About fear

It's sneaky.  Comes in looking like it belongs here, like it has some space to occupy while it does something worthwhile.

Mostly it works on reminding or projecting, working in the past or looking out into the future.  I'm pretty sure it's impossible for fear to live in the present.  It's very nature works on what has happened and what might happen.

It slides in with a small thought.  There was just enough space there between the words and images for it to go and poke at that place and stir up some trouble.

Suddenly the landscape I'm living in changes and I'm viewing things through lenses built on past memories while trying to see what might be coming down the pike and it's almost always worst case scenario.

Fear thrives on that.  It brings to mind that time that mistake was made or that wrong was done and then it super imposes it on some future event and always in a negative light.  Always.  Its colors are dark and drab and dismal and depressed and it never ever brings joy.

Never.

Because somehow I can best prepare for some unknown future event by being fearful, worried, scared, afraid and somehow I can stop something from happening by allowing fear to be the lens I make decisions with or relate to people through or spend time spinning plates over.

"And who can add an hour to their life by worry?" asks Jesus.

Because if I could, I'd sure to have days and days of extra time but all fear does is whisk away the present moments and turn gifts into fearful ponderings that steal joy and stuff pain.  I look out and instead of faces I see potential mistakes and a sea of what ifs and why didn't Is and I should haves.  I miss the nuances of light and color and smiles and laughter and hearts with intentions to do the very best that they can.

Fear tricks me into believing that this way of thinking is most helpful and productive AS IF I could turn back time or go forward in time and then come back and fix time and if I take a step back and look at it like that I can see that fear has no rhyme or reason for this present moment I'm living in, at least not the fear that slipped in the door this morning with whispers of worry and doubt.

There is no joy in fear.  None.  Fear sucks the life out of every moment and throws them aside, discarded and unlived.  So why do I keep inviting it back in?

It knocks.  I answer.  It's not like I don't see who it is.  I know fear, and maybe that's why I open that door because fear is what's familiar.  "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't"?

Except I really don't want to party with any devil, fear or otherwise.

So I take a deep breath, take captive my thoughts, say a prayer of thanksgiving, and show fear to the door.  Maybe I'll be quicker tomorrow to send it packing.  Maybe I won't even open the door.

Because I know this, there is no fear in love and love is where I want to live all the days of my life.  Yes there's pain and yes bad things happen, really bad things.  But so do good things.  Lots and lots of good things and I'd rather fill my thoughts and open my eyes to those moments that fill my day.

Love helps me live present, increases joy, promotes true peace, and gives really amazing gifts.

My future is best prepared for when I'm living in the moment I'm in looking for the gifts love brings, opening my heart to the joy of the now, receiving peace that's available to me right now.

Love strengthens.  Love gives hope.  Love builds trust.  Love connects and restores and replenishes and multiplies and crosses miles and oceans and cultures and languages and gives back a thousand times over what it takes to live present, to live now.

Best case scenario with love?  I live present. I get presents.
Worst case scenario with love? I live present. I get presents.

It's a win win.

follow me on Periscope @untetheredlife and check out our website untethered.life

The fog

The damp gray blanketed the world  as I began my morning routine: boil water, make tea, grab journal and Bible and devotionals and pens.  The day looked as grey as I felt.  Journaling and reading and processing did their work in me but my mood was not lighter, my heart no more brighter than the morning light muted with fog.

With the sun, the fog began to lift, so I slipped my feet into worn sneakers for the walk I knew I needed but didn't really want to take.

I pressed on anyway.

I walked the block to the trail nearby, and as I neared it I noticed the grass looked like glass, tiny droplets of water lining blades transforming each into an iridescent show.  My eyes took note.  My heart began to waken just a bit.  My toes got wet as the drenched grass brushed over my shoes.

Now on the trail I began to pay attention to the places the wet gray blanket had left gifts of beauty: the long stalks of some native grass whose tips criss-crossed with spider webs had become a sprinkling of intricate flowers made of water droplets and finest of threads.  My awareness increased and realization came that what had been a dreary beginning had actually been the makings of a display of intricate design woven throughout the night then dressed in diamonds by the morning fog.

As I continued my walk, I now began to look for more signs of wonder made of gossamer and H2O.  Here, there, everywhere I see the perfectly shaped webs now star-studded, the moisture clinging, weighing down the web as it's creator patiently waits in the center of its masterpiece.

Many mornings I make this walk.  Many mornings I see the trail and the grass and the trees.  Occasionally I glimpse a magnificent web yet unbroken by breakfast.  But never have I seen so many arrayed in such splendor.

I breathe in the moment knowing that what at first appeared to be a blanket of dreary grey had now become the very substance that transformed an ordinary walk into an extraordinary holy moment.

This day at this moment in time revealed a gift I couldn't have anticipated finding had I not pressed through the perspective that wanted to wrestle my heart to the ground, the despairing voice in my head saying: haven't you had enough fog in your life, haven't you been in this season long enough, isn't it time for something to change.  And yes, and yes, and yes...but NOW I have experienced that the fog leaves a gift if I'm willing to wait, if I'm willing to see, if I'm ready to appreciate.

Makes the fog I've lived with for so long now different somehow....  It's no longer something to suffer under, to whine over, to despair about... It's become a master artist at work on a gallery so resplendent my heart must expand to receive it in all its glory.

There's beauty coming...are you ready?

Isaiah 40:31 AMP But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] shall change and renew their strength and power; they shall lift their wings and mount up [close to God] as eagles [mount up to the sun]; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint or become tired.

To my overwhelmed mom friends

In less than two weeks I graduate my man-child. He's 6'5", size 17 shoe. He can see the dust on the top of the fridge, reach things I have to go up 5 rungs on the ladder to grasp.  He's smart, witty, creative, gifted, loving, gentle, kind, strong, brave, encouraging, daring...he's also challenging and stubborn.  He is 17, after all, and learning how to be himself apart from me.

But once upon a time, he was a part of me.  He grew within my belly, and when time came for him to emerge into the world, he came out at break-neck speed, leaving "skid marks," as the midwife called them.

And it looks like he's going to leave home the same way he left my body...at break-neck speed.  Where did the years go?

I've read over the past year many posts and blogs in response to the "older mom telling the younger mom" to enjoy these years because they pass by so quickly, with the younger moms saying "yeah, we know that, but look at this overwhelming amount of parenting I'm having to do right now.  This isn't helpful!"

I wish I would've listened to those older moms.

Here's what I know, what I'm learning, now that I have one child living on her own, one about to head out the door, and four more still in my daily care...I wish I would have known how to do what those older and wiser women were encouraging me to do...to live life present.

As I young mom, I was tired.  I had six babies in 10 1/2 years which is a lot or a little, depending on who you are.  I was also a perfectionist and therin lies (and continues to lie) the problem.  I was tired and overwhelmed not just in body, but in heart.

You see, my heart was carrying a burden that it was never meant to carry...the burden of making sure my children were consistently well-behaved, were up-to-speed on all of their age appropriate skills, obeyed the first time every time, ate healthy foods (with the definition of healthy always changing...), went to bed on time, got up on time, nursed enough, played enough outside, had enough play dates, slept through the night, had shoes that fit well, got their check ups, were spiritually disciplined, were well-read, could play musical instruments, had a chance to play sports, etc., etc., etc.

Now I know some of these things are my responsibility because it's what a mom does, but where my downfall came was in thinking that if these things weren't happening in the way I expected them to or the way I believed they should in the time frame that I gave them, then I had to figure out what I was doing wrong and fix it before everything went to hell in a hand basket.

I put pressure on myself, was critical of myself, put pressure on my children, was critical of my children...All of this internal and external striving caused me to miss God's grace that was present in every single overwhelming moment if only I would have known how to take time to breathe and look.  I did get it sometimes, but I was truthfully stuck in an unhappy loop because I could only be happy if everything was going well, or at least if I could see progress in the right direction.

When my oldest daughter was 10, I had a major light-bulb moment: she no longer was asking me to hold her, to rock her.  Up until about that age, she daily asked to be held and/or rocked.  I was tired and overwhelmed with lots of young children, so more often than not, I told her "no, honey, I'm too tired.  Maybe tomorrow."  And I did that enough times and suddenly there were no more tomorrows.

And I thought: "OH!!!  They aren't this way forever..."  So I slowed down as best I knew how...

That was nine years ago, and it's been a slow process of allowing God to teach me how to unwind and to let Him untangle me from some faulty ways of thinking that led to a tired-hearted momma.  He has set me free, mostly, from the tyranny of time that says that things have to happen at a certain time, in a certain way, or else... He has moved me into learning what love really looks like, that love takes time, slows down, doesn't pressure, doesn't cajole, doesn't threaten, doesn't hurry and scurry and go this way and that way...

Love breathes, love trusts, love hopes, love believes, love rests...love doesn't worry whether or not the dishes are done, the floors are clean, the laundry is folded and put away.  Love doesn't get bent out of shape or harried or scared.

I do, though.  But HE never does.  He holds time in His hands and His plans and purposes never fail and since I didn't learn to slow down and appreciate the moments then, I'm going to learn it now because these people in my care...they leave quickly...they grow up and they move out and they do great and amazing things in spite of and because of their time at home with me.

I want each of my children no matter their age, when they walk into the room, to feel my complete and utter delight in them.  They don't always because truthfully some days are hard and I'm still overwhelmed and still not trusting God and I still sometimes stress because they aren't where they are "supposed to be" academically or spiritually or physically or whatever measure I'm looking at in the moment...and I go down into this whirlwind of unbelief and doubt and fear and stress and anxiety until I catch myself or, rather, HE catches me, and I remember that these moments don't last forever...

I breathe, I hand my fear to God, I choose to trust His timing...I choose to not let my heart be led by fear and anxiety that's ever present in the moment and choose to remember that He's got this...my God is big and strong and good and He loves me and loves my kids.  Most of all I'm learning to remember that He redeems and He restores and He makes all things new.  He really and truthfully does.

I miss moments because I am too worried in those moments to believe the truth: God is love and is all the things that love is and does and while what I do IS important it never overrides His power, strength and purpose.  He doesn't give stones. He gives bread...

So, my overwhelmed mom friends...take a moment.  Breathe.  If your kids are newborn, toddlers, elementary-age, teens, adults...God's got this.  Love them.  Be present with them.  Ask the Holy Spirit to show you what ideals and expectations and pressures and standards are you holding onto that He never asked you to.  Let Him take those burdens.  Let Him lift the heavy load today so that you CAN treasure these moments, be present to those He has placed in His care, be kind and compassionate to yourself...you're doing the best you can and He is alive and active and working in and through and outside of your efforts.  Ask Him to take your fear and your overwhelmed so that you can see where His joy IS your strength and how HIS power is made PERFECT in your weakness.

Cry out to Him who is able to make all grace abound to you.  He's got new mercies for you today. Know that you are loved, that His love is carrying you even in those moments you think you are alone or have made a mess of things or can't possibly fathom how this is all going to work out for good.  It does.  He is.

Take a listen to the song below...let it reach into the marrow of your bones.
"Take a Moment" by Will Reagan

My addiction to met expectations

I recently read the first few pages of a book titled How to Make Your Life Work: or Why Aren't You Happy by Ken Keyes and was struck by the idea he presents about being addicted to having expectations met which creates chronic unhappiness.  I had never thought of it this way, but as I've pondered the thought I have become increasingly aware that, yes, I have this addiction.

Consciously or unconsciously, I have expectations on just about everything.  I expect to wake up to a quiet house and to have some alone time before I get going on my day.  I expect the people in my family to pick up after themselves.  I expect to get places on time.  I expect to make good decisions 99.9% of the time.  I expect those good decision to reward me with a trouble-free life.  Those are the ones on the top this morning.  There are a million more swirling around inside of me.  Sometimes these expectations are met, but certainly not always.

If I stop and think about my level of unhappiness and where it comes from...I mean, if I really dig down deep I'm pretty sure I'll find that it is floating on top of disappointment that things did not work out the way I expected.  This disappointment fuels stress, anxiety, fear, and a host of other toxic emotions that just become a cesspool for chronic dis-ease.

My friend Lisa shared this Tony Robbins quote with me yesterday:

 "Trade your expectation for appreciation and the world changes instantly.”

 I'm going to start here: when I recognize an expectation I have that hasn't gotten met, I'm going to choose to appreciation instead of some of the other things I've chosen in the past like self-recrimination, blaming, complaining.  Care to join me?

I've joined the Ultimate Blog Challenge in an attempt to get myself blogging again on a regular basis.  Daily blogging means imperfect posts that often feel uninspired, but there you go.  I'm blogging and that's what I'm going for.

Dessert

I'm going to let you in on a little secret:  I love dessert.

As a kid, back when we would have church potlucks where everything was homemade from scratch, usually from some famous family recipe, I would hit the dessert table first.  I didn't want to miss out on the cherry pie, the chocolate chip cookies, or the maple butterscotch cake.  When I would get home from school, I would make snickerdoodles and eat so much of the dough that I never really cared to have any cookies once they were baked, at least until the next day.  Put a plate of chocolate chip pecan cookies in front of me, and you might just find it empty when you come back.

My sister once made me a batch of the delectable chocolate chip cookies where the dough rests for 24-72 hours so the flavors meld and are baked with a sprinkle of sea salt on top.  She still makes fun of me for eating at least two for breakfast every day, not to mention the ones I had for mid-afternoon snack and then the before-bedtime snack.  I love all desserts, but a batch of salty-sweet chocolate chip cookies are my downfall.  I just can't resist.

We sometimes have apple cobbler for lunch or cookies and smoothies for supper.  Of course, I make the cookies healthy by reducing the sugar by 75% and adding ground flax seed and an extra cup of oats.  Dropping the sugar down by that much takes them out of the dessert category and into the meal category in my opinion so that even in the days when I am much more diligent about healthy eating in our family I feel like we are still within the bounds.

So next time you see me at a pot luck dinner of some sort, don't be surprised if you see me head to the dessert table first.  I promise I'll leave room for carrot and celery sticks.

I've joined the Ultimate Blog Challenge in an attempt to get myself blogging again on a regular basis.  Daily blogging means imperfect posts that often feel uninspired, but there you go.  I'm blogging and that's what I'm going for.

Equal...Doesnotequal

Change = discomfort

It's a given.  If things are changing in your life, you will be uncomfortable and you will try to find anything that will make you comfortable again, sometimes even choosing things that you left behind because they were harmful.

Discomfort ≠ bad
Hard ≠ bad

Sometimes you will have to go through the discomfort and the hard to get to the healthy and the good.

Familiar ≠ good

Especially if familiar means you go down into that negative place, only because it's the only path you've ever known.  Trust me, there are other choices.  You may not be able to see them because you have a wall of fear all around you, but there are ways to get around that.

Good ≠ best

Good can be an ok choice, but good can get in the way of the best.  Baby steps.  Today choose one thing that is best.

Busy ≠ good

Keeping busy does not necessarily mean productive or fruitful or good.  Often times staying busy is just masking shame which is trying to keep you tied down in familiar patterns of self-hatred and condemnation that, while they may be familiar, are definitely not your friends.  Busy also can be a wall that keeps you from seeing what your best choice may be. Take that into consideration.

Messy ≠ bad

Learning to operate with new tools while things are changing around and within you can get messy.  The mess can feel overwhelming.  It can feel daunting.  It can feel bad.  Ask a wise and trusted friend about this. Let them help you determine if your mess is bad or not and if there's anything you need to do about it.

If you find yourself in relational messes wherein you say or do something selfish and/or hurtful, apologize. Get good at apologizing now.  Need some help?  Here's a great "formula" to use until apologizing for selfish behavior comes naturally:

 I apologize for  ___________.  It was unloving because ___________.  Will you forgive me?

I can't see through this screen into your world, so know that these are basic generalizations.  If you or someone you know is in trouble and needs help, please get it.  Don't know where to go?  Leave me a comment here, and I'll point you in a helpful direction.

P.S. I've joined the Ultimate Blog Challenge in an attempt to get myself blogging again on a regular basis.  Daily blogging means imperfect posts that often feel uninspired, but there you go.  I'm blogging and that's what I'm going for.

Perspective

I like movies with a happy ending.  I like it when the good guy wins and the story lines end up tied up in plausible, pleasant ways.  I like the predictability of the happy ending without knowing exactly how it's going to get there.

Life doesn't feel like that.  Oh, I know life isn't a movie, much less a feel-good movie.  But these movies do mirror a part of THE story where God works all things out.

Right now, life feels chaotic, broken, uncertain.  A series of events have left me unsteady.  I drift in and out of anxiety, fear, and doubt daily.  It's hard for me to remember when I'm in this point of the story that there is a happy ending coming when I can't see how I'm going to get there.

The problem is that my focus gets off.  Instead of focusing on God who loves me and cares for me lavishly, who has told me that there will be trouble but that I don't have to fret, who fills my day with good things if I only have eyes to see...I look at the negatives: the things that need fixing, the places that are dirty and piled with stuff, the unsorted laundry, the messy kitchen and unmade beds, the projects left undone, the relationship struggles, my mistakes and my inability to keep up with it all and to fix it all to my liking.

All of these light and momentary troubles somehow have obtained the power to absorb my attention and distort my perspective.

Pretty Woman is one of my favorite happy-ending movies.  I know it's an unrealistic story involving prostitution, but there's a bit of Hosea hidden in there, and I just love the scene when Julia Roberts as Vivian is firmly approached by Hector Elizondo, the hotel mayordomo, for her disheveled appearance that doesn't quite fit the hotel's clientele.  Once he hears that she has been unable to purchase anything respectable to wear because the shops on Rodeo Drive won't attend her because of how she looks, he takes her under his wing and proceeds to bring to life the beauty and passion that has always been there in Vivian...it's just gotten muddied and distorted by the world and the lies that have been heaped on her.  And after a second shopping attempt is successful, Vivian emerges poised and beautiful and confident. If you've seen the movie, you know the ins and outs of her complicated relationship with Richard Gere and how that all turns out, and while it's far from a perfect analogy of God and his love for us, it does speak something profound about the power of perspective and kindness and love.

I just need to remember that God sees past all of my outer trappings that make me unappealing to myself...No one has rejected me or refused to help me recently because of how I look, how my house looks, or how my relationships look.  But I do often refuse to help myself out...to give myself a break and show some love and kindness, to "allow" God to be bigger than it all so that everything I see goes through His perspective, His Truth.

Isaiah 61:1-3

61 

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

    to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

    to proclaim freedom for the captives

    and release from darkness for the prisoners,[a]

2 

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

    and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

3 

    and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

    instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

    instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

    instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

    a planting of the Lord

    for the display of his splendor.