Filters

The girls were playing outside in the backyard the other day when all of the sudden, Shannay came barreling through the back door of the house yelling,  "MOM!!!!!  Nikki's digging in the dirt!!!!!!"

I was in the middle of cooking dinner, so I wiped my hands, tossed down the dish towel and headed out into the backyard to see exactly what was going on.



Sitting quietly in the corner was this sweet, little girl who was gleefully digging in the dirt.

Initially, I freaked out.  But before you judge me too harshly, you should know that I have OCD and the thought of anyone digging in the dirt would freak me out.  You should also know that last summer/spring/fall, Nikki consistently dug holes in the back yard and Mike consistently had to fill them up.  It was annoying.  So I felt justified in my anger.

Anyway, as I was about to launch into my "how many times do I have to tell you" lecture, she looked up at me and said, "Mama, don't be mad."

Oy.

I was mad.  About dirt.  About a child playing in the dirt.  Children should play in the dirt.  So, I said to myself,  "What in the world are you mad about?  She's 4. She wants to play in the dirt.  Calm down, Carol!"

I'm good at "Calm Down Carol" pep talks.

I smiled a smug little "Mother of the Year" smile, told her to enjoy the dirt, but not to put it in her hair, and I very calmly walked into the house.

As I walked past Shannay, she looked at me like I'd grown two heads.  She takes after me.  She likes things orderly.  And clean.  So, I stopped for a moment and got down on my knees and said, "Nikki needs to play in the dirt.  It helps her to be happy. Okay?"

She smiled at me, still somewhat confused, eyes bright with tears and lip quivering, and said, "Okay Mama."  She stood over Nikki for the next 10 minutes "supervising" the situation.

I tend to want to believe that people are doing things to make me mad (true confession) or to annoy me; but in reality, they are processing life through their set of filters.  Nikki thinks better when her hands are busy (well, really when her whole body is busy).  Shannay thinks better when things are routine and orderly.  I think better when I'm in charge.  (I may or may not have control issues.)

All that to say, recognizing that each of us are wired and created to process life differently, through different filters, is an important realization, and honestly, an important life skill.

Why Perspective Is So Important

I am a ghost writer (well, except for this blog and the other ones that will be launching very, very soon!)

What that means is that I write for other people.  They give me their thoughts, the points they want to make, and I make sentences and paragraphs for them.  That's the simple version of it.  But you get the gist.

I'm a "ghost" because I don't have a by-line on their work.  A by-line is the place on an article or a book that tells you who wrote it.  But I like being a ghost.  I don't need the by-line.  And after all, it's their work.  Their thoughts.  Their points.  I'm just helping them to be awesome at what they do. (HA!  If I do say so myself!)

I have some really, really great people that I get to work with who are doing great, great things in the world.  They are helping churches, helping people in the midst of some difficult life struggles, helping women have more organized lives, and helping people build their dreams, just to name a few! How can I NOT love this job?

There are days when I'm overwhelmed at the level of trust people have placed in me.

Yesterday was one of those days.  At the end of the day I sat down at the kitchen table, put my head in my hands, and said to my husband about a new, very large client that I have, "I don't know if I can do this.  What if I'm not good enough? They're trusting me with their dream!"  He said, "They picked you.  They know tons of writers.  Probably good ones.  They picked you.  Now go take a bubble bath."

I love that man.  Such perspective.

It is so easy to convince ourselves what we aren't.  What we can't do.  What we won't be good at.  Sometimes we just need people who have a different vantage point to give us perspective.

All that to say, I'm feeling thankful today.  Thankful for great people who trust me with their dreams.  And thankful for a new perspective.  (and for my husband who knows how to shut down my doubts!)

All That to Say: Grow

For the past seven days, I have been watching a sweet, little, now 9 day old, baby girl do her thing. Her "thing" is to wake up, eat, poop, sleep, repeat.

That's the sum total of her existence.  The whole cycle lasts about 3 hours.  Every 3 hours she relives her life.  And in the less than one week that we have had her, she has changed before our eyes.  

At first, each time she awakened, she awakened with one need; eat.  Then, as she would eat, she would leisurely suck down about 2 oz. of formula, maybe a little less.  Then she'd poop, burp, get drowsy and fall asleep.

Now when she awakens, she demands to be fed, hungrily sucks down 3-4 oz., gets annoyed that we stop to burp her, then does the rest of her cycle, but now she stays awake for a while.  Not a long time (really just long enough to prevent us from going to sleep).  But she's more alert during her awake time.  She makes eye contact.  She's trying to raise up her little bobble head while I'm burping her.  She's taking in the world around her.  She's growing.  Each day she is becoming a better version of herself.

And watching her I have been struck by how much work it is to grow, just to grow.  That's her one job.  Growing.  That's why she sleeps so much.  Because growing is exhausting.

I think that's true no matter how old we get.  Growing is hard work.  And at times, it's exhausting.

But the benefit of growth is that we become better versions of ourselves.  And if we are open to the hard work that comes with growth, we become more like the people God created us to be.

All that to say, becoming a better you is hard work, but so worth the effort.  So go, grow.  And get some sleep.

*Photo courtesy of Shauna Maness Photography who shall someday will these GROW letters to me.