FRESH AIR, FRESH PERSPECTIVE

Thursday was a good day, but I struggled with my attitude about something in the afternoon. We had to leave for something on the calendar, but I made a spontaneous decision to leave early and spend some time outside. We headed to Memorial Park, parked at the top, and walked a hilly loop. It was perfect!

Nothing beats fresh air, movement, and nature when your head and heart are a little wonky. It doesn't negate whatever problem you're facing, but it puts it into perspective. It's a reminder that your situation, no matter how big or small, is just one part of a huge world filled with intricate details. Life will go on. Just keep moving forward. 

 

DEPRESSION AND A STUFFED RABBIT

This little stuffed rabbit sits on a shelf in my closet where I see it every day. I named it Caramel, both for its color and for the fact it came in an Easter basket filled with a variety of caramel candies. It was given to me by one friend, but it serves as a daily reminder of a small group of people who have supported me in various ways during a really long, really gnarly season of depression. 

I keep typing and deleting, trying to figure out what's worth sharing, whether for the sake of my own documentation or to encourage someone else in the trenches of their own depression. So this may be a bit rambling. Just like life.

Today I realized it's been exactly one year since I told someone I was looking into the possibility of starting an antidepressant. A whole year. I can't believe it's been that long.

I'd had three previous seasons of major depression as an adult. A friend who's seen my minor ups and downs over the years has asked me a handful of times if I need an antidepressant. I've thanked her for her concern each time, as sometimes we're blind to our own need for help, but assured her I knew what depression was like because of my past experiences and that what she was seeing was just an ordinary rough patch. 

I got depressed again a while ago. Obviously depressed. Really depressed. One day I realized all those times my friend had asked me about meds, as well as many other times, were, in fact, depression. They were mild, which is why I hadn't recognized them for what they were, but that meant I'd been battling depression for most of my adulthood. Feeling completely weary and totally hopeless, concerned about how the low points had been coming more frequently and lasting longer each time, I decided to get help. 

I was open to taking meds, but ended up going to counseling instead. I'm so thankful for that time. Several counseling sessions with my therapist later, armed with new insights and a variety of coping skills to use, I was feeling much better. There was still work to do, but I was starting to live and function in a way that was more sustainable.

I liken the choice to ease up on the pursuit of meds in favor of counseling to choosing not to take blood pressure medicine until you see what happens when you make dietary changes. I desperately wanted my head and heart to be in a good place, but I also didn't want to medicate something that I could, and should, fix by changing my behavior. It was the right decision and I still go through the flashcards I made of things I learned in counseling several times a week, as I want to continue being proactive in taking care of my mental health. 

Then, in the aftermath of a meltdown a few months ago, I made a decision that was simultaneously spontaneous and a long time coming. I started an antidepressant. It was the right decision and I'm thankful for emotional stability as I continue working on my own junk. Depression is completely exhausting and this season of chemically-induced respite has been such a gift. 

The plan is to wean off at a predetermined point in time and see what happens. If I'm one who just needed some help to get over the last hump of a season of depression, which is the approach I'm taking, then I'll be done and move on with new habits that I've developed (or, more accurately, am developing). But if it becomes clear that I'm one who needs long-term help with keeping my head and heart in a good place, then I'll be grateful for medication that does the job and continue taking it. 

So, back to Caramel and the people that stuffed rabbit represents. 

Questions about how I was feeling. Prayers. Hugs. Reminders not to isolate. Treats and notes of encouragement at church. Kindness when I took extended breaks from church. Listening to my verbal processing. Happy mail. Questions about how counseling was going. Phone calls. Texts. E-mails. Facebook messages. Video chats. Practical help with making decisions. Lunch dates. Words of affirmation. Personal stories of similar struggles. 

I could go on, but the bottom line is that kindness matters. It matters a lot. If you know someone is struggling with depression on any level, show up for them in whatever way you're able. And remember that you often won't know that the person you're interacting with is depressed. They may not look the part at all, but your behavior and attitude will either add to their burden or ease a little piece of it. So just be kind. 

As for me, I'm so very thankful to be crawling out of the hole of depression over the last year. I'm still a work in progress, but I've had loving hands reach out to help pull me up. That little stuffed rabbit reminds me every day of my gratitude for those people and encourages me to keep moving forward. 

HITTING PAUSE ON FACEBOOK

I'm currently in the middle of a break from Facebook that's been so nice. I know some people hate social media, but I'm one who loves the opportunity to chat with people from all different parts of my life, see pictures of their families, and read about what they've been up to. I also appreciate the convenient resource Facebook is for brainstorming solutions to problems, getting recommendations for various things, and connecting with folks within my community.  

Even though I love it, I've always made a habit of taking a random week or two off once or twice a year. It's easy for my extroverted self to get sucked in and spend too much time online, so those periodic breaks help me be responsible with my time management. However, various online obligations have kept me from taking those spontaneous, extended breaks for a few years and I was overdue for some time away. My goal was to take the whole month of January off, but I ended up with just over three weeks. That works! 

The pros of Facebook still outweigh the cons for me, but temporarily turning off the cacophony of rude, condescending, and snarky voices that it's been for the last year has been amazing. As one who chooses to use Facebook for positive interactions on neutral topics (meaning I haven't posted about any of the major issues of the last year), hitting pause on the steady stream of negativity that's filled my feed has made me realize how much it was all weighing on me.

I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with talking about big issues on social media, and I'm thankful for the handful of friends who do so with consistently respectful dialogue, but so many people lost their online filter this year. It's been brutal to watch. The boldness people have on social media that they'd never have in person has always bothered me, but it's been it's been taken to a whole new level lately. The insults, name calling, and general disrespect for other human beings is astounding and those who post those things in broad terms often don't realize who exactly it is they're calling out. I see it from people I strongly agree with (and would never let know I agree with because I don't want to be associated with their behavior), those I strongly disagree with, and a whole slew of people talking about things I haven't even been able to form a solid opinion about. 

I suspected before this break, and know for certain in the middle of it, that I need to change some things to make Facebook continue working for me moving forward. I've always used the options of snoozing, unfollowing, and unfriending to keep my Facebook experience pleasant, but really ramped it up the last several months. I suspect February will find me doing a deeper purge of my Facebook friend list as taking time off will make the abrasiveness of various people more obvious upon my return. We'll see how that goes. And I definitely need to make some changes to how much time I spend there, a problem which is entirely my own fault. That will be much easier to manage now that I've eliminated all my Facebook responsibilities. No more getting on because I have to, then staying on far longer than necessary. 

Why am I telling you this? A couple reasons. First, I encourage you to think before you post something online. If you wouldn't look someone in the eye, someone you know and like, and say what you're about to say, in the way you're about to say it, about people like them, don't post it. If your page is heavy on criticisms about various individuals, groups of people, organizations, and so on, consider easing up a bit, or at least putting an equal effort into praising people. If you spend a lot of time talking about how words matter, kindness matters, or people matter, remember that's also true for your words, your treatment of others, and all the people you're interacting with online, even those you don't like. Especially the ones you don't like, because that's when you actually have the chance to practice what you preach.

Second, I think it's so important to have times where you're unplugged. Although the last year was hit and miss because of extended periods of time without interacting in person and I needed people, I've had one day each week that I've been totally offline for a few years. Right now I'm spending a few weeks off Facebook, but still doing other things online. I've also had certain times of the day that I won't get online before or after.  However it works best for your life, find a way to disconnect from screens on a regular basis. It doesn't matter if it's big chunks of time spread apart or smaller amounts of time that are more frequent. Sometimes temporarily stepping away from something shows us more clearly how that particular thing is impacting us, both positively and negatively.

It will be awesome to log into Facebook and catch up with folks again when February rolls around, but right now I'm soaking up this time without it. I miss the blessing of it, but am enjoying the absence of its burden. 

Speaking of blessings and soaking up the good things, isn't the sunset pictured above from last weekend so pretty? I absolutely love colorful sunsets, whether they're subtle or vibrant, and am so thankful we get perfect views of them from the front of our home. No matter how great or rough your day was, a pretty sunset ends things on a positive note. 

SOMETIMES

Family relationships can be fun and rewarding, but sometimes sharing a life and roof with people is discouraging and hard. Social media can be a great way to stay connected with people you like, but sometimes it shows you just how condescending and snarky those people can be toward those they disagree with. Having life slow down can be beneficial in many ways, but sometimes nine straight months of trying to balance the physical, mental, and economic health of yourself, your family, and your community under unusual circumstances, knowing one half or the other of the people you know will criticize you no matter what you do, is overwhelming. Holidays can be filled with special moments and fun traditions, but sometimes making sure they don't feel like just another ordinary day for your loved ones can feel like a burden. 

Today it all just felt too ... everything. Too many unpleasant people, too little kindness. Too many responsibilities, too little rest. Too much judging, too little empathy. Too many hard decisions, too little confidence. Too many tears, too little joy. Too many conflicts, too little peace. Too much of the hard stuff, too little of the good stuff. 

So, as one is prone to do when one feels overwhelmed by everything, I cried. In the car, to the store. And I prayed, just asking God to show me a little glimpse of his love through some part of my day. Something to boost my spirits. Now, there's no magic formula here. Sometimes those prayers are met with silence, other times by my own blindness to the answer. Today, though, my request was granted. 

I pulled into the parking lot, wiped the last tear off my cheek, took a deep breath, and went inside to grab a few things. I wasn't in the store thirty seconds when I saw a couple we've been acquainted with since the summer of 2012. They're in their mid-70s, an older couple we see multiple times each summer at the library's weekly outdoor concerts. Due to the pandemic, the 2020 concert series was canceled, so I haven't seen them since August 2019. In all the years we've lived here, I've never seen them around town. Never. But there they were, right in front of me.

I said hi, but they didn't recognize me with my hair chopped off, a beanie on my head, and a mask over my face. I backed up, pulled my mask down briefly, and said hi again. Then they knew who I was. We spent about ten minutes chatting, looking at pictures of the Ws, hearing about their great-grandkids, and just catching up on life a bit before they gave me air hugs and went on their way. It was wonderful! 

I checked the mail when I got home and there was a package for me. I was expecting something because the sender had confirmed my address last week, then contacted me yesterday to see if I'd received anything from them. The estimated delivery date was Saturday, so I figured whatever it was just got delayed in all the holiday mail. Sure enough, it arrived today. Check out what part of the package was. 

A blue and green W, handmade by the sender! The picture doesn't do it justice, but it has multiple layers, all cut slightly different than the rest so different colors peek through the holes. Isn't that cool? I told my friend that God must have known I'd need that happy mail more today than I did on Saturday.

The kids and I gathered a few minutes later to do our Advent reading for the day. My portion was Psalm 23, the famous Bible passage about the peace, refreshment, guidance, comfort, and love of God. How's that for perfect timing?

The rest of my day was ordinary, but that hour or so was a gift. 

You may feel like you can't get anything right, but sometimes God shows you that he sees, knows, and loves you anyway. You may believe adulthood is overrated, but sometimes God gently reminds you that hard things generally aren't as bad as they feel. You may be discouraged by the attitudes of many people, but sometimes God puts kind people right in your path. 

I'm sure glad he does those things sometimes.

MY NEW CHRISTMAS PILLOW

I received this handmade pillow on Wednesday night, a quilted gift from an acquaintance I met a couple years ago and don't really know. She enclosed a note that mentioned a couple specific interactions we've had (probably the only ones we've had), described how this pillow came to be, and explained why she gave it to me. And I cried. For quite a while.

You may look at this pillow and have opinions about Santa, Jesus, Christmas, home decor, or quilting. For me, someone who regularly struggles with feeling like a failure and who's much quicker to point out the negative than to verbalize the positive (particularly at home, because that's where our expectations tend to be highest and our behavior the worst), this pillow will always be a special reminder of a few things. 

First, God wired us all differently, with each person having a unique combination of personality and skills. No one is going to be awesome at everything, but everything's awesome when each person's strengths are in the mix. Whether through intentional words and actions or through unintentionally doing what comes naturally to us, we have countless opportunities to make life a little better for someone else.

Second, just because you're failing at something (or lots of things) doesn't mean you're a failure. Sometimes you're succeeding at something and don't even know it. And failure is a little bit subjective anyway. 

Third, people matter, and they need to know they matter. It's important to reach out in whatever ways we're able so that no one feels invisible. And it's important to let people know how they've positively impacted us, whether in trivial or significant ways.

This pillow will be a constant visual reminder for me through the rest of the Christmas season to focus on objective facts instead of subjective feelings, look for opportunities to bless other people, and speak words of praise and gratitude as often as I can. All of which sounds lovely, but actually takes some effort and discipline. 

And in case you wondered, quilting is absolutely not one of the skills God gave me. Now you know. 

A KIND GESTURE

Adulthood's overrated. That means I've had a whole bunch of snark and rant inside me all day long.

The kids and I had an appointment for three of them to get their birthday month pictures taken today. I was frustrated because the June kids couldn't get theirs done on time because of C19 closures, the belated appointments were canceled because the location we go to is permanently closing, then we had to wait until the end of August to get in at another location. Finally picked a time that worked for everyone, including the August kid, then one kid ended up with a scheduling conflict, which meant moving the appointment to this afternoon, hitting the worst afternoon traffic, which I sat in as a not-so-relaxed passenger.

Basically, the appointment was the icing on the cake of a royally bad mood and super low tolerance for humanity.

I asked Lori, the employee who checked us in, if Tina was working there. Tina's done most of our kid and family pictures for the last 8-9 years at the closed location, so I knew it was possible she'd transferred. I told the gal it wasn't my favorite day, but that I'd mentioned to the little Ws on our way inside that I would be thrilled to walk in and see Tina there because of how long she's photographed our family. No such luck. She's not working there. Loris said she's been Tina's friend and co-worker for over 20 years, so she understood why we were hoping to see her.

We moved on. The summer birthday kids all got their pictures taken and I chose the ones to purchase. As I turned toward the counter to pay, Lori walked out of a back room with her phone extended and said, "Bethany, I have a surprise for you."

She had Tina on the screen!!

It makes me tear up to type that out now, but in the moment I was just super excited. Tina's photographed countless families over the years, so although she's familiar with our family, it's not like we're super close to her. But on our end, she's documented a lot of years of W life. We think she's great!

Seeing Tina's smile and hearing her laugh is a treat any day, but especially today. The kindness that Lori showed in letting us connect with her, in telling me she hoped the brief conversation made my rough day a little better, was awesome. And the fact they were professional the whole time (maintaining social distancing, no other customers around), while providing what I would call phenomenal customer service was just a bonus.

I'm still feeling pretty snarky and ranty, but that little snippet of my day was a gift. I'm grateful.

GRIEVING A MILESTONE

Grief is a gnarly beast.

Some of you may remember the trip I made to Brookings when I reached my mom's age of death. As of last month, all three of us Perkins kids have lived longer than our mom did. It's so strange.

I don't have what I call "mom days" very often anymore, days with grief tied directly to the loss of my mom, and when I do they're usually random. However, I realized a few months ago that this year would be the fifth anniversary of reaching the age my mom died at and I've become increasingly emotional as the date came closer. This milestone definitely threw me for a loop. Even now, I can't explain why it hit me so early and hard this year.

Throw in the disappointment of a canceled event with my sister, the emotion of a significant date for a close friend, the birthday of another close friend I've been wanting to spend time with (those three things were on the same day as the five year mark), the ordinary struggles of life, as well as a little depression, and I've been a total mess the last few weeks. Buckets of tears, crying over everything and nothing, all day, every day.

There have, of course, been plenty of good things and happy moments in the mix and I've been intentional about putting on my oxygen mask to keep from falling off the deep end. But, good gravy, it's been rough. The little Ws have known I might get choked up in the middle of talking about something as neutral as the weather and have eaten several meals without me while I hunkered down in my room or sat outside. Tim's held me when I couldn't stop crying, even when nothing in particular had set off the tears, and just spent time with me when I was off-kilter.

The day came and went. The milestone is over. I don't know how grief works for you, but the anticipation of a hard milestone is often harder for me than the day itself. I shed a few random tears at one point in the morning and some explainable ones later in the day, but I didn't feel as weighed down as I have for weeks.

I'm now five years and one day older than my mom was when she died. I haven't shed a single tear today. I haven't even come close. The day's been perfectly normal. The first emotionally stable day I've had in quite a while.

Again, grief is a gnarly beast.

Some of you are in the thick of grief right now. I won't list out the situations that come to mind, but this year, and even this last week, has been brutal for some of you. I encourage you to just keep moving forward. Cry your eyes out when you need to. Crawl under the covers when that's the best option. But keep moving forward. When you can't move, keep looking forward. Identify the oxygen mask things in your life and make a point to do at least one of them for a few minutes each day. Take care of yourself in whatever way you can and allow others to care for you as they're able. A better day is coming.

BRANCHES

This week hasn't been my favorite. The biggest thing was the 28th anniversary of my mom's death, which, for a variety of reasons, was the hardest year of that milestone I've ever had and included buckets and buckets and buckets of tears shed behind closed doors.

Of course, there have been all the other ordinary struggles of life. Parenting exhaustion. Homemaking failures. Communication breakdowns. Insomnia. Physical discomfort. Inefficient time management. Humanity. Sometimes, like this week, those ordinary things pile on and feed off each other, then become even harder to rationally deal with when placed on a mountain of grief. I've become increasingly annoyed by petty complaints and general irresponsibility when I face bigger issues and responsibilities of my own, yet I've quite hypocritically dished out all sorts of petty complaints and demonstrated less than stellar responsibility myself this week.

Humans are flawed. Life is messy.

My response has been to withdraw for several days. With the exception of taking care of my online responsibilities and responding to direct communication, I've avoided Facebook. I haven't blogged. I haven't sent chatty texts, e-mails, Facebook messages, or happy mail. I haven't talked to anyone about how I'm feeling. If you know my extroverted, people-loving, overly wordy self at all, you know that multiple days of intentionally avoiding interaction with others is a big deal. I just needed a break, some time to pull myself together without a bunch of distractions.

I've read my Bible, listened to my "When Life Stinks" playlist, gone on brisk walks, read library books, prayed, eaten lots of healthy meals, and taken long showers. I've also cried, spoken in anger and frustration, had snarky conversations in my head, and eaten far more cookies and candy than any person should.

Again, humans are flawed and life is messy.

I feel ready to dip my toe back in the online waters today and am doing so with a poem I've shared before. It's blustery here today and the last two lines of the poem, which are my favorite, came to mind as I was picking up branches that had blown all over our yard this afternoon.


VIEW I

A storm came through our garden once;
It shred and broke and tore,
Til all that lay within its path
Was shaken o'er and o'er

Then firmly called the sun for quiet;
It shushed the wind and held the rain;
Then gently wrapped the fraught creation
With warm and healing arms again

After days of loving comfort,
Timid shoots of green peeked through,
And gentle colors shyly opened,
Promise of a deeper hue

When seasons changed, a passerby
Beheld a two-faced view ---
Of rain-thrashed trees and battered shrubs,
Yet also growth, alive and new


VIEW II

The Husbandman has placed His servants
Within a garden, precious, rare
To labor, pray, rejoice, and weep
O'er every branch he's planted there.

Our Father also knew before
That violent, unrelenting rains,
Sweeping o'er his precious vineyard
Would bring wreckage, sorrow, pain

But far beyond, the Keeper knew
The storm would more than havoc sow;
For rains that plunder stiffened branches
Cause the yielding ones to grow.

~ Barbara Perkins


If you're having a rough week, month, or season of your own, I pray that you'll see hope in the grief, feel joy in the stress, and experience growth that can only come from struggle. Be a yielding branch.

THREE GOOD THINGS

January 1, 2012 - Eight years ago I started writing down three good things about the day before I went to bed each night. It didn't matter if they were significant or trivial, but they had to be positive and they had to be relevant to that particular day. I kept the habit for five months, then quit in a season of stress and anger surrounding my circumstances at the time. Immature, I know, but that's real life.

January 4, 2014 - After nineteen months of pouting, I decided to end my days on a positive note again. No matter how rotten a day is or how poorly I've handled the challenges I face, and believe me when I say there have been way more hard days than easy ones and that I frequently opt for irresponsible and immature responses instead of wise ones, I choose to focus on what was good as the day comes to an end. And every day has good things. Every single day.

January 1, 2020 - Not only have I stuck with this habit for six years, but I've added to it. During a super rough season of marriage, someone who's been married longer than I have and who had no idea I already wrote three good things each night, suggested I start writing down five good things about Tim at the end of each day. I knew it was wise counsel, but five things seemed impossible at the time. So I compromised with two.

I've continued the additional habit for years, through that challenging time and into a happier, healthier season of marriage. No one ever knew I wrote down good things about Tim each day, including Tim himself until I just told him a couple months ago and a couple friends during a recent discussion we had about marriage. I was encouraged in that conversation with friends to increase my list about Tim to three things per day. I accepted the challenge, so now each day of my life ends with acknowledging three good things about my life and three about my husband.

Why am I telling you this? Because I want to challenge you to do the same, to end each day acknowledging three specific things that were good about it, and the beginning of a new year is a great time to start. Super critical by nature? So am I. Easily overwhelmed by the hard things in life? I can relate. So if my negative, stressed out self can find three good things about each day, anyone can!

A PEACEFUL DAY

Ten hours. That's how long I got to be home alone today. Ten hours of silence and solitude. At the end of a rough week, it was bliss. 

From daylight ...

... to dark.

I was able to take care of some projects, stare at the window at all the birds in our yard, read my Bible, clean up some messes, take a few short breaks from silence to listen to Christmas music, sit on the couch and stare at the fire Tim built before leaving, pray, stretch, finish a few library books, and drink lots of tea.

There's no question that I'm an extrovert who needs time with people, but on this day time alone was absolutely perfect. I'm so thankful things worked out for me to have this chance to rest, truly rest.

GRIEF IS A GNARLY BEAST

Yesterday was the anniversary of a death of someone important in my life. In thinking about that person, as I often do, I suddenly realized the little funk I've had a hard time shaking is grief. I'm not depressed, and there are plenty of things about life I'm thankful for and enjoying, but I've definitely had an underlying struggle for a while. I'm not going to share what I've been grieving, but I will say that my highly visible surface emotions that grief likes to disguise itself as have hidden the fact it was grief itself hiding underneath.

We usually associate grief with death, and I haven't had anyone close to me die in several years, but I think it's more accurately tied to loss. The loss of relationships, seasons of life, community, material possessions, stability, dreams, physical capabilities, beliefs, security, and more. We grieve both what we've already lost and what we know we're about to lose.

As I've always said, grief is a gnarly beast. It hits in different ways, at different times, and for different reasons for different people. It's both predictable and unpredictable. While there are obviously some unhealthy ways of coping with grief, there's no one right way to do it. We all just have to try finding a balance between allowing ourselves to grieve whatever we've lost, which is a normal and healthy thing to do, without letting that grief consume us indefinitely, which is decidedly  unhealthy.

Here are a few thoughts and verses that have come to mind as I've thought about loss and grief today.

No matter what losses I face, God's not going anywhere.

Deuteronomy 31:8 The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.

Not only is God always with me, but I can tell him all I feel and depend on him for security and comfort until I pull myself together. 

Psalm 62:8 Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.

Tears are normal and acceptable. 

John 11:35 Jesus wept.

Seasons change. Sometimes grief fades on its own, other times we have to choose to focus our efforts on something else for a time. Often it's a mixture of the two. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.

If you're one who's grieving now, whether on a grand scale or a more subdued one, my prayer for you today is that you'd find some healthy ways of handling all those emotions, learn to find happiness in your new normal, and know that you are loved.

OCTOBER THOUGHTS

October is winding down and I'm realizing how much of this month I've spent thinking about last October. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster. In no particular order -

* Made special, lifetime memories. 

* Enjoyed the season of marriage we were in. 

* Hit an emotional and mental low. 

* Quit a part-time job I wanted to keep. 

* Experienced deep hurt. 

* Adjusted to Tim's career change. 

* Entered uncharted parenting territory. 

* Started a slow process of personal growth in some specific areas.

There's one side of this reminiscing that's not helpful, the part where I haven't seen as much progress as I'd like in certain things and get discouraged.  But the other side has been good, the part where I can evaluate where things are and choose to keep moving forward.

Life is filled with highs and lows, right? My tendency is to be overwhelmed by the lows, to feel hopeless when positive change is beyond my control, and to get frustrated with myself when I struggle to get over something negative. I hit a rough patch in relationships, circumstances, or my own sin and forget all that's true and good. 

* That rough patches are unavoidable.

* That I can have peace in the midst of life's challenges. 

* That I'm making progress, even if it's ridiculously slow and filled with failure. 

* That God's love for me doesn't hinge on my behavior or mental health. 

So, here's to another year of growth. To being more secure in who I am in Christ and less bothered by my own imperfect humanity. To gratitude, love, humility, trust, and forgiveness. To focusing my attention on what matters most to me and letting the rest go.

And, no, the picture has nothing to do with the post. It's just one I took on Friday while I hung out all by myself in the van, reading a book and looking up the Bible verses it mentioned, exchanging Facebook messages with a close friend, and waiting for the bi-annual clothing exchange I've attended for over a decade to get started. Documenting ordinary life. 

SEE THE GOOD

We found out the event our evening plans hinged on wasn't happening just before we walked out the door, which meant we didn't arrive to a non-event. The two little Ws whose plans were affected by the change weighed their options and figured out a new plan. I had enough gas to get home tonight and back to the gas station tomorrow, which meant it wasn't a crisis when I realized a little W hadn't returned the debit card I intended to pay for gas with to where it belongs. The zippered pouch I keep gift cards in was on the ground where we'd been parked when we returned to the store after discovering it was missing. The little W who had eagerly anticipated spending the remaining balance of a gift card pulled it together pretty quickly after shedding some tears when the gift card had nothing on it. The app troubles I was having got resolved and I was able to get a free treat for the disappointed little W, a treat originally intended for two little Ws to share and willingly given up by the non-disappointed one in order to cheer their sibling up. 

And I got this mug for free with a gift card in the middle of the three hours all that other stuff happened in. 💚

Also, I ranted a lot this morning. Don't ever, not for one single minute, think I naturally find the positive spin or usually choose to look for it. I don't. I'm a work in progress.

SONGS OF COMFORT

A friend recently mentioned seeing a positive change in my life. She's right. The last ten months have been a season of shifting priorities, making intentional choices, and taking better care of myself. I'm still far from where I want to be, really far, but it was encouraging for someone else to say they'd noticed some results of the effort I've been making.

Yet in the midst of the forward progress, there are still struggles. Life is often two steps forward, one step back. Like the picture above, it's the juxtaposition of death and life, ugliness and beauty that we all face as we move through our days.

Insecurity. Failure. Anxiety. Grief.

I wrestle with those things regularly, more now than I ever have before. It's discouraging and I hate the inappropriate ways I deal with them.

But God, in his goodness, created people who write beautiful music and pen lyrics that speak to the various things we feel in life. I have a playlist on Spotify I call "When Life Stinks" that's filled with songs I listen to when I'm down, ones that validate how I feel while pointing me out of whatever funk I'm in, but the following songs (or snippets of songs, as the case may be) are the ones that have come to mind a lot lately. They remind me that I'm fully known by God, even when I don't feel comfortable sharing my thoughts and feelings with anyone else; that he loves me in the middle of the mess my life can be; that the truth of who I am rests in who he is so I don't need to beat myself up over my shortcomings.


He Made Me, He Loves Me by Ben & Noelle Kilgore on A Resting Place
(Complete lyrics here and video here.)

He made me
He loves me
He knows all my story


He Knows My Name by Tommy Walker on Never Gonna Stop
(Complete lyrics here and video here.)

He knows my name
He knows my every thought
He sees each tear that falls
And he hears me when I call


Here's My Heart by Lauren Daigle on How Can It Be 
(Complete lyrics here and video here.)

Here's my heart, Lord
Here's my heart, Lord
Here's my heart, Lord
Speak what is true

I am found, I am yours
I am loved, I'm made pure
I have life, I can breathe
I am healed, I am free


I hope those words encourage some of you today!

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ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Life's been a little unpleasant around these parts lately. Nothing newsworthy - irresponsibility, hurt feelings, unmet expectations, poor communication, inadequate sleep. Just ordinary rough patches in family life.

Things turned a corner yesterday, though, and we had a nice evening together. Silas got home much earlier than expected. Tim pulled fresh salmon out of the smoker just in time for dinner. We all chatted with some neighbors in the front yard. Hopped on bikes and rode to Settlemier Park. Had a rousing game of Lava Monster on the playground (which I bowed out of quickly because I hate it with a passion, but enjoyed watching from the swings). Rode home and settled down for the evening. Tim and the big boys played Exploding Kittens after the other kids went to bed. I spent some time reading and drinking tea while listening to some mellow instrumental music. Then the rest of us hit the sack.

It was a pleasant return to better family dynamics and a perfect end to the weekend.

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SWEETNESS IN DISAPPOINTMENT

Last night I was supposed to be at our church's Women's Christmas Dessert. Instead, for reasons beyond anyone's control, my ticket and I were at home. 

I've missed the event several times over the years, which hasn't bothered me at all, but this was the first time I'd had my plans to go be foiled. Silas was there, having driven up earlier in the day to work, and Devon was there because he volunteered to help with parking, which meant I had to battle an hour of torrential rains and rush hour traffic to drop him off at an event I wanted to be at myself. I cried the whole way home.

In the scheme of things, it's not that big of a deal. I'm not facing my first Christmas after the death of my teenager, like one friend is. I'm not facing my first Christmas with a broken marriage, like another friend is. I'm not a single parent of young kids who never leaves home by myself because there's no extra money for the fluff of life and no one's available to watch the kids who are too young to stay home alone, which is the reality of several people I know. It was just a few hours of eating treats, singing songs, listening to a speaker, and visiting with friends and strangers. 

But I was looking forward to it.

I had a pity party for myself all day long, complete with tears and a little temper tantrum at one point, bemoaning all the reasons I was upset about it, so today I want to document what was good about the situation. Because there's always good, even if it takes me a while to recognize it.

Full disclosure: I took the ticket picture last night with every intention of sharing it on Facebook in a whiny post, even though I think whiny posts about trivial problems are incredibly annoying. Double points for immaturity and hypocrisy. We've all done those whiny posts at some point, but it's much better to use the picture today in a grateful post!

* Silas offered to stay home from work so that I could attend. Although he could have done that, responsibilities trump privileges. I insisted he go to work, but was so grateful for his willingness to change his day (and paycheck) around on my behalf.

* Naomi and I took Tyler out to do his Christmas shopping. He'd already purchased a gift for Naomi, but got the remaining four last night. I love seeing my kids' thought processes as they choose gifts for others and appreciated Naomi sticking with him at the end since I had to stay away for the sake of not seeing his gift for me.

* We got in the car after shopping and Naomi handed me a bag of Twix. Although baked goods are the biggest weakness for my sweet tooth, I love Twix. A lot. She knew I was really disappointed about missing the church event and wanted to brighten up my evening a bit, which was super thoughtful.

* Beep sent a text while we were at the store, asking if I was free to chat. I let her know I was busy at the moment, but we spent an hour on the phone later in the evening. I'd have missed that opportunity for conversation with my sister completely if I'd been gone.

* I got lots of hugs and gratitude from Naomi and Tyler for letting them stay up late to watch a movie in a room lit only by Christmas lights. I loved seeing them all cozy under blankets, hunkered down for a mellow evening.

* I opened my bedroom door this morning and discovered this hanging on my doorknob.

All the women who attend the event are given a wall calendar. I've enjoyed the one from last year, but knew I'd forfeited this year's when I missed the event. Except Devon brought one home for me! These calendars are neat because all the artwork is done by women in our church family and it's designed in such a way that the pictures will fit in an 8x10 frame if you cut the calendar part off when you're done with it.

* Walking into the kitchen, I found they brought home a bag filled with grapes that were leftovers from last night. I love produce!

I'm still bummed that I couldn't go last night, but such is life. I may have missed sweet things to eat, but there was an abundance of other kinds of sweetness!

OXYGEN MASK RETREAT - 2018

About five weeks ago I had a conversation with Tim that was hard, but good. It was me sharing all that was broken in my heart and head, and him responding perfectly. In that conversation, I mentioned wanting to get away for a few days to clear my head and regroup. He was fully supportive. Later that day I invited a friend along for the ride to go buy a book that was life-changing for me when I'd read the library copy earlier in the month. (It's Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic for a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living, written by Shauna Niequist, for those who are interested.) I confided in her some of what I'd shared with Tim and about my desire to get away for a while. She affirmed that taking a break from real life to sort things out was a good idea. That night I made reservations and marked the calendar.

Within the week we had an unexpected change in our schedule and I had to cancel my trip. Tim's immediate response was for me to reschedule, but I said I was fine (and I truly was in a better place than before our big conversation) and there was no rush. I didn't need the trip as desperately as I had before. Later, though, I thought of the following quote from The Wise Woman and Other Stories, written by George MacDonald.

"People  are so ready to think themselves changed when it is only their mood that is changed! Those who are good-tempered because it is a fine day, will be ill-tempered when it rains: their selves are just the same both days; only in the one case, the fine weather has got into them, in the other the rainy."

I know myself, my propensity to have ups and downs, to let circumstances dictate my mood. My whole purpose in wanting to go in the first place to figure out how to keep my heart and head in a good place when life isn't going well, so it made sense that I should go away to work out some junk when I wasn't in crisis mode. 

I made another reservation. Life required that it be on a different date, for a different length of time, and in a different location, but I went. I called it my "Oxygen Mask Retreat", referencing the idea of keeping my oxygen mask on that I've been working on lately. 

The friend I confided in earlier, the only person outside of my family who knew about the trip, had left a gift for me at church after I'd told her I'd had to cancel my original reservation. I opened the bag at church, quickly looked through it, then closed it back up because I didn't think I could hold myself together. That night I showed it to Tim and just started sobbing.

She'd taken a bag and filled it with things for me to take on my original trip, then chose to give it to me anyway when that trip fell through. I put it in my closet that night, saving it for the right timing, then brought it all with me when I finally got away. Any gift would have been thoughtful, but this collection of treasures made me feel so known and loved. Cookies (you know they're my love language), Tension Tamer tea, a journal and pens (she knew I wanted to spend my time reading, writing, and praying), a prayer shawl she'd requested from the group who makes them at our church so I'd feel wrapped in love and prayer, a thoughtful card, and an abundance of blue and green. Isn't that amazing?

I'm not going to share anything about the heart and head aspect of my trip, the reason for my break from reality, because that's between me and God (and, on some points, the other Ws), but here are some of the things that made me smile along the way.

A friend stopped by our home as I was walking out the door to load the car in the morning and dropped off cookies for our family. I'd made everyone an egg, sausage, and spinach scramble for breakfast, but opted not to make toast for myself. Evidently my body knew I needed to save space for cookies and to start my trip out on the right foot. Mine were eaten before I hit the freeway. No shame.

Ocean as far as the eye could see. The sound of creeks and waterfalls. Birds running and flying, a sea lion sunbathing. 

The light and warmth of a campfire. An opportunity to rest and sing.

Two cards on a shelf, one from my friend and the other enclosed with the prayer shawl, served as tangible reminders that I'm loved.

The verse inside the prayer shawl card, one that I happen to have posted in my bathroom. One about hope, something I've been focusing on lately.

Surrounded by tall trees, the morning sun peeking through.  A cup of hot tea to drink while I read my Bible.

 Waves crashing.  Blue skies and warm sun.

A peaceful view from the picnic table I read and wrote at for the afternoon.

A giant smile on the hillside as I drove home.

Yep, that's worth smiling about.

It was a wonderful trip and I'm so glad I heeded Tim's advice to make it happen, even though the original plan didn't work out.

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OXYGEN MASK

When was the last time a piece of art resonated with you? I enjoy art, but I don't know if I've ever felt it speak to me like it did last month. My sister and I went to the Portland Art Museum in early October and a particular piece struck a chord deep in my heart. It was a large painting by Joe Goode, five feet square, called Torn Cloud Painting. I picked up a postcard of it in the museum store before we left, which is what this picture is of, and put it somewhere I'd see it on a regular basis.

I have my share of ups and downs, sometimes more than my share, but I was in a serious funk when I saw this painting at the museum, struggling to keep my head and heart in a good place. It's been six weeks since then and I'm in a much better place now, which I'm grateful for, and this artwork was one of two things I believe were the catalyst for change. (The other was reading Present Over Perfect, which I sobbed my way through in two sittings and finished the day after going to the museum.)

What do you see when you look at this painting? I see the inside of a difficult season, unchanging scenery no matter which direction you look. I see a sliver of belief that there are blue skies and better times (as in being more emotionally and mentally stable, not necessarily having easier circumstances) on the other side, but no clear path to get there. I see desperation, the ragged clawing away at a life that's threatening to consume one's sanity.

Hope. That's what I see. And a choice to not give up, no matter how messy the process may be.

In those early days of October, I remembered the advice you hear on an airplane - in case of emergency, put on your own oxygen mask before you help anyone else. Put on my own oxygen mask first? I don't think I even had a proverbial oxygen mask.

I know what some of you are thinking. Jesus!! That's the oxygen mask we need!! I agree, but it was painfully, very painfully, obvious that I also needed to make some long-term, practical lifestyle changes. Those changes are the oxygen mask to which I'm referring.

It was no secret to my family that I wasn't handling life well. When I tearfully shared with Tim exactly how I was feeling, what I was thinking, and some things I thought would make a difference, he heard me. Then, standing together in the garage, an unlikely location for a significant conversation, he partnered with me to get my oxygen mask on.

We're all works in progress and I'll never have it all together, but my head and heart are no longer in crisis mode. I'm being intentional about making sure my oxygen mask is on. Sometimes it falls off or I forget about it completely, but overall I'm learning to take care of myself so I can live the life I desire and take care of my family the way I want to.

Giving details of what that mask looks like for me is personal, a vulnerable place I'm not willing to go, but I'm sharing this painting and its significance to me in order to encourage those living in a cloud to scratch and claw your way out to blue sky. Do whatever it takes, however long it takes, to break through. Don't give up if the process is two steps forward, one step back. Find someone you can trust with the mess your head and heart is in, a person you're comfortable being honest with and who you'll listen to when you need some tough love. Hold on to hope. Put your oxygen mask on.

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BOOKS I FINISHED - OCTOBER 2018

*****

Charlotte's Web, written by E.B. White and illustrated by Garth Williams

The classic children's story of the friendship between a pig and spider, one doing their best to save the life of the other, never gets old. This was a school book for Tyler that I read to all the kids during lunch.


*****

Girl Waits With Gun (A Kopp Sisters Novel, book 1), written by Amy Stewart

Based on a true story that happened about 100 years ago, this novel is about three sisters who live out in the country and find themselves under physical attack and threatened by a prominent business owner and his gang. These women, all with strong and different personalities, demonstrated perseverance, resiliency, and a commitment to each other as they fought not simply for justice, but for their very lives.


*****

I am Evan, written by Marla Bowie

An abusive mom and absent dad have created an incredibly challenging life for Evan, but the love he has for his younger sister keeps him moving forward. When the abuse leads to his admittance to a hospital and both siblings in foster care, separated for the first time since his sister's birth, everything in his world changes. Navigating ever-changing circumstances, he has to figure out what matters most to him, learning to differentiate between wants and needs, hope and reality.


********

Just Show Up: The Dance of Walking Through Suffering Together, written Kara Tippetts and Jill Lynn Buteyn

Tippetts walked out the last years of her life very publicly on her blog, Mundane Faithfulness, but this book is a joint effort between her and Buteyn, a friend who walked through her cancer with her. I loved hearing both of their perspectives, their vulnerability in sharing their personal experience as it was happening in real time. Their admonishment to come alongside those who are suffering is both firm and kind, and includes some practical suggestions for how to do it.

p. 10, There is so much power in showing up, humble power in saying, "I'm here. I may not have the answers, but I'm here."

p. 18, I've learned real beauty lies in the good that comes out of the hard.

p. 29, I think a better approach is "Live like today is your very first day." Think about that for a minute. What if you and I lived today like it was a fresh start, like we got a do-over and could start showing up and practicing big love from the very beginning? Can you imagine the impact on our families, our friendships, our churches?

p. 64, Our people who are suffering know the truth of God's provision and grace. What they need is for us to express that we care and then to listen in love.

p. 64, Curiosity is different from caring < snip > Curiosity wants to know what's going on. Caring wants the person to know they're not forgotten. Details aren't important.

p. 120, Insecurity is a backstabbing jerk that demands attention and doesn't listen to logic.

p. 124, There will also be times when you'll have to differentiate between your friend hurting you and their suffering hurting you. If something wounds you while you're walking through suffering with a loved one, ask yourself this: Is my friend disappointing me? Or is this their illness or hard season  disappointing me? 

Many times you'll find it's the latter.

p. 146, If showing up is a dance, then a long good-bye is like a slow dance with a partner who easily steps on toes. There are so many opportunities for us to make mistakes, yet also so many moments to grab and hold on to.

*****

Life After, written by Katie Ganshert

This fictional story of the sole survivor of a train bombing, as well as the family one of the victims left behind, deals with grief, survivor's guilt, the importance of truth, and moving forward in spite of your brokenness.

*****

Present Over Perfect: Leaving Behind Frantic for a Simpler, More Soulful Way of Living, written by Shauna Niequist

A compelling challenge to shift priorities from doing everything, and doing it all perfectly, to doing well at the few things that matter most. This book would be good for me to read anytime, simply because of how I'm wired, but the timing was impeccable. I sobbed my way through it, then went out and got my own copy (I read a lot, but never buy books) so I could mark it up. I'll come back after my second time through to share my favorite quotes.

UPDATE: I'm back. There are so many good quotes to share, so much in this book that speaks to the deepest parts of me, but I'll limit myself to ten.

p. 16, But it's like I was pulling a little red wagon, and as I pulled it along, I filled it so full that I could hardly keep pulling. That red wagon was my life, and the weight of pulling it was destroying me.

p. 28, My regrets: how many years I bruised people with my fragmented, anxious presence. How many moments of connection I missed - too busy, too tired, too frantic and strung out on the drug of efficiency.

p. 42, People called me tough. And capable. And they said I was someone they could count on. Those are all nice things. Kind of. But they're not the same as loving, or kind, or joyful. I was not those things.

p. 47 (referencing an older pastor telling the younger pastor of a large congregation, who claimed he had nothing to do with the wild growth of his church, that he did because he's the one who chose to keep putting out more chairs) If I work in such a way that I don't have enough energy to give to my marriage, I need to take down some chairs. If I say yes to so many work things that my kids only get to see tired mommy, I need to take down some chairs.

p. 113, It is better to be loved than admired. It is better to be truly known and seen and taken care of by a small tribe than adored by strangers who think they know you in a meaningful way.

p. 144, I thought that my midlife season would be about pushing into a new future ... and it is. I thought it would be about leaving behind the expectations and encumbrances of the past. It is. What I didn't know is that it would feel so much like recovering an essential self, not like discovering a new one.

p. 160 (speaking of personal capacity, comparing it to the quantity and force of a firehose) It's a stream: tiny, clear, cool. That's what I have to give, and that small stream is mine to nurture, to tend, to offer first to the people I love most, my first honor and responsibility.

p. 175, What would our lives be like if our days were studded by tiny, completely unproductive, silly, non-strategic, wild and beautiful five-minute breaks, reminders that our days are for loving and learning and laughing, not for pushing and planning, reminders that it's all about the heart, not about the hustle?

p. 178, Being outside reminds me of life and God and growth, and the energy and motion of nature, all things I forget so easily when I spend my life too much indoors, too much in a world of laptops and laundry and lists.

p. 197, I don't want to get to the end of my life and look back and realize that the best thing about me was I was organized.

*****


PICTURE BOOKS I LIKED

*****

All the World, written by Liz Garton Scanlon and illustrated by Marla Frazee

The story of a group of people's day, the big and small moments that make it up, is sweet, but I'm just a fan of Frazee's illustrations.


*****

Wait, written and illustrated by Antoinette Portis

Yes, there are times we need to stay focused on our goal and keep moving forward, but I can always use reminders that sometimes we need to slow down and pay attention to the journey.

*****

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SOME WEEKS

Do you ever have one of those weeks where one thing after another goes wrong? Complaining doesn't feel justified because there have also been plenty of good things and the hard things aren't scandalous or life-changing. But, still, what in the world? That was last week.

Motherhood was ... ummm ... well, let's just say that I won't be writing a parenting book soon. Or ever. I had a few physical things going on that were frustrating. I didn't get nearly the amount of homeschooling work accomplished that I intended to and have pretty much lost most of my motivation to do any at all. 

Facebook made an unannounced change that suddenly and unexpectedly rendered all posting services useless on event pages, meaning my Pampered Chef party posts that go up automatically during the day while I take care of the rest of life, allowing me to pop into parties at my convenience, had to all be posted manually. Even during times where I'm intentionally offline.

The kids and I missed a junction that wasn't clearly marked on a hike, which cut our planned distance in half. I was running late for a haircut, which meant the kids all had to come with me immediately after the hike. We got home at 3:45, exhausted from a non-stop day and hungry because we hadn't anticipated being gone so long and hadn't brought adequate food. Plus I had tons of work to do because of the posting service situation and being away from the computer long. Our house was a mess. My dinner plan fell through.

Why were we running late, even though our hike was only half the distance we planned? Because of this. Four siblings relaxing and laughing together in the sunshine. Picturesque, right? Just having so much fun we lost track of time.

Or maybe it was that a big farm truck came barreling down the center of the road after our hike and I had to choose between getting hit head-on or sliding into a ditch, so the little Ws opted to wait on the opposite side of the road instead of sitting at an angle indefinitely.

Yep, it was that. And then it was waiting around to spend some quality time with the man of my dreams. You can see us together here, me getting my first sunburn of the year and him rescuing a damsel in distress. 

The good news is ...

The same kids who I feel so weary of parenting at times are the same ones who can be a joy to be around. I'm not parenting alone. None of my physical complaints are life-threatening. In fact, they're not even serious in any way. Schooling choices of every kind have ups to balance the downs. I've had the ability to manually post in my virtual Pampered Chef parties for the short-term while I decide what to do for the long-term. Both of last week's parties were fun.

We have the freedom to go on a hike in the sun in the middle of a school day. My phone had a signal in a somewhat rural area, which allowed me to call our insurance company to get towed out of the ditch. The tow truck driver responds to calls in the order he gets them, which meant when he got four calls in a row, he came to us first. We have insurance that paid for the tow.

The haircut I thought I'd have to cancel was still able to happen and I enjoyed catching up with my hairdresser. Tim was on a subbing schedule the day of the ditch adventure, so he beat us home by a few minutes. He took over the role of man of my dreams when he asked how he could help, then whipped together stir fry and a pot of rice when I asked if he could figure out something for dinner while I dealt with party stuff and tried not to cry.

Two things.

First, remember that there are proverbial vehicles in ditches across from smiling kids. People don't always tell you about them, but that doesn't mean they don't exist. Maybe you only see the smiling kids because the stuck vehicle in their life is something that isn't up for public consumption. Maybe it doesn't have to be kept private, but they're choosing to focus on the good things instead of the hard ones. Either way, there's often (I'm tempted to say always) more hard things going on in a person's life than one smiling picture or pleasant conversation indicates. No one's life is all sunshine and roses.

Second, remember that every rotten day has something good in it. I realize my week wasn't absolutely horrible, but it's still easy to get bogged down by the relatively trivial things that are inconvenient or frustrating. Whether you're dealing with a barrage of minor problems like I was, or huge things, which I've also faced, make a point to look for the positive things that are also going on. They're always there.