Being Here Now

With school starting for my little and medium children and my oldest babe fixin’ to graduate from college, I’ve been dealing with this nagging feeling of, “Should I be doing more?” For the past few years, I’ve settled comfortably into being a full-time mom and wife. I’ve found my best self in encouraging my people to be theirs. But as their physical need for me lessens, I feel this pull…get a job, finish grad school, do something…more.

For a long time I struggled with learning how to be present, but now that I’m living more engaged in the moment, satisfied and grateful for our life, I’m wondering: Is this enough? Am I complacent? Am I using my unique gifts to their fullest potential? Naturally, the answer is often a resounding NO.

Earlier this year, inspired by an amazing friend, I decided to pursue yoga teacher training. I have found great peace and mindfulness through my own yoga and meditation practice, and I absolutely adore and am in awe of the woman who was leading the training. Fueled by ambition, I ran full speed in the direction of, “I’ll be a yoga life coach!”

But you know how sometimes you run full speed in the wrong direction? Is that just me? Anyway, it appears I let my infatuation with someone else’s dream pass as my own. I love practicing yoga, but it is very personal for me. Yoga, in fact, is one of the few gifts I regularly give myself. Don’t we do that too often, as women? Especially as moms. We give our gifts away.

Of course you can have some of my ice cream!

You like this sweater? Here, take it. I rarely wear it.

You can watch something; I wasn’t watching this silly Oprah episode.

Those are just a few top-of-mind examples, but don’t we do that as women? Especially as moms. We give all our goodness away and sometimes forget to save anything for ourselves? That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s okay–in fact it’s healthy–to keep some goodness for ourselves.

My husband travels, and the past month he has been gone a lot. Weird segue way, but we’ll get there. Promise. This month, he was gone for a week, the day he came home, I left for the weekend. The day after I came home, he left for another week. So in the past two weeks, I’ve seen him for about 6 hours. He is my person. His unique love fills my tank in a way nothing and no one else can. So, in this drought, I’ve been running on empty.

That emptiness is reflected in my short-tempered interactions with…well pretty much anyone I’ve interacted with, but specifically, my itty-bitty girl. See, I am her person, and when I’m empty, I have nothing to give. When my kids were little and had fits, I sometimes met their outbursts with, “Did you not get loved enough today?” And then we would cuddle. A kiss, a hug, a long snuggle all have magical healing properties. Sometimes I met their screams with screams of my own too. Just sayin’. But yesterday, when my tiny girl screamed at me, “I DIDN’T GET LOVED ENOUGH TODAY!” shit got real.

The other day I heard Bishop TD Jakes say, “You cannot reap what belongs to others. You have to reap what is yours.” Goodness, that statement will rock your world if you let it. I sometimes get caught up in what society thinks I should be doing…getting a job, finishing grad school, doing. something. more. But maybe that’s not for me? Maybe I’m just supposed to be right where I am. Putting on my own oxygen mask so I can put Lily’s on. Making sure my own love tank is filled so I can pour into my kids. Finding space and following my breath on the mat so I can be fully engaged with the people who count on me.

Perhaps I’m not using my gifts to their fullest potential, but I am using them. I’m always going to aspire for more, but today more is right here.

Don’t Go Off Half-Cocked

For the first year that my sweet oldest child was away at school, I woke frequently in the middle of the night in a full blown panic. Is she okay? Where is she? What if something happened to her? Why didn’t she text me? And so on until my breath came in quick gasps, and my heart was ready to pound out of my chest. This only happened a few times before I realized I had a choice: Trust God or lose my mind. I relinquished control, and now when I wake in the night, instead of worrying, I pray.

A few months ago, after reading Seven Sacred Pauses, I felt drawn to the idea of praying at specific times during the day and night and began trying to practice in a more organized way. Unfortunately, the more I tried to make it a part of my schedule, the more it evaded my control. Again with control.

Why?

Frequently, an idea comes to me, and I run full speed ahead and sometimes into a wall. Looking back I realize that God is still there, the idea is still there, and the only one who moved was me…ninety miles an hour into a wall. My dad used to say, “Now don’t go off half-cocked,” which I never understood. I just googled it. It means “to go into action too early or without thinking.” Yes, that applies. Thanks, Dad 

By trying to schedule praying into my day, I realized that I consistently pray at regular times of the day. In other words, when I stopped to think about it, I realized I was already doing the task I was trying to implement. This led to considering all the books I read, all the studying and journaling and introspection. Then, last week in meditation, I heard very clearly, “You know enough.” Since I don’t often hear guidance quite that clearly, it struck me. I knew immediately what it meant: Stop using self-improvement as an excuse to avoid moving forward.

Mark Batterson observes that most people “…are educated way beyond the level of their obedience. We don’t need to KNOW MORE. We need to DO MORE with what we know.” Kind of leaps off Maya Angelou’s, “I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.” Many of us already know our purpose, but we put it off waiting to be better equipped or holding out for a big opportunity instead of just doing the little things. Much of our life is lived in the meantime as we wait for our big break.

For me this means: Send a text or make a phone call (I. Hate. Making. Phone. Calls.) Write something … anything. Send an encouraging Facebook message. Apologize. Forget perfectionist tendencies and handwrite a letter. Occasionally it means patiently listen to my tiny chatterbox when I want to tell her to hurry because we’re going to be late. I’m called to express mercy and compassion, not just in big ways but in every way.

So a whole lot of quotes and clichés and dead dad wisdom later, I think my point is: Don’t get so caught up in finding your purpose that you miss it altogether. You might one day write the great American novel, but today you can send an email to a lonely friend. Perhaps you will run a marathon next year; today you can run around the block. Someday you might be the voice of your generation, but in this moment you can speak kindly to the cashier at Walmart.

It’s okay to run ninety miles an hour in the direction of your dreams; just keep your eyes open so you don’t miss all the opportunities along the way. It’s great to want to save the world, but today it might be enough just to ignore the voices that say you can’t … even if those voices are only in your own head.