The Krystal Chick

Do any of you have any things that you do that you just know are “bad?” Like smoking cigarettes, or not exercising? Or maybe you don’t call your mother often enough, or you watch too much television? Do you absolutely know that changing this behavior would benefit you in some way, but you just cannot seem to find the motivation to make the change? Do you ever ask yourself how an otherwise intelligent, thinking, reasonable individual such as yourself can, time and again, fail to make a different decision? I’m not talking about big life-issues, today. I’m talking about the Snicker bar that, even as you are buying it, you are saying to yourself, “I don’t need this,” and you buy it anyway, and eat every bite of it. Do you have any vice that just does the thinking for you? I do, and its name is Krystal Chick.

For those of you who don’t know, the Krystal Chick is a little chicken sandwich. Ok. I know they're fast food and that they have limited nutritional value when compared to, say, the chick pea or soy bean. I get that they are full of fat and cholesterol. Yet, even as I type, I am wondering if I can justify getting into my car and driving to Krystal, thereby effectively reversing all of the healthy things I have done today.

As a regular speaker on goals and motivators, this particular problem should be a non-issue for me. Eating Krystal Chicks is not consistent with any of my goals. My attraction to the Chick, and the fact that I am dedicating an entire blog to them, is absurd, even to me. I wonder how it is that this little inanimate vice can hold so much power over me that I’ll change my day’s schedule, just to get one.

I recently heard Patsy Clairmont say that, “Our will is stronger than our emotions,” which means that, though I really like Krystal Chicks, by force of will, I am made in such a way as to be able to avoid them. Is that true, I wonder? And what kind of a wrestling match between will and emotion would it demand?

Caroline Myss refers to our “spoiled child,” that throws a fit, whenever our will trumps our feelings, and I can hear mine chanting, “I want Krystal Chicks, I want Krystal Chicks.”  Caroline suggests that, just as children find comfort in boundaries, and feel empowered, ironically, by following rules, so do we. So, I try it. To that spoiled child voice in my head, I say lovingly, “These Chicks are not what is best for you. They do not serve your best health. The answer is no. You will not be getting a Krystal Chick, today.”

Hm. Interesting.  The desire to get in my car and drive to Krystal is gone. And my spoiled child seems to be placated, now distracted by her want to walk to the mailbox and enjoy the sunshine and fresh air. I can’t say what will happen next time I am driving past a Krystal, but, for now, I think I get it. I do feel a bit more in control. I do feel a bit more empowered to choose. I do feel a little stronger than I did when my child was in charge. From now on, I’ll let my inner child do what children do: dream, imagine, and think of fun things to try. Then, I’ll be the adult and decide which of her ideas serve us well.

I think I’ll go get the mail.

The Living in Joy Challenge: Tell yourself, “No.” To whatever it is that your spoiled child is suggesting: that $5 latte that doesn’t serve your purpose of saving for vacation, that 7^th extra shift at work that doesn’t serve your idea of family, that cigarette to which your spoiled child demands it’s addicted, just say, “Not this time. It doesn’t serve us.” Please share your results. I can’t wait to hear! J

Construction

I regularly travel one particular stretch of Interstate 40 to get into town. For the past many months, in an effort to complete a new ramp and overpass from I-40 to Briley Parkway, construction crews have dominated about an eighth of a mile of my commute. Sometimes, lanes are blocked. Most of the time, orange cones and signs warn that the speed limit has been reduced, and traffic slows but continues to move through the bottleneck.

I never paid much attention to what the workers were doing, though once in awhile, I’d sigh and think how I wish the crews would finish. Yesterday, however, I was struck with awe. Overnight, it seemed, after what felt like nearly a year of digging and working, the ramp and overpass were practically finished! Really! I had seen nothing I would call progress, (unless you count the dustbowl they had successfully created), though men, women and heavy machinery were always present. Then, wham-o! An exit from the highway, a wide, concrete road virtually placed in the sky, and a new access to the west and north parts of Nashville were created. And of course, it couldn’t have happened had crews not been working on all of the foundational pieces for seasons before now.

I thought, at that moment, what a lovely metaphor for life that highway is. As a goal and vision oriented individual, I often feel like the things I’m doing, the tasks that demand my time, aren’t contributing to any real progress. During those times, I’m sometimes frustrated, often exhausted. Other times, my life seems to propel me toward my goals so quickly that I feel excited and amazed.

I wonder if we can ever get to the point where we have such a clear vision of where we want to be that we are as happy with the “ground work,” as we are with the obvious leaps we make forward. Wouldn’t that be exactly what it means to “enjoy the journey” as much as the destination? Can we learn to give ourselves credit for the days we spend on tasks that lay the foundation for our dreams? Like, when I’m changing my diet so that I’m eating healthier foods, but I don’t lose any weight, can I let go of the disappointment and discouragement and realize that I’ve made good, healthy choices, choices that one day will result in my looking and feeling great, choices that guarantee my optimal health and well-being? (I am reminded of all of the “overnight success” stories that, when really analyzed, are the result of years of learning, practice and preparation.)

It would seem that the parts of our lives that are not the most visible to passers-by are the very things that position us to succeed. And perhaps, the next time I’m in the middle of creating my own little dust bowl, seemingly making little progress, I’ll be able to have faith in the fact that I’m diligently building the foundation for my own road, creating access to the western or northern parts of my life’s dreams.

The Living in Joy Challenge: For at least this week, each time you think, “Ugh… I don’t want to do this,” ask yourself, “What foundation does this activity build for a greater vision I have for my life?” Does it help ensure health and safety (like scrubbing and cleaning do)? Does it provide you an opportunity to practice courage or humility (like some jobs do)? Does it give you the chance to review your financial position and make decisions about how you want that to look (like paying bills can)? Take heart. Have faith. Know that the tasks you face are one piece of the larger picture and that, soon, the results will pop-up in front of you. Seemingly overnight. Wham-O! I’ll look forward to hearing how you do. J

About Television

I’m not much of a television watcher. It’s not that I never have been. I have. In fact, I used to come home from work, flip on the TV, and erase every thought I had swimming around my head. My favorite thing to do was grab a bag of curly chips and a tub of sour cream dip, and sit in my own corner of my very comfortable sofa. I thought it relaxed me. I thought it was my way to transition from my work day to my home night. I could escape into the world of television (crime dramas are my favorite), and dip and crunch and dip and crunch, until it was time for bed.

Then, one morning on my way to work, I caught myself thinking random thoughts. They were all scary. All of them were about death, or murder, or how unsafe the neighborhoods are. Strangely, though I thought I was listening to my radio morning show DJ’s laughing and telling stories, I was somehow rerunning all of the episodes of every crime drama I had ever seen on some background track in my head. And I didn’t like how it made me feel. I didn’t like how it snuck into my attitudes and my general disposition… the distrust, the uneasiness of seeing strangers walking toward me, the skepticism I was developing about parks and playgrounds… 

I have to admit, I was very surprised to recognize that morning how much of my attitude had been transformed by what I was seeing on television. I know very well that television is make-believe. I understand that the stories are not true. I even recognize that the “based on a true story” shows are still “Hollywoodified,” (a word I invented, of course, to mean more made-up than true). Still, some part of my subconscious mind was on full buy-in. I decided right then and there, I don’t want to be programmed by my television programs.

It makes me wonder, though. How many things bombard our conscious and subconscious thinking on a daily basis? How many, and exactly what, thoughts are we having, running on some inaudible background track that make us feel weary, or nervous, or inadequate, or discouraged? How many of them are coming from sources we can “turn off” as easily as we can turn off a television set, if only we could recognize their source? Is a coworker always complaining about her job, making mine less attractive, too? Can I “turn off” the sadness of illness in a patient’s room, if I focus on the family love that has an opportunity, in that situation, to show itself? When could I be reprogramming myself to feel joy, instead of jealousy, stress, or resentment?  

 I still watch my favorite crime dramas, sometimes. About once a month or so, I like to catch up with the characters I had gotten to know. Strangely, but as a testament to how much of my mind they really did occupy, I kind of miss them. The difference is that now, I recognize my shows for what they are: sneaky little programs that want to occupy my brain and order my thoughts for me. Oh, and they make me eat chips with dip… way too many chips with dip.

The Living in Joy Challenge: The next time you would normally sit down in front of the television to “unwind,” turn it off. Spend the hour in your TV spot, talking to your husband, one of your children, or one of your friends about their life’s dreams and aspirations. Start with “What would you do, if you could do anything at all?” Now that’s worth programming into your subconscious mind. As always, I’ll be looking for your comments. J

About Loving

Has anyone reading this ever tried to read Scripture? Often, when I’m struggling with a life-question, I’ll sit down with the Bible and look for the answer. I’m no theologian, so don’t worry. This isn’t going to be a sermon, but something interesting hit me while I was reading, and I want to share it with you.

Ezekiel is one of those books that I find to be nearly impossible to fully appreciate or understand. This book, in case you haven’t had the chance to read it, spends a great deal of time giving exact instructions of how to build the temple to suit God’s will. Lots of cubits and other measurements I can’t picture, and explicit details that read like a laundry list. It’s boring to me, and demanding, and it sounds to me, at first, like God is so picky that He can never be pleased. I wasn’t very impressed, I have to tell you, though I mean no disrespect to the Author when I say that.

Impressed or not, I was determined to look for the answer to the question that had been bothering me, which was, at the time, all about love. How do I best show people I love them? And how will I know when they love me? Especially when I’m too busy, and too tired, and answering too many other demands to really pay attention. I mostly didn’t like the temple idea, because it seemed like the answer I was getting was that I had to build people temples (not literally, of course, but something very extravagant and arduous had to be done) and they had to build them for me, in order to express true devotion. How exhausting for all of us!

Then it came to me… What if God was only being specific, so that people who wanted to show their love didn’t have to work so hard to guess?

We make people guess, don’t we? And we make ourselves guess what would please our loved ones. It seems lazy to ask someone what they want. We should know, after all, if we truly love them.  And how many times have we had our feelings hurt because someone who “supposedly loves us” did something for us that didn’t please us at all?

She says, “I can’t believe he got me roses. Roses! How typical. How trite. If he loved me, he would totally know I prefer daisies. He could he not know that?” And he says, “I cleaned the gutters and sealed the cedar siding, today. What do you mean I don’t do anything for our family? I do everything I do for our family. How can she not see that?” As if loving someone somehow magically makes us all mind-readers.

For all the books and courses we have on communication, maybe it just boils down to specifically telling people what we need, right now, to feel special, loved, and wanted.  Maybe one of the best ways to show someone how much we love them is to insulate them from ever feeling the uneasiness they feel when they are forced to guess what will make us happy.

Think about it… No guessing means no getting the wrong answer. No wrong answers? Ah… Now, that allows me to feel joy. (Oh, and, just in case you’re wondering, I like lilies.)

The Living in Joy Challenge: Start this every day this week by asking your loved ones, “What one thing can I do, today, to show you I love you?” (You may be surprised at the things you don’t have to do that you THOUGHT were important to them.) Be sure to share your experience. I’d love to hear about it. J

Airports

How many of you love to travel? I don’t mean: how many of you like to be on the beach or sight-see in Boston. I mean: how many of you love the process of traveling? The busy airports, the crowded planes, the living out of a suitcase? I must say, I love it.

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of catching a connecting flight in Houston’s airport. I say “pleasure,” because while I was walking through the wide corridor, on my way to the gate I realized that it really was great fun for me to be in that airport. Maybe it was because airports are a great place to watch people. There were mothers pushing strollers while daughters and sons hung onto their hems or shirtsleeves. There were business men sporting ties and jackets and pulling carry-ons, incessantly talking on Blackberries or balancing laptops on their knees while they waited for planes. One young man wearing faded fatigues and boots was checking and rechecking his boarding pass… I couldn’t help but wonder. What were their stories?

 Part of the fun may have been the noises. There exists a general din in an airport: children eagerly pleading for ice cream, the sound of suitcase wheels on tile, overhead announcements that may or may not apply to me… There are noises coming from the restaurants: the rattle of plates and pans, bursts of laughter, the blended voices of people telling their stories. Amidst that din may even be an occasional comment from a passerby, directed at me, like “Excuse me,” or “Do you need anything else, ma’am?”

 If the joy I felt was not because of my general love of people-watching or my fascination with the way the lives and conversations of strangers flow in and out of each other, close in proximity but not quite engaged, then it was because of the possibilities that exist in an airport: the wide-eyed joy of a child seeing a new city, a lucrative business deal completed, the reunion of a soldier and his family… These are the times, when I am imagining all of the most delightful outcomes, that I am giddy.

I wonder how many times during our days we allow ourselves to be so much in the moment that we are focused, not on the final destination, but on what we are seeing and feeling during the process. How often do we allow the tasks we must perform (the connecting flights, the navigating of traffic, the taking off of a band-aid) to be our point of joy? What if all it takes to make these tasks a high-point is becoming aware of ourselves in that moment and intentionally imagining the most delightful outcome? Would a mundane trip to the grocery then become a journey through colors of fruits and smells of fresh bakery breads? Would we be elevated to joy just by our imagining what it will be like to take these ingredients home and make a lovely, fresh meal for ourselves, our families, or a new friend?

 Yes, it’s definitely the possibilities that make me giddy. And maybe I don’t have to be half-way across the country in an airport to feel that.

Living In Joy Challenge: What is a task that you do, maybe even dread a little, daily? This week, take one task a day (putting on your make-up, fighting traffic, making copies at work, for example…) and truly experience it. Imagine the possibilities to come from the journey (Who will notice you today? Where are the people in the car next to you going, and might you meet them? How will your copies impact the people who receive them?) Let me know how you do. I’ll be looking forward to your comments. J

Communication

I recently had the pleasure of seeing Sandi Patty perform. This talented singer has performed for years, and had several hit/award winning songs on the charts. On the day I saw her sing, we were at Conseco hall in Indianapolis, Indiana. This venue allowed for a concert, “in the round,” where performers played on center stage, and often turned or changed position, so they could face every part of the audience at some point in the performance. Meanwhile, cameras projected their faces on at least four large screens hanging at the top of the arena. Everything was very loud, very exciting, and very entertaining, but I noticed that none of us could feel terribly close to the performers, due to the vast size of the room.

Another thing I had noticed as I sat in my seat enjoying the concert was that there was a young woman translating into sign language everything that was being said or sung on stage to a large section of seats, where, presumably, all the deaf attendees were sitting. The translator remained well-lit and stood on the main floor, just in front of this section. When Sandi sang her first two songs, I was charmed by the translator’s ability to convey the lyrics, sometimes in small movements, sometimes in large, sweeping gestures.

About the time I noticed the signer, Sandi had finished her second song and placed the microphone back in its stand, though the music was still playing loudly. As the crowd applauded and screamed praises, she turned to face the signer and that section of the hall. She moved her own hands. “I’m going to sign,” she mouthed without a sound as the music and the crowd roared around her. Though the signer could not have heard a word over the performance din, she gracefully left her place in front of the crowd and took a seat. At the same time, the part of the crowd who had been watching the signer stood in unison and applauded, as if on cue, and Sandi began to sign, and sing, her most famous and inspiring lyric. 

I was awestruck, but not because Sandi could sign. I was struck by the fact that, had Sandi spoken those instructions into the microphone for all of us to stand, we would not have heard her over the noise in the hall. Always, when people speak from stage, the music volume comes down and crowds are hushed. But in this case, Sandi was able to communicate perfectly, right through the cacophony, and directly to the select group of individuals, in a crowd of over 14,000, whom she meant to address. If we thought that group of deaf people could not hear Sandi that night, we were mistaken. They “heard” her as clearly as any of us who were not called “deaf.”

I want that. I want to be able to hear over the noise: the noise of my own thoughts, the noise of my past failures, the noise of what I think I cannot do. I want the image of that entire section of people responding together to remind me that our differences don’t have to limit us. I want to remember that communication can happen, even when I think it’s impossible.

The Living in Joy Challenge: Is there someone with whom you have not been communicating very well? Your teenager? Your husband? Your coworkers? Try a different language. If you usually try to communicate with long discussions, for example, try, instead, to use actions to demonstrate the behavior you want to see. If you are usually quiet and serious, try to be fun and spontaneous. Get creative. I am excited to hear how you changed your communication styles. Be sure to let me know how it goes! J

One Bite

I have said, “yes,” too many times… I am overwhelmed. Perhaps you can relate.

I am on committees, taking courses, and working as a nurse full-time. I have editing deadlines, speaking engagements, and social obligations. I’m managing a household, maintaining a vehicle, and watching my waistline. And my prayer life has pared itself down to, “Dear Jesus, HELP!” Each of these things require my full attention and my creativity, but it’s very difficult to be creative when I’m looking for my keys half the time and trying to find my cell phone the other half. I don’t know how you operate when you are overwhelmed, but I find myself becoming what my father would have called, “Squirrely.” I’m easily distracted, forgetful, and scattered. I think about all of the things I have to do, but I can’t seem to get started on any of them. Or, I get started, then get distracted and start something else, and nothing gets finished. Sometimes I concentrate on tasks, like scrubbing the toilet or going to the grocery, just to get something off of my list. All the while, I feel exhausted and long for nap time. 

In an effort to become “inspired,” to at least work on any one of my self-imposed obligations, I re-read some of my goals for this year.  All of my goals feel like demands, now.  They feel like one more place for me to fail, which doesn’t feel good at all! I have to say, I’m not very connected to my joy at this moment.

I know some of you are in this same position, or worse, with children and husbands and ill parents, in addition to a To-Do list at least as full as mine, also demanding your full attention. And what, pray-tell, will get us back to our joy in these moments of disarray? I understand the principle of eating an elephant one bite at a time… starting a journey with a single step… one dripping faucet makes over a gallon of water per day (which reminds me, I really need to get that fixed…), but I just don’t trust that it will work. And then, I hear my mother’s voice. “One bite…”

When I was little, and going through that period that every child must endure, that of eating the dreaded green vegetable, my mother would coach me. “One bite,” she would say. “Then take a sip of milk.” Eventually, my plate was clean, and my childhood obligations were met for the day.

It’s time to scale my goals down to bite-sized pieces. The key, however, to the whole thing may be to add milk. Something to help wash everything down. Finish two slides for the rallies. Then make a cup of chai. Edit four pages of the book. Then take a walk in the sun. Search for 5 references for my research project, and stretch. Find the advancement website and print the application, then meditate. Some progress. That’s what I need. Just some. I have to take smaller bites. I have to give myself credit for the progress, the journey. Ah… that feels better already. Two slides… I can do that.

When you are overwhelmed, take smaller bites. Still too much? Make them smaller, yet. And, find your sip of milk. Take heart. Have faith in the process. It works. You know? I actually love broccoli, now.

Living in Joy Challenge:  Where do you feel overwhelmed right now? What goal, written or just nagging in the back of your mind, do you have that you are feeling pressing on you? Shrink it. Cut it into bite-sized pieces. You don’t need the whole plan, yet. Just one little effort. One thing for one day. And a sip of milk. Let me know how it goes. J