(IN)Courage

[Judy Harder]

When You Don't Want to Say Thanks
Nov 08, 2013 12:20 am | Tsh Oxenreider



Giving thanks. Sometimes it's hard to do when the holiday set aside for thanks-giving involves in-laws, slushy weather, disastrous kitchens, and crazy kids, not to mention those deeper extended family issues that materialize only on these blessed events.

But nonetheless, we are to do so. To give thanks, that is. And if you're like me, continual thanksgiving conjures an image of this mama who smiles with a knowing head shake at the eternal stickiness on the doorknobs. A risen-early woman walking amongst the fallen leaves in grateful worship to her Creator. Perfectly fine with the dirty dishes.

These can be true. But they're not usually true for me, if I'm honest. When I'm in the liturgical rhythm of laundry, laundry, laundry, my natural instinct is not to lift my arms in praise. I wish it was.

You know the only way I'm able to change my attitude from grumbling to grateful when I just don't feel like it?

I just choose to say thanks. I don't wait for my emotions to change.

I change Finn's dirty diaper, I scrunch my nose, and I murmur without a smile on my face, "Thank you God for this little body You've entrusted me with."

I open my inbox to untold unread emails and say, "Lord, thanks for this technology and these people in my life and this laptop." I'm still bummed about all the email I need to process.

I open the minivan door and witness the horror that is the cacophony of clutter, and I say, "God, thanks for these little people that are home with me."

And slowly, slowly, something miraculous happens. My heart changes. It really, really does. It's usually not unicorns and sparkles outwardly, but it is prettier on the inside.

I'm still not in love with the poop or the what-is-that-on-the-floorboard?, but I'm a little more in love with the Giver of Life. I'm more aware of the unbelievable gifts soaked in my life. I'm humbled.

And so it is the same on Thanksgiving Day. There's people and noises and casseroles and chaos, and often a sweet potatoed floor. And those perpetrators are reasons for thanks—they're gifts from God.

This season, don't wait for your feelings to flourish. Say thanks anyway, and see what happens.

In what parts of your life do you have to consciously choose to say thanks?

by Tsh Oxenreider, Simple Mom

[Judy Harder]

The Sweetest Revenge
Nov 09, 2013 12:20 am | Michelle Lazurek



During my years as a pastor's wife, I've received my share of persecution from church members. One particular time came when a friend of mine spread some gossip about me. Although the rumors weren't true, it damaged my reputation as a trusted leader within the church.

When I found out about it, I was devastated.

How could a friend do that to me?

How could she be so cruel and heartless?

As one of my first hurtful experiences within the church, I didn't know what to do with my feelings.

I wanted to retaliate.
I wanted to yell and scream.
I wanted to make her feel as bad as she made me feel.
Above all, I wanted revenge.

In my grief, I cried out to God.  How can I handle this pain in a godly way?

One day, he showed me.

On a women's retreat, I spent the morning getting ready. As I dressed and began my morning routine, I heard God whisper softly into my heart: Wash their feet.

I wasn't sure what I had heard. Had I been right? Wash their feet.

I searched the kitchen of the retreat facility, scouring it for a basin and a towel. All I could find was a stainless steel bowl and a hand towel. It would have to be good enough.

Still confused about the unexpected calling, I kept it to myself.

The speaker at the retreat began her second session of the day and preached on Matthew 5:43-45:

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'
But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
that you may be children of your Father in heaven."

Then I knew. I had been right all along.

Through my tears, I announced I would sit up in the small loft area above the main meeting area and that God was calling me to wash their feet. I assuaged their fears about being vulnerable, and let them know it was more uncomfortable for me then it would be for them.

I took my place up in the small loft and sat in silence, hoping at least one person would appear. I situated the basin near a bench that each woman could sit on. One by one, each woman sat down. I knelt beside them, gently dousing their feet with lukewarm water. I took the towel and dabbed every inch of their foot until they were completely dry. My nerves slowly melted away; I was actually enjoying it.

Then she appeared.

She sat down on the bench, took my hand and said, "I should be the one washing your feet." I let go of her hand and I placed her foot in the water. She, in a place of authority wiping her tears away as she stared down at me, I hunched over the basin looking up at her, washing the feet of my Judas. My one chance to retaliate, my ultimate revenge, all washed away in the stainless steel basin that day. Instead of hands clenched in revenge, I opened my heart to let the crimson- stained love of my savior in. I didn't need my feet washed—my heart was already clean.

It was the sweetest revenge of all. Instead of temporarily bandaging the wound of my heart by getting revenge, I let my savior heal it instead through service.

We all have had a Judas in our lives, someone whom you trusted with the key to your heart that takes the key and throws it away. Your tendency is to want to seek revenge against them. But God offers us a different way:

When someone damages your reputation, serve him.
When someone spreads lies about you, pray for her.
When someone hates you, love her.

Because demonstrating the unconditional love of Jesus is the sweetest revenge of all.



A Sunday Scripture
Nov 10, 2013 12:20 am | incourage



And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts.
For as members of one body you are called to live in peace.
And always be thankful.
Colossians 3:15

[Judy Harder]

Courage To Be Broken: My Real Thanksgiving List
Nov 12, 2013 12:20 am | Bonnie Gray



"Comes a time, on the journey, you wonder how you will survive,
There comes a time, when you're thirsty and so alone...
There is a pool in the desert, where water flows from fountains unseen,
Saving water, healing water flowing over me."  The Choir, Flowing Over Me

You don't have to die, in order to feel like you're not really living.

You can even be loved by the man of your dreams whose arms as husband gently encircle your waist every night in bed — you can love the world's most beautiful two boys, the ones you'll always remember resting warm and soft in the cradle of your neck as newborns — and yet feel something missing inside.

It's hard to talk to other people about what you find difficult to face yourself.

They might think you're being ungrateful.

They might think you're not counting your blessings.

They might think your faith is broken.

But, it's not that way at all.

There is something deeper going on inside.

The Place Inside
I know what this is like.

To make it on my own. To be okay.

It's a numbness.  In places no one can see.

It's me from my childhood. Still alone.  Holding everything together.

It doesn't show up at work, when I used to stand up making presentations in conference rooms.

It doesn't show up when I'm hanging out with my friends, or even at church, where all is as it should be.

And if you saw me at the grocery store, or driving my kids to soccer, running errands, you would think all is fine.

This place inside me where I pull myself together is where I go whenever I'm feeling down, confused or stressed.

In the privacy of my soul — where my memories lay — lies the wounded me.

Greater Faith
You know, the month of November is the time of the year when we talk about being thankful.

But for someone like me, who is going through the journey of healing — having to remember all the people, places and stories that have wounded me — what I'm thankful for may not be what everyone else has on their list.

Before my journey through debilitating anxiety, I was able to ignore the undercurrent feeling of shame I've hidden growing up in a dysfunctional home.

I wanted to be strong and courageous — by being competent.

I didn't understand God could make me strong and courageous — by being broken.

I was still young in my journey of faith.

It wasn't time for me back then, as a little girl, to understand it takes greater faith to be broken than being competent.

Even Though
It's what Jesus chose in the Garden of Gethsamane, the night everyone was remembering Passover and giving thanks for God's protection from passing death.

It was the night Jesus chose not to pass death.

It was the night Jesus felt like dying –

even though He had just celebrated the Passover meal with His closest friends,

even though Jesus had given thanks, for the bread,

and even though Jesus had given thanks, for the cup.

Jesus confided –

"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. 
Stay here... With me.
I'm very sad.  It feel as if I'm dying..."
Matthew 26:37-38 (NIV, CEB)

Jesus didn't want pain, but He wanted us more.

So, Jesus chose to be broken.

This Thanksgiving, my heart is opening up.

My soul is awakening with each painful memory coming alive.

I'm stepping out — even in my numbness — to give thanks.

Not because I'm strong.

Not because everything is picture perfect.

I have something this year I've never had before.

I have a heart that is becoming real.

My Real Thanksgiving List
This year, I'm opening my heart to My Real Thanksgiving List.

I'm thankful –

I can be in need, so I can go on a new journey to find comfort.

I can feel sadness, so I don't have to live separated from my heart.  I can cry and feel afraid because it means I'm real.

I don't have to want suffering, but I can choose to embrace it.   Because God doesn't see it as shameful.  He is going to stay with me.  As long as it takes.

I can fall apart.  Because Jesus is holding me tenderly and His tears are dropping onto the hands that have gone limp from praying too long and too hard in silence.

I'm thankful I can hear Him whispering –

I haven't forgotten you. 

I'm not going to leave you.

over and again, even as I choke out in sobs to Him in return, "I don't want this.  I don't want this."

I'm thankful I can finally stop to look at my wounds and investigate how they got there.

I'm learning to say no in ways I've never dared — to say yes to me and yes to God.

I'm thankful I can smell the rain and remember the dreams I've given up — so I can ask God if I can taste them again.

I can ask God, "Is it too late?" and still doubt, because God is faithful even when I'm not.

I'm thankful for beautiful things I'm finding among the devastation of letting go.

I'm thankful I can be broken and real.  Because Jesus still chooses me.

Something Beautiful
I am finding new friends who understand that both sadness and joy can co-exist.  Who aren't trying to fix me.

Friends who trust that love is greater than any resolution.

Friends who understand the journey of faith takes us off script.

Who share their own stories of struggle and dreams.

Who can touch the deep places.

Friends who remember the earth was once formless.

Empty. 

Yet, God was still moving in it, making something new and deep.

Something beautiful and real.

It was so real, that when God looked at what He was holding — after placing His lips and breathing into the dirt — He saw something come alive.

Something He never, ever made before.

It's what God sees looking into your heart and mine today.

He is making something beautiful out of you.

Remember
As we walk into the heart of the Thanksgiving season, and all those picture perfect images and stories start flashing onto our screens, remember The Real Thanksgiving List taking shape in God's heart — inside of yours.

This list is coming alive in the real stories He's walking out with you in the current chapters you are living.  Today.

We can be thankful.

Jesus is going to keep loving us — the same way He calls the stars out on the darkest nights every day.

He whispers your name.  And mine.

Tenderly.

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.
He counts the number of the stars;
He gives names to all of them."
~ Psalm  147:3-5

~~~~~

What is God whispering on your heart today?

What is on your Real Thanksgiving List this year?

Pull up a chair.  Express the journey inside you with us here. It matters.  Click to comment.

~~~~~

Written by Bonnie Gray, the Faith Barista, serving up shots of faith in everyday life.

Looking for some company on the faith journey? Join me as I make my way on my blog Faith Barista.

 

[Judy Harder]

Don't Let It Pass You By
Nov 13, 2013 12:20 am | Annie Downs



A few years ago, Bronwen, myself, and Marisa decided to go to New York City for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. It was the first time in my life I hadn't spent Thanksgiving morning watching the parade in my parents' home with my sisters, but there it was, live right in front of me.

Forget the fact I had food poisoning and let's just focus on the fact we were in New York City on Thanksgiving Day.

It. Was. Awesome.

We got to our spot on 70th Avenue and Central Park West around 5 am, and within a few short hours, the parade began to pass us.

Floats.

Balloons.

Celebrities.

Marching bands.

All the things you see on television, we saw too, except the Broadway performances.

Santa Claus and the reindeer made their way through our intersection around 10 am and it was done.

The massive and tightly packed crowd started to disperse as soon as the policemen let us onto Central Park West. The girls and I couldn't quit talking about the parade. The floats up-close are incredibly detailed and artistic. Some of our favorite television stars and musicians were right in front of our eyes. The balloons are bigger than you can even imagine.

We giggled and recapped as we walked all through Central Park, back to where we stayed, grabbed our luggage, and headed back south for the winter.

I will absolutely never forget it. It's one of the coolest things I've ever gotten to do.

It wasn't a typical holiday. But being a single adult doesn't always lend for typical holidays. The three of us saw a really fun opportunity and we decided to go for it.

When moments like that happen, when chances like that arise, don't let them pass you by.

If I'm getting real honest, there are memories like this, attending the Thanksgiving Day Parade, that I thought I'd share with my own little family, and maybe someday I will. But in the back of my mind, in some filing cabinet that is dusty because I rarely open it, is a file of experiences and memories that I have always thought I'd save for when I got married.

I don't want to buy a house until I'm married.

I don't want to travel to Europe until I'm married.

I don't want to start my own business until I'm married.

I don't want to get involved in that ministry until I'm married.

I don't want to visit Napa, California, until I'm married.

It's one thing to enjoy watching a parade pass you by; it's quite another to watch life pass you by for the sake of "someday I'll share this with my husband."

Don't wait.

Open your eyes to the opportunities that God has placed in front of you and say yes to them. Go on that mission trip. Visit that new city. Attend that dance class. See the parade in person.

Live your life.

I guess the holidays sometimes, to me, feel like a season where I bemoan all the memories I'm not making instead of looking around for the ones waiting to be made.

Don't let those pass you by.

And seriously. Go see the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in person. And if you can get us seats in the bandstands, I'll meet you there!

by Annie Downs

[Judy Harder]

Jesus in the Metadata
Nov 14, 2013 12:20 am | Dawn Camp



I had a dream recently, the night after I participated in a Help-Portrait event at the Allume conference in Greenville, South Carolina. I saw a sheet with a list of names, highlighted in blue, of those who worked at this event to primp, pamper, and eventually photograph fourteen 5th-8th grade girls who participate in a local mentoring program for at-risk students in need of extra support.

Have you ever dreamed the same thing over and over, all night long? This was one of those nights, one of those dreams for me: that piece of paper with the list of names.

I awoke knowing the dream was about the One whose name wasn't on the list but came anyway—as present in meaning but visibly missing as that "understood you" we learned about in English grammar class—Jesus Christ.

As sure as the camera I held in my hand, Jesus and I worked together that day.

He didn't walk up from the hotel lobby or in off the street like the people who saw my camera and backdrop and laughingly told me they'd come for their head shots. But he was there.

When those young girls smiled their shy smiles and their sassy smiles; told me their names; and allowed me to create testimony to a day when greeters, stylists from a salon school, photographers, and a support team dedicated themselves to showing them just how valuable, special, and beautiful they are, Jesus allowed me to be His hands and His feet in this world, a merging of the virtual and the visible.

His eye and mine at the viewfinder, our fingers clicking the shutter. I pray these girls felt His love emanate from me.

Help-Portrait isn't about taking portraits; it's about giving them.


About Help-Portrait
In January I told you that the last four years I've worked with Help-Portrait, a global movement of volunteers including greeters, photographers, make-up artists, and hairstylists, who join together on a Saturday in December to give back to their communities by photographing—and delivering those photographs—to those in need.

When the first commenter said, "I'm interested to join this . . . but you may have posted this too late?" I committed to sharing this in time for this year's event on December 7.


Click here to find out how you can get involved. If you're bold enough to start a new Help-Portrait event in your area, you'll find helpful planning tips here.

You don't have to be a photographer to volunteer. My husband served as a greeter last year and entertained kids while their mothers got their hair fixed and make-up applied. A lady read about Help-Portrait on my blog three days before last year's event, signed up online, and we worked together most of the day.

If you're looking for a way to give back this Christmas season, volunteering with Help-Portrait is a great choice. Join me?

by Dawn Camp, My Home Sweet Home

[Judy Harder]

Let's Have a Talk about Emotional Modesty
Nov 15, 2013 12:20 am | Holley Gerth



Hey, Friend, pull up a chair and lean in close because I want to have a heart-to-heart talk with you about something that's important for all of us as women.

A few weeks ago a friend of mine were chatting. Her husband is in a leadership role at a church and she shared how women often confide in him in ways that are personal. That led us to a discussion about how easy it is to share your heart with men who are not your husband these days. There are plenty of opportunities to send a Facebook message, email, or open up to a guy friend. Yet here's the thing: I believe that baring our hearts makes us just as vulnerable as baring our bodies.

If a man is not your husband, do not share your heart with him.

And if you are single, do not share your heart with a married man.

Let's embrace emotional modesty. Emotional modesty means we see our hearts as a great treasures only to be shared with the man who is our spouse. "Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it" {Proverbs 4:23}. Women are more vulnerable to emotional affairs and where our emotions go, our thoughts and bodies often follow. We know that, right?

We don't go into situations thinking, "Oh, this might be the beginning of an emotional affair." Instead we have a bad day and find a sympathetic listening male ear. Or we discover we're writing longer emails to a particular coworker. We reconnect with an old flame on Facebook.

If you find yourself emotionally drawn to someone besides your spouse ask, "What unmet need is this highlighting in my marriage?" Then go to your spouse or both of you go to a counselor and find a way to get that need met.

My husband is incredibly practical and I'm highly emotional. For the first years of our marriage there were times I felt disconnected from him because he approached life head first and I approached it heart first. With some wise advice, lots of patience, and weekly breakfast dates we began learning to communicate. And we're still learning.

Here's what I didn't know when I tied the knot: Marriage takes work, friends. A lot of work. There's a myth that says, "If you love someone you won't have to work at it." But I've come to believe the truth sounds more like this, "If you love someone you will work at it." When you emotionally attach to someone else, it lets you avoid that work. And in the moment, that feels pretty good. But it has devastating consequences long-term.

Whew, this was a hard post to write. I hope you hear my motivation behind it and it's this: I love you. I love your marriage. I love your heart and I believe it's a treasure worth guarding. And I love your daughters–so please talk to them about this, too.

Let's help each other with this, friends, okay? We're made to live in community. We're made for connection. God just gives us boundaries for doing so because he wants what's truly best for us.

Emotional modesty is hot.

And, girl, you're looking blazing beautiful today.

XOXO,
Holley Gerth

[Judy Harder]

One Way to Listen for Your Life
Nov 16, 2013 12:20 am | Emily Freeman


I get teary this time of year. Not sad, exactly. More like thoughtful.

Fall turning over into winter brings out the beautiful melancholy, that may be part of it.


I think it also  has to do with the season of thanks and giving, the anticipation of advent, the deep knowing that Christ is our hope and it's not because I did anything to deserve it.

Over the past several years I've been intentional to consider those times when I get teary. Not to over-analyze or find meaning where there isn't any. Rather as a way of listening to what touches my soul.

Tears are the simplest way to listen for your life.

Recently I spent some time in the mountains of North Carolina serving as a retreat speaker at The Cove. Our worship leader for the week was Bryan Morykon, a singer, songwriter and self-proclaimed recovering perfectionist. Our first night together as a group, Bryan sang his new-to-me song, and as I listened, I was reminded of an old, sacred truth:

"Be kind to one another. Jesus will show you how.

You've got to keep those words of life in your heart

so they spill right out of your mouth."

-Bryan Morykon, Be Kind

He sang the gospel that night.

Instantly, all of my relationships seemed so much less complicated. As the simple tune weaved its way into my heart, I remembered again what it means to love, to forgive, and to depend on Jesus. And my thankfulness showed up as tears.

Simple words with a simple melody carrying a profound truth.

It's becoming more important to me to consider those moments when I tear up with respect rather than dismiss them or worse, apologize for them.

I wonder what it might look like for you to consider when the tears debuted from the depths within you? Was it a song lyric? A kind gesture from a friend? A question from a child? A line in a movie?

When was the last time you felt the stinging gift in your own eyes, this most natural reminder that you are alive, here, human?

Maybe it's been a while for you. There's nothing wrong with that. But the next time the tears rise up to meet you, don't brush them aside.

Greet them, receive them, and listen for the life they bring.

The song I quoted here is from Bryan's album, The Smallest Seed, which is available to download for free right now!

[Judy Harder]

For the days you get nothing done
Nov 18, 2013 12:20 am | Lisa-Jo Baker


I didn't get around to the laundry this weekend.



The boys' hamper is overflowing. Literally. There is an assortment of super heroes all gazing up at me forlornly from the bedroom floor. There is an epic battle between the Legos raging on the run down dresser I've been meaning to paint for months now– headless horsemen by the hundred.


I didn't get around to cleaning the kitchen or re-organizing the kid's play area. There are boxes I meant to sort through and toys I meant to pitch and they're all still lining the hallway higgledy piggeldy.

There are leaves that didn't get raked and the three lawn chairs we've been meaning to move into the garage for weeks. They're still braving the cold outside. Along with the patio umbrella.


I didn't find that missing library book – the one I can't even remember checking out.

I didn't make a list of Christmas gifts or address the Christmas cards I ordered a couple weeks ago. I didn't buy that twin bed sheet that is long overdue for a boy whose bed needs as much help in the freshness department as possible.

I meant to pick up the wild collection of plastic weapons that decorate our front lawn because we're the house in the neighborhood that hosts the armies of kids who use the back yard as their battlefield. But they're all still out there. A weird polka dots of plastic blues, oranges, yellows and reds.

And there are socks by the dozen that still aren't matched.

I had to call Peter tonight to warn him what he was coming home to, because that level of chaos can quite take the breath away.

So I told him what we did do.

I told him that we danced tonight.


Three bare-chested children to the wail of South African anthems beat their chests and their drums and their feet to the music as their mom watched to the beat of her own busting heart.

There was cutting of paper that left a rainbow trail across the dining room and into the kitchen. There were purple glue sticks and improvised drum sticks. There were shoes and shirts tried on and discarded and repurposed and then left again in all the places they shouldn't have been.

It was loud. And we feasted on cheese and crackers and each other.

Some days, most days, the list of chores is long and it needs to get done because we need to be ready and organized for the week. So we go, go, go and we do, do, do and there isn't always room for dancing.

But some days? Some days I wipe everything off the list and put my feet up on the sofa and crank up the music. Because some days I remember I'm more than the house cleaner in this joint. Some days I remember that I'm a joy bringer.

I'm a dance partner.

I'm a drum aficionado.

I'm a candy lover.

I'm an artist-in-residence.

I'm a renaissance mom if I want to be to the three tiny humans I'm raising.

And by gosh, some nights that means there won't be clean dishes.

...but there will be dancing.

[Judy Harder]

Why Do We Really Dread the Drop-in?
Nov 19, 2013 12:20 am | The Nester



A month or so ago I wrote a post called The Almost Extinction of the Drop-In. If you didn't read it, you might want to read it first to catch up. I was surprised at the response to the post. The comments fell into a few groups:

1. people who LOVE drop-ins

2. people who don't mind them but want a warning

3. people who don't like drop-ins

My main and most surprising observation was that the people who didn't care for a drop-in didn't feel free to say, "Thank you so much for dropping by, but it's a bad time," or to simply not answer the door. Just because someone drops by does NOT mean you are required to invite them in. I think that's where the drop-in breaks down and gets a bad reputation–when we aren't willing to tell or accept the truth.

Some well-intentioned people are abusing the drop-in on both sides. They are showing up too often and staying too long. They are inviting people in when they should be telling the truth: that it's simply not a good time.

Here are my non-scientific tips so that the drop-in-ees and drop-in-ers can all get along. Maybe one day the drop-in can return to its former glory, a not-to-be-dreaded-gift.


For Drop-in-ers
1. Don't drop-in with the assumption that you will be invited inside.

If you are a drop-in-er, above all, you must be able to accept an "it's a bad time."  If someone tells you it's not a good time, believe them and don't take it personally. Think back to your response the last time someone told you no. Did you handle it with grace or did you second guess and get your feelings hurt? If you cannot deal with drop-in rejection, that's probably a sign that you shouldn't be dropping in on people.

2. If your friend says,  "Yes, come in!" aim for a 15-minute visit. Wouldn't it be great to leave them wanting more of you?

3. Drop in joyfully.

Think back to your last drop in. Would the person you dropped in on call your visit a joy or a burden? Aim to be a joy as often as possible. There are always times when we need a friend's shoulder to cry on. By all means, I want my friends to feel free to absolutely stop by when they are hurting–they had better! But if I know that every day I'll be required to give an hour-long counseling session, I might shy away from the door knocks.

4.  Just because you know someone and pass their house every day doesn't mean it's a good idea to drop-in regularly.

5. Just because someone is on staff at your church or married to a staff person doesn't mean they have a personality that enjoys a regular drop-in. We are all created differently and that's okay.



For the drop-in-ee
1. It's your responsibility to only invite a drop-in inside if it's a good time.

You are NOT required to invite a drop-in inside. It's not their responsibility to know if you've had an argument with your husband or if you have diarrhea or if you just need to be alone! It's your responsibility to let them know it's not a good time. You are free to say no. Without explanation.

The worst possible thing to do is to invite someone in when it's not a good time. Southerners, I'm talking to you. To invite someone into your home and then to be secretly mad at them for being there or staying too long is ten times worse than being honest from the start and thanking them for dropping by but kindly telling them it's a bad time.

You and your friends deserve better. Tell the truth. You can do this. I certainly wouldn't want someone to pretend like it's good timing if I dropped-in.

If you aren't close enough to someone to tell someone it's not a good time, then you aren't close enough to them for them to assume they can drop-in.

In other words, if someone feels close enough to drop-in on you, then they are close enough to trust you if you tell them it's a bad time. Please, please take this to heart. It saddens me how we are doing this all wrong. Tell the truth. It's okay. Their reaction to the truth is not your responsibility.

2. Evaluate your motives.

Do you not want your friends to come in because your house is a mess? I've been there, too. Sometimes this is a sign that we are trying to impress people and focusing on the wrong things. Consider welcoming your friends into your mess from time to time. If your reply is, "Well, then they will judge me and go talk about my dirty house to all our friends," this might be a good time to re-evaluate your friendships.

3. Learn how to kindly end a visit.

Ending a visit starts at the beginning. If you have a surprise drop-in and you want to see them but can't afford to spend the entire morning chatting it up, right from the start set the time limit with a quick little, "I only have 10 minutes but I'd love for you to come in for a second so we can catch up."

If you need to end a visit, then take that responsibility. It's an art. Say something like, Well, I am SO happy that you stopped by (as you stand up), and I wish I could visit longer but I have to (insert reason –a deadline, scheduled phone call, a pile of work, an errand what have you) (as you walk to the door).

Whatever you do, do not try to reenact an Andy Griffith episode and give all sorts of manipulative cues  and twitches that you are tired or need to do something. And WHATEVER you do, don't get mad when your cues aren't interpreted. Closing a conversation is not mean. It's a skill and everyone needs to know how to do so graciously.


The best advice usually comes in the comments and the last post was no different. If you want to drop in on someone, great! Simply text or call first to see if it's a bad time. (And if they don't text back or answer, don't drop-in).


Also, there are different kinds of drop-ins that require different types of sensitivities so feel free to discuss in the comments.

A neighbor dropping by your house with a plate of cookies to welcome you to the neighborhood is quite different than a neighbor stopping by your house with her kids every day after school assuming they'll be invited in to play for a few hours.

Obviously, this is simply my perspective. I'm an introvert who almost never drops in on anyone outside my inner circle of friends but I also actually enjoyed the close neighborhood life when a neighbor would pop in and stand in the kitchen and talk as I made dinner. I'm also very confident in telling someone it's a bad time and quite well-versed in politely letting people know I need to go do something else and the visit is over. I appreciate having friends who know I love them and who trust me if I told them it wasn't a good time.

Your turn! I want to hear your thoughts on the great drop-in debate!

[Judy Harder]

Gratitude is the Catalyst
Nov 20, 2013 12:20 am | Arianne Segerman



At the beginning of the year, I picked a word of the year for the very first time. I always wondered why people chose one word, because how did they decide? And then somewhere around the first week of January, a word hit me and it was so obvious it was from the Lord that I tucked it into my heart and have carried it in my mind ever since.

My word was Intention. It meant that this year my family would no longer just survive — we would THRIVE. And it would start with me being intentional.

As I sat down to write down some words for you guys today, I realized that one of the biggest ways I've learned how to be intentional is by being grateful.

When I am slowing down my mind so that I can be intentional with my actions, words, heart, I do so by doing one important thing first. I look around me and find things I'm grateful for in that very moment. The sun, the birds, the cluttered house, the heart beating, the breath. Once I focus on that gratitude, I notice something happening.

It's as if all the things around me start to rise up. They start to fill the room. Fill my soul. And they rise higher than my stress level. And that gratitude takes form and begins to shape my thoughts and actions. Suddenly, I'm intentional.

I've become intentional with my husband, my children, my work, my diet, my sleep, my friendships and even my self-care. I can't even tell you what a life-changing thing this has been for me (I highly recommend it).

I have gone years with huge life struggles, and I know what it's like to feel as though "being intentional" is a luxury only people with an easy life get to do. I get it, I do. I "survived" for a long time with that belief system, but it held me back so much. I definitely wasn't thriving.

Only did I start to thrive when I took a hold of the things God had laid out on a platter before me saying, "Here, my daughter, take this life, take me, and soar," and realized I had the choice to make things different in my mind. My revelation was that my perspective really could be God's perspective. And it wouldn't take all that much effort on my part. In fact, it took surrender and an easy trade.

God's perspective is that I'm worthy of a peaceful, joy-filled life. And that I deserve to head in that direction and keep going until I find it, or I find Him. He wanted to do it, to change my perspective. I need only take the platter from Him – full of His gifts – and give Him my plate – full of burdens and suffering. The easy trade.

Have you ever thought about living an intentional life? Do you use gratitude as the catalyst for change in your life?

I would love to hear your stories!

***
By Arianne, of Mabel + Riv