One Thing I've Learned

{Five Minute Friday}: Delight

2012-02-17T05:43:00.000-08:00

He brought me out into a spacious place;
He rescued me because he delighted in me.

Psalm 18:19

* * * * *

Delight.

Seriously?

After a night like this one?

I'm still recovering after two weeks, and now Daniel's got it bad. Sudafed held the symptoms at bay during the day, but NyQuil didn't do a thing from 9:00 'til midnight. Or 1:30 AM. Or 3:00. Or 3:15. Or 3:30.

Then the cats decided it must be morning, since we were "up," and started their three ring circus routine.

At 4:15, I gave up, dragged myself to the shower, and started counting down 'til bedtime (which will be later than I'd like since I'm taking students on an overnight trip for the first time in a decade!)

Just because Psalm 18:19 is my life verse, doesn't mean I feel delight-full right now.

Just because You've always come through before, doesn't mean I feel delighted in right now.

Just because it's always seemed darkest just before de-light doesn't mean I feel it right now.

I may not feel,
but I know.
And so
I will live
this day
as a daughter
of Your
delight.

Do I Think Like a Mother or a Lover?

2012-02-15T13:45:00.000-08:00

It's Wifey Wednesday over at To Love Honor and Vacuum!

Jury summons arrived for my husband several weeks ago.

I resisted the urge to open the envelope, highlight the date in yellow, and tape it to his computer screen so he'd be sure to see it.

Last week, he didn't come home at noon. Or after his one afternoon class. By 4:00 PM, I was exhausted from pushing worry from my mind: Had he eaten lunch? How was he holding up, since I knew he didn't have breakfast?

But I didn't text him. And I didn't call him.

A few days ago, he lingered at home after lunch. I silently watched the clock march relentlessly toward the start time for his 8th period class: 1:45. 1:46. 1:47.

But at 1:48, I couldn't stop my self. Compulsively, I blurted, "What time does your 8th period class start?" (As if I didn't already know that it started at 1:49!)

Sigh.

* * * * *

23+ years into marriage, I am learning a new skill.

It didn't start as a marriage improvement plan but as a radical parent-ectomy I performed on my relationship with our daughter in January. I laid down some new boundaries; while adjusting to the self-imposed changes, I realized how involved I'm used to being in many aspects of her life.

Involved? More like enmeshed.

I'm having to learn detachment, a concept I've always associated with abandonment and apathy. Detachment, I'm finding, is making myself available but not diving in to "help" or "fix" or "rescue." It's a choice to be empathetically present with my daughter, but not to take on her emotions.

Detachment boils down to not meddling. Not borrowing trouble. Not sticking my nose where it doesn't belong.

As I've practiced detachment, I've discovered how much time and energy are suddenly freed up for me to use for things that I've put off for years, like finishing my MA degree and starting a PhD program, writing that book proposal an agent requested, going up to the stables to ride each week.

And then Daniel's jury summons arrived.

As I started doing what I've always done – opening and processing his mail because he never does it himself – the tone of my thinking stopped me.

I sounded like a mother. A meddling mother. A "helping", "fixing", "rescuing" mother.

I asked myself, "If Daniel walked in the door, looking as handsome as ever, would I feel attracted to him right now?"

And the answer was clear: no.

"Why not?"

I'm too busy protecting him from the negative consequences of his irresponsible choices.

"Oh really? You're protecting him?"

And I came face-to-face with the truth about my meddling: I do not step in to "help" you because of my deep concern for you. My compulsion to "fix" you – whether you're my daughter or my husband (or my student or my friend) – is to protect me.

* * * * *

So as the jury summons sat unopened day after day, I bit my tongue and planned to walk through the consequences with him, whatever they may be.

When he got home at 6:00 PM and told me that he had gone out for lunch with a friend, I was glad for his health, not just relieved for my sake that he wasn't in a starving temper.

And when he left the house for his 8th period class, I reminded myself that it's not my job to make sure he keeps his job, no matter how badly I want to feel safe, secure, and stable.

Most of all, I am reminding myself that detaching isn't about him: it's about me and my thoughts.

I can obsess about all the "what ifs", making me smother like a meddling mother.

Or I can detach, refusing to pour time and energy into worrying about things that are none of my business.

Which frees me to connect, in the present moment, with my husband.

Not as a "helper." Or a "fixer." Or a "rescuer."

But as his lover.

{Five Minute Friday}: Trust

2012-02-10T06:36:00.000-08:00

As my glee that "fiasco" rhymes with "tabasco" subsides, I feel a twinge of guilt.

Sure, the poem I've written to roast ... er ... honor my brother's 50th birthday is funny.

But what's with the tabasco sauce?

Why, after 40 years, do I still bring up this "cruel...fiasco" every time I can?

* * * * *

In my hazy memory, I am four; my brother, eleven.

"Hey Cheri! Do you want some cherry juice?"

"Sure!"

I take a huge gulp.

And swallow fire. Gasp fire. Hear fire. Weep fire.

* * * * *

I get more mileage out of this incident than anything else in my childhood. It's been memorialized in poems, elaborated in narrative essays, and inserted into almost every talk I've ever given.

The audience always laughs.

But what, exactly, am I illustrating?

What's with the tabasco sauce?

What does...or did...it mean?

The answer, I find, is in the closing lines of a poem I wrote last summer, describing my aversion to risk:

"I avoid even a sip of cherry juice so certain am I that it will, once again, turn out to be tabasco sauce."

What's with the tabasco sauce?

It's a 40-year-old metaphor, a concrete symbol of an abstract concept:

TRUST.

For four decades, tabasco sauce has represented my first experience with betrayal.

Then, I was four.

But I'm not any more.

Where I Stay So I Won’t Stray

2012-02-06T06:44:00.000-08:00

It's Marriage Monday!

Twice a month, a diverse group of married Christian women gather at Chrysalis for the purpose of encouraging other, sharing our stories, and learning from our collective wisdom.

We’re young, old, seasoned, and newlywed, and we love talking about Christian marriage!

Today's official topic is "Overcoming Boredom & Apathy." My focus, based months of reflection, is discontent over unmet needs, to which boredom and apathy can certainly lead.

* * * * *

Do I stray or do I stay?

A few months ago, a friend e-mailed me, asking what I advice I had for a Sanguine wife (married to a Phlegmatic husband) who had crossed the bounds of "just friends" with a male co-worker...and wasn't sure if she was 100% sorry.

"I have to admit, the attention felt good," she wrote. When discussing with her husband the unmet needs that led to incident, he suggested, "Perhaps I simply can't meet your needs?"

I mailed her a copy of The Man You Always Wanted is the One You Already Have*, written by my friend Paula Friedrichsen. In it, Paula chronicles the emotional affair that almost destroyed her marriage and talks turkey, girlfriend-to-girlfriend, about how she got herself into it and Who got her out.

And I reflected on my own struggles with unmet needs in marriage.

Do I stray or do I stay?

As we promised to love, honor, and cherish each other "until death do us part," this dilemma was the furthest thing from my mind.

A few short years later, though, it dominated my my thoughts.

Desperately unhappy, I read every Christian marriage book I could get my hands on. I especially appreciated one author who so clearly asserted his belief that if a woman was unhappy after five years of marriage, it was her husband's fault.

I smugly showed that paragraph to my husband, only to watch the book quickly fly across the room. Clearly, I couldn't count on him to make any positive changes in our marriage!

Do I stray or do I stay?

A decade ago, I almost left. I obtained a credit card in my name only. I ordered extra school clothes for the kids. I packed a suitcase and kept it in my car.

My laundry list of complaints was a mile long (ironically, my #1 complaint was that Daniel was too critical!) We were completely incompatible; what met his needs violated mine and vis versa. I felt misunderstood, neglected, and unfulfilled.

During this season in our marriage, I literally had no casual contact with other men. If male coworkers or church members had been on my radar, I'm sure I would have succumbed to–or, more likely, initiated–temptation!

Do I stray or do I stay?

As desperately as I wanted to find someone who would finally meet my needs, I was too insecure to actually go.

I decided to give it one year: one year of giving our marriage everything I had. I promised God I would be open to whatever he led me to do (secretly hoping he'd just give Daniel detailed instructions on how he should change, instead!)

My greatest source of bitterness was Daniel’s reaction to my tears. "If only Daniel was the kind of husband who would willingly hold me and comfort me when I cry..." became my mantra of misery.

One day, while reading my Bible, I came to the story of Mary anointing Jesus’ feet. Luke 7:38 jumped out at me: As she stood behind him at his feet weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears.

Did I stray or did I stay?

I strayed.

When I felt especially needy, I strayed.

Instead of bringing my tears to Christ, I left Him and sought my husband–my fallible, broken, human husband–and demanded that he meet my needs. That he rescue me from myself.

That he save me.

Wait.

What’s the word for one who saves?

Savior.

I strayed from my Savior and insisted my husband take His place. (Little wonder I felt so miserable, desperate, and unfulfilled!)

Where I Stay

My #1 marriage priority is simply this: stay with the One who meets all my needs.

Yes, I know this was supposed to be my top life priority as a Christian. But my selfish heart was so good at “spin control” that I had no clue how far I’d gone.

In my relentless pursuit of my-husband-as-savior, I had driven him away from Christ and run leagues away, myself.

My #2 marriage priority is also simple: stay in biographer mode.

If you’ve ever read a really good biography written by someone utterly devoted to the person, you know it’s not objective, but it’s okay. The “skewed” view you get is the truth filtered through love.

Daily, I go thru the journalist’s questions:

1) WHO is he, really? (Be the one person who really knows him!)

2) WHY does he ____? (Be the one person who totally “gets” him!)

3) WHEN is he living in his strengths? (Orchestrate as many occasions as possible.)

4) WHAT does our marriage provide me? (Focus on what I do have, not what I don’t have.)

5) HOW on earth does he put up with me? (My father asked me this once in jest; I realized it was no joke. The man may not be my savior, but he certainly is a saint!)

I aim to be my beloved’s biographer.

To investigate and bear witness his life.

And to celebrate, together, the myriad reasons I stay.

* When asked for marriage book recommendations, I always say “It depends on what you need. When I need to adjust my thinking, I read Love and Respect. When I need to adjust my attitude, I read The Man You Always Wanted is the One You Already Have. And when I need to have more fun, I read The Husband Project!”

{Five Friday} Real

2012-02-03T06:14:00.000-08:00

It's Five Minute Friday.

A great reminder that we write because we want to, not because we have to. We write for fun, for joy, for discovery. It's a time to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not.

Won’t you join us?

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them.

OK, are you ready? Give us your best five minutes on:

Real

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse.

"It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.

But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

(from The Velveteen Rabbit, by Margery Williams)

Last night, you laughed at something silly I'd said. "You are so dang funny!" you told me.

And I felt real.

This morning, you turned off the 5:30 AM alarm, turned to me, and without opening your eyes (which wouldn't have mattered as it was still pitch dark) mumbled, as you do each day, "Good morning beautiful!"

And I felt real.

For too many years, I kept myself on the shelf, convinced that you didn't realize how fragile I was, how many sharp edges I have, how carefully I must be handled.

But you knew all that. And you brought me down off the shelf anyway.

After two decades, we both have a lot less hair (gone are my bad 80s perms!) We both use prescription reading glasses (you fought yours every step of the way!) You've got your knee braces, and I've got my Theraband.

We give "shabby chic" an entirely new meaning.

But "once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

We are Real.

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Worship, not Worry

2012-01-30T09:07:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

I wake up early this morning, worried about everything I've got to get done in the next month. On top of a huge To Do list, I'm battling a cold that's promising to get worse before it gets better.

Then I remember: "You didn't get up to worry; you got up to worship!"

Oh yeah. I grab my Bible, iPod, and journal. I settle in on the couch.

Now what?

Instantly, I'm ashamed for asking. How can I not know what to do next? I was raised in a Christian home, attended church weekly, spent 16 years attending Christian schools, and have taught for two decades in Christian schools.

Yet I am wondering: Exactly what is worship?

I can identify worship when I see it happening elsewhere: The praise and worship service. Worship through prayer. The entire congregation standing in worship.

But what is worship right now? Here in my quiet living room? As I sit alone?

Oh, I could go all English-teachery and pull out Webster:

wor-ship.
noun
1. reverent honor and homage paid to god or a sacred personage.
2. formal or ceremonious rendering of such honor and homage.
3. adoring reverence or regard;
verb
1. to render religious reverence and homage, as to a deity.
2. to attend services of divine worship.
3. to feel an adoring reverence or regard.

I'm not feeling much other than discomfort and foolishness right about now. I'm starting to realize how much of a "social worshipper" I am. I love being part of a worshipping group -- especially at a women's retreat -- our individual voices blended (and mine well masked!) in song.

Synergy and collaboration are my two favorite words; I love doing things together. I truly hate doing things alone. Sure, I could start singing a favorite praise song, but I loathe my voice. It's weak. Off-key. Powerless. It doesn't feel like real worship unless there's serious volume, harmony, talent.

I could raise one or both hands, but how weird is that? It's taken me years to shake off my your-hands-belong-at-your-sides conservative upbringing. For the longest time, I'd only allow one brave hand to tentatively raise while the other remained obediently plastered to my side. Now, I love throwing myself into worship with both hands raised fully in praise. But it only feels "right" in a group with others who are doing the same. Raise one or both hands, right here? right now? alone?

(I am so not even touching "dancing before the Lord"!)

But I know that I, of all people, need physical acts of worship. I may be twenty years past the death-trap of Ed (eating disorder), but I can still snap instantly into old habits of disconnecting from my body and retreating into my head, especially when I'm feeling weak or worried.

So, I look up the root words of "worship." (Yes, I know I'm stalling. Anything to stay in the comfort zone of my brain!) Interestingly enough, it's made up of the words "worth" and "-ship." The "-ship" part simply means "state of being." And a search for "Worth" brings up merit. excellence. importance. value.

Worship demonstrates what I value.

Oh, I'll tell you with my words that I don't value worrying! But the truth shows up in my actions. I woke up early because I'm so worried about everything I've got to get done. And now I've spent the last thirty minutes worrying about worship!

From a time and energy investment perspective, worry is the most valuable thing in my life. My "almighty" To Do list is my "god," and worry is my ritual for worshipping it.

I'm appalled. I can't say I'm shocked; I've only re-discovered how much of an achievement-focused Choleric zealot I really am a few hundred times in my life. But I've not seen it in this light.

Doing is my "god," and worry is my worship. This is an "ah-HA!" of the most disturbing kind.

I initially thought "Worship, not Worry" was nothing more than a cute alliterative catch phrase. Now I realize it's a baby step in a journey. Yes, I'm appalled. But I'm also in awe. Awed that the One of ultimate value follows me wherever my rationalizing mind wanders. Awed that He values me -- even when I'm busy worshipping another "god" -- enough to pursue and woo me.

I want my "worth-ship" to come down not to what I value but Who values me. And this is key to becoming a woman who is "clothed with strength and dignity", for the origin of the word "dignity" is none other than worth.

Dignity and worship go hand-in-hand.(Which makes so much sense. When am I the least dignified? When I am the most worried!)

I still don't know the "right" answer to my question: Exactly what is worship?

But I feel a song coming on. And I think that rather than worrying about how I'll sound, I'll simply worship.

I'd suggest you plug your ears, but you're not here--whew!

Anyhow, this isn't about you.
It isn't even about me.
This is about worship
and dignity.

It's about the One
who provides Refuge
and Strength
to you and to me.

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Needed: a New Heart

2012-01-27T01:00:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

My search for strength
has left me
with an
inflexible
brittle
spirit.

My quest for dignity
has taken me deep
into condescension
and
isolation.

I've held a death grip on the
illusion of control–
holding on
with everything
within me–
yet I
find myself
empty
yet again.

I'm so far past
the breaking point
that I have
nothing
left to lose.

"And I will give you a new heart, and I will put a new spirit in you. I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart." Ezekiel 36:26 (NLT)

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} My Heart May Fail, BUT...

2012-01-26T20:52:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

A year ago, wrestling with conflicting emotions over my mother's Alzheimers, I wrote

Letting Go

After bedtime, in the dark
gripping the edge of my crib
calling, calling, calling out
as I so often did:

“Mowie!
I want you!
I need you!”

Silence, looming silence,
mocks me in reply.
I raise my voice, bravely
mustering yet another try:

“Mowie!
I want you!
 I need you!”

Hours later (so it feels)
exhausted by my fears
I let go, sit down,
find my blankie,
dissolving into tears.

* * * * *

Her frail unsteady body
barracades the door.
Voice breaking, eyes glistening
she pleads with me once more:

“I don’t want to let you go!”

I clench my jaw, soothe my voice
promise to come again.
Praying that when I return
she’ll remember who I am.

* * * * *

I’m driving into darkness
helpless, lost, and small
that cried-out voice still echoing
her sad, scared, lonely call:

“Mowie!
I want you!
I need you!”

I don’t want to let you go.

Silence, brooding silence
echoes in reply.
I’ve lived so long without you
but still can’t say good bye.

Four months ago was my first visit home during which my mother did not recognize me. (After which I wrote "Unknown but Loved".)

As I shared in my Day 1 post, I'm new to grief. I find myself alternately overwhelmed by it and running as fast as I can from it.

So today, I am thankful that I do not face any of this on my own. I am thankful that although “My flesh and my heart may fail...God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Take It or Weakness

2012-01-25T01:00:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

"Do you want to get well?"

It's not a difficult question. It doesn't require a complex reply. In fact, one word will suffice.

So how come the paralytic by the pool of Bethesda responded to Jesus' question with 30 words, when one would have been enough?

"I have no one...while I am trying...someone else..."

Oh, do I ever recognize these words! When I get on a "poor me" kick, it's all about wishing others would do something for me, focusing on my weakness, and comparing myself unfavorably with others.

Offering His strength, Jesus asks me the same question: "Cheri, do you want to get well?"

And I blather, "Sir, I have so much grading to get done. My readers didn't show up last week, so I'm two weeks behind and midterms are due next week!"

He asks, "Cheri, do you want to get well?"

And I explain, "Sir, I've tried to make friends and get involved, but it never lasts."

He asks, "Cheri, do want to get well?"

And I defend, "Sir, nobody in the house understands me. I'm the only female, now that Annemarie's away at college. Daniel just don't 'get' me!"

And on it goes.

Jesus never stops asking, "Cheri, do you want to get well?" He never stops offering His strength.

At some point, I get tired of my pity party; after all, no guests show up, and there are no gifts. And I realize that Jesus isn't asking an essay question! It's a simple yes-or-no.

As I meditate on this story in John 5:1-15, I realize why I babble endlessly rather than checking "yes."

I'll have to take action.

I'll have to trust Him for strength. I'll have to pick up my mat and walk. Which is, of course, what I want...right?

I mean, who would rather live in weakness, complaining "I have no one...while I am trying...someone else..."?

His question again: "Do you want to get well?"

His standing offer: omnipotent strength.

My daily, hourly, moment-by-moment choice: take it...or weakness.

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Still the Hunger

2012-01-24T01:00:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

I have an insatiable appetite.

As a Sanguine, I long for attention and approval. I can speak for an hour to a room full of amazing women, each gifting me with her time and attention.

Afterward, I can have a crowd around me, praising my message, asking great questions, engaging in discussion. I receive all I could possibly want and more.

And still, the hunger.

As a Choleric, I desire achievement. My recent To Do list started out five pages long (12 point type, single spaced) and grew from there. I ran every errand on the list. The garage got gutted. The Murano repaired. The dog vetted. Assorted adults and teens fed high quality rations several times daily. And I even performed the impossible: I found a new teaching outfit in my size. I accomplished all I could possibly want and more.

And still, the hunger.

As a human, I seek justice. When I've been misunderstood, I want the chance to explain...and explain and explain until there's no chance of confusion. When I've been disrespected, I want an apology...and a promise of reformation. When I've been neglected (and rejected), I want to be included...and given equal status.

Yet even when I feel understood, respected, and accepted...

...still, the hunger.

"The hunger" often manifests as physical, leading me to the kitchen in search of high-carb, high-sugar "food" to ease my discomfort.

Cookies. Popcorn. Ice cream.

And still, the hunger.

I also use relationships and conversations to fill the void.

Popcorn. People. Errands. Explanations. Ice cream. I'm seen. I've been. I mean.

I am never full. Always running. On empty.

This month, I've tried -- mostly unsuccessfully -- to meditate on Psalm 16 and 17. I've came to quiet time with an agenda and a time limit. As the weeks have gotten busier and more full of surprises (mostly of the unpleasant variety!), I've had no "quiet" and very little "time."

Exhausted from trying to live on my own "strength", I finally seek Refuge. And I am, once again, amazed by the Word who has been awaiting me all along:

"I call on you, Oh God, for you will answer me; give ear to me and hear my prayer," (verse 6) speaks to my Sanguine hunger to be heard and affirmed.

"Show the wonder of your great love, you who save by your right hand" (verse 7a) . . . "Keep me as the apple of your eye, hide me in the shadow of your sings" (verse 8) . . . "Rise up, O Lord, confront [my mortal enemies], bring them down; rescue me" (verse 13a) speaks to my Choleric hunger for action.

"May my vindication come from you; may your eyes see what is right" (verse 2) speaks to my human hunger for truth.

And the words of life meant for me on this very day:

"I will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness." (verse 15b)

(My insatiable appetite can be satisfied?)

For "You still the hunger of those you cherish." (verse 14b)

Still the hunger.

I will be satisfied!

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Too Many Wrongs Don't Make Rude Right

2012-01-23T06:52:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

I’m blowing it.

Exiting my mouth are the wrong words. Said in the wrong tone. Spoken with the wrong attitude.

I’m blowing it. Big time.

I’m reacting to someone less than half my age with neither strength nor dignity.

Quite the opposite, actually. My words started at petty, declined to self-righteous, and are now careening down to face-saving.

I’m ignoring Fred Jones’ most basic rule of relating to students: When in doubt, say nothing.

I’m blowing it. Again.

Why, after almost 45 years, am I doing this, yet again? Babbling words I haven’t pondered, that I don’t even mean, but can not seem to stop myself from verbalizing?

Why can’t I just think my reactions, on the inside, rather than making them so unflatteringly, humiliatingly, mortifyingly public?

I should have seen it coming. All my pet triggers were aligning against me: stress + confusion + the sense that I’m being threatened, mocked, or disrespected.

I should have paused to collect my thoughts. To reflect. To check my perceptions. To receive alternate viewpoints.

But, no, my mouth opens. And words that should stay in the privacy of my own mind spill out in real time for an audience.

At a target.

In this case, it's a student, but it could just as easily be my husband or children.

Over at the M.O.M. Initiative, Teri Lynne Underwood opens her blog post "Are You a Polite Parent?" with this question:

“What if submission begins with simply being polite?”

Oh, I’d like to consider myself a polite parent, teacher, and spouse.

But at times like this – when I’m in “fire! ready, aim” mode – I know I am anything but. I am not “clothed in strength and dignity.” Instead of laughing at the future, I am a laughingstock.

When I'm rude like this, I exhibit a "me-first" attitude, acting as if I am "god."

Oh, to learn, once and for all, the lesson of Psalm 46:10(a), which does not say, “React immediately and stand up for yourself!” nor does it say, “Open your mouth and demolish the enemy!”

In the NIV, Psalm 46:10(a) says,"Be still and know that I am God."

Other translations word it, "Cease striving and know that I am God"(NAS) and "Let go [of your concerns]! Then you will know that I am God." (GOD'S WORD)

Be still = to let fall...to be relaxed...not making an effort...not putting forth exertion...being without anxiety.

I say I want to be relaxed. Exertion-free. Without anxiety.

Yet when prime opportunities arise for me to be still, to cease striving, to let go, I barrel forward at breakneck speed to take out my opponent.

I need a new target.

A new goal. An entirely different paradigm, actually: One in which the pause to be polite becomes my "knee-jerk" reaction.

I need to practice the pause. I need to create safe space for reflection.

Politeness – responding to people with strength and dignity – must become more important than my so-called "rightness."

Today, may I practice politeness and, in so doing, know that You are God...my only true Strength.

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Clothing Choices

2012-01-20T07:55:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

On Wednesday, Kate @Teaching What Is Good blessed me with this insightful comment:

As I was reading your post the idea stuck in my head that she is "clothed" with strength and dignity.

It is not something that she IS, it is a garment that God gives her to wear.

Intrigued, I did a scripture search for "clothed."

In Genesis 3:21, we find the first incident of humans being clothed: "The LORD God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them."

Notice who does the initial clothe-ing: God does.

When I accept His clothe-ing, I am clothed with salvation (2 Chronicles 6:41), joy (Psalm 30:11), gladness (Psalm 65:12), righteousness (Psalm 132:9), strength and dignity (Proverbs 31:25), and power from on high (Luke 24:49).

Best of all, I am clothed with Christ (Galatians 3:26-28)!

In Revelation 16:15 comes the warning, “Look, I come like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake and remains clothed, so as not to go naked and be shamefully exposed.”

Notice who can remove His clothe-ing: I can.

When I remove His clothe-ing, I am clothed in shame (Job 8:22), disgrace (Psalm 109:29), and terror (Ezekiel 7:18).

David describes shame with an especially tactile simile: "wrapped up in shame as in a cloak." (Psalm 109:29)

I choose my clothe-ing.

Wrapped up in myself.

Or wrapped up in Him.

{10 Days of Proverbs 31) Fertilize or Fester?

2012-01-19T01:00:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

Yesterday, I wrote:
I'm going to stop trying so incredibly hard to be strong.

"I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge..." Psalm 91:2&4(a)

I'm going to seek Refuge. Which is, paradoxically, the only place to find Strength.

Today, I realize that the decision to stop running and start seeking Refuge means that the thing I've been running from now has time to catch up with me.

And what I've been running from, what I've been striving for strength to avoid, is grief.

My friend Georgia Shaffer, in Taking Out Your Emotional Trash writes

Whether it takes months or years, our grief decomposes into rich nourishing soil for a new life.

Two questions come to mind for me:

#1) What does a healthy grief process look and sound and feel like?

I'm a rookie when it comes to grief; I have little experience and no skill. My brother and I agree that we weren't taught how to deal with "negative" emotions while growing up.

We now spend our days immersed in other people's emotions; he's a therapist, and I'm an educator. But we struggle to correctly identify even the most basic of our own feelings. (Recognizing "I feel sad right now" is a major victory!)

When I was five, our maternal grandfather died suddenly of a heart attack. During my sixth grade year, our family dog was struck and killed by a car. Three weeks into my first year of teaching, our maternal grandma passed away. Over the next several years, our father's mother succumbed slowly to the ravages of Alzheimer's Disease.

I remember what we did for each of these events. We went through the appropriate motions. And then we moved on. There was no mentoring in dealing with the aftermath of loss.

Now, each time I visit my parents, my mother's Alzheimer's Disease is worse and my father looks frailer. I am daily moving closer to the two greatest losses of my life. My children will learn from me how to mourn the loss of their beloved Nana and Papa. How will I model a process for which I have so little experience and no skill?

#2) When I fail to grieve, what happens instead?

My losses have not led to grief (and thus, nor to its decomposition "into rich nourishing soil for a new life.")

Instead, my losses have evoked bitterness. And over time, bitterness festers. Putrefies. Stagnates.

Grief has an active ebb and flow; it keeps moving and eventually breaks all the way down.

But as I stew in bitterness, it multiplies. Depression develops into a top scum, a "protective" barrier. Hostility takes root beneath. Vengeance breeds in the depths. Sarcasm bubbles up. A new life will never grow in this environment.

Yet I desire the "new life" to which Georgia refers! So, I've been experimenting with grief lately.

I've been reading about loss...instead of avoiding it. Journaling about sadness throughout my life...instead of dismissing it with sarcasm. Writing prayer poems that allow me to linger inside sorrowful moments...instead of pretending that "going through the motions" ever was–or ever will be–enough to help me move on.

I still have very little experience and hardly any skill with grief. But I'm making progress, which is a huge improvement over standing still, stewing in the brackish waters of bitterness.

Grief, I'm finding, has an ebb and flow much like the ocean. Sometimes, without warning, it overwhelms me and pulls me under. I lose control–or at least the illusion of control!–and panic. What if I never get back up for air?

Recently, I lingered at Starbucks to do some "lite" prayer journaling; instead, I wept through the birth of a new poem. Several waves of sadness were so strong, I began to panic: What if I stop breathing? Should I run for the car? Do I need psychiatric help?

But as I reached the poem's end, the emotions had run their course. I felt an unaccustomed calm.

As I re-read the images and metaphors and juxtapositions I'd used to explore an old sorrow, I knew that this was no mere "going through the motions."

I still felt sad. But I also felt hope, for I'd come to new understandings. Experienced new insights. Discovered new perspectives I'd not seen when my eyes were so firmly fixed inward, bent solely on my own bitterness.

This was renewal.

One step out of the pond of bitterness.

One step toward a new life.

A new life in which running is replaced by Refuge.

In which I declare, even through tears, "I love you, Lord, my strength." Psalm 18:1

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{10 Days of Proverbs 31} Stop Seeking Strength

2012-01-18T01:00:00.000-08:00

"She is clothed with strength and dignity..." Proverbs 31:25(a)

I'm simultaneously losing my mother to Alzheimer's and launching my soon-to-be 21-year-old daughter into adulthood.

I'm struggling with both.

C.S. Lewis writes, "No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." I so get what he means.

And I'm disappointed in myself for being such a cry-baby and scaredy-cat.

You see, I'd hoped that by mid-life, I'd be a shining example of how to handle these necessary losses with the "strength and dignity" of the legendary Proverbs 31 woman.

Most days, though, I'm more like a poster girl for How Not to _____ (fill in the blank with "Parent" or "Teach" or "Be a Supportive Helpmeet" or "Be a Good Daughter".)

I feel like the weak link at work and at home. I'm disappointed by my own weakness, at a time when so many need me to be strong.

One of my students recently shared his courageous testimony about losing his mother to cancer when he was in elementary school. He stood tall and strong at the podium, voice steady, words powerful, message gripping.

I wept.

In fact, I don't think I've stopped weeping -- inwardly, at least -- and that was more than a month ago.

Psalm 46:1 says "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble."

The order is vital: first refuge.
Then strength.

I get it backwards.

In my Choleric frenzy for action, I bargain with God to borrow a bit more strength. And I miss what I need most.

I miss the Refuge.

I read countless books about parenting young adults and supporting aging parents.

But I miss the Refuge.

I go to women's group and church potluck and staff meeting, seeking friendship and comfort.

And I still miss The Refuge.

The lyrics to Precious Lord–"I am tired, I am weak, and I am worn"–so describe me right about now.

Trying to do the "strength" thing on my own isn't working. The stronger I try to be, the weaker I seem to get.

So today, I'm going to stop trying so incredibly hard to be strong.

"I will say of the LORD, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.' He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge..." Psalm 91:2&4(a)

Today, I'm going to seek Refuge.

Which is, paradoxically, the only place to find Strength.

* * * * *

13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

What is the M.O.M. Initiative?

2012-01-16T08:10:00.000-08:00

While many women dream of being the perfect mom who has all the right answers, never raises her voice, and never has to count to three, we all know it’s not always easy being a mom. Those sweet, little bundles of joy don’t come packaged with instruction manuals or warning labels and moms are often left to figure it out on their own.

The M.O.M. Initiative is an acrostic for Mothers On a Mission to Mentor Other Mothers. It is a group of moms and a package of resources to equip, enable, and support women as they experience Titus 2 in real life. We want to help moms become the best moms they can possibly be.

The Website

The M.O.M. Initiative website offers virtual encouragement for real life moms. The website exists as safe place to grow as a mother, to gain a better understanding of what a mother is and what a mother does and to foster and support mentor/mentee relationships.

Along with practical tips, helpful tools, godly wisdom and informative insight on current issues, The M.O.M. Initiative website also offers a private chat room where a mom can connect with a virtual mentor and find help in times of need. The website offers help for the mentor as well as the mentee.

The articles on The M.O.M. Initiative website are provided by a wonderful group of moms who are passionate about ministering to the hearts of mothers. Some are writers, speakers, counselors, nurses, or experts in their fields, yet they all devote much time and effort to serving other mothers in whatever season of life they find themselves.

The Workbook

The M.O.M. Initiative workbook is being developed to serve as a tool in the hands of Christian moms to help foster mentoring relationships beyond the four walls of the church and take Titus 2 to the streets. It will be an eight week study containing five lessons per week.

Each day the mentee will be presented with biblical truths as well as mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and developmental needs of a child. She will also gain insight through thought provoking questions encouraging her to implement proactive mothering techniques.

The workbook will also provide a M.O.M. mentor guide and a missional planning guide in the back of the book.

Summed up, The M.O.M. Initiative is a missional mentoring package of resources that will give Christian mothers an easy, hands-on approach to passionately pursue mentor relationships with younger mothers and mothers-to-be, and ultimately impact the next generation for Christ.

How Did The M.O.M. Initiative Get Started?

The M.O.M. Initiative was birthed from founder, Stephanie Shott’s own story. At the age of nineteen, she was a single mom. Without Christ and without a mentor, she made a series of serious choices that affected her precious young son. After becoming a Christian five years later, she learned being a mom is much more than a three letter word and a handful of sacrifices. She also realized the significance of Titus 2:4-5.

What’s the Vision for The M.O.M. Initiative?

We believe that if the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world, then the church that mentors those hands will win it.

The primary vision for The M.O.M. Initiative is that it not only be limited to those who enter the four walls of the church, but that it also be used to facilitate mentor relationships in homes for unwed mothers, in low income housing projects, apartment complexes, homeless shelters, prisons, juvenile shelters, schools, hospitals, the mission field and anywhere young mothers can be found. (Planning guides for each of these venues will be available in the back of the book.)

The M.O.M. Initiative is not just a book. It’s not just a website. IT’S A REVOLUTION!

We are mothers on a mission to mentor other mothers and we really want to change the world one mom at a time! Won’t you join us?

To learn more, you can visit our website at: The M.O.M. Initiative

To join the revolution and become a M.O.M. Mentor, please click here.

No matter what age you are, from very young mother to a grandmother, there is great take-away to use for yourself or to share with others. Hope you’ll hop over and take a look!

Starting Monday: 10 Days of Proverbs 31

2012-01-13T20:44:00.000-08:00

Starting Monday, I -- along with others listed below -- will blogging a 10-day series on different aspects of Proverbs 31.

Gotta admit, I'm a bit nervous (okay, more like completely petrified!) when it comes to Proverbs 31. I'm drawn to the gospel stories of Jesus reaching out to broken, hurting women. I tend to tippy-toe around Bible chapters that list expectation after expectation after expectation.

I'll be writing daily on "strength and dignity." This is ironic, considering that this week I've exhibited anything but.

Yet, I trust God has something(s) He wants to teach me on this 10-day journey.

Won't you join us and see what He has in store for you?

* * * * *
13 Bloggers, 13 topics, 1 Great God:

Contributing to Family Income / 2 Better Than 1

The Fear of the Lord / Satisfied by Love

Using Time Wisely / Blessed Beyond Measure

Taking Care of Needy / Shadow Wonder

Using Money Wisely / Jennifer Sikora

Keeping an Eye on Home / Just a Glimpse

She can Laugh at the Days Ahead / faith filled food for moms

Clothed in Strength and Dignity / One thing I’ve Learned

Taking Care of Others/ 2 savvy gals

Being Creative / A Patchwork Mommy

Bringing Variety to Family / Karen Dawkins

Extending your Hand to the Poor / Women’s Fellowship House

Organization / Teaching What is Good

{Five Minute Friday} Roar

2012-01-06T07:57:00.000-08:00

The engines whine to life. With a thrust and roar, we take off. I am off the ground, airborne.

In the relentless rumbling and roaring of traffic on the 10 freeway, my tiny rental car rattles toward "home."

Ravenous emotions gnaw at my heart. I paste a smile and chirp, "Hello, Mother!" to a dwindling woman who seems vaguely pleased by a new face.

Cacophonous memories assault my attempts to "be here" for...her? for Daddy? for me?

Eternally short days later, I toss and turn in my own bed, listening to ocean waves crash.

I am home, but the roar echos on.

Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime: for a Sanguine

2011-12-06T08:00:00.000-08:00

At last, my 4th and final Top Ten {Tuesday} blog post on gift-giving for each Personality!

If you've come over for Wifey Wednesday, welcome! (And feel free to check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.)

* * * * *

Three weeks from today, Christmas tree skirts will be empty, trash cans stuffed, and many credit cards maxed.

What do you want to feel, after the frenzy of wrapping paper tearing -- and the ooooh-ing and ahhhh-ing -- is done: Relief that it's all over? Regret over the money spent?

Or satisfaction for time well-invested and gratitude for blessings beyond price?

One more time: Gift-giving shouldn't be panic-producing; it should be fun!

Over the last three weeks, we've been looking at custom-tailored gifts for each Melancholy, Phlegmatic, and Choleric Personality on your shopping list.

Today, we finally turn our attention to the Personality that's been wondering, week in and week out, "When's she gonna finally talk about ME?!?"

Keeping in mind that your Sanguine's primary goal in life is fun, and that her primary emotional needs are attention, affection, approval, and acceptance, a real gift from your heart could be...

10. Laugh Together.

Borrow DVDs of comedians, relax on the couch, and chuckle along. Our family loves Ken Kington, Michael Junior, Taylor Mason, and Ken Davis. We've watched them dozens of times, and they're funnier each time!

Read comic books together. When Daniel and I were expecting Annemarie, we devoured For Better or For Worse books. As the kids moved through toddler and elementary years, we followed Calvin and Hobbes faithfully. Once they hit their teens, we became Zits devotees.

Listen to npr together. For years, Daniel and I had a weekly ritual of listening to Car Talk and howling together at the outrageous antics of Click and Clack, the Tappet brothers.

What other ways can you think of to tickle your Sanguine's funny bone for free?

9. Laugh AT Them.

Audience laugher is a powerful opiate for a Sanguine.

When Jonathon was four months old, it took me thirty minutes to dress him because he had just learned to laugh. Every movement, every sound, every facial expression I made prompted fresh bursts of belly laughter. I couldn't get enough!

Inside each Sanguine is a stand-up comedian dying to get out and find an audience, any audience. Laugh at me, and you'll trigger my inner Sally Fields euphoria: "You like me! You like me! You really like me!"

There's pretty much nothing a Sanguine won't do to get a laugh. After a recent women's retreat, I told my family how much the audience had laughed at an especially embarrassing story I'd told about myself.

"Mom," sighed Jonathon, "you'll share anything as long as it'll get a laugh, won't you."

Duh!

(Caveat: I'm not advocating mockery. If you don't know your Sanguine well enough to sense the difference between "laughing at" and mocking, skip this one.)

8. Speak Words of Affirmation.

Your Sanguine's primary love language is words of affirmation.

I may have just kept 300 teachers laughing hysterically at a conference, but I still love hearing Daniel say, "You're so darn funny!"

You may be having a great day shopping with your BFF, but she still wants to hear,"I am so glad we're friends!"

If a husband is working through the "honey-do" list, he wants to hear, "I don't know what I'd do without you."

And a parent who's gotten the kids fed, bathed, read to, and tucked in bed really wants to hear, "You're an amazing Mom/Dad!"

Don't assume your Sanguine knows what you're thinking or feeling or worry about inflating their ego. Say what's on your mind, and watch them thrive on your words!

7. Self-Edit (Then Speak).

The Sanguine is the most NTN Personality: No Test Needed. In-your-face. Over-the-top. Force of nature. Larger than life.

So it's easy to assume that you can cleverly "bring him down a notch" or teasingly "cut her down to size."

Yes, I laugh at put-downs disguised as jokes. They're a form of attention, after all. I will take bad breath over no breath at all, any day. I'll even join in, as self-deprication is my type of humor; it's also my best cover for digs that go too deep.

But realizing the power of words, and choosing to leave hurtful ones un-said, is an especially generous gift for a Sanguine. He's already been called "motor-mouth," "dummy," and "nuisance." She's already been labeled "air-head," "pollyanna," and "pest."

Take care not to add your voice to the echo of wounding words.

6. Invite Them.  

Multi-level marketing companies make millions of dollars each year by inviting Sanguines to join. And I've happily whipped out my checkbook at least a dozen times. $200 for a kit is a small price to pay for instant membership.

You can remove the price tag from belonging: Just invite, no strings attached.

Invite her for a cup of hot chocolate and a chat. Invite him to borrow equipment. Invite her to run errands with you. Invite him to be part of the praise and worship team.

In a new social setting, Daniel often invites me to (re)tell one of my favorite "same old stories." Even though he could tell it word-for-word (and with greater factual accuracy!), he still listens and laughs, drawing me into the new group.

For a Sanguine, an offer of belonging is an irresistible invitation!

5. Take a "Mystery Trip."

The point of a "mystery trip" isn't the destination. The point is the excitement of having a trip planned for me and the anticipation of the fun we'll have along the way.

Keep things cheap and easy.

Fill a couple of thermoses with hot chocolate, hop in the car, crank up the Christmas carols, and drive down "Christmas Tree Lane" together.

Or pack a sack supper and go to the mall, cameras in hand, for some "Photo-Shopping" together. When you return home, make PowerPoint wish lists.

For non-Sanguines, remember that perfection and achievement are not the goals of a "mystery trip." Having fun together is the goal.

If things "go wrong", relax and roll with it. No parking spots? If you vent your frustration, you'll spoil the fun.

Daniel's best move at times like this? He reaches over, grabs my hand, and says, "This just means I get to spend more time with you!" (I've learned to ignore the clenched teeth!)

4. Do a Chore Together.

I am the world's worst homemaker.

I hate cleaning. I hate cooking. I hate having guests over.

Cleaning is dull, boring, solitary work. Cooking takes forever, which means my kitchen becomes an isolation chamber. Having guests over is a double whammy: I have to clean alone and cook alone.

All that said, I love company!

Join me in the cleaning, and we'll have a party! Join me in the kitchen, and we'll make Disneyland the 2nd Happiest Place on Earth! Bring a potluck dish and promise not to check for dust, and you're welcome in my home any day, any hour!

Partner with your Sanguine on a chore, and you'll turn boring into a blessing!

3. Re-Fill Their Love Cup.

Each Sanguine has a Love Cup...with a crack. For some, it's a hairline split; for others, it's a jagged gash.

So a Sanguine's Love Cup always has a leak, whether a trickle or a gush. They need constant re-filling.

This is a tall order. (Sanguines aren't for sissies!)

Years ago, I read about a man who ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to his wife each week. No personal note, no loving words, no special treatment to accompany the flowers. Just a weekly regimen of red roses.

While this might sound like the ideal solution -- set up a routine and let it run -- it's the worst possible scenario. Far worse than a completely empty love cup is the sense of being such a burden that a system is required.

Keep re-filling as honestly and spontaneously as you can. You don't need to fix the crack or keep the Love Cup full.

Just keep re-filling.

2. Be All Ears.

When Annemarie was old enough to walk and talk, I felt stalked.

She'd start telling me a story. As the story got longer, I'd try to escape upstairs with the laundry; surely, she wouldn't follow me up there?

But here she'd come, toddle, toddle, toddle, one-step-at-a-time, following me room-to-room, starting her story over and over again.

As a Sanguine, she's relentless. She will keep talking until she feels heard. And she won't feel heard until she has not just my ears but my eyes, too.

We finally compromised. I'd pile up the clean laundry between us -- so she could see my face -- and I'd sort and fold as she talked. Once she finally got me to listen to her entire story, she'd prance off.

I told this story while speaking to a MOPS group one day and then came home for lunch. Daniel was home, so I started telling him about how much fun the MOPS moms had been.

He finished his sandwich and headed to his studio, but I wasn't done talking, so I followed him. While I talked, he did what he needed to do in his studio and headed to the bathroom. (I did not follow him there!)

But as I sat on our bed, waiting for him to come out so I could keep talking, I realized: Sanguines never outgrow the need to be heard.

We will keep talking. We will follow you wherever you go.

If you listen, we will finally finish.

(And then we'll leave you alone.)

1. Include Them.

At 6:00 AM a few years ago, our cat, Dusty, leaped onto our bed, landing squarely on my forehead. I screamed, and she dug in, using my head as her launching pad.

I was lucky to escape with only one long, jagged, bloody gash down my forehead. Unfortunately, we had no neosporin ointment at home. I had four classes to teach before I could make a Target run, and I didn't want the wound to close up.

The red line down the middle of my forehead created quite the sensation all morning. Students pointed, gasped, and gaped. Colleagues kept asking, "Do you realize you're bleeding?"

I finally got neosporin, covered the offending red line with Band-aids, and life went back to normal.

A few days later, a faculty member approached Daniel with the idea of having all staff members draw red marker lines down the middle of their foreheads for that week's staff meeting.

Daniel, who as a Melancholy/Phlegmatic hates pranks, threw up a red light to the idea, afraid I'd be humiliated.

But I love, love, love just the idea, even though it never came to fruition. I love imagining a room full of my colleagues, red penned lines saying, in effect, "You're one of us!"

And I am thrilled that They like me! They like me! They really like me! enough to come up with a crazy idea like that...for me.

* * * * *

For non-Sanguine personalities, none of these may feel gift-worthy. Who cares about laughter or belonging or anticipation? Your Sanguine, that's who! These gifts send the subtle message,

"I understand that fun, attention, affection, approval, and acceptance are vital to you. Rather than ignoring these needs and hoping they go away, I'm choosing to find ways to meet them because I love you. You're important to me, so what's important to you becomes important to me."

This kind of support in action is a fabulous gift for a Sanguine!

* * * * *

Part 1: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Melancholy

Part 2: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Phlegmatic

Part 3: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Choleric

Marriage Monday: The Proposal

2011-12-05T05:53:00.000-08:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and today we're telling our engagement stories!

* * * * *

Now, I know you're asking yourself: How on earth did she get so lucky?

I pinch myself regularly and wonder How did I get so lucky?

And then I recall October 11, 1987...

Daniel and I started dating on February 11, 1986, three weeks after meeting in the A-G registration line, winter quarter our freshman year of college. We knew that we were -- as one observer put it -- "playing for keeps" immediately.

He insists he was attracted to my intelligence. All I know is that when I turned around in that line to see who was cracking such funny jokes, I gazed into the most amazing blue eyes and...and...and...

By our junior year, we sought Godly council regarding marrying before graduating. When I met with our pastor's wife, she said, "Before we talk about whatever you came to discuss with me, may I ask how soon you and Daniel are going to get married?" The pastors, deans, and teachers we spoke with were cautiously supportive.

So when Daniel invited me to dinner on October 11 -- 11 months before our ideal wedding date of September 11, 1988 -- and suggested that I wear the new blue dress I'd made, I suspected he had more on his mind than the Killer [garlic] Bread at Swan's Court Cafe in Napa.

After more-awkward-than-usual small talk during appetizers, I excused myself to the restroom. When I returned, a scroll was waiting on my clean plate.

"What is this?" I asked.

"You'll have to read it and find out," Daniel replied.

Daniel watched intently as I read the scroll and mentally connected the illuminated letters to spell the words WILL YOU MARRY ME?

I whispered my tearful reply, at which my shy, introverted, Melancholy boyfriend...er...fiance stood up, raised both arms in "field goal" position, and shouted, "She said YES!"

The entire restaurant broke out in applause, as I, ever the Sanguine, basked in the attention, dazzled by Daniel's willingness to leap so far out of his comfort zone for me.

The matre d' came by with a complementary bottle of wine, which we exchanged for Martinelli's and toasted to eternity together.

Later that night, as I shared my exciting news with all my girlfriends, we heard the rumble of male voices shouting.

"They've got him!" I squealed, and bolted for the dorm front door. Dashing down the amphitheater stairs, across the parking lot, down the gym stairs, I made it to the perfect observation point looking down on the swimming pool.

Eager to observe the Men of Grainger engagement ritual "baptism" of my doomed groom-to-be, I failed to notice that I'd been seen. Five minutes later -- after giving the dean our "begrudging" consent -- Daniel and I were ceremonially tossed into the pool together.

A week later, we drove to Southern California so Daniel could have a formal man-to-man conversation with my father. After a weekend of painful silences -- and when he could stall no longer because of the imminent nine hour drive back to school -- Daniel blurted out, "So, what would you say if I asked for the hand of your daughter in marriage?"

To which my father replied, with a straight face and a twinkle in his eye, "If you want to know, you'll have to ask me!"

Here we are during our wedding-planning year. Impossible to believe they let such babies get married, isn't it?

Our official engagement photo, which we had printed on the tissues inserted in our wedding invitations:

And this is the handsome face I see whenever I look at my husband of 23+ years and ask myself, once again, How did I get so lucky?

And I thank God that I am so blessed.

Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Choleric

2011-11-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

It's four weeks 'til Christmas Day...28 shopping days 'til all Christmas Gift Lists need to be fully checked off.

Perhaps you took full advantage of Black Friday. Or maybe the thought of venturing into the crowds is enough to set off an anxiety attack.

Gift-giving shouldn't be panic-producing; it should be fun!

In last week's Top Ten {Tuesday} blog, I shared gift ideas custom-tailored for the Phlegmatic Personalities on your shopping list. The week prior, we focused on the gifts-from-the-heart for Melancholy Personalities.

For this week's Top Ten {Tuesday}, I'm focusing on our Choleric (the "Powerful Personality") loved ones, who often appear so "together" that we wonder if we have anything of value to offer them. (We do!)

Keeping in mind that your Choleric's primary goal in life is control, and that her primary emotional needs are responsibility, achievement, appreciation, and loyalty, a real gift from your heart could be...

10. Offer to Take Orders.

Welcome any time, this gift is especially valuable when a Choleric is feeling overwhelmed. Bossing you around will give him a small sense of control; he’ll feel more hopeful immediately.

Annemarie often helps in my classroom. It’s amazing how much “stuff” she can de-clutter, how much trash she can throw out, and how many books she can re-organize in 60 minutes...and how much better I feel when she’s done!

So if you’re willing, say, “I have an hour during which I will do whatever you tell me.”

If he’s to overwhelmed to even know what he needs, try #3; or invite him to think it over, and then come back later.

9. Request “Expert” Help.

When I considered attending the Desire Conference, I asked Kathi if I could help her in any way. Attending alone, I knew that I’d feel -- and look! -- purposeless and foolish.

Kathi graciously invited me to help with her book table, “because you know my books so well!” Armed with a clearly defined role, I happily registered, arrived early, fulfilled my purpose, and never once felt foolish!

A Choleric wants to feel needed in a social setting. Give her a specific responsibility, preferably a task she is especially qualified to do. She will be far more at ease than if all she's supposed to do is “show up” (and then what?)

8. Share Time-Saving Tools.

Do not accidentally imply that your suggestion is necessary due to your Choleric's ineptitude! Be clear that you’re making the suggestion because they are so capable and so busy.

Try something like, “Because I know you ______, I thought of you when ______.”   

I've said to fellow teachers, “Because I know that you like to teach vocabulary in context, I thought of you when I ran across VocabProfile. Copy and paste any text into it, and it'll tell you which words are in the 1st K, 2nd K, on the Academic Word List, and which are Off List.”

I’ve just started using Evernote, and I'm going to suggest it to all my Choleric colleagues who collect articles, images, comics, etc. Multiple tags for individual items means powerful storage and sorting!

Important caveat: No matter how certain you are that your suggested tool will revolutionize a life, simply share and back away. It’s virtually impossible to create a “teachable moment” with a Choleric. Your gift is in the sharing...not the results!

7. Public Acknowledgement.

I’ll never forget walking on stage to receive a major award during a Discovery Toys Convention.

The company founder looked me in the eye, smiled broadly, and said, “I am so proud of you!”

As I hugged the Vice President of Sales, he said, “When you look out at the audience, you’ll see what a standing ovation looks like!” He then grandly led me to center stage, gestured forward, and I saw thousands of women on their feet, cheering and clapping, for me.

None of them knew me. All they knew was that I had worked hard, very hard. And instead of resenting me, these women stood to say that what’d I’d done mattered.

Not all Cholerics like the spotlight. But most crave to know that their efforts matter. “We couldn’t have _________ without ________!” is sweet music to Choleric ears.

6. Stand Up For Me & Stand By Me.  

Because of their driven nature, Cholerics can come across as independent, even arrogant. Acquaintances frequently watch for moments of weakness to “show them they’re not all that.” Even friends often back away at the first signs of difficulty, letting them trip, fall, and get back up on their own.

Almost nineteen years ago, I walked far too calmly into the Labor and Delivery ward. Nobody called my doctor; Daniel was sent downstairs to the Admitting Department.

After a torturous solo hour of transitional labor without epidural and moments from an emergency C-section, I cried to the attending physician, “I can’t push!”

“You have to!” he yelled.

“If my wife says she can’t push,” Daniel thundered, striding into the room and elbowing through the hastily-assembled crowd of specialists, “then you will accept that she can’t push!”

Jonathon was born moments later. But I remember December 13 as the day Daniel stood up for me and stood by me when I could do nothing for myself.

5. Allow for More than One Right.

When our Fontana house was being built, Daniel and I got into an argument over the spelling of our street name.

He knew it was Toulumne while I insisted it was Toulumme. I had practiced the spelling aloud hundreds of times, specifically so I would not get it wrong.

We finally drove to the development, simultaneously shouted, “See!?!” in triumph...while pointing at different signs. Daniel became even more upset, because two different signs with two different spellings should not exist. I, on the other hand, was vastly relieved that I was not wrong.

Instead of going toe-to-toe with a Choleric, consider that she may be looking at a different street sign, spelled a slightly different way.

Allowing for more than one right allows for two winners and no loser.

4. Laud Their Lists.

A listless Choleric is a contradiction in terms. Show me a Choleric, and in her purse, on her refrigerator, in her notebook, or on the back of an envelope she will have a list.

I like knowing what's expected of me, and I love knowing I've fulfilled - and preferably exceeded! - those expectations. Making and checking lists helps me make sure nothing falls through the cracks.

Protect your Choleric from ignoramuses who think calling someone "anal-retentive" demonstrates comedic talent. Such a label misses the point entirely.

I don't keep lists because I'm hypervigilant about details. I make lists because of the adrenalin rush I get each time I put a "check" next to a completed task!

(And, of course, when I do a task that's not on the list...I write it in so that I can check that one off, too!)

3. Be a Sounding Board.

With several projects going on simultaneously, a Choleric will often get bogged down but not readily recognize why.

Many Cholerics are auditory processors; they don’t need to see a flow chart, but they do need to hear their own train of thought as they explain it to someone else.

When Daniel says, "So, tell me about everything you've got going," he demonstrates powerful, selflessness generosity.

And within minutes, I'm saying things like, “So that's what I should do next!” and “I knew there was a hang-up I wasn’t seeing; that's it!”

Your listening facilitates your Choleric's self-discovery of clear thoughts and next steps.

2. Detailed “Thank You.”

Many people find a Choleric so intimidating that they make the excuse, "Oh, he already knows what a great job he did; he certainly doesn't need to hear it from me!"

Oh yes, he does. More than you can imagine. He doesn't actually need to hear about the "great job" he did; he needs to hear about how his efforts impacted you, specifically.

I keep thank-you notes from former students in my wallet. All I have to do is open one up and read the words, "I'm writing to say 'thank you' for..." and I am re-energized. Not because the student "liked" me but because they reminded me that I do make a difference.

Jot down few sentences detailing the difference a Choleric's influence has made in your life. Deliver it via e-mail, USPS, or face-to-face over a mocha at Starbucks.

(For everything else, there's Master Card.)

1. Assume Positive Intent.

Annemarie read through this list as I was brainstorming and gave a hearty "Amen!" to this final gift, saying:

"I'm really not a horribly witchy person. I mean for things to go well and have no idea how they go so terribly wrong.

I'll be all proud of what I've done and then find out that everyone else is ticked off and hurt. Then it's all terrible, just terrible, and I don't even know why."

Poor child, she comes by it honestly! I frequently become so task focused that I simply don't see the wake of dead bodies behind me.

When your Choleric has "bull-in-the-China-shop" moments (or days), trust that the original plan only involved action, not collateral damage.

* * * * *

For non-Choleric personalities, none of these may feel gift-worthy. Who cares about recognition or lists or time-savers? Your Choleric, that's who! These gifts send the subtle message,

"I understand that control, responsibility, achievement, appreciation, and loyalty are vital to you. Rather than ignoring these needs and hoping they go away, I'm choosing to find ways to meet them because I love you. You're important to me, so what's important to you becomes important to me."

This kind of understanding in action is a validating gift for a Choleric!

* * * * *

Part 1: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Melancholy

Part 2: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Phlegmatic

Part 4: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Sanguine

"NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 3)

2011-11-29T05:00:00.000-08:00

CAPSO 2011 Session E29: "NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 3)

Presenters:
Daniel Gregory & Cheri Gregory

Session Description:
Technology takes teaching to a whole new level.

Curious about how other teachers are using technology? We’ll demonstrate how we use numerous technology tools and a plethora of programs, websites, and services in our Math/Religion, and English classrooms.

Interested in offering multiple-intelligence / brain-based learning / differentiated instruction options for your students? We’ll explore the steps we go through to develop a variety of technology-based “project” options that allow students to work in their areas of personal strengths/interests while also meeting rigorous curricular requirements.

Toying with implementing a class blog, discussion forum, or content management system? We’ll look at advantages to and methods for adding asynchronous learning components to traditional face-to-face classes. And we’ll discuss the vital role teachers now play in helping students practice proper online etiquette and responsible virtual citizenship.

And we’ll acknowledge the dark side to technolgy as we consider the very real dangers of allowing technology to take us “too close to the sun.”

* * * * *

Part 3: Ning

"NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 2)

2011-11-29T04:30:00.000-08:00

CAPSO 2011 Session E29: "NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 2)

Presenters:
Daniel Gregory & Cheri Gregory

Session Description:
Technology takes teaching to a whole new level.

Curious about how other teachers are using technology? We’ll demonstrate how we use numerous technology tools and a plethora of programs, websites, and services in our Math/Religion, and English classrooms.

Interested in offering multiple-intelligence / brain-based learning / differentiated instruction options for your students? We’ll explore the steps we go through to develop a variety of technology-based “project” options that allow students to work in their areas of personal strengths/interests while also meeting rigorous curricular requirements.

Toying with implementing a class blog, discussion forum, or content management system? We’ll look at advantages to and methods for adding asynchronous learning components to traditional face-to-face classes. And we’ll discuss the vital role teachers now play in helping students practice proper online etiquette and responsible virtual citizenship.

And we’ll acknowledge the dark side to technolgy as we consider the very real dangers of allowing technology to take us “too close to the sun.”

* * * * *

Part 2: iClicker

"NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 1)

2011-11-29T03:00:00.001-08:00

CAPSO 2011 Session E29: "NoodleTools, Blogger, YouTube, and Nings: How is Technology Giving Us Wings?" (Part 1)

Presenters:
Daniel Gregory & Cheri Gregory

Session Description:
Technology takes teaching to a whole new level.

Curious about how other teachers are using technology? We’ll demonstrate how we use numerous technology tools and a plethora of programs, websites, and services in our Math/Religion, and English classrooms.

Interested in offering multiple-intelligence / brain-based learning / differentiated instruction options for your students? We’ll explore the steps we go through to develop a variety of technology-based “project” options that allow students to work in their areas of personal strengths/interests while also meeting rigorous curricular requirements.

Toying with implementing a class blog, discussion forum, or content management system? We’ll look at advantages to and methods for adding asynchronous learning components to traditional face-to-face classes. And we’ll discuss the vital role teachers now play in helping students practice proper online etiquette and responsible virtual citizenship.

And we’ll acknowledge the dark side to technolgy as we consider the very real dangers of allowing technology to take us “too close to the sun.”

* * * * *

Part 1: NoodleTools

Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Phlegmatic

2011-11-22T12:00:00.000-08:00

Black Friday is almost upon us.

On this day, many normally sane humans will forfeit sleep, join frenzied crowds, and fork over funds for stuff nobody needs. Then they'll brag about what great deals they got and how much they "saved."

Gift-giving shouldn't be frenetic; it should be fun!

In last week's Top Ten {Tuesday} blog, I shared gift ideas custom-tailored for the Melancholy Personalities on your shopping list.

This week, I'm focusing on our Phlegmatic (the "Peaceful Personality") loved ones because many of these gifts may require some changes in plans (unless you, too, are a Phlegmatic, in which case your holidays are probably pretty low-key to begin with!)

Keeping in mind that your Phlegmatic's primary goal in life is peace, and that her primary emotional needs are self-worth, respect, lack of stress, and comfort, a real gift from your heart could be...

10. Together Time.

Just “hang out.”

No plan. No agenda. No expectations.

Phlegmatics love “doing nothing” with friends and family for extended periods of time.

For non-Phlegmatics, “doing nothing” is an oxymoron: if you’re doing nothing, you’re not actually doing!

Embrace the paradox.

“Doing nothing” with a phlegmatic is a gift that gives back to the giver. You’ll receive the gift of learning to be a human being -- even for a little while! -- instead of such a human doing.

9. Spotlight Strengths.

Because the Phlegmatic is the most balanced Personality, she is often overlooked.

The Down-to-the-Last-Detail Melancholy outdoes Martha Stewart with holiday home decor. The I-Won't-Play-if-I-Can't-Win Choleric receives year-end awards for outstanding work achievement. The Life-of-the-Party Sanguine keeps everyone howling with laughter at the New Year's Eve bash.

And what is the Phlegmatic's claim-to-fame? Exactly what does the Phlegmatic do best?

Um...er...well...

Why is it so hard to come up with a quick answer?

Because it's the wrong question. The Phlegmatic's greatest contribution to his relationships is not what he does; it's who he is.

In a world which sings praises only for measurable accomplishments, your Phlegmatic needs you to reflect back to her the invaluable qualities you see in her and the inestimable contribution she makes to your life.

Give your Phlegmatic her red carpet moment. A few words from you will mean more than any public ceremony. After all, the only audience she cares about is you.

8. Accept Answers.

For years, I just knew Daniel was holding out on me. I’d ask, “So, where do you want to go to dinner?” and he’d respond, “Whatever you want” or “I don’t care.” For the next hour, I’d badger him relentlessly, trying to pry out of him what he really wanted.

Since Phelgmatics possess a will of iron, I never successfully cracked his encripted communication. We’d end up at dinner with me silently fuming because I just knew he hated my choice but still refused to tell me what he really wanted.

Turns out, what he really wanted was for me to quit trying to decode non-existent secret meanings and take him at his word. He really did. not. care.

So, when you ask, “Where do you want to go for dinner?” and your Phlegmatic says, “I don’t care,” you can happily say, “Okay, then let’s go to Panera Bread!” Enjoy your soup and bagel...and trust that he’s enjoying his!

7. Clear the Calendar.

The holiday season brings myriad options for places to go, things to do, and people to see.

Christmas concerts; Scrooge plays; Santa Claus Lane. Classic movies to watch; cookies to bake; gifts to wrap. Friends; family; work associates. None are likely bad choices -- most are actually good or even excellent!

But for a Phlegmatic, the best place to go is nowhere. The best thing to do is nothing. And the best people are beloved family members and friends who come to the house to visit.

Crammed calendar = a distressed Phlegmatic.

Cleared calendar = a de-stressed Phlegmatic.

6. Favorite Foods.

My mother’s holiday menu always honors my father’s Armenian heritage: tebulah, rice pilaf, cheese barek, and falafel.

My husband’s family has mid-western roots, so for the last two decades, every time Daniel and I have spent a holiday at my parents’ home, I’ve brought along mashed potatoes and stuffing.

And every time, my mother has masked her horror by asking, “Are you sure that’s necessary? We already have so much food!”

Even though Daniel is the only one who eats the mashed potatoes and stuffing, I respond every time, “Yes, they’re absolutely necessary!” For my phlegmatic husband, it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving (or Christmas or Easter) without them.

Phlegmatics so rarely express needs, let alone wants. When they let you know what they like, follow through...even when it doesn’t fit the menu.

5. Commitment to Calm.

For many Phlegmatics, the emotional ups-and-downs of the holiday season feel like being in a small boat -- with no oars, no sail, no motor -- on choppy seas.

I'd come home from shopping, excited about finding a special gift, but mad about rude treatment from a cashier. After school, I'd gush over a gift from a student, but complain about the petty arguments about what we should and shouldn't do for our class Christmas party. Getting off the phone with family members, I'd anticipate our upcoming holiday feast, but fret about someone's unrealistic expectations.

It took me years to realize that my responses to typical holiday situations made my Phlegmatic husband downright nauseated. (And it took many more years to learn how to "just let it go!")

"Let there be peace on earth" is every Phlegmatic's Christmas song and plea. I give a gift of infinite value when I "let it begin with me!"

4. Esthetic Expression.

In my twenty years of teaching, I've noticed that my Phlegmatic students are often drawn to musical, artistic, and/or kinesthetic involvement.

When I was a teenager, my Phlegmatic grandmother loved nothing more than for me to play "Oh Holy Night" on the piano while she sang along in German. Tears would twinkle in her eyes when we were through, and after she went home, I always found a dollar bill on the piano keyboard.

Although my singing makes angels weep, I still pull out my Christmas music this time of year. Daniel brings down his guitar (or ganjo or mandolin or harmonica or...!) and we sing to his heart's delight.

Your Phlegmatic might appreciate your participation in an arts or crafts project: making new holiday decor or building a Christmas display. A walk or workout together; slow dancing under the mistletoe.

(A word of caution: Dabble. This isn't the time to "dive all the way in." Avoid activities that involve terms like "competition," "renovation," or "marathon" -- see #7.)

3. Champion Choices.

Over a year ago, my Phlegmatic son, Jonathon, wracked up almost 30 hours of flight time when he helped fly a small aircraft from Milwaukee to Monterey.

He had a wonderful experience and determined to earn his pilot's license before his driver's license.

As of today, he has neither.

Jonathon completed private pilot ground school in June. During the summer, he had lots of free time --and plenty of money -- to pay an instructor and rent a plane. He did neither.

Every now and then, I checked in with him, knowing how much more expensive it would be if he waited until college.

But wait, he did. So bite my tongue, I did. And still do.

Yes, it's tempting to drop hints: "Wouldn't it be great if..." To offer to help: "How about if I..." And to outright question his judgment: "Don't you realize..."

But even though I disagree with my son's choices, I choose to respect him. By not meddling. By not questioning. By getting out of the way. By letting him make -- and live with -- his own choices.

2. Decelerate & Desist.

This gift can overlap with #10, 7, and 5. But it's so specific -- and so vital -- that it deserves a number all its own.

Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life during these holy-days.

Saunter, especially when you're with that special Phlegmatic in your life. Stop and smell the pine needles together.

Slow down. Stop.

Meander through the mall. Pause for a cup of hot chocolate together.

Slow down. Stop.

Give yourself plenty of time to prepare the big meal. Linger over the table to enjoy every morsel of nourishment and conversation.

Slow down. Stop.

1. Easy-going Environment.

When I saw Daniel bee-line toward a hideous old chair at a rummage sale years ago, I knew I should have left him at home. My protests were futile; he loved the chair, and he was going to have the chair.

Over the next twenty years, he lounged in that behemoth daily. When it deteriorated beyond use, he mourned as if he'd lost a dear friend.

In a way, he had. He'd lost his "soft place to fall" at the end of each hard day. Realizing the importance of the comfort chair, I suggested a shopping trip, and we returned home with a new favorite chair.

You don't have to buy a new chair. Find what equals comfort and comfortability for your Phlegmatic.

Ideas: Comforters. Quilts. Blankets. Over-stuffed pillows. Bean-bag chairs. Fuzzy throw rugs. Cushiony couches. Sweatshirts. Oversized T-shirts. Elastic waistband pants. Leggings. Slippers. Moccasins. The World's Softest Socks.

Make them available and encourage their use. When you show a Phlegmatic that you understand their need for comfort, you signal that when needed, you'll be a safe "soft place to fall", too.

* * * * *

For us non-Phlegmatic personalities, none of these may feel gift-worthy. Who cares about calm or clear calendars or comfort? Your Phlegmatic, that's who! These gifts send the subtle message,

"I understand that peace, self-worth, respect, lack of stress, and comfort are vital to you. Rather than ignoring these needs and hoping they go away, I'm choosing to find ways to meet them because I love you. You're important to me, so what's important to you becomes important to me."

This kind of acceptance in action is a affirming gift for a Phlegmatic!

* * * * *

Part 1: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Melancholy

Part 3: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Choleric

Part 4: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Sanguine

{Five Minute Friday: Grow} A Defining Moment vs. Defining a Moment

2011-11-18T08:00:00.000-08:00

Months of mulling came together this morning for {Five Minute Friday}.

* * * * *

A defining moment: an event that controls all future events

I was always a best friend kinda girl. But I couldn't seem to hang onto them for very long.

In 3rd grade, Kimmi's parents divorced, and she moved to Washington.

In 5th grade, Marcia moved to Michigan. She promised to write; she didn't.

In 8th grade, Susy decided she hated me. One day, we were BFFs; the next, I was her sworn enemy. She destroyed everything we'd drawn and written together. She refused to talk to me, to tell me what I'd done. She wouldn't listen to me or hear my apologies. She was done with me.

A mutual friend asked Susy, "Don't you feel bad losing Cheri as a friend?"

"I'm not losing anything. I'm throwing it away, because that's what you do with trash," she responded.

That moment defined me, especially in my relationships with women. I expected to be left. Rejected. Discarded.

In Same Life, New Story, Jan Silvious says that "writing a new story often requires a clear-eyed inspection of what we believe and why." She points out that many of us make "a lifetime belief from one childhood experience" and allow others' words "to become prophetic, destructive powers" that control our lives.

Sure enough, three decades of adulthood produced a growing collection of BFFs: Badly Failed Friendships.

During sacred silence at a women's retreat a few months ago, as I was listening to Natalie Grant's "The Real Me" and prayer journaling, an image came to me:

sitting in a trash-filled dump, a battered chest full of priceless treasure.

Then, a Holy Spirit "ah-HA": Throwing away treasure doesn't turn it into trash.

On the outside, the chest may look like it belongs in the landfill. But neither the tarnished exterior nor the heaps of debris surrounding it can decrease the value of its contents.

I thought back -- this time with empathy instead of fear -- to the teenage girl whose words I'd given so much power for too many years.

Yes, she said some hurtful words about me. Once. I'm the one who's been re-telling this story, keeping myself "down in the dumps" for so long.

It's time to get outta the landfill and break open the lock.

The One who holds the key is a true "BFF."

And He treasures the "real me."

Defining a moment: revisiting an old event, putting the old story in perspective, and growing beyond the past

A Gift of Grace: a Daughter's Thanks

2011-11-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

I originally published this post a couple of years ago, but it was on my mind earlier this week.

Since Bonnie's blogging about Writing Letters of Gratitude today, this feels like a good fit for Faith Barista Jam Thursday!

It's also Thankful Thursday, hosted by Laurie at Women Taking a Stand!

And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him who have been called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28

I've clung to this promise during the dark, "valley" seasons of my life, desperately believing that even the most abysmal circumstances would someday reveal God's glorious power to redeem.

If you've heard my talk "Healthy Marriages Major in History, Not Math," you know that for many years, I harbored attitudes of apathy, anger, and contempt toward my husband. While I know that God has given me a new heart, I've had lingering worries about the impact of my old attitudes and actions on our children. Did I scar them for life?

On September 11, 2008, when Daniel and I walked in the front door after a lovely dinner out with another couple, we were met by a surprise. The living room was completely cleaned and straightened, the carpet freshly vacuumed. Soft music played on the stereo.

On the kitchen table, a vase of freshly-picked white roses stood next to a framed photo from our wedding. In front of them lay a bar of Dove chocolate, a bag of Milano cookies, and a letter from our 17-year-old daughter, Annemarie.

Tears filled our eyes as we realized she had devoted some of her precious senior year time doing something special for us. The tears flowed freely as we read her letter:

My Dear Parents--

September 11, 2008. Today's your 20th wedding anniversary. In case I haven't already, I congratulate you! That's a pretty long time to put up with -- or get along with -- each other. And aside from congratulations, I thank you for that.

The traditional 20th anniversary gift is platinum or china. As I can't afford platinum, I hope the Milanos and Dove will do. (They're bound to be tastier, I'm sure.) And as for the china? Well, I read the description:

"It symbolizes the beautiful, elegant, and delicate nature of your love for one another over the past 20 years . . . "

. . . and promptly laughed out loud, as you may have. The last 20 years have been anything but beautiful and delicate. And elegance? Have you SPENT a dinner hour around our table?

I'm sure you both have your own memories of your first few married years -- and that they were far from the hazy, marital bliss pictures we so often paint in our heads and hearts. Occasions like that first Thanksgiving dinner, the ill-fated lemon meringue pie, and those 43.5 hours might make you groan or chuckle, but they're still yours.

And then you made the third best decision you could have ever made -- giving me life! I'm thankful for that as well. The second best decision? My baby brother, of course. Thank you for the life you've given both of us. We enjoy sharing it, even if we do aggravate each other occasionally. He's my very best friend, and I'm so blessed to have him in our lives.

But I will admit the early years I can remember -- when Jonathon and I were growing up almost constantly behind closed doors or tearstained fingers -- were horrible. You two used to fight, and your angry raised voices would carry upstairs. Pots and pans banged. Mom would start crying -- it was awful. Jonathon and I would sneak out of our rooms and sit huddled together in the hall.

I don't say this to cause you pain or to bring shame to your faces. I say this to THANK YOU. Without the rough road of the first years, you'd have nothing to have come through. It's also given Jonathon and me such an example -- that no matter what, your duty is to God and each other. That whatever argument isn't as important as the honor you give God and each other. That love and respect come above all else, that marriage is something worth fighting for, not about.

Believe me, now I believe you two are so in love it's sickening. You're like a pair of teenagers, kissing and cuddling in the hall. It's halfway between romantic and revolting, but I assure you, the impression it's left on Jonathon and me will never fade away. (We are scarred for life!) We've realized that you must care about and care for each other -- to put God and your partner first, no matter how hard that may be. Again, I thank you for the strong example you've left us.

Daddy, you've taught me never to settle for someone who treats me less than I deserve. Your overpowering love and protection for Mum shows me that a man is someone who will love me for who I am, respect me for what I am, and treat me as more than I am. You protection and open affection for me has also helped me be more self-assured and secure in the knowledge that you will always be there. And the love that just pours through you for Jonathon and me has helped me know God. To have an earthly father who loves me so much he'll get me Jamba Juice, buy me jogging shoes, threaten any boy who looks at me, sit through my math rants with me -- teaches me that my Heavenly Father must love and adore me even more! You're the best father -- and the best husband -- ever.

Mum, you've taught me that to be myself is the best I can be. Your overflowing love and affection for Daddy has helped me see that even when I feel out of control, even when I know I'm right, I can respect another person's views and feelings. That my first duty is to God -- He alone has my heart. You've shown me to prayerfully consider relationships, to seek my self-worth in God because I am His adored daughter. I know I am also and forever your adored daughter. The trips I've taken to speak with you, to go to Jamba Juice, or pick out fresh fruit have meant more to me than traveling anywhere abroad. And your nurturing nature has helped Jonathon and I become who we are. I see God just shining through you in your patience even when you're tired, your willingness to cook when we're sick or snappy, and your insight and interest in our lives. You're the best mom -- and the best wife -- ever.

God bless both of you, the most amazing couple on earth. The memories, good are bad, are yours to laugh over and learn from. The kids, good or bad, are only around for a little longer. Then you're allowed to smooch in the kitchen without the gagging sounds or shouts of "PDA!" But "those kids" are eternally grateful for the strong, fighting, loving, and respectful example that you've emblazoned on our hearts.

To the best parents in the whole wide world, happy anniversary.

All my love,

Annemarie

I share this letter not as a trite sigh of relief, that somehow negative consequences were avoided. I share it in grateful celebration that God uses our worst failures to demonstrate his restorative power.

What a gift of grace!

Adventures of Anxiety Girl: Growing Up After Saying "I Do" (Part 2)

2011-11-16T08:45:00.000-08:00

It's Wifey Wednesday over at To Love Honor and Vacuum!

* * * * *

In Part 1, I discussed how my own emotional immaturity wreaked havoc in the early years of my marriage.

One vital resource for moving my thoughts, feelings, and reactions onto the path toward maturity has been the book and DVD series Love and Respect.

I was so fixated on my own frantic wants and needs for so long, I didn't have a clue about respect. I didn't know how to show it. And I definitely didn't know how vital it was for Daniel. I was too focused on me.

When we sat down to watch the videos, we recognized the "Crazy Cycle" immediately:

Anxiety Girl threw a fit, of course, at the mere idea that I should focus on anyone's needs other than hers. She did her best to fill me with fears and extreme scenarios about what would happen if I started treating Daniel with respect.

"He'll never ask for your opinion!" she insisted. "He'll make decisions without you! He'll make plans that don't accommodate you! You'll be miserable!"

But her words fell on deaf ears. At that point in our relationship, Daniel already didn't want my opinion; it came with too many barbs. He regularly made decisions and plans without me; it was pretty much the only way he could get anything done without me meddling and sabotaging! As for misery, I'd bottomed out. I was desperate for change.

I realized that what I'd been demanding from Daniel was not just unrealistic, it was unreasonable. The unconditional "love" I insisted he show me was not the mature love of equals; it was the coddling of a spoiled child.

I expected him to make me feel good all the time, to "fix" my brokenness, to tip-toe around my myriad sensitive spots.

I wanted Daniel to cope with Anxiety Girl for me.

But taming Anxiety Girl was a task I had to do myself, for myself. I realized that in order for me to "grow up" in our marriage, I had to quit letting Anxiety Girl run my life. I had to learn to think, feel, and act in terms of love and respect.

Sometimes, I become consumed with regrets about how badly I botched the first decade (or two!) of our marriage. The "If only..."s start spiraling out of control. Then I recognize Anxiety Girl, not-so-slyly trying to stage a coup and regain control of my life, once again.

Sorry, Anxiety Girl. I'm not interested in haranguing Daniel or myself any more. In fact, I keep this reminder above my computer:

Sure, I wish I'd learned about love and respect much earlier in my marriage.

But when it comes to "growing up" in marriage, I'm grateful to be learning late rather than never!

Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Melancholy

2011-11-15T17:44:00.000-08:00

The gift-giving season is almost upon us. For many, what should be a celebration of relationships mutates into stress over getting "just the right gift" for each friend and family member. Gift certificates end up being an easy out when we can't find anything that really seems to fit.

Gift-giving shouldn't be frustrating; it should be fun! So, for my next four Top Ten {Tuesday} blogs, I'll be sharing gift ideas custom-tailored for the Personalities of those on your shopping list!

I'll start with our Melancholy (the "Perfect Personality") loved ones because you may need a week or two of careful listening and observation (unless you, too, are a Melancholy in which case you've been hearing and seeing all along!)

Keeping in mind that your Melancholy's primary goal in life is to achieve perfection, and that her primary emotional needs are order, sensitivity, support, space, and silence, a real gift from your heart could be...

10. organization of an area of disorder

Sometimes, this has been as simple as putting my shoes away "where they belong" instead of leaving them out.

(Other times, it's been as daunting as dealing with the garage, but we're not going there today!)

And when "where they belong" hasn't been well-established, I've researched solutions until we found one that works for both of us.

9. willingness to hear what they're really saying.

For years, my husband griped, "All I want is a clean knife, but noooo, they're all in the dishwasher! Why does everyone use so many knives? It's ridiculous. If you'd all just rinse it off after you use it..."

All I heard was the complaining.

Recently, I decided to screen out anything that evoked an emotional response in me; lo and behold, I heard him really saying "I want a clean knife." I quickly bought a set of 4 new knives, which he chose to let us use (he prefers his "old faithfuls!) No complaints since!

8. your presence at important events.

Daniel's gospel quartet practiced every Monday night for three house in our home, 50 weeks a year for seven years.

I'd heard every song they sang, multiple times...often the same short phrase over and over and over -- "There's power in the...There's power in the...There's power in the..." -- until I all but begged for "blood! Just give me blood!"

So I initially thought performances would be no big deal; I could just stay home with the kids rather than dragging them out to hear what we'd already heard.

Wrong. When I didn't show up, Daniel was crushed. Conversely, when I spent a wedding anniversary tending the group's table at Redlands Market Night, I earned big points with my man!

7. a room of his/her own.

When we first moved into a four-bedroom house, I took over the spare bedroom and crammed it full of my sewing and crafting supplies (which I visited now and then.)

One day, while at my brother and sister-in-law's home, I found Daniel sitting on the floor reading in Karen's lovely office. He looked up and said, in a voice of longing, "She has a room of her own!"

It took me two hours, after we got home that night, to shift all my stuff from storage in my "craft room" to storage in the garage, freeing the space for Daniel's office / studio / cave (complete with a door that opens, shuts, and -- when necessary! -- locks.)

6. protection of quiet time.

When a Melancholy in the house decides it's nap time, I crate the dog (so she won't bark at stray air molecules!), un-plug the phones (and remove the batteries!), and tape a "do not disturb" sign on the door.

And then I remove myself so they're free to enjoy complete silence.

5. an advance plan.

For both Melancholy males in my house, "spontaneity" means anything less than three weeks' notice. Their favorite surprise is no surprise.

My most notorious failure to give this gift was the night I called home to tell Jonathon, "We're not there."

"I noticed," he said gloomily. "I've been noticing for the last several hours. It got dark, but nobody told me anything or left me any notes or even called."

He wasn't afraid to be home alone -- he was 16 at the time -- but he was bummed that nobody had bothered to clue him in on their plans.

4. attention to what matters.

Almost ten years ago, I was wracking my brain to think of a meaningful gift for my mother. I tried to recall anything she'd ever mentioned needing or wanting, but for weeks I drew a blank.

Finally, a light bulb moment! Any time she talked about her five years as a sixth grade teacher, she spoke fondly and longingly about the reading book she'd used: Engine Whistles. Thanks to eBay, I hit the jackpot that year.

She held the book reverentially, stroking it in wonder, asking over and over, "How did you get this?"

What other meaningful gifts I could have given her throughout the years, if I'd only listened more and made note of what mattered to her?

3. unobtrusive companionship during/after a difficulty.

When things go wrong, a Melancholy is reminded that she has, once again, failed to achieve perfection. She may take this failure to heart and become very discouraged for a while.

Trying to "cheer up" a discouraged Melancholy is like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall: lots of effort with no results. You'll end up frustrated that your attempts aren't appreciated, and your cheer-ee will become further discouraged because nobody understands the gravity of the situation.

While it's tempting to just leave her alone (and if you ask, you may even find out that's what she needs at the moment), staying alongside her without trying to "fix" her is often the most healing thing you can do.

2. respect for solitude.

When we were first married, Daniel used to take off for a walk, a trip to a bookstore, even a backpacking trip without inviting me.

It took me years to understand that his need for solitude was not a reflection of his commitment to me or his enjoyment of my company. As an introvert, he needs time alone, away from anyone who knows or needs him.

Now, I actively protect my husband's solitude by call screening, running interference when someone shows up unannounced on our doorstep, and even holding his cell phone for a few hours when I can tell that he's "peopled out."

1. a good old fashioned shuttin' up.

I used to regale Daniel with the novel-length version of my day, every day. I ignored the glazed-over look in his eyes, determined that we were going to build a more intimate relationship via sheer volume of words.

In time, I shortened my end-of-day commentary to the blog-post version. Suddenly, I no longer had to chase him around the house to get his attention. He started voluntarily asking me, "So, how was your day?"

In the last couple of years, I've edited myself down to Facebook status update length. Amazingly enough, Daniel now asks insightful questions, wanting to hear more. He recently startled me by asking, "And how did you feel about that?"

But my greatest successes have been Twitter-sized comments, the carefully thought-out one-liners. This school year, Daniel has stopped what he was doing, looked at me in wonder, and said, "That was profound!" more than a dozen times.

Clearly, less really can be so much more!

* * * * *

For us non-Melancholy personalities, none of these may feel gift-worthy. Who cares about shoes or rooms or quiet? Your Melancholy, that's who! These gifts send the subtle message,

"I understand that order, sensitivity, support, space, and silence are vital to you. Rather than ignoring these needs and hoping they go away, I'm choosing to find ways to meet them because I love you. You're important to me, so what's important to you becomes important to me."

This kind of compassion in action is the ideal gift for a Melancholy!

* * * * *

Part 2: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Phlegmatic

Part 3: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Choleric

Part 4: Top Ten {Tuesday} Priceless Gifts that Don't Cost a Dime -- for a Sanguine

No Rescue Needed: Necessary Pain and Disappointment

2011-11-14T09:08:00.000-08:00

(Check out To Love Honor and Vacuum, where Sheila Wray Gregoire has an excellent post titled "Trusting God When You're a Natural Fixer" on the same theme as this one!)

* * * * *

“But, Mom, this means I can’t go! It’s impossible!” wails Annemarie, tears coursing down her cheeks.

Five minutes ago, she was all smiles as we sat at the kitchen table to “crunch numbers” for the school-sponsored 10-day trip to Italy. As we calculated the number of hours she’d have to work to earn enough money to pay for the trip, though, her face fell, her eyes reddened, and she reached for the Kleenex.

Pain and disappointment can be effective teachers, I remind myself.

Don’t cave. No matter how badly you want to bail her out–for your sake as well as hers!–don’t rescue her. These are natural consequences; this kind of pain and disappointment is the okay kind.

“Chickie,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady and upbeat, “it is possible for you to earn the money. You’ll have to commit to working eight hours a day for all eight weeks of your summer break.”

“But I don’t want to!” she sobs back, throwing up her hands in despair. “I’ve been looking forward to having this summer off! It’s been such a crazy school year; I deserve a break! I’ve worked so hard. I want time for myself!”

How I hate seeing her tears!

I start to rationalize: She’s right; it has been a rough school year. I could offer to go half-way on the trip with her. That way she’d only have to work half as much. Surely that would make her feel better. I don’t want to see her hopes crushed. The Italy trip is such a great opportunity for her . . .

Pain and disappointment can be effective teachers.

What vital lessons will I deprive her of learning if I step in to ease the current pain and disappointment? This is a great opportunity to learn how badly she actually wants the trip or if she’s just been enjoying the fantasy.

*****

Ten years ago, when I first heard a parenting expert declare that “pain and disappointment can be effective teachers,” my first reaction was deep rebellion:

No! I’ve spent my entire parenting life trying to protect my kids from pain and disappointment!

My own childhood included a number of instances of totally inappropriate pain and disappointment–emotional abandonment, verbal battering, physical neglect, and sexual violation–that caused me to define all pain and disappointment as harmful.

I had to realize that in my zeal to protect my children from the inappropriate kinds of pain and disappointment I’d experienced as a child, I had aimed to protect them from all pain and disappointment. As a result, I was raising kids who were accustomed to being rescued, even from the normal process of natural consequences. Learning to tell myself this kind of pain and disappointment is the okay kind has been a difficult but vital part of my growth as a parent.

As I’ve learned to “trust the process,” Psalm 62:8 has taken on new meaning: “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.”

*****

I steal myself and quietly state, “Honey, it looks like you’ve got two very different choices in front of you–a forced alternative. You can either work all summer and go on the Italy trip in October or you can take the summer off and not go on the trip. I don’t know which choice is right for you; only you can decide that. I’ll support you either way.”

“But . . . but . . . “ she cries, her volume notching up to a whole new level, “it’s not fair! You said I could go! I’ve told everyone I’m going! It’s not fair!”  

Ouch! I wince. The you’re-letting-me-down and it’s-not-fair defenses; both at once. I want out of this conversation. It’s more intense than I want to deal with. What’s the fastest way out? If we call Nana and Papa, they’d probably be willing to help . . .

Pain and disappointment can be effective teachers.

What will she learn if a bit of dramatics is all it takes to “earn” a trip to Italy? What are you modeling for her if you cop out so quickly? Don’t rescue her. This kind of pain and disappointment is the okay kind.

I look my daughter squarely in the eye and say, as kindly but firmly as possible, “Unfair? It would be ‘unfair’ if we’d misled you. But when we said you could go, we also said ‘as long as you earn the money for the trip.’ The numbers you’ve just calculated aren’t unfair . . . just really, really, really disappointing.”

Nodding dumbly, Annemarie buries her face in her arms. Still fighting the Let-me-make-it-all-better urge, I lean over to hug her. She stiffens–still mad–then relaxes, glad for comfort.

Trust in Him at all times, daughters. Together, we are learning that some kinds of pain and disappointment are effective teachers. Pour out our hearts to Him, for He is our refuge. We are learning to trust and find refuge in God.

Together.

How do you find yourself responding to the idea that “pain and disappointment can be effective teachers”?

What life lesson are you learning together with your child(ren)?

When do your children see you trusting and taking refuge in God?

In what ways has your parenting journey been a catalyst for spiritual growth?

Cheri's Facebook Vegetable "Stone Soup" Stew

2011-11-11T16:00:00.000-08:00

Linking to I'm Lovin It with Tidy Mom today!

A couple of weeks ago, I bought a bunch of vegetables and improvised my very own "stone soup" -- a little of this, a little of that -- 'til the pot was full and the kitchen smelled great.

The results were good, but not fantastic; the soup base was weak, so the overall flavor was bland.

Last weekend, I tried again, only this time I sent out a "help" message to my Facebook friends:

I need ideas for making my vegan soup base more flavorful. The soup will include: bell peppers, green beans, tomatoes, corn, potatoes, tomatillos, black beans, barley, and wild rice. Last time, I used McKay's chicken seasoning and it was weak/bland. I don't want to simply dump in a ton of salt. Other ideas from those who are successful soup-makers? I don't want this one to be "Such the disappointment!"

(Extra credit to anyone who recognizes the quote...and its irony!)

16 replies later, and this culinary masterpiece was born!

Cheri's Facebook Vegetable "Stone Soup" Stew

1 Knorr vegetable bullion cube
1 Tbs. McKay’s Chicken seasoning
4 cups water

(Heat in a large soup pot until bullion is dissolved.)

¼ c barley
¼ c wild rice
10 small potatoes, cubed
4 carrots, sliced diagonally

(Add to pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to simmer.)

3+ cloves garlic, minced
1 large onion, chopped
1 Tbs. olive oil

(Saute in a separate pan and then add to large pot. Continue simmering.)

10 tomatoes, chopped

(Add to pot. Continue simmering.)

1 bell pepper, chopped
kernels cut from 4 ears of fresh corn
2 tomatillos, diced
1 bag Morning Star Farms Meal Starter chicken strips, chopped
2 cups fresh green beans, cut into 1” pieces
2 cans black beans, drained (I tossed the liquid)
2 cans stewed tomatoes (Mexican Style)
2 tsp fresh dill, snipped
1 tsp oregano (dried)
dash of ceyenne pepper (or to taste)
dash of cumin (or to taste)
dash of onion powder (or to taste)

(Add to pot. Continue simmering.)

juice of 2 small lemons

(Add when barley and wild rice are done and you're ready to serve!)

150 calories per cup
6 grams of protein
29 grams of carbohydrate
1 gram of fat

Five Minute Friday: Unexpected

2011-11-11T00:01:00.000-08:00

It's Five Minute Friday, and today's topic is "Unexpected." Write for five minutes, ignore your inner editor, and have fun!

* * * * *

Jonathon's always been one to play it safe. Make no waves. Take the path of least resistance.

So when he came to me last October and said, "Mom, I've got an opportunity to help fly a plane from somewhere back East to California," my first thought was, "Yeah, right! My homebody son actually leave the comfort of his room, leave my home-cooked meals, to get in a tin can with a stranger and spend several days doing nothing but pointing it west for hours at a stretch?"

He made an unexpected choice.

A week later, my husband drove Jonathon to the San Francisco International Airport. And left him. That, alone, was unexpected. Always before, he'd accompanied our children into the airport and waited until their plane took off. This time, Daniel headed home, oblivious to the myriad complications that could occur...none of which actually did. (That, too, was unexpected!)

My first glimpse at a photo of the plane: unexpectedly small. An unexpected storm that grounded them for three days.

The growing knot of fear that swelled into an unexpected volcano of anxiety as the days stretched to a week and beyond.

The unexpected transparency of the wings as the duct-tape-and-tinker-toys "plane" flew overhead.

Completely unexpected:

I bade farewell to a boy when Jonathon left for Milwaukee.

He returned home -- emerging from that tiny plane nine days later -- a man.

Top Ten {Tuesday}: Things We've Done Right as Parents (#5-1)

2011-11-10T08:01:00.000-08:00

Linking up with Thankful Thursday today...grateful that in spite of all our mistakes, God leads us and our children through this journey called Parenting!

(This Top Ten list was originally inspired by Top Ten {Tuesday} over a week ago, but I'm a slow writer!)

Miss #10-6? You'll find them here!

5. Family Vacations. We only took a few, oh were they memorable!

The "best" part of our Chicago-to-Washington, D.C. trip was finding out -- while we were dashing to Midway, with less than an hour before take off -- that our flight was actually leaving from O'Hare. Our hotel courtesy shuttle driver, who couldn't drive us to O'Hare, flagged cabs at the next intersection until he found one that could.

As we sprang from the van and transferred luggage, I screamed, "Where's the camcorder? Where's Jonathon's laptop?" Oh, the comfort of realizing they were both safely 15 minutes back in our hotel room!

Daniel and the kids took the cab while the shuttle driver dashed me back to the hotel and called me another cab while I dashed upstairs to grab our forgotten life-simplifying technological devices. When my cab driver arrived, he announced, "We're never gonna make it" and then unleashed his inner race car driver.

I arrived at O'Hare a mere five minutes after my family, who were next in line at the Southwest counter. Our luggage was reluctantly accepted, and we sprinted through the airport, receiving our boarding passes -- with bonus disapproving frowns -- precisely at departure time.

I think we saw a lot of important historical stuff on that trip. But our reminiscence is always full of, "Our taxi driver barely went 25 mph -- on the freeway!" and "Remember Mom flying thru the airport in flip-flops?"

4. Open Minds. Daniel and I fell in love over cafeteria trays, as we discussed big ideas from great books. We've lived our marriage quite literally "by the book" (more accurately "the bookS"), reading and talking, reading and talking, reading and talking.

A couple of years ago, we plowed through Outliers, then Nurture Shock quickly followed by The Talent Code. Our ideas of what it means to be "bright" or "gifted" dramatic changed as we wrestled and discussed our way through each book, often in the presence of the kids. They listened in on a "book club for two" as we went back and forth -- "Yes, but... No, I read it as saying... If that's true, then it means..." -- drawing from personal life examples all the while.

I'd like to think we've modeled our own enjoyment of reading and the application of reading to our own lives. I'd like to think we've modeled, well, thinking!

3. Creative Pursuits. Martha Stewart, I am not. Our home has long been decorated in an eclectic blend of Mom's Sewing Projects, Dad's Music Studio, Jonathon's Lego Collection, and Annemarie's Art Supplies.

Scrapbooking. Vocal training. Computer games. Photography. Writing. New instruments. Flight lessons. Museums.

We're a hodge-podge of varied interests, of worlds into which we each disappear and emerge refreshed (if things are going well) or frantic (if things are going poorly). Either way, we understand and respect each other's interests, no matter how different.

I, for example, can't draw a straight line to save my life, so Annemarie's artistic ease amazes me; I'm monotone, so Jonathon's singing mesmerizes me!

2. Game Night. Most people perceive us to be a fairly sane, sober, intellectual family. This is because they've never witnessed Gregory Family Game Night in action. We don't know exactly why it unleashes so much silliness; it just does.

We didn't realize just how silly we become until my niece moved in with us; she stared at us with an expression of "Who ARE you people?" for the first few game nights. We're afraid to invite acquaintances or even friends, considering how much we unnerved a close family member!

Perhaps it's the rhyming. Or the quoting of movie lines. The quoting of movie lines that rhyme: "No more rhyming, and I mean it!...Anybody want a peanut?" Or the sarcastic reminders of games long past, such as the infamous Rook game that resulted in a hole in the wall which was then irreverently plugged with stuffed animals according to the season.

Inevitably, someone starts to laugh uncontrollably, which triggers giggle fits in others, and one (or more) of us dropping to the floor, rolling and gasping, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe!"

For every other kind of entertainment, there's Master Card.

1. Community of Faith. Our kids are PKs: pastor's kids. They are also TKs: teacher's kids. They've been the first -- and last! -- people at church week in and week out. They've been used as sermon illustrations, picked on as "teachers' pets", pre-judged and re-judged by those who expect PKs and TKs to be without spot or blemish.

Daniel and I knew the statistics on PKs and TKs when we started dating. The odds of raising children who don't rebel against God and/or the church are so poor, we almost decided not to have any. And it's possible that either or both of ours will fixate on all the negative, of which there has been plenty.

But there's also been an abundance of positive, which we pray outweighs the negative.

Our children have been gifted with two decades of amazing mentors at school and church. They both look back on their elementary school years and speak of each teacher with reverential fondness. Despite being opposite individuals in almost every possible way, they both loved their high school years at the Christian boarding academy where Daniel and I both teach. Again, they speak of each teacher with the highest regard and gratitude.

Beyond the classroom, many church members have invested time and energy to influence them.

When Jonathon made his cross-country flight in a duct-tape-and-tinker-toys contraption last year, they had to land early one day due to an approaching storm. He was deeply moved by the pastor and his wife who came to pick them up from the airport and then cheerfully housed and fed them for three days. He still talks about them in tones of awe.

Last year, Annemarie posted a Facebook status that said, "I need a hug and a cup of tea." Ten minutes later, a church member showed up at her dorm room door, set a cup of tea on her desk, gave her a big hug, and departed.

For many years, our kids found it annoying that they couldn't go anywhere where someone didn't know their parents or their grandparents. Now, however, I think they're starting to experience what a support and comfort it can be that wherever they go, someone will know their parents or grandparents and, more importantly, will love them unconditionally because we share the same Heavenly Father.

So, there's our Top Ten list of Things We've Done Right as Parents! (Last weekend, our kids came home, and they even gave it their stamp of approval!)

How about you? What do you feel like you have done right as parents?

The Adventures of Anxiety Girl: Growing Up After Saying "I Do" (Part I)

2011-11-09T08:51:00.000-08:00

It's Wifey Wednesday over at To Love Honor and Vacuum and Living Well Wednesday over at Women Living Well.

* * * * *

21 seems so very young, now. At the time, Daniel and I were confident that we were ready. One marriage counselor even told us that we were "unusually mature"; actually, he was just "unusually inept" at detecting facades.

The facades Daniel and I brought to our marriage weren't intentional. Neither of us plotted, "Wait 'til after the wedding to reveal my true self!" But after the wedding, my dysfunctional alter ego promptly appeared on the doorstep -- uninvited! -- and took over our tiny married housing duplex.

Daniel knew that I'd struggled with, and even been hospitalized for, an eating disorder in high school. He thought I'd taken care of my issues. And he expected himself to be such an incredible husband that he could solve any little problems that arose. How hard could it possibly be to be married to me?

Enter Anxiety Girl.

Thanks to her, our marriage blazed through the "blissful" stage, briefly touched down at "difficult," and meteored straight to "nigh on impossible."

Daniel and I argued over everything: on which wall to place the sofa (the so-called "logical wall" won), what time to eat Thanksgiving Dinner (Daniel was asleep at 3:00...so you'd better believe I woke him up!), whether or not we were having "enough" sex (we weren't), how many knives should be used in one day (1).

Back then, I didn't recognize Anxiety Girl when she showed up. And I certainly had no clue the impact she had on me and, thus, our marriage. I would switch from "normal" to frantic in a matter of seconds, all the time patting myself on the back for being the reasonable one in our marriage.

Anxiety Girl holds rigidly to three relationship rules:

1) My reality must be affirmed in order for me to have worth. Disagreement = see Rule #2.

2) My expectations must be met in order for me to be happy. Disappointment = see Rule #3.

3) My needs, wants, beliefs, thoughts, and feelings must be yours in order for me to feel loved. Differences = see Rule #1.

What is no doubt obvious to you, as you read this list, came as a total shock to me when I joined an eating disorder therapy group in my 40s:

I am immature in key areas of my life.

I -- who have frequently been held up as a model of responsibility and achievement -- am immature?

(Enter Anxiety Girl) No, I'm not! No, I'm not! I am NOT immature! Not, not, Not, NOt, NOT!

Case in point. SIGH. (At least my Anxiety Girl punctuates correctly...!)

Anxiety Girl has kept parts of me far too young for far too long. And the area of my life most damaged, however accidentally, by Anxiety Girl's constant meddling is my marriage.

I suspect I'm not alone in this.

In Part II, I'll share some specific ways I've learned to "grow up" my thoughts, feelings, and reactions, releasing my marriage from the hyper-vigilant stalking of Anxiety Girl.

Top Ten {Tuesday} New Books: My "Fall Into Reading" List

2011-11-08T12:01:00.000-08:00

I just discovered Fall Into Reading over at Callapidder Days. I'm only about 6 weeks late, but who's counting?

So here, for Top Ten {Tuesday}, are the Top 10 books on my must-read stack right now:

10. Laughing Without an Accent by Firoozah Dumas (I'm about half-way thru, and it's as good as – perhaps even slightly better than! – Funny in Farsi, which snickered, giggled, chortled, and hee-hawed my way through last month!)

9. Code Talker: The First and Only Memoir By One of the Original Navajo Code Talkers of WWII by Chester Nez (Just arrived! Always had an interest, but this will be my first book on the subject!)

8. Beautiful Outlaw by John Eldredge (I'm a chapter in; absorbing and reflecting before moving on.)

7. Going Home: Finding Peace When Pets Die by Jon Katz (This one just arrived, too; reading a review inspired my {5 Minute Friday} post last week.)

6. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard (I'm slowly sipping this one, which was highly recommended by Susy Flory, co-author of...)

5. Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero by Michael Hingson and Susy Flory (I skimmed this one quickly in preparation for Susy's visit with my students; now I'll take my time to savor it!)

4. The Pun Also Rises: How the Humble Pun Revolutionized Language, Changed History, and Made Wordplay More Than Some Antics by John Pollack (I'm an English teacher; need I say more?)

3. Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder (My son just read this as part of his freshman Honors course and heard the author speak for chapel; he said he thinks I'd like it, and he'd like to discuss it with me once I'm done. What more motivation could I possibly need?!?)

2. Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain (I've got a review copy that I loaned to my son; he told me, "Mom, there are things in here you need to know." Now I just need to find a way to pry it out of his introverted hands...!)

1. The Memoir Project by Marion Roach Smith (I've read it once, listened to it twice, given away three copies, and I can't wait to read it thru again...and again! By far the most practical memoir writing instruction I've ever read, with marvelous examples that demonstrate her principles in action. I had to keep pulling over to the side of the road to jot down ideas as I listened to the audiobook, so many "Ah-HA!" moments were occurring and connections were forming in my mind!)

What about you? What's on your current "Must Read" list?

Remember {Five Minute Friday}

2011-11-04T08:19:00.000-07:00

It's {Five Minute Friday}, and today's topic is: Remember...

* * * * *

Dusty paws beside me, demanding I spread the green chenille blanket out from under my leg so she can have some of her own. Then she curls up, flips over on her back, and begins to purr.

I stroke her long black fur, noticing that her winter ruff is coming in. Soon, she'll look double her petite 8 pounds.

Her purr crescendos as I scratch under her neck. She is sublimely happy in this moment. She has no sense of the past.

She has no idea that right now, I remember another black cat, this one a runty kitten with sea urchin spiky fur, too young to have any undercoat, just ridiculous black spines jutting far beyond an impossibly tiny body.

Daniel was angry that I'd brought home a third cat ("What on earth did you...") for less than two full seconds ("oh, isn't she cuuuuuute!") She fell asleep on his feet as he did dishes that evening. She fell asleep on his left calf has he knelt for prayer that night.

Meeka was our nursemaid. She sensed need before we knew ourselves. When children cried in time-out, Meeka was here to comfort. When adults came home beaten down by parent-teacher conferences, Meeka was here to soothe.

Then came the gut-wrenching day that Meeka was not here. She'd lived a full life in her fourteen years, and we knew she was ill. I'd dreaded the day I would find her body.

Finding nothing was far, far worse.

Top Ten {Tuesday}: Things We've Done Right as Parents

2011-11-01T07:54:00.000-07:00

Mid-life isn't treating Daniel kindly. He's taking every immature choice of our college-aged kids personally, asking, "What did I do wrong?"

Last night I told him, "I need a list of ten things we've done right as parents."

"10? As in the fingers on both hands?" he asked incredulously. Then, with a snort of cynicism, he said, "I married you. That's my one."

I insisted he wasn't getting off so easily with a cop-out, no matter how endearing. And after just a few minutes of brainstorming, he was surprised -- and I think a bit relieved! -- by the following Top Ten Things We've Done Right As Parents:

10) Family Reading Time. I heard Jim Trelease speak at the Discovery Toys National Convention when Annemarie was four and Jonathon was two. I came home, shared the data with Daniel, and we started reading an hour or more aloud each evening as a family.

We didn't stop when the kids learned to read on their own. And we continued when our lap-sized kiddos became couch-filling teenagers. In fact, they're coming home this weekend, and top on our list of family time activities is reading Funny in Farsai together, out loud.

9) Outdoor Time Together. We took a lot of walks together around the neighborhood. Due to scorching Southern California summer temperatures, this often meant getting up at the crack of dawn during the summer rather than sleeping in.

We went up to Mill Creek in the San Bernardino Mountains and spent entire afternoons building dams. We hiked Mount Waterman with our dogs. We weren't into team sports or anything that cost money -- our kids have skied only once! -- but we did regularly get outside to enjoy nature as a family.

8) Furry Family Members. Daniel and I had three cats and two dogs before Annemarie came along. Considering how much we doted on Munchkin, Mischief, Meeka, Mon Cherie, and Madonna, she was pretty much Child #6.

To our kids, it's normal to have two (preferably three) cats, and at least one dog. It's normal to open up a sealed ice cream carton and find cat fur already inside. It's normal for dark clothes to be covered in white and for white clothes to be covered in black. It's normal for someone less than 10 pounds to commandeer your bed and dictate your life. It's normal to care for someone else's needs several times a day, every single day of the year.

7) Car Talk. Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers, have perpetrated more laughter, floor-rolling, and bathroom dashes than any other family tradition (except, perhaps, Game Night.) We listened religiously, bought and wore out all their CDs, and felt like members of the family had "done good" when they showed up in Cars.

Ask if Daniel has any duct tape, and we'll all break out in, "Duct tape, oh duct tape, oh where is my duct tape? My old boat is leaking, my windshield is cracked..."

6. Small TV, in the corner, turned off. Daniel and I quit TV cold turkey at 3:57 AM fifteen years ago. We'd watched our favorite evening shows, stayed up past reason to watch Jay Leno, and then gotten sucked into what we thought was an action flick with Charlie Sheen.

Early in the movie, a gorgeous Russian chick tells Charlie that back home, she has a dog with three legs; Charlie is deeply moved by this revelation. Daniel and I howled with derisive laughter...and kept watching. In the final scene, the camera pans down from the Charlie-and-Russian-chick lovebirds to -- you guessed it! -- a small dog, one leg badly airbrushed out.

We sat in stunned silence, realizing that we had sacrificed a full night of sleep for -- what has since become our catch-phrase for bottoming out in our TV addiction -- "a three-legged dog!"

(Stay tuned for #5-1!)

What about you? What do you feel you've "done right" as a parent, grandparent, aunt/uncle, teacher, adult mentor?

Hope for Anxiety Girl (Part 3)

2011-10-26T22:41:00.000-07:00

So, it's past bedtime, and I've not yet written the finale to my trilogy. (I'd blog my excuses, but my mom's voice reminds me,"Excuses are like armpits: everyone has a couple, and they all stink!")

What to do? I could:

A) stay up 'til midnight to make sure I get it done.
B) give up on the whole idea.
C) eat a Ghirardelli brownie with French Vanilla ice cream.
D) crank out a quick "list post" and promise to elaborate soon.

As living proof that there is hope for Anxiety Girl, I'm discarding A, B, and C.

So, here's D: my short list of books/authors who have helped answer the all-importantant "how?" providing specific directions from Anxiety to Contentment.

1) The Bible

2) Captivating by John and Staci Eldredge

3) Love and Respect by Emerson Eggerichs

4) Life Without Ed by Jenni Schaefer

5) The Secret Language of Eating Disorders by Peggy Claude-Pierre

6) The Secret of Overcoming Verbal Abuse by Albert Ellis, PhD

7) Calm My Anxious Heart by Linda Dillow

8) The Man You Always Wanted is the One You Already Have by Paula Friedrichsen

9) Wired That Way by Marita Littauer

10) Same Life, New Story by Jan Silvious

In future posts, I'll share some of the "ah-HA!" moments these books catalyzed and the nitty-gritty daily life changes that resulted.

How about you? What author(s) and/or book(s) have provided life-changing "ah-HA!" moments?

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Hope for Anxiety Girl (Part 2)

2011-10-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

Trying to help me become "Lower Maintenance Girl" or (dare we even hope?) "Joy-and-Peace Filled Girl," well-meaning loved ones have offered their best advice over the years.

Unfortunately, none of the following suggestions ever succeeded in doing anything other than -- you guessed it! -- making me even more "high maintenance":

1. "Just stop thinking about it."
2. "Just Let Go and Let God."
3. "Just don't have any expectations."
4. "Just let whatever anyone says go in one ear and out the other."
5. "Just don't take things so personally."
6. "Just trust yourself and follow your inner voice."
7. "Just don't be such a perfectionist (over-achiever, list-maker, do-er...)
8. "Just learn to r-e-l-a-x!"
9. "Just don't be so hard on yourself."
10. "Just accept whatever comes."

Excellent bits of advice, every one of them. But without the companion how-to manual (yes, I would buy Contentment for Dummies!) I could never figure out how to apply any of them to real life.

Of course, my repeated failures at following friends' advice only made me more "extremely" -- I see you recognize the pattern by now! -- "high maintenance."

My friends weren't trying to make me feel worse. In fact, they were trying their best to help me move from where I was (Anxiety) to where they were (Contentment), certain that if I could just join them, I'd feel so much better. They were probably right.

But they forgot one vital little detail: the directions.

How would I get from here to there?

Since I am blessed with lots of Normal Girl friends, none had ever been where I was. None had ever made the trek from Anxiety to Contentment. So the best they could do was earnestly tell me, "Cheri, where you’re at sounds just terrible! Stop being there. Come join me here!"

My snarky side always wanted to respond, “Okay, Beam me up, Scottie!” How would I magically transport myself from there to here (or here to there)?

When I didn’t follow their well-meaning advice, some of my Normal Girl friends took offense and turned judgmental, “You must like being there if you’re still there! You are choosing to stay there. You could decide to leave if you really wanted to.”

Here’s a News Flash for any Normal Girl reading this:
1) Anxiety Girl does not like where she’s at;
2) Anxiety Girl is not choosing to stay where she’s at; and,
3) Anxiety Girl wants to leave where she’s at but she does not know the way out.

(And a related News Flash for any Anxiety Girls: hanging around Normal Girls in hopes that their normalicy will “rub off” is just another set-up for disappointment.)

In Part 3, I'll introduce some authors who offer specific directions to help Anxiety Girl discover her way out...authors who know how to make the trip from Anxiety to Contentment, one step at a time.

How about you? If you're a Normal Girl, what's been your experience with the Anxiety Girls in your life? If you're an Anxiety Girl, what's been your experience with the Normal Girls in your life?

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Hope for Anxiety Girl (Part I)

2011-10-24T09:13:00.000-07:00

"You seem especially high maintenance."

Having just shared my heart with over a hundred women as the speaker at their church's weekend retreat, I was taken aback by this blunt observation.

I felt -- and fought -- the compulsion to obsess over it:

What does she mean? "high maintenance"? Me? "especially high maintenance"? What does this mean about me?

Most likely it means I'm not getting through. Each woman here already has her act together and is living in complete peace. Nobody here needs to hear what I came to say. I should just go home.

But if I'm so high maintenance, then I shouldn't go home. I'll just overwhelm Daniel with all my "especially high maintenance needs".

If I don't go home, though, where will I go? I have nowhere else. I'm trapped! I'm stuck here with women who hate me. And I have to go home where all I do is make people miserable!

Fortunately, the logical absurdity of my emotions hit my funny bone before they spiraled completely out of control. I re-joined the real world, laughed, and responded, "Yes, I'm sure I do seem especially high maintenance!"

And in my mind I added: And you have no clue how overwhelming, how exhausting it is to be "especially high maintenance" 24/7!

Trying to help me become "Lower Maintenance Girl" or (dare we even hope?!?) "Joy-and-Peace Filled Girl," well-meaning loved ones have offered their best advice over the years. Unfortunately, none of the following suggestions ever succeeded in doing anything other than -- you guessed it! -- making me even more "high maintenance":

1. "Just stop thinking about it."
2. "Just Let Go and Let God."
3. "Just don't have any expectations."
4. "Just let whatever anyone says go in one ear and out the other."
5. "Just don't take things so personally."
6. "Just trust yourself and follow your inner voice."
7. "Just don't be such a perfectionist (over-achiever, list-maker, do-er...)
8. "Just learn to r-e-l-a-x!"
9. "Just don't be so hard on yourself."
10. "Just accept whatever comes."

How about you? If you identify more with Anxiety Girl, what advice have you heard? What has/hasn't helped? If you identify more with Lower Maintenance Girl, were you ever Anxiety Girl? If so, what changed?

(No, I'm not done; I have plenty more to say on this topic! But in an effort to shorten my blog posts, I'm stopping here and moving everything else into a Part 2 post. Hopefully my computer won't crash and delete it before tomorrow. Not even sure why I'm typing this; I'll bet nobody will read all the way to the end and see it. And if they do, they'll just think...)

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13

Taking a 3-year-old Before Jesus

2011-10-19T19:08:00.000-07:00

Today I'm thrilled to feature a blog post by fellow Speaker Chick, Mimi Moseley!

In my two decades as an English teacher, I've worked with numerous students who struggle to communicate effectively due to Autism, Asperger Syndrome, Tourette Syndrome, hearing impairment, and other issues. How vital it is for each of us to find our "voice"... and to advocate for those whose voices have been quieted or silenced.

* * * * *

I wrote this a year ago, when Marty was first diagnosed with Autism. Today he battles every day, but does so with great joy.

The message at church yesterday was on the paralyzed man who's friends lowered him through a roof to get him before Jesus. (Luke 5:17-26) As I listened I became aware the paralyzed man never spoke. We don't see him ask his buddies to take him; they just seem to gather and do it because they believed Jesus was willing to heal. The Lord impressed upon me the importance of fellow believers bringing our requests before Jesus, and He especially impressed upon me those without a voice.

Our three year old grandson is without a voice. A few months ago he was diagnosed with a mild form of Autism and his biggest handicap has been his speech. He cannot verbalize his needs, and we struggle to understand how, why, he must carry this burden. But, yesterday, God was showing me that He has purpose for this trial and those who stand with us will see the hand of God move.

Perhaps God wants our prayers to go deeper than "fix him, Lord". Perhaps there is some area of healing God is doing in some other aspect. In John 11:15, Jesus speaks a fact, "Lazarus is dead, and I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, so that YOU may believe." Jesus used an impossible situation to bring His followers into a closer understanding of His purposes.

I think those friends of the paralyzed man had faith, but no idea Jesus would forgive the man's sins first. That's when the conflict arose of what Jesus had claimed to do. The Pharisees were questioning the healing of the most important of all healings: forgiveness of sins. Jesus asked the scribes and Pharisees to reason and evaluate Who He was as He healed the soul. It was then He chose to heal the body.

Is God asking me, and those who join me, to figuratively take this baby before Jesus and believe on a deeper level? Why has He placed this on my heart? Maybe God wants to do a deeper healing in our family. Maybe a more intense understanding in our life groups. Maybe He is using this little boy to get members of our church to believe Jesus is Who He says He is.

Will you join me in taking this baby before Jesus? Will you ask the Lord to show me, us, His will in a deeper way? I want to be changed according to God's will. I am even boldly asking the Lord to give this child a voice through the healing grace of Jesus.

I am aware this heart for my grandson is personal, but I am also aware I have been called to be obedient to His prompting. Please let me know if you agree to pray for him. The Lord may not be calling you all to do this burden so just let me know if it has struck you to pray. Who knows, you may be joining this effort so that you may believe.

Mimi Moseley hails originally for the South where she says she learned humor can open hearts to healing, that otherwise have been shut tight.

Women are hungry for hope and Mimi believes God's word wants to address those areas and show the dark won't last forever. Just as a rooster crows, we can know morning is coming.

In her 25+ years in women's ministries, speaking and Bible study teaching, she has seen changed hearts and the love of Jesus bring women back from the depths of despair.

Mimi has been married for 34 years to her "boyfriend" Marty. They have two amazing sons, two FABULOUS daughters-in-law and three of the cutest grand-babies on earth.

Mimi is the author of the in-law relationship book Arm Around Shoulder/Hand Over Mouth and she does workshops and seminars around the country on the topic. However, her favorite venue is women's retreats speaking on love where she feels she gets to know the women better and time for more one-on-one communication. Mimi's favorite saying is "It's never too late to be who you were meant to be."

No More Nagging

2011-10-16T19:24:00.000-07:00

Today I'm thrilled to feature a blog post by fellow Speaker Chick, Arlene Pellicane!

One thing I've learned (the hard way!) is that there's no such thing as being "almost consistent" as a parent. Also, reinforcement errors don't automatically decrease as the kids get older. In fact, I think I got worse as my kids' verbal skills became more sophisticated; I failed to recognize subtle manipulation until it was too late!

* * * * * * * * * *

I shared a story recently at a MOPS group and by the number of nodding heads in the room, I knew this was familiar ground for mothers:

Nagging.

What to do when your child nags?

When my daughter Noelle was 3, we had come home from a birthday party. I was working on my computer when Noelle approached me, holding the party “GOO-DEE” bag as she dramatically called it.

“Mom, can I please have a piece of candy from the GOO-DEE bag?”

“No, you already had cake and candy at the party. You may not.”

A few minutes later, she returned. “Can I just hold a piece of candy from the GOO-DEE bag? Can I just look at the pieces of candy? Can I count the pieces of candy?”

After several interruptions about the GOO-DEE bag, I caved in. “YES! You can have candy out of the GOO-DEE bag if you will just leave me alone!”

Noelle, 1. Mom, 0.

In hindsight, what I should have said was, “If you ask again about the GOO-DEE bag, the GOO-DEE bag is going in the trash.” That would have ended the nagging in one way or another!

Nowadays when my kids nag for something, the answer is easy. “Nope, sorry we can’t do that. We don’t respond to nagging. Try again next time!”

When our children learn it’s counterproductive to nag, they eventually give up. And that’s a reason to celebrate and break open the GOO-DEE bag!

Arlene Pellicane is the author of 31 Days to a Younger You: No Surgery, No Diets, No Kidding. She has appeared on The 700 Club, Hour of Power, Better, Turning Point with Dr. David Jeremiah, and TLC’s Home Made Simple. Arlene lives in San Diego with her husband James and three children.

Healthy Marriages Major in History (NOT Math!)

2011-10-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

If you're stopping by from Kathi Lipp's The Husband Project Book Club, welcome!

Today I'm sharing a message that appears in Kathi's The Marriage Project.

* * * * *

Think about a high school math class: What does the teacher put on the board every day? Problems! What is the math textbook filled with? Problems! What do students have for homework each night? Problems!

And what is the goal with all these problems? Solve them!

In contrast, think about a high school history class. What does the teacher discuss in class? Facts! What is the history textbook filled with? Facts! What do students memorize for quizzes? Facts!

And how do we approach history facts? Do we try to somehow “solve” them? Do we try to change Independence Day from July 4 to, say, May 28? Of course not. We know that we can’t “solve” facts. When it comes to facts, our goal is to accept them, understand them, and learn from them.

So why do I say that a healthy marriage majors in history, not math?

Because one thing I've (finally!) learned is that no matter how I may be feeling at the moment, my husband is never “a problem”! He does not need me to “solve” him. “Math mode” simply does not work for marriage.

“History habits,” on the other hand, strengthen marriage. My husband is a living, breathing, walking, talking collection of facts. And he needs me to accept him, understand him, and learn from him.

What does this look like in day-to-day living?

Back when Daniel and I were dating, I was an expert at “history habits." I focused on my beloved’s strengths and liberally exercised my bragging rights, telling everyone what he was famous for.

After marriage, however, I quickly slipped into “math mode.” Whenever things didn’t go the way I wanted, I switched to critical thinking, focusing on my husband’s weaknesses, trying harder and harder to “solve” the problem: him!

What might this switch sound like if a woman is married to a Popular Sanguine? While dating him, she might have written a letter like this:

Dear Mom & Dad,

I’m in love with the most WONDERFUL man!

He’s an incredible conversationalist. He is never at a loss for words; I sit and listen to him for hours.

Everyone invites us to parties, because he is so much fun -- always in the middle of any crowd! And such a storyteller . . . he’s so expressive, he holds everyone spellbound!

I love everything about this man, and I always will!

After a few years of marriage, however, she might end up lamenting to a friend, over coffee:

Oh Karen!

I have had it up to here with this man!

You know the country song, “A Little Less Talk, and a Lot More Action”? I could so do with a LOT LESS TALK! The man is a motor mouth with no “off” button!

It’s embarrassing at parties -- he always has to be the center of attention. He tells the same stories over and over again, never remembering that he’s told the SAME stories to the SAME people a dozen times already.

Will he ever grow up? What happened to the man I fell in love with?

Indeed, what has happened? What has changed? Nothing but her perspective. She’s stuck in “math mode,” focused on his weaknesses, trying desperately to “solve” someone she once vowed to accept.

One thing I've learned is how easily I can overlook my husband's myriad strengths and fixate my attention on a few particularly annoying (to me!) weaknesses. When I get stuck in "math mode," joy and intimacy are subtracted from our marriage.

Now it's your turn! How do you practice "history habits" and purposefully focus on your spouse's strengths?

In Praise of Pain

2011-10-13T08:34:00.000-07:00

5:30 arrives waaaay too early this morning.

I do not want to get up.

For all my talk of "going to bed early" last night, it was 11:30 before lights out.

I do not want to get up.

The 5:30 alarm rouses me briefly. Daniel gets up to start his weight routine. The down comforter cradles me and two warm cats snuggle up to me.

I do NOT want to get up!

But relentlessly, my daily motivation to get out of bed increases:
PAIN.

Zombie-like, I stagger into the bathroom, pull on exercise clothes, and plod down the stairs to the garage.

The elliptical won't work. A momentary flicker of hope: Clearly, God wants me to go back to bed!

But Daniel jiggles some wires, and suddenly the display flashes on.

I wish I could spring to life that quickly.

Selecting the most up-beat song on my iPod, I start moving. Slowly. Stiffly.

PAIN-full-y.

And yet, I know that within 10 minutes the pain will subside. And if I keep going for 20 minutes, my day will be relatively pain-free.

Every morning, I wake up to chronic residual pain from fracturing T7 and herniating the discs above and below more than a decade ago.

The one form of pain control that works is exercise. Each day, my quality of life is determined by a clear choice: exercise and feel good or stay in bed and stay in PAIN.

So today -- despite initially feeling like getting out of bed would be the end of me! -- I am thankful for two things:

1) I am thankful that pain control is within my control. I know many chronic pain sufferers for whom the worst thing is not the pain itself but their inability to predict or influence it. I can do both.

2) I am thankful for such powerful motivation to do what I should be doing but, on my own, lack the willpower to do. Pain has made me healthier: healthier than I was at the time of my injury and healthier than I would be, now, without it.

For what "pain" in your life are you thankful?

My Husband, My Hero

2011-10-12T16:09:00.000-07:00

It's Wifey Wednesday at To Love Honor and Vacuum, where Sheila Wray Gregoire has been discussing emotional affairs.

One way to avoid emotional entanglements in the first place is to focus on my leading man.

Over at Kathi Lipp's Book Club, Dr. Juli Slattery blogs "Looking for the Good in Your Husband" today and offers this challenge:

Go ahead, brag on your man! Tell us one reason your husband is your hero in the comments below, for a chance to win Finding the Hero in Your Husband: Surrendering the Way God Intended by Julianna Slattery.

Here's my response:

The reason that comes to mind this morning is how my husband looks out for me in little ways. He’s been getting up to work out at 5:30 AM for years; I just started getting up at 5:45 to jog.

Today I noticed that several lights had been turned on in key places throughout the house; Daniel had gone around switched them on so that I wouldn’t trip over or bash into anything on my way down the stairs and into the garage.

This is especially heroic because he hates wasting electricity and is forever turning out lights that aren’t obviously in use.

But he knows I have terrible night vision and a history of tripping over my own feet, so he put my needs for light above his own need to save.

It’s an act of self-sacrifice--no matter how small--that makes a hero.

(And in this case, a wife with far fewer bruises and band-aids!)

Back to a Nest for Two

2011-10-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

It's been three weeks, now, since we drove our kids the half-day journey to college: Annemarie for her junior year and Jonathon for his freshman. We returned home to the proverbial "empty nest."

Well-meaning sympathizers (with Kleenex boxes in hand) initially asked, "How are you feeling?" and offered strong shoulders to cry on.

I horrified them away by quoting the closing lines of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s famous speech: "Free at last! Free at last! Praise God, Almighty, I'm free at last!"

I love my children. If you've spent time with me, you know I can't stop telling stories about them, bragging about their latest adventures, worrying over their current struggles.

But while I have dedicated the last two decades of my life to mothering my children, my children are not my life. In fact, my primary goal as a mom has always been to work myself out of the job!

As the first week went by, Daniel and I marveled daily at the "abnormalities" in our home: One load of laundry. An empty sink. A full refrigerator. An obstacle-free entry way.

Uninterrupted time to talk. Spontaneous walks together. Nobody else to help, prod, comfort, encourage, remind, hear, watch, feed, shop for, clean up after, do anything for.

Just the two of us. Just the way it was when we said "I do" 23 years ago.

Last weekend, as we snuggled on the couch to read together, Daniel sighed contentedly and whispered, "I could get used to this!"

Me too.

Just we two.

The Stories I Tell Myself

2011-09-26T06:04:00.000-07:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and today's topic is children.

* * * * *

This "video" (it's really more like an illustrated podcast!) demonstrates the concept of "the stories I tell myself" with photos of my son and briefly explores the impact of "the stories I tell myself" on marriage.

The Stories I Tell Myself

Teamwork Lessons from a Toddler

2011-09-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and today's topic is children.

* * * * *

While learning to walk, Jonathon had clung happily to our fingers, leaning on us for support. We had held him safely between us.

Now that he could walk on his own, however, he wanted nothing to do with either parent. If I carried him, he squirmed to get “down.” Once on terra firma, he scurried away as fast as his wobbly legs would carry him.

Terrified for his safety, I dashed after him, clamping my hand around his chubby fist. Then I endured ear-splitting screams of protest as he tried to free himself from my restrictive vice grip. (Oh, and the disapproving glances and tut-tut head-shakes of passers-by who assumed I was needlessly harsh with my adorable toddler!)

Several weeks into this new routine, Jonathon tried a new tactic. We were walking through the market – me fighting to focus on my shopping list as my tiny son was fighting to get loose from me – when suddenly he stopped struggling.

Now, I normally have s.l.o.w. reflexes. I’ll drop a bottle of soda, think to myself, “When this hits my foot, it’s sure gonna hurt!” yet be unable to move my foot to avoid the pain and eventual bruise.

Yet on this particular day, my physical reaction miraculously occurred even as my brain registered, “He’s stopped struggling. Something is about to happen.”

I gripped Jonathon’s hand tighter and, with lightening speed, rotated my wrist a half turn, moving my hand away from him. Sure enough, with a strategic gleam in his eyes, Jonathon opened his mouth and chomped his rasor-sharp baby teeth...into his own pudgy hand.

Shock, confusion, and dismay replaced defiance on his face. Pain registered, and he began to cry. I comforted him, and then we walked on, hand-in-hand without resistance.

I felt grateful Jonathon had experienced the natural consequence of his biting. He had bitten, and he had experienced the pain.

And then I thought: Daniel.

Jonathon will try this on Daniel.

I’ve got to tell him before Jonathon tries this on him!

That evening, before bed, I recounted the brief incident to my husband, concluding with the recommendation, “So if you feel him stop pulling to get away, don't think; just rotate your hand away from him.”

The very next morning, Daniel took Jonathon on a quick errand. He returned with a meek toddler and a knowing wink. After settling Jonathon down for his nap, he told me,

It happened just like you said! I was dragging him down the isle. He was fighting to get away from me the whole time, when suddenly he stopped. My brain was thinking, “All of these bananas are too ripe. Don’t they have any gree-” when suddenly it switched to, “Rotate your wrist!”

He chomped down SO hard! It took five minutes to stop his crying.

The whole time, what kept going through my mind was, “If he had bit my hand, I wouldn’t have thought. I just would have slapped him across the face as hard as I could.”

Daniel paused, shook his head at the thought, and resumed.

I’m really glad I was prepared.

Jonathon turned out to be a two-bite baby. Natural consequences nipped what could have been a nightmarish habit in the bud.

I still shudder to think what could have happened if I’d not told Daniel about my near-biting incident with Jonathon.

What if Jonathon had bitten him? What if Daniel had slapped our toddler across the face? With whom would I have sided? How would that have impacted our less-than-five-year-old marriage? How would Daniel’s image of himself as a father been altered? How would Daniel’s relationship to his son been changed?

Daniel and I learned some important lessons about teamwork that day:

1) Keep each other "in the loop."

2) Prevent situations that encourage "siding" with a child, against each other.

3) Refuse to play tug-of-war when there's a child between us.

We also learned how vital it was for us to keep clinging together. To keep leaning on each other – and on the One who has always safely held us – for support.

Unknown but Loved

2011-09-12T05:56:00.000-07:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and the topic is "communication." When I sat down to write my blog post, I'd planned to write about how my inner dialogue impacts our communication as a couple, but this is what came out instead!

* * * * *

“Of all "the looks" my mother has given me through the years -- delight, exasperation, joy, frustration, pride -- I never imagined (and could not have possibly prepared for) the one she gave me yesterday: oblivion. Alzheimers has ruthlessly plundered my mother's memory, stealing even the name she so carefully chose for me.”

This was my Facebook status update one month ago today. I’d just visited my mother, who has been declining for several years.

When I arrived, something felt very “not right” about Mother’s response to me. It took several hours to realize that she had not seemed happy or even surprised to see me; she had not addressed me by name or asked me why I was there or how long I was saying.

My mother had not known me.

I’d spent 44 years bemoaning that she didn’t really understand me, “get” me, know me. Now she really doesn’t know me. My own mother has never known me. And now, she never will.

I’d wanted, needed, expected so much more from her. I’d spent 44 years trying to re-create her in the image of who I thought my mother should be. I’d secretly believed that she could become the kind of mother who knew me, who understood me, if she really wanted to. If she tried hard enough. If she changed enough.

But I failed to change her, so I’ve spent four decades feeling unknown, unloved.

Daniel and I celebrated 23 years yesterday. And I spent far too many of those years trying to re-create him in the image of who I thought my husband should be. I not-so-secretly insisted that he could become the kind of husband who knew me, who understood me, if he really wanted to. If he tried hard enough. If he changed enough.

Failing to change my husband, I felt unknown, unloved.

A friend, whose mother's memory is failing, posted this compassionate comment to my Facebook status: "My mother has been saying to me for several months, 'I don't know who you are, but I know I love you with all my heart.' "

I wept tears of hope while reading this, at first for my future relationship with my mother. Then I realized the powerful implications for all relationships.

How well do any of us know and understand each other?

At best, we know bits and pieces. We know what we can know; we understand what we can understand. We each do the best we can.

I finally understand, at a heart level, the futility of trying to change people. The best I can do now is to stop insisting that my loved ones know me – or more accurately, make me feel known and understood.

The best I can do now is recognize that even though my mother does not know me now, she has always loved me with all her heart.

I wish I could have done so sooner, much sooner. My chances to know and appreciate my mother for who she was — rather than for who she wasn't — are gone.

But I have more chances with Daniel, and I'm determined not to waste them.

The best I can do now is learn to communicate to him, in word and in deed, "I may never know fully who you are, but I do know I love you with all my heart!"

Stumbling on [the Way to] Happiness: Sanguines, Procrastination, and Anxiety

2011-06-22T13:36:00.000-07:00

When I started reading Stumbling on Happiness I didn't expect to have my lifetime of procrastination and last-minute anxiety explained.

I didn't even think I needed (or deserved) an explanation beyond "Cheri's a Sanguine, and Sanguines are flakes."

Here's a new concept I find compelling, comforting, and challenging:

Gilbert points out that when we see little black specks on a prairie horizon, we recognize them -- visually -- to be buffalo located far away. We do not look at them and think, "They are tiny; thus, they must be insects." The fact that they are vague and blurry signals to our brains that they are far away.

Conversely, recognize insects not just because they are small but also because we see the wings and legs; we see details! Visually, we do very well at recognizing that vagueness and blurriness indicate distance while details signal closeness.

When a buffalo comes walking across the prairie toward us, we do not act appalled that it has hooves or fur or eyelashes or other details we couldn't see when it was far away. We know that the closer it comes, the more details we will see. This is normal for us, visually speaking.

However, when it comes to dealing with time – specifically planning for the future, – Sanguines can go “all wonky” (as my daughter would say)!

When I "see" something on the horizon of my future, it's all vague and blurry. I have a "feel" for it. This vague, blurry feel is typically the “why” of the future event, and I make my decisions based on that why.

But as that vague and blurry future gets closer, inevitably becoming the up-close detailed present, I am shocked -- positively appalled! -- by all the details I did not agree to! The myriad details of the how throw me into conniption fits.

Gilbert illustrates this by asking how many times we've committed to something a month or two ahead of time, thrilled by the concept of being (for example) a doting aunt and loving sister -- "Yes, I'd love to babysit my nephews!" But when the time actually comes, the reality of screaming children, snotty noses, and poopy diapers bears no resemblence to what I initially agreed upon because I agreed to the why of a concept not the how of the details!

Applying this to myself as a (50%) Sanguine, and I’ve got nothing but trouble! I’m a visionary, so I love saying "yes" to new ideas! I love the ideas. I love how I expect I’ll feel when the vague, blurry idea occurs!

But as the commitment draws closer, my (50%) Choleric side knows it should be checking details off a list. Well, Sanguine Cheri didn't sign up for no stinkin' details. I signed up for a glorious "why"!

Finally, when disaster is imminent, Choleric Cheri knows she has to take action. Having procrastinated as long as possible (because Sanguine Cheri wants to bask in the glory of the glorious "why" as long as possible before reality comes crashing down around her) I am then stuck trying to execute dozens, if not hundreds, of soul-killing details in an absurdly short period of time.

Three new things I'm going to do when I'm invited to make a commitment that I think might be a good fit for me:

1) I will ask for time to think. I will set aside time for quiet and meditation and prayer. Then I'll set a timer for 30 minutes during which I will brainstorm every possible detail that needs to be handled in order for this commitment to be a success by my standards.

2) I'll take my list to Daniel and ask him what worst case scenarios I've left off my list. As a Melancholy, he is well qualified to "rain on my parade" and pre-commitment is when I want (or at least need!) to have my spirits dampened.

3) I will then prayerfully consider whether or not I can say "yes" to everything on the list. Not just the vague and blurry "why" of glory, but to all the nitty-gritty details required to get me there.

If I say "no," thank heavens for all involved!

If I say "yes," then my next step is to take all of those brainstormed details, prioritize them, and then spread them out on my calendar starting that day so I can chip away at them a little bit at a time.

The Heart of Motivation

2011-05-29T09:50:00.000-07:00

In a recent blog post, Five Ways to Energize Your Team, Michael Hyatt wrote,

"...[a]t the end of the day, everyone is a volunteer. People will only go so far in the performance of a duty. If you want their very best, you have to have their hearts. You can’t demand this or even buy it with a paycheck. You have to earn it.

In my experience, there are five ways to do this:

1. Assume others are smart and working hard.
2. Listen intently and ask thoughtful questions.
3. Acknowledge the sacrifices others have made on your behalf.
4. Express gratitude for their effort and their results.
5. Remind them why their work is so important and the difference they are making.

Think back to a great meeting where you left feeling empowered. What happened to make you feel that way? What happened to your performance?"

These closing questions got me thinking. I clicked "Comment," intending to say something brief. 450+ words later, I'd written a whole new blog post:

The Heart of Motivation

I will never forget a workshop given by a college English department chair. It had an unpromising title, like "What College English Teachers Wish High School English Teachers Did." I attended out of duty and steeled myself to be berated for failing to prepare my students for the rigors of college.

To my surprise -- and utter delight! -- the presenter spent the first ten minutes praising us for our hard work and dedication, empathizing with the myriad hats we wear and paper piles we grade.

She then revealed the one thing college students seem to remember about their high school English teachers: the positive comments we write on papers. She said nothing about all the negative red marks we're famous (infamous?) for leaving on papers; she simply told us that students so appreciate the positive, encouraging comments...the more specific, the better.

With humor, she walked us through a practical Top Ten list of deficits many college freshmen have in the area of writing. She assured us that she knew we taught all ten; she was not blaming us for the fact that students arrived at college not knowing them. She then invited us to guess what was on the list.

I called out, "They have no clue what a thesis statement is," to which she responded, "That's the top problem we see, and yet when I get one of your students, I don't think to myself 'Why didn't Mrs. G teach these kids how to write a thesis statement?' because I know that you did! You all do!" She went through the entire list the same way, assuring us of her belief in our efforts while sharing difficult data we needed to hear.

She ended with just one plea. Since at the college level the consequences of "sloppy" research can be as severe as expulsion, she urged high school English teachers to spend more time on research: validity of sources, note-taking, citing sources, avoiding plagiarism, and doing one's own original thinking.

I left that 50 minute session excited about increasing my effectiveness. I wrote more positive comments on student papers. I found new and better ways to teach thesis statements (and the other 9 items on the list!) And I wove research skills throughout the curriculum for the entire year.

I've wondered why this one presenter had such an immediate and lasting impact on me. The list above makes it very clear, as she intentionally did each one. By the end of her presentation, I felt understood, appreciated, and vitally necessary.

(Following his own advice, Michael Hyatt responded to my comment, "Beautiful. I don’t know if you have your own blog, but if you do, you should make this a post. It is a great example of so many things. I appreciate you sharing it.")

Leadership Lessons from Salsa Class

2011-04-18T05:43:00.000-07:00

Over at Chrysalis, it's Marriage Monday! Today's topic is Leadership.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Five years ago, Marriage Partnership featured a fun article by Mayo Mathers called "All the Right Moves: What a Salsa Dance Class Taught My Husband and Me About Love."

To my surprise, Daniel read the entire article.

To my utter shock, he then proposed, "We should take Salsa lessons!"

I signed us up the next morning, before he could change his mind. We spent ten weeks experiencing first-hand much of what we'd read in the article, especially

Rule #2: The Man Needs to Lead

During our second lesson, everyone became thoroughly confused about a new step. So Victoria stopped the music and patiently demonstrated it again. When she'd finished, she said, "I'm going to turn the music back on and we'll try it again. There's only one thing to remember. Can you tell me what that is?"

All 20 men immediately shouted in unison, "The men lead!" Ah-h-h! Now Steve felt like he'd gotten his money's worth.

This second rule of dance provided some amazing insights. While the men of our class understood the concept of leading, none of the women did. As a result, the men felt as though the women were resisting their lead when all we were trying to do was keep up. Victoria quickly recognized the root of the problem.

"Gentlemen!" she admonished. "You can't jerk your partner's arm over her head at the last moment and expect her to be able to twirl gracefully. It keeps her off balance. Gently lift her arm before you twirl her so she knows where you're taking her."

It made perfect sense! The secret to beautiful dancing is in how the man leads....I realized my resistance to his lead always came when I felt jerked around, with no time to discuss a given circumstance or contemplate options.

Salsa made me realize I didn't object to following Steve's lead; I objected to having no sense of where we were going. I was more than willing to follow...not knowing incited my resistance.

Before Salsa lessons, I'd given up on giving input in our marriage. I'd been lambasted too many times for "being so emasculating" when offering my opinion and for "questioning my judgement" when asking for clarification. I'd gone silent and sullen, passively (but quietly!) resisting Daniel at every turn.

The physical experience of learning to Salsa dance together let me feel how connected we became when I relaxed into my husband's lead. And Daniel felt how relaxed I became -- and stayed! -- when he gave me even small hints about where he was about to take us.

Dance lessons didn't solve every problem in our marriage overnight, of course. But after those ten weeks of Salsa, the dreaded "emasculating" and "questioning judgement" comments never resurfaced. And I consciously tried -- and still try -- to follow more willingly.

When I feel myself tightening into a knot of control-freak questions and comments, I choose to relax -- remember it's a dance! -- and go with the flow of my husband's lead.

Give Him Something to Look At

2011-03-30T07:23:00.000-07:00

It's Wifey Wednesday with Sheila Wray Gregoire at To Love Honor and Vacuum. Her question this week is: "Should We Be Upset when Our Husbands Are Tempted?"

Sheila says, "Be confident. Dress attractively. Give him something to look at!...It's hard to demand that men not look at other women if we simultaneously never really encourage them to look at us."

A couple of weeks ago, I bought this shirt from Kathi Lipp at the Desire Conference in San Jose:

I wasn't sure what Daniel would think. Maybe he'd tell me to cover it with a sweatshirt? Be careful not to wear it around campus?

First time I wore it he blushed, grinned, and said, "You spoil me!" Same reaction each time I wear it.

Then I found this little number at Ross:

Unfortunately, by "little" I do mean little. It's junior sized, and the Large fits like Saran Wrap. But I figured I'd use it as workout wear.

I wore it this morning on the elliptical and got the same reaction: BIG grin followed by "You spoil me."

I plan to do more ~~shopping~~...er...research, but I just may be on to something...!

Waking Up: 20 Years Ago Today

2011-03-25T09:10:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago today I woke up uncomfortable. REALLY uncomfortable.

Daniel and I arrived at the hospital around 8:30 AM, just the two of us.

The mother of one of my students was our nurse, and she got us into the "really nice" birthing suite where Daniel started the soothing CDs playing.

Around 11:00, the epidural arrived, and I relaxed.

Daniel fed me ice chips. Changed the CDs. Cheered me through contractions.

I wondered, "Who will she be? What will she be like?"

At 3:05, the answers began as I looked down at our tiny new bundle of life and said, "So you're the little person I've been waiting 9 whole months to meet!"

I was struck by the realization that Annemarie Elizabeth Gregory is not an extension of me or of Daniel. She is not a "mini me" but a separate, distinct individual person.

The next day, we left the hospital, all three of us.

(Here's our "baby" 18 years later, holding her "baby"!)

* * * * *

This was my first try at Five Minute Friday.

Five minutes to just write, and not worry if it’s just right or not. Kind of like how the rest of my life is at the moment.

Want to join me?

1. Write for only five minutes.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Go leave some comment love for the five minuter who linked up before you.

It’s liberating; give it a try and see!

Seeing the Positive Intention

2011-03-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Years ago, as a desperate newbie teacher with an out-of-control classroom, I read Jane Nelson's Positive Discipline in the Classroom. Later, as a parent desperate to prevent out-of-control children at home, I read Positive Discipline.

In both books, Nelsen points out that kids' misbehavior grows from mistaken goals, such as attention and power. Adults need to look beyond behavior and seek the child's positive intention.

So, for example, when one of my students loudly interrupts me as I'm starting class, I deal with his attention-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor his positive intention: this student wants to connect with me. I seek appropriate (and far less public!) ways to build my one-on-one relationship with the student.

Or if a student argues with me beyond what the situation warrants, I deal with the power-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor her positive intention: this student desires influence. I seek appropriate ways to mentor this student in leadership, in and out of the classroom.

Within each negative behavior hides a positive intention.

* * * * *

A few weeks ago, at my Eating Disorder support group, one of the members was returning Jenni Schaefer's excellent book Life Without Ed.

I commented that I'd found the book especially powerful in shifting my own thinking when I read it 7 years ago.

The group leader asked me if I'd seen her newest book, Goodbye Ed, Hello Me.

My glowing endorsement faded to a scowl as I acknowledge that I had.

"What did you think?" she asked.

"It made me mad," I responded.

"Why?" she pressed.

"The way she considers herself 100% recovered makes me jealous," I confessed.

"Or perhaps hopeful?" the leader suggested.

We moved on to other topics, but her unexpected juxtaposition of jealousy and hope startled me. I've been pondering it ever since.

Perhaps within every negative emotion lies a positive intention?

* * * * *

I nearly stopped on top of a freeway overpass recently. The road was dry, the sun was out. Yet as I drove up, up, up and around the overpass, sudden anxiety crashed over me. My palms broke out in sweat. My peripheral vision closed in. I slowed, breathed deeply, shook out my shoulders, and all was well. But what was that all about?

To be honest, that wasn't the first time. Over the last few months, I'd "freaked out" several times while driving on the freeway, always on the freeway while driving overpasses or major curves. I'd always maintained control of the car, but I worried about what these episodes meant.

What kind of trick was my mind playing on me and why? Was I developing an escalating anxiety disorder? Vertigo? Was I losing my ability to drive altogether?

Driving from Southern California to Monterey last Sunday, I was hit by similar panic. The torrential rain pouring down and flooded highway only made things worse. I truly "white knuckled" it as I sought an offramp. And I began to mentally berate myself.

"What is wrong with you? Why can't you get a grip? You've been driving for almost 30 years. You've done this hundreds of times before. This time is no different."

Suddenly the thought occurred to me: But what if this time is different?

What if, instead of berating my body for these "crazy" signals it's sending me, I listen? What if I believe what my sweaty hands and ringing ears are telling me: that I am in danger and my body is doing everything possible to protect me?

What if I trust that behind these negative physical reactions is a positive intention?

As I relaxed and continued on with caution, I realized that every single "episode" had occurred when I was driving a left curve. Never one to the right.

And I recalled reading in Malcolm Gladwell's Blink that our subconscious causes us to change behaviors well before our conscious mind realizes what we're doing or why.

What if the grinding "transmission" noise I'd been hearing during our 420 mile drive down to Southern California and, now–even louder–on our 420 drive back home wasn't transmission after all?

Sure enough, on Tuesday, Nissan replaced my Murano's left front wheel bearings (still under the extended warranty, thank goodness!)

Left curves and overpasses on the freeway? No trouble, now!

And hopefully in the future, I'll have less trouble seeing the positive intention, in behaviors, emotions, and even physical reactions.

In others and in myself.

"Let's Build a Marriage"

2011-03-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis, and today's an open topic!

I'm reading Jan Silvious' new book, Same Life New Story: Change Your Perspective to Change Your Life in which she shares a life mantra: "What-might-have-been does not exist, so don't even go there."

I shake my head in wonder...and envy. I spent my childhood, teen years, and much of my adulthood in my very own "Land of Make-believe," a fantasy world in which I imagined and lived myriad "what-might-have-beens." I'm exhausted at 44 because I poured so much time and energy into living so many "alternate lives" during my 20s and 30s!

This last weekend, I attended the memorial service for a favorite high school teacher. As friends and colleagues paid tribute to "Mr. B," they recalled his favorite sayings. One phrase especially struck me: "What is, IS."

Oh, how I have resisted this! How pessimistic, how fatalistic it's always sounded to me! No, NO, NO! I will NOT accept things the way they are! I am Choleric, I make things happen, and I will make things change!

Of course, this translates to: I will make the people in my life change until they make me happy.

And the most frequent victim of my efforts has, sadly, been my husband. You know, the man I vowed to "love, honor, and cherish"...and then immediately attempted to "tweak, repair, and ultimately overhaul"!

But Mr. B experienced a peace with life that has eluded me. He was one of the most loving and giving people I've ever known, especially with struggling students. He always had a smile, regardless of how tired or obnoxious our 2nd period Pre-Calc class was being. He was a master at making do with what he had; when a Physics lab went south, he'd pull together wire, duct tape, and a spare penny and make it work.

Driving home from the memorial service, I pondered the day-to-day implications of discarding "what-might-have-been" thinking and embracing "What is, IS."

I've spent years telling myself that refusing to accept "status quo" makes me idealistic and optimistic. But the simple truth is that chasing after what-might-have-beens has left me tired and grouchy. Perhaps there's value to accepting "what is", after all?

This scene from Apollo 13 came to mind:

Square Peg in a Round Hole

Apollo 13— MOVIECLIPS.com

Notice what does not happen? Nobody spends time (and certainly not days, weeks, or months!) bemoaning the life-threatening stupidity of having to deal with a square filter and a round filter.

Nobody even points out the obvious: "We wouldn't even BE here right now trying to solve this problem if SOMEbody had thought ahead and made all filters square OR all filters round!"

Nobody sinks into victimhood, moaning, "I wish I'd never taken this job. I didn't sign up for this. I didn't realize I'd have to deal with problems of this magnitude."

What do they say?

"The people upstairs have handed us this one, and we gotta come through."

"We gotta find a way to make this fit [with] this, using nothing but that."

"Let's get it organized."

"Let's build a filter!"

"Let's get some coffee going, too, someone..."

Re-writing the dialogue a bit, I hear:

"The Man Upstairs has given us this life, and we've gotta come through.

We've gotta find a way to make you become one with me using nothing but what actually IS.

Let's figure out who's brought what to this relationship.

Let's build a marriage!"

Of course, the "us" in "let's" is far greater than just me and Daniel, no matter how "well-meaning" (my favorite phrase from Emerson Eggerichs) either of us may be.

In my optimistic, idealistic zeal to build my marriage, I chased after what-might-have-beens.

But what it really takes to "build a marriage" is accepting "What is, IS" and eagerly anticipating "what-God-is-doing."

(Getting some coffee going is a pretty good idea, too!)

He's Got the Biceps...

2011-03-07T07:39:00.000-08:00

It's Marriage Monday over at Chrysalis. Today's topic is "trust."

* * *

"Don't lift anything heavier than 5 pounds!" my doctor instructs me, as he writes a prescription for Vicodin and an order for physical therapy.

I leave his office, shaken. This is no muscle spasm that's gonna loosen up with some heat packs and a few massages. I've fractured T7 and herniated the discs above and below.

Healing is gonna be a v-e-r-y long haul.

That night, I need to load my car. I reach for the first box and quickly realize it's far heavier than 5 pounds.

Ask Daniel for help.

I can't do that!

Why not?

I don't want to bother him.

* * *

Not bothering anyone is a skill I've honed over the years. Make no waves. Ask for nothing. Have no needs. Take care of myself.

* * *

But that box is way more than five pounds. I can't take care of it myself. I need help.

I struggle. I stall. I finally sidle up to Daniel's door and quietly ask, "Could you help me move some boxes into the car?

He looks up, grins broadly, and says, "Sure!" He heads to the garage and begins to toss large heavy boxes effortlessly into the car.

He's wearing a black "muscle T", which gives me a fabulous view of his flexing biceps at work. Although I'm standing still, the garage temperature is rising. I'm getting a bit light-headed.

"Is that it?" he asks.

I look around for more boxes for him to lift, a bit disappointed that he's done so quickly.

As he winks, kisses me, and heads back into the house, I am struck by two realizations.

First, I have been missing out on some serious eye candy all these years! What have I been trying to prove, lifting all those stupid boxes myself when I coulda been watching in rapt appreciation?

Second, my fears about "bothering" him were clearly fantastical. What would have taken me half an hour without my injury took him five minutes. And he was happy to help. More than happy, actually...more like relieved to finally be asked to do something he's well-qualified to do for me.

Lesson learned: He's got the biceps, so trust him to haul the heavy stuff...while I stand back and watch!

If Marriage Was More Like Playing a Video Game...

2011-02-22T19:29:00.000-08:00

...my husband would face one specific problem which required his expertise to solve. (No video game requires men to "just listen without trying to fix anything"!)

...my husband would see clear goals which, with effort, he could attain. (No video game expects men to "just know without being told"!)

...my husband would receive copious ongoing feedback regarding his progress. (No video game gives a man the silent treatment for months and then explodes out of the blue!)

...my husband would be part of a mentoring community, giving and receiving tips and hints, such as special "hack" codes. (No video game expects a man to figure everything out all out on his own!)

...my husband would find the cost of failure low and the rewards of exploration high. (No video game nags a man until he feels like he'll never get it right.)

If marriage produced the same "hits" of dopamine as playing a video game, my husband could consistently feel like a success, a winner, a champion!

So...how could marriage become even a bit more like playing a video game?

(For more thoughts on marriage, check out Chrysalis: A weblog for thinking Christian Moms.)

Two Weeks of, "Who me? Sarcasm free?"

2011-02-15T07:38:00.000-08:00

Sheesh! Has it really been only two weeks?

I feel like I've been hearing dozens of "helpful" voices reminding me, "Mrs. G, was that sarcasm?...Mom, do you need to change your bracelet?...Mrs. G, can I add another $1.00 to the board?...Sweetheart, are you wearing your bracelet right now?...Man, Mrs. G, you're having a B.A.D. day!" for a couple of consecutive eternities!

Oh, the pain of having my favorite literary devices–euphemism, litotes, hyperbole, irony, and my beloved pun!–called on the carpet as sarcasm! (But, of course, I am not bitter...sullen, sardonic, and acrimonious, perhaps...but not merely bitter!)

However, in the spirit of reflective practice, here are the Top 10 Things I've learned in the last two weeks:

1) I'm lazy when it comes to interpersonal communication. Sarcasm is my one-trick pony. Without it, I babble or become stymied. All of this is humbling for someone who considers herself an extrovert with a high EQ!

2) I measure communication success by the amount of laughter (or groans–I'm not picky!) evoked. Laughter from an audience–whether it be 17 AP English Lit & Comp students during second period or dozens of women at a retreat or several hundred teachers at a convention–is my #1 drug of choice. I'll trade horses and chocolate and oxygen in exchange for laughter, any day!

3) I lack conversational skills. When it quickly becomes clear that a companion doesn't find me amusing (i.e. my one-trick pony has failed to impress!) I back-up plans are (a) hasty retreat or (b) painful silence. I've always envied those who can skillfully draw others out with open-ended questions. But clearly, I've taken no steps to learn or practice their skills!

4) I work hard to maintain a negative attitude. This is especially hard to admit, as I consider myself an eternal optimist! But listening to myself defend the value of my caustic comments has made me aware of how quickly I descend into negativity and how adamantly I defend my right to go there.

5) I'm fabulous at focusing on problems but fail at finding solutions. My favorite genre of literature is, not surprisingly, satire. All the fun of holding others up to ridicule without a stitch of responsibility for initiating change!

6)

7)

8)

9)

10)

Okay, so much for my Top 10 list: the first five are so depressing, I wanna crawl back in bed. Actually, that's a poor cliche for me, since as a Choleric, I deem sleep a complete waste of time. I'm more of a hit-the-mall kinda gal than a pull-the-covers-over-my-head kinda gal.

Fortunately, neither heading back to bed nor to the mall are available options. Instead, after five days of missing my students (oh, the urge to add "but my aim is improving!"...) they're back on campus, and in 45 minutes, I'll be back with all 116 of my accountability partners (give or take 20, if you include the various staff members who've volunteered to "support" me by declining the bracelet but listening for any hint of criticism, complaining, gossip, or sarcasm!)

So, tune in tomorrow for the final five of my Top 10...

(...or come join me in the mall!)

Just Ask: So Long, Status Quo "No"

2011-02-09T09:34:00.000-08:00

Back in my Discovery Toys days, my team read The Aladdin Factor together. Our motto quickly became, "Just Ask!"

Failure to ask guarantees a status quo "no."

If I ask, I may actually hear "no"; but nothing has actually changed. I gain nothing but I lose nothing. I have what I had before asking. "No" big deal.

But sometimes when I ask, I get a "yes"! Then I suddenly have more than I had before.

I became an avid "no" collector as I learned that the more I asked, the more I heard "no"...and the more I heard "yes"!

Once I got out of the team-oriented, goal-setting world of sales, however, I forgot the "The Aladdin Factor".

Somewhere along the way, I traded it for the "Bother No One" principle, the motto of which is "Don't Ask."

So...

* I've not asked a neighbor for a cup of flour. I've bothered no one and made the 40-minute round trip to Safeway instead.

* I've not asked a colleague how (s)he gets such a lively discussion going in class. I've bothered no one and allowed my classroom to become ignorantly silent, instead.

* I've not asked church members for help after surgery. I've bothered no one and ended up with complications and delayed recovery, instead.

The rewards of living by the "Bother No One" principle and according to its accompanying "Don't Ask" motto are scant. I became independent (...or isolated?) I was self-sufficient (...or disconnected?) No one could call me a nuisance...or a friend.

Last Christmas vacation, as I was rearranging my living room decor (8 huge shelving units full of books!) I pulled out The Aladdin Factor and decided to revive the "Just Ask!" motto.

* Annemarie's laptop hard drive failed while she was home from college. She'd backed up just before leaving, but her backup drive was at school. Would the girls' dean go into Annemarie's room, grab the external drive, and ship it to us? Five days before Christmas, she generously took the time to do so.

* Several days after Christmas, when the backup drive still had not arrived as expected (by December 23), I called the UPS office only to learn that all "school deliveries" had been put into storage until January 3. (We live on a boarding school campus.) I explained to the UPS representative how important it was to get the external drive so we could restore Annemarie's computer before she headed back to her winter quarter of college. Could they dig through the 5000+ packages and find her box? The next day, Tracy called me back with jubilation in her voice,"I hugged the guy who found it!"

* A few weeks ago, I had a doctor's appointment in an unfamiliar part of town about 20 minutes away. I also had dry cleaning that needed to get done, and the only dry cleaner I know of is 20 minutes in the opposite direction. I hesitated e-mailing my doctor – she's a busy lady, after all! – but decided to "Just Ask!" Could she recommend a near-by dry cleaning service? Within an hour, she'd responded, thrilled to recommend an excellent dry cleaner half-way between her office and my home...and it even has drive-up service and delivery!

* Just this morning, I had to muster up the nerve to write an e-mail about a 3-day conference I really want to attend, but I have non-negotiable obligations during the 2nd and 3rd days. I've registered for a pre-conference workshop and would love to stay for only the 1st day of the official conference; would this be possible for a reduced fee? Within twenty minutes, I had a "yes"!

The rewards of living by the "Just Ask!" principle?

Well, thanks to the dean and the UPS representative, Daniel was able to get Annemarie's computer back up and running. It took three full days, making us more grateful than ever for these two women who went out of their way to say "yes." Without them, Annemarie would have had no computer–and no data–for third quarter.

Thanks to my doctor, I have a new dry convenient cleaner that gives great service and charges reasonable rates.

And thanks to a conference planner who was willing to think outside-of-the-box, I'm going to be eagerly taking notes in sessions such as "Rewired: Understanding the iGeneration and the Way They Learn," "iBrain: The Technological Alteration of the Student Mind," "Language and Learning: From the Age of Literacy to the Digital Age," "Memory, Learning, and Multitasking," "Stressed-Out Overflowing Student Brains," and "Digital Games, Digital Learning" a week from tomorrow!

The greatest reward of living by the "Just Ask!" principle is that I have so much to be grateful for.

No, not everyone says "yes."

But as long as I remind myself that "no" is status quo, I'm free to celebrate each and every "yes!"

Inconvenience...or Serendipity?

2011-02-07T07:27:00.000-08:00

Such the inconvenience!

Yesterday, I got up early to pick up a prescription at Walgreens. I arrived to learn that they were out of the medication but would transfer the prescription to another local pharmacy. I chose Target, since I needed to do some shopping there.

I arrived at Target, did my shopping, and then stalled for an hour waiting for Target's pharmacy to open. When it did, I was told that no, Walgreens did not transfer the prescription. In fact, they could not "transfer" it because the Target pharmacist had to personally call to receive the prescription. And the wait time would be at least an hour.

In the midst of this, Annemarie texted me, "Mom, where are you? I'm leaving soon!" So, I headed home to say goodbye.

An hour later, I drove back to Target to get what I'd left home four hours earlier to get, fuming the whole way about the inconvenience, the wasted time, the stupidity of it all.

But later in the day, as I helped Jonathon dress up as a Beatnik for the Junior/Senior 50's bash (the James Dean look is hard to pull off with a beard!) I realized that from a slightly different perspective, the morning's events were nothing short of fortuitous.

While waiting for Target to open, I spent time in Ross. That's where I found a pair of inexpensive black pants, dress shoes (which Jonathon can also wear with his Oceanaires tuxedo!), and the one thing I was afraid I'd never find spur-of-the-moment: a black beret.

And because I returned to Target, I found the two finishing-touch items we were missing: a skin-tight black turtleneck and a funky scarf (both deeply discounted!)

Without the beret, the turtleneck, and the scarf...well, we wouldn't have had a beatnik outfit!

How often do I complain about inconvenience...and miss the chance to celebrate serendipity?