attitude

When Your Birthday (or any day) Sucks

Birthdays are supposed to be great. They're supposed to be the days when all your wishes come true. But sometimes, well sometimes they just suck. Our family took a once in a lifetime kind of vacation this summer. On one of the last days, my husband was scrolling through his Facebook feed and said, "Oh hey-it's my birthday." This was news to both of us. Not the most auspicious beginning. The morning was decent-a long walk around the insanely cool, old neighborhood where we were staying, some quiet reading time. Then we set off for London. It kind of went downhill from there. We couldn't find anywhere to eat. We had to keep stopping for the bathroom. Since my husband was the only one registered for the rental car, he had to do all the driving and for crying out loud that country's not made for driving high speeds. Or two lanes at the same time. Plus, left side. And stick shift. I think we all lost years off our lives navigating those roads. Thank God for a diesel engine because where are the gas stations? Four plus hours of this. But we had something to look forward to-seeing the new Spiderman movie at a cool old theater (can we just assume everything I'm talking about is cool and old? This includes my husband, wink). And then . . . We couldn't find parking, because no one actually drives in London. Or rather, they drive but seemingly never park. We finally found a space, begged a parking permit off a local, and made our way to the theater where we discovered we had shown up for a 6:30 showing that was actually at 7:30. Dejected, we headed back to our hostel, which was seemingly 4 miles away yet took us 30 minutes to drive. So, dinner. Dinner at-say it with me-a cool, old pub. But we got a late start and most everything in the little town center near us was closed. We found a place called the Snooty Fox which sounded oh so promising. Ah, but no children under 18. They directed us to a restaurant 10 minutes away. It closed at 9. It was 8:50. Ready to throw in the towel, we found a mini mart where two of us grabbed snacks to eat. In the end, the others got burgers and fries from a sketchy looking pizza joint. And thus ended the lame birthday. Yep, sometimes your birthday sucks. Sometimes you have the highest expectations for the perfect day and it's anything but. It rains on your wedding day. It's 100 degrees at Disney World. You drive 2 hours to take beautiful beach pictures and it's actually super windy and cold (this may or may not be a true story). And you'd think we would be ok with that, but there's something bred into us, woven into the great American dream that "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" means things SHOULD go our way. It's our…

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It’s All in How You Look at It

So I live in my car. I mean not really, but it feels like it sometimes. It's not unusual for me to spend 3-4 hours driving on a given day. And suffice to say it's not my favorite activity. Lately, though, my perspective on my mobile prison has been changing. I'm coming to appreciate this time. After all, usually it means I've got kids in the car-not just mine but others. I am privy to conversations they have with one another, about subjects I would otherwise not know. Other times it's just me and my own kids, talking, laughing, observing, and just existing together. It might be the only time of the day I have their undivided attention, and they mine. This is also a forced time of solitude. I do some of my best thinking, blog post/book brainstorming, praying, and, naturally, just talking to myself, in the car. I can't multi-task in here (truth be told, I am writing this post in my car. Yep, I've just given up trying to exist in my house). I have to slow down and just be. Someday I won't have to spend this much time driving. I will miss that time with my kids, eavesdropping on their lives. The silence it affords allows me to actually hear myself think. I will have to carve out other time for prayer and pondering, find other ways to be unhurried. So I could look at all these hours as wasted, or I could see how God is redeeming this time. I could write them off as an inconvenience or I could be thankful for what it brings to my life. It's all in how I look at it. This is true of so many aspects of my life. I despise cooking (is there a stronger word than despise? I would use it), but I'm thankful I have people for whom to cook. Cooking reminds me I don't have to be the best at something in order to still be a blessing. I'm not a fan of how much work our house requires, but boy am I glad we have one. I wish there were a way I could clean my house and have it stay that way, but the cleaning humbles me and gives me an opportunity to bless the ones I love. I would gladly never look another receipt, budget, or anything else related to our finances again. But when I do, I am reminded that we are so very blessed to have what we need, and more. I wish I didn't have the responsibility of feeding and walking a dog, but I know how much I would miss her company. She slows me down and forces me to get out into nature. She literally helps me stop and smell the flowers. Working with people is hard, but what a blessing to have meaningful work. The problems that arise are an opportunity to move toward others with truth and love. The challenges keep me dependent on God. I…

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Keeping a Sabbath Heart

5 days in to my sabbatical and I was zen, y'all. I was so relaxed and peaceful that one night I actually chose to cook. It's a magical place if Gina feels enough emotional margin to invest time in something she both dislikes and is average at. My zen-like state remained throughout the next week, and I felt like I could have tackled anything. And then I got tackled. First, it was the teenage boy realizing the ACT was going to be harder than he thought, resulting in two days of major angst (there's no angst like teen angst). Then it was the attempt to pack for every contingency of a month long trip for our kids, with the accompanying anxiety of "Oh my word, we're sending our kids to the other side of the world for a month!" Add in a few extra teenagers and a giant dog for the last days leading up to departure, and friends, my zen was GONE. I can't say I wasn't disappointed with myself (well, I could, but it would be a bald faced lie). Two weeks of connecting with God and my own heart, and all I found dissipated within a few days? Sabbaticals are a wonderful, beautiful gift, but surely there's a way to maintain the kind of peace I touched in that time beyond them, right? The fact is, we can't always take the time away from our schedules to be restored. And when we do, we want to be able to carry that spirit into our regular life. It is both a time and an attitude. So how do we keep the attitude? The next two weeks, as I settled back into my time of rest, I asked God to show me what it would take for me to keep a sabbath heart regardless of the circumstances. Here's what I walked away with: Respect your humanity I'm not very good at respecting my own limits, as I've made clear before. But to have a sabbath heart, I have to recognize my own humanity. I can add task upon task, attempting to accomplish as much as possible, and pretty soon I'm overwhelmed. I'm learning to take moments to step away and just be, even if it's for 5 minutes. The tasks will be there when I return, but the time away reminds me that I'm not a machine. I'm human, and humans are limited and needy. Owning that keeps me at a better pace. Set good boundaries It's not just ourselves pushing the pace, but often the needs and demands from the people around us. It was a strange feeling to field requests for help during my sabbatical - everything in me wanted to say "yes" to them, but the buffer of sabbatical gave me a nice pass to say "no" (and I appreciate that everyone respected that). Without the excuse of something like sabbatical, it is easy to respond to needs without considering whether we have the resources to respond well. So I'm trying to stop…

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The Power of a Mother’s Words

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I saw the attitude creep in. At first, it was a proclivity to preferring me over dad. That's normal for a 13 year old, right? But soon it was, "I don't want dad" and "he can't do it right" and shrugging off hugs and kisses. It was eye rolling and snarky come backs and at times, downright sass. My husband, being the gentle, easy going guy that he is, was good natured about it at first. But over time, I began to observe the hurt in his eyes, the rejection he felt from his little girl. I thought, "When did this happen? And what do we do to make it stop?" And then I started looking at myself. I noticed the words that came out of my mouth when her dad was home late from work, a "you know your dad" comment thrown carelessly in front of her. I caught my tendency to jump in to her issues when I could have left space for her to turn to him instead. I heard my sarcastic responses to him at dinner. In a hundred little ways, I had set the example in how I was treating her father. She was just copying what she saw. Alright, then. If she can copy me at my worst, she can copy me at my best. So I began an all out offensive. I held my tongue when she baited me to complain about him coming home late. I talked about his positive traits, his good character, how blessed we are to have him. I made a big deal about him coming home (not as excited as our dog is, but heading that direction). At first, I got suspicious sideways glances, "Seriously? This guy?" Yeah, this guy. This guy who loves, protects, provides for, encourages and builds us all. This guy who doesn't get nearly the credit he deserves - I see how I have the power to shape how you view him and I am determined to do just that. It didn't happen overnight, but it happened. The attitude changed. She's the one running to greet him. She smiles at his corny jokes (most of the time). She wants him to say goodnight too. Her words are different. So is her heart. I have to keep a watch though. How I talk becomes how she talks. My attitude becomes hers - not just toward her father but everything. How we talk to children becomes not only their inner voice but the voice they use with others. We must be conscious to speak to them and in front of them the way we hope they will speak to others. There is power in our words, friends. Power to shape hearts that form words that become attitudes that affect relationships. Let's use that power to bless. Related: Promises to My Children Beautiful

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Just Show Up

It's Monday, y'all, and I for one am not into it. I'm staring down another week of busy, after a full weekend of uff da. Today, it's enough for me to show up. Still in my pajamas, I'm sure at least until noon, but I'm here. Gina, reporting for life. But today I agree with Brené Brown that it can be brave just to show up. Just come and say, "I'm here." I may not be ready or have what it takes, but I'm here. I'll do it scared if I have to. Maybe it won't be amazing. But what is there for me to do, I will do faithfully. And that is enough. Our sweet girl showed up last weekend. She spent most of it trying out for a competitive soccer development program. Right out of the gate, the wind got knocked out of her sails by a shaming comment from one of the coaches after she missed an easy shot. It rattled her, threw her day off. She came home in tears, full of frustration and regret. But I was so proud. She stayed. She did it scared. Maybe not her best effort, but she showed up. That's important. That's brave. Even more brave to go back the next day and do it all over again. "Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" She did. As I saw my husband off to another tough work day, he looked at me and said, "I'm showing up." Yep. That's enough. This fall has been a series of showing up days for me. Days that feel like they ask more than I have (am I the only one who feels like raising teenagers requires a counseling degree they don't have?). But I keep showing up. Gina, reporting for life. Some days, I feel successful. Like a rock star. Some days, I feel like I'm fresh out of amazing, as my friend and fellow blogger Stacey puts it so well in her book. Grace for the rest. Faithful isn't about how well you do it - it's about doing it, period. It's showing up, again and again. I keep showing up because I know He uses what I bring. He takes my offerings and fills in the empty spaces with grace. We can show up because we know He goes before. We are not alone. Do it scared, tired, empty, lonely, weak, clueless. We show up with confidence because He uses it all. So let's show up today. Let's bring our best, whatever that looks like on any given day, and know that it's enough because He has the rest. This can be our act of courage today, our brave face regardless of the circumstances. Related: When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time Stop Telling Me to Be Amazing

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Stop Telling Me to be Amazing

I saw a shirt at Old Navy once that said, "Be Amazing." It felt like way too much pressure. And that's coming from an Enneagram 3. My husband says 3s are driven by "the need to be awesome." It might have felt that way because I was in the middle of power Christmas shopping that should have been spread out reasonably over 5 days, but had been crammed into one due to sickness. That same sickness forced me to bow out of a speaking engagement and left my house a bit of a disaster (pro tip: if you keep wearing shoes in the house, you don't feel all the stuff you haven't swept off the floors). I was just proud to be upright and not in yoga pants. It felt like that again later, on day 15 of my husband's 16 day trip around the world (Lord, have mercy) when I was just happy that I was awake and communicative without the help of legal stimulants.  We only ate 2 frozen pizzas and a deli chicken. This I call victory. What the World Tells Us It seems everywhere we look, we're being told we can do it. We can be amazing, and awesome, and over the top sparkling, beautiful, jaw-dropping. Ordinary is for suckers. Lazy people. Those who don't really care, who don't want their lives to count. I shouldn't just survive when my husband travels; I should thrive. And we have our moments - all of us do. We have shining moments when we reflect the glory of God. We have red-letter days, it's true. But living there? Gosh, it's exhausting. And truthfully, I don't think it's what the world needs. What the world needs is not more amazing. What the World Needs The world needs people who are living and loving faithfully, authentically, with hope and perseverance and grace. People who have shining moments and messy moments and are ok with all of them. This is what our souls need too - we need the freedom to be who we are. The world needs people who get up each day and choose to live the ordinary moments with trust that even this is significant. We need people who accept who they are, with all their good and bad, beautiful and messy, all together. People who believe it's all worth offering, and then offer it. We were created for great works, but also for ordinary ones. Sometimes we will amaze and other times we won't. There's nothing wrong with not being incredible at every moment. It's called being human. So please. Stop telling me to be amazing. Tell me just to be me, and I will gladly oblige. Related posts: Being Human Can We Be Both? 

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Fueled by Passion

"Just one more time, mommy." When our daughter was seven, she caught the soccer bug. She determined that she was going to be a professional soccer player when she grew up. I asked her what she was going to do when she was done playing professionally. "I'm going to keep playing soccer." "But how will you make money?" "People will pay to watch me play." "Even when you're an old lady?" "Yep." If she's going to achieve that, she'll need to be great, and she's trying her best to be just that. Every day she looks up drills online, particularly goal keeping drills as right now she has it in mind that she wants to be a goalie. She comes to me and tells me, "Today, I need you to do this . . . " and proceeds to show me my part in developing her skills. She wants to keep going long after I am done being excited about my part. It's always, "Just one more time, mommy." One more shot on goal. One more throw. One more kick. I am amazed at this determination in her. She gets tired, sweaty, dirty, sore, but she keeps going because she knows what it is she's working toward. She will be that old lady that people will pay to watch play soccer. Or maybe she'd settle for the US Women's Olympic team. Maybe. What is this determination but a clear vision of what she wants, a passion for what she loves, and the discipline to keep moving toward it? So I ask myself, "What is my vision? Am I keeping it in front of me? Am I fueling my passions? Am I stepping toward it day by day, doing the hard work it takes to get there?" What are you determined to do today?

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Oh well

This day started out well. We dropped the kids off at the carpool meeting point and drove to the office where I was able to spend a morning writing. I left for errands around 12:30, and that's when it all went south. In addition to being a do-er, I am a big fan of efficiency as well. I strategize my errands like I'm planning a war. I had mine arranged for a clear victory. The first store was closed. The second one wouldn't let me return the item. The third wouldn't let me use a gift card and a coupon. At the fourth, I left a coupon for $1.25 in the car. Along the way I looked for the cheapest gas. I thought I found it on Colonial, but the price hadn't been updated (I hate Colonial with most of my being). I fueled up on Alafaya, then noticed that the gas station I normally use right near school was cheaper, which was unfortunate because going to Alafaya meant driving University to school, and on both roads I hit every. single. light. When I saw gas even cheaper close to home I burst out laughing. I'm pretty sure I heard God laughing too. I know I couldn't have laughed at that point though if, somewhere along the way (I think at store #2) I began to employ the phrase, "Oh well." In other words, let it go. Are you sensing a theme? I like order and routine and generally for things to go my way. I like to think that's the way to victory, but I'm discovering that victory is more often found in my internal choices. Today, it was a simple, "oh well" over and over, until I could simply laugh about it all. What are you calling victory today?

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Choosing My Attitude

Day 2 could have gone the way of the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I only managed to fall asleep at 2 am with the help of Z Quil (which, by the way, is really just Benadryl) which made me wake up at 6:55 feeling like I was walking through molasses. Being the introvert I am, I truly need at least an hour upon waking during which I am not required to interact with anyone. Two hours is a safer bet. Otherwise, my reserves are low and I grumble through the day feeling like I'm playing catch up. Basically, I was like a bear who was yanked out of hibernation and asked to mother immediately. It got even better. The dog threw up on the carpet. There was a giant cockroach in our living room. The kitchen hadn't been cleaned properly for two days. The laundry was reaching climbable heights. And me, looking at all of it from empty. That's when I decided that this would be my victory today - I would not be the mama who waves the white flag just because the day doesn't start out on her side. It's tempting to feel like it's such a small thing - basically, I chose a good attitude. But that small choice set the course for the whole day. At lunch Ethan stopped and said, "You know, I'm having a good day," and I thought, "if I had chosen differently, he might not have said that." I'm calling that my victory. What are you calling victory today?

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Call It Victory

I am injury prone when it comes to exercise. Last year I got tendinitis in my wrist from push ups. Before that, it was sore heels from running. (I was told I have not been blessed with enough fatty tissue in my heels to run properly. I suggested a transfer from elsewhere in my body, but apparently it doesn't work that way).  Prior to that it was bursitis in my left elbow from P90X. I couldn't bend it for a week. Try going to the bathroom without bending one of your arms. Seriously, try it. This time, it was a pulled muscle in my hip from running. God might be trying to tell me something like "Slow down" with all these injuries, but let's ignore that obvious fact to get to the point of this post, which is what the doctor said to me today. I was hoping and praying that this visit to an orthopedic surgeon wouldn't require the weeks of OT warranted by the previous injury. The doctor did give me a cortisone shot, after assuring me that it wouldn't make me cry and curse like last time (because hips have more cushioning than wrists). He told me I needed to rest it a week, and stretch it. As he got up to leave he asked, "Do you want to do a follow up visit, or should we just call this a victory?" Call it a victory? That sounded like a great option, so I agreed, "Let's call it a victory." It was a simple phrase, but it's had me thinking since then. Do I call victories, even in the little things? Managing to get healthy meals on the table in the midst of a busy week? Victory. Writing that note to someone? Victory. Taking initiative to move forward on a project? Victory. Praying over something instead of fretting? Victory. I think we're so inclined to see what we're not doing, what we could be doing, that we forget to see what we are doing, what is happening, and call it victory. I never expected to walk away from today's appointment feeling victorious, but I did, just because someone told me it was. I want to remember to recognize the victories and call them, to celebrate where things are going well. They're all around us, really, we just need to see them. Where are you experiencing victory today?

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