You Are Not the Only One

I originally wrote most of this post on Tuesday.  I know it sounds like a lame excuse, but my two year old deleted it.  He hit the “power off” button on the computer while I was trying to write, and much of it was lost.  I took his not-so-subtle hint that he needed attention, and put the writing aside for a few days.

I have been fairly inconsistent with blogging since returning from maternity leave, and it bugs me.  In my mind, I should be able to get a blog written every week, just like I should be able to successfully do the rest of my job as a psychologist, maintain meaningful relationships with my husband, family, and friends, and keep my house clean and in order.  I should be able to do all of this while doing my very best to lovingly raise two young children.  To be completely honest, every week something slips, and sometimes a lot of things slip.  I am doing my best, but there is a lot going on.

Most of us have a lot going on.  Most of us are juggling multiple roles and competing demands on our lives.  There is work, relationships, household and family tasks.  There are calls to make, bills to pay, and dinners to prepare.  We want to grow spiritually, we want to nourish our relationships, we want to nurture those we love.  Add to that any “big” life stressors, like illness or death in the family, marital problems, mental health issues, or financial problems.  It’s a lot, and sometimes it is overwhelming and hard.

But most people walk through life thinking that it is just them.  We think that everyone else is managing fine, but we are struggling.  We think everyone else is “all set,” but we are barely hanging on.  We think that everyone else has floors that are swept, extra money in the bank, and children sleeping peacefully by 7 p.m.

   

The truth is that everyone has their struggles.  Everyone has their pain.  It is not always easy for anyone.  We may have different priorities, different things that we let slip.  We may have different ways of managing the struggle, different ways we handle the hard times.  But everyone has their struggle.

And one of the hardest parts of any struggle is feeling alone in it.

So let’s stop.  Let’s stop perpetuating the idea that we have it all together.  Let’s allow safe people into our lives, into the messy and unswept corners.  Let’s confess that our children seem to fight constantly or that we’re barely managing to find time and space to connect with our spouse.  Let’s be honest about struggles with anger, depression, or anxiety.  Remember, it’s not about a competition to be won or lost.  It’s about acknowledging that we’re in it together.  Let’s show up in our relationships and be real with our hearts.

I’ve heard it said that some of the most powerful words in any language are “me too,” and I believe that to be true.  You and I may not be struggling with the same thing, but we both know what it is like to struggle.  By sharing our struggles, we offer a genuine “me too.”  We say, “I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either.”  We tell each other that we are not alone. And that is one of the greatest gifts we can offer.

So today, the blog is getting written.   I hope that I will be able to write it next week too.  I also hope that when my in-laws come over later they will graciously ignore the dust-bunnies the size of my daughter.   I am doing my best to stop pretending it is easy when it is not, to stop pretending like I can do it all when I know I cannot.  I am working to let people into the good and the hard, the messy and the neat.  Will you try too?

No Quick Fix

I tend to impatient. When I order fast food, I don’t want to wait in a long line to order and then wait a long time for it to be ready. I want my fast food fast. When I go to the grocery store, I look for the quickest line. Sometimes I switch if the line is not moving fast enough. And then I get really irritated if I ended up switching to the slower line. Traffic raises my blood pressure. I love it when I can watch a TV show without having to watch commercials. Sometimes I even wish people would talk a little faster. So it seems incredibly accurate to say that I can be impatient.

But I don’t think it’s just me. I think we live in a society that caters to the impatient. In fact, I think our culture that tells us that we should not be forced to wait. Endless information is instantly at our fingertips and keyboards. When we complain about a webpage loading slowly, our complaints seem totally valid. If we realize we need to make a phone call, we can usually do it instantly, no matter where we are or what we are doing. We often don’t have to wait at all for the things that we want and need. Our attention spans seem to be diminishing in proportion to the increased pace at which our lives move.

In many ways, the instant nature of our culture is a good thing. I mean, how great is it to be able to fast forward through commercials? How many moms out there have thanked God for the speed at which you can make a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese? But in other ways, the instant nature of our culture is dangerous. We have learned to expect things NOW. Our culture and our very nature have taught us to look for the quick fix, the easy solution.

And there is a lot about life that is neither quick nor easy.

There are a lot of pains, a lot of struggles, and a lot of conflicts that are not resolved in minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or even years. Some hard times last a long time.

Think about the pain of infertility, about coming face to face with disappointment and sadness every month, or every time you hear a baby cry. Think about the grief of losing a loved one, and daily confronting the pain of life without someone you once couldn’t imagine life without. Think about the time it takes to recreate a sense of home and community after a major move. Think about depression, anxiety, loneliness.

And it’s not just the big things either. Some seasons of life are just hard. A stressful job may stay stressful for a long time; a marriage may remain under pressure season after season. Sometimes there is no quick fix and no instant answer.

And that’s okay. It’s not just you. Everyone wants a quick fix, and everyone faces times and trials where there does not seem to be one. There is not something wrong with you because your problems don’t resolve in an hour, like they do on TV. You are not failing because it’s not easier yet. Just because it’s not better now does not mean that it won’t get better. This too shall pass. This may last, but it will not last forever.

I write these things because they are true, and because I too need the reminder.

So breathe deep. Persevere. Persist. Hope. Acknowledge that there is not an easy answer or instant solution. Be kind to yourself and to those you love who are facing struggles without fast solutions. Tell them that you will not tire of loving them, will not tire of supporting them, will not tire of hearing about their pain. Remind yourself of the Truth you know about trials, suffering, and perseverance. And then cling to that Truth with everything you’ve got.

Two Lists

When I am having a rough day I listen to James Taylor. It started my first year of graduate school, when I realized that James Taylor’s Greatest Hits CDs set the perfect backdrop for studying and paper-writing. The songs were familiar and comfortable, and provided background noise that comforted but did not distract. And now, years later, I still turn to those CDs on rough days, and they almost always help me feel better.

Listening to James Taylor CDs is on my list. As is praying, writing in my journal, lighting candles, drinking a good cup of coffee, calling a friend, going on a walk, reading, and taking a shower. These activities are all on my Take Care List, a list of activities that help me take good care of myself. I am a strong believer in these kinds of lists.

I believe that caring for yourself well can be a loving and socially responsible act. It can connect you to yourself and to God, and give you the energy and endurance that you need to love others well. When we are hungry, tired, cranky, or overwhelmed, we have less to offer those we love. And, when we are out of touch with our own heart, it is very challenging to be connected to someone else’s heart. We have limited resources, and we need to be refueled and recharged in order to most effectively love and serve the world around us.

What will refuel and energize you is unique. You may feel energized by time with people, or you may desperately crave time alone. Some people feel rejuvenated by spending time baking, while others find this a tedious chore. Listening to James Taylor may have the opposite effect on you that it has on me. However, it is extremely important that we learn to identify the things that give us energy and perspective, so that we can learn how to best care for ourselves.

Several weeks ago I was working with a very wise ten-year-old. He is in the midst of a season of change and transition, which is making it even more important that he take good care of him self. We were working on his list, and we had a lot of good ideas written down.

He surprised me by asked when we were going to make a list of things he should avoid. He told me that just like there were things he could do to make his anxiety and “yucky feelings” less intense, there were things he sometimes did that made these feelings more intense. He gave me the example of playing video games. “I love playing video games, but when I’m feeling the yucky feelings, video games make it worse. I need to stay away from them, or I start to feel out of control.” He added several other things to his Stay Away List, including being too busy, being around a big group of people, and watching intense movies or TV shows.

I was amazed by his insight. Just like there are things that we can do to help ourselves feel better, there are things we can avoid that can keep us from feeling worse. Identifying these things requires knowing ourselves and our preferences and understanding the impact that our choices have on our mood.

Sometimes the things on our Stay Away List are the things we find ourselves running to when we feel sad, anxious, irritable, or tired. When we are feeling the “yucky feelings,” the temptation mounts to eat too much junk food or drink too much beer. Suddenly the idea of checking out in front of the TV becomes increasingly appealing. We may find ourselves shopping for things we don’t really need or want or wasting endless hours mindlessly surfing the internet. These things become increasingly tempting, but they may ultimately make us feel worse.

Just like the Take Care list, the Stay Away List is unique and personal. The things I need to avoid may be the very things that help you. For example, an extrovert may find that getting together with a group of friends recharges them in an important way, while an introvert finds the very same gathering incredibly draining. Perhaps two hours of reality TV will refresh me but leave you feeling even more discouraged and discontent.

The key is knowing who you are and knowing how to best care for your body, heart, mind, and soul. How do your choices impact your mood, health, and overall well-being? What makes you feel better? What makes you feel worse? What things can you add to your life to help you be the person you were made to be? What things do you need to carefully avoid in times of stress or emotional intensity?

Know yourself and know what helps you be the most fully-alive, fully-connected version of yourself.

Comparisons

My family and I live in an older home.  It’s nowhere near old enough to be historic or lovely and antiquey, but it’s definitely old enough to be outdated.   It’s not as spacious or well-decorated as I would like and our list of home improvement projects is long.  

That being said, I am generally quite content with our home.  It feels cozy to me.  I love how I can make dinner in the kitchen while watching my children play in the living room.  I love how living in it kind of feels like living in a tree house.

I usually feel quite content with our home, and very grateful for it.  That is, until I visit the much nicer home of a friend.  Until I visit my sister and once again see how new and fresh everything looks.  I begin the comparison game, and my tree house never wins.

It’s like that with so very many things.  We feel happy with our financial situation until we compare ourselves to someone who is doing better, to someone who has more.  Our car is just fine until it is parked next to a nicer one.  We feel like good parents or good partners until we see someone who is doing more and doing it better.

I’ve heard it said that comparison is the thief of joy.  We begin comparing and our joy slips right through our fingers.  The comparison game has two potential outcomes.  We compare ourselves to someone else and feel that we come out ahead.  We have better hair, a better figure, or our children are better behaved.  We win!  And yet, we still lose.  The act of comparison shrinks us, makes us smaller, meaner, and less gracious human beings.  It takes us away from relationships, away from kindness and generosity of spirit.  It steals our joy.

Or, we compare ourselves to others and feel that we come out behind.  The success or good fortune of someone else leaves us feeling like our lives are lacking.  We compare and we lose.  And we are left with dissatisfaction, discontentment, and unhappiness.  Once again, the act of comparison shrinks us and steals our joy.

It is hard to avoid the comparison game.  We all play it, and the more we engage in comparison, the more difficult it becomes to stop comparing.  We compare and lose and desperately seek a comparison where we come out ahead.  Or we compare and win and seek out the same short-lived high again.  And the more comparisons we make, the more dissatisfied we feel with our lives and with ourselves, and the less joy we feel.

If comparison is the thief of joy, than I believe that gratitude is the bearer of joy.  It is impossible to experience true gratitude without experiencing joy.  Gratitude is an exercise that can flood joy into our hearts and into our lives.  Being grateful for what we have, grateful for what we have been given, and grateful for the life we are living helps us to stop comparing.  It redirects our focus from what we do not have and onto what we have.  It opens the doors and windows wide so that joy can rush in.  The more that we say “thank you,” the more that we acknowledge the gifts and blessings present in each day, the more joy we experience.

Comparison steals joy.  Gratitude bears joy.  Choose gratitude.

In Praise of Single Tasking

The other day I was making dinner. While talking on the phone. While wearing my daughter in the Baby Bjorn. While supervising my son as he played in the sink. While listening to music. While making a grocery list for our shopping trip the next day. It was a little chaotic.

My little man was getting impatient for some attention. I bent over to pick up a cup he had dropped, and he put his pudgy little hands on my cheeks, “Mama, do this! No more!” He’d had enough of my multitasking, and was asking (demanding) my full attention.


I’ll be honest, I’m pretty darn good at multitasking. Most of us are. We pride ourselves on how much we can do at once. We watch TV while folding laundry, we work out while listening to an online sermon. We check our e-mail on our phone while we wait in line at the dry cleaner. We make our phone calls while we drive to work. We are always busy, always doing at least three things at one time. We are productive, even in our “downtime.”


There is a degree to which this multitasking is necessary and highly beneficial. It allows us to cross multiple items off of our To Do lists at one time. It can make an obligatory task enjoyable. We save a great deal of time by multitasking.


But I have been wondering about the cost of multitasking. I want to live in a way that is wholehearted, fully–present and fully-engaged. Is it possible to be fully present when your attention and resources are divided three ways? Or do you end up being just sort of present for each task and interaction?

We have become so accustomed to being split and divided, to doing several things at one time, that we feel profoundly uncomfortable when all the pulling and splitting stops. We don’t really know how to stop, how to focus on one task or activity. Our natural reaction to this discomfort seems to be either to shut off completely (usually by falling asleep) or to dial it up and add more activity and stimulation.

I believe that the answer may be found in the opposite, completely unnatural, reaction.


Stop. Stay in that uncomfortable place. Do one thing. Just one thing at a time. Just listen to music. Just do the dishes. Just have a focused and undistracted conversation. Just eat dinner. Turn off the radio, the TV, the computer, and the phone. Single task. And single task with all you’ve got. If you are playing with your child, just play. Don’t play while you text, don’t play while you balance your checkbook, just play. If you are reading, just read. If you are watching a movie, just watch. If you are talking on the phone, just talk. If you are going on a walk, just walk.


Be fully present for whatever task or activity that you are engaged in. In our busy and demanding lives, it may feel strange and uncomfortable. But the practice of single tasking can be incredibly rewarding and energizing. It can allow you to be fully present for the activity of the moment, drawing all of the richness of the experience. It can allow you to tune into your thoughts and feelings in a way that is not possible when you are split between tasks and experiences. I believe that single tasking can open us up to peace, calm, and stillness in a way that our busy lives often prevent us from.


For just a little bit, do this. And nothing more.

Both/And

It’s been over three months since my husband, son, and I welcomed our new little one into our family. As predicted, the last months have flown by, a blur of days, nights, feedings, diapers, snuggles, smiles, and tears. I have done my best to hold tight to this time, to savor and delight in the precious moments that so easily get lost.

And there have been many precious moments. Watching my two-year-old cover his baby sister’s head with tender kisses. Seeing my daughter smile at me and marveling at her amazingly long eyelashes. Learning new places in my son’s heart as his independence and verbal ability expand daily. The incredibly early weekend mornings where we all ended up piled in one bed, snoozing and snuggling.

And there have been many difficult moments too. Hearing my daughter scream and not being able to soothe her. Watching temper tantrums and fits escalate and hearing “I do it SELF!” a million times a day. Nearly sleepless nights and painfully early mornings.

The truth is that it has been wonderful. And it has been incredibly hard. It has been good and it has been challenging. And I’ve realized how difficult it can be to talk about times like this, times that are amazing and beautiful and totally overwhelming and horrid, all at the same time.

It’s not only parenting that is like this. Think about marriage, where there is joy and intimacy and adventure, and all the ugliness that can come with sharing life with someone else. Think about the sadness and tenderness at the funeral of a dearly loved family member, who died after a long life lived well. Think about a move, with all the painful goodbyes and loneliness right next to the hope and excitement of new beginnings. Much of life involves joy and hardship sitting side by side.

There is very, very little in life that is all positive or all negative, all easy or all hard, all happy or all sad. Life is complex, and our emotional reactions to life are incredibly complicated. We experience life in a variety of colors and a multitude of shades.

But for some reason, when we talk about life, we paint in broad strokes. We say that everything is good, happy, and wonderful. Or we say that everything is bad, sad, and terrible. We say that we love a new stage or hate a new job. And there may be moments where we do love that stage and do hate that job. But, most of the time, there are parts of the stage we love and parts that we find challenging. There are things about the job that excite us and things that we are very unhappy with. It’s so rarely simple, but we often communicate as though it is.

I challenge you to recognize the complexities of your feelings. Hold the happiness and the sadness and the tenderness and fear all at once. There is great benefit in recognizing and naming your emotions. When you acknowledge what is there, you can decide what to do with it, and choose how to care for your complex emotions.

I also challenge you to tell the truth about the complexities of your feelings. In many situations, it is appropriate to say, “Things are good,” and leave it at that. Much of the time, it is appropriate to paint your experience with broad strokes. But there need to be some people with whom you share the full story, the various shades and colors of your emotional experience.

There need to be people in the world who tell the truth: that life is wonderful and life is hard, life is beautiful and life can be terrible, and sometimes it is all of these things at once.

I have been so encouraged and blessed by those who have had the courage to share their full story with me. By the friends who talk openly about joy living next to sadness and anger. By the people who acknowledge that even the very best parts of life often involve some pain. By the people who can say that things are both good and hard, and one does not negate the other.

Pausing Time

I am expecting the birth of my little girl sometime in the next few days, and am officially beginning maternity leave.  That means that this will be my last blog post for the next few months. I will return to seeing clients and blogging regularly in mid-August. 

I have no idea what the next few days, weeks, and months will look like.  I don’t know precisely when this little girl will choose to make her debut.  I have no idea what it will be like to be the mother of two young children or how our family will make the transition from a family of three to a family of four.  In my hands I currently hold a great deal of excitement and quite a bit of fear as well.  But there are a few things that I do know about the next days, weeks, and months.  I know that there will be some really hard moments.  I know there will be some tears of exhaustion and frustration.  I know that there will be some indescribably beautiful moments.  I know there will be some tears of joy and love and gratitude.  And, I know that these next weeks are going to absolutely fly by.  Before I know it, I will be sitting here again, writing a new blog from a new season of life.

I have no idea what the next weeks and months hold for you, but I can guess that many of the things that are true for the season that lies ahead of me are true for the season that lies ahead of you.  Most likely the next days, weeks, and months will hold hard moments and beautiful moments, feelings of sadness and fear and feelings of joy and gratitude.  And most likely, the next weeks are going to absolutely fly by.

Some good friends of our have observed that this is almost always true of summer.  The days start getting longer, the temperatures start getting warmer, and suddenly time speeds up.  It’s Memorial Day, and then before you know it, it’s the Fourth of July.  Then suddenly the kids are preparing to go back to school, the nights have a chill to them, and fall is on its way.  While I would like to hold my friends personally responsible for this phenomenon, since they first verbalized its existence to me, I have actually noticed that this is largely true for life.  It goes by so fast.  At times there are days that literally seem to last forever, and even weeks that drag by.  But the seasons and the years fly past.

And I don’t want to miss it.  I do not want to look back and ask myself where the time went.  I want to know exactly how I spent my days and weeks and months.  I want to know the story that I lived out.  I want to remember the characters and the plot twists and the details.  I want to remember the events the shaped my life, to hold tight and savor the beautiful moments, to appreciate the growth-producing effects of the hard and painful ones.

I don’t think that happens without effort.  Unless we are intentional, we will miss this life that we are living.  I am certainly still in the process of learning how to do this, and probably will be engaged in this process my whole life.  The first thing I have learned is the importance of intentionally.  We have to keep our eyes open and put effort into remembering.  We cannot allow ourselves the excuses of poor memories or busy days. 

I have found that keeping art around somehow helps me intentionally take note of life.  Reading, listening to music, and enjoying the artistic creations of others in some way opens my eyes to beauty and helps me hold to the moments.  Plus, that art can become a marker for those moments.  There is a pop song that my son is completely infatuated with.  Whenever he hears it he stops what he is doing, smiles, and dances like a crazy man.  I love it.  And whether or not I agree that the song is art, for the rest of my life, that song will conjure up beautiful images of a joyful toddler bouncing, spinning, and dancing around the room with total abandon.

I have noticed that whenever something significant happened in the Old Testament, the people would either give a new name to the place where it occurred or they would build an altar there.  When Jacob wrestled with God in Genesis 32, he named the place Peniel, which means “face of God,” because in that spot he saw God face to face (Gen. 32:30).  We may not rename rooms in our house or literally build stone altars, but we can create special markers.  We can write things down in family histories, baby books, or personal journals.  We can take pictures.   We can take videos.  We can buy gifts or mementos.  A wedding ring is not just a ring.  It is a marker of a wedding, a marriage, and all of the moments tied up into the relationship between husband and wife.  That small circle can point to all of those moments, big and small, that make a marriage.  We can create markers of special moments to help us remember and hold tight.

And finally, and perhaps most importantly, we can live our lives with witnesses.  When we share the details of our lives with other people, we invite them to join us in marking our lives.  Every time we tell a story we strengthen the power of its memory.  This is true for big moments and small ones.  When my son was just a few months old, I had the news on while we were getting ready for the day.  The Vice President was giving a speech, and I told him “That’s the Vice President.  His name is Joe Biden.”  I have no idea why, but he cracked up.  In fact, for several days, every time I said, “Joe Biden,” my very tiny son would laugh and laugh.  He was just beginning to laugh and that was one of the most precious sounds I have ever heard. I don’t ever want to forget the silly, random things that first made him laugh.  So I told my friends and family.  I am writing it here.  And each time I share that moment, there are more witnesses to this small but meaningful moment in my life and my son’s life.

I can only imagine what this next season holds for you.  I hope that it holds much laughter, joy, and beauty.  And, I hope that you are able to briefly pause time and grab hold of some small moments to keep and treasure.  I hope that when you look back at this season of life, you are able to remember the days, remember the story you lived, and remember what mattered.

In Comparison

I don’t garden.  At all.  Not flowers, not vegetables, not berries, not anything.  Every attempt I have made at gardening inevitably leads to the death of a living thing.  I have quite successfully kept a child and dog alive, so I’m not too worried, but still.  I don’t garden.

I don’t sing well.  No one will ever ask me to join a choir or help lead worship at church.  My two year old seems okay with my version of “Twinkle twinkle little star,” but beyond that most people seem to prefer I keep my singing to myself.  I do not sing well.

And this is just the beginning of the list.  I could write multiple entries about things that I don’t do or don’t do well.  Some of these things are things I could learn to do if I needed to, but I lack any kind of natural aptitude or curiosity for them.  I believe gardening falls under this category.  Other things I just lack the natural talent for.  I wholeheartedly believe that voice lessons could help me out some, but I would never, ever score a record contract.  I’m just not a good singer.

I’ve been thinking even more about our tendency to compare ourselves to others and how much pain and heartache it causes us.  Last week I wrote about how we compare ourselves to other’s ability to handle life’s obstacles and trials.  I think many of us also spend a great deal of time comparing our gifts and abilities to the talents and strengths of others.

There are amazingly gifted people out there.  There are people who can cook delicious gourmet meals on a nightly basis.  There are people who can do really complicated math in their heads.  There are people who can create beautiful works of art.  There are people who can learn to speak foreign languages with very little effort.  There are amazingly gifted people out there, and it is tempting to look at them and their gifts and wonder why we are so lacking.

It is so easy to compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking.  Maybe you do this on a big scale, looking at star athletes, Grammy-winning singers, or successful politicians, and wondering what in the world you are doing with your life.  Or maybe you compare on a smaller scale, looking at the other moms in your neighborhood and wondering why your spaghetti sauce comes out of a can and you can’t do such cute crafts.

I believe that by giving into the temptation to compare, we lose.  And not only do we as individuals lose something, but our friends, families, and communities lose as well.  Because the truth is that we all have gifts.  Some of them are shiny and sparkly and obvious, like having a beautiful singing voice.  Other gifts are quieter and more subtle, like the ability to patiently and creatively engage a 2 year old for hours on end.  But both gifts are needed in our world, and if we compare our gifts and diminish their worth, we may hold back that gift.  And then everyone will lose.

We all have unique gifts that we were given.  We all have priorities that we choose to live by.  We all have struggles and obstacles that we have to overcome.  Somewhere these gifts, priorities, and struggles intersect and that is where we live out our days.  This intersection will change with the various seasons of life.  We can never fully know someone else’s gifts, priorities, struggles, and life season, so comparing is a useless, harmful game.  Giving in to the temptation to compare can lead us to withdraw the gifts that we have been given and diminish the worth of what we have to offer.

It’s not easy to stop comparing.  One way to begin this process is to think about what you do have to offer.  My friend Katie can make absolutely amazing chocolate chip cookies.  We are talking really, really unbelievably good cookies.  In one season of her life, she very effectively used this gift to bless, encourage, and cheer up many people.  Katie also has a beautiful singing voice, the ability to captivate the hearts and minds of the students she teaches, and numerous other gifts.  But how much would the world have missed if she hadn’t baked all those cookies?  One way to stop comparing is to think about what you do have to offer the world, and boldly and confidently step forward.  You may quickly find that you are so busy delighting in this work that you are not distracted by comparisons.

On the flip side, there is also a great deal of freedom acknowledging what you don’t do, or don’t do well.  Hence, my public announcement that I don’t garden or sing.  Perhaps in some season of life something will change.  Maybe I’ll decide I want to learn how to garden.  But, for now, there is great freedom in knowing who I am and who I am not, accepting it, and moving forward without comparison.

The Rest of the Story

I am 9 months pregnant with my second child, and it seems time to make a public confession.  I find pregnancy very difficult.  Through two pregnancies I have been very sick for the first 18-20 weeks, throwing up multiple times a day, every day.  The last trimesters involve physical discomfort, back pain, swelling, rashes, and other unpleasantries.  That leaves me about 8 weeks in the middle where I feel pretty good.  It seems like some great treason to admit this, like I am somehow betraying motherhood and my unborn child by this confession.

The truth is that I fiercely love my unborn daughter.  I love feeling her move and I cannot wait to meet her.  I had every reason to believe this pregnancy would be as uncomfortable as the first, and seeing the two pink lines on the pregnancy test was still one of the greatest moments of my life.  It is worth it, and I am tremendously blessed to carry this new life into the world.  And still, pregnancy is difficult for me.  It seems every other pregnant woman I see bops along happily and radiantly, somehow appearing more healthy and alive than ever.  Other pregnant women look so cute and make it seem effortless, but to my body it feels like a tremendous amount of work.  And it seems that seeing those other women manage maternity with so much grace only adds to my misery.

But not long ago a wise friend pointed out that most people probably don’t know that I am feeling miserable.  To others, it may appear that pregnancy is effortless and easy for me too.  Most do not know the rest of my story, just like I don’t know the rest of their story.  We only see glimpses of each other’s lives, and we do not know what happens in the quiet, private moments.

Many of us are constantly comparing ourselves to others.  We imagine that other people manage to keep their homes spotless at all times, respond patiently to their children, and handle stressful meetings with great calm and wisdom.  We see families at church, all clean and smiling, and we assume that this is how they live all of their lives.  We talk to friends and hear about their days, but do not hear about the fears and doubts that we ourselves are plagued with.  So we assume that it is just us, that everyone else has it all together and there is something fundamentally wrong with us.

But this is simply not true.  In my job I have the honor of hearing people’s stories, and not just the clean and smiling parts.  I hear about the fears, the struggles, the dark days, the hard times.  I hear what is behind the public presentation, and I know that the truth is that everyone struggles with something.  Everyone has areas of weakness and pain.  Everyone has hard seasons.  Everyone.

The problem is that we forget this, and because we think it’s just us, our pride keeps us locked inside ourselves.  We do not want to share our struggle because we think we’re the only one who is struggling.  Our suffering is compounded because we feel alone in it, alone with our pain, our fear, our insecurity.  Part of feeling alone is feeling like we “should” be able to manage.  If everyone else can handle the stress of life, I should be able to handle the stress of life.  And because I am not managing easily, there must be something wrong with me.  Instantly we have added a deep sense of shame to whatever struggle we are facing.

Please remember that you are not the only one.  We all struggle.  We all have weaknesses.  You, me, and every single person you ever encounter.  Being human means having limitations.  Life can be very, very hard.  And somehow, this brokenness and these limitations can draw us together in a powerful way.  It can be through our struggles and through our hard times that relationships are strengthened and deepened.  And, even more significantly, it can be through our struggles and hard times that we learn to turn to the Healer of All Wounds, the One who strengthens the weak and gives hope to the brokenhearted.

Not long ago I was with a group of women, and one friend shared a struggle that she felt very deeply and intensely.  One by one each person in the group admitted they too shared a similar struggle, that they had either been there or were there presently.  It was a powerful moment, as we let the curtains be pulled back and shared hidden parts of our stories with one another.  We looked to the Lord together. We encouraged one another and reminded each other that we are not alone.  And, we found comfort and grace by reminding each other of the rest of the story.

Work, Play, Rest

I went a little bit crazy while studying for my graduate school comprehensive exams.  I ate, slept, and breathed that material.  I turned into an obsessive studying machine.  One evening my husband convinced me to take a break and go out to dinner and a movie.  We were sitting in the theater watching the previews and he leaned over and whispered fiercely, “you are studying right now in your mind, aren’t you?”  And he was right, I was going through material in my head.  I had totally lost it.

We all need work, play, and rest.  If we spend all of our time and energy engaging any one of these activities, our overall well-being will suffer.  If we neglect any one of these activities, our well-being will suffer.  We don’t necessarily need an equal balance of each, and what we need shifts with the seasons of our lives.  However, at any given time, work, rest, and play must all be present in adequate quantities.

My definition of work is very broad- anything creative or productive, any investment of self into a project or job that requires exertion or labor.  For the artist, anything that aids in the creative process can be work.  For the stay-at-home parent, diaper changes, bottle feedings, and story time are work.  Planting a garden, vacuuming the carpet, and writing a blog are all work.  So is going to work every day and fulfilling your job description, whatever that may be.

When I was studying for comps, my life was all about work.  There was very little time for rest in any form, and virtually no time for play.  When people live like this, they stop feeling human.  They become machines, moving from one task to another without seeing the people or relationships in their lives and without enjoying the beauty in the world around them.  Inevitably, they become stressed, cranky, and generally unpleasant to be around.  When I get into this zone, I don’t even enjoy being around myself.

On the other extreme is people whose life does not include enough work.  I believe that we were created in the image of a God who is active, who creates, who moves.  We reflect this image when we work, and if do not invest ourselves and our resources in something, we start to feel off.  We feel listless and lazy, useless and irrelevant.

The next essential element is play.  I have found myself asking quite a few adults lately what they like to do in their free time.  Many have a very hard time coming up with an answer.  As adults, many of us lose our ability to play.  We spend our time working, then collapse on the couch with the TV until it’s time for bed.  I am not anti-TV, and I do think that watching a show that you enjoy can count as play.  But that can’t be your only type of play.  What are (or were) your hobbies?  What amuses you and brings you joy?  What excites you and makes you laugh?  Is vacation the only time that you play?  That seems like an unfortunate way to live.

The lack of play seems more prevalent than the over-abundance of play, but both exist.  People who play all the time, at the exclusion of work and rest, quickly become self-centered and can easily fall into addictive traps.  Think of the teenager spending all day and all night in his room playing video games, or the compulsive gambler.  We need play, but we need more than play.

And finally, we need rest.  We need to sleep, we need to recharge physically and emotionally.  We need to nourish our bodies by stopping and eating real food.  Our hearts and our minds need silence sometimes, time to be still and quiet.  Rest seems to be the first thing to go in our busyness-obsessed culture.  The first thing we cut out is quiet time of reflection and the second is sleep.  We are a sleep-deprived culture and a rest-deprived nation.

Some of the best parts of life come when the lines between work, play, and rest are blurred.  We are in our element when we find work that we enjoy and find rejuvenating.  We feel alive when we work hard, play hard, and fall into bed ready to rest.  We are happiest and most energized when all three elements are present in our lives.  When one of these elements dominates our lives, we begin to feel off, restless, and unsatisfied.  We need all three.

I challenge you to take a few restful and reflective minutes to think about work, play, and rest in your life.  Are all three present?  Are they present in a quality and quantity that you feel satisfied with?  If not, it may be a good time to make some changes.

Get Messy

I had no idea how messy children were until I had my own.  Cognitively I understood that babies and toddlers were not neat and clean little creatures, but the experience is so much more than I had imagined.  It’s stickier and gooey-er and wetter and dirtier and overall more tactilely disturbing than I ever could’ve dreamed. 

But as messy as children (especially toddlers) are, the truth is that they are no match for the messiness of relationships.  Relationships and love and commitment are incredibly messy, unpredictable, and complicated.  I have heard many people say that they wish relationships were not so hard, they wish marriage were easier, or they wish that having and maintaining deep friendships did not take so much work.  And truly, it would be nice.  But, it doesn’t seem to happen.  Almost anytime you care for and invest in another person, at some point there is hurt involved.

It makes sense, doesn’t it?  Each of us comes into relationships with our own history, our own expectations, our own personality and communication style.  This history, expectations, and personality meets a totally different history, expectations, and personality.  Together, we build a relationship that over time creates its own history, houses unique relational expectations, and has its own patterns and personality.  That’s a lot of factors, a lot of complexity, and a lot of opportunities for misunderstanding, selfishness, cruelty, and pain.

I know this.  I believe that this is true, and I have witnessed the pain that relationships can cause.  The shattering impact of betrayal, the empty brokenness of abandonment, and the unrelenting ache caused by repeated thoughtlessness.  Humans seem almost endlessly creative in the ways that we hurt one another.  And yet, I choose to daily engage and go deeper into the relationships in my life.  I encourage people to seek community and connectedness, to push closer into their relationships with one another.  Why?  Why risk the hurt and complication that seem almost inevitable?

Because I believe it’s the only way to really live.  We can pass through life alone, but it won’t be any kind of life.  We were not created for isolation.  We were not meant to live life protected in a solitary bubble.  We need each other, desperately.   I believe that relationships are the primary tool that God uses to shape, grow, and heal us.  Our desire and need for connectedness is a direct reflection of the image of God.  God is in constant, deep relationship with Himself through the Trinity, as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  We reflect the deeply relational nature of God when we pursue true relationship with one another.

This pull toward relationships is so deeply a part of our nature that we will suffer deeply if we deny it.  If we refuse to risk, refuse to engage, refuse to take part in real relationships, we will be destroyed.  C.S. Lewis wrote, ““To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

Refuse relationships with others, and you will refuse relationship with God.  Refuse relationships with others, and you may protect yourself from one kind of pain only to dive into another kind of misery.  You will also miss out on all the joy, all the beauty, and all the pleasure that relationships bring.  For just as surely as there will be hurt, real relationships bring joy, support, healing, and encouragement.   And it is worth it.

In some ways, it would be nice if children came without all the mess.  A part of me longs for a life with  fewer dirty diapers, spit- up stains, and drool.  And that’s okay.  It’s not unlike wishing relationships could always be pain-free and easy.  But neither wish is a reality, and I believe that if they were, we would miss out on some wonderful, quintessential aspects of both children and relationships.  As ridiculous as it sounds, there is something almost sacred about a drool drenched baby kiss.  When a sticky little hand reaches up for mine, there is something in that moment that is so beautiful it takes my breath away.  There is beauty in the mess.  And, I have seen beautiful things grow from very painful parts of relationships. 

And so, we risk.  We risk the pain, hurt, and heartache than can come, because we believe in the joy and beauty of relationships.  We believe we were made for this, for each other.  We were not meant to be alone.

The Middle

A few months ago I did something I almost never do.  I stopped reading a book in the middle.  It was a good book, one that I hope to get back to soon.  But, I set the book aside because I had a significant amount of reading to do for work and that felt more important than my novel.  Then someone lent me some books, which I wanted to read and return, and now 4 months have passed and the book is still laying unfinished by the side of my bed.

I was thinking about the book the other day in the car, and wanting to know how the story ends.  I found myself thinking of the characters, stuck there, hanging in limbo in my mind.  As far as I know, none of their stories ever resolve, they just stay there in the middle, problems and drama all set out with no resolution in sight.

I hate the middle.  The middle seat is always the worst seat in the car.  My sister claims it’s the hardest being the middle child.  I guess the middle part of an Oreo is pretty good, but you can always counter that bright spot by remembering apple cores and peach pits.  The middle is usually not that great. 

And the middle of problems can be the worst.  You can feel like those characters in my unfinished book, just hanging there, stuck in a never-ending trial.  Or maybe things are moving, but it seems like they are just getting worse and worse.   The middle of a rough season comes before you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, when all you can see is dark.  The happy glow from easier times has faded and there seems to be no hope ahead.  The middle is a very, very hard place to be.

When we are in the middle, we need a little perspective and a little hope.  We need to remember that we are in the middle, that this trial and this season will not last forever.  What we are experiencing now is just a chapter in our story, not the end.  There are times when searching for perspective can lead us a few hours, days, or weeks down the road.  I can remember times in my overdramatic adolescence when my mom would ask me if I would remember this particular disappointment, irritant, or struggle in a few days, weeks, months, or years.  At that stage in life I kind of enjoyed being melodramatic, so I found the question rather irritating.  However, I think that it’s a good indicator of my mother’s wisdom that I can clearly remember her question but not the problems that prompted it.

Yet there are many, many times when this kind of perspective-taking doesn’t help.  Our problems and pain and struggles are things we will definitely remember years down the road.  At these times we need to remember that though the pain and heartache may still matter months and years down the road, we do not yet know the meaning that they will hold for us, or what beauty may grow from them.  We have not yet experienced the work of time, as the passage of days and weeks smooths down the sharpness and intensity of pain.  We may need to mourn, and the mourning may last for awhile.  At these times, our perspective taking is mostly about realizing that we are not alone in the middle.  We can cling to the promise that the One who holds the beginning, middle, and end, holds us too (Colossians 1:17).  We can cling to the promise that He will never leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).  We are not alone in the middle.

My grandfather is a very wise man, and is one of the most gifted preachers I’ve ever heard from the pulpit.  I can clearly remember a portion of a sermon where he spoke about Psalm 115:150, “Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.”  He reminded us that when we are walking down a dark path and holding up a lamp, the light usually only shows us our next step.  We take that step, and the light shines on the next step, and then the next.  Our whole path is not usually illuminated by a single lamp or flashlight.  We keep moving forward in faith, trusting the light that shines on each step we take.  When we are in the middle and cannot see the path in front of us, we can trust that He will guide and direct us with every step. 

Help!

The other day we were driving in the car and the Beatles song “Help!” came on.

                Help me if you can I’m feeling down,

                And I do appreciate you being round.

                Help me get my feet back on the ground,

                Won’t you please, please help me.

As I listened, I found myself wishing that people (myself included) would be that direct in asking for help.  It seems that somewhere around age two we develop the notion that “I can do it by myself,” and many of us never quite grow past that conviction. 

In fact, in some ways asking for help is counter-cultural.  We live in a society that prizes and values those who are strong and independent.  We admire those who seem to do it all and we harshly judge those who seem to lean too heavily on others.

But I believe that the ability to ask for and receive help is a crucial life skill, right up there with knowing how to genuinely apologize and looking both ways before you cross the street.  Actually, I think that the ability to ask for help is a lot like looking both ways before you cross the street.  It’s a skill that can keep you from getting smashed to smithereens. 

Life can be hard and painful and difficult.  Sometimes it’s huge obstacles and significant tragedies and sometimes it’s just the steady stream of daily hassles, but either way life can wear us down.  We are human beings with amazing gifts and capabilities, and we are also limited creatures with limited resources.  We were not made to weather the hard, painful, difficult parts of life alone.  We were made for community and connectedness, to be supported and encouraged by one another and to offer our support and encouragement to others.  Perhaps you could make it across that busy intersection without looking both ways, but you’d probably get to the other side stressed, anxious, and quite possibly a bit scraped and bruised.  Perhaps you could make it through this rough season without asking for or accepting the support of others, but you will probably get to the other side worn out and worn down, and quite possibly worse for the wear.

I imagine that some of you may be reading this and nodding your head in agreement.  Yes, it is important that people ask for help.  You may even be thinking of specific ways that you can help a friend you know is going through a rough season.  That’s wonderful.  Now, take it a step further.  How are you at asking for help?  How are you at calling a friend and asking for emotional or physical help during a difficult season?  Could you call a friend and just to talk and cry and seek support?  Could you ask someone to help babysit, pack boxes before a move, or provide a meal after a surgery?  Many of us find it very difficult to accept these offers, let alone ask.

Others may be reading this and shaking their heads in disagreement.  You may pride yourself on your self-sufficiency and independence.  The idea of asking someone for help when you know you can get through this alone seems ridiculous.  I challenge you to think about why the idea feels so absurd.  Is it pride?  Are you trying to do it all on your own because you don’t think you need anybody?  Is it fear?  Are you afraid that you will ask for help and no one will come through?  Are you afraid that people will see you as weak or needy?  Play your own devil’s advocate.  What would you say if someone presented you with these arguments? 

The truth is that we need help in order to live happy and healthy lives.  We certainly need help from God, each and every day.  And, we need help from each other.  I have found that the way that we view asking for and receiving help from other people tells us a lot about the way that we view asking for and receiving help from God.  And that is a really big deal.

We all need help and we all need support.  Let’s practice being as brave and bold as the song and reaching out when we are in need.

One At a Time

June 19th. May 4th. These two dates seems to be eternally drilled into my brain. June 19th was the date of my dissertation defense, and from the moment that date was nailed down, my whole life seemed to revolve around getting to that date and all the work the needed to be completed before that day arrived. May 4th was my son’s due date, and I was naïve enough to believe that he would come at or before that date. So, from the time I saw two pink lines and knew the magic date, my whole world seemed to revolve around getting to May 4th. I had a relatively uncomfortable pregnancy, and I can remember ticking off the days on my calendar, wondering how I would manage 12 more weeks, 8 more weeks, 4 more weeks, and so on. In anticipation of both of those dates, I found myself living in the future, waiting, wondering, and worrying about what lay ahead.


I haven’t done an empirical study or read any statistics on this, but it seems that people sleep the worst on Sunday nights. And I don’t think it has anything to do with getting extra sleep Friday or Saturday nights. I think people are looking to the week ahead, and all that there is to do and accomplish and live through, and it keeps them awake. It is Sunday night, but they are already living in the reality of Tuesday afternoon, Thursday morning, and all the other hours in their week.

One of the wonderful things about the human brain is that it has the capacity to remember the past and anticipate the future. These two faculties also seem to cause us a great deal of trouble.

The ability to anticipate the future really is an amazing gift. Where would we be without our ability to plan and organize? To make an appointment for next week and keep that appointment? To know that we are going to want to eat dinner before 6:00 arrives and we are ravenously hungry with no food in the house? To be aware that we are low on gas and need to fill up before taking a long drive through a remote area? It is incredibly important that we be able to plan for and anticipate the future.

Yet for many of us, this skill has gotten rather warped. Rather than just planning our week, we find ourselves projecting ourselves forward into the week. Our thoughts and emotions fly ahead of us, and we find ourselves spending a great deal of time and energy worrying about what will unfold and how it will unfold. It seems that much of the worry and some of the anxiety that people experience is the direct result of trying to live in the future.

If much of the worry we experience is caused by trying to live in the future, it may help to remember that it is actually impossible to do so. We cannot really live in the future. It can’t be done. We only have this second, this moment to live in. Projecting ourselves forward and imagining how things could go does absolutely no good. “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:27) Someone once said that time was God’s gift to us because He knows we cannot handle everything at once. Accept the gift of time and stop trying to handle more than the moment.

I have heard many people say, “take it one day at a time,” and I believe there is much wisdom in that cliché. Truthfully, if we choose to remain in reality, it’s our only choice. I know that sometimes one day at a time feels like too much. Some mornings the distance between brushing your teeth when you get up to brushing your teeth before bed feels like an impossible climb. And those days, you take it one hour at a time. Or one minute. Or one second.

Place yourself firmly in the present and trust the next second and minute and hour to the One who holds all time. Matthew 6:34 “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

So the next time you are lying awake in bed on a Sunday night and mentally rehearsing all that needs to unfold in the next five or six days, take a deep breath. Become aware of what is happening right then and there. Is your bed warm and cozy? Is your home quiet and peaceful? And choose to live there, in that moment instead.

Change

The theme of my week has been change. My husband took our jar of collected change to the bank and opened a vacation fund. On Saturday night we had the time change. As a family, we are preparing for some major life change. And, this week I had two conversations about change with two very dear friends. One friend was expressing her desire for more change and adventure in her life. She was quick to say that she does not like stress or hard changes, but that she longs for breaks in routine and things that feel new. The other friend is facing major change in her life, and feeling uncomfortable with it. Most of the change is good change, wanted and exciting change, but she feels unsettled by all of the unexpected and new in her life.


Change, even good change, can be challenging. Someone once described people who don’t like change as people “whose ships turn slowly,” and I’ve kept that image in my mind. I imagine a boat trying to make a turn, and the process of changing direction makes the ocean choppy and unsettled. The motion of turning literally rocks the boat, and those on board may lose their footing a bit. Some people love the waves, love the sensation of the boat turning beneath them. Others feel thrown off and sea-sick. They long for calmer waters and a steady course.

We all have different comfort levels with change. For some, a simple change in routine feels seriously upsetting. Construction forces them to take a different route to work, and they feel thrown off for the day. Others can handle small change, but feel unsettled by more significant short-term changes. Vacation feels like a wonderful adventure, but they always feel ready to return home to “normal life.” It’s fun to have company, but it also feels a little disruptive to the daily schedule. Then there are the bigger, yet positive changes. A new job, a new baby, a new home. All things that are wanted and eagerly planned for, but the experience of transition can feel exhausting to some. To others it is energizing and exciting. And other change, the kind that involves loss and fear, is difficult for almost everybody. Saying goodbye to someone you love. Coping with a natural disaster. Good things can come, eventually, from these changes, but the grief and fear involved make the process inevitably hard and painful.

Change is part of life. How can we find comfort when faced with the upset of change? For those of us who are easily challenged by shifts on our boat, how can we find stable footing in a world that feels unstable?

A great deal of comfort can be found by looking beneath the surface of the water. When a major storm or a simple shift in direction causes the surface of the ocean to rise and fall and foam and froth, it is easy to see nothing but the waves. But, if you look deeper, down beneath the surface, you will see that the ocean is calm. There is peace beneath the chaos. That picture, that image alone, can provide some peaceful moments in the midst of change.

But that picture represents something deeper, something truer. When life is rapidly changing and all feels unsettled, there are truths beneath the surface that never change and are not shaken. We can cling to that which we know will never be altered and will never fail. Isaiah 54:10 reminds us, “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the LORD, who has compassion on you.”

The unfailing love of God can give us peace in the midst of change. Psalm 94:18 says, “When I said ‘my foot is slipping,’ your unfailing love, Oh Lord, supported me.” There is a bigger picture than the change we are currently experiencing, and remembering the truths, the goodness, and the love of that big picture can provide comfort and peace when we are unsettled.

When change creates chaos, being reminded of these truths can feel as difficult as finding solid footing on a shifting boat in a storm. It is then that we desperately need to find quiet moments to stop and think. We need to meditate and reflect on those truths we know will never change, that peace which exists beneath the chaos. We need to be mindful of that which is always there for us to cling to.

Once we’ve done this, it is so much easier to enjoy the change. We can find the freedom to adapt, to let go of the old and open our hands to the new. We can turn our eyes to the beauty, possibility, and joy we are facing with the change. We can open our ears to the encouraging words of our friends.

In a few days we won’t think about the time change anymore. Many of the changes you are facing now, even ones that feel big, will very quickly become routine, and will soon feel part of the ordinary. But what will remain constant is that our lives will always involve change. Therefore, we will always benefit from learning how to enjoy change, adapt with change, and handle change gracefully.

The Old Green-Eyed Monster

Have you ever found yourself jealous of someone else’s Facebook status? I refuse to believe that I’m the only one this happens to. I read a status about someone’s fancy-pants dinner simmering on the stove, and immediately feel a tad insecure about my plan to yet again pull out Kraft Mac and Cheese. I see that someone is packing for a vacation to someplace tropical, and my irritation with the snow and ice increases. There’s something about those pithy little updates that can quickly garner a rather unattractive reaction from my heart.


Most of us can admit that it’s not just Facebook statuses. At some time, in some way, most of us have experienced major jealousy. I have found that there are two levels of jealousy. There is the sneaky jealousy that creeps in when you quickly (and perhaps unintentionally) compare yourself to others. This type of jealousy usually manifests as quickly passing thoughts, such as “Look at how great her hair looks. I wish my hair looked like that,” or “Why is my car such a beater? Everyone else has such better vehicles.” This kind of jealously is subtle; it slowly and insidiously taints your perception of yourself and your life, sometimes without you even being aware of its presence.

There is nothing subtle about the second kind of jealousy. It is the overwhelming, undeniably terrible feeling that comes when someone else has something you desperately want. Your desire is deep and constant, and the reminder that someone else has what you want is excruciatingly painful. You cannot rejoice in the other person’s good fortune; all you can do is sink into your misery and unfulfilled desire.

Jealousy is a truly horrid feeling. Whether it’s the subtle kind or the obvious kind, it’s terrible. I have yet to talk to anybody who enjoys the experience. It’s unpleasant enough to feel discontent; it’s even worse to feel discontent and find yourself shooting the twin arrows of resentment and bitterness at someone else. Proverbs 27:4 describes it well: “Anger is cruel and fury overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?”

I do not believe that we are powerless over jealousy. First, like any emotion, I believe that jealousy, both subtle and obvious, tells us something, something important. It speaks to deep feelings and desires in our hearts. These desires and feelings can teach us about who we are and reveal important truths about our relationships with each other and with God. Understanding these things about ourselves can show us how to pray, how to reach out to others for help, and how to move forward.

I also believe that part of jealousy’s potency rises from the fact that it is usually kept secret. We very rarely admit our jealousy to another person. Rather, we keep it in, and it festers like a hidden wound. Confessing our jealousy to a trusted confidant defuses some of its power, like air seeping from a balloon. Most of the time jealousy comes from a place of real pain. Some deep desire of our heart is going unmet, and it hurts. Admitting our jealousy forces us to admit to this place of pain. We can then gather up all of our courage and walk into it, allowing ourselves to grieve for what is not. There is often no way around this grief; acknowledging it and accepting it can allow us to let go of the jealousy and deal with what is really there. But we do not have to do this alone, and inviting a friend or counselor to journey with us can make all of the difference.

Gratitude can be another powerful weapon against jealousy. Jealousy turns our attention to what we lack, while gratitude expresses thankfulness for what we have been given. Intentionally focusing our thoughts and minds on what we are grateful for can redirect our attention and reduce jealousy. Perhaps you don’t have a new car and you’re not packing for an exotic vacation. However, there are blessings in your life to be thankful for, and recognizing them can help you change your attitude.

Some final words on jealousy. I think that a lot of times we feel jealous of others because we are trying to be someone we are not. You may look at someone who is outgoing and gregarious and experience jealousy, wishing that you were the life of the party. You may feel jealous when you watch someone sing beautiful or create a stunning work of art. You look at someone else and their temperament or their gifts, and you wish that you could be them instead of you. In these situations, getting rid of jealousy means knowing and appreciating who God made you and what gifts He gave you, and choosing contentment. It’s that ridiculously simple and that impossibly hard.

Take Care

As I have previously mentioned, I had some pretty rough days in grad school. I also had some pretty great days, a lot of fairly neutral days, and a handful of days that were both wonderful and terrible. It was pretty much a five-year rollercoaster.


At the end of my first year, I had my final meeting with my supervisor, a wonderful woman whom I continue to admire, both professionally and personally. We were talking about the end of the school year and how I would be spending my summer. I told her, probably for the first time, how difficult that year had been for me, and how tired and drained I felt. We talked for awhile, and then she asked me how I planned on taking care of myself that summer.

I don’t think anyone had asked me that question before, certainly not so directly. I had lived with the assumption that we pretty much always take care of ourselves. I showered and got dressed every morning, brushed my teeth and paid my bills, stayed well-fed and met my obligations. Isn’t that how you take care of yourself? Turns out there’s more to it than that.

These days I frequently ask people how they take care of themselves, and I’m usually met with one of two responses. The first is a blank stare, one fairly identical to the one that my supervisor got from me. The second response is an argument, that self-care is self-ish. The arguments usually come from people who adamantly insist that we are called to love others more than ourselves and look to the needs of others, not to our own needs

And I agree. Kind of. Luke 10:27 tells us that the greatest commandments are, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” Over and over again we are presented with instructions to love others as we love ourselves. And part of being able to love others well involves caring for ourselves. When you are tired, cranky, hungry, and overwhelmed, you have less to offer those around you. When you are out of touch with your heart it is very hard to be connected to the heart of another.

Even more significantly, I have found that we tend to treat others with about the same kindness, gentleness, and compassion with which we are treating ourselves. When we are demanding, judgmental, and harsh with ourselves it spills out into our attitudes and behaviors towards others. The other day I was bemoaning the inconsistency of my toddler to a friend, expressing frustration that the circumstances were the same, but his mood and attitude were totally different. Why was he easy and happy one Thursday and throwing temper tantrums the next, when the daily routine looked identical? She asked me if I was feeling any different, and the truth was that I was feeling very different. I was feeling anxious and overwhelmed, and this was spilling out onto my son. He was responding to my inner state. When we are caring for ourselves and our physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, we can much better care for others.

It is important to add that there are times when you must overlook your own needs or desires to care for someone well. When your newborn baby is screaming to be fed and you need a shower and some food, you may have to put your needs on hold. When a friend is hurting and needs your presence, it is important to be there for them. But, these are temporary situations, not permanent ways of being. If you look at the gospels, Jesus frequently took time away, quiet time by himself. If He saw this as a priority, I believe we should too.

So, how do you take care of yourself? First of all, look at the basics. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Are you getting physical activity? Are you actively pursuing connection with God? These are some of the most important things we can do to stay healthy and happy, and yet they are often the first things that go. I know that it can be hard, that the demands of life can make it seem impossible to get a good night’s sleep, let alone find time to exercise or stay spiritually connected. Fight to make these things a priority. Be creative in implementation. Perhaps you cannot find an hour to go to the gym, but pushing a stroller up a hill certainly counts as physical activity. Perhaps you can’t find an hour to spend in solitary prayer, but the honest prayers lifted up while pulling out of the driveway can be just as significant.

Then, look for little ways you can take care of yourself in the midst of every day. Does lighting a candle bring you joy? Turning on a favorite CD? Watching the occasional really, really bad reality television show? These activities can be restoring, particularly when you intentionally label them as ways to invest in your well-being.

And finally, look for big ways you can take care of yourself every once in awhile. Maybe you and your spouse can’t get away together every month, but you can make it a priority once a year. Maybe you can’t have a “girl’s night out” every week, but you can once a month. These special events can help refresh your spirit and enable you to better love and care for others.

I believe that caring for yourself well can be a loving and socially responsible act. It can connect you to yourself and to God, and give you the energy and endurance that you need to love others well. How will you take care of yourself this week?

Gratitude

It’s another gray and cold February day in Vermont. There have been snow flakes falling off and on, and I hear we may get a few inches of accumulation at some point this week. We had a few warm days, and much of the snow has melted, but there is still a solid, icy covering that is now dirty and brown. It’s not pretty. For people who are hurting and struggling, the bitter wind and gray sky seem to echo an inner pain and desperation. It can be hard to find joy on days like this.


What do you do when you are struggling to find joy? When the days feel gray and bleak and bitter? Most of us are quick to turn to self-pity and distractions. We are quick to spend our time ruminating on why our life is so hard, on what is weighing us down. Then, to avoid these unpleasantries, we flee to any distraction we can find, be it in busyness, television, exercise, gossip, sports, drinking, or whatever else takes our mind off the pain.

It seems silly to call this the easy way, since nothing about the path of pity and distraction feels easy. There is another path, a way that requires more effort but is infinitely more rewarding. It is the way of gratitude. Brother David Steindel-Rast said, “The root of joy is gratefulness…It is not joy that makes us grateful; it is gratitude that makes us joyful.”

In his brilliant book Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning writes about the Way of Gratitude. He writes, “It is simply not possible to be simultaneously grateful and resentful or full of self-pity.” There is no doubt that life is hard; at times almost unbearably so. There is no doubt that we need kindness, compassion, grace, and gentleness for ourselves and others. And there is no doubt that choosing a life of gratitude can bring us joy alongside the excruciating pain and teach us to live with the kindness, compassion, grace, and gentleness we so desperately need.

So how do you cultivate a spirit of gratitude? How do you make that choice on a day when it is hard to find much to feel grateful for? First, I believe that gratitude, like any practice, can become a habit. The more that you work on being grateful, the more natural it becomes. I encourage you to sandwich your day in gratitude. As you are getting ready for your day, each day, mentally list 5 things about life you are grateful for. This morning my list included slippers and coffee, as well as my supportive husband. At the end of the day, each day, write down 5 things that you were grateful for about that day. There are certainly benefits to writing down what you are grateful for. You can revisit your list on particularly joyless days and recall the blessings you have been given. Plus, there is something about the act of making gratitude physical that helps it sink in at a deeper level.

Some people fall into the trap of listing the catastrophes that did not befall them that day….”I am thankful that while stuck in traffic I did not get hit by a semi.” While I am sure you are grateful for that fact, part of the exercise is being thankful for what you were given in that day. Regularly drifting into the realm of gratitude primarily for what did not happen can become a sophisticated way of complaining.

Second, you can cultivate a spirit of gratitude by striving to be alert. Keep your eyes open for things you are grateful for. A hot shower might feel particularly soothing when you can categorize it as a gift that you are thankful for. Having your spouse warm up your car for you on a cold winter morning can jump out when you are looking for things to thank him for. Alertness can increase gratitude, which in turn increases joy.

As you build the practice of gratitude, you will find there are levels of this skill. The black belt in gratitude comes when you can genuinely be grateful for the trials, hard times, and pain, because you trust the heart of God toward you. Henri Nowen described gratitude as spiritual work. He wrote, “Let’s not be afraid to look at everything that has brought us to where we are now and trust that we will soon see it in the guiding hand of a loving God.” This is the hard stuff, and it is also a clear path to joy.

We have been trying to teach my 21 month old son to say thank you. He can say the words, but he seems to struggle a bit with the procedure of it all. For example, he will say “cracker please,” and when he gets his cracker he says “you’re welcome.” Sometimes he says thank you the “correct” way, but more often than not he gets a little mixed up. But there is no doubt that he understands the concept of gratitude. Spend a few minutes of focused attention playing with him and he’s bound to hand out a few hugs and kisses. Give him his breakfast and he smiles and laughs. Sing a song and when you’re done (no matter how poorly you sang) he claps. His gratitude spills out of him as joy. And that is what I want for you, that is what I want for myself, on the days where the gray feels overwhelming.