On the topic of holiday giving...

My daughter is completely enthralled with the Salvation Army bell ringers that are standing outside of the stores this time of year. Every time we walk past one of them, she begins singing "Jingle Bells" and is thoroughly entertained. This always makes me feel guilty that we never put any money in the collection bucket. So I tend to walk a little faster and keep my eyes down.

The fact of the matter is that we, like many other folks right now, have very little "spare change". Or is that all in our heads? I have been stressed to the max lately about finances. It's always worse around the holidays too. Not only do you have higher utility bills due to the increase of Christmas lights and decrease of the temperatures, you also have gift giving obligations and year end expenses such as car registration and such. It seems to rain bills in the months of October, November and December. But, something I was thinking today, am I really as broke as I sometimes lead myself to believe? Or am I just more selfish than I'd like to admit?

Today, as we were leaving Walmart, we had one of those "Jingle Bells" experiences. I did have some change in my wallet, but I was in a grumpy mood because we had just spent money on more Christmas gifts, which, like it or not, is not always Merry...especially when you feel like you have very little to give. Not only are you grumpy about having to spend, but, in my case at least, I get grumpy wishing I had more to do more. So I passed up the merry bell ringer and headed with my kidos and bags to the car. None of this story is yet very profound...but I'm getting there. 

As I was headed home, I realized how tired I was. So I, without too much thought, pulled into McDonalds to grab a yummy peppermint mocha. As I pulled away from the drive through, I realized that, even though the treat was indeed yummy, I could have spent $1.50 less and gotten a regular coffee. That $1.50 could have gone in the bell ringer's bucket. Man did I feel guilty. Some would argue that even a regular coffee was an unnecessary expense, and they'd probably be right. But my point is this...even when we think we have little, most times, we have enough. There are probably ways we could all cut back and "do without" or "do with less" and we would still live pretty comfortably. As I was thinking about this on the drive home, I realized that I am not as "broke" as I think. I am just more selfish than I'd like to admit. 

The truth is, we are all selfish. I believe doing for #1 is a primal motive that allows us to survive. So what does it look like to take small steps to really living out the now popular slogan of "I am second."? What does it look like to model that for my kids? 

We did give this holiday season. We did put ourselves second in many ways. And perhaps that is why I felt justified in my moment of deciding to splurge on the tasty mocha. But was it what would truly be termed "sacrificial?" I want to be sacrificial. I want to be better at always putting others first. I don't believe that makes us doormats. I believe that teaches us humility and develops our character. There is no gift not worth giving. 

What would it look like for me to put $2 into savings every time I thought about buying a coffee out of the house? How big would I be able to bless someone this time next year? What would I be able to give my Ugandan friends? How much would I save just by denying myself a few times for something non-essential and what would I be able to do with that amount? 

I'm not by any means saying that we should give beyond our means. I'm just challenging myself to look at what my "means" really are. 

To end, a picture of my babies. :) They are what keeps me pushing to better our world. For in time, our world will shape them in profound ways. For better or worse. 

Empty Places vs. Open Spaces

When I experience loss, I tend to naturally experience it at the heart level. Rarely is there a loss for me that is surface level. Whether it's something as ordinary as the loss of my favorite baby blanket, or something as deeply painful as the loss of my Grandmother this past August. 

Loss, by definition, is experienced when there is lack. Below is the definition as given by Webster's Dictionary...

1 destruction, ruin

2 a : the act of losing possession : deprivation <loss of sight>
   b : the harm or privation resulting from loss or separation
   c : an instance of losing

When my journey leads me down a road labeled loss, I naturally, and I think understandably, categorize that experience as having left an empty place, either physically of emotionally, or both. Because when there is loss, the has to be lack...right? Well, what I am learning is that lack is often times a matter of perspective. 

I am learning to think more of my life as having many open spaces versus many empty places. I, like most people, have experienced many things in my life that I could label as loss. I have lost my relationship with my parents; I have lost loved ones; I have lost special items; I have lost bids for jobs; I have lost opportunities such as getting into my first choice of schools; I have been dumped; I have been denied; I have  been there, done that; I've even lost money a time or two. I have experienced theft, religious exclusion, and infidelity. BUT...I am the only person who determines what it is that I am to do with these experiences. I am the one who chooses to either let them loom over my existence as empty, dark places in my heart or turn them into inviting, warm open spaces.

Who doesn't love a nice, bight "OPEN" sign on their favorite coffee shop or little boutique? Who doesn't also love walking out of the unpredictable woods and into an open field? Who doesn't love an empty room that boasts of potential as a space for filling with character, memories and inclusiveness? I know I treasure all of these images. And I know that my heart has holes. So my perspective is what dictates how I will experience the impact of my journey...empty or open.

I actually kind of like it that my heart has open places. It means I have room. I have room for more people. I have room for more love. I have room to learn. Room to grow. I am not ruined. I have character.

I once heard someone say that I could never experience success unless I first experienced failure. Without failure, I would have no idea what success looked like. I feel like this is true with loss too. If I hadn't lost, I would have no room to know I had gained. For example, if I hadn't experienced a troubled relationship with my parents, would I know what a blessing my in-laws really are? If I hadn't experienced infidelity, would I know what a treasure a healed marriage really is? If no one I knew ever died, would I value the living as much as I do? If I had never experienced crushing legalism at the hands of religion, would I value the freedom that I now know as truth?

You see, loss is really about how you view "loss". Because to lose is gain. To lose yourself to a greater purpose is to gain perspective. And an empty place holds so much more potential as an open space, begging to be filled by what is good, just and true. 

Annnd...I'm back! - Profound realizations about myself that I've actually always known...

Who knew I'd drop off the writing circuit so quickly?!?!? Well...actually...I did. But, more importantly, who knew I'd jump back on even after a consistent failure to write when I meant to over the past couple months??? Not me! I've decided that I'm far from perfect. Well, I've actually always known this, but the past couple months, I have just gone to great lengths to prove it. :) So here's to another shot! Don't you just love second chances? and third chances? and fourth chances? and so on...

With the Christmas quickly approaching and Thanksgiving now behind, I've been learning some things amidst the craziness. Here are a few tidbits that I hope inspire a thought or two. 

1. I dislike Grace far more than I thought...especially when it comes to myself. I have always thought of myself as a gracious person. However I have realized that what I actually possess can far better be described as necessary mercy. I'm not the person who seeks confrontation for the sake of proving myself big, but I have realized that I am the person who quietly files away wrongs while only allowing the offenders a certain measure of liberty with my heart dependent on their current score of likability. Let me explain. When a friend wrongs me, and I know they feel remorse or would if they knew, I am generally quick to forgive and let go of the offense. But when a person hurts my feelings, even if they are completely oblivious, and doesn't make amends, I tend to store away a "mental note" while deeming them unworthy of my open, true heart. I don't think this is grace. I think this is me being merciful when reconciliation is sought. I believe grace is afforded even when there is no repentance. And this is especially true with myself. For example... On Thanksgiving morning, I overreacted to a probably normal marriage quarrel. In the process of secluding myself in the bathroom, I closed the door, a little to strongly, with my shod foot. As imaginable, my foot left a rather large hole in our bathroom door. I immediately came to my senses and, while sobbing, calmed down and apologized to my laughing and forgiving husband. Now, this would be the end of the story if I was able to allow myself a measure of grace that would let me off the hook. However, every time I see that hole, my heart yearns for a grace I consistently withhold from myself because, in reality, I have made some "mental notes" on myself which deem me unworthy of such grace. I am merciful with myself in that no punishment was awarded, but not gracious because I can't seem to find it in me. 

2. My heart is heavy for my parents. While I can admit messy things about myself, such as a continuous journey to find true ability to show grace,  I am still a joyous person with a loving spirit that lives in peace. I am far from what could even be construed as a perfect mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, or person, but I know that I am on a journey. I know that ultimately I am loved, chosen, accepted, not condemned. I believe that what troubles my spirit most about the wide chasm of hostility between my parents and I is that I know that I am, deep in my innermost soul, ok. I don't believe that they are. In fact, I am deeply aware that they live in a world where no journey is recognized. Only right an wrong, black and white, us and them. That leaves no room for grace, mercy, true love, coexistence or any sort of mutual understanding. I don't really know why things are as they are for them, but my heart continues to be heavy for them. While I don't necessarily yearn for restoration of our relationship as parent and child, I do wish that they could find true freedom for the sake of their own deep inner joy. I don't know if I am to play any part in their freedom discoveries, and I live in constant fear that we'll never speak again. But I do know that I have made peace with my role as quiet observer and prayer warrior. I am to love them from afar. Let go of grudges. And learn to show true grace.

3. I love, love, love being a mom. I grew up in a household where children were thought of as an inconvenience and were liked best when they made themselves invisible. We didn't share family meals, and I remember constantly being referred to in negative terms such as "a two year old" or a "teenage girl"...as if I could help it. I don't remember ever being bragged on or feeling like I was the apple of my daddy's eye. I don't think my parents ever went through an empty nest syndrome, and I wasn't taught the value of being a daughter. Welp...I've realized that this has dramatically spilled over into my role as a mom to my two beautiful, miraculous, sweet babies. And I refuse to let my past shape who I am as a mom. I am choosing to delight in them. To love them unconditionally. To uplift them at every moment. To turn their hearts toward heaven as our awe-inspiring children. I know I'll be far from perfect, and I pray daily that God takes my miniscule efforts and turns them into stones to build his Kingdom. And I choose to believe that my children are a blessing. A gift. Will I ever be inconvenienced? Daily. But I chose my reaction. And I feel power in my life knowing I am in control of my reactions even when my circumstances are far from controllable. 

Until next time...