We Are All Glorious Messes

We Are All Glorious Messes
photo by Gina Butz

I just read a post written by a woman who called herself “that mom.” The mom who seems to be failing on all fronts. She says she’s in a rough patch. I get it. We’ve all been there.

I see a lot of posts like this lately, posts that lift the veil on the highly censored, cleaned up versions we often post of ourselves on Facebook, and show that life isn’t always that great.

It’s not as great as the posts of people who ran 10K this morning and toured Europe and whose kids invented something that will now be patented. (for the record, none of those things are true of me).

It’s good, this kind of transparency.

It breaks down walls. It combats shame. But what is discouraging to me is that it seems to create an either/or mentality, and a shaming of those who are doing “well.”

We celebrate those who own their messes (and we should) but we draw lines and separate them from those who claim to be hitting their marks. We call those “other people” fake or boastful.

The fact is, these lines don’t exist.

“That mom” may have had an off day, but I bet if you sit with her, you would wind up concluding that she’s actually doing a great job, even in the midst of her failings.

And the people who are posting their victories aren’t necessarily trying to say they always live at awesome. Granted, they might be, but maybe they don’t feel the freedom to admit that they fall short. That should evoke compassion from us, not shaming. Maybe they’re just saying, “I had a red letter day. Rejoice with me.” And we should.

We Are Both

Can we be the woman who messes up, but is being faithful and pressing on and sometimes has really great moments that she wants to celebrate?

Can we be the woman who is enjoying life and doing well, but let others into the fact that she’s sometimes less than her best?

There is space to affirm both. We can rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. God desires we enter in with both.

We aren’t either/or. We are both.

Success and failure don’t define us. We are both extraordinary and ordinary. There is light and dark in all of us.

We are glorious messes.

If we tend toward focusing on our failures, maybe it’s time we stopped and celebrated what is good. And if we are only showing the shiny parts of life, maybe it’s time to let some people see where we’re struggling.

We can be both.

Related posts:

Either/Or Living in a Both/And World 

The Challenge to Rejoice and Weep with Others

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Stop Telling Me to be Amazing

Be Amazing

I saw a shirt at Old Navy once that said, “Be Amazing.”

It felt like way too much pressure. And that’s coming from an Enneagram 3. My husband says 3s are driven by “the need to be awesome.”

It might have felt that way because I was in the middle of power Christmas shopping that should have been spread out reasonably over 5 days, but had been crammed into one due to sickness.

That same sickness forced me to bow out of a speaking engagement and left my house a bit of a disaster (pro tip: if you keep wearing shoes in the house, you don’t feel all the stuff you haven’t swept off the floors). I was just proud to be upright and not in yoga pants.

It felt like that again later, on day 15 of my husband’s 16 day trip around the world (Lord, have mercy) when I was just happy that I was awake and communicative without the help of legal stimulants.  We only ate 2 frozen pizzas and a deli chicken. This I call victory.

What the World Tells Us

It seems everywhere we look, we’re being told we can do it.

We can be amazing, and awesome, and over the top sparkling, beautiful, jaw-dropping.

Ordinary is for suckers. Lazy people. Those who don’t really care, who don’t want their lives to count. I shouldn’t just survive when my husband travels; I should thrive.

And we have our moments – all of us do. We have shining moments when we reflect the glory of God. We have red-letter days, it’s true.

But living there? Gosh, it’s exhausting. And truthfully, I don’t think it’s what the world needs.

What the world needs is not more amazing.

What the World Needs

The world needs people who are living and loving faithfully, authentically, with hope and perseverance and grace. People who have shining moments and messy moments and are ok with all of them. This is what our souls need too – we need the freedom to be who we are.

The world needs people who get up each day and choose to live the ordinary moments with trust that even this is significant.

We need people who accept who they are, with all their good and bad, beautiful and messy, all together. People who believe it’s all worth offering, and then offer it.

We were created for great works, but also for ordinary ones.

Sometimes we will amaze and other times we won’t. There’s nothing wrong with not being incredible at every moment. It’s called being human.

So please. Stop telling me to be amazing. Tell me just to be me, and I will gladly oblige.

Related posts:

Being Human

Can We Be Both? 

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Promises to My Children

Promises to My Children

Kids, you have a lot of life ahead of you. You have big dreams and hopes for how that all will go. There are so many things I want to promise you about that life.

I wish I could promise you, sweet girl, that you will become a world-famous women’s soccer player. Or that you, brilliant son, will someday live on that space station (though you know I want you to stay on this planet).

I wish this world would always love you, no harm will ever come to you, you will have an easy path, life will be fair, and you will be happy and carefree.

I can’t promise any of that.

Here’s what I can promise you:

I promise you will always be loved.

I love you so much sometimes I can’t stand it. It spills out all over you in hugs and kisses you don’t necessarily want. Other times it’s harder because our sin gets in the way, but I promise I will always make it my aim to love you well.

And when I fail, which I will, remember that you are unconditionally loved by the One who made you. His is the one opinion that will never change. He’s wild about you. Let that be your solid place, even more than me.

I promise I will love your dad.

He’s a good man, your dad is. I’m blessed. But neither of us is perfect and marriage is hard work. I promise I will love him and fight for what we have. We will show you that it’s all worth it to have someone who is with you for the long haul. We want that for you.

I promise God will always be with you.

If I could, I would always be with you (probably even when you’d rather I wasn’t). I will always try, but there will be times that I cannot be there, or should not be there for your own growth. God has no such restrictions. He will always be there with all you need.

I promise to get all up in your business.

Hey, I’m your mom. So yes, I’ll ask about who you hang out with and what you talk about. I’ll put restrictions on what you can watch and play. When you’re emailing and browsing online, I’ll be looking over your shoulder. I’ll stick my nose in your room when you aren’t expecting me. I’ll make you eat your vegetables and do your chores. Get used to it. It’s because of #1.

I promise to let you go your own way.

I know that might seem contrary to #4. It’s hard for me to write, but I know you need to be independent from us. I have ideas about who I’d like you to be, but those don’t matter. What matters is that you be you. I know there will be many times when I need to just let you go, maybe even let you fail miserably. I will. Or at least I promise I will try.

I promise to always be FOR you.

At every competition, every job, every relationship that means something to you, everything you attempt, I will be your cheerleader. I’ll be the last one standing even if everyone else has stopped watching. Even when you don’t believe in yourself, I will believe in you. I am your biggest fan.

I promise to be with you in the fight.

You know I can’t keep you from all the hard, painful, unfair experiences of life. That’s true. But I promise that whatever you are going through, I will be all in. I will weep with you, be angry with you, pray with you and fight the good fight with you. We will walk the hard roads together.

I promise to keep trusting God for you.

I know you think I’m a good mom. Thanks for that. But the fact is, I’m not enough, and I need to own that. Where I am powerless, I need to trust in God to grow you in ways I just can’t. I will keep prying open my sticky fingers to trust you back to Him, believing that He is doing good work in you.

I promise I will make mistakes.

You know I can’t be a perfect mom, but that’s not what you need anyway. You need a mom who is human and makes mistakes, but gives herself grace and picks herself up to move on. And when I mess up, I will apologize. I can model that for you. Thanks for always being gracious when I do.

I promise to point you to Jesus.

At the end of the day, He can give you so much more than I can. I hope you always believe that. I’m never going to stop telling you and showing you, because when you find a well in the desert, you take others there. He’s living water, your source of life. He’s the best I can offer you. I promise.

related posts:

What Being a Soccer Mom Teaches Me About Parenting

It’s Worth It 

Parenting is Hard 

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Fueled by Passion

“Just one more time, mommy.”

When our daughter was seven, she caught the soccer bug. She determined that she was going to be a professional soccer player when she grew up. I asked her what she was going to do when she was done playing professionally.

“I’m going to keep playing soccer.”
“But how will you make money?”
“People will pay to watch me play.”
“Even when you’re an old lady?”
“Yep.”

If she’s going to achieve that, she’ll need to be great, and she’s trying her best to be just that. Every day she looks up drills online, particularly goal keeping drills as right now she has it in mind that she wants to be a goalie. She comes to me and tells me, “Today, I need you to do this . . . ” and proceeds to show me my part in developing her skills.

She wants to keep going long after I am done being excited about my part. It’s always, “Just one more time, mommy.” One more shot on goal. One more throw. One more kick.

I am amazed at this determination in her. She gets tired, sweaty, dirty, sore, but she keeps going because she knows what it is she’s working toward. She will be that old lady that people will pay to watch play soccer. Or maybe she’d settle for the US Women’s Olympic team. Maybe.

What is this determination but a clear vision of what she wants, a passion for what she loves, and the discipline to keep moving toward it? So I ask myself, “What is my vision? Am I keeping it in front of me? Am I fueling my passions? Am I stepping toward it day by day, doing the hard work it takes to get there?”

What are you determined to do today?

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Transition Pass

So the last couple months have felt like the steep transition learning curve has leveled off. It’s like when you’re mountain climbing (or maybe hill climbing – can’t say I’ve climbed that many mountains. Ok none. I’ve climbed none) and you get to that point where you can see the top. It starts to feel easier.

And then you turn a corner and there’s a sudden incline you didn’t anticipate. In my world, that’s called December.

I realized this morning that it’s been hard to admit this, for several reasons. First of all, it’s just tiring. I don’t like to keep feeling like I don’t have life figured out here. I don’t want to face the fact that I don’t have rhythms, routines, traditions, surrounding this time of year. I have empty spaces with no Christmas decorations because I lived for 13 years in places where they were hard to find. I feel like I should make Christmas desserts and give them to people, but after years of $5 bags of chocolate chips, I’m out of the habit. Are people expecting them? Who do we give Christmas cards to? Do I have to go to ALL these Christmas parties? The questions are endless.

Not only that, I can feel like there’s an expectation that we should be “over it.” People have said frequently, “So you’ve been here over a year now? You must be pretty settled.” Well, no, but now I FEEL like I should be. It’s easy to feel like I just need to get with the program and figure this season out. When I talk with friends who have been through this transition back to the States, they are quick to remind me that it’s not true – this creating a new normal takes time. I know that to be true. It’s just hard to be in the in between.

So I took some time Tuesday morning just to think about where we are and really what is important for us as a family. There are just some things that aren’t going to happen. Those 3 strands of Christmas lights I managed to buy (and then I realized I needed more like 8 to cover the house) will stay by the back door. They’re one of the things that we’ve decided get a “transition pass.” In my climbing analogy, this looks like me choosing not to try to summit that incline for now – I’m just going to circle around a little bit and try to enjoy the view from here.

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Expectation Management

One of the best coping skills Erik and I learned in the early days of expat living was a simple phrase, “lower your standards!” When you read that, you have to imagine it with your best game show host voice, like you’re inviting someone to an exciting opportunity behind door #1.

It was all about expectations. If you expect that the bathroom you’ve been led to out the back door of a restaurant and down a dark alley will be a picture of cleanliness, you will be sorely disappointed. However, if you imagine that it will be a sufficient hole in the ground, you’ll be satisfied. You get the idea.

It’s called expectation management. The problem with expectations is that we are so often unaware of them. It doesn’t occur to me that I would appreciate a toilet that flushes until I look up and see that the wall mounted reservoir in the back alley bathroom is partially missing and the frozen water within is still holding its shape. I can flush in springtime.

I’ve been reminded lately how important it is to talk about our expectations.This is especially true with our kids. When we began summer vacation this year, they had an unspoken expectation that it would be like their three previous summers, when they spent all day, every day, outside with friends. Last summer I even had to call one mom and ask her if her kids could maybe not schedule the summer project involving my children quite as often because they weren’t able to spend time with other kids. We were beating off the playdates with sticks.

This wasn’t the case in Orlando. The kids they’ve met from school mostly live about an hour away, and others were preparing for long trips away. Within a few days we were all scratching hash marks on the walls. I finally realized we needed to have a talk about expectations with them, and we basically had to say, “lower your standards.” It required a little more mourning of what they used to have, but within a day their “I’m bored” statements had reduced significantly. It’s a process of looking at reality and making adjustments.

So often when I am frustrated with life it is because I expected it to be a certain way and it isn’t. Many of my expectations are residual, left over from what I was accustomed to having in my “previous” life. It’s helpful for me to take a hard look at the expectations I have and ask myself if they are realistic in this new season of life. Some of them might not be, and that’s where I need to tell myself to “lower my standards.” It doesn’t mean I’m giving up hope. It means I’m choosing contentment.

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Keeping in Step

 

“How have we kept in step with the Spirit during this transition?” That was the question we were supposed to answer in a brief sharing time at a Cru day of prayer.

I’ll be honest, my first response was, “The phrase, ‘keeping in step with the Spirit’ has not crossed my mind at all during this transition. Does that mean I haven’t? And how would it go down if I just got up there and threw that out as my opening line?”

And to be more honest, I was a little afraid. Afraid that if I got up there and shared how much I’ve struggled with holding fast to God in this transition, I would be the odd man out.

But I wasn’t. We were the last to share that day, and the encouraging thing was that everyone who got up front talked about how they struggle to keep in step with God. By the time I got up there, I knew I was among friends.

Even better news is that I DO see how I’ve been trying to keep in step with the Spirit during this transition. For me, it’s meant learning to slow down, stop trying to figure things out on my own, waiting for His direction, and responding in obedience.

But the thing that encouraged me the most that day was something from one of the other speakers. He talked about being expectant. I have been in the habit recently of starting my day by saying, “Ok God, it’s you and me. In it together. I know you’re at work. Show me what to do, and I’ll do it.” All good. Good stuff. Good way to start the day. But I realized that I can do that, and yet not really expect God to do anything. Or maybe just expect not much. So I’ve been trying to do that this last week, to go beyond, “I’m willing” to “I’m expectant.”

What are you expecting Him to do today?

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