encouragement

Thankfulness in 2020

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On Sunday I challenged myself to write a post every day this week about things I am thankful for. It is now almost midnight on Tuesday, so you can see how that’s going.

But, I want to express my gratitude anyway. No… more than express it. I want to call gratitude up from within my heart; stoke the fires of thankfulness. I want it to be more than a cursory “Wow, I am so privileged.”

I want there to be genuine, joyful, amazed gratitude at beauty that I know, behold, have, see.

And this practice of beckoning grateful hearts is even more necessary this year. There is so much to be grateful for and our beings are thirsty for the soul-anchoring, heart-stilling, joy-inducing effect of giving thanks.

This year we need to be more thankful than ever!

We need to mine the hardships for the beauty that comes from ashes.

We need to give extra thanks for the people we love so much.

We need to acknowledge the incredible gifts we’ve been given and trace every single one back to the Giver.

Nothing to be thankful for this year? Quite the contrary!

Everything to be thankful for.

We have a different perspective to know a bit more about how to rightly value and treasure what we have.

We have everything that was taken, which has taught us, grown us, emptied us, refined us.

We have the One who daily fills us and sustains us with life, gifts, and grace that we hardly even have eyes to see.

May we receive eagerly and willingly with empty hands and grateful hearts.

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I’m stressed, you’re stressed, everybody’s stressed

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I’m stressed, you’re stressed, EVERYBODY’S STRESSED!

The problem, I propose, is that we don’t feel like we’re stressed so we aren’t taking care of ourselves (or each other) as if we’re stressed.

I sat with friends several weeks ago. “I’m think I’m doing fine!” one friend commented. “You’re stressed,” I said.

There’s no way we aren’t stressed! We’ve adapted quite well over the past few months, but there’s no way it hasn’t all taken a toll in sneaky, subconscious, underlying ways.

We are UNDER stress even if we don’t FEEL stressed.

We’ve adapted and we are doing life but whether or not we realize it or acknowledge it, we’re running thin. We are tired.

I don’t feel stressed every day. I go about my days, work, do fun things, run errands, and have lots of joy. But when I step back and look at what we’ve experienced, how we have adapted, and what we have still in front of us, I have no doubt that we are all fine and not-fine at the same time.

So, knowing that I’m stressed even if I don’t always recognize it, I’ve started taking care of myself in ways that I would if I felt the stress and weight of life.

I asked the same thing to a friend a couple of weeks ago: “Knowing that you’re living under the weight of a lot of things right now, what are you doing differently to manage that and take care of yourself?”

I’ve also tried to keep this forefront in my mind when interacting with people. “They’re stressed,” I remind myself. I can operate under that assumption and stoke compassion and understanding in my heart.

So… What are YOU doing to seek deep soul rest and rejuvenation during this time?

Using corona to kick selfishness to the curb

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If I wanted some extra opportunities to grow in selflessness (and I did… kind of), I got them.

We all did. Hello, corona!

I don’t want to pass them up! I don’t want to miss the chance to take the 💩 of living in a corona-world and turn it upside-down — use it for good in my heart and for blessing in the lives of people I know.

If I can leverage this as a super duper opportunity to kill selfishness in my heart, forego my comfort for the sake of someone else, prioritize the needs of others, think first of my neighbor and esteem them highly… friends and family and brothers and sisters…

Well, if I can make it work for me in that way, I will be a bit closer to the woman God wants me to be, my tiny world will be a bit better, and the people I (figuratively) rub shoulders with will, hopefully, feel a bit more loved, valued, and cared for. Seems like one great way to make all of this worth it in the long run.

I think this has to be an active and purposeful training-out of the selfishness inside my heart, though. It’s possible to live in this time of corona and still be a selfish person. The year 2020 isn’t going to automatically take away my selfish side.

Maybe it should look like intentionally asking myself each day how I can prioritize someone else; who I need to take into account; where I can give, not take.

How would you put 2020 to work to train the selfishness right out of your heart? I’m taking suggestions!

I’m here to squeeze corona for all it’s worth.

No problem, 2020: I see you and with the Lord’s help, I’m gonna use you to kill a bit more of the self-centeredness in my soul.

Swallows

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In the evening, before the sun goes down, the swallows take over the Cáceres sky.

I went for a sunset run with a friend and as we stopped to admire the painted sky, I looked up at the swallows and said, “I just love those birds because it looks like they’re just flying around for the joy of it.”

They don’t look like they’re flying to get somewhere important. They flit around and dive through thin air as if it’s their invisible roller coaster. Maybe they’re all surprise-attacking little bugs for their dinner or maybe some of them truly are flying around simply for fun.

You know how kids run just because? Outside play with their friends almost always includes running. Or, without thinking twice they, they break into a trot to get somewhere quickly. I did that today. I needed to get something from the other side of the yard and I ran for it. Why not?

Life isn’t always a piece of cake but I think we can sprinkle in enough just-because joy to get us through the days and then some.

Flit around the sky, run and skip through the lawn, dance across the kitchen, and sing for the sake of making music.

Confinamiento

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Así pasamos el confinamiento juntitas. Pasé mucho tiempo así, tendida en el balcón como una prenda de ropa, buscando el cielo azul, el sol en la cara, el viento entre las pestañas, acercándome tanto como pueda a los árboles frente a nuestro piso.
 
Aún está en nuestro portal una noticia que lleva la fecha “19 de marzo.” Informa sobre el uso de lejía para limpiar y desinfectar todo el edificio.
 
Eso me recuerda del olor de lejía de esos primeros días, cuando realmente pensamos que serían dos semanas, cuando lloraba cada día por la carga que llevaba en el corazón.
 
Me recuerda como yo intentaba, con mucha dificultad, enfocarme para trabajar ese primer lunes, un día después de que anunciaron el estado de alarma.
 
Me recuerda de la primera noche de juegos que hicimos mi compañera de piso y yo, comprometidas a no mirar al móvil y no hablar nada del virus (era difícil).
 
Me recuerda de cómo me dolía la espalda por un cambio tan abrupto de actividad y entrenamientos.
 
Me recuerda de escuchar ambulancia tras ambulancia, sin más ruido en la calle.
 
Me recuerda de las risas con amigos a través de Facetime y Zoom, buscando maneras de mantener el contacto y divertirnos, y también del cansancio que provoco en mí tanto tiempo hablando por pantalla.
 
Me recuerda del momento en que la rutina en casa empezó a parecer normal y el miedo que me daba de que se convirtiera en algo normal.
 
Me recuerda del abrazo que le dio a un árbol al poder salir del piso.
 
Ahora el confinamiento me parece un sueño. Mejor dicho, una pesadilla. Pero la palabra “pesadilla” tampoco expresa la sensación. La sensación no es de ser bueno o malo, sino de algo distante, algo separado, algo que pasó y que ya no me acuerdo bien.
 
Ya que hemos empezado con lo que es, más o menos, una vida parecida a la vida antes del 15 de marzo, es como si hubiéramos cerrado el libro do confinamiento. “Una lectura interesante y rara y ya se acabó,” decimos sin palabras. Las rutinas ahora son tan distintas que por un lado tiene sentido. Ya no abro la ventana a las 20:00. Ya no entreno corriendo por el pasillo del piso. Ya no hace falta una pantalla para ver a mis amigos aquí en Cáceres.
 
Las rutinas que formaban la vida diaria durante el confinamiento he dejado atras de repente. Aunque eso es normal, lo que me parece raro es que no estamos hablando más de nuestra experiencia de confinamiento; de que tal nos fueron esos días encerrados; de que hicimos y como nos sentimos. Porque vamos… vaya experiencia! Algo raro, triste, duro, a veces interesante, y tan tan distinto para cada persona.
 
La necesidad de mirar atrás un poco para asimilarlo y procesarlo no necesariamente nos hace personas negativas. Puede ser al contrario. De hecho, quizás la intención de preguntar y reflexionar echa fuera el positivismo falso que no da para sanar y crecer como personas. Quizás el preguntar y reflexionar da para ver bien los aspectos positivos junto con los aspectos “negativos” y difíciles de los cuales hemos crecido y aprendido.
 
En fin, que procesemos y reflexionemos. Que nos hagamos preguntas uno al otro que nos sirven para crecer. Que pongamos el enfoque no en nosotros mismos pero en los que tenemos al lado (como me cuesta eso!). Que tengamos conversaciones que sean para beneficiar a la otra persona. Y que nunca, nunca volvamos a estar encerrados durante 48 días. 😉

 

 

 

Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep

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Today begins phase one of reopening here in Spain. The first step toward the new normal. And of course every country is doing it differently and everyone has something to say about it.

Is Spain doing it right? Are various states in the USA doing it right? As much as we like to think we know, no one does, and we all have a different perspective.

There’s the idea that we don’t really react to the weight of something until it affects our personal life. An issue doesn’t really take up space in our brains or hearts until it comes knocking at our door or in our neighborhood, affects us or our friends or family. To an extent, it’s true.

Our experience inevitably changes how we approach, see, and handle an issue or situation.

Here in Spain, corona (that’s my favorite name for it) is not far from any of us — both physically and emotionally. I’ve had friends who have been hospitalized with corona, others who have held the hands of those dying alone in nursing homes, one who has worked long long hours in the hospital, another whose mother passed away. And of course the physical health aspect is just one part.

It’s knocking on my friends’ door and affecting their lives.

Feeling certain effects of something doesn’t necessarily mean we know what the right, best, or good course of action is. Likewise, being removed from a situation doesn’t automatically mean we see it more clearly and can make the right call.

Both simply mean we understand different things, feel weight in places other people don’t.

Does anyone know the perfect way to handle shutting down or reopening in any country? No. Is everyone’s opinion influenced by the people they know, where they live, and how they’re affected? Yes.

None of us have the wisdom to know what to do or what is best. But, we can know a few important things to do and I think one of those things is this:

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. Be of the same mind toward one another; do not be haughty in mind, but associate with the lowly. Do not be wise in your own estimation.” -Romans 12:15-16

Right now some are weeping and some are rejoicing. And some are trying to rejoice over events that should be commemorated with a celebration but are not.

While I can (and should) think critically and share opinions and look at the big-scale picture, I’m not sure that’s what really matters right now. Humbly supporting and loving — through the good and the bad — the individuals I know and “not being wise in my own eyes” is what I want to focus on.

Three Things To Do

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Jasper is chill. Confession: I am not always quite as chill about lockdown and everything going on around us as he is.

La imagen puede contener: gato y texto

Some days are fine, others aren’t the greatest. Without being able to go outside and walk off some of the grayness in the soul, I’ve had to get creative. Here are three things I’ve always known but never quite put into practice like I have during these weeks. The truth is, I’m still trying to get these things into my brain. Writing this will help me do that.

We don’t have to wait until we feel like something to do it – in fact we shouldn’t wait for feelings. We should act in order to change our feelings about something, not wait for our feelings in order to act on something. Knowing that, I’ve tried to do these three things when I can tell my heart needs them, if not even more regularly.

1. Singing

Singing like I mean it and singing things I believe. Also singing silly songs while I cook and dance in the kitchen (the neighbors don’t mind). This isn’t just jamming to music, it’s me singing! It’s not pretty, but I love it 🙂 I think in some mysterious way, it’s good for us humans. Makes sense that God tells us to do it.

“But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.” (Psalm 59:16)

2. Caring For Others

It’s good for them and good for me (great how it works out that way, right?!).

This one is admittedly a bit hard when we’re truly stuck at home and can’t even wave to a friend from across the road. But you’re underestimating humanity if you think we can’t still think of interesting and creative ways to show love to the people we know (or people we don’t know). It looks different and it doesn’t have to be BIG. It just has to happen. Structure is okay for this. If you have to set a reminder to send a gift to so-and-so or call your grandma (ahem, that’s me), it doesn’t negate the goodness of what you’re doing.

I need to remember that things were never about me and they still aren’t. I’ve not suddenly become a queen and I’m not trying to act like it. Instead, I want to look at others and think of them as the kings and queens!

“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves.” (Phiippians 2:3)

3. Being Thankful

Thankfulness is not the same as toxic positivity that negates reality. I think we can be thankful, joyful, and peaceful while still sitting in the middle of junk. Thankfulness is not just being positive because we know some “bad” thing will eventually end, it’s being joyful in the middle even when there’s no end in sight.

Over five weeks ago, I started a “Coronavirus Thankful List” that I’ve kept adding to as I think of things. This list has all sorts of things on it, including taste buds, thunder, technology, that we have a balcony, Jesus, chocolate, that I still have a job, and that I enjoy cooking. This list helps me.

Thankfulness roots my heart in humble gratitude and I’m able to see and enjoy the gifts I have all around me. Plus, since I know Jesus, there will always be something for which to be grateful.

“…give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

Life Today

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I rolled out of bed with a headache this morning. Things are starting to catch up to all of us at this point.

The world continues to reel and we are dizzy with the spin of it. I ache for my affected friends and pray and continue to sit in my home.

My back is rebelling against all that time sitting combined with the unusual living room workouts I’ve been doing. Can’t sit and can’t stand and “I can’t wait until I can go for a walk to work out the kinks,” I thought to myself. Instead, I got creative with a standing desk for today and mentally braced myself for a few more weeks of this.

It is easy to feel as though this life we are living right now, this daily movement confined to a few hundred square feet, is a sort of half-life. Like life is on hold until things return back to “normal.”

But it’s not on hold! This very day is my life. This is no half-life! This is the real deal — today.

Henri Nouwen wisely said, “While optimism makes us live as if someday soon things will get better for us, hope frees us from the need to predict the future and allows us to live in the present, with deep trust that God will never leave us alone.”

And so while I long for future wholeness, I live in the present. Maybe a heart full of hope means not thinking about tomorrow much at all — not worrying about the hardships that are sure to come, nor pining with flimsy optimism for the good days we want.

Instead, I should live firmly planted in the present day, the life I’ve been given. I will ground my feet to the earth (or in my case, the floor) that’s beneath them and live this day as I’ve lived all the other ones of my life: with the grace and strength I’m given.

C.S. Lewis gives a great reminder for our overactive minds: ”Remember, one is given the strength to bear what happens, but not the 101 different things that might happen.”

I have strength for this very day and I’ll live it as if it were the realest day of my life! And it is. I was, quite literally, born for this day.

I’ll live this day in the same way and out of the same identity as I’ve lived all my other days. There is strength and mercy for this present day. Tomorrow morning I’ll get more.

‭ “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations‬ ‭3:21-23‬)‭

The Helpless Trust Of Coronavirus

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I heard the click-clacking of high-heeled shoes in the hallway — an eerie sound of normality among such silence and seclusion. Was she going to the grocery store? Probably. There’s really no other place we are allowed to go.

As I sat on my couch with a mug and a Bible, I imagined her: well-dressed like a good Spanish woman, color on her lips, purse on her arm, maybe carrying a grocery bag or wheelie cart. And now, most likely, wearing a face mask.

The streets are mostly empty when I look down from my balcony, but, among the police car that often circulates our block, a handful of cars can be spotted. Maybe they’re hospital staff, headed in to work. There are the occasional dog-walkers and grocery-shoppers, outside to do the only two things we can do outside. The ambulance sirens are loud, no longer hiding among other traffic noises.

And here I sit inside, working on my computer and writing and watching movies and studying the Bible and getting creative with living room workouts and reading in the sliver of sun that hits the balcony. And feeling very helpless.

It’s time for creative love, unceasing prayer, and kindness to my neighbor, which very well may only be the person I’m living with. And maybe most of all, it’s time for a new breed of trust in the Lord.

As I’m forced to embrace my helplessness and frailty right now, I remember that my strength was never the force that turned the universe anyway. I’ve always been helpless (it’s a human trait), but here it is, staring me in the face a bit more than usual.

So I’ll do what I can to creatively help and love those around me, but also really flex my trust muscle — standing on the Rock, putting my eyes on our faithful Jesus, and constantly bringing my burdens, and those of the people I love, to Him.

Then, I’ll keep sitting at home with peace and joy, knowing that Christ can never be taken from our hearts and knowing that He who has given grace over and over will give grace for whatever comes.

“For we are powerless before this great multitude who are coming against us; nor do we know what to do, but our eyes are on You.” – 2 Chronicles 20:12

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold, my refuge, and my savior.” – 2 Samuel 22:2-3

Loneliness

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it was run-of-the-mill loneliness. Nothing that other people don’t experience now and then, I guess. What do I know? I can’t feel other people’s feelings.

Either way, it was real, weighty, and it was mine to feel. No one else could feel it or take it or fix it. Where should I heave the weight of it?

My friend’s confused response made sense when I thought back about what I had said: “I feel lonely. I need some alone time.”

As I sat there slumping, thinking about what I needed, feeling the ache of aloneness, I tried to pull myself out of it. I took mental stock of the wonderful people in my life. I also reminded myself that this too would pass. But the loneliness was there, despite the true reminders of all the good in my life. And I had to decide what to do.

I wanted to cut the loneliness and ease the ache. But I knew that the people I could bring around me would only mask the ache for a time.

It’s not that I don’t need people in my life. I do (we all do). Sometimes we need someone to shake us out of a slump and get us out of the house. Sometimes the best thing we can do is awkwardly call on someone to enter into our pain with us rather than sit alone in our spiraling darkness. But this wasn’t the time for that and somehow I knew it.

My loneliness was no sickness that needed to be cured. I just needed to sit alone in the school of loneliness, even if it was uncomfortable or sad.

In his new book, Andrew Peterson talks being alone and meeting God: “The loneliness of the dark field was a prerequisite for the company I felt.”

The aloneness ushered in the company of Christ, our brother and King.

Elizabeth Elliot, no stranger to loss and loneliness said, “Loneliness is a wilderness, but through receiving it as a gift, accepting it from the hand of God, and offering it back to Him with thanksgiving, it may become a pathway to holiness, to glory and to God himself.”

I will not mope and moan, stunting my growth, but I won’t hastily look for a quick fix for loneliness. I won’t let it conquer me, nor will I run from it.

So, for that evening, I sat alone in the loneliness of my own dark field and sought Divine company — to which I have astounding access through Christ! — or no company at all.