Jun 7, 2017 | Uncategorized |
Bleary-eyed. A yawn tries to wake me up as my feet hit the cool tile in the bathroom.
It goes against everything I want…but I turn the light on anyway.
I turn the shower to hot.
I take off my pajamas and stand in front of the mirror to see how I feel about myself today.
I am a little slow to register my thoughts and feelings so I stand there for what seems like too long.
I assess the situation. Am I better or worse than yesterday? Do I feel chunky or thin? Do I feel completely out of shape or do I feel like I am making strides towards strong? My eyes check off what body part goes in each column: ‘It Is What It Is’, ‘Mediocre’, ‘Okay’.
“You aren’t sucking in…(inhale) okay, that is better.”
I do a little pivot to check out all the angles…well… The mean voices get loud and so I turn away from the mirror.
The steam beckons from the shower.
I take one last look. Make one last evaluation. No kind words. Sigh.
I step into warm.
The steam wakes me and warms my body. The water, heat, and truth hit my skin and begin their work to melt and wash away unkindness and lies. I wash my face and hair and feel the suds run down my curves to my toes. I soften. My legs are strong, ready for the day. My hands rub across my soft belly; the silver, jagged lines serve as reminders. Reminders that I sometimes wish would go away but my body is unrelenting; it won’t let me forget the growing, the stretching.
I note the curves and the dimples and don’t attempt to put them in a column. My hands smell like garlic from prepping dinner the night before. I smile. Dinner was good. I look down at my cute feet popping with bright coral nail polish and I watch as the last of the criticism washes down the drain.
I emerge clean.
I am beautiful, capable, and strong.
What’s for breakfast?
May 24, 2017 | Uncategorized |
I am directionally challenged. If you ask me how to get somewhere I will say, “I don’t know, ask the GPS because that’s how I got here.” If it wasn’t for GPS I would not travel too far from home, especially since home is Atlanta.
My GPS and I are good buds. I depend a lot on my app to get me around traffic and to get me to places I’ve never been or don’t go to often. My kids got pretty nervous recently when the phone was dying and we had to go home a different way due to some flooding. We got home just fine, thank you very much, (I was slightly concerned) but apparently my oldest mentioned to my husband that he had been worried.
It is possible that I rely on the GPS too much. It tells me to turn right and so I do. It says a route is the best way and so that is the way I go. I have trusted it to take me on hours long journeys – to the beach, to a speaking engagement, and around stopped traffic. I don’t question it too much. I just do what it says, follow the path it lays out.
My app has started guessing where I am going which is kind of cool/weird! I got in the car after a lunch with a friend and looked at my phone and a pop-up says 23 minutes until you are home. It has the directions up and ready to go for me. It assumes it knows where I am going. I laughed and said, “That’s not where I am going!”
One day I got in the car and had to tell my phone, once again, that I wasn’t going where it thought I was. I fell back into my seat when I realized that there’s a part of me that acts like a GPS. It’s the part that is quick to make assumptions, quick to decide the next logical step. This was said, this was done and so your response is _____. My child was disrespectful to me and that puts me on a well-established route – it’s an automatic thing – it’s just where I go. My husband said something that upset me and so I know where I am going. I am mad. I am not talking to him – my internal GPS knows where we are headed. “Two rights and you will arrive at silent treatment.” But what if I want a different route? What if I don’t want to go that way? How do I outsmart the GPS in my head?
I think maybe the key is sitting still. Don’t put it in drive. Once I start on a route it is hard for me to detour. Once I am in drive it is sometimes hard to control what comes out of my mouth. I think the key is to pause and consider the routes or options before me. There are routes that I know because I drive them all. the. time. I don’t even need the GPS to tell me how to get there. I also know where those routes end up and I am tired of that destination. I need routes that put us further down the road instead of the empty parking lot with weeds and abandoned cars. I want to further relationship, whether that is with a friend, family, my children, or my husband.
So before I blindly follow my internal GPS, I need to stop and ask myself, “Where do you want to go?” When I arrive at my destination do I want relationship to be strengthened or fractured? This is what determines how I respond, the route I take, and it is only possible if I pause.
A gentle response defuses anger, but a sharp tongue kindles a temper-fire. Proverbs 15:1
May 17, 2017 | Uncategorized |
I felt inadequate by 9 pm the day of Mother’s Day and slept fitfully. I awoke to questions battling in my mind, stirring up my tummy. After a wonderful Mother’s Day I already felt like I was on half a tank, with discouragement fast devouring the rest of my reserve.
It is no accident I read this the day after Mother’s Day.
“Allow me to be blunt here. Sometimes I feel like a leaky raft. In spite of my regular attempts at solitude and self-care, I always seem in need of refilling. I seek more affection from my husband. More affirmation from my friends. More encouragement from my children. They try, honestly they do. But within moments of their filling, I feel myself leaking.”
-Michele Cushatt I Am: A 60 Day Journey To Knowing Who You Are Because Of Who He Is.
My kids, my husband, and my friends can’t be the ones to fill me up. For them to fill me up all the time would only drain their own hearts. That just isn’t how this is supposed to work. Oh we try it, we try to meet the needs of those around us – and in the process we often end up bitter and disenchanted with relationships. To seek to be filled outside of my relationship with God will result in leakage and disappointment. God knows what I need, when I need it and he doesn’t run out – his mercies are new every day. Me needing him doesn’t drain him or frustrate him. He wants us to need him. He longs to meet our needs.
Michele’s conclusion at the end of her devotional says “I want nothing more than to want Him. To open my hungry self to His filling, knowing that only in Christ can my heart be full.”
Here’s to seeking a full heart.
How will you seek to be filled by God today?
**If you are looking for a devotional to help you stay filled up, I highly recommend I AM.
May 8, 2017 | Uncategorized |
When I was about 17 I thought I deserved a car. Once you have your license a car just follows – at least, that is what I thought. I think I probably dreamed about coming home from school to discover a car of my very own in the driveway. That dream never really came to fruition.
Can you imagine the devastation when I came home from school one day to find a Kirby vacuum sitting in the living room? The injustice of it all stunned me into silence. I cannot drive a vacuum to school or to my part-time, minimum-wage job! Why did my mom buy a new vacuum that has financing options available? Why now? Didn’t she know I needed a car?
I detested that vacuum because I believed it stole a car from me. Who cares if it sucks dirt out of the carpet that has been there for 5 years. What’s it to me if it cleans the mattresses? My mattress is just fine. I also was not impressed to hear about how the Kirby would help with allergens and dust mites. The Kirby and I ended up getting acquainted as I would often have the chore of vacuuming the floors. However, we never became friends – I simply tolerated the Kirby while my mom embraced her new tool with gusto.
As I look back on this story now I am embarrassed that I reacted the way that I did. Now that I have the experience of being a mom for 10 years I know how hard mom worked at home, at her job as a nurse, and that she gave so much in order to love us well. She was often tired, typically going to bed before the rest of us. And now I know that the Kirby made her work at home just a bit easier. And knowing what I know now I would’ve given her 10 Kirby’s if that made things simpler for her – or I would have simply changed my attitude – that would probably have worked too. Yet back then, if it had been up to me, I would have chosen a car for me over a vacuum for my mom.
Today, this is what hurts my heart – I was willing to keep from my mom something that made her exhausting work as a mom, less exhausting. Even now, this whole Kirby thing pains me. She poured herself into my sisters and I. I remember countless moments of her infusing our lives with joy. She was and is our number one fan. She encouraged us to be ourselves. She took time to chat and she was at every performance or game we were in. I could go on and on. And yet I didn’t think she needed a new vacuum that would make her work more tolerable, enjoyable, and efficient.
Today, what makes me sad is that I realize I make some of the same decisions today. The Kirby Principle is still something I wrestle with. I withhold from my mom still to this day. And I aim to do better. What my mom needs from me is different than what she needed when I was 17… or maybe it isn’t? Then and now, she needs to know she is needed, she needs to know she is loved, and if there is something that she needs that I am able to give – then I should give it. I am not talking only about Kirbys or gifts, but time and conversation.
To give moms what they need may indeed cost us something. We may need to look beyond our selfishness to in order to acknowledge and appreciate our mom in a way that speaks to her. To let her know you see her. Maybe it requires you to be silly with her, to read a book with her and discuss it, perhaps it is taking a class together or going to a concert with her. Maybe it is as simple as calling her at the same day and time each week. Perhaps it is taking her out to dinner – which can be done if you are age 10 or 60.
I don’t think we realize how the little things we do can embolden a mom’s will or encourage their hearts to continue the work set before them. I don’t think we realize how withholding from our mothers may make them question their role in our lives and whether their work makes an impact. The point is that moms need to know they are appreciated and to withhold that or keep it to just one or two days a year robs a mom’s spirit. Sons and daughters: don’t withhold from your mom. Husbands don’t allow the Kirby Principle to steal from the mother of your children, make sure they know they are valued today and every day.
A mother’s work is vital and so your acknowledgement and support of their work is also vital. When this happens in community it is a beautiful thing. If your mom is no longer with us, there are moms in your community that would do cartwheels to have lunch with you. If your mom is far away or if there is an emotional distance, there are moms in your community who would welcome a hug and a heart-to-heart. If you are a mom and you notice another mom needing encouragement and have the capacity to give to her – then go ahead and do it. If there are single moms in your community struggling – meet them where they are so that they can be the mom their child needs.
Encouraging mothers is not an optional endeavor. Celebrate your mom and the moms in your life this Mother’s Day in a way that costs you something – whether that is money, vacation days, energy, or time. And then do it again next week. And next month. Be lavish with your praise, generous with your encouragement, and speak your gratefulness so that she knows her work has value more than just one day a year.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!
Mar 28, 2017 | Uncategorized |
The docent sat on a bench to soak up a masterpiece that hung on the pristine white walls of the museum. Art lovers would soon walk the hallways to admire and study the one-of-a-kind pieces. She enjoyed sharing about the artist and the possible inspiration for each piece. She loved to point out the important, subtle details – how the swirls of colors dictate the feel of the piece or the way an artist used blocks to give both structure to the piece and social commentary. “There is so much to see in each piece!” she often exclaimed. She would share about the techniques used to create the amazing works of art; the different mediums and the varying textures are all conscious choices an artist makes and so they are an important part of understanding a piece.There’s so much more than meets the eye and her passion is helping the museum goers to truly see the art, to understand the art.
We have three masterpieces in our family. They are each one-of-kind originals. We are so blessed to house three unique souls in our home. They are complex pieces, with colorful swirls that sometimes challenge us. They are formed in ways that we sometimes don’t understand and would like to change. We can’t undo the textures that are ingrained on their hearts. The Artist has made conscious choices with different mediums and varying brushes and sometimes I can’t make sense of what I see.
Sometimes in the midst of parenting I lose sight of the Artist’s design. Often I miss the big picture. I forget to step back and study, to appreciate the living masterpiece that sits at the kitchen table. Frustration and disappointment are all I see when I don’t take time to appreciate the purposeful strokes. I don’t always pause to consider that way the masterpiece is put together may draw others to the Creator (and that includes me). Too often, I am blind to the inspired choices that form the framework of my little breathing sculptures. I am not seeing all that I can see.
There is a docent in our lives. Thankfully. She is part of our community. She has gotten to know our children and she reframes them for us. She praises the way the colors meld together to create a work of art – the personality. She appreciates the way the Creator has used joy, intelligence, and compassion as the brushstrokes of his hand. Her eyes are invaluable to me. She encourages me to see that the choices the Artist have made are purposeful…and beautiful. The traits that they posses are creative, decisive choices by the Creator. These can be the very same traits that drive me to distraction, but when I step back and see the big picture, when I commune with the Creator of the masterpieces, I can begin to see a purpose. The docent in our lives emboldens me to study, to learn and to sit back and admire the work of the hands of the Creator. She helps me to see all that I can see.
Mar 14, 2017 | Uncategorized |
The temperature has dropped and the wind is causing chaos among the leaves.
I pull on a sweater.
It doesn’t take the chill away.
A look at the sky says there’s weather on the horizon – there’s a storm headed our way.
The storm started yesterday, actually.
I add a scarf.
Is the furnace working?
The landscape is crunchy, the cold is flash-freezing the grass, the leaves, my breath.
I wait for the predicted ice.
It is slippery now, icy conditions make everything difficult. It is all downhill from here. I can’t get my footing and I worry that if I fall I will break.
The fire doesn’t warm me.
A hot shower leaves me chilled to the bone.
The chill is in my heart, my arteries carry ice so that all of me is numb, even to warmth.
Will I ever be warm again?
How long will the storm last?
I am so cold.
Rays of sun peek between the lowered blinds. I shut them to keep the cold out but now I realize they are keeping the cold in.
I open the blinds. Nothing escapes the sun – water drips and pools and gives life to the frozen ground. The glare of the sun is painful but I find myself drawn to it still. I am desperate for warmth.
I step outside to sit in the sun. To thaw.
The sun is persistent. My fingertips begin to tingle with warmth.
I give permission to the sun – I will not turn away.
Melt the icebox within.
I feel less rigid, less fragile.
The sun will find spring, coax it out of the ice – tell flowers to bloom, trees to bud, the birds to sing, the heart to beat again.
Let go.
Spring will come again.
