I have struggled in the past, feeling inadequate about my lack of resume-friendly leadership experience.

My leadership experiences — up until recently — all of the volunteer variety: I helped my husband start and lead a church. I led small groups of women in Bible studies. I organized and led (with others) a homeschool learning co-op. I served as our condo association’s president for several terms.

A couple of years ago, while teaching leadership online, I drove past our local Wendy’s restaurant. The sign outside announced openings for managerial staff. In the time it took me to drive past, I had this thought: Maybe I should apply. Maybe I need to throw myself into the trenches of “real” leadership to build my credibility and ability to lead others.

Photo credit Briles Takes Pictures...

I taught about leadership, wrote about leadership, and kept hidden this nagging thought that since I hadn’t held a paid position of leadership, I lacked credibility somehow as a leader. I compared myself to others with more impressive resumes and titles.

This contradiction: My strongly held conviction that we can each choose to lead. That leading is a choice we make, every day. That we have the power to make a difference, wherever we are, and that choosing to make a difference makes us leaders.

And, a nagging thought that I needed a position of leadership to be believed in as a leader. That title, position, and pay grade mattered more than a choice to lead.

It was all crazy-making.

As I am stepping up to lead myself — and now my growing team — I am, essentially, employing the same skills and practices I did as a volunteer leader.

The stakes seem a bit higher and the responsibility weightier. I guess I could have a title (if I wanted one; right now I call myself “business owner”). I get a paycheck (although I have to write myself a check.)

And those two facts — a title and getting paid to lead others — do not make me a leader.

It is really all about the choices.

I choose to lead. I choose to make a difference.

It’s hard work.

I am a leader.

Tell me something! How are you choosing to lead? What makes you a leader?

This guest post comes from Angie Butcher. Angie Butcher is a techy who is learning the ways of social media at Weaving Inlfluence.  After a degree in Computer Science and a career in I.T., she decided to take a break and have 3 beautiful girls. She recently decided to push herself physically by running her first ever half marathon. She also enjoys gardening, swimming, running, sunshine and coffee. You can find Angie on twitter at @fab_angie.

There are two kinds of dreams – the kind of where you imagine what you could do or be and the kind that come upon you while you are sleeping.  Why do we use the same word for both?  They are completely different from each other.  One I choose very consciously and the other is out of my control entirely.

My sleeping dreams are generally a reflection of my fears.  I dream about my children being hurt and I can’t help them, being lost or not being able to speak or see clearly.

My goal dreams, the things I hope for, have been clear. I have lived for myself – always.  I need to be comfortable, loved, encouraged.  I need to feel ok in my own skin. My dream or perhaps more accurately, my goal has been to be content.  A content wife, mother and follower. This goal seems good but feels empty.  A new dream needed to be defined.

I never imagined I could live for others, that I could focus on giving to others first.  What will my life mean if I always look out for myself first?  How many lives will be affected by that choice?  Probably a few, but not enough.  This year I have been defining new dreams for myself – new goals to live by.  I must find ways to give more and take less.  I must take the focus off myself and my abundant life and find those who are needing, suffering and lost.

That would require sacrifice, selflessness, perhaps even hurt.  And to choose that would be crazy, right?

But, this would bring the two types of dreams together.  I would tackle that great fear that appears to me as I sleep.  I could rescue the lost, I could protect children, I could see and speak clearly as I bring light into the darkness.

Of myself I can do nothing, only through Him who gives me life and love and strength.

This post is written in honor of the continuing celebration of dreams sparked by Whitney Johnsons new book, Dare, Dream, Do: Remarkable Things Happen When You Dare to Dream.

Angie Butcher is a techy who is learning the ways of social media at Weaving Inlfluence.  After a degree in Computer Science and a career in I.T., she decided to take a break and have 3 beautiful girls. She recently decided to push herself physically by running her first ever half marathon. She also enjoys gardening, swimming, running, sunshine and coffee. You can find Angie on twitter at @fab_angie

When I was in high school, I dreamed only of travel.

While my friends stayed up late our senior year gathering essays, recommendations, and a list of extra-curricular activities for their college applications, I lay on my blue carpet floor, perusing through guide books, sketching mountains I had never seen, and writing about my future—one that, I hoped, would include journeys to the world’s most rustic corners, people whose languages I had never heard of (and learning those languages…all of them), and a career that would encourage a vagabond lifestyle.

At seventeen, I watched the birds fly away for winter, and wished that I could see the ground through their eyes, that I could watch the landscapes change.

I imagined my classmates, years later when they had graduated college and were working a 9-5, would one day see something I had written for a magazine or international newspaper and say “I wonder what ever happened to her….”

And so, in late summer when the temperature had just begun to drop, my friends packed up their parents cars and drove to their new college campuses. A few weeks later, I got on a plane to Israel and didn’t come home for a year.

I experienced a lot while I was gone—I learned Hebrew, made top-notch hummus, and got myself in and out of some iffy situations. I grew used to not having air conditioning in 115 degree weather and, by the end of the year, didn’t even mind being squashed between people on the overcrowded public bus. I fell in love with the desert and the music that flowed out of it.

I learned a lot that I didn’t expect, too. Being away from my home in Indiana, I began to appreciate its subtleties—the friendliness, slow-pace, relative safety, and of course, my family.

This past December, I finally graduated from college. Over the past five years, I split my time between the USA and Israel, studying in universities in both countries, and traveling to many other places in on my breaks.

I took another semester off to work for a newspaper, and lived in a quiet town 45 minutes from the Dead Sea. Each time I moved between continents, the transition was difficult. The places always seemed the same, but I felt so different. When I felt downtrodden, I told myself: you are living your dreams, and eventually, it will make you happy.

I made the decision to come home (at least for now) a year ago. I live and work just a few miles from my parents, and wake up early to walk my large German Shepherd. A few months ago, a good friend from high school came home from her job in New York for a visit. My current lifestyle seemed to confused her. “What happened?” she asked, “you used to have such big dreams.”

I didn’t know how to put it then, but I have recently realized: I didn’t stop dreaming, my dreams just evolved.

For a while, I carved a different path for myself—one that led me to one of the epicenters of religious life and history, to desert caves, to unmarked borders, and to friendships I will always hold close.

And though my outward journeys colored my life and left me with many stories to write about, its the inner journey that I wish to cultivate the most—one of peaceful, quiet reflection and gratitude for every moment in this life. I hope that I will always be able to listen to my dreams, and to also accept that I can’t always know where they will take me.

From my dining room table I can see a pair of Cardinals (the Indiana state bird) at the bird feeder I installed last week. There is a nest in a nearby oak tree—I wonder if its theirs. Either way, I have a feeling they’ll be here for a while.

This post is in honor of the continuing celebration of Whitney Johnson’s new book, Dare, Dream, Do: Remarkable Things Happen When You Dare to Dream.

Margy works part-time for Weaving Influence and part-time for her brother’s consumer electronics company, JacobsParts Inc. She enjoys collecting wild herbs, writing poetry, drinking vegetable juice, and hiking with her dog Tesla. Also–blue grass music. 

Work for me has typically been a necessary evil, emphasis on evil. For years I didn’t realize there were people who actually found fulfillment in the activity that provided them with a paycheck.

“They call it ‘work’ not ‘fun’ for a reason,” was my mantra.

Meeting my husband was my first hint that some people actually enjoy their jobs. He loves what he does. He’s known since birth what he was created to do. He had a dream as a child and through hard work and a whole lot of grace he was able to make that dream come true. His example showed me it was possible even though I believed it wasn’t possible for “people like me.”

Two years ago I took a sabbatical from my then full-time work in the not-for-profit world. I was exhausted and burnt out. As meaningful as the work had been, it was never my dream job. The six month sabbatical turned into a year. Even after a year I still had no motivation, direction or desire to re-enter the full-time working world.

On a lark, a friend and I created a dance class that actually started to generate a little bit of income. Dance Fit was a taste of what it might be like to actually love what you do. But because it was only a few hours a week, I continued to tell myself, “But you could never find a way to make REAL money doing what you love. You’re just not one of those people.” (Don’t you just want to punch my inner voice? She can be such a “mean girl.”)

Fast forward to the beginning of this year — As we looked at moving to a new city, I was challenged to take this opportunity to reframe the way I look at work. A very wise woman encouraged me that it was possible to find work that would make my heart sing.

At the time, I nodded and smiled. It sounded lovely, but, not likely.After so many years of working strictly to earn a paycheck, I was skeptical.

Since we’ve been in Chicago, I’ve started to pursue “dreamy” opportunities. But a few dead ends and a lack of confidence put me on the verge of once again settling for the quick paycheck.

Enter Dare, Dream, Do. There is no question it came into my life at the ideal time.

As I mentioned in part one of this post, I find the idea of dreaming about a career to be scary. So, prompted by another wise woman, I started to dream about a lifestyle instead. For some reason that wasn’t nearly as scary to me.

Quickly I realized I am already living my dream.

Since we’ve arrived in Chicago, I’ve had plenty of free time. I’ve spent it exploring and learning about this magical city. I’ve been meeting new people, writing and playing on social media. Plus, I’m free when my husband, who doesn’t work your typical 9-5 job, is free.

Slowly the pieces started to come together.The fear began to turn into excitement.

I started to imagine ways to pursue what I love and collect a paycheck along the way. Support from my husband, encouragement from friends, advice from mentors, lots of prayer and Dare, Dream, Do have convinced me.

It’s time to take a leap of faith or two… I have decided to stop settling for the “safe,” uninspiring paycheck.

Instead, I’m taking a chance. I’m seeking advice. I’m looking to others who are working in the fields that interest me. I’m discovering what I need to do to take my dreams from hobbies to careers. And it’s actually happening!

It would feel much safer if I could close this out with a paragraph explaining exactly what that dreamy work is going to look like. That paragraph would tie my story up with a big bright bow. But I’m not there yet. I’m still watching as my dreams take shape.

I’ve traded in my fear for curiosity about what the future might hold. And though daring to dream might not be the safe option, it sure feels right.

Molly is a reluctant dreamer in recovery. She’s a social media junkie with a thirst for life long learning and an appetite for cupcakes. Currently she can be found falling madly in love with Chicago and chronicling the whole affair at her blog A Foreign Land. She also tweets up a storm under the guise of @mollypg.

It’s the morning of Whitney Johnson’s launch of Dare, Dream, Do: Remarkable Things Happen When You Dare to Dream.

It’s also the morning my very first keynote speech.

I first woke up about 3 am, went back to sleep, then woke up again around 4 am. At 4, I mentally reviewed the outline for my talk. And now I’m up and here in my favorite chair, doing my favorite thing.

This, not because of insomnia, and not because one of my girls woke me up (we are blessed that they all typically sleep through the night).

I woke up because, among other things, this is an exciting day, and I can’t wait for it to begin.

Waking early is not unusual for me. (If you follow me on Twitter, and wake up early, you already know that.) Since I returned to work in 2009 after 8 years of being home with my girls full time, I have woken up early nearly every day to work.

Clue #1 that you are living the life of your dreams: You can’t wait for each day to begin.

I take it as a good sign, a clue that I am on the right track, that I wake up early without an alarm.

Here’s another clue. Do you know that feeling on the edge of being over-caffeinated? That buzzy, happy, energetic feeling that helps you move a little faster? That peaceful, and  purposeful feeling? That’s…

Clue #2 that you are living the life of your dreams: all the effects of a triple-shot mocha, without even taking a sip.

Maybe I’m just an energetic person, so forgive me if you can’t identify with this, but I know I am on the right track when the work I do energizes me instead of depleting me.

The next clue comes from a recent conversation I had with a friend I met online. She recently received a copy of Whitney’s book and she told me that it is messing her up — in the best possible way. She is trying to figure out what her dreams are. In her words “I don’t know what makes my heart sing.” My friend Kevin Eikenberry puts it another way; he says he knows he is doing what he was born to do.

Clue #3 that you are living the life of your dreams: you hold a deep sense that you are exactly where you need to be, doing exactly what you were born to do. You are living in that intersection where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.

You are living in your strengths and making a positive difference in others’ lives.

Tell me something! How do you know that you are living the life of your dreams? If you are not living the life of your dreams, what one thing can you do today to move closer to that life?

This week we are celebrating Whitney’s book launch with 5 days in a row of posts about dreams. Later this week, we’ll have more guest posts, including posts from Weaving Influence team members. 

I feel honored to be a part of Whitney’s launch team, and I hope you’ll support the launch by buying her book — today. Think about two great friends who could use encouragement and inspiration, and buy a couple of extra copies, if your budget allows, so you can share the book with them. Dare, Dream, Do makes a great Mother’s Day or graduation gift. 

Growing up in a landlocked state, my childhood dream of being a marine biologist was based more on romance than personal experience. Over the years, I aspired to be a book-loving librarian, a highly respected doctor, a globe-trotting archeologist, and a life-changing high school English teacher.

What can I say? I dreamed big!

The reality was slightly different from the dreams of my youth: I married young, received a very generalized college degree, and had virtually no career of my own in the nine years since graduation.

On the other hand, while I can’t list “marine biologist” on my resume, I have viewed the stunning coral reefs of Indonesia, and experienced the thrill of swimming with sea turtles and jellyfish.

Ever the bookworm and married to ”Joe Handyman”, I was able to see our home library featured in a national publication.

And while I might not be a noted archeologist, spending four years living with my husband in some remotely beautiful locations around the globe took care of the world-traveling that I craved.

What I discovered was that those childhood dreams didn’t actually die, they simply changed shape.

Photo by D.E.F.

Five months ago, I took some time to dream about what I wanted to see happen with my blog. I had grown discouraged by the lack of reader interaction and had briefly considered giving it up, but I decided to allow for one more try before pulling the plug.

I selected three goals, which included writing a guest post and connecting with my audience, and started dreaming again.

 Will you celebrate with me today? You see, with this post, I’ve just realized one of those dreams.

I’m not the only one experiencing the thrill of reaching a goal this week. Whitney Johnson is realizing a dream  with the release of her book on May 8, which has encouraged me to once again, dream big.

Not all dreams make the transition into goals, but all of my goals have started as dreams.

Carrie, a lifelong fan of Jane Austen, writes about books, personal growth, and financial goals at her blog, Carrie’s Busy Nothings. She can usually be found amidst stacks of books and is an unabashed fan of Dunkin’ Donuts blueberry bagels. You can follow Carrie on Twitter @MyBusyNothings or @CGKoens. 

Today on SmartBlog on Leadership, I am writing about the role a leader can play in inspiring their team members to dream.

I hope you’ll click through and read the post.

In it, I quote Whitney Johnson, whose book is launching in just 5 days. She writes “If a dream feels right in both our heart and head, the dream becomes delicious.”

I really love that idea of delicious dreams.

In my post, I explore the idea that we can imagine our dreams with all five senses. I plan to write more about dreams leading up to Whitney’s book launch on Tuesday, but for now, this:

What do your dreams taste like?

Here’s my answer, then your turn:

My dream of taking my oldest daughter to New York City tastes like a slice of New York style pizza, chased by a sip of ice cold Coke. (I’ll take one from the fountain, on ice.)

photo credit kawanet

Your turn!

Tell me something! What does your dream taste like? (Post on your blog, if you like, and let me know in the comments.)

I didn’t expect the tears.

After all, I chose this.

I wanted it.

I have been edging toward it for months, trying it on, considering the possibilities of a big change.

Comforting the words of a trusted friend, when I asked her if she ever cries over business “Oh, I’ve cried a river about business. An ocean maybe.”

As have I.

Most memorable: the afternoon my supervisor called to let me know that I had not been chosen for a promotion to a supervisory role.

And, also memorable, and more recent: the morning I discovered that my second semester of teaching as an adjunct leadership faculty member had been cancelled due to insufficient registrations.

In each instance, I cried tears of sadness at the loss of those dreams and expectations.

Rivers of them, oceans maybe.

This time, though, my decision involved a choice to move toward my dreams, not away from them — in an honest and courageous this-is-what-I-want moment.

A risky moment, certainly, away from the secure and comfortable to the unknown.

And so my tears, freely flowing and unbidden.

Because with this choice, other dreams and expectations are dying, also. This choice brings inevitable changes to relationships, and I mourn those changes.

And so I will welcome the tears and let them wash over me.

May I let the tides roll in, this ocean of emotion.

These tears: evidence of the importance of my choices, the gravity of these decisions, the depth of the respect and regard I hold for the colleagues I am leaving.

I welcome these tears during a transition from my work as the Social Marketing Director for The Kevin Eikenberry Group.  I am beyond grateful to Kevin for his unwavering support and for the valuable learning I’ve gained working with the team. The experience of launching of From Bud to Boss  was an important milestone for me. It ignited in me a passion for managing social media book launches, and gave me credibility as a consultant for book launches. It is fair to say that I would not be building this business in the way that I am if not for the faith and belief Kevin placed in me when he hired me to join the launch team for Bud to Boss. Thank you, Kevin. Thank you, Guy. 

Effective June 1, 2012, I will be full time, all-in with Weaving Influence, LLC. We work with authors and thought leaders to grow their online influence and leverage social media to launch books. 

Tell me something! Have you cried about business? What important choices are you making to move toward your dreams?

We’d been married about four months when I made a big mistake.

In graduate school, we ate pretty simply, on a monthly budget that would now do little more than fill my gas tank. Once.

Still, I prided myself on preparing good meals, and I had a strong but perhaps misguided territorial possessiveness about my responsibility of chief cook for our fledgling family.

In fact, I initiated a not-small fight one night when my husband joined me to prepare dinner. He started added spices to scrambled eggs — not the way I would do it. And, though I don’t remember the words I said, I think they were something like “I want to do it my way. It’s my job to cook. Get out of the kitchen.”

photo credit swanksalot

And with that, he did.

So, over the years since then, I’ve been the chief cook in our home. Though my husband is quite helpful in other ways, he steered clear of anything cooking related, including manning the grill, until the past couple of years.

I still remember the day I realized I had seriously miscalculated during our newlywed years.

I had just returned from a business trip and I came in the house to the delicious smell of a freshly home cooked meal: pork chops, green beans, some kind of potatoes, sliced and buttered bread. My husband had set the table with a centerpiece of fresh flowers and the girls greeted me at the door, faces scrubbed, hair combed, handwritten cards in hand.

What a treat to sit down for a meal prepared, at home, by someone else.

What if I had never shooed him out of the kitchen? What if I had held less tightly to my idealized version of being superwoman in the kitchen, all the time? I might have enjoyed many more such meals over the years.

My husband now cooks many weekend meals. During the week, I typically cook, following a menu he plans and shops for over the weekend. Just today, I joined him in the kitchen only to help out with last minute preparations.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

Someone else’s skill or ability does not diminish my own. In my insecure early 20s, I thought that if my husband cooked, I would somehow be lacking as a woman, as a wife. (Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?) Now I realize that his skill means we all eat better. At work, someone else’s excellence just means that more value is added to the team. That you are good at something I aspire to does not mean that my contribution is unimportant. There is more than enough work for all of us to do together.

Something doesn’t have to be done my way to be wonderful. My husband does things differently in the kitchen than I do. He adds more spices; he uses more butter; he creates wacky combinations. But the results are wonderful. In the workplace, people may not do things exactly according to my recipe, but their end result can still be pleasing. Isn’t that all that matters?

Being territorial doesn’t get you anywhere. When I built a fence around the kitchen and slammed the gate to leave my husband on the outside, I hurt no one but myself. He still had good food to eat, but I missed out on the richness of his contribution. When we try to shut others out of our sandbox at work, we miss out on the opportunity to learn from others and benefit from their unique gifts and abilities.

I am no longer the chief cook at home, and I like it that way. And when I am tempted to feel diminished by someone else’s skill, in the kitchen or anywhere, I remind myself of all those years I cooked alone. Far better to share the kitchen. Don’t you think?

Tell me something! Who d0es the cooking at your house? What leadership lessons have you learned at home? Which of my three lessons resonates most with you?

This weekend, I’ve experienced the truth of this advice, posted by Gretchen Rubin on her Facebook page:

To do something, I have to do a reasonable amount of nothing.

I’ve had what feels like the most productive weekend ever, both in terms of housework and work related tasks.

To be clear, this is not the weekend in which I’ve worked the most hours — far from it.

But as the sun sinks behind the trees in our ravine, my home is tidy, I feel energized for a new week, and I have good memories of quality time spent with my family. Oh, and I knocked several tasks off my to-do list for work as well.

How did this happen?

Well, it didn’t start out so well. Yesterday, leading up to the afternoon, I sat at the computer longer than I wanted to while getting not-much done.

Then, thinking of Gretchen Rubin’s advice, I decided to let go of all the stuff I felt I needed to do, at least for a while.

I made, and ate, a late lunch with my family: three varieties of homemade pizza.

After sampling all three, I felt full and groggy. I stretched out on the floor and soon, my littlest girl joined me. We stayed on the floor for a long while, doing nothing except looking at each other and stealing a kiss now and then.

Then we popped a movie into the DVD player and the whole family settled in to watch.

Soon, my husband fell asleep. I snoozed and watched, watched and snoozed. When the movie ended, the girls and I decided to go on a walk to let my husband keep sleeping.

We followed our favorite route through our neighborhood to an adjacent private road and back through our neighborhood, nearly two miles of walking, talking, remembering, and picking wildflowers.

When we came home, I spent some concentrated time in my office, with the door shut, clicking items off my to-do list. I snuggled the girls into their beds and then enjoyed some time with my husband.

Today, after a morning at church, the girls and I did some chores together. We swept and sharked the floors, finished and folded a week’s worth of laundry, and prepared a feast to enjoy with extended family.

I lingered with the family most of the afternoon, enjoying a fire in our hearth. My daughters put on a dance show. And then, after we washed all the dishes and said goodbye to family, I worked a little more.

There’s still time for books and snuggles, and look — there is even time for this — a few minutes to write.

I had to do a lot of nothing before I could do something.

Thanks for the good advice, Gretchen. I’m going to try it next weekend, too.

Tell me something! How does doing nothing help you accomplish more? What are your favorite weekend activities? How do you use the weekend to recharge?