2012 October

When You Want to Brush Off Your Own Story

Today Emily concludes a 31 day series on hush. It’s so good y’all, and you know what? She practices it. She should get a gold medal in curious listening.

Over my mahi mahi and her Greek style pizza, Emily asks me below-the-surface questions about family and callings. After the third or fourth one, I tell her I’m not used to answering these kinds of questions because I’m usually the one asking them. I slow down and listen to my heart before speaking, but my answers still spill out all rambly. I haven’t practiced this.

It takes a different kind of hush to answer deep questions. For me to say the private things out loud, I must quiet the inner voice that says my story and experiences don’t matter. This doesn’t come natural to me. Unless you ask, I won’t easily volunteer my own stuff. Inner Kristen still fights to brush off the tender parts with an easy “fine.” Partly because I think my story isn’t newsworthy, partly because I think your story is, and partly because it’s less risky to do so. I know that sounds loco for the writer of a blog like mine. I share heart things here, but there’s always deeper places to travel. Our hearts are like the Old Testament tabernacle. Parts are for many at the entrance. Parts are a more holy place where safe people may cross the threshold. And still parts are for just you and God alone, a holy of holies.

When someone makes space in their conversation to ask how you’re doing really, you have the choice to remain hidden or come out in the open. When the person looks you in the eye and lets you know she is safe, it feels good to choose wide open spaces beyond the entrance, even if this risks tearing up or the ugly cry.

Jesus wasn’t into small talk, He was interested in the heart of everything. So we don’t only practice being good listeners, but we practice being good talkers, too. We get comfortable asking and answering the right questions and knowing when not to.

Do you struggle with sharing answers to below-the-surface questions? Is it easier for you to listen to others or listen to yourself?

October 31, 2012 19 Comments Filed Under: Being a Woman, Change, Friendship, Listening

Why I Want to See Broccoli in Your Teeth

By Kristen

I have an embarrassing habit that pops up all too often: I misuse expressions and idioms. All. the. time, I tell you. For years I thought the expression “It’s a dog eat dog world” was “It’s a doggy dog world.” I thought “pushin’ up daisies” was “pushin’ up tulips” until a former co-worker of mine threw her head back laughing and said, “Well, maybe in Holland.”

Every time it happens, I feel like someone just told me I have broccoli in my teeth {or if you’re me, chocolate in my teeth}. While I’m always thankful to know, there’s no getting around a little embarrassment.

Yesterday I returned from a conference for bloggers/writers, an event ripe with possibilities for me to say crazy things and show my unpolished self off, broccoli-in-the-teeth and all. This conference was no exception. For example, I walked up to Ruth, a blogger I love and admire, and called her Robin. And then I tried to save face by chattering on about her hair {she does have killer hair, y’all}. But my mouth seemed to have a mind of its own and went on and on in such a way you would have thought I was a hair product peddler. She responded with total kindness, but I left that convo laughing at myself saying, “Yep Kristen, broccoli in your teeth.” Embarrassing but also humbling in a good way and hardly the end of the world.

Here’s the straight up truth: I can’t shy away from people because I’m scared of looking a little fruity. In other words, I own the fact I forget people’s names. I get nervous and chatter on and on. I laugh at inappropriate times. It’s embarrassing but humbling and hardly the end of the world. And definitely not worth staying hidden away in a tight little corner, no matter how desperately that corner tries to woo me.

Most folks find self-depricating behavior endearing. I sure do. It cuts through plastic perfect and shows me your human. It shows me you’re not that different from me and confirms the truth we all fall short and need Jesus and each other.

And maybe need a little more chocolate in our teeth.

How do you fight the awkwardness of large gatherings and relax after embarrassing moments?

October 29, 2012 28 Comments Filed Under: Friendship, Fun Stuff, Writing

For the Days You Wonder Why You Do What You Do

By Kristen

These dang dark wood floors, they hide nothing. Pretty when given attention, which I haven’t done in a month of Sundays. With my toe I make an arc in the dust. Eyeing the buffet and china cabinet, I see the same story with the furniture. We could play tic tac toe on every surface. Around the corner, piles of socks and books teeter precariously on stairs. Behind me, dirty breakfast dishes sit homeless because I still need to empty the clean dishes from the dishwasher.

I sighed a bit dejected and shake my head.

“I need a maid,” I say to myself.

By my own admission there’s no justifying a maid. Not when I’m a stay-at-home mom whose three kids are in school all day. So I’m living in the tension of my reality: I am writing 700-1000 words a day for a project {in addition to this here little blog}. Housekeeping is so far on the back burner, it fell off the stove top entirely. My project isn’t something I’m getting paid for, just something a writing friend and I cooked up. And I’m honestly okay with not getting paid for it. I really shouldn’t be at this stage of the game.

But still, one big question won’t quit running circles in my mind. Am I making the right choice? Should I devote so much time to an activity that so far doesn’t contribute to the family’s finances while ignoring the dirt and the dishes and the daily to-do’s?

I don’t consider this for my current writing project only, but writing in general.

Kids spill through the front door and homework is done, dinners are cooked, stories are read. Nightfall settles in and I’m mighty tired. I look around and wonder why I’m doing what I’m doing when progress is largely invisible and neglect flashes neon everywhere.

I’m reminded of a season a decade ago, a time with young children. After work, my husband would breeze through the front door and offer me a kiss with the words,

“Hey baby! What did you do today?”

And I would stare at him and our messy, chaotic surroundings and reply,

“I have no idea, but I didn’t sit down once.”

Then we’d both turn towards two happy four year olds and a content one year old and smile knowing that is what I did all day long, and it was worth dropping the right balls.

I hear the same message in my heart about this current season. I’m sitting down more than I used to, but the state of my home declares housework is at the bottom of the totem pole. But I believe the state of the hearts of those inside these four walls is well off, including mine.

“I had to write. I had no choice in the matter. It was not up to me to say I would stop, because I could not. It didn’t matter how small or inadequate my talent. If I never had another book published, and it was a real possibility, I still had to go on writing…It’s easy to say you’re a writer when things are going well. When the decision is made in the abyss, then it is quite clear that it is not one’s own decision at all.”

Madeleine L’Engle, A Circle of Quiet

Since I was 7 and writing poems and endless short stories in journals, I’ve felt a pull towards words. And when I’m moved towards something that doesn’t take me away from the most important things, I know it’s from God. So I work away in my blue and silver office or on my wide front porch, trusting that what is done ‘in the abyss’ brings wild glory in the heavenlies. It’s the same for you too, sister. Maybe it’s something like writing or painting or scrapbooking. Or raising babies or volunteering at your kid’s school. You do it because you must move towards the pull. It’s your decision, except not really your decision at all.

And it’s worth dropping all the right balls.

What are you creating in the abyss?

October 23, 2012 20 Comments Filed Under: Family, Seasons, Writing

One Truth About Our Social Media World

By Kristen

We are in fall break glory ’round here ~ minus one case of the stomach flu. {Which has been more fall break gory.} I’ve been MIA in all things twitter and facebook. And even though it’s been just a few days, my time offline births fresh air I didn’t know I was missing.

Recently, Emily wrote about being a round person living in an edgy world. And this social media world that never rests? Super edgy. Y’all, I’m about as edgy as a beach ball.

It’s a fight to stay comfortable bringing my round self into an arena that consists of a whole lotta sharp people. They cut through the crowds speaking loud. Sometimes, I feel them poking me left and right like an obnoxious preschooler. As annoying as this is, I often wish I had their sparkly, banter-y answers.

So how does cornerless me learn to deal?

I remember there is a need for my own Hope-filled answers.

Lacking edges doesn’t mean lacking thoughtful opinions or creative ideas or savvy smarts. It’s about needing to have a more quiet place to express those thoughts. A noisy, can’t-hear-the-person-sitting-next-to-me room will not do long term. Oh, I’ll still show up because I am an extrovert who gets a kick out of people. This means I’ll add to the conversation even though I risk feeling like I’m talking to myself. Even though I risk other people not including me in their conversations. More and more, I realize the social media world is a place best suited for giving, not getting. Give with abandon and receive with elation. It’s all a free gift, not something owed.

So I’ll pop in, give some fresh air to others, and be content to leave. Because this girl gets fresh air from quieter corners.

What about you? Do you lean towards round or edgy?