Month: September 2013 (Page 4 of 5)

Weak punches

Thursday afternoon I decided to forgo a well-deserved naptime snooze for a round of butt-kicking with my buddy Jillian. She tells me that I can get ripped in a quick 30 minute session. Or 30 days. I’m not sure. And while no one has categorized my body as “ripped”, my pre-baby jeans fit, so I’m happy with 30 whatevers that she asks. 

Partway through the 2nd circuit I could tell I was loafing. The next thing I know, I’m getting one squat thrust to every 3 that the “beginner” model put forth. At one point I thought to myself, “why do I even bother?”
I believe that thought crept in because somewhere down the line someone once told me that “anything worth doing is worth doing well.” It was probably a teacher. Or a motivational speaker. Maybe Zig Zigler put it on a poster. 
But you  know what, Zig? I was burning more calories, I was building more muscle, I was energizing my spirit far more with my 1-to-3 squat thrusts than I was sitting on the couch. So it was worth doing.  
Jillian likes to yell at me as a form of motivation or encouragement (or something?) to “give it everything you have.” But what about the days I just don’t have much? And this goes far beyond my energy level required to kick my high knees. What about when my patience level sits at a 4 all day? Or when my motivation wanes to finish the 4 (yes, count them, 4) baskets of laundry? 
I don’t think I need to give it my all of alls. I just need to give my best that I have at that moment. Any steps toward progress, however imperfect, make the efforts worth it. So many times we play the blame game, berating ourselves that we can’t speak with perfectly calm voices after the two-year-old bites the 3-year-old. We forget – again!- to focus on learning an alphabet letter each week. And the big things – loving our husbands or our neighbors better, seeking peace and justice in our lives and our communities… does this meager step even matter?
Sometimes the lack of perfection serves as the perfect excuse to quit altogether. But don’t buy the lie. I’m not a big Satan-blamer, but the Father of Lies uses a common piece of ammunition: it doesn’t matter*. Little things mean nothing. Go hard or go home. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. 
This is where I believe we could borrow valuable wisdom from my yoga teacher, who regularly reminds us to be present in our practice and attend to what is happening right now. Perhaps you can’t go as far as you did yesterday – but go as far as you can today. 
Wherever we get the idea that a less-than-perfect outcome is unacceptable seeks only what we can produce, not the process of growth. Some days we might grow more than others. And on the days we can really rock it (regularly a Monday for me) – then really rock it. Kick it in the junk. 
When the days start badly, move slowly and end much later than you wished, still do what you can. Accept the “imperfect progress” (as Lysa TerKeurst puts it) as one of the best means of growth – steady, sustainable change for the long haul. 
*Another big one is “you’re all alone.” Don’t buy that one, either.   

The first and the last

A friend once commented, “there’s something about the child that christens you with the title of mother.” It beautifully expressed this parenting phenomenon. It’s as if we, as parents, are being led through this journey by the first child, exploring the world through these new parent-eyes. All the firsts we encounter via the eldest child mark us; we earn our badges with the first one. 

In that shared experience, we bond differently with our firsts than we do our seconds. Not that any child is more loved; it’s just that you remember your first big failures and successes far easier than you remember the consecutive ones. We bear more scars as we clear the way through the parenting forest the first time. Once the path is established, fewer branches come back to smack us in the face (though, they do exist. And those really knock the wind out of you). 
This entire theory is why I propose everyone should have a 4th baby. It’s not that it gets easier with each child – you just start to know what you’re doing. You spend considerably less time on the lookout, poised for a reaction to something you don’t know is coming at you. 
Instead, by the 4th go, you get to enjoy the ride. Ah yes, the turn is pretty sharp up ahead – better slow down. And here comes that killer hill on the 4th mile: gear up. Here we go. Every kid brings challenges: individual challenges and sometimes different challenges. But as parents we can exert considerably less brain-power figuring out where the road is leading and simply enjoy the journey. When driving through a beautiful countryside but you don’t know where you’re going, you miss the landscape because you’re looking at the map. But once you know the lay of the land, you start to notice the strong, towering trees and the way the sun lingers over the hills. 
So I find myself sitting and holding the baby a bit more than I used to. His early wakings aren’t as draining. If he’s hungry? Feed him. Tired? Nap him. The schedules aren’t as necessary as a guide anymore because my motherhood compass can finally read true north on its own. Those books and ideas served a well-deserved purpose in the early years, but finally I find myself writing my own field guide. 
The inconveniences that used to wear me down from infancy now bring me great joy. Nursing the baby brings a moment to breathe, to stop what I’m doing. I used to want to stab anyone who told me to enjoy those frequent interruptions to the day – don’t they see the size of my to do list? Now I’ve learned it will all get done. Dinner will be served, even if out of a cardboard box. 
So here’s to the 4th. Perhaps other parents learn this lesson by the second time around, or the third. A supremely select group of individuals exist that make fantastic first/only time parents and I try not to look at them with envious disdain. I just seem to require a bit more repetition to learn the lesson. 

When everyone is not the competition: thoughts on #peacemaking

While I was busy over the summer having a baby, my town prepared for an influx of thousands of people as the Gentlemen of the Road music festival seized it. One of my clients sat poised to make the most profit in a singular weekend in the history of their 10+ year business. As much as I tried to be useful and effective, I was not the person to make their dreams come true. 

So their resource for building websites and creating their print marketing materials worked with them to re-image and re-brand and position them for the big weekend. Part of this included an element of what I had been providing to them for nearly a year in terms of social support. 
At first I was hurt. And a bit scared. And self-conscious. Were they not happy? Did they not believe in me? But I took myself out of the equation and realized: they needed something I could not provide. So they found it. Actually, it had a lot less to do with me than I believed it to be. 
I met the woman who had helped them with the big campaign. It would have been easy to cast her the villain, the competition, to play the “I can do anything you can do better” game. But I decided that she wasn’t the competition. She was someone doing her job, and doing it well. She was a partner in making one of my clients very successful. Of course our skills overlap, but I don’t do a large chunk of what she does. And she doesn’t do what I do at the ground level. We’re the same. But we’re not. 
When I took this other woman out of the role of the adversary, I suddenly lived with a much greater sense of peace. I didn’t hide my head to the fact that my clients could decide to cut my services to use her, but I realized it’s because she has something to offer that I don’t (namely, photography and website building). She’s not the enemy, she’s simply doing a good job.  
I began to wonder what it would look like if we stopped assuming that everyone was the competition. I know all the business-driven people will object to my line of thinking, but I don’t really come to the world with an eye for business, but rather an eye for the holy. I need to make a living, but that’s not my purpose, so it’s not what drives me. (My husband and my father probably just face-palmed to that one. Sorry.)
I mean it. What if we stopped looking at everyone as competition and began to appreciate what they had to offer? When this woman began to be the person building my clients a beautiful website and providing beautiful photographs, then we were suddenly partners in building and serving a client. The greater good was served. 
Today of all days begs me to ask what it means to be a peacemaker. How do we seek peace? As we reflect on our feelings of being attacked while we (as a country) contemplate action in Syria and beg for peace and other alternatives, I have to wonder at a much deeper level what it means to seek peace in my life and in the world. 
 
I don’t believe seeking peace means falsely admitting wrongs. I don’t believe it means “taking it” like a pansy. I also don’t believe it means living poised for retaliation, ready to defend any and all wrongs for the sake of being right. 
The more I think about it, I believe it means living in a posture that sees people – all people, even those we disagree with and don’t enjoy – as people. Humans. Who are trying to do the best with what they have. Humans who, like myself, aren’t perfect. And maybe in their imperfection, they too forgot to see me as human. 
We forget that, at the root of it all, she or he is made from the same dust. We spin around on a shared orb, needing the same sun and moon to shine to keep us alive. We don’t have to assume someone else’s success and good fortune came at the cost of my own; at the same time, we need to live in question if our own good fortune is coming at the cost of someone else. We don’t have to live in competition with everyone we meet. 
So what does this look like? Not just in foreign relations politics, not just in business, but in our daily lives? It means realizing my husband had a tough day at work while I served the homefront. It’s not a competition for who had the tougher day. It’s realizing Miss M isn’t trying to be difficult, she just feels sick. It’s seeing the well-dressed and beautiful moms at preschool pick up and not deciding that they have it all together, that their finances are in order and they would get the asking price on their house while I pull my sick kids away from the TV and put them in the car in their pajamas because it’s the only means of functioning. It means not assuming the buyers on our house won’t bargain because they want to take advantage of us. 
I think peacemaking means giving what I need the most: just a little bit of grace to make it through this moment. 
***
It’s obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulations of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into  a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on. 

But what happens when we live God’s way? he brings gifts into our lives, much the same way fruit appears in an orchard – things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. 
Galatians 5:19-23, The Message
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