"I really appreciate your honesty and transparency. It's so refreshing!"
"Thank you for being so honest. I really appreciate it."
I used to hear comments like these a lot. I am the person who waits to be asked "How are you?" just so I can answer. I love to talk about myself, I love to be "real", I open myself up to people right off the bat if I get that trustworthy vibe from them (which I need to be more careful about). And many people have thanked me for it.
Not so here in the Philippines.
Here, I offend. I am the foreigner. I scare potential household helpers away at interviews because I'm "too honest" about the stress I'm under to keep the house clean and the family intact. I alienate neighbors because I don't act like a typical ma'am. I try to strike up conversations with people who clearly feel uncomfortable about me breaking from the conversational script in any given social interaction. I thought that by being vulnerable and humble and open I would make fast connections to people here, but the complex cultural histories at play and the infuriating fact that I wasn't able to pick up the entire language upon arrival (infuriating because I am supposed to be a linguistic genius) have built up a higher, stronger wall than I was expecting to be faced with.
So, I'm lonely.
And I'm losing my identity. I'm not part of a loving, supportive community where I get affirmation and kudos and gentle challenges. I'm not part of any community at all. I have always considered myself to be fairly independent, not needing to be with other people but choosing to. But I'm lost here without the safety net of having true supportive friendships to fall into when I doubt myself. And here, I live in self-doubt.
I have been told by a Filipina that I shouldn't be so honest and straightforward. I have been told not to open myself up to people here because they will either run away or take advantage. How do I make friends here then? I can vent with other expats, I can find guides to point me to resources I need in the city, and I can be prayed for at any church I visit. But these people will not be friends.
Never mind friends--how do I feel comfortable in my own skin? Or do I? Is that something I forfeited when I agreed to live cross-culturally?
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
On the ending of...
(http://www.abandonedamerica.us/)
Lying in ruins
is this once
proud
witness to a commitment
of love and faith.
People gathered
to be caught up
in the song.
Love evident,
joy ambient,
care given
and peace received.
This cannot be enough
when even one grows
weary.
Lays down
a tool or a perspective,
unthinking,
for a moment
of rest.
Then the crows come
in.
How deep
did we dig?
How often did we check
the walls
for proper thickness,
the fabric for proven
and impermeable
protection?
A crumbling
that cannot be dammed will
damn
this shelter, this home.
A week without dusting,
a month without filling in
holes.
A short lifetime
of watching this
beauty erode.
Yes, there is beauty
in the abandonment
of veneer,
of surface perfection.
But there is not
beauty
in the laying
to waste
of a sacred place.
Mending and tending,
this short lifetime
will be work.
The work of restoration.
A lasting work
for us who need
shelter.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Inventory
Ways the world is changing me:
--I honk my horn while I'm driving now.
--I go to my job at a university with a plan in mind in case there is an active shooter.
--I get restless when it's too quiet.
--I can't go for walks by myself without at least some degree of fear.
--I can't go for walks at night, which used to be my favorite thing to do.
--My body rejects the staple food of my society: wheat.
--I drive with my phone on my lap.
Ways I am changing the world:
--I joined the Advisory Council for the park in my neighborhood.
--I teach English to immigrants and international students.
--I write this blog about how to recognize beauty "off the magazine rack".
--I intentionally send my kids to multicultural schools.
--I vote in Participatory Budgeting in my neighborhood.
--I sponsor two children through World Vision in Zimbabwe and Congo.
--I buy lunch for friends on a regular basis.
--I have my daughter in multiple therapeutic activities to provide her a solid foundation for dealing with her ADHD.
--I have taught classes preparing immigrants for their naturalization exam.
Just to name a few on a moment's notice.
--I honk my horn while I'm driving now.
--I go to my job at a university with a plan in mind in case there is an active shooter.
--I get restless when it's too quiet.
--I can't go for walks by myself without at least some degree of fear.
--I can't go for walks at night, which used to be my favorite thing to do.
--My body rejects the staple food of my society: wheat.
--I drive with my phone on my lap.
Ways I am changing the world:
--I joined the Advisory Council for the park in my neighborhood.
--I teach English to immigrants and international students.
--I write this blog about how to recognize beauty "off the magazine rack".
--I intentionally send my kids to multicultural schools.
--I vote in Participatory Budgeting in my neighborhood.
--I sponsor two children through World Vision in Zimbabwe and Congo.
--I buy lunch for friends on a regular basis.
--I have my daughter in multiple therapeutic activities to provide her a solid foundation for dealing with her ADHD.
--I have taught classes preparing immigrants for their naturalization exam.
Just to name a few on a moment's notice.
Monday, March 18, 2013
Double Take
I read once that you should always add a picture to every blog post, so people will be more interested in what they are reading.
Well, I can't out a picture up tonight. You'll have to use your imagination. Tonight I'm writing about a woman I met the other day. I didn't take her picture, and I can't find anything that comes close to what she looked like.
She came in to the Dry Cleaner/Tailor shop in my neighborhood where I was picking up a pair of suit pants. This was last Thursday. It was a sunny day, not warm yet but no longer bitter cold. A decent wind was blowing, making it uncomfortable to walk long distances.
I was getting ready to pay for the pants, when this old woman came into the shop and asked the owner if she could use the phone to make a local call. She kind of shouted it, in a demanding tone, which immediately made me think she had a mental illness. She walked up to the counter next to me, and I turned to look at her while she was muttering to herself. She was dressed in baggy pants, high boots, a few layers of sweaters and coats, and a scarf wrapped around her head.
She looked in the full-length mirror that was propped on the wall to our left, and repeated over and over again: "I look like hell."
I wanted to deny it for her just to make her feel better, but I thought it would sound like an obvious lie. So I just shook my head and smiled at her. She began to show me the veins in her arms and tell me about the hospital she was just released from, where she came out sicker than when she went in. I never found out what her sickness was.
Somehow, the conversation turned to me and the state of my health. I assured her I was healthy, despite my own headwrap, and I started explaining my disorder to her. She suddenly became very lucid and attentive, and as she faced me head-on I could see that she must have been a strikingly beautiful woman in her younger years. Even now, dressed as a bag lady and drooping everywhere, she was not unpleasant to look at. Not at all. Right now all I can really recall are her large, brown eyes. Like a deer.
Well, after I described my condition to her, she asked if she could see my head. I've never had that request from anyone other than children. The owner of the shop, a cute little Korean woman, was also looking at me expectantly. So I pulled my scarf off in one quick, painless movement, and felt the color come rushing to my face. As I pulled off my scarf, the woman took a pronounced step backward and exclaimed "Oh, you are stunning!"
The very word I had thought of for her.
I've never had quite a reaction to my bald head. I took it to be genuine, coming from a woman who had clearly seen her share of both beauty and tragedy in this world. I felt like I had been given a special gift: my bald head was something to show off, my crowning glory.
It's interesting to me that we both realized each other's unique, breathtaking beauty only after we had taken the time to really see who was standing in front of us. We were able to see past the clothes, past the circumstances, and into the character of the woman before us, perhaps accentuated by our physical appearance. I've never experienced anything like that before. In that instant, she and I were queens.
This made me think of a recent post, when I expressed my trouble with the fact that women always seem to give each other compliments about looks above everything else. I feel that I need to adjust my position on that a little. One friend said that complimenting a woman on her choice of attire is one of our "cultural greetings". It's a standard conversational routine. As a linguist, I get that.
It also struck me, in listening to exchanges between women over the past week or so, that women simply notice beauty and have to comment on it. I don't think we are being superficial when we compliment each other on some aspect of our physical appearance. We just love to see colors that go well together, patterns that create energy, fabrics that wrap the body in just the right way, and lines that carry our eyes as we take everything in.
I still want to be careful to compliment women on other things just as often, like the confidence they exude, their wit, or good questions they ask. But complimenting a woman on her looks because you have seen past your own insecurities and noticed a manifestation of another person's choice, personality or values is a gift that women should not be ashamed to use.
Well, I can't out a picture up tonight. You'll have to use your imagination. Tonight I'm writing about a woman I met the other day. I didn't take her picture, and I can't find anything that comes close to what she looked like.
She came in to the Dry Cleaner/Tailor shop in my neighborhood where I was picking up a pair of suit pants. This was last Thursday. It was a sunny day, not warm yet but no longer bitter cold. A decent wind was blowing, making it uncomfortable to walk long distances.
I was getting ready to pay for the pants, when this old woman came into the shop and asked the owner if she could use the phone to make a local call. She kind of shouted it, in a demanding tone, which immediately made me think she had a mental illness. She walked up to the counter next to me, and I turned to look at her while she was muttering to herself. She was dressed in baggy pants, high boots, a few layers of sweaters and coats, and a scarf wrapped around her head.
She looked in the full-length mirror that was propped on the wall to our left, and repeated over and over again: "I look like hell."
I wanted to deny it for her just to make her feel better, but I thought it would sound like an obvious lie. So I just shook my head and smiled at her. She began to show me the veins in her arms and tell me about the hospital she was just released from, where she came out sicker than when she went in. I never found out what her sickness was.
Somehow, the conversation turned to me and the state of my health. I assured her I was healthy, despite my own headwrap, and I started explaining my disorder to her. She suddenly became very lucid and attentive, and as she faced me head-on I could see that she must have been a strikingly beautiful woman in her younger years. Even now, dressed as a bag lady and drooping everywhere, she was not unpleasant to look at. Not at all. Right now all I can really recall are her large, brown eyes. Like a deer.
Well, after I described my condition to her, she asked if she could see my head. I've never had that request from anyone other than children. The owner of the shop, a cute little Korean woman, was also looking at me expectantly. So I pulled my scarf off in one quick, painless movement, and felt the color come rushing to my face. As I pulled off my scarf, the woman took a pronounced step backward and exclaimed "Oh, you are stunning!"
The very word I had thought of for her.
I've never had quite a reaction to my bald head. I took it to be genuine, coming from a woman who had clearly seen her share of both beauty and tragedy in this world. I felt like I had been given a special gift: my bald head was something to show off, my crowning glory.
It's interesting to me that we both realized each other's unique, breathtaking beauty only after we had taken the time to really see who was standing in front of us. We were able to see past the clothes, past the circumstances, and into the character of the woman before us, perhaps accentuated by our physical appearance. I've never experienced anything like that before. In that instant, she and I were queens.
This made me think of a recent post, when I expressed my trouble with the fact that women always seem to give each other compliments about looks above everything else. I feel that I need to adjust my position on that a little. One friend said that complimenting a woman on her choice of attire is one of our "cultural greetings". It's a standard conversational routine. As a linguist, I get that.
It also struck me, in listening to exchanges between women over the past week or so, that women simply notice beauty and have to comment on it. I don't think we are being superficial when we compliment each other on some aspect of our physical appearance. We just love to see colors that go well together, patterns that create energy, fabrics that wrap the body in just the right way, and lines that carry our eyes as we take everything in.
I still want to be careful to compliment women on other things just as often, like the confidence they exude, their wit, or good questions they ask. But complimenting a woman on her looks because you have seen past your own insecurities and noticed a manifestation of another person's choice, personality or values is a gift that women should not be ashamed to use.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Females
These questions are for my female readers:
*When you meet up with a good female friend, what is the first thing you comment on?
*When you see a female acquaintance in the office, or an elevator, or on the train, what do you say to them?
*When you are standing in line at the grocery store with a complete female stranger, do you feel compelled to say something? About what?
If you are like me, you could answer each question by saying "I compliment her on some aspect of her appearance, usually clothes." I can't tell you how many times I have recently caught myself (or another woman within earshot) compliment another woman on something she is wearing.
"Nice sweater. Where'd you get it?"
"Ooh, I love those shoes. Where'd you get them?"
"Those earrings look great on you. Are they homemade?"
And it goes on.
Why do we do this? Male readers, if you are still reading this, how would you answer those questions? Do you feel the need to comment on other men's clothing and accessories? Somehow, I doubt it.
So why do women do it? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that women care about building each other up--at least on the surface. I have enjoyed being on the receiving end of such comments. Most recently I have gotten tons of comments on this great headcovering my sister got me for Christmas (I think it's officially called a "snood"):
I wonder if people think I am trying to get compliments. After all, the huge flower on the side of my head clearly wants to be noticed. I choose my apparel and accessories carefully, and when people compliment me on my choice of color or my skill in coordinating patterns, I feel validated.
Is that why I similarly compliment other women on their appearance? Is it because I recognize the struggle to step out of the house with the perfect blend of confidence, comfort and identity that most women aim for when they get dressed?
Or are women just silly? Why can't we stop ourselves from constantly saying "Nice sweater", thus perpetuating the myth that women are valued for looks and not much more? Of course, when we are first meeting someone or just crossing paths, we comment on the only possible point of connection--besides the weather, maybe.
I don't know why it's been bothering me lately. Every time I give, or hear, a compliment of this sort, a voice inside me screams, "There's so much more to her/me!" Should I just relax about it? Or should we occasionally find an alternative way to build a bridge connecting our island to this other person's island, opening up endless possibilities of further connection and communication?
Any ideas?
*When you meet up with a good female friend, what is the first thing you comment on?
*When you see a female acquaintance in the office, or an elevator, or on the train, what do you say to them?
*When you are standing in line at the grocery store with a complete female stranger, do you feel compelled to say something? About what?
If you are like me, you could answer each question by saying "I compliment her on some aspect of her appearance, usually clothes." I can't tell you how many times I have recently caught myself (or another woman within earshot) compliment another woman on something she is wearing.
"Nice sweater. Where'd you get it?"
"Ooh, I love those shoes. Where'd you get them?"
"Those earrings look great on you. Are they homemade?"
And it goes on.
Why do we do this? Male readers, if you are still reading this, how would you answer those questions? Do you feel the need to comment on other men's clothing and accessories? Somehow, I doubt it.
So why do women do it? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the fact that women care about building each other up--at least on the surface. I have enjoyed being on the receiving end of such comments. Most recently I have gotten tons of comments on this great headcovering my sister got me for Christmas (I think it's officially called a "snood"):
I wonder if people think I am trying to get compliments. After all, the huge flower on the side of my head clearly wants to be noticed. I choose my apparel and accessories carefully, and when people compliment me on my choice of color or my skill in coordinating patterns, I feel validated.
Is that why I similarly compliment other women on their appearance? Is it because I recognize the struggle to step out of the house with the perfect blend of confidence, comfort and identity that most women aim for when they get dressed?
Or are women just silly? Why can't we stop ourselves from constantly saying "Nice sweater", thus perpetuating the myth that women are valued for looks and not much more? Of course, when we are first meeting someone or just crossing paths, we comment on the only possible point of connection--besides the weather, maybe.
I don't know why it's been bothering me lately. Every time I give, or hear, a compliment of this sort, a voice inside me screams, "There's so much more to her/me!" Should I just relax about it? Or should we occasionally find an alternative way to build a bridge connecting our island to this other person's island, opening up endless possibilities of further connection and communication?
Any ideas?
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Time to Go on a Diyet?
A friend of mine forwarded a link to me today, and when I clicked on it I saw this:
At first, it reminded me of another image I saw on another friend's Pinterest board:
So at first I though it was a hoax--a writer using child-like penmanship in order to illustrate a point and garner some attention about an issue.
But as I read on, I became convinced it was true. A seven-year-old wrote that list. And her mom is naturally very angry at society for upholding the values we do concerning appearance and beauty, which eventually led to this little girl making such a list.
Apparently the girl heard about this "diyet" from a friend at school. Who knows how the friend heard about it. Maybe she has a big sister who reads teen magazines.
I understand the mother's frustration. I, too, am worried that I will be forced to talk about issues with my young daughter that she really shouldn't have to deal with until she's much older.
I might try to look at it another way, though. Maybe these girls are writing about "diyets" because they have read about them and they seem like important, grown-up things to emulate. Like when a kid writes a "menu" and takes your order, or "writes a check" to pay for toys in their room.
But let's say these girls are taking this seriously. This mom did exactly the right thing and talked to her daughter about the beauty of her body just the way it is. I also suggest having the friend over and doing some activities that will get counter-cultural messages across.
But the real issue here is that little girls are taking their bodies very seriously. They are learning how to put on makeup, accessorize, dance and walk in ways that make them feel grown up. Because our culture tells them that their value lies in how much attention they can get for their looks.
This mom was questioning her choice to let her daughter play with a Barbie doll. I've been there, making the choice between giving in to my daughter's wishes for pretty playthings and trying to substitute her desired object with something less damaging for her self image.
I let her have a Barbie.
Because ultimately, I think balance is key. I let her have a Barbie, but instead of a Barbie video for Christmas I got her a Veggie Tales movie about true beauty. I think it's okay for little girls to learn from an early age how to take their of their bodies. I think it's okay for them to be affirmed in their desire for "prettiness". The problem comes when we limit the idea of "prettiness" to a Barbie doll or Disney princess. Another problem comes when we indulge them in their desire to grow up too fast. We womanize and sexualize our little girls because we think it's so cute that they look like little ladies.
Look at this swimsuit from Target:
It starts at size 4. Some moms probably think their 4-year-olds look darling in this little mini bikini. Let's face it, a woman's body is very pleasing to look at. Fine. But is the idea of a woman's body so alluring that we must project it onto little girls?
I haven't even addressed the issue of sports, dance, gymnastics and pageants for little girls. Again, balance is key. We as a society tend to keep pushing the envelope--maybe part of our "westward expansion" mentality. We could stand to sit back and let things be.
I'd love your reactions and thoughts.
At first, it reminded me of another image I saw on another friend's Pinterest board:
So at first I though it was a hoax--a writer using child-like penmanship in order to illustrate a point and garner some attention about an issue.
But as I read on, I became convinced it was true. A seven-year-old wrote that list. And her mom is naturally very angry at society for upholding the values we do concerning appearance and beauty, which eventually led to this little girl making such a list.
Apparently the girl heard about this "diyet" from a friend at school. Who knows how the friend heard about it. Maybe she has a big sister who reads teen magazines.
I understand the mother's frustration. I, too, am worried that I will be forced to talk about issues with my young daughter that she really shouldn't have to deal with until she's much older.
I might try to look at it another way, though. Maybe these girls are writing about "diyets" because they have read about them and they seem like important, grown-up things to emulate. Like when a kid writes a "menu" and takes your order, or "writes a check" to pay for toys in their room.
But let's say these girls are taking this seriously. This mom did exactly the right thing and talked to her daughter about the beauty of her body just the way it is. I also suggest having the friend over and doing some activities that will get counter-cultural messages across.
But the real issue here is that little girls are taking their bodies very seriously. They are learning how to put on makeup, accessorize, dance and walk in ways that make them feel grown up. Because our culture tells them that their value lies in how much attention they can get for their looks.
This mom was questioning her choice to let her daughter play with a Barbie doll. I've been there, making the choice between giving in to my daughter's wishes for pretty playthings and trying to substitute her desired object with something less damaging for her self image.
I let her have a Barbie.
Because ultimately, I think balance is key. I let her have a Barbie, but instead of a Barbie video for Christmas I got her a Veggie Tales movie about true beauty. I think it's okay for little girls to learn from an early age how to take their of their bodies. I think it's okay for them to be affirmed in their desire for "prettiness". The problem comes when we limit the idea of "prettiness" to a Barbie doll or Disney princess. Another problem comes when we indulge them in their desire to grow up too fast. We womanize and sexualize our little girls because we think it's so cute that they look like little ladies.
Look at this swimsuit from Target:
It starts at size 4. Some moms probably think their 4-year-olds look darling in this little mini bikini. Let's face it, a woman's body is very pleasing to look at. Fine. But is the idea of a woman's body so alluring that we must project it onto little girls?
I haven't even addressed the issue of sports, dance, gymnastics and pageants for little girls. Again, balance is key. We as a society tend to keep pushing the envelope--maybe part of our "westward expansion" mentality. We could stand to sit back and let things be.
I'd love your reactions and thoughts.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 29
Umm, beauty...having a hard time with this tonight.
Oh--today I saw a woman who was clearly from Africa coming back from the grocery store with two bags of food in her hands...and a 24-bottle case of Dasani water on her head. She was turning around, she was getting keys out--and the bottles never wavered. Unbelievable.
Later at work I walked by a woman's office...and she was working on her laptop while she was walking on a treadmill. In a skirt and tennis shoes. Door wide open. And why shouldn't it be?
How beautiful to see traditions and quirks being lived out in the middle of "normal" life. Of course. Because traditions and quirks are what are normal for us. Maybe not to everyone else, but they are identity-building for us.
Unfortunately, I have always tried to "fit in" and hide anything that sets me apart from what I consider to be mainstream. But I think it's time to free my mind and live in the oddities and customs that make me who I am.
Isn't it fun, after all, to begin to get to know someone well enough to discover those things that make you go "huh"?! Like, "Wow, I never realized you could carry water bottles on your head", or "So, you like to dance in your living room in front of a mirror?"
How about those things that you have always done, never questioned, and could never let go of? The things that never enter your consciousness until you move to a new place where "those things" are done differently? Take pride in them and rediscover their beauty. Don't hide them.
And let's look at the flip side: when you see someone doing something that is clearly not in the realm of "normal" for you, look on in a spirit of admiration and non-judgment. After all, the things you take for granted as "normal" are probably pretty quirky to someone, somewhere.
Oh--today I saw a woman who was clearly from Africa coming back from the grocery store with two bags of food in her hands...and a 24-bottle case of Dasani water on her head. She was turning around, she was getting keys out--and the bottles never wavered. Unbelievable.
Later at work I walked by a woman's office...and she was working on her laptop while she was walking on a treadmill. In a skirt and tennis shoes. Door wide open. And why shouldn't it be?
How beautiful to see traditions and quirks being lived out in the middle of "normal" life. Of course. Because traditions and quirks are what are normal for us. Maybe not to everyone else, but they are identity-building for us.
Unfortunately, I have always tried to "fit in" and hide anything that sets me apart from what I consider to be mainstream. But I think it's time to free my mind and live in the oddities and customs that make me who I am.
Isn't it fun, after all, to begin to get to know someone well enough to discover those things that make you go "huh"?! Like, "Wow, I never realized you could carry water bottles on your head", or "So, you like to dance in your living room in front of a mirror?"
How about those things that you have always done, never questioned, and could never let go of? The things that never enter your consciousness until you move to a new place where "those things" are done differently? Take pride in them and rediscover their beauty. Don't hide them.
And let's look at the flip side: when you see someone doing something that is clearly not in the realm of "normal" for you, look on in a spirit of admiration and non-judgment. After all, the things you take for granted as "normal" are probably pretty quirky to someone, somewhere.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 24
Thank you to all who responded to yesterday's post! I saw truth in all of your comments. Ultimately, yesterday I didn't see beauty. I lost my temper with my kids, had some major disappointments during the day, and let resentment take hold of me.
But this morning, I began my day with music. Not just listening to music, but intentionally hearing, playing and singing songs that would provide me with a way to sing about beauty I couldn't quite see yet. I asked God to come near as I let my heart be softened by beautiful music and my mind be instructed by truthful lyrics. I guess in Christianese this is called "worship". I have not taken this blog in any specific spiritual direction, mostly to appeal to a wide variety of readers. But honestly, as a Christian, I have to be true to the experience I had.
And I spent some time in worship.
I wasn't lifting my hands or speaking in tongues. (And I'm not saying that to put those practices down.) I just sang and asked God to help me believe the words, things like "You are my strength when I am weak"; "Rejoice, Emmanuel will come to thee"; and "He'll move heaven and earth to come rescue me when I call".
I can't say I felt too different after my morning in song. But I did have a more peaceful day with my family. Some could argue that this was the calm after yesterday's storm. Or it was Saturday and I had a morning to myself.
Whatever really happened, I am thankful for God always being willing to be sought after, even if it is in desperation and little faith. And believe me, I have little faith. But God can take my little faith and still do great things. My decision to seek Him instead of escape into fiction or Facebook this morning set the tone for my day and made a difference. And it was beautiful, in a non-Earth-shattering way.
But this morning, I began my day with music. Not just listening to music, but intentionally hearing, playing and singing songs that would provide me with a way to sing about beauty I couldn't quite see yet. I asked God to come near as I let my heart be softened by beautiful music and my mind be instructed by truthful lyrics. I guess in Christianese this is called "worship". I have not taken this blog in any specific spiritual direction, mostly to appeal to a wide variety of readers. But honestly, as a Christian, I have to be true to the experience I had.
And I spent some time in worship.
I wasn't lifting my hands or speaking in tongues. (And I'm not saying that to put those practices down.) I just sang and asked God to help me believe the words, things like "You are my strength when I am weak"; "Rejoice, Emmanuel will come to thee"; and "He'll move heaven and earth to come rescue me when I call".
I can't say I felt too different after my morning in song. But I did have a more peaceful day with my family. Some could argue that this was the calm after yesterday's storm. Or it was Saturday and I had a morning to myself.
Whatever really happened, I am thankful for God always being willing to be sought after, even if it is in desperation and little faith. And believe me, I have little faith. But God can take my little faith and still do great things. My decision to seek Him instead of escape into fiction or Facebook this morning set the tone for my day and made a difference. And it was beautiful, in a non-Earth-shattering way.
Friday, February 15, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 23
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I thought I be super productive and get tons of housecleaning done today. Part of that grand ambition included doing a load of laundry--pristine whites, to be exact. This load included my husband's undershirts, our bedsheets, and a brand new white shirt I bought last week.
Well, you may have already predicted what's coming next (hint: look at today's picture). Yes, there was a bright red dust rag in the bottom of the washer, unbeknownst to me. I'm not sure why, since I was the one who threw it in there earlier this morning after dusting.
So I have pink sheets, a brand new pink shirt, and I will send my husband to work with pink undershirts.
I suppose I should laugh. The thing is, this is only the latest in a long string of similar mishaps--stupid accidents that waste money and could have been prevented had I been paying just a bit more attention.
Here are a few of my recent "brilliant" moments:
--left son's potty seat in the locker room at daughter's swim lesson
--booked a flight under the wrong date
--left butter and cream cheese out on my counter all day after a trip to the store
--put chicken in a crock pot and then forgot to plug it in all day
--lost daughter's permission slip for a field trip (still can't find it, deadline is today)
...just to name a few. And that's all in a week's time.
So where's the beauty in this? That's where you, readers, come in. Today's post is interactive. I need your help to see beauty today. I keep having brief moments of confidence and contentment, only to be quickly reminded how close I am to the edge of a breakdown! I exaggerate...but not by much.
So help me see the beauty in my life and my crises. Because all feels futile right now.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 22
Happy Valentine's Day!
I'm doing things a little different today and posting in the morning! A few reasons why:
A. I want to see if the time of day affects who sees and reads my blog;
B. I already saw beauty today and I can't imagine seeing anything better;
C. I hope to spend my evening Valentining, not sitting in front of this computer!
Wow, sorry for all the exclamation marks. I must be happy today. Well, it is Valentine's Day, which means love (in all its forms) is all around.
You know, there is no better place to be on Valentine's Day than at the grocery store. Not only are you probably buying chocolate for yourself (admit it), you also get to watch the most beautiful thing ever: men buying gifts for their Valentines.
I don't want this post to sound trite. I realize that many people are dealing with pain, loneliness, broken hearts, and guilt today. But maybe it will help to read about the beauty of the interactions between strangers on this day when love and romance are celebrated (don't let your cynical side take over...I know this is a Hallmark and Hershey kind of holiday, but let's push doubt aside for the time being).
This morning I was at the store buying deodorant for my husband (that's what Valentine's Day can devolve into after years of marriage!) and I decided to pick up a couple plush animals for my kids. While I was in line, this guy in front of me was going back and forth between two very similar Valentine bouquets. He was undecided right to the very end. I so wanted to intervene and reassure him that both were equally lovely!
(Picture this guy, only in a parka, hoodie and military-style boots.)
The male cashier gave him such a big smile and genuine "Have a Happy Valentine's" that I had to come home immediately and blog about it. How beautiful is it to see two grown men looking like proud eight-year-old boys?!
Now, I don't know this man's story. I don't know who the flowers were for, or what was going on in his mind and heart when he decided to buy them. But as I looked around I saw dozens of other men holding heart-shaped boxes and balloons--not being terribly creative, but certainly making an effort--and I thought it was a beautiful sight. For that instant, they were thinking about how to please a partner, friend or relative. The toughest exteriors often conceal soft, plush hearts that only want to please. That's lovely, isn't it?
What beautiful interactions have you witnessed today? Whether you have someone giving you a Valentine or not, maybe it's time to redefine Valentine's Day and see it as a chance to witness unselfishness all around, if only for this one day. No matter your situation, that can be celebrated.
I'm doing things a little different today and posting in the morning! A few reasons why:
A. I want to see if the time of day affects who sees and reads my blog;
B. I already saw beauty today and I can't imagine seeing anything better;
C. I hope to spend my evening Valentining, not sitting in front of this computer!
Wow, sorry for all the exclamation marks. I must be happy today. Well, it is Valentine's Day, which means love (in all its forms) is all around.
You know, there is no better place to be on Valentine's Day than at the grocery store. Not only are you probably buying chocolate for yourself (admit it), you also get to watch the most beautiful thing ever: men buying gifts for their Valentines.
I don't want this post to sound trite. I realize that many people are dealing with pain, loneliness, broken hearts, and guilt today. But maybe it will help to read about the beauty of the interactions between strangers on this day when love and romance are celebrated (don't let your cynical side take over...I know this is a Hallmark and Hershey kind of holiday, but let's push doubt aside for the time being).
This morning I was at the store buying deodorant for my husband (that's what Valentine's Day can devolve into after years of marriage!) and I decided to pick up a couple plush animals for my kids. While I was in line, this guy in front of me was going back and forth between two very similar Valentine bouquets. He was undecided right to the very end. I so wanted to intervene and reassure him that both were equally lovely!
(Picture this guy, only in a parka, hoodie and military-style boots.)
The male cashier gave him such a big smile and genuine "Have a Happy Valentine's" that I had to come home immediately and blog about it. How beautiful is it to see two grown men looking like proud eight-year-old boys?!
Now, I don't know this man's story. I don't know who the flowers were for, or what was going on in his mind and heart when he decided to buy them. But as I looked around I saw dozens of other men holding heart-shaped boxes and balloons--not being terribly creative, but certainly making an effort--and I thought it was a beautiful sight. For that instant, they were thinking about how to please a partner, friend or relative. The toughest exteriors often conceal soft, plush hearts that only want to please. That's lovely, isn't it?
What beautiful interactions have you witnessed today? Whether you have someone giving you a Valentine or not, maybe it's time to redefine Valentine's Day and see it as a chance to witness unselfishness all around, if only for this one day. No matter your situation, that can be celebrated.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 21
“You should not worry about the dings and the dongs, they are nothing but echoes.” -- Corrie Ten Boom
She was writing about forgiveness. When we are bound by wrongdoing, it's as if a/the devil were pulling on a loud, clanging bell. Once we receive forgiveness, the rope is let go. Any bell-like noise we may hear from then on is just the echo as the bell stops its swinging, no longer given momentum by an outside force but swinging, nonetheless.
Well, I am going to misappropriate this quote tonight. Even though it is Ash Wednesday, I am not going to write about forgiveness--I hardly feel qualified.
Instead, I am going to write about a freedom that operates much the same way. Actually, I should say "freedoms", because each reader will relate in a different way. So different, in fact, that I can't exactly name this freedom. But hopefully you will recognize it.
Have you ever had an obsessive crush on someone? The kind that keeps you up at night and causes you to routinely go out of your way in the hopes of crossing that person's path? You cry every night from the pain of knowing (for whatever reason) that you will never be with that person. But you move on, slowly. Maybe that person disappears from your life for some reason. Whatever the case, whatever the time frame, one day you realize that you haven't thought about that person all day. And at some point, you realize that even if you ran into that person you would not depart their company with that painful longing. You would, and will, be fine.
Or have you ever lived with a fear that you couldn't shake? The kind of fear that weakens your heart and deprives you of sleep, sucks all enjoyment from life, and saps strength from your body? You worry and worry about this thing and it becomes your constant companion, even as it moves from the front of your mind to the back...and to the front again. But you seek help: prayer, medication, counsel of friends, whatever it may be. And you mature. And one day, you are confronted with the very thing you feared, only to find that the fear slipped off your shoulders at some point. And you are free.
There are countless other situations like this, where something has a hold of you for so long that you begin to reference it when you give self-identifying information. And the release from it can come on gradually, like that bell that continues to ring after the rope has been let go. We may still hear the echoes, but essentially we are free. We may slip and act like it still has us in its grasp, but only out of habit mostly.
Today I was driving to the post office during my lunch break and I realized that I was content. I realized that I was living in total freedom from a couple things that used to plague me. And it was such a beautiful feeling! I knew it was total freedom because the knowledge of being set free did not spark any feeling of bereavement or temptation to go back to a familiar way of living. Total freedom. If I'm lucky, maybe even the echoes will have died out this time.
She was writing about forgiveness. When we are bound by wrongdoing, it's as if a/the devil were pulling on a loud, clanging bell. Once we receive forgiveness, the rope is let go. Any bell-like noise we may hear from then on is just the echo as the bell stops its swinging, no longer given momentum by an outside force but swinging, nonetheless.
Well, I am going to misappropriate this quote tonight. Even though it is Ash Wednesday, I am not going to write about forgiveness--I hardly feel qualified.
Instead, I am going to write about a freedom that operates much the same way. Actually, I should say "freedoms", because each reader will relate in a different way. So different, in fact, that I can't exactly name this freedom. But hopefully you will recognize it.
Have you ever had an obsessive crush on someone? The kind that keeps you up at night and causes you to routinely go out of your way in the hopes of crossing that person's path? You cry every night from the pain of knowing (for whatever reason) that you will never be with that person. But you move on, slowly. Maybe that person disappears from your life for some reason. Whatever the case, whatever the time frame, one day you realize that you haven't thought about that person all day. And at some point, you realize that even if you ran into that person you would not depart their company with that painful longing. You would, and will, be fine.
Or have you ever lived with a fear that you couldn't shake? The kind of fear that weakens your heart and deprives you of sleep, sucks all enjoyment from life, and saps strength from your body? You worry and worry about this thing and it becomes your constant companion, even as it moves from the front of your mind to the back...and to the front again. But you seek help: prayer, medication, counsel of friends, whatever it may be. And you mature. And one day, you are confronted with the very thing you feared, only to find that the fear slipped off your shoulders at some point. And you are free.
There are countless other situations like this, where something has a hold of you for so long that you begin to reference it when you give self-identifying information. And the release from it can come on gradually, like that bell that continues to ring after the rope has been let go. We may still hear the echoes, but essentially we are free. We may slip and act like it still has us in its grasp, but only out of habit mostly.
Today I was driving to the post office during my lunch break and I realized that I was content. I realized that I was living in total freedom from a couple things that used to plague me. And it was such a beautiful feeling! I knew it was total freedom because the knowledge of being set free did not spark any feeling of bereavement or temptation to go back to a familiar way of living. Total freedom. If I'm lucky, maybe even the echoes will have died out this time.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 18
Today I meditate on the beauty of grace. Of second (and third) chances.
I met a man named Pete today. Pete founded a company called Second Chance Coffee in Wheaton, IL. And it's not the coffee that needs a second chance--believe me, it's high quality. No, the "second chance" in the name refers to his employees. Pete hires, through a selective referral process, post-prison men and women to roast, package, sell and deliver his coffee.
The coffee has been branded "I Have a Bean". Without it, there would be seven more formerly incarcerated individuals trying to get back on their feet and reintegrate into productive society--and being barred at every turn.
The term "felon" probably evokes an image in your mind of a big, scary guy with tattoos and a scowl who is out to hurt you and your family--over and over again--unless we stop him by casting him out from our community.
But what if there were more to the story? What if this man, tattoos and all, made a mistake and had many valuable skills and a great personality?
In our society, certain mistakes carry longer-lasting consequences than others. I agree--obviously there are degrees to which people can get hurt, and there are corresponding degrees to which "offenders" need to be held responsible and make amends.
What I don't understand is why certain mistakes carry life-long sentences. Is there any mistake that one person should have to suffer with for the rest of their lives?
This is only the tip of the iceberg of this discussion. I know that. I'm not looking to spark any heated debates. I just want to introduce this unique organization as a model of grace and say that I think grace is absolutely beautiful.
I have made so many mistakes in life, some that have hurt others and some that have hurt only me. I depend on second, third, fourth (and on and on) chances all the time. I can't imagine trying to live my life if I had no access to those chances.
Check out www.ihaveabean.com and see how beautiful (and practical) redemption can actually be. And take a minute to meditate on the chances you have been given.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty-Day 14
The wallpaper shown above is called "Girlfriends" (available at http://www.scenicreflections.com/media/264457/GIRLFRIENDS_Wallpaper/). I love this picture. I think it shows how girlfriends never grow old, how we lean on each other as we look at life around us, and how we rely on each other's perspective to color the scene before us.
I love my girlfriends. They are beautiful and all very unique. I have been appreciating them so much more lately. Tonight I relied on my girlfriends to help me out of a Mommy Guilt trap.
You see, this afternoon I was planning on writing an entirely different post. I was playing in the snow with my kids after school--and we had an unbelievable (and long overdue) wonderful time together! We made a snow turtle, we threw snowballs at each other, we were carefree. Part of why I was able to enjoy this time was because one of my girlfriends offered to take my kids for the evening so I could go to Zumba. I was going to write about how the afternoon was all the more precious and beautiful because I knew I would have time to myself later and I recognized how short my time with my young kids really is.
But...then came time to go inside. Let's just say it was a very different scene trying to get my kids safely up the stairs and into the house. They must have gotten tired, because they were completely punch-drunk. Long story short, I ended up losing sight of the precious time I had with them and losing my temper completely. It wasn't pretty. Later, of course, I felt like the last woman on earth who should be allowed to be raising children. I felt like scum for yelling at my kids, especially my daughter.
So naturally I cried to my girlfriends. They calmed me a bit, they shared their own horror stories, they gave me perspective. And in their company, the things that were eating me up inside suddenly didn't feel so toxic. I felt hope.
Thank you, my lovely friends. The ones who received my pain tonight, and others who have been there on countless other occasions to hold me through the most trying of times. You know who you are. I love you and am so grateful for you.
You are beautiful.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
30 Days of Redefining Beauty: Day 4
Today I was struck by the beauty of what can happen when you open yourself up to people. A new friend spontaneously asked if she could hang out with me and my kids this afternoon, even though we haven't known each other very long. I was so glad she asked! We had a great time getting to know each other better.
Later this evening I met a great group of people from an organization called Traffick Free, as my husband was hosting a meeting in our home (which is why I was out for awhile with my kids and my new friend). After being at church this morning, attending a baby shower after church, getting to know a new friend this afternoon, and then meeting new people in my house tonight, you would think I would be exhausted right now.
The old me would have been. I used to see social encounters as barriers to my own free time. I dreaded going out; parties drained me. But now I get so refreshed and energized by being in community, whether new or familiar, that I would seriously consider communal living. I'm not kidding. There is something so freeing about learning how to be myself around people, even people I am meeting for the first time, and expecting that I will enjoy their company...and that they will enjoy mine. I never used to believe I had it in me to be social. But I see myself as part of the group now, whereas I used to be a wallflower.
What about you--are you drained or refreshed by social activity? Do you see community as a beautiful, organic thing, or simply a necessary part of living in this world?
Later this evening I met a great group of people from an organization called Traffick Free, as my husband was hosting a meeting in our home (which is why I was out for awhile with my kids and my new friend). After being at church this morning, attending a baby shower after church, getting to know a new friend this afternoon, and then meeting new people in my house tonight, you would think I would be exhausted right now.
The old me would have been. I used to see social encounters as barriers to my own free time. I dreaded going out; parties drained me. But now I get so refreshed and energized by being in community, whether new or familiar, that I would seriously consider communal living. I'm not kidding. There is something so freeing about learning how to be myself around people, even people I am meeting for the first time, and expecting that I will enjoy their company...and that they will enjoy mine. I never used to believe I had it in me to be social. But I see myself as part of the group now, whereas I used to be a wallflower.
What about you--are you drained or refreshed by social activity? Do you see community as a beautiful, organic thing, or simply a necessary part of living in this world?
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Why Do I Facebook?
A friend on Facebook recently posed this question in her status, and it really got me thinking...
My Facebook page is a contradiction to anyone paying attention. The pictures show smiling kids, romantic bouquets of flowers, peaceful sunsets, and other beautiful images that I'm sure make anyone outside of my family and close circle of friends gag.
But my status reports often hint at the fact that I am stressed out, restless, discontent, and insecure.
So what's the truth?
Well, Facebook is not exactly where people go to find truth, is it? You can't know someone by their Facebook page. And yet, that's my basis for connection with most people I know, unless I see them regularly face to face.
People reading my Facebook page might imagine that I have nothing but free time--enough time to take, edit and post several pictures on Instagram everyday. They might also think I am the kind of person who knows how to appreciate beauty and is living the good life. They might think I have the perfect family but have to post that I'm stressed out once in awhile so people don't get jealous.
The truth is, Facebook has become the tool by which I process fleeting moments of experience. I have a feeling, and I post something to see how my feeling looks and sounds in a world where others will interact with it. Facebook doesn't begin to represent who I am or what my life is like, but it does provide a pretty accurate timeline of the moods I go through.
And more than anything, I want to be understood. I want to be known and loved for being uniquely me. So I post representations of my moods in the hopes that people will find them lovely.
Sad? Maybe. But at the end of the day I'm grateful for finding this outlet that fits my schedule and short attention span (and doesn't require any artistic talent).
So...why do YOU Facebook?
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