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Driving to Montana for Thanksgiving, my mind was far from a peaceful holiday season. In the waning days of November, I was thinking about my December calendar — work deadlines, meetings, games, practices, concerts, programs, to say nothing of holiday plans. The month seemed to be slipping away before it started.

It's generally restful to visit my parents, where — despite the two children I bring with me — I can feel a little like I'm a kid again. That generally was true at Thanksgiving. But I couldn't stop thinking about how I'd get everything done.

That is, until I read about a lady who had died nearly nine years before I was even born who had made a big difference in the lives of thousands of little girls who grew up in Billings, Montana — including me.

I always knew the name Shari Clevenger because I spent part of my childhood playing at Clevenger Park in Billings Heights. My parents told me I would enjoy a story about her in a local magazine.

While I knew she had something to do with youth baseball, I didn't realize until I read that Clevenger had fought in the 1970s to bring fastpitch softball to Billings Heights, which was then a pretty rural area. She got sponsors and permission to use a field, then found coaches and players. Games started in 1971 — a year before Title IX prohibited schools from discriminating against girls, which got the ball really rolling on women's sports.

Clevenger, the story explained, coached two softball teams herself but also was a "dance teacher, a Boy Scout leader, the vice president of the PTA and an involved member of her church." Devastatingly, she was killed by a drunken driver in 1975. The girls who played for her lobbied to put her name on the field where they played.

In 1992, 17 years after Clevenger's death, I played my first season at her namesake park. I played five years with Clevenger Park as my home field, along with a few games later on visiting teams.

Those early days at Clevenger Park started me on a path to a college team. The same was true of some of my teammates. We never had to fight for a place to play or legitimacy as athletes, because Clevenger had cleared that path for us. We gained confidence that carried into other parts of our lives and — maybe most importantly — had fun just being kids on a field.

My softball career brought me to North Dakota, where I finished college, started my career, met my husband and started a family. It's also where I started and got involved in my community.

Reflecting on all that, I realized my crazy December schedule was a blessing. I spent few December evenings at home. But I had evenings where important decisions were made for a project that should positively affect many lives into the future. I planned 4-H meetings where the excellent kids in the club found ways to give back to the community. And I got to cheer on kids at games and concerts.

My 2025 is shaping up to be a little crowded. But that's OK. I don't often make New Year's resolutions, but I'm resolving now to enjoy the things that fill up my calendar and to use my time to make a difference. If it weren't for Shari Clevenger's work for her community, maybe I wouldn't be where I am today. My life will not be lived in vain if someday, long from now, someone's life is better because of something I did today, whether they know of my contribution or not.

Our rural communities are often long on needs and short on volunteers. But any one of us can use our time to make a difference, no matter how big or how small. Maybe you can volunteer with a youth group or coach a sport. Maybe you can join the ambulance squad. Maybe you take an extra shift in the concessions stand. Maybe you help clean up part of your town. Maybe you just show up where you can with encouragement for those around you.

Whatever you choose, I wish you a happy New Year, where we all embrace the opportunities of using our time to the best of our abilities.