Lessons from the Desert

Surprise, surprise. Even though I gave up blogging nearly two years ago, I should have known that something would draw me back. Writing has always been a constant in my life, but reflective writing is something I all too often find excuses not to make time for. Don't be fooled. I'm under no illusion this blogging will follow a regular pattern, but I do hope to make more time for it. I've decided to give myself the gift of a summer filled with healing and learning to more fully love myself and this beautiful earth filled with beautiful people. Writing seems to be a most excellent companion for that kind of journey.

I've spent the past 8 months living in the desert. Literally. For those of y'all who don't know, west Texas is a desert. When I decided to pursue my PhD, I made a commitment to staying in Texas because I wanted to stay in the same state as my family, but man...sometimes it feels like I'm more than just a few highways away from the north Texas life I used to know with plenty of rain, humidity, traffic, and skyscrapers. Life loves to throw us curve balls, and expectations have a way of getting in the way of reality. I have to smile when I think of how many times I have probably made God shake his head and laugh a big belly laugh during this past year. Ask anyone who knows me well...I am stubborn. I like to have a game plan, and I like to think that planning ahead can resolve most problems. This year brought me a lot of experiences I couldn't have planned on happening, but in the end, they have made me more fully human, more humble, more alive, and more trusting of God's plan for me.

So let's talk about this desert business. I have spent the past few months whining about how much I miss thunderstorms and that there's a disappointingly tiny amount of greenery and wildflowers. While I was on a rocky hike today around the Lubbock Lake Landmark, it hit me. Bam. I've always had an appreciation for dessert, but I'm humbly learning to appreciate the desert (see what I did there?). It took me 8 months, but I've finally learned to see the humble beauty in west Texas. You see, the desert isn't pretentious. The desert doesn't put on airs, trying to be beautiful, sandy beaches or whispy clouds crowning mountain peaks. The desert is what she is, and if you look hard enough, you find reminders of how God has created beauty in the most unexpected of places. There are jackrabbits with their powerful hind legs and graceful leaps, patches of wildflowers hiding amidst the cracked earth and yellowing grass, and yellow bellied birds with sweet songs to sing. Sunset is the time when the west Texas desert reveals all her true beauty in a way that's impossible to ignore, but the rest of the time, you have to be patiently mindful. If you aren't mindful, your eye will glance over the brown and yellow landscape and your nose will wrinkle with disdain. Be patient, and you'll realize that life is happening out there. Even tumble weeds can be kind of exciting because it means that the wind currents are blowing, which always reminds me that the Holy Spirit is at work in ways we can't see.

This got me thinking about how, in many ways, the start to 2014 felt a lot like a desert to me. At times, it was really hard to see how God was working in my life, and I sometimes felt like I was wandering around without much of a game plan. I've had a lot of humble reminders that it's not my plan that matters as much as His plan and how I put it into action. After 8 months in the Lubbock wilderness (that might be a big exaggeration, but we'll go with it), I feel connected to the desert in a way that inspires me to look beyond the grandiose ways that the earth is beautiful or that I can see how God is at work. Instead, my friends, I am striving for a heart that sees beyond the obvious to see the beautiful in the broken, the doubting, and the works in progress.

Compliments

Today, I find myself curious. I'm a big fan of questions. I love asking people about their experiences, thoughts, and beliefs, especially when I have no idea what their answer might entail. I genuinely think that people are fascinating in all their idiosyncrasies, rationalizations, stubbornness, and acts of good will. At the risk of sounding a bit mentally unstable, I love asking questions of myself, too. As a twenty-something, I find myself working towards becoming more self-aware. As I'm whisking through my day-to-day routine or experiencing something unfamiliar, I try to take a few moments to check in with myself. What emotions are being stirred up within me? What are the sensations in my body telling me? What thoughts are roaming around in my head? Am I being present in this moment, enjoying the world around me?

Today, my curiosity is focused on the wonderful phenomenon of compliments. We give, and we receive. Compliments: the concept seems simple. You tell someone something that you admire about them, and they say "thank you." End of the story, right? Wrong. Especially with women, it seems that there's often this intricate dance back and forth between "I compliment you" and "You compliment me back." And what about those of us who find receiving compliments to be a bit awkward? Why is it easier to accept compliments from a stranger than someone I know closely?

This last question has really sparked my curiosity. Generally, I don't receive compliments very well. I know, I know....it's a work in progress. When someone compliments me on my appearance, I'm likely to scrunch up my eyebrows and wrinkle my nose (mostly in a joking way), but I still feel obligated to say "thank you." I am polite to a fault sometimes, but I also try to be guarded against seeming narcissistic. I strive for humility, and while I don't always get there, it's something I value very much. Somewhere along the way, though, I began to equate accepting compliments with being self-centered. What's that about?

Lately, I've begun to question why I respond in this way. Why can't I just smile and say "thank you," without feeling like my stomach is churning butter inside? Why is it so difficult to trust that the person genuinely means what they say? How are humility and self-confidence intertwined together?

I've found that it is easier for me to accept appearance-related compliments from a random stranger than from someone I know personally. In this situation, I can smile, say thank you, and go on with my day. I don't give another thought about what the person will think of me based upon how I respond to a compliment. But when it comes to a compliment from someone I know, I feel uncomfortable. Why the madness, I feel myself wondering.

After giving this some thought, I've realized that within my personal relationships, it is much more important to me that someone values my actions and my behaviors than my appearance. I would rather be seen by those important to me as being intelligent, competent, and self-respecting than simply as someone with a pretty face or great earrings. As I write this, though, I'm struck by the thought that self-respect includes respecting all of one's self: physical appearance, intellectual capability, and emotional being. I'm going to let this thought guide me as I continue to learn how to accept compliments with grace, humility, and joy.

And so, dear friends, if you're still reading this, by now, I'm impressed :) Just consider it all part of the journey of self-awareness. Thanks for joining me on the ride. It's been a fun adventure!

Grounded

Sometimes, I really appreciate living on a planet with gravity. With gravity, I know that at least one of my feet has to be touching the ground. It might be touch-and-go as I hop along from place to place, but eventually, I know I will find secure footing. It could be exciting to visit a far away universe with zero gravity and float around in the atmosphere, but I think being completely untethered sounds more or less terrifying. I can appreciate gravity for the way in which it keeps me grounded. I feel more secure when I know the surface beneath my feet.

This summer, I've made a lot of changes. That statement is such a gross understatement that I can't even begin to describe it in more detail. Some of these changes have been excruciatingly unsettling, and some of them have filled me with a giddy sense of excitement. At times, I've felt like I've lost my footing, and I've found myself searching for my sense of purpose. Who am I? What am I looking for? What makes me happy? What do I need out of life? What legacy do I want to leave behind? The answers to those questions are constantly evolving, and I'm learning to be at peace with that uncertainty.

On the days where I'm feeling lost, I remind myself that gravity is on my side. I'm not afraid to take risks. I can experiment, I can try new things, and I can allow myself to fail. Through all the trial and error, I know that gravity will bring me back to the core of who I am meant to be.

Maybe this sense of being grounded is why I like yoga so much. During this morning's session, I found myself focusing on the sensation of my feet on the mat. My feet were connected to the ground: the same ground that connects me with everyone else on this beautiful planet. While I'm stretching up and around, I feel secure to stretch to my limits because my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I am balanced, and I am strong. I am grounded.  

Never Be Ready: Leaping into 2012

As 2011 prepares to become just a page in our collective memory, I'm inspired to take a few moments to remember the good, the bad, and the unexpected about the past year. As I reviewed my New Year's blog post from last year (Better Days), I am actually impressed that my resolution to search for better days did, in fact, succeed. All in all, 2011 will be considered a pretty decent year in my book.

This past spring, I began the exhilirating, treacherous, and stressful journey of graduate school. I have been blessed with the most phenomenal advisor I could ask for, friends who share my anguish and my joy, and some fantastic books added to my bookshelf. Grad school has certainly been a transition, and I'm still in the process of emerging from the Baylor Bubble. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to expand my worldview and garner as much life experience as possible, and it's been a road lined with challenging growth.

I'm also amazed by how much my family has grown this year. It's been a tough year for many of us, especially due to my grandpa's stroke over the summer. While it's forced all of us to experience the aging process in an in-your-face sort of way, I truly think it has been an unlikely blessing. Watching my grandfather struggle to relearn basic skills through physical therapy has filled me with inspiration and reminded me that we continue to grow and learn until our very last breaths. I have gained a newfound appreciation for his quiet demeanor, and I have loved spending more one-on-one time with both my grandparents. Seeing my family members come together and sacrifice for each other has been a beautiful experience, and in some ways, I am thankful for this family crisis. We may not always get along or see eye-to-eye, but I am certain that we are a passionate family: rich in love, opinions, and a strong will to survive.

It would be a mistake not to reflect on my volunteering experiences with the Behavioral Care unit at ACH Child and Family Services in Fort Worth. For the small price of two hours a week, I'm filled up with joy, hope, and appreciation by the children in residence at ACH. I felt called to begin volunteering with children with behavioral concerns in May, and I truly look forward to my time with these kiddos as the best part of my week. Some of these children carry with them sad stories from their past, but all of them exude this brilliance that can only come from resilience. Truly, I have learned so much from them about the ability to find joy in the smallest of happenings, the ability to love despite maltreatment, and the courage to overcome difficult circumstances.

With that in mind, I'm ready to leave 2011 behind, not with a sense of spitefulness or discouragement, but with hope and excitement for the new things that 2012 will bring. My song for this year is Never Be Ready by Mat Kearney.

Come on lay down these arms, all our best defenses
We're taking our chances here on the run
The fear is an anchor, time is a stranger,
Love isn't borrowed, we aren't promised tomorrow

How true is that? Nothing is guaranteed in life, not even tomorrow. I want to enjoy every morsel of each day. Okay, that might be a tad unrealistic (after all, who enjoys sitting in tedious traffic or waiting in line at the grocery store?). Nevertheless, my goal for this year is to enjoy life a little more. Love a little more. Hug a little more. Blog a little more. Pray a little more Do yoga a little more. Smile a little more. Breathe deeply a little more.

I'm not looking for huge changes in 2012, but I'm looking for that elusive happiness in small happenings. If I focus on all the wonderful things that happen on a daily basis, I'm a lot less likely to focus on the things that aren't quite so wonderful. One things I know about myself is that I put off a lot things because I'm waiting to be "ready," but honestly, we all know the perfect moment isn't just going to drop into our laps. Tomorrow isn't promised, and sometimes, today is all we have. Every once in a while, you just have to take a leap of faith. So here's to leaping into 2012!

On Fire

Greetings, friends! It's been quite a while since I've visited here. At first, I just didn't have anything exciting enough to write about, so I waited for inspiration to enter my thoughts. Then, I was too busy with writing papers for school. And now, here we are. Finally, something has shaken me out of a blogging writer's block. Have you ever had one of those weeks where you just couldn't wait for it to be over? Maybe you got a phone call with some tragic news, or maybe you lost your job. Maybe you had a bad break-up, or maybe you failed a test. The point is, we've all experienced that sense of exhaustion at the end of a difficult, madness-inducing week. The week isn't quite over yet, so I'm a bit hesitant to say this, but...I have survived a ridiculous week.

Earlier in the week, our house was broken into. It happened in broad daylight, and it happened even though the doors were locked. It happened even though we were careful and not flashy with all of our amazing wealth (please note the sarcasm). It happened even though we hadn't stolen anything from anyone else, and it happened even though we thought we had guarded our home against an invasion. It happened. Someone foreign was in our home, someone took our things, and someone chose to act selfishly. It was sad, it was scary, and it still feels surreal. I could talk about a sense of violation or a sense of fear, but in all honesty, those feelings faded away the moment I realized how thankful I am. I am safe, my family is safe, and the things stolen were just earthly things. In a strange way, I'm almost grateful to have had the experience. Don't get me wrong; I certainly won't be writing this burglar a thank-you card or sending him a batch of cupcakes. Instead of living in fear of another invasion, though, I'm taking this as an opporunity to remember the important things in life. At the end of the day, I get to call the most wonderful man I know and tell him I love him. I get to tell my beautiful Mama how lucky I am to have her, and I get to tell my brother how proud I am of him. That's something no burglar gets to take away.

I guess God decided that I needed an extra wake-up call, because today, one of my neighbor's houses caught on fire. With those Texas winds blowing strongly, there was a strong concern that the fire could spread to our own house. I have never been near a fire like that before, and I couldn't have predicted how smoky the atmosphere would be. As we stood outside watching the firefighters work to put out the fire, my lungs burned with the ash in the air, and my heart ached for the family whose home went up in flames. When they woke up this morning, I doubt that they thought, "Hmm I bet I'm going to lose most of what I own today, so I'd better eat a good breakfast." The inside of my own house still smells like smoke, and even though I've showered, I can still smell the smoke on my skin and in my hair. In a weird way, I don't want that to go away. Yes, it probably causes cancer, but what a reminder that we can rise from ashes. We can take those ashes to remember the crucial things in life, the things that make life worth living. In my opinion, that doesn't include flatscreen TVs, expensive shoes, computers, or family antiques. The crucial things in life are our relationships, and like it or not, those aren't permanent either. We're all living on borrowed time, so why not make the most of it?

Life is scary sometimes, but it can be a beautiful wake-up call. Wake up, and do something meaningful with your life today. Are you who you want to be? I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I only get one chance at this crazy life, and I don't want to waste it. 

Waiting on the World to Change

As far as John Mayer fans go, I'm probably in that top tier of crazies. He's one of those artists I can listen to on repeat, and I hardly ever get sick of his music. BUT there is one song that I absolutely cannot stand: Waiting on the World to Change. Perhaps you're familiar with it. The actual music is fine, but the lyrics make me cringe, and I skip over it every time my iTunes shuffles to it.

Waiting on the world to change. I would argue that that mentality is exactly what's wrong with society. Too often, we wait for someone else to make the first move. We wait for someone to apologize before we forgive them. We wait to change our behavior until someone calls us out on it. We wait for a family member to get sick before we make those sacrifices to see them more often. We wait for others to change so we can have a stronger, happier relationship. We wait for someone to write a law or cite a Scripture verse that tells us the "right" thing to do. In a society that promotes  impulsivity and immediate gratification, I find all this waiting paradoxical. Beautiful and heart-sickening, isn't it?

Now, I realize that when you point a finger at someone else, you're pointing three fingers back at yourself. I will readily admit, I'm guilty of this, too.

My question to myself is, "Why wait? Why not be that force that sets more change in motion?" In the vast amounts of wisdom I've accumulated since turning 22 (please note the sarcasm in that), I've realized that the world doesn't wait for anyone, so why would you wait for the entire world to change? You can't change the rest of the world; you can only change yourself. When you change yourself, you change your world.

It's easy to get caught up in the madness of trying to be an exceptional (or even an adequate) student, employee, spouse, parent, or friend. Being a human is hard enough without all the roles we adopt for ourselves. But why not make it worth your while by spicing things up? Do something different today, and see how it changes your world.

Who am I?

Recently, I've rediscovered my love for the show House. You know, the one with the not-so-nice doctor who habitually gulps down Vicodin and then saves people's lives. Yes, I'm aware that this is a hallmark example of ridiculous prime time television that is not at all congruent with the actual practice of medicine. Yes, I realize that acting that way in real life will most certainly end in a malpractice suit...take note, med school friends. I must admit, though, I find the character of Dr. House fascinating. He's cantankerous at best, overly self-involved, and brilliant at diagnostics. He's a soul in torment, haunted by his own health issues and the ghosts of his past relationships. In one episode, another character on the show commented that House is afraid to let himself be happy in a relationship because he's afraid that his misery is what makes him who he is. He's afraid that if he allows himself to be happy, he'll lose that edge that identifies him as special, that keeps him objective, and what makes him known in his field. At first, I thought something along the lines of "that's ridiculous," and then I realized that I can see that in myself, at times.

I worry. I could waste lines and lines here listing the things of the past, present, and future that I dedicate worrying to, but I won't. I'm learning to let go, and I'm realizing that this has to be self-taught. No matter how many people tell me, "Don't worry, it'll be ok," that doesn't change me. That doesn't change the roots of my worry, and that doesn't change the way that I respond to my worries. Worry can be protective in some ways; it can lead to planning and action, which could lead to a path of future success, or it could save someone's life in an emergency situation. When worry ceases to be protective, however, is when it does not lead to action. Worrying without limits is like weeds in a garden; it eventually chokes out the goodness.

I'm coming to realize that I often tend to over-identify with my worries as a core part of who I am. Part of me wants this to change, and the other part of me isn't ready to give it up yet (homeostasis, anyone?). I feel comfortable with my worry, and giving up that worry means trusting others and God....which is a whole other blog topic. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with my endless search for finding ways to manage my worries, I remind myself that it's a process. It takes time. Worry has plagued humanity since ancient times. I am more than my worry, and it's simply a piece of the puzzle of me.

What are you hesitant to give up about yourself?