Plan B

What happens when things don't go as planned? When everything you hoped for fails to materialize and you're left wondering what happened. How do you pick up the pieces of a broken life when you've done what you were supposed to do yet things still turn out badly? It's easy to get angry. To throw your fists up to the heavens and scream at God "How did you let this happen?" And it's even easier to get angry at the world because you didn't get what you hoped for and although you played by the rules, someone else did not and you got screwed over. So you put a protective barrier around your heart thinking that it will keep you from ever being dissapointed again.

But that never works. You hurt, but the rest of the world goes on and it seems that the world won't slow down long enough to acknowledge your pain. Why can't anyone else seem to see that you've been cheated and given a bum deal?

It doesn't work because no one ever promised that life would be easy or fair. Where did we ever get the idea that things would work out just because we wanted them to? Life is full of dissapointments and separations and the sooner we realize that, it's easier to pick up the pieces and begin working Plan B.

When I was a child, I would always tell people that I wanted to be a writer. Of course adults were concerned about my ability to take care of myself as a starving artist so they suggested I have a Plan B. Something to fall back on if things didn't work out the way I planned.

Plan B was the contingency plan. The What If Plan? The Plan that would keep me sane when my dreams were crushed and my heart broken. Like most of us, I never thought I would have to revert to Plan B. It was just there in case.

As an adult, I've found myself consulting Plan B more often than I ever planned to and from this I've learned that Plan B doesn't mean I've lost faith or given up on my dreams. Instead it's shown me that I'm a survivor. That I have faith to rebuild and though I may have been knocked down quite a few times, I've never been knocked out. Plan B has been the place I've gone to garner strength. Although I've had to sit there alone sometimes and lick my wounds, God has refreshed me time after time to go back and try again.

Plan B has been what I've turned to in order to refocus the direction of my life. To take stock of those things in my life in order to forge ahead, and to cut loose the dead weight of things that are holding me back. Plan B has allowed me to recalibrate and make sense of the detours and roadblocks that were in my way. It has also become a place for me to forgive those people who hurt me intentionally and unintentionally and to forgive myself for the bad choices I've made that hurt others and ultimatly hurt me. It's allowed me to forgive myself for not acnowleding how incredible I am and playing down my awesomeness in order to make others more comfortable. It didn't serve me, or others, and it was a slap in the face to my Creator.

If you're like me and you find yourself resorting to Plan B more often than you expected, rejoice! Take time to celebrate that you're still full in the fight and you're willing to take one more swing at it. Keep in mind that throughout history people have done their greatest works when things seemed the bleakest because it is during these times when we have clarity and begin to acquire skills we never would have during happier days and we become aware of resources we previously ignored.

At first Plan B may seem like a setback, but it is merely a setup for a comeback.

Fork in the Road

I've always enjoyed teaching Robert Frost's poem "The Road Less Traveled" because I enjoy hearing students' thoughts on which path they feel they should take in life: the one that is obvious and that has been trod by so many others before them or the one which requires them to blaze a new trail. Although I've asked this question to many over the nearly twenty years I've been teaching, I never thought to ask myself. It was only recently when I was presented with an opportunity that I couldn't ignore that I realized that I could not stand at the fork in the road and merely gaze in opposite directions. 

My initial choice was not to choose. I thought if I could put off making a decision for as long as possible then the obvious choice would make itself known, but that was not realistic. Life demanded an answer and I couldn't drag the decision process out any longer. I prayed and meditated and asked my friends and mentors (professional and personal) their opinions and of course they were all over the place about what was best for me. I even joked that I needed a burning bush and that way I would know for sure what I was to do next. But still I had no clarity. One day Choice A was more attractive and the next day I preferred Choice B.

It was only after I had a meeting with a new friend who told me that if I looked deeply into my heart I would know what to do because the decision was already there. He explained that all of the clutter in life was keeping me from hearing my heart's true calling. Yea, yea, yea! All of that sounded good and really spiritual, I told him, but the problem was that I would have to leave the safety and security of what I knew to be true in order to go to a place of uncertainty and that's a huge problem for me. I further explained that I love security. I thrive on routine and I hate surprises! And you now what he said to me? He told me that He is waiting for me on the water. That I must leave the shore beyond my comfort zone in order to see the miracles because there is nothing miraculous about standing on the shore and watching someone divine walking on water. The miracle is when I can walk on water with Him, too!

I hate when people tell me stuff I should have known myself!

So I made the decision and although it is not the safe and easy option, I do believe it is the best decision for me. I feel that I'm being called to do something that is much bigger than I am and if I could just get out of the way, I might see that all I need is waiting out on the water with outstretched arms.

Fat Meat is Greasy

When I was in elementary school I had a music teacher who often used the expression” Ya’ll forget fat meat’s greasy.” It took many years for me to finally understood what she meant.  The point that she was trying to make is that sometimes stuff just is and there’s not a whole lot you can do to change things. In the case of fat meat, you can season it and cook it as healthily as possible but in the end it’s still greasy.

I know in my own life I have had to learn (often the hard way) the truth of this statement. There have been many times when I wanted something to be a certain way and I failed to see the way it really was. Because I am persistent by nature, I tend to keep plowing away thinking that I can change things when in reality there is nothing I can do. It is what it is.
I’ve often heard that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I guess I’ve been guilty of insanity, too. Although I know I can’t change anyone but myself I’ve often tried to make someone into what I needed him or her to be. I now realize that’s crazy, but when I was doing it I thought I could get a different result. Never once did I stop to think about how difficult it is to change my own behavior so how in the hell was I going to change someone else’s?

There have also been those times when I wore rose colored glasses because it made me feel better to tell myself a different story about the situation. Had I just called it what it was: a dead-end job, a meaningless relationship, a bad choice, a guilt trip, etc…I would have had to accept that and make a decision whether or not to walk away. Aha! There is the problem.

When you or I stop and face the reality of the situation it forces us to make a decision and we are held accountable. We no longer have anyone else to blame because after all we made the choice. It’s so much easier to drift along and see where we land without taking a real look at reality. We move unconsciously because if we stopped and really looked at things we would often realize that “fat meat is greasy” and we aren’t going to get a different result with our same behavior because this kind of problem always yields this kind of solution.

Let me break it down for you. I have a friend who only dates a certain kind of woman: she’s flashy, high maintenance, and extremely materialistic. He never seems to understand why these women end up being gold diggers and breaking his heart. This is truly a perfect example of fat meat being greasy. The type of woman he is attracted to is looking for a sugar daddy and  no matter how much he spoils her and wishes things were different she’s not going to be the sweet, innocent, big-hearted girl he truly wants. If he took the time to really look at these women, he would see that they are opportunists. That’s neither good nor bad. It just is. If he wants that from a woman, there is no problem, but if he’s looking for a meaningful relationship that’s built on more than his ability to give cash and expensive gifts, he has to make some changes.

Lately I’ve been trying to suspend judgment by accepting what is. I have refrained from calling a thing good or bad and tried acknowledging that it simply is. Believe me, it’s harder than it sounds. What I’ve learned is that there are some things I need to either accept as is or eliminate.  No matter how much I may wish things were different, they are not and that’s neither good nor bad. It just is.

 I invite you to take some time to consciously look at the things in your life without labeling them good or bad. Just observe them for what they are.

 Next, if you’re willing, examine those things that you have been trying to change and see if you can just accept them.

When Pigs Fly and Hell Freezes Over

There once was a time when if someone asked me if I would ever drag myself out of bed before dawn to go run I would have said, “Sure, when hell freezes over." Well, the devil must be wearing earmuffs and a mink coat because that's exactly what I’ve been doing for the last few weeks, dragging my aching, sore body out of bed and pulling my tennis shoes on. You first must understand that I am not a runner. Back in high school when the sadistic coaches would make the class run laps, I would be the one pulling up the rear as I walked at a leisurely pace. Unless something was chasing me, I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why I should waste perfectly good energy running.

But things have changed. It wasn’t that I woke up one morning and thought: I think I’ll be a runner today. It was actually more subtle. I work on a college campus and because parking is a problem I decided to arrive earlier than normal in order to get a better parking space. When I arrived, the parking lot was empty except for a few cars. I grabbed my purse and began walking towards my office. On the walkway in front of me was a young man who moved slowly and painstakingly. On both arms he wore braces and his back was bent like a question mark. I watched him as he laboriously put one foot in front of the other and disappeared into the fitness center.  Every morning I arrived early and there he was. I was awed by his determination.

On the days I walked behind him I found myself wondering what were the things in my life that I put that much effort into, and I came up blank. I was embarrassed to admit that I had grown comfortable in so many ways.  My classes were going as planned and my writing was flowing. My family and I were healthy and happy and my life was pretty much on cruise control. I had achieved all of the goals I had set for myself and wasn’t really in any big hurry to set new goals. Then it hit me. I was growing comfortable and complacent. I needed something to push me out of my comfort zone.

Since there are no mountains to climb in Florida, I decided to run. I am not a fast runner and my only goal is to finish. There are days when I question my sanity in attempting this endeavor, yet I go out one more time. I've always heard that when the student is ready, the teacher will come and God has sent  Jane. She is an experienced marathoner who encourages me to stop thinking about it and just do it. I also have two new friends-Natalie and Robyn-who push me and encourage me to test my limits. We are training for a marathon and each week we get closer to our goal. There is no doubt in my mind that we will cross the finish line, our bodies sore but our spirits revived because we finished what we started.

Though the years I've heard that running is a metaphor for life and now I understand why. Both require a great deal from you, but in the end all of the pain is worth it. There are also people along the way who encourage you when you're unable to encourage yourself. More importantly, each of us has the potential to do something beyond what we think we can do if we just remember that the first step is to take the first step. 

Running may not be for you, but I would bet there is something that you want to do, but have gotten so comfortable that you've not bothered to attempt it. Take a moment to consider the following.

1. Are there any areas in your life where you feel there is room for growth? If so, what could you do to push yourself.

2. Many of us have things we would love to do but are too afraid to get started. What is the one thing you really would like to do? What little step could you take today towards making that dream a reality?

3. Having friends to encourage us along the way is a huge part of being successful. Name two or three people who you feel would encourage you as you began this new journey? Take a moment to call them and tell them what you're thinking about doing. How can they help hold you accountable?

Desperately Seeking Serenity

I live in a house where something is always broken. Right now it's the ice maker, the washer, and the dishwasher. It's very frustrating because I need to have order in my life, but I feel like I constantly live in chaos. At first I thought the house was haunted and then I realized that it's a much simpler problem. Regardless of the cause, it drives me crazy because I feel like everything around me is conspiring to drive me crazy. I don't remember actually praying for serenity, but I must have because everything around me seems to be trying to give me a crash course in Serenity 101. Isn't that the way it works? When you ask for a virtue, the universe gives you situations to test you. That's precisely why I never prayed for patience! I don't want the tests, but I guess they are just part of the process.

I'm pretty easy to please. At least I think so. All I want is to be able to go to any appliance and have it immediately turn on or to walk in a room and not have to pick up something off the floor or put a cup or dish in the sink. I've practiced deep breathing so much that I'm about to hyperventilate. I pray and meditate each morning and I do a daily devotional. I run and do yoga and on less evolved days I scream at my family. I've reminded my husband that said items aren't working properly until I'm blue in the face and I've pretty much done everything I know to do, but there is one thing I haven't tried. I haven't just accepted things. Yes, I want to live in an orderly home, but that's not my reality. My reality is I live in a chaotic world and I have a messy, but loving family. My life is not an organized, neatly ordered museum although I want it to be. I can't control anyone or anything other than myself. Tomorrow I can call a handyman and have him come and fix those things that are broken or I can just wait until my husband gets around to fixing them because eventually he will. I can also walk around the little messes my family leaves behind. My personality wants to immediately fix things, but isn't that what others expect? Why do they need to do their part when they know I'm going to do it for them?

As I sit here writing this, I see several items that need to be returned to the kitchen and the washer is leaking onto the freshly mopped floor, but I'm not going to get angry nor am I going to get up. I'm going to continue to write and sip Lady Gray tea from my favorite mug. I'm also going to enjoy these Chai cookies that are calling my name. If this house comes crashing down around me, so be it because I'll be at peace. Oh my, maybe I am actually learning serenity.

Just now my daughter Lyndsay came behind me and started braiding my hair. Feeling her fingers move deftly through my hair is relaxing and feeling her kiss on my cheek is priceless. I guess it doesn't really matter that she's left her dirty clothes on the bedroom floor and an empty carton of Chunky Monkey ice cream on the table. Maybe the lesson is finding little pockets of peace in the midst of the chaos.

Trying to Resuscitate a Dead Thing

There is probably nothing sadder than seeing a person trying to resuscitate something that is dead. I remember once seeing a mother leaned over her adult child begging and screaming for him to awaken, I, along with everyone else present, knew that his soul had already left to begin its journey home because all of the signs were there. Yet his mother held onto his lifeless body, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him to her bosom, and rocking him as she called out for a miracle, tears streaming down her face. This was a woman of faith who believed that “to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord”, yet she wanted her dead son to come back to life. Although I hope to never experience her pain, I know in my own life I have tried to bring back to life those things that have died.

            There have been many instances when I have continued to pour out my time and energy hoping to regain the magic that once existed. All of the signs of death were present: I no longer felt joy, and subsequently, spent a great deal of time crying, the situation was not growing and moving forward, and I found myself dressing in dark, somber colors that reflected my mood. Although I knew deep inside it was dead, I kept hoping for a miracle that would somehow bring it back to life.

I am a persistent person by nature and I don’t give up easily. I once had a professor tell me that I was a bulldog because when I bite into something I refuse to let go. Instead I keep wrestling it until I feel that I have won. The problem with this is that sometimes some thing’s just aren’t worth fighting for. Too many times I have exhausted myself trying to make a situation work, when clearly it was over. Like the mother, I’ve tried to will life into something that is no longer living.

              I have done this with relationships and jobs, with projects and people. I find this surprising because as a writer I understand the importance of revision. Things only become better after eliminating those things that no longer work. It's not just with writing. I see it in other things, too. Although I’m not much of a gardener, I am trying to grow a few things in my backyard: flowers, tomatoes, strawberries, and herbs. Nonetheless, I completely get the idea that with nature sometimes you must prune in order to get new growth. But that has not been a philosophy I’ve lived by. Unfortunately, I have watched the dead choke out the new opportunities trying to bloom in my life.  I have been so afraid of what could come next that I desperately held on to what I knew, even though it no longer thrived.

This week’s questions revolve around those things that may need to be cut away in your life. Take a moment to answer these questions truthfully:

1. Is there anything in your life that you are holding onto although you know it is no longer growing?

 2. Why are you refusing to let go?

3. There is a great deal of talk about fright and flight but all too often fear paralyzes us      
and makes us stand still, too afraid to move forward in life. Do you think fear is preventing you from weeding out the dead things in order to make room for the new in 
order to move forward with your life?

4. If so, what exactly are you afraid of?

Reclaiming Our Identity

          As women we tend to give so much of ourselves away in relationships that at times we lose our identity. Because we are so nurturing, we naturally put others needs before our own. Day in and day out we wake up and pour ourselves out like libations to others and we forget that in order to thrive we must save something in reserve for ourselves. Why is it that we feel so guilty holding back just a little bit that’s off limits to everyone and everything else?

            As younger women we are so focused on creating a family or establishing ourselves in the work place (or both) that it’s easy to become consumed with creating order and joy in everyone else’s life, while neglecting our own inner world. We ask ourselves: Is our home clean and comfortable?  What new recipe can I try for dinner? What fun thing can I plan for everyone to do this weekend? Am I pulling my weight at work? But often we ignore those questions that tug at our souls: What would bring me joy today? When was the last time I really laughed?

            I write from the point of view of both a former participant and an observer. You see years ago I almost lost my identity. It was encouraged and in some perverted way expected. Let me explain. My husband’s name is Lynn and years ago when I first moved to his hometown people who, for whatever reason, couldn’t remember my name just called me by his. I was so enamored to be his wife that I didn’t complain, but one day I had an epiphany. I realized that I was a whole, complete person before I ever met him and that to name a thing is to give it power, so I took my name back. I only answered to my given name. I refused to be Lynn, sweetie, baby, honey or anything but Michelle.

            During this time I was working full-time and raising two small children and a teenage stepdaughter. On top of all these responsibilities, I was on several church, community and work committees. Needless to say I was exhausted. It felt like I never got a moment to myself. Even when I went into the bathroom someone would come knocking on the door trying to get my attention. Although I loved my family, all I wanted was to be left alone, and I felt guilty about it.

            I soon learned that I wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Once I was shopping with a teacher friend of mine who needed to pick up some shirts for her husband. As we walked through the department store she saw a pair of sandals that she really wanted, but she kept rationalizing why she couldn’t get them because they were so similar to a pair she already had at home. After going around and around with her, I finally grew weary and asked her the one question that ushered us to the checkout line: “Exactly how many white shirts does your husband have?”

            Take a moment to honestly answer these questions:

            1. Have you ever felt guilty taking time away from your responsibilities?  If

                 the answer is yes, why do you feel bad about taking care of yourself?

            2. If you could have one whole day where no one needed you to do anything

                for them, how would you spend that day?

            3.  Think back on your childhood, what one solitary activity did you enjoy

                  the most ? Was it reading, coloring, baking In an Easy Bake oven,                     

                  sewing?

            4. Can you commit to spending an hour alone this week doing this favorite                      

                 childhood activity? Although it’s tempting, resist the urge to invite anyone

                  to join you.