I think every sweet or salty treat has been calling my name these days, especially this past week. Trying to eat healthy and be “good” just added to my exhaustion as I tried to make it through the busy days and meet the demands of my full life. Finally, sitting at my desk at school, I decided to stop and figure it out. Why I was struggling?
The room was quiet. It was my prep hour. Outside I could hear the occasional bang of a locker being closed and a distance chuckle down the school hall. So, I pulled open a new screen and did what any normal human being would do…I googled my problem. And, guess what? The internet happily complied and gave me more articles on “What to do when you’re stressed” than I could read in a thousand prep periods. However, one that concentrated on the Enneagram personality types caught my eye. I opened it up and sought to discover what I could do to get out of my current funk. Want to hear the coolest advice I found? Think about what you used to do as a child for fun and find a way to include that in how you take care of yourself. Immediately I smiled. I remembered the hours I spent writing, drawing, coloring, building with Legos, and reading novels that took me to different worlds. Inspired, I printed off a few adult coloring sheets and spent some precious moments filing in color between the lines. My shoulders dropped. I smile filled me from deep within. I realized that I was being completely unproductive, but those minutes filled me with peace and a sense that life is ok. We all do this. We put so much pressure on ourselves to get it all done. We want to push through the pain. We want to accomplish every chore and rise to every responsibility. But it is like filling our dryer with so many wet towels and jeans that the weight refuses to allow the drum to turn. We have to lift the weight off so that we can operate with efficiency, getting the job done without tearing ourselves apart. So many of the women I coach struggle with this. Often they are the ones who find that they are seeking food or alcohol after work or after the kids go to bed. The weight on their shoulders presses down and our human nature craves an escape hatch that will allow us to feel free for a few short hours. In the process of turning to sweets or wine to free us, we instead find ourselves enslaved to habits that weigh our hearts down even more. Oh, my love, God never told us we were to live this way. That’s why He gave a world where the sun goes down so we can rest and a seventh day to sabbath from our toil. From the moment of creation He built natural rhythms into our reality to protect His children. I want to challenge you to find the courage to place true natural fun in your life. Maybe it is music, or dance, or art, or crafts, or time in nature. Think back to what put a smile on your face as a child. Embrace the sweet uniqueness of how God made your soul and treasure it. Rest, my dears. Rest from the toil. Rest from the burden.
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I felt so weary. The road stretched out under the headlights as the windshield wipers rubbed and swished the slushy mixture off the windshield. In the back seat, the girls had refused to fall asleep and were restlessly playing games in the dark. My heart seemed to pulse in my ears. I gripped the steering wheel and kept vigil on the road, determined to get us home, safe and sound, in one piece, and in time for Micaela to get her medicine without having a reaction. I look back on those hours now, and I still hurt. Did you know, I couldn't even pray? Thankfully, I had friends and family covering us with prayer as we traveled, but I was so upset with myself that I couldn't even ask God for more than protection and forgiveness for my mistakes. I felt like the road and the weariness were mine to accept, to bear, to wear. I was still hurting hours after we got home and the girls fell asleep. Micaela, blessedly, did not have any seizures even though she received her medicine so late. I sat in a chair in the living room and rocked, refusing to go to sleep, keeping vigil on the baby monitor as she slept. It was, after all, completely my fault that the medicine had been forgotten at home and that we had canceled her sleep study when we couldn't have it filled or compounded at a single pharmacy in Albuquerque. These days, I make it a point not to wallow in my mistakes, but to pull myself up and learn and move forward. However, my friend, this one was harder for me. Probably because I have all the systems in place to prevent this mistake. Honestly, I still can't figure out how this slip-up happened except that I am human...oh, so, human. And, that realization, that mistakes happen even when we feel completely squared away, is humbling. A few of my friends pointed out that God will have His plans for Micaela and all of us, and the mistake was no doubt part of His plans. Perhaps it wasn't the right time for her sleep-study. Perhaps there was a different technician that needed to work with her. Or another reason we have to go back to Albuquerque. I don't know. But, I had a choice. I could either continue to shame myself and drown in all the things I should have done, or I could simply remember that I have given my life to God. I really can't be my own shepherd. I still need God. I need Him to guide me, to protect me. I need to take refuge in Him, not just from the world, but also for comfort as I grow. I need to trust Him with the way the road turns in my life, and not shoulder the burden of it all. I grin as I admit that I am just a simple sheep, prone to wander in stubborn belief that I know where all the green pastures lie. However, really, God knows exactly what we will need before we even ask. He takes His shepherd's crook, and redirects my steps because I have surrendered. Once you were like sheep What Leads Me to the Pantry (or the Refrigerator) I have a “witching hour”, a time of day where I become angry and restless. My feet lead me to the pantry where I stare at the contents and finger bags of things that my stomach doesn’t want but my mind craves. Do you know what leads me there? One. Simple. Thing. My task list. Now, I need for you to hear me. I love time management strategies, organization techniques, and planning tactics. I love a beautifully orchestrated to-do list paired with a gorgeous schedule. However, 19 out of 20 times, all that planning leads me to the pantry at the end of the day. Why? Because all the planning in the world will never compensate for the unexpected. There is the phone call from a hospital or a request from a family member or simply a complication to a task I thought would be easy. Then, at the end of the day, I look at my plan and completely trash myself. I expected more. What I got done wasn’t enough. I am my own worst task-master. Right now my church is doing a Bible Study by Louie Giglio called “Don’t Give the Enemy a Seat at Your Table”. As I work through the book I am forced to face the fact that I try so hard to be my own Shepard. It isn’t because I don’t trust God, it is more a lie that the enemy fed me that I should know how to do this without God. As if God needed me to be self-sufficient in order to be less of a bother to Him. Have you ever stopped and really thought about your opinion of God? Several Christian ministry leaders have made the connection of us viewing God, our Heavenly Father, the same way we view our Earthly father. For me, this is spot-on. I have an amazing Earthly father. He has always served his family well. He is a hard worker, giving everything to his children and even caring for my mother as she passed away from multiple sclerosis. However, I always felt deeply that I added to my father’s burdens. I strived to work hard and be helpful and “good” so his life wouldn’t be so difficult. It is an attitude that carries over into my relationship with God. It is both ironic and sad, because the God that created the universe does not need me to be perfect. He is not given to exhaustion or resentment because of any of my faults. He is the perfect Father. He has asked to give everything to me--guidance, protection, provision, and love--and it is His good pleasure to do this for His children. This lent, I have been asked to give God my task list. It is a symbol of my belief that I could ever hurt or disappoint my God by my imperfections. He can have my to-do list while I truly rest and trust His love for me no matter what did or did not get done that day. So, tell me this, what is leading you to the pantry these days?
If emotional eating is something you would like some help working on, consider signing up for my free weight loss class. I would be honored to coach you. https://mailchi.mp/88cc1c3e9b98/weight-loss-from-the-soul
A couple weeks ago we went over to a neighbor's house. Micaela was terrible. She was into everything and screaming, "No!" to everyone about anything. It was awful. I winced as her behavior escalated and what should have been a pleasant visit morphed into a frustrating experience for everyone. I left the home of my sweet friend determined to never, and I mean NEVER, take her out in public again. At home she was back to her sweet happy little soul. She played with her baby doll and gave hugs likes she hadn't just impersonated a Tasmanian devil half-an-hour before. I know it is silly and even unreasonable, but I was so mad at her. Why couldn't she just behave? Why couldn't I count on one hour of my life in public that wasn't a disaster with her? The thoughts in my head were headed to a dark place. I've went there before. It is too easy to fall into a place of hopelessness and anger and fear. Thankfully, I have a plan in place for these moments. I grabbed my Bible and my journal and headed to the bedroom for some breathing room. After some time alone and a lot of prayer, I realized that the predominate thought was one of wanting to give up. I wanted to be done trying. It just seemed impossible. This stems from the years I've spend working on goals with Micaela that take other children months, weeks, or even days. Some of these goals, like behaving well outside of the home and potty-training, we are still working on. God whispered into my soul, "My plans will not fail. But they will happen in MY time." Change takes time, one of the most precious commodities of all. But God's plans will not fail. And, if I trust that, suddenly it doesn't hurt so much for change to take so long. All of my frustration and fear stemmed from the idea that change wouldn't happen at all. I had taken my eyes off of God's power and goodness and focused instead on what I am able to do without Him. Strength and peace flowed back into me. I left the bedroom and gave Micaela one of the soul-deep hugs that she has been blessing me with for years. I felt her little body relax and hug back, as if she had been missing the mamma that could love her in the moment. Such a crazy lesson to have to learn so many times. Change takes times, but if we let go of fear and trust God's plans and goodness, we will have the strength to keep going. I know you are there too, my friend, there is something that hurts. Something you want so badly to change, but it is a long time coming. When you consider giving up, are you afraid of something? Afraid you are wasting time? Wasting hope? But, is this change worth fighting for?
It was like the OMNICROM variant of attitudes. I'm serious. Don't think that I'm trying to be flippant about COVID when I say this. Adela's attitude was contagious and deadly. It was a school morning. I had let the girls sleep to the last possible second, but I had to get them up and ready for school. I turned on the hall lights so that illumination could enter their sleepy cave without assaulting their eyes. Adela rolled over in her bed and grabbed a pillow to slam over her head. Then the onslaught began. Adela groaned, "Why do I have to go to school? I just want school to be over. I wish it was the weekend. I don't want to get up. I'm tired. Why can't I just stay home?" With every word she spoke I felt my own attitude slipping. My pleasant demeaner and smile were a flimsy façade growing more delicate be the second. By day two, Micaela had caught "it", too. "No!" she yelled when I approached her bed. "I want to stay in bed. I want to sleep." By day three, my alarm went off and I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. The next week followed the same cycle. Then, Thursday rolled around and as Adela spewed words of dismay and anger, I realized what was going on. I gasped and told her, "Stop. Adela. I know that you don't want to go to school. That is your choice to feel that way, but I want you to stop talking about it. It isn't helping anybody else." Adela stared at me. I had broken one of our home's cardinal rules. I have always said that we are allowed to express our thoughts and feelings as long as we are kind and respectful to others. But, then I realized that she was breaking the rules, too. I took a deep breath, "Adela, everything you are saying is making it hard for Micaela and I to have good thoughts about school. It is your choice to think that way and let yourself feel that way. But it is unkind to spread it to us." Thoughts are contagious. She blinked and the lightbulb came on for both of us. Thoughts. They are a two-way contamination system. I can spread attitudes to others and I can catch them from others, too. I can work very hard on using good thought-hygiene but if I'm constantly exposing myself to harmful attitudes, eventually, something is going to take-root in me. That day I learned a powerful lesson. My own determination to think good thoughts and believe admirable truths, needs to be coupled with taking action to limit my exposure to harmful attitudes when I am able. Maybe that is only chatting to certain friends on days I'm feeling weaker, or, in this case, honestly telling my little love that I was being harmed by her onslaught of negativity. I would like to be stronger than this. I would like to be spiritually mature enough to stand in any storm with my mind and heart unharmed. But, this day I know my limitations are real and that is okay. God is still growing me. My mind needs protection and safeguarding, too. The prudent see danger and take refuge, What role are you playing in the thought contamination process? What attitudes do you find yourself spreading? What beliefs do you regularly expose yourself to?
When I was going to college, my older brother and I shared an apartment. He still likes to put a big 'ole grin on his handsome face and tell his friends, "If I came home and my sister was cleaning, I went and hid in my room. It always meant she'd had a bad day. It wasn't safe to come out until she had finished."
I never put too much thought into this tendency of mine. I just brushed it off that things felt better when they were clean and organized. However, the other day I was scrolling Pinterest (because that is important ;) ) and I found this:
Okay, if you haven't read The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts, you need to buy, borrow, listen to it now. I'm not kidding. It is written by a Christian family counselor and it has helped me so much to love others better. You can also take the quiz here: https://www.5lovelanguages.com/quizzes/love-language and that will get you started.
However, I had never considered that those love languages could help me love myself better, too. And, wow, the "Acts of Service" section of the self-love image hit the nail on the head. I love planning, organizing, cleaning, etc. When I do those things, I feel relaxed and fulfilled. I didn't realize that it was self-love mostly because often if I tell people that those things are fun for me, they just think I'm a little loopy. I had to blog about this. I do believe we are supposed to be intentional about caring for ourselves. Goodness, even Jesus did things to refill such as eating with friends, going away to quiet places and praying, and spending time with children. What blew my mind, however, was that we are unique creatures and what is self-love for one person is simply a chore for someone else. So, go through this image and be intentional about loving yourself. What I love, is that so many of the things on this list are kind and healthy things to do PERIOD. Oh, God, please bless the kind person who created this and posted it on Pinterest. I think we are often unaware of the lives we touch with our commitment to share love and truth to others.
What feels like self-love to you?
I got off that coaching call and clutched my hand to my chest. I was smiling from the inside out and marveling at how I could pour so much out on another soul and feel so alive and full of God's Spirit. The best way I could describe it, is that my soul was singing. This is the sweetest thing about coaching: I get to sit with one of my sisters in Christ, listen to her story and then help her find the next steps for her life. I love it. Not only do I have the privilege to watch these sweet women grow and learn, I get to learn too. Every problem followed with God's solutions teaches me. There are other things that make my soul sing. I feel this way when I lay my expectations for my children down and simply enjoy their presence. I feel this way when I write these blogs. I feel this way when I serve my husband. I feel this way when I join the worship team at church. I have noticed that many women whom I coach haven't found what makes their souls sing. I understand this. Our culture has not encouraged the process it takes to find this depth. It takes practice and courage and consistency. It takes staying with and serving our church instead of "jumping ship" the moment we are unsatisfied. It means staying in relationships. It means developing skills. It mean having the courage to put ourselves at risk of failure or embarrassment. All the things I listed that make my soul sing, are all things that I've had to stick with and allow to mature and grow within me. I have a cousin in Arizona with a gift for photography. She has a natural love and knack for this activity, but I have noticed that what used to be simply a fun thing to do, has turned into art. She connects with families, captures moments, and leaves her customers with a gift they can treasure for decades to come. When I listen to her talk about her little side business, I can hear her soul sing. It gives me goosebumps and makes tears come to my eyes. I breathe a thankful sigh that someone I love so much found what connects her to God's plan and purpose for her life. She didn't' reach this point by simply having a talent, either. She has practiced. She has acquired skills. She has poured hours into developing techniques, taking chances, and learning from setbacks. You, whoever you are reading this, my love, are precious. There is something beautiful inside you that God created you for. Probably more than one thing. It could be teaching, listening, healing, creating, organizing, hugging...goodness this list just goes on. I don't want you to give up on whatever it is because it gets hard or costs time and effort and courage. Don't "jump ship" on those around you. Give your soul a chance to sing as we worship Him with our unique gifts.
Have you found what makes your soul sing?
I hugged Adela and said, "It just isn't fair, is it?" Adela's breakfast was on hold as I called doctors. I could tell she was holding back her frustration. By the window, Micaela played in slow-motion, once in a while she lifted a hand and scratched at the full-body rash. Unfortunately, she had reacted to the new seizure medication. This is not the life I imagined. Sometimes, I take a step back and look at my life from an outside perspective. I see all the uncertainty, the stress, the pain that comes with parenting a child with multiple disabilities and medical issues. It takes my breath away. Typically, I keep my head down and put one foot in front of the other, but this morning I lifted my head. My life flew into review like a recap session of a TV show, flitting in front of me the important highlights. Once upon a time, this life was my worst nightmare. I'm not kidding either. I once told God to please protect me from my two greatest fears: losing a child and having a special needs child. He allowed both of them to become a part of my reality. Tears came to my eyes and I felt His love surround me. God has always known more about me than I do. He knows what I am capable of. He knows my strength and faith. He knows what I will do when push comes to shove. This morning I felt so vulnerable, so broken. I wanted to hit the reset button on life and reconstruct a reality that was easier and less messy. For whatever reason, Micaela has started to have multiple tiny seizures a day. Gone are the awful, long, body wracking seizures that used to last on average 40 minutes to an hour (thank You, God) but these new seizures wear on my mind. We are scrambling to try new medications and look into possible causes. As I talked to the doctor, I watched Adela walk over to her sister and hug her hard. This life is messy for both of them too. I smiled and let out a deep breath. God knows more about them than I do, too. They are also stronger than I can imagine. Whatever life God gives us, I can trust Him with it. I will stand firm in my faith and to the promise that He has given us a life in which we will flourish. This morning I want you to know this, too, my friend. God knows more about you than you do. Take a moment and remember a time that felt impossible. Marvel that God got you through because there was more about you, your faith, and God's love than you ever realized.
Adela gleefully plucked half the roof off her gingerbread house. The smell of candy and graham crackers wafted through the air. Her brown eyes sparkled as she shoved it in her mouth. I wrinkled my nose. Surely the combination of cinnamon graham crackers, royal icing, and smarties would please no living palate alive, but Adela loved it. After all, she made it. I'm nine years into this motherhood thing. The speeding winds of rapid change sting my eyes. Adela, specifically, is developing so fast I find myself swallowing back tears. She has started doing her own hair and anxiously shuffling through her closet for "just the right thing" to wear. Meanwhile, her play area is still crammed full of Lego dinosaurs. As a hungrily soak up who the girls are right now, I find that I have more patience with them. I feel less stressed or anxious. I don't snap at them or retreat for quiet time to regain a sound mind. I am okay with how they are, trusting God with their growth for tomorrow and parenting only the girls they are today. I think we should do this more, but not just with our children. We should do it with our husbands who forgot to bring home a gallon of milk. We should do it with our neighbors whose dog made it into our yard again. We should do it with our aging parents who feel the need to tell us again how things were different when they were raising a family. When we let go of the past and take our eyes off the future, we are left with precious people in our lives, right now, exactly how they are. Our hearts have enough love for them. Our bodies have enough strength to serve them. And, they are so very precious. I'm sure God sees us all they way I have been looking at Adela these days. He sees us growing and treasures our change and progress. He has forgiven our sins of the past. He has no fear of the future. He loves us today, in this moment, with immeasurable passion and peace. Merry Christmas, my friends. I love you all so very much.
When Micaela turned two, I had one goal: She was going to eat a cupcake and love it. Now, mind you, she had only started eating a few months before and still got most her nutrition through the G-tube inserted into her stomach. But, that didn't matter in my mommy-mind. We made the cupcakes, prepared to party, and then waited for my husband to get home. He was branding with some neighbors and there were some hiccups in the day. By the time I realized that he wasn't going to get back before the girls fell asleep, Micaela was a grumpy tired mess. Determined that my dreams would not be thwarted, I grabbed the plate of cupcakes. Quickly I put them on plates and put them in front of the girls. We sang happy birthday as I madly took pictures. Micaela stared at the cupcake with curiosity and watched Adela bite into hers with the ferocity of a starving coyote. Micaela reached out one chubby hand and wrapped her fingers around the cupcake. Her expression quickly changed from curiosity to alarm. She jerked back her hand. It was covered with sticky frosting. She shook her hands and began to cry. It didn't matter what that cupcake tasted like, she wasn't going to eat it. My great birthday party plan was unrealized that year and I put a very sad and upset toddler to bed. This morning, God reminded me of that story. I am determined to celebrate Jesus' birthday with Him and have a heart full of gratitude and love. However, my plans of singing carols everyday, joining community gatherings, making Christmas treats, and doing art project that could grace a tree are not quite turning out the way I planned. The girls and I were quarantined last week due to an exposure to COVID. As we wait-out our fourteen days, my plans had to be revised. I have been frustrated and often walking around the house like a lost child. However, in my prayer time, I remembered that birthday of Micaela. She might have had a bad experience with a cupcake, but her mother was there with her. I was present in the experience of that day and dedicated to letting her know how much I love her. I can do that with Jesus, too. He doesn't need the Holidays to be perfect, He just wants me to be as present with Him as possible. We can love the people in our lives without lavish expressions of gratitude. Honestly, the truest form of love is simply being with others, knowing them, and inviting them into our world. Whatever your Holidays look like this year, I pray that Jesus is intimately invited into it all. Happy Birthday, Immanuel.
What is one of your favorite ways to celebrate Jesus' birthday?
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