Well, that didn't go as planned!

Not every morning is perfect and cozy with everything going just to plan. Some mornings I jump on Facebook first – because I forgot to log off last night and notifications are glaring at me, demanding my attention. Some mornings I find myself off-track and out of kilter, catawampus. Today is that day.

There is nothing wrong. I’m not late or behind on anything. I just feel it. Off. I have certain things I do each morning and usually in a certain order. That gives me predictability and, to be honest, a sense of pride. I can brag about how forward-thinking and strategic I am. But I’m not.

I’m not one of those people who often laments the beast called “Facebook”. Nope. I like it. I enjoy the conversations and the pictures. I don’t care if everything is glamorized and filtered. It’s like an endless magazine to me – only I actually know these people.

Today, I heard my inner voice give its warning and I flat out ignored it. I checked my FB messages and then looked for my FB notifications and then started scrolling … And time passes. I use the excuse that my journal is full, so I can’t do that part of my routine. And I ignore the Bible sitting on top of the journal, postponing the reading for the day. And I sip my already cold coffee. And I consider writing. And I check my school grades again, even though I know everything is graded. By this time, my granddaughter is up and getting ready to leave. I immerse myself in that process because I love it. And now they’re gone.

It’s me, a cat, a dog, and a fresh cup of coffee. And thoughts. Thoughts of imperfection. Thoughts of my day. Thoughts of how easy it is to get off-track, off-plan, off-kilter. Any of us can be one micro decision away from derailing our best intentions. I’m no exception.

There’s good news though. At any point, we can make a new decision. We can reclaim our plan. We can turn from what we are doing to what we think we should be doing or what we want to want even if we don’t actually want it yet. We can take responsibility for where we are and the choices we’re making and when we do, we empower ourselves to choose differently. *raises both hands in praise*

How often are we victimized by our own choices? How often are we blaming our circumstance on things that we fully control. I’m a life coach – I’m just going to say it – Take responsibility and change what you can. Stop the blame game – it doesn’t serve you or anyone else. Every big blunder is a series of micro indiscretions. We have the ability to influence how our day goes and we need to stop blaming God and others for the choices we’re making. Whew! I feel better! I’ve been needing to hear that! How about you?

Can you picture it? The perfect Hallmark Christmas? Fire blazing, carols playing, lovers kissing. There are cookies being made, lights strung, cider brewing. The mood is cozy. The air is cold, but not too cold. We used to call it a Norman Rockwell scene but maybe the younger folk wouldn’t know who that is so now we talk about the perfect scene as being the kind in a Hallmark movie (or a card).

Recently, someone referred to my home as being the perfect backdrop for a Hallmark movie. No! Not mine. I mean thank you and all, but seriously, it’s not. But, I get it. It looked perfect – at least for a couple of hours.  It’s just that that isn’t real life. It’s the thing we create to keep our reputation intact and help others feel welcomed. Truth be told, I love doing it. I love having all the mess put away and creating beautiful scenes. I think it puts a little magic in the world and I always appreciate it when others do it for me. However, I don’t remember that they hid their mail stacks (like I did). I assume they don’t have kitchen counter clutter (like I do). And I compare myself against them.

No one but my husband (and maybe a couple of my kids in earshot) know it, but recently (Saturday), I cried to my husband that I never feel good enough, smart enough, Christian enough when compared against his family. And let me tell you, those thoughts do not come from them – they are all mine and they’re rooted in my own insecurities. I was fighting the perfectionism demon that I preach about all the time. And I was losing – because I know the truth.

In case you’re comparing your real life to my Instagram (like I do with people I think are near perfect), I have some things to share with you.

One of the little girls here was trying feverishly to get down and only perked up when offered the bribe of some t.v. time. 

I fought sugar woes all weekend and made myself sick Saturday night eating things I don't normally eat (and way too much of it). This is my get-back-to-healthy meal. And it wasn't as easy as it looks. I still ate "off-plan" things Sunday even though I felt so bad Saturday.

These little gingerbread houses were a pain in the butt to build ahead of time. I was hard-headed about it because I wanted the Hallmark kind of Christmas party. (It was worth it, though. Look at those smiles!)

This awesome HOCHO bar with Starbucks looks impressive. However, STBX mix requires milk not water. Beware! We had to make an extra trip to buy milk, remember to heat milk and still failed to keep it stocked during the party. 

My daughter and I had our own little Hallmark moment Sunday assembling some more Gingerbread houses. The guys didn't want to join in (football). Mine kept collapsing. I almost had to wash my mouth out with soap. 

This morning I hid the snack mix in the basket with the lid. The lid had been covering our junk that's normally spread on the counter.

 This table has been askew since the party and I don't really care. I only have to be "perfect" when others are looking.

This window - the same one I took pictures through at the party (when the sun was in a different position) - is filthy. So is the one beside it. Odds are it will stay that way.

And guess what. I forgot to put out the cider!

Crying Over Scrambled Eggs

This morning was a pretty normal morning for me – up about 5:30, coffee x2, cozy blanket, journal, Bible – that’s how it goes. I have leisurely mornings with focused activity. I get up early to allow time to take my time if you know what I mean. After my thoughtful time, I got up – as usual – and made my breakfast. This morning I planned scrambled eggs. Sometimes, I have hard-boiled eggs, just to change it up a bit. But today the plan was scrambled eggs and a half of an apple, sliced. Simple. I heated the skillet, spritzed in some coconut oil and cracked my free-range eggs into the pan and began to scramble them. When they were just right, I scooped them onto a small Polish Pottery plate and went about halving then slicing my apple. I stood at the counter to gaze out the window and began to eat.

It doesn’t take too long to eat this breakfast so sitting down seemed a bit of a bother. It was just then, with my brain active and awake after being up for an hour and a half, that I realized what I was doing and what I’d been doing for so very many years. I was taking the gift – the blessing ­– of breakfast, of food, for granted. I was treating this privilege as if it was nothing.

In our home, we make it a practice to pray before most of our meals and thank God for our food. It’s very routine. In fact, it’s almost thoughtless. I’m glad that it’s such a routine that praying in a restaurant feels just as normal as praying in our home. Still, if I’m honest, it’s also such a routine that we do it too often without any real thought. We say words but don’t bother to really think about their significance.

Along these lines, I had another realization recently that relates to dieting. I often feel deprived when dieting. You, too? I look at what everyone else is having and I want to indulge, too. I don’t want to request steamed broccoli when others are having things coated in cheese and bread crumbs. Sometimes, in that state of feeling deprived, I go the other way and just order whatever I want. It’s a rebellious part of my personality that just goes for it, so to speak. When I feel deprived emotionally, I do the same thing. “Whatever!” becomes my mantra. I realized that in feeding my sense of deprivation I actually gain weight. Can you see the irony there? The collapse of logic? Clearly, I’m not actually deprived if I have choice.

This brings me back to this morning’s eggs. Those scrambled eggs may be my routine, but they are a gift. Wait for it – just like the ability to choose between steamed broccoli or broccoli casserole (or cheese dip, or a hot appetizer like everyone else) is a gift. I am blessed and if you are reading this, you are too. We actually have more than enough. We have choices. We, or at least I (and probably you), have a kitchen, pots and pans, butter, coconut oil, and utensils all at our disposal. We are not deprived. I am not deprived. And those basic, uninspired scrambled eggs? Well, they’re a blessing and as such, deserve special treatment.

 I immediately changed my course. I moved from my counter top location and went to the dining room table. I sat down and began to give heartfelt thanks for my eggs, my apple, my stove, my warm home. Scrambled eggs never tasted so good. I decided that the luxury of food – especially when it’s so easy to come by – deserves true thanksgiving and taking the time to sit down and enjoy the gift.

Now, I know myself. It won’t be long before I’ll be on to another great insight and in danger of forgetting this lesson. That’s why I’m writing it down. I want to remember. I need to be truly thankful for each blessed morsel. I don’t want to be shoving food mindlessly in my mouth anymore – at a counter top, in my car, eating in haste or mindlessly at any event. I want to honor the One who has so lavishly and abundantly provided for me. Once upon a time, God provided an abundant supply of manna and quail for His people. They weren’t grateful. They complained. How like them I have been!

Lord, thank you. Not just for the feast I have enjoyed over the past few days, but for what you provide every day. Thank you for the simple, fresh food I’m blessed to choose from. Thank you for the gift of indulgent foods that I am blessed to enjoy any time I desire. Please help me remember that I am blessed. May I not take my meals for granted. Please rebuke me if I’m found slipping back to my old ways.

Oh Yes You Can!

Let me get right to the point this morning. How long are you going to stay where you are, doing what you’re doing and refusing to change? There. I said it. I asked the real question. The one that gnaws at me in my own soul. How long are you going to complain about not getting results you didn’t work for? How long are you going to accept a mediocre version of yourself and pretend that it’s the best you can give.

Hold on! That last one really pricks. It stings. It smacks at the hardcore unvarnished truth. Well, now. I didn’t expect to go that deep that fast.

Listen, if I don’t tell it to you straight, I’m not doing you any good. If you’re going to shut me out every time I speak up, why am I even here? In fact, if you’re going to complain and whine about all of my [awesome] suggestions, I’m going to quit helping you.  I’m going to shut up. I’m going to quit telling you the truth and let you see how long you’ll stay happy swimming in your mediocre muck!

Soul Food

Whoo, boy! That cuts, doesn’t it? Sharp, sharp words. Mean and nasty – and oh, so true! Like you, like your friends and neighbors, I’m a master at self-victimization. Only thing is, I don’t call it that. I call it “doing the best I can” or “that’s just how I am” or “the stars weren’t aligned, it wasn’t God’s will, I can’t help it”. But the truth is, I’m allowing it and worse than that, I’m causing it. And so are you.

Every time we blame others or circumstances for our situation, we victimize ourselves. Every time we deny our ability to change, we surrender the power we have over the situation and label ourselves as helpless. Just because we use euphemisms to describe it doesn’t mean we’re not doing it. Let’s get real about it.

The thing is – I don’t think we need to blame anyone.  And that means ourselves, too. Blaming and accusing isn’t great material for growth. I say, let’s just acknowledge our position of power. Let’s reclaim our personal choice in the matters that matter. There are tons of things we cannot control in a day, for sure. But, my question is, what are we doing about the ones we can control?

My health food.

•                 What are we putting in our mouths?
•                 How and when are we strengthening our bodies?
•                 When are we going to bed, getting up, feeding our souls?
•                 How much time are we spending on social media, watching junk t.v., reading meaningless material, texting instead of talking, while we complain that we don’t make enough money, have meaningful relationships, weigh what we want, have any energy?

This isn’t sexy to talk about – I know it. But my friend, if we don’t face up to how we’re sabotaging our hopes and dreams, we will keep riding the hamster wheel that’s taking us nowhere. Encouragement is not patting someone, even yourself, on the head and saying “You did the best you could. You’re all you can be. You can’t help it.” No. Real encouragement is saying, “Put on your shoes and let’s run this race together! You can do more than you think. You are worth another shot. God loves you and so do I!”. Real encouragement calls a brother or sister up alongside. Real encouragement is laced with tons of belief in a person’s ability to rise above their circumstance.

I’m not here to tell you that you don’t need God. In fact, I’m not even here to tell you that you don’t face some real challenges. But I am here to challenge you to take responsibility for your say so in the matter. I’m here to challenge you to consider how you might do things differently if you’re not getting the results you want. I’m issuing a call to CHANGE.

Urgent or important?

I believe God is in control of our ultimate destiny. The Bible says, “A man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps” (paraphrased, Proverbs 16:9). And I personally believe in seeking God and His will for our lives. I also believe that we make many decisions each day that play a part in how we travel this life. I’m suggesting here that we might benefit from taking an honest look at our choices day in and day out and reckon with their impact on our current situation. This is what I mean when I say we need to take our power back and stop putting ourselves in the role of victim.

Consider some things:

•                 Who are you hanging around and do they encourage you to grow - by their words, by their own choices? Are they of excellent character? (Can you love them without spending tons of time around them if they’re not?)
•                 How do you run your day? Are you in control of your time? Are you making time for what’s truly important or simply chasing after the urgent all day?
•                 What are you putting in your brain? Do you read uplifting, intellectual things? Is your thought life driven by trashy books, disparaging comedy/music, the news, your social media feed – to name a few that I judge as draining, depleting?
•                 Are you feeding your soul intentionally?
•                 Are you finding your feel-good moments in ways that do not serve you? (Food, alcohol, drugs, porn, egomania)
•                 Are you satisfied with being less than you believe you were created to be?

What change are you resisting that you know would help you? We are afraid of change. I get it. If we change, others may not accept us. If we change, everything will be different. If we change we can never do x, y or z again – or so we fear.  I only know who I am now. How can I be something else? I get that.

Here’s an idea. What if you stop trying to do all the right things and you concentrated on who you want to be? I decided I want to be healthy. That changed some choices for me. I decided I want to be in full integrity with myself and that led to me changing some disingenuous behavior. I decided I want to be more in tune with God and so I began to create more time for time in the Word and prayer. I decided I wanted to be a more powerful person for myself and others and so I began to change and adopt some habits that are more in alignment with that desire.

My friend. You have more control than you think. You, like me, are making choices day in and day out that are impacting your place in life. I personally don’t know anyone who can’t improve in some area or another so trust me, I’m not putting you down. My goal is to help you look up and decide to pick yourself up. Come on now. You can do it.

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How Shallow Am I?

Today, this very morning, I sit on my screened-in porch, thankful for the air that fills my lungs, the squawks of the birds, the hint of a breeze. I am in awe of magnitude of the Lord and the beauty He created. I am thankful to be alive. But that’s not the whole story.

I am also grieved in my spirit. This morning I awoke to learn of the death of a friend from years ago. Last night I learned of the passing of another friend’s mother. I’ve spent the past several days absorbing the loss of life due to war, the grief of widows and mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Perhaps it’s the combined effect of these stories that leads me where I am today.

As I crashed headlong into the harsh reality of life that ends all too suddenly, I came face to face with an undeniable truth. We are an incredibly shallow people. I pondered this question: How much time and energy do we waste worrying over a pound gained or lost, the size of our clothes, what someone said (or didn’t)? How consumed are we over the thoughts, opinions and actions of people and what brand of shoes they are or are not wearing? How much time are we expending casting stones at others, worried about the splinters in their eyes while we have a log in ours? How much love are we withholding because of hurt feelings – never thinking that today may be our last day to give love to someone?

Do you not know, dear friend, that you can disagree and still show love? Do you not know that your friend is against an idea not you? Can you not see that some are blinded by their own pain? Do you not have the ability to consider things from another perspective?

I am incredibly shallow. I fret over pounds gained or not lost. I have anxiety over gluten and sugar sometimes. I want you to like my outfit, hair & house. And, yes, while I don’t need your approval, I sure do like it. Today, I’ve caught myself being fretting about not having as high a grade as I’d like to have – as if that really matters. Who cares? What difference does it really make in the length of life? I believe in taking care of our bodies and working hard, but for goodness’ sake we - I -  get so off-track sometimes!

If I’ve learned anything over the past few days (and the past year), I’ve learned that life is short and death can come quickly and unexpectedly. I’ve had good news recently and would love to share it with my mom and dad. When I put on my leopard print shirt last night, I couldn’t help but think of my mom – she would like that and I feel it’s a bit of her imprint on me. I wish my parents could see me losing the unhealthy pounds I carried for so long – I know they worried about me.

And, Christian friends, maybe I’ve missed it along the way, but I don’t think we’re called to bash other Christians every time they don’t get it quite right or demean the unbelievers for not “getting it”. I do, however, recall Jesus giving the religious a tongue-lashing for caring more about being seen doing the “right thing” and not remembering God looks on the heart. I know we’re called to uphold sound doctrine – I’m not questioning that. I just believe we can do it without being mean or cruel.

I really don’t know where all this is going. I simply want to draw attention to the brevity of life and the temporal things we’re getting hung up on. I long to be more like Christ and I realize I have a long way to go. I long to make a bigger difference in the lives of the hurting, but in order to do that I’m going to have to stop licking my own wounds enough to look up.

We are called to love. We are called to serve. Meaningful change starts in your own heart – and mine.

Another September 11th

GWOT Memorial
Photo Credit: National Infantry Museum

I am not the most eloquent person you’ll ever meet – not by a long shot – but I hope and pray that today I will be able to communicate what’s on my heart in a way that carries the honor the subject matter deserves.

As I begin my story, my mind goes back to Sept 11, 2001. I don’t have to rehearse the events of the day for you. You have your own memories. Like me, you were going about your normal routine when someone called you or you walked by the television or the radio broadcast was interrupted. We were living our normal lives and suddenly were thrust into a world of terror and then a war on terror. Maybe, also like me, you thought it would all be handled quickly. After all, we’d learned so much from the Gulf War – or so we thought. (Don’t give up on me here – this is not going political.) Here we sit on the anniversary of the attack on the World Trade Center seventeen years later, still immersed in the Global War on Terror (GWOT).

This past weekend, I had the honor and privilege of attending the Rededication of the GWOT Memorial at the National Infantry Museum. The memorial was initially dedicated last year and bears the names of over 6900 service members killed in action as a direct result of the GWOT. Sadly, 28 new names were added this year. And truly, if you haven’t seen the memorial, you owe it to yourself to visit.

Leading up to the weekend, I had someone comment that it seemed like such a sad thing to attend. And you know? It is. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go. Men and women are still dying and I think we tend to forget. And we must not allow that to happen. One of the great fears I heard communicated by the parents, wives, brothers and sisters of these fallen service members is that their loved ones will be forgotten. We must remember.

Some people may think this memorial is just for the Army or even more specifically the Infantry. Not true. This memorial lists all the names from all the services in chronological order. This year alone, a minimum of 7 of the 28 new names were those of Air Force members.  We sat with their families. We heard their stories. My husband is retired Air Force. And while I’ve never had to face the shock these family members have faced, I remember getting a call from my husband telling me he was “o.k.” the morning after the air war began in the Gulf War, 1990. He had been waiting to take off in Dharan, Saudi Arabia the moment the air war began. I can’t identify with their pain and loss, but I know the fears around the duty. My son is in training as an Army aviator and has already deployed once. My son-in-law deploys in the near future. My other son is a police officer. I live with those fears on a fairly regular basis, but I have determined I will not be controlled by them.

Representing the Twin Towers with a beam from FDNY
Photo Credit: National Infantry Museum

What I learned this weekend is that these family members were simply living their normal lives when their worlds were turned upside down. They were each innocently going about life when the car and the uniforms arrived at the door. I learned that the rest of us – those untouched by tragedies like this – blunder our way through feeble attempts to comfort. One suggestion was that we develop 6 meaningful questions to ask rather than simply say “I’m sorry for your loss”. This person told me that Vice President Pence asked “When did you speak with your loved one last?” and that meant a great deal to her. I learned that those left behind want to speak of their son, daughter, husband, wife. The people I met have a special bond with the military units. I learned that we all need to be sure – very sure – our wills and insurance policies are up to date. I learned that I am grossly inadequate at conveying my sadness for their loss.

Photo Credit: National Infantry Museum

I witnessed great strength and immense love this weekend. I listened as a woman recounted her love for her husband, his death and the birth of their baby, now 8 months old. I met the Gambles - people that come from right up the road and know my brother in law. Mr. Gambles’ son was killed in 2007 – 22 years old. I hugged. I cried. I gave thanks. For duty. For sacrifice. For my kids.

 Today we face another September 11^th. I am reminded that the GWOT memorial has blank spaces on the granite for more names. The war is not over as you may think. Men and women are still out there sacrificing. I wish you could hear the stories I heard. The way some gave their own lives to save their fellow service members. I’ll willingly feel sad and shed tears to honor those who no longer can and sit with those who bear the pain of loss every day.

The Perfection of Imperfection

Even as I write the title, I am moved by truth. Imperfection is actually perfect. It blows me away to fully consider this. I am, by far, the most imperfect person I know. I can be selfish, rude,  self-serving, and shallow - and that's the tip of the iceberg. I eat when I'm anxious, sad, happy, and mad. I laugh at inappropriate things and can cry at the drop of a hat. I know I'm not supposed to care what you think about me, but I do. I am guilty of things that would very likely surprise you. And this is where I am today - imperfect and in that is it's own perfection.

Oh, I know how it sounds to the most religious of you. Glorifying in my sin. Celebrating things that are wrong. But, oh my dear friend, that's not how it is at all. My sin breaks my heart. I would that I was different - so very often. I grow. I learn. And by the grace of God, I change. I like to think I improve - and I believe I do. I simply do not know how to be where I am except by where I've been. Those imperfections? Those flaws are part of the very reason I know Jesus and are surely evidence that I needed a savior. I could not, cannot overcome my weaknesses on my own. Frankly, I'm just too imperfect for that.

So many things are coming together in my head this morning ... realizing I feel hurt by someone taking me off of their friend list, absorbing a mind-blowing Scripture passage, facing some negative consequences of positive action (reference the unfriending part), realizing not everyone will like me or agree with me... and reckoning with that. It's o.k. It really is. You don't have to like me. You don't have to agree with me. I'm not here to please you. And that means you're not here to please me - or anyone else for that matter.

In a Perfect World 
by Stephanie Redmond, 2018

In a perfect world

We’d all be perfect.

There’d be no sin, no guilt, no shame.

There’d be no wrong and

You couldn’t be disappointed by me

Or me by you.

In a perfect world

You wouldn’t talk behind my back

Nor I behind yours.

Love would cover all

And there’d be no need

For “You hurt me”,

“I was wrong” and

“Please forgive me”.

In a perfect world

Sheep wouldn’t stray and

Shepherds would care for the one who did.

There’d be no tears, divorce, or even death.

We would love richly, worship freely, and

Live happily -

Ever after.

In a perfect world

I suppose we’d have no need for God,

Would never seek His face or

Know the power of His grace.

Thank God this world is not perfect.