Temporary Yuck

I’ve procrastinated as much as possible this morning…putting off the time I dedicate to being still, hammering away at the keys as it often dredges up deep truths. Annoying, irritating, gritty truths.  I don’t have to count the days to know in my soul it’s that time of year…this time, three years ago, mom took a spiral decline and hours spent bedside simply were not enough. I know it’s that time…I don’t want to admit it, I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it.  Keeping my schedule tightly packed, mind full of distracting thoughts, busy little brain…but still it pulls, rises, tugs and plucks, needing to be acknowledged. I don’t want to identify with sadness…a thousand other daughters have lost their mothers.  My head is satisfied with her loss…she suffered, fought, and I know exactly where she is and that I’ll see her again.  That should bring me enough peace.  I’m neither happy, sad, or mad, but still those emotions rise. I’m flat, un-bubbly, care-less. I prefer bubbly, approachable, chatty, smiley…just not feeling it today.  Or yesterday.  There’s so much to do this time of year, so much cheerful possibility…I’m angry at the process…the temporary yuck.  

Procrastinating

Less of an over-thinker more of a procrastinator, I become paralyzed by possibilities. A wonderful concept settles in, then compounded by many others, it becomes shelved and nothing at all gets accomplished.  A basket of quick bites to family members counting breaths with their hospice bound mother…coulda shoulda, but just not executing. Meanwhile, the brainless tasks of dishes and laundry are quickly completed. The easy stuff accomplished, while the meaningful stuff goes undone. All heart heavy, scary stuff…the kinda stuff that makes eyes leaky, leaves one looking weak and wordless.

It’s that time of year. Three years ago, I was blessed to sit for 13 days counting my own mother’s breath.  For seemingly no reason, long quiet stares and fatigue are becoming common lately.  Longing either for the coziness of my pillow or a mind-numbing lengthy list of distracting to-dos.  Meanwhile, the gift of history, experience, goes unused.  It’s hard, it’s yucky, it’s not pretty and will likely produce an ugly cry, but it’s what I’ve been trained for. I’ve navigated the rough terrain, I’ve slept in the uncomfortable recliners, I’ve eaten the tasteless cafeteria food, I’ve discerned the glances of doctors. What good is the experience if you can’t use it to help another?  So slowly, I pull one leg, then another followed forward by my heavy heart toward the store…I’m off to fill a basket and stop procrastinating.  

Thanksgiving Thoughts

My brain and heart were mush over Thanksgiving break.  Lots of contemplation over how to love-well a person so completely different than me. Bound and determined to shower her with love, every effort fell short. Attempts to stay calm and reflect a lighter way to live turned grim. Speaking softly does not always equal speaking with compassion…in the end, my soft words still carried a steely tone.  Stuff I’m not proud of.

Do we truly have such varied definitions of peace and love? Are we really that different? Don’t we both ultimately want the greater good for our loved ones and ourselves? 

Over much contemplation and confirmation from dear ones, there’s slim to zero chance in me personally changing her definitions or perspectives…the baggage there simply too thick for me to navigate.  All I can control is myself and I was failing miserably on that front as well. In a grand revelation, perhaps the lesson to learn isn’t in changing her perspective, but instead, how to stay calm in the storm. No one can steal my joy.  No one can dictate my happiness.  But I surely handed it over on a nice shiny tray each day…allowing my happy to be dissected and discarded in tiny bite size pieces.  There's still some training required to preserve my happy...a work in progress.

Perhaps one day a grand revelation will fall upon her as well.  Til then, I will continue to send love and live the kind of life that reflects love, peace, joy, kindness, compassion, and wisdom. 

Follow Your Bliss

I adore Joanna Gaines.  I love her effortless simplicity. I love her generous nature.  I love her attention to detail.  Last night, I gained yet another aspect to love.  She has a sweet surrender to that still small voice.  They lean on God, a lot.  Big decisions, often in an unexpected direction always begin with that still small voice.

Inspired, it prompted me to consider my own path.  What is His will for me and my family?  How can I be sure I’m in the right place at the right time doing the right thing? As if on queue, that quiet voice answered,  “Follow your bliss”...where joy is, there He is.  Expertly crafted for excellent purpose, there’s an ultimate reason for my unique joy. What brings me joy isn’t necessarily the same thing that brings others joy and that variety is exactly what keeps the world spinning. What I adore, what brings me bliss, compounded with the bliss of every other obedient soul, is exactly what the world craves.   Long-lasting, eye-opening, uplifting and encouraging joy is the sort that changes the world one sweet soul at a time.  

Affirmed that I’m exactly where I should be for the moment, doing what I should be doing, I’ll continue to create space in my day to listen for that still small voice and follow my bliss.  

Just Know

Lots of college talk here lately… the first large, lane-shifting, life-altering choice is upon her.  A handful of heady decisions behind me, the best advice I offer is ‘that you just Know’.   I can lay out all the pros, cons, financials, reviews, advice, test scores, prestige, and pomp but ultimately, in all large decisions, you just Know.  From the rear view, I can see that all our major life decisions came down to The Know.

I knew Tim was the one when he told me he liked Scrapple (it’s the little things). I knew Bauernwood Drive was our first home the moment my body crossed the threshold…maybe it was the smell or the feel, but I had seen neither the bedrooms nor the basement and I Knew.  

No doubt she’ll draw pretty lines in her notebook with crisp comparison columns. She’ll watch campus videos and read alumni reviews.  She’ll dig the depths of each website accumulating, processing, comparing.  She’ll look, listen, touch and feel, then ultimately and hopefully she’ll release and just Know.  Even when the columns don’t add up, when every one and every thing points in a different direction, she’ll just Know.   And when she Knows, it will be the right and proper choice.  She’ll step forward bravely in the direction of her dreams with the first of many big decisions behind her. 

Gatherings of Women

Having very different gatherings of women surround me this weekend, typical worries of what to wear settled into old familiar and comfortable clothing. No fidgeting, no worries, one last gaze of approval from my fashion guru teenager then I was off.  Anticipation mounting, butterflies begin to stir as I approached the entrance, but quickly dissolved among familiar faces. Speed round catch up, then settling with a select few I’m most curious about. Thrilled at their accomplishments, their accolades, their families, the passion they’ve discovered, some bound to make major changes in this world, others amidst major stress, struggling to find solid ground.  Savoring their words, lost years dissolved.  Too quickly, our time ended and I realized the importance of not trying so hard…there was never a need to impress, instead, a great need to listen, to Be.  Nothing to gain from my long separated friends, just a simple appreciation for the women they’ve become. 

The long contemplative ride home led me to gathering number two.  Still abuzz with admiration, I primped and headed off.  A smaller group, more intimate, local peeps. All in costume, but seeing beyond to their heart, similar worries over children, insecurities, unsure futures.  More listening, more Be-ing. Realizing a personal lack of striving...a confidence in self that isn’t based on who I associate with, not focused on being friend to all…instead, intent on adding value to all. One, however, seeming so confident yet purposely avoiding my gaze.  Scrolling thru your phone when I approach, I see you. A difficult nut to crack, battles unaware, sending love instead.  Love that settles into her bones and changes the way she sees the world, love that dissolves judgment, comparison, fear, negativity…endless amounts of falsely protective walls. I don’t need to be your friend, your bestie…but I can appreciate you and expect good things for you.

Head hit the pillow hard that evening… thoughts, conversations spinning.

Grateful. Uplifted by lifting up others…Satisfied. 

Petty Stuff

There are 30 homes on my sleepy street and each Halloween, we share a lil Boo.  Bags of goodies are left on the doorstep with instructions to share with others.  Paper ghosts mark the homes already ‘Boo-ed’.  Only a few short years ago, (I’m embarrassed to admit) I’d carry much pride in initiating the Boo-trend here on Tree Hollow but would carry instant angst if someone else began their own circuit…marked clearly by a different ghost.  I remember that gut kick, knee jerk, icky-ugly reaction of gall like it was last Halloween. Utterly disgusted that someone else would compete…

This week, I drove past a neighbor home this week and saw the familiar Boo ghost posted and had such JOY…I remember the kids shrieking when the doorbell rang and discovered the mystery basket dropped at our doorstep. Sweet little things. What was missing this time was the angst…no longer caring if I was the ground-breaker or not. Feeling instantly silly for ever caring. What changed?  Am I filled with more joy? Has my focus shifted to bigger and better things?  Embarrassed that I ever cared that much for something so very insignificant, I pondered, what else no longer carries angst? What other petty stuff no longer concerns me? Then, what petty stuff am I currently carrying that will seem silly in 5, 10, 15 years?  An inventory seems in order…or at least a fresh awareness of that instant gut kick, knee jerk, icky-ugly reaction that rears its head from seemingly no where at all.

What other petty stuff troubles me?

And how quickly can I purge….because JOY feels so much better. 

Glaringly Aware...My 45-Year-Old Self

Turning 45 this year made me glaringly  aware of several things.  Treating myself to an hour of peaceful yoga made me glaringly aware of how very inflexible I’ve become.  Poses that once came easily, were now stiff and cumbersome…not a single inch wasn’t sore days later. Once home, I attempted a manicure and became glaringly aware, once more.  Distances that were once clear, now are fuzzy.  I couldn’t get far enough away from my nails to see the polish clearly. With a huge sigh, surrendering into Tim’s reading glasses, I was both bummed and relieved to see close up once more.  Days later, once the yoga burn subsided, I tried my hand at a long dusty workout video and was glaringly aware that I must now follow the gal in the back that features the modified version. Ugg.

‘I will not go quietly into that good night’ keeps ringing in my 45-year-old ears. (which I’m glaringly aware no longer hear as well as my younger ears).  Supposing the alternative to aging is much worse, I must hunker down and fight. Clearly yoga needs to be a regular thing for me…twice a year just isn’t cutting it.  And, I suppose that the dust will need to be cleared from my workout videos for good. I’ll keep my gaze on that sweet and smiley gal in the back until I can hang tough with the frontliners.   AND, if I must wear readers now, I will be sporting the absolute cutest pair I can find!   You will find me raging, raging ‘against the dying of the light’! 

Rosy Facebook Posts

I’m not even close to perfect.  However, according to  my Facebook feed, all things are rosy.  Recently several friends declared they’re ditching Facebook because it’s so fake.  I get it.  But maybe a rosy post is all others can muster.  I’ve met surface level ladies that will only let you get one layer thick before drawling back into their shell.  Anything deeper may reveal painful scars. A rosy post is just an easy way to stay connected, or an easier way to handle something sad.  

Would you prefer reality instead?  It seems we receive daily reminders of how very dark this world truly is.  Perhaps a sweet story or a lovely pic is all that’s keeping them clinging to sanity. What you see is only a glimmer of the load another is carrying. Be grateful you don’t see all truth...you might not like what you find. Behind closed doors, friends struggle with abusive husbands, cunning illnesses, precarious employment, fragile finances, insecurities, fears, depression.

I wonder if the more accurate issue is that rosy posts remind you that your own life is in spiral.  Happy families, secure homes, exotic vacations, all reminders of more appealing options. Comparison is a slippery slope, my friend.  No need to wallow…step out and step up. Change things up. Make yourself better, seek a quality group of friends, read an uplifting book, watch a powerful Youtube video, listen to a sermon online.  Be happy for another’s success…it means there’s room for you to be successful.  Be grateful for joy…it’s a rare and beautiful thing.

A Good Base

My name is Lisa Weigard, I attend Grace church, I have two teenagers, a husband of 20 years and a dog, Charlie. I am co-Owner of a local shop, Soulshine Boutique which offers women’s clothing and accessories  in a feel good way…meaning everything we offer is either made in the US, is fair trade or gives back in some form. We’re more than your typical apparel shop, though,  we truly aim to make women feel lovely from the inside out!  Soulshine is all about taking what’s within and making it shine upon the world.  I truly believe there’s nothing we can’t do once we have a good base. My Irish Uncle Tom used to always say, ‘Build a Good Base, Set a Good Pace’.  Now, he applied it to his drinking philosophy, but I believe it applies to so much more!  A solid foundation is much easier to build upon, a good base makes everything else flow in proper order!

This year’s MOPS theme really spoke to my soul as a woman, mom and business owner...living free, being gutsy, letting love be the loudest voice, let me say it again because they are worthy goals: living free, being gutsy, and letting love be the loudest voice.  All things I aim to live out each and every day, but it seems like work, and who has time for that ugly word, work.  We balance checkbooks, we clean dirty knees, we kiss boo-boos, we schedule play dates, we kiss our husbands, we hug our kids, we pack lunches, make dinners, we load the dishwasher, we unload the dishwasher, we hang crayola pictures, we sweep the floor, we dust and drive, smile and strive.  And if we have a spare precious moment we take a shower or apply some lipgloss.  Some days I feel like I’ve got it all together, when all the dots connect, the kids and hubby are clean, fed, and happy.  I’ve also had those days that feel like they’ll never get better, never stop spinning when absolutely nothing goes right, when it’s hard to even get out of bed much less paste a smile on your face. 

I can stand up here and tell you how to look adorable, how to organize your closet, what accessories to add to finish the look.  I can sell you an easy-everyday dress any day of the week. You’ll arrive home with your shiny new purchase, however, and may still feel incomplete… you’ll not be satisfied until we start at the beginning, strip away all the fluff, the expectations, the busy lists, and constant queue, working right down to the base.  Where’s your foundation, what’s your anchor, what’s your safe place, your touchstone? What brings you joy? Who and whose are you?

I’m not perfect.  I’m still a work in progress.  Until just a few years ago, and sometimes a few minutes ago, I was an untethered, approval-seeking, easily overwhelmed mess of a people-pleaser. I over booked my calendar, over volunteered in every church group. I surrounded myself with friends that gossiped and partied hard which ultimately made me gossip and party hard. I didn’t like who I saw in the mirror, I didn’t like who I was becoming as a mom,  I wasn’t a good friend. I was allowing the world to define me with all its comfortable definitions and expectations.  I was the opposite of free.  I was striving; I was drowning in trying to keep up with this world.  My soul ached for peace, for freedom….not knowing I already had it, I sought it instead in the world.  I sought it in fancy planners, I sought it in social media, I sought it in our finances, I sought it the never-ending and impossible effort of pleasing my entire network.  Any outcome was rusty, the thrill short lived, the after effects unfulfilling. I hit the pillow unsatisfied, disappointed, exhausted, feeling worthless, out of control, useless. I was burdened by stinking thinking. That wasn’t God’s plan for me, those expectations were either picked up or layered upon me all my myself and the world, not by God. All these things, tasks, thoughts and beliefs shouldn’t have defined me. 

Thankfully, when you are unable to see the problem or make the change yourself, God helps. He took away friends, He put that restless feeling that something just isn’t right in me to step away from all volunteer commitments and with a clean slate, I was able to see what I had become and what God had intended for me instead.

Over time, He opened my eyes to incremental truths…dropping one little seed at a time, thru this person, this bible verse, that song lyric. I AM fully loved, sought for, adored. I’m already loved, regardless of how organized my calendar is, regardless of how I look each and every day, regardless of whether I serve the healthiest meal or a round of Cherrios for dinner. I had a newfound authority to say No, really, really clearly and without feeling guilty…and no one hated me for it. With a lighter load, God revealed a core group of authentic friends and without a scrambling schedule, I was open and available to a new business venture…one where we get to encourage ladies every single day. Only when I realized I am fully loved could I truly and authentically love others.

Once that kind of truth really sinks into your core, saturates every thought, it begins to filter everything you see and say… then can you truly live that Free life.  That Free way of living that allows you to be truly Gutsy (it may mean you kindly walk away from some friend groups.  It may mean you step away from some extraneous and not-soul fulfilling church groups.  It may mean prayerful counseling with a husband.  It may mean letting go of the striving to be thinner, better, prettier, more organized, more, more, more (there’s always somebody thinner, better, prettier, and more organized).   And the crazy thing, that Be Gutsy reality is that you don’t have to work for it…it’s not one more thing to add to your long list of to-dos.  It’s the opposite of striving, it’s a true letting go, a true surrender.  It’s a truth that’s constant, a solid resting point, a secure base. It’s choosing Freedom and Faith over Fear.  From that place of Freedom can you find true rest.  The truth that you are already loved WILL BE the only constant in this ever changing world.  That solid foundation, that good base, that God thinks you are absolutely beautiful, perfectly created, destined for great things, put here for a purpose at this specific time at this specific place. Every single thing afterwards falls into it’s rightful place.

This is a beautiful group of amazing women…each with your own story, some tragic, some still unfolding, some of you are feeling overwhelmed with kiddos, unsatisfied with relationships, others of you are struggling with illness, abuse, addiction.  I don’t know where you are in your journey with God, you may not feel like you have enough Faith to surrender and be truly Gutsy, letting love go first and be the loudest voice.   You may not fully understand how He sees you quite yet.  You may not believe it or maybe you feel unworthy of that much love, power, beauty.  I’ll be your stand-in until it sinks in. I’ll hold your Faith for you until you can carry it yourself.  You are loved.  You are beautiful.  You are powerful. Take that deep exhale and release your striving, that never ending, never fulfilling pursuit of perfection.  He already sees you as perfect. 

My parting advice as a mom of teenagers, as a business owner and fellow woman, find that good base.  Rest assured, that from that good base, all other things flow. Your time, your parenting, your friendships, your self-worth, your priorities…all make sense when you know who and whose you are.  All you need is a good base.

  

Life Lessons over Guacamole

Recently, I shared guacamole with a sparkly woman I barely knew and was so blessed for it. Time stood still savoring her story…tragedy, darkness, health issues, addiction, family and relationship issues… things that often create victims instead became a launching point to build a victor.  The pivotal part of her story was finally realizing her worthiness….then the weeding began.  

One by one, she painfully plucked away all her cozy familiar vices, departed from toxic relationships, healing herself in the process. The hardest weeds seemed all too comfortable…her own personal crazy, there so long they seemed to define, deep and grounded, they weren’t easy to pull.  Beginning with a little pruning, then avoidance, but over time, realizing it only brought sadness, empathy, negativity, she gathered momentum and purged it for good. What remained was much lighter. 

She set some big, fat, hairy and scary goals and once passion was in place, the right opportunities flowed…in bucket loads.  Seems like the dark was holding her back all along, keeping her hidden, keeping her blinded. What a beautiful world she shares through her artful camera lens. 

She inspired me in many ways…to remember my worthiness, keeping a watchful eye on the weeds, the importance of passion, and finally, a sweet reminder that we all have a story…and if we sit still enough to listen, there is much to learn. 

So Much to Say

Asked to speak to a roomful of new moms, I’ve been diligently tapping away at the keys trying to gather the right words to say.  Blog writing is a hobby, a document of my own personal soul journey…words on screen, however,  seem so neutral compared to words spoken. Will I stammer, will I wander, will I disappoint, will I cry? The image of standing among 70 ladies, all eyes on me, microphone eagerly waiting to capture my words, my knees weak, hands shaking…it’s enough to shallow my breath. 

At the same time, I’m reeling…so much to say to young moms, so many things to tell them from the other side of parenthood.  Don’t worry so much, take your time, release unnecessary burdens, breathe deeply. Other words on being a woman, more unnecessary burdens, the contemplation of busy,  wasted time worrying.  The more ladies I meet, the more I realize we’re all just trying to figure it out…day by day, sometimes minute by minute, barely breathing, pasted smile, one foot moving ahead of the other. I want to tell them they aren’t alone, this world and it’s bombardment of issues can isolate us, set us apart from our tribe.  It's so unnecessary. 

So much to say in 15 minutes. So I throw them all into the pot, turn on the heat and let it simmer…reducing it down to the base, the most important, the deep roots foundation of it all.  The words spill as I obediently tap them out, hoping they speak to their soul.  Stay tuned. 

The Sweet Comfort of No

Years and years of Yeses is now revealing to me the sweet comfort of No.  If there is a task to accomplish, a seat to fill, a desperate vacancy, without much consideration, I was your girl.  Rallying the troops, encouraging and organizing was my jam. Plates were spinning wildly in every direction.  It was so easy to give, give, give then come home exhausted with nothing left in the tank for the ones that need my love the very most.

Slowly plucking away all the weeds…tasks that weren’t adding joy to my soul, that didn’t serve a purpose in the world or my life. Then deeper and more difficult, I considered what remained. Was I meant for this? Was it bringing me great joy? Just because I was good at something, it didn’t necessarily mean I was the girl for the task.  Am I committed only for the friendship, notoriety, or sheer busyness? Out it went.

What remained was The Best Yes…those core commitments that I’m meant for, those things that deserved my absolute best. Free from everything extra, now able to dedicate time and love to those things that needed it the most….the really excellent things.

What I also found in saying No was that very quickly an even more qualified person filled the position. I was holding her spot inadvertently all along. Saying No feels really, really good and surprisingly, people don’t hate me for it.  What remains is a more concentrated, more dedicated version of me….and I kinda like her.

Strength is Given

The morning duties are done…lunches packed, parting kisses delivered, dog fed and his morning bathroom visit completed, a mind clearing walk behind me and I sit, obedient to Wednesday writing.  The flurry of distraction hovers…so many other chores to complete, tasks unfinished, why the wasteful writing? Because it clears the flurry.  Too many noises in my brain, my typical response would be to rush, sloppily accomplish as many things as possible.  Instead, I find a comfy spot and breathe…calmly inhale, relax the eyes, purposefully exhale, legs melt into the floor, mentally sticky note any distractions.  Waiting patiently for the right words, guidance for today…and there she is, Wisdom graces me like a dove. 

Strength is given not in proportion to the person, but in relation to the task at hand.

Today, he gives me small amounts of strength simply because I’m not meant to move the world at this moment.  Tomorrow is a new day.  What relief. Another big exhale.

I’m no different, nothing special all on my own...there are, however, big things on my wish list: souls I want to uplift, words I want to speak, lives I wish to prosper.  It’s no surprise to the Big Guy, as He put the desire there in the first place.   He’s bringing the right people, putting me in the right situations, preparing hearts and paving the way.  In that perfect moment, He’ll give me all the strength and wisdom I need.  But for now, I inhale, I exhale, all done in perfect timing. My deep calm is interrupted by the metallic clanging of Charlie’s collar tags…then a curious, sand-paper lick.  My time is up.  Calmer than before, I sit again to write. 

Simply Sad - A Rant for Hateful Women

Some women find pure joy in the futile attempt to inflict damage and destruction on other women. I’m not surprised…just disappointed. A dear friend shared with me the whispers that her marriage was headed for divorce as told to others by her cleaning lady.  She has neither a cleaning lady nor any ounce of trouble with her marriage.  It was the crafty lie of a woman, perhaps several women.

I have zero time or tolerance for such petty, wasteful chatter.  Where do some ladies find the time to mentally craft then spread such vile untruths? Perhaps they believe their lies will give them weight or worthiness with their friends? Maybe they want to be seen as the ‘one in the know’? Perhaps they simply find joy in the attempted destruction of another woman?  My brain doesn’t work like that….so what I’ve compiled instead, is a handy list of suggestions these sorts of women could follow to fill their mind and lives with a better replacement:

1)      Get a hobby. Any hobby.  Watercolors, knitting, crocheting, adult coloring books, reading, walking, running, gardening, yoga, dog walking, quilting, weight-lifting, kite-flying, hiking, kayaking, fishing, heck, collecting rocks…anything to fill your time with something useful, something productive, something that will bring you peace and joy.

  

2)      Volunteer.  This world has need at every corner.  Find a need and fill it.  Bring food to a elderly neighbor, donate food to a local shelter, volunteer at said local food shelter on distribution day, help process clothing donations at local shelters, make copies at your church, get out of your house and out of your head and help another.  It will change you, I promise.

3)      Get some Jesus.  Fill that heart with love and light and it’ll change how you think, how you see others, how you act, walk, talk.  It’ll change everything. Maybe that’s the ultimate issue…change is scary, it may uproot your friend network, it may inspire you to change jobs, it may totally upset your cart…in the end, it’s a better alternative.

I send love to my dear friend, her tender wounds, and her growing disillusionment towards other women.  She is strong, but sad.  I package up the hateful words with a neat and tidy bow and send them directly back to her enemies with much Love and much Light. You may believe you're strong, but you are simply sad. 

The Pursuit of Pretty

Contemplating Pretty recently and it dawned on me that as much as we pursue it, it isn’t the most ideal end game.  Consider all the ‘points of pretty’:

 It fades.  Today’s pretty is not tomorrow’s pretty.  It’s an ever moving target that is never fully attainable, forever just barely out of reach. 

There will always be someone prettier. Somewhat satisfied with your hair, someone else will have prettier eyes, and another will have prettier legs, and on and on til the break of dawn. Never fully satisfied with self, another will always be better.

It’s surface level.  There are sad quantities of stunning ladies that are dark on the interior…only a matter of time before the inside matches the outside.  It’s a rare and beautiful thing to find someone equally beautiful inside and out.  

Shifting my thoughts to a better alternative, Authenticity, isn’t it a better option to simply be authentic to yourself, showing the world the true you?  But then, what if the true authentic you is a true authentic jerk?  The world surely doesn’t need another jerk any more than it needs a surface level pretty face. 

What is the ultimate and necessary end game?  I’ve come to realize in this moment that the answer is to Be Kind.  Be Kind to yourself, your tribe, your community, your world. Be Kind with your time, your thoughts, your words.  Be Kind with all who cross your path, each day and in every moment.  Give more kindness than you take.  Give more kindness than you receive (ouch…that’s a toughie). Give more kindness than you see others giving…create a new bar of kindness. 

At nearly 45 years on this Earth, I’m shifting from the Pursuit of Pretty to a Revolution of Kindness. 

Tapping the Keys

It’s a new morning, the house still quiet. The dog is content…his head or butt likely on my pillow upstairs. With only the hum of the fridge and air conditioner, my mind quiets…not yet distracted with social feeds and cleaning. Where will my writing take me today? What new revelation will occur?  Not quite sure yet, I keep obediently tapping the keys until it emerges.

There are floors to clean, windows to wash, a vacation to pack for….all the mind numbing activities that need to be accomplished.  But do they? Or are they simply a distraction from something more important?

Often feeling overwhelmed and so easily distracted with shiny things, the list feels so long, the tasks so monumental, the needs so great, it’s much easier to stay distracted with social feeds and cleaning, thus keeping my light hidden. Getting out of my comfort zone to make real change seems frightening and where to even begin, the mountain feels beyond reach. The only resolution is one tiny step, then another…over time I’m half way there.  It's comforting to know I am not alone to climb this mountain, in reality, this mountain is not mine to climb, this battle not mine to fight.  I’m instructed to simply Be Still…not the same as Do Nothing.  So I keep tapping the keys and moving my feet in the direction and in proportion of my prayers. One step, one task, one need at a time…Obedient. 

Smiles are Free

I have changed location three times, trying to find the perfect spot along with the perfect words to describe a fresh awareness that came last week.  Words spill awkward, deleted, retyped, pages cleared for fresh thoughts. Afraid to sound selfish, self-centered, yet the words always returning to one singular point….I was humbled last week.  

With fresh awareness I realized that the simple smile, that positive outlook, one that comes so easily to me is not universal yet is enough to change the atmosphere. Often self-coined ‘blissfully naïve’, I had no idea how that simple smile brought change, lightened a load, cheered, encouraged.  Oblivious.  Surely then, I should throw that smile around like confetti, right?  Why often so difficult?  Do I now like fewer humans?  Have I become a skeptic? My ‘blissfully naïve’ turned to ‘annoyingly aware’?  It should be so easy to spread love all around… But what about those I find annoying?  What about those that have betrayed, hurt, disappointed?  Don’t they need love, too?

I’ve always clung to the ‘don’t throw your pearls before swine’ mindset…but who am I to define? Maybe she’s just having a bad day? Or perhaps her marriage is falling apart and my happy is disturbing, her past pains are too overwhelming to allow a sane relationship, her desperate need for love requiring a thick layer of lies.  I’m always unsure of the reason, but this I know.  Smiles are free.  Worst case, it’ll make the cynic wonder what I’m up to.  Best case, I’ve just made someone’s day.  It’s a win/win either way, so you’ll catch me smiling all the more! 

Letter to my 17-Year Old Self

I was my daughter’s age when this picture was taken and can remember my exact thoughts. I wished the skirt was longer, that it would hide my ‘jiggly’ legs.  Seriously?  Beauty seems so much clearer in the rear view.  Seeing this as a grand opportunity to speak truth into my own 17-year-old daughter...

 Letter to My 17-Year-Old Self:

You are absolutely beautiful.

You are made absolutely perfect.

Your beauty is so uniquely yours...OWN IT.

You have been blessed with an arsenal of gifts that are completely unique to you.

Stand tall, smile even more.

You may not be the world’s best athlete, but get out there and whoop it up.

Don’t let sabotaging thoughts hold you back from having fun.

Fear is only applicable with bears and fire.  (and maybe big spiders…and snakes). 

Don’t let fear stop you…something fabulous is right on the other side.

You are not defined by your shape, your hair, your skin, your smile. 

You are not defined by the boy…the one that does not appreciate your gift, your sparkle.

You are not defined by your grades, your friends, your family, your history, or your mistakes.

You are defined by how you treat people, so be kind always.

Don’t let anyone, not even your own cluttered mind tell you that you are unworthy.

Don’t linger too long with people that drain your happy. 

Surround yourself with positive people.

It’ll all work out, so don’t worry so much.

Every single day is a fresh chance to learn and grow.

Don’t let disappointment make you jaded or bitter.

Don’t compare yourself to others…they have their own demons.

If you don’t like something about yourself, change it.  You are not made of stone.

And most importantly, know that you are so very loved.  Let yourself be filled to the brim with love and let it filter every thought, every sight, every response, every word you release into the world and onto yourself.  Anything less is sub-par, rusty, fruitless, a noisy gong. Don't allow yourself to only see beauty in the rear view…it's been around you all along, my love.

xo

Busy Little Brain

Learning that the most successful people take time out of their day to meditate, be still,  be thankful, I thought what a easy thing to implement into my day.  It will be so simple to still my busy mind, I thought. So, for the past 6 months, at 1:30pm each day, my phone sends a sweet reminder to Be Still.  And each day, at exactly that time, my productivity peaks.  I’m on a roll, feeling super effective and there’s no way I can cease and Be Still. Instead, I hit ignore and promise to be still later.  But, perhaps in the midst of busy is best possible time, in fact, to Be Still. 

In previous attempts, like those sweet Savasana post yoga moments, my mind wanders like a kid on candy.  ‘What am I making for dinner’, ‘Am I breathing’, ‘I should check in on a friend’, ‘My back kinda hurts’, ‘Should I stop for gas’, ‘Are we out of milk’…and on it goes.  Like any new workout regimen however, it’ll take time to work that skull muscle…to retrain it to focus on nothing yet everything.  Even now, as I write this, daughter is pouring a clanking bowl of cereal and an irritating black fly sits stark against my white cabinets.  I’m already distracted. How to be still in the busy? 

What I crave is the ability to listen to that still, small voice in the midst of chaos and clutter. I seek that quiet wise suggestion to focus on the right stuff, to say the right words, to do the right thing, the same voice that typically is drowned in the busy little life I’ve created.  That wee voice seems so available when I’m quiet yet so elusive in the flurry and since the flurry will only increase, I’ll have to fight for finding Still. 

So today begins my busy brain work…at 1:30pm, regardless of productivity, I will Stop, Sit, and Be Still. Bless my busy little brain. 

The Next Terrible Thing

The past few weeks have brought equal amounts of joy and pain. It seems the more good I accomplish in the world, the more no-good-awful-terrible things tend to happen.  One marvelous thing followed by five terrible things made for a very discouraged soul creating very lethargic mornings…easier to stay under the covers than face the next terrible thing.

But what if the blessing is right behind the bad? What if I miss it? I swing one leg out of the bed, then the other. One step then another, peering around corners expecting the next terrible thing. Not normal behavior for an optimist, a bona-fide sparkle girl. Never before have I experienced such a long series of yuck, but never before have I been more transparent.  Never before have I been so absolutely visible.  Typically in a little bubble, hidden from most of the world, now I am consistently making myself seen, pushing out happiness and love onto anyone that will listen. Clearly, I’m onto something good, something important. It would be so much easier to stay under the covers, but instead, I keep moving forward, keep pushing love out into the world…onto my family, my friends, my customers. Today begins a new week…one with new blessings, new trials…bring it. 

Still a Work in Progress

The most basic of emotions reared their ugly heads this weekend reminding me that I’m still a work in progress.  On Friday, enroute to treat myself to a long overdue pedicure, I found myself stuck in local traffic while a slow motion accident happened three cars away.  Thinking myself safe, I exhaled then watched the car careen into car one, two, then colliding head-on into me, me, borrowing my daughter’s newly purchased, fully paid for, much loved Ford Explorer. Instead of ninja-like reflexes of patience, peace, prayer, I reverted directly into the foulest of sailor mouth.  Yep.  Swears worthy of the darkest biker bar came billowing out of my belly.  So much for ‘slow to anger’. 

Disappointed, yet thinking myself in the clear, back to sweet and peaceful, Lisa, the beast reared it’s head yet again the following day.  ‘Twas a beautiful Saturday, and we were enjoying a vendor event at a local festival.  Set up at the main entrance, a minivan sped by running over our display, a short distance from children and shopping moms.  Hulk emerged….hands up to the sky, furrowed brow, jerky words. Moms sheltering ears of their children…likely not, but perhaps…it all went black, I don’t even remember what words spilled. Disbelief, concern for my customers, shock. Anger.

I run to secure my happy meds, drink shakes for my health, read books for my wisdom, but what to do about the Hulk? I suppose we all need a small dose of him in proper circumstances, heck, even Jesus tipped tables. The key is knowing when to use him and when to hand him the hall pass.  My prayer…Lord, make me a Hulk only when I need it. Til then, wrap me up in a big comfy blanket of peace.  In Hulk and In Peace, when people see me, let them see you. Thanks that I’m still a work in progress. Amen. 

Let Go of the Dyson.

When things feel out of control, I clean.

When terrible things happen in this world, when no hope seems to be found, I clean. When the budget is running bumpy, when I’m not confident in my parenting, when a child is moving in a questionable direction, I clean. It’s the one thing I can do to make the exterior appear in order when everything is spinning out of control slightly underneath the surface.

In elementary school, Maya invited a friend over to play while the Mom stayed and  interviewed me.  She inspected my stove top and asked me a thousand questions about my life, my beliefs and in the end, passing her rigorous test, she allowed daughter to return unsupervised.  That has haunted me for so long  Just because the surface appears safe, who was she to judge my sanity, my safety, my beliefs? Every time I wipe down my stove top I think of her and grimace. Ultimately, I am a safe choice for playdates, but if her gauge of safety is a clean stovetop, I feel mightily afraid for her daughter.

When my mom was still at home, undergoing chemo, during the worst of her days, I’d show up Dyson in hand.  Seriously.  Instead of laying with her, holding her hand, whispering comforting words, I vacuumed and dusted.  How did that feel from her perspective?  Did she feel offended that I thought her home was simply not clean enough? Did she simply desire my company? Things I missed while gripping the Dyson.

I fight a shift in perspective daily, sometimes minute by minute, to clean simply for joy, heck, to live simply for joy….working as if working for God. Not because He dictates it, but because He has blessed me with much and I feel it’s the one small way I can show thanks.  But He knows the deeper need, the grime right under the surface.  He prompts me to Be Still…chatting like a good, good father, but in this moment, I’m frantic.  For what? The world feels so out of control, the budget isn’t where I want it,  I question my parenting, He knows.  Be still, He says.  Listen, He prompts.  Step away from the Dyson and sit with me.  And when I do, He breaks my fragile heart with the straight scoop.  I am loved. I am not defined by how well I clean, how well my kids perform, or even by the darkness in this world.  I am a light. I have great purpose and if I’m gripping too tightly to the Dyson, my hands aren’t open for something bigger.  Let it go, He says.  I know exactly what this world needs, but they must let go of the Dyson. 

So I Share...

Safe inside Weigard Casa, when the house is quiet, I write.  The distractions fade and my head finally quiets.  In the end, a new revelation revealed, perhaps only for me. I hit save and file them away for my own comfort.  But what others might benefit from the words that flow in these quiet moments?  Those tucked away, afraid to reach out? Are they drowning in fear?  Do they feel all alone?  Is sadness weighing heavy on their heart?  Has loss robbed their joy?  Are they afraid to speak? Are they unsure whom to trust with their tender heart?  Have friends disappointed?  Is their world caving in?  So I share.

My heart weighs heavy for the women who hide…keeping their gift locked safely inside. Seek that one precious friend that will safely absorb the crazy.  If there’s no one there, let it be me…I’ll gobble up the fear until it’s no more.  What a world this would be if women bravely stepped up and stepped out…not hiding their unique gift from the world. So I share…with grand hopes that my words will fall upon one soul that needs the uplift, one that needs but the smallest sliver of peace to bravely step out of the darkness and share their gift.

Keep Moving Forward

I didn’t wanna.  After a week of perfectly stacked appointments, I craved a lazy Netflix kinda day.  The to-do list mounting, content to stay snuggled in. But I rise. Committed to support a friend as she voices her story and bringing a friend along for the ride.  Keep moving forward, getting dressed when I’d rather stay in my sweats, curling my hair when a pony felt nice. Teeth brushed, make-up in place, I’m starting to feel like the Living.  Pulling out of my driveway and into hers, we both seem hesitant to attend. But we keep moving forward. 

We enter together, nod a few hellos and grab our tea cups.  Still awkward, longing for home but putting on a smiley face.  My friend, Sally, doesn’t appear nervous at all…the ladies are pouring in, eager to hear her story.  We take our place and she begins… tales of faith over fear, of the importance of reaching out for help, for having faith to overcome anxiety.  

A change in perspective settles in…perhaps I’m not here for myself, perhaps not even to support Sally.  Maybe, just maybe, the speech is meant to drop some small seed with my visiting friend.  Her own struggles with loss, depression, anxiety….letting her know she’s not alone, possibly inspiring her to keep moving forward.  God’s pretty creative like that…placing support in just the right place at just the right time.  Back home again, I’m rejuvenated…thankful for the shift in perspective, off of self onto others.  Reminded, yet again, when I keep moving forward even when I don’t wanna, good things often follow.    

A Lesson in Little Things

I’ve never been good at puzzles.  I have neither the patience nor the desire to search.  I want it done too quickly.  My Aunt Bootsie always has a puzzle laid out on her dining room table …1,000 piece minimum as anything less is mere child’s play.  For years, I thought it was her mind therapy…a sure fire way to battle deterioration.  But now, I’m realizing its part of her character…she takes little things and turns them into something beautiful.  She overjoys to see things emerge, something new developing out of something small.  She’s identical with her garden.  She faithfully nestles the bulb beneath the cold Autumn soil and waits eagerly for it to emerge in Spring.  Once the ground is warm enough, she lovingly sprinkles the tiniest seeds and, with child-like excitement, shares with all visitors what beauty has developed.  She has encouraged me to stand still and investigate the most intricate seed pod, looking deep within to see hope, potential.  In the same way, with great discernment, she plots and arranges the puzzle pieces, following each curve, each color variation to find the perfect fit.  Once completed, the grand reveal proves how each piece was made to fit perfectly against the other, each color spilling onto the next cut.  My impatient mind wonders at her ability to be still while being busy. 

I want it all done now...all good and beautiful things presented in their full glory without all the waiting.  Feeling lately as if I’m looking at a million piece puzzle, in one solitary color, all with the same curves…business, home and personal life all spilling into one another.  What content to provide, making smart business decisions, making timely posts, taking appealing photos, tagging clothes, spending time in devotion, finding time to exercise, maintaining our home, prepping meals, did I let the dog out? Then more of the same… am I spending enough time with those most important, the guilt of not writing enough, building my craft, utilizing my gifts, guilt, guilt, overwhelm, peace, organize, pray, repeat. Where to start and when to stop.

Remembering yet again, that I come from fierce yet still and strong ladies, I channel my inner Bootsie and start small…be grateful, give thanks, be still.  Then do one thing.  Be grateful some more. Give more thanks.  Be still more. Do one more thing. A years worth of small things resulting in 365 things at years end. It may take longer, but in the end, like Bootsie, I’ll have the most beautiful culmination of little things. With hope, I’ll look down at my work and see all the curves nicely nestled against the next little thing completed.