Mish Mash

I just finished reading Chapter Two in Stressed-Less Living by Tracie Miles.  I had a few reflections from that chapter that don't warrant their own blog posts.  But I didn't want to pass them up.

So what do you do in moments like that?

I guess you write a mish-mash post.

Like this one:

"[To] feel safe and Loved... God created us to hunger for those sweet emotions." pg. 46

Ah yes.

Safe and Loved.

Those are sweet emotions that I hunger for.

Beautiful.

"Help me to seek out [God's] ways and [his] desires each morning when I awake.  I pray for ... supernatural intervention in my life and in my heart." pg. 52

What a beautiful prayer to wake with every morning.

Wonderful.

"Peace is not ... based on people or circumstances ... on personal desires being met ... on a quiet house ... on an easy day at work ... Peace [is] based on trusting God in all things, not just the easy things we can handle with no problem. ... That is the kind of of peace only Jesus can give, and, once we get a taste of that kind of peace, we are never the same again."  pg. 56-57 (emphasis added)

Never the same again.

Amen.

You know what I discovered in this chapter?  An action I need to take in my life?

TAKE CARE OF IT, ELIZABETH.  JUST DO IT.  TODAY.

My piles overwhelm and overtake me.

I hear:

Elizabeth, put it away.  Elizabeth, take care of it NOW.  Take the time to PUT IT AWAY TODAY.

Some people can leave dirty dishes in the sink and a bit of mess in the living room.  But if I do that, I slide down a slippery slope.  Very slippery.  Very slope-y.  And all of a sudden six months pass in a mess.

So my action step is to TAKE ACTION!  Every day.  No matter what.

Whoo Hoo!

What's your action step?

Let's do this thing!

Together.

With Jesus.  (of course)

The best partner one could ever have . . .

Cauliflower Crunching

Moments ago, my sweet little two year old was wandering around the living room, wearing only a diaper, a ponytail, and crunching on a piece of cauliflower.

Oh, bless my soul!

Cauliflower!


We've started to eat differently.  I'm trying to replace treats and sweets with fruits and veggies and hard boiled eggs and the like.

Someday, I hope we're all wandering around the living room (in more than a diaper and a ponytail) munching on cauliflower.

I like this quote from Tracie Miles' book Stressed-Less Living:
"After having read countless details about the Tabernacle (the tent version of the Temple), I had embraced a newfound appreciation for its sacredness and was encouraged by knowing that the Lord actually resided in the Temple in biblical times.  I admired the hours of work that were devoted to building the Tabernacle and the many rules and requirements that God set forth regarding honoring and caring for it... We are now God's dwelling place, instead of a tent or building made by the hands of men. ... God's temple is sacred, and you are that temple."  --page 45

I love the images invoked when reading the instructions for building the Tabernacle.  (look around Exodus 26).

The colors!

Blue.
Purple.
Scarlet.

The linens flowing in the wind.

The beautiful pattens and designs and intricate work.

Lovely.


And that is us.

Blue.
Purple.
Scarlet.

Blowing in the wind.

Delicate.  Intricate.  Beautiful.

Lovely.


So really.  Shouldn't we live like we're beautiful?  (because we are.)

Shouldn't we live like we're God's intricate, delicate, beautiful handiwork?  (because we are.)

Shouldn't we take care of God's Temple?  (which is us.)


I want to run more.  Strong and graceful like a gazelle.
I want to eat healthy, life-giving foods.
I don't want to fill my body with sugar and processed craziness and whatnot.
I want to get full nights sleep.
I want to bless my body with special care -- with a massage or a soak.
I want to do things that fill me -- write, play the piano, dance, read a good book, listen to good music, kiss my babies, play outside, feel the wind in my hair.

Lovely.


What about you?
What's on your list?

Let's do it together.

Let's be blue and purple and scarlet beauty -- blowing in the wind.

Sad Jesus

I like this picture of Jesus.  I think it may be my favorite depiction of Jesus I've come across.  It has grown on me.  A lot.

My mom bought this Stan Miller print for me.  Then she had it professionally framed.  It's beautifully done.  But, when she first gave the print to me, I was a bit confused.  I didn't like it at all.

Ummm . . . hello . . ? . . Jesus is not smiling in this picture!

It seemed depressing.  Why would I want this on my wall?

Ummm.  Thanks, Mom.


But then.

          Years passed.

     And this interpretation of Jesus became a close friend.  A companion when I didn't feel like smiling either.


A dear friend once told me, "Smile when you're happy.

                                                                                That's good enough."

That is good enough.  Isn't it?


     Life isn't all bunnies and rainbows.

            Sometimes there is sorrow (and grief and loneliness and unhappiness and anger and ... and... and...)


And always, there is our Savior.

Our Savior Jesus.

Whether we are smiling or crying  . . . whether we are spinning circles in Joy . . . or crumpled on the floor.

He is there.


Thanks, Mom.

For reals this time.


A quote from Stressed-Less Living by Tracie Miles:
"When most people think of Jesus . . . they usually visualize him as a peaceful person living a peaceful life.  Thanks to infinite paintings dating back hundreds of years depicting Jesus as a soft-hearted, gentle-looking, bearded man, it is easy to falsely believe he never really had to deal with stress. These paintings often show [Jesus] ... quietly gazing off with a serene look on his face or praying peacefully to the heavens on bended knee with his hands folded across his chest or sitting happily under a tree with smiling children perched on his lap.  Although Jesus is the Prince of Peace ... his life was a far cry from being stress-free.  ... Jesus knew full well what it meant to have peace despite stressful circumstances."  --pages 55-56

Mirror Mirror

When I look in the mirror, what do I see?

I see a beautiful woman.

I see a Loved woman.

I see a longing woman.

I see fear in her eyes.  And Joy.  And wonder.  And dreams.  Big dreams.  Hopeful dreams.



But mirrors don't show everything.

Somethings we can't see for ourselves.



Sometimes a better mirror is a person.  Standing in front of you.  Saying, "Wait.  I see something in you."

Sometimes it's something you long to hear.

Sometimes it's something you're afraid to hear.



Are you a person who throws a black blanket over the mirrors?  So that you don't have to see the truth?

Or do you scootch up extra close . . . pore close . . .

                                                                         . . .  and let the light shine in?



Do you let the mirrors in your life speak truth to you?

Do I?



I hope so.

I hope you do too.

New Leaf

Today I'm turning over a new leaf.

How many times can a person really turn over a new leaf?

I guess an infinite amount of times . . .

               . . . as many moments as there are in life.

      Each moment could be a chance at newness.

       Each moment could be a leaf turn.


For breakfast I ate:

1. a hard boiled egg
2. buttered piece of whole wheat toast
3. a very delicious ripe tomato
4. glass of skim milk


I've eaten a bowl of cereal for breakfast for as long as I can remember.


I'm coming to the realization that the food I put in my body may be affecting me.  I eat too much sugar. I am addicted to it.  My children are too.  We all eat way too much sugar.

I am conducting an experiment of sorts...

Let's see what happens to me . . . to my children . . . when we cut out (cut down on?) sugar and processed foods.

You think there will be a difference?

Seems like there ought to be.


So, it starts today.

This new leaf.


And if I fall down . . .

          . . . there's always more moments for chance at newness.


 Here we go.

Piles

Piles have been the bane of my existence for years.

Years.

Check this out:

Yup.  That's my kitchen counter.

Disgusting.


Do you think you could function in that?

Yeah.  Me neither.


I have wrestled and struggled with piles, it seems like my whole life.

My piles have been a complete mystery to me.  Like, seriously.  What's with my piles?  Where do they come from?  Why don't other people have them?  Why do they have such power over me?  Why do they overpower me to the point of not being able to function?

Strange.

For years and years I've made outlandish goals like: This year I'm going to become a pile-less person.

I've spent hours upon hours sifting through and getting rid of piles . . . but like uncontrollable, man-eating weeds, their roots go deep and they always sprout up again.  Usually the next day.  Sometimes hours after the original pile has been banished (and sometimes mere minutes.)

Yikes.  It hurts my heart just thinking about it.

One unassuming day, when I told my therapist that my house was eating me, he looked at me and said: "Your piles have a function."

Huh?

What's that supposed to mean?

I thought about it for a whole week.

I came back and said, "You mean I have my piles on purpose?  I'm the one doing this for some reason?"

He said, "Yes."

Me: "Why?!?!"

Him: "I don't know."

Oh.  I guess I'm the one who is supposed to figure that one out.

I thought and thought and dredged and sorted and sifted through thoughts for a whole week.

Hard work.

Tough work.

I thought maybe I had figured it out.  Maybe just an inkling.

When I came back, the more I talked about the piles and my perceived function of them . . . he said, "Your piles are bars in your cage.  What are you afraid of?  Why are you keeping yourself caged in?  What are you protecting yourself from?  What are you guarding yourself from?"

It was like the sound of an ancient redwood breaking in half -- splintering -- and falling heavily into the lush green underbrush below.  It was like the golden sunlight streaming in after the tree fell.

Whoa.

That's crazy train.

Bars in my cage . . .

I've discovered that my piles have nothing to do with my perceived lack of time as a working mother of young children.  My piles are not alive things that sprout roots and grow.  My piles do not exist just because I have more stuff than most people.

My piles are purely emotional.

They have a power over me.

They keep me in fear.  They keep me caged in.

And I'm sick of it.

My favorite line of my therapist's is when he said I could look at a pile and say, "Hey.  This doesn't work in my program."

I've used that line countless times in the past few weeks.

I don't know why.  It just works for me.

(Sometimes therapists get lucky with a real zinger.)


You should see my kitchen counter.  It looks nothing like that picture at the top of this post.  The pile is gone.  It has been obilterated.  It no longer exists.  When I get the mail, I can't even put it down in that spot.  Not because I'm trying to avoid a pile.  But because it no longer works in my program.

The rest of my house, unfortunately, looks like that picture you see.

But the power my piles have over me is diminishing.

And that is the key.

The key to freedom.


As good ol' what's his face says in Braveheart . . .

"FREEEEEDOM!"


Yeah.  Freedom.

Time to get to work.

Discovering the Real Problem

Memory Verse Plus a Super Cool Graphic That I Really Dig

So I'm doing this online Bible study, Stressed-Less Living.  (wanna read my post about it?  Here it is!)

I just finished chapter one.

And you know the best thing to do after you read a chapter of a study book?

Write about it, of course.

Ok, chapter one.  Give it to me!

It's called: Discovering the Real Problem

Uh huh.

Got that right.

This book is not helping me discover the Real Problem.  Because I already discovered it.  And where did I discover it?

Psychotherapy.

(hmmmm . . . curious?  Read my therapy post here.  Or, just wait for it.  It's right below this post, conveniently.)

That's one major theme I was thinking about as I read this chapter.  Hey.  Maybe a book can do it for you.  But if you really want to dig...  If you really want to discover what the Real Problem is...  If you really want to do the hard work of diving deep, uncovering layers, and figuring some major stuff out -- I think therapy is an amazing tool.

The things I've learned in therapy, I never would have discovered just by reading this book.

Just sayin'.


So, on to the topic at hand . . . stress.

Or should I say: STRESS!!!

(three exclamation points ought to do it, don't you think?)

"You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope.  With less of you there is more of God and his rule."   --Matthew 5:3, The Message

I like that image . . . dangling at the end of a very frayed, very worn rope.  Waiting to drop.

I've always compared life to standing on the edge of a cliff.  There we stand.  Toes gripping the edge.  Do we dare jump?  Do we dare trust?  And then in a moment of insanity or brilliance, we jump.  Do we flounder when we jump?  Scared of what will happen when we land?  Or do we trust . . . do we throw our head back . . . throw our arms out . . . and Swan Dive.  We land in God's ever-present hands -- whether we're flailing or gliding.

I like how the author quotes Matt Damon's character, Benjamin Mee, in the movie We Bought a Zoo: "You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage, just literally twenty seconds of embarrassing bravery.  And I promise you, something great will come of it."

"Change has to begin with ourselves, and that takes courage."*

Yup.

Great courage.

Ready or not, here I come.


*Stressed-Less Living by Tracie Miles.  Quote from page 36.


P.S. I like Bible memory verses.  The one at the top of this post is this week's.  I have it taped to my bathroom mirror, to the window above my kitchen sink, and as a bookmark.  I memorized it the first day, but when I see my little memory cards, I remember that I've memorized it.  It's a good verse.  Try it out.

Therapy

So yeah.

Therapy.

All I can say is:  Wow.

Seriously.

I should have done this years ago.

My world is breaking open in ways I've never anticipated or imagined.  It is incredible.

Let's see . . . I've been going to therapy (correctly called psychotherapy, which is even better!  You know, official and all that) for sixteen weeks.

I'm learning fountains and fountains about myself.  It keeps gushing up.  And I keep being amazed.

I mean, not every therapy session is stellar.  There are some days that I leave thinking, "Wait.  I didn't even get to talk about what I wanted to talk about."

But some days blow my mind.

I guess you have to have the mediocre days to make the blow-your-mind days even more powerful.

Ok.  So here's the bottom line:  I recommend psychotherapy to anyone and everyone.

One caveat: you've got to have a good psychotherapist.  We've talked about this --my therapist and I -- the subject came up.  Some therapists can be pretty passive . . . they listen and nod their head.  Some can be compliant . . . they agree with everything you say.  And then there's the tough ones -- the ones that push you -- the ones that won't take any crap -- the ones who say, "Why are you talking about that?  What's the real issue?" -- the ones who say, "What are those tears about?" -- the ones who speak Truth to you, even if it's not so pretty.  That's the kind of therapist I have.  It's pretty awesome.  "You probably don't like me very much right now," he said once.  Hmmm.  I can take it.  I need it.

Oh man, I've learned so much about myself.  Diving into my people-pleasing tendencies, my inability to say "no", my fear of not being accepted, my fear of "What will they think?!",  my inability to make decisions, allowing myself to get sucked into black holes, putting work and ministry ahead of my sweet kiddos, perfectionism, my identity, the masks I wear, the impenetrable walls I've built around myself, my fear of being Real and Vulnerable and open and honest, my fear of displeasing people, my fear of disappointing people, and the biggest one (the one that blew my mind and broke light into my world): my piles.

My Piles.

But more on those later.


Psychotherapy:

Try it.

You may like what you discover about yourself.

Stress-Less Living

I recently signed up for an on-line Bible study through Proverbs 31 Ministries.

I like Bible studies.

Some are lame.  Some are amazing.  Some can change your life.

Let's see . . . I'm currently doing four Bible studies.

One I lead on Tuesday mornings.  We're using a curriculum called Cross Ways.  It's mostly informative.  There are a few points that make you think.  But much information handed to you that doesn't make you think too awful much.  I'd probably put this one in the "lame" category.

I lead a Bible study with high school and college youth on Wednesday nights.  We just started reading and exploring the book of Ephesians.  The thoughts and questions that come up . . . are thrilling and exciting.  I love these kids!  (well . . . young adults.)

I'm doing a study of Acts -- Spirit Led Bible Study -- via worksheets and hour-long teaching sessions downloaded from a church located a few hours away.  Most of the time I leave with new insights -- fresh perspective -- flooded with Love.  Nice.  Sometimes I get less out of it.  Sometimes more.

Oh wait.  I teach Sunday school too.  Should I count that one?  I teach 1st and 2nd graders about Bible stories.  We do projects together.  We do motions to songs that we try to sing loudly.  It's fun.

I'm also in the middle of several books that could be considered a type of study -- of God's Word and God's will and whatnot.

And now I'm in this on-line study.  It's called Stressed-Less Living.  It's funny.  When I signed up for this study three or four weeks ago, I was consumed by stress.  A week before the study began, I had a break-through in therapy (Yeah, I'm in therapy.  More on that later.)  Suddenly, I was no longer stressed.  Stress -- completely and totally gone.  Zip.  Zap.  Zoop.  Gone.  I thought to myself, "Hmmm... funny."  Ironic?

Anyway, I'm doing it anyway.

Reading about stress can be stressful.

You know what I mean?

I read the first chapter and the whole time I had to take really big breaths.  Really Big Breaths.  The kind where you have to force the air out through your pursed lips, to get the full effect.

Nice.

I think this book is making me stressed.

Good thing I'm in this study.

But, on an exciting note... I have something to say!  I suddenly was catapulted into thought and feeling and passion and needing to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard.)

I have something to say.

I so I can say it.

Brilliant.

OK Stress-Less Living . . . Bring it!


P.S.  Four (or five ... or six...) Bible studies?  Hmmm.  Think I'm looking for something?

Food for thought.