How Competing and Comparing Wrecks Stuff

 Image Source: Pinterest

It's not much of a secret to anyone that spends time with me that I struggle with housekeeping. I'm not a neat freak - I'm far from it. I like things to look beautiful, that's the interior designer in me, but I've got no problem leaving my breakfast out on the table all day long, for the mere reason that I forget it's there - I'm way too busy thinking about how to rearrange the artworks on the walls, or what cushion I'll sew next, or how much better the room would look like if I changed the furniture around. Again. This year has been a couple of months of battling again my lack of cleanliness at times, and trying to do routines to help my home stay at a tidier level, complete with 10 emails a day from the FlyLady, and purchasing giant tomes on housekeeping.

Honestly, I do want to change. Sincerely, Sarah. 

I was driving around town recently thinking about all this and about the "people", who knows who they are, that have lovely clean homes where you could just pop in any old time and the floor wouldn't have crumbs and stuff would be put away. Where they've done their hair and their kids do what they are told. And I thought to myself "There's just no way I can compete with that."
It's a funny thought. Yet I realised that I often think it. "I can't compete". 
Which led me to think - why? Why do I feel that life is a competition? Why do I want to win at having the tidiest home, the most stylish living room, the most loved kids, the most laid-back attitude? (HA - can't have the last with the first ones by the way, EVER. FYI. I'm crazy.)

I've been thinking that particularly as women we either try to compete with other women, or we compare ourselves with other women - kind of both a different version of the same thing.

When I'm feeling like I have to Compete, I'm actually pushing another person down so that I can get above them. I'm wanting them to be less than, so I can be more than. I'm trying to make myself feel better by being better than someone else.
When I find myself Comparing, I'm pushing myself down. I'm making myself less, and making them more. I'm putting them on a pedestal, and I'm seeing only one side of them as a person. I'm putting a giant brick wall in-between her and I, destroying any hope for a decent relationship.

So I'm now trying to remember, when I find myself doing these things, to change the script. To write a different story.
Instead of Competing, I'm going to Champion. I will champion other women to be the best they can be. I will praise them, in front of them and to others. I will speak lovingly and generously about those things which I so admire in them. I will encourage them to be proud of who they are, their unique gifts, and who God made them to be.
Instead of Comparing, I'm going to Consider. I will consider that person, and her life, and her situation. I will see her as a whole person. Instead of comparing my clothes to her clothes, my hair to hers, my bible knowledge to hers, my home to hers, my kids to hers - I will consider her as a woman, wearing many different hats, and I will think about how I can care for her better. I will consider that while some areas of her life may appear to be wonderful, that there will be hurt and pain in her heart just as their is in mine. That she will need friends and relationships where she can be honest, just as I do. That there will be things in me that she may feel inadequate about if she chooses to compare, just as I do. Comparing gets me nowhere I want to go. The better path is that of grace, of love, and of mercy. And if I find myself comparing I want to catch myself, and choose instead to smile, look in her eyes, and ask her how she is, and choose to care about her answer.

I think that we try so hard sometimes to meet a certain standard, usually unattainable, and often fictional. We have an idea in our head of the "perfect" mother, or home, or attitude - not even perfect, sometimes it's just the "good" mother, home, or attitude - and we strive and strive to be this thing, without sometimes even considering whether that's right for us or not. We can be so busy - I know I can - looking to the left and the right checking out what everyone else is doing, that we forget to be present in our own life and to appreciate what we have.

The things that matter to me will not matter to other people. They'll have their own things that matter to them. We should be building our lives according to our values as individuals and as families, and thank goodness we aren't all the same - that would be terribly boring. I don't need to enforce my values on someone else, and likewise I don't need to feel threatened when I see someone doing well at something I haven't even got it in me to try.

Run your own race. Don't jump into someone else's lane and try to take over theirs. (A sporting analogy is kind of not really me, but Bianca Olthoff preached a wonderful message at the IF:Gathering conference about this and it has stuck with me.)

Here's to a year of Championing and Considering. May we really and truly know and understand Grace, for ourselves and for others.

xx Sarah

Currently reading: "Daring Greatly: how the Courage to be vulnerable transforms how we Live, Love, Parent and Lead" by Brene Brown. I just finished "Notes from a Blue Bike: The art of living intentionally in a chaotic world" by Tsh Oxenreider, and I can't recommend it highly enough - it's certainly influenced this post.

Currently listening to: "As sure as the Sun" by Ellie Holcomb. Be-a-u-tiful. The Joy the Baker podcast. The Art of Simple podcast.

Tuesdays Unwrapped #1

Tuesday is our busiest day. Swimming lessons, kindergarten pick ups and drop off's repeated twice more than usual. With December comes Christmas parties and shared lunches, and so my baby and my little three year old man had a more exciting day than usual yesterday.

I love to watch him. In the pool, unsure about being there without mum to cling to - his first time alone with just the other kids. He was so calm, standing next to another little buddy the same age and size as him. His buddy slapped his flutterboard and made a splash, my boy did the same. His buddy behaved well, my boy did the same - thank the Lord. 
And can I mention the utter JOY that appears on the face of a three year old boy when offered a lollipop at the end? Is there anything in life as an adult which gives us the same spontaneous delight? May we be granted more of those moments, may we be awake and alive to see them.

At the party it was all balls, running, more balls - no stopping for food, not for me thanks Mum. I'm far too busy having the time of my life. So I sat with his baby sister, playing with the puppets and making her laugh and laugh.
Oh my heart, baby giggles, have mercy.

As we get in the car he says "That was fun, mum!" The second time in two days. (the first time was after walking home with him on his bike, a near-death experience I will never, ever repeat!) I love hearing from his pure little rascally heart that he's had a good time. Too often parenting feels like a catalouge of disappointments, a list of things we couldn't do because we were tired, busy, grumpy. I'm thankful for being handed grace this week, in these moments of fun and laughter for my boy.

In the car on the way home his head bobs, bobs, bobs, until he gives in. I carry him, fast asleep, and lay him on the couch. Turn on Playschool for some background white noise. Watch him completely innocent, mouth slightly open, away to dreamland and exhaustion from a busy morning's work and play.

I can't keep up with his energy, his enthusiasm for life - his boundless curiosity and playfulness and outright mischief. He is a gift to me, a funny and loud and dirty ball of endless movement. And I surely do breathe an utterly exhausted sigh of Thank God when he's asleep, finally.

Today I write as part of Emily Freeman's "Tuesdays Unwrapped". In her words, we write about "Anything that causes you to pause and celebrate the moment. Not what will be or what is to come, but what is real and true this day: the messy, the lovely, and the unexpected. Share a photo, a story, or anything that offers a glimpse into your own journey of discovering the gifts in the midst of the ordinary."

Real life is harder than you want it to be

Image Source: Pinterest, taken from Etsy

After last week's parenting post, I spent a lot of time thinking and feeling confused about how on earth to keep writing about this wonderful and incredibly hard thing called being a parent. A friend suggested that perhaps writing in a storytelling style keeps things from sounding braggy or boastful. Which was stressful because I definitely do not want to sound any of those things! And I think she is right, the posts I benefit from the most have been personal stories, admissions of failure, of confusion, of the struggles involved in motherhood. I have actually found the "10 steps to being a better parent" posts hard to swallow, with a very small amount of exceptions.
I struggle with storytelling, because on the one hand it's something I really really want to do. On the other hand, I feel that a lot of my history that informs my life isn't my story to tell. It would be an invasion of other peoples privacy. So how do I tell some of the story, without telling the whole story, while still being authentic. Vulnerability freaks.me.out. Yet I know that it is the path forward for me in a lot of areas of my life. Don't you just love how God does that. Humph.

So this week I'm just going to lay it bare a bit, by saying that good intentions are so often just that: good intentions. We can write lists, make plans, write family purpose statements, have beautiful "We say we're sorry, we hug, we love" artwork on our walls, get up each morning determined to not say one mean thing before breakfast - and how often does it all just go to pieces within a few minutes. Lots of times.
Because - sheesh! - it's so tiring being a parent! Sleep deprivation is a killer and when you are exhausted it's so hard to follow through on anything other than to just survive. For everyone to be breathing at the end of the day.
And you know what? I think we deserve a medal every single day by just managing that.
Out of bed, clothes on everyone, food in mouths (mothers always last, if at all), lunches, out the door on time, car seat tantrums, I-don't-like-shoes/those-pants/hats/sunscreen/jackets tantrums, sign-in's, working out what to feed everyone, laundry: dear sweet Jesus help me, work, did I do enough hours, does my brain even function anymore... and that's only by about 10am.

It. Is. HARD. Really, really hard. 

So if you feel like your brain is made of cotton wool? Me too.
Feel like just quitting sometimes but know that just ain't an option? Me too.
Feel like you can't just admit any of this because people give you that look or stop talking or there's an awkward silence where you wonder if they're going to report you to someone for admitting you're having a hard time? Me too. 
Feel like every other mum has it together? Me too.
Feel like it's groundhog day and you just cannot see an end to the repetition? Me too.
Feel like just going to bed for like a whole day and a whole night without talking to anyone or having anyone touch you or ask anything of you? Me too. (Let's face it, for longer than a day).

You're okay. I'm okay. Our kids are OKAY.
You love your kids, you're trying, you're being a real person and you're doing it, you're doing parenting, and you're awesome and amazing and a superstar for it.
Go and feel GOOD about yourself. Go and tell those condescending, bullying voices in your head to SHUT UP for once while you have a cup of something that's your favourite and a plate of something else that's your favourite.
Because you will always look back on this time and be amazed that you made it through. And you're going to make it through. And so am I. And our kids will be just fine. And there's no point worrying about the "what if's" because they steal our moments from us.

Love and grace and peace and happiness from me.

xx Sarah

Writing as Me

One of the things that I get anxious about in regards to writing, is the fear that people think I'm representing someone, or something, when I write. I worry that if I have an opinion on a subject, people may automatically assume that my husband holds the same opinion - that I speak for him, or for my family, or my church.

So I've been wanting to do a confessional of sorts, a disclaimer, to make it clear that my thoughts and words are entirely my own. All the posts here are my own thoughts, ideas, and opinions. They don't reflect my family, my husband, or my church. They are uniquely mine. (I think I may have just repeated the same thing often enough now to make my point...) And in order to become a better writer, I need to feel free to write as myself, without fear of offence or misunderstanding.

So in order to do so, and probably just because I'm paranoid, here are some true-for-now statements about myself that inform my perspective and my view of life, and therefore my writing. Some deep, some shallow, but most aren't things that people close with me will necessarily agree with.

In no order particularly:

Source: Pinterest. Illustrator: Caroline Hadilaksono.

1. I love Harry Potter. The books, not so much the movies. I don't think they are evil or lead kids into witchcraft. I read them again, and again, and again. The female characters are some of the best ever written, in terms of role-model quality, and for that reason alone if my children want to read them when they are older (over 11 years I think) I won't be stopping them. I will however use the books as aids to talk about the themes and ideas within and also the issue of the whole witch/wizard thing if needed. My closest family all disagree with me on this one, but there you go.

2. I don't believe hell is a place that God sends people. Just call me your friendly neighbourhood conditionalist. If you have never encountered the idea that this matter was ever up for discussion, check out Rachel Held Evan's Hell series here to learn more. This is not something I ever want to debate, as I don't know my theology well enough, it's not something I'll ever stand head-to-head with another Christian about and argue, it is just a belief of mine in my heart and a place where I feel peace. It is not a central issue to our salvation or our faith, I believe, but it is an issue with evangelism and our modern  evangelism approach. I will never, ever, use hell as an evangelism tool. I believe people should come to Christ for what he has to offer us while alive, for the fullness of joy he gives us, for his unconditional love - for many things - but not because they are afraid of hell.

3. I get overly anxious and worried and am afraid of lots of things. Part of this is post-natal, part of this is childhood, part of this is ENFP overcaring. Telling someone like me "just don't worry about it!" is not that helpful, FYI. Check out this from Buzzfeed: Comics that capture the frustration of anxiety disorders.

Artist: Natalie Dee

4. I don't like exercising. I don't like feeling hot. I hate sweating. And I hate pain. All bad things.

5. I don't force my kids to do what I say "Because I said so". Obedience is not first on my list of parenting values.

6. I would make an amazing Sister Maria. Come one someone, cast me.  You know you want to.

7. I'm not a night person or a morning person. I'm a sleep person. Which makes life with kids near impossible. If I had to choose I am probably more morning than night. But parenting means staying up later than you should just because no one is sitting next to you going "Muum, muuuum, muuuuuum."

8. I really struggle with/hate social media sometimes (a lot of the time). I feel like if I were not on Facebook then I would have no idea what was happening in my friends lives. Because most people don't call, text, or write letters or even emails anymore. They just share everything with their 384 "friends". I miss personal contact and I absolutely treasure the relationships I have with people who text me every so often to check in. I think I need to give what I want to get here too, I need to text and call people, I need to make an effort, if I want people to make one back. So I'm working on that.

9. I judge myself and my life by what I DO way too much. I often count myself as failing or not meeting some high and lofty standard. I need to change. I need to stop saying that I need to change. I need to start saying "I am okay, as I am. I am enough." It is easier to preach stuff to other people than accept it yourself, am I right?

10. I really like the movie "An American Tale 2: Fieval goes west." Don't judge. It's fantastic. Amazing songs. I watched this again and again as a child.

So there you go! That's me. Well, part of me. I represent myself, and I write because I love to. I am going to write here whether people read it or not, because writing helps my soul. And all of the above ten points are probably things that will change and evolve over time, because that is how life goes. Our experiences and our history shifts our perspective, and I am not afraid of that because growth is a good thing. I think I will always love Fieval though...

What about you? Anyone else got stuff they've been afraid to admit?

xx Sarah

It doesn't have to be perfect...

So I've been noticeably (or un-noticeably?) absent, probably due to my One Word - Rest. It's sort of ironic to spend all your time on the computer writing about resting. So I've been trying to rest instead. Not that I've been necessarily succeeding but there you go. One can only try.

I thought I'd write a short post about something that's been helping me get through this 3-kids-5-and-under season (kind of relevant to the above paragraph actually!).

 

You can take or leave the pretty picture, but the saying makes a lot of sense to me.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

What this means to me is: Don't let your unrealistic and massive expectations of yourself ruin the results that you are actually able to achieve. Don't let the fact that it "doesn't look/feel/seem like I imagined" steal what it is... which is good.

For anyone who has either perfectionist tendencies or is a bit OCD I think it's good to remember that sometimes, it's okay to just do what you can, with what you have, where you're at. It's good to dream and plan and all that, but sometimes life and circumstances and reality just get in the way, and we can't quite manage what we thought we'd be able to.

Don't let the myth of Perfect rob you of the joy to be found in the everyday moments of life.

When you send a letter or parcel to a friend, don't be disappointed that it was missing a hand-made toy or that you didn't manage to get to the shops to put chocolate in it too. Celebrate that you actually did do something. You put something in the post. You made an effort. You cared.

If you are always too tired or disorganised or poor to send anything in the post, realise that the fact that you text your friends and pray for them actually really does matter. And that people really appreciate a listening ear. And that doesn't have to cost you anything.

When it's your kids birthday party and you've been surfing Pinterest and pinning all the cute, themed yummy hand-made food but on the day you've had a kid with a broken arm and another kid in hospital and you're shattered and in the end you just don't quite manage the all-important vision... remember, you've thrown them a birthday party. They smiled, they blew out some candles, they had fun. Have fun yourself, don't let Perfect steal fun and memories from you.

When your home and your marriage and your parenting and your career and your church just don't look or feel like you think they really should, remember that things don't have to be perfect to be good. Your baby might not sleep or eat like those babies you see everywhere else, but you know what? Your baby is your baby and no baby is "perfect". Your house might not look like a magazine spread but neither do the houses in the magazines. They were cleaned and styled like nothing else for a few hours with a photographer. It's not reality. No church or pastor will ever tick every box that you have in your head for what the "perfect" church should be. The one you have can still be good. Really good. So can your husband, your job, your town.

So in this season where I have lots of dreams and ideas but pretty much zero energy to achieve them, I'm grateful for what I have, grateful for the chances to do what I love with the people I adore. I won't let Perfect rob me of what is good in my life.

What about you? What are the areas where the desire to be perfect can rob you of what is actually pretty good?

xx Sarah