When I chose Grace as my “One Word” for 2015, I wasn’t sure how I would really go about growing in grace. I started reading a couple of grace-related books because how else do you go about learning something? I knew I needed more than head knowledge, but I didn’t know I would be learning about grace through forced-acceptance.
My year in review would look something like this.
- 8 months of pregnancy
- 1 violent stomach bug and 1 less violent, longer-lasting mysterious stomach ailment
- 4 months of mostly constant “morning sickness”
- 1 month of severe allergies
- 7 weeks of bad colds
- Lot of general pregnancy ailments like difficulty moving, digesting, sleeping, or thinking clearly
I spent a lot of time inside because I was sick or because it hurt to climb to the fifth floor or because I couldn’t go out without a mask and a large box of tissues. I spent a lot of time on the couch because I was sick or because I didn’t want to throw up or because I felt like I really might die of tiredness.
If we actually had food to eat and nobody got buried under a pile of laundry or toys, that was probably a successful day. There were five students I saw on a relatively regular basis, and that was about the extent of my campus interactions. I taught Juliana as often as I had voice to do it. It was a year of great limits.
I spent a good deal of time feeling frustrated - not everyone has such a hard time with pregnancy, why me? I felt guilty for not doing more, for neglecting my kids and not spending time with students. I felt discouraged about feeling so bad all the time. I fought against the limits.
And then, eventually, I accepted them. I still got frustrated and discouraged (and did I mention irritable?). But I realized that actually, this was what I needed.
It’s impossible to accept grace when you still think you can keep it all together. Working hard to be strong, pushing through, thinking positive - that’s what you’re supposed to do as long as you possibly can. But sometimes, it doesn’t work. However hard you try to be strong, you still get sick. Pushing through means getting sicker. And pithy motivational sayings make you want to punch someone.
In the end, I learned about grace because I had to. It wasn’t an intellectual pursuit. I didn’t finish those books. I didn’t read through the Bible or even read through one book of the Bible. Instead I read the same passages, the same verses over and over again. I listened to the same songs over and over. I learned the same things over and over, and each time the truth sank in a little deeper.
When I think about what I accomplished - or mainly didn’t accomplish, it looks like a dormant year. I was a tree in winter: silent, stripped, waiting. But I think I will look back on this year as an important one. Not only because I grew a child, but also because I grew. In the deep, quiet places that cannot be reached in the busyness of accomplishment and self-reliance.
It hasn’t been my favorite year. I can’t say I want to continue in this period of sickness and pregnancy and limitation. But looking back, I am grateful. It has been a year of grace.
I haven’t yet settled on my One Word for the new year. It will be a year of newbornhood - of long nights and daily growth and constant neededness. It will be a year of potty training and the start of another three year old, God save us all. It will be a year of learning to read and changes at Chinese school and inexorbable growth. It will be long and full and exhausting and pass so quickly.
So I know my idea for the new year...something about seasons or slowing down and living the moment, about investing in what is right in front of me. But I haven’t yet decided on my One Word. But it’s only January. I’ve still got time.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: One Word]
Showing posts with label Year of Grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Year of Grace. Show all posts
Friday, January 1, 2016
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Respecting Limits, Releasing Guilt
I had just finished my second year in China and my whole life was in major transition. After months of long-distance dating and engagement, I was eager for my upcoming marriage. But sometimes the crazy changes felt too much to handle - moving back to the US for a year-long leave. Planning a wedding - decision overload! Living in a new, unfamiliar place getting to know a whole new group of people who already knew each other - being the outsider again. Figuring out marriage. Finding a job and a place to live.
That was my second summer of intensive Wheaton masters classes. After packing and moving, saying goodbye to teammates, friends, and students, I flew straight from China to start classes. While I enjoyed the course work, accumulated piles of stress were getting to me. I wasn’t sleeping. I would go to a cafeteria full of (actually yummy) western food and try to choke down half a sandwich. I think I looked half-zombie. But honestly, I had been on this level of barely functioning for so long, I couldn’t even recognize it.
It wasn’t until my mom came to visit and expressed her concerns, immediately echoed by my roommates and fiance, that I realized I wasn’t doing so well. Looking back, I’ve probably never been closer to a total breakdown. Under great persuasion, I made the difficult decision to drop out of my second class and go on vacation with my family instead.
I would never have made this decision on my own. I was pretty sure that quitting was never the right option. The point was to push as hard as possible, as long as possible, and then deal with the end result later. This was surely the spiritual answer.
And sometimes it is. There are a lot of verses about pressing on, fighting the good fight, not losing hope, and all that. There are times to challenge our limits. But sometimes we forget those other verses, the ones about comfort and shelter and hiding. Those are alright for children, but they are not the words of a spiritual superhero.
There are times when God gathers us up in our weakness and pulls a Gideon. There are other times when God allows us to be weak and just cares for us like Elijah in the wilderness.
It can take some time to relinquish the superhero mask. It can take some time for the voices of “you should do more, you ought to be better” to fade. It’s hard to admit you can’t handle it all.
As I’ve mentioned, pregnancy is a place where I find myself running up against my limits a lot. And it’s frustrating. There are so many things my non-pregnant self can do so easily that my pregnant self finds exhausting. But I have decided that this is a season of recognizing and respecting my limits.
One of the parts of the limit setting process I find most difficult, and most necessary, is consciously choosing to release the guilt. I catch the voices of “I should, I should, I am not enough...” and examine their validity. Sometimes I turn them around. While my first response is, “I haven’t done that much, I shouldn’t be tired. I should be stronger,” if I think about it I realize, “My body is working much harder than normal growing a baby. I should be tired.”
How do we know when to challenge the limits and when to respect them? Sometimes we need guidance from others. That summer at Wheaton, I could not recognize how far I had run past my limits. It’s hard to see when you are in the middle of it. Listen to the people who know you, who can look into your life and say, “You’re not doing well. You need to step back.”
Sometimes it means listening to your body. I got sick a lot in college, and most of my colds turned into sinus infection, bronchitis, or even pneumonia. I thought I could keep pushing and doing everything, but instead I just got more sick. That summer at Wheaton, I could barely eat or sleep, and I should have paid attention to that. Right now, when I get sick or super sore, when I feel “deathly tired,” I realize my body is probably telling me it needs a break.
As an “intuitive” person, I also listen to those inner feelings of rightness. At the moment, messages about being stronger and trying harder fill me with anxiety and a weight of condemnation. God may speak with a voice of conviction, but not one of condemnation. So I know these voices are not the ones I should to listen to.
Instead I have been continually brought back to messages of comfort. One of my favorite rediscoveries in this season has been Isaiah 40:11: "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."
I have also been reminded of another verse in Isaiah 30:15: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.” What I had forgotten was the rest of the verse: “...but you would have none of it.” How many times have we rejected the salvation and strength waiting because we are too busy for quietness and rest?
Are you in a season when you need to sit quietly and respect your limits? Don't miss out on these “gifts of mercy.”
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Limits]
That was my second summer of intensive Wheaton masters classes. After packing and moving, saying goodbye to teammates, friends, and students, I flew straight from China to start classes. While I enjoyed the course work, accumulated piles of stress were getting to me. I wasn’t sleeping. I would go to a cafeteria full of (actually yummy) western food and try to choke down half a sandwich. I think I looked half-zombie. But honestly, I had been on this level of barely functioning for so long, I couldn’t even recognize it.
It wasn’t until my mom came to visit and expressed her concerns, immediately echoed by my roommates and fiance, that I realized I wasn’t doing so well. Looking back, I’ve probably never been closer to a total breakdown. Under great persuasion, I made the difficult decision to drop out of my second class and go on vacation with my family instead.
I would never have made this decision on my own. I was pretty sure that quitting was never the right option. The point was to push as hard as possible, as long as possible, and then deal with the end result later. This was surely the spiritual answer.
And sometimes it is. There are a lot of verses about pressing on, fighting the good fight, not losing hope, and all that. There are times to challenge our limits. But sometimes we forget those other verses, the ones about comfort and shelter and hiding. Those are alright for children, but they are not the words of a spiritual superhero.
There are times when God gathers us up in our weakness and pulls a Gideon. There are other times when God allows us to be weak and just cares for us like Elijah in the wilderness.
It can take some time to relinquish the superhero mask. It can take some time for the voices of “you should do more, you ought to be better” to fade. It’s hard to admit you can’t handle it all.
As I’ve mentioned, pregnancy is a place where I find myself running up against my limits a lot. And it’s frustrating. There are so many things my non-pregnant self can do so easily that my pregnant self finds exhausting. But I have decided that this is a season of recognizing and respecting my limits.
One of the parts of the limit setting process I find most difficult, and most necessary, is consciously choosing to release the guilt. I catch the voices of “I should, I should, I am not enough...” and examine their validity. Sometimes I turn them around. While my first response is, “I haven’t done that much, I shouldn’t be tired. I should be stronger,” if I think about it I realize, “My body is working much harder than normal growing a baby. I should be tired.”
How do we know when to challenge the limits and when to respect them? Sometimes we need guidance from others. That summer at Wheaton, I could not recognize how far I had run past my limits. It’s hard to see when you are in the middle of it. Listen to the people who know you, who can look into your life and say, “You’re not doing well. You need to step back.”
Sometimes it means listening to your body. I got sick a lot in college, and most of my colds turned into sinus infection, bronchitis, or even pneumonia. I thought I could keep pushing and doing everything, but instead I just got more sick. That summer at Wheaton, I could barely eat or sleep, and I should have paid attention to that. Right now, when I get sick or super sore, when I feel “deathly tired,” I realize my body is probably telling me it needs a break.
As an “intuitive” person, I also listen to those inner feelings of rightness. At the moment, messages about being stronger and trying harder fill me with anxiety and a weight of condemnation. God may speak with a voice of conviction, but not one of condemnation. So I know these voices are not the ones I should to listen to.
Instead I have been continually brought back to messages of comfort. One of my favorite rediscoveries in this season has been Isaiah 40:11: "He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young."
I have also been reminded of another verse in Isaiah 30:15: "In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.” What I had forgotten was the rest of the verse: “...but you would have none of it.” How many times have we rejected the salvation and strength waiting because we are too busy for quietness and rest?
Are you in a season when you need to sit quietly and respect your limits? Don't miss out on these “gifts of mercy.”
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Limits]
Friday, October 30, 2015
Losing the Illusion
I write about pregnancy a lot lately because I find it so consuming. Right now it is the most time consuming, physically challenging, energy demanding, emotionally draining area of my life. However much I feel like it should be a side thing I just add on to normal life, that is not my reality. It has also been my primary platform for learning, a lens that colors my whole view of life. Thus it’s pretty much always on my mind.
One reason I think pregnancy is difficult is because of the lack of control. Before you even get pregnant, the process begins. Maybe it is a surprise baby that you totally weren’t prepared for, or maybe it is a baby that was a long time in coming. Either way you may find yourself saying, “I did all the right things - why did it still not go my way?”
Then there is the first pregnancy scare or pregnancy loss, the frightening diagnosis - the first realization that you have so little control over this new life growing inside you. My confidence has actually decreased each time I’ve been pregnant, likely because I know more and more people who have experienced loss at every stage. Beginning this pregnancy I honestly felt like there was about a 40% chance I would actually end up holding a baby at the end. The actual odds are much better, but aside from a few obvious areas, there’s really not much you can do to increase them.
We also have little control over how our body handles pregnancy. We can make choices that have an impact, but in the end, some people will throw up for 9 months despite their best efforts, and some people will feel great with very little effort, with a lot of variation in the middle. Things we used to be able to do, like get restful sleep or climb stairs without pain, slowly fall by the wayside. Which is unfortunate if you happen to live on the fifth floor.
And perhaps what I find most difficult, I feel out of control of my every day life. I try to make lists so I will remember everything, but things still elude me. Or I forget to even look at my list. More than one day of missed laundry means no diapers, more wet clothes than will fit on the laundry porch, and all that is remaining is 15 unmatched socks. It is amazing how fast the house descends into messy chaos. And darn it all, people expect to eat everyday! So many simple things that don’t cause much trouble in normal life start to snowball as soon as I am feeling bad. I have to ask for help or leave it undone, and I hate either of those options.
I hate feeling out of control. And as I’ve mentioned, I don’t love pregnancy. But I have decided - it’s probably good for me. Sometimes we all need to come to a point (or many points) in our lives when we can’t control it all. The illusion is up. We’re not as great as we thought.
The realization comes in all kind of forms. Illness. Infertility. Moving overseas. The “why are you still single?” question. The first time your child acts like Ruler of the World. Unemployment. Returning ‘home” from overseas. Honestly, there are so many things in life that humble us, that make us cry out, that bring us to the place we perhaps needed to be in the beginning. A place of realizing “I can’t do it all” AND “It’s not all on me anyway.”
I just finished re-reading a memoir called As Soon as I Fell, by Kay Bruner. I read it last year for the first time, but it already merited a re-read. There is one particular section at the end I read through several times. Kay was an overseas worker, working on translation and raising her family in the Solomon Islands until her whole life fell apart. As she walked through a painful process of breaking and healing, she shared an experience of talking to a pastor at a retreat.
I went and sat down in front of a pastor I’d never met before, and haven’t seen since. I wanted to tell him a little of my story, but all I could do was [tell him my work] before I started sobbing.
I sat and cried for a long time, and the only other thing I could get out was: “When will it ever be enough?” It was as if I hoped that, one last time, I might seize back control.
That man looked at me and said, “It is enough already.”
With those words, a sense of freedom and peace came over me, like I had never known. For the first time I actually experienced the reality of Jesus’ words, “It is finished” on the cross. Those words covered everything. Everything is done already. God has taken care of it. Sure, there is work, and I can participate. But I’m going to walk in the cool of the evening and know that it’s not all up to me. God is in control. I am not. It is good.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Control]
Saturday, October 10, 2015
Self Care is not Selfish
[While this is addressed specifically to mothers, the ideas are all pretty universal.]
Dear Mothers,
Self care is not selfish. It’s understandable that we get confused, when advertisements tell us things like “Take care of yourself (with our $30 skin care product)” and “You deserve the best (aka. our cruise to the Bahamas).”
On the other hand, we are continually inundated with stimulating activities for our children (only 90 minutes prep required!), the newest current-most-important-health-ingredient recipes which will require every pot in your kitchen, and incredibly important causes to which we really should devote our whole heart and soul. Who on earth has time for self care, when our children’s health and development, and possibly the state of the world, rests on our shoulders?
It’s tricky because some of those basic human needs and desires take a back burner when children enter the picture. Things like sleeping all night or sitting through a whole meal or being able to lock the bathroom door (without anyone screaming outside it). We do have to give up some of our pre-child expectations. In light of children, they do become selfish.
And yet we still have needs. Our bodies need sleep and food and exercise. Our minds need adult stimulation and an occasional quiet moment to air out. Our spirits need space to connect with God. Our soul needs emotional health.
Neglecting these needs is not selfless; it is foolish. We have limits, and if we keep pushing we will reach those limits. We will eventually crash and burn.
If we are paying attention, we will recognize the warning signs as we draw near the edge of our limits. Warning signs like being irritable all the time. Yelling at our kids. Ending every day feeling drained and exhausted. Feeling disconnected from God. They only become stronger when ignored - resentment toward our children or spouse, illness, feeling depressed or out of control, dreaming of escape (if only to a really quiet hotel room). We all have warning signs: what are yours?
There are times when we are pushed to our limits by circumstances outside our control, when we operate in what my mom calls “survival mode.” There are times when health is just not a reality - say if you are pregnant and throwing up for months. There are times when your needs will definitely move to the back burner, like when you are up every 2hrs with a newborn or when your children are sick. There are crises and deadlines and moves and jet-lag. But these times should not be all the time.
So how do we make self care happen? It might look very different for each person depending on our circumstances and our personality, but some good question to start with are “what are my most important needs?” and “what fills me?”
I need sleep. Even when I am not pregnant and tired all the time, I need more sleep than some (I like to think it’s because I use my brain so much...). If I don’t get enough sleep, I am cranky. It takes twice as long to complete tasks because I can’t think clearly. Right now especially, I need adequate nutrition and protein snacks to feed my body and baby. I need exercise, especially yoga to calm my mind and stretch aching joints.
Even if the “30 minute daily quiet time” (not a biblical mandate) doesn’t often happen, I need connection with God throughout the day. Maybe that means listening to music, writing out verses, reading the same chapter for a month and letting it sink in, appreciating beauty in nature, reciting prayers or verses with my prayer beads, journaling, reading a short devotional...many small, scattered moments of “practicing the presence of God.” I also need consistent time apart to focus and go deeper.
I am an introvert. Surprisingly (or not surprisingly), that did not change when I became a mother to an energetic extrovert. I need some quiet and space. I need tiny moments throughout the day, and I need chances to get out of the house or be in the house by myself.
If I continually ignore these needs, my well-being suffers. My family also suffers, because I cannot care for them well when I have nothing to offer.
Refusing to accept my limits and take care of myself is not selflessness; it is pride. It is working really hard to show I have it together in every area. It is trying to show that I have super-human strength. It is claiming that I am so very indispensable my world might fall apart if I take a break.
Don't ignore the warnings in your life. Allow yourself to have needs and limits. Figure out how to make self-care a reality in your life.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Warning]
Dear Mothers,
Self care is not selfish. It’s understandable that we get confused, when advertisements tell us things like “Take care of yourself (with our $30 skin care product)” and “You deserve the best (aka. our cruise to the Bahamas).”
On the other hand, we are continually inundated with stimulating activities for our children (only 90 minutes prep required!), the newest current-most-important-health-ingredient recipes which will require every pot in your kitchen, and incredibly important causes to which we really should devote our whole heart and soul. Who on earth has time for self care, when our children’s health and development, and possibly the state of the world, rests on our shoulders?
It’s tricky because some of those basic human needs and desires take a back burner when children enter the picture. Things like sleeping all night or sitting through a whole meal or being able to lock the bathroom door (without anyone screaming outside it). We do have to give up some of our pre-child expectations. In light of children, they do become selfish.
And yet we still have needs. Our bodies need sleep and food and exercise. Our minds need adult stimulation and an occasional quiet moment to air out. Our spirits need space to connect with God. Our soul needs emotional health.
Neglecting these needs is not selfless; it is foolish. We have limits, and if we keep pushing we will reach those limits. We will eventually crash and burn.
If we are paying attention, we will recognize the warning signs as we draw near the edge of our limits. Warning signs like being irritable all the time. Yelling at our kids. Ending every day feeling drained and exhausted. Feeling disconnected from God. They only become stronger when ignored - resentment toward our children or spouse, illness, feeling depressed or out of control, dreaming of escape (if only to a really quiet hotel room). We all have warning signs: what are yours?
There are times when we are pushed to our limits by circumstances outside our control, when we operate in what my mom calls “survival mode.” There are times when health is just not a reality - say if you are pregnant and throwing up for months. There are times when your needs will definitely move to the back burner, like when you are up every 2hrs with a newborn or when your children are sick. There are crises and deadlines and moves and jet-lag. But these times should not be all the time.
So how do we make self care happen? It might look very different for each person depending on our circumstances and our personality, but some good question to start with are “what are my most important needs?” and “what fills me?”
I need sleep. Even when I am not pregnant and tired all the time, I need more sleep than some (I like to think it’s because I use my brain so much...). If I don’t get enough sleep, I am cranky. It takes twice as long to complete tasks because I can’t think clearly. Right now especially, I need adequate nutrition and protein snacks to feed my body and baby. I need exercise, especially yoga to calm my mind and stretch aching joints.
Even if the “30 minute daily quiet time” (not a biblical mandate) doesn’t often happen, I need connection with God throughout the day. Maybe that means listening to music, writing out verses, reading the same chapter for a month and letting it sink in, appreciating beauty in nature, reciting prayers or verses with my prayer beads, journaling, reading a short devotional...many small, scattered moments of “practicing the presence of God.” I also need consistent time apart to focus and go deeper.
I am an introvert. Surprisingly (or not surprisingly), that did not change when I became a mother to an energetic extrovert. I need some quiet and space. I need tiny moments throughout the day, and I need chances to get out of the house or be in the house by myself.
If I continually ignore these needs, my well-being suffers. My family also suffers, because I cannot care for them well when I have nothing to offer.
Refusing to accept my limits and take care of myself is not selflessness; it is pride. It is working really hard to show I have it together in every area. It is trying to show that I have super-human strength. It is claiming that I am so very indispensable my world might fall apart if I take a break.
Don't ignore the warnings in your life. Allow yourself to have needs and limits. Figure out how to make self-care a reality in your life.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Warning]
Friday, October 2, 2015
On Pretending to be Useful
I have read my fair share of stereotypical gender roles kind of books, many of them talking about how important it is for a woman to feel beautiful. If you look through the magazines with their 15 step facial cleansing routine, it seems like a reasonable assumption. But as my 360th day of ponytail might suggest, beauty has never been top on my list of concerns. Sure I wouldn’t mind being beautiful, but it doesn’t keep me up at night.
What I want is to be useful. And I don’t mean in a holier-than-thou kind of way, because as much as being useful, I want everyone to notice how very useful I am and marvel at my mad skills. I want someone to say, “Wow, how do you do it all? Raising bright, creative, disciplined children. Making incredibly healthy meals in a spectacularly clean house. Interacting with students every day. All while being an indispensable leader, writing profound books, being famous, literally saving lives - we are truly inspired.”
And that’s why I don’t want to show how useless I sometimes feel. There are days when I do nothing. Not Gilmore Girls marathon kind of nothing. But nothing outside of my home, and nothing inside of my home that won’t have to be done all over again tomorrow. Nothing that says, “Look at me, I’m leading a super important life here in China!
When we tell people back in America we live in China and they get that “ooh exotic” look in their eyes, or when people (untruthfully) say something like, “I could never do what you’re doing,” I don’t think they are envisioning another day of laundry and hitting and tattling about hitting. Because everyone does that. Besides a laundry porch instead of a drier, it doesn’t even look much different than it would in America.
And sure sometimes I do things with students and “impact lives,” generally in a vague, unmeasurable way. I do the “supporting spouse” thing, which is something like more laundry and cooking and keeping the house livable. And maybe at the end of the day I grew my baby a little bigger and I kept my toddler from eating an entire crayon and I taught my kindergartener how to write a 4. But is that enough? Would it ever be enough?
I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes, how full of the mundane necessities of life, because people want to hear the glory and the suffering, the exotic “this could never happen in America.” People want to hear about The Results. Not The Laundry.
(In fairness, nobody wants to hear about laundry wherever you live; it’s very boring. But it is especially anticlimactic when you are talking about China.)
I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes because I’m afraid people will ask, “Why are you there anyway?” It’s hard enough to hear that question from myself. I know this is where we should be now. I want to be here. But sometimes I wonder if it matters that I’m here.
Especially in this not-so-productive season of my life. This season of limited energy and focusing on what has to get done. This season of learning about weakness and limitations, which is humbling.\\
Some would say growing a baby is productive - it feels like a lot of work sometimes, but it looks more like doing nothing much for 9 months and then you happen to get a baby at the end. Most would say that raising children is important, but often it looks like doing and saying the same things over and over for years and wondering if it’s getting through.
So why are we here, living lives that seem way too ordinary?
This may not be the right answer, or the best answer, but this is the answer I have right now.
We are here to do life in China. Laundry, messy floors, home schooling, all of it. This is not just our jobs; it’s our lives. It’s our children’s lives. China is where we work and play and learn and discipline. We want our students to see that we are not just passing through - we are choosing to live our lives here.
In reality, our lives do look different than they would in America, especially in a million small ways we hardly notice anymore. We do deal with unique challenges. We have great opportunities and witness exciting change. But much of our lives are just eating and sleeping and cleaning and doing life stuff.
And it’s not enough. It will never be enough. The need is always before us; the plans and dreams are always more than we can realize; the tasks will never be completed. At my most productive, I am not enough. But then, in the end, I don’t have to be. It was never all on me anyway.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Façade]
What I want is to be useful. And I don’t mean in a holier-than-thou kind of way, because as much as being useful, I want everyone to notice how very useful I am and marvel at my mad skills. I want someone to say, “Wow, how do you do it all? Raising bright, creative, disciplined children. Making incredibly healthy meals in a spectacularly clean house. Interacting with students every day. All while being an indispensable leader, writing profound books, being famous, literally saving lives - we are truly inspired.”
And that’s why I don’t want to show how useless I sometimes feel. There are days when I do nothing. Not Gilmore Girls marathon kind of nothing. But nothing outside of my home, and nothing inside of my home that won’t have to be done all over again tomorrow. Nothing that says, “Look at me, I’m leading a super important life here in China!
When we tell people back in America we live in China and they get that “ooh exotic” look in their eyes, or when people (untruthfully) say something like, “I could never do what you’re doing,” I don’t think they are envisioning another day of laundry and hitting and tattling about hitting. Because everyone does that. Besides a laundry porch instead of a drier, it doesn’t even look much different than it would in America.
And sure sometimes I do things with students and “impact lives,” generally in a vague, unmeasurable way. I do the “supporting spouse” thing, which is something like more laundry and cooking and keeping the house livable. And maybe at the end of the day I grew my baby a little bigger and I kept my toddler from eating an entire crayon and I taught my kindergartener how to write a 4. But is that enough? Would it ever be enough?
I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes, how full of the mundane necessities of life, because people want to hear the glory and the suffering, the exotic “this could never happen in America.” People want to hear about The Results. Not The Laundry.
(In fairness, nobody wants to hear about laundry wherever you live; it’s very boring. But it is especially anticlimactic when you are talking about China.)
I don’t want to tell how ordinary our lives are sometimes because I’m afraid people will ask, “Why are you there anyway?” It’s hard enough to hear that question from myself. I know this is where we should be now. I want to be here. But sometimes I wonder if it matters that I’m here.
Especially in this not-so-productive season of my life. This season of limited energy and focusing on what has to get done. This season of learning about weakness and limitations, which is humbling.\\
Some would say growing a baby is productive - it feels like a lot of work sometimes, but it looks more like doing nothing much for 9 months and then you happen to get a baby at the end. Most would say that raising children is important, but often it looks like doing and saying the same things over and over for years and wondering if it’s getting through.
So why are we here, living lives that seem way too ordinary?
This may not be the right answer, or the best answer, but this is the answer I have right now.
We are here to do life in China. Laundry, messy floors, home schooling, all of it. This is not just our jobs; it’s our lives. It’s our children’s lives. China is where we work and play and learn and discipline. We want our students to see that we are not just passing through - we are choosing to live our lives here.
In reality, our lives do look different than they would in America, especially in a million small ways we hardly notice anymore. We do deal with unique challenges. We have great opportunities and witness exciting change. But much of our lives are just eating and sleeping and cleaning and doing life stuff.
And it’s not enough. It will never be enough. The need is always before us; the plans and dreams are always more than we can realize; the tasks will never be completed. At my most productive, I am not enough. But then, in the end, I don’t have to be. It was never all on me anyway.
[Linking up with Velvet Ashes: Façade]
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Dancing on the Edge of Burnout
It’s generally a bad sign when a professor who barely knows you stops you at the local coffee shop to say, "You look like you are heading straight toward burnout."
I tend to look back on my first two years in China rather idealistically. In fact, I find myself holding them as a guideline for my expectations of what my life should be like in China. I did so many useful things and spent so much time with my students. Not as much as I should have done, naturally, but it was pretty impressive nonetheless. Especially compared with the practically nothing I accomplish now, right?
Of course, there are a few key differences between life then and now.
1. I was not just young, I was incredibly young, and just out of that "crash and burn for what you believe" college culture.
2. I was single, and more importantly, I had no children. I washed dishes every few days and did laundry about once a week. I'm not even kidding.
3. I was incredibly unhealthy and heading straight for burnout.
By the end of my first semester, the gloom of culture shock was darkening into a heavy weight of oppression and depression. As my first year came to an end and I felt a slight increase in my will to live, I thought I must be coming out of the fog.
So that summer when a professor I barely knew basically told me I looked terrible, I was a little surprised. Sure, I was still crying every day, but that’s normal, right? When a counselor questioned whether or not I should return to China, I had to realize that maybe I wasn't in such great shape after all.
With the help of some medication and support from great teammates (who I finally decided to let in on my struggles), my second year in China got off to a much better start. I got to know this guy, and we started talking every day, and before you know it we were engaged.
As I prepared for our wedding and a year in the States, I was insanely happy and insanely stressed. Also, just plain insane. I stopped sleeping. I stopped eating. I also decided that in the midst of this crazy huge transition would be a great time to stop taking my depression/anxiety medicine. I'm sure it seemed logical at the time, but seriously, what was I thinking??
That summer I was blissfully reunited with Kevin as we studied intensively at Wheaton. I still wasn't sleeping. I would go to the cafeteria and choke down a fourth of a sandwich because apparently I was supposed to eat. I was so ready to be married and start a new life, but I also felt completely adrift in the world. Everything was changing - again.
When my mother came to visit me (and also to check out my fiancé!), she said, "You know, I'm really concerned about you. You don't look good at all." Which is the sort of thing mothers say.
But then my roommates immediately chimed in, "Yeah! That's what we've been thinking! We're really concerned about you too!" Okay, maybe I wasn't doing as well as I thought. With some coercion, I made the choice to drop the second class I was planning to take and go on vacation with my family. It felt like quitting, but I wasn't sure I could make it through without a complete nervous breakdown. Kevin, concerned for me and also unwilling to be separated again, lovingly dropped out with me.
After a year of incredible highs -a beautiful wedding, a restful honeymoon, and the blissful newlywed stage- and crazy lows -panic attacks, semi-constant sickness, and overshadowing anxiety- we prepared to return to China. I was overwhelmed by dread. I knew it was where we were supposed to be, but I didn't know if I could handle returning. I knew the life I had lived there was not sustainable.
That was seven years ago. A lot of things have changed since then. I no longer dread China; in fact, when I imagine my future, it is here. I spend much less time with students and much more with my children (and my laundry porch). I am a lot less productive than I used to be. I am much healthier. I mean, I still get sick all the time thanks to little germ sharers, but I enjoy incomparably greater mental stability.
Part of this is just a blessed lifting of the depression and anxiety. Part of it is the result of decisions I have made: decisions to slow down, prioritize health, and to live sustainably. I often think of something our Wheaton professor told us:
"You are running a marathon, not a sprint. If you don't pace yourself you will not be able to finish."
I'm not a runner, but this still makes perfect sense. To the best of our knowledge, we are in this for the long haul. Our lives and our work should be lived at a very different pace than a two weeker or even a two-yearer (that’s a word). If we don't live sustainably, we will not last. It's really as simple as that.
Simple, but not easy. It means letting go of expectations, both others and my own.
It means saying no to really good things so we can focus on what we are actually called to in each season.
It means being intentional in establishing practices that keep us healthy - spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically.
It means making time for those practices.
It means being a lot less Productive and Useful than I would like.
It means not dancing on the edge of burnout, hoping if we can step just right we'll avoid the fall.
It means we stop trying to be God and focus instead on being with Him.
And as we do, we discover, well...Grace.
[linking up with Velvet Ashes on the topic of Burnout]
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Year of Grace
Three days into the New Year and I am sick again. Or perhaps truthfully, I never quite got over that cold that arrived with December. I feel guilty about being sick. It is just a stupid cold - anyone can get over a cold. And since I can't, I must be doing something wrong.
Maybe if I just thought positively enough (Haven't you ever heard someone say, "I don't have time for a cold so I'm just not going to give into it!"), if I ate more spinach and apples, if I took the right medicine, or if I used the right herbs and oils, if I did or didn't exercise - if I figured out just the right combination, I could get better. If I did everything right, surely I wouldn't be sick.
And then I realized, this is how I think about everything. Oh, not rationally. Rationally I know that nobody is perfect, that certain illness is inevitable, that I cannot wield control over the whole world through my sheer goodness. But just below the surface of rational, I believe that pretty much everything that happens in my life is somehow a result of my perfection or imperfection.
If I did everything right, Adalyn would sleep well every night and take long naps every day. If I did everything right, Juliana would meekly obey instead of fighting approximately everything she is asked to do. If I did everything right, Kevin and I would have meaningful conversations every evening as we gazed lovingly into each others' eyes. If I did everything right, students would flock to me to explore the mysteries of life. If I did everything right, maybe I would finally feel satisfied with myself.
And so, in the midst of this delusion, I realize the word that has come to me, my word for 2015, hasn't come a moment too soon.
I spent the first part of last year striving and striving and almost collapsing every night with soul-deep exhaustion. Over the weeks and months of struggle, I felt an idea reiterated in what I read (like 1000 Gifts), the songs I heard (like Gungor and All Sons and Daughters), and in my own thoughts: beauty. I didn't choose that word for last year, but in the end it chose me. As I began searching for the beauty in the everyday, I saw beauty. Instead of chaffing at my limitations and longing to get away from it all, I started to recognize and appreciate the beauty that was already all around. At least, most of the time.
I think my perspective on life has changed a lot, but my inward struggle remains. The drive to be good enough. The need to prove myself. The pressure to get it all right. Once again in this struggle, my word came to me:
Grace
This year I am declaring a year of grace. I will not make resolutions. We might not eat healthier. I will not figure out the perfect discipline strategy to finally cure a selfish nature. My hair may permanently mold itself into a ponytail. Some days my to-do list will get longer instead of shorter.
I am not reveling in or exalting my imperfections. Believe me, I want to figure it all out! I am just declaring (mostly to myself) that I am human. Striving comes naturally: accepting grace does not. And when I cannot accept grace for myself, I cannot give it to others.
How am I going to live in grace? I don't really know. How do you practice being over doing? How do you practice being accepted? How do you dig out the deep rooted deception that I am only as worthy as my usefulness? That my purpose in life is to attain perfection.
Right now, I am starting with breathing. Like a mantra for yoga or meditation or birth: Breathing in grace, breathing out grace. Letting it fill my lungs and soak into my bones and bring life to my heart. Not just reading words of grace and saying, "I should believe that," but setting the words in my mind and letting them rest there. Making grace a habit, until it becomes a part of my daily rhythm, until it is as consistent as a heartbeat and necessary as a breath.
Recognizing and rejecting the lies of perfection and striving and not-good-enough. And when I fail, when I become entangled in them all over again, stopping to breathe. Setting it down - along with the guilt and frustration and discouragement that I can't even get grace right! - and choosing grace once again.
It won't happen this year or really ever. I will never reach grace-perfection, not in this imperfect self in this broken world. But this year if I learn to take more grace into myself and breathe it out onto those around me, if that is all I learn, if that is (tiny shudder) all I accomplish in 365 days, the whole year will be worthwhile.
[linking up with Velvet Ashes: One Word]
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