When you're single, you look at couples and think that anything must be better than your current status. Of course, we know that's not true. I'd rather be in no relationship than the wrong one, especially a hurtful one.
Relationships cause all sorts of problems. Once you're in one, how do you know that it's right? How do you overcome the differences, and how serious are those differences? Well, that depends.
As a Christian girl, it was so tough to find Christian men out there that wanted to be with me. There were several that I "scared off" by reading too much into things. You know what I mean. Don't pretend like you've never done it. So once you've got the man in your life, so what now? When personality conflicts come up, how do I adjust my attitudes to either compromise or reject those differences?
Well, I trust God - just like I did for him in the beginning. No, it's not easy. Psh...if you think I've got it figured out, you've got another thing coming. 'Cause I'm really not good at this. Really. I'm still learning, just like you.
Worry about these differences can take a lot of the joy out of living life with the person that you believe is the one God put you with. I worry enough to do lots of things, except it really does nothing. Worry can't do anything. I'm ridiculous, really. I worry about things that I should never have to think about right now.
But when it comes to personality conflicts, I'm still working to make them work. Journeys, gotta love 'em.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Preparation
Swimming in winter brings a mix of joy and a sense of anxiety to my heart. On the plus side, it could mean jacuzzi. Majorly awesome. On the other hand, it means lots of work. Majorly not awesome. So when I found myself wanting the jacuzzi but relenting the prep work that must go into the jacuzzi appearance, I questioned if it was worth it.
Now, being a girl and getting ready for summer swimming is a process unto itself. It takes weeks of work - plucking, tanning, shaving, exfoliating. It's ugly, don't get me wrong. The tools look torturous - chemicals, sharp blades, hot sun lamps and sandpaper. All for a short few months of Michigan sun exposure. Sure, guys can just throw on swim trunks and have fun. But being a girl is not for the weak or lazy. And it becomes a problem when you get too lazy.
So, as I was questioning my opportunity for jacuzzi, I decided it was worth the prep work - only to have my hopes dashed. All that work - all for naught. I shaved my legs for this?
Lesson learned. Stay as prepared as possible.
Now, being a girl and getting ready for summer swimming is a process unto itself. It takes weeks of work - plucking, tanning, shaving, exfoliating. It's ugly, don't get me wrong. The tools look torturous - chemicals, sharp blades, hot sun lamps and sandpaper. All for a short few months of Michigan sun exposure. Sure, guys can just throw on swim trunks and have fun. But being a girl is not for the weak or lazy. And it becomes a problem when you get too lazy.
So, as I was questioning my opportunity for jacuzzi, I decided it was worth the prep work - only to have my hopes dashed. All that work - all for naught. I shaved my legs for this?
Lesson learned. Stay as prepared as possible.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Embracing Change
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood..."
While I love Robert Frost's poetry, especially his "The Road Not Taken", this scenario doesn't adequately describe the kinds of decisions we regularly face. It's an oversimplified view, and one that I've too often employed, that if we correctly input variables A, B, and C into the equation of life everything will come together perfectly.
But life doesn't work that way. It's not about a correct decision or two to yield a desirable result. So much of life isn't about right or wrong, good or bad. It's about how we think the outcome of our decisions impact how we feel. So much of life is about our plans, our expectations, and coordinating the reality and change of life to our plans and expectations.
For me, this realization means adopting a more realistic perspective of the people and situations around me. I cannot expect people and relationships to progress perfectly as if in step to some unseen script. It means that no amount of education, no attainment of degree, and no specific job or career will complete my life. That isn't to say that there isn't merit in ambition, purposefulness, and hard work. It's just that what we pursue won't perfect us, won't complete us. They're just elements of our stories.
Life is a lot more complex than two roads in a wood. Life is, instead, comprised of a seemingly endless litany of variables and possibilities. And we don't have to stress about getting it just right. We don't have to place undue pressure on ourselves that our happiness hinges on the appropriate outcome of each choice we make.
Life doesn't play out like a movie script. We aren't players acting in accordance to some written character arc. It is flux. Change. Chaos. It is adaptation. Dealing. Progressing.
Before the big snowstorm obliterated every trace of fall, there was a particular tree in my neighborhood that caught my attention. This tree-- while all the others had long since shed their post-color change leaves-- clung greedily to its dark, crisp leaves. While the rest had long let go, preparing for the next season, this one tree held on stubbornly. As if to hang on to the present. To prevent the march of time. To prevent the vulnerable barrenness and insecurity of winter.
As with the tree, letting go is a necessity to make way for what is next. For what is better. Maybe it's letting go of a specific notion or ideal. Maybe it's letting go of unrealistic expectations of a friend or loved one. Maybe it's letting go of the false belief that this life demands perfection or will yield a perfect outcome. It's more than Robert Frost's conclusion to simply take the road less traveled by.
So at the beginning of this new year, I don't know what this next year-- or the future-- holds. I am resolved, though, to embrace the change and inconstancy of life. I am letting go of old attitudes and idealized expectations. I am pursuing God, the person He would have me be, and enjoying each unpredictable moment.
While I love Robert Frost's poetry, especially his "The Road Not Taken", this scenario doesn't adequately describe the kinds of decisions we regularly face. It's an oversimplified view, and one that I've too often employed, that if we correctly input variables A, B, and C into the equation of life everything will come together perfectly.
But life doesn't work that way. It's not about a correct decision or two to yield a desirable result. So much of life isn't about right or wrong, good or bad. It's about how we think the outcome of our decisions impact how we feel. So much of life is about our plans, our expectations, and coordinating the reality and change of life to our plans and expectations.
For me, this realization means adopting a more realistic perspective of the people and situations around me. I cannot expect people and relationships to progress perfectly as if in step to some unseen script. It means that no amount of education, no attainment of degree, and no specific job or career will complete my life. That isn't to say that there isn't merit in ambition, purposefulness, and hard work. It's just that what we pursue won't perfect us, won't complete us. They're just elements of our stories.
Life is a lot more complex than two roads in a wood. Life is, instead, comprised of a seemingly endless litany of variables and possibilities. And we don't have to stress about getting it just right. We don't have to place undue pressure on ourselves that our happiness hinges on the appropriate outcome of each choice we make.
Life doesn't play out like a movie script. We aren't players acting in accordance to some written character arc. It is flux. Change. Chaos. It is adaptation. Dealing. Progressing.
Before the big snowstorm obliterated every trace of fall, there was a particular tree in my neighborhood that caught my attention. This tree-- while all the others had long since shed their post-color change leaves-- clung greedily to its dark, crisp leaves. While the rest had long let go, preparing for the next season, this one tree held on stubbornly. As if to hang on to the present. To prevent the march of time. To prevent the vulnerable barrenness and insecurity of winter.
As with the tree, letting go is a necessity to make way for what is next. For what is better. Maybe it's letting go of a specific notion or ideal. Maybe it's letting go of unrealistic expectations of a friend or loved one. Maybe it's letting go of the false belief that this life demands perfection or will yield a perfect outcome. It's more than Robert Frost's conclusion to simply take the road less traveled by.
So at the beginning of this new year, I don't know what this next year-- or the future-- holds. I am resolved, though, to embrace the change and inconstancy of life. I am letting go of old attitudes and idealized expectations. I am pursuing God, the person He would have me be, and enjoying each unpredictable moment.
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