Now You're Speaking My Language

Yesterday I made a phone call to John to talk to him about something that was weighing heavy on my heart. He took the time to walk out of his office (cell in hand) and gave me his undivided attention. He provided his wisdom, listened intently, and gave me caring advice. One piece of his advice was to consult with a dear friend of ours. Not by coincidence, she had sent me a text while I spoke with John. I called her and we made a quick lunch date. Again, I had the undivided attention of an important person in my life. This morning I am still reflecting on that. I feel loved through quality time. 

Not long ago, John and I read the book The 5 Love Languages. The book offers a way to understand the way in which you best receive love. I scored equally in Words of Affirmation and Physical Touch. However, after reading the book and retaking the assessment, I have learned that Quality Time is really important to me. I feel loved when I have a person’s undivided attention. No television buzzing in the background, or my least favorite, having someone texting someone else while I’m sitting right there. I like eye contact and knowing that the person I am with sees me as important enough to put other things aside. 

Yesterday proved my theory, which is…sometimes, assessments give us a false positive; we have to dig deeper for the correct result. Digging deeper showed I had a hidden Love Language.  Had I told John and my friend what was on my heart then received a hug (Physical Touch) I don’t think it would have had the same effect as the Quality Time did. Having Quality Time with two people that really matter to me left me filled up. Having them speak Words of Affirmation while giving me their Quality Time was like hot fudge on the best sundae! 

Knowing my Love Language helps me gauge why sometimes I feel low, and many times it’s because my tank needs filled with Quality Time. I’m sure everyone goes through those feelings when you need another person to "speak" your Love Language to you. When you know what your Language is, it becomes easier to seek out what you need to feel loved. 

I’ve been missing my younger sister something awful this week. Florida is way too far away from Virginia. I’m longing for some Quality Time with her. I’m thankful for unlimited talk and text plans because it does lessen the ache. And, perhaps with the holidays growing nearer, we can plan a visit. Tonight I have plans to spend some Quality Time with one of my very best friends. I’m feeling loved already just having these plans made. I wish our plans involved jumping on a plane to fly to Florida together. 

Keep in mind though that most people close to you don’t “speak the same language.” This means that in order for your spouse or best friend to feel love from you, you’ll need to speak their language. I’m fascinated by finding out a person’s Love Language because we all want to feel loved and give love to those we care about. 

You can take the assessment online here: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/assessments/love/.  I should add though that reading about your language may also show that you have a false positive. :o)

I’d love to know what your Love Language is. Leave a comment after you take the assessment so I can better “love” you. 

Thanks for reading. 

Defeating Chocolate Cake

The last post I wrote was about tradition.  In it I mentioned we joined a gym; and have we ever been taking advantage of it.  I have the sore muscles to prove it!  I went Friday morning to an abs class.  It was a 30 minute class.  I had every intention to head to a nice relaxing yoga class afterwards.  I saw two friends that convinced me to forgo the yoga class and try the Cross Training class.  Today is Monday…I am still sore.

This class was a serious adventure in pushing limits.  I did a level of exercise that I didn’t think I was capable of.  As I pushed myself through the course set up by the instructor, I was tempted to skip a few pushups and lunges.  However, I knew that if I completed the class having not stopped short, I would feel a sense of achievement, even if my body felt like Jell-o.  And, it did.

I’m impressed by John’s ability to find peace through exercise.  The amount of exercise he can do in one visit to the gym just baffles me.  Truth be told, I’d rather camp out on the couch.  If I didn’t do much more than walk our dog around the block I would be perfectly content. 

The instructor of the class I took was attempting to motivate us by telling us “there is an inner athlete in all of you!”  In my head I heard the response, “Um not so much.”  Is there a competitor in there?  You betcha.  I think I have to figure out how to use my appetite for competition to push me when my heart rate needs elevated.

I wonder too, how many people have this struggle?  I heard John say in a lecture once that the “hardest part about going to the gym is going to the gym.”  Putting our shoes on and getting out the door is a challenge some days.  

So, here I am admitting that I married an exercise physiologist and I struggle with exercise.  Shouldn’t there be some sort of support group for a person like me?  I imagine sitting in a circle in a room full of similar people.  The lights are bright, my shoes are that white that’s almost blinding, and I’m wearing workout clothes that haven’t seen sweat.  I use only my first name to admit that I am not a “gymaholic,” but rather a person who struggles to exercise and enjoy it.

However, there is a flip side to this.  I read a book recently called Made to Crave by Lysa TerKeurst.  In it she writes about how we can learn to “satisfy our deepest desires with God, not food.”  Do I crave exercise?  Not really.  Do I crave chocolate cake?  Yes…well, I think I do.  What I learned from the book though is that I don’t really crave chocolate cake (I’m still struggling with this though).  I think what I crave is the feeling chocolate cake provides (while I am eating it).  And, as Lysa points out...I "crave" a deeper relationship with God that food or anything else cannot satisfy.  More importantly too though is that I cannot really feel a sense of peace through chocolate cake.  Because, once the cake is gone the guilt arrives.  Perhaps though, through sore muscles and a stronger body I can find satisfaction—I can feel a sense of peace.

The band The Fray sings a song that says “sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same.”  Man, does that ever speak to me!  It’s so easy to love chocolate cake.  In my day dreams I shrink down and swan dive into a Wegman’s chocolate cake.  I swim in the frosting.  I would prefer backstroke for this event.  In my real life I push myself in classes that make sweat run into my eyes.  And the reason is because it’s the right thing.  I think most of the time the right thing and the hardest thing are the same thing, but I also think there’s a pretty good pay off for choosing the right thing.

I pray my way through exercise.  I pray myself away from chocolate cake and other temptations—it’s what Lysa teaches in the book.  I know I was made for more than a cycle of defeat.  Some days I am better at this than other days.  And, I promise you there are days when the cake wins.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.   If you want to listen to the song, follow this YouTube link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KiM4I86FsM.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness…For when I am weak, then I am strong”.  2^nd Corinthians 12:9-11

Thanks for reading.

Tradition

Tradition.  I love that word.  It conjures up an image of one of the greatest traditions I believe exists in a university setting.  It is Script Ohio.  Script Ohio is the signature formation of The Ohio State University Marching Band.  This year marks the 75^th year of this tradition.  When I sat in the football stadium during my college career I was filled with pride as I watched the marching band take to the field and create this awesome visual.  Band members weave and curl around each other.  Outbursts from thousands upon thousands of fans, in tune with the driving force of the drums and an all brass band, are emotional and meaningful to fans both young and old.  Funny thing though, it was actually the Michigan marching band (boo!) that first put this beautiful formation on the playing field.  They may have formed a script Ohio, but it was The Best Damn Band in the Land (known to a true fan as TBDBITL) that created Script Ohio.  It’s a tradition that has truly stood the test of time.

One of the definitions I found for the word tradition was “a continuing pattern of culture beliefs or practices.”  Many traditions have been invented on purpose; much like the tradition of Script Ohio. 

In our society we do all kinds of things out of “tradition.”  Marriage ceremonies, holiday customs and foods, and Sunday dinners are examples of traditions.  But, what I think sets tradition apart from what may appear as no more than habit is the meaning behind it.  I remind my kids to brush their teeth every single night before bed and every single morning too.  Is this a tradition?  I surely hope not, or I need to add much more meaning to my life.  I think a tradition is something we do on purpose because we place meaning on it. 

After a meeting with our Executive Pastor of our church, John and I were encouraged to begin family traditions (thanks JP!).  These are intentional acts that we have thought out…thus placing meaning on what otherwise may come across as habit.  We have begun having a date night at least once a month (woot!!).  We are having a family night—that may be watching a movie together or playing a board game—once a week.  We are saying grace before meals.  We joined a gym so that we can spend time together as a family being active and staying healthy.  We joined a family Lifegroup that meets once a week. 

It’s through these intentional acts that memories are made, thus the deeper meaning of tradition.  The acts we are developing can be something that our kids decide to do within their own family one day.  I think too, upon reading further about traditions, that the development of them is right when it reinforces some basic principles that are desired for us (humility, thankfulness, kindness, togetherness, and love to name a few).  I want for Sydney and Elliot to remember pizza lunches on Sunday afternoons after church, cozy nights on the couch with popcorn watching a movie, counting money for the bank of the board game we play, and holding hands around the table to give thanks.   

I would love for one day to take them to the Horseshoe to experience Script Ohio.  I know it’s through practicing traditions that they will have an appreciation for other traditions.  Traditions give them a sense of belonging, connection, and commitment.   All important traits John and I want to develop in them. 

What are your family traditions, or what traditions will you develop?

Thanks for reading.

Transformations

Transformation is a word that has been in my vocabulary a lot over the past week.  Normally the word transformation makes me think of caterpillars turning into butterflies, shows like The Biggest Loser, or leaves changing.  But, over the past week I’ve been painting our kitchen cabinets in an attempt to “transform” our kitchen.  As I have been spending time sanding and painting these cabinets, I have seen a visual transformation take place.  It’s a project that is happening in stages.  First cabinets, then flooring…we plan to add an island and some new lighting.  I’ve got 3 doors and 3 drawer fronts left to paint.  There were 14 doors and 12 drawer fronts to paint.  It’s been a HUGE project.  I will post before and after pictures once the project is complete.  I can give some pretty good tips if anyone is thinking of tackling a similar task.

John and I moved into our house 8 years ago.  I haven’t lived in the same place that long since I was 12.  When we moved in, we spent time transforming the house into our own style.  We did a lot of painting and updates.  However, things got put on hold when we added Elliot and Sydney to our family.  Now they are both in school.  No more toddlers to keep out of wet paint.  All of a sudden everything needs repainted and the updates we did 8 years ago need attention.  We need transformation.

I am such a visual person.  Visual impact can sometimes provide instant gratification.  Perhaps it's the effect of being a daughter of a hair stylist. :o)  In one day I painted the kitchen and felt a sense of accomplishment—in one week, the cabinets.  I like seeing the fruit of my labor.  

Our lives are full of transformation.  John and I were transformed into parents of two children.  I was transformed into a stay at home mom.  We transformed our ways of city life to this neighborhood that’s tucked away from shopping and convenience.  We transformed our diets and had visible payoff in weight loss. 

All this transformation though has got me thinking about transformation that we can’t see.  There has been transformation in my own heart and especially John's in the past year.  I’m starting to realize that it’s sometimes the transformation we can’t see, but feel that leaves the biggest and most impact. 

I’m humbled and grateful for the transformation that I can’t see.  Visual impact is important to me, but I know that God is pointing me to something even greater.  The more I read, learn, and absorb the more I transform.  I become softer and more compassionate.  That isn’t happening on my own, but by allowing something bigger than the visual sense around me to take root in my heart. 

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.  Romans 12:2

How have you been transformed?

Thanks for reading.

Rain, rain go away

When I was a little girl I had plans with my sweet Grandma one day.  We were going to take a picnic lunch to the park, do some walking in the woods, and play together—just the two of us.  Even though I was young, I can remember this day very vividly.  I was excited to have this special time with her.  When the day arrived, I woke up to a soaking rain.  The sky was gray.  I leaned close to my bedroom window to get a closer look at the ominous clouds.  The window pane began to fog up from my warm breath as I sighed at the look of the weather.

My grandma picked me up from home anyway.  I slumped down into the backseat of the car.  She drove us to her apartment.  The picnic basket was sitting on the dining room table.  She had spread a blanket on her living room floor.  As she got out our lunch from the basket she said to me, “Don’t act cross about the weather.  This rain won’t ruin our day.   This day isn’t our day anyhow; it’s God’s day.” 

I think I was about 8 years-old that day and those words still are with me.  My grandma is the kindest person I have ever known.  She speaks words of truth in a kind and gentle way.   She could have been “cross” with me for acting disappointed, but she didn’t.  She reminded me in a sweet way that our days aren’t really ours anyway.  Of course what she was telling me was scripture, but in a way that I could understand. 

This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24 (NLT)

Today it’s raining heavily in Virginia.  My dog is pouting.  I cannot take a walk.  I’m stuck inside unpacking from spending the weekend in Ohio.  I miss my grandma already.  It was so nice to see her this weekend and drink in some of her kindness.  I listened to Elliot and Sydney tell her about school.  I heard them tell her how much they miss her.  We got to talk about our faith and what’s at work in my heart.  It felt comforting.

I’m tempted to pout about this rain that is supposed to be with us most of this week, but I won’t (well, I might grumble a bit).  When I looked out the window this morning, I thought about my grandma.  I’m thankful for her loving encouragement to me, and how very much it meant as a kid and still means as an adult.

So, however the weather is where you are remember the words of my Grandma because she’s right…today isn’t our day anyway.  Let us rejoice and be glad.   

Thanks for reading.

Elliot & Gram Labor Day weekend 2011

Lost in Transition

Today marks the first time in almost 8 years that I have not had a child at home with me.  I watched my “baby” walk into school this morning, close to her big brother (who, by the way, did not think it was “cool” to have to walk his sister to her Kindergarten classroom). 

I just unloaded the dishwasher in record time.  I have music on pretty loud; there is no one here to complain about my song selection.  I know there are moms reading this that have babies napping, haven’t even gotten a shower yet today, or are thinking being able to unload the dishwasher without hearing “mom, mom, mom” sounds great.  I don’t mean to sound unappreciative.  Let me just say this is a VERY foreign feeling. 

I spent my morning though, and many days leading up to today, wondering what it is about this whole school starting process that causes my heart to move from my chest into my throat.  I think it’s the idea of transition.  Transition means, movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another; change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood (Dictionary.com).  I am in the working movement of change.  I’m transitioning to the part of motherhood of having preschoolers to having school-aged children.  I’m transitioning to the next stage of motherhood.  The strange part is that this part arrives the way you rip off a Band-Aid.  One day my kids are here…All.  Day.  Long.  The next they are spending the better part of their day at school.  It’s sort of a shock.

I don’t deal well with transition—I never have.  It’s not so much the change, it’s the process of getting to the change—the transition.  It must be the unknown of it all.  I spent years with kids at home.  Picking up toys and stale Cheerios, folding small clothes, washing sippy cups, etc. defined my days.   Now I’m at a new stage in mommyhood.  I’m going to volunteer in two classrooms this school year, help with homework, offer advice about friendships, and be there for my kids in more of an emotional role.  Things have changed.  I may even do something crazy like toss out the sippy cups altogether!

Sydney told John and me that she was a “little bit nervous” about school.  I finally admitted to her this morning that I was a little nervous too.  She seemed to feel comforted by this.  I promised her I would bring Thurman to pick up this afternoon and told her that he and the cat would miss her today.  She really liked hearing that.

Friends have told me that this is just the beginning of a new chapter, and I agree with them.  I will return to work (when John reads this, you’ll hear his sigh of relief).  But, for this day I’m here.  I know Sydney is in good hands, her teacher is phenomenal!  It’s never easy though to move away from the familiar, especially when it comes in an adorable, almost 5 year-old body.

I may spend more than today trying to find my way through this transition.  Today I’m feeling my way through a dark room.  My hands are outstretched, fumbling around for recognizable objects.  I feel out of sorts, like I’m lost, but I will find my way. 

More than lost though, I feel grateful.  I feel so grateful that I was able to be home and pick up toys and stale Cheerios.  My kids still need me; it’s just in a different capacity.  And, no matter what…I’m still me.  I’m still at the place that God has called me to be.  

For nothing is impossible with God.  Luke 1:37