Blissdom 2012: Making friends and playing nice.

The first step of any introduction is always the hardest. Ok, well maybe that’s not always true because I have had some stellar awkward moments after the, “Hello, my name is Alia…,” but usually it’s true.

To avoid awkward moments in my middle school years, and ok, I admit it, even more recently than that, I appear distracted. This is the key to not seeming alone in an unfamiliar group or club. I would be searching my backpack for something, eyebrows knit in earnest concentration, while I rummaged about avoiding eye contact with those around me. Or I’d pretend to be working on something or make it seem like I was in a hurry and dash off to avoid being left out.

As you may have noticed from past posts, I have a thing (I’m working on it) about being needy or asking for help. It’s an issue.

But when you’re an 11-year-old girl wanting to belong, walking up and introducing yourself is pretty much the same as saying, “Please don’t reject me.”  And since I wasn’t open to being rejected, I was busy, or pretending to be.

Vulnerability is hard and you’re always a bit exposed when you are meeting someone new, even as an adult. One woman had told of a blog conference she went to where she went up, introduced herself and offered her business card to which the other bigger blogger replied, “no, thank you. ” AWKWARD. But then, I thought about that. And the truth is, if someone is like that, I don’t want to know them anyway. They don’t deserve to read my blog and I certainly don’t want to have anything to do with theirs no matter how great they can write or design. Kindness goes a long way in my book. 

Blissdom

So, when I was preparing for Blissdom, I addressed these thoughts in my mind and I came to a very freeing conclusion. I’m not that 11-year-old girl anymore. I grew up beyond the mean girls and the cliques and the quest for inclusion. I have a fabulous husband, wonderful kids, grace from God for all my mess and a passion as a writer to meet and connect with others. And it was from that encouraged, loved on place that I arrived at Blissdom.

And I thank God for that clarity of thought and vision before I left because I noticed when people looked busy. Although, instead of searching into their Guess backpack, they were texting into their phone, or wandering around doing the half mouth smile but never really engaging with anyone or staring at the hotel map, for a reeeeeaaaally long time.

And I knew, because that used to be me.

It only takes one person to say hi, and take an interest in you to  make you feel you belong. And I was glad to be that person. Maybe it made the beginning a bit less awkward for someone.  I saw several people who were so nervous, completely having the time of their lives by the second day. And the thing that was great about Blissdom was that I wasn’t the only one introducing myself to people who didn’t seem to know anyone.  Most people were genuinely friendly and inviting.

I am not one for big crowds, and small talk with hundreds of people is beyond exhausting, but I already know I’m an introvert and I need alone time to function well and play nice. I took regular breaks and wandered around by myself or went to my room to sit and breathe and drink a coffee in between the sessions. I excused myself from the night events obscenely early and was in bed on granny time but it gave me enough solitude that the times I did meet other bloggers were exciting, not exhausting.

I also got to hear some dynamic speakers in their field. I attended two MeRaKoh Photography sessions and the woman is amazing as is her spectacular work. Who knew I would cry during a photography session so much?

I went to Jeff GoinsMichael Hyatt, and my friend Tsh Oxenreider’s sessions on writing and developing a life plan and they all left me with things to ponder and add, and even a few things to disagree with. As is right in line with my feisty old self. 

But I still think my favorite was the keynote by Jon Acuff of Stuff Christians Like, and not just because he gave us all a signed copy of his new book, Quitter. He had me laughing, prioritizing my family and blogging,  and thinking about the platform and responsibility I have with my voice.

And even though the sessions were really good and I learned a lot from them and the community leaders, I still think my favorite thing about Blissdom was the relationships. I just met the most amazing gals. These women made my time at Blissdom really special with great conversation, a familiar face in the hall or at a table, or a super warm greeting. 

Lorax Party

Fun at the Lorax Party

That kind of felt like an Oscar speech and I’m sure to have missed someone because there were countless other women I met, ate with, sat by, and traded cards with that I’m looking forward to getting to know online this year that I didn’t get to mention here. 

Either way, the whole experience inspired and motivated, challenged and reassured me, to pursue what I love to do… This. Writing. Stuff.

So a huge heartfelt thanks to  all you wonderful people I met, but especially to  all my faithful readers,  commenters, and cheerer onners (is so a word, trust me, I’m a writer) that make this such a blessing to do.

 

 

The High Calling of Motherhood is Going to Voicemail: How to do less and accomplish more

cell phone

I’m idealistic.

I am inspired.

Unfortunately, I am NOT a good multi-tasker.

I can do one thing well. What thing is that, you might ask? It’s whatever I am most focused on at the time. 

I can home school my children and teach them in ways that make their little minds open and swell and burst with information and excitement over things learnt and tried.

I can disciple them and bury God’s word into their souls, pray with them, and try to open their eyes to grace.  However, I can’t do that and have an immaculately clean house.

I can have a tidy, organized home with everything in its place, no dust on the mantle, clean windows bereft of smudgy toddler fingerprints, and ringless toilet bowls. The kids rooms can have fresh linen kissed sheets, vacuüm tracks, and organized drawers.  The surfaces wiped and clutter free.

But I can’t have all of our business records marching single file under the little plastic tabs labeled with taxes, employee records, invoices sent out, and our check book balanced and important calls made.

I can have a healthy home cooked meal on the table at 5′ o clock sharp, grocery list checked off, meal planner set out with each indexed recipe and breakfast and lunch planned for the next day with ingredients prepped and ready to go.

But I won’t have showered, put makeup on  and be dressed in clothes that I could actually answer the door in. I can’t have spent time at the park on a sunny day, or enjoy an impromptu picnic with friends. I can’t take an emergency meal to a friend in need or spend an extra few minutes talking to a chatty grocery checkout lady because she seems like she could use a smile.

I can wake up in the morning with the achy soreness that comes from a great workout. I may be unable to lower myself down to the toilet without holding  the walls for support after spin class and hover squats  but I won’t be able to practice opening my house to others.

I won’t be able to sew a dress for my daughter’s birthday, or throw off lesson planning in the evening to linger over night time stories and extra snuggles. Or go on a date night with my husband without shirking off some thing that is always vying for a spot as my top priority.

I won’t be able to spend individual time with each child making sure they know their special place in my heart.

All things that I want to be good at. All things that I want to dedicate a chunk of time to but the slots  are constantly overfull. All things I aspire to. Why can’t I do them all? Why can’t I do them all well? 

I think I have discovered the answer after years of  constant effort with little return. I simply can’t do them a little at a time. I can’t do the good enough version of the less important things and move on. That’s it. It’s all or nothing and sadly, it’s often nothing. I focus so wholeheartedly on one thing that everything else becomes imbalanced.  The small steps to set up routines and faithfully plod away  is not in my all or nothing vernacular, so I often set myself up with expectations that are impossibly high for any one woman to accomplish.

The high calling I inflict upon myself never gets answered. There’s just too many lines ringing at the same time. 

So, I am taking  steps to narrow the focus, eliminate the ‘too much’ breakdowns that occur frequently around these parts. The “I just can’t do all this!” that comes from trying to juggle perfection with too little coordination causing it all to crash down around me. 

Since I am all about action because  dreaming dreams still means you’re probably asleep, I will tell you my  plan to reduce the ‘too much’ into the just right and maybe this high calling I feel God has inspired me to as a Christian wife, mother, crafter extraordinaire, writer,  daughter, homemaker, teacher, friend, and business owner will actually get answered.

Coming Tomorrow: Who will cast the deciding vote?

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Happy Anniversary, mom

Her ring has worn a groove onto her finger. Years of wear have  etched themselves  into that hand.

The same hand that carried me as a baby, put band-aids on my ouchies, cooked and fed me, turned the pages on the books that would birth a lover of the written word, and consistently pointed to God through her faithfulness.

The same hand that filled syringes, cleaned up vomit, produced warm blankets, and propped up my father as he got sicker and sicker. The same hand that held his as his breath escaped him and he closed his eyes for the last time. The same hand that still embraces that ring even though he is with the Lord now. 

Today would be their 38th wedding anniversary. Although, he went to be with the Lord, November of 2010, that ring brings her both joy and sorrow just as it did when he was alive.

Parents Wedding Hawaii

 

You could not find more opposite people. He was extroverted, charismatic, a natural-born leader and influencer. He was the idea guy, the quick wit, the guy at the party who makes everyone’s abs hurt from laughing. She is introverted, quiet, a natural-born servant doing dishes quietly at said party so the host isn’t burdened. And yet, it worked.

They weren’t so different where it mattered. They both loved God, they both knew they wanted a life  in missions, that they would never really fit in here. That God had created a discontentment with living a “normal” life. That our family would be strange. Not me of course, but the rest of the lot.

That ring and the commitment that accompanied it brought sorrow in the many trials that would arise serving in ministry, in  the pain and perseverance that it took to meld two opposites into one whose love would cover a multitude of sins. The daily forgiving and dying to self that it takes to make a marriage survive and thrive in the hostile environment of this world. Sorrow in the loss of him. The emptiness that aches in her. The absent presence creating a void like a phantom limb you still try to use.

Our Family in Nepal

 But that ring also brought joy in the birth of two kids who would go on to love and serve God in the best way they know how. Joy in the intimacy shared after so many years, the knowing of each other in the deepest part of their souls where pretenses no longer exist. Where one’s flaws are evident, naked, and glaring and yet covered so perfectly in the love and commitment to each other. Joy in the inside jokes and stories collected, treasured, and spilling out in her mind to be both enjoyed and memorialized while the sorrow ebbs at the edges of her recollections. The stacks of photo albums chronicling a life well lived. Joy in the hope that this is not the end.

So I celebrate an anniversary today. Not just of the marriage of my parents but of the beginning of a course that would bring both joy and sorrow, the bitter and the sweet, the making of my brother and I , and a legacy that we commit to in our own marriages as we allow our rings to etch that indelible oneness as we glory in the foundation that was laid before us.

Happy Anniversary and thank you.
Love,
Alia

 

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