inspired | chatting at the sky

the art of change

May 25, 2011

“The linchpin, the engaged one, the graceful actor in an unfolding play — these people don’t seek to only inspect. They’re not traveling in order to tick a checkbox. Instead, they open themselves to the world they bought a ticket to, knowing full well that they will be changed. The toll of making change is that you will be changed.” –Seth Godin, Graceful

You’ll come back changed. He spoke in the dark as we pulled back the sheets. He spoke it loving and encouraging and all I could do was cry. What if I don’t change? What if I’m exactly the same? I don’t want change. I want to stay home and make spaghetti.

Those are the kinds of thoughts I have late at night when it’s all about me and my big self. But when the light comes up behind the trees and night turns itself over into day, I think much differently about our trip. Isn’t that how it always goes? The light carries with it sweet perspective that pours out and stacks up like Tetris blocks, the pattern so obvious you can’t believe you missed it before.

Whether you’re going on vacation or on a mission trip, consider the art of entering into the place where you are. Enter the story that is already taking place, wherever we are, wherever we’re going, and do it with delight. Resist holding on to comfortable like a worn out Linus blanket. Want to hear my new plan for this upcoming trip?

Believe God.

Love people.

Lift up your eyes from the place where you stand.

Leap into the story, eyes wide open.

Listen to the rhythm of a different kind of normal.

And take good notes.

Filed Under Compassion Philippines, inspired 34 Comments

when saying you’re sorry is a bad idea

May 11, 2011

Have you ever met someone who apologizes for everything? At first it is endearing and you think, Oh, look how thoughtful she is being of me! She is sorry she was late. But then you look at your phone and realize she is five minutes early. And she’s apologizing for it. And you realize that her definition of late is showing up two minutes past early. Before the night is over you have counted her apologies to the point where you can no longer focus on what she is saying because you’re waiting for her to apologize for it.

It’s exhausting to listen to her, until I realize I do it, too. I want to apologize for writing a non-fiction book because I know they aren’t as fun to read as fiction. I apologize for getting emotional when people pray for me. I’m not really sorry, but it’s what comes out of my mouth when it happens. I don’t know why I’m crying, I hear myself say, I’m so sorry. I’m being ridiculous.

When guests come over, have you ever heard yourself pointing out the mess to them and apologizing for all the imperfections even though you know that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful?

When the dinner dishes still sit in the sink from dinner two nights ago, do you hear yourself apologize to your husband for it, almost like you want to point out the flaws first before he gets a chance to do it?

The thing is, he never would. I completely accept your flaws but I am strictly opposed to my own. What I’m really saying is, Attention everyone! I have a very important announcement to make – I am a human being and I am ever so sorry about that.

We apologize for being emotional.

We apologize for being inarticulate.

We apologize for not having answers.

And in the doing, we sorry our way out of making art.

But these apologies aren’t really apologies, are they? A God-led sorry leads to healing, not hiding. Apologies said in true humility and repentance are intended to draw people closer to God and each other. A true sorry is said with an open hand, not a clenched fist. A true sorry is not about me. But sorry is a bad idea when it is used to cover up our beautiful, vulnerable, fragile humanity.

So what if we did the opposite? What if instead of brushing our emotions aside and apologizing for the brokenness, we invited a few people into it? What if instead of pointing out the mess on the floor, we welcomed them to sit with us among it? Perhaps we would finally see that we were made for greater things than this. We are living in the midst of provision, abundance, skill. Giftedness. We were made by design and on purpose by an unapologetic God. Dare to receive His making of you. And don’t forget to say thank you.

Filed Under a mess, inspired 65 Comments

for when you feel behind

May 9, 2011

We live our lives in measurable minutes, looking to the clock, the paycheck, the success of others. I got the contract. I’m winning! She got 2 contracts. I lose. I got the good metabolism. I’m winning! I got bad skin. I lose. I have food, a home, my health: I win! I worry, I pout, I covet: I lose.

And the cycle circles frantic on the level of our soul. We only let it go on because we don’t realize it’s happening. It’s become normal, familiar, and automatic. For some, the motivation is to win. For others, it is simply not to lose. I know it’s simplified here, but isn’t it true? Perhaps the reason we feel behind is because we’re chasing the wrong goal.

Perfection. I have a job coming up this weekend, and I feel behind when it comes to mind. But I’m beginning to realize I’m not technically behind at all. It isn’t the type of job you can really work on beforehand. But the reason I feel behind is because I’m worried about the outcome. I’m worried I won’t do the job well, and so the worry fuels the frantic wheel. I’m trying to catch up to perfect.

Expectation. Even though I have read the books and the blog posts and listened to the conversations, I still feel shame when my house isn’t clean. I know I shouldn’t. I’ve gotten better. The voices don’t shout like they used to. But the whispers are there among the paper stacks and the dirty bathroom floor. Their taunting convinces me that I am behind and I need to catch up to clean.

Beauty. I chase beautiful on the treadmill three times a week. Sometimes more. Usually less. I’m not always thinking of it that way, there are days when I go for healthy reasons, soul-feeding reasons, right reasons. But when I feel behind, when the wheel is spinning anyway, there is one more thing to throw on it. I am behind and I long to catch up to beautiful.

We are tricked into believing that the only relief from feeling behind is to catch up. But this is war, and the enemy is an illusive and foggy expectation. How can you catch up to a vapor? How can you ever run next to perfect, look her in the eye, and pass her by? We can’t but we try, and in our rush to get there we drop all the things we hold dear in order to lighten the load. Art is the first to go. Then patience, faith, and peace are tossed into a heap on the grass beside the track. But instead of a lightness, heavy comes instead. The pavement turns to quicksand, our opponent all but disappears in front of us, the race feels a joke, and we bear the brunt of it.

Show me where it says you are supposed to do it all. Point to the truth words that say you are expected to catch up. I want to see. This disease needs a cure, and only a Healer can give it. The only Healer I know invites the weary and the heavy to come for rest.

Release every detail of the job to him, from the equipment to the schedule. Tell him, cry if you must, close your eyes and believe. Open those reluctant hands. Feel the wheel begin to slow beneath you. Consider true beauty. Dare yourself to let it be true for you. What if there is no behind? What if there is only right now, this moment? Would anything be different?

Tagged rest Filed Under breathe, inspired 90 Comments

on editing

May 4, 2011

Page proofs for Grace for the Good Girl are due a week from today. And once I turn those in, I won’t see the book again until it’s a book, with a cover and everything. The heavy editing is over, and now we’re in the combing stage. It’s like looking for lice after the lice scare is over – you know they’re all gone, but any minute you might find one. That’s gross. I’m sorry. Go ahead, throw out your breakfast. You can eat tomorrow.

The Nester wrote a post yesterday called How to Edit a Room. Basically, she clears out everything smaller than a football and leaves only the big stuff. Then she sits in her newly quieted room and takes note of how it feels. She only adds back the stuff that has purpose, is loved, and is beautiful. She says it much better and Nester-ish than me so you’ll have to read the post.

Some of her advice on editing a room you can obviously apply to editing your writing, namely to take out all the stuff you don’t love. As I’m working on my second book, I’m trying to leave out all the parts someone would skip. It’s forcing me to be brave and trust the reader. If I put it in there, it has to be important and worth it. Such is the way of editing – we add, delete, correct, condense, re-shape, clean up, and make better. And I can’t help but let editing float over to so many other areas.

Schedule. I’m in a busy season right now. There are lots of things to be done and I simply can’t say no to some of them. If I sit in front of my calendar too long, my breathing gets shallow and my heart speeds up because I realize that I’ve already said no to the non-essentials and my schedule is still so full. And so editing my schedule looks like shifting my eyes from the burden of my calendar to the easy, light-load living of Jesus.

Fears. When I turn off phones and TVs and machines at the end of the day, that’s when the fears I’ve been living with seem to show themselves. I want to be relentless with these. Skip them. Be brave. Take them out.

Thoughts. We can control what we think about, and this is our first line of defense when it comes to editing our fears. Thoughts come fast and furious, but they only come one at a time. I can filter my thoughts through the screen of true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy. If it doesn’t fit in one of those categories, I’m free to get rid of it.

Inhibitions. As our thoughts are edited down to the true and the pure and the excellent, our inhibitions will edit themselves. Let your unnatural and uncomfortable self fall away to the cutting room floor, and allow yourself to move freely and create liberally with an eye for beauty and a heart bent brave toward adventure.

Thanks Nester for encouraging me to think about the big umbrella of editing. Are there any other areas significant in your life right now that could use some red pen action?

Tagged art Filed Under a writer, inspired 43 Comments

how to make art when there’s no time for art

May 2, 2011

The sun comes out after two days of rain and I watch the shadows show up in the backyard. A pile of clean, unfolded clothes hangs out heavy on top of the dyer, and I sigh when I look at it. I so should have kept the ironing board. I pull out the first thing I see, purple leggings tangled up with The Man’s t-shirt and a pair of underwear. I begin to fold and dream about all the other things I’d rather be doing.

The gift given to me by the hand of grace is encouragement. I have been equipped to encourage through writing. I find moments to write the way a dog looks for food. I take them greedy when they come and I steal them if they don’t. But some days neither is possible, and that’s where I am today, standing in front of the dryer, folding wrinkled clothes.

We’ve talked about the fear of art, of entering into a stare-down with your gift and daring yourself to win. But what is even scarier sometimes is standing in the laundry room, watching the shadows show up in the backyard. What am I doing here? Where is the art? It takes faith to believe in the midst of the ordinary, to continue to turn to Christ in every ordinary moment and trust that as you do so, he will turn you back out again.

I have lived entire seasons in my laundry room, at my kitchen sink, on the bathroom floor. I have sat in the middle of the night with two screaming babies and looked desperately for some creative expression. I have wondered if I have any thing to offer, any gifts to give. I don’t believe the answer is ever to whisk myself away to a remote island and figure out my purpose, although I wouldn’t turn down that ticket.

I do believe the answer is to turn to Jesus, to look for my reflection in his face, to trust even though it doesn’t feel true, to ask him to make beauty out of the ordinary gray. All of our things look different. It’s not always a message or an experience or a speech or a book. Everyone may not have a book to write. But everyone has a story, yes? And we get to choose the story we live. Sometimes our art is big and loud. Most times, it isn’t. Most times, it’s a quiet word, a choice to love anyway, a grace-filled glance, a still tongue, a hot dinner, a made bed, a flint-faced belief.

I am an artist, and I make art with my words, my pictures, my ladle, and my dishrag.

Tagged art Filed Under faith, inspired 60 Comments

the grace of art

April 28, 2011

So, have you talked yourself out of your art yet? Have you found enough reasons why you just don’t have what it takes? Are you still feeling guilty for having a passion that may not have a job description? Do you feel like you’re cheating a little bit if you get to actually do what you love?

What if you began to see your art as something other than your idea? What if it was bigger, more necessary than just a dream? What if you taking the next baby step toward creativity is actually you stepping into a bigger story? Art is a gift wrapped up in a box of grace straight from the hand of God. Stop asking questions about it. Stop trying to talk your way out of it. Receive the gift, say thank you, and begin to live like you believe it’s true.

“We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is teaching, let him teach; if it is encouraging, let him encourage; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully.”

Romans 12:6-8

What is your gift according to the grace given to you? Name it in the comments – I won’t tell anyone, I promise.

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 54 Comments

10 things that keep us from showing up

April 26, 2011

I’m not ready. You want to wait until you’re ready? Kiss that dream goodbye, friend. You’ll never be ready. Embrace it and fly.

I don’t have permission. Most of the time we don’t realize we’re waiting for permission, but we are. We want someone to tell us it’s okay, that the time is right, that this is the best decision ever. You want permission? I hereby grant you permission to go forth and create. There.

It’s not the right time. Sometimes this is legit. But most times we’re just afraid. Want to know the difference? Here are 5 ways to know if the art has to wait.

People might not like it. Yeah. So?

I might look like a fool. Mmm, hmmm. Your point?

Someone else can do it better. Oh forthelove.

I have nothing to offer. I’m listening now – This is a big one, where the art takes a huge hit. You believe it’s already been said, done, created, explored. That you have nothing new to say. Say it anyway. Be brave anyway. Throw out your inhibitions and spin around in this crazy world of recycled ideas. There is nothing new to say. Say it anyway.

I am not an artist. We’ve been over this one. Allow me to convince you otherwise.

It’s a waste of time. Define ‘waste’. . . And then dare yourself to re-define it.

It’s too much work. Truer words have never been said. It takes work to show up, to be present, to engage your ideas and escort them with love and attention from seedling to full grown, leafy, living art. But don’t be fooled – it takes work to ignore it too. And that work can be just as painful, if not more so–running from the voice, hiding from inspiration, denying the way you were made, pretending you don’t care about the art. Are you going to do the work of hiding or are you willing to do the work of art?

What did I miss? What keeps you from showing up and living the art?

Tagged art Filed Under inspired 72 Comments