Diagnosis: Stuffatitis

We are days into the new year and as I’ve shared, “How were your holidays?” exchanges with friends, I find myself answering their inquiries with an unexpected response: “They were fine.”

Fine.  The sum of my Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year holidays were “fine”.  Nothing over-the-top in the way of travel, parties, or meals (certainly nothing over-post worthy, anyway.)  Yet the opposite is also true:  no travel delays, post-party regrets, or arduous meal planning and preparation.  So why the underwhelming “fine”?

It hit me today as I began to sieve through the post-tsunami mess that is “the holidays”.  This mess…this literal and figurative sinking into an abyss of clutter…is in the form of STUFF that flows from every room of my house, seemingly spills out of my car, and causes physical harm as I walk the hallways of my 3-story dwelling.  It’s wrapping paper, tissue paper, gift bags, bows, boxes, tape, scissors, ornaments (including the broken ones, which reside in their own special corner I’ve named ‘the ornament graveyard’) garland, cookie containers, cookie cutters, cards, special Christmas dishes, Christmas soaps, Christmas towels…and yes, even the gifts…gifts that are too small, too big, the wrong color, the wrong sku number, a duplicate, a disappointment…

I began to wonder where the holidays had gone, and why I was so exhausted.  But mostly, I wondered why I felt so empty after “all that work”.  And to make matters worse, everywhere I turned, there was more of it…more stuff that I needed to manage. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let’s back up.  I suspect your holidays may have looked a bit similar, if not embarrassingly exact. 

Six weeks or so before Christmas, the catalogs came in the mail.  Dozens of them.  Each day, my mailbox door dangled open, almost beckoning someone to please relieve it of all its contents:  toy catalogs, furniture catalogs, Christmas furnishing catalogs, warehouse catalogs, food catalogs, gift basket catalogs and my favorite kind of catalog: “just for her” catalogs that were simply the same items from the bigger catalogs, but marketed to my specific demographic.  Each day as they arrived, my kids frenetically thumbed through each page with a different color Sharpie, noting their specific interests with their initials, exclaiming, “add that to the list.”  (My 9-year old daughter even ripped pages out of catalogs and printed pictures from her online wishes and created a folder.) 

The excitement was contagious and I, too, began to create my own folders and my own lists.  I had a folder for coupons and discount codes, a folder for receipts, and even a folder for recipes that sounded delicious.  I started lists:  lists on my phone, lists on paper, lists in email, lists on post-it notes, lists in my special Christmas organizer.  The lists varied:  there was the “to buy for” list, the “budget list”, the “who wants what” list, the “what I’ve already bought and still need to buy” list, the “big gift” list, the “stocking stuffer” list, the “where I hid things” list, the “better shop early so I have enough lead time to get it wrapped, boxed, and mailed” list and even the “in case someone asks what I want” list.  Some lists even denoted “I grabbed it because it was on sale”, or “grabbed it in case someone can’t find it” or “I can always hold this back for a birthday”.  Christmas Kool-Aid, anyone?

As I combed websites for the best deals, yet also made sure that I shopped big, shopped small, shopped homemade, and shopped local, we also began to deck our halls.  You know how this goes: entire weekends dedicated to putting away existing stuff in your home to make room for the Christmas stuff.  We took down the family pictures to put up the collection of Santas.  We shoved the everyday knick-knacks in drawers to display the candy sleigh.  We put away the fall hand towels and pumpkin-spice hand soap and replaced it with the fa-la-la tea towel and fir candle. Put away, hang up, display…for days. 

And the more decking we did, the more that was required:  Grab “Target List” and run out to fetch Scotch’s newest mounting product to hang HomeGoods vintage snowman sign, a few extra bulbs for the Christmas tree lights, and replace last year’s outdoor bows faded from the sun.  While there, stumble across this year’s cuteness and re-think entire outdoor decorating strategy.  Upon returning home with $500 worth of “essentials”, listen to husband create new words as he staples strings of lights from the porch balcony and drags last year’s Costco Rudolph out whilst reminding you that it “takes up way too much room in his garage.”  Order new second-story porch inflatable and while online, despite every effort to practice self-control, you discover even “cuter” items and decide you need an entirely new theme to replace the tired kitchen burgundy-and-silver motif you’ve had for the last 5 years.  Spend hours fluffing garland, sorting pictures on your hard drive for the annual family picture tree (that doesn’t make it up…again), and pray that you took all the batteries out of the little singing angels last year before packing them away.  Drag in cardboard boxes, complete with roach poop from husband’s coveted garage, and determine best way to ensure the handmade ornaments your kids made in preschool don’t get broken or misplaced while simultaneously barking at your kids for having the audacity to touch them.  Are you with me?

Perhaps you, like me, suddenly realize you’ve spent innumerable minutes, hours, and days placing, cleaning, fixing, shining, hanging, hiding, purchasing, organizing, price-matching, and researching STUFF. 

And it’s only December 2^nd.

Realizing I may be ‘a little off course’, and in my desperate attempt to glean the true meaning of Christmas, I switch my radio station to full-time Christian radio (being sure to avoid Drake’s version of “Silent Night”), pull out my Advent storybook with accompanying handmade ornaments we made as a Bible Study a few years back, and dive into Luke, Chapter 2 with a steaming eggnog latte.  I find a moment of joy amidst the management of the stuff.

As the days of the Christmas season unfold, so does my responsibility to manage any matter having to do with buying, hiding, organizing, cleaning, or exchanging items…things...stuff.  I begin to accept my role as President and CEO of Stuff, Inc. as I gleefully wipe the tree sap from the backseat of the car from the Christmas tree transport home, carefully select the perfect accessories for my children to wear to school on Christmas sock day, Christmas hat day, and Ugly Christmas sweater day.  I double and triple check the required items needed for daughter’s choir attire for the school program while ensuring all items needed for her classroom Christmas party have been covered by my fellow Stuff Managers (a.k.a. “Moms”.)

Like many organization’s leaders, I find I wear many hats:  I am also the President of Everyone Else’s Christmas List for Everyone Else.  (Note:  This did not come with a pay raise.)  Yes, the days of thoughtfully considering your loved ones and what he/she may enjoy have been outsourced by none other than…ME.  I will spend hours of my stuff-management days taking the hassle out of creative and personal gift-giving for inquiring aunts, confused parents, technically challenged in-laws, and want-to-make-it-perfect grandparents.  I will carefully study the aforementioned Sharpie initials, discern if squeal from TV commercial item is purchase-worthy, prioritize item based on how long it will take that item to make it to the “donate pile”, identify how serious he/she is about said item, determine whether or not it will fit in his/her bedroom, and identify the best model number before whisking off a detailed email to weary Gift-Givers, being ever-so-sure to include preferred size, color, brand and, in some cases, whether or not Costco has it in a “bundle”, and in many cases, a direct link to the most competitive price WITH free shipping. 

I know what you’re thinking…that I’m an over-achiever, right?  Actually, this strategy ensures future efficiencies in stuff-management by avoiding last minute trips to the mall (with me), enduring desperate web searches (sitting next to me), reduces post-Christmas returns (by me) and even minimizes the need for re-gift storage (yep…I got this one too).

These efficiencies are only accomplished, of course, assuming Gift Givers play by the rules.  (I am also meticulous at ensuring the rules are clear and outlined for all:  upon receipt of email and determination of item to be purchased, shopper is directed to “reply all” so that all others on email are notified of his/her intentions.)  No creativity needed!  Determine your budget, scan the list, click and buy.  Voila!  You are “finished shopping” for that person and you get the glory of getting JUST the right thing!

Alas, you can imagine my surprise when:  1) no one communicates what he/she takes from each list, or 2) daily, frantic texts blast my phone with inquiries about who-got-what-for-whom, or 3) the two-day before Christmas panic of “what’s still left on the list?”  This, dear friends, is when my stuff-management skills really begin to shine.

But wait, there’s more!  As “stuff” begins to arrive on my doorstep from Jim (yes, I am now on a first-name basis with our neighborhood UPS driver), I quickly became skilled at how and where to best hide it.  (After all, if it didn’t come from Amazon, the recipient of said stuff would know what was in the box.)  I creatively and strategically hide big boxes, little boxes, re-taped boxes, boxes shoved in my mailbox, boxes left behind my poinsettias, boxes arriving all day and all night.  I store stuff up high, down low, and even in my kids’ closets.  (Smart idea if your kids don’t manage their closet stuff.)  And the important, secret stuff?  You guessed it.  At my fellow Stuff Managers’ houses.  They house my stuff -- and I theirs.

Stuff-management reaches a new threshold of complexity when out-of-towners come for Christmas because you know what?  Jim (you remember, my UPS guy?) brings me their stuff too.  But as if to test my stuff-management qualifications, their stuff is not addressed to them.  No, no…it’s addressed to me, just like all 200 of the other cardboard boxes.  So, in an attempt to determine what to do with these extra goodies, I open boxes that contain gifts intended for me…and my husband does the same. 

Oh well.  That’s ok.  After all, Christmas isn’t about the stuff anyway.

Because service to others is an especially important virtue at Christmastime, I am sure to provide my Gift-Givers with important notifications of stuff arrival or, more importantly, debate “stuff arrival” with Gift-Givers, as email notifications have indicated “shipped” or “received”.  As my guests arrive, I locate their stuff and account for any of their stuff that is missing.  (“But it said it was delivered December 12.”)  And finally, I assist last-minute Gift-Giving guests with buying their stuff at just the very time I am creating my List of Cookies to Bake, List of Items to Buy for Cookies to Bake, and List of What Must Get Done in the Next Three Days Before I Bake, being sure to note that I can do a week’s worth of Advent devotionals in one day.

And so, it goes.

You get the point.

I lost the point.

I fell victim to Satan’s trickery of distraction; the more distracted I was, the further apart from God I became.  Focus on Jesus at Christmastime, especially?  No way…I’ll send you to Hobby Lobby.  Prepare your heart for the arrival of Jesus, your Savior? Sorry, much too much to take care of.  Linger in the sweet intimacy of His presence as you reflect on what it means that He actually came for me?  Sure, but only after all the baking is done. 

In all the management of the stuff, I missed it.  I missed the joy of really experiencing Him in the very time that is set apart to do just that.  Sure, I had moments…but moments that were so fleeting because of all that I felt I had to do…all that, “when finished”, I could take in and enjoy.  But the reality?  I was simply too tired to enjoy much of it.  I jumped on the Christmas treadmill and missed out on the benefits of the workout.

As I get further away from the holidays and the tendency to shame myself for creating and enabling these “traditions”, I find myself much more reflective on the overall metaphor of this experience.  Quite simply,

I allowed the stuff to reign on the throne rather than He who came to do that very thing.

And if I’m being totally honest, I don’t just do it at Christmastime.  Most days, some THING, other than Jesus, consumes me. Some THING, other than Jesus, drives my focus, my decision-making, my energy, my time, my money, and even my relationships.  And God knew it would, which is why, as all good Fathers do, Jesus warns us against it: 

¹⁹ “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. ²⁰ But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. ²¹ For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”  Matthew 6:19-21 (NLT)

I believe this caution, like the entire Sermon on the Mount, has everything to do with how we live and really little to do with “stuff”.  Jesus made it clear (v. 21) that what we seek and the condition of our hearts are essentially one in the same.  Turn to Him and we find Him…His love, His promises, His counsel, His commands, His way of living.  But when we turn away from Him (or busy ourselves out of connection with Him), our sin nature quickly takes us off track and we make new alliances, like control, gluttony, over-spending, greed, and consumerism (just to name a “Christmas” few).  Simply, having the wrong treasures leads to our hearts being in the wrong place.  And our hearts being in the wrong place does nothing to help, but rather hurt, the Kingdom of God.  

“Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.”  Matthew 12:30 NIV

So, where’s your heart?  What’s requiring all of you?  Or even most of you?  Or, simply too much of you? 

Think about it for a second.  What do you treasure?  Stuff?  Accolades?  Your image?  Do you control it or does it control you?  Do you find yourself distracted from “the whole point” of your activity, as I was this Christmas?  Do you find yourself making decisions, apart from God, to build the treasure?  (Think of the last birthday party you hosted for your child: is that catalog-worthy layout of backdrops, props, and gourmet cupcakes really about your 5-year old?  I’m guilty too.)  Do you find that you joy-less in the process of “pursuing your treasures”?  What’s your real motivation? 

My real motivation this Christmas was ensuring my family got what they wanted while managing the other moving parts to ensure we were maximizing magical moments and minimizing (ok, totally avoiding) disappointment.  Not only was it unrealistic, it was impossible. 

So of course, I felt empty when it was over.  Of course, I was exhausted.  Of course, I missed it.

What lie have you (and perhaps those closest to you) bought into that is distracting you?  What are you doing that is more about you (but conveniently disguised as “for others”) than it is about Jesus?  Don’t be so quick to move on from this question, or even quickly justify your thoughts with a reconciliation exercise that allows you to walk away with a clean list.  Spend some time asking God to show you.  And then invite Him in to help you re-establish the treasures in your life.  When He does, it will feel like hopeful conviction, not debilitating condemnation. 

As I’ve asked these very questions, I’ll admit it terrifies me a bit.  What if I don’t like what I hear?  What if it means radical change?  But then by faith, I am reminded that God’s ways are always good ways because He is my loving Father.  And further, God’s way of living usually contradicts the world’s.  If you want to live for God, you must be ready to say and do what seems strange to the world.  It may even mean re-creating new traditions or doing things differently than “you’ve always done it”.  But friends, Jesus also promises this:  that we will be Blessed.  And to Jesus, blessed means to experience hope and joy, independent of outward circumstances.  Imagine the possibilities!

I bet you have a “Christmas” of your own.  God came so that we could experience an intimate, personal relationship with Him that allows us to live an abundant life, fully and freely.  The constraints and the chains are not imposed by Him!  It’s a new year.  Take inventory.  Don’t begrudge your season or shame what comes up.  Instead, simply be still and ask God to show you your Christmas.  His sweetness in revealing what I now see is far better than anything I – or any member of my family - got under the tree.

~Margins~

I stare at this blank page, ready to fill it with words that I've prayed will encourage. It's literally a blank slate and what I say can inspire and enlighten - or leave you unchanged.

In the same way, I woke my kids this morning singing, "Rise and Shine, and Give God Your Glory, Glory." Their day is new and similarly, they can give Him their glory or they can simply make it "another day".

And just moments ago, I opened my planner and glanced at the week, primarily empty of tasks and events, considering how I will spend my time in a way that is meaningful.

A new post, a new day, a new week...ready to be filled with something. My heart intends for it to be good things. Godly things.

The rise of the sun brings such lofty potential, yet I find the ideology of what "could be" quickly disappear as I [close in] on the reality of my day. My calendar, at first glance, is only light because I haven't transferred the things I didn't get done from last week to this week's pages. I begin the mental sparring of placing my actual responsibilities, my "shoulds", and "would-be-nice-tos" into a clean, time-blocked plan on my calendar. The freedom I felt in the newness of the morning quickly turned to anxiousness about my week.

My margins narrowed. That is, the amount of time available to me in my day and my week, beyond what is actually necessary for tasks and responsibilities, suddenly felt unforgiving and...even paralyzing. Where do I start? How do I begin to prioritize? But bigger and more exhausting than that...How long will I have to continue at this frenetic pace while managing the constant feeling of defeat and under-accomplishment? It's debilitating and a perfect strategy Satan employs to destroy me.

The irony of the intentions of my heart? Nowhere "on my calendar" was deliberate time with God, grounding me in the way of my day. After all, where was there time for meditation, prayer, or reading His Word?

The narrow margins of my day left no room for the very One I hoped to serve.

Hence the playground of Satan in the soul of me. And in you? I stand unprotected, empty of His fulfillment, clouded by the temptations of this world. I remain tethered to my own energy, my own plan, my own desires. I miss it. Nothing can feed defeat and a sense of under-accomplishment more than being apart from God.

If you cling to your life, you will lose it; but if you give up your life for me, you will find it. Matthew 10:39, NLT

I actually giggle at the ridiculousness of it all. It's like planning a 50th wedding anniversary party for your parents and forgetting to invite them. I want my life to be about Him - for Him - yet I neglect to invite Him into the planning...into the foundational fibers of my day. So who, then, is it really about?

Margins. In a literal sense, they can be modified. We can narrow the edges of the paper to allow more words per line and fit "more" onto the paper. In the same way, we can widen them and allow in only that which really matters.

The same is true of our lives.

Wobbly

"I think the entire 4th grade was there.  I was surprised there were so many of us."

Her words surprisingly cut through me and I felt an unexpected pang of something {I couldn't quite name} deep inside.

As she innocently shared the highlights  of last night's National Elementary Honor Society assembly, the words of a fellow classmate of my son's lingered like heavy fog as I processed them.

We weren't there. 

My son wasn't among the "entire" or the "so many".

While not typically a competitive person, I found myself lurking in the muddy water of envy and jealousy, of anxiety and adrenaline.  I even asked the sweet 9-year old what the "criteria" was for inclusion into this elite club.  After all, my son is a good student too...

But this isn't about my son, now is it? 

I often feel like a newborn pony as she tries to stand minutes after she's born:  awkward.  I hear God's sweet message of  "love, love, love" and the world's relentless voice telling me "go, go, go".  Can we do them both?  And can we do them well?

I am very aware of my approach to parenting.  I'm a choose-love-over-achievement kind of parent.  I encourage more often than I push, expect more often than I force.  I deliberately choose childhood play over a jam-packed agenda and intentionally reward effort over performance.

But today, like many other days, I question:  Am I parenting in a way that draws out the best in each of my kids?  Is my approach enabling them to sit in comfort rather than rise to their capabilities?  If I "drove" them harder, would I ignite some untapped "excellence" that is in hiding in each of my children?  Are they capable of more? 

And by "more", do I mean more "of this world"?

I don't mean to imply that making the National Elementary Honor Society (or any other achievement) is "of this world".  On the contrary, I know that God delights in us using our gifts for His glory and blesses our work when we give our best:

"Servants, do what you're told by your earthly masters.  And don't just do the minimum that will get you by.  Do your best."  (Colossians 3:22 MSG)

But I'll admit that I awkwardly parent when trying to send the message that "you are more" when their glorious souls pour out joy to the world, yet don't make "the cut" despite how hard they've worked.  Often it feels like a trade-off...as though the pursuit of achievement-oriented excellence (here on Earth) is somehow at the expense of growing in...and representing...Christ to the world.

Frankly, I'm still trying to master this.  It's ridiculously hard for me to linger in compassionate space when my to-do list enables my performance idol.  I flail with my prayer life when I've filled my calendar, even when it's with "good" things.  I struggle with mastering a skill or even offering my own gifts because to do so means I can't do other important things.  So it's no wonder I am struggling with how to lead my kids to do it.

So until God lifts the layer of fog on this issue for me, I stand in this truth...and mother from the same place: 

"So, chosen by God for this new life of love, dress in the wardrobe God picked out for you: compassion, kindness, humility, quiet strength, discipline. Be even-tempered, content with second place, quick to forgive an offense. Forgive as quickly and completely as the Master forgave you. And regardless of what else you put on, wear love. It’s your basic, all-purpose garment. Never be without it."  (Colossians 3:12-14 MSG)

Saying goodbye...

I’ve been avoiding it for years.  It’s as if hanging onto it all somehow kept them young.

Among it, the Parents instrument set that Carter got 8 years ago for his first birthday. It entertained all of us, including Addison 4 years later, with hours of stomping around the living room, creating an orchestra of noise. Then there was the Little People train and barn set, also a classic, that sparked Carter's 4-year train obsession, provided Addison with her first opportunities for imaginary play, and me glorious floor time with each of them.  These coveted friends journeyed with us for almost 9 years and finally departed our home in trash bags, each giving their final “beep” or “jingle” as if to say, “Thanks for having us…we’re onto something new."

It was the triggering event that finally dislodged the lump in my throat that's been lurking for the months leading up to Addison leaving for Kindergarten. I fell apart. I'm now a Mother of school-age kids; the process of cleaning out our playroom brought to light that my life stage of kids-still-at-home is over.

Sure, the de-cluttering process has been freeing. Carter unapologetically told me which of the (thousands of) toy cars could go, as well as the various stuntmen that drove them and the action figures that tried to blow them up.  The millions of tiny pieces (Tinkerbell's 1mm-sized shoe) that once had to find safety on Christmas morning (to avoid being tossed with the wrapping paper) is now safely among its kind for the next child to adore. I can see our playroom floor and the items that filled every square inch of my living room now feels “clean”.  And I take great joy in knowing that we are passing along bags and bags of treasures to kids who would otherwise not have them.

But beyond the "cleaning out" lies the reality that yet another chapter of my life is over and the pace at which this next one will pass will be twice as fast.

A friend of mine sent her oldest son to college this year and of the many emotions she expressed, one of them was “weirdly natural”.  I’m not quite there yet. While I know the “stuff” doesn’t make the “stage”, I'm sad to go from Geotrax to Minecraft, from Princesses to apps.

We’re moving on and I know that what awaits me around the next corner of their lives will be delightful and exciting. And I know that God has prepared me to Mother them differently; to love them in this next stage...

But for now, I’m missing the one where they’re just little.

 

 

 

Backstage...Not Invisible.

It's been a particularly rough month for my husband at work. He runs a real estate company and has the daunting task of balancing Entrepreneur and Salesman, CEO and Negotiator, all in the midst of an economy that has the housing market in a vice. With many deals volatile, each day presents a unique set of intricacies to keep them all afloat. It is incredibly stressful on him and equates to very long hours (from our home office), weekend commitments, and mental space that is predominantly occupied with work-related concerns.

These seasons are particularly difficult on me as well. I dance between being grateful for the business and missing him at home. I assume the lion's share of the post-6pm requirements (after already being "at it" since 6:00am) of homework, dinner, baths, meltdowns, story time, and cleaning...and finally fall on my couch around 10:30pm, incapable of uttering any meaningful speech.

I realize I am not unique; beyond that, I know I am immeasurably blessed with a Godly man who is tirelessly serving in all areas of his life. But playing the consistent supporting role in our cast of characters during long seasons of emotional and physical "unavailability" by the person I love most is hard. I begin to feel like the contributions I make are simply the expected...the norm; yet what it requires to make the "basics" happen are nothing short of exhausting. Adding to that, "expecteds" don't come packaged with feedback: there are no "high-fives" for prepping our son for his cumulative math test, no bonus checks for pets to the vet or sitting in the car dealership for hours to get work done. There are lists with task after endless task that only grow in volume and complexity with seemingly no tangible reward. Isolation only steepens when no one asks me about my work, how "business" is, or how I'm holding up under the intense pressure of raising our next generation.

Days and weeks go by and the subtlety of the powerful enemy slithers in. He holds the blanket of self-pity and adorns me like a gown. He seeps into my sub-conscious and tells me that the only thing really valuable is bringing home a salary...like I used to. He is the IV of condemnation when I mishandle my children and lash out at my husband. He is the broken record that sings this tune:

"You...

Are...

Invisible."

The result? A 41-year-old child. Yep. I pout and pierce like a little girl who got chosen last (again) for the kickball team. The enemy conjures up all kinds of "stuff" for me - stuff I'm not even sure I can name.

I know I'm not alone. In fact, I hope you are reading this and maybe even feeling a place in your heart all too familiar...because in the painful familiarity, I pray you will hear this:

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but was is unseen is eternal. -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

As Sarah Young writes in Jesus Calling, "Welcome problems (or seasons) as perspective-lifters. My children tend to sleepwalk through their days until they bump into an obstacle that stymies them. If you encounter a problem with no immediate solution, your response to that situation will take you either up or down. You can lash out at the difficulty, resenting it and feeling sorry for yourself. This will take you down into a pit of self-pity. Alternatively, the problem can be a ladder, enabling you to climb up and see your life from My perspective. Viewed from above, the obstacle that frustrated you is only a light and momentary trouble. Once your perspective has been heightened, you can look away from the problem altogether. Turn toward Me, and see the Light of My Presence shining upon you."

I have given the enemy victory over my Savior. I have given him the power to shout louder than my Father. I have lost perspective, friends.

The TRUTH is that the light of our God's presence is just as bright backstage as it is onstage! And when I tilt my head back, chin to the sky, I feel its intensity like the glorious radiating sunshine that He created to warm my soul...and remind me of my individuality as His princess.

I matter. And so do you. Let Him help you get to the top of the {perspective} ladder.

In-Between

The need to be needed.

I assume it is innate for most of us. A pull...a strong desire to add real value, to contribute, to shape the outcome of someone's life. Yes, to make the world a better place. We crave opportunities that will allow us - the "us" that is unique, distinct, one-of-a-kind - to leave a lasting footprint somewhere. 

God wants this too. It's Biblical. It's written all throughout scripture that we were created in His image, for the purpose of His good. He gifted us with unique talents and attributes to be used for His glory, all in His perfect timing.

No wonder the search for significance is insatiable.

I don't know about you, but this knowledge actually makes me anxious. Most days I feel like I'm standing on the edge of some great adventure...some huge calling...some magnificent "thing" that will finally answer the "Am I doing what I should be doing?" feeling I've had most of my adult life. I find myself in a hurry, never able to quite move fast enough...yet introspective, wanting to slow down to ensure I don't miss "it".

Somewhere in-between "on the cusp" and "not yet", I am left feeling unsettled. Is this it? Is this how you want to use me, Lord?

So I've decided it's time to explore that unsettledness. I'm journeying through some exciting things right now; healing I've been putting off for years. (I'm capturing it in my cool journal.)

Heart exploration is intense work. It is here I discovered that one of the messages I received when I was very young led me to believe I wasn't wanted. Not in the "oops, you were a mistake" kind of way, but in the subtleties of "don't ask much of me" and "it's really easier on me if you don't have any needs." I don't recall being "delighted in", nor do I recall my gifts being acknowledged, much less nurtured. So early in life, I learned to stay out of the way, figure it out, and keep my needs at bay...while certainly never expressing feelings of disappointment or hurt. 

So imagine how exciting (yet awkward) it is to realize that my Father wants quite the contrary:  that He wants an intimate relationship with me...and that He designed me with a specific purpose, an important role to play:  one that will be far richer when I learn to need Him, to call on Him when I am lost, and to (gulp) rely on Him for every fear, every worry, and every possible need I could have. And that even when I do, I AM DELIGHTFUL.

I believe that it is in my utter reliance that I will hear Him most clearly. Thus, I will know with more certainty how I am to serve Him. Until then, as I sit on the shores of "learning to trust" and dance with sideways evangelism, I'm still actively listening. I'm still asking. I'm still praying, everyday, to be used by Him and for Him.

So in the in-between, I'm less anxious about the BIG role (if there is one) and instead, beginning to peel back the layers to understand my heart and inviting God in to keep me safe in the process.

"Therefore I am now going to allure her;

I will lead her into the desert

and speak tenderly to her.

There I will give her back her vineyards,

and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope."  Hosea 2:14, 15

I'm excited about what He's got planned and what He's already done. I know that this relationship we are building...this intimacy...is the enabler to the next call. While the lure of "I know you've got more in store for me" is still there, I am mindful of doing His work in my space each and every day, little by little, touch by touch.

And so can you.

What are you waiting for?

Love is in the Air - Where are You?

I was walking the hallways of my son's school this morning, awkwardly looking for a classroom to jump in and observe, as part of the "In-House/Open-House" event for parents. Also traveling the same hallway were other moms of rising 4th graders, presumably chatting about what they had observed for next year's curriculum, which teacher they hoped their son or daughter would get, and how quickly time is flying.

New to this school, I don't know many of the moms and dads; we don't live close by, we don't go to the church with which it is affiliated, and I don't get to spend a lot of time on campus. Acclimation, while no fault of the school's, has been slow for me. So when I saw the clump of women, I assumed it was an existing friend group and that "someday" I'd be among one at the school too.

As if reading my (subconcious) thoughts, one of the women turned around and offered a warm smile, left the group and walked toward me, hand extended, and introduced herself to me. "I'm Beth; it's our first year here.  What is your name?"

Taken by her warmth and quietly giggling that Beth was applying the "how to make new friends 101" advice I give my children, we began chatting. Quickly covering foundational topics ("What brought you to this school?", "How is your son transitioning?", yada yada), we very seamlessly drifted into topics that many close-knit friends have yet to cover, let alone new acquaintances. As Beth shared some of the challenges she faces with her children, I found myself freely sharing mine as well. We had much in common that extended far beyond our choice for a Christian-based education or acclimating to a new English curriculum. 

Beth mentioned a small bit of information about her son that happened to be something I am working through with Carter. I gingerly - and with permission - asked if she would share more. And she did. 

What strikes me about this morning's interaction is that I continue to be met with new ways of thinking as it relates to God's charge of "loving one another."

John 13:34:  “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."  

Biblically, love is simply more than warm feelings; it is an attitude that reveals itself in action. But here's what I'm learning:  You have to begin somewhere. Even as action-oriented as we all seem to be, "love" usually has to have a trigger. In day-to-day interactions (by contrast to more obvious opportunities to serve), discipleship (for me) often first begins with storytelling..."I'm struggling with something."  And storytelling begins with a willingness to share..."I'm considering sharing my struggle with you." And a willingness to share begins with the offer of another's heart..."Do I feel safe to share my struggle with you? Am I willing to risk it for the sake of building relationship?"

While perhaps a simple example, today Beth approached me. Then she shared her struggle. Then she offered more upon my inquisition...which allowed a connection beyond the superficial and into the important. Her storytelling invited mine. We reciprocated vulnerability. We offered loving words of encouragement. I cried. She compassionately responded with tears of her own.

While there is plenty of opportunity to make John 13:34 far more alive in this single interaction - and we may as we continue the journey of our shared struggle - we got started.  That's the point. We began somewhere. We invited the Holy Spirit into our conversation and interaction today and He showed up. I believe He sent Beth to me today. And perhaps me to her.

But we never would have known had we not been willing participants of "love"...even in its infancy.