Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent in the liturgical calendar.  Lent is a 40 day period leading up to Easter that, in my estimation, was designed by the church to help prepare people’s hearts and spirits for Easter.  It is a time of reflection on the sacrifice of Jesus and a study of the last days of his ministry on earth.

Growing up in a non-churchgoing home, this was all a very foreign concept to me.  As a resident of a very Pennsylvania Dutch area, I understood the concept of Fat Tuesday and the beauty of the fasnacht.

I knew that this time kicked off something called Lent and that many of my friends would be giving things up for a 40 day period…things like watching their favorite TV show, soda, chocolate, candy and various other things.  I also knew that some friends couldn’t eat meat on Fridays throughout Lent.  But all of that wrapped up on Good Friday (which I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why it was called that when Jesus died that day…but that’s a post for about 38 days from now!) and then we’d all get a visit from the Easter bunny and eat lots of candy and have a big dinner with our families.

When I started attending a non-denominational church in my late 20s, Lent was still a bit of a foreign concept.  We focused our attention Sundays on studying Jesus’ last days and often were given supplemental readings to do throughout the period. Some larger local non-denoms offered a Good Friday service, so I’d sometimes attend.  While I came to understand the fasting or giving up component of Lent a bit better, I didn’t feel like that was the right way for me to approach it.  While I understand that giving up something I love, like chocolate, is difficult, I couldn’t get it to align with a true sacrifice in my mind.

That said, I still wanted to do something that would reflect the solemnity of the time period and allow me to focus on something other than my usual selfish self.  In doing some reading and talking with respected friends who share my faith, I decided that adding something rather than taking away something would be a good way for me to center myself during the 40 days of Lent.  This year will be no different.  As in the past, I’ve chosen to exercise each of the 40 days.  To some, this may not seem like a big deal, nor may it seem to fit with the Lenten plans of others.  But for me, this is a challenge for many reasons.  I am too easily able to justify not making my own healthy and well-being a priority.  I fall prey too often to taking care of others and other things before myself.  And frankly, I don’t LIKE exercise. I’d much rather lie on the couch eating bon bons (whatever those are but they sound wildly delicious.  And chocolaty.)  And so my focus becomes about focus.  It becomes about sacrificing that which might not be the best for me to something better.  It becomes about respecting the body that I was given and remembering that it is entrusted to me for this time.  It becomes about something more than simple exercise, and gives me yet another small reason to stop and give thanks for all that has been given to me.

The term “snow day” took on a whole different meaning when I was a kid.  For the most part, it meant fun, friends, sledding, snowman building and hot chocolate.  It might mean daytime tv and reading, too.

I had my third snow day of this season today and it meant work.  What a bummer that realization was and always is.  Being a “grown up” stinks sometimes!  On the bright side, between today and a few hours I was in the office on Saturday in anticipation of today’s wintry mix, I’m in a much better place workload-wise than I’d be otherwise.  The laundry is done and I had time to make a real breakfast and a healthy lunch for myself.  And I guess there is something to be said for that.  I’d much rather have been relaxing and/or having fun, don’t get me wrong – but the peace I’m feeling right now is worth it…and I have the whole evening ahead of me to do whatever I’d like.

It’s days like this that I wonder why it’s so hard to incorporate some of my “snow day” into my every day.  I’m not as busy here as I was in my previous life (by any stretch) but I still find myself rushed a lot of time, with tasks piling up and threatening to overwhelm me.  I try to jam errands and cleaning and the like into the weekend, along with any fun I try to mandate for my life and sometimes it is just…a lot.

Yet the bottom line is this:  we all get the same 24 hours in a day, nothing more and nothing less – snow day or not.  It matters what we do with it, how we use it, and sometimes even more importantly, how we don’t. What if, instead of running around crazily all weekend, I tried to spread my errands out throughout the week?  What if instead of doing marathon laundry on a Sunday night when I should instead be preparing for the week ahead, I did a load of wash every night?  What if I turned off the tv and did a quick “swish & swipe” (thank you, Flylady!) in the kitchen on a Monday night after HIMYM?  What if I pledged to myself that I would make breakfast a sacred time, at least a few days a week?  Or decided that 9 PM was the witching hour for electronics each night?

What if, what if.  It’s all a balancing act, to see what works and what doesn’t but as with anything – isn’t it worth a try?  

Let me preface this by saying, I don’t ski. I’ve never skied.  I frankly don’t do much that could inflict bodily harm or injury on myself through my own volition.  It’s just one of those little rules I try to stick to in life and so far, it’s served me pretty well.

But I am an avid Olympic watcher so that, naturally, makes me an expert on all things winter-sports related. And I’m fascinated by any event that includes moguls.  While I get that it adds to the complexity, I can’t imagine wanting to excel in a sport that is all about obstacles.  I’m sure, however, that the feeling of accomplishment is great.

I’ve been quiet here lately because I’ve been dealing with some moguls of my own.  I keep hoping for a straight, smooth ride where I can enjoy the scenery going by and feel the wind in my hair…but I’ve been twisting, turning, dodging, and crashing instead.

One way or another, though, I’ll get down the mountain.  

Jimmy Fallon took over the reins of The Tonight Show last night.  At first, I was sure I would not be able to stay up and watch because I hadn’t slept the night before but hooray for a second night of insomnia!

I have an unreasonable love for Jimmy Fallon.  I think he is a hoot and I love the creativity and fun he brings to whatever he does.  But last night I was reminded that I also appreciate the man that he seems to be.  The show opened with him genuinely thanking those who came before him, those who journeyed with him, and those who stood by him today.  It wasn’t a sappy outpouring but seemed to reflect his gratitude for all that he has been blessed with and his knowledge that he hadn’t gotten to this place, this show, this pinnacle of television success, without the support of so many people.

And then he made a promise to work hard every day to ensure that when you watch The Tonight Show, you go to bed with a smile on your face.

That really struck me and I so appreciate the sentiment.  How many nights do you climb into bed and replay the events of the day on an endless loop?  And how many days is that loop full of the things that went wrong, the situations you wished you’d handled differently, the words you wish you’d said or wished you could take back?  How many nights does the ever-growing to do list swirl in your mind, along with your inner critic trying to convince you that there is not enough time, there aren’t enough resource, that YOU aren’t enough?

But what if you didn’t let that happen?  What if you wrote out your to do list and got it out of your head?  And what if you told your inner critic to quit it and you turned off the endless loop playing in your head?  What if, instead, you simply thought of this quote I love from Ralph Waldo Emerson, watched a little bit of The Tonight Show, and went to bed with a smile?

 
What if?

Back in my college radio days, there was a band called The Judybats that my friends and I loved.  Every time they came to town, we were there – partly because we loved them and probably partly because I fancied the bass player, just a little bit. One of their songs was called, “Pain Makes You Beautiful”.

This song has been playing in my head for the last couple weeks.  I’ve mentioned before that I deal with chronic pain issues but quite honestly, I don’t let that define who I am.  Most the time, I can manage the pain and very few are the wiser as to what I am dealing with.  But for some reason, February usually wreaks havoc with my body and this year seems to be no exception.

And so that song is on a constantly loop in my brain.  But here’s the thing.  Pain doesn’t make you beautiful.

Pain makes you cranky – that irritating relative who overstays her welcome with whom subtle hints to take a hike don’t work.  It can make you feel less and left behind, when you can’t do everything your friends’ are doing or when you need to cancel plans to take care of yourself.  (Side note:  real friends who love you?  They get it.)

It makes you reevaluate your day. It makes you tentative.  What can I do? What shouldn’t I do?  What will lessen it?  What will increase it?  If I walk over there, I might slip on the ice.  But if I go over there, I have to walk through the snow and fall.

Pain makes you exhausted.  Your sleep is obviously impacted but there is another, often overlooked and misunderstood component. Interestingly, people with chronic pain conditions often don’t present with the same symptoms another might in the doctor’s office:  high blood pressure, increased pulse rate, etc.  Instead, because pain is a consistent state, the body works exceptionally hard to maintain stasis.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve gone to the doctor for a pain issue and she’s been amazed by my blood pressure (which can also make them think you are drug seeking but that is an entirely different story.)  Mustering the energy to get through the day can be a challenge.  Quite honestly, all I have wanted to do lately is eat fattening foods and laze around (and for the most part, that’s been my default.)

The list of what pain does to you physically, psychologically, emotionally, and even spiritually can go on and on.  But from my perspective, there is more than one way to look at pain:

It can make you creative.  Activities you take for granted when your pain is managed need workarounds when it’s not and, for some tasks, you need to be very creative and find what works without significantly increasing pain.  It makes you try things you’ve never tried before – for me, that’s been vitamins and supplements, and different types of exercise.  I’ve got a million tricks in my arsenal these days.

Pain, especially chronic pain, can make you empathetic.  When someone tells me their back went out or they hurt themselves some other way, I understand in a way others might not.  And I can readily share my resources and workarounds.  I can share my experience and my thoughts on pain. Everyone’s situation is different but I like to hope that my experience and attitude can impact others positively.

But most of all, it can make you strong.  It can make you resilient.  I believe that each day you get through, fighting an invisible foe that no one else sees (and that some don’t believe exists), is a good day – proving that you are more than your diagnosis, that you are so much more than your pain.

*And before you jump down my throat:  Yes, I realize that there are different kinds of pain.  I get that everyone is different.  I understand that everyone experiences pain differently and has different ways of coping; my intent is not to minimize that for anyone but instead to present my story and hope that serves as encouragement for someone who is struggling today.  

It’s my birthday.  I’ll leave it up to you to guess which one – careful!

Birthdays are a big deal to me.

It’s the one day that is uniquely yours, a celebration of you being on this earth.  It’s a running joke with my friends that I really prefer to celebrate my birth MONTH (truer words were never written) but it’s all part of that.  I haven’t had the joy of some other landmark celebrations that others have:  wedding festivities, anniversaries, housewarmings, those sorts of things that cause folks to rally around and shower you with gifts, cake, fun and frivolity…so I hold my birthday sacred.

Admittedly, my high expectations haven’t always panned out.  Usually, the best laid plans are thwarted by the snow that inevitably falls in February in the northeast portion of our great nation.  (Seriously, INEVITABLY. For my 40th, I even pushed plans back until March…and it snowed.  In March. At the beach.)

This year, my dearest friend is stubbornly holding the winter weather at bay long enough for me to get to her for the weekend.  And I simply can’t wait.

Time with those you love who love you right back is a balm for the tired, world-weary soul.

I’ve been crazy busy at work lately.  I had some hard deadlines and felt like monkey wrenches were thrown in at every turn to seriously derail my progress.  My biggest fear throughout, however, was dropping the ball on another project.

Today, I found out where it dropped.

I knew it would.  Sometimes it is inevitable, you know?  When I started catching up on the things that had to be set aside while I was putting out fires, I realized a deadline was missed.

My first reaction was honestly to freak out.  I felt a pit in my stomach.  My jaw clenched and my thoughts started racing.

How many times has something gone wrong – either within or out of your control – that set you into a downward spiral?  Even a minor error can easily be the first step to letting your inner critic remind you of ALL the other ways you’ve “messed up” in the recent past…or, best yet, the not so recent past. You know – that time four years ago when  you forgot to cancel a subscription to something and ended up paying full price for it.  Or six years ago, when you didn’t respond in time and got shut out of a conference you were required to attend for work.  Before you know it, a litany of mistakes and personal struggles are brought to the forefront of your mind in living color.  Suddenly, that molehill becomes a mountain.  Fortunately, there’s an inner sherpa in every one of us who knows the way down.

I took a deep breath and started to work through some important questions that can really be applied to many similar situations:

What can I do to fix this?  I couldn’t unmiss the deadline but I could still submit the document and hope it would still be accepted.  Next, I made a plan of how to approach and help those impacted if it’s not.

Is the world going to come to an end?  No.  (Some might act like it will but really? No.)

Will this matter in three months?  Six months?  A year?  No, no, and certainly not (except that I’ll be sure not to miss it a second time.)

I could spend the rest of my day, my week, agonizing over the fact that I made an error.  Or I can move on and deal with the next thing on my list.  Guess which one I’m choosing?

For some people, relaxing & renewing comes in the form of a day at the spa, being pampered.  I enjoy a good massage, a mani/pedi, etc. just as much as the next gal but the relaxation always feels short-lived – as soon as I’m back in the routine of “real” life, it goes away far too quickly.

After taking on what can be a rather depleting volunteer gig in addition to endeavoring to change some things in my life, I’ve been tasked with focusing more on boundaries and self-care.

These are NOT things that come naturally to me, not by a long shot.

I’m coming to realize that that is in part because I’ve taken on a caretaker role in many of my relationships throughout my life.  I’m always the planner, the helper, the clean up crew (literally and figuratively).  I’ve always abided by the “rule” that if you make a commitment, you stand by it unless you are literally sick in bed or trapped under something heavy.

This hasn’t always served me well.

In fact, it has led me to a lot of frustration, exhaustion, irritability, and sometimes just downright distress.  It’s just not healthy but old patterns are hard to break…yet they can be broken through time, self-awareness, and focus.  Lots and lots of it, I’m guessing, because I am still a long way away.

When I was first asked what I do to take care of myself, my honest answer was,”Um, I don’t know.  I like to read.  Hang out with my pets?  Keep my house clean?”  I truly and honestly didn’t have a clue.  And I’m pretty sure many of you are in the same boat.  We keep on keeping on, doing what needs to be done, and flop down in front of the tv or fall into bed exhausted at the end of a long list of to dos for the day.  We make cupcakes for the bake sale, we stuff goodie bags for the party, we serve in the nursery on Sunday morning, we remember to check on a friend who had a doctor’s appointment, we take the cat to the vet.  All good things.  Yet what in that list is for us?  What helps us relax and renew?  What helps keep us firmly planted and engaged in life with those we love instead of teetering on the edge?

It’s more than just healthy eating and exercise.  It’s taking time for yourself when you need it.  Even if it is five minutes to breathe and regroup.  Or pray.  Or stretch, take a walk, move yourself physically out of the space and state in which you’ve found yourself.  Or to create in whatever way best suits you – cooking, writing, crafting, experimenting, coloring.

But sometimes all you can do is simply be still and observe the beauty in the world around you.  Even in the midst of a terribly stressful day, you can find one thing of beauty, one positive thought to take with you.  I try to surround myself with such things, especially at work where stress reigns supreme.  Here’s a glimpse around my office:

IIf there is one thing that has been reinforced to me time and time again during this season of change in my life, it’s this:

I am different.

Look, it’s not a shocking revelation to me or anything.  I was the tallest girl in my class throughout elementary school (by a lot).  I grew up in a trailer court.  I wore a back brace from the time I was 11 until I was 15, when I had back surgery that made me TWO INCHES taller.  (Thank heavens everyone else was catching up by then!)

I like Nascar.

Honestly, the list could go on and on.  I learned early on how to adapt, react, and respond to make myself seem less different, less “other”.  I’m sure there are friends reading this post and wondering how they never knew these few things and I can tell you: it’s hard work.  But I became really, really good at it.

When I first started going to church in my late 20s, there was a Bible verse that hit home hard:

Do not conform to the pattern of the world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  (Romans 12:2)

Around that time, I started serving in my church’s youth group.  And I realized very quickly that kids can spot a phony from a mile away.  Slowly but surely, I started to come into myself and learned to be more willing to speak my mind and from my heart.  I started to value authenticity above almost everything else in my relationships.  And I realized that there were things I really, deeply, truly cared about in the world, things where I felt I could make a difference, no matter how small.  And that there were a whole lot of things that the majority of other folks seemed to be angry about or get worked up about that didn’t make a lick of difference to me – especially those things I don’t have the power or, better stated, the inclination to take on. I wholeheartedly believe that we have the power to be the change we want to see in the world but that it takes intention and small steps, steps taken in love and compassion for others.  Sometimes it’s a process of figuring out what those steps should or could be; sometimes it’s moving forward one step, to take two back.  But it’s action and that is where change comes from.

This viewpoint colors my opinions.  It fuels my debates. And it can really piss people off when they don’t get it, they feel attacked (rarely my intention) or they are simply looking for a sounding board for complaints without action. Frankly, it’s hard to live out “being different” a lot of the time.  It pervades my relationships, my workplace, my interactions with new and old friends.

Funny thing about that, though:  I’ve begun to realize that all the ways I am different from other people aren’t bad – they just are.  They’ve made me who I am today and they are shaping who I’ll be tomorrow.  And from my vantage point, that’s not so bad.