Gravel, Gravity, and Grace

I'm always creating metaphors in my head and the one I've been processing lately is about gravel, gravity, and grace.

(dreamstime.com for free stock photo)

Everyone has stressors, or little pieces of life that irritate them. They're small things, almost like a piece of gravel under your foot. Usually I just step over these little irritants. Walking on gravel isn't exactly comfortable but when my stress levels are low, so is my gravel pile.

For the past month, though, for many reasons, my gravel pile has been growing. Pieces of gravel that would normally be stepped on or stepped over have been stacking up in a pile.  When I have a pile of irritants added up, then little pebbles hurt like big boulders. Small inconsiderations start looking like major insults and my spirit is wounded. Crises of my children like lost library books begin to take on adult proportions. My to do list starts to look like a military campaign.  When my rock pile is growing, I begin to lose perspective and sight of who and what is on the other side of my pile of issues. I forget that everyone has their own gravel pile and while I can't see around mine, it doesn't mean that my problems are bigger or my issues more pressing than those around me.  I get wrapped up in looking at my gravel pile and announcing it to anyone that crosses my path.  "Can you believe what I have to put up with? Have you seen this pile of irritants in my life? It's not fair!"

But then the last piece of gravel is placed on the pile and things begin toppling. All of the sudden I am falling off my self-righteous pile of gravel.  I am no longer looking down on others whom I perceive to  have fewer amount of struggles.  I am confused, in despair and free-falling. 

This week the piece of gravel that toppled my pile was our slab leak.  We had a water leak and we didn't know where it was. Claire's room was quickly turning into a swamp, our front yard was a puddle, and water was seeping out of the front of the house.  We didn't know who to call. Did this mean we would immediately have to repair our foundation problems? How would we pay for this? Who could we trust to charge us a fair price? When would we have time to devote to dealing with this?

Yesterday morning I called in to my school and told them I had to wait for a plumber.  After I took the kids to school, I ended up being stuck at home by myself and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.  Several times I stopped and intentionally listened to my breathing.  I prayed.  I journaled.  I caught up on urgent work.  I planned ahead.  I didn't talk to anyone but Adam and the plumber. 

And all my gravel fell to the ground and now I can see. I can see other people and their gravel piles. I can see that my irritants are gravel pebbles, not boulders. I can step over my own pebbles to go to someone else's rock pile and commiserate with them. 

For me, that is the story of God's grace. Just when we cannot take another rock on our pile, just when our pile is toppling and we are free-falling into a pit of despair and self-adsorption, we land on our feet and we can see clearly.  We can reach out to another and give them a hug.  We can go forward and leave those little gravel irritants behind.  We can move on.

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.

My stress scale

Lately I've been using a scale to measure my stress level.  I came up with this on my own, although I don't want to claim that this is a patented Sarah Boyette idea because I'm sure it's not unique.

www.garrisonphoto.org

Like the 10-point scale that doctors use to help understand your pain level, I've started using a 10-point scale for stress level.  A one on the scale is me on an island by myself with a book and a full-service waiter at my beck and call.  A ten on the scale is my tipping point, so stressed I can't see clearly and I start crying at illogical events.

During the school year, I find that I live on a five or a six.  It's not ideal, but I've got a lot going on, so during the months of August through May my life (two jobs, two kids, two dogs, two fish, a hamster, a house, and a husband) happily plateaus at a 5 or a 6.  During the summer, I'm at a 3 or a 4 because we're just not under the time crunch that we are during the school year.

This has been helpful for me to recognize my limits.  If it's a stressful week at work, I might be at a seven the entire week, and if three things are added to my list, I just end up crying.  So that means that I can easily say "no" to invitations to serve on a committee or other ideas that would not be necessarily beneficial to my health or family.

I'm always looking for metaphors to express and understand life, and this has been quite a useful one.  I share it with my readers as a way to communicate with others what you are feeling.  Recognizing where I am has helped me prioritize and focus on the happy more.