Fear Factor: Babysitting Edition
by Ashley on April 23, 2012
I’m not a “kid person.” (Understatement of the year, no?)
Sure, I like babies. As long as they aren’t screaming or pooping. Drooling isn’t great, but I can handle that. Spitting up is a different story.
Despite knowing this, a couple of my dearest friends asked us to babysit this weekend while they went out to dinner for their anniversary.
These are people I would do anything for. Anything.
Except babysit.
And yet I found myself at their house around dinnertime, learning where the baby food was and which allergy medicines to give at bedtime. As my friends walked out the door, I was informed of my primary obligation: Don’t let them die.
Easy, right? How hard could it be to keep two people alive for a few hours?
OK, that part actually wasn’t too hard.
Even so, I was terrified. It’s been more than 15 years since I’ve done anything resembling babysitting. I must have been a braver soul when I was a teenager.
So we’re watching the kiddos. The wee one is crawling around, standing up as best he can, bracing himself on all the furniture. I’m hovering, even though Mom said it’s OK if he falls down. Just dust him off, give him a hug, and he’ll be fine.
So I try to relax. I sit down a few feet away and let him do his thing. Then it happens: He falls, conks his head and starts crying. And of course, I start freaking out.
Before you go calling CPS, I’ll have you know that I didn’t break their baby. He wasn’t even hurt, to my infinite relief. He was, however, terribly offended to find himself on the ground (how dare the couch move out from under his grasp!). When he got over his feelings being hurt, he started bebopping around again.
Which got me to thinking.
Besides being completely fearless, babies are pretty resilient little things. Maybe it’s due to having lots of padding (chubby cheeks and legs, anyone?), or maybe they’re made of elastic. That’s just speculation on my part, of course, but it makes total sense.
Think about it: As elastic gets older, it stops being stretchy. It starts getting dry and brittle. Like when you’re putting on a pair of socks that you’ve had for approximately forever and haven’t worn in a while. You pull them on and you hear that weird crunch and then they’re sagging around your ankles. (Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.)
Seems that’s kind of like us. The older we get, the saggy-er we get. We don’t bounce back as easily. When we fall down, it’s much harder to get back up. Probably because we have a lot farther to fall than a baby does, so the impact hurts a lot more.
But it’s because the baby is willing to give it another go that he eventually learns to walk. After I picked him up and comforted him for a minute or two, he was eager to get back on the floor and try again. He may have gotten discouraged for little while (I really don’t know; he didn’t say), but he certainly didn’t give up.
I suppose there are times that we, as adults, do need to give up on something. A job, a business idea, maybe even a friendship. If you’re absolutely certain it’s impossible to succeed, if you’ve tried absolutely everything, then moving on might be the difficult decision an adult has to make.
Even then, it doesn’t mean we’re failures. It just means we need to go another direction. Try another career. Find a new business partner. Start a new relationship. Just like a baby doesn’t stay down long, we can’t be afraid to get up and start again. He’s determined to walk, and he’ll find a way to accomplish the task, no matter how many times he falls. A disappointment simply means it’s necessary to try a new way.
Even when we’re scared to try again or to try something new, we may surprise ourselves if we can find the courage to give it a shot. Like me with this little adventure. Babysitting was so easy when I was 15 years old, but now, I’m less willing to try because of fear. Scared to fail. Worried I won’t know how to handle the problems that arise.
Not that babysitting a couple of kids was a major accomplishment, but it does give me a little courage to try other new things that I’m afraid of. If everyone is still alive at the end of the venture, it counts as a success, right?
Do you ever find it difficult to bounce back? What do you do?
I Said Something Mean about You
by Ashley on April 16, 2012
You know how some people will talk bad about people they love, but if you say even the slightest negative thing about their dad/grandma/great aunt Mildred/second cousin Herbert/whomever, you get chewed out?
Yeah, that’s me. You might be this kind of person, too.
I’ll be the first to criticize those I love, but I’m also really protective of my family and those dearest to my heart. Don’t try to bad-mouth these people. The result won’t be pretty.
A few days ago, there was an “incident.” Someone I respect and call a friend said something shameful about someone I love. (*all names have been changed to protect the innocent.) The comment was publicly embarrassing, making it that much worse.
I still get shaky when I think about what happened because I’m that upset over the whole thing. It has really changed the way I feel about the offending party. But the situation is eye opening in another way.
Maybe it’s because I’m close to those I protect that I feel like I have a free pass to disparage them. If you’re in my inner circle, I probably have said something negative about you, even to people outside that circle.
Seeing that admission in writing makes it a lot worse than it feels in the moment, doesn’t it?
Often, I call it “venting.” As if that makes it better. Forgivable. Acceptable, even. Everyone vents, right? So it can’t be that bad. Right?
But venting about people in my inner circle should be just as contemptible to me as someone else making a rude remark. Sharing someone’s personal problems, faults and flaws with others isn’t OK.
I do think it’s a good idea to have a trusted person to bounce ideas off of. Someone to talk me off the ledge or tell me I’m overreacting. And whether or not I agree with that person’s opinion, I’m usually glad that I talked to someone else so that I go forward with some perspective and not simply my own limited view of the situation.
But there are two keys to making sure I’m not equally humiliating those I love:
1. Who I choose
The person I talk to needs to know me and the person I’m talking about. Intimately. It can’t be the first person I see after I get angry. It can’t be a random co-worker, a casual acquaintance, or someone who knows only me. These people will be too biased to offer constructive feedback. Or, more likely, it’s just none of their business.
2. What I say
The purpose of my conversation with the third party must be framed as a chance to gain perspective, not as griping. If I’m just complaining, I have no right to bring someone else into it. I need to keep it to myself or discuss it with the person I’m upset with.
In moments of frustration, I often forget these two things. When that happens, I’m no better than anyone else who insults someone I love. Instead of being an ally, I become an adversary.
Most of the time, I’m the biggest cheerleader for my friends and family. To make sure I stay that way, I’m going to try to control my tongue from now and not betray them with a few careless words.
Have you been guilty of disrespecting someone you love by venting?
What 1,000 Miles Teaches about Hospitality
by Ashley on April 9, 2012
I live half a continent away from most of my family. My nearest relatives live three states away, and one of those states is Texas. I’ll let you do the math.
Because of the distance to my East Coast family (1,308.43 miles on the quickest route, according to Mapquest), several of my friends have become like family to me. One set of friends welcome us into their home for most major holidays. Another friend has been closer than a brother, always with an open door.
Since we’ve lived in Texas, I don’t think a holiday has passed that we didn’t have an invitation from someone to join in the celebration. Family is stuck with inviting you over for holidays even if they don’t like you, but friends get off the hook. They have an excuse: Gotta invite their own family (whether they like them or not). So my friends’ generosity highlights all the more my disinclination toward hospitality.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not opposed to it and I would welcome any of my friends into my home. But I am not a frequent hostess, mostly because of insecurity in my ability to entertain. I get nervous that I won’t be able to make my guests comfortable, or that I won’t know what to do once they’re at my house.
In watching friends who open their home to us often, I have noticed a few constants:
1. They are comfortable
When we visit friends, either for a holiday or just to hang out for the evening, they are perfectly comfortable with us there. It always amuses me when anyone apologizes that the house is a mess, because I never, ever care about that. Which makes me realize that real friends won’t care about my messes either.
2. They don’t fuss over us
To compensate for what I think is lacking on my part, I might be overly hospitable when friends visit. I get that from my mom, who practically forces food on anyone who walks in the door. Instead, inviting my friends to make themselves comfortable may be the easiest way to achieve my goal.
3. I make myself at home
With my closest friends, I make myself at home. And with my closest friends, that seems to be perfectly acceptable. For guests in my house, I’m going to step back and let them get cozy there. I’ll be more relaxed and less worried about whether they’re comfortable, which, I hope, will accomplish just that.
Besides my desire to be a better hostess, we are expected to practice hospitality. “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” 1 Peter 4:8-10
Perhaps hospitality is not my greatest gift, but I know my true friends will forgive whatever shortcomings I have in that department. And as they always say (whoever “they” are): Practice makes perfect.
So, I’ll try to do better with the invitations. But even if I don’t, anyone reading this is welcome and encouraged to invite yourself over for dinner sometime. We have an extra bed ready for you, too.
And anyone who thinks it’s creepy that I just invited unknown visitors to spend the night, I refer you here: “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13:2. (Maybe it’s still a little creepy. At least call first, OK?)
Do you have any good tips for being a hospitable hostess?
Four Truths I Learned from a Scary Diagnosis
by Ashley on April 1, 2012
It makes me exceedingly sad when I hear of someone, especially Christians, lose hope, belief, trust when bad things happen. Usually something extreme – a death, a betrayal, a sickness.
Recently I was diagnosed with what will be a lifelong illness. At the same time, the doctor told me I might also have another, even more frightening disease.
But I never doubted God. Not for a second. He always follows through. And his promises are awesome.
Thanks to this experience, I now know as truth some things that I only suspected before.
1. I’m in a good place with God.
At the revelation of this possible diagnosis, my doctor said something profound that I hope he says to all his patients who receive bad news. “This doesn’t mean God is mad at you.” Even when I heard the scary possibility I faced, I never for even a moment thought God was mad at me. Or that it was his fault that it happened. Or doubted that he would see me through whatever life would bring as a result. I wasn’t always so trusting of him, so I know I’ve grown in my faith. I still have growing to do, and I can’t be satisfied because I’m in a good place in this walk, but it’s a vast improvement from where I used to be.
2. True friends will follow through when it really matters.
I never doubted God, but I did fear my husband would regret his promise to love me for better or for worse, in sickness and in health. Though he’s never given me a reason to doubt his love, I was afraid because I know that as humans, we break our promises. I’m thankful my fear was needless, but I did doubt. But those who are truly worthy of your love and friendship are those who won’t abandon you in times of need, physical or emotional. The others aren’t worth your time even when all is well. As Marilyn Monroe is often quoted as saying, “If you don’t love me at my worst, you don’t deserve me at my best.”
3. Things will work together for my good.
Whether in this life or the next, God will work this situation out for me. He has worked out every situation in the past – when I’ve been hurt, when I’ve majorly screwed up. Some lessons are easy, some are painful. But I know he’ll work out every situation I face to make me a better person. Thinking about this always reminds me of my grandmother’s favorite Bible verse: Romans 8:28.
4. Other people can benefit from our trials
Lots of people become huge advocates for change and hope because of the situations they have faced. A friend of mine beat cancer and then suffered a relapse. She has not lost hope, and she spreads hope to others who are diagnosed. For me, if I can show even one other person that God is trustworthy, my troubles will work out for good.
I’ll leave you with a verse I’ve been relying on heavily lately: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.” Joshua 1:9
Has God ever let you down?
The Meaning of Dreams
by Ashley on March 26, 2012
I had a dream that I had a dream that I had a baby last week.
Normally I don’t read much into the weird stuff that happens in my subconscious, but this one makes me wonder. Especially since dreams about having babies or being pregnant are a regular nightly activity for my sleeping brain.
It’s not only the baby topic either. I also am wondering about the Inception-like nature of the dream. (Pay attention, this part is going to be confusing.) When I “awoke” from the deeper-level dream into the regular dream, I realized that the birth was only a dream (within the dream that I didn’t realize I was having).
I think this dream was my guilty conscience haunting me.
Back in time
Cue eerie music, blurry vision and a slow fade into the past.
When we were first married, my husband and I were on the same page about having kids. That’s very important because I think that’s one of the things that’s a deal-breaker when considering your life partner. Either way you fall on the issue is fine, but not agreeing on a decision of this magnitude can cause lifelong resentment.
So, we both wanted kids almost nine years ago when we said “I do.” Somewhere along the line, I changed my mind. There was a single instance when I asked if he were ready, and he wasn’t, and that was well and good. One other time, I was … late. Late enough to take a pregnancy test.
Negative.
And I was disappointed. Really disappointed.
That was about six years ago, and since then, I grew old and crotchety and intolerant of children. Well, intolerant of some of the inevitables about children anyway.
Lately, I’ve started feeling really guilty about not wanting to have them anymore. Andrew and I have talked about the issue and though he’s hoping I’ll change my mind at some point, he’s not counting on it.
And he loves me anyway.
He doesn’t act resentful. He hasn’t threatened to leave. He said he promised to be with me, for better or for worse, and he’s not reneging on that promise.
One of the problems with his willingness to forgive my change of heart is that I feel guilty. If he were angry or threatening, I would be more stubborn and set on my decision. Not so when he remains as loving as he’s always been.
Life-changing choices
If you know me and you have children, I’ve probably asked you about your decision. Whether you enjoy parenthood. How difficult it is. Whether it was worth giving up your freedom.
Though everyone tells me motherhood amazing, I think it’s a scam. I think people just want everyone else to be as miserable as they are. (Calm down – I’m kidding. Mostly.)
Parents do admit it changes your life, and that’s what I’m afraid of. You already know that freedom is extremely important to me. I would never give it up lightly. Sure, I have pets that I adore as children, but I can leave them at home by themselves when I go on vacation with my husband, and they won’t be scarred for life if they walk in on us *ahem* enjoying each other’s company.
I ask these questions of you because I want to find a reason to change my mind. I want to want to have kids because I don’t want people to look at me weird for the rest of my life when I say I don’t have any. But mostly I want to want to have kids because I feel guilty for depriving my husband of something he wants. Something big.
My guilty conscience attacks me in my sleep.
Haunting
In the dreams, I’m always happy that I have the baby, but Andrew is not there to be joyous about the occasion. When I wake up, I feel like I’ve let him down again and again because the baby was only a dream.
That this particular birth was a dream within a dream I also think is significant because I felt the guilt when I woke up from the inner dream. But more than that, I felt disappointment. For myself. Which makes me think I’m letting two people down, not just one.
Unsalvageable regret
I’m familiar with the shame of letting others down, but I don’t really know what it feels like to let myself down. It might be something one discovers only at the end of life looking back on what was and what could have been. This is a different kind of regret altogether because there is no fix, there is no salvaging the lost opportunity. Sometimes you can make the next best decision when you are in a regrettable situation, but this, this is not that sort of situation. If I never have children, I’ll live with that decision forever, and so will my husband.
Will I look back with regret? My dreams are telling me the answer is yes. Maybe this situation is salvageable after all.
I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know what my heart will decide. And I certainly don’t know how my husband will feel if we pass the point of no return.
All I know is that dreams are a window, and the glass is beginning to defrost.
Do you think dreams are telling you something? What are they telling you?
On Freedom, Inalienable Rights and the Pursuit of Happiness
by Ashley on March 19, 2012
Photo by Eastop, www.sxc.hu/profile/Eastop
Thomas Jefferson included a statement about “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” our inalienable rights, in the Declaration of Independence. These rights are not given to us by the nation; rather, they are natural rights, inborn, inherited as a result of being human.
As Americans, we also have certain legal rights, given to us by our government. For example, we have the right to vote, the right to a fair trial, and the right to bear arms. As a journalist, I am particularly fond of the First Amendment right to free speech. Lying isn’t protected, but truth, even when it hurts, is allowed.
And though it’s not specifically mentioned in the Bill of Rights, the government has determined (and nearly everyone who uses Facebook or Google will vehemently agree) that we also have the right to privacy. Enough people are up in arms (no pun intended) about information sharing and new privacy policies that it’s clear we Americans take our rights seriously and defend them zealously, sometimes to the death.
Now, let me back up for a moment and talk again about the right we have as human beings to pursue happiness. That can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. Very often, it means that as long as I’m happy, everything is dandy. The moment you start making me unhappy, I cry foul. After all, my rights have been violated!
The Debate
I could give you a million different driving examples, but I’ll refrain. Let’s try this one instead:
You’re in the checkout line at the grocery store with approximately half of aisles 3, 6, 7 and 9 in your cart. The line was three shoppers deep when you arrived, and you finally made it to the grimy conveyor belt with the surly cashier at the other end. As you start to unload, silently cursing your family for eating so much, you notice the person behind you has a jug of milk, a box of crackers and a coupon.
You pause, debating.
You got to the line first, so you have every right to check out first.
But because you’re a decent human being (or because the person behind you saw you looking and now you just don’t want to seem like a jerk), you (begrudgingly) ask her if she’d like to go ahead of you.
That wasn’t so hard, and it counts as your good deed for the day, so you can check that off the list.
And then you wish you saved your good deed for someone else because that person you so graciously, unselfishly, allowed to go ahead of you feels the need to pay with exact change. She’s digging out pennies from the depths of her Mary Poppins purse. Oh! and she might have another coupon, if she can just find it; she’s sure it’s in here somewhere …
Soon you’re fuming that that selfish cheapskate is taking her sweet time, taking advantage of your generosity and completely disregarding the favor you did her. You have things to do! Places to be!
Well, maybe no one else gets as irritated (and that’s an understatement) in the grocery store as I do. But I’m sure you can think of an example where you were trying to be kind and the other person did not respond as you hoped or expected.
But if we as Americans, as humans, have the inalienable right to pursue happiness, whatever that means to us, don’t we also have the right, the freedom, to give up the rights we defend so passionately if we so choose?
Here’s my point: Giving up your right to go first in the line also means you have to give up all rights associated with going first. How can you claim your karma points if you graciously sacrifice some of your rights, but you don’t offer up all rights associated with that sacrifice?
The Right to Hold a Grudge
Maybe the grocery store example was too easy. Let’s try a harder one:
Forgiveness.
If someone hurts us, many of us believe we have the right to hurt that person back as revenge. At the very least, we often believe we have the right to hold a grudge about that hurt.
Maybe we do, maybe we don’t.
But if you choose to forgive that hurt, you are giving up all rights that go along with forgiveness.
Like your “right” to hurt that person back.
Like your “right” to be angry about it later.
Like, and this is hardest of all, your “right” to hold it over their head in an argument days, months or years down the road.
Getting Personal
This is a touchy subject for me. I tend to be a big grudge-holder, and I really want to change that mentality. Not only do I want to change that attitude toward my loved ones, I also want to give up my “right” to hold my grudge against other people. Co-workers, neighbors, strangers – anyone who earns my ire.
Most of all, I want to remember that my happiness is not more important than anyone else’s. I often get pleasure from making someone else happy, even at my own expense. That could happen far more often if I were willing to give up all the rights associated with that expense.
THE BOTTOM LINE: The thing I value most in life is freedom. I don’t believe I have the right to infringe on other folk’s freedom, but I certainly don’t want them infringing on mine. But I’m beginning to realize that I also have the freedom to give up my “right” to anger, frustration and resentment if I choose. It’s my choice. I get to decide. And I can decide to give up that grudge.
How liberating.
What rights do you give up for the sake of someone else? Which are you holding back?
Fake it ’til you feel it
by Ashley on March 12, 2012
Sometimes getting out of bed in the morning is the hardest thing I do all day. Been there? Just facing the sunshine, putting clothes on, dreading a particular situation or person is more than enough for me to hit the snooze for the eighth time and pull the comforter back over my head. (It’s called a comforter for a reason.)
And I know I’m not the only one to deal with this feeling. Last week I was talking with a friend who is having some relationship problems. She’s just not feeling the love anymore. She’s been married a long time, couple of kids. Frustrated with the way things are at home. She feels taken for granted. There’s no one else in the picture, but things are bland, stale, faded. Sometimes just coming home is a burden.
It could be a romantic relationship, a valued friendship, a job situation, anything, really.
So I listened. I sympathized. After all, I’ve been there before, so I understood those feelings, and I know they’re difficult to shake. But I’ve been trying something lately that has helped me, so I offered my (unsolicited) advice hoping it might help her. It’s pretty simple too: Fake it.
I know that seems dishonest, but I promise it’s only temporary. I’m sure you’ve heard that when you feel lousy, you should smile. It’s the opposite of how you feel, but the emotions a smile signifies are how you want to feel. A scowl will make you feel worse, and a smile will make you feel better. (It’s true! Google it.) Sounds crazy, but it works in all sorts of situations. Like this one.
Smiling expresses joy, and we’re more likely to feel joy simply by smiling. So I told my friend to fake being happy, and over time, it’s very likely that she’ll begin to actually feel happier. In fact, her whole home will likely feel happier because her family will see her smiling and acting happy. It will cheer the whole mood of the house.
Of course, the opposite is also true. You know what I’m talking about. When you come home in a bad mood, and even if everyone else was perfectly fine, your sour expression puts a damper on the evening. Or when a harsh word to someone else steals some of your joy. It happens to me a lot.
So I decided to start fresh, acting like I was happy even when I wasn’t. By no means am I perfect in the application of this experiment. But I’ve learned to like people I was convinced I’d never like, and I’ve learned not to let a brief moment of anger or frustration ruin a perfectly lovely day. I’ve even acted confident in situations where I was anything but, and it has helped then, too.
I have no idea whether my friend will actually try it, or if she does, whether she’ll be successful. But my reasoning when I started testing this theory was, what harm can it do? I lose nothing by trying it, and it has helped me be happier. In fact, I’m proud to announce, I’ve felt calmer in the car because I’ve forced myself to remember that I’m not in that big a hurry. (It’s only a slight improvement so far, I sheepishly admit, but it is working, and I’m certain it will continue to help.)
Have you tried acting happy so you’d feel happier? How did it turn out?
Life Ain’t Fair. Get Over It.
by Ashley on March 5, 2012
I’m embarrassed to admit I still struggle with this.
All my life, my mother, bless her heart, she always made things “fair” between my younger sister and me. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it? Neither girl got more presents at Christmas or more dessert after dinner. We alternated evenings getting to drink milk out of the favored blue cup, and we took turns taking the first shower. Once, when I won a store coloring contest and received a gift certificate, my mom bought my sister a smaller version of the Popple (remember those?!) that I bought with my hard-earned money (well, not that hard – I just had to stay in the lines).
Although that might seem like the fairest thing for a loving mother to do, it really turned out to my disadvantage. At the time, I didn’t have the opportunity to enjoy the fact that I earned a prize for a job well done. I learned, instead, that life must be fair and that no one should ever have to feel jealous or cheated because someone else received something (deservedly or no, earned or a gift) that others did not also receive. And so it was that I continued to grow older in a world that I believed was, and ought to be, fair.
Then, reality checked in. I don’t know when it was that my father, bless his heart, first informed me that life was indeed unfair and was always meant to be so. What a shock that fact came to my sheltered ears. Nevertheless, as soon as any unfair incident had passed with some degree of time, I quietly resumed my belief that life indeed was fair and that aforementioned unfair incident was only a fluke, an aberration of nature.
In high school, the incidents of unfairness came at an increasingly faster rate and I began to realize, to the horror of my teenage ego, my dad might have actually been right.
Now, I’m at a point where I do believe wholeheartedly that life is not fair and that sometimes, perhaps most times, the unfair occurrences outnumber the fair ones. But even this realization and the understanding of it has not lessened the pain and indignation I still feel in the face of unfairness.
The word “fair” crosses my lips frequently enough that I know I am far from acceptance. I’m still in denial, and I need to grow up.
Someone told me recently that I needed to “let it go.” Let go of worrying about whether a situation is fair – it won’t change the situation. Being mad won’t make people act any differently. They won’t apologize, see the error of their ways, and miraculously become kind, tolerant, honest, loving, strong, smart, less rushed, less argumentative, or less annoying. Being angry about unfairness only makes me angry and frustrated, solves nothing, and reduces my ability to deal with the facts at hand.
I try a few different methods to deal with unfairness:
1. Accept that the situation is unfair.
This is the hardest of all for me. As simple as it sounds, accepting – and not just an acknowledgement but a real acceptance – that the situation is just not fair goes a long way toward being able to take the next steps in dealing with the issue. Take a deep breath, close your eyes for a minute. Remind yourself that life is not fair and instead of worrying about that, just figure out what to do next.
2. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes.
I rarely find myself feeling bitter or resentful if nature is the cause of my unpleasant situation. It always seems to be when another seemingly rational human being – with feelings and emotions and understanding of pain – is the source of my unhappiness. After all, that person should not behave that way because they also understand the concept of “fair.” But they’re only looking at it from their perspective. So to cope, I try that, too. What’s their motivation? Could there be unknown factors in play, things that affect their decisions I don’t know about? For me, I always think to myself when someone cuts me off in traffic that the inconsiderate driver might be working for a boss who has threatened to fire him if he is late again. Maybe his wife is in the back seat, seconds away from giving birth. And maybe one day, it will be true.
3. Resolve that you will never do that unfair thing to someone else.
We all believe in the Golden Rule when it refers to others’ treatment of us. Right? But how often do we actively make decisions and adopt behaviors as a result of resolving to treat others as we want to be treated? Let’s decide to make the world a little better than we found it.
I’m far from being good at these things, but I’m working at it.
A wise woman once told me that I ought to be glad life isn’t fair. God has certainly been kinder to me than I deserve. When I remember that, I’m always happy that life isn’t fair.
How do you deal with unfairness?
Enough with Your Self-Righteous Indignation
by Ashley on February 27, 2012
Let me preface this with a statement acknowledging that I get very annoyed in traffic and that I promise not all my posts will be gripes about driving. There’s a moral to this story, so stick with me.
With that said, anyone who knows me might say that I’m an aggressive driver. Road rage is not a foreign feeling for me. Though my dear husband might disagree, I think that I’ve gotten a better handle on it lately. Not perfectly, but at least slightly better than a year ago. (I’m moving in the right direction at any rate, yes?)
Despite my aggressiveness, I generally consider myself not only a good driver but also a relatively considerate driver. I use my blinker (before I start turning, what a concept), I’ll wave other drivers to pull ahead of me, and I stop at red lights. These are the bare minimum of courtesies, I know, but there are a number of drivers who do NOT stop at red traffic lights (or stop signs, or anywhere else it is generally expected that one come to a complete stop, look both ways, and all that jazz).
Given my long-held belief that I’m an efficient and polite driver, you can imagine my dismay when I accidentally pulled out in front of someone this week. I was stopped at a stop sign, looked for cross traffic that didn’t have to stop, and, seeing no one, proceeded into the intersection.
Never saw the guy … until he blared his horn at me for about 10 seconds.
Now, in my world of driver etiquette, the horn should be used as a warning, not as punishment or as an audible middle finger. This person was civil enough to slow down so he wouldn’t hit me, but he did want me to know he had to touch his brake because of my mistake.
I was embarrassed because I hadn’t seen him, but also incensed that he’d had the nerve to treat me that way when it was accidental on my part. It seemed that he was feeling superior because he was in the “right.” Then I realized, that person who is so self-righteous about the way other people behave – on the road, on the job, in my family – that person is usually me. I’m usually the one feeling indignant because I’ve been “wronged” in some way, no matter how miniscule.
So here’s my plan: I’ll try to keep some perspective in the future, especially because it’s quite possible that I’m making a snap judgment from not knowing all the information. Maybe the crabby waitress just had a fight with her fiancé, or maybe the brusque cashier has an unreasonable supervisor. I don’t know what’s happening in other people’s lives, so why not give them the benefit of the doubt? It doesn’t cost much – a little patience and pride, that’s all. I could do with a little less pride anyway.
So I tried to think about why that guy would treat me that way. He didn’t know I was generally a courteous driver, that I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, or that I certainly wouldn’t have pulled out into the intersection if I had seen him coming.
Oh, and the reason I didn’t see him? I looked his direction all right. But I hadn’t seen him because it was dark and rainy. And he didn’t have his headlights on.
It’s all about perspective.
In what areas of your life could you use some perspective and humility?
“Do not condemn the judgment of another because it differs from your own. You may both be wrong.” –Dandamis
5 Ways to be a Better KISSer
by Ashley on February 16, 2012
In case you’re unfamiliar with the acronym, KISS can stand for a few different things, but for the moment, let’s stick with Keep It Simple, Sweetheart.
I admit it: I’m guilty of making things way more complicated than they need to be. (Shocker, I know.) There are some areas of my life that seem so big, so complex, so prone to change and confusion that they’re more than I can handle. Feeling overwhelmed creates a huge sense of insecurity for me; I feel like I can’t keep up, I’m not good enough, or I’m doing it wrong. Getting stressed out is inevitable.
So I’ve been thinking about ways that I can simplify my life to cut down on some of the stress. These are working for me:
1. Focus.
Don’t let yourself be distracted. My biggest struggle in my business is that I have so many ideas about ways I want to move forward that I get overwhelmed and end up not doing anything. It took me a long time to even begin a blog because I couldn’t decide on a theme. When I finally found my focus, I was able to move forward, which resulted in you being able to read this right now.
2. Look at the big picture.
Though it’s contradictory to focus, sometimes it’s more important to look at the big picture instead. Ask: What’s really going to matter in the end? This is especially helpful in my faith. When I feel unworthy or that I can never be forgiven for what I’ve done, I remember Paul’s words:
“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
In the end, it’s God’s grace that saves and not anything I do to save myself. What simpler way to rest in faith than to know that God’s grace covers those who love him?
3. Realize no one else has it all figured out either.
My husband often surprises me with his ability to love me despite my faults. When I compare myself to him, I feel inadequate because it seems like he understands this whole marriage thing way better than I do. But he has admitted to me that he doesn’t understand it all either; he just chooses to love me every day. What a relief to me to know that I’m not the only one who feels like I’m fumbling in the dark.
4. Believe it’s OK to make mistakes.
I’m a recovering perfectionist. Nope, scratch that – I still struggle with it. Perfectionism seems like a great quality (who doesn’t want to do things to the best of their ability?) until you analyze what it really means. Merriam Webster defines this word as “the doctrine that the perfection of moral character constitutes a person’s highest good” or “a disposition to regard anything short of perfection as unacceptable.” My worth depends on whether I am infallible at what I set out to do? Doesn’t seem so good anymore, does it?
This one holds me back the most, and it infects so many areas of my life. I often worry that I’ll make a mistake, an overwhelming feeling because I know that perfection is impossible. By giving myself permission to be imperfect and to learn from my mistakes, I am better able to cope with stress.
5. Accept that some things really are that simple.
From the beginning, human beings have complicated concepts that should be easy. We try to earn our own salvation and believe there ought to be more to marital happiness. But the truth is, it’s just not that hard. The sooner we learn and accept that fact, the sooner we will feel more peace in our lives. Sometimes it’s the effort of trying to understand the secret to these seemingly complicated areas of my life that exhausts me. I herby give myself (and you, too) permission to give it up and relax. Who wants to get to be the one to smack me when I start to freak out over the easy stuff?
Remembering these concepts helps me KISS more often.
Because I promised to tell you how to be a better KISSer, it’s only fair that I leave you with an extra tip. So here it is, and it’s KISSable too: Every once in a while, make it look like something out of the movies. Super simple, right?
What areas of your life do you make unnecessarily complicated?
