A Thief Named Comparison

That sneaky thief.

It crept up on me while I was looking the other way, mumbling under my breath with envy as I stared down the source of my green skin.  

It crept on me while I puffed up with pride, looking down my nose, and sneering with judgment at the source of my inflated ego.  

That sneaky thief. 

After it crept up on me and accomplished its work I felt something missing.  I checked my bag, not in there. I checked my pockets, empty.  I scratched my head, where could it be?  That sneaky thief stole it right out from under my green skin and my inflated ego. 

That sneaky thief stole my joy.  

That sneaky thief named Comparison has stolen my joy.

It was stolen from me when I looked at someone else and allowed the green monster of envy to emerge.  As I compared my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - my joy was stolen away from me, my gratitude for what my life consisted of was stolen away.  I was left empty, joyless.  All that I had was a grumbling heart and a green tint to my skin.  I was never satisfied and my smiles were strained and spoke of jealousy due to the thief named Comparison.  My eyes were blind to the good things in my life.

It was stolen from me when I looked at someone else and allowed my ego to inflate with pride.  As I compared my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - my joy was stolen away from me, my gratitude for what my life consisted of was stolen away.  As I secretly, or not so secretly, passed on judgment on someone else who I perceived as inferior to me the joy in my life drained out as if my lifeblood was being drained out.  My inflated ego and judgmental spirit compared my life to theirs and that thief somehow convinced me that I was superior and they inferior.  I was left empty, joyless.  I had no compassion nor kindness in me and my ego was inflated to the point of bursting.  I was arrogant and competitive, always seeking to make sure Comparison found me to be the "winner."

That sneaky thief Comparison has stolen my joy by convincing me that I am both not good enough and better than.  And now I am bereft without joy.

That sneaky thief named Comparison stole my joy but I'm going to steal it back, reclaim it as mine.

I'm going to reclaim it as I look at my job - my house - my parenting - my body - my children - my parents - my siblings - my friends - my material possessions - my spiritual journey - my marriage - my relationships - my academic prowess - my fashion sense - my decorating skills - my hospitality - my fill in the blank - and discover I am grateful for what I have and I have a choice to improve what I'm not happy about. I'm going to reclaim it as I look at others and instead of having envy toward them or thinking myself better than them I simply choose to acknowledge their journey looks different than mine.  I'm going to fill back up with joy as I choose gratitude over envy, as I choose humility over superiority.

I took back what was rightly mine from that sneaky thief.  Comparison is bondage and joy is freedom and I'm free once again.  

Make the Thought Count

It's not like it's a new thought or idea.  When Solomon states in Ecclesiastes that there is nothing new under the sun he spoke truth.  There are no new thoughts, ideas, etc but there are expansions on what is already present.  There are new twists to the present idea or thought. There are different or even new applications.

I have read Philippians 1:3 countless times.  And countless is an understatement.  It is one of the most overused verses in the Bible.  So the temptation is to skim right by it in search of deeper truths.  But, for whatever reason, this day I skidded to a halt on this verse.

I thank my God every time I remember you.  

How many people do you think about each day?  On average?  The people you live with, the people you work with, and then who else?  Maybe a handful more?  And for the most part probably a different handful every day.  I want to zero in on that handful.  Chances are good that your interactions with those you live with communicate that you are thinking about them.  And for your co-workers?  Well that's a hit and miss I suppose but since you interact with them 5 days a week chances are decent that your communications with them indicate you have thought about them in some way as well (whether or not you are thankful is another story).  But it's that handful.  When they happen to run across your mind do you let them know?

Every so often I drink Lady Gray Tea.  It's not my most favorite but every so often I get a craving for it. And when I do drink it I think of one person every time without fail.  She and I are no longer friends.  I suppose we are still acquaintances, but we don't have daily communication and haven't seen each other in about 4 years.  But this tea makes me think of her.  It so happened that the day after I had skidded to a halt on Philippians 1:3 I made myself some Lady Gray tea.  And since it was so fresh in my mind I decided to act on thinking about her.  So I emailed her.  It was super short.  I simply let her know I thought of her because of the tea I was having and I hoped she was well.  That's it. No big conversations, no initiation of relationship, nothing but just letting her know she was thought of.  It doesn't matter what she thought of my out-of-the-blue email, I just knew that somehow it made a difference for me. Maybe it did for her too.

Certain things - smells, sounds, music, foods - are triggers for me.  I'm guessing they are for you too.  And usually when a memory is triggered a person is part of that memory. Sometimes they are still in my life, other times not.  With some people and the memories attached to them I don't feel so thankful.  Sometimes I remember that I have also questioned God, not thanked him, for allowing that person to be part of my life at some point.  Depending on how long ago the person was in my life I might still be questioning God today. *grin* Just being honest.  But I do try to insert some thankfulness in there as well. I try to be objective and mature about the reasons why that person was in my life, their role in my own personal growth, and my role in the relationship I had with them.  I search for the reasons why I can be thankful to God for them. And frankly, a lot of those reasons usually center on how not to behave in relationships, in how not to be in relationship to God, in how not to treat others.  So I can be thankful for them, not for the positives but for the negatives because they served as a lesson for me in how not to be.  So see?  I can still be thankful to God for them when they cross my mind, which they do from time to time.

So all this has me thinking, what would change in our relationships if we did the following based on Philippians 1:3?
*Thanked God for the person who just ran across our mind (even if we don't personally like them!) and pray for them (people it counts with God if this all happens in a space of 30 seconds - you don't have to spend hours on this and when praying for someone you don't have to know what's going on with them - trust that God knows because he does).
*If possible, and appropriate, let them know you have thought about them.  (Send a text, send a Facebook Inbox, send an email, dial their phone number and call them, drop a note by their workplace, knock on their door and give them a hug, you can see there are many ways to let people know they are being thought of.)

What could change in that person's life because of that?
What could change in our lives because of practicing that kind of contact?
What might change in relationships because of that small intentional reach out?

If you are like me then you think about someone at least once a day accompanied by the thought, "Oh I should fill in the blank them (call, text, etc)" and then the day continues and you get caught up in its flow and the thought occurs to you again about midnight when you need to be sleeping.  And then you just never follow through. The thought was there but never acted on.  And if you are like me perhaps you have shrugged your shoulders and said, "Oh well it's the thought that counts."  Um.  Not in this case actually.  In this kind of situation the thought doesn't count because nobody but you knows you had the thought! So make the thought count, share it with the person you had it about.  Take 30 seconds and communicate with them.  Make the thought count.   

I'm not good at making the thought count. There's my confession.  I just spent the last few minutes telling *you* to do it when I myself kinda stink at it.  But I promise I'm not being hypocritical, you want to know why?  Because I'm not saying I am great at this and because I use posts like these to be a reminder to me of how I want to live my life. So really this whole post is for me and if *you* get something out of it then great! Also, sometimes I stink at this because of the season of life I am in.  Sometimes my seasons wear me out and I'm just trying to get through the days.  And sometimes my seasons are dark and when they are one of the first things to taper off in my life is my communication with others. These aren't excuses, just realities. And you have your realities as well. But even in the midst of our realities let's try to reach out in small but potentially meaningful ways.

Let's make the thought count.  

Diversity. Our Common Ground.

I've been thinking about diversity lately. In fact, I looked it up to make sure that I was thinking about it in its true definition and not how our culture has attempted to define it.* For the record, I was thinking of it in its original intent.  *grin*

A few months ago I was standing at the back of a packed auditorium at a concert.  I was watching the performer when my eyes began to sweep the room and catch the people attending instead.  It was a Christian artist and the song happened to be one that prompted a worship atmosphere so some hands were raised and some were not, some people were singing along and others weren't.  I'm guessing there were people there who are pre-tribulation and others that are post-tribulation and still others who are mid-tribulation.  There were probably people there who take communion every week and some who only take it once a month. I am positive there were people there who love John MacArthur and others who love Joel Osteen. And I know for a fact there were people there who read the King James Version of the Bible and believed anyone who didn't may be in danger of the fires of hell.  While other people in the room, say like myself, like to look at a portion of scripture in 4 different versions of the Bible. There were people in the room who speak in tongues and others who don't.  I guess you could say it was a diverse group of people.

Recently, at my home church, we were looking at a chapter in 2 Kings. The person leading the chapter discussion had shared her thoughts on the chapter and what kind of things stood out to her. My notes and observations of the same chapter yielded completely different thoughts!  And I smiled because that's diversity.  Just like the concert I attended where diversity was so well represented in the room so it made an appearance again in a smaller setting.

Diversity is a reality of life.  We cannot escape it.  If we were not a diverse people we would be like a clone cult. And those never work out very well. (Remember Jim Jones and the Kool-Aid?  David Koresh and Waco?)  Diversity is something that people scream for from the tops of their soapboxes but in their personal lives they sneer at. We don't want diversity, we want conformity.  Once we step down from our soapboxes for diversity we change our stance.  Somehow we think diversity in universal ways is attainable without accepting diversity in personal ways.  We disparage people for their different beliefs about politics, religion, parenting, education, or whatever else would fall into that category.  We vilify people for holding a different opinion than our own.  Here's a profound truth: until you embrace diversity in your personal life you will be a weak and ineffective voice for it in the world.

Here's another profound truth about diversity, brought to you compliments of life experience, mine namely: In all the areas where we do not entertain diversity in our personal lives we will be challenged on.  In all the areas where we stubbornly cling to hateful, inconsistent, and hypocritical beliefs born of legalism we will be challenged on. Don't believe me?  Look at Jesus. He consistently challenged the Pharisees on their false, hypocritical, inconsistent, and at times hateful, beliefs and traditions. And they responded as so many still do today.  They disparaged him, they vilified him, and then they tried to kill him.  We may not go so far as to physically harm someone who doesn't agree with us but we do kill them with our words.  We use our words as a weapon to cut down anyone who dares to show a different side than the one we have.

What if you are wrong about that belief you cling to?  I know.  I know you think it's not possible that you could be wrong, misinformed, mistaken, or deceived but what if you are?  The answer lies in diversity. We must invite it into our lives, through people, to help us stay grounded and filtered.  We must allow diversity, through people, to challenge us.  Even if we end up not agreeing with them we need the reminder to stay open to other trains of thought, methods, beliefs, etc.  Here's a great definition I came across from the University of Oregon: The concept of diversity encompasses acceptance and respect. It means understanding that each individual is unique, and recognizing our individual differences.  These can be along the dimensions of race, ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation, socio-economic status, age, physical abilities, religious beliefs, political beliefs, or other ideologies.  It is the exploration of these differences in a safe, positive, and nurturing environment. It is about understanding each other and moving beyond simple tolerance to embracing and celebrating the rich dimensions of diversity contained within each individual.

What's an appropriate way to respond to diversity in our personal lives?  Well, I can tell you what isn't appropriate!  It is not appropriate to use coarse and vulgar language to prove your point.  It is not appropriate to attack someones character for having a differing opinion.  It is unacceptable to cut off relationship* with someone just because they think black tea is best and you think green tea is the only tea to drink.  (Do you see how I kept that example light and out of controversial territory? *wink*)  What is appropriate is keeping an open mind and heart, allowing the other person to share their view with you, embracing the challenge a different train of thought brings, giving yourself permission to be wrong or to change your mind, allowing for the possibility that both perspectives are true and there may be more than one way to do something.

Diversity allows for opposing or opposite views to co-exist.  We don't have to have "everything" in common but diversity is the one thing we do, or should, have in common and we should celebrate it every day.*

*For culture's attempts at defining diversity click here and scroll down to read the variety of definitions. 
*Sometimes we have to cut off relationship with someone for a variety of reasons but that's not what this blog is about. That's a whole other can of worms to open! 

*That's a loose quote from an unknown source. 

Before writing this post I wrote one on Tolerance.  Click here to read those thoughts!

You call that tolerant? Huh.

Have you ever noticed that people who claim to be tolerant are usually one of the most intolerant people? You haven't? Well stick with me and I'll show you what I mean.
First let's have a quick vocabulary lesson.  Here's what tolerant means. And here's what intolerant means.
Okay now that we are all on the same page, let's continue.

Here's a real life story about pride in being tolerant being a mask for intolerance.  Recently* someone I know personally bragged about their tolerance for other religious beliefs and cultures.  They cited examples of going to dinner parties where all different religions mixed and it was wonderful and this person felt so good about themselves for being so tolerant.  The same "tolerant" (remember what it means) person refused to attend a family member's baptism and threw an adult style temper tantrum over it. They refused to exit the car in the church parking lot and then, when finally coerced into coming into the church, they pulled out a fictional novel and pointedly read it the entire service.  Yep, that person is so tolerant.

And they aren't the only prideful "tolerant" person I've run into throughout the years that are actually one of the most intolerant people I know.  To accuse me of being intolerant is, well, comical.  But I get accused of that a lot.  In fact, I get accused of it by the "tolerant" people - you know the ones who say they are tolerant but refuse to participate in certain events, discussions, etc because a *gasp* Christian might be there.  Yet I show up to their discussions, events, etc.  So who is the tolerant one and who is the one that displays intolerance?  The "tolerant" ones that won't read research that the opposing view offers but me, the "intolerant" one, that wants to know both sides.  The "tolerant" ones that purposefully post vulgar language, derisive cartoons, and needling articles on their social media sites or me, the "intolerant" one, that respects their choice and doesn't say things to purposely offend or start debate that can't be productive.  The "tolerant" ones that assign a generality to all Christians because of one person (think Pat Robertson, ugh) or me, the "intolerant" one, who knows one person's stupidity doesn't represent all who have similar beliefs.

A friend recently had this as her Facebook status, "I have no tolerance for intolerance.  There.  I said it."  I thought to myself, "YES!  Exactly!"  She succinctly put into words what this particular article is about.  The only thing I knowingly have intolerance for is intolerance.  I try to be objective and open minded about everything else.  This doesn't mean I agree with everything else but it means I don't treat people with differing beliefs, opinions, etc as idiots for not seeing things my way.

Being tolerant means having respect for people having their own opinions, whether you agree with them or not.  Being tolerant means allowing yourself to be surprised by a perspective change on a topic you have stood firm on in the past.  Being tolerant means admiring the intelligence that resides in others besides yourself. (I have also found that a good majority of intolerant people consider themselves to be genius as well.  And no that is not an intolerant statement about intolerant people, that's a observation born from life experience with several so-called tolerant people.)  It is not tolerance when you respect all beliefs but one.  It is not tolerance when you can't be open to someone sharing facts with you about something you don't agree with.  It is not tolerance when you purposely needle people who have opposing opinions by use of vulgar language, snide comments about them as a person, a refusal to concede to a well said fact.

I posted an article from Donald Miller the other day on my Facebook.  In my perspective it was a mild article, wasn't going to ruffle a lot of feathers or cause any sort of conversation.  I was surprised, then, when the comments started up.  And I was surprised by some of the comments!  One friend commented and when I mentioned that we would have to agree to disagree she removed her comment.  Huh.  I have no problem agreeing to disagree, I consider it to be a quality of tolerance for other opinions.  By removing her comment I felt she harbors intolerance for people who take a different position than she does and that makes me sad...and a little frustrated truthfully.  Another friend commented and it blew me away.  She said, "Beth, I look forward to your posts. You turn my preconceived notions on their head - and that's a very, very good thing."  This is my friend practicing tolerance.  She and I differ on basically every view point out there and yet here she is, willing to be open minded about seeing me and the topics we differ on in a different light. And I hope the same can be said about me.

It might be time for *us* to rethink our actual tolerance for people and things because if *you* call that (behavior or statement)  tolerant then my only response can be "huh."

*I said recently, without a timeline, in order to protect the guilty.  It could have been 5 years ago or it could have been yesterday.  

As a follow up to this post I also wrote one on Diversity.  Click here to read those thoughts!

The Vulnerability of Feet

Recently our home church decided to invade comfort levels and wash each other's feet.  It ended up families washed each other's feet while the other families observed.  We need to take baby steps (pun intended) with this whole command.  Yep, it's a command given to us by Christ.

Frankly, it is a little unnerving to consider.  And what's weird about that is that I am all about getting a pedicure, I have no qualms about a perfect stranger touching my feet.  I don't mind my husband rubbing my feet either.  But washing them?  I start to pull back a little.  There is something oddly intimate about someone else washing my feet.  It places me in a position of vulnerability and that is very unnerving.  And as I watched other people getting their feet watched I felt vulnerable on their behalf.

What is it about feet that exposes us to others, to even ourselves?  Perhaps it is that feet are so unique, filled with personality and character.  They can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - bony - chubby - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - small - large - smelly.  And to expose them to someone else feels like we are exposing them to all of those things that are true of us as well.  We can be, and are, beautiful - ugly - edgy - curvy - cracked - smooth - calloused - tough - sensitive - smelly.  And we pull back when we don't want others to see and know that about us, even our spouses.

When I held my foot out to my husband I instinctively curled my toes inward as if drawing back.  It's possible I even drew my foot back a bit but he had a grasp on it by that point so he kept it over the bowl. He poured the water over it and then took the towel to dry it off.  Such intimacy.  And with others watching it made it just a tad more unnerving.  There was nervous twittering the entire time from all of us there. It's uncomfortable to take part in and observe such an intimate act.

I imagine the disciples felt similar when Jesus stripped off his outer garments, tied a towel around his waist, and knelt down on the ground at the dusty and smelly feet of the men who had followed him for the last three years.  I imagine there was nervous twittering and an insecurity at Jesus touching the rough and calloused feet.  But Peter, as usual, was the only one bold enough to speak out loud what I think all of them were thinking, "Lord, you are going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered in the affirmative and Peter, as usual, came back with, "No!  You should never wash my feet!"  Imagine telling Jesus no.  Oh wait.  We do, everyday. We tell him no everyday.  We, like Peter, lose sight of who is knelt down at our feet.  We forget the past years of learning at his feet.  We curl our figurative toes inward to draw away from the one who wants to wash us clean.  We protest with voices that tremble with insecurity and fear at being found in such a vulnerable position.  And Jesus, with grace in his voice and love in his eyes, says to Peter, and to us, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."  Now I confess I am not near as bold as Peter who then, as usual, took it all the way, "Well then Lord don't stop at my feet!  Wash all of me!"  Poor Peter.  He gets a lot of flack from the pulpit for his bold statements and actions.  But I see and hear zeal in Peter. He is zealous for the Lord.  He loves Jesus more than he may even realize.  He believes even if he isn't quite sure what that belief means or will cost him.  I like Peter, I relate to him.  I, too, feel zeal for my Lord.  But I'm not bold like Peter.  I draw back and take a slower approach.  Jesus corrects Peter, and perhaps us, "No Peter.  You don't need a full body wash, you are clean except for your feet.  Washing your feet fulfills the need." Peter quiets down and we can assume he then placed his feet in the hands of Jesus.

I understand the vacillating.  I pull back from Jesus, unwilling to let him see and touch my insecurities and flaws.  He tells me that if I don't allow him in those places then I will have no part with him so I throw everything I have at him in desperation to be part of him.  He has to pull me back to a balance and reminds me that he only asked for specific insecurities and flaws, not all of it. He knows what I don't.  Eventually we'll get to the place where he has touched every insecurity and flaw but we'll take baby steps to get there (pun intended).

If I can't get vulnerable with the One who created me then I'm really going to have a tough time getting vulnerable with people. And I see the struggle in me.  I vacillate with people - my husband, my besties, my community.  I want vulnerability and sometimes I'm able to get there but a lot of times I curl my heart inward and start to pull back.  It is a lot of steps forward and backward but Philippians 1:6 says I have as much time as God determines I need to be called "complete" and since I see being complete includes allowing all of me to have been exposed and cleansed by Christ I guess I'm going to have to be patient in the process, and allow grace to wash over me...and my feet.

Yeast Revisited.

I looked down in my toaster and saw remnants of toast and bagels.  I emptied the handy tray that is designed to catch them and looked again.  The toaster was still littered with crumbs caught up in the coils and the edges of the toaster.  I shook it upside down, to the side, right side up, and I banged on the sides of the toaster but only a few more crumbs came tumbling out.  Short of immersing the toaster in warm water and letting it soak those crumbs are hanging on.  How appropriate, I thought, considering the reason why I was even spending time and energy on removing the crumbs.

Lanny just bought these new little LED flashlights so I used one to help me search out any food items in the dark recesses of my pantry that might contain a leavening agent.  I found a couple of items and pulled them out and placed them on the counter.  Fortunately the pile of leavening agents or items containing leaven was small.  It helps that for the past week or so I have been using or consuming things we have in our home that contain yeast or the like.  But I've consumed so much that I'm beginning to feel puffed up myself!  The break from leavened things comes at a good time.  Ha.

What in the world am I doing?  What's with this focus on leavening and removing it?  Last year I wrote about yeast.  And this year I'm back with some additional thoughts about it.  Today is the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread.  In Leviticus 23 God tells his people to abstain from things with leavening for 7 days and to remove it completely from their surroundings for those 7 days as well.  The observance begins with Passover, which is also commanded by the Lord to observe every year.  In the New Testament Paul addresses the observance of the Feast of Unleavened Bread by saying, "Get rid of the old yeast, so that you may be a new unleavened batch—as you really are. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. Therefore let us keep the Festival, not with the old bread leavened with malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." And while what Paul says sounds like a metaphorical observance I am inclined to believe he was actually speaking literally.  Why?  One reason is that Paul was an observant Jewish man who happened to believe that Jesus was the Savior.  He also happened to believe that Jesus meant what he said when he declared that he had come not to abolish the Law but to fulfill it. Paul followed God's commands to keep the biblical festivals and knew that observing the Feast of Unleavened Bread literally led to the metaphorical observance as well.  And it does.  God knows that we need something with substance to use for our metaphors and searching out and ridding our surroundings of leavening agents does the trick.  God uses yeast and its function as a word picture for sin in our lives.  And God desires to see us go after sin and remove it.  He wants us to be diligent about it all the time but for 7 days we are to be hyper-diligent as a way to keep us humble before him.  And it works.

If you read my post last year about yeast you'll remember that I was doing great at not partaking of any until a little slip-up which was a complete accident.  Last year I participated in the Feast by not consuming any leavened food for the 7 days. This year I decided to observe it fully by also getting rid of any food items in our home that contained leavening.  That's why I was looking in the toaster and using a flashlight to search the pantry.  And the searching accomplished exactly what the Lord, I believe, intended for it to do. It revealed that just like leaven hides in places and things I wouldn't think it needed to be, so sin does the same thing in my life.  It infiltrates my heart and hides in the places of my life where it needn't be.  And in order to find it I need to intentionally search for it, just like with the leaven in my home.  Not only was leaven hanging out in our kitchen but a look under our couch cushions revealed crumbs had made their way there and were hiding out. So I didn't have to just search the most obvious places for the hiding places, I had to search the whole house.  The same is true of sin in my life.  I shouldn't be searching for just the most obvious places within my life and heart for sin, I need to search all the nooks and crannies.  And when sin is found take the necessary steps to remove it.

A week or so ago I was studying Leviticus 5 and the chapter deals with the unintentional sins we commit and the way to handle those.  I know that in the coming week of observance I am sure to discover something that has leaven in it that I missed in my search or, just like last year, unthinkingly consume something that has yeast in it.  Those are the unintentional sins Leviticus 5 refers to.  Things I do or say that I'm not aware, at the time, offend our Holy God but once I am aware I am required to make right.  God makes provision even for the unintentional.  His grace is deep and wide.

Black Hole Living

Sometimes it seems miles away from me and other times I am teetering on the edge peering down into the darkness.  And then there are the times it swallows me up, almost without my noticing until I am in a free fall like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.  Except I don't land in Wonderland, I land at the bottom of a black hole.
I lay there, looking up and searching for the pinpoint of light that I need to claw my way up to.  My black hole changes depths, sometimes it is deep and others times it is relatively shallow. Laying at the bottom I feel defeated, depleted, despairing. Wrapping energy around these emotions takes work and until I do I won't be able to claw out of this hole.  So I lay there and I work to get enough energy to begin the upward journey. Eventually I begin to claw my way up.  It feels like one step forward and two steps backward at times. Sometimes I reach the top only to slip back down again.  And then there are the times that I reach the top and I grip the edge with my fingertips and I begin the painstaking process of pulling myself up and out of that hole once again. Should I succeed, or rather when I succeed, it takes some recovery time before I can safely move away from the edge of the hole.
I lay there, so aware of how one little shift would send me tumbling down the hole again, panting and trying to catch my breath.  I inch away from the edge, my energy depleted by the claw-climb out of the hole.  The further I inch away the stronger I become.  Eventually I can get to my hands and knees and move a little faster, always seeking to put distance between myself and the black hole. At some point I know I will be able to get to my feet and walk and then even perhaps run to lengthen the distance.  The further I can get away from it the longer it will take for another encounter.  Because the reality is I am going to have another encounter.  The black hole didn't even exist until a few years ago but now it is here to stay, making its presence known.  Now it is a reality in my life, it is a struggle I encounter, it is a tool of humility.
It isolates me even as truth within me whispers its warnings against isolation.  It numbs me to relationships.  It sucks all physical and emotional energy out of me.  But it no longer perplexes me.  It no longer deceives me into masking what it really is.  I know what it will take to claw-climb out of it.  In some ways I can even determine its depth.  And some days, while in the claw-climb of the black hole, I am even able to laugh and smile and people think I am enjoying life.  I'm good in public, I can almost make the black hole disappear. But see me alone and then you see what kind of life I'm living in the black hole.  Try to interact with me in person or virtually and you will get delayed responses, if you get them at all.  Try to catch my eye and hold eye contact, I'll look away after about 1 second but not before you catch the weariness.  Listen to what I say and you'll hear about my low-energy levels.  Observe me from a distance and you'll see me deeply sigh, blink, and try to motivate myself to do something productive.  Yes, once you know what to look for you will know if I've been sucked in to another black hole or if I am trying to claw-climb my way out of one.
But life in the black hole has had one surprising gift.  It has been, and continues to be, one of perspective.  I have an expanded perspective on God's grace, God's people, and God's love.  So for all the weight that black hole living brings to me, both figuratively and literally, there's a bright pinpoint of light always guiding me.

Glue

When I was a kid I made projects at school with good ole Elmer's Glue.  It was thick and white and I, along with practically every other kid in the class, would overestimate how much I needed and squirt on way too much. It would squish out from the edges of my project and I would attempt to wipe the edges.  It would take hours to dry and sometimes I would have transport it home still damp with my abundant use of glue.  I would think to myself, "That's going to last forever!"  My Mom kept very few of those projects from my childhood but the ones she kept are falling apart.  The construction paper is faded and the glue has dried out so much that it no longer is doing its job of keeping things together and instead is peeling off the paper in large, thin sheets of dried up glue.  It's usefulness has passed, it no longer can hold together the project I thought would last forever.

Sometimes I feel like that glue. 

A few years ago a friend told me that I was like the glue that held our little community together.  She sincerely meant it as a compliment and at first I took it as such. But then I started to realize that it meant that unless I was the one initiating group get-together's, planning the food for them, planning the parties, making the phone calls, sending the texts, composing the emails, making sure that people stayed in the know about important life stuff with each other, and basically being a Mother Hen then our little community was going to fall apart like the years old project that the glue can't hold together anymore.

Then the glue dried up.

I entered into a season of depression. My inner glue dried up and there was nothing left to squeeze out of me.  I literally couldn't be the one to initiate and hold it all together.  And the little community didn't hold together.  The vibrant colors of our little family faded and the glue I had applied to keep us together peeled off in large sheets as we went our separate ways.  It didn't mean we didn't, or don't, love each other but what it meant was if I wasn't applying the glue then it wasn't holding together. I think this would have happened eventually even if I had more to give, but the process was sped up by the depression that took over me.

I'm not really glue even though I sometimes feel like it. 

I have a proven track record of not being able to hold things together "forever."  In fact, I can't think of one person who holds that distinction.  Oh wait, there is one. But just one. God holds it all together like super glue.  And super glue never dries out and becomes useless. Never.  The glue I produce and manufacture will always dry up and dry out, it won't hold something together "forever."  And if something, like my little community, doesn't hold together then that ultimately isn't on me, that is up to God. The timing of our season together was for him to decide and hold together, not me.  It felt like me and it may have even looked like it was me but it wasn't. He formed us and it was for purposes and reasons largely unknown to us but known to him.  Did we, as a little community, serve our purpose? I believe yes we did.  I believe we held together for as long as God needed us too in order to accomplish something only I believe he knows about.

Did you ever used to take glue and spread it in a thin layer over your hand, let it dry and then slowly peel it off?  You can see every line in your hand, fingerprints are captured, it is oddly fascinating. In order to see all the lines and capture the fingerprints it has to be spread thin. Spread so thin the glue becomes almost transparent but more opaque. I can make out the lines and the fingerprints but their clarity is blurred by the consistency of the glue.

I'm spread thin, almost translucent but more opaque. 

If I look closely I can see the lines of my life and of my heart through the glue I've spread over myself to try and hold it together.  But the lines are blurred and undefined, they run together and I wonder if my life line has been cut short. That doesn't mean what it may sound like, I'm not planning on cutting my life line short but some days the line feels shortened by life itself.  I spread the glue on to try and keep things together but when you spread it too thin it no longer has adhesive properties. I don't hold things together very well anymore.

The glue I have spread on is dry, now what? 

It may feel like life is cutting my line short but there is only one who knows the actual number of my days. And no matter how spread thin I feel he still sticks with me.  He cuts through the opaque of my heart and sees all the lines of my life and heart with startlingly clarity.  And then in his grace he shows me what he sees. Usually I don't see it until he peels the glue off that I have spread on me in the attempt to hold things together. And then what he sees I too am able to see.  But I can't see it all at once or I may implode. So he peels off the glue I have spread on little by little, in manageable pieces.  And what he shows me is freeing.

I'm not glue.  I don't have to feel responsible to hold it *all* together.
Thank goodness. 

Curves and Edges

Have you heard the song by John Legend called "All of me"? There is one line that makes me really pause and consider it's deeper meaning:

'Cause all of me

Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you

That line in the midst of the lines that surround it has me really thoughtful about relationships, specifically the marriage relationship.  I've got curves and edges and I'm not talking about my physical body. My moods have curves and edges, my behaviors have curves and edges, my feelings have curves and edges and my marriage is the one relationship where those curves and edges are probably the most seen and felt.  If my hub were honest (and he oftentimes is not when it comes to me which means I have to be more honest about myself than I prefer) he would say that in the past couple of years I've had more edges than curves.  I could give you a list of reasons and excuses and about 99% of them would be valid and make sense.  But that doesn't give me an excuse to live with my husband in edges and not curves. Some of the edges are my own fault, I need to own what I have contributed to.  And with the edges created by circumstances, conflicts, and misunderstandings I still don't have an excuse to be edgy with this man that I entered into covenant with so many years ago.

The amazing thing about my edges is that my hub chooses to love me in spite of them.  He treats edgy Beth the same way he treats curvy Beth.  Yet I remain edgy with him. I haven't allowed his curves to soften my edges.  Somehow in spite of my numerous edges and lack of curves, specifically with my hub, he is able to say that he loves my curves and all my edges. Clearly I have a lot more work to do in the true love department than he does.  

I've been pondering how to soften my edges and turn them into curves. I have a lot of work to do I think. Let me be a little more honest. I know, not think, I have a lot of work to do.  My Type A nature tends to despair when faced with work to do and I can't figure out how to get it done.  But in my 30's my Type A nature has been reined in during those moments by the truth of Philippians 1:6. I am a work in progress.  My hub married a work in progress and I married a work in progress when I said "I do" to him.  Then we had two redheads who are works in progress and none of us are complete yet.  The beautiful truth is that we are promised to not be left incomplete, the truth is that we will be finished according to the design of our Creator. Thank goodness! It's true that I can stall the work in progress when I won't allow my edges to be sanded down into curves.  But I've grown up enough to want the sanding to proceed.  I don't want to be edgy with my hub, I want to be curvy with him.  Grace is showing me the ways in which I need sanding, hope is showing me I can have more curves than edges, love is showing me that my hub's curves can soften my edges - if only I will allow it.

I don't know what John Legend's intended meaning for that line was but each time I hear it I am struck with the picture of my hub having to live with edgy Beth and not curvy Beth.  And while he loves me as is I am challenged to do the hard work of sanding so that my edges transform into curves and our marriage reflects the softer lines of covenant relationship. 

Sitting Shiva

In the past few months I've had two of my besties approach me and ask about how they can comfort someone who is grieving, what can they say, and what should they say.  It's a good question and one that deserves a thoughtful response.

Other people's grief makes us uncomfortable.  And in that insecurity we utter platitudes, quote phrases that mean nothing, we behave in ways that don't comfort the other person but instead place them in the position of having to ease us. Other people's grief certainly doesn't bring out the best in us...until we have experienced a deep enough grief ourselves. From that moment on we respond to other's grief differently.

My answer to my friends and to anyone who asks me (and people do from time to time), is simply this: Sit Shiva.  This usually brings a confused tone to the person's voice or a scratch on the head. Whatever does THAT mean? So before I talk about sitting Shiva let me give the briefest introduction to it. Shiva is a common practice among the Jewish people when someone has passed on.  It is the seven days following the person's death, including the day of the funeral. When someone sits Shiva with the person who is experiencing grief the role is simply this, sit with them in their grief and allow them to feel it and work through it. That's it.  It isn't sitting there saying things like, "Well heaven just gained another angel," or "It was his time to go," etc.  It isn't sitting there "one-upping" their grief with stories of your own. It isn't chattering non-stop about nonsense to distract them or yourself from the uncomfortable emotions of loss. It is letting them lead when they want to speak, eat, stand, sit, and sleep.  It is letting them lead when they feel the need to cry, yell, laugh and question.

And perhaps we need to also briefly define grief.  Grief is the emotion that expresses loss. Not only loss of life but loss on all levels of life.  Loss of physical life, loss of a relationship (marriage, friendship, child), loss of a dream, you get the idea. So while the Jewish people sit Shiva for loss of physical life what I am talking about is sitting Shiva for all kinds of loss that prompts grief in us. I am broadening the practice to include the varied griefs we are sure to encounter in life.

We are given an excellent example of how not to sit Shiva in the book of Job found in the Bible.  Job had lost everything but his wife and she was off in her own corner cursing God. So Job found himself sitting on top of dirt, tearing his clothes, and scraping his skin with broken pieces of pottery. People, this is grief and it isn't pretty.  I can't think of a time when grief is pretty. Job has three friends show up to sit Shiva with him. But once Shiva is officially done things go bad. Job speaks.  He didn't utter a word for seven days but then he speaks.  And once he's done his friends undo the Shiva they just sat with him.  The lesson here is to maintain the Shiva you sat and not undo it with your mouth or actions once the initial period of grief has eased.  To sit Shiva also means we continue to allow space and grace for the process of grief.  We don't take the other person's choice to open up as permission to unleash any doubts, anger, etc we might be feeling as well, especially when those things would be painful and condemning to the person grieving.  

When we experience loss we are open to shame, fear, insecurity, and doubt depending on the kind of loss we are walking through. To sit Shiva with someone means that we take up the battle against those things on behalf of the grieving person.  We pray against those things taking root, we pray for an empowering for that person to battle any of those.  We do this battle on their behalf silently, unless or until an occasion arises in which it becomes appropriate to include them. 

The very best comfort we can give is to sit Shiva completely available.  When we are concerned with saying something specific, questioning circumstances, talking to distract from the discomfort of grief, or any number of other ridiculous things we resort to when grief is evident then we are not available.  We might be physically present but we are emotionally absent.  To be a true comfort is to be totally available, totally set aside for the sake of the person in grief. Be available to listen and to listen without trying to "fix" the grief spiritually.  Do not try to remind them of God, plenty of other people will, with good but misguided intentions, be doing that. Be the person in their life who gives permission to feel angry, sad, doubtful of God, fearful and whatever else may rise to the surface during the grief process.  Be the person that gives them space and time to process it all.  Don't be the person who throws in the Christianese, the "textbook" scriptures (i.e. God has a plan for your life, Jeremiah 29:11).  Those things only serve to drive the pain deeper in the end. I have discovered that we often employ the Christianese and the "textbook" scriptures when the person's pain and grief makes us uncomfortable about faith and the true heart of God. But when we resort to those things for those reasons it ends up doing more damage than good.  In our culture we are trained to speak, to try and use words that heal and provide answers to any question, but in reality the greatest comfort can come, and does come, from silence and companionship and words being used thoughtfully and in the right time with the right motive. Let us not utter words that are birthed out of a discomfort toward God but out of sincerity.  This goes against what we've been taught all our lives but it is better for the grief-filled person and for the one who sits alongside of them. Yes, it is more uncomfortable because we may have our own doubts about God and what has happened and the why's but God is in the midst of all of that - he is there and you will know it as you don't try and push grief away but you embrace it and let it work its way through.  

It is a profound thing to sit Shiva with a hurting person.  A hurt person needs to be known and sitting Shiva is one of the best ways I have experienced to let someone know they are not alone and they are seen. In my own life I am trying to remember the practice of sitting Shiva with hurt people and how, when the time comes and I am hurting, I want others to respond to my pain. 

For more information on the Judaism practice of sitting Shiva click here and here.  

Monday's Child

Poor Mondays.  They get such a bad rap.  When did that start?  When did *we*decide Mondays were to blame for our reluctance to go to work, or to blame for lack of sleep which leads us to bad moods, or for a hectic workday due to our slacking off on Friday?  You get the idea.  And on top of that poor Monday gets the blame other days of the week as well! How many of us have had a hectic, unsettling, bad any-other-day-of-the-week-but-Monday and sighed, "Today is such a 'monday'!"  Poor Mondays.

I've talked a little about Mondays before, on my other blog and on Facebook. A couple of years ago I was challenged in my view on Mondays after being reminded of this, "This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it."  Another version, The Amplified Bible, says this is the day the Lord has brought about.  I read that for the zillionth time on that day a couple of years ago and my first thought was, "Even Mondays!"  Yes God brought about, created, established Mondays along with every other day of the week. So even when a day feels authored by the enemy rest assured it is not, it is authored and covered by the Creator.  

This realization radically changed my approach to Mondays, and any other day that felt hard.  When I have the perspective that my day, Monday or otherwise, was authored and set apart by God for purposes either known or unknown to me I undergo an attitude adjustment.  I can see reasons to celebrate the day, to be grateful for the challenges, to understand that some days are harder than others but God's promises for each day hold true. When the day is harder than expected, or I would have liked, I remind myself that God authored the day and then I remind myself, "It is because of the Lord’s mercy and loving-kindness that we are not consumed, because His [tender] compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great and abundant is Your stability and faithfulness. The Lord is my portion or share, says my living being (my inner self); therefore will I hope in Him and wait expectantly for Him." Each day I get a fresh helping of God's mercies and compassions.  Clean slate every day! That's enough right there to make me grateful for a Monday, or any other day. When I can't get my mind, and heart, to come around to that perspective then my day, Monday or otherwise pretty much blows.

I no longer distinguish Mondays between every other day of the week. It's just another day of the week and frankly my weekend could stink and my Monday be fantastic! It's all a matter of perspective, as a lot of things in life are.

I find that almost every Monday I remind myself of Psalm 118:24 so that when I run into people and they bemoan Monday I can remind them as well what this day is. It is the Lord's so let us rejoice and be glad in it! 

Celebrating the mite

I've been thinking a lot lately about the widow's mite.*  It's always bothered me that organizations hold large and lavish dinners and "thank you's" for their big money donors.  It bugs me because of the widow's mite. What if we threw a large and lavish dinner for the donors that are giving $10 (as an example) of their money every month faithfully for years on end?  What if we celebrated the mite donations rather than the large ones that always gain the most attention?  What kind of message would that send?
I've listened to a fair number of fundraiser dinners and pledge drives in my lifetime and I'm always unsettled by the meager "thank you" faithful donors get when their dollar amount doesn't reach the organization's ideal for a celebratory thank you.*  I think we have it backwards.  I think we should start inviting all to the dinner, regardless of their dollar amount donation.  And don't set up the seating according to dollar amounts either, mix them up.  I'm addressing the Church here (and non-profit para-church organizations) because, as far as I can see, God has addressed this with us already.  And I think we've forgotten or we've chosen to interpret it differently.  In James 2 favoritism is discussed.  Oh I can hear the protesting as I say that.  But in that silent moment when you have to be honest with yourself think about it.  Those large, lavish dinners for top dollar donors that aren't open to the $10 a month donors, what would you call that?  Preferential treatment. Placating.  People, it's favoritism at its roots.  It is.  I know, *you* wish it weren't so but wishing doesn't change what is fact.
The message it sends to those $10 a month donors is that while their donation is appreciated it just isn't quite enough.  There are a *million* donor departments and consulting firms that would disagree with me.  That's okay, I know what I know.  I know what people share with me.  I know what I observe.  And most importantly I know what God says about it.  God calls us to live backwards from how the world lives.  I'm so crazy I think it would be awesome to take it one step further and invite the big money donors to fund a large and lavish dinner for the lower dollar donors!*  GASP.  It's such a bold and out of the box idea. *grin*
How have we gotten to the place in the Church where people who throw a lot of money in the offering get coddled and expect to be treated with preference?  Oh those people wouldn't say they expect that and organizations/churches wouldn't say they coddle - in fact with that one question I have managed to offend pretty much every single organization and church in America - but they do.  Again, this calls for an honest moment.
What kind of message would top donors send to the various organizations that they support if they were put off because they didn't get a thank you gift or dinner or something?  Well it would reveal motive for the financial gift for sure.  I've run into a few of these donors in my years touring Christian organizations/churches through jobs.  They aren't pleasant people the minute they aren't thanked as they think they should be or their "suggestions" for the organization/church aren't implemented.  And the moment that happens their financial gifts develop a stench.  But those $10 a month donors?  They are always genuinely surprised and grateful for any show of appreciation for their gift.  Listen, those $10 a month people know their gift isn't much.  They might even feel bad they can't give more.  But those gifts, they count.  They matter.  In the end they add up to more than the gift of one top dollar donor.  Their sacrifice, while they don't expect it to be recognized and appreciated, should be.  More so than the top dollar donors.  Go back to James 2, it's right there.
Now I'm not saying we shouldn't thank top dollar donors.  I'm just saying that regardless of the dollar amount of a donation the "thank you" should be the same.  $10 to one person is as much as $1000 to another.  It's the same in their worlds.  So in the world where thank you's are issued for financial gifts the thank you should be the same as well.
Celebrate the mite and you'll be living backwards.


*If you aren't familiar with the story click here. If you aren't familiar with what mite means click here and scroll down to "2 mite noun".  You are welcome.  :)
  
*And no, this is not because I didn't get invited to something and need to passive-aggressively point it out.  In all honesty when I get invited to things that I know are costing money in order for the organization to keep my money I prefer to not go and just send in a donation.  I don't see how it makes sense to spend money to get money.  Again, a *million* donor departments and consulting firms would disagree with me and that's okay. Perhaps I'm just too simple minded for them.  But I think that phrase "less is more" applies here as well.  :) 

*Take it one step further and use the money you would pay for a large and lavish dinner and put it instead toward the organization/church you support and just send a nice "thank you" email (why spend money on printing, paper, and postage?).  I know, now I'm really talking crazy here. *wink*

*Perspectives: On Depression

*Perspective: A way of looking at a situation.  I'm a daughter, sister, friend, wife, mom, aunt, and employee.  I don't claim to be an expert on anything nor have all the answers to something.  Please bear that in mind as you read my perspective.  Chances are good it will differ from your own.  It's okay to have different ones!

You may or may not know that in the past few years I have come out of a season of deep depression. And I still struggle with mild depression from time to time.*  In an effort to dispel some of the lies and shame that the Church in particular attaches to depression I thought I would take a chance and share parts of my story in order to bring perhaps a clearer and honest perspective to this issue. Last week was "Mental Health Awareness Week" and so this post that I've been thinking through for a while now comes at a good time. By the way, not everyone who struggles with depression is going to feel the way I do about it.  This is my own personal account.  Everyone has a different story and experience with it.

Did I hear you gasp when you read that I have been depressed and am publicly admitting it?  :)  Then let me take it a step further.  I was in such a bad place that my wonderful, Godly biblical counselor recommended I take medication for it.  GASP.  I know.  It's okay.  Just breathe.  It's one thing to take the meds and struggle with the depression but it's a whole other thing to publicly admit it within the Church especially.  And while it is true that Church opinion of depression has softened a bit in the past few years they are still a long way off from "being there" for people who struggle for brief seasons or for life with depression.  I can now speak from personal experience and I think that maybe that was one of the reasons I walked through my season.  I needed more understanding, I needed more empathy, I needed more insight.  As a counselor I needed to acquire those things so that I could be a better counselor, a better friend, a better person.  I, unknowingly, needed my held beliefs about depression and medications for depression to be challenged by God.  And I'm grateful.

Yes, you read that right.  I am grateful for the season of depression God allowed in my life.

Let me give you the abridged version.
One day I felt...unsettled.  Then a few days later I started crying. Then I stopped answering my phone, responding to emails, getting dressed (I was working from home at the time). I started sitting on my couch a lot watching mindless TV, I took naps because no matter how much sleep I was getting I was exhausted all of the time.  It took every ounce of energy I had to drive my children to school each day. I felt like a deep, dark pit had swallowed me up.  I was perplexed.  What, I wondered, was happening to me?  I had stopped the crying jags but now I just felt...nothing.  I was numb to life.  What, I wondered, had happened to me?
I finally, because I am a counselor after all, pulled myself up off the couch and called a counselor I had seen a few years prior.  I put myself in a car and drove to her office.  I huddled in her office, wrapped in a cardigan and confusion, and told her I was depressed but I couldn't figure out why and I actually was too numb to care why.  (That's when I knew I needed some outside help.)  My counselor listened and said, "Let's try *this* before we try *this*."  And so for a few weeks we tried a few different things to see if I could begin to distance myself from the fog that had enveloped me.  It wasn't working.  In her previous career she had been a nurse.  She said, "How do you feel about meds short term?"  I was desperate to feel something other than numbness so I said, "yes" and she explained her thoughts behind meds. Clearly something was needed to get the fog cleared enough that I would want to even begin to address what had led me into this deep, dark pit.  She sent me to my Doctor. He's a family friend, he gave me this quickie 5 question "test" which I failed and he said, "Let's try it."  It was the lowest dosage you could take next to taking nothing.  I started taking it and hoping it would be enough.  In time, it was.  I began to have days where the fog thinned and I could see shadows of life again.  My counselor's voice was able to cut through the illogical thoughts and feelings this deep and dark pit had created.  I felt some days like I was swimming up toward the surface of the water after being submerged for too long.  I could answer an email or two, but the phone was still off limits (still is actually, but I'm not sure why). There were days where I didn't dread leaving the house although I was sure glad to get back to it.  And eventually I could talk and process again, I could be gone from the house for extended periods of time without totally seizing up in anxiety, I climbed out of pajamas and started wearing clothes again, I answered more emails.
As the fog started to clear I was able to begin to look long and hard at the possibilities and the reasons I had landed in this strange and isolating place.  And I started to see that for this season I was going to have to focus on taking care of me if I was ever going to emerge so that I could continue to take care of others.  I drew some boundaries, made some relationship decisions, I withdrew from certain places or activities that caused too much anxiety.  I began to engage in things that I could handle and could be categorized as "soul care". I hadn't read a book for pleasure in a few years, I had been reading non-fiction personal development books so I put those down and picked up fiction again and rediscovered an important fact about me - I need to be reading fiction mixed with non-fiction as a way of taking care of myself, it was - it is - important to me. I was having a hard time handling large crowds of people, especially ones I felt like I needed to make small talk with, so I stopped attending church services (which led to me leaving traditional church altogether but that part of the story is a very different post *grin*).  There were other things I did to bring some balance back to my life but you get the idea I am sure.
Eventually I was doing good. My counselor and I had worked through some important things, the meds were keeping me engaged in life, and I was seeing more sunny days than foggy ones. Just about the time I was feeling good my husband and I decided I needed to find a job outside of the home that provided more income than what I was making. So I, in hesitation because I still wasn't too keen on being out in public and not having the option to wear pajamas for the day, applied and landed, of all jobs, a front desk position at a fairly busy ministry organization.  Not only would I be out in public and have to wear clothing but I was going to be "the face" of this ministry Monday through Friday 5 hours a day AND have to talk to people and be sociable. Talk about a turnaround from couch sitting and days spent in solitude! But it came at a good time, I was in a good enough place to take the job and allow it to be part of the catalyst for being able to fully emerge from the deep and dark pit.  I weaned off of the meds I was taking but had a greater understanding for their purpose and a deeper empathy for those who needed to be on them long term.
If you can believe it, that is the short version.  And since that time I still go through periods of mild depression where I have to pull back a little from life and examine why I'm feeling unsettled and do what I need to do to regroup.  But my periods of mild depression now are brief and manageable.  They are usually marked by an avoidance of emails, texts, and phone calls. My social media use slows down. I begin to make excuses for not participating in things that require me being away from home and in clothes.  You know, things like that. But I can manage it much better now, plus it is probably very helpful that I do have a job outside of the home that forces me to interact with life.  I probably won't need to return to meds because I have learned how to catch myself and do what it takes to work through it so the fog doesn't envelope me again and because my depression isn't as severe as what others do experience.

So where does the gratefulness come in?  I alluded to it above. It gave me deeper understanding, empathy, and insight into those that struggle with depression.  I believe it has given my spirit a softness for hurting people that I didn't have before.  It helped me understand grace in new and deeper ways. It removed from me any fringes of judgement towards those with depression.  And in a lot of ways it introduced me to continued freedom in my life.  As I said above at the beginning, not everyone who struggles with depression is going to feel the way I do about it.  This is my own personal account.  Everyone has a different story and experience with it.

Here's what I want to say to the Church and its uneasy acknowledgment of depression:
Church, breathe, it's OKAY.
It doesn't mean the person doesn't have faith in Christ.  It doesn't mean the person doesn't trust Christ.  It doesn't mean the person is embroiled in deep sin.  Meds don't mean the person is weak and lacking.  I googled "christian books about depression" and several links came up.  There are those talking about depression but in the churches, on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights, if someone dares to utter "I think I'm depressed" people start murmuring and advising the person to claim joy instead and just deny the depression.  *You* don't think that person has already tried that?  *You* don't think they have already tried to climb out of their pit by themselves?  Is it best to try and deny it (the equivalent of stuffing it and trying to ignore it)?  Do *you* really think it is helpful to tell them that they brought it on themselves by thinking it into existence?  Did you know some of the greatest people in the Word of God experienced depression and at least one of them was not in sin, in fact he was called righteous by God!
I think the Church is uneasy with depression because it seems so contrary to God and faith. If you believe in God and trust him then how could you be "sad" (depression isn't just sadness by the way, oftentimes it is manifested in many other ways)?  We say with our mouths that we are flawed people with wounded hearts but when someone actually exhibits it we feel uneasy and uncomfortable.  We don't like the implications that we too could experience the fog of depression.  We don't like to see the emotional suffering of someone who says they love God because what does that then perhaps mean about God? The unease of the Church centers around God and the doubts about him that depression can introduce or increase.  And we don't like to admit that sometimes we doubt God.  GASP.  I just got you again didn't I?  Well, let me say it again. Sometimes we doubt God and guess what?  God's okay with that!  He is.  We aren't okay with it but he is. He is not threatened by it or disappointed by it or even surprised by it.  But we are and we put that on others when they make us uncomfortable with their depression.
Right after the darkest part of my depression came to an end, I entered into an in-depth study of the book of Job.  It was the perfect thing to study as I was coming out of the darkest moments.  It helped me see what God has to say about doubting him, depression, friendships, etc.  It definitely contributed to where I am at today in terms of my beliefs about mental health and the character of God.  It was such a powerful study that I am trying to organize it all into notes and perhaps a study that I can share with others as I feel led.  Through my study of Job God challenged me on several levels about how I have responded to people in the past who have been hurting, on how I view him, on how I respond to my own hurting moments.  These revelations by him led to my observations about the Church missing it on "being there" for the wounded.

Perhaps you don't like or don't agree with my conclusions about the Church and its response to depression. Okay.  I know what I know through personal experience, through going through counseling, through observation, through hearing others talk about it as if it were a sin.  I'm not sure that unless you personally experience it you can really get it.  And that's okay.  I'd rather you not personally experience depression but I would rather you find some empathy for those who struggle, I would rather you find some grace and mercy and leave judgement to someone else, I would rather you be okay with not totally understanding and yet still be able to sit, stand, or walk alongside someone who might be experiencing it without trying to "fix" them, or hope they can ignore it, or make them feel guilty about feeling the way they do and being a Christian.  (Be honest, you know exactly what I mean and you know either you've done it or you know people who have done this.)  I have found that while the Church at large says they have empathy and support those who have depression the local Church bodies don't always live that out.  It's easy to make the grand and "politically/spiritually correct" statements but it's not so easy to live them out when someone shows up in your life with it and suddenly you are confronted with insecurities, unease, doubts, and even some fear.  

This isn't a complete post about my perspective on depression.  It's lacking in several thoughts but I'm hoping it at least gives *you* a better picture of what depression can be, does, and looks like in my life and perhaps in others.  Allow your ideas and beliefs to be challenged and you will become a better friend, spouse, a better person because of it.

*It's kind of ironic that I'm writing this post at this time since I am, in fact, struggling with some mild depression as of late.  In fact tonight I had a mild panic attack and had to pull back from something so that I didn't freak people out or embarrass my daughter. And you know what?  I'm okay admitting that to *you*.  

Makin' Lemonade

Sometimes our days aren't so sunshiny.  You know what I mean.  

Some days we are handed a bunch of sour lemons and absolutely no sugar to sweeten things up.  And if you have ever tried to make lemonade without the sugar all you get is sour water.  You need the sugar to make it lemonade.
So what to do when your day (or your week or your month or even your year) holds a bunch of sour lemons and it seems like there is no sugar to be had?
Here's what I do.  I say to myself, "Beth, make some lemonade.  Find the sugar, it's somewhere."  Because while I might not have been handed the sugar or it's not readily visible, it is there...somewhere.  And I need to find it.  So I begin to look for ways to make lemonade.  (In fact, some days my answer to the question "How are you today?" is , "I'm makin' lemonade today!" and that is a big clue that I feel like I've got a bunch of sour lemons and I'm looking for the sugar.)
I have found that I can find the sugar easier when I am more in tune to the simple and little things.  Who says that sugar is found in big and sweeping gestures?  More often than not it's found in the smaller, almost unnoticeable things.  For example, a week or so ago a friend of mine found some sugar for her day in an almost unnoticeable act of kindness.  She was backing out of her driveway while school drop-off happened to be going on.  Her street was lined and she was sitting in her driveway waiting when a car stopped and gave her space to back out.  That was sugar my friends.  My friend might have missed that bit of sugar if she hadn't been tuned in to look for things that cause her to be grateful.  Being grateful for things makes the sugar a lot easier to find.
That's the key to lemonade makin' and sugar findin'.  Gratefulness.  When we can't find anything to be grateful about we are in big trouble.  When we can't even muster up the gratefulness for the things we don't think about (but should) and the things that we take for granted (but shouldn't) that is sour lemons.
So the next time you find yourself with a bag full of sour lemons and no sugar, begin to look for ways to make lemonade - find the sugar, it's there.

Dear Parent, did you know?

Dear Parent,
Thanks for your letter, it helped me understand you a little better.  I'll try to remember you are human from now on but I make no promises.  Since we are talking and all, I thought maybe you should know a few things from me.

Did you know that I want to talk to you and be honest with you but won't when you don't seem to want to listen but talk at me?  I'm trying to figure stuff out and sometimes I just need you to listen to me and not try to give me any of that "life experience" that you talk about.  I need to have my own "life experiences" so I can one day talk to my kids with my own lessons learned.  Can you just listen and let me try to work it out on my own?  We both might be surprised at the outcome.  There will be times I want to hear about your "life experiences" but you'll know when I want to, I'll ask.

Yeah, yeah.  You were a teenager once blah, blah, blah.  Well now it's my turn.  I need you to be the parent, the adult, and let me be the teenager.  I don't want a friend, I have those.  I want an adult who I know is going to drive me crazy but also give me a place to figure this life stuff out.  Please quit trying to be my friend. I've seen you and your parents and I know we can be friends later, right now I need a parent. Yes, I might tell you how I'm feeling about something or someone, I really need for you to step it up and respond to it like a parent and not my best friend.  If you don't then I'm not going to talk to you about much of anything anymore.

Did you know that I know that you make mistakes?  Sure I know it but when I have tried to tell you and you have bitten my head off and made it seem like you are never wrong I back away.  Okay fine, maybe I didn't tell you in the nicest way but you still made a mistake.  It wouldn't hurt you to apologize to me you know. You raised me to apologize when I do something wrong, make a mistake, or something so why aren't you following your own advice?  Did you know that I will respect you more when I see you own up for your mistakes?

Did you know that you can trust me until I give you a reason not to?  After all, you did raise me.  And while I may not act like I heard you all those years, I did.  Try trusting me and seeing what happens.  You may be surprised at what I do or say.  That being said, I'm going to make mistakes (it's part of getting my own "life experiences" remember?) and while I know there may be punishment I wish you would also listen to me when I try to explain my thought process about the mistake.  Sure, I hate being punished but maybe if you can also help me figure out what to do or say differently next time in a productive way then I might be a little nicer while serving my time.  After all, you do want me to learn from my mistakes right?  Then help me learn.

Did you know that when you yell and use phrases like, "When you live under my roof you'll follow my rules" that I tune out?  Like I said earlier, when you talk at me and not to me I glaze over.  Was that effective with you when you were a teenager?  Yeah, I didn't think so.  Maybe it's time to try a new approach.  Just because I am young doesn't mean I don't know how to think and respond in a mature way.  Try treating me with a little respect and as if I have some maturity.  You might be surprised.

Did you know that I have my own dreams for the future and I don't want to be the one to live out yours? Please don't force me into some mold you think I belong in.  If you do that I will end up resenting you.  I am my own person and should have the freedom to live out my own dreams, if you support me in that then I will probably support you in going after yours.

One last thing.  This is a secret so can you keep it quiet please and not out me to my friends or anything like that?  I secretly like being a part of this family and when we hang out together I do have fun.  I know I might act all bored and annoyed with my siblings or you guys but actually I like it.  I like knowing that I have a family who loves me and is there for me.  So, yeah, thanks.

Dear Teenager, did you know?

Dear Teenager,

This isn't about how you dress or what you watch or listen to - you've heard from plenty of other people about that.  This is about your parents. You know, the people who live in the same house as you - they feed you, they pay bills to ensure you have a roof over your head, they clothe you, they love you (I hope).  

Did you know that your parents aren't just parents?  I think you might know that intellectually but I think you also might forget, when I was a teenager I forgot too.  We all need a reminder from time to time.  

Did you know that once upon a time your parents were teenagers "just" like you?  They had best friends and boyfriends/girlfriends, they had to go to school and do homework, they had fights with their own parents and rolled their eyes at them too.  Your parents also had dreams about their futures, they had goals, they had TV shows they loved and hated, music genres they loved and hated, a fashion style that was either "in" or "out". Did you know that your parents probably had their heart broken by someone?  

Did you know that your parents aren't just parents?  They are humans that have feelings just like you. They still have dreams and goals they would like to see come to fruition someday.  They can still get heartbroken. They still have homework - most of the time it just looks a little different.  Sometimes they still fight with their parents or siblings.  They still have friendship troubles of their own from time to time.  They still have a romantic/love relationship that needs attention and requires work from time to time (that's your other parent I'm referring to).  

Did you know that when you snap at them because you are having a bad day or are annoyed at the moment or think they are purposely trying to bug you that you hurt their feelings?  Just like your feelings may be hurt if they do that to you or someone else does.  Did you know that your parents also have bad days, get annoyed at people, and feel slighted by others (including you!)?  

Have you ever thought about your parents as humans rather than parents?  Again, intellectually I think you know they are humans but we all get stuck in our ruts and forget that people are more than their labels.  Your parents aren't just parents, that role isn't the entirety of their life - that is just a part of their life.  They are sons/daughters, husband/wife, friends, brother/sister, co-workers, talented, dreamers, aunt/uncle, passionate, fill in the blank.  

Do you know the dreams of your parents?  Do you know what they are passionate about outside of what you see they do day in and day out?  Do you know what their favorite color is and why?  Or what their favorite drink or dessert is?  Do you know what they do at their job (if they work outside of the home)?  Do you know why they are so protective of you?  What do you know about your parents outside of the label parent?  They know you.  They study you and commit to memory your favorite things, what annoys you, what makes you smile, they listen carefully to what you are and aren't saying about your future.  Have you taken the time to listen to them (they may not be as boring as you think!)?  

Your parents are living their own stories, you aren't the only one whose story is being written.  Their stories are still being written, they are just a few chapters ahead of you.  While they are your parents, remember they are also people who have feelings, dreams, and hopes just like you.  

Sincerely, 

A parent who is also a wife, Mom, daughter, sister, Aunt, friend, co-worker, and has big dreams

Our Electronics Sabbath

This past weekend we held our first electronics sabbath.  We've been meaning to for a while now but kept getting distracted from doing it (and if that isn't irony I'm not sure what is).  Yesterday I talked about the decline of many things in light of social media and smart phones.  You might want to read my thoughts there to give you better insight into what I'm saying here.

We instituted a no electronics sabbath from sundown to sundown.  A 24 hour period in which we literally shut down and/or powered off our phones and computers.  We did still allow the Wii and limited TV (as in 1 movie).  We gave our redheads a few hours warning so they could frantically text their friends to tell them about the cruel and unusual punishment we were dealing.  :)  I let it be known in Facebook land that I wouldn't be around (not like I was missed or anything) and at sundown we powered off and let our electronics get a little rest themselves.  We got milkshakes to "soothe" ourselves and the oldest tried a facial mask.  The first little sting of no electronics hit when she wanted to take a picture of her masked face and I couldn't find my real camera.  We powered on my phone for 2 minutes to snap the pic.  Darn it.  I really need to locate my real camera.  The redheads stayed close to one another and we let them watch one movie. Us adults headed for bed.

The next day was a little different.  A couple of times (okay more than a couple) I headed toward my phone to see if there were any texts I had missed.  Nope.  At one point I thought about replying back to someone on FB about something.  Nope.  All of a sudden I had all these people I needed to email.  Nope.  So I made a list of what I thought I needed to do once I joined the online world again.  And then I allowed the day to happen.  To distract the girls, specifically the oldest, from the lack of "connection" I took them shopping. That was another weird moment.  I took my phone (shut off) with me just in case a car emergency came up but it stayed tucked away in my purse.  Several times I thought about hopping on my phone to check this or that.  Nope.  On the way home, finally, I was going to call Lanny and let him know we were on the way. Nope.  What did we ever do without cell phones?!  Upon arriving home I discovered that the recipe I was using for dinner that night was on my Kindle.  Darn it.  So I powered on my Kindle for a few minutes and grabbed the recipe.  Of all the nights to make something that came off my Kindle.  The minute my Kindle powered up I instinctively hit the Facebook icon and it was pulled up by the time I realized what I had done and exited and went to my bookshelf for the recipe! Sheesh!

When sundown came the oldest was "jonesing" for her electronics and I realized that we need to do this more (the oldest isn't going to be too happy about that) so that the electronics in her life don't have power over her but she has power over them - and the same would be true for all of us.  Taking a break from all electronics revealed to me some interesting things: I am much more dependent on my cell phone than I realized, without the "noise" of electronics the house is a lot quieter and that unnerved my kids (the hub and I were just fine with that), TV becomes a temptation when electronics aren't available (which is why I limited it to 1 movie - I didn't want a 24 hour TV marathon to replace the electronics, then there would have been no purpose to the sabbath), being without electronics made us (with the exception of Lanny) a little unsettled/ancy/irritable.  In short we rely too much on our electronics to entertain us, interact for us, provide something for us (my recipe was on the Kindle!).  Are there benefits to having these electronics?  Yes! But we have relinquished our ability to have authenticity with others to screens and keyboards. There's no way we are giving up our electronics or social media pages but the change can come in how much we allow them to dictate our choices and behaviors and our true social lives.

We'll be doing more of these sabbaths. They are good for our souls and our relationships.  The redheads may disagree with me but I think, as Monk says, they'll thank us later.


In doing some Googling for the other post I came across this site and found it to be interesting. Perhaps you would be interested by it as well.