Celebration Sunday

Our church did something new today.

To be honest, I'm not sure what the motivation behind it was. What I am positively certain of is that it was incredibly moving, freeing. I rarely cry in public. I did today. And I wasn't the only one. Sniffles and Kleenex were plentiful throughout the sanctuary. It would have been a good day to have a box at the end of each pew. The presence of the Holy Spirit was overwhelming.

Last Sunday an invitation was made to bring something that you do or something that symbolizes something you do that you want to dedicate to God. Something you want to give to him, something you already do that you want to offer as a form of worship. A symbol to lay at the foot of the cross.

Before the final words crossed the announcer's lips, I knew what I had to bring. 

I anticipated this all week. This morning arrived and I had my offering ready to go. I didn't know how the morning would go, but I was ready. 

Worship began as normal and then the plan was explained. We were invited to worship in a variety of ways. God the ultimate creator and artist inspired and worshiped through painting, singing, dancing, praying, giving. People wrote out offerings and burdens and nailed them to the cross, right where they belong. Two baptisms had been planned, seven took place. People who had been feeling God's gentle nudge took the plunge. Literally. And without having brought a change of clothes. It. was. amazing.

I've thought a lot about time recently. I do a lot of things, most of them intentionally for God's purposes. I am very much a planner, God wired me that way, it's no surprise to him. But if we plan every minute of every day, we leave God no room to lead. I want him to lead me. I need him to lead me. 

After the baptisms were over, we sang more praises. Extravagant, moving, tear-filled praises that at times I could only listen to because I was overcome by emotion. My favorite songs lead by incredibly gifted musicians. It was then that I finally mustered up the courage to walk to the front and not just lay my offering at the foot of the cross, but nail my offering to it.

"The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand." ~ Psalm 37:23, 24

God's Chisel

(God's Chisel video. http://skitguys.com/videos/item/gods-chisel)

This video about says it all, doesn't it?

My desire to become the person God wants me to be is a bold one. It's scary at times. It's hard to let go of those pieces of me that I am so attached to. Even posting something like this requires me to overstep the boundaries of my comfort zone - because there are few people with whom I openly discuss my faith. I worry about offending friends and family I know are not believers or whose beliefs I know differ from mine.

Which is crazy because pretty much everyone who knows me knows I am Christian.

My goal is and always has been to love everyone like Jesus loves them, like he loves me. To live my faith, not preach it, using action consistently and words only to answer questions. Just like the guy in the video, I am - and always will be - under construction. I strive for perfection in my tasks, but I am by no means under any illusion that I am perfect. 

I am guilty of caring too deeply what other people think of me. I look around more than I look up, and there's plenty of chiseling for God to do in me. But I know that I am not junk. Even though I am still a work in progress, I am an original masterpiece. I am wonderfully complex. I wonder, though, if you would ever know this if I were never bold enough to just say it:

So are you.

Can You Do Yoga With Rigor Mortis?

Rigor Mortis - Latin meaning "stiffness of death," according to Wikipedia. "One of the recognizable signs of death ... causing the limbs to become stiff and difficult to move or manipulate."

Yoga - for the purposes of this post, I am focusing solely on the physical strength and flexibility required.

Sometimes life feels like trying to do yoga with rigor mortis.

There's just one small catch. I'm not dead.

I can think of two specific life events that have been instrumental in my process of learning to accept change, but really, change is inevitable and dealing with it is a life-long process for all of us. Often one change sparks another - and it can snowball from there.

There are times when I eagerly anticipate change, when I am excited and ready to move in a new direction; there are times when I take an apathetic approach; and there are times when all I want to do is dig my heels in like a rebellious two-year-old and scream, "NO!"

Unfortunately, the latter is not conducive to living a happy, fulfilled life in which I grow. Unfortunately, I have felt that way a couple times recently.

I desperately want to grow. Because to stop growing, learning, changing, is to die. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. And I don't want to just live, I want to live FULLY.

Therefore, no matter how stiff I feel, I must bend... because there are some changes that will happen no matter what I think - and I refuse to let them be my breaking point.

But that also does not mean that I need to sprint toward every change heading my direction with open arms and a huge grin. It's ok for me to feel disappointed or frustrated or sad... for a little while. Change can feel a lot like loss that we need to grieve and that takes time - and that's ok, and depending on the severity of the change, the amount of time needed to accept it varies.

I did some research on flexibility today. One article said this:

"The most practical way to increase flexibility is to get stronger. It sounds strange but according to Pavel Tsatsouline, author of Relax Into Stretch, 'Typically a stronger muscle does not have to contract as hard as a weaker one to exert the same amount of force and it more willingly relaxes into a stretch.'"

Wow. Funny how something so literal can be taken to a deeper level of thought and still hold true.

The article goes on to say (basically) that the more you stretch, the easier it becomes to stretch further. Obviously. But there's a catch most of us are familiar with - stop doing it for a while and you seize up again. So since we can't always control the frequency with which we are presented with change, how do we remain limber so it won't be so difficult next time?

Strengthen ourselves. To relax more willingly.

For me, that means spending time reading my Bible, hanging out with people who know me and will challenge me when I start talking crazy, and ignoring the "stinkin' thinkin'" that (let's be honest) I'm often challenged by. I can be on the lookout for changes that are sneaking up on me and start assessing them and planning my attack when I see them approaching. I can talk it out with other people who are involved or whom I trust. I can look for the positive aspects of the new, rather than focusing on the things I'll miss of the old. If it affects other people, I can tell them as soon as I know so we can discuss our plan of attack together and they too can have time to prepare.

And then I can take action... which means choosing a direction and bending in it. This may even involve moving out of this tiny little box I like to call my comfort zone.

Can you do yoga with rigor mortis? Not literally. But fortunately even the most rigid of us can bend at least a little before we break.

What Progress Looks Like

I've often wondered what progress looks like.

I've come to the conclusion that the answer depends entirely on the task at hand... and perhaps one's personality.

I am a perfectionist. There, I said it (and posted it for all the Internet to see!). While I have learned to ease off on some things (I no longer expect my children to sort their toys into small individual bins. Instead I am happy if they all hit the same bin and are not spread out all over the floor. But that only took a week or two and happened when they were toddlers!), I am still learning when it comes to others.

Perfectionism can be paralyzing. There are times when, if I can't do it all and if I can't do it the way I envision it, I hesitate to even begin. Other times, I don't allow myself time to do things I enjoy because there I things I "need" to do. (We all know that housework never ends.) Anal? Compulsive? Neurotic? If you were to call me any of those, it wouldn't be the first time I'd heard them.

So... what if: I can't lose 5, 10, 20 pounds overnight? ... the stitching is off by 1/16 of an inch? ... my floors look a little dusty when the sun hits them or there are splatters on the bathroom mirror? ... I think of better wording after hitting "Publish"? What if things aren't just the way I'd like them?

Have I made progress if the task isn't completed perfectly? Have I made progress if I stepped up to give the child the argument she was looking for but then apologized for not keeping my cool (read: being the adult) and asked for her forgiveness? Has my husband made progress if the kitchen is only half-tiled?

YES!

So I'd like to share what progress looks like in our house today:

Letters in the name that are spaced further apart than I'd like them. (I did not do the logo, just the name.)

Half an hour on the treadmill - while downloading running apps!

30 minutes of sewing on a project that has been in progress for 9 months.

Reading the right books - and keeping up with friends both near and far.

A half-tiled kitchen!! (Hopefully the wall to the right will be complete tomorrow!)

A great little tool.

Yes, I used the timer method again today. I'm really quite enjoying the fact that if I achieve 30 minutes of focused work on a task then I have accomplished it! (As opposed to not feeling that I've achieved anything because the project may not be complete.)

Progress also looks like a mother and daughter in a tear-filled embrace, because the mother has just asked forgiveness for not keeping her cool... but I'll leave that picture to your capable imaginations.

Perfection is a myth. There is not a single perfect person here on earth. I think I'll choose to be happy with progress from now on.

Where the Rubber Meets the Road

An unexpected "snow" day. Freezing rain last night caused dangerously icy roads and cancelled buses, meaning the girls would get to stay home. The phone call came at bedtime last night. They were elated.

I was not.

Between our vacation and Christmas holidays, we've had an entire month off - and it's not that I haven't enjoyed my time with them. I have, very much. It's not even that I didn't want them around today. It's that as much as I love unscheduled, laid-back, do-what-we-want-when-we-feel-like-it time, I need routine. My internal wiring demands it.

While they were in school yesterday, I spent the day getting my house back in order - doing laundry, cleaning and padding the pockets of the owners of Costco. A start, but just barely.

Today was going to be the day. Although I was tired, today I was going to get back in the saddle, clean out my Inbox, get back into the groove of my volunteer work and take care of some important tasks that have been sitting idle for the past month. Didn't happen. There was no way any of it could happen - my #1 supporter was away from the wee hours of the morning and will not return until late tonight. Today could not go as I had hoped. Disappointment.

Plan B. I would do something I enjoy with the girls. We would work together to digitally scrapbook our vacation. Yeah, that sounds like fun! While trying to set up the basement computer, the wireless keyboard decided it had a mind of its own, excited children were impatient, and there was a huge, sticky mess all over the table I was trying to work on (that I had asked them to clean up three times already.) How many times do I have to ask them to clean up their messes? Frustration.

Then the phone rang.

A commitment from two years ago lingers. I thought I wrapped up all the loose ends months ago. Not so. It's important, it's urgent -- and it's my responsibility to make sure it happens or the consequences could be undesirable at best. Stress. I thought I had dealt with this very issue, but my follow up was inadequate. Phone calls. More stress. Harsh words directed at me. Children interrupting and wanting my attention while I was on the phone. Blood pressure rising, tears threatening. Not my best performance, true, but not failure either. Am I really cut out for leadership? Insecurity.

This is where the rubber meets the road. Here I am on this journey to find joy in situations, and I am clearly not feeling the love. Whose fault is that? We are only capable of feeling one emotion at a time. We get to CHOOSE that emotion. The only way to fight emotion is with emotion.

I choose joy.

It was time to start that list of 1000 gifts. The girls question. I explain, they join. This is the woman I want to be. This is the mom I want to be. I've always been convicted that the best way to lead is by example. Good, bad or ugly, it always works. This is the direction I want to lead in.

The rubber met the road today.

And we took off with a squeal of delight.

(Gift #3: Groovin' with my girls.)

The Voices In My Head

Already I am struggling with this blog.

Who knew it would be so difficult to find my own voice? Last night I had many thoughts rolling around in my head to go with my picture. Three different blog posts, all deleted. I was trying too hard. Not one was my voice. The man I love gently reminded.

"Who are you writing this for?"

Right. I am writing this for myself. I am not writing this to impress other people. If I'm being honest, though, there's a part of me that would be gratified if someone - anyone - was inspired by something I said... but that is not the purpose of this. My intention is to grow personally.

I started to pray, "Lord, what do YOU want me to say? What is it that you want me to learn today?" And then these thoughts came. Write about this. Write about your challenges. The purpose of this blog, after all, is to share my lessons, my journey, and I have always expressed myself best through writing.

So what am I learning today? How to find my own voice. It's shocking, really, to hear all the different voices in my head. (Yes, there are many. Yes, I heard that. No, I'm not insane.) Those voices are all there for a purpose. Good, bad or indifferent, they help shape who I am. But my purpose is to be me, and I don't sound exactly like them.

I know who I am, my identity is not in question. But what do I sound like? My intention is to be open, real, honest. Maybe even raw. I am thankful for my struggles because they mean I am learning, growing, becoming.

This is my journey. This is my voice.