Hello, I’m January
Inspiration and thoughts on God and faith, written by a simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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My Go To Therapist
This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; he is my God, and I trust him. Psalm 91:2
There is something therapeutic about spending time in the salon. If the completely selfish date with oneself is not enough to make you feel better, than certainly the head massage that magically soothes a migraine, the silky feeling of a blowout, or how fabulous you look when you first walk out the front door can add to the appeal of a day spent getting pampered for a bit. Add to this a few minutes of talking to your “head” therapist about life, kids, and your daily gripes, a few hours in the salon chair can be a much needed escape from an otherwise crazy reality.
Besides the fact that I was in desperate need of a cut and root touch-up this past weekend, the few hours I spent in a chair, or under a dryer were definitely a reprieve from the dark mood that had taken over my spirit that very morning. I needed to get out of the public for a while, and chat up the stylist, or my “head” shrink for the day.
And, it sure is a good thing I had decided to leave Facebook alone for a while, because on this particular morning, or the entire day for that matter, I certainly wanted to let everyone know what kind of morning I had. I left my wallet AND phone at home, and discovered this after I had pulled into the gas station, on empty, mind you. I was now 15 minutes late, behind a log truck, stuck in horrendous traffic thanks to the arrival of students and parents, and by 9:15, I was fed up with anything and anyone who happened to cross my path.
Once I pulled up in front of the place responsible for my once a month “me” sessions, I could not wait to tell someone about my crummy morning.
And for about 3 hours I chatted to my stylist about my life, my kids, and my gripes.
Then I thought about something.
I had not once chatted with God about what I was feeling. And, I have certainly never chatted with him for 3 hours!
I cry out to God: yes, I shout. Oh, that God would listen to me! When I was deep in trouble, I searched for the Lord. Psalm 77:1-2
While, there is nothing wrong with a little beauty shop therapy, God wants me to communicate and share my struggles with him with the same intimacy and intentionality with which I share them with my stylist. He already knows what my struggles are. He already knows my gripes. He already knows about my kids, my life, and my circumstances.
And, he also wants to be my therapist. He wants to be the first person I seek when I need a few selfish “me” moments to share gripes, praises, and requests.
He wants me to seek Him when I want to blow-up in traffic. He wants me to seek Him when I want to scream in the car on the way back home for my missing wallet. He wants me to lean on Him when I just can’t handle one more thing. He is just as selfish about His time with me, as I am about my “me” time under the dryer.
No, God can’t touch up my roots, but He can definitely touch up my mood. God can’t trim my dead ends, but he can groom the frazzled pieces of my heart. And, while my stylist may require an appointment for the three hours I spend in her chair, God never requires that I make an appointment with Him, just that I make Him my go to therapist.
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What Happened to Compassion?
Finally, all of you should be of one mind. Sympathize with each other. Love each other as brothers and sisters. Be tenderhearted, and keep a humble attitude. 1 Peter 3:8
It was bound to happen again eventually. We just didn’t think it would happen the second week of school. A substitute bus driver is usually no big deal to most kids, but our little “monster” has a tough time handling this situation. And when I say tough, I mean the completely berserk kind of tough.
I had some giant-sized faith at the beginning of this new school year. I had even been bold enough to take down the visual schedule that was used to help Hunter adapt to any changes in routine. I had a new confidence that our little boy would eventually see that life and school were not all that scary.
Until he woke up the first day with nerves so bad he was literally sick. Until a snafu with bus schedules left him inconsolable one morning as the driver waited for a solution. But, it had started to get better. He had even started leaving his beloved “puppy” at home. I thought maybe, finally he had found another way to relieve his anxiety while at school.
“The bus is here!”
And, yes, Bus 66 had made its way around the turn. The same number. The same bus.
But wait! Our brown-haired male had been replaced with a blonde-haired female. Oh, great! Here we go!
And, sure enough…as soon as the bus stopped, I heard it. The scared and anxious wails of my little boy. He was NOT getting on that bus.
“Mommy! Mommy! I don’t want puppy! I just want Mommy!”
Yep, I was going to be taking him to school this morning, because I knew he was NOT going to even think about getting on that bus.
Then, as my husband handed me the boy with the tearstained glasses, he added this: “You know that little girl in the front seat actually looked up and said, ‘I wish he would shut-up and stop crying?’”
Say what? No, she didn’t!!
Well, little missy! I wish he would stop crying, too. I wish I didn’t have to add an hour to my day to drive him to school. I also wish I understood how a bus full of kindergartner through second graders lost the ability to show compassion and love to each other. To another scared kid. How does such disdain come out of the mouth of someone barely over the age of 7?
Don’t oppress widows, orphans, foreigners, and poor people. And don’t even think of doing evil to each other. But people refused to pay attention. They shrugged their shoulders at me and shut their ears so that they could not hear. Zechariah 7:10-11
The words we hear come so easily out of the mouths of 7 years olds, also flow so freely from ours.
I know, because I have witnessed my daughter tell her baby dolls to be quiet, because their whining was giving her a headache. I heard her say the exact words I had said to she and her brother the afternoon before.
I know such adult speak, such hatred, such disdain for others problems, and struggles, and yes, even wails, often comes from us-the adults. The ones who are supposed to teach our kids how to be tolerant of each other, but find it so easy to pick apart the differences in personality, clothing choice, or life choice in those we interact with on a daily basis. The ones who think nothing of yelling the word “retard” at the woman parking her car in the Wal-Mart parking lot (Note: the women was me!). The ones who want to teach our children to think before they speak, but are quick to rattle off some not so appropriate words at the driver who cut us off (guilty!). The adults who are supposed to teach the next generation to love, but have a hard time showing love to our cranky, nosy neighbor (yes, that is me, too!). The ones who write the articles in the magazines that tell women and girls how they should look. The same adults who will critique the weight of women carrying the miracle of birth.
The same adults who are desperately trying to raise our kids in a cruel and dark world, but whose kids are learning that it’s not alright to cry. It’s not alright to be different. It’s not alright to be something other than what the media thinks is “normal.” And, it’s alright to point out each and every flaw.
Or to tell a scared, little boy to shut-up and stop crying.
Therefore, accept each other just as Christ has accepted you so that God will be given glory. Romans 15:7
As I pulled up into the parking lot at school, I grabbed my little monster and gave him a hug. I took his hand and walked him to his classroom, even though I knew he has done this countless times before. And, as he stood, still crying in his new classroom, I hugged him. I told him I loved him. I told him to never let anyone tell him to be quiet. To always tell people how he feels even if he has to scream and wail a little louder.
Because, while it may be small, that is what compassion looks like. That is what acceptance looks like. That is how we love others. Understand their struggles. Have empathy for their wound up emotions. Walk with them hand and hand through those emotions, even if it means walking down the same path together. Over and over again.
It may be small, but this is what we should teach our kids. That’s what I hope I am teaching mine.
Direct your children onto the right path, and when they are older, they will not leave it. Proverbs 22:6
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The World Outside My Starbucks App
Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. Philippians 2:4
The picture above looks similar to my local Starbucks. No, it’s not in an airport, but there is one striking similarity I noticed as I waited in line this morning for my triple grande caramel soy mocha with no whip and caramel drizzle-every single person in line was furiously texting and scrolling away on their cell phones. Eyes downcast. Oblivious to anyone and anything around them.
And, I am among those people. Distracted by every chime, every notification, every tweet, every up-to-the-minute status update.
Eyes downcast. Oblivious to anything and anyone around me.
Oblivious to the ones who are hurting, heartbroken, and desperately hoping someone will look up and see the pain and sorrow in their eyes.
We continue to be shocked when we hear news of someone who is so sad and lonely they would see no way out but to take their own life, and as the world stands in shock once again with the death of Robin Williams, we ask ourselves these questions: Why weren’t the signs not noticed? Why wouldn’t he or she reach out for help? How can we miss the signs so often when tragedies like this occur?
Many answers come to mind, but as I stood today noticing I am just as guilty of shutting out the world, I could not help but wonder how much my inability to connect with people beyond my cell phone contributes to some of the hurt people feel. Contributes to the inability to look beyond what is going on in iPhone land, and look for signs of the brokenhearted.
When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality. Romans 12:13
However, I have often been too eager and willing to share my emotions by updating my “status,” and too hesitant to reach out and share them with those who matter the most-my family, my friends, and most importantly, God.
I have opened my Facebook app instead of my Bible.
I have reached out to Twitter followers instead of confiding in a friend.
I have hidden behind my cell phone in order to avoid eye contact with someone I just didn’t feel like talking to.
I have avoided looking up and reaching out to those who may need a caring word the most, someone who may need a smile, a kind word, or a simple gesture that someone truly sees they do exist.
And, I know how much easier it is to be honest with our invisible followers, than those who may stand face-to-face with us.
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you. Matthew 6:33
If I can put down my cell phone and look up when I am lonely. Look to Him for hope in a dark and sinful world. Look to Him for healing in the midst of brokenness, I can then be equipped to provide others with the same hope and peace. Look around and see people are hurting, and trying hard to hide it behind smiles and jokes.
Because the word no one wants to hear, the one very few understand, and many are quick to deem as a selfish act, has touched many lives and families, including ours.
All covered by smiles and jokes.
One sudden and forever unexplained.
One prevented, but one which I could have easily missed simply because I spent so much time hiding behind my smart phone, and avoiding a human connection.
Facebook, Twitter, Google, Instagram, and whatever else there is out there, cannot compete with the power of an intentional connection with another person.
It cannot compete with looking up into the eyes of a grumpy cashier, seeing the hurt behind the angry mask, and offering a simple smile.
It cannot compete with doing something kind, and expecting nothing at all in return.
Who knows whose life could be changed simply by putting down the phone for a while.
So, this is my pledge:
I am going to stop reaching out to Facebook, and use His arms to reach out to love and help others.
I am going to stop checking my email while in line at Starbucks, so I can look up and see what is going on around me. Speak, smile, and make someone feel important. Who knows which one of them may have woken feeling worthless, wondering why they exist, or why they are always ignored.
Instead of pouring my heart into a new status update, I am going to borrow his heart to seek out those that are hurting and discouraged.
I am going to start living outside my iPhone world, so I can spend a little time in the worlds of those around me.
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An Audience of One
As a young student I loved to write. I couldn’t wait to get to English class, and place my entry in my daily journal. I used to even dream of being discovered posthumously like Emily Dickinson.
But, lately, I have been struggling with whether or not to keep writing. Partly due to sheer exhaustion. Partly because the devil has me convinced that I have nothing good to say anyway. That I can’t find God at 4 AM in the midst of the mess of life. The one who wants nothing more for me than to put down the pen, close my Bible, go back to sleep, and forget all about God.
It’s true that I started this blog a year ago, not with the intention of ever becoming some world-renowned writer, but in an attempt to put into words the emotions and feelings I was experiencing as a mom of an autistic child.
And, to spend time with God as he was calling me to do at 4 AM in the morning. To be transparent about the junk I believe most of us deal with in this life. It was never meant to draw an audience of thousands, but to glorify my audience of One.
I find myself this week wrestling with the very reason I began this blog in the first place. The very one who had me at my wits end again the night before school was about to start. The same one who had me up at 4 AM talking to God. The same one who placed it on my heart to be honest and share with others.
The one that maybe one person out there could understand and relate to-my autistic son.
The one who at this very moment was screaming and inconsolable. The one who had worked himself into such a nervous tizzy about this whole kindergarten thing, he couldn’t even begin the first day of school. The one screaming for Mom and Dad in an overcrowded school bus.
So, why do I write? Why do I continue to be honest and share my struggles, triumphs, and failures?
I write for the mom who flips grilled cheese sandwiches while a 5 year old boy cries on her hip. While he wets her weary shoulder with his tears.
I write for the believer like me who lacks faith. Who is afraid. Who faces many doubts and trials.
I write for those desperately seeking God in the midst of tough circumstances and hardships.
I write for the parents who wonder if they are doing everything wrong, and who wonder if God hears their 4 AM cries and prayers.
God has given each of you a gift. Use it to help each other. 1 Peter 4:10
And, writing is that gift.
So, I will tell that devil to sit down and be quiet. I will continue to write for the one person who may read my post and feel comforted by the fact that they are not alone. That others go through the same struggles.
If I remind just one person through my words, God’s gift to me, that He is with them, then I have already defeated the devil who wants me to think I am not good enough or worthy. I have already accomplished what God has called me to do.
Whether I can see it or not, there is one out there that can relate to the words posted here. To the stories I share. To my sorrows, emotions, and feelings, but only if I am willing to share these things, and despite the fact that maybe only one person will ever get anything out of them.
So, I will continue to write for those like me who may also be up at 4 AM struggling with out of control emotions. Struggling to find God in the screams of a child, or in the face of a hard and tough circumstance.
Whether I am writing for an audience of thousands, or simply an audience of One.
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Relax and Thrive on Crazy
“The only true gift is a portion of thyself.” Ralph Waldo Emerson
I have started to notice something about myself in recent years. Relax? It’s not necessarily something I know how to do. From one job to two, schoolwork to ministry, kids to housework, to being a wife…well, there isn’t much time to relax.
When I do find some time to relax with a nice, long, hot bath and a good book, I still can’t relax my mind, or sit still long enough to finish a page of any book. All the need-to-dos, have-to-remembers, and must-get-dones all crash down on my time of relaxation.
And, if life does actually slow down for a while, if obligations, engagements, and deadlines finally become few-I quickly fill it up with something else. Telling myself I thrive on this crazy!
But, while I may-it doesn’t mean my family does!
Because the one place we should be able to relax. The one place my kids should feel safe and a little less crazy is at home.
The place that can often be the least relaxing.
Sure, the neatly folded blankets. The books and games stacked neatly in the corner. The freshly made beds. The neatly folded towels, and squeaky clean bathroom sinks. They may all look relaxing, but they came at a price.
They all happened while I was thriving on my crazy need-to-dos, have-to-remembers, and must-get-dones. While I was making home the least relaxing place to be.
“The flood of demands will consume us if we don’t take time to let God right our perspective, reduce our stress level, and whisper His tender truths of love in our ear.” Lysa TerKeurst, Am I Messing Up My Kids?
And, in those of my kids.
“Mommy, will you play hide and seek with us?” Comes the tiny sing-song voice of a little blue-eyed boy.
And, I’ll admit-my first thought was-Oh, God. No. I have to cook dinner. I have to remember to send those cards. I must get that load of laundry done.
But, then it hit me. All those things. The crazy things I thrive on certainly don’t help my kids thrive. And, I made a vow.
I vowed to let the laundry go, and play hide and seek.
I vowed to forget about the blankets on the floor, and help make that fort.
I vowed to push the deadlines back a little to read one more bedtime story.
I vowed to forget the need-to-dos, have-to-remembers, and must-do-nows, to play another game of Memory, share a page in a coloring book, or help put up the dinosaur park fence.
I vowed to relax and thrive on their crazy for a bit.
“Then Esau looked at the women and children and asked “Who are these people with you?” “These are the children God has graciously given to me, your servant,” Jacob replied. Genesis 33:5
The three God has graciously given me.
And, even after I played hide and seek not once, but twenty times. I am once again reminded of this as I open my laptop and work on another assignment, and hear my husband say, “Are you going to go fishing with us?”
Thriving on their crazy. Even if it is a little late for a weeknight. Even if it means my crazy to-do list keeps me up a little later tonight.
Doing what they find relaxing. Doing the things that remind me my time is precious. That my children are a gift, and that sometimes relaxing is not doing all the things that drive my family crazy, but doing the things that they find important.
Relaxing in their world for a while. Thriving on their crazy.
About Me
I am January! Wife, mother, meemaw, pastor, and mental health provider who makes it through the day with my coffee, my journal, and my God; and I am also on some days a hot mess. A simple human, navigating life through the messy and sometimes chaotic.
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Grace 'n Grounds 