Becoming Karen

So it’s day 15 in my 31 day challenge.  To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d still be writing.  I thought I’d run out of things to say or that the fullness of life would become my excuse to quit.  I’m glad I’ve hung in.  And I’m thankful that you’ve hung in with me!

So I want to tell you what I’ve learned these past 15 days.

Writing is a positive way to do something with all the thoughts that seem to infiltrate and swirl around in my head. 

I like to think about things.  I like to ask questions and solve problems.  I like to understand what motivates me and others.  And I’m fascinated with human behavior.  But all of that can make me a little crazy.  I can sometimes spend too much time overthinking things and situations.  Writing allows me to formulate clear, concise thoughts about what I’m pondering.  It helps me clarify what I’m thinking and feeling, and allows me to see what God’s trying to teach me.  After I type it all up, I find myself feeling lighter and a little more clear headed.

Writing, although tough sometimes, makes me feel more alive. 

I’ve found that writing is a very emotional process for me because I’m sharing an intimate part of myself.  There are some things that I write about that leave me feeling very exposed and vulnerable.  Yet, I feel more alive when I do.  It helps me connect to those common human elements that we all share.  And it makes me feel brave and courageous!

Being honest and vulnerable is scary, but worth it.

When I write and then publish something that exposes a part of my heart, I feel the anxiety rising in my body.  I have an intense desire to take back what I’ve already put out for others to read. What will they think?  Will they really understand what I’m trying to say?  What will they think of me?  What if they hate it or think I’m weird?  I have to remind myself that it’s worth the risk, no matter what the reaction.  The amazing thing is, some people connect with my writing.  And it’s that connection that brings satisfaction; knowing that I’m not alone or that I’ve struck a nerve.  That makes it worth the risk.

So I’m learning to let go of worrying about other’s reactions and just write.  I’m learning how to share honestly and thoughtfully which means I’m learning more about myself.  (Sometimes that’s a difficult thing.)  And I’m learning that God really did create me to communicate through writing and speaking.  So I better stick with it…

My kids like to watch “Once Upon a Time”.  It’s a show that combines modern times with fairy tales and other magical stories.  There are plenty of good characters and villains to keep things interesting.  And there is a lot of magic.

Generally what happens is someone gets into trouble and a loved one seeks out a magical solution, which usually entails going to a villain.  The phrase that is repeated over and over is, ‘there is a price for using magic’.  Sometimes the price is known up front; you must obtain a certain object or person as payment.  More often, the price is owing a favor to be determined and collected at a later date.  As I watch, I’m amazed at how quickly the characters agree to become indebted to the evil villain.

I know, I know, it’s just a show.

But it reminds me of how quickly I can jump at the chance to do the easy, or selfish, or sinful thing even though I know there will be a price.  And usually, the price is higher than I thought or want it to be, and it always comes due at the most inopportune times.

Take my fondness of sweets for instance.  I like sweets.  I always have.  As a kid, I loved to bake.  My treats would garner high praise from those around me and would offer that great sugar rush when consumed.  Throughout my adult life, I have continued to enjoy sweets.  Unfortunately, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found that there is a price to be paid when I have sweets too many days in a row.  Knowing that I may become irritable and not feel well, does not stop me from overindulging in those delectable treats.  I see them.  They look good.  I know they taste good.  I know that I will have that glorious little rush.  So I do the easy thing…I eat.

I’m just like those characters.  And like those characters, I have to pay the price.  (Unfortunately, so do those around me when I get irritable.  Sorry.)  The crazy thing is that it’s happened more than once or twice or ten or one hundred times.  You’d think I’d learn.  But like the characters on the show, I keep going back, thinking it may be different this time.  How insane!

My hope is that one day sweets won’t have that pull on me, but I’m not sure that will happen.  Rather, I think it’s time to choose to do the hard thing and say no.  I know; that’s no fun at all!

But here I go.  I’ll let you know how it goes…

When talking with women in my life as of late, there seems to be a common thread:  How do you ease your load and replenish your soul when you’ve already pared down your schedule to it’s bare bones?  When you’ve quit the extra committees or service opportunities, and you still feel like you’re drowning.  When you’ve limited or totally eliminated the extra activities of your family, and you still fell like you’re constantly running.  What then?

What if the things that have to get done are enough to drain you dry?

The groceries have to be purchased and meals made.  Jobs must be done.  Dirty clothes need to be washed.  Bills must be paid.  Children, and some adults, need to be cared for.  Homes must be maintained.  Appointments must be kept and transportation arranged.  It’s enough to make a girl’s head spin.

What do you eliminate?  How do you find relief?

I don’t know.  I wish I knew.  I wish there were an easy three step process to follow.  I haven’t found one.

What I have found, though, is there’s something about sharing my struggles with other women that brings some relief.  It doesn’t change my schedule, but it makes my heart a little lighter.  I know I’m not alone.  I know I’m not crazy or weird.  And I find grace and mercy given to me when I won’t give it to myself.

It’s not always easy to do and there is definitely risk involved.  There have been some who don’t want to hear the honesty, and they certainly don’t want to speak the truth.  But mostly, I’ve found that when I come clean with the struggles of keeping it all together, I’m met with sighs of relief and responses of ‘me too’.

So I may not have an easy three step process to make life more manageable, but I do have a few women who remind me that I’m not alone.

There’s a Puppy Station in the city where my oldest daughter goes to school.  It’s a business that sells puppies, but their biggest draw is selling puppy holding time.  For a quarter, you can go in, choose a puppy, and hold it for as long as you would like.  Not surprising, some of their busiest times are during mid-terms and finals.

Last fall when we went to visit her, we took a trip to the Puppy Station.  It was so fun!  There were several different breeds of dogs there.  Our favorite was a basset hound puppy.  All he wanted to do was sleep in someone’s lap.  He was warm and soft.  And he let us play with his ears which were so long and smooth.

There’s something about holding a puppy that’s calming and relaxing.  I know dogs and other animals are used more and more to bring comfort and calm to a wide variety of people in different circumstances.  There’s a body of scientific proof that blood pressure lowers and people just feel better when they are around animals.  I know I felt very peaceful and calm holding my puppy.

We stayed for quite some time.  The only reason we left when we did was there was a long line forming and we felt like it was time to let others have a turn.

Today, I wish there was a puppy station here.  As I look at what this next week has for us, I can feel my blood pressure rise and the pit in my stomach start to form.  I’m sure a lot of you can relate.  Sometimes there seems like more to do than time available in the week. It can make me tired before the week even begins.

I know that it will all get done and we will all survive the full schedule, it’s just not how I like to live my life.  I like to have a little breathing room.  Room for relationships.  Room to be interrupted.  Room for impromptu conversations.  Room for thinking and reflecting.  Room for holding puppies.

Anyone know of a puppy I can borrow for an hour?

What if you pray for healing, and the answer is no?  What if you pray for the treatment to work, and the answer is no?  What if you pray for a baby this month, and the answer is no?  What if you pray, and the answer is no?

Is God still good?  Is he still in control?  Is He still faithful?  Is He still loving?

I love hearing about those times when people pray and God’s answer is yes.  Those times when they look for the tumor and it’s gone.  Those times when all seems lost and the miraculous happens.  Those times when death seems certain and life begins again.  Upon hearing those stories, we celebrate.  We smile and laugh.  We sing.  We talk of God’s goodness and His provision.  We tell anyone and everyone who will listen.

But what if the answer is no?

Can we still celebrate?  Can we still talk of God’s goodness and provision?  Can we speak of God’s love?

In the last week, I know of friends and family members who have been told no.  There will be no miraculous healing.  The treatment will not work.  There will be no baby this month.

Is God still good?  Can we still praise Him?

I don’t understand why some people get the ‘yes’ while others receive ‘no’.  God is God, and I am not.  He doesn’t owe me an explanation.  This is where that faith and trust come in.

So in the midst of my pain and disappointment, I stand in faith, trusting that God is still good.  And that He will give strength, comfort, and peace to all of us who have to live with a ‘no’.

My son with autism is very particular.  When things aren’t exactly how he would like them to be, he becomes anxious and obsessively thinks about the problem or issue.  And whether it’s a small or big one, he has a hard time letting go.

Earlier in the week, his phone was not working properly.  We were at the grocery store so I told him that when we got home, I would take a look at it and see what we needed to do.  I also reminded him that his brother was home and he would be able to help us because he had a similar phone.  All through the store he pushed buttons, sighed with frustration, and talked about his phone not working.  I again told him we would be home soon and we could look at it then.  As we got in the van, the pushing, sighing and talking started again.  I tried to ignore it, but I found my frustration growing.

When we got home, we asked my other son for help.  As he looked at his brother’s phone, I could see the anxiety rising. I told him that even if his brother couldn’t fix the phone, we could take it to the store and get help.  He started shaking his head no. He wanted his phone fixed and he wanted it fixed now!  Thankfully, my son figured out what the issue was and rectified it.

It was enough to make this mom weary.

As I’ve thought about this and the other incidences this week, I realized how alike he and I are.  When things aren’t going my way, I too become anxious.  I start thinking about the issue over and over.  I may be able to move on to other things for a while, but eventually, my mind goes back.  I find myself wanting the solution to come quickly or rather, instantly.  I think about it and talk about it.  I talk about it and think about it some more.

It’s enough to make me weary.

So I’m trying something new.  I heard a woman talk about interrupting your obsessive or negative thinking by singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’.  I know, it sounds a little weird.  Maybe it would sound better or more spiritual if she had recommended an inspirational thought or a bible verse.  But she said the song is one everyone knows and it’s so simple and silly that you can’t help but stop the thoughts running through your head.

Guess what?  She’s right.

As I started to think about things on my walk this morning, I tried it.  I found myself smiling and laughing.  Partly because I thought I must be a sight to my neighbors; a grown woman walking around the neighborhood singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’!  It was enough to stop my thoughts, though.  And when I was done singing and laughing at myself, I found that I could take a step back and gain some perspective.

I’d like to tell you it was a one time thing.  It wasn’t.  The thoughts came back.  So I sang again.  And I’ll keep singing because I know that obsessing on those negative thoughts or circumstances only leads to anxiety and frustration.

So if you see me walking around singing to myself and laughing, I haven’t lost my mind, I’m trying to gain some perspective.

Last night for dinner, I made gumbo.  My husband is usually the one who makes it. But since he’s working and living in a neighboring city during the week, it was up to me.

The hardest part of making a good gumbo is the roux.  It’s the flour and oil mixture that not only thickens the gumbo, but also gives it a nutty, rich flavor.  The trickiest part is cooking it until it’s dark brown, but stopping before it burns.

So as I started making the roux, I thought back to the last time I made gumbo.  It was okay, but not as good as my husband’s.  I didn’t cook the roux long enough.  So this time I wanted to make sure I didn’t stop before it was ready.

I wondered why this seemed so easy for my husband.  Yes, he’s made it many times before, but there’s something more.  He’s willing to fail.  He’s willing to keep cooking the roux until it becomes dark brown even if that means burning it and starting over.  His philosophy, it’s just flour and oil; he can try again.

The first time I made gumbo, I wasn’t willing to fail.  I was so worried about living up to my husband’s gumbo that I became too cautious and quit before it was ready.  It turned out okay, but it could have been better.

As I stirred the roux, I wondered in what other areas have I been too cautious.  Where else have I played it safe?  Truthfully, a lot of places.  I don’t like to fail.  (I don’t know many people who do.)  I like to play it safe.  I’m not fond of taking big risks.

Playing it safe has been okay.  But what if I want better?  What if I want great?  Am I willing to risk burning a little flour in the process?

I’ll let you know…

A couple of weeks ago, my husband and I went to a Van Halen concert.  When I met my husband, Van Halen was one of his favorite bands.  So when I saw they were coming to our area, I bought tickets for our 26th wedding anniversary.

It’s been over fifteen years since I’ve been to a rock concert.  The last one I went to with a friend was full of teenagers and young adults smashed together for several hours trying to get as close to the stage as possible.  This concert was very different.  Why you might ask?  Because the majority of the attendees were middle aged men and women who periodically sat down in their assigned seats to give their backs a break from standing.

Yes, we’ve arrived….we’re old.  (In another twenty years we will look back and think how young we were!)  As I looked around the pavilion before the concert, I saw a lot a people who looked like me; grey hair, wrinkles, and a little extra weight.

But then the concert started.   Something incredible happened.  As the music started, I was instantly taken back in time.  I was once again that 17 year old girl in my boyfriend’s (now husband) yellow Datsun.  I was sitting in the passenger seat as he drove on the back roads of the small city where we lived.  And like then, we were now singing along like rock stars.

I looked around and saw that the others had been taken back in time as well.  It was fabulous to watch!  We were all on our feet, moving our hips, and belting out the lyrics just like we used to.  My kids would have been embarrassed by all the butt shaking going on by ‘old people’ which made it even more enjoyable. I could see the smiles on peoples faces as they were not only enjoying the music, but remembering what it was like when they first listened to each song.

That’s the amazing thing about music.  It can take you back in time and bring back memories that were almost forgotten.  It can elicit emotions long ago packed away.  It can cause your body to move in ways you were certain it couldn’t anymore.   And it can bring a joy and fun that responsibilities stifle.

It was wonderful being seventeen again with my husband.

I think maybe it’s time to find some of those old CDs…