Your Decisions are Arrows

My freshman year of college, I attended The University of Chicago. Just weeks before packing up and shipping out, a friend's dad looked me in the eye and said: you're not going to like it there. It's not the right fit for you. 

I remember looking at him mostly confused and completely unsure of what to say. 

As it turns out, he was right. By spring break, I realized I needed to transfer. I loved my friends. I loved being on the swim team. But the school, on the whole, wasn't right for me. As I processed my paperwork and made plans to begin at Indiana in the fall, his words haunted me. Did everyone but me know this wasn't right all along? I wondered. Was it so obvious that I'd made the wrong choice? Should I be embarrassed that I'd made a mistake? 

What I couldn't see then that I know now is that starting there wasn't a mistake at all. It wasn't the wrong choice. It was the right choice based on the information I had at the time.

It was one that brought me amazing friendships and taught me a lot about how I like to learn and what I value. It also was the first time in my life that I experienced true sadness, which, although difficult, helped me develop as an adult. 

Sometimes we put so much pressure on ourselves to make the right choice that we end up paralyzed. Sometimes, the only wrong choice is inaction. One thing I know for sure is that absolutely nothing in life is wasted. Even the most wrong choices can be redeemed if we choose to learn and grow from them. 

Lately I've been looking at decisions as arrows. Every single one moves us in a direction. Instead of worrying so much about the finality or the rightness of them, what if we just asked ourselves what would be next if we were to follow that arrow? 

We put so much pressure ourselves to make the right decisions all of the time, but what if we looked at each one, not as a final answer, but as a single stepping stone, trusting the next one will appear when we need it to? It becomes less about right and wrong and more about where we want to go. 

When I quit my job, I knew it was the right choice at the time. The scary thing, though, was that I wasn't totally sure what was next. I knew quitting was a necessary step and would serve as a bridge to something. But I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know where that bridge would lead at all. As it turns out, quitting was the bridge that led me to  The Letter Project. And, in a few years, it may turn out that The Letter Project is a bridge to something else entirely.

My brother once told me that getting a tattoo made him realize he was taking life too seriously. He was so worried about getting the wrong tattoo - about messing it up and it being on his skin forever. It revealed to him how much pressure he was putting on himself to be perfect in his choices, because he was terrified of making a mistake. 

I suppose one could argue that a tattoo is rather final, but his insight meant a lot to me at the time. How risk averse am I and is that aversion keeping me still? 

It reminds me of a quote I read once, which, embedded in it says: buy the ticket, take the ride. The rest of the quote doesn't mean much to me, but I always think of this when I feel stuck in a decision. Just buy the ticket. Take the ride. Take a chance on yourself. Trust your gut. See where you end up. You might be surprised by how far you go.

A Few Things I'm Loving

Aside from the obvious, which is this summer-like heat we're having in Virginia (fourth day in a row of 90+ weather, YES!). A few other things I'm loving:

The Next Right Thing: This is a podcast from Emily P. Freeman. Honestly, I just love that they are super short and her voice is so soothing. I like to listen at the end of the work day as I walk around the block or start prepping dinner. It's detoxifying! 

My Nalgene: Is this so random or what? I left my Hydroflask in Indiana and my aunt is bringing it in a few weeks. In the meantime, I've been back on the Nalgene train, which I haven't been in years. It feels so happily high school and I'm loving it. 

Iced coffee with a dash of maple syrup and milk: The perfect afternoon indulgence! We love making iced coffee for the week in our Toddy and just made our first batch of the summer. Around 1:30, an iced coffee with just a bit of sweetness is the perfect after-lunch treat. 

Denim maternity shorts from A Pea in the Pod: The exact pair is sold out, but they have a handful of similar ones. I thought I'd want to wear dresses in this heat, but it's so nice to be able to throw on shorts and a loose tank. I highly recommend for any other summer pregnant friends! 

Lilac Girls: Actually, I am not sure if I love this yet, but want to hear what others think. It's SO sad. it really shows dark parts of humanity. Has anyone else read it? I don't think I can stop reading it now, but every night it's half addicting and half painful to read. 

for when you feel distant from your spouse

One of my favorite books in the world is Bittersweet by Shauna Niequist. It changed the way I live - no exaggeration there. I think it has a little something for everyone and I pick it up often when I need a reminder on a certain topic. 

I don't remember where it is in the book, but at one point, she says there will be moments in marriage when you are so frustrated with your spouse that you look at him and think: I don't even know you. I'm butchering the quote, but the idea holds. It's the moment when frustration takes hold of you so fully that you can't comprehend how or why you got to this place. 

I'm not sure I've been married long enough to experience the exact sentiment, but in the moments when I am frustrated with Chris, her words pop into my head, reminding me that in every relationship, at some point, your paths might veer in different directions, making it more difficult to reach one another. It becomes harder to recognize, understand and empathize with one another. 

A few months ago, Chris and I were the most distant we'd been in our entire relationship. We've had a lot going on - from the move to our renovation to our baby. It has felt like we've been bogged down and weighed down and it's easy, in those seasons, to forget to pursue one another. To forget to hold hands and laugh about nothing and stay in bed cuddling 15 minutes longer just because. It's easy to talk only about logistics and work, as opposed to making time to be intentional or have real conversation. 

It hit us one day that immediately before our first baby's due date was certainly no time to drift apart.

We both started praying, then, to be less selfish and to serve one another more. We started putting one another's needs above our own - not because we always wanted to, but because that's how marriages stay strong. We tried to be more thoughtful and diligent.

We remembered to make eye contact, to touch one another and, by gosh, keep our phones out of the bed. We remembered, most importantly, I think, to say thank you for everything. Thank you for emptying the dishwasher. Thank you for going to the grocery store. Thank you for planning such a fun date night.

No more than two weeks after we'd begun these efforts, we were tangled up on the couch one night, laughing at Parks & Rec, when it hit me: I've never felt closer to him and just two weeks ago, there was a gap between us. 

I understand that some gaps cannot be filled so quickly. Sometimes you're dealing with a crack in the sidewalk; other times you're dealing with the Grand Canyon. But I believe, so fully, that the gap always looks bigger before we begin to mend it.

The small efforts might feel worthless in the moment, but, when we pursue one another day in and day out, those little things are like rocks in a bucket. They seem insignificant at first, but slowly they pile up and, before you know it, the container is overflowing. 

I also believe that there are no wasted efforts in marriage. Any notion of kindness from Chris - whether it is exactly what I need or not - softens me. Any expression of love makes me gentler. Marriage is not about perfection or performance, but about connection and compassion.

When I burn the pancakes, Chris doesn't mind the brown edges; he's grateful for the delicious breakfast. When he surprises me with a date night, I care so little about where we go, but feel loved that he took the time to plan something. 

So if you're in a sticky spot in your marriage - one where you don't quite recognize your spouse - know that I am rooting for you. I believe in you. The cavern isn't as big as it seems. You may not be able to get back to where you were, but, with a little effort, you might just end up somewhere better than before. Press on. 

Managing Anxiety During Life's Big Events

Leading up to our wedding, I was embedded in anxiety. I was worried Chris was going to get a rare, fatal disease or into a car accident. I stressed constantly when I said goodbye to him, hugging him a little longer, cataloging how he looked in that moment, just in case. Running my hand through his hair, holding eye contact, squeezing him extra tight. I was convinced we'd never make it to the altar.

I was certain this story was too good to be true; that it wasn't mine to be lived. 

And so, I dress rehearsed tragedy, convincing myself that if I thought through all of the painful scenarios enough, I could keep them from happening. 

My therapist explained that the reason our brain does this, which is an attempt to reach for control, is actually a form of fight or flight. It is preparing for danger, but, in an overactive way. Our brain thinks it's being helpful - keeping us from harm - but, of course, it's not. 

A few weeks ago, I began doing the same thing with pregnancy. As we neared the end of this road, it started to seem impossible that we were actually going to get there. I started worrying about all of the awful, awful things that could go wrong between 35 weeks and holding a baby in your arms. I began to worry about something happening to Chris again. I began to agonize about what could happen on the drive home from the hospital. My mind played out scenarios in slow motion, over and over again. 

I was positive, yet again, that this season of life was too good to be true. 

These moments, for me, are a mix of two things.

1. I don't think I could possibly deserve this much good in life. Not because of insecurity, but because after years and years of waiting to have a baby, it feels impossible that it would be coming true. Honestly, it feels like a fairytale in a broken world.
2. My fear is bigger than my faith. My fear begs me to control. I say I trust the Lord with everything. I say I know He can redeem even the most painful of events. And I do believe these things! But my mind yearns to control - to prevent any potential pain. Because pain hurts, y'all. It hurts so badly. Why would we want to feel that?

One of the most difficult parts of life is that bad things do happen. Daily there is inexplicable heartache and heartbreak. Bad things happen to good, amazing people who we love. It doesn't seem fair and can leave us feeling unsettled, shaken and worried. 

I'm learning, lately, to lean into my faith with greater ease. I'm remembering that this baby I'm carrying is God's to begin with and there is a big, beautiful plan for its life. I have no idea how many years the three of us will have on this Earth together. I pray, daily, for many, many years to come. But if I spend each one stressing, I am squandering them away.

So here we are, less than one week away from my due date. I am approaching the next week with open hands and a prayerful, thankful heart. I'm savoring the days, knowing change is coming. I'm looking at anxiety like a wave in the ocean: it can come find me standing on the shore, but I will watch it go right back out to sea.

I will not be swept away, but will stand firmly on the sand, bidding it farewell.