Tuesday, December 26, 2017

Leaving Fear Behind



Wimp. Wuss. Scaredy Cat. Chicken. Fearful. All words that describe the natural tendencies I've had my entire life.  Most people who've known me for any length of time would be a bit baffled by this description of myself. "She's strong and independent," they'd say. "Bossy, opinionated, assertive," they'd say. While those are true, (especially the "bossy" description-ask my kids, siblings or co-workers and I'm sure they'll have some stories for you-yikes!), hidden just beneath the surface of my gritty, independent woman, tough exterior is a layer of continuously simmering fear.

Fear of failure. Fear of death. Fear of rejection. Fear of missing out. Fear of change. Fear of being wrong. And on and on. I like safe. I'm big on all things predictable. Schedules. Routines. Plans. Agendas. Outlines. Calendars. Notifications. If anyone ever comes across my iPhone calendar and is inclined to scroll through the daily reminders and notifications I have entered-well let's just say it's all in there, short of bathroom break reminders. If it's not in there, IT DOES NOT EXIST and you can't make me do it.

Becoming a mom unhinged me in a sense that for the last 11 and a half years, and even more so for the last several years of being a single mom, I've teetered the precarious divide between attempting to maintain an orderly, organized, safe and predictable household while pushing myself to step outside that unattainable and often damaging comfort zone to foster a passion and drive in my kids to follow dreams, seek adventure and do the things that are scary, but will bring growth and meaning. Because yet another fear added to the massive pile I've been building and stacking year after year is the fear that I am teaching my kids to be fearful just like me. I must, I will, break the cycle of fear.

I've been reflecting on this personal issue of fear as I look ahead to the approaching new year. One of my kids asked me the other day what my 2018 New Year's resolutions are. I'm sure you can imagine that per my previous expression of love for planning, I create a neat, numbered list of annual resolutions with the goal of crossing off all items by December 31. In so many years past, I certainly did follow the long-held tradition and created my list of resolutions. My New Year's resolutions lists were, I'm sure, pretty standard to the middle class, American, Christian template. Lose weight. Make more money. Get more involved in church. Make more time for family devotions. Volunteer more. Organize the plastic container/tupperware cabinet (LORD HELP US ALL-this remains on the eternal New Year's resolutions list). But when my daughter asked me about my 2018 list, I realized I hadn't really stopped to think about what resolutions I might want to make for the new year. The only word that came to mind was "fearless".

For the last few days since the resolutions question was posed to me, as we celebrated Christmas and all the joy and beauty that comes with it, I sat with that word "fearless". Mulled it over. Felt it's weight on my tongue. Typed it out in various fonts in my mind. I've been thinking about a couple goals, not necessarily resolutions, that I have for 2018:

  1. Take a beginner's yoga class for the first time.                                                                        Yoga class fears: I will wear the wrong type of yoga outfit. I will sweat profusely and get red in the face even though all other yogis will be dry and fresh-faced, because this is a BEGINNER YOGA CLASS AND NO ONE SWEATS HERE. I will display my terrible sense of balance and fall over, will cause the yogi next to me to follow suit, thus creating a domino situation.
  2. FINALLY start writing a memoir.                                                                                          Memoir writing fears: I will have writer's block after the first paragraph and my memoir writing dreams will end there. I will complete the book and all publishers will laugh in my face and tell me I am the worst writer who ever lived and I should just stop writing immediately for the sake of all decent readers and mankind in general.        

So I guess I'm already throwing in the towel on my 2018 goals because of that nagging, defeating, ugly mess called FEAR. Amidst that realization, I read a passage from Priscilla Shirer's "Fervent", the Bible study I'm currently working through. Here's a snippet: "It's the enemy telling you, 'Be very afraid.' Is that the kind of junk he's been feeding you lately? Twenty million reasons why you can't?.......Why not? Might take too much time? Not to mention the pressure? What would people think if I did something so audacious.....So despite your hesitation, say yes. Walk on. Have faith. Fear not."

WELL. Fearless, then. That's what I want for 2018. My New Year's resolutions list condensed to one eight-letter word. For myself. For my kids. For my family. For all my fellow single moms. For anyone who struggles with fear stifling all the dreams, and creativity and adventures to be had. Let's rip fear right out at the root and fling it into the oblivion of 2017 and every year before. Be free of it, my friends.

"So do not fear, for I am with you." - Isaiah 41:10 
     
   






Sunday, July 23, 2017

Failing Greatly


Failure. The other "F" word. We humans don't like to talk about it. Just the thought of it makes us squirmy, nervous, uncomfortable, scared. We balk at the mere insinuation that something we tried, put our hearts into, spent money on, advertised about, bet our everything on, FAILED. When failure slaps you in the face, what next? Other than eating a whole package of double stuffed oreos and boycotting laundry/dishes/cleaning/cooking, or my favorite: feel sorry for myself and spend hours imagining I'm the poor, unloved, discarded character who is swept up into becoming the gorgeous and amazingly successful heroine, thanks to amazing Hallmark movie plot lines and soft lighting. You guys, I have an extensive archived collection of Hallmark-ish storylines filed away in my brain with me in the leading role. It's shameful.

I've been thinking about this unglamorous, but inevitable part of life a lot lately. Especially because I'm a mom, and not only must I unpack the stuff that comes along with my own failings and fears of failing, but I have to address the failure issue with my kids, because they, like me, are human and although I'd like to shelter them from all manner of tough experiences and feelings, it's life and we must face it head on. I was gifted recently with a crash course in coping with failure feelings when one of my daughters didn't make it onto a gymnastics team. Picture a child who is VERY introverted and has always struggled with putting herself out there to try anything new and risky. When my daughter told me she wanted to try out for the team after being in a rec gymnastics class, I was so excited. My mom heart overflowed. My baby is breaking out of her shell! This is her moment! She's going to see the pay-off for taking a chance and going for it!

On try-outs day, I sat nervously outside the gym, awaiting the results. I was planning what we would do after in celebration of her making it on the team, what I would post on social media-because we all get an adrenaline rush when posting about our achievements on social media, right? Ah, the dangerously alluring and tricky world of social media. So my daughter walked out of the gym after what seemed like WEEKS, and by that time I was a mess of nerves and pride, caught up in my plans for my daughter's professional gymnastics career-maybe she'll go to the next Olympics? I barely heard her whisper "I didn't make it". But I heard. And suddenly I felt my face go red hot; I was that awkward pre-teen again, trying to make friends in a new town, not fitting in with the jocks or the nerds, the popular kids or the artsy creative bunch. Not being exceptionally great at any one thing so that I was JUST AVERAGE. I felt the big FAILURE feelings. And then I looked around the room, seeing other moms and several daughters run to their moms, joyously shouting "I made it" and "I'm on the team!" Oh gosh, the ugly in me just had its way, big time. I hated those moms and their daughters and all their future celebratory Facebook posts. I wanted to run out of that building.

During the car ride home, as my daughter and I talked and I attempted to be a supportive, encouraging mom who pours out words of wisdom and powerful pep talks, summoning all the Oprah, Tony Robbins, Suze Orman and Pinterest positive quotes I could muster (and I was FAILING miserably), my very motivational thoughts and words came to a dead stop and I felt God's firm, but gentle nudge and message to me: "Grace, you are enough and your kids are enough. As-is. Just the way you are."

So here's the thing. Parallel to the messages of perfectionism, greatness, success, airbrushed, filtered, accomplished, social media readiness our society shoves down our throats, there's this other track on which we find the alternate messages of being ourselves, we are good enough just the way we are, go without that make-up on Facebook and challenge 10 friend to post their fresh-faced, blotchy, tired-eyed "real" photos! Yay! Everyone gets the first-place trophy! Moms-I know I'm not the only one who finds the conundrum of these two societal themes equally prevalent,  just incredibly maddening. How on earth do we navigate that territory with our kids? And with ourselves, my goodness, that's A LOT of work.

One of my favorite children's book authors is Dr. Seuss. And one of my favorite lines from a book of his (Happy Birthday To You!) is "Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you." I have said that line to myself so many times throughout my life as a reminder when I'm feeling inadequate, unsure and feeling like a failure. Those Dr. Seuss words have seen me though an array of failures from failed friendships to failed career paths, to a failed marriage to A TON of failures as a parent. This is so so SO important for parents especially, to keep reminding ourselves and our kids. If you're a single parent like me, this is crucial. There may not be another adult in your home to reinforce the importance of those Dr. Seuss life-affirming ideas to you and your babies.

You are you. God made you unlike anyone else He made. Our kids are enough. Whether they make the team, achieve the grades, have all the friends, play all the instruments. It's going to be OK. You and I are enough, without the filters, the airbrushing or the envious and awe-inspiring Instagram photos and Facebook status updates. Takes me back to the old-school family newsletters on card stock, bordered stationary with all the announcements of honor roll, job promotions and pictures of award-winning magazine-worthy homes that only the people who actually HAD all of those things to write about, wrote about. I'm still waiting on a newsletter that proudly proclaims that Sarah has consistently earned a "D" in math three years in a row, Timothy got kicked out of choir because of his perpetually loud belting of notes that are so off key, the rest of the ensemble quickly derails, and little Amy is still in diapers at 4 and a half, and has no desire to participate in her pre-school's rigorous academic curriculum because she just wants to play in the sandbox and get dirty and be a regular kid, for goodness' sake!

I pray I will grow to have more courage to be unapologetically real with my many times average, sometimes below average life and accomplishments, or lack thereof. More so, I pray that my kids are learning from me, though I often fall short of encouraging them towards embracing this way of thinking and living. I want them to really, REALLY take hold of the freeing knowledge that in life there is failure. And failure doesn't have to be damaging. It is growth inducing, compassion enhancing, relationship building. We are all flawed, all with ugly life experiences. God looks at all the mess and countless failures and sees unique, beautiful, wonderful, accepted, loved, precious creations. That unpleasant word, undesirable, unworthy of a stellar social media post: FAILURE? I'm taking it back and refusing to let it wield its power over me.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

All Things New (Except My Socks)

What should a very first blog post on a brand new blog be about? Is there a rule for that sort of thing? A special formula that only the most amazing and eye catching blogs get in on? That's the question that had me pondering, daydreaming and forgetting boiling pots of water and burning pans of peas on the stove (Who burns peas???? I'll tell you about my horrific cooking journeys another time) while stream of consciousness brainstorming over the last couple weeks. Do I start it off with a funny story about my less-than glamorous life as a single mom of three girls and three pets who sometimes forgets the deodorant stage of getting ready for work in the mornings, and flies out the door with mug of coffee splashing all over shirt/purse/floors/car door handle while wearing trouser socks with holes because I hate to throw socks away? Or do I post my favorite scriptures with a serious discussion about some of my more painful moments in life like my divorce or death of someone I loved? Just kind of dive on into hard-core, plain old life stuff?

Then I thought about Easter-the Jesus being crucified and rising from the dead three days later to bring us all new life version, not the fancy dresses, bunny and eggs filled with candy version. Although bunnies are definitely precious, and let me be transparent about the fact that I have enjoyed many a mini-candy bar stealthily swiped from my three daughters' Easter basket candy hauls over the years. The chocolate-loving mom candy capers I have pulled off during the Easter season have proved more challenging as my daughters have gotten older, and there have been some uncomfortable conversations between said daughters and me, most of which have gone something like this:

Daughter 1: "Mom, quit taking our Easter candy!"

Me: "Why would I take your Easter candy? That's just silly. Pshhhh. I can buy my own candy. But I don't because I try to stay away from candy."

Daughter 2: "We know you stole it because we each have 10 less pieces than when we last counted!" (I've always been fair by stealing equally from each of the three baskets.)

Daughter 3: "Plus we heard you in your closet opening candy wrappers."

I've got nothin.

But I digress. My thoughts about Easter as the holiday approached were set on the beauty of new life, beginnings, second chances. This blog. After having writing dreams since I was a little girl, yet facing the obstacle course of just LIFE, I suddenly found myself a 30-something, busy working single mom with microscopic slivers of "free time" and not a whole lot of motivation. But I know I have a story that needs to get out and touch people.

We hear the adages "all things new", "new and improved" and "new beginnings", but what does that really mean? I can tell you that for me it means God's mercies are new every morning (Lamentations 3:22-23). Every day that I feel the weight of the world from quickly approaching work deadlines, endless loads of laundry to wash, my bad attitudes, no spouse to help me get through the second part of the day after work to cook dinner, help kids with homework for like 10 hours (what's up with this new-fangled math, people?!!), clean up dishes, get kids to bed, etc etc, and my own personal trials and growth journeys, I KNOW that I KNOW that I KNOW that God gives me strength and fresh perspective to face each new day.

This Easter season, let's remind ourselves that because of Jesus' gift of himself, we have the awesome opportunity to let go of the old things and clothe ourselves with the everyday newness of His mercy, grace, wisdom, strength, compassion and love-for ourselves and others. We don't have to be tough on our own-this is one I battle with, being a self-proclaimed "strong, independent woman". Yes, every day there are the screw ups and less than desirable moments, the times when we want to throw a shoe and say ok, that's it! Adulting is too hard! I want my mommy and a nap! But through all the ugly cries and too many eaten mini-candy bars, Jesus is right there, gently reassuring us that tomorrow is new. Heck, the next moment is new. Put on that garment of praise and let the disappointments and self-condemnation fall away! Just don't ask me to buy new socks.