embarrassed to be 40…almost

today marks forty days til i turn forty years old. a while back, in an anticipation of this approaching milestone, i set some goals for myself. some spiritual and intellectual. i wanted to read the entire Bible in one year: almost check. i wanted to read fifty books in a year: at forty-nine with almost two months to go (okay, so several of those were young adult fiction but, hey. a books a book, people. back off).

some of my goals were physical and frankly a bit vain. i wanted to be at a certain weight (no way am i telling).  i wanted to be able to run a 10k (currently running a 5k plus at the approximate speed of a sloth but running nonetheless.) and i wanted to be able to do forty pushups (this one might involved so called “girl  pushups” and the need for a crane. the jury is still out.). i might have overestimated the abilities of a four decade old body a wee bit, so i have had to shift some expectations with regards to my physical goals. currently i am ignoring the scale and saying that if i can suck in really hard and stand the sight of my naked body in the mirror we are good.

the final goal i set was to celebrate my birthday in some meaningful way. i am not a center of attention kind of person. granted, i have a blog which is dedicated to sharing my thoughts and feelings but here i can hide behind my computer screen. the thought of well-meaning friends gathering to singing happy birthday has me metaphorically running for the door. i nearly pass out when our pastor reads my prayer requests out loud.

i still wanted to mark “the big day”, however, but how? then i saw some random posting on people celebrating their birthdays through acts of kindness. what a great way to celebrate life!

so i set out to make a plan, mapping out forty days of service. with a limited budget, i am not able to do some of the cool things i saw online. no buying the office starbucks or delivering balloons to everyone on my street. i decided to stick with what i do best, words. i decided to write letters to a bunch of people who represent where i have been, where i am and where i hope to be. people who have helped me get this far.

and here is where i started to get embarrassed. most days i can handle the wrinkles and the belly fat. i have embraced my increasingly finite amounts of energy and decreased tolerance for boy bands. but when i stopped to consider the seemingly endless number of people who have nurtured and supported me over the years, it was truly an embarrassment of riches. i got to 26 in a number of seconds and had to stop in order to make room for “bake cookies for the policemen who keep us safe” and “give suckers to kids grocery shopping with their moms.” i could have easily kept going, but i guess those people will have to wait til i turn fifty.

everywhere i look, people are telling me i should be ashamed of having reached middle age though i can’t imagine the alternative, death, does much for one’s skin tone. but when i think about reaching forty, i am overwhelmed and humbled by all those who have invested in the person i am and the person i am still becoming. forty days from now, i may still not weigh such and such (you didn’t really think i was going to tell you, did you?). i may far short of a 10k and forty pushups. but failing to meet these goals won’t be what i am embarrassed by. nor will it be the wrinkle or the belly fat. if i am embarrassed, it will be by the ridiculousness of my good fortune. it will be by the absurdity of all that has been given to me by way of support and encouragement. so while i plan to spend plenty of time over the next forty days pushing myself to reach some of the physical goals i have set, i hope to spend more time thanking just a few of those who have helped me run a much more important race.

kicking competitiveness to the curb

most people kick their fitness routines into high gear in the spring, getting their bodies ready to hit the beach and lounge poolside. me? i have spent the summer shuttling kids from one baseball game to another with bouts of furniture stripping and closet deep cleaning thrown in for a little variety.

so this week, i said “enough already.” i dragged my flabby behind out of bed at the crack of early mid-morning to run. yesterday, i begged (nagged, pestered, relentlessly beseeched) jim to go with me. i knew his presence would prevent me from turning my morning run into a coffee and doughnut run.

now if you don’t know, jim is a decade and smidgen older than me. one would think this would put me at an advantage in the physical activity department. one would be wrong when it comes to jim. he is redonkulously fit. i won’t even add “for his age” to that sentence. he is also competitive. extremely competitive. he either beats you or makes you feel like he wasn’t really competing in the first place. either he plays brilliant head games or i am the one who is absurdly competitive and have just been projecting all this time.

when we approached our first hill and i managed to pull ahead of him, it was a moment of pure triumph. at the second hill, jim was in the lead but i managed to get to the top first. i felt awesome…until the side cramp and guilt kicked in. what was i doing?!? i had harassed this man, whom i love dearly, into giving up the coziness of bed only to revel in defeating him. not that he really cared. he knows he can beat me in just about any other category you name, but it got me thinking nonetheless.

i was suddenly imaging my fifty-plus year old self huffing and puffing down the road of the life. i certainly wouldn’t want some nearly forty year old pip squeak making her feel bad. “she is trying her best, pip squeak. back off!”

all this to say, that’s what is so amazing about the real race we are all running. we can all win. we can cheer each other on without fear of defeat. in fact, your success is mine because we are all on the same team. by the same token, our failures are shared as well. that means i should be willing to slow down and help pick you up when you stumble. it means i should be ready to show the kind of grace i am hoping for when i fall short. teammates might give one another advice or point out weaknesses in each other’s performances, but this is done not out of competitiveness. it’s done out of love.

of course, this won’t really prevent me from attempting to smoking jim the next time we run together. guess i still have some growing up to do.

 

redefining modesty

there may still be snow on the ground here in indiana, but there is definitely something new in the air. every year about this time, here and on campuses across the country, young people are gripped by a unique and powerful feeling. no, it isn’t love. It’s spring break panic. girls and guys who have easily concealed a few winter pounds under layers of flannel shirts and bulky sweaters suddenly realize that in a few short weeks they will be donning swimsuits and heading for the beach. so like a herd of panicked animals, they all have stampeded to our university fitness center in a frenzied attempt to shed the extra insulation they have acquired over the last few bone-chilling months.

i find myself fairly immune to this common springtime disease. more truthfully, my case is a chronic one since i am in a constant state of panic about my extra pounds. but i am beyond the ritual of spring break flirtations and only put on swimsuits in public when required by law. i feel the impact of these additional bodies nonetheless and it isn’t the mere inconvenience of fewer available treadmills.

ironically, despite the university’s policy of modest dress for working out, the apparel of these young people often leaves little to the imagination. this seems to beg the question “if you are okay showing the world your love handles and added padding while jiggling about on the elliptical machine, why not save yourself the trouble and go eat another doughnut?”

all these scantily clad bodies create a huge challenge for me, one that i have struggled with for years but have recently come to see in a new light. i used to think of modesty as an issue between men and women, a careful balance of consideration for others (not being a stumbling block to others) and self-control (learning to control your own desires despite what others may or may not be wearing). i have long lectured my kids about the sacred nature of the body and the importance of honoring both our own bodies and those of others. but all this time, i didn’t realize how much i struggled with modesty myself.

there was a time when, unknowingly, i struggled with modesty in the traditional sense. i still cringe when i think of some of the things i wore back in my elastic skinned, belly-button pierced days, but those days are long gone. now i see, however, that modesty isn’t just an issue of sexual struggle. while that is a huge part of it, there is another aspect that has to do with judgmentalism rather than desire. my struggle now is with modesty in a humble sense.

as i have run and jiggled side-by-side with spandex wearing, sport-bra revealing, shirt-ripped-down-the sides so far why even bother, ab showing, young people, my head has been full of judgment and indignation. “don’t you know the rules? didn’t you read the clearly outlined guidelines posted at the door?” while their clothing may violate my sense of modesty, my thoughts are hardly modest either. the dictionary defines modesty as “the quality or state of being unassuming or moderate in the estimation of one’s abilities.” there has been nothing moderate or unassuming in my condemnation; no consideration of their lack of awareness or generational differences in definitions of modesty. i have been blind to the plank in my own eye while ogling the splinter in the eyes of others. how many lectures have i given my kids about looking away from explicit content in movies and tv when i have allowed myself to stare and condemn?

now look, this doesn’t mean that i am suddenly going to start mentally high-fiving those who could use a little more coverage. but two wrongs never make a right. it all goes back to that balance of self-denial (i will deny myself the right to wear leggings as pants) and self-control (i will control myself when others didn’t get the memo about leggings not being pants however self-evident that might seem to me).

i hope this is a new era in which i lift others up rather than tear them down. where i don’t objectify them as a mere body rather than love them as my sister or brother. it is that love that earns us the right to speak into one another’s lives as Christ, through His love and sacrifices, speaks so powerfully to us. maybe spring doesn’t just smell like panic and sweat after all; maybe there is a little love in the air.

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When the black clouds gather most, the light is the more brightly revealed to us. When the night lowers and the tempest is coming on, the Heavenly Captain is always closest to his crew. It is a blessed thing, that when we are most cast down, then it is that we are most lifted up by the consolations of the Spirit. One reason is, because trials make more room for consolation. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The spade of trouble digs the reservoir of comfort deeper, and makes more room for consolation. God comes into our heart–he finds it full–he begins to break our comforts and to make it empty; then there is more room for grace. The humbler a man lies, the more comfort he will always have, because he will be more fitted to receive it. Another reason why we are often most happy in our troubles, is this–then we have the closest dealings with God…There is no cry so good as that which comes from the bottom of the mountains; no prayer half so hearty as that which comes up from the depths of the soul, through deep trials and afflictions. Hence they bring us to God, and we are happier; for nearness to God is happiness. Come, troubled believer, fret not over your heavy troubles, for they are the heralds of weighty mercies.

jim and i have had some struggles of late. a totaled vehicle, a scary “episode” of amnesia and now a broken furnace during one of the coldest weeks of the year. but amongst all the broken things, myself included, i feel my Savior’s presence that much more keenly, so worthy of my trust. so willing to carry me along just when i need it most. this quote from charles spurgeon hit home this morning. in the coldness of my house, i feel His warmth that much more. better a cold house than a cold heart.

face(book) to face(book)

facebook. for me, it’s like pringles and those little powdered doughnuts from gas stations. they really hit the spot at the time but leave me feeling a bit queasy afterward. not that i think facebook is entirely without merit. i enjoy keeping caught up with friends i wouldn’t otherwise see. it’s a great source for funny youtube videos. through years of being at home with the kids, it has made me feel less lonely, after a long day seeing that i have been “liked.”

but lately, i have noticed facebook becoming more of an outlet for people’s political and social views. nothing wrong with that but it can leave one in a bit of an awkward position. unless someone is posting something along the lines of “i like kittens”, there are bound to be those who are going to disagree. is facebook only for back patting and preaching to the choir? is there any place for real discussion between “friends?” i’m not talking about the revoltingly immature, over-the-top responses you see. just real and honest debate. if you believe in something enough to “share” it with the world, then shouldn’t you a) assume that there are others, well-informed, thinking others, who might see it differently and b) be willing to defend your position without name calling hysteria?

i can’t say i have ever had a discussion on facebook from which i walked away from thinking “wow! that was a valuable and insightful exchange. hope we can do that again sometime.” i have had knock-down, drag out arguments with guests in my home about topics ranging from which version of pride and prejudice is better (firth/ehle hands out)  to the role of grace in dora the explorer. these discussions left me feeling like i had gained true insights, into the person i was talking with if not the issue itself.

somehow facebook discussions feels like butting into a conversation you weren’t really a part of, like i am eavesdropping in line at the grocery store and then begin arguing with total strangers. only these aren’t supposed to be strangers, are they?

i feel like this when friends give non-controversial updates as well. like i am cheating, keeping up with friends who i am too lazy to call or email. “saw you got a haircut thursday. looks good!” “saw your mom has cancer. praying for her.” “saw you got a divorce. when did that happen?!?”

this doesn’t feel like relationship. it’s like signing up for voluntary cyber-stalking. i do the same in reverse. post a few pictures of our latest goings on and then don’t worry about keeping people updated on what is happening with me and mine.

sure we are busy. but i for one can confess to having spent many a precious hour getting my information second hand when i could have been having coffee with at least one of the people i was on facebook finding out about. maybe i need to be logging out of facebook and logging in to friendship. what do ya think? would love to hear y’all’s thoughts on this (just make sure they are all nice and in total agreement with mine 😉

 

retreating

just wanted to share a bit with you about my latest speaking engagement. this past weekend, i had the privilege of speaking at the salem baptist women’s retreat in knoxville, tennesse. i have to confess to getting major butterflies of the stomach variety when speaking in public. speaking in the community in which i grew up added the pressure of looking into the audience and seeing my high school secretary who knew me when smiling back at me. but these ladies were so kind. it was truly an honor to fellowship with them.

the theme verse for the retreat was psalm 107:2 “Let the redeemed of the Lord tell their story—those he redeemed from the hand of the foe.” the entire psalm is so beautiful as it talks about God’s deliverance of His people, His faithfulness and grace to the undeserving. i loved the fact that the retreat was structured around three things: worshiping God through music, sharing our testimonies and His word.

several women from the congregation spoke about God’s work in their lives and it was so interesting to see the common themes which ran throughout these powerful stories. here are a few of my thoughts on the weekend:

1) we are all Christians but unique individuals called by God to play a special role in His kingdom. it’s easy to start stereotyping and lumping people together but it was so refreshing to see such a wide variety of personalities and life experiences on display. from the young mother to the recently widowed, we all have a place at God’s table.

2) don’t get too wrapped up in the “order” of things. i was so impressed by these women’s willingness to let things run long and value our time together over schedules and structure. this is definitely a challenge to my way of doing things but seeing their hearts so yearning for the Spirit to move helped me to relax and enjoy the ride.

3) prayer works. i can’t tell you how often i felt these women praying for me as i prepared to speak. before each session, they were there as well, gathering around, encouraging me and helping to calm my jitters. their obvious reliance on the Holy Spirit reminded me that my fears are too often centered around my pride rather than God’s purpose.

i can’t say enough to thank these beautiful women who welcomed me into their fellowship. may God bless and keep you all.

Square Peg

for the last several months, i have been wanting to write a post on being a square peg in a round hole. i have been counting down the days still school was done for the year and i could confess what a long academic road it has been. it was my first year teaching four kids at once. first year with a new and much more demanding curriculum. it was overwhelming and there were honesty days when i didn’t think we were going to make it.

i wanted to confess to feeling out of my depth, over my head. i wanted to say that i felt like God brought me to this place where i needed to do something that i just couldn’t do. i kept thinking if i prayed harder or worked harder, He would wave His magic wand and suddenly i would be transformed into the serine, unflappable mom who always keeps her cool or the fun mom who says “the heck with the laundry! let’s play monopoly.” instead, i was the overwhelmed mom hiding in her room watching “antique roadshow” cause she just couldn’t take it anymore.

when i went to write this post about how God obviously mis-assigned me, i couldn’t quite do it. it sounded whiny and ungrateful. ungrateful for all the amazing times we had this year. ungrateful for the experiences i got to share with my kids this year. we laughed, we cried, we conquered pre-alegebra.

when i was preparing to have our first baby, jim used to tell me that trying to get away from the pain only made things worse. if you focused on, looked it right in the eye and called its bluff, it wasn’t as bad. it still hurt but you didn’t get lost in it; you didn’t let it win. i think that’s what i did this year. i kept trying to wiggle out from under the discomfort i was in, trying to reorganize my way out of it rather than accepting it as a natural part of the process.

i often hear people talk about how moms need to make time for themselves because if they are happy and fulfilled then it will trickle down to their kids. i am not so sure that happiness should really be our end goal. what if i am called to be happy in the pain rather than looking for ways to kill the pain altogether? what if God doesn’t give us the luxury of happiness but calls us to something higher? maybe all this time i was making the pain worse by not accepting it as what it really is, God’s hand molding me to His own purpose, the smoothing out of my sharp corners. after all, who is the pot to tell the Potter what shape best fits His purpose?

don’t take this as “therefore, we should be at home full-time, making ourselves (and our children) as miserable as we possibly can. i think God calls moms to all sorts of uncomfortable places, in and out of the home. in an imperfect world there are no perfect choices. only faith in a perfect Creator who we can trust to work on those rough spots out in our ultimate favor.