I have a few questions I ask myself – some daily and some weekly – to make sure I’m emotionally healthy and aligned with God’s purpose for my life on any given day. My overly analytical tendency is to think too far forward and forget to find meaning in the moment, so building a quick self test has been really important.
The handful of questions are very basic. They measure things like how peaceful I feel, how obedient I’ve been, whether or not I’ve stopped to listen to Him and others, etc. But recently I added a question to the metric and it’s made a very big impact on how I view my life’s purpose. The question is this:
Are you having fun right now? If not, why not?
Seriously. That’s the question. And before you yell at your computer screen that sometimes life is hard and suffering is important and we gotta do the difficult, let me say: I agree with all those things. I’ve had a pretty immersive experience in dealing with sadness and doing hard things. But I also believe that those seasons should not be the norm. When the battle is over, we should go on home. And home should – at least in some small way – be fun, or maybe we’re doing it a little bit wrong. Fun should not be the once-annual byproduct of having cleaned up all the messes and eliminated all the negative ingredients. Fun should be had in the very middle of the messes and in rebellion to the negative elements that want to sink our happiness and steal our whimsy.
I have a job I adore, a family I would die for, friends who make my life more rich and full than I ever could have imagined, an amazing boyfriend (**see footnote) and grandkids that are so cute they make my heart do backflips. Most importantly, I am alive in the right-now, right-here good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The seasons of sorrow have been real and treacherous, but they have made me more compassionate, more wise, more rich than I was before. So much is good and right and beautiful in my life that I’m beginning to believe if I’m not having some serious fun living it, then maybe I have bought some kind of of lie that the other shoe is about to drop, or other people have it better or I’m too busy (*see other footnote – it’s a footnote kind of day) to really enjoy it right now or any manner of excuse-making we do when we’d rather stay stuck than change.
It certainly doesn’t need to be your life motto, but it is becoming one of mine: If I’m not having fun, I might be doing it wrong.
Have a really fun Monday!
*I just read this article by Eugene Peterson about The Unbusy Pastor and it was like the best sort of punch in the gut.
**It’s still feels wonky to say “boyfriend” at 51, but “gentleman friend’ seems yet stranger. In fact, let me honestly state that dating is the most weird, whimsical, outrageous, controversial, risky thing I have ever done, and I do not love risks. My life would be so much more ordered and calm and predictable without it but it would also be exponentially less fun and full and happy.
Happy birthday! 55 is such a cool number – I woke up this morning thinking about how we would celebrate this year if you were here. I know what you would want: Your family and a few close friends around you, good food – maybe something Greek – and a good round of golf. Your loves were simple and consistent.
Sometimes I wonder what your life would be like had ALS not interrupted it but my imagination won’t reach very far because it’s impossible to know for sure and because I feel so certain that you completed your mission here on earth so well. I am confident you would love being a grandpa and that those boys would both have golf clubs by now, but beyond that I’m mostly content to replay our best moments in my head, knowing your life is more amazing today than it ever could be here with us.
These past years without you have been long and strange and wonderful and terrifying and beautiful and difficult. It’s been a season of contradictions, where I have felt strong and weak, loved and lonely, confused and certain, scared spitless and profoundly brave. So much of what I knew before, I knew because of you. Our lives were so intertwined that when you flew away home, I sometimes felt that half of me had flown with you. You were such a builder for me. Your patience, encouragement and unfailing kindness built the house that I call My Life. You set the foundation in place for what I know I can do and be. You tethered me to love and in the most selfless act, as you saw your days ending, handed the hammer over to me and constantly reassured me that I could build without you near; that I would survive and grow and become.
Thank you. For sticking with me when it looked so shaky and uncertain. For loving our kids with such quiet strength. For strengthening your friends with determined faithfulness and grace. You were a brilliant builder and you completed your part of the work so well. We promise to keep going. We are building and becoming and I think you’d like what we’ve done with the place. In fact, I know you would.
Riley asked the other day, “When does spring really start in Central Oregon?” I didn’t have a good answer then because this winter has felt endless, but today I think do. Spring starts whenever we decide that winter is over. For me, on this beautiful anniversary of your birth, spring starts today.
So, happy birthday dearest Steve. My greatest joy and honor will always be that I was a witness to your beautiful life.
My life has been relatively public over the past few years. Sometimes I feel like I (and my family) live in a fishbowl with the rest of the world watching. During Steve’s battle with ALS, the number of eyeballs looking into our world multiplied exponentially. The great part about that is it created an army of pray-ers that truly helped to get us through that treacherous season. The challenging part was that those looking in often had opinions about how we should fight, treat symptoms, pray, believe, speak and live. Opinions aren’t bad, but it’s impossible to listen to all of them. My blog readership during that time of our lives varied from 10,000-10 million. Literally, MILLION – not the figurative way I usually use it like “I would like to have a million donuts for breakfast tomorrow.” Again, I’m so thankful for the concern that was expressed and the care shown, but along with that came a lot of feedback which initially shook me to my core. I found myself investing precious time and resources responding to emails of people I had never met or hadn’t spoken to in twenty years, defending our treatment choices or any number of other things. Honestly? I regret every minute I gave to that pursuit. It was entirely unsatisfying and completely unnecessary.
After Steve died, I began facing my new life as a widow and a single woman and I made the very intentional decision that I would not steer my choices toward the cheers or away from the jeers of the crowd. I would invite a few wise and trusted voices into my life, I would tell them EVERYTHING and give them permission to tell me ANYTHING. I would then weigh their counsel together with what I felt the Holy Spirit was saying and I would move confidently in that direction. That is what I have done. I am the one on the field; the only one with the responsibility to actually live out my life in a way that honors God and blesses the world. There are coaches around me who give input – but they are not on the field. And there will always be people in the cheap seats and they are also not on the field, but – wow – they can be pretty dang loud.
These good souls have strong opinions and some of those opinions are built on truth, some on their own experience, some on pure fiction. I could spend a lot of time weighing out the motives of the shouters, I could investigate all their claims, I could stop the action on the field and shout back to them to make sure they understand why I’m doing what I’m doing and how there are so many things of which they are unaware. I could tell them that I really am open to instruction and wisdom and my life is absolutely lived in accountability relationships to good people, just not to ALL people. I could go sit with them awhile and try to convert them to my way of thinking in an attempt to protect my public approval rating. But that sounds exhausting and unproductive and very much like defending the game rather than playing it. Instead, I’ve decided to let the cheap seats be the cheap seats. They have opinions and that’s fine. Their opinions may even turn out to be better than mine and that’s also fine. Jesus is at work in me and He’s not dependent on me getting everything right in order to make my life truly good. I can trust Him, and the people He’s put in my life – and so can the people in the bleachers.
If you also have been swayed by the roar of the crowd, I have a few tips for living true to yourself and your God:
- Identify the voices of influence in your life. Pick a few friends who you will trust with your heart and whose advice you will welcome. How many? I don’t know. More than 1 and less than 20 maybe? I really don’t know. I have different coaching crews for different areas of my life but the weighty voices around me number about a dozen. As I began dating, I invited four women – one who knows both of us – to speak into the entire process, no holds barred. And they have. And I value them more than I can say. I made the decision that unless they all agreed, I would not move forward. I don’t think that’s absolutely necessary for everyone, but I’m glad I had that level of security moving into a new relationship.
- Write down the names of your people of influence. See that list? Draw a circle around it. Seriously – draw the circle. You need it, because everyone outside that circle? Cheap seats. These are not cheap people; they’re mostly wonderful and valuable – they just have faraway seats. You’ll still hear those voices, but you won’t give their opinions the same weight because if you let everyone tell you who to be and what to do and how to do it you will lose your ever-loving mind and you will become unstable in everything you do. If someone from outside my circle expresses an opinion that is particularly intriguing or worrisome to me, I run it through the names inside the circle. I don’t try to figure it out on my own. And so far, that process has worked like a dream and the cheap seats comments have always been tossed.
- Perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned in dealing with the Cheap’s is to become really, really aware of the fact that for most people, I AM IN THE CHEAP SEATS, TOO. The more you focus on the way you shout your opinions (even inside your own head because you know you do) and the more you realize: Hey, I can just be wildly encouraging here because I don’t have to answer for the way that person plays their game – the more you’ll know how to respond to the weird words that are flung your way.
This has been my year for learning how to love unconditionally and encourage relentlessly, knowing that even if someone is veering off track wildly, I’m too far from the action (and, alas, not omniscient) to give meaningful correction or to understand what’s happening behind the scenes. When I can’t cheer on their decisions, I mostly just cheer the fact that I know the One who is crazy about them will be there if they screw it all up, just like He’s been there when I screw it all up. This is my comfort: We don’t have to be perfect to be loved and accepted and encouraged.
I’ve always said my life goal is to make Jesus proud and famous, but hidden inside that was a third idea – that if I did that just right, people would like me and I am a huge fan of being liked. I like it almost as much as I like donuts and cute shoes. But as I’m beginning to die to the need to please all the voices, I have come newly alive to the voice of the One who holds the world and my world in His hand. I am unendingly grateful for the way He uses the human voices in my life to speak direction and wisdom and joy to me. And I’m thankful for those far from the action – cheering or jeering – because I know God uses them to build my character and to refine my obedience to His will. And He is doing that. I will trust Him with you if you will trust Him with me.
This past weekend I spoke at Westside on how our relationships can be made new by plugging into the power of the work Jesus accomplished for us on the cross. I made a statement about my marriage to Steve and I’ve received so much feedback on it. The gist of what I said was that while our marriage was good, I regret that I didn’t have higher expectations for it. I believed the millions of messages I received from people and movies and statistics that implied every marriage is going to grow older, boring and frayed around the edges. Steve and I settled into some unhealthy relational patterns simply because changing them seemed pretty hard, perhaps even impossible. We never would have considered calling it quits, but there were definitely seasons in which we mostly phoned it in. In 2011, when the clock started ticking on Steve’s time here on earth, we worked more diligently to find health and wholeness. I’m grateful for that time, but I wish we would have believed for it sooner. There’s a difference in the way you resolve issues when you’ve got twenty years ahead of you versus the way you do it when one spouse is dying.
So many people contacted me after the weekend messages to tell me how much that idea challenged them. “I need to believe for more for my marriage,” was the most common idea expressed, often followed by a very sad, “but I’m not sure how.”
I’ve been a pastor for about twenty years and I’m not sure I’ve ever known so many couples struggling to keep their love alive. Many of them are longing for answers that work, but are coming up empty in finding them. I know some would disagree, but: I’m not sure pastoral counseling alone is the right answer for most marriage problems. I can tell you what the Bible says about marriage and relating to one another, but I cannot tell you exactly how to do that inside of your relationship which is loaded with history, brokenness, poor habit patterns, unique stresses, personality differences, etc. Even if I had the training and knew all the answers, I don’t have the time to dedicate to indefinite, weekly meetings with all the couples who need it. That’s why we have marriage counselors. They know the science of emotions and how to apply good practices to hard situations. So, if your marriage is in trouble, I will almost always tell you a couple of things:
- It’s worth fighting for.
- Get thee to a good counselor.
- If you can’t afford a counselor or don’t feel ready to take that step, read this book like your life depended on it. Commit to taking every test and doing every single exercise together. The book isn’t faith-based, but – fear not – you can bring your faith right on into it! Have a date every week to meet and go over your work, or set up a time each day to connect and discuss what you’re reading, learning and feeling. Even if you decide to go to a counselor when you’re done with the book, you will have done enough work to know why you need one. Creating awareness about your trouble spots ahead of time can help save time and money moving forward.
- Raise your expectations about what your marriage could look like if you invited heaven in. Sit together for a bit and dare to ask God: “Your will be done in our marriage as it is in heaven…”
That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. But in my heart of hearts, I think it might be enough for a couple that is truly devoted to the idea of an All Things New kind of relationship. I’m praying for the marriages in my family, church and community like never before and believing that they will experience and reflect the beauty of heaven right here on earth.
P.S: You can see my message in its entirety here.
Ever since Steve died, I’ve been starting each morning with list-making. I love lists. Love ’em. I make a couple of different daily lists, but the one that is always steady and most important in my life is the list of Three Beautiful Things.
It’s really simple, I just pick three ways I see beauty in my life in that very moment and write it down. Often it will be connected to a person – maybe a conversation that I had over dinner the night before, maybe something especially wonderful about one of my kids or grandkids, or maybe just a great deal of gratitude for a sustaining friendship. Other times, it’s very broad in scope like the beauty of running water in my home or the fact that our grocery stores are stocked with food or that there is peace in our city. And sometimes it’s a really small thing, like coffee in my favorite cup or finding the very perfect shade of lipstick.
On some difficult mornings, making the list is like pulling teeth. Other days, it’s as easy as breathing and I could keep writing for pages (I never do, though – I stick to three). Either way, I believe that starting my day focused on the big and little very good things in my life has reprogramed my thinking from constantly scanning for threats – which was a necessary learned behavior during our fight with ALS – to watching for beauty. Noticing it. Focusing on it. Believing it’s really out there. I also think this micro habit has positioned my heart to see the beauty in ugly seasons more quickly, and even the beauty in difficult people and conversations.
It’s been so small but so big. So easy but so hard. So simple but so effective. And while there are habits that come and go through different seasons of life, I really believe that until my last day here on earth, I’ll be listing my Beautiful Things in the morning.