On Our Way

The moving truck drove up yesterday ready to load all our furniture and boxes into its massive belly. The move is underway. We will be living in hotels until our stuff arrives, hopefully on Tuesday. That amounts to a lot of family time. :)

So much family time that as I was attempting to write about something that happened yesterday, I had to stop and go out to the car again because the stuffed animals' bag was in the van. My boys are really attached to their stuffed animals, each has at least two that must travel with them at all times. And they have all seen Toy Story 1, 2 and 3 too many times to leave these special lovies in the van all night. One of the stuffed animals is missing since the last hotel. I was gone when the boys packed up so I don't know if it was left behind or in the van. We have a call into the hotel from last night and will also tear the van apart tomorrow to try to find it. Thankfully the lost Orangey belongs to the Middle Man who is the least attached to his stuffed animals.

Once everyone had their stuffed orcas, snowmen, and other fluffy creatures, we had to rearrange sleeping positions because "he's touching me" was said one too many times. My husband and I now have to sit quietly in our bed hoping the kids will go to sleep soon so we can maybe watch a little tv. I would read except my iPad is being charged right now because it ran out of batteries while someone, not me, was playing NHL hockey on it. I could read it while it is charging except the plug is not close enough to the bed.

So I guess all that to say that I think any blog post involving coherent thoughts and organized ideas may have to wait until after we are in our house.

A List of Names

This is our last week in the Pacific Northwest. Our last week in our home that we love. One last week of goodbyes. Last times.

It is in the midst of these goodbyes that my list of one thousand gifts, my list of gratitude, is starting to fill with names. Names of the people I love. The girls I will miss dearly. The moms and kids we will no longer see at the park or share an afternoon with. Our babysitter. My small group leaders. The kid's teachers. Name after name filling my list.

• A friend who listens
• Words of affirmation, confirming something that I was secretly thinking, spoken by a friend
• A teacher who sees Middle Man as special and unique
• Authenticity shown in the life of my friend
• My wise friends who I learn from in ways they would never expect
• Hockey Boy spending one last day at his buddy's house because it is the one thing he wants to do before we move
• A friend who always has a smile to share
• The woman who is a dose of sunshine on a grey day
• A brother and sister in law who I can trust
• The Sunday School teacher who keeps teaching the kindergartners year after year with such love
• Our babysitter who knows my kids so well and who we trust so much we can really relax when we are away 
• A group of girls who get me out of my house and remind me of who I am as me, as Jen
• Friends I met when our first babies were born, who shared the struggles of new motherhood with me and who now we can enjoy a nice evening out without the kids. We have come so far in these last 8 plus years.
• Her...
• And Her...
• And Her...

The list goes on and on in my head. So many instances when I was one of these names touched my life and was a little gift from God in that moment. I have been so incredibly blessed by the amazing people in our little piece of suburbia. My kids have been cherished and valued. I have been encouraged and loved. I have laughed out loud more and shared deep hurts. I have learned to receive and even give hugs. I have found women I love deeply and cannot imagine my life without.

My list if full of names. Names of the people that God put into my life. Each one a gift that keeps giving every time I spend time with one of these names. It is easy for me to add to my list of gifts when I think of the people in my life. Name after name floats through my head. Memories that bring such incredible joy to me.

What names are on your list today? Who has blessed your day, your week, your year?

I am counting my gifts as part of Ann Voskamp's Multitudes on Monday community. If you have not read her book "One Thousand Gifts" yet, you really should. It has really made me think. It is book that I feel compelled to share. You can also read more of her words and the words of other list makers at her blog - A Holy Experience.

Perfectionism Relapse

I have been thinking a lot about why I feel the need to edit and revise my conversations after they are done and gone. When I wrote my last post I thought that was it. I had written it down and processed it all, or so I thought. But then my mind kept wandering to why. Why do I feel the need to edit. Why do I want to change and fix my words. I thought it was a desire to communicate clearly and not hurt feelings, but I am beginning to think that my perfectionism has reared its ugly head in a new place. I think I just want my words, my conversation, to be perfect. I want to say the right thing. I want to be perfect.

I have always wanted to be perfect. It started at a young age when a very caring mom of a friend made a comment about my mom being sick and not being able to be there for me. I didn't want anyone to think my mom or my life was less. I didn't want anyone to judge my mom, even though now I can see that the friend's mom was absolutely right. So as a young girl, I started to want to do things right, to things perfectly. I wanted straight As. I wanted to do things right. I wanted to be perfect so no one could say we were less.

But as I grew up, as I started to see the tole that perfectionism was taking on my soul and my body, I realized it was not a worthwhile goal. Not only because perfectionism is unattainable but because it puts the focus on me and what I am doing. Me attempting to accomplish the impossible hurt not only me but left me unavailable to the people around me. And so I gave up trying to be perfect. I no longer worry about looking perfect or having the perfectly clean house. I no longer need to be the best in the room and can actually enjoy other people's successes. I don't need to hold my kids to outrageous standards of perfect kids as a reflection of my own perfection.

I am a recovering perfectionist.

Until I relapse. Until I start worrying about saying the right thing. Until I start reliving the imperfect moments in my life and conversations.

And again I realize that this drive for perfectionism takes me out of the conversation. It makes it hard listen and be in the moment when all I want to do is edit it.

Again I need grace. Thankfully, God is full of grace.

Where in your life are you trying to be perfect?

Revising My Words

Words are important to me. Words have so much power. Words are beauty and meaning.

When I read a book, I care very little about the description of the location, the look of the characters, or the action taking place between the words. What I want to read is the dialogue. The words spoken as well as the inner dialogue of the characters. The thoughts that eventually, or maybe never, are spoken.

I walk away from conversations, good conversations, and start to revise what I said in my mind as I drive away. I spend so many minutes and hours as I lay in bed, rephrasing and editing what I said.

When I have been in a battle of words, I want a second chance to speak more clearly, to make my point. I want to find resolution in the words and in the spaces in between the words. I understand why I want to revise those words.

But what still surprises me is my response even when the conversation goes well, when I am out to dinner with a good friend or sitting on the couch talking over coffee. I will still often rework the conversation later in my head.

Dialogue playing out. Topics changed, less harsh thoughts, more grace filled words, more encouragement.

I want a do-over. A chance to explain what I really meant. So I spend time having the conversation again in my head. And I begin to feel a little less. A little less right. A little less of a good friend. A little less...

I start to feel insecure.

Does that person still like me after what I said? 
I am a horrible listener.
Why did I say that? 

I don't know why I feel the need to rehash a nice conversation. I don't know why I end up assuming that I hurt the other person either with my words or my lack of asking about something I "should" have remembered to ask about. I don't know why I end up walking away feeling bad about a conversation that felt really good, really authentic and really fun at the time.

I know I should not lose sleep over these conversations and I am trying not to. But I have found that through revisiting my words and the dialogue, I slowly figure out how to listen better and how to communicate more effectively.

Do you have rehash conversations in your head? What conversations do you find yourself most reliving?