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Character, OCD, perfection

Character over Perfection

Character over perfection.  This has been my summer mantra.   For good reason.

I would like to return my form of OCD in exchange for a more useful prescription of it.

Some of my favorite memories were spent laid out on a blanket in my grandparents living room floor.  Them, relaxing in their recliners.  Nannymom, my great-grandmother, curled up on her corner of the couch.  My reserved spot was sprawled out in front of the TV, with my favorite stuffed animals.  The Cabbage Patch dolls were big fans of Dallas and Dynasty like the rest of us.  I completely missed who shot JR, due to obsessively smoothing out the wrinkles in my blanket.  My jester grandfather delighted in my irritation by stepping on my blanket, creating a wrinkle, just as I had gotten it perfect.  The next 7 minutes were spent straightening it back out, pretending my hand was an iron, over and over, until it was creaseless again.

In recent years, I mentioned this while sharing a story with a therapist friend.  Her reply was, “Really? We should process that sometime.”  Huh?  Did you hear my story?  What could there possibly be to process in this scenario?  Who wants to sit on a wrinkled-up blanket?  Clearly this behavior of control and perfection is completely normal.

My husband and I have a joke that I am not high maintenance on anyone but myself.  And by joke, I mean, he is completely serious.  This means I don’t expect others to prepare things how I like it, I’ll do it.  Besides, it would take too long for me to tell you how to do it correctly. This is my confession.

Wouldn’t it be so neat if everyone could sit on their own blanket, and I could just sit on mine.  If you choose to have wrinkles on your magic blanket, then you are bat-flip crazy.  Nevertheless, you do you friend…on your blanket. That would be my perfect scenario, but that isn’t life.   Life is messy, and there are more spots of quicksand than there are smooth, soft blankets.

I was reminded of my quirky ways last week while packing for a four-day meditation retreat in Colorado.  In the email, I was told to pack comfy clothes; yoga pants, shorts, t-shirts, and a sweatshirt.  We were aiming for comfort, headed to the mountains to be one with nature.  It took me no less than 2 hours to pack one small suitcase, a backpack, and a travel purse.

At one point in the packing frenzy, I walked through the living room looking for sympathy, and mentioned I was so tired of packing.  My husband’s reply was, “You should be.”  He is known to be sweetly subtle.  Hubs just doesn’t understand that it takes a WHILE to pick out all my favorite tees, and pair each one with a pullover, jeans AND shorts…just in case Mother Nature couldn’t make up her mind that day.  I needed my sunless tanning system, as you can agree it would be a tragedy to lose my tan while tucked away in the aspen trees.  I shouldn’t have to explain the need for my portable steamer, you know how I feel about wrinkles.

As my suitcase ran out of space, I sent my cousin a quick text to see if she was bringing a blow dryer.  She wasn’t, but said she would pack hers for me.  Awesome.  Wait, what if her blow dryer didn’t have an ion setting?  I should probably just bring my own.  Along with my curling iron.  And straightener.  My hair has to be so confused by now.  Naturally curly hair, but blowed dried straight, flat ironed, then loosely re-curled.  I’m surprised each hair on my head hasn’t jumped ship by now.  Dear hair, thank you for being a friend.

This picky, quirky behavior is not the impression that I like to give off.  I’d rather come off as a laid-back, chill gal.   For the most part I am…regarding you.  I have no expectations projected on you.  But, when it comes to myself, I’m total maintenance.  I work really hard to hide my desire to have everything just so, by doing most of my work under the radar.  Still, the people who have actually traveled WITH me should be added to your prayer list.

I have several friends, who were blessed with a handy form of OCD.  Some leave their houses spotless every morning; not a dish in the sink, every bed in the house is beautifully made, everything glistens like a real-life Disney movie.

As wacky and OCD as I am, I didn’t get this useful portion of it.  My strand looks like;

–  How can I leave for work when my photo album closet is in shambles?

–  How will my children know I love them if I don’t finish their summer chatbooks to document their camps?

–  I simply cannot start on my to-do list today with my jewelry cabinet in the situation it’s in….the gold is touching the silver and it just gives me the creeps.

–  Why is that gray shirt hanging with the white shirts in my color-coded closet??  Clearly we have had a break-in, I’d better go check the locks.  Again.  For the 32nd time.

–  I can’t write this morning with my floors looking like I just shaved our dogs on their way out the back door.

Yet, I can leave my bed looking like a tornado hit it, and I’m okay with this.  My friend, Christine, told me that an unmade bed is actually healthy, it gives your sheets a chance to breath.  I’m gonna go with this theory.

Surely, I have some redeeming qualities as well, but it’s not my job in this space to try to dig those up.   Character over perfection.   Surely, quirky counts for character right?

What if we could let go of the perfection and embrace the character?  Perfection controls while character grows.

*On a side note – while in the mountains, I didn’t once dig out my sunless tanning system.  There is something spiritual about letting go and embracing your authentic, normal colored self.  Big lessons.  This guy didn’t mind at all…

As expected, my steamer was put to good use.  Sleep well friend, not a wrinkle in sight.

August 1, 2017 by
Hope, Lessons, Prayer

Clinging to Hope

“…Just give hope a chance to float up.”

Hope Floats was destined to be my favorite movie, simply because of the name.  The nuggets of humor and quotes found in it just sealed the deal.

The only thing I can fully understand about prayer and meditation, is how hopeless and helpless I would feel without them.  Hopelessness being a deep, dark cavern – with walls that seem to slowly close in around us, inch by inch. I can’t explain why some prayers are answered and some are not.  Most times for me, digging for answers only creates more questions.

I once was given a mind-opening visual on sin that I feel could pertain to prayer as well.  Place yourself on a sidewalk in the city, surrounded by the buildings that represent our needs and prayers.  Some being so urgent and desperate for us, they are skyscrapers reaching tall into the clouds.   Yet God has a different view.  Perhaps as He looks down on His beloveds, He sees our needs and prayers as the same height. He hears our conversational prayers, our desperate prayers, our mono-tone, memorized prayers.  He even knows our unspoken prayers.  Yet, He also has the aerial view of our location and the map of where we are going. He sees the whole picture, whereas we can only see our little corner of the world in current time.  He also knows that time is eternal, whereas we can sometimes be blinded by wanting more moments of togetherness, in our flesh suits.

We have a ritual of saying nightly prayers with our boys.  Before we dive into prayer, we take a minute for them to share what they are thankful for.  This gets a little habitual from time to time.  No matter the whole list, it always begins with, “Friends, family, animals, shelter, sports, parents…”.  (Apparently, parents are a completely different category from family.)  We sometimes give gentle reminders to really open their minds to ALL of our blessings.  Once, we threw out the idea of waking up in the morning with ONLY the things we gave thanks for tonight.   Which added a whole extra hour of air time, with long lists that included shoelaces, cheese graters, and football gloves. Well played kiddos, well played.

The hardest part about our family prayer time is taking out a prayer. Someone who has been on our prayer list and removed because our cries were answered in ways we didn’t choose.  Death leaves a void in so many places, our prayers included.  It is heart wrenching to hear the hitch in my husband’s voice as he gets to the part in the prayers where our loved one’s name was, to be reminded again that we are not in control.  As Shauna Niequist says, “We, in our humanness, cannot help but foolishly desire eternity in this life.”

In the past eighteen months, we have stood by three different friends as they have buried their sons.  I don’t know how they are still breathing through the magnitude of sorrow. It feels incredibly mean that they are still walking on earth without their son in their arms.  With each situation, we begged for God to heal their child.   Pleaded for their healing, claimed miracles in their names.  Only to later categorize these prayers as “unanswered” in my heart and on my list.  I believe there is a bigger plan, but sometimes life is just unbearable.

In May, we gathered to mourn and honor Madden Drew McCormick, his parents chose the beautiful song “Even If” to be sung.  As we sat there, tears streaming, it was the sweetest, most vulnerable feeling to absorb those lyrics.  It was as if the veil of comprehending was as thin as it’s going to be, and our Creator’s comfort was a soft blanket, tucking itself around all the aching hearts.  It was surrender – the sweetest version of Thy will be done.

“I know you’re able and I know you can, save through the fire with your mighty hand. 

But, even if you don’t, my hope is You alone. 

I know the sorrow, I know the hurt – would all go away if you just say the word. 

But even if you don’t, my hope is You alone.”

My hope is You alone…even when mountains remain unmovable.

Madden’s balloon send off. Photo courtesy of Madden’s mom, Jenny McCormick.

The opposite of not getting your hopes up is not harboring any.  A life without hope seems so bleak.  Hope assures us that we will see and hold our beloveds again. Hope keeps us afloat in the bitter times and bubbles at our feet in the sweet ones. Hope reminds us that the sun will rise again tomorrow.  Hope gently encourages us to keep walking and whispers “It is well with my soul” over and over, until we believe it enough to proclaim it.

Hope professes “earth has no sorrow that heaven can’t heal.”

And that, I can cling to.

Questions we can live with…hope we cannot.

 

July 26, 2017 by
Courage, Fear, Hope, Lessons, Renewed

The Root of my Rot

That was the title of my devotional this week.  If more chapters were named this, I might catch a stronger hint.

How we react is a crucial gauge of what’s really going on inside us.

Eww.  Do we have to gauge our insides?  Can’t we just glide by, covering it all with concealer like I do the dark circles under my eyes?

One of my favorite bible verses, “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

The renewing of our mind is a refreshing thought for my soul.  I visualize it like the alt-control-delete button combination.  A soft reset.  God knows my heart is for him, yet he also knows that gut rot sets in from time to time.

I don’t need a whole revival, just a soft reset.

Renew my mind, and my spirit will follow.

Most times, the smallest event can create a nasty case of rot for this mind.  A memory resurfacing, seeing or reading something on social media that leads to a series of eye rolls, hearing a tidbit of a situation that I deem as unfair, getting my feelings hurt and reliving it until pain sets in really, really deep.  I seem to be an Olympic gold medalist in this category.  Glory be.

There I am, walking along, life is bright…

And then, I’ll catch it – the dreaded root rot.

When the feeling of ick is recognized, a mental walk backwards is neccesary to figure out where the rot found its way in.  Usually, it is a teeny-tiny trigger that has caused the wave of irritations.  In the past, I would see a photo of a party on social media and feel a little sting of being left out.  Nowadays, I silently give thanks that I didn’t have to add something else to our crazy calendar (or sometimes, that I didn’t have to leave the comfort of my back porch and yoga pants. Priorities. I’ve got strict ones.) and simply appreciate the gift of a gathering with friends.  Even without me.

If you’ll notice, the ego is usually smack dab in the middle of the issue.  That dumb ol’ ego.  It lives right in the middle of the rot, keeping it all swampy and stagnant.

A little rot can spread fast and furiously if not dealt with swiftly and seriously. It’s crucial to pay attention to our reactions.  When people or issues or situations bump into our happy, it’s not wrong to feel annoyed.  But if that annoyance leads to a reaction out of proportion to the issue at hand, we can bank on the fact that this eruption has the root of rot.  – Lysa TerKeurst

Once, we came home to our house being sparkling and clean.  That one day.

We sang and danced in the living room, smiling while we enjoyed our gleaming home.

Then, we discovered that every time we walked through the kitchen, a whiff of the worst smell would fill our noses.  We checked the trash, the disposal, the cabinets, and wondered if a poor varmint had fallen in a wall and died.  After a few days of searching, we finally figured out the culprit was the beautiful plant sitting on the corner bar.

Seriously?  It’s so pretty on the surface; the leaves are green and shiny, it is watered sufficiently, we enjoy it’s beauty everyday…how did it get root rot right in front of our eyes?  Baffled, I threw the entire thing out.   Rot, beauty, and all.  I’m not perfect, or forgiving apparently.  I simply cannot deal with bad smells.  Lucky for me, I have three teenage boys who keep my odor-searches on point.

How many times do we disguise our rotten thoughts with a pretty surface?  Kidding ourselves that a pretty exterior can smother the smell of rot, even to our own noses.  Similar to not showering at the gym and just throwing on an extra layer of deodorant and dry shampoo, you know this trick.  How freeing would it be to rid ourselves of the ick?  We have the opportunity to renew our mind daily.  Hourly if needed.  The chance to clean out the root of our rot.  Don’t let it simmer loved one.  Release it and move on, and on the days that it resurfaces or slimes its way back in….Rinse and repeat.

*Unglued Devotional by Lysa TerKeurst.

* Photo by Tumbling Sparrow

 

July 19, 2017 by
Family, Lessons, Parenting

Parenting pirates with bumpers…

A few weeks ago, we were preparing to host out of town friends for the weekend.   I get giddy in preparing for friends and love all the things that entails; the planning, the visit, hanging on the back porch late into the night, being cheesy and making them sign our guest book before they leave.

I also delight in the clean house that happens before guest arrive.  A lot. Sometimes I wonder if I subconsciously invite friends to stay so I will make myself clean out a closet or two in preparation of their arrival.  Probably not, but I still wonder.

My eldest child also loves to host last minute, summer-night, swim parties.  It’s never an organized, planned party, more of a, “Hey mom, we are headed to the house to swim, that ok?” gathering.  On this night, I reminded him that I had just cleaned the house and wanted it to stay that way due to company arriving the next day.  He assured me they were just hanging outside.  No biggie, just a chill night, swimming with friends and listening to music.

Just a few of the crew members…

I should pause here to add that I love Mason’s friends.  Adore them.  Some of them have been friends since they were in kindergarten, and I loved them as sweet, five year olds.  Now that they are headed into their senior year of high school, there really isn’t a time I say “No” to them being here.  We are soaking in the moments, socking away memories like gold coins.  Gold coins that we can look back on and count when our nest is empty.

The kiddos came and swam, a fun time was had, and several stayed over for the evening, crashed out in odd shapes of blankets in the game room.  The next morning, I walked into the living area and was horrified.  Clearly, a gang of pirates invaded our home in the night and destroyed my clean floors.  The dark wood looked like the mateys had ran a 5K on a caliche road before entering in the back door, and dropped crumbs to find their way back out to the pool.  Rosie the Roomba was no match for this job.

I walked into the kitchen to discover that Jack Sparrow himself had decided to cook chicken and rice for his whole gang.  The rascal was gracious enough to leave the dishes for his mother.  I can’t fully explain how random this meal was, or exactly where the ingredients came from.  Just a few hours before the teenage buccaneers arrived, I had determined there was nothing in our cupboards or freezers to fix for dinner, and ordered in.  In the morning sun, spare grains of rice lay burnt under the stove top grate, pots and pans filled up the sink, wet beach towels hung on the bar stools, three trashcans overflowed with the remnants of their bounty.  All I could see in my mind’s eye was salmonella dripping off of every surface.

Shiver.  Me.  Timbers.

Sometimes luck has a method of paving the way for you, and Mason has a knack for seeking out luck’s paved roads.  While standing there in the aftermath of the raided kitchen, it dawned on me that my son is a lot like his Momma. As much as these teens seek to create their own path, the pendulum swings back.  He too, strives to be a good host.   We both want our guest to feel at home, to leave refreshed, restored, and full.  Neither of us ever wish for our people to be famished, which is why I stock massive snack drawers for the kiddos and a wine cabinet for my girlfriends.  I made a mental note to start stocking more meat in the freezer, since Mason’s culinary skills and appetite had blossomed.

With three teenagers in the house, we are facing more situations where I realize it’s time to lower the bumpers on the parenting lane.  Some things need to be discovered on their own, like cleaning up our own messes.  Some still need guidance and discipline.  As their mom, I walk a tight rope of my boys calling me Leigh Anne Tuohy,  “The Blindside Mom” and the cheesy mom who still applies sunscreen to their teenage-sensitive faces and organizes their sock drawers when they aren’t looking.

Confession – I’ve always secretly rolled my eyes at the mom that makes her healthy, normal sized 12-year-old ride in a booster seat.  And, also the mom who throws keg parties and collects keys.  I’m looking for a happy medium, a half-way point; a place for a reasonable, loving, sometimes dorky mom to hang out.  Maybe not fully wrapping them in bubble wrap, but just from the chest up?

For now, it’s just the bumpers, it’s not time for him to find his own lane just yet, we are still family bowling here buddy.  Go wake up your pirates and find some mops.

July 12, 2017 by
Lessons, Uncategorized

Good things and Light bringers…on Repeat.

 

Too much of a good thing is simply wonderful.

That quote is stitched on a decoration at my husband’s aunt and uncles home.  I make sure to read it every Sunday when we are there for lunch. It’s become a mantra of mine.

In a house full of teenagers, I’m running out of time to be their faithful taxi.  This fact makes me sad.  One recent morning, I was thrilled to get the chance to drive the two youngest to their activity.  I jumped in the driver’s seat, ready to have a deep, meaningful chat – only to be surprised with sleepy, gloomy passengers.  Especially the one in the front seat who looks like me. The boy in the back seat was in full support of shutting down my happy as well.  Which led me to ramp up the cheese-factor, attempting to crack into the crabby moods.

I realized the only thing left to do was to play Rock Out –Freeze Out, or the Texas summer version Rock Out-Sweat Out.   Naturally, I choose the song “Cake”, cranked up and played on repeat, to sweeten the sour boys up a little.  I have a tender spot for that song, it’s like Flo Rida sings the lyrics with my sweet tooth in mind, “I didn’t come here to party, I only came for the cake.”  Dance moves followed.  After a few eye rolls, the smiles emerged behind the looks of annoyance.   When we arrived at their destination, my blonde boy gently said, “You take good songs that we like and ruin them.”

Anyone who has ridden in a car with me long enough, would agree.  My current, favorite song is usually blasted on repeat.  Over and over the lyrics flow into my ears.  A few years ago, some of us girlfriends took a trip to Cape Cod.  I can’t hear Blurred Lines without smiling and thinking of that trip, or my friend Vanessa yelling, “IF I HEAR THAT SONG ONE MORE TIME, I’M GOING TO JUMP OUT OF THIS CAR.”   She still gets a little cranky when hearing it.  I just like to soak up the goodness with my ear biscuit.  Every last drop.

I’ve heard that good things come in small doses, but why?  If I could gather up my favorite people and move them into our neighborhood, I would be happier than a bird with a French fry.   I’d expand our HOA deed restrictions to include a Joe T Garcia’s, Casey’s favorite sushi restaurant, Pizza Hut with only thin crust pizza, Anthropologie, an animal sanctuary, trampoline park, and a lazy river.  Every house would have a dock to the lazy river and in the evening, we would just float around from friend to friend. I’d have a rockin’ community club house and send an invite to Bo and Luke Duke anytime we had a party. (Circa 80’s version)

Too much of a good thing is simply wonderful.  Because we know how life works right?  Not to get all doomsday on you, but we can’t really expect for things to always be perfect. So, in the peaks and valleys of our journey, why wouldn’t we want to savor the good while it’s here?

We have enough hardship in our lives, even the happiest and luckiest of folks.   Sometimes the bottom just falls out and no one is exempt.  On those days, I’m drawn to people who lighten the dark enough that it’s livable.  And sometimes those who lighten the dark enough that it can even sometimes be laughable.  God has been gracious in placing people in our lives who act out His love in tangible ways.  Make a habit to look for His light bringers.

Shine the light on others too.  Help lighten their load, love on them through the hard days.  Remind them that sunshine is right around the corner.  If they have truly experienced something so tragic that you can’t comprehend, don’t search for empty words…just be with them and love their hurting hearts.

Find the light, and bathe in it often.  Especially if it’s in your fantasy neighborhood’s lazy river.

June 28, 2017 by