Facing fears

So much to say...so little time. I hope to get back to some writing and processing over the next few weeks. I just need to let this little stream of thought out.
Last week, I was invited to a social opportunity. The setting was unfamiliar. The people were somewhat unfamiliar. But I'm trying to live more of my life in "improv" mode...not just in my parenting, but in all aspects. I found myself saying yes and bringing Husband along before I could think about it too much. When the time came, I was kicking myself. All the "what if's" were starting in. I'm 39 years old and a fairly confident person, but find myself hovering in a corner sometimes socially. What is THAT about?
We went. We had a blast. None of my "what if's" happened. I actually made really good connections and had fun. I reached outside of myself a little. WHAT IF I did that more often? What if I say NO to fears and YES to opportunities?
I have always been a little hampered by fear. I was a terrible gymnast at the ripe old age of 9 because I could imagine myself with all sorts of broken bones (in my defense, I had actually broken a bone and knew it wasn't fun). I was scared of the high bar, scared of tumbling backwards on a 4" beam... In second grade, I signed up for a talent show and learned a song with my piano teacher. I practiced and practiced. Then when it came my turn to sing, I chickened out. Nothing was getting me on that stage. (Some of y'all are shocked now.) I don't have debilitating anxiety, and won't attempt to speak to those issues. I just have some natural and odd fears and insecurities. Things I've allowed to hold me back. Things that bring me back to the Atkinson School auditorium and make me want to hide under my chair instead of standing up and singing Dolly Parton's "9 to 5" at the top of my lungs like I practiced. (yes. what I wouldn't give of a video of little me doing just that!)
I'm here to sing "9 to 5." I had the best evening last week. Just allowed myself to feel the fear and face it down. It wasn't huge, but it was a very good step for me.

"Tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen...pour myself a cup of ambition..."

On improv and love

My sweet bundle of boy came crawling into the big bed around 5 am. A solid hour before I needed to meet the world. "Sigh. Really? I just want more zzzz's." I am a champion, grade-A sleeper. But every now and again, when I am awoken this close to dawn, I find it hard to get back to Sleepyville. And then, as God is wont to do, He started whispering.

"Don't block offers, Shelley. Remember your rules of improv."

......................................

I have been struggling lately in my relationship with my child. We can go for a few days without drama, and inevitably some random something will set him off and he screams and melts and tells me he wants to go live in another house with new parents. I am fairly able not to take this personally. He is all emotion at this age. But it makes it difficult sometimes, when you'd just like to have an easy evening and all your interactions feel like an uphill battle. With "battle" being the key word. I am really trying to keep myself even and quiet in my responses. And sometimes I end up taking a mommy time-out to regather my senses.

Recently, I was sharing my struggles of relating to my son with a friend. She had a vision of the two of us on a checkerboard floor, dressed to the nines in tux and a red gown, dancing with one another. Improv-ing, if you will, as neither of us has been to foxtrot class lately. It was a beautiful picture for me. Enjoying each other, dancing, wearing an awesome red ballgown...such promise and hope. In real life, though, I'm having a bit more trouble connecting what I know is God's vision for us and our day-to-day reality.

Like this. Only with a short preschooler. And no servants...

So, God whispers to me in the wee hours. "Don't block offers, Shelley. Remember your rules of improv."

...................................................................

I used to work with drama and mime and teenagers. Teenagers + drama. Silent teenagers? All the cliches and ironies in the world wrapped up into our few hours a week together.
One of my favorite things was doing improv games and exercises with them. We spent a lot of time on warm ups and prep work, as it really served as much purpose for our time together as the actual preparing of ministry skits and pieces. It loosened us up and shook off our egos a bit. It allowed us to laugh together. I also submit that a lot of what good improv does is teach you how to LOVE each other well. You might have seen improv skits on a show called "Whose Line is it Anyway?" A simplified explanation might be: you set up a few actors with a situation, such as "You're at a party." And give each person a character, maybe a cowboy with narcolepsy, a politician, and a mute circus clown...then let the scene unfold as the characters take it on.

One of the first rules of improv (yes, it has rules!) is "Do not block offers." When another actor or character makes a suggestion or introduction to the story, you run with it. You don't say "No," or proceed with a separate storyline. So, if you're in the middle of a skit and your partner offers you a sombrero to wear, you find a way to wear it. That's where your creativity comes in. You say "Gracias, amigo. My missing sombrero!" Blocking an offer, no matter how silly, can be tantamount to ending the skit or "play."

Another major rule of improv is to make your partners shine. Your job is to make them look good, sound good and succeed. This rule sounds an awful lot like Philippians 2:2-4:

then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

In short, this one is really about abandoning your own agenda for how a scene is going to go. You let it go according to what you make happen TOGETHER. It's not about YOU.

Here are some other rules of improv. If these aren't all good parenting tips, I don't know where else to turn!

• Avoid asking questions- unless you’re also adding information.
• Play in the present and use the moment.
• Change, Change, Change!
• For serious and emotional scenes, focus on characters and relationships.
• For humorous scenes, take choices to the nth degree or focus on actions/objects. 

Thank you, Lord, for reminding me. When he offers, I accept. It's my job to cheer him on through my actions--to build him up--to make him (and YOU) shine. I will play with him and stay in the moment. I will focus on our relationship, which is far more important than momentary behaviors. I am blessed with a funny bone...please help me use it!




Improv games are some of the best therapy for anyone who struggles with control issues. It's a trust game, a free fall into the unknown...so I'm going to dance with my boy with all my heart.

 

Six easy ways to simplify your life...guaranteed!

Dear Real Simple magazine. Thank you for offering me tips all the time about 16 ways to simplify my life with a simple styrofoam cup!! If I had time to read things like that, I'm sure my life would be gloriously more simple.
Meanwhile, here in the real world of working full-time, parenting full-time and doing all sorts of other things with my time, I submit to you a list of actual ways to simplify my life:

1. Cleaning service.
Just someone to keep up the laundry and kitchen. How much laundry can three people generate?? I never fall below 8 loads, and I do at least a load every day of the week and about five-six on the weekends. And dishes. If only we had a fancy white box that we could put dishes into and they would be sprayed with detergent and become clean and dry...we are pitiful, aren't we?
Time savings=26 hours/week

If women ruled the tech world, this would already be a done deal.

2. Grocery store shopper/chef/meal planner.
Try though I might, I cannot get this mojo rolling. Something always foils my plans. Like yesterday, when I ran to Publix to get bread and creamer on my lunch break. And came out with $68 worth of stuff, (like fish sauce!?) and NO BREAD. And I had a list on my phone. They hide bread in our Publix. It's like a freakin' scavenger hunt in that place.
Time savings=8.4 hours/week

3. Bedtime Nanny.
Is it just me or does it take an average of 2.39 hours per night to put a four-year-old to bed? I feel like we start bedtime and it never ends. Or I end up falling asleep squished into the side of a racecar bed and stumbling to the big bed around midnight. And please, have her there on Saturday mornings from 7 - 9 am and Sunday afternoons from 1 - 4 pm. That's not asking too much, really.
Time savings=21.73 hours/week


4. Magic box of whatever-toy-kid-is-asking-for-today.
My blessed boy has a room-full of books and toys, but he always asks for the one I haven't seen in a month. Or I hid because I was tired of it. Or took away because he was acting foolishly with it. Or secretly dreamed of putting in the shredder because I couldn't bear to hear the beeps, whistles, and songs anymore...
Time savings=4.2 hours/week

5. Automatic snack maker.
Kidlet just isn't QUITE old enough to fix or find all the snacks just yet. Soon, though. Meanwhile, I'd like a personal vending machine that dispenses fresh fruit, cheese crackers or goldfish in moderation, and the right ratio of juice-to-water in a spillproof cup. While we're dreaming, dish out pizza for breakfast...not too crispy and no drippy cheese.
Time savings=5.9 hours/week

6. A work of fiction.
I'm going to need something to fill my "extra" 66.23 hours/week now! Maybe I could read. A book. An actual book. Oh, the luxury! Of course, after I get another 1.5 hours of sleep/day and add back in workouts, I'm left with a mere extra 48 hours. I think fall TV season is starting. I could watch an actual SHOW, too!

I have worked myself into a state of ignorant, dreamlike bliss.

Boom. Six easy ways to simplify my life.

Jesus and Bacon.

Two of my favorite things.

I was struggling tonight with the idea of temptation. 'Cause sometimes a person could eat a really good dinner of salad with veggies and fresh fruit and be all "go me...eatin' healthy." Then have a particular hunger come upon him/her while watching Project Runway late at night and be all "Dorito's sound awesome" and eat too many and hit a Dorito wall and feel sick and try to chase it with a banana to make the hydrogenated nacho cheese go away. And said person was all "Help me, Cheesus." (based on actual events)

Then feeling guilty, make the pledge for better choices tomorrow.

I wish the temptations weren't so real and unending. I've been through every cycle there is of exercise, eating "right" in various forms, educating myself about nutrition, do a Whole30 challenge and even blogging about it...and then I got a little mad at Jesus and thought, "I bet Jesus never was tempted by food!" Then felt guilty again because the Bible does say that he was tempted in every way we are and didn't sin (Hebrews 4:15).
Then, just to make myself feel better, I pictured Jesus wandering through a Samaritan village and somebody up in there making BACON. There just isn't a smell quite like it. I mean. BACON. Sizzling in all its porky, salty perfection.
And he had to keep walking. Perhaps to meet that lady at the well and change her life. It really helps me to picture Jesus, inhaling the glorious smell, and being all, "NOPE. No cloven-footed, sodium-laced unclean-yet-crispy goodness for me. I have some saving to do."
These are the things I think of. One foot in front of the other, eating my salads and taking some walks. Jesus and bacon and saving folks.

disclaimer: The above was written purely for your giggling pleasure and cathartic outlet by the author. There was no attempt at theology or exegesis. If the post in some way offends you, you are not required to read it again. Close it, and thank Cheesus that you aren't as silly as I am.

Perfect love is singing over me

Faith is rising/I am seeing/You are smiling over me//Perfect love is filling us. Fear is fleeing, fear is leaving. Perfect love is singing over me//Faith is rising/I am hearing/You are laughing at my enemies.// I'm your beloved....I'm your beloved...I'm your beloved.

I'm drinking in this song by Melissa and Jonathan David Helser right now.



Perfect love is singing over me. I recently re-read the scripture this song references. It's in good ole 1 John 4:18.

There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear: because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love. (AKJV)

When I'm operating out of fear, there is no creativity. Fear tells me I'm not enough, my ideas aren't good enough, my design isn't strong enough, my words aren't compelling enough. Fear becomes torment and turns into "I'm not good enough. I am not enough." Perfect love casts out these fears. Perfect love--GOD'S LOVE--says, "You are enough. You are my child. You are the one I love. The one I made in my image."

As I journey back to the heart of God and find out more of my own heart's desires, I sense that I am just to rest in His love for now. There are no answers outside of Him. "In Him we LIVE and MOVE and HAVE OUR BEING." God is the ultimate in creativity. The desires of my heart were birthed by Him. He is the only one who can peel back my layers of fear with His love. He is the one who is cheering for me. So, in the shadow of His wings...I'll sing for joy. I will find joy in my strong-willed son. I will find joy in my too-hectic pace. I will find joy in every corner. I will find joy in each of you, even when you're struggling to find it for yourself.

Sing. Write. Laugh. Love. That's all I have for now. 

How to make your front porch more inviting!

View from my porch

My email inbox gets messages like this all day:

Make your front porch more inviting with these simple design tips!!!!

I LOVE design blogs. Maybe more than anything else I read. I love throw pillows and light, airy porches with linen curtains. I mean, if I had it to do over again, I would probably MAJOR in interior design. I don't know if I'm especially talented at it, but I really love to THINK and DREAM about it. I also love to write words is ALL CAPS so you can FEEL my passion for things.

One of my favey-fave bloggers, Glennon Melton of Momastery, recently blogged about interior design and organizing in her kitchen. Click on over. It will just take a moment...I'll wait...

....

....(whistling)...

.................

That's hard stuff for me to read. I mean...why NOT make it as cute as it can be? I think we get tangled up in the obsession and the "keeping up with Joneses" (hey, that's me! except not.) So, as the porch email came across today, I'm putting on my own perspectacles, Glennon-style.

Hot mess on the porch.

I had a cute rug on my porch. My dog ate it. I sometimes forget to water the plants, and they start looking all manner of scraggly. Like fungus-ed, yellow and scary...but then they're ready for halloween! I really want to paint my rocking chairs that are all a little worse for the wear. But I had maybe rather blow bubbles with my kid and watch my husband throw the stick for the rug-eating dog. We tried ferns last year. Do you know how much upkeep ferns are in the SC sunshine? Like twice-a-day waterings. I'll probably do them again, but I took a year off this summer (and mother nature has laughed at me by giving us a cool, wet summer!). I had some throw pillows on the chairs at one point, and between the rain and the canine with an appetite for all things lovely, they are now holey and stinky.

Sunporch...cute, huh?

These pictures on design blogs and in magazines do not show you that outdoor spaces get messy, wet, sandy and eaten by otherwise-delightful dogs (I pretend that he is otherwise-delightful since it was my urging to get him). You know what these pictures also don't show? The PEOPLE who make your porch more inviting. Glennon is absolutely right. The best makeover is the one with LOVE as the "after."

I mean, look at those handsome plants.

Cute rocking chair!

So cute. So hungry.

Makeover complete.

Finding my deep gladness

Today, I'm a bit weary. My logistics-oriented brain is on overload at the start of a new school year, for me, for my husband-teacher, and for my pre-K little guy. I'm a night owl, so when the house gets quiet, I jump on the chance to sit within it. To soak off some of the day-grime with the sound of crickets and the glow of the iPad. I yawn and know that I need to go to bed, but it's just so glorious to sit still with no one needing anything.
But then I sit at work the following day with one eye open and a constant daydream of how the cool, soft pillow would feel against my cheek.
I'm grateful to have a job. I'm grateful to have a family. I'm grateful to have a home with lots of elbow room, heat and A/C. I'm so thankful to have a husband, as I spent my 20s wondering if I was fit to love or be loved. I'm ever so thankful to have experienced the reality of childbirth and to answer 48 questions from dawn 'til dusk. I count my blessings. One by one.
In the midst of all these wonderful blessings, I still need to find myself. Not in the 21-year-old, who am I? way. I really need to get to the heart and find something that makes my creative heart sing.

So, I've been wrestling with these ideas for weeks now. What would I do if I could do anything I wanted? I can barely even approach that question just yet. I'm still crawling out into daylight in a way. What's in my heart? What is my calling? What am I even good at? I'm not really sure that what you think is the answer to that is really even the answer to that. For instance, if you've met me, you probably think I'm organized. (and I am laughing at you from the pile of mess gathered around my computer...like, big hot sloppy mess of piles and papers and half-full cups of water and un-filed contracts...they mock me, and I'm ok with that)

Then, this video popped up between my writing of the first three paragraphs (Monday) and today...seriously, if you know a woman or are a woman, it's well worth the 20 minutes of watching. WELL WORTH IT. The speaker talks of the value of pursuing your calling in the midst of family life and all the LOGISTICS that come with that.




As a task-oriented person, I lose myself in to-do lists and schedules. Part of that is likely wrapped up in my "giftings," but God is not task-oriented. He is person-centric, grace-filled, life-giving...as Frederick Buechner says,

"The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet."  ― Frederick Buechner, Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC

What is my deep gladness? I read once that when you are standing at a spiritual or emotional impasse and feel there is no way to go forward, stop and remember the last thing you KNEW to be true. So in lieu of an epiphany today, I will stop and remember.

1. I am called and chosen by God to participate in the renovation and restoration of His kingdom on earth.
2. He has placed me in my job, my church, and my community as launching points for my calling. I don't have to "go anywhere" to minister.
3. Raising my child and ministering to my husband are absolutely parts of my calling.
4. I like being funny. (...and I like making numbered lists. The two can work together, I promise.)
5. I am tired of logistics.
6. When I don't have a creative outlet, I start to feel small and dark.
7. Good creative outlets for me in the past have been: directing mime team, working with drama, graphic design and writing...and doodling!

That's what I have today. And this verse that popped up on my mobile Bible reading yesterday...

Isaiah 26:3 (NKJV): You will keep him in perfect peace, Whose mind is stayed on You, Because he trusts in You.

It's so relieving that I don't have figure all of this out today. I can just do the things I know to do today. I can pray, and sing and BE a little. God knows what's up. He's stirring all this in me. He is revealing my own heart to me. And these puzzle pieces are going to come together soon.

 

The "D" word

originally "published" on 1.6.2012 on my personal (and now abandoned) blog

As I continue to reflect on 2011 and the roller coaster that it was, the most defining thing was really discovering that I was depressed. Depressed? Shelley? I am an optimist by nature. I always think the best of people, that the situation will get better, that God has everything under control and that all things work together for our good. I love to laugh. I love to make people laugh. But there wasn't a whole lot of laughing going on for a good bit of last year.
After the birth of my son, I was on the lookout for signs of baby blues. I did the screenings, which usually consist of questions like, "Do you feel overwhelmed since the birth of your child?"
Um. Yeah. If you took your first child home from the hospital and didn't wonder what the heck you were doing MOST of the time that first month or so, raise your hand.
*waiting*
Right? Getting the hang of breastfeeding, recovering from a return trip to the hospital the week after giving birth, getting absolutely NO sleep, and trying to maintain some semblance of who I used to be about wiped me out during maternity leave. Then  I had to go back to work. I had to leave the sweet blue eyes that had depended upon me every moment of every days for over two months in the arms of a relative stranger and go sit behind a desk every day and pretend that I knew what day it was and that I was competent to earn my salary. All of this while still not really getting much sleep.
I'm not complaining...the fantastic thing about motherhood is that you have a LOT of company in those trenches. People to ask questions and help you decipher the mystery that is "baby." Just explaining that I had all the disorientation of someone who had been dropped off on another planet.
Somewhere between fall, winter, and spring, though, I became increasingly off-kilter. I would be overwhelmed with the smallest tasks. Sometimes just choosing what to eat for lunch would send me spiraling into despair, as I was also coping with a new body and less time in general. Forget trying to get dressed when nothing fit the way it used to. I cried every day. I would usually cry while rocking Shepard to sleep in the evening, lamenting the time that I didn't get to spend with him that day, wondering how he acted in his infant "class." I would either cry or fall asleep myself in the rocking chair.

Little Man around the time of this blog entry.

I had had friends who had dealt with the baby blues. I was on the lookout for it. I just assumed that this overwhelmed feeling was a natural part of becoming a mother. How would I know? I had never been one before; and in a lot of ways, you have to learn a new way to be...putting your own needs aside to care for the littlest member of the household. And I did all of this with the most supportive husband/dad you could ask for. I can't even imagine not having had that.
It seemed that at every turn, I was not enough. I would see blogs for stay-at-home moms who had time to do artsy-crafts worthy of selling on Etsy who made their baby's organic food they had grown from seed in their backyard. Working moms with small waists who could plan the church festival, volunteer at the homeless shelter, and make sure each weekend was packed with educational and fun family time. (perhaps I exaggerate, but realize that this was what it felt like...) I was literally doing well to get Shepard dressed, remember to haul all the stuff I needed for the day, get myself showered and dressed and keep up with my job. There was no way I could incorporate a daily learning activity into our mornings or evenings. Exercise? I mean, how? I didn't have enough energy to sit with my eyes open, much less hit a treadmill.
I remember well the day that I was able to identify what was going on with me. I had just had a conversation the day before with a friend. This friend is the working mom who has a weekly meal plan and seemingly endless energy and a clean house...that I perceived as having EVERYTHING together. When she admitted that she had had a bout with depression after the second child and had to use some medication for a time, something in my spirit just clicked. The next day, as I sat at my desk crying, embarrassed to be crying at work...just wanting to run out and take my kid to the park...I saw the depression for what it was. It was something out of my control. 

It had nothing to do with my faith or lack thereof. It said nothing about my capabilities as a wife, mother or employee. 

It was a perfect storm of NO SLEEP, a dangerously low level of vitamin D (as I found out when I went to the doctor), and some baby blues.
The only was I can describe how I felt is that I was in the bottom of a deep hole. I could see the sky above, but could conceive of NO WAY to get out of the hole. It was a tired despair. I had been fantasizing about stealing Shepard and Jerod and moving to another country (France!). Thankfully, I never progressed to suicidal or anything dangerous to myself or others. But, I had lost all hope. And that is a dark, dark place to be.
Once I went to the doctor, found a medication that would help even me out, and starting in on some hefty doses of vitamin D, I began to feel human again. Oh. There is a ladder out of this hole! Sometimes we need help. Let's not continue to whisper about depression. Let's help each other through life's ups and downs. I still don't have my weekly meal plan worked out or have the gumption to make my first million selling handmade crafts; but I breathe deeply, count my blessings, and thank God for doctors. I also quit reading most of those blogs that made me feel less-than. I am all that God created me to be as long as I follow after Him.

Finding the gray area of love

My child is in a growth spurt. At dinner, he can single-handedly take down three large pieces of pizza, an applesauce packet, 1/4 watermelon, and then ask for cheese crackers at bedtime. Last night, after eating everything in sight for dinner and all the cheese crackers in a five-block radius, he asked for a sandwich. He is four. I gave him some water before bed, because come on. You can't eat cheese crackers with NOTHING to wash them down. He seems legitimately hungry.

So, at three a.m. when the little voice comes in and says, "Mama, I'm really THIRSTY," it's just not the time to go into a tirade about "eating six pounds of cheese crackers before bed will do that." For the love. Get the drink. Get the pillow. Cuddle up, and get some rest.

And when I got to crawl out of my bed at 5:30 am, scant hours after this interruption, the Lord was nudging me. "Really, God? I haven't even been fully caffeinated."

What if this is how we love?

We meet needs at the inconvenient hour without a lecture. We allow a person space to need and meet the need without judgment. Without all the words. Without fixing. Give space for rest. And wait for the Lord to open the door for any words of wisdom HE would have you share in the right hour, when their hearts are ready and their ears are open.

This is gray area of love. In my black-and-white-checkerboard world, I wrestle with this. I am a fixer. I want you to see the error of your ways, and shape up. And I think the Church uses this faulty approach far too often. We've lived through what this approach can do (and some of us have survived to tell about it). Especially in teenagers, it creates a sense of shame and hiding when they realize that they aren't living up to some holy standard. We haven't created a healthy space for questions in the one arena it should be safe to ask questions. And they are dealing with the questions. Admittedly, I got out of full time youth ministry right before social media exploded. I'm sure it's an entirely different beast than it was 10 years ago. But kids haven't changed, y'all. Their little minds are trying to make sense of injustice, hypocrisy, faith, love, pressure, and on and on. That's what makes them fascinating. But we need to love them well.

What if we just learn to love them exactly as they are? With their messy questions? What if we could listen? What if we were guided by the Holy Spirit to answer and ask questions of those in our lives that would draw them to the Comforter who can give peace? What if we tell those we meet and love that it's ok NOT to have all the answers?

Instead we helicopter. We protect. We give special treatment. We make sure they will never break a leg by carrying them everywhere. We don't allow them to build up their muscles by walking, and sometimes tripping.

As I parent, and learn to love (my neighbors) as Jesus loves, I am daily realizing this scripture in new ways: "'Not by might, nor power, but BY MY SPIRIT,' says the Lord." Zech. 4:6

And Jesus' parable about the vine and the branches in John 15: ""I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."

Love is supernatural. Let's let it do its thing.

 

Listening

I'm learning how to listen. Listening requires some measure of quiet and stillness. Oh, how our world is no longer programmed for such. We actually have to take purposeful retreats and "social media fasts" to find the quiet.

I was late to the smart phone party...we just joined around last Thanksgiving. Mostly because we were waiting until we felt like we could afford it. So, I did about a year's worth of research. Jerod said we could get smart phones if we paid the EXACT SAME monthly bill as we were paying for text + calling phones. Challenge accepted.
I did it, of course. Found those cheap and free phones with monthly plans that fit the bill. :)
And now I realize everywhere we are, we are all (Americans) checking our phones. People have been writing about this ad nauseum for years, I know.
But such the addiction! I will let myself get carsick while riding just to scroll through vapid status updates and cute baby pictures. I high-five myself inwardly when I come up with a clever retort or joke. I plan what my posts will be while doing actual things like riding a bike or grocery shopping. I live with one foot in life and one foot in media-life. I fear what this is doing to my sense of reality and my sense of stillness.
I wonder what it is doing to my HEARING. My capital letter Hearing. I wonder what it is showing my child, that all the margins of our day should be filled with INPUT and "knowledge." (yes, I did mean to put quotation marks up there) I wonder if all of this information is causing me to grind my teeth and hunch my shoulders...literally. Why am I unable to sit and think any more?

Wall-E in the "new human" world. Where everyone rides around in chairs and stares at screens. YIKES.

I have to find a way to release the grip of these devices, lest I become one of the disconnected humans from Wall-E...unable to help herself or those around her.

Be still and know that I am God. It just keeps coming back to me over and over again. We can't know UNTIL we're still. And being still seems also to demand some silence. And some listening. I'm learning to listen.

Recipe for the best fried okra this side of the Mississippi

Since I've dedicated myself to livin' the okra life, I felt compelled to make sure you had a good recipe for this delicacy. Since the tender age of about 8, I have been a connoisseur. My hometown of Newnan, GA, had restaurants run by Mr. Golden (I kid you not, and he cooked like he owned that name) on Savannah Street. We ate there many Sunday afternoons, and there was fresh fried okra on a BUFFET. Did you hear that? Buffet. I would get a plate of okra with a little side of turkey and dressing. (If you immediately started counting calories, fat grams and gluten content--bite me.)

I moved away and Twelve Savannah moved up to Main Street in the form of a slightly less glamorous meat-n-three joint called Goldens on the Square. One time for Christmas, my mom got a whole pan of fried okra for me for dinner. I'm sure I shared, and I'm sure there were other gifts, but they paled in comparison. A little salty, says my husband. Pish posh.

Golden's on the Square, Newnan, GA

It's been years since I've had my Golden's okra now, but I recently discovered a new recipe that is almost even better. Follow all steps as described. And bask in my awesome cooking skills.

1. Clear several days off your personal calendar.
2. Find a friend or family member to accompany you.
3. Pack a swimsuit, flip flops, shorts and sunscreen (advise friend to do the same).
4. Set your GPS for Hilton Head Island, SC
5. If driving is not an option, purchase a plane or train ticket (trust me)
6. Upon driving onto the Island, take the toll road (trust me)--Cross Island Parkway
7. Go directly to KENNY B's Cajun Seafood Hut (it's not a hut)
8. Eat all the fried okra. All of it. It's the best fried okra this side of the Mississippi*
9. Change into your swimsuit. Apply sunscreen liberally.
10. Beach yourself like a whale and fondly remember the okra.
11. Repeat for your next meal.
12. Find a hotel to sleep it off.

*If this blog thing ever turned into a career, surely I could do a "best fried okra" tour of the southern US and write it off as business expense, right? Can I get an AMEN!?

It's a whole plate o' goodness.

Other items of note concerning okra:

• If you cannot get to Hilton Head and need a fix, here are some recipes and here is Paula Deen's.
• If you want to get crazy with okra and NOT fry it (I don't understand you, but we can still be friends.), here are Southern Living's takes on it.
• If you don't want the mess or time-consumption, Cracker Barrel will do in a pinch. I get two sides to cover my bases.
• If you just want to fry some up at home, you must get the PICTSWEET version in the frozen food section of your grocery store. But please, for the love, add some fresh onions in around the 10-minute mark. And Tony Chachere's seasoning. And treat them like hash browns...you have to put them in really hot oil on medium high heat and just leave them alone for at least five-seven minutes. Flip them all over at once. No stirring. Bonus points if you flip them individually with a fork. Then add the onions. When fully cooked, drain on a paper plate lined with paper towels. Serve hot.
• We'll cover the merits of cornmeal versus flour batter at a later time. I'm livin' la vida okra here, people. I'm done for today.

Step out of the traffic!

One of my favorite verses in the whole Bible is "Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10. In fact the whole chapter is pretty great. It speaks of earthquakes, war, oceans and mountains...in other words, Monday mornings. The Lord tells us to trust Him in the face of these things. Whatever these things are for you.

Here are my things:

1. Am I "enough" mom for my precocious and energetic little man?
2. Am I "enough" wife for my husband? Am I pretty enough, clean enough, organized enough?
3. How do I maintain some of "me" in the face of a daily to do list longer than my arm and bigger than my day?
4. Should I get a new job?
5. Is the washing machine going to back up again?
6. What if we need a whole new roof?
7. What kindergarten should we choose? Will our choice impact his ENTIRE. SCHOOL. CAREER?
8. What next steps? 
9. How the heck can I be still? What does that even mean? Still!? Nothing in my life is still.

And on and on. These are some of today's. They will add and multiply while I sleep tonight, like so many baby bunnies in our backyard.

So, I look up The Message version of this passage:

“Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything.”

And I think it looks something like this in real life: (This is not my preaching to you...this is my preaching to ME. If you get something out of it. Awesome.)
Make time each day to step out of the traffic. 20-30 minutes. No facebook/instagram/twitter/pinterest. 
Do something that connects your heart to God's. I won't dictate what that is. For me, it's a little writing. It makes me meditate on something inside and see how it relates to my outsides. Also, singing. Songs that make you smile or reflect or grieve or hope. God so very often nudges my heart through song. You might doodle, listen to worship, color (!), read Scripture, read a devotional, close your eyes and breathe deeply (sitting up--zzzzzzzz--so you don't nap).

Why? For years now, I have not made a regular practice of stepping out of traffic. It leaves me frazzled, desperate. It's a sinking that no list-making and errand-running can rescue. It's living WITH the earthquakes and letting them shake me, instead of standing above them with a God's-eye-view. Every tremor makes me feel as if the earth might just swallow me up. And in the worst moments, wonder if that would be ok too. Disappearing into the depths of a great big hole.

Here's the thing. When we are still and KNOW that HE IS GOD, what we are saying is that we are NOT GOD. When we let Him take on the kingdoms and the mountains, we are ceding control. Our hands aren't big enough, nor are our minds equipped to carry and process it all. All my life I've known He's God with my head and my heart, but not necessarily with my BODY. I don't have a faith problem as much as I have a putting-my-faith-to-work problem. If I want to experience what I believe, I have to make a regular, concerted and intentional effort to allow Him to BE GOD through an obedient act of STILLNESS. 

No wonder we feel at our ends. We are trying to be God...to our families, our work, our churches...swooping in and saving them all. The act of stopping is saying, "You are God. I am not." The end. There's no other secret to that verse. You are God. I am not. So, I'll stop today and acknowledge that and rest my soul under the shadow of your great wings. 
  

Psalm 63

A psalm of David. When he was in the Desert of Judah.

¹ You, God, are my God,
    earnestly I seek you;
I thirst for you,
    my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land
    where there is no water.

² I have seen you in the sanctuary
    and beheld your power and your glory.
³ Because your love is better than life,
    my lips will glorify you.
⁴ I will praise you as long as I live,
    and in your name I will lift up my hands.
⁵ I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
    with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

⁶ On my bed I remember you;
    I think of you through the watches of the night.

⁷ Because you are my help,
    I sing in the shadow of your wings.
⁸ I cling to you;
    your right hand upholds me.

⁹ Those who want to kill me will be destroyed;
    they will go down to the depths of the earth.
¹⁰ They will be given over to the sword
    and become food for jackals.

¹¹ But the king will rejoice in God;
    all who swear by God will glory in him,
    while the mouths of liars will be silenced.