. And you can see why. He's quite the boss with his posse. He has good friends and I'm proud of him for the example he sets for his friends and the level of Integrity I see him displaying. He's a good boy.

Twenty-thirteen found Thing 3 joining a Competition Soccer team. She was playing AYSO soccer, and even with not having any sort of practices the kid had some crazy mad skills. She was doing stuff that most of her teammates couldn't do, and her keeper skills were off the charts. Jefe found a competition team for her to practice with and she was invited to join them because of how amazeballs she is at being the Keeper. She sacrifices her body in ways that most 10year olds don't, and she is fearless. I watch the kid play and my heart swells with pride. She is good. She's really, really good.

She is in 5th grade now and along with being a natural athlete, she is also a natural artist. She can look at things and draw them and does a fantastic job. She has such a fun personality and sense of humor. I love listening to her tell her funny stories about her day. She loves to read and the travel bug has bit her as well. She went with me to New Port Beach for a week and we are already planning our return trip to Disneyland so we can check out all the things we missed this last time.

Twenty-thirteen found Moxie starting Kindergarten, and to quote her she "freaking hates school." At least she did for about the first 2 months. It was dumb, they don't feed you, you don't get to eat lunch there, her teacher steals things out of her backpack and kids follow her around trying to do the same things she does.

It's taken quite a bit of coaxing and reasoning to get her to understand how Kindergarten works, that her teacher isn't a thief and it's OK that she doesn't get to eat lunch at school. Home lunch is WAY better.

She plays soccer, too, and also started skiing this year with her siblings. And, the kid is a natural. She took to skiing like a duck does to water. She also came with me to New Port Beach and Disneyland. She and I spent our time chasing characters and getting our picture taken with as many as we could possibly find. She has been sufficiently bitten by the travel bug as well.

Twenty-thirteen found our little family getting a long better, laughing more and over all being happier. We've had our bumpy roads, but this past couple of years was full of lots of healing for us, growing and changing.

 I survey my little kingdom and find myself exhaling a deep, peaceful sigh and thinking: "My Word. This must be what heaven is like." My children are all happy, getting along with each other and actually LIKE each other. I sit at my desk while I'm working and I hear them laughing, chatting and loving each other and I nearly die from happiness.

Twenty-thirteen found us saying goodbye to our favorite mischievous boxer dog, Zoe. She spent 12.5 years with our family. She moved three times with us and was our constant companion. She kissed our hurts away and kept us company when we were lonely.

She died on Mother's Day weekend at home with all of us around her. She waited until all of her kids were home and could say goodbye to her before she left us.

Our family has a big, empty hole in it with her gone. I didn't realize how much of a companion she was until she was gone and I was left alone in this big empty house. She helped us all to feel safe and protected. She did her job, and she did it well. 

We talk about her often, and the funny things she would do (like jump up high enough to see over the fence at what the back neighbors were doing). We all miss her. She filled our home with a lot of love and made our family complete.

Twenty-thirteen found us being invaded by a new critter. The new neighbors have a super cool golden/lab mix dog that Jefe says is the perfect Zombie Apocalypse dog. You will see lots of posts on Instagram of this little critter with the hashtag #notmydog. 

Because she's not our dog. Although she is trying very hard to convince us otherwise. She has convinced most of the neighbors, including the dog catcher, that she belongs with us. I suspect her owners would be super sad if she moved all the way out. This is the perfect relationship: We foster her during the day and at night she goes home to her "other family."

She follows us when we go for walks or bike rides;  she lays by the front door sunning herself, waiting for someone to let her in the house and occasionally  I find her peering in my office window, wagging her tail waiting for me to come outside and play fetch.

She roams the 'hood like The Godfather, checking on everyone and everything, making sure all is well in Zion. She owns this turf and will take on anyone or anything that dares to challenge that ownership. Once she has decided you are "safe" she watches over you and your people diligently protecting you from every mail man, delivery man and bus driver around. 

She has filled the sad void that Zoe left in our hearts and is the bearer of happiness and cheer. Her happy personality is contagious. You can't help but smile when Amber comes to pay a visit.

The Winds of Change blew fiercely in Twenty-thirteen and it's been for the better. Life is about changing and learning how to accept and embrace it. This past year has been a good one. A full, happy life filled with wonderful memories. May this next year bring us all just as many changes, adventures and growth! 

We love you all and hope Twenty-fourteen brings you all the happiness you desire!

 Follow our adventures on Instagram so you can see what we are up to on a daily basis!

I am a list maker. I make lists about everything -  including lists of the lists that I've made. It's weird, really.

Back before I had my smart phone, I had a planner. Remember those things? I carried that thing with me everywhere I went.

I started using a Franklin Planner when I turned sixteen and was made a manager at our local amusement park. All the Executives at the park had them and I was convinced I would be a better manager if I followed in their footsteps, so I begged my parents to take me to the classes and get me one.

Isn't that a parent's dream? "Please Mom. Get me a book so I can be more organized!"

They did exactly what I would have done if my kid had come to me begging for something to help them be more productive: They bought the entire system for me.

I was pretty good at it, too, and I would make lists. For everything. To Do Lists, Places to See Lists, Things to Try, Things I'm Thankful For, Grocery Lists, Packing Lists, Places to Travel Lists, Thing's I've Already Done Lists.

The latter was always the easiest, and I still do that. After I have completed a few tasks -- even if it's just as simple as
1. Get Dressed.
 2. Make Bed.
 3. Brush Teeth -- I write those down and then cross them off. It makes me feel like I've actually accomplished something and motivates me to keep on keeping on.


My favorite list that I have is my  "Before I Die" list. I originally started it when I was in high school and have continually added to it. After I got married my "Before I Die" list started morphing into crazy things I wanted to accomplish because I had decided if I had a Bucket List I might as well put crazy things on it. I had decided that while I was in the midst of the baby years, I needed stuff to dream about.

And really? That "Before I Die" list was stuffed full of my dreams, and it kept me plugging along during the hard times. My dreams were MY dreams, and some of them were (and still are) a little unrealistic but they were mine. And come hell or highwater, I was going to try and accomplish them.

Last summer we were at a neighborhood BBQ talking about the things we were involved in and at that time I had just wrapped up filming the last episode of Tech Savvy. Someone at the BBQ asked me what made me think I could do a Talk Show and further why would I even want to?

I thought of my infamous list.

One of the things on my list was "Have a TV Show" and I looked at the woman and told I had a list of things that I wanted to do before I died and that just happened to be on my list. But putting that aside, why COULDN'T I do it?

I firmly believe that I can do anything that I want to, I just have to write it on my list and then make it so. (number one.)

These women were a little baffled. "You have a list of things you want to do before you die?"

"Yes," I replied, "don't you?"

One of the women stated that the kind of "goals" she sets revolve solely around her children and husband and seeing that they are successful and happy.

When she said that I have to admit that I felt pretty guilty because it my list made me feel and look selfish.

 The things that were on my Bucket List were things that were important to ME, and me alone. Sure there were things on there that my family benefits from, but for the most part the things that I've put on my list are things that I want to accomplish, do or see before I die.

As I've thought about this exchange I have decided that it's  MY list and there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with me having a list of things that I want to accomplish or see before I die. People can put on their Bucket Lists whatever they want, and if it is solely built around their husband and children and it works for them and fulfills them, then groovy.

My list is not.

The women were very curious about what else I had put on my list and so I started naming off some of the the things that were on my list: 

1. See Oprah 
2. See U2 in Concert  (twice)
3. Go on a Mission
4. Get Married in the Temple
5. Be a Mother (four times)
6. Be on a TV Show  (hosted my own show)
7. Be on a Radio Show (multiple times and my show was also on the radio)
8. Plan and organize events (twice)
9. Live in Chicago
10. Travel to China

In the process of naming off some of the things that were on my list that I have been making for the past twenty years, I realized something profound. I had accomplished everything that I had written on my list. Even all the crazy things? Yup. They were crossed off.

My infamous list was complete.

They asked me what I had left to accomplish and I was flabbergasted when I responded "Nothing. I've crossed them all off."

"Really?" They replied. "What are you going to do now?"  I responded "I'll just start making a new list."

And, that's what I've done.

I sat down that night and started making a new list of pipe dreams that I had. Things that I wanted to accomplish, do or see "Before I Die" (work for an airline) and I've started crossing those off my list now (see Dave Matthews Band in Concert).

 It's interesting to me to compare my lists and see how I have changed, and then how I haven't. I still have lots of crazy pipe dreams, places I want to visit and bands I want to see in concert but I also have different Bucket List items. Items like "See my child get married in the Temple" or "Kiss by first Grand-baby and whisper in their ear that I love them."

Don't get me wrong, I still have the crazy dreams, but I also have the more meaningful, hard to quantify ones, too.

Bucket Lists are meant to be about you and for you. It's what you want to accomplish before you die so you can die with no regrets. There is nothing selfish about that, and don't you let anyone shame you into thinking that there is. If all you have ever wanted to do is be a wife and a mother, and you're doing that (or have done it), then maybe its time for you to re-write your bucket list and add some new dreams to it because you have accomplished your "Before I Die" list.

What was that one crazy dream you had as child that you really wanted to do? Sing on Broadway? Dance in the Nutcracker? Kiss at the top of the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day?

Write it down.

 That's not selfish. That's acknowledging your dreams and giving them room to soar.

There is nothing selfish in having dreams, people. It's what keeps us moving forward, especially in the tough times.

Dreams. It's what our lives should be made of -- especially the crazy, pipe dreams.

Dreams, or Bucket Lists, are the difference between living and just merely existing. Go live your life and be brave and bold enough to write those dreams down.

During the wee hours of the morning while I am working,  I try to use my time in useful ways. Like watching videos or reading trashy chick Lit. In the course of working this new shift (just a little over a month) I have prepared two Relief Society lessons,  read four books and watched an entire season of Breaking Bad.

Yeah I know.

I've already seen all of the seasons of Breaking Bad.

Don't judge me.

However, this past week I have been watching Ted Talks in the morning while I "work".

My sister told me about Brene Brown several months ago. She has done extensive research into vulnerability, courage, worthiness and shame. As my sister talked to me about this woman and her ideas it felt like a whole new world was opening up to me. Feelings that I would have when I interacted with various people started to make sense and my world was being rocked. In a good way.

 I needed to mull over the things she would tell me, and digest them little by little. I would go back and ask my sister more questions and she would encourage me to watch the videos and read her book. I'm not sure why it took me so long to actually sit down and watch them... probably because I had to actually sit down and watch them. And that takes time. And I had more pressing things to do, like read trashy chick lit and watch Breaking Bad.

Whatever. Don't Judge.

Yet, as I watched her first Ted Talk (the one above) I was floored. I kept having to pick my jaw up off the floor. It made so much sense. I was energized with the idea that something as simple as being willing to be vulnerable could, in fact, be the birth place to creativity, innovation and change.

 I have struggled because it feels like my creativity has become stagnant, stuck, dead, dried up in the water, gone, gone baby GONE.

I miss her. My creative side. And, for the life of me I haven't been able to figure out where she has been hiding; However, as I watched the video I started to understand where she had been.

The ideas she teaches are fantastic and frankly Mind Blowing.


What really rocked my world and has had me thinking non-stop about how I parent and interact with others is the second video she did on Shame.

Shame.

It's such a dirty little word.

Shame.

It has a tendency to rule our lives, mixed in with a heavy helping of Guilt and Fear of Failing.

Fear of failing is very real thing and it can be paralyzing. I see it in my daughter who just graduated. She has been so worried about making the right choice, and then succeeding in that choice that she has failed to make any choice. The world views failure through the lens of  shame, but in reality its not a bad thing to fail. Failing is good. It means you tried. It means you allowed yourself to be vulnerable and open. Some of the most successful people have failed. And failed big. But they didn't view that failure through the lens of shame. They viewed it through the lens of courage. 

According to Brene Brown, shame  is an epidemic in our culture. We embrace it and proudly wear it like a medal of honor. And it is killing us all slowly.  Killing relationships. Killing creativity. Killing potential. Killing testimonies. Killing personal self worth. Killing people.

"Empathy is the antidote to shame.  If you put shame in a petri dish it needs three things to grow exponentially: Secrecy, Silence and Judgement.  If you put the same amount of shame in a petri dish and dose it with empathy it cannot survive. The two most powerful words when we are in struggle is "me too."

 I know, right?

I heard it. That was your mind blowing, too, wasn't it? 

How many times do we not tell people how we are really feeling because we are worried we will be judged? How many times when asked how we're doing, reply "I'm Ok." when in reality we feel like we're drowning? How many times do we shut down the vulnerable side of us and listen to our critics -- the worst one being yourself -- and embrace the words we are hearing in our head: who do you think you are? you're not good enough, you're not important, you're not smart enough, you can't do that, you're a loser and a failure? 

By doing all that we are flaming the shame, allowing it to grow, take control of our lives, rule us and ruin us.

"The two most powerful words when we struggle are 'me too' " and by using those two little words, we take away the opportunity for shame to take root and grow. If we are going to find our way back to each other as a society vulnerability is the path. Its seductive to sit on the sideline, planning furiously how we will succeed. How we will accomplish our life goals, but not actually taking the plunge until "I'm ready." Or "financially secure." Or "have more money." Or whatever the excuse may be.

It's easier to let the shame wash over us and tell us we aren't "enough."

Telling people how you feel, or that you are struggling or that you need help isn't a sign of weakness but the most accurate measurement of courage.

Let me repeat that: Vulnerability is not a weakness, but the most accurate measurement of courage. 

Courage people.

Being vulnerable and open with others means you have Courage. With a capital C.

All I want for the people I love is for them to dare greatly. To look that critic in the eye  -- who is usually staring us back from the mirror-- and respond with "Who do I think I am? I am me and I am awesome. I can accomplish whatever I can dream."

Because they can. And so can you.

Watch the videos. I promise it will be the best forty minutes you will spend all week.

Even better than an episode of Breaking Bad.

Pinky Swear.

Thing 1, the 17 year old, wrecked the jeep on November 1st. We are still cleaning up the mess from that. It's been getting "fixed" since November 2 and as of today they still don't know when it will be done.

She is no worse for the wear. Other than a jacked up back and a mild case of anxiety. Thankfully they make herbs and oils for both ailments.

The jeep on the other hand? Well, it's seen better days.

 The drive shaft, rear suspension, rear axle and 4-wheel drive were ruined. Along with the door, wheels and a plethora of other problems.

Apparently she has mad driving skills because everyone -- police, paramedics and towing company-- could not believe that she didn't roll that puppy.

Frankly, after hearing them all talk, I can't believe she didn't roll it either.

She said that she felt it go up on two wheels and the thought occurred to her that she was going to roll. Then the next thing she knew it felt like she was being yanked back down and she landed on the stop sign on the sidewalk.

I have my own theories as to what happened that morning and I thank the Lord constantly that the little stinker was protected.

As humans we have a tendency to hold grudges, be offended when no offense was meant and with hold forgiveness as a means of protecting ourselves. It's easy to get caught up in being  angry and serving up our own version of Javert justice -- obsessed with proving that we are right -- that we neglect to see the amazing person Jean Valjean has become. Javert is only concerned with Justice, paying no mind to Mercy.

This accident reminded me of that principal. Accident's have a tendency to do that, don't you think? Remind you of what is truly important. It's not being right. It's not holding that grudge. It's the people that are in your life. It's forgivness. Its change and growth. That's what's important.

Proving that you're right is never the right way to be. It only sacrifices relationships and alienates people.

Thing 1 and I had argued that morning and I am eternally grateful that THAT wasn't the last memory I would have with my child.

"The Great Accident" of 2012 reminded me that the only thing that really matters in life are the people that are in it. Things are just that -- things.

Things don't matter. People do.

About ten years ago, I had a falling out with one of my friends.

It was nothing exotic -- there was no fighting, no yelling or even hurt feelings involved -- we merely "grew apart".

This friend and I had met at a local scrap-booking store and we hit it off fantastically. She worked there and I would arrange to go to the midnight scraps she hosted because I knew it would be a night of laughter and release. We had a great friendship and I really liked this person.

She lived several towns away from where I was living at the time, and because of that, moving the friendship to "the next level" required work. I was young and inexperienced in the art of friendship making (and keeping).

This friend invited me over to her home. A lot.

 And at first, I went. A lot.

And then slowly, I started finding excuses as to why I couldn't make our scheduled play dates. I really liked this person, but it was work and frankly I was lazy. And selfish. Candidly, I didn't even realize that I was pulling away until she started calling me asking me why I wasn't returning her phone calls anymore or not coming to our Midnight Scraps anymore.

I started giving her the standard excuses: "I'm super busy and I've got no time for myself anymore. My family, kids, church calling and job are sucking me dry. I'm just barely hanging on here." 

And that was true.

I was in the RS Presidency at the time, I was working 30 hours a week at Schmoles. I was busy. My marriage was running a little rough, my kids were being kids and I felt like I was drowning. My natural instinct was to cut out things that were work, or took too much effort.

In doing that, I cut out a person who was my advocate. My biggest cheerleader. My friend.

A year or so later I got a letter in the mail from her telling me how sad, hurt and angry she had been with me. She didn't understand what she had done to ruin our friendship or why I had cut her out of my life. She understood that people can change and grow -- not be "compatible" any more -- and if that had been the case, she wished I would have just told her. She explained that she had spent an exorbitant amount of time trying to figure out what she had done wrong. She missed our friendship and couldn't understand what was wrong with her and why I wouldn't be her friend any longer."

My response?

"No! No! No! That's not the case at all! I do like you (which I truly did! She is a wonderful person and a blast to be around) I've just been so crazy busy that I haven't had time for anything or anyone. It's not you, it's me! You are a wonderful person and I do consider you my friend. I've just had no time."

And there they were: The time excuse. The too busy excuse. The family is sucking me dry excuse. The job is taking all my time excuse. The excuses.

We've all used those phrases a million and one times. But, really? All they are is an excuse. An easier way for us to say "You weren't a priority to me."

Think on that for a second while I tell you another story.

I had another friend who called me recently to tell me that she was feeling bad about our friendship. When I started offering her my standard "I've been super, crazy busy! I hardly have time to think! My kids are being emotional vampires and I am working like crazy!"

She listened nicely to me, and then said: "What you are really saying is that I am not a priority to you. Because Elisa we all have the same amount of time in the day, and we find the time to accomplish the tasks, or be with the people who are Priorities. I am not one of your priorities." 

I was stunned.

How could she say that?  Of course she was a priority, and when she called me on it and characterized our lack of interaction so boldly, it hurt. A lot.

However, she was right.

She hadn't been a priority.

When we say we "haven't had time" or "I've been crazy busy with X, Y and Z" what we are really saying is it wasn't a priority to me. 

I say it to people all the time when they quiz me about how I am able to be involved with all the things I am. They essentially are giving me a compulsult -- a compliment that was really intended as an insult -- when they say they have "no idea how you find the time to be involved with all the things you're involved with. They can barely keep up on the laundry!"

My response is always the same: "You find the time to do the things that are important to you. If it's important enough to you, you will find the time to do it. It becomes a priority."

Priorities. That's really what all those excuses are about. They just weren't a priority.

People change and grow. Friendships change and grow. However, if you are a true friend, we make time for one another. We find the time for the things that are important to us:  Our families and our friends should be priorities. People should be priorities.

Think about that the next time you find yourself responding with the standard "I didn't have time to get it done" response. What you are really saying is that task, that request, that person wasn't a priority. 

Every time I have found myself saying "I didn't have time . . . " I have thought to myself  "what I am really saying is it's not a priority to me." When I phrase it like that, it sounds selfish. That simple change in phraseology causes me to stop and evaluate the situation and circumstances. More often than not, I am the one that has the priorities out of whack. I need re-focusing.

I should never be too busy for my family or my friends. If that is the case, then I have some adjustment to do. In the final analysis, all I have when I leave this life are the relationships I have made and nurtured. And that nurturing takes work, effort and time.

And time? That is something we all have plenty of . . .  if it's a priority.