Seasons for Listening

Chris and I have been getting up early, lately, to have a morning before Mac wakes up at 7. We read the bible and drink coffee. Chris goes to the gym while I free write. It’s slow but intentional. The first few times our alarm went off, it felt painful, but as the days have continued, it has begun to feel like an investment in myself.

This week, I’ve felt frustrated as I have tried to write each morning. The words aren’t coming. I feel a little lost when it comes to picking a subject. I am all bottled up. Lots of ideas, nowhere to take them. Lots of beginnings, no real output.

I couldn’t figure out what was keeping the words from coming together. I’m reflecting, making time for stillness, reading at night. All of the fixings for good writing.

It hit me this morning as I sat with my computer in my lap, staring at the Christmas tree for inspiration:

Some seasons are just for listening and learning.

They will be quieter times in life, which is something our Instagram, fast-paced world doesn’t encourage. There might be a little less engagement. But I don’t want to be afraid of not having followers here or on Instagram.

I don’t want to live life forcing output, making noise just to keep up.

Sometimes, we are meant only to listen.

I’ve been doing this month’s #AdventWord on Instagram. This morning the word was sprout. As I sat quietly with the word, attempting to meditate (which is something I never seem to get much better at!), I felt the Lord encouraging me to trust what is sprouting in my life. I have a lot of little ideas and half blog posts. A lot of beginnings, but I can’t quite see where they’re headed. I was reminded, this morning, that just because we can’t always see the full picture, doesn’t mean it isn’t working together. The little sapling in the woods isn’t irrelevant, just because we haven’t yet realized it’s part of the entire forest.

I often find these quiet seasons to be the calm before the storm. Not bad storms, but, instead the ones that wash over us. The all-consuming, big-idea seasons. The fast-paced, everything is coming together ones.

So I’m remembering, today, to be still, to love my little and to trust what is sprouting.

Notice the Good

It’s 5:30 in the evening. Chris is in the kitchen, chopping peppers. McCoy and I are in the living room, dancing to Christmas music. I dip him backward and he laughs. I wonder if he will grow to be a daredevil someday. I’m teaching him to Waltz. Or are we Foxtrotting? I remember almost nothing from sixth grade cotillion, so it’s probably just an overstated way to say we are spinning in circles with our hands clasped together.

We spin. He smiles. We dip back. He laughs. Chris throws butter in the hot pan and the smells permeates the house. It hits me, then, that these are the moments my younger self dreamed of: to be in our first home, making dinner and playing with our baby before bedtime.

I’ve been working, lately, on noticing these moments more. They’re little and, if we don’t pay attention, quickly dissipate. They’re easily overcome by scrolling through Instagram or cleaning out my inbox. They fade quickly when juxtaposed with my to do list. They go unnoticed when I let myself be overcome with anxiety or want.

But lately, I’ve been trying to notice them more - Mac’s sweet eyelashes, opening and closing slowly as he eats before bed. The way he smiles at the Christmas lights in the early morning hours, mesmerized by their twinkling. The way Chris pours me a cup of coffee in the morning before going to the gym. A quick pause to notice my needs.

These little things can be quickly lost in the shuffle of the day, the grind of reality.

But why let them be?

I’m not saying our lives are perfect, by any means. I’m ashamed to admit that my natural inclination is not to look around with gratitude, but instead longing. My heart often yearns for more, asking what next? the minute one dream is achieved.

But I’ve learned this a thousand times in life, and I’ll probably learn it a thousand more:

My input directly affects my output.

Meaning, if I take in more thoughts of gratitude and joy, I put out more gratitude and joy. If I slow down and notice the little, beautiful things throughout the day, I’m able to live that same posture more easily. When I stop to recognize the good in the small, beautiful moments, I’m overcome by how much good there is all around me.

A while ago, I read this quote from Girl, Wash Your Face that I’ll leave you with. It is the perfect reminder for a Monday:

“It might also be helpful to remember that someone else is praying to have the kind of chaos you’re currently crying about. What I mean is, the things you think are difficult could be someone else’s dream come true. I don’t say that to make you feel badly or negate your experience, but perspective may help you see that your chaos is just a gigantic blessing. Adjusting your view can work wonders.”

What I Know About People

Two years ago, on (mostly) a whim, I launched The Letter Project on an October Monday. I had no idea what to expect. Would people even want letters from strangers? Would people agree that women need more ways to support one another?

Many of you know the story from here: it grew quickly. Furiously in fact. I had no idea that I’d still be going two years later. I had no idea we’d have sent thousands of letters to almost 40 countries.

I also had no idea that I’d hold so many stories of other women in my hands. To be honest, this was the hardest part at first. I’d wake up thinking about the eight-year-old in Montana who lost her family in a drunk driving accident. I’d wonder about the 15-year-old who was thinking about suicide, praying she knew her worth today.

I knew the world could be hard - especially on our girls - but I had no idea that so many people were struggling with issues so heavy your heart would break just reading about them.

I thought, at first, that I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t be a vessel carrying these stories, slowly sinking into the sea as my heart became heavier and heavier. I decided not to pursue becoming a therapist a few years ago because I was worried I wouldn’t be able to leave other people’s issues at the office; being far too sensitive for the role. Here I was, in a seemingly similar position, without the skills of a therapist to cope. What have I done!? I wondered.

But then the letters began pouring in. And, y’all, they haven’t stopped coming since that very first week. What they’ve taught me, day in and day out is this:

People are good.

People are so, so good.

If you give them the chance to do good, they’ll take it. If you make it accessible. If you meet them where they are. People will blow you away. They will surprise you with their kindness, generosity and grace. The gentle words people share in these letters will soothe even the most achy heart.

During the last two years, I have seen unending generosity pass through my hands - from letter writer to recipients. People have sent gifts and money to girls they don’t know. They have sent the most beautiful quotes. They have provided phone numbers for help lines and sometimes even their own cells, begging these girls to text them if they have nowhere else to turn. They have gotten on their knees and prayed for recipients - women they’ve never met and never will.

It’s no secret that this world can seem a little crazy, messy and exhausting. It can seem overwhelmingly scary, too. But as we wrap up 2018, I hope you can remember that deep down, people are good. Let’s meet one another where we are. Let’s assume we have good intentions, not bad. Let’s make eye contact, build one another up and see the humanity in every human.

Let’s do good, yes. But, even more importantly, let’s promise to see the good in the world around us - the joy that is already there, ready for the taking. Let’s breathe in the present moment, believing that little acts of kindness add up like drops in a bucket, eventually overflowing and making the world a little brighter.

Thoughts for a Soon-to-be-Mama

I read so many baby books before McCoy was born. About labor and sleep habits and discipline and organic baby food. I bought the tools and prepared the best I could and, when he arrived, forgot almost everything. Because all of that advice is a lot easier to read about than it is to remember when you’re sleep deprived and snuggling your tiny bundle of love at 3 a.m. Was it eat, awake, sleep? Or awake, eat, sleep?

Motherhood has taught me more about myself, about grace and about the Lord than I ever imagined possible. It’s a learn-as-you-go, ask-for-help, take-a-deep breath kind of role. It reminds me, constantly, to begin each day as new.

But why am I telling you this? You probably won’t remember it any more than I remembered at what age you switch from swaddle to sleep sack.

So let me, instead, tell you a little bit about right now, sweet mama-to-be:

Take care of yourself. Take long showers. Do an unreasonably long workout. Sleep in. Have sex in the morning. Get a manicure. Sit in a coffee shop with a book for hours and don’t look at your watch. Call friends to meet up on a whim. Heck, throw a bag in the car and drive to the beach for a day. Go to dinner with your spouse and sit for hours as you enjoy appetizers and dessert. Forget schedules and routines and sink into this season.

The point of this post is not a cynical cherish it before it goes away message. Because you will cherish your baby far more than any long shower you could take.

But with this life change comes a level of responsibility, scheduling and selflessness. You live in three hour increments between feeds and naps and think, constantly, about your baby’s well being. No part of you is left untouched by childbearing; it changes your mind, heart and soul. And those changes, friends? Are so, so worth it. They are worth every hurried shower, cold dinner left on the table and lunch eaten while standing up.

But. Whether you are four, 14 or 40 weeks pregnant, remember to carve out a little bit of time for rest, for play and for yourself. Play it fast and loose with your schedule. Cherish these slow days with your spouse. Pour into one another as much as you can. And trust me when I say, the best is yet to come.