What's in Your Box?

(Repost Saturdays, where I share some of my favorite past posts)




I just finished a great book called Through His Eyes by Virginia H. Pierce. It was a great read.

The theme of the book is that we store in our heart and minds (what she calls the Belief Box) three things: Truths (with a capitol T), truths (small t), and untruths.

The Truths are those truths that are universal and eternal: I am a child of God. God loves me.

The truths are things that are true in different situations, culturally or circumstantially, depending upon the person, but have not eternal bearing: A clean house makes me a good homemaker. Having healthy homemade dinners on the table each night will bring my family closer together.

The untruths are things that are simply not true, but mask themselves as truth. These things are the most dangerous, because they are usually negative and damaging.

I know my Truths, and I love them. But, out of curiosity, I decided to make a list of the untruths floating around in my mind. I am typically a pretty confident person, so I was surprised at the untruths that had been lurking inside my Box when I took an honest look.

My list was thus:

• I am supposed to have the same gifts and talents as other people in my situation have.
• Other people's strengths and/or successes somehow diminish mine or my worth (this one was the most difficult to admit because I truly am happy for other people when experience success. But sometimes it is difficult when they succeed and I don't. Especially when I am trying my hardest.)
• I cannot meet expectations of others--they will be disappointed, and I will fail.
• I am not educated, therefore as intelligent as others in my situation.
• I don't deserve success.
• I let people down because my weaknesses outweigh my strengths.
• I am not good enough.
• I am nothing special.

AHH! I couldn't believe what was in there! I mean, I knew that I carry some insecurities--don't we all? But, I didn't realize that I allowed myself to see my fears and insecurities as truths, or even Truths.  These untruths were not bubbling at the surface. I don't dwell on them. They don't make me constantly miserable and unsure. But, when I dug deep, they were there. And they shocked me.

I know, in my every day thinking mind, that none of these are true. Consciously I will refute them. If any friend came to me and said they felt that way, I would wrap my arms around them and tell them with all the sincerity that they are untrue. And yet...they still somehow found a place in my Box, influencing my thoughts and feelings and perspective.

Now that I know they are there, the question is how to get rid of them.

That is where I go back to the Truths that illuminate my Box, mind and heart. I find that my untruths are often the polar opposite of Truths. So, I line them up side by side, and do some canceling out.

·       untruth: I am supposed to have the same gifts and talents as other people in my situation have. 

Truth: God has given me unique talents He knows will make me happy and will allow Him to do His work through me.

·       untruth: Other people's strengths and/or successes somehow diminish mine or my worth.

Truth: My success comes in doing God’s will for me in my life, whatever that may be.

·       untruth: I cannot meet expectations of others—they will be disappointed, and I will fail. (This is more of a prophecy-of-doom born out of fear.)

Truth: People’s opinions are as diverse and unique (and, at times, imperfect) as the people themselves. If I focus on pleasing everyone I will fail, because it is not possible to make everyone happy. It is the expectation and opinion of God that ultimately matters, and if I follow His will to the best of my ability, He will not be disappointed.  

·       untruth: I am not educated, therefore as intelligent as others in my situation.

Truth: Formal education is not a barometer of intelligence, but of opportunity. The lack of formal education does not negate my ability to think, reason, believe, and/or teach. The Truths that are most important to know are not taught on a campus, but through personal revelation.

·       untruth: I don't deserve success.

Truth: I deserve any and all things that God sees fit to give me—even success, as long as I am seeking His will.

·       untruth:I let people down because my weaknesses outweigh my strengths.

Truth: God doesn’t expect me to be perfect. Everyone is imperfect—it is part of this part of God’s plan for us. If we turn to Him, He can help us take ours and others’ imperfections and use them for our good.

·       untruth: I am not good enough.

Truth: God made me good enough.

·       untruth: I am nothing special.

·       Truth: I am special to God.

Virginia told a story in her book about a time when she broke down under the pressure of the expectations of others and her own doubts, fears, and insecurities. A good friend said, "All you have to worry about is pleasing God."

That Truth resonated in me. As you can see, all of the untruths above were cancelled out when I changed my focus to what God's will is, what His plan is, what His view of me is. How grateful I am for my Father in Heaven, and His perfect insight and love! 

I am weak and imperfect. I know that my Box will probably always contain some untruth stow-aways. But I LOVE the fact that, with God's help, I have the power to perceive them and strike them out. Then I am more free to live and move and act in confidence and joy as I strive to live His will. 

The cool thing is that this doesn't apply only to me. It does to you, too.  Right now, in your Box, lie a number of untruths that you perceive as truth.  Go ahead, dig them out. Write them down. Then, prayerfully seek after the Truths that will strike them out. 

Perhaps this is part of the meaning of Jesus's words when He said, "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free" (John 8:32).

There is freedom in Truth--freedom to see yourself through His eyes. Freedom to be happy with and confident in yourself, imperfections and all. Freedom to live His will. Freedom to change and grow. Freedom to feel success. Freedom to love yourself--every part of you.

So, my question to you is, what is in your Box? 

What are your Truths? What are you doing to seek more Truth (for there is Truth out there yet to be understood). 

What are your untruths? What are you doing to eliminate them?

Remember that Truth is freedom, untruths are bondage. I hope you take some time this weekend and take an honest inventory of your Box. Hold tight and cherish the Truths you have in there. Then dig out the untruths that hide in the dark corners, and annihilate them.

You'll feel so much better.

I already do!  

Look What You Made Me Do . . .

Look what you made me do.

No, not you Taylor. 

Lisa.

Lisa, look what you made me do.  

Because you did this.

You ran a 10k. Like, 6 miles in a row. At Disneyland.

Let me let you and my other friends out there in on a little secret: I do not love exercise.

My stasis is resting peacefully on a couch with my fingers on a book or keyboard. Not breathing heavy, sweating, hurting, running, pulling ropes, crunching, grunting, jumping, and all other unnatural things.

Over the years I've exercised here and there. I've joined and quit every gym in the area (there are only four.) I've bought and given away two treadmills and currently have a dusty exercise bike in my bedroom. I've even ran a couple 5Ks.

I haven't hated exercise. In fact, twice - yes, literally two times - in my life that I woke up early was excited to the gym. It. Was. So. Weird. 

But here's a secret: I'm turning 46 in one week. That means I'll be closer to 90 than to birth. I realize that I'm officially at the age where I have to stop accepting aging gracefully and fight it. 

And how do I fight it? 

Three ways.

1. Maintain a positive attitude. Easy check.

2. Eat healthier.   Replacing Froot Loops with Eggs. Check.

3. Regular exercise.  Uummmmmmm. 

So, here I am, knocking on the door of ninety, and I see Lisa's happy and healthy mug on Facebook. 

She'd just run in her first 10k race. AND she didn't die.

In fact, she looked happy. Really happy.

And I wanted to feel happy too. No, I wanted to feel the joy of accomplishment that I could see on her face.

So, I went joined yet another gym. (I'd quit my old gym in June because who works out during summer with a wedding and a first-floor renovation? Not this girl.) And after I joined the gym, I actually got on the treadmill and ran. Then walked. Then ran again.

I'll admit. It was hard work for me.

But I did it. And I felt joyful. 

On the way home I got to thinking.

Lisa never once called me up and challenged me to a race. She didn't flaunt her training on Facebook. She wasn't my accountability partner. She didn't directly encourage me to run.  

But what she did to was run herself.

It was her example that moved me to action. I saw the joy and the triumph and I wanted that for myself.

I think it's easy to forget the power of example and influence. We see the things we want for those close to us--happiness, health, success, etc--and we do what we can to help them get those things. We encourage, we plan, we push, and sometimes we straight-up tell them what to do.

And sometimes in our fervent efforts to get others to do what we think would make them happier or better, we actually discourage them or even push them away. Then we are left frustrated, wondering why people won't listen to us.

But people don't want to be ordered. They want to be moved. And sometimes the best way to move someone is simply by allowing them to see what moves us.

That's the power of example and influence.

I came home and told my daughter about it, about how I felt. And guess what. She came to the gym with me for the first time. AND, she ran on the treadmill right next to me. Not because I told her to, but because she wanted to.

That's the power of example and influence. It moves people to action, not forces them. It makes them willing participants in their own growth.

Now, ten years ago I could have jogged four miles without hardly breaking a sweat. My first workout was nothing close to that. But I don't feel bad. I won't let myself take away from my victorious return to the treadmill becasue I left for a while. I am the prodigal jogger, and becasue of the example of a good friend, I have returned.

It'll be a tough road back. I didn't like running today, nor do I ever suspect I'll wake up and think, "Oh my gosh, I lerv this so much. I think I'll run for four hours." BUT, I love that her influence has touched me and ignited the desire to make a goal and achieve it, to do something hard even if I don't love it, because I know she didn't love running.  But she fought, and she won. And found joy in the journey and at the finish line.

And I hope she finds joy in knowing that her example and influence have opened the door for me to find my own.

Disneyland 10k. January 13th, 2018, I've got my eye on you.

Thanks Lisa.

No, really. Thank you. :)

Put the bat down

I've got to be honest here. (Though, I'm always honest in my writing.) I've been in a funk lately. A deep one. And it's been rough.

I drank a dangerous cocktail of lack of sleep, over-working, underperforming, unrealistic expectations, and summer without structure. Throw in a complete downstairs remodel, a wedding, and writer's block, and you've got a hot mess.

This is, literally, a "hot mess" which I found in the bottom of my purse the other day.
It was an accurate, and still delicious, representation of how I was feeling.
And, notice the frayed cuticles. Manicure failure to top it all off.

My oldest brother, Bob, came to visit for my son's wedding this past weekend and we got to talking. It's a tradition in our family to have long, deep discussions. When I was a teen, my father would pull us each aside for one of these long talks where he would delve into our innermost psyche. My four brothers and I lovingly dubbed it, "death by lecture," and often asked if a simple spanking was an option. It never was.

Now that we are parents ourselves, we inflict the same painful talks onto our children. We appreciate it now. They don't yet.

These talks aren't saved for our children only. I love having deep conversations with those I love, those I meet, and, well, pretty much anyone. Forget small talk. Meaningful conversations of self-discovery and learning are among my favorite things.

So, naturally, when my brother came to visit we dove into a shared death by lecture, which quickly turned into a counseling session for me. As I opened up, or rather, unloaded, my thoughts and feelings, he listened patiently and intently. (He's so good that way.)

Finally, he looked at me and said, "I've got one question for you. Why are you so mean to my sister?"

I was like, "What?"

I'm the only sister he's got, so it only took me a second to realize he was talking about me.

I realized then what I'd been doing. Rather than focusing on all the things I've done right, and the positive things about myself, I had take my perceived weaknesses and failures and used them like a bat. . . and I was the piñata.

I shouldn't have been short with my kids. Bam!

I should read my scriptures more. Smack!

I haven't written much lately, and struggle to feel inspired to do so. Kapow!

I emotionally eat. Thud!

I haven't exercised since June. Wham!

I haven't done laundry in two weeks. Thwap!

And so on and on and on.

I'd beaten myself up pretty badly.

As I cried to my brother, (yes, he made me cry. That jerk.) I realized that I had one thing to do:

PUT THE BAT DOWN.

Really. I should have seen what I was doing. I should have know better. I mean, I wrote about
it in my first book. Still, I did it. I picked up the bat and swung it like I was at a ten-year-old's birthday party.

And why?

Because I'm human. And I'm a woman.

Two very fine things to be, but also, in some ways, very difficult things to be.

We women can be so hard on ourselves, even mean to ourselves. We are so good and kind and patient with others, but we often don't give ourselves the luxury of compassion.

We wield that bat of shortcomings and unfinished tasks, weaknesses and faults, sins and poor choices, and even typical human conditions, and let it land on our hearts and minds until we are tired and worn.

We tell ourselves we aren't strong enough, good enough; that we aren't good mothers, that we can't do it all an therefore have failed it all.  We berate ourselves for not forgiving more easily, think more clearly, and cook more regularly. We recognize our human frailty and condemn it, as though it's a failure to be merely mortal.

Well, my friends. If you're feeling this way at all, I've got one thing to say to you:

PUT YOUR BAT DOWN.

Do it. Right now. Put it down.

Be gentle with yourself. You are stronger than you realize. You do more than you give yourself credit for. You are better than you know.

You are not a failure. You have purpose. God knows you, and will speak to you in a language you will understand.

You are not expected to be perfect. Ever. God didn't make us to be perfect in this life, or else why would we need a Savior? Being imperfect is not a sin. It's human. And it's ok.

You don't have to do every. Single. Thing. And be everything to everyone. That's not my job. That's not your job.

You're the mother God wants for you kids. You're the friend your friends are blessed to have.

You have value. You are loved.

You are awesome.

WE are awesome!

Let's be kind to ourselves. And not only that, let's find joy in who we are. Let's  focus on the positive things we do and the gifts God has given us.

Now that we aren't holding our bats anymore, let's use our hands to fold as we pray, hug a loved one, or even pat ourselves on the back.


I'm feeling so much better today. I feel more like me. . . like the me God sees.


And I hope you do too.

Let's save the bats for the game, shall we?

Faye Dancer, All-American Girls Professional Ball League, 1945
Time.org