I'm Too Flexible

I wish I were talking about my physical ability to stretch my body into amazing unduplicatable forms - but... I'm not. 

I'm refering to my laxity with life.  It seems where ever I go, the idea of being more flexible is being promoted.  More flexible with our spouses, more flexible with our expectations, more flexible with our schedules and agendas.  And so in that respect I'm grateful that I am predominantly easy going and don't easily get my feathers ruffled.  

I wasn't always this way.  In fact, I believe it has been an incredibly challenging road to get to this point.  I used to be quite tense when I was late to an event, or the house was messy and the doorbell rang, or even when someone wanted to spontaneously go do something that hadn't been planned out weeks in advance (actually, I still struggle with this one at times, but not always).  I used to get quite flustered when there wasn't enough money to stretch for all the needs, or equipment would break down (as if there is a convenient time), or not everything got a checkmark on my to-do list.  I've come a long way. 

Through a series of undesirable events, I've learned to be flexible.  Hope for the best but roll with the punches if something else happens instead.  It's amazing what going without food, without money, without control, without time, or without energy can do to change a person. You think you might not emotionally make it, but somehow or other you survive and then the next time a trial comes along - it's not so traumatic as it was the first time.  The result = flexibility, laxity, easy going, even calmness in the storm.  Yes, I can see how this is a very good thing. 

However, as all things need moderation, I feel I may have taken my relaxed coping skills a little too far to the other end of the spectrum. 

My house and yard are a constant reminder that I no longer care how it looks to the neighbors - I'm not keeping up false appearances.  I'm doing the best I can and that's just gonna have to be good enough, right. 

My children are also a consistent reminder that I've gotten too lax with my parental training, as they demonstrate that obedience to mom is optional. 

Even my character is called into question as I willingly take on responsibilities and then casually carry them out - or if it doesn't happen, that's ok too. 

These effects of a life being beaten by the hardships don't really bring me happiness either. 

There must be a happy medium - a way to find the balance between self-respect and calmness for trivial concerns.  To care enough to make things happen but not so much that I'm bound up tighter than I can handle.  Its challenging to begin picking up the pieces where you have already surrendered.  To attempt to take charge, to fight, to be fiery where your spirit has been broken, and you've become submissive and accepting.   

For a long time, my husband has been  associated with Mr. Incredible.  I'm not sure exactly how this began.  Maybe it's his super suit rising above his belly as he stretches.  Maybe it is his stocky build and amazing strength.  Or maybe it is because he is a super who is living his secret identity, waiting for the opportunity to relive the glory days of his pre-existent greatness.  I don't really know, but I find it ironic that Mr. Incredible is married to Elastigirl. 

Maybe flexibility has to be linked with incredibleness.  I know in my life its absolutely essential.  I don't believe our marriage would have lasted if I didn't learn to just let some things go. But now I'm learning to be very careful with what I surrender.  My pride, my will, my selfish power struggles - yes.  My self-respect, my character, my stewardship - a great big NO.

This reminds me of the message from Thomas Jefferson. To paraphrase:
                                            In matters of principle, be as a rock. 
                                            But in matters of style, just go with the flow. 

'The Quilt Maker's Gift"

I don’t know what it is about quilting story books that catch my eye, but I knew when I saw ‘The Quilt Makers Gift’ on the library shelf that it would be a quality read.  I think I got even more than I bargained for.  This charming story whose pages are filled with color, patterns, and lovely illustrations, which tell a story in addition to the written text, is captivating to the eye as well as the heart.  I began reading to my daughter as she snuggled me on the couch.  Soon, my son climbs up on my lap also.  Before I got to the fifth page, all six of my children were crouched around me, intently listening and studying the pictures.  

                The premise of the story is about an older woman who lives alone in the mountains, making beautiful quilts to give to those who are less fortunate.  She is so devoted to her purpose that she refuses to sell or make quilts for anyone who could afford to pay for it.  As soon as she finished a quilt, she would carry it around from town to town until she found someone who was homeless or chilled in the night air.  She would gently wrap the quilt around them and then return to the mountain to make another one.  The news of her quilt’s quality had reached a very powerful and greedy king who insisted on having one made for him.  As she refused, the king became more insistent on getting his way.  He felt that her quilt would be able to finally make him happy.  After some consideration, she said that she would make him a quilt if he would give away all that he owned.  It took the king some time to agree but eventually he gave away a few items.  As the recipients were thrilled with their gifts, he began to enjoy giving others pleasure.  For years, he traveled the world, giving away everything he had to those in need.  Eventually, he had nothing left to give and he was truly poor and needy himself.  It was then that the quilt maker gave him the promised quilt.  He then refused to acknowledge that he was poor, even though he owned nothing.  With his heart full to bursting with joy in giving, he received all the riches he could ever want. 

Of course, this summary loses a lot of the charm in the translation, but I was impressed with integrity of the quilt maker.  She had clearly defined her purpose - she knew what gave her joy.  She was not distracted by riches, or authority, or any other possible fake pursuits of happiness.  She knew she had a service to render to the world and consistently, patiently fulfilled her work.  I want to be so dedicated and non-distractable in what truely matters in my own life.  

Inspiration Lost

It’s gone.  I’ve lost my inspiration.  For awhile, it seemed that everywhere I turned, I had power thoughts, and couldn’t wait to make time in my busy little life to write about it.  Now the thoughts don’t seem as powerful and certainly not enough to write a paper.  I guess there are a number of possible reasons for this drought. 

1)      I’ve shifted gears in my routine.  With the ineffective spring break and the upset of the Shakespeare production, I put homeschool, home maintenance, and even being at the crossroads for my children on hold, so that I could turn the house upside down and rearrange, dejunk, and organize some much neglected rooms and systems.  You’d think with such dedicated focus that I’d have been more successful than I have been and could get back to a regular routine.  Alas, I’m going to have to put the dream of order on the back burner…. again because my undirected and neglected children are requiring their mother back.

2)      My energy has been drained.  For the past year, I’ve been taking the wrong dosage of thyroid.  And with the interim between the blood work and the adjusted dosage, I’ve been tired…a lot.  It may be psychological because just knowing my dosage was not enough, I suddenly felt the fatigue and drainage of energy.  I’m napping for a couple hours every single day.  Not a good combination for creation.

3)      I attended a ‘How to Mentor’ class on writing power papers.  It was both inspiring and discouraging.  I haven’t put my finger on why it was discouraging other than the amount of work that is involved in the writing/revising/editing process.  There’s no question that the pains of the process produce much better quality work, but the amount of time and energy necessary put a damper on my enthusiasm for writing. 

4)      And probably the biggest reason for my discouragement is the loss of a friend.  I’d recently been in conversations with an old friend.  Several, actually, through facebook.  It was rejuvenating to my soul and I longed to come alive again like I had been in my teen years.  But for some reason, the communications just stopped after a particularly vulnerable disclosure.  I can only assume that they weren’t impressed with what I’ve become and chose to not associate any further.  I feel dejected, hurt, and saddened that our relationship has no depth.  My continual frustration of ‘not being any fun’ has created another war wound.  I know I will rally again, but it cut a little deeper than I had hoped. 

Even with all these reasons for not writing power papers, I have longed to just write - like a journal.  I know the purpose of this blog is to inspire my children to write, but I want to be selfish and write my personal thoughts.  I haven’t decided if I will attempt another personal blog or just continue to work with this one.  I’m hoping with time, patience, and writing practice, I’ll again feel inspired to write something worth reading. 

Simply Complex

As I’m sitting here contemplating which of my insights I want to write a power paper on this time, my children are in the other room fighting with each other.  Amidst all the screaming, hitting, boobing, and irrational behavior – I am experiencing pain.  I’m pretty sure they are also. 

This makes me think about a discussion a friend and I had about a phrase she ran across a number of years ago.  She didn’t understand what it meant but had kept it in the back of her mind and occasionally thought about it.  Here it is:

“I don’t give a hoot about the simplicity on this side of complexity

But I’d give my right arm for the simplicity on the other side of complexity.”

As she tried to wrap her mind around some possible meanings, she came to the conclusion that complexity can be a synonym for trials, adversity, challenges, pain, pressures, stresses, etc.  And knowing something prior to experiencing it, is not as valuable or as meaningful as knowing something after going through the process of obtaining that knowledge first-hand. 

 

The Refiner's Fire



Some parallels that I see through the physical world might be:

Simplicity                                           Complexity                                                    Simplicity

Metals                                                Refiner’s Fire                                                Purity, Strength

Batter                                                 baker’s furnace                                            Cake

Money Management                        Insufficient funds - desperation                  Money Stewardship

In relationships:

Simplicity                                            Complexity                                                  Simplicity

Sympathy                                            Experience                                                  Empathy

Professed faith                                   Challenge                                                    Obtained knowledge

Appearances of Peace – Façade        Change of Heart                                         Genuine Peace –Charity

And in the BIG PICTURE:

Simplicity                                             Complexity                                               Simplicity

Pre-existence                                       Earth life                                                  Judgement & Eternity

Even though the material or knowledge may be the same on both sides of Complexity - The Complexity changes the end product, removes impurities or puts it through the test. 

It’d be nice to think that avoiding the complexity could be a possibility – and in some cases, it is.  Such as, one can avoid the higher risk of lung cancer by choosing not to smoke.  But in most cases, avoiding the challenge not only forfeits growth, it also is a sure recipe for experiencing that trial again at a later time, probably in a different form, but the lesson that must be learned is the same.  It’s as if we have certain lessons that must be learned and some of them cannot be learned in any other method than hands on.  Life’s lessons don’t seem to be as simple as the pain of learning in a classroom.  They usually are character building, such as patience (my least favorite), trust, faith, wisdom, and humility. 

My natural instinct is to avoid pain – at all costs, but the very avoiding of pain causes prolonged pain.  As we resist the pain of the complexity, we may get a brief breather, but the process is bound to come again, more intense and more determined to make us learn and grow.  My children are the perfect example.  Some failed approaches to dealing with contention is to be stronger with authority (‘that’s enough, Knock that nonsense off’), punish those who are participants, even if one isn’t at fault (‘if you can’t find a way to share, then nobody gets to use it), or to referee for a little while until everyone is tired of the pointless pursuit and change directions.  Ah – Peace.  But it’s only the façade of peace, an imitation, no resolution actually took place, no change of heart, no maturity developed or love deepened.  And so when contention takes place again (which it must), the pain is increased.  The expression ‘Those who do not learn from the past, are destined to repeat it’, applies in our personal past as well as earth’s history.   

I recall a number of years ago, my brother and I were having a discussion about the lessons our bodies teach us about pressure.  It was an unusual topic but the examples that he gave were – should I say, quite memorable.  He mentioned that good usually follows the pains of the pressures.  When I asked for a for instance, he said - a bowel movement…, a woman pushing the baby’s head out…, or the tearing of the muscle tissue during weight training.  Once we work through the burn and discomfort of the pressure, we are better for it, the relief is earned and more rewarding than if we gave up and quit (which you might be able to do with weight training but it’s not really an option with a bowel movement or the birthing process).  And now that I think about it, my labors that were the easiest and most rewarding were the times that I totally relaxed and embraced the pain (the midwife could tell I was having a contraction because I went completely limp and relaxed).  As I visualized the good that was coming about because of this intense pressure, it gave the pain purpose and made it simpler.   And I’ve experienced similar results in other aspects of pain as well. 

So I understand that when I’m experiencing pain - I can become bitter or better.    I can choose to be the victim or the victor.   I can resist and repeat or embrace and be empowered, surrender and survive.  But what choice do I have that will bring the simplicity on the other side of complexity when involves other players, other’s choices, and other’s hardened hearts. 

I guess like so many of life’s lessons – I practice patience, I trust God is aware and will provide for my needs, I exercise faith that Christ can heal this pain, and I humbly seek the promptings to guide my actions. 

Still Small Voice

                                                                                                    by Jane Austen
       A couple of weeks ago I was sick with strep throat.  Swollen tonsils and adenoids not only made it hard to swallow but also made it hard to open my mouth therefore causing my speech to sound impaired and retarded.  My tonsils got so swollen that it became hard to breath and nearly impossible to say anything loudly or clearly.  This came hard to me cause....well, I like to talk (and I speak my mind).  I also love to be heard (mostly by singing lyrics to pop-songs).  Not only was it discouraging but embarrasing too...cause I had  to go to play practice sounding like a retard.
      Talking is something I enjoy doing and not being able to do what I enjoy is bothersome.  Being kept from talking is like keeping something in that needs to be set free.
      After general conference, me still very sick, I somehow asked my mommy to make me some ramen noodles (basically the one food I could still eat).  While she was waiting for it to boil, she went back to the project she was working on. My little brother was on a rampage because he didn't want to do his chores, and I in my sick little retarded voice asked him not to yell, he didn't hear me so I asked again a little louder,  he then yelled even louder only this time at me.  So I picked up a marker and wrote in a notebook

I wonder if this is how the holy ghost feels...

Saying something and then people

don't listen,

don't care

or don't understand

 

     I don't know how he feels but it would drive me crazy.  Talking quietly has always been hard for me, but not being able to talk at all is very humbling. I know the spirit will not speak in a loud booming voice, but silently and quietly whispers. Some people don't listen or don't understand and most of the time don't even hear because of the busy-ness of life

 

I am going to try to listen harder to the still small voice.

 

Touched By Love

I think most families have some type of tradition where the dad turns into a playful monster and the kids run around the house screaming in fear.  In our home, he's called the Bluh-bluh monster (something to do with the sound he makes when growling at them).  Over time this tradition has developed some guidelines that has allowed both Papa and the kids a chance to rest.  If a child would face their fear, run up and kiss him, he instantly falls down asleep for an unidentified amount of time.  As I watched this transpire the other night, I saw parallels with facing my own fears.     

I won't go into much details, but well over a year ago, maybe two, I had offended a friend.  As I realized my offense, I went and apologized, laying everything on the table so to speak, so that she knew exactly what was going on and we could clear the air.  Needless to say, this effort to make amends backfired horribly.  She became terribly embittered toward me and I could do nothing right.  Everytime I saw her, I received livid looks, icy stares, or could feel the venom somehow traveling through the air.  And so I would keep my distance, give her space, and wait patiently for time to do its magic.  But somehow, she didn't seem to be improving with time.  In fact, it seemed to be like an infection that was festering, making things worse and twisting the interpretation of events into something that was so not even true.   Not long after things transpired, I had come to terms with the situation and my heart had healed.  I detached with love - not holding any malice, fear, or resentment.  I had moved on with my life.  But for her sake, I kept my distance so as to not give her more fuel for the fire of hatred she was fanning. 

Then a few days ago, I caught a glimpse of how this bitterness was tearing her up inside.  She didn't want to feel the hurt and anger that was consuming the goodness in her.  It bothered me considerably.  My peace came about because I had given myself time and space - but that wasn't working for her and I didn't know how best to help her to heal.   I decided I needed to counsel with someone who might be able to give me some insight that I was obviously missing.  After sharing a few particulars, my 'counselor' suggested that maybe my detaching from her was what may have been disturbing her so much.  That had never even crossed my mind.  Time and space is what I needed to heal, but it was having the opposite effect on her.  This idea was very disturbing to me, to think that my efforts to be noble and love her inspite of her malice - wasn't communicating love at all, but some type of superiority, hatred, or not needing her.  All I had to do was face my fear of apologizing.... again, even if it backfired.... again, and show her that I loved her in her love language - not mine.  It may or may not keep the bluh-bluh monster down for good, but it is a nice reprieve. 

Another incident occured that had me in awe of the power of love.  My good husband was heavily concerned about the events that are taking place in the world today.  Government's constant meddling in powers that are not their own is taking its toll on those of us who are freedom lovers and honor our founding documents and correct principles.  I won't elaborate which meddling was on his mind, suffice it to say I thought his concern was self-preservation.  But that night as we said our couple prayer, he pleaded with the Lord to remember to have mercy and love for President Obama and the others who are infringing on God's laws.  And it wasn't the pleading that one hopes makes him look good, but a genuine love and concern for these brothers who are lost.  It made me feel honored to be married to such a noble man and a little guilty that I felt only concern for those people who are being duped by them - not the leaders/influencers themselves. 

I know love for them will not equate to the government bluh-bluh monster giving us a rest, but it is certainly a better way of facing our fears.  The Lord counsels:

 'Love your enemies,

bless them that curse you,

do good to them that hate you,

and pray for them which despitefully use you,

and persecute you.' 

What a powerful response when bad things happen.  What a wonderful gift to be able to be touched by love.





A Mother's Retreat - Refreshment for the Soul

Last night, I escaped reality for an night of edification, silliness, and comradery.  I'm so grateful I took advantage of the  opportunity to attend the Mother's Retreat.  Some of the things I learned might include:

1) It's good for the family to be free of mom for a night.  It helps them appreciate my contribution, feel the emptiness when I'm gone, and experience their father's expectations rather than my tempered ones.

2) I have a lot of masculine energy, some very influential feminine energy, and I'm pretty good at making sure I nurture my daily needs (although the retreat was most refreshing)

3) I cannot build and tear down at the same time.  Others or myself.  When I set goals and minutes later say something derogatory about myself - it is like a child  who builds a tower and then throws a missile at the base - there is no permanence of growth or stabilizing the foundation. 

4) Every Master started as a Disaster.  There is hope - Once I get my 10,000 hours in I should have it made.

5) I need to develop two new beliefs, and regularly dig up the evidence - 1) That I don't have to be in audience mode or presentation mode in bigger group settings 2)God has given me the answers that I am seeking.

6) Maybe I shouldn't participate in sleepovers at my age.  My late hour of retiring, snoring, and unplanned alarms going off with other's inability to stay asleep is not a good combination. 

7) I have got such an amazing group of friends and associates that share in or inspire me in weirdness.
 
8) The simplicity on this side of complexity is a facade, and only through embracing, surrendering, and learning from the complexity (working through the burn), can the simplicity on the other side of complexity ever exhibit the genuine real deal.

9) My vision and my mission can change with my current heart's desire - I am called to the work of my choosing. 

10) I am so blessed to be a laid back person - because so many of life's little trials escape my notice, or are so insignificant with the big picture of eternity, that I am not bogged down by them.  So Grateful.