QUIETING TECHNOLOGY: THE WHY

Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?"  

~ Mary Oliver, "West Wind"

I'm still on the change train these days.  There's so much that I'm sort of peeling it off in layers. And sometimes, when you peel away layers, what you find underneath is surprising.  

I'm asking myself, "What is making me crazy?"  "What is secretly stealing my joy and my time?"  "What causes me to look at my kids as a nuisance instead of a treasure?"

These two words bubbled to the surface:  Distraction. Expectation.  

DISTRACTION

A few weeks ago, my phone might have accidentally fallen into the toilet.  I know, I know. What is my phone even doing near the toilet? Don't judge.  You know you do it too.

It was a Sunday, and I was home from church with a feverish kid.  I quickly popped said phone in a bag of rice  (Arborio.  It was the only kind I could find, but I figured it would still work.) and said a quick prayer.  

For a brief moment, I felt a bit panicky.  What if someone needs to get in touch with me? What if I need something?  

But seriously, how often is a text urgent or cause for immediate response?  Almost never.  

And how often is the perusal of social media necessary to life?  Definitely never.  

On this accidental phone-less day, I noticed that I was way less distracted.  Before that, I wouldn't have said that I was even a distracted type of person or someone that was on my phone that much.  But not having my phone available made me aware of how often I reach for it in little moments, how often I check for a text or a like or a notification, how often I use it as an escape from my very unglamorous life. 

For the first time in a long time, I had a day uninterrupted by a ping, alarm, text, or vibration. For the first time in a long time, I actually felt productive (granted I had only one sick child home with me, so let's be clear).  I managed to tackle a few projects around the house and even some gardening outside.  I read for a forever long time to my daughter, without feeling that vibration in my pocket that even momentarily mentally distracted me from time with her, even if I didn't check it right then.  "Mom, you just got a text," she would say.  "I know, honey, I know, but I will check it later."  

Even my 1 year old will pick up my phone and hand it to me if she sees it lying around, like she knows it's an extension of me.  Personally, I think that's a little messed up.  

I've been reading the Little House on the Prairie series to my oldest.  One thing that has been so striking to me about the life of the Ingalls family is just how amazingly productive they are.  They build their own houses, catch their own food, grow their own gardens, farm the land, make their own maple syrup, care for their animals, cook everything from scratch, make their own clothes, knit their own mittens, play their own music.  

Do you know how they do this?  THEY DO ONE THING AT A TIME.  I'm so serious.  One thing at a time.  If it's harvesting time, they harvest.  If it's planting time, they plant,  If the maple trees are giving sap, they tap the trees, gather sap, and then boil to make maple syrup right then.  If they need a house, they build a house.  They aren't trying to plant and harvest and make syrup and build a house all in the same day.  Doing little bits at a time. They do until it's done.  Their eyes are focused on their work at hand.  

While I understand this is a very different than the world we live in, let's not overlook this very important lesson:

Distraction is defeating and is the killjoy to our productivity and our focus.

The day my phone was on rice, I was able to focus without wanting to stop in between every little thing to check on something...anything. And let's be honest, those things I were checking on were insignificant.  

Do you know what is significant?  Looking into my kids eyes and them knowing I value them so much more than this hand-held rectangular window to other things. I didn't have the feeling that my kids were annoying all day long because I was trying to look at something or post something or text something, constantly shooing away the "Mom, Mom, Moms!"   I saw, and I mean really saw my daughter and gave her my full attention.   

I felt lighter, less tethered to an unrealistic fantasy world, less stressed.  I did one thing at a time.  

I felt less crazy.  Less pulled in a million directions.  Less like I had to please everyone.

EXPECTATION

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we gathered our tiny humans and took a family trip to the great white north.  We needed some time away from our intense lives to just focus on one another and have some fun.  

Also on that weekend, my Instagram and Facebook feeds exploded with Christmas trees, fully holiday decorated homes, and already bought and wrapped Christmas gifts.  All finished decorating!  Wrapped gifts while watching Elf and sipping Bailey's hot cocoa!! All ready for Christmas!  

Watching all this made me hyperventilate and instantly feel behind in a season that honestly hadn't even gotten started yet.  We've never been a family that got our tree and decorated the day after Thanksgiving, and it never bothered me before..until this year, for some reason. Until I was watching everyone's best bits in little lit up squares scroll through my screen.  

I can't compete with everyone's best bits, especially without seeing the whole.  It's not the best bits that make a life.  It's the best and the worst and everything in between.  It's the realness and the rainy day you pick you tree out from the hardware store down the street and carry it home.  It's the tears that were shed when one child didn't want to walk the one block home behind that tree.  It's the hot chocolate drunk around that tree while our electricity was out during the decorating.  It's the hoping all those strands of light actually work because we can't plug them in to check.  It's the candles that soothed our family and lit our way as we decorated. It's the kids who really didn't care to be decorating and bailed about 3 ornaments in.  It's the accidentally broken ornaments and the dinner that no one liked.  It's the joy on their faces to see the tree all lit up and decorated for the first time.  Or the first presents wrapped underneath.  It's the arguments you get into over waiting to unwrapped those gifts until Christmas.  Its the growth and the stubble.  

And so, I decided to take a break from social media over the holidays.  I didn't want to feel the imaginary pressure that it would cause during an already high pressure season.  

I didn't want to measure my experience with anyone else's ruler.  And isn't that what social media slaps in our hand all too often? Someone else's ruler?  I've got enough of my own, thank you very much.  

Here's what I noticed on my social media break.

I could take things at a realistic pace for our family and not feel like I had to keep up with everyone else.  We didn't even get a tree until December 10th, and that was just fine for us.  
I cared more about the actual moments  than how that moment would look in that little lit up square.  I wasn't taking a photo in order to post it to social media, already running witty captions through my head.  I was taking a photo because I honestly wanted to remember this moment. Just us, for what that moment was, not for what I wanted people's reactions to be. I stopped thinking in those terms.

I spent a lot less time scrolling through a feed, and I really didn't miss it much.

I found I was more curious about what was going on in people's lives because I didn't already know. This made me reach out more on a person to person level, which should always be my aim.  

I don't need anyone's feedback to validate my life.

Let me add a caveat here, too.  I love social media.  Instagram is my jam.  Give me all the fun, real, beautiful, and inspirational photos.  As a stay-at-home mom, it serves as a connection point in to the outside world in an often lonely season of life.  A great, quick way to keep up with friends that I don't have much time to keep up with.  And I often need that.  

Social media and technology are not evil and are actually really great things.  We just need to make sure that they keep their rightful place in our priority lists...preferably near the bottom.  When they lead to distraction and expectation that sucks the joy out of life, when they make our kids wanting our attention seem like a nuisance, when they cause too much unhealthy comparison, we need to reign them in and shut them up.

It seems counter-cultural, but culture doesn't get to dictate what's best for me.  I do.  I told you...I'm not gonna play by their rules anymore.  

I'll be back on Monday with exactly how I'm quieting technology in my life...  

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APPROACHING 40

This picture right here.  This is my best.  Today I arrived at 40, and these people, they are the best of me.  This man and these kids, they are what I'm most proud of in my 40 years of life.  In light of today, I'm reposting Approaching 40 here.  No matter where you are today, may you know that your life matters.

APPROACHING 40

I looked down and caught a glimpse of my hands and thought, "Who's old lady hands are these?"  When did my hands start to look like this?  I shake my head in disbelief.  But these hands, these hands have held my babies, scooped up the hurt child, bandaged a scraped knee.  These hands have changed thousands of diapers, washed the never ending stream of dishes from the food that nourishes our family.  These hands have hugged my friends, written notes of encouragement, painted walls, worn a ring of commitment for the past 14 years.  I am thankful for these hands.

My belly also looks different than it used to.  But this belly, this belly has stretched to enormous proportions to grow tiny humans and take part in three miracles.  It's skin has gone out and in and out and in and out and in again.  This belly is a soft landing place for my nursing baby, my 4 year old still wanting to sit on my lap to read, and my 6 year old now tall enough to hug me there when we stand together.  These changes, they are war wounds of the best kind.  Road maps for my children of their origin.  I am thankful for this belly.

I glanced up quickly as I washed my hands and saw tired eyes, etched with lines that seemed to appear there overnight.  But these eyes, these eyes have seen places all over the world.  These eyes have seen beauty and they have seen pain and they have seen a whole lifetime of things that I wouldn't trade for anything.  These eyes saw my wedding day and my handsome groom overcome with emotion for glory of that day.  These eyes have seen 8 cities that I've made my home, looked upon a new friend for the first time,  looked enough times upon that friend that a mere glance tells me what they are thinking.  These eyes have seen my babies from the moment they were born, seen their newness and their vulnerability, seen them grow strong in health and personality.  And these lines, they are from smiling.  They are from dancing overcome with joy.  They are from cheering on my daughter as she rides her bike for the first time.  They are from sitting with friends over a glass of wine and laughing until our sides hurt.  These eyes and these lines, they tell the story of my life if you look close enough. I am thankful for these eyes.  

The gray streaks in my hair keep me honest.  I can fool a lot of people about my age, but the gray that is taking over outs me now.  But this hair, this gray hair shows people that I have lived life, with its worries and its joys and its love.  It makes me seem more credible, wiser.  I am not mistaken for a college student anymore, but I'm ok with that.  I have spent nights up with colicky babies and sick children.   I am not afraid to call out areas that need work in my marriage and work on them.  I have given time I didn't have to serve others, and I'd do it all over again.  These things take a toll, but the wisdom I've gained fair surpasses the gray hair that now grows in response.  I am thankful for this hair.

My legs are shaped differently than they used to be.  But these legs, these legs have run a race of life of which I am proud.  These legs have danced for years and years on stages all over this country.  These legs have run 2 half marathons.  These legs have carried 3 babies inside me and 3 babies still wanting to be carried even now even though they are too big.  These legs walk my daughter to school, run with my son, and sway with my baby in spite of weariness.  These legs are strong and mighty.  I am thankful for these legs.

This is my last year in my 30's.  This decade has been the most changing and stretching and challenging of them all.  But it has also been the best and most rewarding.  I have experienced change and growth beyond belief.  I have made lifelong friends.  I have created my family with my own body.  I know more of who I am and who I want to be. 

And despite all these physical changes, I am more comfortable in my skin than ever before.  

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when quiet takes action

I'm 27 days into to making some changes, and I have to say that thus far, it's been amazing!!  I feel better than I've felt in years.  I have hope and life and momentum and joy.  And I have flossed 27 days in a row.  Woo HOO!!!

I keep seeing things about people not making resolutions or goals or trying to come up with a word this year.  They are simply resting, listening to their bodies and what life has for them.  And I wish that could be me right now, but this is a year of action.

This is not my year to rest and listen. This is my year to create space SO THAT I can rest and listen, and actually hear what's being said.

I'm a Highly Sensitive Person (HSP), and as such, deeply affected by my surroundings and environment.  Clutter and too much has a paralyzing and depressing effect on me.  My threshold for what is overwhelming is probably lower than the average joe.

Sometimes I think that I'm living in the wrong era - this era of more, bigger, better, louder, faster, busier.  "Keeping up with the Joneses" in all this would literally send me to the looney bin.  But "they" say this is the right way to do things.  This is what's normal today and what I need to do in order to fit in and keep up.

Cacophony.  Yeah, that's what all this sounds like to me.  

The more I self-reflect, I more I realize that I insulate myself from the cacophony around me so that I can function.  Often, life feels too loud, too harsh, too much.

When I shut out the world, when I insulate myself, when I proverbially stick my fingers in my ears, the chaos is muted and sounds a little more like white noise...static.  It's manageable.  But when I do that, I shut out His voice too.  I can no longer hear Him.  And I shut out the good things, the joy.

With my fingers in my ears and everything else blocked out, sadly the only things I can hear loud and clear are the voices in my own head. And let me tell you, when I'm singing, "La, la, la" to the world, the voices in my head are not very kind.  

As I wrote about before, my word for the year is CHANGE. This action word ironically chosen mostly to quiet my life so that it no longer sounds like white noise.

Quieting my home.

Quieting my mind and body.

Quieting my time.

Quieting my family.

Quieting technology.


It seems ironic to have to actively quiet your life...to put forth much effort and work, so that the loudness in your home, mind, family, time, and technology will hush.  But sometimes, life is full of irony and I'm coming to the realization that trying to be still amidst the noise isn't working for me.

There is nothing quiet about being still amidst the noise.  Then it's just loud, still noise.  So, I'm pulling my fingers out of my ears, looking up, and making some changes.  

No one said I had to play by "their" rules, and I'm not gonna.

Hopefully with all this quieting, I will actually be able to hear.


What areas of your life can use some quieting these days?  

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2017 word for the year: CHANGE

Hello 2017.  You are a welcome face, and I've long anticipated your arrival.

2016 kicked my butt.  Well, I think it kicked my butt, except I can't remember much about it.  It all feels like a fog, which is why I'm pretty sure it kicked my butt.  2016 felt like survival mode times 10. Do all the things, get all the places, keep all the kids alive.

So, here we are... at the beginning again.  Praise God that beginnings come around again.  I would hate to live in a world that seems like one never-ending big loop around the sun.  Aren't we all longing for a fresh start and a clean slate and the opportunity for growth and newness at some point?  Sometimes in the midst of daily life, when we are bogged down in the grind, newness is hard to muster.

Today is no different than any other, except for the fact that it marks the completion of one circle around the sun and the beginning of a new one.  I'm so thankful for this life and that with this circling of the sun, we have a reminder to stop and reflect, to appreciate what has passed, dig into the present, and hope for the future.   Zora Neale Hurston once wrote,

"There are years that ask the questions and years that answer them."

2016 asked a lot of questions, and I'm hopeful that 2017 will begin to answer them.

And with that, my word for 2016 is CHANGE!

Every year for the past 5 years, I've chosen a word to guide me, inspire me, and focus my thoughts and actions.  I love it so much more than doing New Years resolutions.  The thing with a word is that it's simply a motivator.  You can't fail at it.  It doesn't feel limiting or like being bound by something. I usually choose my word based on what I feel I'm lacking or needing most in my life.

Change.  I desperately need change.  I need to change.  I need to be change.

"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."   

By this definition, I live in insanity.  I want my tomorrow to look different, but my today looks the same.  My tomorrow cannot possibly look differently if I don't do anything differently today.   Thus...change.

My husband and I feel like we've been living by default for a long time.  Default is auto-pilot in survival mode.  But we long to live intentionally...to be more than victims or passive participants in our lives.  I want to be a catalyst for change in our lives that will have positive impact on ourselves, our kids, our family, and the world around us.  That feels like it takes effort that I don't have in my reserves, but what I do today determines my tomorrow, so I'm going to have to find it.

I've done some brainstorming and have several areas in which I'm hoping to drive change:


Self-Care
For too long, I've put myself last on my own priority list, and I'm reaping the repercussions of that.  It's time to care for myself, my health, my body, my skin, my teeth, my mind.

Growth (Personal, Spiritual, Professional)
Along with caring for myself, comes with creating space and opportunity for growth.  I'm working on writing and professional goals and making the pursuit of those possible, letting go of what people think and being hindered by that, and doing something creative every day that fills me up.

Family
I love our family and our kids, but we could use way more routine and structure.  I'm focusing on more follow-through, more intentional quality time with kids, more fun, and slowing down.

Marriage
We've been married 15 years now!  With 3 kids and work and life, it's easy to give each other what's left over at the end of the day (which most of the time is almost nothing - a grumpy, tired wife who just wants to watch TV and go to bed).  I'm pushing for more active support of each other's daily lives and intentional connection with each other.

Home
Deep sigh.  I have a love/hate relationship with this little place we call home.  We are beginning what Ryan calls, "purge-atory."  Striving to purge, clear the clutter, and make our space manageable and a haven for our family.


Man, that's a long list, and because I'm a list maker, I actually have bullet action points under each category that I will spare you today.  :)   There's no way that I can tackle all of this at once, but I'm going to start to make small changes that will hopefully snowball.

And if you are looking at my list, thinking I'm crazy or feeling like I have something together, let me break this down into reality for you.

Today, my big change was to wear red lipstick.  Yep, you heard me correctly.  Red lipstick is bold and noticeable and sort of wild.  I felt scared to wear red lipstick.  Over-exposed.  Not able to blend in.  I like to blend in.   I was a bit worried what people would think or say.  You know what happened?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing...except the fact that I gained a little confidence in change and doing and being a little different.  No one batted an eyelash or said a word, and if they were thinking anything, I tried to not let my mind imagine it.  I can wear red lipstick and be more bold.  I can make a change that takes nearly no effort, but infuses a tiny bit of personal growth in building confidence.

As I try to shock myself into change, the little things that don't take much effort are going to be important in motivating me to the big things.  So, January 1, I start with red lipstick.   There is nothing too small or insignificant for a tiny uprising.

2017.  I'm kicking your butt this year!


Can I encourage you to choose a word this year?  Write it down.  Tape it to your bathroom mirror or the dashboard of your car.  Let it inspire you to live your best life and motivate you to make tiny changes that result in a snowball of positive force.  We can do this!

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TO THE MAMA WHO FEELS INVISIBLE

Hey Mama,

I see you.

I see you cooking dinner with a screaming toddler wrapped around your leg, two older kids racing around the house swinging wildly between playing and fighting.  I see that your nerves are fraying and it's late, but you have to get something on the table.  You worked magic with your grocery budget to be able give healthy foods to your kids, only to have them turn their noses up to this meal cooked with sheer determination.

I see you in the middle of the night, bone-tired, yet up again, nourishing, comforting, soothing.  You are on the battlefield of weariness, mama, and it's a lonely one in the wee hours of the night.  No one knows or really even cares that you got up 2, 3, 6, 10 times last night, but you did.  Or that you haven't had a full nights sleep for years, but you haven't.  There are no cheerleaders here.  There is no mercy. But you are fierce, mama.  As fierce as they come.  Love is a powerful, powerful thing.

I see you use all your might not to hit back, when a raging toddler pushes you to your limits.  I see the strength that takes even though you feel like you're a failure for even wanting to hit back.  You are strong and maybe that self-control only lasted as far as your fists, while your mouth lashed out.  But you are still strong.

I see your weary eyes brighten for one more word of encouragement, your tired arms squeeze a little body tight in love.  I see you apologize for your wrongs, teaching forgiveness by example.

I see you, mama, when your husband looks through you like you are glass.  He doesn't understand what all these nights awake can do to a person, how the never-ending stream of requests and tantrums and laundry can dull your spirit.  He says he misses you.  He can't understand that you miss you too. I see you notice that he doesn't see you anymore.  That he's checking his email and thinking about work before even rolling over to say good morning.  I see how that stings.

I see that you feel invisible.  This is one of the most surprising things about motherhood.  Friends, family fawn over your little one, but never see you.  Really see you.  Rarely ask how you are doing, because they seem to forget that you're still a person too.  I see you wishing that someone, anyone would ask about the state of your heart.  Or anything ANYTHING about you aside from your kids.

I see you eating peanut butter on soft bread because it is the only thing to soothe the jagged edges of yourself some days.  Salad simply will not do.  Sometimes peanut butter on soft bread is actually kindness to yourself.

I see your dreams.  Maybe they are close or maybe far away, but always seeming to take second place to making dinner, changing diapers, loving littles.  I see you day after day think, "I'll get to that tonight," and then crash after a hard day unable to do any more.  A dream deferred for one more day. I see that day become years and, though you love being a mom, I see bitterness creep in.  I see that there are parts of you that are mighty, but squandered.  I see you lose sight of yourself.  Lose a little bit of hope.

I see you lock yourself in the bathroom for two minutes to be alone...if you can call alone having a small child screaming 6 inches on the other side of the door.

I see you hiding. First it's in the bathroom from your kids, then it's from friends, and eventually from yourself.  That invisibility thing that so surprised you about motherhood becomes a cloak that you wear with relish.  It becomes a safe place, only it's not a safe place because it's not a real place.  And the minute a dear soul looks at you and you know that she sees you, like really sees you, you crumble. You've been found out and it feels embarrassing and freeing at the same time.

I see you triage your days like a master.  You are the queen of efficiency at food prep, packing lunches, bathing kids.  I see you manage fights and scrapes and schedules like a champ.  And though you can mom with the best of them, I see you growing weary of the hamster wheel.

I see your messy house.  It is full of love and growth, but keeping it clean seems to take an army that you don't have.  You remember how your house used to be clean, and everything in it's place.  This kind of mess takes a new kind of grit and stamina to endure. I see you cleaning the kitchen while the baby unravels the toilet paper, the 4 year old spills his drink, and the 7 year old decides your carpet would look better with glitter.   I see you shy away from inviting anyone in, but I also see that their house is just as messy as yours.

I see you in yesterdays clothes, sacrificing your body, your sleep, your self, because there is a love greater than these.  I see your tiny ones gazing at you with utter love because you are their world and their light.  You are doing a good job, mama.  I see you holding them close and letting them go.

I see you sneaking in their rooms at night, kissing their sweet faces, smelling their sweet heads, praying that you are raising them well and that they will know how very loved they are.  I see you making decisions that seem way above your pay grade.  What's best for their bodies, their brains, their souls?  It's so scary, but you care so much that there isn't a option for not making a choice.

I see you working so hard every day, but feeling like you haven't accomplished anything. Productivity in a traditional sense left the building the moment your first child was born. I see you trying to form a new definition of success, and I see the world trying to still fit you in the old one.  Neither they, nor you will ever be appeased if you keep looking at each other, without seeing.

I see you in the shopping center when your child has a melt down.  I see the eyes on you...some of pity, some of judgement, some of solidarity. I see you tremble as you try to remain calm in this moment and not have a melt down yourself. You are amazing, mama. Have I told you that?

I see the pride and joy in your eyes when you see your little one...or even just talk about her.  I see you light up because they are beautiful human beings, and you were a co-creator in a miracle. I see you guiding their hearts to be kind and generous and courageous. I see you changing the world in this way.

I see you, mama.  I see you doing hard things in the name of love.  You are not invisible and you are not alone.

I see you.

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