as i am simplifying my commitments, i thought i’d share some insights i am learning along the way…a weekly installment maybe?

to update to my previous post on all the crazy things i was allowing to dominate my schedule, many of those things have been eliminated. the action i’d like to talk about today is focus.

for me, earlier this year i had no focus. anything that would cross my path that seemed remotely interesting i’d say yes to and slowly but surely my schedule and sanity started getting eaten away. i was working full time, doing freelance web design, graphic design, writing movie reviews, doing a little bit of radio, consulting with a few churches about identity and branding, reviewing books, and prepping for the announcement of mad church disease. PHEW. i saw all these things as good, i mean, i was helping other churches, and even getting to write some. however, just because they fell in line with my passions (the church and writing) didn’t mean they were the right things for me.

so, these are the things i’ve decided to focus on personally:

*my husband – date night is a must

*my job – it’s both provision and where i can do ministry

*writing – not just anything, but working on mad church disease, exploring another book option, and select articles dealing with sexual and emotional purity. blogging too. i love you guys. :)

*speaking – to support the topics i am writing about and be able to interact with people who read my stuff

*freelance - i have limited it to three clients with whom i already work. no more, no less. boundaries and schedules with all three.

*people – with the writing and speaking and blogging comes opportunities to meet people, hang out, get coffee or lunch and chat about stuff. this is one of my favorite parts. we get to share what god is doing in our lives and learn!

so, if some opportunity comes along and doesn’t fit inside those categories, no will typically be the answer. and as time progresses, it is easier to say no. practice with me though, it’s also easier doing it together!

no.
no.
no.
no.
no.

tomorrow at 4:35 pm CDT i’ll be on the air with john & stephanie at 101.5 WORD fm in pittsburgh. we’ll be talking about forgiveness, based on my article “forgiving the unforgivable” (read it here at relevantmagazine.com).

so, all you pittsburghians (is that a word?) tune in!

after moving to dallas in 1996, i became quite fond of lake arlington. there is nothing beautiful about it – it’s small, off the beaten path, and overlooks some kind of factory which is always polluting the already hazy dallas atmosphere. following particularly rough days at school, boy problems, parent problems, or predictable teenage angst, the right bench next to the left dock was my bench, my place to go…to stare out at the lovely factory, watch the ducks fight with one another, or simply be still.

i continued this habit far into my early 20′s until i moved to kansas city. even then, on visits to my parents for the holidays, usually at some point i would make a trip out to the lake.

yesterday, i found myself on that side of the metroplex and decided it had been a while since i had paid tribute to my silent, but always available friend. my bench was free, so after clumsily walking over some big rocks wearing heels, i was able to sit and simply be still.

not very long after i took my place on the bench, a girl who was about ten came wheeling a bike over to the curb next to me, by the dock. she looked at me suspiciously, wondering if i could be trusted not to take her treasured bike. i suppose i passed the test as she wandered off to feed some of the ducks.

i looked at the bike. purple. tassles hanging out of the handlebars. little clip on stars on the spokes. and…training wheels?

the training wheels surprised me. i looked back over my shoulder, wondering if maybe i guessed her age wrong…or maybe she was a giant four year old, but no. easily ten.

training wheels? you’ve got to take them off sometime there, little lady.

after spending much of the previous week soul-searching, i have no doubt that this overly-worried ten year old and her training wheels were parked right in front of me on purpose.

there are areas in my life where i am still riding with my training wheels on. faith? check. trust in god’s plan? check. trust in others? check, check. worrying about the future? check.

i think i have a whole garage full of bicycles with training wheels on them.

the determined and stubborn part of me wants to go and rip them all off. quit taking my sleeping/anxiety/stress medicines which “keep me leveled out.” fight head-on the demons that invade my thoughts and debilitate my soul and my passion. i want to run through there like a crazy ninja-fighter and attack everything that stands in my way of fulfilling my purpose.

however, for whatever reason i can’t seem to fight. and i’m not really sure why. i know i’m tired of these training wheels, but i’m not sure if i’m ready for them to come off yet.

when my husband was on a mission trip in his high school years, the group of guys he was with had the luxury of a communal shower. i believe most high school boys would find this an awkward situation, trying to keep their insecurities hidden by staring very intently at the tile wall in front of them.

the rule of the communal shower was “eyes, straight ahead.” during the course of one of his showers, he heard a noise – a thud. looking down toward his feet, he noticed a bar of soap slide on the floor, right behind his legs. within seconds, a hand – only from the wrist up – grabbed the escaped bar. as quickly as the soap had appeared, it had disappeared.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out whoever this alleged soap-dropping-person was had to come into pretty close contact with my husband’s then sudsy derriere. now, chris was faced with a life-altering decision.

does he turn around and identify this brave (yet clumsy) person? or does he choose the safe route, eyes unmoving from the innocent tile wall?

he chose the wall.

yesterday while in kansas, i had a woman come up to me and introduce herself. she attends my old church and has been reading my blog. she was awesome and she thanked me for being transparent through this avenue of blogging.

i have to admit, this computer screen in some ways is like the wall at which my husband chose to stare. i am honored that you drop by in some way or another and read these mostly muddled thoughts i toss out into cyberland. but truth be told, it’s a LOT easier typing these things than it is physically talking about them with someone.

i got to spend some time today sharing about my struggles with stress and anxiety – things i have easily blogged about before (feel free to read through the “depression” category)…however, looking someone in the eye and saying, “yeah, this is where i really get hit” didn’t come out quite as elegant, witty, or as anonymous.

honestly, i think i was surprised about how uncomfortable it was talking about these issues in person with a small group of friends as compared to writing it for however many random strangers to read. and as therapeutic as blogging these things has been, and as much as other people have shared the “me too” connection through those posts, there is definitely a huge difference in the amount of difficulty sharing such messy things to real, live-in-front-of-you people as opposed to typing them out for the whole world to see.

all of this rambling to state the obvious: i don’t think blogging or an online community can take the place of real life interaction and sharing. can it compliment it? absolutely. i will talk until i’m blue in the face about the amazing things that can take place online.

but looking someone in the eye after they’ve been up and in your ugly parts is a completely different – and now i realize very essential – dimension.

this is my first official phone-to-blog post. I know I’m a little slow. and my phone automatically converts my lowercase “i” to uppercase. sigh.

anyway, I felt the need to pass on some essential information for both girls and guys regarding road trips and pit stops.

girls: hurry up. nobody at phillips 66 cares what you look like. neither does anyone you pass on the road. get in, get out. there’s a line of I-just-drank-a-lot-of-starbucks-two-hours-ago people waiting on you.

guys: flush. sometimes the sign on the door that says “men” really implies “men OR women who really hafta go and don’t want to wait behind three high school girls on a youth trip”…so some of us aren’t afraid to journey in the land of the splattered floor. please do the few of us brave girls a favor and flush your stuff so we can at least stomach being in there.

this concludes my soapbox. which I might add was also empty in the previously mentioned men’s room.