I had to fight back my tears as the significance of the waitress’s words and my daughter’s declaration suddenly hit me. My bruises, the ones made by years of critical torment, are healing too. Because each time I let go of perfect and allow myself to show up as is, the bruises on my spirit fade a little more. In that moment, I felt God’s divine confirmation for the changes I’d made in my life and for the messages he continually places on my heart that are meant to be shared.
Let’s stop pressuring ourselves.
Let’s stop comparing ourselves.
Let’s stop being our own worst enemy.
Let’s stop holding ourselves back from life.
Instead, let’s see ourselves through the eyes of those who love us . . .
Eyes that see beautiful when we cheer at the ball field with sweat-laden faces and tear-stained cheeks . . .
Eyes that see beautiful when we soothe away bad dreams in a fossilized college T-shirt with sleep-deprived eyes . . .
Eyes that see beautiful when we’re rocking our bathing suit and slicked-back hair as we twirl our children’s relaxed bodies in the pool . . .
When our loved ones look at us, they don’t see flaws and imperfections, they see love — sweet, beautiful, never-failing love. When God sees us, he doesn’t see a disappointment, he sees his beautiful child worthy of love and grace. May our eyes be opened so we see can see it, too. We can start today. When you find yourself going down the damaging path of criticism or comparison, try this freeing line: Good enough for today.
Just that one little change in thought can provide the courage to:
Show up,
Speak out,
Grab a star,
And laugh until tears run down your face.
See yourself through the eyes of those who love you. And let the healing begin on your wounded soul.
HANDS FREE LIFE DAILY DECLARATION
To focus on what really matters, I will use one or more of these phrases today:
My time and effort on this project are good enough for what I am trying to accomplish.
My appearance is good enough for those who love and cherish me.
My house looks good enough for a home where life happens, children live, and mistakes commonly occur.
My contribution to the school/church/neighborhood event is enough to show my support and make a difference.
Embracing the words “good enough for today” is a way to free my loved ones and myself from the constraints of unnecessary pressure and unrealistic expectations.
HANDS FREE LIFE HABIT BUILDER 4
Take the Pressure Off by Making Today Matter
Today I hope to take a few extra seconds to kiss the top of your head before you go.
Today I hope to stand aside and let you do it yourself . . . even if it takes a little longer . . . even if it’s messier . . . even if it’s not perfect.
Today I hope to say, “I’m sorry” and “I love you” because they are life-changing, comforting, and healing words.
Today I hope to laugh more than I sigh with exasperated breaths.
Today I hope to view missed shots and off-key notes as brave attempts at living rather than failures to succeed.
Today I hope to focus less on your faults and more on your freckles and sense of humor because they light up your face.
Today I hope to notice the color of your eyes when you speak to me.
Today I hope to listen to your words without judgment and impatience.
Today I hope to extend grace for accidental spills and other human mishaps.
Today I hope to give you a little extra time to walk along the edge of the curb, do your own hair, and listen to your words.
Today I hope to remember you are more than your achievements, more than your academic performance, and more than your behavior.
Today I hope to catch a glimpse of you that suddenly reminds me how much of an extraordinary miracle you are.
Today I hope you go to bed knowing life is better because of you.
Today I hope you fall asleep feeling loved right now, just as you are.
Today matters. Today is all I really have for sure. Let today be a day I can look back on, whether in tragedy or joy, and say today was not perfect, but it was memorable. Why? Because I encouraged. I smiled. I listened. I apologized. I waited. I cared. I tried. But above all, I loved . . . oh how I loved . . . I loved myself and I loved the people in my life. Isn’t that the best part of living — to love and be loved? I think so.
I will show it by making today matter.
It is easy to get caught up in the pressure — pressure to get promoted, to be financially successful, to have winning games, to be at the top of the class. Such pressures cause us to think ahead to tomorrow, next month, next year, and so on. How easy it is to forget about taking one day at a time. I’m guilty of letting future events matter more than what’s happening right now. And while it’s important to be prepared for tomorrow’s spelling test, next week’s staff meeting, next month’s championship, and next year’s grade level assessment, we must not allow these future events to matter more than what really matters now: Today. Today really matters. Today is all we know for sure that we really have.
Habit 5:
SEE WHAT IS GOOD
I want to see beauty. In the ugly, in the sick, in the suffering, in the daily, in all the days before I die, the moments before I sleep.
Ann Voskamp
I DIDN’T KNOW WHEN I’d changed from a positive person to a negative one; I only knew that I had. I could still remember myself as a cheerful special-education teacher, somehow managing to see the positives in every student and every situation, no matter how dismal. But somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing the goodness. I focused solely on what was wrong and what needed to be changed. Given the fact that I had a loving husband, two beautiful children, a healthy mind and body, and a safe and comfortable home, you would have thought I’d wake up every morning feeling grateful, optimistic, and content. But that was not the case. I woke up feeling the same way I did when I went to bed the night before — unhappy, annoyed, and irritable.
Like a robot, I could speak of my life’s abundant blessings, but I could no longer see or feel them because I was too focused on my life’s abundant distractions. Too many commitments. Too many screens. Too many self-induced pressures to be all and do all. Too many unachievable standards. Too many to-dos and never enough time. Too many balls in the air, not enough hands to catch them.
My outward discontent seemed to peak when it was time to leave the house. Although they were young, Natalie and Avery braced themselves for my daily departure tirade. While I fussed and fumed getting everyone ready and out the door, Avery grew very quiet. Natalie tried to help any way she could, assisting her slow-moving sister with her shoes, gathering snacks in Ziploc bags, and wiping stray cereal pieces from the kitchen counter. Of course, through my critical eyes, her helpful attempts only made it take longer and were never good enough. I didn’t try to hide my exasperation or annoyance.
It shouldn’t have come as a shock when I looked in the rearview mirror to see Natalie anxiously picking her top lip as I pulled out of the driveway one morning. As she pinched that tiny piece of fragile skin on her upper lip with wide eyes, I could practically read her mind: Mommy’s mad. Mommy’s tired. Mommy’s stressed. But there was more. I could practically hear how a young child would interpret her mother’s unhappiness: Mommy’s mad at me. Mommy’s tired because of me. Mommy’s stressed because of something I did.
All at once, I could no longer deny the damage my negative approach to life was having on my family. All the excuses I’d made for being harsh and direct, for constant faultfinding, and for being in a foul mood suddenly held no credibility. While choosing to emphasize every “problem” of my blessed life, I’d funneled my discontent straight into my daughter’s once joyful heart and spirit. The pain on her face was a direct reflection of the expression I wore on mi
ne. I said a tearful prayer right then and there, asking God to show me one small step I could take to bring back our lost joy.
A few days later we were just leaving our neighborhood to head to school. As usual, I’d corralled everyone into the car in a frenzied rush. But instead of barking orders and angrily pushing on the gas to arrive on time, I remained calm in light of my earlier prayer.
“Look up,” a little voice inside me urged. I took my foot off the gas pedal and leaned forward to peer through my windshield. As far as my eyes could see, the sky was filled with a million little white clouds. It was as if a heavenly baker had taken an icing bag and decorated the sky, one sweet puff at a time. Although I knew the carpool line at school would be closing in five minutes, it didn’t matter. I pulled the car over to the side of the road. I needed to show my daughters what it looked like when the morning sky decided to stay in bed, covering itself in an ivory quilt stitched by divine hands. I reached back and opened the sunroof cover above their heads. “Look up,” I said, repeating the same words I’d heard a few minutes before.
Both girls looked up in unison. Natalie let out a little gasp. “I love it! I love it!” she exclaimed, as if I’d just presented her with the ladybug Pillow Pet she’d been eyeing for six months. Avery clasped her hands together and let out a joyful squeal.
I decided this unusual sky was a sight worth capturing. As I placed my camera at just the right angle, I found myself letting out a little gasp, just as Natalie had moments before. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. There, at the forefront of this magnificent sea of clouds, was the most perfect little handprint on the glass through which my daughters and I peered. Knowing her mother liked things clean and tidy, Natalie asked, “Are you going to wipe the hand off, Mama?”
“No.” I shook my head, trying not to cry. “Never,” I whispered, knowing something extraordinary was taking place inside me in that moment. “Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked, knowing the girls would both look up at the glass again, and I could stretch this unforgettable moment out a bit more.
As my daughters looked up and marveled at the handprint against a backdrop of floating clouds, I noticed all our faces matched. We were all smiling. Smiling. This unique little imprint, found in the rarest of places, served as a divine sign to look harder, look longer, look deeper beyond the mess, mistakes, and mayhem to see the goodness. I was certain God was telling me this is where I would find joy again.
The fact that I did not wipe that handprint away became significant as I strived to see the blessings over the inconveniences. I quickly realized much of what aggravated me was trivial. Much of what was supposedly “ruined” were things that could be fixed or cleaned up. What mattered — that we were safe, healthy, and alive — were thoughts that began to overpower the negatives. But learning to see the positives in situations and surroundings was only the starting point of viewing life through Hands Free eyes. Seeing the positives in people (particularly characteristics that had once been perceived as weaknesses) was the epitome of living and loving fully and freely.
Rather than viewing Natalie, my eager-to-please, helpful older child, as “always getting in the way,” I began to appreciate her willingness to jump in and assist. At last I could see her for who she was — not an annoyance or a bother, but a loving child with clever thoughts and ideas. Instead of focusing on the mammoth-sized mess she made while engrossed in cooking and art projects, I emphasized her creativity, passion, and drive. Avery, my stop-and-smell-the-roses younger child, was no longer viewed as a time waster, but rather my teacher for living mindfully. I learned how to grasp joy simply by watching Avery put on her favorite pair of pajamas and plant apple seeds in the backyard. The way Avery shrugged off mistakes and didn’t have a worry in the world became my inspiration instead of my headache. Even characteristics I’d longed to change in myself were beheld with more loving eyes. My sensitive side, which I hated for being thin-skinned and introverted, was what enabled me to feel life. I finally realized it was that part of me that allowed me to write what others felt but couldn’t express. Like that dirty handprint on the glass, I was able to see unwelcomed qualities as something at which to marvel, instead of to abolish. As it became a daily practice to see goodness in the most unsuspecting places, the tightness in my face disappeared. The lip-picking behavior in Natalie ceased. Smiles became common occurrences in our daily routine, even at departure time.
See What Is Good, the fifth intentional habit of a Hands Free Life, offers a chance to look beyond the outer surface to the heart of what matters most. It is a perspective that allows us to see beyond our distractions, our hang-ups, and our preconceived notions to see the blessings right in front of us. See What Is Good allows us to be an encourager rather than a dictator . . . an original rather than a conformist . . . a bearer of joy rather than a messenger of gloom.
In this chapter, we’ll consider three examples of how seeing the blessings in people, situations, and events can bring great hope and direction to our lives and the lives of people we love. May you find that it is possible for gratitude to overpower the negative. By making it a daily practice to See What Is Good, the joy in your heart has the tendency to overflow. And when it does, you are able to funnel that excess happiness straight into the hearts of those you most want to see smile. Even in the most dismal situations, even in times of challenge, even when the whole world sees something that needs to be changed, you can see what is good, and you can protect it from being wiped away.
SEE WHAT IS GOOD TO NURTURE INNER GIFTS
I’d waited six years for this moment. It was the confirmation for which my worrisome heart had yearned. Natalie’s small hand shook nervously as she held the microphone. Standing in front of our entire church congregation, Natalie described how she chose Pricilla, the girl with the broken smile, from an array of children in desperate need of education, friendship, and hope through a Compassion International sponsorship. Natalie concluded her inspiring speech by adding, “You too can put a smile on the face of a heartbroken child like I did.”
It was all I could do not to grab the microphone from Natalie’s hands and yell, “Wait! There’s just one more thing!” And with conviction, I wanted to look into the eyes of every parent in the audience and say these words:
“Someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, someone will tell you that your child has an issue, a problem, a weakness. Someone will tell you your child needs to be changed. But before you attempt to stifle that issue out, I beg you to look at the flip side. Take your child’s ‘problem’ and look at it from the other side. With the right nurturing and encouragement, that weakness might turn into your child’s gift. And to deny it, alter it, or extinguish it could have tragic results. I know this because someone once told me to change the very heart of the child who just stood here and told you how to save someone else’s life.”
Natalie’s early years were a blur. A colicky baby, an active toddler, and a traveling husband successfully wiped entire days from my memory bank. But there was one day from Natalie’s early years that I will never forget. Natalie was nearly three at the time; her unique personality was already beginning to take shape. She was an attentive caregiver of stuffed animals. She comforted other children when they got hurt. She was kind to all creatures, even the unsightly roly-poly bugs that lived in the cracks of our driveway. But most of all, Natalie loved singing and dancing and going to Miss Beth’s music class on Tuesday mornings.
Normally Natalie stood up the entire class period laughing and smiling, but not on this particular day. On this particular day, her face was buried in the front of my shirt. Natalie wasn’t crying, but she was hurt. She was sad. She was offended.
Another child had aggressively grabbed the musical instrument she had been playing with from her small hands. As I comforted Natalie, I could feel a penetrating glare coming from the mother sitting next to me. In a disapproving tone, this woman I considered a friend chided, “All I can say is you need to toughen that child up.” And if tha
t wasn’t enough, the woman then predicted a dismal future with a shake of her head. “Because if you don’t toughen Natalie up, she is going to have a very rough life ahead of her.”
I drove home from music class in a state of worry. I envisioned a grade-school-age Natalie hiding beneath the playground slide from the bully who taunted and teased her. I envisioned Natalie as a young woman unable to ride the subway for fear of the hungry eyes that hovered over her as she boarded. It was true; my child’s feelings were easily hurt, and yes, she was extremely tenderhearted, but did this mean she needed to be changed? Did this mean she was doomed for life? Did this mean I needed to start “toughening her up” — as if such a process even existed?
I reflected back on my former special-education students who had severe behavior disorders. I remember how their parents desperately longed to see one tiny shred of compassion or kindness in their children who hurt animals, other children, and themselves. Perhaps that is why when I looked at my overly sensitive child, I saw something most people didn’t. I saw compassion, altruism, and kindness in my thin-skinned daughter.
When Natalie and I got home, I did something highly unusual for an insecure young mother whose copy of the book Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child had a yellow sticky note on virtually every page. I made a declaration based on what I saw when I looked at my child, not what someone else didn’t see. Staring into my child’s big brown eyes, which held so much promise, I declared, “I will never, ever ‘toughen you up.’ Mark my words. Someday, someday that tender heart inside you will be your gift.”
Six years later someday arrived. I was given not one but two confirmations that seeing my child’s weakness as her strength freed her to become who God created her to be.
CONFIRMATION 1
When Natalie was asked to speak to our church congregation about her experience sponsoring a child through Compassion International, she was hesitant. The thought of speaking in front of so many people made her nervous. At first she said no, but after thinking about it awhile, Natalie changed her mind. Knowing there would be thirty available children who needed to be paired with a sponsor, she said, “I bet hearing a child talk about helping a child will make more people want to do it than if an adult talked about it.” I remember hoping and praying she was right.
Hands Free Life Page 10