Love is Patient

There’s a huge wall hanging at my front entrance that quotes the popular wedding and funeral scripture from Corinthians 13... Love is Patient, Love is Kind.  Oftentimes, I scurry past juggling schedules, scrubbing baseball pants, coordinating events and meals. It whispers to me Be Still, so today I steady myself and let the words flow.  That scripture echoes in my mind as a list of things to achieve, attributes I wish to master…the true definitions of love.  I see it, I hear it, but I don’t often live it.  So I start at the very beginning…

Love is Patient

I don’t feel very patient. I want what I want, when I want it, often a petulant toddler, minus the tantrum.  Mostly internal, the bulk of the battle is played out in my mind and patience is the first to run thin, which is likely why it tops the list.  Patience for others ranks 7 (a small handful rank 2) while patience for self ranges 2-8 depending on the day or the minute.  Patience implies that all things will improve, hope for things not yet seen.  Patience, then, must require a knowing that someone bigger and better than me has every single detail covered and arranged. So, patience is a surrender not a strive. In moments when I require a dragon’s dose of patience, I have to surrender in equal amounts. In real or contrived crisis, I typically surrender, but quickly grab it back.  I got this, I can figure it out, work harder, take deeper breaths, use better words, get more done, research and dig deep. The grabbing and the doing only creating more flurry, even less patience.  Savoring this realization, it dawns on me that either  I question my definition of God or I question His definition of me. No doubt he sees and supports others, but for me He clearly is busy, I am insignificant, invisible.  He has a world of other issues to resolve…I can help by taking care of business.  Looping back, in order to show love as patience, I’ll require a more accurate definition of who God really is and how he sees me in order to surrender and not immediately reclaim the reigns.   

Drilling Down Deep

I’m easily distracted, equal parts deep thought and shiny objects.  There are times, though, that require a deep drilled down focus.  Tiny little moments that could easily scurry by and otherwise be lost forever. Impromptu dinner with friends, the hibachi grill flames could have easily distracted, loud conversations from other tables, the wine, my own busy brain could have very simply overlooked tiny tears from a quiet soul three seats over.  Sharing her worried heart over an unwell parent, conversations began to split and drift.  One tiny movement, a hand raised to swipe under her eyeglass…something easily overlooked or dismissed instead drilled me down and pulled me in. Deeper questions asked, conversation resumed… desiring the friend to feel heard and loved.

 Closer to home, Maya leaves for college in what will seem like a few short breaths and I’m drilling down… not wanting to loose a single fleeting moment.  Shows are paused, hearing about her day, her friends, discussions at church, sharing favorites…I’m savoring moments. The easy option would be to stay nose deep in my book or phone…attention takes effort. Always looking, always listening, asking that second, third, or fourth question.  Not surface level stuff… I want the meatier variety, stories that created smiles or tears. Yes, I know the cold has overstayed it’s welcome, but I want to hear what brings joy, the cravings of life, what inspires and scares.  Not wanting to miss a single thing, I’m drilling down deep. 

Bravely Step Forward

Today, I spoke words to a camera as part of a recording meant to encourage and uplift women at an upcoming retreat.  Immediately honored, the words easily spilled days in advance.  However, the day I need it most, my computer seizes.  Unable to print my speech, I head to church to meet the videographer…my inner critic loudly proclaiming that I’m no speaker, clearly no writer, completely unworthy, not to mention unorganized.  Squashing it and moving forward, deciding my written speech is not participating, my bullet notes will have to do…but when I glance at my notes, instant blur, nothing made sense.   Test anxiety pummeled me, my mind drew complete blanks. My heart pulsed through my ears. As she continued to set up the camera, I nervously babbled and alternated deep breaths.  Pulling her in the loop, I admit my nervous thoughts and press forward with winging it.  Camera poised, microphone balanced, lighting flattering, bullet notes visible...she pressed record and I exhale.  The deep desire of my heart is helping ladies feel beautiful so I pictured them on the other side of the aperture…right there, inches away.  All nervousness melted and the words spilled easily.  Roughly following the bullet notes retained my focus, but new concepts dropped in, too.  One word flowed into another, sharing lessons, tips and some heart to heart. 

At final words, air kisses sent, I hopped from my perch and signed off.  Worry gone, inner critic quiet, peace reigned. Honored to play one small part in encouraging women towards their best self, I was thankful that the words flowed and that the inner critic was squashed.  For me, it was an affirmation of continuing to bravely step forward regardless of fear. 

Keep it Simple

Months of morning zen time have left me angry and empty.  Maybe I’m not doing it right, maybe it’s just not for me.  For months now, I’ve risen at 5am, giving myself a good 90 minutes of reading, writing, meditating, doing yoga…and within 5 short minutes, I’m frazzled and frustrated again.  Feeling like one important and very crucial part was missing, I added 5 min of worship music…one song.  Looking back, it was like talking to your best friend for a mere 5 minutes.  It’s just impossible.  Nothing good can come of it, there’s simply not enough time to talk, then listen, then talk some more.  I added two songs, but still time felt out of proportion.  The dreaming and staring over magazine cut-out vision boards and aligning my chakra just seemed like worshiping the bark and not the tree.  

So I cleared the decks and went back to basics.  I was working too hard to drawl my own vision into reality, striving, pushing, when all I really need to do is Love God, and Love Others.  Keep it simple.  I still rise early in the morning, but now, it’s a long conversation with a good friend.  Worship music, reading, filling a gratitude journal, praying over family, friends, our schools, our church, my neighbors, our government, then myself.  He’s got this creative way of bending and stretching me until I’m in the right place…it’s a gut feeling, a holy nudge, an unsatisfied itch…He’ll keep at it until I’m adjusted.  I can keep trying to do it my own way, but my version is never as good, as efficient, as fruitful.  I complicate things, when it’s best to keep it simple.

13 Years of Bruises

For 13 years, our bed has sat in the exact same spot.  In a wide loop from bedroom door to bathroom, my shin will inevitably hit the edge of the platform frame once a week.  Why only now have I decided to move the bed? So long it has occupied that spot, I’ve memorized the wide loop in a number of 5 quick steps. My fingers trace the edge in the dark to avoid the thump. It makes absolutely no sense to keep it in that spot, but there it sits, four deep wells of comfortable dips in the carpet and 13 years of shin bruises. Comfort and familiarity shouldn’t be the only reason to avoid change.  So this weekend, Tim will begrudgingly oblige as we shuffle the bed to an alternate wall.  In a chain of events, every other piece of furniture will find new dips on the carpet.

Pulling Cole from the standard routine of high school education is the glaring culprit to this fresh awareness of routine rut. With new eyes on all actions and placements, what else is wasteful, inefficient, pointless?  Constantly looking for a new and alternative way to accomplish the same tired task, smarter ways to do things are waiting to be discovered. Small things, like moving a lamp to a spot where I frequently read, switching stacks of dishes to a smarter cabinet.  What bigger things need adjustment? 

Baby steps…starting with the bed and a future free of shin bruises.    

Six Months

I’ve got Six short months.

Just yesterday we had that long distance comfort between birth and college.  Now it’s a mere Six months away.  Six months of action, memories, sweet words, learning, wisdom.  She came into this world like a calm 20 year old…like she’s always meant to be here, bound to make great change, wiser than this world.  She’ll manage all matter of big and tiny details just perfectly on her own…the best kind of learning often is hands on.  My main focus has always been to make sure she’s comfortable in her own skin.  That she knows who and whose she is.  That she carries a confidence that is unshaken by this untethered world, a lesson that never ends.

I’ve been failing on my job recently…a bit distracted, wastefully busy.  All good intentions, but the priority is misaligned.  She should have always been closer to the top…but she quietly takes care so well, I took her for granted.  Not wanting to workout with her because I’m a morning gal…selfish.  Headphones in and YouTube stares…isolated.  Reclining after dinner…unhealthy.  For a mere six months, she still needs me. Headphones are being tucked away, screens are being limited, feet and minds are moving.   Six months of filling her confidence bucket to overflowing.  Six months of endless love and listening.  I’ve got Six months.

Today We Jump

Today is the day we make a move in a strange and unknown direction. Research, conversations, prayers, lists, visits…I’ve done more digging on this single decision than all of my biggest decisions combined.  Marriage, children, home-ownership, starting a business…all followed my gut. This decision, however, affects more than myself, so I’ve lingered in the safe places for a bit longer. At some point, an action is required…a blind step in some direction. I can stew and simmer, dig and deliberate but today’s the day we jump. 

Maya & Cole are two completely different glorious beings.  From day one, they’ve required different styles of parenting, different ways to reason, different motivations, different definitions of love. It's no surprise that they also have different ways of learning.  Today I submit paperwork that releases him from school and we begin the wild world of home-schooling.

So many fears.  Again, that negative voice speaks I’m no teacher, you may fail, he may suffer, others will judge.  Those fears apply to almost any decision.  The way I understand it, decision making has one final outcome.  Finding a thousand opinions in favor and equal amounts against, the pros and cons list may possibly equal out.  We can remain in the status-quo safe places or we can follow another path.  Ultimately, after all the digging, diving, and solid hours of prayer, one foot must finally move in front of the other.  No longer satisfied in the safe places, today we jump.