to do (and to not do).

Quite some time ago, my sweet friend Emery suggested I read this book:

That day, I added it to my Amazon Book Wish list and then promptly forgot about it until a few weeks ago when I picked it up on sale at a little bookstore in SLO. And am I ever glad I did. 

One of the things I like most about this book is that each chapter can stand on its own, so I didn't feel overwhelmed to read all of it RIGHT NOW. I breezed through the first few chapters, pausing for some "Hmm's" and shoulder shrugs, but I got a big fat  "Oomph" to the gut when I read the following from the chapter titled, "things I don't do":

I'm a list-keeper. I always, always have a to-do list, and it ranges from the mundane: go to the dry cleaner, go to the post office, buy batteries; to the far-reaching: stop eating Henry's leftover Dino Bites, get over yourself, forgive nasty reviewer, wear more jewelry.

At one point, I kept adding to the list, more and more items, more and more sweeping in their scope, until I added this line: DO EVERYTHING BETTER. 

-Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet p. 54

Now, this chapter already packed quite a punch but it wasn't until a few nights later that I really understood how necessary it was for me to read that.

---

It started when a very tired and disoriented me had an argument with my parents about something so trivial. Feeling overwhelmed, I fled the scene to my room. There I curled up in the dark and all I could hear was the booming voice in my mind was broadcasting, "You can't do enough. You can't be enough. "

I felt sick to my stomach, like my even my body was rejecting me.
I wished I could  get up and boldly stand on the truth--that God is enough, He is more than enough. But Instead, I just cried. Mourning over something I'd never had, someone I'd never been.

And then, after quite some time of being paralyzed by the darkness, I realized I was still learning what I had been hit with over and over last week:
it's not about me.

Let me be clear in explaining that this wasn't a beautiful epiphany.
I didn't just snap out of my pitiful state, get out of bed and slap a big smile on my face.

No, it was more like my process of waking up...which is the farthest thing from immediate. (Ask ANYONE who has tried to wake me up). I have stages of waking up including resistance and grumpiness. I need time. And that's how exactly how I'm learning this whole "it's not about me" thing--slowly, with moments of resistance and grumpiness. But I have hope that I'll eventually "wake up" to the idea as I find practical, daily ways to remind myself.

Coming back to the book, Shauna explains in that chapter how and why deciding what you want your life to be about isn't the hard part, but it's deciding what you're willing to give up for those things that is "like yoga for your superego, stretching and pushing and ultimately healing that nasty little person inside of you who exists only for what other people think."

So, the questions I'm leaving here are:  What are the things I don't do, the things I'm giving up, so my life can be about the things I've decided it should be about? (I hope that makes sense, it's poorly worded)

And the moral of this story is, LORD, I need You.

with open hands.

Sam went to a book sale a few weeks ago and picked up this book for me:

and I truly enjoyed it! I really appreciate  Nouwen's writing, and this book in particular had the added aesthetic of black and white photos. 

There were so many take aways from this book, the pages are already peppered with flags and underlines and quotes and notes have been scribbled into a notebook, but there's one in particular that has been showing up in my life repeatedly over the past week so I figured it was a good idea to chew on it a bit more.

"Praying  means to  stop expecting from God that same small-mindedness which you discover in yourself. To pray is to walk in the full light of God, and to say simply, without holding back, "I am a man and you are God." At that moment, conversion occurs, the restoration of the true relationship. Man is not the one who once in a while makes a mistake and God is not the one who now and then forgives. No, man is a sinner and God is love." - Henri J.M. Nouwen, With Open Hands

The message I gleaned from this, the one that kept making an appearance in my life this past week was this: it is not about me; trust Him.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, it was prepping for my Kinder life group.
The theme of the week? "I can trust God  is the One who knows everything; He knows what is best."
I don't know what I want to/am supposed to do with my life,
where I will be in a year
or even what tomorrow looks like.
But it is not about me.
I can TRUST God because He knows everything. He knows all of the options I have before me, and He knows which is best.  He knows my hurts, my anxieties, my sins and shortcomings, my joys and delights. He knows everything that I was, am and will become.

On Thursday it was two and a half hours of sharing life with the ladies in my life group.
Although we did specifically talk about the fact that "it is not about me", it was more than hearing and saying those words.
It was listening to each other's struggles and experiences. It was sharing my own insight and hearing a completely different perspective and understanding from someone else.
It is not about me, it is about US.

Today was probably the toughest bite to swallow. Today it was PJ message on James. My faith in Christ is (far too often) challenged by...myself.
My  desire to be in control
and know the plan
and find a way to make things (that I want) happen.
My plans, my way.
Apparently I still needed to hear it again: IT IS NOT ABOUT ME.
When I let myself get consumed in introspectiveness, planning and all of the unknown in my life, when I try to depend on myself, I grow anxious and ill and completely overwhelmed.

So the aim this week, this month, this year, this lifetime? Fix my heart on the One who it IS all about, the One who knows everything. To release my death grip on the plans and lists I've made and open my hands to receive the LOVE and HOPE and JOY that God gives. To let go, and trust Him.