“I'll take a half-pound of honey ham, please.” 

The skinny kid behind the counter gave me a nod and grabbed a plastic glove.                                              

“Ma'am, do you think you're in a rut?”       

What did he say? I looked up from my grocery list. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Um … it’s just that uh … you always get honey ham.” 

“Yes, I do. My family likes honey ham.” I sounded like a commercial. Choosy moms choose honey ham. 

He shrugged and handed over the ham. I grabbed my cart and left. But I couldn't get his remark out of my head. 

Why did this guy notice – or even care about – my deli meat preferences? Did he think he was being clever? In-tune with the customer? Just because I like honey ham doesn't mean I'm in a rut! 

That night we went out for Mexican food. When the waiter brought our menus I pushed mine aside. No need to look at it. I always ordered the same thing. 

“I’ll take one medium shell beef taco with sour cream and tomatoes.” 

Come to think of it, I always order the same things at all my favorite restaurants. It’s no big deal. I like to know what to expect. I enjoy predictability. Routine. Oh man, maybe I am in a rut! 

I've got to break free from the daily routine of life. I need to get out of my comfort zone. Do something out-of-the-ordinary. Something fun. Maybe even something unpredictable! 

Bungee jumping wasn't my thing, so I made myself a promise. I'll at least take advantage of the little opportunities that come along and make life more interesting. So here’s what I did:

I did something fun. 
When the eighth-grade volleyball girls challenged us parents to a game, I was a little apprehensive. I mean, I played volleyball in school, but that was a long time ago. Then I thought about it. This could be fun. Instead of sitting on the bleachers, I’d be right in the action. And guess what? It was fun – especially when we won!

I got out of my comfort zone.
If you've read my blog very long, you know how much I enjoy public speaking. (Not!) Last week I was invited to talk on live, local television about one of my recent blog posts. If you missed that post, you can read it here: If I Could Bubble-Wrap Her Heart. Talking on TV was nerve-wracking, but it was also a great way to get out of my comfort zone. 

I did something out-of-the-ordinary.
I reconnected with a friend I hadn't seen in twenty years. It was wonderful. We laughed. We cried. We giggled like teenagers. And we promised not to wait another twenty years to do it again.

And then I did something unpredictable.
I saw them from a distance while strolling through the mall. A cute pair of boots. A small voice spoke up inside my head. You are a grown woman and you've never owned a cute pair of boots. It’s true. I've had tennis shoes, black, brown and blue loafers – even my fair share of ugly pumps from the 90’s – but I've never owned a stylish pair of boots. (No Curt, my snow boots don’t count.) It suddenly became clear. Buying these boots would be perfectly unpredictable. Besides, as I was standing in line, a sweet old lady slipped me her coupon so I knew it was God's will. 

Last week at the grocery store I looked for my young outspoken friend. He was nowhere to be found. Didn't matter, I was on a mission. I was taking charge. I was busting out of that rut! A lady behind the counter interrupted my thoughts.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” I said with a grin. “I'll take a quarter-pound of sweet maple turkey breast.” I felt empowered.

She wrapped it up and set it on the counter.

“Anything else?”

“Yes...” I tapped my finger against my lips, pondering. “Give me a half-pound of honey ham.”

I mean seriously, let’s not get crazy. These things take time.

Have you ever felt like you were just going through the motions in life? I think everyone feels that way sometimes. So tell me, what have you done lately to get out of the rut? Leave me a comment and let me know!

Also, I've got some exciting news!
Are you on Facebook? Do you like my writing? Well I would LOVE for you to LIKE my new Facebook page! 
Visit me here: https://www.facebook.com/SheriZeckWrites. I'll keep you updated about all my writing endeavors! 

I tried to enjoy my new-found freedom after my third and final daughter started kindergarten. Instead, I felt lost. Mundane days drifted into weeks. Of course I was still a mom, but my job had changed drastically. One day I shared my frustrations with my husband. 

“After all these years, this was supposed to be my time to pursue my dreams,” I said, plopping onto the couch, “but I can't even remember my dreams.”

Curt sat down next to me as I rattled on. ‘I mean, what am I supposed to do? Return to college? Go back to my old job? Pursue a new career?”

“You should do whatever you want,” he said, “but don’t settle for any job. Do something you really enjoy – something you feel passionate about.”

In my heart, I knew my passion … writing. It seemed like I was always writing something. Stories for my girls. Family Christmas letters. Articles for the church newsletter. But trying to get published? Now that scared me. After all, I wasn't a real writer. What if I wasn't good enough?

I tried to reassure myself. What’s the worst thing that could happen? An annoying voice inside my head spoke up. 

Others will discover you have no idea what you're doing. You could fail.

So I ignored the dream. I tucked it away and tried to forget it. Until a few weeks later when my pastor shared a message I couldn't ignore.  

“How many times do we limit ourselves because of fear?” My pastor’s eyes scanned our congregation. “How often do we miss what God has for us because we fear rejection and worry too much about what others might think?”

I fidgeted in my chair. How did he know I was struggling with fear?

“If you believe God put a desire in your heart, don't let feelings of fear stop you.”

I nodded to myself and scribbled notes in my bulletin.

“It’s okay to be afraid. In fact, it’s normal to feel fear. Just don't let fear control you. Trust God with that fear and He'll walk with you through your fear.”

I wrote down three simple words and underlined them.

Do it afraid. 

Over the following months those words became my motto as I stepped out of my comfort zone and into the wonderful, yet overwhelming world of writing. 

First, I read every book I could find on improving my craft. Then I worked up the courage to submit articles for publication – and had plenty of practice learning to cope with rejection.

Meanwhile, the relentless voice in my head worked hard to discourage me. But I didn’t give up. “Do it afraid,” I said as I pushed myself to write another article. “Do it afraid,” I thought as I emailed a magazine editor. “Do it afraid,” I said as I signed up for a writer’s conference.

And afraid I was.

I remember sitting in the van that morning, wiping my sweaty palms against my khakis. I glanced at the dashboard clock: 7:58 AM. Across the parking lot, a young woman carried an armful of books and headed toward the front doors. Should I go in? Registration began at 8:00, but the first speaker didn’t start for a few more minutes. I’d wait. Right now conference attendees were probably mixing and mingling, sipping their lattes and discussing their latest novels.

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, trying to ignore the voice inside my head.

Writing for the church newsletter doesn't make you a writer. Anyone can write for a church newsletter.

I watched a couple more conference-goers weave their way through the parking lot and disappear through the front doors. My stomach flip-flopped. Maybe I should forget this silly notion and go home.

But I didn't forget it. I walked into the first workshop with my heart pounding hard inside my chest. Like the new kid in a junior high cafeteria, I searched for a seat among strangers. But by the end of the workshop, I felt at home.     

In the months after the conference, I continued to follow my pastor’s simple yet powerful advice. I joined a critique group, entered a writing contest and started a blog. I surrounded myself with people that encouraged me – and ignored the ones that didn’t.

Each time I stepped out of my comfort zone, God opened another door of opportunity. Eventually as my skills and confidence grew, “doing it afraid” led me down the path to publication.

Then one afternoon I got a phone call.

“Hello, am I speaking to Sheri?”

I exhaled a heavy sigh. “Yes, this is Sheri.” Telemarketers are so annoying.

“I’m calling from Guideposts Magazine and I wanted to let you know that your story was chosen as one of the winners of our writer’s contest.”

I couldn't believe it! And for about a week I couldn't stop smiling. If you'd like to read more about the day I got that phone call, click here. 

It was an wonderful opportunity. Guideposts flew me and eleven other writers to Seattle for a five-day workshop. Their editors taught us how to write inspirational articles for the magazine, and as an added bonus, I made lots of new friendships with other writers across the country. (I also got to meet bestselling author, Debbie Macomber! You can read about that here.

That was two years ago; and there are still times when my insecurities creep back and try to discourage me. That’s when I have to remind myself that the only way I'll fail is to quit.

I feel so blessed to be able to do what I find extremely fulfilling. As I continue on this journey, who knows how far I’ll go when I keep doing it afraid? I may have butterflies in my stomach and trembling knees along the way, but I'm excited to see my destination. 

I've never cared about being the center of attention. The mere thought of public speaking makes my hands sweat and heart race. In fact, I’m perfectly content spending time alone with my thoughts in my nice, peaceful office. 

There. I've said it. I enjoy my quiet, comfy life.

But sometimes God takes my comfortable life and stirs it up a bit. After all, He knows me so well. He knows if I didn't have a little push every now and then, I’d never leave my comfort zone. Well, last week, God gave me a push – and sent me straight into panic mode. I immediately called Curt at work.

“I just got an email from the producer at Paula Sands. They want to know if I’ll come on the show and talk about last week's blog.”

Curt burst out laughing.  

“Thanks a lot,” I said, feeling a tad bit offended. “You don’t think I could do it?”

“Sorry,” he said, “I know you could do it.” He paused, trying to restrain his laughter. “It's just, there are people that would love to be in the spotlight like that. And of all people, they asked you!”                             

Yep, Curt knows me well, too.

I’m not too proud to admit I was completely flustered. Did I mention the name of the program? Paula Sands LIVE. Yes, the show broadcasts live.

Speaking on live TV just seems crazy. There’s no time to mull over my thoughts. No checking a thesaurus for the perfect word. No hitting the “delete” key.

I knew it was a great opportunity. I just didn't know if I could do it. Then I remembered the pact I made with God when I first started writing. It went something like this:

“Okay God, if you’re gracious enough to open doors of opportunity for me, I’ll do my best to walk through them.”

So there I stood, staring at an open door.

Amid all my hand-wringing, I called my mom. “It’s funny,” I said, “I tell my girls to ‘get out of your comfort zone and do it afraid,’ but when it’s about me, it’s not that easy!”

I hung up the phone with a groan. That’s the tough part about parenting. You have to practice what you preach. My mind drifted to each of my girls.

If Madison can crawl onto a four-inch beam, leap through the air, spin around and do handstands while judges study her every move ... I can do this. 

If Taylor can stand at the pitcher’s mound during the last inning of a play-off game and pitch three beautiful strikes right over home plate ... I can do this.

If Emily can walk into a school full of strangers, make new friends and try stuff she’s never done before like volleyball, worship arts and cheerleading ... I can do this.

So there it was. I wanted to inspire my girls, but they had already inspired me.

“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.”  
- Mother Teresa