The Ever Elusive Contentment, Blog Day #2

Picture this: you're an 11 year old girl working in 100 degree weather in an inhumane chicken house gathering hundreds of eggs. You're wearing your yucky old loafers (which, of course, you've checked for cockroaches and spiders). You've got chicken mites in your hair, dust and sweat all over your skin, and the stench of standing chicken manure in your nostrils.

Then picture this day after day of summer vacation, working alongside parents who are tired, unhappy and conversation-less.

Definitely a picture of discontentment. Or, at least, of unhappiness.

That girl was me. I spent much of my childhood working on my parents' ranch. Each day off was spent taking turns with my sister selling eggs to visiting customers. We rotated days working for 2 or 3 hours in the hot (or freezing cold) afternoon in the conditions described above.

We were paid a little allowance for our efforts. But because the conditions were rough for children and adults alike, not much was said. No words of encouragement, no family vacations, no playdates, and no 4 hugs a day. Dinner, albeit together, was silent. It was just the daily grind of a family with immigrant parents struggling to make a living.

It was the combination of the hard labor, monotonous life, and lack of emotional warmth that made unhappiness and discontentment indistinguishable from each other. Now, as an adult who lives by faith in a God who sacrificed His son for me and relishes in the grace that is lavished upon me, I can clearly define the two:

Unhappiness is when 1) I don't get my way. Or 2) things aren't going my way. Or 3) life is just miserable. But #3 is usually a result of #1 and/or #2.

Discontentment is 1) me being ungrateful. Or 2) me wanting to be satisfied in some way. Or 3) just me wanting to be more important to others than I should be.

Have you noticed a common theme? Me and mine.

So being unhappy as a child was understandable. Everyone in the house was unhappy. Circumstances were tough, and we all wished for something else. I might even go so far as to say that the dreams of the adults had been dashed, causing a cold and lonely atmosphere. I myself was lonely. I knew there was more out there. I wanted my life and family to be like the Cosby's. The Brady's life would have been awesome. The Seaver's house would have been even better.

Always in the gloom of my life, there was something better. Mediocrity was unacceptable. I began striving to always have my way. Getting my way meant that I would have the best I could. I would do what it took to get what I wanted.

So when the innocence of childhood wishes grew into self-centered teen-aged angst, I started my journey into discontentment. Unhappiness turned into the monster of dissatisfaction. I wanted more. . . .more attention, more "normal" experiences, more activities, more talent, more freedom. . .

A pattern, I must say, even in my spiritual maturity, I still follow today. Contentment had become elusive. I had been striving so long to always have more, that I couldn't recognize contentment if it came up and bit me in the rear. In fact, discontentment became one of my default settings.

Then. . .
40 days of no Facebook.
Out of the muddy water of making myself appear impressive.
Not having others' lives to look to and compare myself with.
Replacing the hours spent reading updates and comments with thoughts and words of God. Listening for His small still voice.
Obeying instead of being kicked in the pants.
Soaking in the love that comes from a God who cares enough to discipline me.
Reaping the benefits of my own brokenness.
Receiving all the benefits that come from believing in a Savior who took the punishment for my sins upon Himself.
Pulling from the shroud of grace that consumes me daily.
Using just a little of it to extend a smaller scale of it upon myself and others around me.
Forgiving myself for always looking elsewhere for satisfaction and contentment.
Prayerfully, with intention, redirecting my thoughts to what I have, and not what I don't have.
Understanding that while life is hard, I am deeply blessed.
Discovering that the grass under my feet is lush, soft, and brilliantly verdant.

God had spoken loudly to me during my 40 days of social networking silence. One afternoon, as if a glowing spiritual lightening bug was flying around my head, He said, "See that? Catch it. Hold it. Remember it. It's name is contentment."

Praise the Lord for being so kind to me.

The Social Network Fast, Blog Day #1

Have you ever experienced the feeling of almost stifling quiet? The kind of quiet that makes you feel as if you have been suspended in time? I have. At the bottom of a deep pool. I used to jump off the diving board, expel all the air out of my lungs, and enjoy the silence as I sank my body down to the bottom. I would stay positioned there until my chest would burn and I would have to swallow against my body's instinct to breathe in.

And there was this kind of stifling quiet that came to me once again during this year's Lent season. But I didn't do anything nearly as exciting as holding my breath underwater until I'm about to take water into my lungs. I took a break from social networking. No Facebook, no Twitter, no BeenUp2 and no blogging. I would have skipped texting and emailing, too, if they weren't such an essential form of communication in this day and age.

So now, after 40 days of nothingness, I am going to blog for 40 days straight. A blogging blitz to describe the things that went on in my isolated and lonely silence. I felt like I was suspended in time, yet becoming more productive and growing faster than I have in a long time. There was a transformation, a refocusing of faith, and an old flame refueled. . .

The blogs are in no particular order, the topics will be random. I've had 40 days to think and ponder. Many hours of staring at my iPhone, wishing I could just touch the Facebook icon. Many Facebook updates I wanted to text people, but didn't for fear of appearing desperate. Many awkward stares (with me doing the staring) in passing Facebook friends whose lives I was no longer a "part of".

It seems so shallow, a Facebook fast. But social networking has a trap that people don't quite know they're in. It feeds into our natural selfishness. It has a tendency to engulf us in our own minds. My own internal monologue changed to the third person, and I started narrating my own life to myself. I became the main theme of my life and everyday was shaped to make myself look more impressive to the people, most of them mere acquaintances, with whom I shared my Facebook life with. When I felt I couldn't be impressive, I thought my life deficient in some way and strove to make it perfect. It often left me gazing at the pasture on the other side of the fence, whose grass seemed to be so pleasingly bright and shiny green. A dangerous road to be on when one's claims are of obedience and trusting faith in an almighty God who is the controller and savior of all things created.

After the initial detoxification, my mind rose out of the muddy water and I began to see the blessings around me. I discovered contentment in them. I realized that my "trials" were just my faith in the refinement process. I heard the small, still voice calling and I obeyed. Day by day, my focus turned from an inward magnifying lens to an outward scope of how I can serve and love better.

Not only did I spiritually awaken to a whole new maturity level, I learned to discipline myself physically. I lost 15 pounds, and can now run 4.5 miles without losing a lung. I ran a 5K race for the first time, and I've rekindled my love for cooking and eating healthy. On a more geekier side, I practiced piano nearly everyday and rejoined the church choir as the accompanist. That in itself deserves it's own blog entry.

What can I say, God was a movin' and a shakin' in this weary soul. . .And I'm going to share all the ways He did. . .For 40 days. . .yes, with a social networking tool. . .Tell your friends. . .

My Least Favorite: Mother's Day, An Epiphany

Mother's Day is often a day of bitterness for me. This last week leading up to Mother's Day has been rough, and I've been so emotionally drained that I haven't wanted to sleep or carry on with my daily duties. Of course, this week I had more on my plate than usual, since that is how life works. I barely made it. If it weren't for the great attitudes of the kids, and their optimism with life in general, I would have spent all day online while they ran wild and starving.

In meditating upon my life, I am wondering why Mother's Day is so depressing for me. It's not like the day is horrible or anything. I am thinking that it has something to do with a selfish desire to be appreciated and honored for the role I play as mother. What's wrong with that, you ask? Well, sometimes in my heart I do this job because I want to glorify myself. Secretly I want fame, fortune, to feel "successful" and have my worth come from the commendations of those I serve. Having said that, I am now thinking I'm in the wrong line of work.




Day to day, I fight the uphill battle of housework. The mounds of laundry are endless, the crumbs on the floor relentless, the dishes and sticky counters invasive. Then there is the daily training of the children where persistence, patience and perseverance are musts on a minute by minute basis. On top of that, the maintenance of marriage requires more patience, constant forgiveness, diligent discernment, open and kind communication, respectful and loving behavior and humble submission. There is not a moment to relax and breath. Every moment, every thought must be dedicated to others.

But on Mother's Day, I want the day to be about me. What would I like for breakfast? What would I like to do after church? What would I like for a gift, and what should the children make for me? I want everyone to show their appreciation for me by joyfully and willingly and lovingly doing my job for a day. The house stays clean, the children are off playing nicely and the husband is doting on me and hanging out chit-chatting. It would be all about me. Me, me, me, me, me.

My expectations of having a perfect day dedicated to honoring me are way too high. The whole problem is my favorite word, "me". Simply put, it is not about me at all. Life and the universe do not orbit around me. I am not in this profession for glory or fame. In fact, the above description of my job goes to show me that I fall short of being the perfect housewife and mother. I do my best, but I wish my best was better.

Mother's Day is depressing for me because I want to feel special. I want to be treated special so I can feel worthwhile. You might not see the fault in that. You might even say that I should deserve to be especially treated. But every Mother's Day, I am not treated any differently than if it was a normal day off. And I want to be Queen of the Day. I practically want my husband and children serving at my beck and call, and know that I deserve it. Therein lies the problem. I am relying upon people to fill in my bucket of self-worth. And sadly, that bucket is always left nearly empty.

I must refocus my lens and stick to the Truth. My job has been assigned by the Big Boss. He has given me one of the most honorable jobs that a woman could be entrusted with. He understands how hard the job is. In the Bible, it says in Isaiah 40:11--
Like a shepherd He will tend His flock,
In His arm He will gather the lambs
And carry them in His bosom;
He will gently lead the nursing ewes. (www.biblegateway.com)

Mothers are near and dear to His Heart. And there I should be placing my worth. To Him, I am worth sacrificing and dying for. To Him, I am worthy enough to be blessed with husband and children. My worth comes from humbling myself, releasing my desire to conform to the world and seek man's approval. Instead, I realize my fallibility, my sinfulness, my imperfections, my daily struggles and I give them up to Him. I focus in on His Blessings, His Trustworthiness, His Strength, His Power, His Sovereignty, His Faith, His Undying Love, His Personal Investment into my life through Jesus. There is none like Him, certainly nothing created.

Here and now, I let go of all those selfish desires to be acknowledged as that perfect mother who knows all and does all. I release the desire to be worshiped, and turn my own worship to God above. I know how He feels about me, and He is Perfect. He is Not Wrong, and by bowing at His Feet and obeying Him and serving Him by fulfilling even the most mundane of duties, He fills my worth bucket until it is overflowing. Through Solomon, God says in Proverbs 31:30--
Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain,
But a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised.

Suddenly, Mother's Day doesn't seem so bad. I give honor and praise, not to myself, but to the God who created me to be specifically a wife and mother. Drawing upon the Holy Spirit for comfort and peace, the burden of selfishness has been lifted. To be God's good and faithful servant is all I need.

So I may not be Queen of the Day, but by acknowledging His Love and Plan for my life, I become God's Princess. Nothing could be better than that.