Perspectives on the Long Haul

That's possibly the most unsexy title that I ever wrote, but I've been saying that phrase a lot lately.

"If we're in this for the long haul..."

"If we plan on staying..."

For once, I'm on a visible timeline. As Lenny Kravitz once sang, "I'm old enough to see behind me." I can now see just how long it takes for certain things to become as they are (or as I'd like them to be).

My good friends started out as roommates or friends of friends who I timidly exchanged numbers with. Man, some people I talk to every day spent years as just acquaintances.

The jobs that I loved and in which I felt comfortable and capable at first were nervous first days.

And every church that I ever called home was once a casual Sunday here and there where I mostly avoided small talk with people I didn't know.

Things change after a while. They grow. They bloom. But everything, for the most part, starts very small.

That's why I'm constantly telling my husband and myself about the long haul. Because when you see things on a long enough timeline, you understand that the good, comfortable stage of any relationship, job, or home address doesn't happen suddenly. It doesn't even happen in two or three months. You need to see years roll by some times before you really settle into something. So, yeah, if you're in it for the long haul...

It just takes the pressure off, you know? For example, right now, I can be okay with getting to know people slowly. The Melissa's, the Karen's, the Hannah's, the Crista's, the Jen's, and every one else in the tribe... yeah, those don't happen instantly in most cases. So, I can relax that I just have three or so local numbers in my phone and a few social outings on the calendar.

This perspective also helps me  manage my expectations. I don't have to know my way around town plus six alternate routes right now. I rarely realize it's trash day until the truck drives by. It's certainly not possible for me to have a favorite restaurant yet. Just because some things used to be second nature before doesn't mean they have to be now (and doesn't mean they won't be again one day).

Another thing this perspective does is slow me down. I tend to rush. I think everything could be done faster. Fix it and fix it now could be my motto. But one doesn't get that luxury being new in town. I must have patience. I have to wait. Not necessarily be idle, but stop forcing what I want, when I want it. Granted, I've never been remarkable at this, but here's an opportunity to give it another whirl.

One day, it will be hard to imagine that I didn't always live here. For my daughter, who's not even two yet, this is the only home she'll ever really know. This will all become old hat one day. So, I'm not in a rush to build a makeshift life like the one I had. I can make friends and grow roots in my community one day at a time. Because, after all, if we're in this for the long haul...



Resolutions, Grace, and Acceptance As Is

I had a great blog series planned for the first of the year. It was going to be all about getting yourself together. We were going to make resolutions for fitness, wellness, and taking care of all those little things that we keep putting off.

Again. Things changed.

In Need of Grace
See, I am a resolution addict. I love New Years, because it's my official do-over. I make lots of resolutions and self declarations. I keep many of them. If my resolution list is 10, by December, I've probably nailed 7. Most of all, I enjoy bettering myself. It's a habit.

However, this New Years finds me already in the midst of major risk and change. We moved, and in this analogy of a leap of faith, we are very much still in the air. Not to mention that motherhood feels like an ongoing pop quiz that I didn't study for.

As I held my daughter tonight after her bath, mentally preparing for her bedtime meltdown, something just dropped in my spirit. "What if, this year, no resolutions? No big changes. No big endeavors. Just you accepting you. As is."

How radical.

This year, I want to lighten my load rather than pile on. I don't need to learn a new skill. I need to hone what I already know. Plus, like many, I am hard on myself. Some grace for my fat and personality quirks would be nice.

Now, I have not abandoned all efforts for self-care. I'm running again. I almost consider pregnancy and the first year of infancy as a break. Running is always in my bones. I'm also keeping up with counseling in my new town, because everyone needs someone to talk to (it's just that some of us need a professional).

Everything is a continuance of what already was. Except for the self-acceptance. That's new. I'll tell you how it goes come December.



The Last of Things

I'm an oddly sentimental person. If it weren't for moving, I would have a garage full of stuff. But I don't see it as stuff. It's memories.

I still have my first student ID from college. I have my first diary. I hold on to things that at one point meant something to me, even if, their usefulness expired.

I naturally horde moments as well. Whenever I'm in transition, I try to hold on to even the intangible things. My life now is a perfect example.

We've lived a long time in Virginia, but we're making our way to a permanent location in Florida. We left, came back for the holidays, but now we're getting ready to go back... this time, for good. I'm not entirely sure when we'll be back in Virginia again. So, naturally, I'm very cognizant of what I call "the last of things."

I turned off the television in my in-laws' family room thinking, 'Last time I'll do that for while.' We said goodbye to friends, and I hugged them wondering if, for some, it would be the last time. Even as I type out this blog, I'm feeling my fingers on these keys and thinking that it will be months before I sit here again. I went through versions of this over and over again in my mind with everything.

Leaving things behind, even if it's just their commonplace appearance, comes with mixed feelings. It's a death in a sense. Consider friends and family. Sure, we have a multitude of communication tools thanks to the Internet and digital technology. However, I mourn the loss of closeness. Knowing certain people are no longer within an arm's reach or a day's drive is a loss. I feel the gap.

At the same time, I'm very excited about our future. I love our home in the Sunshine State. I'm meeting new people and doing new things that don't make me hate doing those things. It's constantly interesting.

Like I said to a friend today, I got some feelings about this.

The old phrase goes, "Change is good." I think that wisdom still circulates, because it's necessary. Change has to be good, because change is inevitable. I don't care how long you've been the way you've been, whether it's your job, house, friends, health, etc. Something will change in your life, and if you're lucky, you'll be presented with the opportunity to recognize the last of things. It's a small part of the process. You get to imagine the future, mourn the past, and embrace the present all at once. And in case you didn't know, I'm here to tell you that how you feel about it is okay. You can sulk, cry, smile, laugh...actually, a combination of all four is preferred.

Because it's sadness and joy; a twinge of pain and a flood of butterflies. It meets in the middle as a jumbled-up, somewhat unrecognizable mix. It's a good thing. It's healthy.

So, I'm going to enjoy the last of things, even if it's as simple as tapping away on this keyboard. I can take a moment to honor what I'll miss, what I have, and what's ahead. I hope you can too.



Mondays, Bad Guys, and This Business of Forgiveness

I had a nice blog for you today. It was very inspiring and full of Christmas cheer. It was ready to get you all in the holiday spirit.

Then, Monday happened....

Has Monday ever happened to you? Not the day, but the incident. It's like getting bad news over the phone. It's a bill in the mail. Or, as in our case, it was the dashed hope that a longstanding issue would finally get resolved.

Ug. I already mentioned about our "Summer of Discontent" and how it altered our lives. Most of it, we just had to deal with, but another part turned into an ongoing battle. It was stressful, and just when we thought the end was near... Like I said, Monday. Now, all those feelings from the summer waved back over me. I expressed a similar sentiment that I said before.

"It feels like the bad guys are winning."

We all have those moments where it seems like we did the right thing, someone else did the wrong thing, but we end up getting screwed. Doing good and not seeing the reward sucks by itself, but adding an antagonist to the mix who appears to "get away with it" makes the matter infuriating. Where's the fairness? Where's the justice? Where's a super hero to come save the day?

Back to that blog. I didn't publish it, because I instantly felt like a hypocrite. Here I am, telling you to find joy in the Christmas season, yet, at the same time, I'm stockpiling bitterness. It was time to pause. So, rather than absent-mindedly peddle inspiration, I did a little work on me first. Maybe a few of these thoughts could help you too.

First, in the face of Monday, I got moving. I was already serious about getting back in marathon shape, but this workout session had some fire to it. Indignation is quite an energy boost, in case you didn't know. I was stronger than ever. And then, wouldn't you know it, that energy burned off like a rocket, and I was left with some of those bad feelings broken off in the atmosphere.

Second, I talked it out. As soon as I got the news, I texted, emailed, Whats App messaged, and Snapchatted everyone who knew our situation. You know, sympathy can never be overrated. Some times you just need someone with whom you can commiserate. A simple, "Man, that's rough. I'm sorry" can go a long way. It always does for me.

Third, there are no bad guys and good guys. It seems that way, but human beings are far more complicated than that. The person I vilify is somebody's best friend. Someone I consider a saint is probably a holy terror to anyone else. Perspective changes everything. Not to mention that we battle people in seasons. Maybe this season they are desperate and crazy. Perhaps if we'd met at different times in our lives, none of this would have happened. Who knows? All I know is that I alleviate a lot of pressure when I stop with the binary fairy tale roles and see people as they are: flawed and human, just like me.

Lastly, there's this business of forgiveness. Doesn't it always come down to that? We don't get the privilege of living happy, well-adjuststed lives and holding on to grudges at the same time. It just doesn't work like that. At a certain point, we have to forgive those who wrong us. Forgiveness can look like a lot of different things, but it almost always includes letting go of the way we want things to be. It's not easy, but it's necessary.

But what about fairness and justice, you ask... First of all, there's no such thing as fairness. Let's get that off the table. It's completely subjective. Secondly, justice works independently of us all. Some call it karma. Others call it universal law. I quote Galatians 6:7. If you sow it, you reap it. So, believing that we are somehow responsible for someone else's comeuppance is foolish. It's not our job.

As I write this, Monday draws to a close. I'm still not particularly happy with today, but I'm probably better for it. I was provided with another opportunity to resist becoming embittered towards things and people that I can't control.

So, what about you? What was your Monday like? Better yet, who's the bad guy in your story? Let me encourage you to find your own path towards forgiveness. Whatever it looks like, go after it. It won't be comfortable, but it's better than feeling despair and it's certainly a lighter load to carry.



The Midnight Worrier

I'm doing it again. I'm up past my bedtime.

I can always tell when I have too much on my mind, because I can't sleep. That says a lot as a mother, because you'd think I'd covet the time that my little one is settled in for the night. Yet, more than once this week and many times in the last few months, I find myself wandering the house after midnight. I wish I could tell you what I'm looking for. It's something between a snack and mental solace.

So, what's going on? Change. Lots of change. While I've learned wonderful lessons, the fallout is that my life looks completely different than it did six months ago. New people. New house. New church. I mean, we're not even in the same region of the country any more. I still can't get used to the fact that they show Jeopardy at 7 here before Wheel of Fortune rather than the other way around. Freaky, man...

And I know, I know. Luxury problems. First world whining. Thank God we have the freedom and ability to get up, take a risk, and change our lives. There are those who would kill for such a chance.

But the wonder of it all doesn't always take away the worry. That's why I'm still up.

So, I have to remind myself of a few things when seasons like this come along and keep me ruminating through the midnight hours.

"Don't lay awake at night / Thinking about your problems" ~ Sade, "Keep Looking"

The line from this song never fails to come to me when I'm up in the middle of the night. Rarely have I ever come into great wisdom between midnight at 6 a.m. Sure, I've figured a thing or two out and perhaps discovered a different perspective. However, most of the time, my internal ranting is fruitless. I'd be better served jotting down my concerns in a journal, then leaving them there until the morning.

"Get up, get out, and do something" ~ Macy Gray, "Do Something"

Just the act of lying still in a pool of your own sadness should be metaphor enough for you to try a different position. For instance, the other night, I knew I had to do something to get out of my nocturnal funk. The answer was as simple as getting out of bed and going into the living room. At that hour, the television had nothing, but Latino game shows and small-time Baptist preachers. It was exactly what I needed to get my mind in a different space and remind myself just how sleepy I was... and how I probably need to learn Spanish.

The last thing I recall is this...


If you're like me, there's a good chance you're up because you just need someone to talk to. Maybe you're lucky enough to have a friend to call or a spouse who's a light sleeper and great listener. But if you don't, or your troubles are above his or her pay grade, talk to God. Even if you don't believe, do it any way. It's a deep thing, but on the surface, it's a symbolic gesture that reminds you that you're not really all that in control and that's totally okay. You may even feel your burdens lifted off of you just enough for you to turn over and get some rest.

Okay, so I sorta made this about you and me, but it's late and I'm tired. Writing this was my way to unwind and stop worrying. I hope you find yours.

'Till then, sweet dreams.



Surviving the Summer of Our Discontent or Lessons Learned When Things Fall Apart

It's been a while. I know this. If you didn't know, babies are a lot of work. They're cute, and they're exhausting. However, I can't blame my absence from blogging on the little one. Quite simply and not so simply, life is in session.

3 a.m. in the hospital awaiting surgery. Yippee!
The last 14 months have been nothing short of incredible in both the "life is amazing! wheeeeee!" and "kill me now" sort of way. After my daughter was born, I didn't have post partum depression per say. It was more like the tyranny of the fourth trimester. Lack of sleep plus tiny screaming human equals constant threat of madness. I remember a good friend telling me that things will get better in about three months. It felt like an eternity, but indeed, by the new year, I was finding my rhythm in motherhood. Another six months, my daughter began developing her own little self and I was enjoying her. By nine months, I can say that I made a new friend. She laughs, she makes faces. It's like a tinier, feistier version of me without the dreadlocks and over-education.

This is also right around the same time as what I call "The Summer of our Discontent." If you know me, you remember. Our landlord sold the house we lived in. We had to leave the church that we had nurtured and served for more than three years. Then, I had a surprise appendectomy (is there any other kind?) which laid me out for four weeks. Did I mention I had to study and pass my doctoral qualifying exams during all of this? And maintain my sanity? Like I said, madness.

It was by far the most trying times I'd experienced in years. At one point, I was looking out for a plague of locusts. It just seemed like that should follow.

But the locusts never came. And I didn't lose my mind. We didn't have to declare bankruptcy under the weight of thousands in hospital care debt. I passed my exams. My family is still intact.

I learned a few things though.

"Don't try to turn the hands of fate / If it rains, you've got to let it" ~ Alana Davis, "Turtle"

I remember lying in the hospital in the middle of the night getting yet another CT scan. Right then under the gentle hum of machinery, I gave up. Not in an "oh woe is me" way. I just gave up trying to be in control. Most of my fury up until that point was my inability to keep things from happening to me. Surely I could stop appendicitis or convince our landlord to not make us move. I'm Superwoman, after all. But no, I'm not, and upon that realization, I let go of needing everything to be right and okay in my life. It was weird, yet comforting. I had to simply be all right with the best that I could do, which at that moment, meant holding my breath and lying very still for the scan technician.

"(Help) You know I need somebody / (Help) Not just any body / (Help) You know I need someone" ~ The Beatles, "Help"

My husband often accuses me of not asking for assistance. It's that Superwoman thing again. However, life decided to give me more than I could handle just to see if I would reach out. And I did. I have no shame in saying I talked to my doctor and started counseling again. I accepted childcare from friends so I could recover and study. I talked when someone wanted to listen. These battles cannot be fought in isolation. I got help, and I'd do it again.

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." Dr. Seuss

Ah, the church thing. I won't get into it here the same way I didn't give too many details to too many inquiring minds then. It involved people and their messy lives. In the end, everyone walked away thinking they were right, so there's no point in continuing to convince anyone otherwise. It did unfortunately change our lives. We were estranged from the community that we called home for many years. Some friendships got weird; others dissolved altogether. "Church hurt," as they call it, is a unique animal. But my faith is a little more in God and a little less in people these days. That's one thing. The other is this: friendships and community ties have seasons just like everything else does. Our season there is over. I can lament how things ended, or I can rejoice in three and a half beautiful years of love and communion. I choose the latter.

That's not all. I could teach series on all the lessons I've learned this year. That's the best lesson of all. Hard times make for glorious renewal and revaluation. I wouldn't care to go through most of this again, but I'm thrilled at the person I am because of it.

So, whether you're in a season of draught or plenty, rest or renovation, happiness or heartache, here's to hoping your 2015 leaves you wiser than before.



Gratitude Challenge: The Pregnancy Edition

Well, I was hoping the previous post would be my last pregnancy post. However, this kid decided she's not coming out until she wants to. Sounds familiar, but still, we're going to have a talk about this later.

I found a worthy reason to blog though. I was nominated in one of those gratitude challenges that is floating around Facebook. I tend to steer clear of these things. I am a social media spoil sport. It's not because I don't believe in good causes. I'm just rarely interested in doing anything that everyone else is doing (again, my daughter comes by this attitude honestly). However, I've been thinking that this one might be necessary.

No matter how much you want your child or how happy you are to even be pregnant, the tail end of gestation sucks. It just does. You're fat. You're slow. You're peeing every two hours, which is no fun at night. And let's not even talk about the tortuous variety of symptoms that you have available to you. Hemorrhoids or heartburn, anyone? It's just not pleasant.

Then, as if things aren't hard enough, everyone reminds you how this is the easy part, and you jump from this frying pan into the fire of parenting a newborn. Sleepless nights, endless crying, and all the wacky things your body does postpartum. Altogether, it can make you wonder why in the world you signed up for this.

Sounds like a good time to count your blessings, if you ask me.

So of course, I won't do the challenge the way that Facebook dictates. Instead, here are 12 things I'm grateful for during these last nine months.

1. This is a tangible, visible reminder that God sometimes gives you exactly what you want. I know what it's like to beg for something and see it either not come to pass or be delayed by years. Getting pregnant without a bunch of hoopla was my prayer at the beginning of the year--a prayer I fully expected to go unanswered for a long time. Yet, by the time I really put it out there, I was already pregnant. That was pretty cool.

2. My husband is a better guy than I thought he was. And I already thought he was great. Seeing him excited about fatherhood is all the more sweet.

Our Harley Biker Diaper Cake
3. People are generous. I am astounded at how much people have given us. In-laws hitting the yard sales for deals, other parents who donated clothes, baby shower gifts, etc. I've been blessed before, but the giving my friends and family have shown makes me a believer in the kindness of humanity.

4. Generally, strangers are pretty nice. I've joked quite a bit about people in grocery stores and libraries making comments about my pregnancy. And yes, it can get annoying on the wrong day. But otherwise, people are shockingly polite. Plus, I haven't had to pick up anything off the floor before someone does it for me in months.

5. Eating (almost) whatever I want. Before January, I was cutting back on portions, cutting down on sugar, and exercising regularly. I'd actually lost quite a bit of weight and was feeling good. I plan to get back into that soon. However, I can't lie. Being sedentary this last trimester and enjoying every pretzel bun burger I can find is real nice.

6. Ultrasounds. My life has seen wonderful moments. My wedding day. Reading in a hammock on a Dominican beach. That really delicious bread pudding I had at a wedding once. But nothing quite compares to the first time I saw our daughter in 3-D. Surreal.

7. Finally, a decent excuse to be lazy. I can be a little type-A at times, so sitting still when I think I need to be conquering the world is tough. It's been nice to hear people tell me to rest, sleep, and take it easy and I can do that without feeling (too much) guilt.

8. Sweatpants, err'day, all day. Somewhat going along with point #7... I also get a pass on any social demands to look like a fashionista. Not that I was much of one before.

9. I finally get it. Being single and childless for all of my 20s and half of my 30s, I never really got the whole pregnancy/parenting thing. I recall some snotty, nearly phobic behavior towards people with kids. Most of it was because I thought I'd never enter that stage of life. It's easy to dump on what you don't understand. But now I get it. And my apologies to everyone I offended with my single-girl-'tude.

10. The great, big belly. It doubles as a food tray and a place to rest my hands and reading materials.

11. Baby kicks. There's this moment in Sex and the City when the hard-nosed, cynical Miranda feels her son kick inside her stomach for the first time during an arbitrary moment at the bathroom sink. She has this stunned, amazed, and delighted look of wonder on her face. I know that look. It feels just like that.

12. Overall, this wasn't that bad. I've had some difficulties this pregnancy that I won't go into now (that's for a later blog, when I get up the nerve). However, relatively speaking, when you consider everything that can happen, I had a good pregnancy.

There's my gratitude challenge. And if you've read to the end, congrats, you've nominated yourself. Go be grateful for wherever you are right now. Tell someone about it. It feels good.

~jennifer (still ) +1
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