“Eat like you love yourself.
Move like you love yourself.
Speak like you love yourself.
Act like you love yourself.”
—Tara Stiles | @tarastiles
Supermodel and creator of Strala yoga
When the rock group Queen sang about this “Crazy Little Thing Called Love,” they didn’t know how right they were. Love is complicated, whether it’s romantic love, familial love, self-love—or even those intense feelings of affection you get when you say you “love” a good book or the latest handbag from Prada.
But what complicates love for women especially is this internal compass that says you’re supposed to love everyone. Those nurturing maternal instincts of yours—which are awesome—want to make sure everyone’s happy, cared for and valued. It’s your natural inclination to get attached to others in a loving way.
But, beyond your own kids and spouse, is that really possible? Or even healthy? And what about getting lots of that love for yourself?
GIVE AND RECEIVE: COMMITTING TO A LIFE OF AUTHENTIC LOVE
What we’ve found with the women we’ve met through Oola is that love can be a tremendous accelerator in one’s life and an incredible force for good in the world at large—both when you’re loving others and especially when you yourself are receiving love. But the love you give has to be authentic and pure. It has to be applied in a smart way. And it’s a learned skill that takes practice.
Of course, the best way to get better at love is to start loving yourself more—giving others a clear example of how to love you, then receiving that love without complaint.
The truth is, people want to love you. Let them.
• • • •
SEEKING OOLA
SOMETIMES LOVE CHOOSES YOU
by Andrea Hanson
I believe love first chooses you, then it’s our choice to continue to love. To work for love and to fight for it. To grow together, not apart. To focus on what is going right, not what is going wrong.
Our love story began—though we didn’t know it—seven years before we met. I was a junior in high school while Chad was enrolled in the University of Minnesota engineering program.
On a cold fall day, Chad was driving down a quiet country road in southern Minnesota just miles from his parents’ home—a road he had driven a thousand times before. This night, however, was different. It was late and he was tired. He’d been up late the previous night studying for final exams. Overcome by fatigue, he found himself off the road, into a ditch, and upside down in his car.
Chad’s life had changed in the blink of an eye.
He woke up in the hospital with countless challenges and an unknown future ahead. Chad was paralyzed from the chest down—fighting for his life, on a ventilator, and learning to adapt to his new reality. After four and a half long months of surgeries and rehab, he was strong enough to come off the ventilator, drive his own power wheelchair, and leave the hospital to live with family.
Life was now very different for Chad. Once fiercely independent, he now needed to rely on others to help him with the everyday tasks he once took for granted. Though this was difficult, he never lost his drive to live a normal life. Depression and self-pity never swallowed him up. Instead, he focused on the beauty and kindness in those around him. He would see others with challenges and be grateful for what he had.
Graduating from college, he landed a job with the Minnesota Department of Transportation at a salary that allowed him to build his own home. Personal Care Assistants (PCA’s) were now a part of Chad’s “new normal.” They would come each morning and evening to help him get in and out of his wheelchair, brush his teeth, and stretch his body to prevent his muscles growing tight from lack of use.
While Chad was in a groove with his engineering career and life in his own home, I was turning twenty-two and hunting for jobs with a college diploma in my hand. I wanted to teach and assumed the dream job in education would follow. Instead, I had landed only a part-time position teaching high school math. Living in an old house that seemed to require repairs as routinely as mortgage payments, money was tight. I quickly found myself looking for extra work to make ends meet.
My mom’s friend mentioned that a young man was looking for part-time help just few blocks away. I walked up to his house—young, nervous, and with no idea what to expect. As the door swung open, I saw a good-looking guy with ice-blue eyes quickly smile at me and introduce himself. Chad assured me I could learn the ropes in no time. He had an easy way of conversation that made me feel relaxed and at home. Captured by his smile, dry sense of humor, and beautiful eyes, I forgot he was in a wheelchair moments after meeting him.
In those first few weeks learning to be Chad’s PCA, I was awkward, unsure, and shy. The agency that had processed my application told me never to share personal information or build a relationship with a client. As Chad asked questions about my life, I often turned them around and asked him instead. My heart was saying yes, but my head said, Be cautious; this is complicated.
Still, his positive attitude was magnetic. It was a light that slowly drew me to him. As the weeks passed, I couldn’t help but begin seeing Chad differently. He ticked the way I ticked. We both loved learning, jokes that required thinking, deep conversation—and he was the first guy I’d ever met who actually thought I was funny. God was beginning to write our love story, and I began asking for more shifts from the agency.
One afternoon and a few months into knowing Chad, while helping him organize his office at the Minnesota Department of Transportation, he shyly asked, “Are you hungry?”
I thought, Is he asking me out to dinner?
The man I worked for was asking me out—and my heart was thumping in my chest.
“Yes!” I answered.
As we sat down at the table in a crowded steakhouse, I remember asking what he needed help with—not wanting to embarrass him in front of the other customers who were inevitably staring at the two of us. I knew how to help him get out of his wheelchair at night, but now I was navigating through new waters, learning how to “do life” with Chad. At dinner that night, while cutting up his pork chop so he could use his own fork attached to his wrist splint, I began imagining what life with Chad might feel like. And I couldn’t get enough.
Within a short while, I knew I needed to open my heart to what was possible. I needed to break down any preconceived ideas I had of what love looked like. During each of my three-hour shifts, we connected, not physically but intimately, progressively, and on an intellectual level. I had butterflies in my stomach, unending smiles, and an anxious feeling—wanting to see him more and more. I knew Chad was experiencing something similar as he would find random things for me to do around his house to keep me there as long as possible.
Finally, I worked up the guts to say, “So what are we? Friends? Or something more?”
He put it back on me: “I don’t know. What do you think?”
Time seemed to stop as we shared stories, found common interests, and enjoyed new experiences. Without looking for it, we were falling in love. Two short weeks later, he asked me to be his girlfriend.
Because in my heart I fell in love with Chad—not simply a man who couldn’t walk—I found it alarming to begin receiving stares and probing questions from others. It brought concerns that I had never considered before. I get it, we have our challenges, but Chad is a catch—a real gentleman, kind, handsome, smart, and in my eyes, he could have his pick of any girl. But his wheelchair poses a roadblock for many.
After much prayer and with immense vulnerability, I mustered up the courage to ask him, “Are you dating me because you’re afraid no one else will come along? Are you worried that your wheelchair means you should grab the first girl who shows interest?”
I needed to know: was he choosing me for me or because he thought this was the best he would get? My question didn’t offend him; instead, he was grateful I had opened such a real part of my heart to him.
“Andrea, I’d choose you every day for the rest of my life,” he said, “regardless of our capabilities. I’m blessed that you chose me.”
Over the next nine months we grew closer. Each date brought a new adventure. Often, we would find a hiking trail and take the unpaved path as far as we could with his chair before it got too treacherous. We both strived to live life to its fullest. Then, one beautiful fall day, traveling about a mile into the woods, we found a small clearing of trees. Sitting on his lap, with us overlooking the beautiful St. Croix River, he pulled a ring from his wrist splint and asked me to be his wife.
Today, almost ten years into our marriage and blessed with our daughter Mari, we are both grateful that God used Chad’s tragedy to bring us together. Chad and I both believe that our love has been strengthened through the challenges. The more we’ve let this attitude drive our lives, the more God has showered His love and goodness on us.
I’m thankful that I didn’t listen to others when they questioned if I should commit to the challenges of Chad’s life. “Challenge” is a relative term—to me, helping Chad with daily living is just part of a regular life, not obstacles to overcome. I get to be his hands and feet while he brings stability, love, and joy to me daily.
I’ve learned that all marriages require hard work. But while many couples live their struggles privately, our “challenges” are merely more visible to others. As Chad teaches me constantly, life is well lived when you remember that you have 100 percent control over how you view the world. Love is powerful, and attitude is everything.
• • • •
What does love look like in your life? Does it come with conditions like, I will love you if . . ?
Pure love comes without conditions and pure love moves you toward your OolaLife. But is it possible to sustain authentic and pure love? Is it possible to love well for a lifetime?
LIVING OOLA
DANDELIONS
by Barb Braun
“Barb, are your kids taking over your kitchen?” a neighbor asked. I looked around thinking that there must be something crazy happening behind me. It wouldn’t surprise me if one of my daughters tried to make a dessert to impress a boy only to leave the kitchen a complete disaster. Could it be another animal that my son David—you know him as the OolaSeeker—is attempting to raise in the sink? I’ve seen it before. A litter of mice, a turtle, various birds, and even baby skunks. But to my surprise, I turned to see nothing that looked out of place. As a matter of fact, I think the kitchen looked immaculate. I loved my kitchen. The bright orange countertops; spotless. The stainless-steel sink; shiny. The intense patterned laminate floor; buffed. Obviously, it was the early eighties when my neighbor was asking her question, but nevertheless, my kitchen was where we spent much of our time, and I took pride in its functionality and design.
Our kitchen was truly the heart of our home. In this little room, in this little house, on this little farm in the middle of North Dakota is not only where we gathered two to three times every day to eat as a family, it’s where we shared our lives with each other. I can recall so many memories of just sitting back and watching all the kids interact, laugh, fight, make up, pray, and tell stories of their day. In the moment, it seemed as though time stood still and these days would last forever. They don’t. And although these moments faded into memories, some things have stayed the same even to this day.
The one constant is that Tony, my husband, has picked me flowers. His “flower” of choice is a dandelion. He has done this almost every day during the summer months for fifty-two years. He proudly presents this little yellow flower to me with these precise words, “These are for my beautiful girlfriend, aren’t you glad you met me?” I sometimes act as though I’m not impressed, but secretly I am, and in all honesty, he secretly knows that I’m impressed. He walks away with a confident smirk on his face and I quickly walk over to the sink like a flirtatious teenager, fill up a little glass jar half full of water, place the dandelion in the jar and set it on the window sill on display for all to see. It was this dandelion that my neighbor saw that day. And why wouldn’t she question it? These are the weeds that everyone is trying to battle and kill in the spring and all throughout the summer, and I look as if I’m protecting this one flower—or should I say weed?—with my life.
“Kids these days!” was my most common response when my flower was noticed by one neighbor or another. But, deep down, I knew then and I know today that this isn’t a simple weed in a jar. It is an expression of Tony’s love for me. His ongoing pursuit of me.
This dandelion and all the dandelions since have always represented us. The yellow flower symbolizes the sun and the hope each sunrise provides. The globe resembles the moon and reminds us to end each day in gratitude. And the dispersing seeds floating in the wind represents the stars as a reminder to always dream big, regardless of our age.
No matter how many times you step on a dandelion or mow it down, it comes back stronger. Just as the dandelion opens every morning to welcome the sun and closes every night, we have committed the last fifty-two years to always going to sleep with prayer, not anger, and waking together to start our day.
I realize Tony will not be around forever. Neither will I. He assures me there are dandelions in Heaven. I hope so, because whenever I see one I know I am loved.
• • • •
The OolaSeeker’s mom, Barb, knows what it means to love the simple things in life. What about you? How can you practice love more authentically and accelerate the journey to Oola? Here are three suggestions:
LOVE YOURSELF. You have unique qualities that are different from everyone else. Recognizing the differences in who you are—and loving yourself for these differences—not only makes the world a better place, it’s what makes you genuine, authentic and real.
It makes you imperfectly perfect.
Putting yourself down over inconsequential things, on the other hand—like that funny freckle on your cheek or the fact that you left college to raise a family—creates negative self-talk and robs you of an appreciation of the very things that make you unique. Why not appreciate instead that you’re one-of-a-kind and can build an incredible life being 95 percent of perfect?
Remember, too, that you have to love yourself before you can expect others to do so. The world is taking its cue from you. Give it the best example of how to love you—by loving yourself first.
UNCONDITIONALLY LOVE OTHERS. While toxic people need to be approached only after you’ve “suited up” in full hazmat gear, those who remain in your life deserve to be loved unconditionally for who they are—imperfections and all. Without conditions.
If you’ve ever found yourself thinking, I’ll love my husband if he takes out the trash . . . I’ll love you if you go to the college I choose . . . I love you even more when you bring me gifts, realize that that kind of thinking is passive-aggressive, conditional love. It’s love that depends on others doing what you want. You’ve put a price on it. These conditions set you up to be disappointed by everyone. When you’re never happy and no one can ever do enough for you, that makes you a pretty miserable person to be around.
Instead, why not begin expressing words of empowerment, compassion, and appreciation? Express that kind of love to people you care about and watch them show up in ways you’ve never seen before.
LOVE WELL. Some women are “enablers” and don’t even know it. They encourage or allow self-destructive behavior in others—like ignoring a teenager who’s partying too much or overlooking the red flags of a husband who works late every night.
Other women are “helicopter moms”—hovering and controlling their kids’ every move, protecting them from every disappointment, and doing even the smallest tasks for them, just when kids should be learning new skills and maturing year by year.
Although it comes from a nurturing place and a good heart, that’s not loving well.
While your protective instinct is strong, sometimes you just have to let people stand on their own, lose their way . . . fail. It’s the only way they can learn to work through disappointment, overcome pain, and gain the confidence they need to be a smarter, stronger, wiser person.