This weekend, I got to spend quality time with some of my favorite ladies.
Sitting with my mom, a creamy and sweet cup of coffee in my hands while still in my pj's. Time to be heard with no interruptions; no need to start and restart and start and restart the same thought. Time to laugh at the funny (and not so funny) aspects of being a mom. Time to be encouraged. My heart was filled.
Working side-by-side in the kitchen with my sister. Laughing and reminiscing about middle school fashion shows and awkward moments. Chopping veggies and snitching baby green asparagus pieces. Marveling at the intoxicating smells of the dish she is preparing. My stomach was filled.
Squawking along with Sara Groves in the car. Three hours all told; just the two of us driving along in the car. Hearing her words speak the stilted stutters of my heart ... again. A few brief tears, a smattering of goose bumps, a renewed spirit. My soul was filled.
Yes, I ran away for the weekend, but this time not out of desperation. This was intentional. This was planned weeks ago. It was, of course, choreographed by God. After my previous tear-filled flight to Montrose, I have been trying to be more intentional about giving myself some breaks. Choosing to be purposeful in not filling my proverbial plate has been a blessing. For me and my family.
Besides trying to deliberately minimize the commitments I say, "Yes", to, I have also begun a beautiful tradition of a Sabbath week. It looks a little like this ...
I highlight the week on the kitchen calendar, declaring this week off-limits for chaos.
No extra errands.
No play dates.
No meetings.
No doctor's appointments.
I stay home.
I look a project in the eyes and tackle it. All the way to the miraculous end.
I sit on the floor and play Candyland. And then maybe Chutes & Ladders.
I make a list and cross a few things off. And shrug off the to-do's that linger.
I tackle the usual tasks. The laundry, gymnastic trips and meals are a must.
I breathe grace in and breathe grace out. For me and my kids.
I truly wish I could dress every week up for its own Sabbath rest. But life has it's own demands. For now, my one week a month will do.
This weekend was a wonderful spring board for my upcoming week.
I am well fed and ready to rest.
Showing posts with label Stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stress. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2012
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Toy Packaging
Toy Packaging.
Just those two little words strike fear into the hearts of moms & dads, grandmas & grandpas, aunts & uncles around the world.
As Brett and I were wrapping gifts this past week, there was a temptation to de-box, de-twisty-, de-band, de-staple and de-shrink-wrap a few of the toys. But what is Christmas morning without a pair of scissors lost somewhere in a sea of wrapping paper and an impatient three-year old demanding, "I play it now!"??
Exactly.
It just wouldn't be Christmas if Brett wasn't sitting over in the corner quickly and efficiently freeing Polly Pocket pieces from their packaging and trying not to snip a finger or lose a precious miniature shoe in all the trash. Thanks, Honey. You're the best.
This is such an familiar aspect of the Holidays, that Sara Groves wrote a wonderful little song about it. Proof that toy packaging is a universal frustration for the families of the world!
Toy Packaging
Just those two little words strike fear into the hearts of moms & dads, grandmas & grandpas, aunts & uncles around the world.
As Brett and I were wrapping gifts this past week, there was a temptation to de-box, de-twisty-, de-band, de-staple and de-shrink-wrap a few of the toys. But what is Christmas morning without a pair of scissors lost somewhere in a sea of wrapping paper and an impatient three-year old demanding, "I play it now!"??
Exactly.
It just wouldn't be Christmas if Brett wasn't sitting over in the corner quickly and efficiently freeing Polly Pocket pieces from their packaging and trying not to snip a finger or lose a precious miniature shoe in all the trash. Thanks, Honey. You're the best.
This is such an familiar aspect of the Holidays, that Sara Groves wrote a wonderful little song about it. Proof that toy packaging is a universal frustration for the families of the world!
Toy Packaging
By Sara Groves and Ben Shive | |
| Nothing makes me loose my cool like Toy packaging Ask the kids to leave the room for Toy packaging I have no choice the money's spent I've worked for hours to make a dent I guess it's anger management Toy packaging Nothing makes me lose my cool like toy packaging Ask the kids please leave the room, it's time for toy packaging I'm drawing up a battle plan To extricate this Robot man My self-esteem is in the can Toy packaging In the old days you could hold a box and shake it And hear the pieces rattling around My eyes tear up at these grommets, tape and twisty ties Remembering that beautiful sound Nothing makes me lose my cool like toy packaging Kids you need to leave the room, mom's opening toy packaging I'm sorry you have to see this sight You must be brave, no please don't cry I promise it will be alright I hope to have it by tonight ... Never mind this dynamite Toy packaging Isn't that awesome? In the background of the song are noises of sawing and hammering and Sara desperately hollering, "Honey!" It makes me smile even now. With as much plastic, wires and tape that go into the packaging of toys these days, you almost get the impression that they don't want you to be able to open it and enjoy it. It's almost like the goal is to make the item within the box utterly and completely unreachable. "Yep. It's just what you wanted. It was even on your Christmas list. Isn't it amazing? What? You want to open it? And play with it? You actually want to touch it? That's absurd!" God is the exact opposite. His gift of salvation is utterly and completely accessible! There are no twisty-ties holding it captive. There are no itty-bitty bits of plastic holding it contained. There is no packaging tape keeping it sealed. There are no plastic bags keeping it prisoner. God's gift of Jesus is open, inviting and ready to be experienced. No scissors required. It's exactly your size, it's what you've always wanted and ... it's just what you need. Go ahead. Take it, open it and enjoy it. It's yours. | |
Monday, September 19, 2011
Stressed Out
Poor Petey is stressed.
He is in the midst of a six-week molting season and he's miserable. He sits trembling on his manzanita twig, fluffing what feathers he has left and periodically peering out of the cage with one black beady eye. He has obvious bald patches on his belly and shoulders and with each fluff of his wings, more yellow feathers flutter out of his cage and to the floor. He still has a hearty appetite and can regularly be found sitting in his food dish picking through his seed. It would appear that flax seed, oatmeal, broccoli and wheat bread are his only actual comforts in life. He periodically will plop into his bird bath for a quick soak, but even that simple task seems to be exhausting to him. He is skittish and frightened. Someone simply walking past his cage prompts him to hurl himself to the furthest corner of his cage. It's pathetic.
The absolute worst part of this re-feathering season, however, is that he has apparently forgotten how to sing. My sweet little friend who typically serenades me as I wash dishes now sits silently on his perch, eyes closed and head tucked.
A song-less canary fluffing his featherless-ness and quivering. So sad.
According to all the websites I've explored, this is a natural part of a bird's life. It might be inevitable, but that doesn't make it any easier. On Petey or me. I can't wait for this stress-filled season to be behind us.
Like Petey, we also face the inevitability of stress in our lives. And like Petey, that stress often presents itself in a variety of ways.
What do you do when you are stressed?
Do you stuff it in or let it explode?
Do you go for a run or run to food?
Do you chew out your kids or chew on your nails?
Do you get quiet and withdraw or do you get vocal and expressive?
Do you search high and low for a quick fix or do you settle in and wallow?
In all honesty, I am a stuff-it-in, stress-eating, kid-chewing, withdrawn wallower.
And you?
Stress in my life seems to come and go in seasons, too. I find that stressful times typically are the result of too many demands and not enough time, energy or inspiration to manage it all. I can get so focused on the pesky and stressful aspects of my life (no names, please ... ) that I lose sight of the good and lovely aspects of my life (Aaron, Norah, Ashley, Lydia, Brett, Jesus ... ).
In the midst of a stressful episode, I find myself wishing for a giant bowl of chocolate to sit in and eat from, desiring to fluff myself up and hide my head under the covers and flee from anyone else who might possible need something from me.
I also would admit that when I am stressed, I forget to sing. This is certainly one of the worst parts of stress.
In the Bible, Jesus tells us that one of our jobs is to sing praises to God. It's not only a job, however, but a privilege. Jesus goes on to say in Luke 19:39-41, that if we choose not to sing praises to God, that the stones of the earth will cry out instead.
How often have I allowed daily stresses to steal my privilege to sing?
How often have I let my inevitable stress rob me of the joy of praising God?
And how often have I missed out on the miracle of having my perspective changed through praise?
I know that poor Petey can't help his predicament. In a few weeks, he'll find himself re-feathered and ready to sing. I, however, have a daily choice. I can choose to stuff it in, eat my way through it, chew on a few kids and withdraw into silence. Or ...
I can choose to praise.
And you?
He is in the midst of a six-week molting season and he's miserable. He sits trembling on his manzanita twig, fluffing what feathers he has left and periodically peering out of the cage with one black beady eye. He has obvious bald patches on his belly and shoulders and with each fluff of his wings, more yellow feathers flutter out of his cage and to the floor. He still has a hearty appetite and can regularly be found sitting in his food dish picking through his seed. It would appear that flax seed, oatmeal, broccoli and wheat bread are his only actual comforts in life. He periodically will plop into his bird bath for a quick soak, but even that simple task seems to be exhausting to him. He is skittish and frightened. Someone simply walking past his cage prompts him to hurl himself to the furthest corner of his cage. It's pathetic.
The absolute worst part of this re-feathering season, however, is that he has apparently forgotten how to sing. My sweet little friend who typically serenades me as I wash dishes now sits silently on his perch, eyes closed and head tucked.
A song-less canary fluffing his featherless-ness and quivering. So sad.
According to all the websites I've explored, this is a natural part of a bird's life. It might be inevitable, but that doesn't make it any easier. On Petey or me. I can't wait for this stress-filled season to be behind us.
Like Petey, we also face the inevitability of stress in our lives. And like Petey, that stress often presents itself in a variety of ways.
What do you do when you are stressed?
Do you stuff it in or let it explode?
Do you go for a run or run to food?
Do you chew out your kids or chew on your nails?
Do you get quiet and withdraw or do you get vocal and expressive?
Do you search high and low for a quick fix or do you settle in and wallow?
In all honesty, I am a stuff-it-in, stress-eating, kid-chewing, withdrawn wallower.
And you?
Stress in my life seems to come and go in seasons, too. I find that stressful times typically are the result of too many demands and not enough time, energy or inspiration to manage it all. I can get so focused on the pesky and stressful aspects of my life (no names, please ... ) that I lose sight of the good and lovely aspects of my life (Aaron, Norah, Ashley, Lydia, Brett, Jesus ... ).
In the midst of a stressful episode, I find myself wishing for a giant bowl of chocolate to sit in and eat from, desiring to fluff myself up and hide my head under the covers and flee from anyone else who might possible need something from me.
I also would admit that when I am stressed, I forget to sing. This is certainly one of the worst parts of stress.
In the Bible, Jesus tells us that one of our jobs is to sing praises to God. It's not only a job, however, but a privilege. Jesus goes on to say in Luke 19:39-41, that if we choose not to sing praises to God, that the stones of the earth will cry out instead.
How often have I allowed daily stresses to steal my privilege to sing?
How often have I let my inevitable stress rob me of the joy of praising God?
And how often have I missed out on the miracle of having my perspective changed through praise?
I know that poor Petey can't help his predicament. In a few weeks, he'll find himself re-feathered and ready to sing. I, however, have a daily choice. I can choose to stuff it in, eat my way through it, chew on a few kids and withdraw into silence. Or ...
I can choose to praise.
And you?
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