Words.

I have always loved kids. My mom will tell you that I have just been obsessed with babies since I was young and I played with dolls for an embarrassingly long time. So, you can just imagine how elated I am that I now have seven nieces and nephews, ages five and under. They are equal parts squish and squeal and, of course, they're THE cutest ever because they're mine. All my baby dreams come true, you guys!

The thing about having little kids around is they allow you to see the world in a fresh way - things adults take for granted are brand new to these curious little eyes and you remember, again, what it’s like to be filled with wonder over the seemingly small and ordinary. But, my very favorite part about little kiddos is when they start to find their voice. At first it’s baby giggles and cooing, little sounds, and then s l o w l y one word, two words, small sentences. Language acquisition has always been so interesting to me. I took a couple of linguistics classes in college that left me wanting to learn more about language and dialects and how our tongue, our teeth, and our lips all work to make these sounds that make words that make up communication. One of my nephews, Sam, just turned two and over the last six months he has picked up so many more words. Like suddenly overnight he was telling us colors and calling people by name, although in his stage of development the name Jude (his brother) sounds like Jooba, and the word orange actually sounds like jornge. It's hilarious.

Before he could speak in words, Sam, like all tiny ones, could only speak with his emotions. Crying, laughing, a tantrum, excitedly pointing. Even as kids begin to use words, they sometimes revert back to these emotional charades to get what they want. When we can’t figure out what they want from a wild display of emotion, a phrase a lot of moms tell their kids is, “Use your words.” Tell us what you want, buddy. We can’t figure it out from what sounds like a hyena and throwing yourself on the floor. Use your words.

A couple of years ago I was kind of talking to this guy in the weird way we do now where everything is a guess as to what’s actually going on. We had been talking for a while, hung out a couple of times, texts, Snapchat, you know the drill. It came in waves and lulls on both of our parts but there was a lot of wondering involved, at least on my end. Am I bothering him? Does he like me or is he just bored or am I just an option? He likes me, right? He wouldn’t have done ____ if he didn’t. Am I crazy? These are the mental gymnastics that surround meeting someone and possibly dating them. This post on Instagram that my friend sent me just yesterday actually sums it up. It’s exhausting. 

So at some point we have to get exhausted enough to quit. At least I did. One night when I was done with the games and the guessing I ticked out a text message that said something along the lines of, “Hey, I like you and I kind of thought you might like me too. If you don’t, that’s okay, but now you can’t say you didn’t know.” Or something like that. We had a short conversation that didn’t end in my favor, but that’s okay. At least then I had the freedom to move on instead of sit in the halls of uncertainty.

We tell little kids, “Use your words,” but it’s time to start saying that to grown-ups too and maybe with more urgency. So often I have conversations with people and we're trying to guess what someone else might be thinking or feeling and, instead of asking, we fill in the blanks for that other person. We come up with a response for them instead of let them be responsible for their reaction and it stops us from moving forward or moving on in the relationship. I read one time that we don't see people as they are, we see them as we are. We assume what they must think/feel/believe and let that dictate our actions. This is true in relationships and friendships and basically everything involving humans.

I think what holds us back from using our words is mostly fear. What will they think? What will they say? We all know what we hope the other person will say. We’ve come up with the script and we’ve seen the movie play out in our heads a million times. The problem is we never get on the stage. We just rehearse it over and over again, letting it drag on, letting the questioning and the wondering keep happening until we’ve driven ourselves nearly crazy. Well, I don’t want them to think ______. I don’t want them to feel _______. We torment ourselves with these kinds of worries.

Not only is it a fear thing, it’s a control thing. If we keep the script and the emotions to ourselves, there’s no way they can hurt us with their words or respond differently than we plan. The script in our heads is working out just fine where they apologize to us/fall in love with us/make the choice we want them to make, thank you very much. Of course that’s easier. I was talking to my cousin the other day about relationships and how they require such vulnerability and she said, “I just hate having my feelings attached to something I can’t control at all.” We laughed about it, but isn’t it true? Like we’re so afraid to feel something so it’s best to just stay in limbo. Instead of the possibility of feeling something uncomfortable or unpleasant, we make ourselves busy, push things under the rug, divert, distract, avoid. And then we wonder why we’re all so hungry for real connection and relationship.

I’m still bad at this, but I’d like to think I’m getting better. I’d rather you know how I feel and think I’m crazy for it than just pretend I don’t feel it at all and hope it goes away or magically resolves on its own. Clue: it never resolves on its own. It festers and spills over into other arenas, comes out in other ways. It makes us bitter and passive aggressive and behave in ways we might not otherwise behave.

I think a lot could be solved if we all learned to use our words. It’s going to get sticky – relationships are that way. But rather than assume what someone is going to think or say or feel, let them be responsible for their response. My mom used to always tell us, “Don’t worry about what other people are doing. Worry about what you’re doing.” That’s all you can really do – your part. But at least say something. Put the words out there. Set aside your self-preservation for three seconds and say what you need to say. That’s a John Mayer song I used to listen to on repeat hoping this one boy would say something to me – I love you would have been preferable, but you know, we don’t always get what we want. 

The other side of this is that our words matter. We’ve all heard, Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Well, I heard a new version recently that resonates so much more: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can crush my soul. We all have defining moments in our lives which involve the words someone else said to us. Words that stuck. Words that pierced deep or words that healed. Words we can replay in our heads, conjuring up the specific memory - the exact sights and sounds of that particular moment. Words that brought joy and words that brought devastation. Words matter. And they might stick with someone so much longer than you think they will. So use them carefully. Use them wisely. But use them.

All that to say, I’m tired of the guessing and the wondering. If you ask me what to do in a certain situation, I’ll be the first to say, call them. Talk to them. Get them in front of your face and spill your guts. Stop filling in the blanks for them. Do your part.

It’s time to drop the script. Use your words.  

Thanksgiving.

The contentment challenge is getting harder, so I guess that's why it's called a challenge. But I'm sticking with it. This is part two on gratitude. Part one is here. 

Shortly after Thanksgiving last year, I heard a commercial on the radio for Verizon. In promotion of their holiday deal, they hijacked the word Thanksgiving and their slogan was Thanksgetting. Did you hear this ad? It’s both amazing and awful to me that someone approved this in their marketing department. I'm not calling for boycott or outrage, because if I was it would be over the fact that my data use counter suddenly spins faster than Clark Griswold's electricity meter at Christmas. But, hearing the ad did give me pause. I know I'm not alone in this because I searched the hashtag on Twitter and there are other people who disapproved. I'm not sure if we're upset because Verizon was wrong to appropriate the holiday that way or if it's because they really got it right and we don't like to be called out like that. Sure, we like to think we're thankful people and life is a Norman Rockwell painting at the Thanksgiving table. But, are we? I mean, the gravy hasn’t even congealed in the boat before we’re supposed to scramble out of the house, jumping over grandmas and small children to go get that great deal. On the other hand, as if we aren’t already so self-absorbed and self-indulgent, the slogan took the only holiday about giving thanks and turned it into another reason to think about ourselves. We don't need additional reminders that the question constantly hanging over a lot of our actions and decisions is, "What's in it for me?" 

Thanksgetting: Just another reminder to keep it all about you. You're the boss. What can you get out of this? 

My sister and her family moved into a new house last summer. She did a great job of packing up as much as she could prior to moving day - boxes were labeled and stacked in the garage, the truck and trailer were ready, and we all seemed to be as prepared as we could have been. I know some people move often. They have it watered down to a simple solution of gathering boxes and hiring movers and, “What? Moving day? Oh, yeah, that again.” Military families know this well. My family, on the other hand, likes to move as little as possible. Both sets of grandparents have been in their houses for over fifty years. Fifty years, you guys.  My parents, prior to their own moving this summer, were in their house for twenty years. This is a thing younger generations know nothing of – staying in places for this long. Putting down roots. But for my family, moving is just not something we do. We cozy up in our space and make it our own. We stay. And every time someone does lose their mind and move, we’re reminded of why we don’t do this and why moving companies are so lucrative.

Well, on moving day I had a bad attitude. It didn’t start bad, but began to avalanche pretty quickly after the first load and unload was complete and it was clear we had, at the very least, another round of the whole process. You know what you should really give away before you move? Books. I mean, there’s a reason the Kindle is so popular. Another thing you need to set down and back away from when it comes to moving is the thought, I think I can make it fit. It does not fit. Even if it does fit, it will make the box too heavy to lift or carry from the truck to the house. Trust me. It doesn’t fit.

Anyway, there was somewhere else I wanted to be – it was a hot summer Saturday. My friends were together and my FOMO (fear of missing out) was off the charts. It wasn’t long before they started to notice I was annoyed. I was hot and tired and over it – all of the lifting and carrying and back and forth and sweating my face off.  I was somehow acting like moving was everyone else’s favorite thing to do. Like they all got to sit in the front seat, watching the DVD player, while I was relegated to the backseat of the station wagon looking at where we had been – there’s kind of that thrill in the beginning but then you just start to feel woozy and want to get out.

So I’m carrying a box down the side of the house again and I'm thinking of all the places I could be instead, the things I could be doing, how much time this was taking and how late it was getting and, "Oh my word, you guys, where does this go?" and then somehow it just hits me. In the yucky stuff, the stuff we don’t want to do, the stuff that hurts and the stuff that’s hard, the days that are long and boring and you're thinking, "What am I even doing? What is my life?", even in that there’s something to be thankful for if we're open to it. Isn’t that what I had just learned leading up to my 30th birthday? It's amazing how quickly lessons flee to the corners of our minds when just months ago they were shining revelations. Well, let me tell you what I needed in those moments – a heaping pile of joy.

Legs to walk 
Arms to carry

I started an internal list of things in those exact moments that I could be grateful for instead of continuing to spiral into the black hole of self-pity. I was physically able to carry boxes and walk down the stairs. I had no pain. I was not ill. I could see. We take those things for granted because we just expect that when we wake up every single morning our bodies will function how they were designed to function. Our brains will convert the images our eyes take in. Our lungs will breathe. Our toes will create a balance that holds up this whole gangly frame.  I don't know if you know this or not, but those things don’t come with a guarantee. All it took for my otherwise healthy aunt was one stroke at 15 years old to change the way her body has worked for the rest of her life. I'm not trying to freak you out, but if you're well today, that's reason enough to be glad.

A family that needs me
Not moving in the rain

There are people in the world who face the immensity of spending their days alone. Maybe it's you. Whether it's because of life circumstances or job circumstances or whatever, you don’t have people to walk this journey with you right now - to step into the hard places. You don’t have the tribe of friends who will show up anytime, day or night.  It makes me sad to think people could be left to celebrate the good and feel the sorrow on their own. If you even have one single person to share your joys and sadness, text them or call them and say thank you for always showing up. We need more of that. Showing up and saying thank you.

My organized sister
Celebrating a new season

I kept my list running, my bad attitude seeping out of the bottoms of my feet with every step. There in the middle of the sweat dripping, legs tired, repetitive back and forth of moving, I kept coming up with reasons to be thankful. You might be thinking, "Wow, easy for you to say. Moving is one thing, but you aren't dealing with ______."  I'll be the first to say that I'm abundantly grateful to be in a really good season, but that doesn't mean I've always been here or that I'll stay here. There will be other days to discuss the way I battled anxiety for years, the way 2009 broke my whole heart and the way my life circumstances felt, for a little while, like one long, running example of how God must hate me. We all walk through the ugly in one way or another. No one is exempt. But I think that's why it's so important, when life is good, to be thankful and celebrate instead of let it slip away marked by anger and complaint.

I'm not always in a good mood. My family can vouch for that. I don't always do the right thing and I don't always make mental lists to talk myself out of a bad attitude. But, if you think of it, try to stop yourself in the midst of complaining next time to find at least one good thing about all of it. And remind me to do it, too. Maybe I've said the same thing 12 different ways now, but I want to start 2016 with the right mindset. I guess I just hope we’re not the people of thanksgetting and more and more shift our thinking back toward thanksgiving. And it's easy to be thankful for the good things, to feel fuzzy feelings of gratefulness when we're on that vacation and get the promotion. We easily slap #blessed on our good days. But if we don’t know the mundane, if we don't know how to find joy in the ordinary, we will lose our ability to recognize and appreciate the extravagant. 

Thirty.

Since I started my contentment challenge, which has been going pretty well so far, I decided to do a two part post on gratitude and being thankful for what we have been given. This is part one. 

I turned thirty just over a year ago and it was kind of a big deal for me. My friends will tell you this. In the weeks leading up to the big day, I often fluctuated between wanting to celebrate and wanting to cry. I couldn't even get the word thirty to roll off my tongue. Thirty felt grown up. Thirty felt like a serious business suit - a pencil skirt with Louboutins, when you're used to wearing jeans and a pair of Toms with a hole at the toe. Your twenties still feel young. The world gives you permission to be figuring things out – you're graduating college, settling into a job, finding a place to live, wading through relationships. They urge you not to take yourself too seriously. Make mistakes, they say. Learn. Adventure. Grow. But as you inch closer to thirty, people kind of expect you to have it together. Or maybe I just expected myself to have it together.

As I navigated my twenties (navigated is a loose term, as it was more of a blind stumble) I imagined thirty would be like reaching some kind of adult life pinnacle. My ideas of 30 when I was 20, 23, 27, were turning out to be just that - ideas, dreams. I had all of these expectations for myself because the thirty-somethings I knew were married, often with kids, usually with a house – sometimes in the process of building a whole house – and pretty settled into their lives. When it came to those life choices and circumstances, I was not on the same page. I was basically scrambling to find the page, hoping the teacher didn't ask me to read aloud. I felt like I was behind. Can I just have another go at 28 and 29, please? I haven't done enough yet! I haven't had enough time! 

Maybe you find yourself feeling entirely opposite. You're approaching twenty or thirty or forty feeling like life has, for the most part, just worked out. You found the spouse and he/she is obviously the BEST in the whole world, or at least in your Facebook post. You have the kids or the dog or both. You built the house. Your career took off, or it didn't but you feel okay with where you're sitting. But, you're bored. You feel stuck in the mundane and you're slugging it out. Somehow getting everything we think we want doesn't usher in unending happiness. It doesn't deliver the goods the way we dream it will. So, then what?

In the spring prior to my birthday, I was in a Bible study and we went through the book, A Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. If you’ve never read it, I recommend it. Ann is a beautiful, poetic writer who really picks at the heart of where we find our joy and contentment. This isn't about happiness. We're talking a deep-in-your-heart joy. I was struck at the time that she was actually able to come up with 1,000 separate things to write down - 1,000 separate gifts she had been given. On the verge of thirty, with almost nothing in my life going according to my plans, I felt like I had maybe five things to be thankful for and that was if I rounded up. 

I had seen other people hit 3-0 with a lot of celebration and excitement. My sister’s husband threw her a surprise party. Another friend’s husband put together a book of notes from all the people in her life who loved her. With no joy for 30 and no plans to celebrate, I determined I wanted to make thirty significant anyway.  So I decided to spend the thirty days before my thirtieth birthday writing down thirty things each day for which I could be grateful. In her book, Ann writes, Being joyful isn't what makes you grateful. Being grateful is what makes you joyful. That punched me in the guts. I needed a fresh word on joy because I was feeling everything but joyful leading up to thirty. I was feeling left behind. Forgotten. Not enough. My dreams had shattered over and over. I was throwing myself a spectacular pity party.

So, I went to work on my list each night. For the first week, it was a challenge. I’d get stuck around number twelve and wonder what else there was to be thankful for that day, or in my life as a whole. Midway through this 30 day challenge, I journaled about my progress: 

I can write all the things I'm grateful for up to 900 or 9,000 but I still feel the weight of, "This isn't how it's supposed to be. This isn't what I dreamed and this is never what I wanted."

Clearly it was going well. But, as the month went on, I found myself thinking throughout the day, “Yes, this makes the list" or "Definitely writing that down." Knowing that I would write something down each night made me more conscious of every moment as a gift. That text message from my mom? Gift. A smile from a stranger? Gift. Rain? Gift. The smell of my sweet nieces/nephews after a bath. Baptizing Kaely and Abby. Learning hard work from parents/grandparents. Seeing a counselor. Learning to wakeboard. Sweet friends who understand. The watercolor sky. Gift, gift, gift.

As people with plans and dreams and expectations that often go unmet, we tend to be easily irritated and our default position is one of complaining and discontent. This is mostly because we like to be the point and if we're not, or if life isn't going how we thought it might, we're mad - mad at others, mad at God, mad at ourselves. But if we truly believe that there is someone who orchestrates our days, then nothing is happenstance. None of those unfulfilled dreams go unnoticed. Nothing is mistake. I recently read the book, Anything by Jennie Allen and in it she wrote, “You have to thank God for the seemingly good and the seemingly bad because really, we don't know the difference [until we get to heaven].” So if we view it all as gift instead of good or bad, we not only have a better outlook but we are that much closer to joy. I realize this is more difficult when the bad is a heavy, heartbreaking grief. I know because I have felt it. In that, the only salve for your wounds I can offer is the promise of Psalm 30:5. And it may feel like a very long night, but the promise is joy on the other side.

I was told recently that I seem more relaxed than I used to be and I would say it's because I stopped trying to control. Grasping for control spins you around and around – constantly searching and striving and never really getting there - until you're left puking off the side of the merry-go-round. I was so concerned with getting there - reaching those self-imposed or even society-imposed benchmarks and milestones - that I didn't know how to enjoy anything.  I woke up every day trudging through, waiting for the day my life could really start, the day when all those dreams came true, so I missed a lot of good gifts and missed out on a lot of joy.

I finished my thirty lists of thirty things and on my 30th birthday, I wrote in my journal:

It's snowing this morning. I lit my favorite candle, made breakfast and coffee. It's so quiet I can hear the clock over my desk ticking. My house is quieter than I thought it would be on my 30th birthday. Smaller. Emptier. No babies crying for mommy. No one to kiss my face and say good morning. My life is not bad. It is different. Because of all the choices I have made in my given circumstances that have led me to sitting here alone... And that is okay. I can choose joy. 

For the record, my friends put together an amazing brunch for my 30th birthday and I have never felt more special or loved than I did that day. It was more than I could have ever known to ask for on any list. I really think that’s why I enjoyed 30 (and, so far, 31) so much – because I learned to be grateful. I learned to find joy in the every day and 30 became the most life-giving, heart-stretching, laughter-filled, best year of my entire life.

All around you, every day, in the small and the extraordinary there is a gift. Don't wait for life to start when _____ finally happens. You'll miss the joy of today and today is a pretty good day. Joy awaits.

Detox.

We're six days into the year and I’m sending myself to detox. This isn’t rehab, though I probably need that, too. This is detox. A cleansing. A releasing of the bad so that I can fill it back up with good. To be Merriam-Webster about it: a removing of that which is toxic.

Let me explain.

We have a tendency to live in excess. We’ve heard this a million times. Our motto is more, more, more and whatever makes you happy. Contentment is elusive when our desire is hooked to 220V. For the last half of last year, I bought in. Hard. I pushed all my chips in on buying whatever I wanted, whenever I felt like it. That’s the bittersweetness of my stage of life. I’m not married and while sometimes that feels like sadness, other times it feels like freedom. For the most part, I decide how and where my money is spent. I do live within my means. I can’t fly to Europe on a whim (I wish!), but I can buy clothes and books and three shades of lipstick and a new pair of boots on each trip to the store if that's what I feel like doing. My purchases require absolutely no forethought or saving or sacrifice. This isn't bravado, it's just the truth.

But, Christmas came around and it was starting to feel tight – like a turtleneck that by the end of the day feels more like a chokehold. I wanted to be generous at Christmas, but I had been so generous with myself for the last few months that I felt like I didn't have money to spare. It’s not like I had made a bunch of really big purchases, but the small daily buys were adding up to major anxiety when my Capital One statement showed up – like there was some actual fear when it came time to open it and see my balance. People who manage money for a living (or maybe just people who are actual adults) are losing their minds right now. “How do you not know what you’ve spent? How do you not keep track of your checking account?” It’s a problem, okay? I’m aware and that’s the first step, or so they say. 

I guess, more than anything, it started to feel like I was more about gathering instead of giving. I have everything I could possibly need. I wrote the other day that 2015 was nothing less than full to overflowing with good gifts so what was I doing collecting more trinkets and stuff?

I have followed Hannah Brencher’s blog for a while now. I read one time that books find their way to you when you need them, and that's the way it was with her blog - she spoke to my heart when I needed it. The other day I saw that she was starting a Contentment Challenge. If you read her post on it, you’ll see she explains it in more detail, but also that she actually borrowed it from another blogger. That’s the beauty of this wildly connected life we live – we can learn and grow with other people through their stories. So I'm thankful for both of them because this Contentment Challenge felt like the exact breath of fresh air my overworked checking account needed. 

You can read the guidelines of Hannah's Contentment Challenge in her post, but I’ve designed mine this way: No unnecessary purchases for 90 days. January – March. This means no manicures (sad), no drop-in Pure Barre classes (boo), no home decor, makeup, or new clothes. Essentially, no more stuff. And that is making me feel like Brian Regan when he was told to lay off dairy. If you know anything about me at all, you know I love all things beauty and fashion. I love to try new products, new styles, new anything. I’m also a sucker for a good sale and will generally take advantage even though my dad always says, “It might be on sale, but it’s still just for sale.” So I have a feeling this little challenge is about to sanctify me in ways that make me both nervous and excited but I want to come out on the other side increasingly more about people rather than things.

Ninety days is a long time. We’ll already be a fourth of the way through 2016 by the time this is over, but if it doesn’t feel like sacrifice then what's the point? At church this past Sunday the message was about our values and often what we value is evident in how we spend our money and our resources. What does it say about me if the majority of my money is spent stockpiling nail polish in seven shades of pink? That's an exaggeration, but all of this has been a wake-up call on how I steward what I have been given.

Hannah allowed herself one last trip to Target, so I allowed myself one last purchase before diving into detox. The last thing I bought was the book Savor by Shauna Niequist. I love her writing so much and even the title seems fitting for the heart work that is about to take place. You’re also supposed to find something to fill up the time you might have spent shopping. Turns out, this is the year my sister and I decided to run the Lincoln half marathon and so far my maximum distance is four miles, so I have some work to do. I texted her the other day and said “Well, I guess it’ll be easy not to shop because I’ll spend all my time stupid running.” But if I get to spend that time with her, that’s the whole people over things idea and then that was the whole point of this from the start.

Gather less and give more. Be more about people than things. Detox, y'all. It’s on.