Posted in Anxiety, Celebration, Faith, Grief, Health, Sabbath

Sisyphus…Sigh

There’s usually a stack of books on my beside table. Murder mysteries. Books about the sacred. Memoirs. One or two chapters at the most at the end of a long day send me to dreamland.

Books, for me, are spending a bit of time with another person, the writer. I might enjoy a completely entertaining story, hear another’s heart on a particular issue, or just walk beside someone through their life’s journey. I find connection in my jammies without any makeup on.

Fast forward to Sundays, my “take-a-break” day. I carve out at least SOME time alone, in the quiet. Self-help books shut. TV off. Phone on emergency-calls-only mode. Stop and stare out the window. Hash it all out with God. Often, something inexplicable happens way down deep, in the places I rarely venture.

It feels similar to what happens when I see a rainbow or a sunset or hear a beautiful piece of music. There is an unexplainable knowing that “all is well” despite all the swirling things in my life that are NOT. In fact, the silence actually magnifies the things that are not okay, perhaps because there is some space to explore them.

Mysteriously, as I sip my once-a-week cup of tea, watch birds flit by or the snow fall (which is happening as I write this), sorrow and joy, disruption and peace, the messy and the beautiful are able to walk side-by-side, neither one cancelling out the other.

The rest of the busy, hurried week, I fall into the trap of working hard and praying for ONLY the positive, happy, safe side of life. I keep my house organized, pay my bills on time, plant flowers and read self-help books.

Somehow, though, the negative, sad, and scary sides that are usually defined as bad by almost every voice around me, creep in no matter how hard I try to avoid them, stuff them down, or get all in a fit about them.

I’m like the Greek mythology character, Sisyphus, painstakingly rolling a huge rock up a mountain and just before I reach the top, it tumbles right back down to the bottom and I have to start all over again.

Anger. Confusion. Anxiety. Despair.

Thanks to those books on my nightstand and the authors who have “been there and done that,” I’m gently reminded that life is filled with both and believe it or not, both are necessary AND both are good.

Happiness celebrates the gifts given to us AND sadness brings honor to the loss of those gifts. Both are necessary AND both are good.

Back to that little bit of time when I stop the distractions once a week. It’s no wonder that I often find my true “all is well” place in those moments. Space to lean into the bad. A place to celebrate the good. God smack-dab in the middle of it, making breathing room for it ALL.

Peace. Hope.

Sigh.

Posted in Childhood, Faith, Family, Motherhood

Roots and Wings

“I miss you, Mom.” If I see this, or hear this, I am a puddle.
I know. I know. It might mean, “I miss your meals. I miss you folding my clothes.”
What I secretly hope is that it means they miss my good mom love for them. There’s nothing like a mom’s love, right?
But what does that even mean?
Protecting them? Feeding them (way too many meals a day in my opinion)? Keeping them safe?
Granting them freedom? Freaking out inside when they hop behind the wheel of a car? Letting them make mistakes?
This mom gig is hard.
It’s a very tricky tight rope to walk. It’s more nuanced than some quick A+B=C equation. Beyond COMPLICATED!
If I protect them at all costs, I might suffocate and smother them, not allowing them to become themselves. NOT GOOD.
If I grant them unlimited freedom, they might feel uncared for and unsafe, and very unloved. ALSO NOT GOOD.
So what’s a mom to do? How do I best love them?
Maybe I don’t have to choose either or. Total SAFETY or total FREEDOM.
And maybe it’s A LOT about how I make them feel inside.
Maybe it’s about them knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt they belong to me, no matter what they do. They are grounded, or rooted, in that place, whether they are 10 feet from me in their childhood bedroom or they are 1,000 miles away in their new apartment.
AND maybe, just maybe, it’s about them also knowing they’ve got what it takes to sprout internal wings, and I’ve given them complete freedom to become all that they were designed to be (as messy as that process is).
It doesn’t seem to matter if they are 2 or 22.
It takes lots of mom time and energy (and a lot of asking God) to make all these decisions with wisdom, not to smother, but to give proper roots, AND to know when and how and why to lovingly “kick them out of the nest” to soar to heights way beyond my mom imagination.
Posted in Faith, Health, Uncategorized

There is a Battle that Rages

There is a battle that rages inside of me.

It’s in every decision.

It’s in every moment.

It’s in every relationship.

It’s the never-ending clash of freedom and safety.

Will I fall if my dad takes off my training wheels?
Should I try out for the part in the school play?
What will happen if I ask that boy to the dance?
What should I major in?
Should I send that follow-up email to my coworker about the missing information?
What will my friends think if I take a break from traditional church?
Should I let my kids ride their bike to the neighbor’s house?
Can I tell my spouse about my overwhelming fear?
Should I quit my good-paying job and follow my life-long dream?
Is it too late for me to _____________?

SO MANY QUESTIONS.
All followed up by the three more questions.

Will this keep me safe?
Will this make me free?
Which is more important?

Much of the time, I choose safety at all costs.
What does it really do for me?  What does freedom do?

Here are my humble findings so far.

SAFETY swallows me up.
It says, “Do what’s easiest, no matter the cost.”
It keeps the real me at bay, playing “nicey-nice,” telling me over and over again that “I’m fine” is the answer every morning, no matter if it’s remotely true or horribly false.

FREEDOM releases me.
It says, “The choice is yours to make.”
It calls the authentic me to come out to play, reminding me that any answer I give in the morning is good as long as it’s true.

SAFETY keeps me small.
It says, “You just shouldn’t.”
It prevents me from feeling it ALL, tells me I am only allowed to feel SOME and I need to do whatever it takes to get the HAPPY and stuff down the HARD.

FREEDOM enlarges me.
It says, “You can.”
It allows me feel ALL of it, from the angry to the anxious, from the sappy to the happy, from the painful to the pleasant.  ALL. OF. IT.   Nothing is too much or too hard or too this or too that.

SAFETY says protection is my end goal.
It says, “Don’t let anything bad happen E.V.E.R.”
It stomps out the beautiful possibilities of wonder and ensuing joy and leaves me lifeless and hopeless.

FREEDOM says I am designed for fullness.
It says, “Your adventure is waiting.  Dive right on in.”
It opens me to grandeur, summons me to imagination, bids me to beauty and leaves me wholly alive and able to dream.

SAFETY shuts others out.
It says, “You will be hurt and it will be terrible, 99.9% guaranteed.”
It perpetuates disengagement and sometimes shouts a loud or whispers a soft “NO!” to any kind of closeness.  It leaves me lonely and loveless.

FREEDOM invites others in.
It says, “You will be hurt, but it will be worth every teardrop, 99.9% guaranteed.”
It welcomes vulnerability, openness, intimacy, and gives room for my most basic human need to be fully-known and fully-loved.  I feel my own long sigh exhaling, “Aaahhh!  YES!”

SAFETY downright enslaves me.
It says “Don’t you dare.”
It dictates decisions that lead to an endless and fruitless attempt to control my world, my husband, my kids, my friends, my self.

FREEDOM grants me permission to really LIVE.
It says, “I triple-dog dare you!”
It urges me to ask myself the scary question: what is the truest, most beautiful life that you can imagine?*  It doesn’t stop there.  It implores me to then actually answer and act on that question.

There is a battle that rages inside of me.

It’s in every decision.

It’s in every moment.

It’s in every relationship.

Which might win today?  Tomorrow?  Next week?

I don’t know for sure.

But which will ultimately win in the end?

I know.  I know.  I really know.

FREEDOM!  FREEDOM!

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free!”  Galatians 5:1

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*asked by Glennon Doyle in the book Unashamed.  

 

Posted in Anxiety, Faith

I’m Afraid of it ALL

Politics.
Religion.
Even something as complicated as parenting choices or as simple as the choice of who to root for on the field.

And now COVID.

Accusations.
Judgment.
“I’m in this camp.”
Social media comment fights.
“I believe I’m right and you are wrong.”
Personal attacks.

“I want freedom at all costs!”
“I want safety at all costs!”

What’s at the root of it all?

FEAR.

WE ARE ALL AFRAID OF SOMETHING.

Dying.
Being wrong.
Not having enough _________ .
Being left out.
Suffering.
Not being liked.
The unknown.
Heights.

The list goes on and on.

To be honest, I’m afraid of it ALL.

BUT I don’t want to live and act from that place of FEAR.
I don’t want it to be the boss of me.

I hope to live and act from a much better place:  LOVE.

Here’s why:

LOVE begets GRACE.
GRACE generates KINDNESS.
KINDNESS breeds BELONGING.
BELONGING creates SAFETY.
SAFETY produces PEACE.
PEACE conquers FEAR.

“There is no fear in love. Perfect love drives out fear.”
(I John 1:18)