Code Your Goals

The last week of January. Already. How are your goals coming along? Did you just roll your eyes at me? Crazy, isn't it? The way the hands on the clock keep going around and around and around. Those weekly calendar pages check off, one by one by one.

I purposely made my goals a bit vague this year. Rule number one about making goals: make them specific, actionable, measurable, and time sensitive. I thought, maybe, if I kept the goals in general terms, I wouldn't roll my eyes at myself as time slips by, unproductive, ineffective, goals undone.

Well, I'm not so sure about my vague goals. Perhaps there is wisdom in having a clear, focused idea of where I am headed each day. The journey is important, yes. But a destination is critical, too.

This photo, cropped from the first one, focuses in on the details of the snowflakes. At least as well as my camera and my photography skills can do. Amazing, this morning, seeing the light snowfall we had last night, the flakes, each crisp and ornate and beautiful. Beautiful as a whole, but even more impressive as unique and individual.

An idea I read: when Gretchen Rubin worked through her Happiness Project, writing it, developing her monthly goals and plans, she blogged her process. Her chapters contain some of the comments she received along the way. One of them really stuck with me. The gal suggested to use your passwords as goal reminders. How many times a day do you plug in certain passwords? Use those effectively. Say, you want to exercise five times a week. Set up a password like, RnwlkX5#.

I am not advising you on your password safety. There are general suggested structures for a secure password, and various sites have different guidelines. In general, at least eight characters are recommended, that it does not contain a complete word, and it includes four types of characters: uppercase letters, lowercase letters, numbers, and special symbols. And, I would add, something easy for you to remember.

Take a goal you want to be reminded of, often. Turn it into a personalized, coded password, and remember it often as you type it on your keyboard, multiple times a day.

In my head, spring is not far away. I know, for a fact, that reality is a bit different than that. Our last frost date is May 12th, and we have seen snow on the last three Mother's Days. That is three and a half months away. What will I have accomplished by then? Will my vague, general goals still be vague and general by then? Yes, unless I change my way of thinking about them.

The last weeks of December, I jotted down a list of things I wanted to do in 2016; a random list, as things came to mind. Now, looking at the list again, I see a need to quantify them. What, how, and when will I do these? How can I make them specific, actionable, measurable, and timed? I made a note in my planner, on May 15th, to reevaluate the list. And, I made up a new password to remind me of a key, priority goal.

What do you think of making a new password, unique to your goals?

Full of [ ]

Don't worry, this is G rated.

I wonder what my one-word should be for 2015?

What should 2015 be full of?

What one word best defines my goals-plans-hopes-dreams-attitudes toward this year?

I thought, perhaps, Edit. An on-going theme and process, part of learning to Travel Lighter through the maze of my days.

Or, perhaps, Listen. To listen - and hear, really hear - those around me, to listen quietly for the Lord's voice, to say to life, "I am listening."

But, those words didn't seem quite right.

Two quotes I recently read stand out in my mind:

"Pay Attention.
Be Astonished.
Tell About It."

                                                   -Mary Oliver

"Step One:
Wonder at Something.
Step Two:
Invite Others to Wonder With You."

                                                      -Austin Kleon, Steal Like an Artist 

Wonder at something.
The glitter snow falling during Christmas, sun reflected gold in the snowflakes.
Flavors and smells of an Italian meal, baking in the oven.
Puppy squeaking her tennis ball in her mouth, delighted with the noise.
Flour, yeast, water, oil, kneaded and rising under the towel.
Ocean waves, storm clouds breaking at sunset.

Invite others to wonder with you.

 What causes you to wonder?

I looked wonder up in the 1828 Webster Dictionary (a very cool fascimile edition that uses KJV Bible verses and classics to illustrate definitions). It used words like: surprise, astonishment, amazement, miracle, admiration, wondrous. All of these, expressed, point at the wonder of the daily ordinary. Because that is where I live. To pay attention to the difference between expectation and surprised by gifts of wonder.

I finished re-reading Ann Voskamp's one thousand gifts. At the end of writing about her journey, Ann says, "No, I'll never stop the counting, never cease transcribing the ballad of the world, the rhyme of His heart...His presence filling the laundry room, the kitchen, the hospital, the graveyard, the highways and byways and workways and all the blazing starways, His presence filling me. This is what it means to be fully alive."

To be surprised by wonder. Isn't that an oxymoron? Yet, we are surprised. Awed.

Another word in the definition: marvel.
The Marvel comics are revitalized by the movie industry in the Avenger series. Heroes doing wonderful things, doing wonders, saving people, the world, the universe.

What wonder-full things do I do? Fix dinner. Clean the bathrooms. Clean up doggie poo. Plant seeds. Knead the dough. Be patient when it would be "easier" to snap back a comment (sometimes, not always). Understand, learn.

What wonder-full things do you do?

Can we really learn to see the daily ordinary as wonder-full?

Full of wonder?

Would you like to be full of wonder with me this year?

a million little ways

Have you heard someone say, "She's a real piece of work." Their eyes narrowed, one hand on a hip, the other hand out, finger pointed, their mouth tight, twisted to one side, their nose, elevated.

Have they said it to you?

Are you searching for value, for dignity? For someone to notice, appreciate you and what you do?

http://bit.ly/15zptkk  (click to see the 1:34 video trailer for her book)

In the brand new book by Emily Freeman, a million little ways, she speaks in her quiet, gentle, graceful (grace full) voice. Not a to-do list of a million things to do. I'm sure you don't need help making that long list. Not lists of ideas of what is art and how to craft it.

 Instead, Emily offers a glimpse into the heart of art. The Creator. A life. A masterpiece. A beautiful creation by a loving Lord. Yes, that would be you.

"...I hope to prove myself a worthy companion, an intuitive observer of the art of God. Still, there is one thing I know for sure: I know you are an image bearer with a job to do. And the simplest description I can come up with for what that means is this: You are art and you make art.
And the only place to begin uncovering what your art looks like is to start right where you are."

She says, "Now, look at Ephesians 2:10. 'For we are God's masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.'...The English words used in this text - masterpiece, sometimes translated workmanship - these are translations of the original word...poiema. Our English word poem comes from the same Greek word. Workmanship, masterpiece, poem - all these words in Scripture are used to describe God's work - you and me.
"God calls you his workmanship, his poeima. What happens when God writes poetry?
"We do. We happen.
"We are walking poetry, the kind that moves, the kind who has hands and feet, the kind with mind and will and emotion. We are what happens when God expresses himself."

I desperately want to do justice to Emily, to convey to you the heart of her message and encourage you to pursue and learn what she has to offer. The words have layers, like an onion. Peel them back, work deeper, uncover the hidden meanings. And, maybe cry while you are cutting to the heart. One line I particularly appreciate, because it is filled with freedom. "You are a poem, not a robot." Yes, poems have patterns and rules and structure. But also the freedom to create and breathe, heart and soul, within those words.

I could go on quoting, but it would be better if you read the book yourself.

What does this mean for me? How does this change my day, my attitudes, my actions? My art is here. This home, this family, these relationships, as I go through my days, freedom and excitement happen as I create art. Not one perfectly brushed canvas or one perfectly worded manuscript or one perfectly weeded garden, but an expression of who I am, in a million little ways.

Are you a piece of work? Yes, in a wonderful, amazing way.

Thank you, Emily.

The book is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Dayspring.
Emily's blog: www.chattingatthesky.com

I forgot to mention, Bloom Book Club with (in)courage is hosting a series of interviews with Emily, two days a week, now through Nov 21. You can listen in anytime to hear Emily chat about her book and share her inspiration.

Change the World

We don't think about it. As we slide our feet over the edge of the bed, touch the floor and lean our weight on them to stand up, we don't think about changing the world. Maybe not even thinking at that point. I'm not. By the time we pick up the day's clothes and walk toward the bathroom, thoughts begin to surface. The day begins: all that has to be done, should be done, or we want to do, clamoring for our attention. But, is Change the World on our list? Probably not.

Lee Silber, the author of a book that changed the way I function in my little world, Time Management for the Creative Person, writes a newsletter. Last month, he tossed out an invitation to write and submit a short story. I like to write short-short stories at 500 words. He asked the short stories to be 200 words. A challenge. How to convey the idea that if we get ourselves out of bed and do the work that is that day's gift, we will have an impact? How to convey the idea that even the smallest effort, the smallest steps do create an impact, your imprint on the world? I am grateful he included my story in his newsletter this month.

When you feel like you are just a drop in a bucket, remember, even small drops create ripples that can  change the world.

www.leesilber.com

I can't figure out how to link to the email which is his newsletter. So, here is my story.

CHANGE THE WORLD

“Jimmy, get up now, you are late.”

“So what?”

“So, the team is counting on you to make that perfect play. So, in two weeks when the sport scouts are at the finals, you won’t be chosen.”

Jim sat up, yawned and scratched his head. “What?”

“Because you aren’t in position, the other team will break through the line and your team won’t score.”

“Mom, you are making this up.” He swung his feet over the bed and dug through the mess on the floor for his shirt.

Mom set the clean, folded laundry she carried on his dresser. “Your shirt is here. What you do affects everyone around you, one way or another.”

“Isn’t that a bit far-fetched? You are exaggerating. Just because I run a bit late this morning, the world is not going to change. You could never prove what might have happened.”

“No, but be sure irresponsibility has negative effects.”

Jimmy shrugged, “Like ripples in a pond.” He grabbed his shirt and walked to the bathroom.

“Hey Jim.”

“What now?”

“We just had a serious conversation and it is five minutes before seven. It’s going to be a good day.”

Pollyanna

We finished reading Pollyanna, by Eleanor H. Porter, aloud, together, again. It is one of my pet peeves that this book has become a tool to make fun of those who attempt to keep a heart of gratefulness. Her name has become associated with the definition, "an excessively or persistently optimistic person" (Webster). Is that really a bad thing?

One friend of mine wouldn't allow her children to read the book because she said it made fun of church. Well, yes, it does make fun of the Ladies' Aid Society and their bickering and fussing about new red carpets and their ultimate concern in having their name at the top of the donation list. Yes, it does poke at actions done for the sake of righteous duty without a heart of love. At its core, this book is deeply Christian, about the love of Christ and His heart of love reaching out to each of us.

Pollyanna, with her childlike heart, only sees the love and beauty in those around her. She hangs prisms in windows to splash rainbows across the walls. She fixes up a sick woman's hair and adds a flower to make her pretty. She connects with people she meets, talking openly and making friends with those considered unfriendly. She bounces from one home to another, spreading laughter and joy and gladness. With her sunny smile she laughs and talks her way through the days and into the hearts of the townspeople.

Not because her life is simplistic and easy. Orphaned. Sent across country to be dumped on the doorstep of an unwilling aunt. Of the scanty possessions she brings, the most important is The Glad Game. Her father, a missionary pastor in the west, taught it to her before he died, and together they sought to have a perspective of gratefulness no matter what happened. He told her that he found eight hundred "rejoicing" verses in the Bible, and that if the Lord told us that many times to be glad, He must have wanted us to listen.

From her perspective, all is good. She never questions that her aunt doesn't want her. She never doubts that he aunt's generosity won't extend to cats, dogs and little orphan boys.

The test of Pollyanna's Glad Game came when she herself was bedridden. She cried as she learned she was paralyzed, "...if I can't walk, how am I ever going to be glad for - anything?"

The friendships, the connections she made, the lives she touched, all came together to encourage her and open an opportunity for her healing, and for the healing of other strained relationships. Because of her bubbly enthusiasm, even in (especially in) tough circumstances, homes were restored, families strengthened and hearts encouraged.

"...he told me to tell you that he hadn't stopped being glad over those eight hundred rejoicing texts that you told him about. So you see, dear, it's just you that have done it. The whole town is playing the game, and the whole town is wonderfully happier - and all because of one little girl who taught the people a new game and how to play it."

Need some encouragement? Read Pollyanna. She'll make you smile. Maybe even glad.

Jump

This weekend is the Jumping Tandem retreat. I prayed to go. The Lord said, "No." So, I prayed some more, asking, "Maybe?" Still, the answer, "No."

The mental jump to the point of acceptance feels, sometimes, like a wild leap into the unknown.

But there is still a further jump to make. The jump to gratefulness. The wild leap of joy, like the kids competing to see who can make the biggest cannonball splash, into the pool of joy. That is where I sit on the sidelines, my towel tucked around me, not going into the water, not even my toes. I hide, I step aside, I watch others take the step.

A mental jump. A choice. To stretch the edges of my mouth, just a little, and then, to smile. To take a deep breath and relax into the pleasure of joy. To get splashed by the drops of others' joy as they jump in.

Acceptance. When the edges of life aren't sewed up the way I would like them to be.

Gratefulness. Joy. When the seams of my days unravel and fray. I make the choice to jump in to the day I am given. And maybe splash others when I do, here, from where I am.

Five Minute Fridays

Still Quiet

At the end of December, when I decided to make January a quiet month on this blog, posting a photo each day and few words, I did a crazy thing. I sat down and wrote out a list of projects to do to fill the days and weeks with productivity. I organized the list by week and color coded the to-do's.

Not very quiet. And, this month, I needed to be quiet.

At the end of the month, I have checked three things off that list, most of the first week's tasks, but only one thing from the rest of the list.

What have I learned? Being quiet is not always about being silent. Rather than being silent, there is quiet strength and energy in being still. I took the time to step back, rest, and take more time with the sons here at home than with the stuff.

"He leads me beside still waters."

Psalm 23: 2

A cross stitch our daughter made for me - it hangs on our office wall

Still waters, not agitated.

John Henry Jowett, in My Daily Meditation, says, 

"...contemplation determines character."

"Love is the lens through which I discern the secret things of God."

I pulled out Keep a Quiet Heart, by Elisabeth Elliot, to read as my devotional. Because the quality, the quiet of our days is determined by how we think, where our hearts are focused, and by the lens through which we view life.

In my planner, instead of a heavy to-do list, I copied a list of "quiet" synonyms from the Thesaurus. Besides the obvious, familiar definitions, I found: restful, untroubled, unruffled, composed, steady, unexciteable, imperturbable, contented, mellow, subdued...

I have much to learn.

I'm afraid I am more like the storm front moving in, a frown across the sky.

I can learn to be quiet like the steady, gentle, drifting snowflakes. Or, I can be quiet in the middle of a rowdy rambunctious wrestling match of happy brothers. Or, I can be quiet in the middle of a day when things are not going the way I want and the frustration level rises. Again, I have much to learn, with a quiet smile. More ideas to share tomorrow.

Still quiet.

The Day After Christmas

A Short Story

As Beth opened the door of the coffee shop, bells jangled from the handle. Caught between the inside air and the crisp wind outside, her ponytail blew around her face, her denim skirt twisted around her legs. She closed the door, pushed her hair and skirt back where they belonged and inhaled the sweet, bitter, cozy scent of coffee. Jess waved to her from her corner table. The door opened behind her, the wind grabbed her hair and skirt again. She stepped aside to make room as Cara stepped inside.

The two friends greeted and walked over to join Jess, waiting for them with three cups of pumpkin spice coffee.

“My favorite part of Christmas is when it’s finally over,” said Cara as she plopped into her chair and took a sip from her cup. “Thanks Jess, this is good.”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Beth.

“You don’t have to survive my family,” said Cara. “The hateful glares between my mom and dad. My grandma lecturing my dad about all he should or shouldn’t have done while ‘Silent Night’ plays in the background. No, I am glad when the holidays are over.”

“Don’t you enjoy any of it? What about the music or the food or the decorations?” asked Beth.

“No, it all reminds me of what our family isn't. I can’t see past the animosity and resentment.”

Beth turned to Jess, “How was your Christmas?”

“You make me feel guilty, Cara. We all got together, had lots of presents and loads of food and lots of fun.”

“How about you, Beth?” asked Jess.

“After church, we each opened one gift, we had our big meal, read the Bible and sang hymns, each picking our favorite.  Later, we went to the convalescent home where my grandpa lives and my dad led a service for all the dozing old people. It was delightful.”

“You don’t sound too thrilled with Christmas, either,” said Jess.

“In my family, there is so much focus on what is right or Scriptural we forget to have fun.  We have to ‘do’ Christmas instead of having a relaxed, easy, happy, together Christmas.”

Jess leaned back in her chair. “There is such a huge build up before Christmas. Seems it starts earlier each year.”

“And drops harder when it is over, when all the disappointment and dissatisfaction hit. When you realize all you didn’t do or didn’t get or didn’t give. When the next three hundred and sixty-four days seem a relief,” added Cara. “I wonder if it is wrong to feel a sense of grief. Relief and grief, when finally, it is all over.”

“I don’t think it is wrong. Recognizing your feelings is a good thing. What you do with those feelings is what matters,” said Jess. “Acknowledge your feelings of sadness, regret." Jess paused, "Cara, can you think of three good things that did happen?”

“Three things?” She counted them off on her fingers. “Well, my dad did try to say something nice to my grandma instead of fighting back, even when she was hounding him. My brother and I had fun building a puzzle together.  The mashed potatoes turned out well even though I tried a new recipe.”

“There you go. Three things to appreciate and remember, with a smile and gratefulness. Does that change your perspective?”

“Yes, I guess it does,” said Cara. “Guess I could come up with more good things, too, if I tried.”

“Exactly. Isn’t that the message of Christmas?” asked Jess. “The gift of love, shared with us, right in the middle of our messy lives. Right where we are.”

“I can see what you are saying,” said Cara. “It would be hard to be angry and bitter if I think about loving, kind things.”

Beth added, “I can see that I need to work on my perspective, too. To see all I do have in my home and family, instead of thinking about all I think we don’t have. We do have some fun together, even if it isn’t exactly like I would like it to happen.”

“Look,” laughed Jess. “I am not trying to be a psychotherapist or something. But being grateful makes a huge difference. Focus on the negative, and that is what you will see. Focus on the good, even if it is just a little, and the little grows bigger.”

The three girls sipped their coffees, quiet with their own thoughts.

Cara said, “I came here to unload and complain to both of you, expecting you to sympathize with me. Instead, I see Christmas in a different light. A light, kind of like the Christmas star shining over everything.  Gratefulness, illuminating, shining light on the beautiful and on the ugly parts of life.”

“I like that,” said Beth. “The manger scene, the shepherds in the field, all lit up by the light of the Christmas star. Right where they all were, busy with their lives, their work. The light shining over all of it. And here, now, each of us with our own family challenges. The light shining over us, too.”

“Makes me almost look forward to next Christmas,” said Cara, and the three girls laughed.

It's All in the Attitude

"Your attitude is an expression of your values, beliefs and expectations."

-Brian Tracy, a motivational speaker and author.

"The problem is not the problem. The problem is your attitude about the problem.
Do you understand?" 

-Captain Jack Sparrow, a pirate. Perhaps not the wisest person to validate a quote, but the truth lurking here is worth the risk of the source.

drawing by littlebitzoart.wix.com/littlebitzoart