how saying yes (and no) shape a life story

Always a few years behind everyone else, I’ve been reading Don Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. It’s about moving from being a consumer of your life to being a producer. When two movie guys contacted him to make a film out of his memoir, he discovered his real life was void of some things. He ended up editing his real life to tell a better story; not for the movie, just for the life. It reads like a conversation and it took me a few chapters to realize this was how the whole thing was gonna go. I like it, but this isn’t a book review.

It took courage and brave for him to take an honest look and realize he wanted his life to tell a better story. Courage is a funny thing. Sometimes it means taking the risk to do that big thing, knowing you could fail but facing it anyway. Other times, courage means saying no, bowing out, staying seated when it seems like you should stand. When you say yes to things, you automatically say no to other things whether you mean to or not.

I’m becoming more aware of my yes’s and my no’s. Saying yes to leading a girls small group was actually saying no to being in a women’s small group of my own. Saying yes to writing books came with a bucket full of no’s. When I said yes to writing, I actually also said no to being a sign language interpreter, being room mom in my girls’ classroom, spending hours at Target while the kids are in school, and pursuing photography for money or fun.

And since it’s Tuesday, it’s worth mentioning that saying no to Tuesdays Unwrapped is actually saying yes to something else. If you’re wondering what, so am I. I’ll keep you posted. But the bottom line is saying yes and saying no are the basis for everything we do. Every yes has a no automatically attached. We run into problems when we forget that, and we try to say yes to the yes’s and yes to the no’s, too. It’s when we feel the world spin too fast and when it feels like everything is up against us, like slow traffic and engine lights and sick babies and lines at the post office. Those things are overwhelming enough, but even more so when we’re trying to live a yes-life with too few no’s.

At the same time, it is possible to get stuck in the no’s, to be afraid of yes because of failure or embarrassment or worry or whatever. Or saying no to hard things just because they’re hard. Saying no to faith is actually saying yes to fear. I do it all the time, though I don’t like to think of it that way.

What we say yes and no to shape our stories, for better or worse. Are you aware of your yes’s and your no’s?

on Advent and writing with The Man

December starts this week. The season of anticipating is here. If you are looking for a way to celebrate with your family in the midst of the anticipation, Ann Voskamp just finished her Jesse Tree Advent Devotional. You can download it for free here. I’m not sure we’ll do it this year, as we are still trying to build the Sunday Advent tradition with our kids. Maybe we’ll work up to the Jesse Tree next year. Still, I’m keeping her thoughtful work for the future.

My friend Kari is pregnant, due just after Christmas. She wrote a beautiful post on Advent that is worth the read. It is a letter to her son, Atticus, and in it she honestly shares her perspective on the whole thing. I love it.

“Your dad is the feeler in this family. I will be interested to see which you are. I don’t think I know what it means to be seized by the power of a great affection, but Christmas and Advent are as close as I get to understanding what that feels like.”  -Kari

Finally, I am so excited to be writing about that today over at Christmas Change. Even more exciting to me is that my husband is joining me there, and together we share some of those things we are thinking on as we enter into December. I would love for you to join us there as we write On Returning.

slowing for thankful

“Thankfulness takes the sting out of adversity. That is why I have instructed you to give thanks for everything. There is an element of mystery in this transaction: You give Me thanks (regardless of your feelings), and I give you Joy (regardless of your circumstances).”

Sarah Young, Jesus Calling

There have been small things this weekend that have added up to make this Thanksgiving one of my favorites in recent years. I admit to be one of those people who pushes Christmas and Thanksgiving together. I usually have Christmas decorations up mid-November. But not this year. This year, I’ve slowed.

It’s true that giving thanks is actually the best way to receive the gifts. It seems like it should be the opposite, like receiving the gift comes first, and then we’ll feel thankful. But when it comes to invisible things like hope in the midst of heartache or faith in the midst of fear, being thankful can be the very window by which these gifts are able to come in.We thank him first, even when it’s hard to believe. Miracles happen that way. Not ones with bright lights and TV pulpits, but sacred miracles of belief, of hope, and strength of character. I’ve been thinking on these things, on the miracles that follow thanksgiving. Worry melts into acceptance. Tension doesn’t feel so heavy.

As we now enter into the Advent season, I am thankful for this slowing, for this time to remember and celebrate Emmanuel. The Man and I have been talking about what it means to have God-with-us with us, and we have a post going up over at Christmas Change tomorrow. I’ll let you know when it’s live.

a place to be

May your soul breathe deep today, and may your home be a place to be. Not a place to be busy, or to be anxious, or to be contentious. May it not be a place of turmoil, or a place to worry what they are thinking. May it simply be a place of truth, of freedom, and togetherness. May it be restful, joyful, and safe. Enjoy the weekend of thanks and giving.

on a tuesday

I listen to him breathing as I sit quiet in his room. He snores, and sometimes stops breathing all together. So I have to listen and count and wait. Doctors orders. It scared me at first, he stops breathing when he sleeps! But now that I’m sitting here listening, it really isn’t all that often. And when it happens, it isn’t for all that long. Funny how paying attention to the facts is sometimes all I need to do to dispel the fear.

The tunnel living I spoke of last week doesn’t feel so heavy now. I met my deadline, turning in the latest project to my editor. This time, though, I didn’t dance a jig like I did when I turned in the manuscript. This time, I collapsed on the couch. I looked out the window and noticed the season and thought of Thanksgiving and smiled. And also cried a little. I miss a lot when I’m writing. You would think it would be the opposite, that I would be more aware of things, more open to inspiration. Instead, when I have a big writing deadline, I focus. And the focus is God-ward and inward and that’s about it. And I walk around with a see-through bubble on my head like an astronaut. Nobody can see it, but I know it’s there. And their voices are muffled, days run together, laundry piles up. We eat chicken a lot. As soon as I meet the deadline, the bubble comes off. It’s like magic. I can breathe clear. I see the dirty floors and don’t look the other way.

As I sweep, I realize I could never be someone who has a deadline every week. The bubble would become a part of my head, and I would always wear damp, dirty socks. But there are other things I see as the bubble dissolves into nothing. I see too much and I realize some things, even good things, will need to be released.

We’ve been doing Tuesdays Unwrapped here for nearly two years. What began as a personal project to embrace the messy, the lovely, and the unexpected gifts in the midst of everyday life became a community of women who encourage and inspire; co-celebrators and friends who I have secretly referred to for the past 2 years as the unwrappers. I am thankful for you. I celebrate you. And now, I have to be honest with you. I need a break. I want to embrace these daily gifts and live them – and sometimes hosting Tuesdays Unwrapped takes away from the living. It hasn’t always been that way, but because of the season I’m in, it is that way now.

I’m not sure when I’ll start it up again. But for now, today will be the last day to link up to Tuesdays Unwrapped. At least for a while.

I’m still listening to him breathe. It’s steady now. Loud, but steady. I’m not so worried about it as I was before. Still, an ENT appointment tomorrow to be sure all is well. The photos in this post are all from our front yard, all of the same tree from different perspectives – down on the ground, standing tall, looking up. That’s what you do with things when you want to really see them, you have to walk around and watch, you have to sit and listen to him breathe, you have to look at the facts and not so much the fear.

As I do that with my schedule, when I look at it from all angles, I realize this is one of those things that needs editing out. For now. Thank you for joining me in this space, for your encouragement, for your perspective, and for your grace.

the art of play

I

t isn’t a new thing, but something about it evokes deep emotion in me. When I first saw the dancing bride and groom last year, the tears surprised me. They were all just so . . . happy. Things were exactly as they should be. And every time I’ve seen it since, I cry. I thought it was because it was a wedding. I always cry at weddings.But then the anchors and producers at The Today Show made a video to I Gotta Feeling. They copied the college students who did it last year. That one didn’t really affect me.  But when the Today Show did it at their workplace with Matt Lauer and Jenna Bush Hager and everyone? (PS her part is my favorite I know that we’ll have a ball…) I made it until they went outside, and then I almost had to leave the room for the tears. Is it just me?

the light at the end of the tunnel

You know that light at the end of the tunnel people talk about? I’m starting to get suspicious. You know how it goes. It’s like how students who have been students for sort of ever look to graduation as the light at the end of the tunnel. But then, they have to get a job. Another tunnel.

That’s what happens, I’m discovering, when you have deadlines for things. For me, right now, they are deadlines for my writing. I have a leader’s guide that is due on Monday, and you’d better believe that Tuesday is shiny and bright and open in my mind. But life goes the same way. If I don’t have work-ish deadlines, then I make up other types of deadlines in my head, though I won’t really call them that–goals for cleaning or kid stuff or other projects. When I get close to meeting those goals, I say I can see the light. But can we really see the light? Because in my experience, the end of the tunnel only leads to more tunnel.

I’ve been living for the light at the end, and I have to stop. I’m not saying it’s bad to finish projects or to look forward to things to come. I am saying when I put my face to the ground and barrel through just to get there, I come undone in a bad way. When I pick up that leader’s guide to work on in the early morning and in the lunch time hours and then late at night, again, I’m working hard in the dark because I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But there really is no end, you see. And life is a lot about finding the light in the now.

Because what can happen in the tunnel is the thrill of hold your breath, honk your horn, and turn on the headlights til the end! I don’t want my deadlines or my goals for next week to keep me from the now. What about you? Is there a light you’re working towards?

Blog Widget by LinkWithin