[image by Schicka via Unsplash]

When I participate in Lent, I try to choose an activity or sacrifice that will help with a specific spiritual problem I’m having. In Lents past, I’ve given up shopping and chocolate. For the last couple of years, I banned myself from internetting or social media after 8 pm (which was very refreshing). These were all good things for me at the time.

This Lent, I am tired. Physically and emotionally, I feel better than I did a couple of months ago. I no longer feel defeated before I even get out of bed. I’m happier and more energetic. I don’t cry on my evening commute. But now that I’m above the baseline, my spiritual weariness is more obvious. I’m suddenly aware that even though I’m spiritually thriving in some ways, in a deeper sense my faith has been on autopilot for a while. I’ve been too exhausted and discouraged to challenge or examine myself much or even practice private confession on a regular basis. At some point I forgot how to do that in a productive way that doesn’t heap more boulders onto my load, so I put it all in the empty spare room of my heart and shut the door on it. But closing that door has contributed to lingering feelings of disconnectedness from God and an extremely subpar prayer life. Actually, even these are only symptoms of my overall problem, which is I flat-out don’t trust God that much, which is too big and recent a revelation to get into right now.

Anyway, until yesterday I thought I was just going to skip out on Lent this year. I didn’t feel a particular pull to give anything up. I didn’t want to take on anything. Then I read a post by Ed Cyzewski at Cara Meredith’s blog, about how the daily practice of Examen has changed his life. I’ve never participated in Examen before, but apparently it involves reflecting on what encouraged and upset you that day, and when and how you experienced God. It requires a few minutes of stillness and quiet, which I definitely need.

Most importantly, as Ed said, it “isn’t necessarily prayer. It’s that essential first step before prayer.” Until my late 20s, I sat down with an itemized prayer list almost every morning of my life and Took Care of Business like the good girl I was. But I don’t think those days are ever coming back. I’ve tried more prayer cards and prayer systems and journals than I’m willing to admit, but in the end, I can only pray in the moment and from my heart. Sometimes I can’t even pray words – I sort of feel things at God and trust the Holy Spirit to translate it. (Yay for that.) I don’t believe this is necessarily bad or wrong, but it sometimes means I don’t pray very often, or feel so lost I can’t even remember how to start. It means I actually need a first step before prayer to help me find the path again.

So I downloaded the Examine app he recommended, and I’m starting tonight. Here’s hoping I’ll see a difference in six weeks.

Are you starting any new spiritual practices this season? Share your Lenten thoughts!

7 Comments + Posted in: faith

On Valentine’s Day, I did something I wasn’t sure I’d ever do again in my life. I SNOW SKIED.

In 1996, my family and I took a ski trip to Beaver Creek, Colorado with some generous family friends. I was sixteen and had never snow skied before, though I’d been waterskiing for several years. From the first day of ski school, I had trouble. They taught us the classic “french fries and pizza.” My serious attempts at pizza were really painful to my knees (and mostly ineffective anyway). Only a few months out from my senior marching season, I was afraid of doing lasting damage that might make me unable to march. So basically, I could ski, but I couldn’t stop. And as we all know…

On the last day of our trip, I agreed to take a green “cinch” course with the rest of my family. It allegedly involved a lot of switchbacks and was very easy. Well, “easy” is relative if you’re unable to stop and are therefore absolutely terrified to build up any speed. It took me (and thus, unfortunately, my dad) three exhausting, tearstained hours to make it down that mountain. I assumed I would never go near a pair of skis again.

As the years have passed, I’ve increasingly wanted a re-do of my ski experience. I’m not the person I was at sixteen (who is?). I’m braver, stronger, and, weirdly enough, in better shape. I’ve disliked having this massive failure on my record that’s trotted out and laughed at a few times a year. I’ve felt pretty sure I could do better if given another chance.

My parents and I always go to Evansville to visit my brother over Presidents’ Day weekend. We always discuss the option of Paoli Peaks, a manmade ski resort a couple of hours from his house. (Kevin goes sometimes with friends.) This year, I told them I really wanted to go. So on Valentine’s morning, we hit the road.

I remembered using long, skinny, unwieldy skis in Beaver Creek. The wider, almost kid-sized ones I got at Paoli reassured me right off the bat. My mom, Kevin, and I did the practice slope a few times to get my legs under me. Then Kevin said I was ready and led me to the start of the green slope. It started with a good-sized drop, but he assured me the course flattened out further down. The hill was crowded. I wasn’t sure I had the control to avoid people. I stared down that slope for about ten minutes before my brain finally convinced my body that it was doing this whether it liked it or not. Then I took off. When Kevin caught up with me in the middle, he was thrilled at first. Then he noticed I was having a mild panic attack (something I didn’t realize until he retold the story later). I was short of breath, shaking uncontrollably, and pretty much felt like I was about to die, but I assured him repeatedly that I was fine. After we went down the second drop, which was steeper than the first, I knew the hardest part was over because now I knew I could do it. I HAD SKIED. And the more times I skied the course, the more I had fun!

One day wasn’t enough time for me to learn to stop or turn very well. As of now, I have one speed: fast. The key to skiing was overcoming my instinct to fight the speed. I stopped trying to stop and just let gravity do its thing. That’s great, but it’s also why I didn’t progress to more advanced slopes. Kevin and I went to a blue, but I decided to pass because taking it head-on would have been crazy fast. He skied it by himself and came back saying, “Yeah, you wouldn’t have liked that one today.”

At the end of the day, we finally convinced our mom to ski the green slope with us (she’d happily remained on the bunny slope all day). I was proud of her for trying it. As soon as the three of us got on the ski lift, Kevin said “I’ve been waiting all day for this,” busted a grill out of his pocket, and took a selfie.

Call him George Foreman, ’cause he’s selling everybody grillz

Skiing is probably no big deal to many of you, but to me, it was a HUGE deal and a personal Day of Victory. Special thanks to Kevin for coaching me along, and to my parents for taking another chance on a known flight risk.

6 Comments + Posted in: family, milestone, travel

I’ve always enjoyed Valentine’s Day regardless of my relationship status. None of my coupled Valentine’s Days were particularly stellar, so I almost prefer the freedom of being unattached on the Day of Love. There’s no pressure or expectations either on or from me. I can just have fun being a Valentine elf to my friends and family, and celebrate the abundant non-romantic love in my life.

So I was surprised in January when Valentine date recommendations and chatter on social media made me cry – more than once. When I realized I was actively dreading the day and wanted to hide in a cave until it was all over. I’m not that girl. But apparently, this year, I am.

I have been single for nearly five years. I mean single single. After my divorce, I didn’t even want to think about dating for at least a year – I was too heartbroken and exhausted. But I had faith that whenever I was back on my feet, God would restore the years the locusts had eaten. I had worked hard for so long to honor Him in a lonely marriage. Everyone told me I had done well. I knew that despite the end result, I was made for partnership, and had a deep capacity for love and a lot to give someone. I know it still. I was confident God wouldn’t let that go to waste. More than that, I was confident He had something so much better in store for me. He wouldn’t leave me sitting in the blackest of romantic ashes. He would bring an amazing man into my life and redeem the whole shebang. It was the only possible way the story could end.

Since then, I’ve watched countless other people get divorced and remarried, or otherwise go from meeting to marriage, in less time than it took me to go on one date. Only recently have I been blessed even with real male friends (for whom I’m thankful). For the most part, I’ve been kept at a cootie-safe distance by the majority of single men I’ve known, and indiscriminately hunted down by many of the others. Disappointing doesn’t even begin to cover it. Nor bewildering. Sure, I’m a mess in some areas like everyone else, and my looks are never going to stop traffic. But I’m a smart, fun, independent, sports-literate, self-aware Christian woman in the best shape of her life. I don’t understand why I am so obviously and decisively Not Girlfriend Material.

What hurts the most is that I want such simple things. I don’t want to be married tomorrow – I just want to be asked out on a real date by someone who gives me butterflies. I want to feel special and chosen and also safe. I want the fun and excitement of getting to know an interesting man who thinks I’m interesting too. I want to kiss someone I really want to kiss, even if it only happens once. I want the luxury of enough time to let my guard down, to make educated decisions. I want the freedom to feel my feelings openly instead of trying to smother them. I don’t feel like these are overly demanding requests.

What hurts the most is that I’m a healed, whole individual, but I still lack the healing that only good relationship experiences can bring. Love gave me some wounds that only love can bind up.

What hurts the most is that after five years, my ex-husband’s opinion still stands as man’s last verdict on my worthiness. The good women in my life can tell me all day long that I’m enough. I can tell it to myself. I can believe it. But none of it can silence the little voice saying, See, no one you would want will ever want you. How much more proof do you need? If I’m not enough at my best for a good man to see and choose me, am I enough, really? If I fall in the forest and no one’s around, do I make a sound?

I know better than anyone that it’s better to be single than unhappily coupled. But it’s devastating to think that those are my only options. I will always need lots of different relationships and people; I don’t expect any one person to be my all in all. I’m starting to feel hopeful and happy about where my life is going in general. I know I can survive however things play out.

But I am sure in my soul that I’m not “called to singleness.” I’ll always have a phantom limb. The instinct to love the right partner with everything I am, and the desire to be loved back, and the knowledge of how good that could be, will always be pent up in my bones. I have no promises or evidence that I’ll ever have the chance again, and after almost half a decade, I’m ready to stand up and say: It’s not okay. I’m not okay. It will never be okay.

That’s where I’m at this Valentine’s Day.

5 Comments + Posted in: love, one word 365, singleness

I embrace many aspects of technology, but digital scheduling isn’t one of them. I don’t use iCal or Google Calendar. I have never asked Siri to remind me of an appointment. Things just don’t stick in my brain that way. I need a tangible, visual way to keep track of my life and important information, and I’m okay with that.

For about ten years, my Franklin Covey Compact planner was my daily companion, but last fall I started to feel really bored with it: the plain dark brown that made it a safe long-term choice, the increasingly lame and few calendar refill options. Because it zipped up, I tended to store too much stuff in it, and any bills waiting to be mailed stuck out of the top awkwardly. I (guiltily) started browsing Pinterest for planner options that were more creative and enjoyable to look at. Eventually I found a post from Craft Room Secrets and knew exactly what I wanted!

My parents gave me this Filofax Saffiano Personal organizer (in Poppy) for Christmas. It’s smaller than my old Franklin Covey, but not so much that I feel crunched for page space, and light and thin enough to fit in my purse with no trouble. It closes with a snap strap and is open on three sides, so I won’t be tempted to stuff in lots of loose papers. It’s also beautiful! Red has never been my favorite color, but lately I feel very drawn to it – I’ve decided it must be my power color for 2015. It’s energizing, but I won’t get tired of it the way I would of, say, hot pink or orange.

The Filofax filler pages are very plain, but that’s okay. I copied Glenys’s brilliant idea of adding fun and inspiration with Project Life cards. I’ve finally given up even the pretense of scrapbooking, but if I ever started again, I’d go with Project Life. It seems really fun and easy. The cards are meant to complement life events, which makes them perfect for planners. I chose the Becky Higgins Core Kit in Honey, ordered a Filofax hole punch, and went to town. Note: I used barely a quarter of these cards, so if you want to do this and find a smaller pack that you like, I’d recommend that! I just had love at first sight with the Honey kit.

I mostly used the cards as dividers, but threw in extra blank ones for special notes. I also wrote out quote cards (mainly reminders of my One Word, Enough) and added them randomly throughout the year.

I never thought to use my planner as a personal diary of sorts, but I’ve learned that a lot of people do. They glue in ticket stubs and write down random thoughts or memories from the day. It’s a nice idea, since I don’t scrapbook anymore and I usually save my calendar pages anyway for record-keeping’s sake. I haven’t done very well with it so far, but this is a Reminder To Self.

It may seem like a silly thing, but I’m happy to have a new planner that makes me happy and encourages my creative brain! Much of my daily life is a creativity suck, so I need all the help I can get.

5 Comments + Posted in: creative, domestic

As I prepare to list my house for sale, I’m taking final stock of its transformation. The previous residents of my house were two nice elderly ladies who hadn’t made any decor updates in a couple of decades. They liked wallpaper and dark wood, and for whatever reason, they really liked snowmen. The first time my ex and I saw the house, there was a snowman on every flat surface… in the middle of July. But we saw the potential and made an offer that day. (This is why I can’t watch House Hunters anymore. I entered an actual bidding war over what you’re about to see. I have no patience for people who reject a house over, say, furniture that doesn’t even come with the house.) Now, this house is the definition of “move-in ready,” and I’m ready to appreciate all that work one more time. I don’t think I’ll ever take on a project of this magnitude again!

Foyer

The day the floor guys ripped up that tile might have been one of the happiest days of my life. Paint color for foyer and hallway: Behr Clean Air. Rug from Zulily.

Living Room:

This room was the first painting project (and one of the few that my ex helped me with). We tackled it over Thanksgiving weekend 2006. It took at least six coats, and on Sunday afternoon I walked clear out of the house without a word because I couldn’t paint for one more second. It was worth it, though (and when I repainted the room years later, the job was a breeze by comparison). Paint color: Glidden Celery Sticks. I always wanted to do something about the lighting situation in this room, but oh well.

Dining Nook

When I had that wallpaper removed, there was another layer underneath. Facepalm. Paint color for dining and kitchen: Behr Sagey.

Kitchen

I had the cabinets professionally painted, because I didn’t want to cook and eat in a construction zone for the weeks it would have taken me. My best homeowner advice: DIY is great, but don’t be afraid to throw money at a problem wherever possible.

The harvest gold appliances stayed for several years because they worked. However, in the summer of 2011, the old dial-style buzzer oven timer started malfunctioning. It got to the point where I was stumbling out of bed on the hour all night long to shut it off manually. It was like having a newborn or living in a Friends episode. I managed to acquire a new oven and range before going Office Space on the old one.

Breakfast Bar:

This has always been one of my favorite features. My previous home was an older apartment with a closed-off kitchen. I’ve loved being able to remain a part of things (or even watch TV) while cooking and stuff, and when I have friends over, we inevitably cluster in this area.

Hallway:

Snowman alert!

Office:

One of my favorite places. I do all my sewing and crafting in here amongst my blue walls and Tigers (and Grizz) memorabilia. Paint color: Behr Liberty.

Guest Room:

That wallpaper. Paint color: Unfortunately I don’t have a record of the name, but it’s on the same paint chip card with Behr Liberty. I’ve always called it “Hydrangea Blue.” PS: I never really found a cohesive theme or look for this room. I was just about to get around to it.

Guest Bath:

This became my Palm Tree Bathroom. Paint color: Again, it’s a Behr shade I’m not sure of. I call it “Key Lime Pie.” (If anyone wants to hire me to name paint colors, I’m down.)

Master Bedroom:

I love my room now, but that pink caused me physical pain for almost a year. Paint color: Behr Ionic Sky.

Master Bath:

The piéce de resistánce. I have a house album on Flickr, and a stranger once messaged me to suggest I enter this top photo in an ugly bathrooms contest. I did. It didn’t win. Anyway, one of the first things we did in the house was rip this wallpaper down with our bare hands. Years later, my dad and brother completely remodeled the room for me. I chose all-new everything, and they installed it. My custom bathroom will be one of the hardest things to leave.

The shower accent tile I wanted wasn’t available, so I found square sheets of this tile, and my brother cut it in half to make a stripe. I was thrilled to find towels at TJ Maxx that matched perfectly. Paint color: Behr Spa. When we first repainted, it was an even brighter turquoise, but I scaled it back for better flow with the bedroom. (I’m a Florida girl. I need a little turquoise.)

I’m going to miss my home, but I know it’s time to move on. I need a change and a fresh start. I’m excited about getting into a new, probably smaller place and making it my own. Hopefully someone else is about to love this house as much as I do!

10 Comments + Posted in: domestic