Built for Speed?

It's been too long since I've posted. I apologize to any of you who routinely read my posts. The bad news is life has been a little crazy lately. The good news is it's been hectic for (mostly) all the right reasons -- hanging out with my family during Spring Break, celebrating Easter, planning my daughter's birthday bash and trying to meet the ever present writing deadlines which, by the way, I'm oh-so-thankful for! :)

Anyway... I'm back, and here's what I've been thinking about. A few weeks ago, my five-year-old son, Micah, entered a little wooden car in our church's annual Pinewood Derby race. For those of you who haven't been fortunate enough to watch your child's car zoom down a wooden plank to victory, allow me to describe the process. First, lots of little boys (and girls) design, cut out, paint and assemble their own wooden car for the big race. (Micah spelled "Mom" on one end of the car and "Dad" on the other end. Of course, when the announcer asked him which end was the front, he promptly replied, "DAD"! No hard feelings though - really.)On race day, all the cars are displayed on tables for the die-hard fans to admire. Then the race begins. Three cars at a time, divided by the child's age group, are poised at the top of a thin wooden plank - think roller coaster rail. They are released at the same time and, as they cross the finish line, a computer calculates each car's time to determine the ultimate winner.

There are two awards given per age group-- one for design and one for speed. You can imagine which one the boys all want and what a source of pride it is -- for the boys and their dads -- if they win the coveted prize for speed. This year, Micah won third place for speed in his division, which warranted a long-distance call to Grandpa, a self-confessed speed demon and soon-to-be drag racer himself. Micah proudly announced that his car "was almost the fastest out of 18 boys!", as Grandpa congratulated him on the other end of the phone and Steve grinned from ear to ear.

That conversation, combined with the aforementioned craziness in my schedule, started me thinking about which trophy I want. Not for the Pinewood Derby, of course, but for my life. When it's all over, what do I want my life to count for: speed--the busy, hectic, run from here to there at the pace of a world-class sprinter with nothing to show for it except busy-ness itself, or design--a well-crafted way of living that drinks in everything life has to offer. It's a no-brainer, but it's also a constant battle. Like many of you, I want to take long walks in the Spring sunshine, bake homemade chocolate chip cookies for my kids and generally shower my family and friends with endless amounts of energy, patience and love. But the reality is there is laundry to wash, bills to pay, toilets to clean and deadlines to meet. I'm human, so I feel discontent, tired and grouchy more often than I like to admit.

So where is the balance? I have a feeling I'll be asking myself that question on a daily basis for as long as I walk this earth. But a couple of truths keep resurfacing in my life, and I've noticed a pattern. Whenever I keep these thoughts in the forefront of my mind, my days are more fulfilling and less irritating. My priorities stay straighter and my life feels richer. They're not earth-shattering, but they have been life changing: 1) There is not time in each day to do everything, but there is time to do everything that God wants me to do, which ties in closely with #2. "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness (His way of being and doing), and all these things will be added to you." (Matthew 6:33).

So, with these principles in mind I wake up each morning and visualize what my day "should" look like to accomplish what I need to while still keeping first things first. I like to think of each 24-hour period like it's a lump of clay with no particular form, shape or color. It's up to me to take that ugly mass of "empty" time and craft it into something beautiful. That might mean cleaning my house and running errands, writing at my tiny, garage sale desk for 10 hours straight, sitting with a friend by her child's bedside in the hospital or playing tag with my kids in the front yard. Whatever the rest of my life brings, I know if I listen to my heart and trust God that someday I'll win a trophy too. But it won't be for speed. For me, to hear God Himself say, "Well done, good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:21) at the end of my journey will be the ultimate reward for design. All that's left to do is begin - TODAY. "Ladies, start your engines!"

Remember Surrender

I took my nine-year-old daughter (and famous singer wanna-be) Maddie to a Sara Groves concert last Friday. It's the third time I've seen her in concert; I love her music and respect her message more each time. It's not even entertainment from the standpoint that it's not passive. It's almost like work. Sara makes me think and search and confront myself. After the concert I felt challenged, not entertained, but it's a worthwhile tradeoff. She sings about real life in a broken world, but the music teems with hope and promise. She writes most of her own lyrics, which have moved and sustained me during the most challenging times of my life. Case in point - Remember, Surrender from the All Right Here CD.

Remember, surrender. As a matter of fact, I do remember. I remember exactly where and when I surrendered - in a red chair in the middle of another sleepless night. Taunted by doctors' reports and dismal statistics. Afraid to quit fighting, afraid I would lose.

My youngest child was just six months old when I was diagnosed with a rare, usually fatal (90% of the time) liver disease. My future looked bleak at best. I was undergoing the only known medical treatment, a series of steroids with an immunosuppressant drug often used in chemotherapy. My head spun, my stomach churned, my hands trembled and I slept only about 10 hours a week. It was 3:00 am, and I was still awake. Bleary eyed and frustrated, I stumbled out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to the family room where I collapsed, exhausted and defeated, into my favorite red chair - and God's arms. Hopeless and scared, I cried my heart out. I told him that I wanted to live but that I couldn't fight anymore. The drugs were taking their toll and trying to raise four young kids, work part time and stay ahead of the mounting medical bills and laundry piles, all while trying to squelch my fears and those of my family and friends was more than I could handle. All the anger, fear and bewilderment of the last few months spilled out. I held nothing back. Remember surrender. Remember relief. Remember how tears rolled down both of your cheeks. As the warmth of a heavenly father came closing in.

After my crying fit, I laid my head against the arm of the chair and I gave it all to God. The length - and quality - of my life. My children's future with or without me. All the hopes and dreams I'd had for my life and theirs. A few minutes later, for the first time in months, my hands stopped trembling and I closed my eyes and slept... deeply and peacefully right there in the red chair. Remember surrender. Remember the peace. Remember how soundly you fell fast asleep. In the face of your troubles your future still shone like the morning sun.

I was fighting against the disease with all my strength but the whole time, God wasn't asking me to fight. He was asking me to do something much more difficult - to trust and to rest - in the middle of the battle. Not to take on the weight of the world. Not to grieve my losses - yet. Not to roll over and die. Not to be bitter and angry and ask, "Why me?" But only to trust. Remember surrender. Remember the rest. Remember that weight lifting off of your chest. And realizing that it's not up to you and it never was..."

That was five years ago and I'm still here. God has taught me so much about what my body and soul need to be healthy, including proper nutrition, exercise and plenty of rest. I have a wonderful doctor, who gives me hope and encouragement, which sometimes is all I need to get through another day with a good attitude. My life has changed a lot since the night in the red chair. My priorities are straight, and my relationships are rich. Now I spend my days caring for my family and my health. I've learned how to forgive, love, play and enjoy life. But maybe the most healing aspect of all of this has been God awakening dreams in me that I had long since buried, not the least of which is reaching out to other women through writing. Remember surrender. Remember that sound. Of all of those voices inside dying down. But one who speaks clearly of helping and healing you deep within.

Yes, I do remember the surrender. It was the sweetest decision I could have made, and the beginning of an incredible journey toward true healing and wholeness. So, let me encourage you in whatever you're struggling through. God will give you joy for sorrow and beauty for ashes. All He asks in return is that you trust Him and realize that it's not up to you... and it never was.

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.