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The Things We Leave Behind

Have you ever felt stuck? I have. Last winter was one of those times when I found myself searching for a catalyst. I knew I wanted to make some changes in my life, but I needed a push. The idea of Newton’s first law of motion kept coming to my mind: An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force. I felt like I was “at rest” but not in a peaceful way: I felt like I was stuck in a rut and needed a “force” to get me moving again in the right direction.

“I should be eating better, but it is so much more simple to stick with my routines and the meals that I know…”

“I want to get more sleep, but then I get the boys to bed each night and fall right back into the temptations of watching tv or trying to get more done than I can possibly accomplish in one night…”

“I think I’d like to downsize our ‘stuff’ but I don’t know where to begin…”

Sound familiar to you? I hope I’m not alone.

Well, last winter, as I was once again contemplating the appeal and mystery of minimalism; I was reminded of an old song by Michael Card (and yes, I’m sufficiently embarrassed by the confession that I was ‘just thinking’ about a Michael Card song from 1994…) that my sisters and I once sang at a Good Friday service. The song, titled “Things We Leave Behind,” told the story of the original disciples walking away from the lives they had always known to follow Jesus in a radically new life. And it challenged us, as Christians today, to give up the things in our lives that weigh us down us with a simple, repeated chorus challenging us to find freedom in Christ–in the things we leave behind.

“It’s hard to imagine the freedom we find from the things we leave behind.”

The chorus of the song,” It’s hard to imagine the freedom we find from the things we leave behind.” ran through my head over and over. It was the calling card of minimalism: but more. As I reflected on the lyrics to this song, I realized that there is freedom from downsizing and change. But even more importantly, there is freedom in the catalyst behind those changes: in the direction that you are moving and the one you are following.

And as I remembered that Good Friday service from years ago, I found the impetus I had been looking for. Although I grew up in the church, I had never before “given up” anything for lent. But this year would be different: I would embrace lent as a time to “give up” my stagnant holding pattern. I desired a lenten journey that would prepare my heart for Easter and prepare me to experience change and motion in the right direction.

And because the idea was more about “giving up” habits and holding patterns than one specific thing, I decided to hold myself accountable in a simple lenten journal. My journey was simple and, in fact, freeing.

My daily lenten goals were uncomplicated and three-fold: first, I needed to make God a priority in this journey through prayer, Bible reading, reflection. Second, I would strive to do one thing to de-clutter my house each day (clean a kitchen drawer, fill a box of clothes to donate, etc.)–my task did not need to be large, but it did need to be something that went beyond the “normal” daily tasks of housekeeping such as doing the dishes or folding the laundry. And third, I needed to do something to, in essence, de-clutter myself each day. The first week, I drank 8 or more cups of water each day. The second week, I kept that up and managed to get 7 hours of sleep each night (and, yes: sleeping more than 6 hours a night was a MAJOR accomplishment).

As a form of accountability, I made a simple journal to keep track of those things I was changing in our home and in my overall lifestyle each day. And that’s the real reason for this post.

This week, we enter the season of lent again. And, once again, I find myself longing for a time to refocus my direction and to be moved to…move. I desire to find freedom from things left behind. And I’m inviting you to join me. I’m attaching the simple Lenten Journal I created to guide my journey, and I am encouraging you to use it if this idea speaks to you and your heart as well. Make it your own and I pray that you might also find freedom and joy in your journey and in the things you leave behind.

 

EDIT March 17, 2019 to Include:

Lent Calendar 2019

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All the life in between…

The beginning of the school year always feels like a whirlwind. For at least six weeks; beginning in mid-August, there is no way to catch your breath until the first week of October. And then that breath is usually more of a gasp for air than a steady intake of the life-giving stuff. And I LOVE my students and I love what I do and this is not about all the time I don’t have—rather, it is about all the time I don’t want to miss.

As summer comes to an end, I am always filled with a sense that all the fun is coming to an end. And, in a sense, many of the things I love about summer simply can’t continue year-long. Leisurely breakfasts with my boys, spontaneous mid-day trips to the zoo, luxuriously quiet mid-morning trips to the grocery store, and spur of the moment trips to visit a friend need to make way for structures and schedules and school. In our house, two teachers and two little scholars (preschool and first grade) mean school nights are serious and school mornings are no joke! Our summers are luxurious and afford us endless times together as a family—the school year cuts that down to about two hours a day in which we need to eat, do homework, and accomplish  all the other chores and joys of life. I am grateful for our summers and aware of how blessed we are to have them—but I still mourn the loss of my family time each fall.

And every year, I try to remind myself that school starting doesn’t mean our family time needs to end: that following my life’s calling by day doesn’t mean I need to abandon my life’s calling by night.

I am always looking to document the joy in my journey: I am constantly photographing this adventure called life. And last Monday I took a pic of my boys mid a hectic post-school grocery run and thought: “There it is! These are the moments that make our life together ours. We might only have a few hours together as a family today, but these are the hours we’ll remember.” So this past week, I decided to intentionally document proof of my life outside of the school day.  I kept taking a picture a day for perspective—and I found that I had a lot of living and loving to do outside of my work days.


I recognize that I have the luxury of spending my summers and weekends with my family, but I also get to live the exhausted realities of every day life with them as well.

Tuesday’s image, enjoying a popsicle while wrapped in a blanket, made me smile and is not unlike the daily work-life balancing act. It can be a balancing act and a challenge to find enjoyment in the little things (like a popsicle on the porch); especially if the moment comes with logistical challenges (such as wrapping a blanket around you to make the night a bit less autumnal and a bit more reminiscent of summer). But it is worth the work to find that balance. And, often, the challenge isn’t in the work of manipulating logistics but rather it is in the art of perception: in simply acknowledging the joys that are already there and in the moments waiting to be found good.

Smiling’s My Favorite.

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“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” Proverbs 7:22

Did you ever notice how a good laugh goes a long way in brightening your mood?  One day last spring, I was feeling particularly burdened by life, by routine, by the struggle to stay ahead; and the need to run errands with the boys was adding to my feelings of angst. I remember frantically attempting to head out the door for that day’s adventures, and in the process, I knocked over a pile of pans that were stacked by the door (treasures collected at an estate sale earlier in the week).  I was immediately frustrated; and just as I was about to give in to the urge to sit down on the floor and cry, I heard Keilan’s giggle. My frustration waned as his giggle grew into a belly laugh, as he  folded in half gasping for air between giggles, and as he repeatedly exclaimed, “Mom…Go…Boom!”  I scooped up the giggling puddle of boy he had become and carried him out to the car. And as we continued on our way, I found myself laughing along.  I would still have a mess of pans to clean up when we got home and I still had errands to run, but a giggle-fest was just the thing I had needed to refocus my perspective and to challenge me to find joy, to choose joy, over angst.  Proverbs 7:22 reminds us that “A cheerful heart is good medicine.” and on that day, those Keilan giggles were just the medicine I needed.

Ten years ago, on a December night that was dark and cold, a few close friends and I decided to go to a movie.  We were tired and burdened by the daily grind, but we went anyway. The movie was Elf, and we laughed. I am not saying that the movie was magical; but rather, it was well-timed and well-received by our exhausted selves.  The main character, Buddy the elf, gave us many lines to quote to one another throughout the year whenever we needed a good laugh.  “I just like to smile. Smiling’s my favorite,” became a favorite quote of ours. It served as a reminder of a fun time we had shared; and it also served as a challenge, as a reminder, to smile.

Smiling's my favorite!

A year later, the movie was being released on dvd, and we laughed as we remembered how we had enjoyed the movie throughout the year.  Patrick and I decided to buy the movie and to invite our friends over to watch it again on the day it was released.  We gathered a few more friends and a pile of Christmas cookies, and we made time to laugh again.  The movie didn’t disappoint; and neither did the company.  We laughed at the movie, and we laughed at ourselves.  I know it is a silly reason to get together, but we have gathered every year since then to watch the movie, to laugh, and to reconnect as friends.  We quote the movie and we challenge each other to embrace the small things we have to celebrate: “Good news! I saw a dog today…”

I love how Buddy celebrates the small stuff...

I love how Buddy celebrates the small stuff…

Last week, Patrick and I hosted our tenth annual Elf party. Over the years, we have celebrated with new friends and old, and this year we celebrated not just with friends but with our two little boys as well. I enjoy celebrating “the small stuff;” the everyday moments that make the journey better, and that is what the Elf party represents to me. Joy is in laughter, in choosing to smile, in embracing something silly, in good times with friends, and in celebrating the crashing pans of an otherwise serious day.

So today I will choose joy in laughter, I will celebrate the small stuff, and I will embrace a life lived with a cheerful heart.

Kai's First Elf Party :)

Kai’s First Elf Party 🙂

“A cheerful heart is good medicine…” Proverbs 7:22

The Power of Perception

Life with an almost-three year old and a soon-to-be-one year old is exhausting. Life as a first grade teacher can be pretty arduous as well.  However, living life with all these little people has taught me a lot about perspective and has challenged me to remember how frequently I am wrong…and how great being wrong can be.

A few weeks ago, I gave my students a math task, and as they set to work, I reminded them to: “Show your thinking.”  We have been practicing this for weeks: I have modeled how to “show your thinking” through equations, simple math drawings, etc. and my students have had many opportunities to practice these skills as well.  However, my students are still six and seven year olds sitting with white boards in their hands, and the temptation to use this time for “free choice” drawing is often still more than they can bear.

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This particular day, I happened to notice a student drawing a self-portrait on her white board rather than settling in to the task at hand.  I approached her and attempted to redirect her with a simple: “Remember, we are doing our math work now.”  She briefly met my eyes with a somewhat questioning expression and then silently got back to work on her drawing.  I could feel my frustration rise as I tried again: “It isn’t time to be drawing pictures now. We are doing our math work.”  She looked up again, and this time she audibly questioned me: “But teacher; you said to show your thinking?”  I was ready with a standard, “Yes, and we need to be doing that right now. Where is your equation?” but as I opened with a, “Yes…” I caught myself, and quickly fell silent, as I actually took the time to see what she had been drawing on her board.  There on her self-portrait, she had erased the spot where her white board hair had once been, and she was busy writing in just exactly what she was thinking.  While I had been busy reminding her to show her thinking, that’s exactly what she had been trying to do. Granted, she wasn’t using one of the methods we had practiced, but she was, in the most literal way possible, illustrating for me just exactly what her thinking “looked” like.  I managed to acknowledge her thinking, and hopefully validate it too, before giving the whole class a reminder as to what, “Show your thinking,” means in our classroom.

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I’m grateful for moments like that with my students. Sometimes it is good to be reminded of just how wrong I can be; even when I’m certain that I’m “right.”  I think that’s the power of perception: sometimes I take comfort in knowing that my perception of any situation doesn’t tell the whole story.

The year after Patrick and I were married, we both worked long days, and we often didn’t see each other until late at night. After one particularly long December day, we decided that we were going to set aside our exhaustion and decorate a Christmas tree.  Though we didn’t have much money to spend on our decorating endeavor, we were determined as we set out in search of the “perfect” tree. We ended up at the only store still open, and we bought the cheapest tree we could find: a $20 artificial tree from Wal-Mart.  Needless to say, this was no winsome pine; and from the beginning we made fun of our silly, bargain tree.  But as we assembled and decorated our tree, it made our first apartment feel even more like a home as we celebrated our first Christmas together.  When our second Christmas rolled around, we decided that we needed to keep our silly tree another year. But as we decorated; we dreamed about, and planned for, the  grand tree we would one day afford.

Last week, we pulled out that same bargain tree and began decorating it again.  This is the 12th time we have decorated our silly tree, and each year we continue to dream about the day when we can justify purchasing a new one.  This year we laughed extra hard as we traumatized our poor two-year old with this “pretend tree” that we pulled out of its box and began to assemble.  Though he was skeptical at first, as he “helped” us assemble the tree, his appreciation for the tree appeared to grow as his excitement for Christmas swelled.  He sat by the tree with his little brother sharing, in the way that only a two-year old can, about all of the wonders that this tree would soon hold.

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He bounced all over the living room as we placed our star on the top of the tree. I had wanted to buy a new one because I knew the “star on top” was a big deal to his two-year-old heart, but we couldn’t afford one this year and he quickly accepted our old, tacky topper as the perfect star for the top. I gratefully acknowledged that Keilan’s excitement for Christmas allowed him to overlook the flaws of our “tend tree;” even while his dad and I tried to strategically place lights and ornaments to create the illusion of a full, verdurous tree.

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A few days after putting up our tree, I noticed that the giant Christmas tree was lit in front of the shopping mall near our home, and I suggested that we drive by to give Keilan a thrill.  We were not disappointed in our son’s reaction; his giggles and shouting showed his wonder at the brilliance and height of the tree. And as I turned around to catch his expression, I asked, “Isn’t it beautiful?!?”

I, myself, was impressed by the beauty and height of the tree, and I was shocked by his answer: “No, mom. The big, mall tree is not my favorite tree.”

“It’s not?” I asked, while scanning the other tress that twinkled around the tall center tree, “Which tree is your favorite?”

“My beautiful star tree. The tree at Kei’s house.” was his earnest reply. And I, once again, was challenged by the power of perception.  That old tree of ours is no longer just a silly, cheap tree.  Patrick and I were wrong; that tree has great value because it is “ours.”  A few tears caught in my throat as I heard the sweetness of his voice and considered his thoughtful answer.  What a relief that the best we had to offer was the stuff his Christmas dreams were made of; for him, our tree was perfection, and it was his “favorite.”

How often do we hesitate to offer what we have because we assume that it can’t possibly be enough?  And how powerful would it be if we could only keep reminding ourselves of how often our perceptions are “wrong.”  And maybe when a situation feels a bit hopeless or things are starting to feel “off-task,” we need to remember that we are only seeing things with a limited perception: our own. So, today I will find joy in my journey by accepting that very often my perceptions are “wrong” and by choosing to accept the perception of “hope” instead.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

 

Sleep Deprivation and Silver Linings

“Oh, Hi, Mom! I’m ‘wake now!”

Unfortunately, I have been hearing that much more often than I care to; at all hours of the night. My poor little man has a wretched cough that prevents him from sleeping, and frequently his coughing fits are violent enough to convince him that it is morning.

A few nights ago, I woke up at 3:30. I wasn’t sure why; I didn’t think I had heard a cough, but I headed to the boys’ room anyway. And there my guys were: totally, middle-of-the-day awake at 3:30 in the morning. I have no idea how long they had been awake, but they certainly did not look like they believed it was a time for sleeping. Though my exhaustion filled me with desperation at the thought of another short night, I couldn’t help but laugh. Keilan was putting on a puppet show complete with stuffed animals and two-year-old humor (you  know: throwing things, falling on the floor, giggling uncontrollably…), and Kai was a captive audience member. As I watched Kai double over with a 7-month-old, belly-laugh; I laughed too. And I took a picture. After all, I would much prefer that they were sleeping, but since my guys were up and adorable, I felt it didn’t hurt to enjoy this memory for a moment before getting them both back to bed.  Joy can be found in any journey; even one clouded by sleep deprivation…right?!?

Late Night Puppet Show

Late Night Puppet Show

When I started this blog, I didn’t have a plan; there wasn’t a set schedule. I never felt I needed a weekly goal or even a monthly entry. My goal was to chronicle the joy that I find in my journey, to motivate myself to search for joy along the way…and to encourage others to find joy in their journeys as well. The goal was not to tout how awesome my life is but rather to chronicle how much awesome can be found in spite of all the crazy “life” that life brings.

It has been just over two months since my last blog post, and I must confess that these past few months have been difficult.  My mother-in-law lost a horrific battle with ALS in the beginning of July. My husband needed emergency surgery to remove his gall bladder in the end of July that resulted in a four day hospitalization and a lengthy recovery that is not yet complete. My little man has been sick most of the summer and we have been struggling to find answers and relief for him so that he can get back to his  normal two-year-old self.  There have been other stressors as well; for instance, all of these medical bills are mounting higher and higher as we close in on 14 months without insurance. And though we are making the payments that we can, where we can, each time a collection agency calls, it makes me wilt just a bit more.  And then there are the sleepless nights of teething fevers and persistent coughs…

But this blog is not a place to complain or to chronicle the hardships that I may face. I share some of my struggle because I wouldn’t feel honest if I only shared the things that make me smile.  In order to appreciate my laughter, you need to see a few of my tears as well. And if this blog is ever to be inspiring to others, I need to convince you that my quest for finding joy in my journey isn’t about living a charmed life but rather about living the life that I’ve been given with grace. After all, I wouldn’t need to “find” joy if I was living in a constant state of happiness.  Sometimes joy is most sweet when it is found in the midst of sorrow.

This week marks the beginning of a new school year and other big changes such as my little men and I not spending as much time together as I head to school and they head to daycare. So today, my joy was in another night cut short by Keilan’s cough. I certainly did not want to miss out on sleep, and I am very anxious for the day when my two-year old feels better. However, my short night bought me a little extra time with my guys (of course his cough wakes his brother as well), and it bought me a few minutes to get this blog up and going again too.

I’m sure there is much more I could say, but I really should go get ready for work. But while I get ready for a busy day, I will choose to feel grateful for a little extra time in my day rather than for a little sleep lost. After all, the sleep has already been lost, and sometimes the joy in the journey is found in the silver linings.  And though I don’t have time to share them all now, this summer has taught me that even big, dark, ominous clouds can have silver linings.  So today I will continue looking for silver linings, for joy in my journey, and though I still don’t have a clear schedule for this blog, I hope it might encourage others to find joy in their journeys as well.

Poor guy; just can't seem to figure out how to make him feel better. But he's awfully cute...even when he isn't feel great.

Poor guy; just can’t seem to figure out how to make him feel better. But he’s awfully cute…even when he isn’t feel great.

Ignorance is bliss?

I have always felt somewhat conflicted about the old saying, “Ignorance is bliss.”  As a strong proponent of education, I have a hard time promoting ignorance.  However, there are times when I think ignorance might be bliss.  For example, when I am enjoying a chocolate chip cookie, I often feel that the cookie would be a bit more sweet if I could just be blissfully ignorant of the calories I am consuming. So…maybe, sometimes, ignorance is bliss. 😉

While an occasional dose of chocolate-chip-cookie-ignorance might feel a bit blissful, ignorance is not a comfort to us when we are frustrated, scared, or unsure.  I am quick to ask the same questions I think we all turn to when we need reassurance: “How come? What if? Why?”  But maybe, even in that ignorance, that place of unknowns, there is still joy to be found.  Perhaps we need to embrace our ignorance. We need to acknowledge that we don’t know everything, and keep moving forward trusting in the One who knows everything.

When I was a toddler, my parents were in a car accident.  No one was hurt, but they were left with a dent in the side of their car.  I’m sure my parents, though glad we were all ok, were no doubt frustrated.  They maybe asked some of the questions any of us would ask: “Why now?  How will we come up with the cash to fix the car? What was the other driver thinking?”

Shortly after their accident, before they had time to repair the dent, we were all climbing out of the car one morning when a motorcycle roared past.  Startled by the loud sound, I jumped back, and my mom slammed the car door shut on my tiny, two-year-old arm.  When my mom looked down in panic, she saw my arm resting perfectly in the dent that had been made just a few days earlier. While the force of the door slamming should have crushed my little arm, I was completely unharmed.  I am certain that any questions my parents may have had about “why” their car had been damaged disappeared in that instant.  “Why” the dent had been created no longer mattered; they were just glad that it was there.

Proverbs 3:5-6 urges us to “Trust in the Lord…lean not onto your own understandings,” and assures us that when we do, “He will direct your path.”   God doesn’t promise to answer all of our questions, and He doesn’t promise that our lives will be free of dents, but He promises that He has a plan (Jeremiah 29:11).  So I will strive to find joy in my journey by looking for bliss in my ignorance; I will surrender my “own understandings” and trust that He will direct my path.  Life is full of dents, and while we won’t always see their purpose, we can still find joy. My joy is not in the dents themselves, but in knowing that I am ignorant; I don’t know the whole story. And while I don’t know the whole story, I can know the One who does, and I can trust that with Him all things are possible (Matthew 19:26); even finding protection from future damage by the dents that past damages have left behind.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Bliss ;)

Chocolate Chip Cookie Bliss 😉