Category Archives: growth stuff

Ireland…With All Five Senses

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I’m taking a leap. A few weeks ago I wrote about the word Jump (thanks to Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Friday prompt). I said that jump made me think of standing on the edge of a cliff knowing I was supposed to take a leap.

The Cliffs of Moher by sedoglia on Creative Commons

The Cliffs of Moher by sedoglia on Creative Commons

Well, I think I just did that. I booked a flight to Ireland. Not a sightseeing trip. Not a getaway with hubby. Just me and my computer heading to the Emerald Isle to write. (It’s a dream come true and without an amazingly supportive husband, it wouldn’t happen. Thank you babe!)

 

So, why Ireland? A few years ago, I wrote a novel called, Where the Pink Houses Are, set in a charming Irish country town. Thankfully, it seems some people really loved the book. (click the title above if you’d like to read a review ;) ) The comment I most often hear is, “When are you going to write the next one?” My response has always been, “I’m working on it.” And that’s true, to an extent. I have written some chapters. I have some ideas.

 

But for almost two years now the nagging feeling in the back of my head is that I can’t write book two until I’ve been to Ireland. I can only “fake” it so long. Anyone I’ve talked to who has read my book and also been to Ireland tells me they can’t believe I haven’t been there. But I think that’s because their minds fill in the blanks. They are seeing it vividly because they have already seen it! I haven’t. And it handicaps me.

 

When I decided to set my book in Ireland, I knew it would be difficult, never having set my eyes on the multi-hued green hills. I chose a fictional town and called it Millway. But I actually based it off of Millstreet; a real town, location-wise, so that distances to Cork city & Limerick, etc. would be consistent. I wanted a reference point.

 

I figured google would be my best friend. And it was. I was able to look up any locations my characters visited and describe the scene from pictures. But I didn’t even try to describe the actual town because it’s not a tourist area so I didn’t have pictures. I just used my imagination. It was the best I could do and it worked, mostly because my main character, Brenna, was an American tourist. She didn’t know the town well, either. It was fine. But this time around, she will have lived there for a few years. It will be her home and she will know it better, so I should too, right?

 

That’s why I’m going to stay for a week in the very town I set my novel in. How cool is that?? This time around, I will actually be able to infuse the real town into my book. I will have a feel for the “personality” of the place. It will still be fiction. But it will feel so much more real to me…and hopefully to my readers!

 

But confession time…I’m a little scared. Not of traveling by myself. Been there, done that. I was scared of driving on the wrong side of the road trying to leave the Shannon Airport, but Michael, the charming B&B proprietor, assures me I won’t need to “hire” a rental car. His wife will be on “holiday” and will gladly drive an hour to the airport to get me. Really? (I’m already blown away by the Irish hospitality.) He also assures me I’ll have “the life of Reilly” while I’m there. And I believe him. My father’s from Ireland, as are all his relatives. In a way, this feels like a home-coming for me. So that part…doesn’t scare me.

 

Why am I scared then, you ask? Well I imagine it’s a fear that every writer has at some point; what if the words don’t come? What if I spend the money and take time away from my family and I still don’t come away with my story? That’s the scary part. There’s nothing I can do about it. I just have to trust that it will be there. That my story is waiting for me.

 

Before I booked my flight, I was still a little hesitant to make the jump. I thought maybe I was just making excuses; I should just try writing book two from home. And then, last night, I was reading a book my sister, Sarah, recommended to me years ago. A Circle of Quiet by Madeline L’Engle (think A Wrinkle In Time…one of my fav books as a child) is a must read for any writer or artist. Sarah told me that back then but I never got around to reading it. Now I know that I was just saving it for the right time. I have highlighted it like crazy, but one particular line jumped off the page last night.

 

Madeline was talking about how her characters often do things she doesn’t expect. That even if she has everything mapped out, she will sometimes have to change huge sections of her book if the characters surprise her with something. (That’s one of my favorite things about writing fiction!) So, her point was that her characters were fluid, unpredictable, changing and that was okay. But the next sentence was, “But I do have to know, with all five senses, the places in which these unpredictable people move.” Yes! Yes. That is what I needed to hear. I need to know Ireland with all five senses. So I’m taking the leap. I’ve booked my flight and I’ll just have to see where it leads me…and my characters.

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Acknowledgements: Quote from A Cirlce of Quiet, page 94 more...

Just Jump! (Five Minute Friday)

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Five minutes…Go!

Jump.

Jump is scary to me. I think of standing on a cliff…water below, crashing against the sides of the cliff. And for some reason, I’m supposed to jump. But I’m scared to take that leap. I can even feel the butterflies in my stomach as I write.

There’s a part of me that is outgoing and loves change. But there is another part that doesn’t like to put myself out there to try new things. I don’t want to look foolish so I don’t want to try whatever it is that people are telling me to do. It’s usually physical things.

I was clumsy and awkward as a kid. I was the one picked last in gym class. I excelled in things that required writing or singing or anything academic or artistic. But physical education, coordination, any of those kinds of things…just didn’t come naturally.

I don’t know when I realized it but it was some time in the last year or two…I still avoid those things that I think will make me look foolish….like I’m back in gym class with a red face cuz no one wants me on their team.

So when my eight year old asked me to jump on the trampoline today, my first instinct was to say no. But then I decided…why not? I need to do more of those kinds of things with my kids. They need to see me laughing and having fun. So we jumped together…we laughed and I think that was the first time I was ever picked first for someone’s team ;)

photo credit: Charlotte.Morrall on Creative Commons

photo credit: Charlotte.Morrall on Creative Commons

Stop. Time’s up!

This post is inspired by Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays. The idea being that one prompt word is given on Friday and hundreds of bloggers take 5 minutes to write on the subject. No editing…no perfecting. Just five minutes of writing. (If you’re one of my blogging friends, why not join in?)

love,

rebekah

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Mom, Can I Have a Hug? (Five Minute Friday)

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Me and my boys...chillin together, enjoying the here and now.

Me and my boys…chillin together, enjoying the here and now.

Prompt word: Here. Five minutes…Go.

Here. Makes me think of being here…in the present. Too often I’m not. I’m ruminating over the past or dreaming about the future. My 11-year-old is really good at pulling me in to the here and now.

photoI’ll be fast and furious, fingers flying across my keyboard…emails to be answered, blog posts to write, twitter to check, Facebook to update when suddenly I feel a soft hand on my back. “Mom, can I have a hug?”

If I’m really focused on my MacBook screen I’ll give him a little side hug. And he’ll call me on it every time. “Mom, can I have a real hug?”

 

 

Every time it pulls me into the here. Into the now. I turn away from the shiny screen and look my boy in the eyes. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze. He whispers, “You’re so warm.” It’s his way of saying thank you.

I know that I have to learn from the past and I have to plan for the future. But I don’t want to miss the now. I want to be here for my kids.

How ’bout you? Do you struggle to be here…to be present?

 

Stop. Time’s up!

This post is inspired by Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays. The idea being that one prompt word is given on Friday and hundreds of bloggers take 5 minutes to write on the subject. No editing…no perfecting. Just five minutes of writing. (If you’re one of my blogging friends, why not join in?)

love,

rebekah

 

 

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Waiting till After… (Five Minute Friday)

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Photo credit: Creative Commons- Brian Richardson

Photo credit: Creative Commons- Brian Richardson

Five minutes…Go!

After I lose weight, I’ll learn how to dance. After I feel better about my weight, I’ll learn how to rap. After my kids are grown, I’ll learn how to play guitar. After. After. After. Why am I waiting till after…?

 

I’m short-changing myself, I know. I need to stop thinking that I have to wait for something else to happen before I can make something happen. Because I am wasting precious time in the waiting when I could be doing.

 

Why do I do that? Is it the procrastinator in me? I don’t think so. I think it’s the sneaky internal perfectionist in me. If I can’t look like a professional by day two, I don’t want to try dancing. If I can’t play like Eric Clapton, why am I bothering to build calluses? But that’s so unrealistic (and let’s face it…prideful!). I need to give myself permission to be crappy at things for a while because unless you’re a child prodigy, most of your efforts start out kind of crappy. And that’s okay. There’s a freedom in that.

 

I’m going to ignore that pesky little perfectionist inside, this month, and try something new. How about you? Wanna do something crappy with me?

Stop…time’s up!

This post is inspired by Lisa-Jo Baker’s Five Minute Fridays. The idea being that one prompt word is given on Friday and hundreds of bloggers take 5 minutes to write on the subject. No editing…no perfecting. Just five minutes of writing. (If you’re one of my blogging friends, why not join in?)

 

 

 

 

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Who Cares What Simon Says

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photo credit: leo.jeje @ creative commons

photo credit: leo.jeje @ creative commons

My pastor talked a couple weeks ago about the story recorded in Luke 7 of the sinful woman who came to a party, uninvited, and washed Jesus’ feet with her tears. She then lavished her expensive perfume upon his feet. Simon, the host of the party and a Pharisee (church leader of the day), assumed that Jesus must not be a prophet because if he were, he would know what a sinner the woman was. His assumption was that if Jesus knew this woman was a prostitute, he would reject her. Certainly Simon would have.

 

But Simon was wrong on all counts. Not only did Jesus know what she did for a living, he knew that her heart had been changed by her faith in him. He knew that she was a new woman on the inside and he forgave her for her sins. Simon had no idea what was going on in the woman’s heart. He never would have known because he absolutely would never have allowed himself to be seen with her long enough to find out.

 

As I thought back on this story today I wondered how many walking wounded we have in our churches every Sunday. How many men and women have messed up their lives, fully acknowledged their sin, been forgiven by God…but still feel wounded because “the church” in general still sees them as a sinner? (Aren’t we all?)

 

When we make a mess of our lives, the church should be the first place we find comfort but often times people like this withdraw from everything…including the church. Because if their sin has been made public or has spread through the gossip circles, they get the same side-ways glances and hushed tones there that they might get at the grocery store or the soccer field. Too often, they aren’t made to feel loved and welcomed. Because too many times “the church” acts like Simon instead of Jesus. 

Photo credit: Lel4nd @ creative commons

Photo credit: Lel4nd @ creative commons

 

Now, this is not true of all churches. When I say “the church” I mean it in a general sense…any organized religious group. But all churches have one thing in common…they are populated by humans. And humans will disappoint.

 

Has this happened to you? If it hasn’t yet it’s just a matter of time. At some point, a human in a church will let you down. Bank on it. We all mess up. But just because you have been hurt by someone in a church doesn’t mean you’ve been hurt by God.

 

We can ascribe God-like characteristics to the church. But we really shouldn’t ascribe church-like characteristics to God. We get all turned upside down when we do that. God sees the parts of us that no one else does. He knows if we are truly sorry for our sins even if the woman on the second pew doesn’t. God is Jesus, not Simon.

 

So, if you are being a Simon; stop it. You don’t know all that’s going on in people’s lives. We are simply called to love God and love others. If you’re showing Jesus’s love to people who have walked (or crawled) through life-altering lessons, keep it up! And if you’re the woman with the perfume; hold your head up, let Jesus dry your tears and don’t worry about what Simon says.

Successful at My Funeral

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Photo Credit: It's_JoJo @ creative commons

Photo Credit: It’s_JoJo @ creative commons

I end too many days feeling like a failure and I think I’ve figured out why. Most of the things I’m good at won’t be measurable until my funeral. Seriously. And most of the things I’m bad at are measured every day. So I often find myself rehearsing a mental list of all the ways I don’t measure up. And to be honest, I give myself a lot of material because I do suck at a lot of things.

No, really. I do. I’m fully aware of it and I’m not saying that so you’ll say, “Oh Rebekah, that’s not true.” Trust me, these are true:

I’m bad at keeping my house picked up, putting away laundry and planning meals…staying on a diet of any kind (gluten-free, low-carb, low-glycemic…I’m an equal opportunity cheater), remembering where I put my keys, purse, coat and shoes not to mention permission slips, checkbook, tax bills, etc.

I’m bad at showing up on time, sticking to a schedule, sticking to a budget and planning ahead. I hate talking on the phone and shopping….going to bed on time and getting up early.

I rarely remember to do any of the following on time: check the water meter (even with those nice little postcard reminders), get my oil changed, renew my registration or get my van inspected.

With pretty much anything that has to do with time management, self-discipline or accomplishing tasks…I suck. 

I have tried for as long as I can remember to get better at these things…and I’m still trying. I’m not one to say, “Well, I can never get better at that cuz this is just who I am.” I know we can all grow in our weak areas and if I look back over the years, I do see improvement in some of my weaknesses. But overall…I still suck when it comes to tasks.

But people. I’m good with people. I’m good at making friends, being helpful and patient. I’m good at teaching, encouraging and leading. I’m good at being in the moment and knowing just what to say…at sensing what people need and anticipating issues. I’m good at diplomatically solving disputes…seeing the heart of a situation and offering solutions. I’m good at loving people. I’m good at spending time with people (especially at Panera Bread or Carrabba’s Italian Grill ;) ).

And I’m really good at connecting people (one friend even told me it was my super-power!). Have you heard of the game, Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon…where anyone in the film industry can be linked to Kevin Bacon in six steps or less? Well I seem to know a lot of people and I’ve been told we could play a Six Degrees of Rebekah game…at least in the Buffalo/Rochester area.

So to sum up; Task skills…I suck. People skills…I rock. And therein lies the problem. Tasks are measurable. We have check-lists, promotions, awards and accolades linked to how well we accomplish tasks. But people skills? Not so much. There is no measurement for encouraging a friend or soothing a child’s fears. There are no awards given for diffusing a conflict amongst peers or bringing a friend a latte when she’s having a rough day. There are intrinsic rewards…you feel good when you do these things. But they aren’t measurable or check-list-able (yes, I’m aware that’s not a word…but you get my point.) And yet, they are still important. The time that I invest in my family and friends may not win me awards or make me feel like I’ve accomplished a lot in my day but those minutes matter. 

I have to remind myself that over time I will see the results. My kids are growing and already I can see glimpses of what kind of adults they will be. We have days where I think they must have been raised among wolves. But other days they blow me away with their wisdom, courage and leadership skills. And I think my focus on encouraging, loving and leading people has played a role in their character development. That makes me smile.

The other day I was being particularly hard on myself…feeling like I don’t do much well. I was surrounded by clutter in my son’s room and I was trying to organize all the…stuff. I was brutally comparing myself to my more organized friends and more organized husband when my eight year old came upstairs, lip quivering, pulling his hand from behind his back. Firmly suctioned onto his index finger was a small PVC tube. Knowing my fiercely independent son, I’d guess he’d been trying to get it off for at least twenty minutes before facing the embarrassment of admitting his predicament.

I looked at him calmly and smiled. I assured him it was no big deal and that we’d have it off in no time. He was so scared.

“What if you can’t get it off?” He said through tears.

“We’ll get it off, no worries buddy.” I told him as I walked him down the stairs to the kitchen. I poured some olive oil on it and gave it a minute to soak in, all the while reassuring him that he’d be fine. After a few minutes of carefully working on it I got the tube off and tossed it in the trash. I washed his oily hands, gave him a hug and he was off to finish his TV show.

I watched him walk away and I thought about how calm I was. I didn’t yell at him for getting stuck. (What were you thinking?) I didn’t get stressed and let him see my concern. (We may have to take you to the doctor and get it cut off!) I just soothed him and told him it would be fine. As I headed back upstairs a whispered thought came to me, “You were really good at that.” And I took comfort in that one small success, with a smile, thinking that I was probably even better at it than my organized friends.

So what about you? What are you good at that can’t be measured? We all have gifts that can’t be measured on a spreadsheet…but those things still matter.

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True Poverty- Dominican Recap 2

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Dominican Republic

I’ll admit it. I was being judgmental. As I absorbed the landscape along the Dominican coastline, the people in their cars and the store-fronts and businesses that seemed to be thriving, I thought, “What am I doing here? What help can I offer?” I couldn’t help but compare. After three heart-wrenching trips to Sierra Leone in West Africa, this trip to the Dominican Republic made me feel guilty. Like I was on vacation. A vacation where we had plenty of work to do, but a vacation nonetheless. There was poverty here but it was not the crushing, overwhelming, “I’ll never heal from what I’ve seen” poverty that I had witnessed before. Don’t get me wrong…I’m not saying the Dominican people were undeserving of help. Far from it. They had real needs. It was just a different level of need and it unsettled me.

Sierra Leone, West Africa

Sierra Leone, West Africa

I was struggling to know why God had sent me on this medical missions trip with SCORE International. I knew I was supposed to go. But I just couldn’t figure out why. I suspected (and by the trip’s end had it confirmed in Neon-sign fashion) that I was there for my fifteen year old son. He would never have gone if I hadn’t and the trip was incredibly powerful for him. God used him and grew him. But still, knowing that God is an equal opportunity teacher meant that He had something for me to learn, too. I wondered if it had something to do with the girls orphanage we were scheduled to visit.

Before the trip, our team had several meetings to get to know each other better, train and plan. During one of those sessions our leader, Jeff, told us that we would probably be able to visit an orphanage that SCORE had recently discovered. It was run by a couple who had, over time, taken in around 30 girls who had been rescued from slavery and/or abuse.

Then he told us a story of what had recently happened there on a SCORE Married Couples mission trip. While they were visiting this girls orphanage, the government brought in a young teenaged girl who had bruises and welts covering her thin body. She had been rescued and now needed a place to live. On that day, the married couples team shared with the girls that Jesus had already set them free. That they were no longer prisoners and that Jesus was their savior. The newly arrived girl, with horrific bruises covering her body, emphatically told one of the team members, “I need Jesus.” Right then and there she prayed and started a new life in Him.

I was so touched by that story. First by the willingness of this couple to open their home to 30 previously abused girls. Second, by the way this horribly abused young girl responded to the news that Jesus had come to save her. She could have been bitter. She could have closed her heart. Instead, she leapt at the chance to know her Savior! Beautiful.

So, on our first full day in the Dominican we were scheduled to visit the girls orphanage. I’d been to orphanages in Sierra Leone. I loved visiting the children there because they were so incredibly excited to see us, even when they’d never met us. All they wanted was to be our friends. And in a land that has been ravaged by guerrilla forces…one that has had its infrastructure decimated and its people consigned to poverty, there is a desperation in the eyes and hearts of children and adults alike. This desperation blows social reserve to pieces. There is no caution and no pleasantries exchanged. There is only, “I am so glad you’re here. Please be my friend and don’t forget me when you leave.”

Some of my little friends in Sierra Leone

Some of my little friends in Sierra Leone

That had been my experience with orphanages. But this was not Sierra Leone and I didn’t know what to expect as I ducked into this Dominican orphanage. I looked at the girls as our team of thirty plus filled their small home. Most were shy and hanging back, hesitant at first. Very different from the African children who swarmed each American, every time we visited them. I was out of my element…unsure of how to connect or what to say other than “Hola.” I walked straight through the house and out the sliding door to the back patio where several girls were standing.

Stepping through door my eyes locked on a girl with an angelic smile, holding a sweet little baby girl. There was no hesitation in her eyes. Only welcome and joy. Warmth. Drawn to her, I returned her wide smile and shook her hand as I told her my name. She told me in Spanish that her name was Franzia. I’m a writer but I’m not sure I can describe her eyes. Liquid milk chocolate might be close. Just so warm and beautiful. We were there to love on the girls but Franzia loved on me by immediately welcoming me with her smile and warm eyes. I had been uncomfortable, unsure. But she made me feel at home. 

Franzia :)

Franzia :)

Beyond smiling and exchanging names, there wasn’t much we could do with the language barrier between us. Still, I helped her with a craft and encouraged her with hugs and pats on the back. Loving without words. The same type of scene was repeated all over the back yard. Within minutes, all shyness evaporated on both sides. Some of the team members were getting “manicures” from eager six-year-olds. Some were playing ball, jumping rope or just sitting and cuddling. There is so much more I can tell you about this girls home…I’ll need to write another post!

But it was during my craft time with Franzia that our leader, Jeff, looked at me and said, “Do you know that Franzia is the girl who was brought in when our married couples team was here?” I was stunned. This was the girl who, five months prior, had been covered in welts and bruises delivered from one who was supposed to protect her. If I didn’t trust Jeff, I would never have believed that this sweet, warm, welcoming girl was the same one who had so recently been living in hell. I looked at her with new eyes and what I saw was the amazing grace…the transforming power of the love of Jesus. She was a child of God. She knew it and it allowed her to love in spite of the pain she’d endured. She’d made a choice that each of us has to make. We can hold on to the bitterness and pain from the blows we’ve received, wearing the pain like a cloak, closing off from those who would help us. Or, we can let go of the past and run full tilt at the One who receives us with wide open arms. Full of love, forgiveness and healing.

With no more than five words between us I learned volumes from Franzia that day. I had made huge error in my comparison of the poverty in the DR and Sierra Leone. Because there is another kind of poverty that isn’t connected to how much money one has. It’s a spiritual poverty and it doesn’t discriminate. Regardless of the physical poverty level of a nation, all spiritual poverty is desperate. All people need to know about the love of Jesus…that He can set them free. So many just don’t know. They are spiritually bankrupt, beaten and bruised. They are desperately waiting for someone to show them that there is healing and love available to them. Just like the missions team before mine had told Franzia. Jesus is in the heart-healing business. And that is something I can speak to…something I have to offer…whether it’s in the dusty red dirt of Sierra Leone, the tropical heat of The Dominican Republic or the blustery snow-laden streets of Buffalo.

 

I love showing them their pictures. That's Franzia behind the sweetie in green

I love showing them their pictures. That’s Franzia behind the sweetie in green (Photo credit to Keri Cardinale :)

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Picture Perfect Holidays?

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Image

Disclaimer: The alternate title for this post was “Disney Lies.” But I didn’t want to be accused of being a Disney hater. I’m really not. I love Disney, but I think you’ll get where I’m going in a minute so stick with me:

You’ve probably all seen the advertisements for Disney. But I’ll set the stage for you, anyway. Sweet tinkly music plays as parents tip-toe into their wee cherubs’ room to surprise them with a Disney vacation. Said cherubs awaken with smiles on their faces, leaping for joy at the news.

Cut to the Magic Kingdom. There are no lines or crowds and parents look on happily as their children, with stars in their eyes, meet Mickey, Minnie, Donald & Goofy. There is no whining, crying, arguing. Just pure bliss & happiness with a good measure of gratitude implied. Picture perfect vacation. Yeah. Right. No lines? Grateful children? Ha!

Okay, here’s another one for you. A commercial for Family Game Night:

Two adults, two teens and two kids are gathered around a table. There’s an overflowing popcorn bowl on the table and everyone is laughing. Game play is fast-paced and no one is arguing over who’s turn it is. No one is getting mad because they’re losing. And no one is crying because he can’t keep up with his older siblings. Once again we see pure bliss and happiness. Uh-huh.

You can replay this type of scene from a myriad of commercials. For everything from baking Pillsbury cupcakes together to going out to dinner as a family. Everyone is always so happy. So content. And without realizing it we buy the goods. Not the actual goods. Not the cake mix or the board games but we buy the lie that we can have the “ideal” vacation, game night, dinner out or bonding experience.

The truth is, there’s no such thing as the perfect vacation or holiday meal. And when we set our expectations so high, reality hits like a tsunami. Now I’m not saying we can’t have great times with our families. But I think we sabotage ourselves with unrealistic expectations. I’ll give you an example from my experience.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, we recently had the opportunity to go on a Disney Cruise for a fraction of the cost. We’d been saving for our first big family vacation anyway so this was a perfect fit. And while the kids had an absolute blast, Bill and I decided by day two that we wouldn’t do a family vacation again any time soon. Like in the next five years or ten years. Haha.

You see, “Eight” and “Ten” can’t stand each other and “Fifteen” and “Seventeen” aren’t exactly peacemakers, even though they try. We have a pecking order. Seventeen tends to parent Fifteen who bosses Ten and then all of them try to parent poor Eight. He doesn’t appreciate that and he’s not the type to kick the cat, so he just yells a lot. At home, I’ve often thought I should wear black and white stripes and a whistle.

Independently, they are truly fabulous kids. Every one of them. But put them together in a room and they can all turn in to petty, easily-offended, argumentative, prideful brats. (Nope…not gonna sugar-coat it…although I will say that Seventeen has matured incredibly over the past few years, so I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel.)

Our hope for this vacation was that they would be distracted by all the awesome things to do on the ship and they would take a break from arguing with each other. WRONG. Cuz wherever you go, there you are. It went something like this:

Me: “Kids, isn’t this awesome? Look at this gorgeous ship!”

Eight and Ten: “I want to push the elevator button!” “No, I want to.” “You pushed it at the hotel.” “No I didn’t!! You did!!” Etc. Etc. Etc. [Insert pushing and shoving.]

Fifteen and Seventeen: “You guys are ridiculous. What’s wrong with you?? Blah, blah, blah.”

Me and Bill: “Seriously?”

Yeah, that was how most of the week went when we were together. And because we subconsciously built up expectations of the “perfect vacation” in our heads, when our kids acted like they always do, we got frustrated. Quickly.

And it got me thinking…we do this with so many things! How many times have you decided to take your kids out to dinner or the movies only to have them bickering over stupid things making you wish you’d hired a sitter?

Now, at Christmas time, I’m struck by how we do this with holidays…all the time. We have this idyllic, Christmas carol picture in our minds. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year…”

So when family members fight, or the present we wanted to purchase is sold out, or Uncle George drinks too much eggnog again…we wonder what’s wrong with us, with our family. Why can’t we have the perfect holiday like everyone else? But there’s the lie. We all have frustrations and struggles. There is no perfect. As a matter of fact, often the holidays are the most horrible time of the year for people who have lost loved ones or are just feeling alone. All of the hype about the perfect Christmas gift, meal, _________ (fill in the blank) often magnifies the stresses of life.

But we can have great times together. I’m convinced we just need to adjust our expectations. When we place such high expectations on our family members, they are bound to fall short of those expectations, as are we! Then no one is happy because frustration and disappointment live in that space between our expectations and our reality.

Yet, if we expect them to have their bad moments and we are prepared ahead of time to offer grace, the outcomes can be very different. I’m not being a scrooge nor am I advocating a negative, “glass-half-empty” approach to life. I’m simply reminding myself and encouraging you to give some extra grace to your loved ones as well as the strangers you’re standing in line with at Target this season.

Expect more crowds, traffic, bad weather, arguing children…all in a realistic, not pessimistic way. And then you will be pleasantly surprised when a stranger lets you merge into traffic or your children actually make it through a round of Uno without arguing.

I’ve been quoting the following proverb to my kids for years so I was thrilled to hear Seventeen quote it on the cruise at one point when Eight and Ten were being easily offended:

“Good sense makes one slow to anger,
and it is his glory to overlook an offense.”

Proverbs 19:11

Amen to that. Wishing you a Merry Christmas as you adjust your expectations and enjoy your reality!

Love,

rebekah

 

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The Disappearing Line…

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photo credit: cdsessums on creative commons

There is a line that I have been peering over. I don’t seem to be able to land on the successful side of that line very often. Most of the time, I’m over here struggling on the messy-house, unfinished to-do list, piles, piles and more piles, emotionally eating, undisciplined, too-late-to-bed side of the line. The side that I continually allow accusations from. It consistently tells me I’m a failure and sadly, I too often believe it.

On the other side of the line lives acceptance, approval, applause (and a size-4 pair of jeans)…all of which are synonymous with love, in my skewed view of things. On my side lives disapproval, disappointment and shame.

I thought this line was made of granite or steel. But I’ve realized it’s a figment of my imagination, as immaterial as the holograms in Star Wars. Flickering in and out, not made of any real substance.

God is with me on my side of the”line” because He is with me wherever I happen to be. He doesn’t wait for me to cross over before He looks on me with love. He loves me in the midst of my failure as much as He does in the midst of my success. I can’t earn one drop more of his love because it’s already boundless. That line doesn’t exist unless I let it.

What a cause for joy. What a relief. Even if others in my life prefer me to live on the “successful” side of the line, to the one who matters most, it doesn’t actually matter. And armed with that knowledge, I am free to be who I am. I do need to be more disciplined and I do need to accomplish things on my to-do list. But my worth isn’t determined by those things. And that is freeing. So every time that line begins to shimmer into existence, I’m going to remind myself that NOTHING separates me from God’s love. There is no line. And you should know, that nothing separates you either!

I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.     Romans 8:38-39, MSG

 

Be free!

Love,

rebekah

P.S. Friends, I read a blog post in September that completely floored me. It’s was by an amazing sister-writer, Idelette McVickers. She wrote about this line…the line I had never named before. But as I read her words I was amazed at how they pierced right to the heart of me. I knew this line so very intimately. It had been a part of my life for so long it felt normal. But Idelette’s post revealed this line for the fraud that it is. My post today is a response to hers. You can find it by clicking here. I highly recommend reading it! And thank you Idelette for your freeing words!!

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Paranoid…and a Saturn Minivan

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“Just because you’re paranoid, doesn’t mean people aren’t out to get you.”

Funny, right? An ironic funny comment that I’ve laughed at and quoted over the years. But the reality is that in most situations people are not thinking about us nearly as much as we think they are. We say something and then we obsess over it, over-analyze it and wonder if the other person is upset, bothered, annoyed by what we’ve said or done when most of the time they don’t give it a second thought.

Usually, these over-analyzing thoughts are the result of negative self-chatter and so often it can lead to misunderstandings. I remember one day, years ago when I was watching the news and saw that Saturn was coming out with a minivan. My husband had worked for Saturn so I thought he would find it interesting. I said, “Hey, did you see that Saturn is coming out with a mini-van? Cool, huh?”

The Saturn Minivan…photo credit unknown.

We liked the Saturn brand and philosophy. My thoughts were simply that I was glad to hear they had one. I knew that at some point in the future we would probably look at mini-vans. I was glad to know Saturn would now be in the mix. That was the sum total of my thoughts on the subject and I immediately moved on to whatever was next in my brain, like “Geez, I have to come up with something for dinner, again?” or “I like coffee.” or “I wonder if tea tastes the same in England.” Some random grouping of thoughts occupied my brain (as usual).

But not my husband’s. No, his thoughts went something like this: “She wants a Saturn mini-van now. We can’t afford that. Why does she want things we can’t afford. She probably wishes she married someone who has more money. I can’t even provide the basics for my family, like a Saturn mini-van. I’m a terrible provider…” blah, blah, blah. (I can’t say these were his exact thoughts, of course. But we have talked about the “Saturn Minivan Incident” (as we now refer to it) and I know these thoughts are close.

He responded angrily, “We can’t get a minivan right now,” and he stalked off. I was brought out of my reverie on tea in England abruptly. I could have sworn I heard the squeal of said minivan tires interrupting my peaceful thoughts.

“What?” I was puzzled and starting to get ticked. Why was he yelling at me. I didn’t say I wanted a minivan. So I yelled back. “What are you talking about??”

You can picture the ensuing argument. “You said…” “No I didn’t, I said…” Etc. etc. etc. We worked it out because we eventually got to the bottom of things. What I said hit a nerve with him. He assumed I meant something I didn’t and was holding me accountable for things he assumed I was thinking. But I married a smart man. He realized quickly what had happened. He explained what he’d thought and I was able to assure him that I was thinking none of those things! It’s now something that we laugh about and reference whenever one of us is assuming things we shouldn’t.

I’m positive the shoe has been on the other foot at times in our marriage. I’m quite sure I have assumed his thoughts to be other than they are and I’ve responded out of hurt or anger. I just can’t think of a specific example right now (convenient ;) ).

In her book, Unglued, Lysa TerKeurst sheds some light on the physiological effects of negative self-talk. Or as she puts it, “What some really smart people are saying about some really amazing stuff.” If I could, I’d quote the whole chapter entitled, “Negative Inside Chatter” here. But I think that would be frowned upon ;) so you’ll have to purchase the book (which I highly recommend!!). But in this paragraph Lysa is quoting Dr. Caroline Leaf from her book, Who Switched Off My Brain:

“For instance, if you are anxious or worried about something, the hypothalamus responds to this anxiety with a flurry of stress chemicals. These chemicals engage the pituitary gland — the master gland of the endocrine system. The endocrine system in turn secretes hormones responsible for organizing trillions of cells in your body to deal with impending threats. Negative thoughts shift your endocrine system to focus on protection and limit your ability to think with wisdom or develop healthy thoughts.”

 

Whoa! Did you catch that last line? I’ll repeat it. Negative thoughts shift your endocrine system to focus on protection and limit your ability to think with wisdom or develop healthy thoughts.

I think that’s incredible. Not only do the silly things we tell ourselves cause misunderstandings and hurt feelings. They actually make it difficult for us to think in a healthy way. I almost think this is saying it makes us dumber. That’s totally my paraphrase. But it’s kind of true. The kind of negative self-chatter that we are talking about causes us to do and say stupid things. It makes us dumber.

So, STOP IT! Yes, I know it’s considered shouting when you use all caps. That’s why I did it. Cuz I mean it…and only cuz I love you…STOP IT! You know who you are. You know if you’re one of those people who over-analyze your conversations and wonder if people are upset with you because of what you said. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again here; If someone is upset by what you’ve said or done it is their responsibility to either let it go (best option…being easily offended is not healthy) or to kindly let you know you’ve upset them in some way.

It is not your job to constantly wonder if someone’s upset with you. That takes your focus of of Jesus and showing his love to the world and places it squarely on yourself. Is that really where you want your focus? It’s not where I want mine. I don’t want to be dumber. I want to be peace-filled and living out my mission which is to be an ambassador of God’s love with my life.

Lysa quotes Philippians 4: 6-9 and it’s one of my favorite passages of scripture:

 

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

8 Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. 9 Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.

That is the opposite of becoming dumber. That is putting your concerns on the shoulders of the One who can handle them and in exchange, he will give you PEACE. And with that peace, you will have more mental energy to think about noble, right, pure, admirable and lovely things. You will live the life that you are meant to live, tell the story you’re meant to tell. I’m feeling preachy…so I’m gonna sign off now. I hope this has been as enlightening for you as it was for me. And really…get the book. (click here) It’s sooo good!
Love,
rebekah
P.S. Check out other blogs on this subject at www.melissataylor.org

 

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