21 Days: Day 20 and TWENTY-ONE

It is with great relief that I’m writing this last installment. I honestly couldn’t bring myself to write yesterday after suffering from a serious bout of second guessing. It’s crazy how sometimes a little tiny bit of negative can infiltrate so much positive and make you question yourself.

Today, I went to the Niles campus of The Movement to hear my favorite Niles Campus pastor speak and was greeted with love, hugs, and several people thanked me for writing this blog and told me that reading about my struggles helped them. That mattered more than any criticism that had me kind of second-guessing if I was being self-indulgent or oversharing.

I strive for self-awareness, but I’m a work in progress. It is usually far easier to see flaws in others than it is to recognize them in ourselves. So I struggle on putting one foot in front of the other and praying for clarity and wisdom.

1. Each day that I woke focused on gratitude, my awareness of the goodness, grace and love around me was heightened, and I will continue to count my blessings day and night.

2. In the worship experience today, one of my favorite singers sang an amazing song. And as her beautiful voice singing the most powerful words sank into my heart, many of the experiences of the last 21 days washed over me, the good, the bad, the trying … they all choked up in my throat and finally spilled out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I wanted to run out of the building and curl up in my car and cry. I’m usually pretty private and choosy with my sharing, but I have opened up my heart, mind and life in this tiny little space and in return, I’ve gotten grace, commiseration and so much love. I’ve also gotten criticized and psychoanalyzed. Most importantly, I’ve gotten chased down by people who told me that my words made a difference to them. Thank you for chasing me down. You made a difference for me.

3. Thank you for reading this and encouraging me. Thank you, Brad Bell, for being patient and long-suffering as I put my neuroses and our life on blast. Thank you, my girlfriends, for being supportive and amazing superwomen. Thank you for every like, comment, text and email. Thank you, my church family for every hug. You all have no idea how much you touch my heart.

Putting all your crazy out there for public consumption sometimes blows up in your face, but all of your love, all of your me too’s, all of your hugs and winks and high fives matter. Thank you for being my people.

I’m feeling pretty raw and overexposed, so I’m gonna crawl into my shell and recover.

I realize listening to that song today that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks about why or what I write. God sees my heart, and He knows my motivation.

“Through it all; my eyes are on You, and it is well with me.”*

*This isn’t my favorite Movement singer performing; still, the song, the performance, and the message are awesome.

Thank you!

xoxo

Then What?

The first few days of my social media fast, I got a lot accomplished, but now as with many things, I’ve come to a place of: NEEEXXXXXTTTT! Just yesterday, I invented a fake syndrome and promptly diagnosed Chloe. While her next few months are filled with exciting study and research trips abroad, then there’s next semester and then next year, and then she graduates and…Then What?

After discovering this disorder, diagnosing Chloe and then listening to Brad, who has been in his own waiting room of sorts, I realized that I had a relatively mild case as well.

My goal in giving up social media was to focus the extra time on my family, writing, reading, praying, and that has all been successful. However, since Brad and Peyton still use social media, after Lily goes to bed, my brain is on F, and I can’t bring myself to do one more productive thing, they are still plugged in. Now, I watch TED Talks and Orange is the New Black* on Netflix.

In the past, I would have gotten on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter. I would have commented on some adorable babies, prayed for all the people with prayer requests, encouraged friends who were feeling down, liked pictures of salads, sushi, smoothies, and sunsets, Amen’ed a couple witty musings, and gone to bed.

That brought this alarming realization: The solitude I craved when too many people pulled pieces of me in too many different directions is really lonely. I am not designed to be by myself on an island (unless it’s a warm beautiful one, I could chill there for awhile), writing and reading and making my brain ache. I’m meant to interact with and encourage people. And…guilt: I basically walked away from my mission field by giving up social media.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.

So, I miss you guys. A lot. I could walk away from this fast, but I’m too stubborn to quit before the 40 days is over. I have an issue with finishing things, often muddling through mind-numbingly boring books, yawning and complaining through wretched movies, and torturing myself to varying degrees in the name of not quitting. I haven’t come up with a name for this disorder yet, but I will. I’m gonna have to write my own makeshift DSM to keep track of my newly minted psychoses. The ironic other side of that coin is that my word for 2014 is: Persevere. Turns out, just as I can’t quit the dumb stuff; I can’t finish the important things. Go figure!

Stay classy, San Diego. I’ll see you in 17 days.

*If you are unfamiliar with OITNB, it’s kind of like the old HBO series Oz but with women. It’s about women in prison and has graphic language and sexuality. If that makes you squeamish, it’s not the show for you. 

Heart Hiccups

So, I’ve had a whole bunch of time on my hands the last few weeks fasting Facebook and being unemployed. I’ve spent a great deal of it writing, reading and doing yoga, so I’ll be smarter and more flexible by the time I “see” most of you again.

Well, I may not be smarter, but I can hold crow for about 5 breaths, and I have an increased sense calmness and peace. Evidently, just reading other people’s drama profoundly affected my peace of mind.

And I am still not an intellectual, but I’ve learned that I can dust, sweep, mop, clean toilets, the whole housecleaning shebang in about two hours when I don’t stop to read notifications every five minutes.

I have watched some really good moves. You know, actually watched them–not the whole listen as you scroll and occasionally look up, and:
“Hahaha, did you see that?”
“No, I missed it.”
“Wait…rewind!”
Is that just our house?

Although it all ready annoyed me, it’s been reinforced how irritating it is to hang out with someone who looks at their phone constantly. At Christmas, I took a picture of my family seated around the kitchen table talking while everyone stared at their phones (Lily was looking at an ipod) and then had a big-time tantrum about it. IS EYE CONTACT TOO MUCH TO HOPE FOR? I think they put their phones down for about 30 seconds.

While, all of this is pretty minor and stuff I mostly knew (except crow, I couldn’t do that before without falling on my head) and I’m sorry for missed opportunities to share love, prayer, and encouraging words–I do pray for my FB people every day. Here’s my main lesson: Sometimes by sharing, we divide our blessings. There have been so many cute things Lily said or did. So many funny P’isms. Chloe accomplishments. Witty Brad comments. So many missed tweets and Facebook posts. But every one I didn’t share stayed in my heart much longer.

Sunday, I was talking to one of my little mamas-to-be at church and sharing how I felt a little sense of sadness when my kids were born that I had to share them with the world. Their little kicks and movements were no longer mine alone. Everyone got to hold them and love them and feel their stretches and hiccups, and yes that is wonderful and amazing. But for nine months that had been just mine.

That’s kind of how I’ve felt about all the cute pictures, funny sayings, and sweet comments the past few weeks. Because I haven’t shared them, they’ve blessed me so much more–they’re just hiccuping in my heart.

I haven’t become some incredibly self-absorbed person. Not at all. I feel like I went to the eye doctor and when the lens flipped my life came into sharper focus. I’ve missed a lot by being so plugged in, and I don’t intend to miss any more. I’ll be happy to see my FB friends again, since most of them I don’t get to see in every day life, but I will cherish the parts of my life that are just mine.

Fast On. Again.

Evidently, lots of people are giving up Facebook for Lent. There’s even some cute little profile pictures you can use and 415,782 (at least 3) blogs all ready written advocating why people are, aren’t or think it’s a great/stupid/beneficial/lame idea.

Now, I’m not a particularly opinionated person. I’m not a fixer. I’m no good at giving advice because of the whole, “If I were you…” thing that I kind of wrote about here. In fact, I’m pretty terrible at lots of things, but I’m actually really good at listening, hugging, snuggling, and getting sidetracked. I’m awesome at getting sidetracked. If there were an Olympic event called sidetracking, I’d be a contender. Is there? It seems like spell-check should have redlined sidetracking, but it didn’t, but it did redline “redlined…”

Back to this fast: Giving up social media for me is an opportunity to spend more time reading (I just got 4 new books), writing, creating, listening, hugging, snuggling, and getting sidetracked. The last few weeks I watched how much time I spent on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and thought, man, I could get a lot of stuff done with that time.

For instance, I could pin WAYYYYY more stuff! I’m kidding. Kind of. I’m not giving up Pinterest. That is where my family’s dinner comes from every day. Do you want them to starve? Have you seen my son? That kid can’t afford to miss a meal.

Also, before the SM cops (social media–I went there so I figure you did too) arrest me, this blog is linked to Networked Blogs, so when I post something here, NB shares it on Facebook and Twitter. I am going to write here (see above), but I won’t see or respond to comments on Facebook. I’m fully prepared for the backlash when this goes on FB, and people say, “Oh, wow, you all ready broke your fast?!” or “Knew you wouldn’t make it!” Anyone who’s ever fasted anything knows how that goes.

That in itself is puzzling. The joy some people feel when they perceive someone has failed at something. I don’t get that. However, as a part-time vegan for 5 1/2 years, I’ve experienced all sorts of self-appointed food cops waiting for me to “mess up” so they could say, “AHA! You can’t eat that!” or some other criticism. Except here’s the deal: I didn’t join a club with a bunch of strict rules, I just decided not to eat certain things. So while there probably are vegan cops, I’m not even on their radar.

So, if anyone feels compelled to point out my own or anyone else’s failings, I’m not going to take that personally. And despite my distaste for giving advice (goodness, I’m such a contradiction; no wonder my poor husband is losing his hair) I’m going to suggest you might want to check your own motivations for celebrating another’s failure.

I am 2.5 waking hours into this fast and missing my Facebook friends and wondering what witty tweets and adorable pictures I’ve missed. Also, I wonder if my brother has posted anything horrific on my wall. Did he? Would one of you please contact me in the real world if he does?

Peace out. xoxo

Fast On.

For 21 days, we are joining our church family in the Daniel Fast (we started Monday, so this is day 3). If you aren’t familiar, this fast involves eliminating meat, dairy, animal products, sugar, coffee, tea, leavened bread and more. You basically eat fruits, vegetables, and nuts and drink water.

Historically, people have fasted for many purposes: clarity, peace, closer relationship with God, an answer to a prayer and so forth. My fast is about surrendering deeper to God’s call on my life. I didn’t make New Year’s resolutions this year for several reasons. First, resolutions feel a lot like rules, and I don’t like rules. In fact, I have spent a good part of my life breaking them. And second, I have quit all the things I want to quit, and I don’t intend to take up any new bad habits. If I do, then I’ll rethink this next January 1st.

What I do, however, is start every day with the promise of being kinder, more patient, more compassionate. I really believe turning 40 changes you, and I feel now more than ever that I can really be in the moment. I no longer get all worked up about a stain on the carpet or a broken glass or any other sort of material loss that would have unhinged me before.

Things aren’t as important anymore. I used to want new furniture and new clothes and new stuff (we did just get a new car, but that was a necessity not a luxury), now, I am outrageously happy with what I have. My kitchen table scarred with glitter, nail polish, paint, and more. My sofa worn from three kids bouncing on it. Our house and our stuff is more than good enough.

And in that same vein, so is my body. This morning, when I looked in the mirror, instead of seeing hair that desperately needed to be washed, I saw little fingers twisting that hair to fall asleep at night. I saw the one perfect curl that falls beside my face every morning because my husband twirls it around his finger when he falls sleep. And I am enough. My unwashed, uncolored hair is good enough.

Instead of thinking what new exercise I could pin (yes, pin, someday I will actually do them, maybe) to flatten my stomach, I remembered the three times that same stomach had been stretched to outrageous proportions as my most precious gifts grew inside. My not-as-flat-as-it-once-was stomach is good enough.

I looked at the lines on my face and thought not of what new wrinkle cream would come in my Birchbox, but instead of all the experiences etched in those lines. I might have considered the wrinkle cream for minute; give me a break I’m in process. I thought of eyes that winked at my little athletes so they knew I saw their play and lips that had kissed so many boo boos and feverish heads. The face in the mirror doesn’t look the same as the face in my mind. The face in the mirror doesn’t look the same as it did 10 years ago, but it’s good enough.

In my 20’s and 30’s, I wanted to take pictures and make scrapbooks of every single moment (not that there’s anything wrong with that) but now, I just want to live in those moments. The memories are all ready captured in my heart and my mind.

So today, hungry, 15 pounds away from my goal weight, with dirty hair and a cold, I’m good enough. Good enough for my beautiful husband, my amazing little loves, my friends, and most of all for God. So, if you are looking in the mirror and seeing flaws, please stop. Look at what’s right. Be as kind to yourself as you are to your best friend. See yourself as the person who loves you the most sees you. You are more than good enough; in fact, you are wonderful, and you are loved.