Tag: hope

Don’t Take Away Your Own Power To Choose

It was one of those days. Nothing extraordinarily stressful, but not exactly calm. Crazy with moments of beauty that fueled the stamina to get through another day of my husband traveling. Times of patience, times of crying, and times of gritting my teeth to not scold, become short with, or unintentionally insult or offend anyone. Just one of those normal, chaotic-life-that-we-live kind of days.

About five minutes ago, at the end of this not-so-particularly-significant day, I was washing our not-so-particularly-significant dishes that were still in the sink and began listening a God Centered Mom podcast episode, my heart looking for hope and guidance and direction and comfort, feeling ever so slightly (…) crushed  and defeated from the week. And within the first five minutes of this podcast, I listened to the guest, Paul David Tripp, state the following in response to the host’s prompts:

“So maybe start with some questions here. If you’re a parent, what keeps you going when you just don’t feel like going anymore? What makes you willing to do the same thing over and over and over again? What gives you hope when your children don’t offer you any hope? That’s where we all live. We all live with the repetitive nature of parenting, with times when we just feel like we’re at the end, or when we want to think hopefully about our children but we don’t see the things in our kids we’d love to see. And I think that’s when this deeper sense of the beauty and glory of ‘what I’ve been called to’ is what makes me willing to do that again.”

{pause for ugly cries here}

Whoa. Just…whoa. It hit my gut hard, in the, I’ll leave the dishes soak while I go type my thoughts to process kind of hard. I’ve been wanting to write for the last two weeks, and have not been able to get the wheel spinning. Thoughts with no depth, no direction, no exploration. But today I kept thinking about a conversation I had a month or two ago with a dear colleague. As we always do when we meet, we cover a thousand topics, personal and professional, and she is always, ALWAYS, a gentle, insightful soul to be around. During this conversation, I was talking about the difficult dichotomy of being the “unorganized parent while simultaneously being the parent who organizes, administrates, and plans”. She offered the empathy that she always does (the true depth of understanding empathy, not the “I know that must be tough” kind, but the kind where she can explain better how it feels than you can), and as I went to offer my routine, “I have to…”, I stopped.

For the first time, I couldn’t say, “I don’t have a choice”. It didn’t feel right. Instead, a swarm of thoughts rushed me at once; thoughts of parents I’ve worked with, people I’ve known, foster children I see, people who don’t make that choice. And I realized…and said…”You know. I’ve always said I don’t have a choice. But for the first time, I realized I do. And I need to stop saying that. Because I do have a choice. There are so many days I’ve wanted to just drive away. To quit. To make sure the kids were taken care of, and take off. To stay in bed and not get up. To check out. But I don’t. And I wouldn’t…I couldn’t. But it’s not because I don’t have a choice. I have that choice. I just don’t make it.”

So I guess tonight’s podcast, well…it makes me take that a little deeper. What makes me keep making the choice that I do? I didn’t keep listening – my thoughts were swirling too much to hear anything else that was being said – but I’d imagine that much of where he was headed was faith and our “calling” due to the couple of sentences that followed the above quote. And yes. Faith has a role. Faith and the belief that life is bigger than me, that God is lending me the beautiful souls I’m blessed to call my children, that there is a bigger and higher purpose. These play huge roles.

There’s also something in me that refuses to quit. It won’t let me, even if I want to. Even if I want to make the choice, consider the choice, explore the choice. There is – and always has been a piece of me that will not give up.

There’s a morality piece. A piece that reminds me that it’s not just about me anymore. The piece that says, “once you decide to have children, it’s not longer about you” that runs through the very depths of my being. That they didn’t choose to be here, and I have been given the responsibility AND the privilege of raising them the best that I can. It’s self-sacrificial to become a parent. While the sacrifice should not be at the cost of your own health and well-being (in classic airline style, please put your own mask on first…), but it SHOULD be a change.

I have never been a person who believes we can just “choose” to be something. I can’t “choose” to be happy when I’m depressed, I can’t “choose” to be focused when I’m distracted, and I can’t “choose” to be calm when I’m stressed. Contrary to the belief, it’s similar to being told to “calm down” or “just smile” or “be happy” or “pay attention”. If we could, wouldn’t we? I mean, really think about that. Of course. And if we wouldn’t, then it’s so much deeper than that single choice.

You see, it’s a practice. A practice of self-discipline. A practice of gratitude. A practice of mindfulness and meditation. A practice of self-care. A practice of coping skills, reminders, breathing…repetition of things to help until they become the norm. A rebuilding of the natural neural pathways.

But I’ve tree-branched, and I might be losing you. So I digress.

At the end of the day, YOU need to be able to answer Paul’s questions. And the bottom line? You do have a choice. You have a choice to be different, to do different, to learn different…you have a choice to find the skills, the people, the resources, the tools to help you find a different path. To practice, to learn, to find accountability, to grow. You have the choice to learn if it’s a choice you want to make. It’s not easy. At. All. But we have the ability to say, “enough is enough” and to keep saying “not today” if we need to. But…if you can’t find it in yourself to believe that you have a choice? Well. I’d love to hear from you, because maybe we can find it together <3

There is always a choice.

Image result for there is always a choice

Look Straight Ahead…and Step Off

I read a friend’s SM post tonight, and it was a beautiful, beautiful post. She went into intricate detail about comparison with highlight reels, fears and anxieties, real life experiences, and a somewhat familiar experience she had with the freezing capacity of fear. (if this is something you need to hear, message me and I can share more – with her permission 🙂 )But the powerful statement that pushed her on – the one that inspired this post for me – was one made by a worker as she encouraged my friend to keep going: “look straight ahead…and step off”.

The first thing I felt was a punch in my gut, which, by sheer default of the quick rush of emotion/energy, often causes me to inflect (internally reflect – like what I did there??). How often do we miss our chance without even knowing? How often does fear hold us back when God is whispering, “trust Me”. We believe we are called to something – a mission, a place, a job, a relationship, a community organization, a cause – but instead of looking straight, we look down. We hear His voice. We get confirmation. We believe with full force that we are on the right path. We look down. And we freeze.

Because when we look down? We swirl. Our minds race, our heads spin, our heart rates jump and our breaths catch. We jump into one of the many responses to stress, but for most of us, we freeze. Frozen, we start to question. We inflect – but guess who’s there, ready to answer loudly and to compound your doubts? We question the risk, the reality, the purpose, the passion, even God’s voice. We wonder if we were crazy to think that God was what – WHO’s – voice we were hearing. We wonder if it was all driven by emotion and not reality. We rationalize and look at logic, justifying turning back – or staying complacent – with our “when I get my ducks in a row” mentality…and we miss out. Oh, dear readers, we miss out on SO MUCH.

Y’all, this post is short and sweet. When God calls you, He calls you. He doesn’t ask you to figure out all of the details. He doesn’t request you have all the skills or knowledge or tools or understanding or know-how. Over and over again, the bible shows us examples of God calling the UN-qualified (I mean, how many sermons have been preached on that?!?). But He does require trust in Him. A child-like trust that believes He knows the bigger picture, believes He is who He says He is, believes He will walk you through the next step.

All we need to do is look straight ahead – and step off.

Image result for look straight ahead

Don’t Stop Believing

This song. This concept. This idea. It’s overused. But when dissected, it continues to ring so very true.

We used this song at our wedding reception entrance. My husband and I both loved Journey, and this genre had composed much of our childhoods and our parents’ music. Isn’t it funny how, when we are young and innocent, we compose ideas that we have no idea how true they may become? But what’s more, isn’t it “funny” how deeply memories can run and how random circumstances align to bring them all to the front?

At night, somehow our family transitioned from singing songs to playing songs on YouTube, often classical, as part of our daily bedtime routine. My husband insisted on beginning to teach them the classics, and it stuck…a little too hard. They now request two of three songs. Every. Night. Now don’t get me wrong – I’m a sucker for tradition, repetition, and consistency. But…well…the songs get played out. As an episode of HIMYM depicted in a long road trip and a stuck car cassette tape, “it comes around again”…and every once in awhile, the song hits.

Tonight, as I lay in bed with my oldest, our normal “quiet, in bed” song ‘Moonlight Sonata’ ended. My oldest begged me to stay another “one couple minute” before going to my middle’s bed and so, as YouTube has it, another song began. Tonight, it happened to be the third of our three…’Canon in D’, or, as my girls have dubbed it, “the marry song”.

Guys, I have listened to this song a thousand times. Honestly, likely more. It plays at Christmas. It plays at weddings. It plays in our evening routine and in our classical piano Pandora “get-the-kids-to-fall-asleep-in-the-car” playlist. Heck, it was the song I requested played as I walked down the aisle myself in lieu of the traditional wedding march. I have heard it played by piano, harp, guitar, and everything in between. But tonight…tonight, the synapses flared, connected…and punched me in the gut. Tonight, I had flashbacks of my wedding…and my dad walking me down the aisle.

It’s funny how the paths fire from there. I have fully watched my wedding video maybe one (or two) other times…the most recent being last September. (Of course, I think of my dad often, but not often in the depth of “holy crap, he’s gone” mentality…well…not as often as it used to be.) But tonight – tonight hit me like a ton of bricks. Tonight swarmed me with memories and smells and senses that I thought were lost. Experiences I thought I was no longer capable of remembering. So, of course, I went straight to our pile of CDs and watched the wedding video, slightly disappointed at the lack of footage of the classic father/daughter dance but delighted at close ups of my dad walking me down the aisle and cracking jokes. Enthralled with watching his face as he danced with my mom. Ecstatic at just seeing him be him. “Don’t Stop Believing” was our reception entrance, so of course, I watched that too, and enjoyed once again the thrill of the wedding reception entrance and the celebration that ensued. As I completed paperwork later tonight, one of my guilty-pleasure sitcom reruns (don’t judge…I was in “glee club” too…) played a flashback episode, performing “Don’t Stop Believing” with a now deceased actor in a lead part. Yes. I lost it again. For the third time this night.

But the point. To continue with the theme of seasons, my memory, my health, my mind, my emotions…they were in a winter. I couldn’t remember experiences, even with my hardest attempt. I could literally barely remember the day before in spite of practicing mindfulness even in a moment I wanted to hold, so without extreme intentionality and a direct (unknown) trigger, I could not recall a whole heck of a lot. I couldn’t write, I couldn’t process in my head, I could barely hear my own thoughts in the midst of dead silence and stillness and struggled to think things through. I honestly feared I was watching a vault close on a very deep, important, intricate, and complex part of what has always made me who I am.

A few days ago, my family and I traveled to Hampton Roads and used many of the roads and areas of our old stomping grounds…my work, our old church, routes we took, places we camped…and a flood of memories I couldn’t even fully bring to consciousness began to come. Things I never thought I’d remember and just added to the list of the “unknown life” that had been my past. A time that stress and overwhelm and extremities and changes pushed into the depths of the darkness that had become “my story” and my past.

But tonight I think I’m forming a new hypothesis of how memories…and memory recall work. Tonight gives me hope that not only is a vault not closing, but that there are areas of my brain that can still be awakened. Tonight I felt a sense that perhaps – just perhaps – those memories in times of great stress and struggle are still formed, but require something a little bit different to bring to recollection, and that there is a possibility that the person I was, the person I could be, isn’t gone at all.

Tonight, I realized that if I keep believing, I just might find me again.

More Than Words

Buckle up, guys…I wrote a novel tonight…

water overwhelm

I’m sitting here at the table, looking around at what there is still left to do. A husband on nights, a couch of unfolded laundry, food to make and pack, a load of clothes from a sick child, random toys that didn’t make their bins, trash to empty for garbage day, and dishes to finish cleaning….all before I settle (slump) down on a chair to finish reviewing paperwork that I need to catch up.

Most days are like this. A scattered brain with too many things to accomplish, and all just to keep the house and workload in some type of “working order”. Busy, young children, all vying for conversation and time and touch, talking so much that having a thought long enough to remember what you needed to do for work in that moment is a long shot. Going, going, going.

I’ve been composing this post for a few weeks in my head…along with many others, and I know full well it may become a messy conglomeration of tangential thoughts. Ever since an oceanfront revelation, my brain has finally been going there again during the day. But by the time I settle to write (or work), it’s 10pm, and the headspace I felt during the day that was able to process ideas (usually in the car) has become a puddle of sludge, just hoping to finish the top of the list before I crash with my computer on my lap.

seasons

At church, we’ve been going through a series titled “Seasons”, and it’s all based off of a very well-known series of verses in Ecclesiastes…”to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven…” (Eccl. 3:1, KJV) I love the series. It’s been refreshing, insightful, encouraging, and uplifting, to the very definition – it’s provided hope. Hope that things can change. Hope that this season is not forever. Hope that there is more.

But I can’t help but wonder, do we overuse this phrase? Has this become yet another cliche? How many times have I heard, “this is only a season”? Probably as many times as I’ve been told, “I’ll pray for you” or “this too shall pass” or “he’s in a better place” or “you’re doing great”. Don’t get me wrong, these things are awesome. The logical, rational understanding and internalization of these ideas IS hope providing, and well-intentioned. But the older I get, and the more I pay attention, I realize…I’m an actions person. I used to argue it. I mean, I’m in my head CONSTANTLY, and sometimes with simultaneous thoughts running (that’s more for another day). But I really am an actions person. You love me? Show me. You’re concerned for me? Show me. You can tell I’m anxious/overwhelmed/ depressed/decompensating? Show me. You want to help? Show. Me.

We’ve gotten so caught up in our lives that we have lost the idea of a village. Of a community. We don’t have the time to offer it. And we don’t get offered it in return. I’ve often thought myself, “How can I help someone swim when I’m drowning?”

I have the sweetest friend. She and her family have been here almost a year and a half, but are originally from Portugal. They do things so much differently…and I’m almost jealous. It’s not that I want to completely emulate her life or culture (though I’m not sure I’d completely complain…). It’s more…well…it seems to me (from the outside) that they’ve got a strong piece we’re missing. When you build a house, you prep it to hold you for as long as you are able to live independently. When you go to church, it’s to the one your entire neighborhood/area goes to. Holidays are a progression of family and friends. Life is about community. She is currently a stay-at-home mom after being kind-of a big shot in her business (my words…she’d likely balk at the notion). She’s loving it, and is so thankful. But if I need help? Whether or not I ask, she’ll offer, “because we’re neighbors. That’s what you do”. She could be tired, her kids could be sick, she may have slept three hours the night before and is a single mom much of the time due to her husband’s work schedule. She plans their trips, cleans their home, gets up multiple times with her young children, and doesn’t bat an eye at offering to take on another child so you can get a task completed. It’s definitely a mentality. And to me, it’s a heart thing.

Sometimes I wonder if we’ve started to rely a little too much on our cliche responses, feeling good that we offered a prayer or a half-hearted “let me know if you need anything”. I heard once this offer being described as adding another weight to shoulders who are already too burdened. And honestly, how often do we know how to answer this? How can we? The thought of needing a live-in person daily, or every morning, or every evening…well, that’s my first thought. “can you come over every evening?”.
need anythingThere’s a song that’s hit my heart many times, knowing full well the countless times that I’ve been both the offerer and receiver. In ‘Shine the Light’, Babbie Mason sings, “In the parking lot of the coffee shop, Just the other day. She smiled and she said, “Well I’m doin’ okay” But I felt her pain. I took her hand in mine, Said, “It’s gonna work out fine”. But as she turned I wondered, did I just hand her a line?”  We pat ourselves on the back, *hopefully* lift up the prayer we promised, and move on our way.

I know, I know. We’re all stressed and overrun and tired and busy. I get it. But I also had to ask myself, how can I expect something I’m not giving? If you feel the need to tell someone, “this too shall pass” or “enjoy it now, it’ll be gone too soon”, use this as a red flag for yourself. I PROMISE the person knows this, tells themselves this daily, even feels guilty for still struggling. I PROMISE the person is trying so hard to get through the day to day and WANTS to enjoy the season or push a little harder and a little further. Trust me.

So, let me put out a challenge to you. To me. To us all. If you find these words on the tip of your tongue, think about what they really need so you can HELP them enjoy (survive?) this season. To paint a picture for you, let me go one step further and be very raw and very real. Words like “it’s only for a season, enjoy it now” sometimes make me cry. And not because I feel warm and encouraged. Because I KNOW this to the very depths of my heart, and I cringe that I’m so overwhelmed that I can’t often stop and enjoy it without decreasing my 5-6 hours of sleep even more (less? I digress). I fear that I’ll forget it because I’m stressed and exhausted, and I can’t remember what I did yesterday, let alone that super funny, adorable, cute thing my daughter did an hour ago. I covet prayers, and I’m so thankful for them. Prayers can move mountains, and I believe that to my core. But I also know that I need real-life, hands-on support, and I think I speak for us all.

We were made for community. For connection. And not just for joy. What can you do? Say the words if you need, but follow up. Be more than a passer-by on the street. Check in on them. Clean their bathroom. Bring them coffee or dinner. Wash their car. Take the kids randomly for an hour or two. Don’t ask for permission. Just do it. If you can’t? Send them a good, old-fashioned letter, flowers, a $5 coffee shop gift card, an audiobook, a song, a movie. Call them and be ready to listen, not fix. Be ready to sit in the depth – the muck – of what might come out, and let it be okay for them to vent, even if it doesn’t sound pretty. Offer encouragement to strangers. Pay for the next order in the drive thru line. Recently, I heard a woman speak of a friend who would put a wreath on the person’s door, and one concept I heard of helping kids be Santa by identifying someone to give a surprise gift to by figuring out what they would like/need and giving it to them with no credit just melts my heart. I cannot count the number of times I have been brought to tears by a godly-timed letter, text, gift, or blessing, large and small. But on the flip side, nothing makes a person feel so incredibly insignificant than being heard but not listened to, seen but ignored.

support

I look around our world, our country, and my heart breaks. SOMETHING has got to give. A little kindness, a little connection, a little community – can go a very, very long way. It starts with us, my friends. With me, with you. Be more than a greeting card…we have enough of those already <3

 

Hopeless…with hope

I’ve often wondered why people want to read what I write…what I think. It is, at it’s very base, a rambling of whatever I’m struggling with at the moment. But, in that line of thinking, I’ll stay vulnerable…

I am at a point in time in my life where I have realized, I am burned out. It didn’t hit me all at once; rather, I was listening to my cynical, tired, stressed internal complaints, and I realized…I’m done. I’ve hit it. I’m not down-sliding, I’m not spiraling, I’m not going crazy, I’m there. I am burned. out. It was a strange realization of sorts, hitting me because I know me…I know me to know: I’m compassionate, almost to a fault. I’m empathic to the point I cry because other people are crying and have nightmares from movie previews. I’m sensitive, and if people are upset, I can’t sleep and I want to make it right, even if I had literally less-than-nothing to do with the cause.

And when it’s real fault? You can multiply this to the nth degree – I personalize, trivialize, internalize it all. Not that it’s “my fault”, per se (even though I have met those who experience it to this degree)…more that it’s “my responsibility”. And if I see a hint of my oldest, internalizing this mindset? Holy. Moly; for. the. love.

Hope has been my buzz-word for…I don’t even know how long. I realized in college at some point, perhaps when I was struggling with my own purpose and mortality, that if someone didn’t have hope, regardless of the source, that that was the point where the person might give up. I’ve learned much more about the factors and characteristics and sources of resiliency since then, but I still believe that hope is what keeps us moving forward. That even when we feel “hopeless”, there is at least one small part of us holding onto the idea or the potential of change. That change is possible, even when we don’t believe it.

I’m not even sure if there is a “point” to this blog tonight. Perhaps it’s just that…well…I know what it feels to be hopeless, and I’m thankful for my underlying conscience that’s always been there. I call mine God – it’s my faith – but whatever it is for you, if you have ANY voice arguing. ANY voice questioning. ANY voice telling you that this isn’t “it”…listen. JUSt. BREATHe. And Listen. I say this for you AND for me…There’s more. There’s more than thought. There’s more than belief. And there is even more than “hope”, a concept I held for so long. Regardless of the emotion and the corresponding term I can come up with at any given time, if I am alive, then there is more. There is purpose. There is a point. And while I don’t know about you, as stubborn as I am, I am not about to give up before I figure out what the heck that is.

Day 8: finding the balance 

It is my heart to share my journey, with hopes to connect with others who are experiencing the same, whether physically with me now, or spiritually with me later. But I am realistic. Realistically, I know that I have 3 kids under 4, with one being a mere month old. Realistically I know that balancing a blog and balancing life need to find perfect harmony as I venture into what my health journey will look like now, in a new chapter of my life. Realistically, I know I am not alone. 

In my head and in my heart, I know this balance will come. But I’m also striving for it currently, in my work, in my fitness, in my diet, in my relationships, in my family, in my faith, in my self. Balance seems to be this “thing”, so far out of sight but just out of reach. Tempting us with the promise that it’s achievable but never truly being reached. 

So, for now, I will continue in prayer for balance and will continue stumbling forward, seeking a community who is also stumbling, praying, reaching, searching, hoping, grasping. Maybe, just maybe, we can support each other in our journey, and the balance will be found there in.