21 Days: Day 11

Despite how much I talk about it, I rarely seeweight. That sounds silly, I know, but it comes from years of my mother’s narrow focus on it. “Did you see so-and-so? Boy, did she put on weight!” and on and on and on. My brain evolved not to see it. Sometimes, I notice when people lose weight, but because of my neurotic tendency toward catastrophic thought, my immediate reaction is not that they look great or must be working out. No, I fear they have either a drug problem or terminal illness. To be fair, I’ve watched people in my life shrink and disappear from both of those things so it’s not all in my head.

But it isn’t just outsiders, I can’t see it with myself or Brad or the kids. The only way I know is by the scale. I never look different to myself. Sometimes I feel different. Sometimes my clothes–and wedding ring–are tighter. When I was a little bit bigger of a nutbag, I used to get really freaked out about the wedding ring thinking it was an ominous sign. It was actually just a sign that I was 22 and 100 pounds when we got married. I don’t want to be either of those things again. Still sometimes against my better judgment and the voice of reason screaming, “DON’T DO IT! NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF THIS!” I still get on the scale and think, “Oh boy.”

Thanks for indulging me. I needed to get that off my chest.

1. I was wide awake at 4:46–probably because I fell asleep at 9 p.m.–but the alertness that comes with waking up unaided when your body is fully rested makes for pleasant blessing counting. Of course I stayed in bed and counted until the alarm did go off.

2. Today, I happened upon a person from my past. “By happened upon,” I mean that she came into my consciousness, and I googled her. It wasn’t malicious; I just wondered what became of her. We were either reasons or seasons to each other, but I never figured it out. I think a lot about the reasons and seasons people. Mostly because I want to make sure to learn the lesson the first time so as not to repeat any painful ones.

That rabbit trail led me to forgiveness. I think, talk and write about forgiveness quite a bit. Although I have read and heard this many different times in a variety of ways, for whatever reason it seemed to click in my head today: Forgiveness doesn’t absolve others; it allows you to move on.

Forgiveness is permission to let go of the hurts, slights, offenses, traumas, or whatever is taking up an unnecessary amount your psychic energy without producing anything positive. Forgiveness allows you to be free from ruminating over the pain and the people who caused it. Forgiveness is a gift to ourselves.

Forgiveness is not, however, a free pass. When we forgive a person we love so that we can move closer in a relationship, then we should absolutely forgive and forget. However, I get all idealistic and dreamy and decide to invite the wrong type of person back into my life or heart again. I probably don’t need to tell you this is a bad idea. Guess what happens? They hurt me again, and I have to start forgiving them from scratch. Please learn from my example and spare yourself. Don’t get all spiritually conceited and try to break bread with the jerks of your past. Just leave them in the past.

 

3. Today, in my Jesus journal, the devotion was about listening. I know that I talk a lot sometimes, but more often in real life, I listen. Actually, I am drawn to people who want to tell me their life stories and vice versa. It’s a tiny defense mechanism, but it works out. People need a listener, and I often like to be anonymous since I’m so open and transparent here. Tangent. When I pray and then listen, I know who is getting thank you note. Today, I got a thank you for a thank you. How ’bout that little circle of love?

 

How are you guys doing? How are your fasts? I made some really good soup today. Here’s my Daniel Fast board with all the recipes I have been yammering about. Did you make anything good today? What was your meaningful experience?

 

P.S. I wrote this at about 10 a.m., then when I started editing at 7:30, I messed up and deleted the whole darn thing and had to rewrite. I wasn’t particularly grateful for that.

 

xoxo

Books, Blogs, Bibles, and Bullies

I try hard to be real. I share my past, my struggles, my flaws, my shortcomings … some people think I share too much, but it is how I process experiences. Regardless of what I’m going through, I seek out books, articles, blogs by people who have been through a similar event.

For example, when my brother committed suicide, I read every book I could find about suicide. If you’re interested, The Suicide Index and History of a Suicide were amazing. I found understanding and comfort reading about how others dealt with these experiences. Additionally, reading, unlike talking, allowed me to process it in my own time, in my own space. I could walk away if I wanted and carry the words around when necessary.

Speaking of carrying words around, last week, my sister-in-law sent me a blog that I have read and reread about 42 times. This line: “…my counselor tells me to try not to give people my heart and the hammer to smash it with all at the same time…” has been rolling around in my head all week. My dad used to say, “If you walk around with your feelings hanging out, someone is going to step on them.” And in the wisdom of Proverbs 4, one of the lines we hear most is about guarding your heart. For me, it all points to this: Too often, in my efforts to be real and transparent, I give people ammunition.

One of my spiritual gifts is mercy, and I believe that part of my purpose in life is to listen–empathically and without judgment. People share stories with me. Deep, personal, often intimate stories. Mostly, I feel blessed to offer them a place to vent and unload. Sometimes, the level of personal information divulged is awkward and uncomfortable, but I seek to make the person feel heard and valued. Occasionally, I feel burdened and want to be left alone, but listening is what I do.

So…back to that article, my dad, and the Bible. Sometimes, I feel a false or inflated sense of camaraderie with people and divulge personal information of my own. You might think, “You say all kinds of reallllllly personal things here; what’s the difference?” You’re right. I try to share relevant relatable information so others can find validation and support. But sometimes, I can be even more vulnerable and transparent interpersonally. Historically it hasn’t worked out very favorably.

Let’s be real. In a moment of feeling it’s a safe place to share or having had one too many glasses of chardonnay, you confess to a friend that you are feeling really insecure about your recent weight gain. A week or so later, at lunch with the same friend, you order cheesecake for dessert, and she comments with one eye-brow cocked heavenward, “Ohhhh, you’re having dessert?” Whether or not she means anything by it, your feelings are hurt. You gave her your heart and the hammer, and she used them. Ouch.

I’ll be even more real, since I can finally laugh about this. When my kids were little everyone used to say how much they looked like Brad. When Chloe was a baby, one person said, “It doesn’t even look like YOU had anything to do with her.” It hurt my feelings, and I shared that with a few people. One of my closest friends kindly pointed out, “Yeah, your kids really don’t look anything like you.” Heart. Hammer. Boom. 

Side note: Not all my friends suck. My dear sweet girlfriend made Peyton a t-shirt with my baby picture on it so it was very, very clear just where he got his curls.

The point of this is not that my friends suck or your friends suck. Sometimes we give people ammunition. When they use it? It is because of something that is flawed or broken or lacking in them, and it says nothing about us. I’m gonna just write that again. It is because of something that is flawed or broken or lacking in THEM. Not us.

Have you ever secretly celebrated a friend’s misfortune–even a little? Ever felt a twinge of jealousy when something terrific happened for someone else when things weren’t going so well for you? I have. More times than I care to admit. When I was trying to get pregnant, I almost had to go into isolation because it made me so sad every time I saw or heard about another pregnant woman. That had nothing to do with them and everything to do with me.

Recently, I have been dealt a couple low blows, and my initial reaction was to feel hurt and ask myself what could trigger such meanness. Fortunately, I remembered that it isn’t my job to figure out what is going on in other people; that’s why God directed me off the counseling path. However, it is my job to be kind, to be loving, to forgive and to show mercy and empathy.

If someone has hurt you with their words, actions, or inactions, you don’t have to own that. It isn’t about you. When people use our vulnerability as a weapon to hurt us, they are bullies. And bullies are often frightened, hurting, and making a lot of noise and commotion to distract people away from their own vulnerabilities.

Whew. Namaste.

I’ll Do Better Next Time.

We got a hot tub a few weeks ago. It is perhaps my most favorite thing we have ever owned. Mostly because one of my most favorite things to do is nothing, as evidenced by my repeated pleas, “Can we just sit and BE?” My babies are antsy, though, so that is usually met with, “That’s BORING! Can’t we do something fun?”

There is not much you actually can do in a hot tub. Granted the kids manage to kick each other, splash, steal seats, turn off all the jets, make amazing light shows, play charades (the only mom-approved hot tub game), turn water bottles into guns and projectiles, and so forth. Occasionally, though, they sit and look at the stars or try to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Occasionally, they are able just to sit and be.

I treasure those rare moments.

When we were young and naive and had Chloe, every experience was new and fun. Parenthood was like being a kid in a candy store. Again with Peyton, even though we were older and more experienced, trucks and dirt and boy stuff was delightful in a whole new way. Now, I’ve mentioned a million times that Lily was a surprise baby. And despite my love for babies, I planned to love them from afar.

A funny thing happened though. Chloe grew up and moved away and taught me how fleeting childhood is. I am so grateful to have another little one. A couple more years of school parties, tooth fairies and Christmas magic. Chloe taught me how to be a mom. She was my guinea pig. I did so many things wrong and made so many mistakes, but she didn’t know because I was her only mom. One time I read somewhere that if you just love them enough…if you just love them enough it makes up for those mistakes. I think that’s true because she’s all grown up and she’s my best friend.

Course it could be that she’s super-forgiving, having secret intensive therapy, or writing a Mommie Dearest kind of tell-all. That’s cool too.

Anyway, I still make too many mistakes, but I believe that Peyton and Lily are blessed for the mistakes I made with Chloe. I believe all my kids are blessed for the mistakes my parents made. I believe that mistakes aren’t for making you feel guilty and inferior but for helping you learn. I believe in owning your mistakes–not just saying you’re sorry but meaning it and doing better.

It’s interesting when I consider how God answers my prayers. If I pray for patience, He gives me strife so I can learn…what? Patience. If I pray for strength, He guides me through difficult times and reminds me of the source of strength. When I pray for forgiveness, God shows me so many opportunities to give it.

As long as we are on this planet, we will make mistakes. People we love will make mistakes. Each time we have choices. Guilt or grace. Forgiveness or resentment. During this month of gratitude, I’m grateful for millions of mistakes and the opportunities they bring to do better.

Forgiveness and gossip and offense, Oh My!

When I’m struggling with a particular issue or better yet, when I think I am NOT struggling with a particular issue, I find myself confronted with multiple lessons on the issue. Perhaps, my heightened awareness makes me pay closer attention, or perhaps God, knowing that I require multiple examples from many different angles before I can get something, sends in the heavenly troops.

For example, just this past week: I read about forgiveness, kind of dismissed it thinking, “I’m a pretty forgiving person.” Immediately I was confronted with a host of past hurts that, guess what, I haven’t forgiven–strike one. Next, I read about gossip, and thought, “I don’t really say mean things about people.” Then I walked in on two people gossiping about me and my youngest child and said HORRIFICALLY unkind things about them–strike two. Finally, I read about offense, and I got scared. Hard as I try not to take things personally, I fall short most of the time. So, I prayed, “Lord, please…I all ready know that is an area where I need work,”–check swing.

The Revelation: Wow. I suuuuccccckkkkk.

It would have been easy to beat myself up for my reactions, agonize over how little progress I have made, and wallow in self-defeating guilt. Fortunately, I realized that the point of the lessons was not to drag me down, but to lift me up. The point was to realize that I can’t change the past–not what I did and not what anyone else did. But I can stop that cycle of bitterness and resentment when it gets to me. I can’t change what people think or say about me, my kids, or anyone else behind our backs, but I can stop that gossip right here. I can react with kindness, compassion, and forgiveness.

This is much easier said than done–obv (shoutout to Chloe), but I’m going to keep working at it. And every moment I’m breathing is an opportunity to do so.

As Lysa TerKeurst reminds me: “I was made for more than being stuck in a vicious cycle of defeat. I am not made to be a victim of my poor choices. I was made to be a victorious child of God.” Amen, sisters.