November 3 and changes are a-coming

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If you follow me on social media, you may notice a theme in my posts lately. Besides the fact that I am all about the Holiday Season being upon us now and I am all psyched for that, you are seeing a lot of posts (and reposting of other’s posts) about change.

Maybe you are like me and are not a huge fan of change. Maybe, like me, you avoid it at all costs. Why do we feel that way about change? Is it because change can equal unknown? Or maybe change means we might fail? Let’s be honest. We are all going to fail at some point. And when we do, we pick ourselves back up and either change course or try again. One of my fave people I follow, Rachel Hollis, talks about this a lot. She recently stated it’s not the actual failure we fear, it is the people watching us fail and their opinions of us that makes us not want to change and possibly fail. And something she said recently, and in her book, Girl, Wash Your Face, is that other people’s opinions of me are none of my business. Mind. Blown. I have always been a people pleaser; always concerned about other people’s opinion of me and pretty much only that.┬áThe last year and a half or so, God has totally turned me upside down and shaken that out of me.

Oh, it didn’t start out that way. I fought and resisted the change. Not because I was worried about failure, but because I knew how it was going to end. And it has been even worse than I could ever possibly imagine. But that doesn’t mean that the changes didn’t happen for a reason that God wanted to use. To the contrary, it has played out exactly for that reason. I mean, come to find out on the other side of it. But getting to this point of realization has been hard and has involved a lot of shocking behavior by people I thought I knew so well. I had to let go of all of it. Their actions and lack of action; hurtful words and incorrect accusations (notice I didn’t say “unfair accusations?” In case you haven’t noticed, life ain’t fair and no one ever said it would be, although some folks think it should be. It’s not.) Turns out, it has been the best thing for me and for my family. The resulting snowball effect of change has been so incredible, I can barely catch my breath and keep up with it.

I’m learning to not just embrace the change but to hold onto it and run with it. Lots of good things coming in 2019 and it all started with this one change.

Got some scary changes happening? I challenge you to hang on and see it through.

See you tomorrow.

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Doing something different.

I built turned on the fire this morning, grabbed my laptop and that blissfully wonderful first cup of coffee and settled onto my new couch. My hand, of its own accord, reached down to pull the lever and…nothing. Good grief. Had I, too, succumbed to the lure of the reclining couch? Even as I type this, my hand keeps wanting to reach over the side of the arm rest and fumble for that daggone pull lever. I can’t get comfy. I’m squirming, shifting my laptop around, crossing first one leg and then the other. Wedging myself into the corner, I am finally, sort of, settled in. It’s not that comfortable, I have to say. But I would rather face a pot of decaf than admit this to My Man, also known as The One Who is Underwhelmed By The New Couch. After we unwrapped the new couch, whom I affectionately call The Blue Beauty, we stood back to stare at it for a moment: he with a definite scowl; me with beaming pleasure. As he took a breath to, I was certain, extol all of it’s beautiful blue glory, he snapped, instead, the following: “I hope you are happy with it; will love it for year’s to come; and can keep it clean.” I responded, “I am; I will; I can.” With a snort, he stomped off.

Sigh. Twenty-nine years of marriage and this is where we are.

Change is hard, y’all. Doing something different can be a challenge. I know. I’m the queen of trying to doing it different. Oh, do not get me wrong…I love my traditions: my well worn purple slippers, my Verona coffee and my favorite jeans with the hole in the thigh (from rubbing aginst my other too-chunky thigh, but that’s another post about another change for another day.) When all is said and done, I hate change. So why do I keep wanting it?

Lately, I find myself telling new mums and mums with little’s, “don’t wish this time away! I know it’s hard. I know it’s overwhelming. I know you are exhausted. But I also know you will long for this time when it is long gone!” I know, because I am there. I love where my life is right now. Truly, I do. My children are intelligent, amazing, and you heard it hear first folks, FUN young adults. My Girl and I are, I can hardly believe I am saying this, friends. We love to spend time together. And she usually initiates it. My Big Boy, finishing up his last semester of college (gulp, Russell is getting so stinkin’ old) will soon be home and, while he and I bump head’s, it is all about the control thing. Other than that, he is so much like me and also so much like his father in all the right ways, that I love spending time with him. And my Wild Boy. Oy. My heart just aches when I look at that boy. My Momma’s Boy rarely gives me the time of day, and I admit I live for a grin and a funny word from him, but I also have it on good authority that, thank You, Jesus, he, too, is smart and funny and personable and compassionate and polite. You want to talk about some change? They are all that I was not at their ages. And I am so thankful for that.

But as much as I love where they all are, I also miss my little rug rats. The slap of little foot pads on the hard wood floor; the singing and chattering of My Girl as she wakes up, smiling and happy. The thud as the Big Boy flips out of his crib, never learning to perfect his landing, always crashing to the floor until his momma got smart and just left the side down. I miss five identically clad 6 year olds, decked out in matching jersey, shorts, shin guards and cleats, jibbering and chirping behind me in the van. I miss being the Room Mom; knowing each of their teachers enough to ask about their own children and struggles and triumphs. I’m thankful for all of those years. I cherish the, “hey, Mrs. Smith!” calls I get up at the high school from kids I’ve known since Brett was in kindergarten, and even his two-year old preschool class.

My momma, who worries about my preoccupation with “change,” wisely reminded me that we are changing every minute of every day. I know that. I get that. I am not fighting that. But like the arm that wants to slip down and grab that recliner lever, it’s just going to take awhile to accept that, while some things are gone…bigger and better and bluer things have arrived.

Chat with y’all tomorrow. Love you guys.

The Whining Has Got to Stop!

And by whining…I mean me. I’m the big whiner around my house today. Yesterday. All last week. And the week before.

I have whined about everything…the weather (too hot, then too cold, now too wet). I whined about the trees being bare and then that they changed overnight and the pollen is like sand under my contact lenses. I whined about not getting enough sleep. I whined about being so sleepy that all I want to do is sleep. But mostly, I’ve whined about my husband. For some unknown reason, somewhere along the line, I decided that I was just absolutely perfect. And he’s not. And that was all there was to it. Everything he has been saying and doing has been irking me. And I mean…IRKING. ME. What he says. What he doesn’t say. What he does. What he doesn’t do. Am I the only woman who ever feels like this? Is this why Eve ate the apple? Adam was irkin’ her that day and she decided, “hey. What the heck. The talking snake said I could be even more perfect than God! I’m already better than Adam.” And then she went for it. I could so seeing me doing that. That scares me.

I was sitting in church yesterday, completely enveloped in my righteousness and my spouse sat down next to me. Since he plays the drums during worship, I knew I wouldn’t be ‘stuck’ with him the entire service. And then the children’s sermon spoke to me. And the pastor’s sermon spoke to me. And I realized, of course, that it was God speaking to me…softening my heart…drawing me back. To Him. To my husband. Back from my neatly wrapped up little selfish world I had built.

Jesus laid down His life for us. For me. His word tells me that no greater love is there than putting down one’s life for another. Who is my ‘another’? My husband first. Our children. Family. Friends. It’s amazing to me that even though my ‘to do’ list didn’t change, my load became lighter. Even though my husband didn’t change, he didn’t irk me yesterday. I changed. I was changed. I love that.