Living with a Slow Drain

Living with a Slow Drain
Photo by Pedro da Silva on Unsplash

 

In so many of my conversations with others, I heard phrases like, “I don’t understand why I’m so tired,” or “I’m not usually this impatient,” or “Why does this seem so much harder?”

I have a simple answer: we’re not living at full.

By that, I mean that there is a slow and constant drain that keeps us from living at a full tank every day.

When we lived overseas, we became aware of this dynamic. We likened it to our lives as a bucket of water, the water as our life energy. The challenges of living cross-culturally were not poking huge holes in our buckets that drained us. Then why were we so tired?

Because the challenges, while often small, still made holes. They were just little pinprick holes. From those holes, life drained.

One pinprick, OK. A few, no big deal. But we had a thousand pinpricks, and that adds up.

Living with the on-going challenges of the pandemic is like a thousand pinprick holes in the bucket of our lives. Constantly adjusting to a different way of living is exhausting. No, it’s not as big as in the beginning when we were stuck at home. But think of the mental and emotional energy that a series of small events in one day can take:

What Drains Us

Remembering to bring a mask with you everywhere.

Awkward social greetings because you don’t know if your friend is OK with physical touch.

The isolation of working from home.

Being surrounded by family while you’re trying to work.

The kids need you for their calls.

You forgot to mute yourself.

Or you forgot to unmute yourself.

Hours of trying to read people over zoom.

Zoom butt (my husband complains of this daily)

You just got exposed to someone with the virus.

Watching people argue on social media.

You are the one arguing on social media.

We don’t see eye to eye about the pandemic.

We don’t see eye to eye about politics.

It’s unclear where either of us stands on the pandemic or politics so now it’s awkward to have a conversation.

Another event date that should have happened passes by.

And all that on top of normal life events that would be a challenge even without a pandemic.

Every day there are a thousand little things that drain us. A thousand ways life is different, not the way we knew, not the way we hope.

We could pretend it’s fine. Just look on the bright side. Console ourselves with, “Well, it’s better than it was.” But those thoughts don’t fill holes.

So what do we do about the drain?

We need more filling. So much has drained us this year, and few of us have taken the time we need to refill. It’s hard to find the time, honestly, between zoom calls and online learning and navigating new social situations.

We can’t control the situation we live in, but we can be kind to ourselves by recognizing that this “new normal” isn’t normal. It’s not the way we are meant to be. And we are human. It wears on us to live like this.

We need this grace. Grace to acknowledge that we’re not operating from full tanks right now, and that’s normal. When we’re impatient and tired and it’s harder than we think it should be, we need to remember that we’re running low. Deep breath.

These days, our buckets drain more quickly. We need to go to the well of God’s grace or the well of relationships in our lives more often. Not just daily but even moment by moment. Every hour we need Him.

We need more of God. We need more kindness. More grace. More of that which fills us up while the world drains us. In that sense, there’s something good about this season. It can make us more dependent, keep us closer to that which ministers to our souls. We may not be able to stop the slow drain, but we know where to get filled up again.

 

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Why We Need Kindness Right Now

Why We Need Kindness Right Now
photo by Priscilla Du Preez

 

Sometimes as I think about this strange season we’re in, and how much longer it’s going to be I wonder how we will get through (honestly, it’s good they’re doing this in stages. We need to be eased into the reality of it). What I keep coming back to is this: we need a lot more kindness.

Why We Need Kindness

We need to be kind to ourselves, and we need to be kind to others. In stores, online, in zoom calls and on the streets (from a safe social distance, of course). Our world needs more kindness if we’re going to get through this well.

We need kindness because we’ve never done this before. And when we do something for the first time, we don’t know what we’re doing. Which means we’ll feel lost and uncomfortable and incompetent. And the last thing we need right then is to put unrealistic expectations on ourselves to know what to do and be able to keep going just as we did before. No, we need someone to be kind to us. We need someone to be patient while we learn this new season.

We need kindness because this is scary. And when things are scary we get anxious. That’s normal. Some of us are more anxious than others for a lot of really good reasons-our health is poor, or our parents are old, or we have to work in hospitals. Whatever the reason, whether it makes sense to us or not, it’s understandable. When someone is scared, it doesn’t help to tell them not to be scared. They need empathy. They need someone to listen to their fears and tell them we’re with them.

We need kindness because it’s just too much sometimes. And when it’s too much it’s not because we’re weak or we did it wrong or we stink at this. It’s too much because we weren’t made to live this way. Adrenaline is only supposed to last us so long-just enough to get away from the danger. We can’t get away from this danger. When we hit the wall (and we will) we need to be kind to ourselves about it.

We need kindness because this isn’t normal. But this is the only normal that we’re going to get for a long time, and that’s hard. Learning to live with that is discombobulating, which is a fantastic word but something none of us like to feel. We’re living with little “t” trauma all the time. A lot of us feel disregulated. Kindness helps get us back to a healthy place.

We need kindness because we’re sad. The big, obvious losses we’re incurring are easy to note, but we tend to ignore the little ones. We did a zoom call the other night with old friends from overseas, and while it was a delight, the fact that they are here in my city and I can’t see them grieved me. Those little losses are like pinhole pricks in the bucket of our life; after a while, we’re drained and we don’t know why. Kindness acknowledges the holes and says, “no wonder you’re sad.”

And all of this makes us really tired in a way that surprises us a lot. Why are we so tired? Because of all the things. Because of unexpected homeschooling, and ridiculous amounts of pivoting, coupled with less positive relational connection than even the most introverted among us need. We need to be kind to ourselves when we’re tired. Of course we’re tired.

Kindness for the Journey

So we carry all of that on us, often without realizing it. And that’s a heavy load, especially to carry for a long time. Extending kindness is like someone coming alongside us to acknowledge the impossible weight, lift the pack off, and give us permission to rest. Yes, we need to keep walking, but we need to give ourselves and others the space to sit in that grace from time to time.

Maybe you’re taking this all in stride. Maybe you’ve moved through the grief and confusion and you’re in a place of acceptance. That’s good. But others are still struggling. Or will be struggling (including those of us who are doing well today-it might hit us again tomorrow). We need kindness because even though we’re all in this together, we’re not. Each of us is experiencing it differently, for a million reasons. And when someone else hits the wall in a way we don’t understand, they need kindness. Kindness gives everyone the space to be on their own journey in responding to this.

I hope we give it to them. Because kindness grows kindness. And when we are in a practice of extending kindness to ourselves in difficult seasons, then it’s our natural response to extend it to others.

As hard as this season is, that’s my hope-that this could be a time when we grow kindness like wildflowers. May this be a time when our ability to look each other in the eyes and simply see “beloved of God” before us grows exponentially. Kindness will help us get through it.

 

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Making Peace With Change Is Here!

Making Peace with Change is Here

 

My book is in the world! Here’s live video of me this week:

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This is the book I wish I’d had when I got married, when I moved overseas, when I had my children, when I changed jobs. So that’s why I wrote it.

I hope this book is a bit fat permission slip to people navigating messy change to admit where they’re not ok. I want you to be honest in a way that helps you find the grace you need.

Tell us where it’s hard, and invite God and others in to help you. Give yourself grace as you rest in what is constant in God and how He sees you.

Change may be challenging, but it’s also a gift that can transform us.

If you haven’t bought a copy yet, I hope you will. My deepest prayer is that this book will find the hands of every person who needs it. Like paper missionaries, I want my book to go out and minister to hearts around the world.

It’s been a long publishing journey, and I’m grateful to get to this place.

If you’d like to buy a copy of Making Peace with Change: Navigating Life’s Messy Transitions with Honesty and Grace, it’s available at Our Daily Bread Publishing, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Christianbook.com.

Continue ReadingMaking Peace With Change Is Here!

Plan to Stay Where God Calls You

Plan to Stay Where God Calls You
Photo by christian koch on Unsplash

 

In light of my recent book, Making Peace with Change, I thought it fitting to repost an old article on transition. It’s based on thoughts from Jeremiah 29, a passage that has come to be a meaningful one to me when it comes to this topic. If you’re new to my blog and you subscribe below, you can get a longer version of my reflections on this passage.

 

Leaving home is hard. Finding home is harder.

We live in southeast Orlando, in one of the fastest-growing neighborhoods in the country. Few of us are “from” here. It’s a transient community. Many of us never anticipated living in Florida, of all places. It feels like somewhere between where we were and where we plan to go, not home. We all face the challenge of how to carve out a new life here in this place to which God has called us.

Like I said, it’s hard to find home. Sometimes, it’s because we’re looking elsewhere.

Maybe we can’t settle where we are because we are looking back on the life we had. We miss the community we left, our favorite coffee shop, our old job, or the life we had before kids.

Or we peer ahead to what is coming-the season when kids won’t be in diapers, or we’ll get that better job, when school will be over, or we’re finally married. It’s hard to dig in right where we are and live it fully.

But if we dwell on the past, we won’t see what God is doing in the here and now. If we focus on the future, we miss the blessings of today.

We will not find home until we plan to stay.

In Jeremiah 29:5-7, God told the exiled Israelites, Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters . . . Increase in number there; do not decrease.”

Strange words to give to people wholly displaced. The Israelites did not want to stay there. They wanted another, a different life. This season was supposed to be temporary. 

The fact is, this world is not our true home and never will be. We are on a journey from where we were when God found us to where He will take us in the end. Where we are now is exactly where He wants us to be. So how do we make it home?

  1. Invest where you are

    God told the Israelites to build homes and settle down. Life is different when you own something. You put in time, money, and energy to make it a place you want to stay. Finding home means living like we aren’t renters but owners of this life, however long the season might be. We give fully of ourselves to the people and places in this season God’s given us, believing that it is worth this time.

    Investing is hard because it means we pour pieces of our hearts into this season that we might not get back when we leave. Our last year overseas, when we knew we were nearing the end, a new family moved to the neighborhood. We instantly connected with them but hesitated to invest because we knew it would mean a painful goodbye. In the end, we decided it was worth the investment, and we walked away with life long friends.

    So stay at that church, even if it’s not perfect. Get to know your neighbors. Drive the back streets of your new city until you navigate it by heart. Grab lunch with those new co-workers. Paint the walls. Hang pictures. Plan to stay.

  2. Be patient with the process

    God also told the Israelites to “plant gardens and eat what they produce.” You don’t plant a garden unless you’re willing to wait around for a harvest. Gardens take time, so as we make those new investments in relationships and situations, we patiently wait for new life.

    Oh, it’s hard. But when we believe God is good to us, we plant with faith that good will grow. New life won’t happen overnight, but it will come. So we hope. And in the hoping, we hold loosely to the way we believe He will provide. If we are too focused on how we think He will meet our needs, we are bound to miss what He is actually doing.

    Life will be different here than in the last season. What we plant here will not produce the same crop we had before, because this is a new place. But this is what we need right now. What grows is what God intends to use to sustain us.

  3. Enjoy the moment

    God also told the Israelites to “marry and have children.” Talk about planning to stay. God wanted them to savor the season. We need to stop looking back at what we left or looking forward hoping for something better and just rejoice in what is here and now. He wants us to soak in with gratitude all that He is giving us. The more we look, the more we see.

    These verses challenge me to consider my attitude toward this place I thought I would never be. Have I been pouring myself into life here like I’m never going to leave? Do I believe this is right where God wants me to be, and that He will do good to me? They call me to love deeply, hope wildly, and celebrate fully this life. Wherever you are, embrace the season. God has good in store for you.

“Wherever you are, be all there! Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God.” -Jim Elliot

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For the Moments When We’re Not Ready

For the Moments We're Not Ready
Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

“I’ve been waiting for this moment and now it’s here and I’m not ready.”

This is what my daughter said to me the night we sat in our car on a dark street, waiting for another soccer family to pick her up and take her away for a weekend tournament.

The weeks ahead of that one moment were marked with anxiety, not knowing the family well, wondering how she would do without me.

So often life feels like that. Moments we knew were inevitable, but we just aren’t ready for them.

I Wasn’t Ready Either

Back then, I wasn’t ready for our son to drive on his own (could I just always be in the back seat?). I wasn’t ready for colleges to send him invitations (back, vultures, back!). Our kids were gearing up to fly to South Africa (SOUTH AFRICA) without us on a mission trip for 6 weeks. Life just kept coming at us.

If I thought I felt unprepared then, how much more now, as those college invites DID come, and he just left? And his sister, who also just got her license, and a job, will follow him before we know it.

Life relentlessly marches on, and these moments that feel unbearable keep happening.

I Thought I Would Be Ready

When they were little, I thought I couldn’t wait for these moments. I couldn’t wait for them to do it on their own. I couldn’t wait for my time back. I couldn’t wait.

I’ve been waiting for this moment – the moment when our kids would grow up and stretch out, becoming independent, learning to live without us.

And now it’s here, and I’m not ready.

But just like I told her at that moment, He is with us.

He has brought us to this moment, and He will carry us through.

And just like I promised He would be with her in those moments when I wasn’t there, I have to tell myself the same truth – He will be with them when I am not.

When we said goodbye to our kids that day at the airport, our friend who accompanied them saw the fear in my eyes for my 14-year-old and gently said, “We’ve got her. She’ll be okay.” And she was.

We walked through that, and college applications, and teenage drivers, and we’ll get through this too.

He’s Always Ready

Sometimes we’re just not ready, but He is.

From that first day of kindergarten to the last day of the place you love.

The first scary step into a new dream, or the death of an old one.

The last goodbye.

The first anything.

[ictt-tweet-inline]He is more than enough for those moments we feel inadequate to face. [/ictt-tweet-inline]

The next season that feels so huge, scary, undesirable even, you will get through.

So we do it scared. But we never do it alone.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you . . . for I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.” Isaiah 43: 2, 3

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We Grieve and Then We Hope

We Grieve and Then We Hope
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann on Unsplash

 

“I don’t know if I’ll ever find what I have right now again. There’s just so much that’s unknown.”

That was our son’s deep cry as we talked one night. He’s slogging through the final weeks of his senior year of high school, staring down freshman year at one of the country’s largest universities. It’s a big transition.

His days are consumed with studying for AP tests, shifts at the local grocery store, graduation parties, and college prep. This chapter is closing in a flurry of activity, so much so that finding the emotional space to prepare for the next chapter is difficult. He despairs in the loss, and fears for the future.

We all come to places of transition where the temptation is to despair or fear. Instead, we can choose to grieve and hope. Read the rest of the story today at SheLoves magazine. 

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When Grief Surprises You

When Grief Surprises You
Photo by Jordan Donaldson | @jordi.d on Unsplash

I’m in a season of grief right now. Oh, I’m not sad all the time. It surprises me, actually. It comes in waves, like the ocean.

I’ve become more acquainted with the ocean now that we live 45 minutes from it. I love walking along the beach at sunrise. The waves are so unpredictable. They surprise you sometimes, coming up further than you expect. You can’t predict them.

Sometimes the water stays far away. Other times it stretches out and touches your feet, even washing up to your ankles if you’re close enough.

That’s my experience of grief.

If only it were a linear, predictable process. Hard at first, and then gradually subsiding. Less and less over time, until you don’t feel it anymore. A clear timeline with a precise end date. You do your grieving and then you’re done, praise Jesus.

Instead, grief feels like a stranger popping out from behind doors at the most unexpected times.

When we walked onto the stage to stand with our son at graduation, I was surprisingly calm. Later, as one of his good friends stood there with her parents, I lost it.

When I have thought about graduation in the past weeks, I have felt more pride than sorrow. Then a week ago I read an email from friends overseas and the tears spilled over at how well they’re doing.

His graduation party was all joy, then last week I folded one of his never-to-be-worn-again uniform shirts and I broke down.

That’s the thing with grief-it’s all right there, but we can’t control or predict it.

I’m often frustrated by this unpredictable guest. Probably because it reminds me that I am not always doing as well as I would like (or like others) to think. It keeps me vulnerable, never knowing when a wave of grief might catch me off guard, when I might start crying about some random person’s life, when it’s really just touching my own.

But I’ve been learning these last few years that grief is a necessary companion. In fact, it is a doorway to wholeheartedness.

I know that part of the reason my grief comes out sideways is that I don’t want to deal with it. It’s easier to stay focused on my to do list, buying dorm essentials and harping on him to finish those thank you notes (I swear, he’s working on them), than to let the waves crash so hard I lose my footing.

But [ictt-tweet-inline]losing our footing in grief is what we must do sometimes.[/ictt-tweet-inline] More and more I am learning to stop and walk straight into the waves. To let myself dwell on what we are losing, and how much it hurts to lose. To say a proper goodbye to this beautiful season we have lived.

When I do, I find that those waves don’t drown-they heal.

And I’m learning that I cannot navigate the waves alone. It’s easier to weather waves of grief when there are people walking beside us, holding us up. They hold our hands and make us brave as we walk into the waves. We need those people who will life preservers, keeping us afloat while we to swim in the grief for a little while.

We can’t fight the waves. Instead, we can accept that they are a natural part of the journey. We can give space to our souls to process the grief when it comes. And we can invite others to hold space for us to feel all of it, so when the waves do come, we can swim.

Let the sorrow come and touch you. When we do that, we let ourselves be human. We live wholeheartedly. Let grief surprise.

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5 Things to Do When Life Is Good

Five Things to Do When Life Is Good
Photo by Brigitte Tohm on Unsplash

 

Recently, my husband and I tried to arrange a night out with some good friends. He suggested staying in, and I replied, “Oh, you know how he is-he’ll want to go out instead.” And it hit me: I love that I know this person. He’s someone I did not know prior to life in Orlando. I love that God has given us not just new, but dear, dear friends.

Life feels good right now. Our cups are full. That’s more precious after the rough transition we had to Orlando. We have history here, good history. It is a season of joy, a time to revel in the rich harvest of this place God has given us.

So the natural question becomes: how can we make the most of this?

Because life doesn’t stay put for long. God keeps leading us to new seasons, and some of them are tough. Here’s what God has been encouraging me to do in this time:

5 things to do when life is good

  1. Rest

    Transition takes a toll. Chances are, it took some climbing to get to this spot. God gives us times when our souls can rest. Take a deep breath and look around. Get to know this new landscape God created. Don’t spend energy looking back at what you left, and don’t waste it trying to prepare for what might be ahead. Just be all here.

  2. Give thanks

    The practice of gratitude is so essential to navigating transition well. When it’s over, it’s tempting to forget where all this goodness comes from. Thank God for bringing you to this place and for every little blessing that you see. Celebrate the heck out of it! The other day I made a list of things I’m grateful for, and I felt God’s absolute pleasure in giving them to me. It’s His joy to bring us to wide open spaces. Realize that fact and respond.

  3. Remember others

    It wasn’t long ago that we were the new people, the ones without community or roots. Those people are all around us, hungry for connection. We could be the one to meet their needs. Remember what it felt like to not be in this place, and ask God to lead you to grab others by the hand and walk well with them. We can give them the strength we feel right now.

  4. Bear witness

    When you’re in the storm of transition, it’s hard to remember that there are places of abundance, solid ground to stand on. Scripture says a good word from a distant land brings hope. We can be that good word to others. Sometimes we’re discouraged from sharing about being in places of blessing when others are struggling. But bearing witness is about giving credit to God, and reminding all of us of His goodness.

  5. Let it fuel the future 

    Life changes constantly, and what carries us through is remembering that God is our anchor. Like I said in my New Year’s post, we look back so we can look forward. Like the Israelites passing over the Jordan, mark this place so that in the future storms that come, you remember His faithfulness. You will expect Him to bring you back to places like this.

When life is good, and our cups are full, we let them overflow.

Overflow with gratitude to the Giver of all good things. Spill the joy you feel into the lives of those around you. Satisfy the thirsty souls who are struggling. Fill your own soul for the journeys to come.

Are you in transition right now? Here’s a podcast I did on transitioning well, including a summary of 10 practices that help us navigate transition wholeheartedly. 

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Stand at the Crossroads

Stand at the Crossroads
Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash

It would never have been in my plans to make an international move pregnant, but that is exactly what I did in the fall of ‘99. When I was thrown into the newness of being a first time mama six months later, I was still wrestling to grasp a language as different from English as possible, learning how to lead a ministry alongside my husband, and finding my place in a new culture.

I was swimming in transition.

My love for our host country, coupled with a deep need for external validation, drove me through the spring to squeeze life out of every hour: studying the language while our son napped, taking him with me to meet students, our team passing him around as we met and planned. I once nursed him with one arm while wiping a poop explosion off the wall with baby wipes so I could finish in time to meet a student for discipleship.

I wanted to do it all. Six months later, I was overwhelmed.

To read the rest of the story, and how God used this verse from Jeremiah to minister to me, go to my guest post at (in)courage here:  Stand at the Crossroads

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Having Hope in a New Season

It’s September. The pumpkin spice lattes are back, and the Halloween candy is out, which is how I know it’s autumn (Orlando weather doesn’t really give me any clues). Can I just point out that if you’re buying Halloween candy now, you’re either a great planner AND highly disciplined, or let’s face it-it’s never going to last until October 31. Just sayin’.

It’s exciting to see the fall décor, the warm colors of sweaters and pants hanging on the racks, the everything scented cinnamon. Bring on the new season.

New seasons bring exciting new possibilities, but they also bring the unknown. They bring “I’m not sure how to do this” and “what will happen?” and most of, “will this be good?”

It’s been several years now since we moved back to the U.S. from 13 years overseas. We returned to many familiars, but also so many unknowns. Overseas, we were deeply known, deeply rooted, deeply seen. Here, we had yet to see how God would provide in similar ways.

Now, I scroll through my text messages and I see name after name of people I did not know then. I have my favorite places, my favorite things (the library delivers, friends. To. My. House).

I, who dread meet and greets, linger after church because there are so many people I love and want to see. Our roots are not as deep as they were in the last season, but they are sinking. We are claiming ground here.

And He saw it all before it ever came to be.

A year or so into our time in Singapore years ago, God gave me this same kind of awareness. I imagined having this kind of conversation with Him when I was hesitant to leave our home and move there,

“Oh but Gina, you’re going to meet Wendy, and Krisi, and Fiona, and so many others. You’re going to have great memories with your kids at the wobbly train park and the zoo and the children’s library. They’re going to talk for years about the Nutella waffles you get at the market. It’s going to be so good!

Friend, maybe you are in a new season that looms much larger than new latte flavors and décor.

Maybe it’s a new location, a new stage of life, a new role. You can’t see much through the fog right now. You’re wondering if it’s going to be good, if you’ll be known, if you’ll find your place. Remember this:

Every season that is unknown to you is known to God.

God’s got good in store for you. He has people for you. He has prepared moments of laughter and joy. There will be valleys and mountains of growth. Just like I told my kids when we first moved here, “You might just meet your new best friend.”

You might be entering a season of amazing blessing, or it might be your greatest place of transformation. Either way, He knows it. He’s got you.

Each year back, we celebrate another season of life here. We pile the Ebenezer stones and claim the goodness of God in this season He’s given us. We look back and see all that He knew He was going to give us here.

It’s a new season. There’s good to come. He goes ahead, preparing it for you.

“I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” –Jeremiah 29:11 The Message

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