Thin Mints and Peanut Butter

 "If you aren't willing to listen to EVERYTHING God has to say, you eventually won't hear anything He has to say. If you want to hear His comforting voice, you have to listen to His convicting voice. And its often what we want to hear the least that we need to hear the most."

This morning I laced my shoes up and head out on my morning walk. As I opened my podcast app, I realized I'm on day 28 of a "Bible in a Year" podcast. I listened to day 1, 34 days ago.

For me, not too shabby.

Normally by now I would have quit. Realized I missed a day here or there, and I would have exaggerated that I couldn't read the Bible in a year. That this year wasn't going to be the year for that.

Father Mike is currently reading Day 83.

And that's okay.

I thought today as I was walking and listening, how my success is directly related to my pairing.

I always listen to the Bible podcast when I walk.

If I want to listen to my podcast, I have to put on my shoes and walk. And if I want to walk, I have to listen to my Bible podcast.

I read somewhere earlier this year that pairing things is what makes for succesful change.

It seems those experts are right.

Our brain, and our body, over time begins to accept that two things go together. And associates them that way.

With the same ease that thin mints and peanut butter go together (if you haven't tried it, you should - freeze those thin mints and dip them in peanut butter - savory meets sweet), I can train myself to have better habits by pairing things.

I began to extend this into other areas.

I sit with my morning hot tea and a short devotion. I don't allow myself to drink my tea until I'm reading my devotion. Since starting this as part of my Lent routine, I've only missed one day.

I never miss my tea so by pairing it with something I find equally enjoyable, but just don't make time for, I've now "found" the needed 10 - 15 minutes in my day.

I play a sermon (off youtube) every time I cook dinner. I set up my kindle and push play before I do anything else in the kitchen.

I've decided nurturning my soul is important.

And I've learned that in order for me to prioritize spiritual habits, that I have to pair them with activities that are a natural part of my day.

So that now, 34 days in, I'm regularly filled with His word multiple times a day in different formats.

Consistently.

Mama Warriors, if you are struggling with finding time to nurture your soul, I encourage you to think about what you can pair together.

What activities occur in most of your days? A shower? A commute? An exercise routine? A house hold chore?

What spirtiual activity could you easily pair with something on your list?

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FIRE

"We always live what we believe; we just don't always live what we profess to believe."

This smoke detector is about 3 feet from my oven.

My oven is the original oven to the house. It has one temperature - hot. That's it. It doesn't matter what temperature the recipe says, you will be cooking on "hot."

It doesn't matter how many times you clean it, if you use it, it causes a smokey smell.

Which sets off this smoke detector.

And the people in my house that are tall enough to reach it, have no patience with it. They harshly push it ejecting the battery so it no longer alarms.

The smoke is still there.

The concern is that no one comes running when the smoke alarm goes off.

There has not once been a fire in my kitchen (thank you Jesus) in the last 20 years.

As I sat on my couch yesterday with my rice bag on my tense shoulders, I realized I've become like this smoke detector.

Super sensitive.

My mind is swarming, and even though there is no fire, my body is setting off.

I can recognize the physical symptons of stress.

I've learned that I can't just eject the battery.

I have to stop and respond to the smoke.

Because even though the smoke doesn't mean fire, it does mean something is askew.

If we train our minds and body to ignore the smoke, then when there is fire, we won't respond.

Or by the time there is fire, we'll be ill equipped to respond.

Here's the thing I've learned.

My smoke detector sets off based on the narrative I've chosen to tell.

My version of the story.

A writer I love says to think "The story I'm telling myself is...."

Because in every story there are multiple interpertations.

"Storytelling helps us all impose order on chaos—including emotional chaos. When we're in pain, we create a narrative to help us make sense of it. This story doesn't have to be based on any real information." (in the comments is a link to read more if you want to!)

The story I make up decides if my smoke alarm goes off or not.

Mama Warriors, there is only one true narrative.

Psalm 23.

A Psalm of David.

23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.[a]

3 He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness[b]

for his name's sake.

4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,[c]

I will fear no evil,

for you are with me;

your rod and your staff,

they comfort me.

5 You prepare a table before me

in the presence of my enemies;

you anoint my head with oil;

my cup overflows.

6 Surely[d] goodness and mercy[e] shall follow me

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell[f] in the house of the Lord

forever.[g]

If I can stop my own spiral, remind myself of the true narrative, then I can stop the spiral.

The true narrative is there is no fire.

Stretch and Shift

 "We can't change what we have experienced, but we can choose how the experience changes us."

For the last three weeks, our washing machine has been broken. I figured out how to get it to wash but it would not rinse. So, I could either wash our clothes with no soap. Or I could wash them with soap and then re-wash them without soap so that the second wash cycle acted as a rinse.

I know.

Today the new washer arrived.

Very exciting. Home Depot was two hours early delivering and I've rarely been this excited. The last time might have been 8 years ago when Chris brought our last washer. Yes, I remember his name.

Whoever built our laundry room definitely did not DO any laundry and probably never hooked up a washer or a dryer.

After some Tetris style moving, the delivery guys got my old washer out, my new washer in BUT my dryer won't go back into the space.

You see even though NOTHING about my dryer changed, the mere stretching and moving has shifted the vent hose and it won't fit back in there the same way.

The two men in the truck tried multiple times.

I have since tried multiple times.

And it seems like this is just the new position of our dryer.

I've been thinking about this today.

About how nothing fundamental changed with our dryer, but the stretching and the shifting has changed it.

It's no longer the same.

As Timehop reminds me that we've been living a new normal for the last year, I have been thinking how not many BIG things about my life have changed. But the year has stretched me and shifted me.

I'm changed.

I'm no longer the same.

This week I studied the portion of the Sermon on the Mount where Jesus tells us to love our enemies.

My first thought was - Oh good. I'm safe on this one.

I've got no enemies. No arch nemesis. No rival.

But then I got to thinking. Some people annoy me. Some people frustrate me. Some people have broken my trust. Some people have hurt me deeply.

I'm supposed to love all of THOSE people.

I'm supposed to do good for them. Say good things about them. And most of all pray for their hearts, for their lives.

I'm going to be honest- about half the people in the category of people who have frustrated me, annoyed me, hurt me or violated my trust are related to me.

They are my people.

I have a hard time with those folks because I expect more of them.

The ones not related to me - I can forgive, I can extend grace, I can make space for.

But the ones related to me - I feel like they owe me better.

Sigh.

Unfortunately I couldn't find anything in that Sermon on the Mount that said I was off the hook.

But what I really found convicting about studying those passages this week was that my real enemy. The one that I really struggle with the most.

Is myself.

I'm the most judgemental about myself.

I'm the most aggravated or frustrated with myself.

I'm the most hurt by my own actions and words.

I have the hardest time loving myself.

All that stretching and shifting I've done this year - why can I not give myself grace for that?

For the losses I've carried.

For the hurts I"ve felt.

Mama Warriors, Jesus never asked us to do anything he didn't already do himself. He loved Judas. Often treated him better than the other disciples. He knew he would betray him, but he loved him well anyway.

I think when he calls us to do unto others - we need to look in the mirror.

I would never speak to a dear friend the way I speak to myself.

Let's find space to love ourselves well.

To do good things for ourselves.

To say kind things about ourselves.

To pray for our own heart.

We are dryers who aren't going to fit the same as we used to.

That's okay.

There's room for new acceptance.

For love.

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Hold My Hand

 "Christ's ressurection makes him vulnerable. He is vulnerable to our doubt and vulnerable to our fingers forced through wounded skin. He knows we need to be reminded that his love for us extends into our fears and broken places."

Last week Peanut and I were in the Dollar Tree. We had gotten in line when she realized she wanted to get one more thing. I suggested she run and grab it (it was within my sight) while I held our place in line.

She got teary and said she wasn't okay with that.

The elderly grandmother behind me commented it was good that she wouldn't go too far from.

But is it?

At the Botanical Garden this week, a place we've been easily a hundred times in her life, she stopped to look at something and I kept walking.

"Mommy" she screamed in a panic. Even though she could see me.

The thing is before the pandemic and this need to be six feet from everyone else, she was my one kid who was totally comfortable not being near me.

She's my wanderer.

She's the one I've momentarily lost multiple times because it never panicked her if she couldn't see me. She always knew I was nearby.

I realized this week in this need to keep her away from other people, by default I've created a need to be nearer to me.

Home base.

I took her hand in the botanical garden and said to her "If you need to hold my hand, that's okay. It's brave to know what YOU need."

Mama Warriors, we have to be careful not to say "You are fine."

She's not fine. And she knows it.

If I tell her otherwise, I'm teaching her that her gut isn't trustworthy. And that's just not true.

If in this season, during this time, she needs to hold my hand, that's what she needs.

And that's all that matters.

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