Life was meant to be lived. I don't think when God created everything and said that it was good, He thought "Yes, it's good. And someday my children will work away their lives for someone else, get caught up in the drudgery of everyday life. Ignore their families to get ahead - all in the name of providing for that same family. Yes. That will be good. My children will have fancy houses and cars. They will buy things to impress their neighbors. They will hide the reality of their hearts deep in their closets and put on a smile and try to do "good" things, but they will be empty inside. Always wanting more. Always yearning for something else, something different. Something greater. Yep, It's all good."
No, I really don't think that's what God had in mind for us at all.
There's something that's been bothering me a lot lately. Maybe it's because I'm so much closer to a church community than before. Maybe it's because I have the same issue, but I didn't realize that we all have the same issue. Maybe I just never cared before. But there is something going on. There is a revolution just waiting to break free. The body of Christ is restless and is tired of waiting around, tired of wishing someone would tell it what to do. We're ready to move.
I read books and Facebook, Pinterst, and emails. I do online studies and live studies. I talk to people both "churched" and "unchurched" and we all say the same thing: "There has to be more!" "Is this all my life is supposed to be?" "I'm bored - I'm unfulfilled - I'm just not happy"
It's all there.
All the signs of something under the surface just waiting to break free.
I think that's where Greater comes in - and other books like it. We can become so focused on just getting through each day, each week, each bill, that we lose sight of what our lives are really supposed to be. We forget the dreams we had as a child. We get up, go to work, come home, go to bed and then start over again in the morning. We allow the joy to be sucked from our lives. I'm not saying we don't have happy moments, we may even think everything is fine. But somewhere in the back of our minds, there's this thought, "Is this all there is? Is this what I'm supposed to be doing? What if I gave it all up and ______?" You can fill in the blank with whatever that thing is that you've always thought you might like to do, but just never got around to doing. And I know you have something to go in the blank, we all do.
The other side of that is that our dreams and desires for what our lives are "supposed" to be can be so big and grandiose that there is no way possible of achieving them, so we simply do nothing. My favorite quote (so far) from this book is "Most believers aren't in imminent danger of ruining their lives. Their facing a danger that's far greater: wasting them." This speaks to every facet of my life. My diet, my exercise routine, my giving, my volunteering, my career, my family.
I think so often we just settle for what our lives have become and we forget that maybe we can't do much as just one person, but our planet is made up of literally billions of "just one persons."
To me, Greater looks like this: Everyone being just one person together.
How many times have you wanted to do something, made an off-hand comment that was overheard by someone else that wanted to do the exact same thing, and before you know it, your whole outlook has changed because now you're going to do whatever it was that you wanted to do? Now you've got focus and direction because someone else is involved and you're not just responsible for yourself, you're responsible for someone else.
My Life...Just stuff in my head
1/04/2014
10/25/2012
Negative Inside Chatter: Thoughts on Lysa TerKeurst’s Unglued
Above my monitor screen is a message I printed out three years
ago. It says simply “Are you building up or tearing down?” It’s meant to be a
constant reminder to watch my words. I love my words! I use them and abuse
them. I can use my words to write stories, to craft a clever email, or to say just
the funniest thing you ever heard. I can change anyone’s mood with my words. I have the
power to make people laugh and smile and feel really good about themselves. But
sometimes, I use my words to cut, to bite, to make someone laugh at the expense
of another. I use them to gossip or spread rumors. I use them to prove that I’m
right. So, I have a visual reminder that
my words produce only one of two possible actions. I can build someone up. I
can make them feel loved and important and wanted and needed. Or, if I chose, I
can make them feel silly and unwanted. I can make a person feel like there is
no place for them near me. I can cut them to the bone and move on with my day.
I don’t like having that power over another person. So, I try. I
try very hard to remember that there is no place for tearing down. It’s not
that hard to remember. When I’m face to face with a real live person, I see their
eyes. I can feel the hurt I inflict, if I chose to inflict it. I can see the
pain in their faces as I speak hateful hurtful words. I don’t want to tear them
down. I may not be great at building up, but I can certainly stop myself from
tearing down.
As I read through Unglued the first time, much of the book
resonated in my heart. I do that. I do that one too. Oh man, that’s totally me
right there. Over and over again, I can see myself. It tells me I’m not alone,
which is comforting, but it also tells me I need to change.
What I realized most of all after reading the chapter on negative
inside chatter, is that I have
changed how I speak to others. I've measured my words and started listening to
what I say to others and how I say it. I've made a huge effort to change my
words to words that build up. I've started deleting the tearing down words from
my vocabulary. But what I've failed to do is to change how I speak to myself.
I’d never thought of applying this simple reminder to my own
thought life. Am I building myself up, or tearing myself down? Where our minds
go, so go our hearts, and our actions, and our lives. What I discovered is that
I don’t build myself up. I tear myself down with the same viciousness that the
Tasmanian Devil tears through the trees in search of Bugs Bunny. I can rip
through my self-esteem with the precision of a surgeon and the destructive
power of an atom bomb. I’m fat. I’m dumb. I’ll never finish my book(s). I’ll
never be a great wife or mother. I’ll never be the friend I’m supposed to be. I
will never accomplish my dreams. Never. Useless. Ineffective. Pitiful. Broken.
But, I know that’s not true. I know that I’m loved and capable and
(if I may say so) pretty smart. I know that I could finish every story I've
ever started, and more if I would just sit down and do it. I know that I could
lose weight if I’d make more of an effort. I know that I can change and be
everything that I’m supposed to be. But it’s that voice, that negative chatter; it is full of the lies that keep me torn down.
I looked up “thoughts” on BibleGateway.com, and what I found was
40 subject references to our thoughts. The majority were about negative inside chatter.
Genesis 6:5 The LORD saw how great the wickedness of
the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all
the time.
Job 20:2 “My troubled thoughts prompt me to answer because I
am greatly disturbed.
Psalm 10:4 In his pride the
wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts
there is no room for God.
Psalm 55:2 …hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught
Psalm 94:11 The
LORD knows the thoughts of man; he knows that they are futile.
What this tells me is simple. God knew that we would have
terrible damaging thoughts. He knew, as He knows everything, that if we let our
minds chatter away that we would tear ourselves down, tear others down, and
make ourselves ineffective to serve God’s purpose for our lives. If the Devil
can’t have us, he’ll distract us. What is more distracting that all that
negative chattering that runs through our minds?
But, God gave us a way out too:
Philippians 4:8 Finally,
brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is
pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or
praiseworthy—think about such
things.
Today, I want to make that change. I want to take God’s way
out. I want to set my thoughts on the truth, on the good, on the positive.
8/06/2012
Respect
Time for a bit of a rant. Stay with me, I have a point.
Kids need to show more respect. Aunts and Uncles should be called Aunt and Uncle, not by their first names alone. Adults should be addressed by their titles - Mister, Misses, Miss, Doctor...whatever. My brother's kids (and I see a growing trend) now call adults Miss or Mister combined with the first name rather than the last. So I'm Miss Susie to his kid's friends. That's fine. It shows that I have a title and therefore I have a bit of authority and am due some respect. If they call me Susie, it puts me on their social level and confuses who should be in charge. I am the adult, therefore, I'm automatically in charge - at least more in charge than the five-year-old.
Commercials should not use curse words to advertise anything period. I saw a commercial for a show on Animal Planet, of all places, that used the F-bomb presumably to show the viewer how exciting the show is. Yes it was bleeped out, but that almost makes it worse. It says, we can say anything we want at any time we want (this was aired at 7:30am - prime preschooler TV time) and it's funny. But it's not funny at all. They can bleep and edit all they want, but it's still obvious what word was missing. The mind fills in the blank automatically. It's like when you see a drawing and there's a little section of line missing, you don't even notice the missing line because your mind knows what goes there and it adds it automatically. How do I know kids pick this up? Because I heard a seven year old kid say "What the...??" 10 times during a church show and afterwords I asked him what he was saying. He was confused and I said, "You said 'what the...' a few times today, but you never finished your sentence. What word were you leaving out?" He said, "Oh, You know. It's a bad word that I'm not supposed to say." OK, he wasn't saying it, but he clearly knew what word was missing - and so did most of the other kids.
I'm sick of slang terms being used by television news anchors. On my local channel the other night, there was a potential hostage situation and instead of the newscaster saying that all available officers we called to the scene he said, "Dispatch dropped a 99" and then had to go back to explain what that was. Was he trying to sound like he knew the lingo and therefore could be trusted? Did he think it was cool to use "cop" words? Did they just need to add time to the story and saying something stupid then explaining it would add the needed 15 or 20 seconds?
After the movie theater shooting in Colorado a CNN reporter informed the world that the suspect had "lawyered up" and was awaiting trial. Seriously? He lawyered up? The nightly news is not a CSI spin-off! I expect my reporters to speak plain and correct English and simply provide the news to me. You are not my friend and you are not telling me your opinion while sitting on my couch eating chips and drinking a beer. You are a professional reporter or newscaster that is supposed to be relaying the facts of any given story to the viewing public.
My point? OK, maybe I just wanted to rant. But I really think the problems of our society all stem from a lack of respect. I say sir and ma'am. I say please and thank you. I don't use slang or curse words when speaking to my elders - for the most part. At least I try not to. I don't want to hear cursing in public, where little kids can hear it and I certainly don't want to hear little kids cursing.
It all goes back to paying attention to where you are, who's around you, and having respect for yourself and others.
I can guarantee that you are not the only person in the world. There are other people, and what you do, what you say, and how you act, affects those other people.
Kids need to show more respect. Aunts and Uncles should be called Aunt and Uncle, not by their first names alone. Adults should be addressed by their titles - Mister, Misses, Miss, Doctor...whatever. My brother's kids (and I see a growing trend) now call adults Miss or Mister combined with the first name rather than the last. So I'm Miss Susie to his kid's friends. That's fine. It shows that I have a title and therefore I have a bit of authority and am due some respect. If they call me Susie, it puts me on their social level and confuses who should be in charge. I am the adult, therefore, I'm automatically in charge - at least more in charge than the five-year-old.
Commercials should not use curse words to advertise anything period. I saw a commercial for a show on Animal Planet, of all places, that used the F-bomb presumably to show the viewer how exciting the show is. Yes it was bleeped out, but that almost makes it worse. It says, we can say anything we want at any time we want (this was aired at 7:30am - prime preschooler TV time) and it's funny. But it's not funny at all. They can bleep and edit all they want, but it's still obvious what word was missing. The mind fills in the blank automatically. It's like when you see a drawing and there's a little section of line missing, you don't even notice the missing line because your mind knows what goes there and it adds it automatically. How do I know kids pick this up? Because I heard a seven year old kid say "What the...??" 10 times during a church show and afterwords I asked him what he was saying. He was confused and I said, "You said 'what the...' a few times today, but you never finished your sentence. What word were you leaving out?" He said, "Oh, You know. It's a bad word that I'm not supposed to say." OK, he wasn't saying it, but he clearly knew what word was missing - and so did most of the other kids.
I'm sick of slang terms being used by television news anchors. On my local channel the other night, there was a potential hostage situation and instead of the newscaster saying that all available officers we called to the scene he said, "Dispatch dropped a 99" and then had to go back to explain what that was. Was he trying to sound like he knew the lingo and therefore could be trusted? Did he think it was cool to use "cop" words? Did they just need to add time to the story and saying something stupid then explaining it would add the needed 15 or 20 seconds?
After the movie theater shooting in Colorado a CNN reporter informed the world that the suspect had "lawyered up" and was awaiting trial. Seriously? He lawyered up? The nightly news is not a CSI spin-off! I expect my reporters to speak plain and correct English and simply provide the news to me. You are not my friend and you are not telling me your opinion while sitting on my couch eating chips and drinking a beer. You are a professional reporter or newscaster that is supposed to be relaying the facts of any given story to the viewing public.
My point? OK, maybe I just wanted to rant. But I really think the problems of our society all stem from a lack of respect. I say sir and ma'am. I say please and thank you. I don't use slang or curse words when speaking to my elders - for the most part. At least I try not to. I don't want to hear cursing in public, where little kids can hear it and I certainly don't want to hear little kids cursing.
It all goes back to paying attention to where you are, who's around you, and having respect for yourself and others.
I can guarantee that you are not the only person in the world. There are other people, and what you do, what you say, and how you act, affects those other people.
7/03/2012
First World Problems
I have a first world problem. You know what I mean. Stuff like "my air conditioning is too cold" "I have too much food in the fridge and none of it sounds good but I don't want to drive somewhere" "I'm not sure which of the 1800 churches within ten miles of my house I want to attend this weekend." Stuff like that.
I feel guilty I guess. I mean, my problem is huge to me, but to the orphans in Swaziland, the starving in Haiti, hell, to the guy down the street that has lost his job and with it, everything he thought his life was about - my problem is laughable. Stupid even. But to me, it's everything.
When a good friend of mine was dying from cancer, I went to visit him. To just say hello. He asked how I was and how I'd been. We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. Mostly because I knew he was dying and I didn't know what to say. I told him that I'd been pretty sick and I'd had my gall bladder taken out. He was actually really mad at me for not telling him. He said that he'd had no idea I'd been sick and he was sorry that I needed surgery and that he really hoped that I felt better. I said something like, "Well, I figured with everything that you're going through, I felt dumb complaining about laproscopic surgery." He said, "That's the worst part of having cancer. Everyone thinks that what they're going through doesn't matter, because they think I have it so much worse. I still care about my friends and what I'm going through doesn't make what you're going through matter less."
We all have our own first world problems. They are very real to us and shouldn't be discounted just because someone has it worse off than we do. I'm not saying that we should ignore real issues. I think everyone that can should help those that are less fortunate. I hate that phrase by the way "less fortunate." I think it's all a matter of perspective. I don't think someone born "poor" by American standards is less fortunate. I don't think people that live in poverty even are necessarily less fortunate. We look at life through the world's eyes and we see people without color TV, without cell phones, without the internet, as less fortunate. We see people living in huts with no electricity as less fortunate. But I see us as the less fortunate ones. We who sit in our air conditioned houses. We who are connected twenty four hours a day. We who don't know what it means to live with out the distractions of television and radio and internet. We don't know how to work for what we need, so we work for what we want and we become slaves to ourselves. Always wanting more, better, bigger, shinier. More. Always a slave to more.
We are the ones that are missing out.
My first world problem? I have too much. I want too much.
I can't tell you the last time I actually needed something.
I've been pretty close with death over the last few years. I spent a lot of time with my mom while she battled cancer. Something that struck me while sitting with her for all those days was that all of the things that she "loved" before she got sick, didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter to her what was going on with her favorite TV shows, she didn't think about the books she'd read or wanted to read. The pictures and knick-knacks that she'd accumulated over the years sat forgotten at home. Everything that she'd spent her life buying or wanting to buy, was less than nothing to her. What mattered was that she was sick, she wanted medicine to make the pain stop. She wanted to drink water to wet her always dry mouth. She wanted to sleep and to know that I would be there if she woke up in the night.
Now, I'm watching my father die as well. I ask him every time I see him if he needs anything, if he wants anything from the house. He always says, "not that I can think of." He doesn't need the pictures, the towels that he and mom bought when they bought their first house. He doesn't think about the kitchen table that they've had for forty years. Doesn't care about the carpet that he and mom fought over and was so important at the time. He doesn't miss his big flat screen TV, his favorite rocking chair, or his wool blanket from the Navy. He doesn't care that he hasn't had a cup of coffee in months and he also doesn't care that he hasn't smoked a cigarette in over three weeks now. He does care that he'd like a drink of water but has a hard time sucking hard enough to get the water through the straw. He cares that when he's alone, he's afraid, but he's not sure what he's afraid of. He knows that he's dying and he wonders what that is going to be like. But he doesn't care about anything that made the world call him "fortunate".
My first world problem? Is mine alone. It's huge to me and I'm not sure how to fix it. But, it's a first world problem that I created on my own. I created it because I don't need anything, I don't know how to need anything. I only know how to want. But I do know this. I don't want to wait until I'm facing my own death to discover what I really need. I don't want to wait until it's too late to understand that giving in to my "wants" has created nothing but first world problems.
Today, I choose to live with a grateful heart, a heart that needs, and heart that does not want.
I feel guilty I guess. I mean, my problem is huge to me, but to the orphans in Swaziland, the starving in Haiti, hell, to the guy down the street that has lost his job and with it, everything he thought his life was about - my problem is laughable. Stupid even. But to me, it's everything.
When a good friend of mine was dying from cancer, I went to visit him. To just say hello. He asked how I was and how I'd been. We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks. Mostly because I knew he was dying and I didn't know what to say. I told him that I'd been pretty sick and I'd had my gall bladder taken out. He was actually really mad at me for not telling him. He said that he'd had no idea I'd been sick and he was sorry that I needed surgery and that he really hoped that I felt better. I said something like, "Well, I figured with everything that you're going through, I felt dumb complaining about laproscopic surgery." He said, "That's the worst part of having cancer. Everyone thinks that what they're going through doesn't matter, because they think I have it so much worse. I still care about my friends and what I'm going through doesn't make what you're going through matter less."
We all have our own first world problems. They are very real to us and shouldn't be discounted just because someone has it worse off than we do. I'm not saying that we should ignore real issues. I think everyone that can should help those that are less fortunate. I hate that phrase by the way "less fortunate." I think it's all a matter of perspective. I don't think someone born "poor" by American standards is less fortunate. I don't think people that live in poverty even are necessarily less fortunate. We look at life through the world's eyes and we see people without color TV, without cell phones, without the internet, as less fortunate. We see people living in huts with no electricity as less fortunate. But I see us as the less fortunate ones. We who sit in our air conditioned houses. We who are connected twenty four hours a day. We who don't know what it means to live with out the distractions of television and radio and internet. We don't know how to work for what we need, so we work for what we want and we become slaves to ourselves. Always wanting more, better, bigger, shinier. More. Always a slave to more.
We are the ones that are missing out.
My first world problem? I have too much. I want too much.
I can't tell you the last time I actually needed something.
I've been pretty close with death over the last few years. I spent a lot of time with my mom while she battled cancer. Something that struck me while sitting with her for all those days was that all of the things that she "loved" before she got sick, didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter to her what was going on with her favorite TV shows, she didn't think about the books she'd read or wanted to read. The pictures and knick-knacks that she'd accumulated over the years sat forgotten at home. Everything that she'd spent her life buying or wanting to buy, was less than nothing to her. What mattered was that she was sick, she wanted medicine to make the pain stop. She wanted to drink water to wet her always dry mouth. She wanted to sleep and to know that I would be there if she woke up in the night.
Now, I'm watching my father die as well. I ask him every time I see him if he needs anything, if he wants anything from the house. He always says, "not that I can think of." He doesn't need the pictures, the towels that he and mom bought when they bought their first house. He doesn't think about the kitchen table that they've had for forty years. Doesn't care about the carpet that he and mom fought over and was so important at the time. He doesn't miss his big flat screen TV, his favorite rocking chair, or his wool blanket from the Navy. He doesn't care that he hasn't had a cup of coffee in months and he also doesn't care that he hasn't smoked a cigarette in over three weeks now. He does care that he'd like a drink of water but has a hard time sucking hard enough to get the water through the straw. He cares that when he's alone, he's afraid, but he's not sure what he's afraid of. He knows that he's dying and he wonders what that is going to be like. But he doesn't care about anything that made the world call him "fortunate".
My first world problem? Is mine alone. It's huge to me and I'm not sure how to fix it. But, it's a first world problem that I created on my own. I created it because I don't need anything, I don't know how to need anything. I only know how to want. But I do know this. I don't want to wait until I'm facing my own death to discover what I really need. I don't want to wait until it's too late to understand that giving in to my "wants" has created nothing but first world problems.
Today, I choose to live with a grateful heart, a heart that needs, and heart that does not want.
5/18/2012
Seriously?
I need to write this. I've been re-reading some of my posts.
Am I a hot mess or what?
Good Lord what is wrong with me?
All my whining and crying about not having any friends when in reality I have some of the best friends anyone could ever ask for! I'm sorry if I've offended anyone by saying I don't have friends. I get down and depressed for no apparent reason and I can't see past that minute. Then, I type up a pity-blog and publish it for the world to see, when I should just be writing all that in a private journal.
Maybe that's cause and effect of living in our society today, but more likely it's just the little kid in me wanting attention.
So, here for the world to see - I have friends! Amazing wonderful loving forgiving perfect for me friends that I would truly be lost without.
I have a perfect for me husband that means the world to me.
I have an amazing son that is the light of my life - and a great friend.
Anything I ever say to the contrary is just me being a baby and should be taken with a grain of salt (attached to a glass of margarita)
Alright then.
I'm really sorry, and just ignore the girl behind the clacking keyboard, there's a good chance she's nuts anyway!
Am I a hot mess or what?
Good Lord what is wrong with me?
All my whining and crying about not having any friends when in reality I have some of the best friends anyone could ever ask for! I'm sorry if I've offended anyone by saying I don't have friends. I get down and depressed for no apparent reason and I can't see past that minute. Then, I type up a pity-blog and publish it for the world to see, when I should just be writing all that in a private journal.
Maybe that's cause and effect of living in our society today, but more likely it's just the little kid in me wanting attention.
So, here for the world to see - I have friends! Amazing wonderful loving forgiving perfect for me friends that I would truly be lost without.
I have a perfect for me husband that means the world to me.
I have an amazing son that is the light of my life - and a great friend.
Anything I ever say to the contrary is just me being a baby and should be taken with a grain of salt (attached to a glass of margarita)
Alright then.
I'm really sorry, and just ignore the girl behind the clacking keyboard, there's a good chance she's nuts anyway!
5/15/2012
Jealous
I'm a little kid. I'm petty and small and so so jealous. It's something I really dislike about myself, but I'm not sure how to change.
Recently, I've started accepting that I have some amazing friends, and that's been great. But I guess I forgot about the insecurities that come with having people in your life that you care about. There are the questions and the fears. The what-ifs and the why nots.
I'm being reminded of High School where your best friend on Monday is your mortal enemy on Wednesday and then your best friend again by Friday. I'm remembering what it feels like to be included as well as how it feels to be left out. I'm also remembering how toxic my own mind is to my well-being.
I don't know about you, but I have an uncanny ability to take the smallest grain of salt, even if that salt doesn't exist, and turn it into the whole Morton's factory. The tiniest little pebble gets into my mind and I work it and worry it and eventually it becomes a boulder of destruction. I think boulder is a fitting picture because I feel like I'm being crushed by the weight of my own imagination.
So, what happened? Nothing. Not one little thing. No words or arguments. No overheard rumors or slanders. Absolutely nothing happened. But my mind starts working and creating drama that doesn't exist. It tells me that I'm not good enough. That I'm a temporary friend. I'm just here for when someone doesn't have anything better do to or anyone better to do it with. I'm a seat filler. I'm white noise.
I know none of that is true. I know that my identity is secure in Christ and that I'm a wholly accepted child of my creator. That nothing I do or say, or don't do or say, will ever change that. I know all of that. I know that there are lies in my head and in my heart, and as long as I see them as lies, I can overcome them. But there are days. Days when the lies are so tempting. So easy to believe. The lies are there and familiar and disgustingly comforting. Those are the days that I hate. Those are the days I dread. Those are the days when I show my ugly side and other people see it too. Those are the days when I know that people have seen what's inside me and I wonder if they'll stick around. If they've seen the "real" me and are now thinking that it's probably time to move on. Which of course, makes more of those days.
Thankfully, I don't have too many of those days anymore. It's just when they come, they hit me out of nowhere, shove me to the floor, sit on my chest, and pin my arms down. They smother me until I don't have the breath or the will to fight back. They turn me into someone that I do not want to be.
Recently, I've started accepting that I have some amazing friends, and that's been great. But I guess I forgot about the insecurities that come with having people in your life that you care about. There are the questions and the fears. The what-ifs and the why nots.
I'm being reminded of High School where your best friend on Monday is your mortal enemy on Wednesday and then your best friend again by Friday. I'm remembering what it feels like to be included as well as how it feels to be left out. I'm also remembering how toxic my own mind is to my well-being.
I don't know about you, but I have an uncanny ability to take the smallest grain of salt, even if that salt doesn't exist, and turn it into the whole Morton's factory. The tiniest little pebble gets into my mind and I work it and worry it and eventually it becomes a boulder of destruction. I think boulder is a fitting picture because I feel like I'm being crushed by the weight of my own imagination.
So, what happened? Nothing. Not one little thing. No words or arguments. No overheard rumors or slanders. Absolutely nothing happened. But my mind starts working and creating drama that doesn't exist. It tells me that I'm not good enough. That I'm a temporary friend. I'm just here for when someone doesn't have anything better do to or anyone better to do it with. I'm a seat filler. I'm white noise.
I know none of that is true. I know that my identity is secure in Christ and that I'm a wholly accepted child of my creator. That nothing I do or say, or don't do or say, will ever change that. I know all of that. I know that there are lies in my head and in my heart, and as long as I see them as lies, I can overcome them. But there are days. Days when the lies are so tempting. So easy to believe. The lies are there and familiar and disgustingly comforting. Those are the days that I hate. Those are the days I dread. Those are the days when I show my ugly side and other people see it too. Those are the days when I know that people have seen what's inside me and I wonder if they'll stick around. If they've seen the "real" me and are now thinking that it's probably time to move on. Which of course, makes more of those days.
Thankfully, I don't have too many of those days anymore. It's just when they come, they hit me out of nowhere, shove me to the floor, sit on my chest, and pin my arms down. They smother me until I don't have the breath or the will to fight back. They turn me into someone that I do not want to be.
5/04/2012
Seeing the Good
I'm blind. Well, not really, I can see with my eyes pretty well (with the help of glasses or contacts) but I'm oblivious to most of what is going on in my life. You've heard the glass half full or half empty personality test? Well, I don’t have a glass.
I hate this
personality trait in myself and I'm working on getting rid of it. I am a
Negative Nelly. Debbie Downer at her finest. I don't see good stuff in my life
when it's right in front of me! OK, that's a bit exaggerated, I know there's
good stuff, in fact there is some beyond-awesome stuff in my life right now.
But I am so focused on the bad that I overlook the good.
Here's a perfect
example. I was feeling down and left out for a couple of days. I was feeling
alone and forgotten. Questioning friendships, questioning life and my role in
it, just a really dark few days. When I come home from work every day, my mail is
laying on my couch. I rifled through, tossed out the junk, tossed out the
bills (oops), noticed a card and read it. I made diner and watched TV and went to bed,
still feeling dark and moody. Still feeling alone and forgotten. Unappreciated
and unnoticed.
Each morning I start
my day by reading a devotional, checking Facebook, email and texts, and then
writing out a prayer which is normally about two pages. That particular
morning, I got my journal and a pen. I started out with my thanks and then
started writing about how down I was, how I didn't fit in and I was
uncomfortable. About how no one cared and how come I'm always wrong about
people. Basically taking one bad thing that really happened and a few things that
didn’t happen but I imagined that they did, and blowing them all into something
that just wasn’t even true. So as I'm getting ready to really lay on the
whining super thick, I remember the card. "Remember" isn't the right
word, I should say I was reminded of the card.
A simple card that
had come in the mail from someone that I really like and admire. The card wasn’t long or packed full of wisdom or sage advice. It was just a note that told me in
a couple of sentences that they had been thinking of me. That they were glad I was in their life. Me. Debbie Downer. The girl with no friends and no real
place in this world. They had been thinking of me and wanted me to know it.
To be honest with
you, it was a pretty humbling experience on several levels. Someone thought of
me as a friend and I had missed the significance of it. Overlooked the perfect timing of the message. Simply overlooked it.
Left it lying on the couch with my other junk. But God reminded me in my early morning
pity party. He listened to me cry about how I was all alone and said,
"Really? What was that card you got yesterday? What about the one you got
last week? Or that email you read? What about those texts? You think you're alone? I think you're just blind. Open your eyes. You are
surrounded."
I want to see the
good in my life. It's easy to point my finger and say that it's someone else's
fault that I'm like this. I do believe that it is a learned response and I
believe I learned from the best. But, it's time to accept that only I can
change my behavior and at this point in my life I'm the only person that can
take responsibility for how I act.
Starting today, I
have a glass, and it's not half empty and it's not half full. It's just mine. I
can put whatever I want into it.
One can't complain.
I have my friends. Someone spoke to me only yesterday.
Eeyore ~A.A. Milne
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