Human BEings, not Human DOings

Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming! Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming! Christmas and Thanksgiving are coming!

If I'm not careful, the holidays will whiz by without me looking up from my to-do list.

We're packing for a camping trip. Rather than drive to East Texas for Thanksgiving, we're going tent camping instead. That means instead of packing a few clothes and books we also have to pack blankets, sleeping bags, food, cooking utensils, and clothes and books. We've been getting ready for this trip for longer than we will be gone.

Meanwhile, I'm organizing all our holiday shopping so I can spread it out and not have to buy everything on one pay check.

And I'm still working two part-time jobs.

And I'm trying to find time to be an attentive mother and wife.

And I'm trying to take some time for myself.

And I'm trying to tackle that mound of laundry that just won't go away.

And I've got to take a dog to the vet.

And I'm writing a book.

Obviously there are just too many tasks to be completed each day. As efficient as I am, it will never get done.

Yesterday, time stood still as the kids and I visited a dying friend. Claire and Paul wanted to tell him all about the exercises they know, "Look at this! Jumping Jacks!" Our friend wanted to teach them a few things about local geography and baby animals. "What's a baby dove called? A squab. What are the three forks of the Trinity River?"  (You'll have to Google that one because when I looked it up it said we have four forks.)

True to myself, I made the kids bring entertainment items to amuse themselves with while we sat with our friend. I try to fill each moment of the kids' lives with productive activities. "Here's Battleship! It teaches you math! Claire, bring your crochet materials and let's chain stitch!" We didn't use any of that.

Instead, we attempted to sit still and talk with our friend. Sitting still for me included sitting cross-legged on the floor.  Sitting still for the kids meant climbing on me, doing leg lifts, standing on their heads, jumping, talking non-stop, and aggravating each other.

Entering the final days of his life, our friend is still patient with the children. A retired school teacher, he was still trying to teach. And I was trying to do, do, do.

We were there several hours and eventually I stopped doing. I sat by the front door and watched the birds come and go from the feeders. The kids happily began an instructional workout. When I stopped doing, everything calmed down.

His wife always tells me, "God created us to be human BEings, not human DOings."

This holiday season, I'm going to try my best to BE instead of DO. I'm going to try to remember to breathe and recognize the miracle of life. I'm going to recognize that there will always be more to do. I'm going to try to sit with the kids and just be.

The Domino Effect

The White Stripes have a song called "Little Room" that I've been thinking about lately.  The lyrics are:

Well you're in your little room

and you're working on something good

but if it's really good

you're gonna need a bigger room

and when you're in the bigger room

you might not know what to do

you might have to think of

how you got started 

sitting in your little room

This song represents my life in general right now.  We had water damage in the house so we had to have some restoration efforts.  But it's not as simple as that.  As and example, I'll describe the saga of our cabinets.  We needed to replace half of our kitchen cabinets and were lucky to find matches.  But to replace the cabinets we had to rethink them.  Our refrigerator is about 15 years old and has a freezer on top of the refrigerator.  Most refrigerators sold now are side by side doors.  When placing our pantry cabinet, we had to take into effect the reality that one day we would own a side by side refrigerator which would have banged into the pantry cabinet.  So we had to move the pantry.  And while we were moving the pantry, we could add some more cabinets.  More counter space!  More cabinet space!  Great, but then we had to decide how many drawers we wanted, what the knobs should look like.  Do we want new knobs on the old cabinets or just leave them clashing?  On and on.

We got the cabinets installed, but they are unfinished.  Then comes the next round of questions.  What color do we paint the cabinets?  I wanted light blue but was wisely advised by Home Depot to go with cream and save light blue for the walls.  Why yes, the walls do need a new paint job!  So now we have a paint job to do.  We started making progress on that and then our top cabinets started pulling away from the wall.  So now the new cabinets have to be repaired.  

We have learned in the last few months that home improvement never ends.  It almost makes you want to throw up your hands and move to a new house but then we would have to start over!  What a terrible idea, not to mention one that is no realm of possibility.  We love our house, but we hate this never-ending home improvement hamster wheel that we are caught in.  We see no escaping.  I know that once we get in the floors and once the kitchen is painted, we'll start looking at other walls and realize they need painting, too.  

Housework is the same way.  Scrub a toilet and then notice you need to mop.  Mop and then notice you need to dust.  Dust and then notice the house is cluttered and needs organizing.

Raising children is the same way.  Teach them one thing well and then realize a concept/life-skill that you forgot.  Teach them that one and then the next one and the next one and the next.

Healthy living is another.  A week ago, ran for the first time in about two years.  I didn't get to the end of the block, so the next day I tried again.  The next morning I succeeded in going further, but not far enough, so I tried again.  I was feeling so good about working out that I decided to eat a little healthier.  Once salad led to another and another and then I didn't even order a pizza once this week!

It's the domino effect.  One thing leads to another to another and to another.  If you think you've reached the last domino, you are wrong.  There's always another after it.  But that's life.  I believe that life is not the destination of perfection and reaching the final domino.  That is impossible.  Life is what happens between the dominos.  Life is the reach for the next domino, knowing that there is no end.  Life is putting up your hand to stop the dominos to catch a breath before you immerse yourself in the never-ending labyrinth of life again.

Since I have accepted this fact of life, life is a little easier.  I know I will never, ever, finish the laundry unless my family becomes nudists, so it's okay to take a break to go to the zoo.  I know that I will never teach the kids everything they need to know in life, so it's okay to watch half an hour of TV.  The house won't paint itself, but the pool is open.  

It's officially summer now at the Boyette house and I can't wait to see what dominos will fall next and which ones we can stop in order to play.

A Critique on Criticism

In my Bible study we discussed a passage on criticism written by Catherine Marshall.  You can read the post here.  Marshall decides that she will take a day to "fast" from criticalness.

I decided to try the experiment myself.  I didn't tell members of my family, but designated Saturday as a day free from criticism.  At the end of the day I felt pretty proud of myself because I succeeded.  Upon review of the day's activities, however, I realized that it wasn't much of a challenge.  Saturday was a day full of shopping.  I had money to spend and customer service people wanted to sell me items.  I was a satisfied shopper with no room for criticism.

I was raised in a household where nothing and no one was immune from criticism.  From the size of my feet to the expression on a television actress' face, all were fodder for critiques and jokes.

In college I finally realized that this wasn't a healthy way to live.  Adam helped me with that by asking questions that made me reflect on my actions.  He's always been gifted at making me see the world in a different light.  Once I realized that I was often in conversations that were critiques, I worked to stop it.

With this time of experiment this past weekend,  I was feeling pretty proud of myself.  During conversation in the car, Adam reminded me of silly, brainless, and admittedly hilarious remarks I've made that have become inside jokes around the house.  "But those jokes started years ago!  I've tried to avoid doing that."  Darn it if he didn't say one I came up with a couple of months ago.

I'm not perfect.  It's hard to shed a habit you were raised with. 

Monday was an especially difficult day for criticism.  I took the kids to the zoo and met a friend there.  I found myself criticizing a slew of things and people, including those "other moms" who wear those skin-tight running/yoga tights.  As soon as I said it, I realized how dumb I sounded.  Who cares what kind of pants people wear?  Seriously, do I have nothing better to do than to make fun of pants?

In Bible study we discussed where we find ourselves most critical.  One said that we often make critical remarks to fill a void in dialog.  Another said that we do that when we know that the person we're saying it to will agree.  I found both insights to be true.

This week I am going to try to be less critical of both myself and others.  If there's a void in dialog, I will attempt to be comfortable in silence.  I will strive to keep my unhelpful comments to myself.  I know brainless criticism doesn't help anyone.  Also, surprisingly, it is not my job to critique and fix the world.  I am not the Messiah.

Exciting Excitement from Exciteland

Last week I was accepted to Brite Divinity School. I hope to enter in January. I'm very, very, very excited about seminary and learning, being around people, and becoming a professional Jesus-lover.

I'm also very excited about the Be the Change book. My friend Rev. Jason Valendy blogs regularly and decided to compile some of his best work into a book format. I had the privilege of communicating with him along the way to watch his process and help him edit his work. A couple of weeks after he started, he now has an epub book!  It is available for all platforms free, at the link here. I like Jason's writing because it challenges me to look at the intersection between scripture and the world in a different light. He co-pastors Saginaw UMC with his wife, Estee.

Once I got my acceptance letter to seminary, I had a conversation with Adam where we realized I need to raise about $1,000 to pay for my first semester's tuition. I anticipate having more scholarships in the fall, but if I want to attend this spring (I do) I need to raise some funds.

So I figured, why not write a book myself?  I had never thought I could do it so soon.  I did some research and it turns out that I have all the software I need and almost enough material.  So that's what I'm doing. I'm writing a book! I'm going to sell it for $1 or $2 to raise money for tuition.

My book is tentatively titled "Goofiness and Grace."

I'm very excited about having a "necessity is the motherhood of invention" drive to create my first published work. Stay tuned for details!

My Feet

“Thus, when you wake up in the morning, called by God to be a self again, if you want to know who you are, watch your feet. Because where your feet take you, that is who you are.”  --Frederick Buechner

I have big feet.  Sometime around middle school I hit a size 10 and they stopped growing, thankfully.  My mom used to call me "clodhopper" and my grandpa always said, "You've got a firm foundation there."

(For the record, I just now found out what clodhopper means.  You can click here and find out, too.)

When I was pregnant with Paul, my feet swelled up to Pillsbury Doughboy proportions.  I had to go to Payless and buy size 12 flip flops, the only shoes I could wear.  There was much drama when I had to show up on campus to teach in flip flops because they were against dress code.  I ended up borrowing Adam's Birkenstocks and adjusting them to the last hole.  Luckily after Paul was born, they went back to their normal large size and I don't have to special order shoes.

My feet get no respect. They are neither pretty nor pampered. But these are the only feet I have. Just this week they have taken me to on several beautiful fall walks. They have accompanied the kids and I as we walked home and they burst with excitement about the day. These feet took me to church and school and the store.  These feet took me to Bible study where we laughed for an hour and a half. These feet sat behind my desk yesterday as I listened to funky music while typing out the words of the church.

I always think of my hands as tools of service. I use my hands to hug, to shake, to write, to work, to help, to cook. I forget though, that my feet are there also. If I started recognizing my feet as useful as my hands, would I walk different? Would I get more pedicures? Would I wear better shoes?

Today I am thankful for my ten toes that keep me balanced. When I have full hands, I'm thankful for my heels that close doors behind me. I'm thankful for that bone that juts out and reminds me of my grandmother. I'm thankful for the large, firm foundation I'm standing on that keeps me from swaying easily and keeps me grounded.

In this season of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my hard-working, often overlooked feet. They might be big and they might not be pretty, but they take me everywhere I go.

Honoring My Commitment to Creation

Last summer I read the book, Where'd You Go, Bernadette?
For those of you that haven't read it, it's the story of a mother that goes missing and the daughter that pieces together emails to find her. I wasn't drawn into the plot like I assumed I would be. I was drawn into the theme of creation.

In the book, Bernadette loses her sense of self when she stops creating. Before she became a mother, she was a famous architect. Then she has a daughter, the family moves, and she begins worrying about things like her status among the other mothers at her daughter's private school. She has a need to create art and when she isn't creating, she's losing her sense of who she is.

Last week when Anne Lamott was in Fort Worth, one audience member asked her about art. She said she was an artist but has become busy focusing on one activity or another and hasn't had time for her art. Her question was along the lines of, "Is this okay? What should I do?"

Anne replied with her classic responses of working at the same time every day, allowing yourself to make crap sometimes, and just doing it. She told the woman not to let her life pass by and to find time for art. All of that was nearly scripted. I'd heard it all before from multiple sources.  But then she said something profound that is still rolling around in my head.

She said, "You need to honor your commitment to creation."

On the surface, she simply meant that if you identify yourself as an artist or a writer that you need to make space in your life for your art. If that is what you are, you need to make sure that is what you do. Not necessarily as a full-time job, but as an integral component to your life.  Just like in the book Bernadette eventually realizes that she is not her best self when she doesn't create.  This is a good message and one that can resonate with all of us.

But then I revisited it.  What if I thought of those words in a different way?

"You need to honor your commitment to Creation."

Creation, as in the world, as in being part of the world, as in recognizing your role as a cog on the great machine of life. Since I call myself a writer, I have made a commitment to Creation, the world, and all the people in it, that I will create writing.

When I look at the phrase that way, my commitment takes on another level of meaning. Somehow this little blog is important to Creation. Somehow my creating helps the world be a better place in a small, sometimes microscopic way. But how awesome is that? When I create, it's honoring my commitment to be a writer, but it's also honoring my commitment to give back to the human race. No matter how small, when we all give back with our gifts, together we make it beautiful.

Creating community, Anne Lamott, and Hugs

Yesterday my favorite author, Anne Lamott, came to Fort Worth.  She was here in April and I was excited about that for weeks before the event and weeks after the event. When you love an artists' work and then get to meet that person, and even connect with them through a hug, it makes your connection to the work even stronger.  This time was no different.
The talk started at 7, but I assumed there would be thousands of people there, so I showed up at 5. I did this at her last appearance, too, and ended up making a new friend.  This time I knew what to expect, so I was less anxious and nervous and just buzzing with enthusiasm.  The only people at the event when I showed up were the organizers, who were arranging chairs, cookies on trays, and fall displays.  They all laughed at me and my excitement.  That's perfectly fine. These people were somehow responsible for bringing my favorite author to town, so I wanted to show them my gratitude and excitement.
Shortly after I arrived, another crazed fan walked in. I had positioned myself by the door so I could see everyone coming in and introduce myself.  I greeted the people who came in the door to be greeters, which was pretty funny.  The new crazed fan was Carol and she had driven for nearly two hours to see Anne Lamott.  We became fast friends.  As more people arrived, I introduced everyone to everyone and pretty soon the entire atrium area was laughing and smiling. As 7:00 approached, everyone was respectful of Carol and my wait and excitement and they all lined up behind us to go into the church's sanctuary.
By the time the doors opened, I had made at least 20 new friends, and had been a part of at least five meaningful conversations about faith and life.  All my new friends ended up sitting with my already friends and we filled a pew before we even had finished arriving.  As more people arrived that had planned to sit with us, we scooted down and talked with each other, swapping bits of our life stories.
This is what I love about church. This is a huge reason why I am headed to seminary. I believe in the gifts of community and I love connecting with people.  By the time the event began, there wasn't a distinction between new friends and old. We were all friends together. We were surrounded by love and were sharing infectious caring with one another.  I put on my jacket and I had a close friend plus the lady behind me helping me put my arm in the sleeve.  Just a simple action like putting on my jacket was infused with love.
Of course we all loved hearing Anne Lamott speak. My new friend Carol cried several times and then another new friend passed a kleenex box down the row.
After the event I said farewell to friends as they left and then I got in line to have a stack of books signed.  I gave Anne a gift of pens, a pencil pouch, bluebonnet seeds, a copy of my blog post about her, and a card that says, "You are beloved, precious child of God and beautiful to behold."  She loved, loved, loved it and even hugged me a good, long time.
***(I got the card idea from my friend Rev. Nancy, who passed them out during Bible study one night. I passed them out this year during Bible study and had leftovers. I was handing them out to my new friends like trading cards. Everyone loved them.  One of my new friends even had Anne sign her card so she could put it on her mirror.)
So on the day after the event, I am unsure what I loved most. Was it the excitement and anticipation? Was it the connection with new and already friends? Was it the sense of community we created? Was it Anne's speech? Was it the honor of speaking to her and offering her a gift? Was it knowing that some of my writing will be read by my favorite author? Was it getting a hug from so many people, including Anne Lamott?
I'm not sure, but I am sure I will be happy about this for a good, long time.

My Grandmother's Quilt and Anne Lamott

I found this quilt at my grandmother's house when my grandfather moved to an apartment.  It's hand made and hand-stitched and sturdy and beautiful.  This summer I let Claire keep it on her bed as a "summertime" comforter and the quilt survived jumping on the bed and forts and two children giggling.  Now that fall is here, I got Claire's regular blankets out of the closet and reclaimed this beauty.

It's got some gaps in it right now where stitches came undone, but I've been repairing it stitch by stitch while watching television or praying.  I know my grandmother would be delighted that my kids are loving and using this blanket, even though that meant needed repairs.

This week my favorite author Anne Lamott will be in Fort Worth again.  This is her second appearance here this year.  Her book tours often haven't made it to our area, so for her to come back to my hometown is an exciting honor.  She's currently promoting her new book, Stitches, which is supposed to be a companion to Help, Thanks, Wow.

What I love about Anne Lamott is her transparent honesty and strong faith.  She knows she's imperfect and needs regular divine intervention and she shares that.  So many people try to look good or sound right.  Honesty in imperfection is like a breath of fresh air.  I strive for it as well, but I'm still practicing being transparent about my shortcomings and all the grace I receive on a daily basis.

While I've been sitting on the couch stitching the holes together in this beautiful quilt, I've been thinking of the rich metaphors that action brings.  

I have to sit down to repair the quilt, just like sometimes I have to sit down to be repaired.  When I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off, I miss hands trying to help me or hug me.  I have to sit down to be repaired.

The string the I'm using to patch the pieces together is stronger than the original thread.  Similarly, when I fall apart, I come out of the repair stronger than before.  When I get overwhelmed with work, motherhood, or life in general, I have to be pulled back together.  Sometimes a friend helps me, sometimes a quiet prayer helps me, sometimes a walk by myself helps me.  Whatever it is that pulls me back together, though, patches me up stronger than I was before.

Each patch of this quilt has a story with it, just like each part of my life is a story.  Everyone's life is full of color, alternating between bright and dark, dull and glittery, busy patterns and calmness.  If you look too closely at one part you miss the beauty of the entire quilt of life.  When I miss the big picture, I miss beauty and how every part of life works together to weave a beautiful story.

I can't wait to meet Anne Lamott on Thursday and share with her what her story means to me and my grandma's quilt.  I can't wait to see the addition of new patches on my life quilt and how they make the blanket of life even more beautiful.

Why I keep my nametags

At the places I go, I often end up with nametags.  I always keep them.  Not forever; they often wear out and I have to toss them, but as long as the memory of the event is fresh in my mind, I keep my nametag.

This fall I travelled with a group of ladies to the Church of the Ressurection Leadership Institute in Kansas. At the end of the retreat, most people turned their nametags in so they could be recycled or repurposed.  I didn't.  My nametag hangs in my office and is a visual reminder of what I learned, how God worked in my life that week, and how lessons and techniques learned there are still being implemented and not forgotten.

At church I have a nametag that says "Communications Coordinator."  I wear it often, but not often enough.  It reminds me that I have a place of belonging, that I am part of a team, and that it is not my job to communicate everything that happens at the church.  It is my job to coordinate the communications.  When I'm overwhelmed, that makes a big difference to me.

At my school, my nametag shows that even though I'm only on campus two days a week, I am part of a staff.  I am an educator.  I don't have to attend faculty meetings, but the nametag gives me entry to every classroom in the building and respect from teachers and parents.

A few years ago, some friends of mine started a non-profit group. Adam and I attended the first Fort Worth Dish Out and I still have the nametag to prove it. It reminds me that I played a role, no matter how small, in the start-up.

This past week I attended open house at Brite Divinity School. My nametag there was simple; just my name on a stark white background, suspended on a string around my neck.  It was perfect in it's message.  Here's a place that is expecting me.  Here's a place that I belong.  I have no idea what this place will look like with me in it, but here is my name.  The future is a blank slate.

Nametags are powerful. I can't wait to see where I get my next one.