Laser Focus

Laser Focus

An interesting thing has happened since my appendix ruptured two weeks ago: I’ve developed laser focus. Before I got so sick and spent a week in the hospital recovering from post-surgery complications, I would look at my life with a long-range lens; fretting over this or that and always planning way out into the future.

Laying in a hospital bed alone changes all that. You are poked and prodded at all hours of the day and night. You fight for your very dignity as a human being, grateful beyond measure for the kindness of specific nurses and doctors. Your illusions of control melt away, water under the bridge of your own failing competence.

I learned in the hospital to take my recovery minute by minute. I’m not throwing up violently at this second? That’s a win. Five days of an awful NG tube, rubbing my throat and nose raw and meaning I can’t eat or drink until every vile, trapped thing in my stomach is vacuumed out so my nausea abates? The morning the doctors finally say it can be removed, I cry with the kind of joy I thought was only reserved for my wedding day or the births of my two children.

Laser FocusLife is chock full of wins and losses. Ups and downs. Strengths and weaknesses. In these last two weeks, arguably the most challenging of my life so far, my line of vision has become intensely small. Focused and specific, instead of generalized and broad.

When you don’t eat or drink for 7 days, that first taste of apple juice is the greatest sensation on earth. That spoonful of vanilla pudding that doesn’t come immediately back up. The Arrowroot baby cookie, consumed at 2 am in the milky darkness of the acute care ward with soft snores of other patients filling the air around you, was like the finest of gourmet meals to me.

My senses are awake again. Thoughts of digestion and standing up to get more water and planning out my next snack consume my day. I don’t kiss my children while thinking about my to-do list any more. Now they are so precious, standing in front of me in their summer pajamas with their hair wet from a shower, and they deserve every ounce of my attention and focus.

How many times have I heard the saying, “If you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything”? I truly didn’t understand it before, but I do now. I was a person who needed to learn to slow down, and I don’t do anything by half measures. I have been brought low by this burst appendix, the “lazy bowel” that followed surgery, then the large blood clot in my wrist from my last IV once I returned home.

Each challenge must be faced in turn. Everything else falls away. The big picture shrinks to the next hour: what I will eat, if I’m sleepy enough to have a nap, what do the kids need. I’ve learned that this is more than enough. My gratitude rises, as if on a float, to the level I allow for it. My blessings, in the form of family and friends, the ones you can really count on, become crystal clear.

The rest fades away. It truly does not matter. I am changed, from the inside out, from this hard-scrabble season of pain and struggle. I am enough for this challenge and the ones that are sure to come after it. I can endure the toughest experiences and so can you. I’m not interested in fixating on some pre-set idea of success in some far-away future anymore. What I have is this day, this moment, these people; this ballooning, expanding, growing love inside me that spreads into every corner of my small but significant world.

Living with Less

Living with Less

Since February, we’ve been living with less as a family. We’ve all worked at de-owning (a step above de-cluttering) by going through every drawer, closet, cupboard and surface in our home, garage, shed and vehicles.

It feels fantastic. I’ve learned that to get at the essential, you must clear away the unnecessary. Minimizing is a process of paring down, cutting back, eliminating what you don’t need so you can better appreciate what brings you joy and freedom.

As a culture, we are inundated with physical possessions. We are told that the marks of success are material: a new car, a huge house, lots of furniture, the latest technology and gadgets, shiny toys in the garage and driveway. But everything we buy has to be paid for, maintained, stored, used. It depreciates overnight and clutters up our lives.

Living with LessGetting rid of our excess possessions has brought us liberation. We did it little by little, in fifteen minute to one hour increments of time. We started with the easiest areas, like kitchen junk drawers and linen closets, then moved on to tougher things like clothes, photos, books, CDs and DVDs. By the time we got to the kitchen, it wasn’t hard to give away extra bowls, spatulas, corn cob holders, measuring cups and fancy teapots that hadn’t been touched in a decade.

If we don’t use it, we donated, sold or junked it. No more holding on, organizing and moving items “just in case”. We love The Minimalists’ 20/20 rule: if you can replace it in 20 minutes drive for $20 or less and you don’t use it regularly, get rid of it. This rule helped in moments of indecision.

We also repeatedly asked ourselves, “Would we pay to move this item?” In previous house moves, we packed up anything and everything without discriminating. Now we are intentional about what we want to bring along into any future stage of our lives. When the kids outgrow their toys, games, movies and music, it’s time to let them go, not drag them along to clutter up a new season.

Living with less also means not bringing in mountains of fresh stuff. We automatically buy less now. We practice saying “no thank you” to the free gifts we are offered in stores or at events. We attempt to purchase only what we need and use instead of impulse items we’ll later have to sort and toss.

I’ve enjoyed watching our kids absorb this minimizing mindset as well. On a recent trip we browsed in gift stores but felt no impulse to buy any items. Ava and William are now motivated to save for certain things they really desire instead of buying what’s in front of them.

I love these changes in our family. Clearing away clutter gives more meaning to what remains in your home, your life, your soul. It’s beautiful, freeing, inspiring. I’d love to hear your stories of living with less. What benefits have you experienced?

Redefining Bravery

Redefining Bravery

Last week, a friend redefined bravery to me. I was searching for the escape hatch, the red nuclear “launch” button, the excuse to reboot and start over instead of facing up to a difficult and messy situation.

She said, “Showing up when it’s hard is brave, too.” I really, really needed to hear this. When it gets dark all around us and we can no longer find our way, it’s human nature to want to flee. And sometimes, of course, this is the right course of action. But many times, the courageous act is to stay strong when the storm is blowing. To refuse to run, even though it would relieve the pressure and make things easier for a while. But there are also great lessons to be learned from staying put.

I’m so grateful to this friend, for she had the guts to give me her honest thoughts. She did not say what I hoped she would, in my moment of desperation with my bold plan to sell everything we own and go on a madcap family adventure. Instead, she listened and offered another perspective, one born from her own painful experiences with loss and growth.

redefining braveryBravery takes many forms. When life is unforgivingly tough, as it often is, our courage can desert us when we need it most. This is why the community of loved ones we have invested in and built up is so critical. When we lose all perspective and a good deal of our common sense and optimism, we need people who know us and love us to talk us out of the darkness and back to the light.

Stability is no small thing. It matters, to us and to those who count on us. When we feel lost and bereft, it’s tempting to go for the rash and daring option; to shake up the status quo and let the damn chips fall where they may. In certain seasons and stages, this can be entirely appropriate and helpful to jump-start a necessary change, but at other times it’s the coward’s way.

Everything shifted for me during the course of our conversation. It was like putting on glasses so the fuzzy edges came into focus. The fever dream had passed and I could stop thinking about surviving each day and move my vision out by a year or two. Jason and I needed a fresh heart-to-heart, so we could redefine the future we committed to when we joined our lives together nearly eighteen years ago.

It all looks different again, even though nothing outwardly has changed. Life is still hard. I continue to long for something new and hopeful. Every one of us needs extra breathing space in our soul from time to time. We are birds who must summon the courage to stretch our wings and take flight. We all need each other, for support, encouragement and care.

3 Beginner Steps to Minimalism

3 Beginner Steps to Minimalism

As a family, we are on the road to minimalism. Like many other ventures I’ve tried, with minimalism I want to see instant change instead of accepting that this is going to take awhile.

I didn’t become an addicted consumer overnight, so shedding the trappings of our materialism will also be a slow process. Yet I find myself impatient for a different way of life. I long to be counterculture, debt free, only living with what I need and dumping my excess possessions.

3 Beginner Steps to MinimalismWith all major life change, it helps to break it down into small, manageable steps. When I look back, I see that I’ve been simplifying now for several years as both kids began school and stopped playing with so many toys, books and games. Most parents become accustomed to jettisoning clothes and supplies that their kids have outgrown, but this past winter something changed for me.

I began doing 15 minute jobs each day. I wrote down the areas of my house I wanted to tackle (kid’s bedroom closets, kitchen drawers, linen and bathroom cupboards, laundry room, etc.) and I set a timer for a 15 minute blitz of each location. I did this for weeks and months; donating, tossing or selling items based on the answer to this question: do I actually use this?

Before, the question would be much less specific, more like: will I eventually need this? I learned from The Minimalists that “just in case” are three of the most dangerous words in our culture today. And from Joshua Becker at Becoming Minimalist, I got a fresh life philosophy: “It’s better to want less than to have more.”

Are you interested in minimalism? Do you want to get off the consumer treadmill and try to find happiness in other places besides overspending on bigger houses, luxury cars and designer labels? These are the beginning 3 steps we’ve taken towards a simpler way of living.

Step 1: Only Keep What You Need

Start with the easiest areas of your house, like drawers full of batteries and take-out menus from 2008. Work up to harder things like photos, books, DVDs and knickknacks from family vacations. Don’t store it in your house if you don’t use it regularly.

Step 2: Understand Why You Are Minimizing

If you don’t see the value in what you are doing, it’s not likely to last. The more clutter you clear out of your physical space, the freer you will feel. Your priorities get sharper, it’s easier to make decisions for your future, and you’ll be less likely to continue to buy more when you see how satisfying it is to live with less.

Step 3: Tune Out Consumerist Cultural Messages

Tune out the cultural message that bigger and more is always better. If this advertising onslaught were true, wouldn’t your happiness level rise along with your income, mortgage, online shopping and number of possessions filling your garage, basement, bedrooms and rented storage bays? We’ve all been sold a lie. Moving further from debt sets us free from a useless, soulless competition for who has the most and best stuff.

There are more steps to freedom from consumerism, but these three are a great place to start. Drop me a line and let me know if you’d enjoy hearing more on this topic as I’ve got lots to say! We’ve seen our lives change from the inside out as we head down this minimalist path.

5 Minutes of Encouragement

5 Minutes of Encouragement

5 Minutes

I’m planning to offer a service at our local farmer’s market this summer called 5 Minutes of Encouragement. The idea is me sitting in a lawn chair under a small white tent, talking with anyone who is interested for five minute slots.

I plan to ask what the person would like encouragement for and then offer it the best I can. This experiment feels vulnerable, unusual, outside-of-the-box and highly unpredictable. I think of those things as strengths, not weaknesses.

Lately I’m tired of living small. I want to swing for the fences and try things that I would’ve been terrified of a few years ago. What if no one comes to my tent for encouragement? What if I draw a blank and can’t think of anything helpful to say? What if the whole shebang is a massive embarrassing flop?

Who the hell cares?

I’m done waiting around for the right conditions to exist before I take risks. “What if” is not a helpful exercise. I want to follow my curiosity, as one of my mentors, Rob Bell, advises me to do.

Life is about much more than our net worth, our fears, our preoccupation with personal safety and our addictions to smartphones and busyness. I long for connection on a deep, true level. I love encouragement, appreciation and kindness, both giving these things away and receiving them back. If I want more of this, then I have to pursue it, without fearing the consequences.

5 Minutes of Encouragement could be a beautiful social experiment. It could also be a flaming turd of a failure. I won’t know unless I try. I’m grateful for a friend at our town office who is willing to gamble on this venture with me. When I pitched it to her last week, I said, “I’ve got this crazy idea – any chance you want to try it?” Bless her heart, she said, “I like encouragement. Let’s give it a shot!”

Part of being alive is pushing ourselves beyond the predictable. When we commit to staying true to our interests and convictions, wonderful surprises await. Risk is a large piece of the equation. We have to be equally prepared for failure as for success.

We live in a world where almost everyone is shouting. Social media posts, selfies, blogs, tweets – most of it screams, “Look at me!” I’m desperate for some one-on-one interaction, driven by kind words of encouragement. Often I just want another flesh-and-blood person to tell me I’m doing okay and that I’m going to make it through.

With my 5 Minutes of Encouragement tent, I’m hoping to give this away to others. I’ll be sure to report back. Would you come to hear 5 Minutes of Encouragement from me (or from anyone)?