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. 

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. 

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. 

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. 

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.  

But Not Now

Very soon, I'll post glamorous photos of a most beautiful kitchen renovation.  New countertops, polished farmers sink, sparkling floors and crisp painted walls.  But not now.  Slowly, the beauty is emerging...most certainly, we are blessed.  But right now there is a storm in every direction...piles of misplaced cleaning supplies while the sink is awaiting a crucial piece, all décor removed and settled in another room (renamed Home Goods), boxes of unwanted items headed for donation.  Thin layers of dust covering every surface including my nose, eyes, and ears.  Very soon, everything will be tucked back into place.  But not now. 


Renovation has taken its toll on my soul as well...reconsidering every single utensil, bowl, dish to determine purpose.  Deep thoughts over that fifth springform pan...how many cheesecakes did I really expect to bake at once?  Paralleling it to my life...boiling it down to most important.  Proudly  saying NO this week to assisting with one more event and attending one more ladies night.  Weighing each task, event, volunteer opportunity.  Definitely including a few frivolous make-my-soul-happy items and events (keeping the purple dinosaur for its sheer smile factor and continue to schedule intentional time with friends to keep my sanity in check). 

Several days of feeling flitty, adrift, overwhelmed, taking frustration out on hubby and kiddos reminded me of the importance of keeping grounded amidst the storm.  Further inspection finding I hadn't taken the time to be still, a chance to recharge.  Instead, jumping out of bed like a sprint runner to attack the dust and piles.  Returning to my routine of sitting quietly, praying, recharging helped to reclaim proper focus. 

So, let the dust fall, the piles will be sorted shortly...but not now. 

Challenge - Week Four - The Wall

Productive, manic, empty best describe my week. Most days I felt tired down to my soul. Constantly yawning, yet early to bed, even Tim has noticed I'm off. Those days with extra energy, I frantically attacked every task...riding the wave before it would crash. Trying to be as productive as possible...vigorously cleaning, making long lists, purging clutter, trying to find some semblance of order.

Then I hit the wall.

Wednesday, there was no joy to be found. Exhausted, no desire to smile, no bliss found even in the things that typically bring me happiness. Just blah. Wondering if these long months of sadness for Mom has made me forget what it feels like to be consistently happy? Did I not leave any space for mourning? Keeping myself busy, busy, busy so I won't have to feel? Busily redecorating my surroundings in hopes it will also stir my soul? Tim practically had to pry the vacuum out of my hand and suggest I take a long, hot bath. Friends suspicious when I say I'm doing just fine. I actually said I don't think about her.

What I can't fix, I clean. When I can't control, I cook. My to-do list lengthens by the second and my mental queue spins wildly. Afraid to start crying for fear I won't stop.

Today, I will leave time to be still. Just listen. Breathe. Cry if I must, showing myself some grace. This, too, shall pass. But when it passes, what will remain?