Sabotage is Such a Strong Word

I'm reading a devotional book called Praying for Purpose for Women, by Katie Brazelton. In each daily entry, there is a question to ask yourself, a Bible verse, a short prayer and space to journal what you're learning. The point is to guide the reader toward discovering God's unique plan for her life through a series of "baby steps". It takes guts to look that closely at yourself, but that's what I'm trying to do.

Day 11 was particularly piercing. Here's just a morsel, "Are you a saboteur?" (Absolutely not! That's such an ugly word.) Then the definition: "Self-sabotage means that you consciously or subconsciously obstruct your own productivity (uh, oh...) in order to underhandedly defeat a worthwhile endeavor." Nope. Not me. I read further to find out what other women do to complicate their lives and ensure that they fall short of the fulfilling lives they desire.

That's when she pulled out the big guns. She gave examples - galore! "Could this be your story?", she asks, in her unassuming way. "NO!!" I screamed inside my head, starting to panic now. Here are just a few:

• You don't exercise, causing health issues.
• You are rash and impulsive, resulting in poor, often irreversible decisions.
• You compare yourself to others and end up feeling inadequate.
• You aim for perfection, leading inevitably to failure.
• You allow your temper to rage out of control, producing guilt and shame.

You get the picture. And so it went, each example peeling away another layer of denial until I found myself searching frantically for the "All of the Above" choice! "How did this happen?" I wondered aloud as I sat in the middle of my bed confronted by all the ways I choose to be my own worst enemy.

I've read more self improvement books than any woman alive and, while I have made positive changes as a result, I still struggle in EVERY SINGLE AREA she mentioned. And, as often as I've undercut God's best intentions for my life, instead of facing it and making a change, I usually blame Him.

So what's the answer? Well... I think step one is probably doing exactly what I was forced to do - strip away the denial and excuses. Each of us needs to take a deep, honest look at our daily thought and behavior patterns. Then we need to surrender and be open to change. God will show us areas where we need to come up higher, but we have to listen. And, you know what I've found? God is the Alpha and Omega of Common Sense. Sometimes the things we make so hard are actually very simple - not easy, mind you - but simple.

For example, if you're moody all day because you stayed up too late, go to bed! If you're miserable because you just ate three Snickers bars, choose one "fun" size Snickers (I wonder how much fun a candy bar that small can be.). You get the idea. Overspending, overeating, yelling at my kids, or that racing, pounding heart feeling, all of which I still confront, really have straightforward answers, whether or not we want to believe it.

Here are just a few principles that I am discovering to help alleviate my self-sabotaging behaviors.

• Be content. Period.
• Be moderate in all things, including work, eating, spending and exercise. Following this principle alone has added balance and peace to my life.
• Treat others like I want to be treated. Need I say more?
• Try to see myself as God sees me - a cherished one-of-a-kind work-in-progress.
• Be humble. Note that this does NOT mean thinking less of yourself. It simply means to think of yourself less.
• Be radically generous! Nothing lifts my spirits in the middle of a self-sabotaging funk like giving to someone else. There are so many needs. Every time I look, I find someone who needs an encouraging word, a hug or a hot meal.

In spite of the many "self improvement" books I've read, I learned every one of these principles from the greatest book ever written. It's true. Start with the book of Proverbs and see for yourself. And, take "self sabotage" out of your vocabulary for good!

We're All On This Quest

First, let me establish that I read -- a lot. I'm a busy mom, but reading is a life line, of sorts, for me. So I make time for it. I read while I'm waiting to pick up my kids from school. I read at the doctor's office and in traffic jams. I read first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I read on the porch swing and in the bathtub. So when I say a book has been life-changing, one thing is for sure: It's had a lot of competition.

A Quest for More, by Paul David Tripp, was just such a book. Wow! What a read! The brutal honesty was refreshing, and the way he molded a weighty topic into a concept I could get my mind and heart around was remarkable. This book made me think, cry, hurt and hope. It challenged me, and everyone who dares to read it, to leave behind my little "kingdom of self" to reach toward something deeper and wider than my life - the kingdom of God.

Tripp convincingly demonstrates the value of living with God at the center of your life, in gratitude to Him and service to others. Nothing else will, or even can, give our lives such meaning, purpose and joy. Most of us long to be part of something bigger than ourselves. But, in the midst of daily life and busy schedules, we find that we only have enough energy to (barely) take care of ourselves and our families, thereby "reducing the size of our life to the size of our life". Tripp writes that we are “wired” for so much more and that tying our purpose into God’s kingdom is the only thing that will, or can, fulfill us. The bottom line: Each of us was created with a void inside and an intense need to fill it. This isn't theology, and you don't have to be "religious" to see this played out every day. We all try to fill the void, sometimes in destructive ways, like with drugs, alcohol or too much food. Or, we might try to fill it in more benign, but still ineffective, ways like through our careers, relationships, entertainment or even ministry. While many of these things are not wrong in and of themselves, they weren't intended to fill our void, and they never will.

This book is pretty “heady”. If you want to read something sweet, light and fluffy, read something else. But, if you're ready to take an honest look at yourself and feel the hope that lies beneath what you find, this is the book for you. It's also real. I'm not much for head knowledge without practical life application, my personal litmus test for a"personal/spiritual growth" book. A Quest for More passed with flying colors! In fact, the last chapter of the book, aptly titled "Putting It All Together" outlines what this kind of "big kingdom" living looks like, in the real world on a daily basis. On some level, you will recognize yourself - and the people in your life - in this book. Thankfully, you will also have a road map to start your journey toward a passionate, purposeful life.

The Littlest Stalker

Our family is being stalked. It all started innocently. There were occasional phone calls and pleasantries exchanged. But now it's starting to get a little weird. This person called our house 12 times in less than 24 hours. Every time the phone rings, we all groan... We know who it is without even looking at the Caller ID. The stalker - Maddie's friend and fourth grade classmate.

Her big brown eyes are beautiful, and her tiny voice on the answering machine - MANY TIMES EVERY DAY - is as sweet as honey. "Hello, this is Maria*. Can Maddie please call me when she gets a chance?" Maddie does call her when she gets a chance; however, that never seems to be fast enough for Maria's taste. Within two minutes of leaving a message, she calls again, and again, and again.

We've tried various approaches. We've asked Maddie to speak to her about it at school, which she assures us she has done. "Maria, you only need to call me once. If we're not home, or I can't talk right then, I'll call you back later." "Ok," she says - and calls eight times, starting two seconds after she gets home from school where, I might add, she and Maddie have spent the entire day together. We've tried ignoring the phone, even turning off the ringer. But the answering machine beeping and clicking on and off repeatedly while we're having dinner isn't pleasant either. I'm sure the "experts" would advise us to take the assertive approach. When she calls again, just answer the phone and tell her politely that Maddie can't talk right then and we will have Maddie call her. After all, it's our house, our phone, our time, and our child. Right? Well, guess what? We tried that! It didn't work either.

Call me a weakling, a coward, a wimpy parent, but... we have adopted a new approach. Maria comes to our house. As a matter of fact, she spent the entire weekend here. The irony of this whole thing is that she's very meek and well mannered. So, when she's here, I don't even notice there's an extra child in the house. I know, I know... It's not a viable long-term alternative. But until I can think of something else, I'm embracing the age-old Looney Tunes philosophy: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!" Hey! It's all for the sake of the cause: peace and quiet.

*Names have been changed to protect the obsessive.

The Night in the Pink Closet

Our family spent last night in a closet. The whole family in a tiny pink closet. We didn't exactly sleep, and we did come out from time to time. So maybe saying we spent the night in there is a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. No, we weren't having a pajama party on a school night. We were simply following the weatherman's strict instructions to "take cover". The weirdest "winter" weather I've ever experienced slammed into our little part of the world last evening. My mom was on the phone first thing this morning informing me that she heard on the news these were the worst January storms in this region since the 1800's.

It was a sneaky storm too. For three days before it hit, the weather was gorgeous, complete with record-setting highs. Then, yesterday about 5:00, everything got still..and dark. The wind blew and it rained. It was eery but not scary - yet. During dinner, we turned on the news "just to be safe" and already a tornado had touched down about forty miles west of us - headed right toward us. That's when we "took cover", tornado language for getting in the smallest, most cramped part of your house, contorting your body into the most uncomfortable position you can imagine and covering your head with soft cushy items like pillows and blankets to protect your head and neck from flying trees and crumbling houses. Sounds reasonable, right? So that's what we did. Not once, not twice, but three times. The storms just kept coming, one after another, from 6:00 pm to 4:00 am. They were moving as quickly as 70 mph, and they came in waves, complete with driving rain, baseball-sized hail and deadly twisters. Hence, the reason for hanging out in my daughter's pink closet.

Mackenzie, who's 12, cried silent tears. Maddie, whose closet was our temporary residence, hunched over with her knees drawn to her chest and shook. Micah, the five-year-old, sat on Dad's lap and played with the flashlight, asking, "Can we get out now?" continuously, until we all wanted to scream! We dozed, we held hands, and we prayed - for protection, for peace and for the people who'd already lost their homes and their lives.

It was all too familiar. Eight months ago, a tornado completely devastated Greensburg, Kansas, a farming community 10 miles from where my mom & stepfather, brother and sisters live. The kids and I had gone to help with the relief efforts, and they remember it well. So when they hear the word "tornado" they get very real pictures in their minds - pictures of a hundred cots set up in a school gymnasium, people sobbing out of grief and exhaustion, and strangers embracing as friends in the midst of a shared tragedy. Because of one storm, they know that nature is strong but God is stronger, that loss hurts but love heals. They've seen a town obliterated in 10 minutes and the townspeople plan to rebuild it 10 minutes after that. They know that courage and determination trump shock and fear every time. Oh yeah and one other thing... They know that when the weatherman says, "Take cover," we all go to the pink closet.

New Year's Resolutions and Taunting Treadmills

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope each of you had a healthy, safe holiday season. I guess now it's back to the real world. I've decided that I have a love/hate relationship with the New Year. I love the idea of 12 fresh, new months unfolding before me. But... I hate my treadmill. The way it beckons to me from the corner of the room, taunting me with memories of all the food I've inhaled since.. well, Thanksgiving.

At the beginning of each new year, I used to make a detailed list of about a hundred completely unrealistic resolutions, psyche myself up and get started. I'd get up well before the sun and exercise for an hour. Then I'd shower, read my Bible and eat a nutritious breakfast, complete with two 8-ounce glasses of water. I was sweet and patient with my kids, professionally dressed for work and ON TIME everywhere I went. I ate a healthful lunch, taking time to stretch for 10 minutes and listen to soothing music. After work, I picked up the kids from daycare and school, hugging each one and asking how her day was, listening intently to their responses. Next came a healthful dinner that all the kids loved, after which the whole family snuggled and read books until bedtime. Do I really need to tell you the rest of the story? You got it - it lasted about 48 hours. Then I was back to my frazzled, breakfast (and exercise) skipping, tired, grouchy self. I always ended up feeling overwhelmed, anxious and miserable, which caused me to despise my "lack of discipline" and the first day of January.

Fast forward five years. I've learned from that vicious try-fail-hate myself cycle. Now, I do it differently. At the beginning of each new year, I 1) think about my priorities and 2) jot down a few things that I would like to improve on and one or two dreams I have for my life and family. It's encouraging to think back on the previous year and realize that I did learn, grow and change, even if only in small ways. I mess up a lot, and I still have a long way to go, but thankfully I'm not where I was 10 years ago. I fall short of expectations - my own and other people's. But the realization that each day matters and the assurance that God's grace is new every morning - not just some mornings - helps me keep things in perspective. When I think about the moments I'll share with the people I love, the books I'll read and the places I'll go, I feel grateful and optimistic about 2008. Who knows? I might even get up on that treadmill.