One More Truth

Reflections on faith, truth, and being human

A Simple Approach for Moving Through Transition

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My oldest daughter visited earlier this week, so the two of us and my youngest daughter chatted in the family room under the largest fan you’ve ever seen, because September or not, it’s still oppressively hot in Arizona. Our conversation revolved around life and normal stuff, and then somehow, we got to talking about mental health and the darkness that sometimes appears and just how jarring it is when outside opinions attempt to wedge themselves into mental health management and dealings that are not their own responsibility. (Note: There are a million soapboxes on this topic – this space is not one of them. Do what is necessary for your health and don’t worry about the numerous outside opinions. That’s the long and short of it.)

My oldest said, very matter of fact, “The darkest time in my life was the summer after my freshman year.” I nodded because I remember. And then she said, “But that was the summer after our move to Arizona. I’m not blaming the move or saying we shouldn’t have moved, it was just a lot to figure out.”

I found those two sentences powerfully affirming, because: 1. as a mom, there is nothing more wonderful than knowing your child doesn’t blame you for the hardships of growing up – with or without an uprooting. 2. Being reminded that time, healing, and God’s grace can work a dark time into a two sentence summary is the picture of both hope and miracles (and I need that). 3. Change is hard. I need that reminder, too.

My family is elbows deep in transition. My second oldest has a new job. My son is employed for the first time. My youngest switched to online high school. My oldest daughter and son in law are expecting their first child. These are happy changes, changes each one chose, and it’s nice to be in the choosing position, but the ripples of change are still challenging to absorb. Not in a “this is impossible, I can’t do it” kind of way, but in a “wobbly, trying to regain my balance” kind of way. I’m absorbing these changes, too, amidst my own, amidst those of our ever-changing world. It can be a lot.

In my younger days, I rushed through change, dismissing the process rather than dealing with it and through it, scrambling for full competence, an uninterrupted plan, zero resistance, and zero visible exhaustion. I made busy days even busier. It didn’t go well. That’s not a pattern I want my children to follow, so in these times of transition, I’m keeping things simple with this approach:

  1. Acknowledge the transition. Change doesn’t always announce itself, you have to notice it. Maybe a caring person in your life points it out. Either way, acknowledge it – no dramatizing it, no minimizing it.
  2. Accept your humanness. You may be agile, but you are not impervious to the impacts of change. Your body will tell the truth, it’s just a matter of when. You can be proactive or reactive. Up to you.
  3.  Adjust accordingly. My son put his early morning workout routine on pause while he learns how to balance work and school. He doesn’t like it, but he knows it’s necessary and temporary. I’m more committed than ever to time blocking and less resistant toward napping. We’re all figuring it out.
  4. Advocate for yourself. Like walking in the dark, you have to feel your way through transitions. If you’re lost, speak up. If it gets too dark, ask for help. (I’m still learning this one. Anyone else?)
  5. Appreciate the good. It’s the little things, isn’t it? It’s dinner as a family because we’re finally all home together. It’s a late night run to Dairy Queen because my son is working drive-thru. It’s a picture of my daughter’s homemade sushi roll, because one of the perks of online school is she can make and eat whatever she wants for lunch. It’s watching my daughter lean more into her own independence. It’s the text when my daughter, the soon-to-be mama, feels her first kick.

There’s another good I’m appreciating, too. My early morning prayer time dropped off over the summer, but I’m back into the practice of taking my coffee outside and settling in for unrushed prayer. If you find yourself in transition or uprooting right now, pray the 5 steps above in contemplative prayer before your day begins. Ask the Lord to impress one word on your heart as a continued focus for the day.

Praying peace for you this week.

 

*Know someone in transition? Send them the 5 step approach for moving through transition!

 

Transcendence Isn’t Achieved Through Constant Striving

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I arrived at the crisis center for my weekly volunteer slot juggling coffee, a bottle of water, and a bag with my laptop and other things I didn’t really need but couldn’t be without. Mina was waiting for me, beaming as usual.

“This is me,” she said. “This is my real shape, my real body. If I ever come in here and I don’t look like this, something is wrong. Because this right here, is me.” I’d been mentoring Mina for a few months. I knew the grittiest pieces of her past, but little else. I knew she had two children whom she hadn’t seen for years. I knew she’d been sleeping on a bunk bed in a domestic violence shelter down the road. I knew when the cops found her a few months before, she was wandering the street with a broken leg. The doctor said the fracture was weeks old. Mina hadn’t a clue how it happened. I knew that every morning, Mina turned on worship music and “worshiped with her tears.” Pain brought Mina to the center. Pain brings every woman there.

Mina’s body was recovering from substances I couldn’t name because she didn’t share the details, and I was fine with that. I’d been witnessing her transformation every Tuesday, but on this particular day, she wasn’t looking at how far she’d come. She wasn’t rattling a plethora of plans or goals she aspired to reach. Mina was paying attention. She was naming her exact spot on the recovery timeline, recognizing the curvier body that felt more familiar. Her body was finding its balance, its homebase, and she was content to be right where she was. In fact, she was delighted.

Finish reading the article here.

This piece was featured first on Fathom.

 

 

Complication and Contentment

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My first place was a two-bedroom apartment with a little porch that overlooked the lush green of Richmond, Virginia. I was a single mom of a curious two-year-old, so an apartment on the third floor added an extra layer of complication to my coming and going, but I preferred the inconvenience over the sound of neighbors above me. The washer and dryer were in the kitchen, which I didn’t mind because it gave me extra counter space, and my bedroom was in direct view of the front door. I quickly developed the habit of making my bed.

After tucking my daughter in one of those first nights, I cozied into the second-hand love seat and surveyed my eight hundred square feet of independence. My furniture was an amalgamation of thrift store pieces and gifts from church people—a velour love seat the color of honey, four chairs with wicker backs and a dinner table, a black and white TV, and a chair in the corner with a too-deep seat and no armrests. A side table with screw-in legs was the only brand-new piece, a ten-dollar find from Walmart that I’d decorated with mirrored tiles to give it some charm. Pictures were hung, thanks to the hammer and nails Grandpa had packed for me—because “no woman should live on her own without a toolbox.”

My little place was heaven. I was completely satisfied with all it was and all it wasn’t, and there in the quiet, I whispered, “I hope I never want more than this.” Continue reading…

 

Stuck. What You Can Do. (And What to Do if You Can’t.)

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The school auditorium smelled of brand new carpet and buzzed with the energy of a hundred unjaded teenagers. My sister-in-law and I sat in the row furthest back, because even though we came for the presentation on career tracks, school spirit, blah, blah, blah, we really came to whisper back and forth. We listened to the school rules and both of us agreed we were glad to be adults. We talked about our summers, our kids, our appreciation for vacations AND routines. Somehow, the conversation turned to being stuck – the physical kind – quickly escalating into psychological stuckness, a stuckness mothers of teenagers know very well.

I’ve had many a conversation with a teenager in a slump. I ask what’s wrong and they don’t know. I encourage them to identify the stuckness because it’s the only way to find their spot on the map of unfamiliar territory. They groan. I ask what they want and a litany of what they don’t want erupts.

I assure them ruminating on solutions will eventually help them ‘see’ a path out. Then I hope for the best. One day, the teenager organizes their closet, unloads their dresser, fills half a dozen trash bags with toys, knick knacks, and clothing that no longer suits them, and magically, they come unstuck.

My sister-in-law confirmed she’d witnessed this unsticking process with her own kids as well and we both agreed the physical process of cleaning does wonders for unraveling mental and emotional stickiness. But surely there was a more defined process for coming unstuck. We decided an acronym might help us, and quite possibly, help all of humanity. (We were solving the world’s problems that day.) Being the child of a teacher and a preacher, I knew I was genetically wired for creating acronyms, so there in the back of the high school auditorium, during a PowerPoint presentation on Chromebooks, STUCK was born:

Symbolically, Seriously, Systematically, or Systemically

Trapped

Under

Constraints, Conflicts, or Comparisons of

Knowledge, Kinesthetics, Keeps, or Kindness

Yes, friend, this acronym is yours to use freely and often. Is it wordy? Sure. Complex? Clearly. But one thing is for certain – this acronym’s multitude of combinations will sum up your ‘stuck’.

For example, I’ve been stuck in my workout routine, or to say it better, I’ve been procrastinating because I’m bored with my home gym options. I was Symbolically Trapped Under Conflicts of Kinesthetics, I guess, so I rejoined my gym and I’m back to enjoying fitness classes. I named my stuck issue so I could tame it and move toward a better sense of wellbeing. My sister-in-law was right – an acronym helps.

But I had an epiphany shortly after my Ash Wednesday post. What about the stuck places that are intended for me, the times when I’m Spiritually Tested, Uniquely Conditioned – Knowingly? This is the stuck that scares me most, and I have to admit, moving in faith is an attractive topic because the opposite – sitting still in my faith because I must – is so absolutely frustrating, so contrary to the adventure I picture faith to be.

I savor the Bible stories of courage and action. I cringe through the stories where years pass, adversity comes, and plans go unfulfilled. But just as in the stories of Joseph, Hannah, David, Job, and the many people healed by Jesus in the gospels, ‘stuck’ points have a purpose on the timeline. These are the points where patience gives way to fully surrendered trust. These stories of patience aren’t indicators of tepid faith, but faith on fire.

When grief, loss, upheaval, and suffering come, when conditions are out of my control and problems won’t budge, when there are closed doors and dead ends, and I simply cannot move – how do I move in faith? By actively trusting, patiently waiting, expectantly watching, and firmly relying on God to move. I move my lips in prayer and make it my habit. I do what I can, accept what is, and continue hoping. I stay awake, alert, and grateful, so that when the ground moves under my feet, I’m ready.

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What’s your stuck look like? Maybe it’s something you can solve on your own and a long walk or closet purging session will bring your ‘aha’ moment. Maybe it’s something outside your limits and you’re familiar with prayers so deep, you never say a word. Maybe it’s unclear if you’re in a procrastinating place or a patience place. Answering the following questions often helps me identify my sticking points and the shifts I need to make. Praying through the questions helps me even more.

What am I thinking? (What’s playing on a loop in my mind?)

What am I feeling? (What emotions are being fueled by my mindset? What mindset is fueling my emotions?)

What am I doing – behaviors, actions, patterns? (Are they coping, numbing, avoidant?)

What am I praying?