Monthly Archives: November 2013

An abundance of stress, the stress of abundance

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Happy Thanksgiving to you! (Most of my readers are from the US, and so I hope the rest of you non-US readers will also celebrate tomorrow with gratitude, even if it doesn’t mean family gatherings and eating too much turkey.)

I only have time for a short post today, and I’m guessing you may not have time to read a longer post anyway. Family is coming, and my to-do list doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter. I was running errands this morning trying to figure out how to avoid letting stress overwhelm me this holiday season.

That desire to get control over what feels like an over-abundance of holiday stress juxtaposed itself with the image of a woman and child waiting with some small suitcases in the vestibule of homeless shelter where I volunteer with a group of church friends once a month. When I was there on Monday, it was a white flag night, meaning the temperature was expected to drop below freezing, and shelters in the area would try to accommodate greater numbers of homeless for the night.

The air was full of scramble and buzz and extra activity as folks waited for word of where they could spend the night – there, at another shelter or out on the street. Residents of the shelter added to the hubbub as they sorted through bags and bags of donated coats that crowded the small lobby, grouping the coats by size to make them easier to distribute.

The scramble that night was entirely different, a more dire kind of scrambling than the sort you may be experiencing today: the scramble for the last trip to the grocery store, or the scramble to wrap up work early, or the scramble to pass everyone else on the highway so you can get to Grandma’s house first, or the scramble to figure out just how everything will fit into a refrigerator that suddenly feels two sizes too small.

Both types of scramble bring stress, but one represents a stress of abundance, a stress that comes from having the option to run to three different grocery stores for your Thanksgiving meal supplies and the option to go to the big box store for extra guest towels and the option to fight traffic to drive to visit relatives near or far.

For too many, though, those options of abundance simply do not exist, and their stressors may mean the difference between life and death on white flag nights. There’s no money for groceries or towels. There’s no car. There are no guests coming to visit because there is no home.

So might I encourage you to take a deep breath when stress threatens to overwhelm you in the coming days? I plan to use those moments as a way to offer up a quick prayer of gratitude for the abundance that is causing the stress. In addition to prayers of thanks, might you consider a donation of food or time or money to your own local shelter? It may be just what you need to put your own abundance of stress into perspective.

Before I close, let me say it again: Happy Thanksgiving!

I’m thankful for you stopping by for a visit today and would love to leave you with a couple of photos from the Orchid House at the Atlanta Botanical Garden, a visit earlier this year that still leaves me filling grateful for the beauty I found there.

ATLOrchids_2013 ATLOrchidsCloseup_2013

What are you most grateful for this holiday?

Humor and other diversions

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Originally, I thought today’s blog post would be my response to Chad Stafko’s snarky Wall Street Journal article about runners, Okay, you’re a runner. Get over it, but then I read Mark Remy’s hilarious response here in his Remy’s World column at RunnersWorld.com. So I’ll just share the links with you and tell you a different story, though it also has to do with emotions like anger and humor and other things integral in the aforementioned articles. Enjoy! I’m curious to know which article you relate to more.

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My day started off all wrong yesterday. I had gone to bed the night before anxious about an email related to some work I’ve been doing, and the emails started up again early in the morning. Confusing, long emails filled with the “my way is right” subtext.

By 8:30, my breathing was jagged, and my mood was, too. I knew I needed a diversion. I had the perfect thing in mind. Over breakfast, when I would normally be checking email or Facebook, I decided to cull my growing magazine pile and came across an article about an art installation at the local museum. An artist, Tom Shields, had put chairs in trees. You read that right. The magazine article included some great pictures, but this was something I had to see for myself.

I grabbed my camera and plenty of warm layers to combat the chilly wind and headed out the door. On the way to the museum, I bought a salted caramel hot chocolate. There are very few foul moods that a salted caramel hot chocolate can’t make better.

Here was my first look at the little patch of woods, a mini forest of sorts, where the chairs were. I knew they were there but wondered how close I would have to get before seeing them. The title of the installation is Forest for the Chairs, but at first, I was missing the chairs for the forest.

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The camera could see what my eyes could not. Can you see the chairs yet?

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A closer look

I felt like I had stepped in Wonderland, or an Escher drawing or maybe even Oz. Continue reading →

Running community: And why Rock ‘n’ Roll is a dirty word at our house

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I started running when I was 32. I’m not sure why, but there was something in me that wanted the challenge and the fitness and the experiences and the discipline running would bring me.

Why do I keep running? I got all of those benefits from running, but I think what truly keeps me running is the community. My community has a language and a special craziness all of its own. We’re connected by the miles we log alone, the races we run together, the injuries we fight with the help of those who’ve been on that road before us. We’re connected by the willingness to lace up our shoes in 25 degrees or 85 degrees alike. We’re connected to the strangers we wave to each day as we pass each other on our morning run. We’re connected to the fastest Kenyan chasing the next world record and the slowest couch potato who has decided to try her first 5K.

I don’t want to Rock ‘n’ Roll
Runners are even connected by our favorite shoe stores and the particular races we choose to run. And so maybe that’s why Rock ‘n’ Roll is a dirty word at our house these days. No, not the music. My husband and I will never stop loving that. This Rock ‘n’ Roll has to do with racing and all that is wrong with big corporations coming in and pushing the little guys around or even out. Continue reading →

The good aunt and social taboos

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I don’t watch much television, and when I do, it’s usually a show I’ve DVR’d. So I don’t watch many ads. But last Wednesday evening, I sat down to watch a show as it was airing. That meant dealing with the ads, too. There was one in particular that ruffled my good aunt feathers.

I don’t know exactly when the Christmas season ads started (see above about the DVR), but my first Christmas ad of the season was one by Best Buy: Maya Rudolph holding a story book telling of Judy, who goes to Best Buy to stock up on a tablet, a PC and a smart phone for her nieces and nephews. Rudolph ends the book’s story with the nieces and nephews saying, “Yo, Aunt Judes, you’re like the best auntie ever.” See the ad for yourself.

This ad made me cringe and want to weep a bit at the same time. As if there’s not enough pressure at the holidays to set the perfect table and be the perfect daughter/wife/sister/mom/friend/fill-in-your-own-blank, now there’s pressure to top “Aunt Judes” with her gift-giving prowess.

Don’t get me wrong. I love shopping for my nephews and my friends’ children at Christmas, but I am not going to load up on electronics at Best Buy for them, even if that would elicit a response from them like the nieces and nephews in the ad. You see, I don’t believe Christmas and other gift-giving occasions are about spending ridiculous amounts of money to bribe children into “loving” you.

I know that puts me firmly at odds with the giant monster of American consumerism, and I’m okay with that.

When speaking your mind puts you at odds with society
I attended a book launch party this past weekend and was nervous about going. You see, I am not cool. I never was one of the cool kids and never will be one of those cool, trendy adults. (I’m okay with that, too.)

But I was going with one of my cool friends, and we were there to celebrate with another cool friend – Enuma Okoro – who has co-edited a book of essays called Talking Taboo: American Christian Women Get Frank About Faith.

The book is a compilation of 40 women under age 40 writing about topics that the church and society at large shrink away from discussing. And listening to several of the contributors read their essays, I took a deep breath and felt like I was in the safest of places. Uncool me, safe among voices willing to talk about topics, some of which I couldn’t even be brave enough to type out for you here.

I looked around at one point and realized I was surrounded with amazing women (and not a few supportive men) who were brave enough to break out of chains that might otherwise shame them into silence and share their stories. And I felt at home and uncharacteristically chatty. I was able to dish out little moments of grace, but received much more grace in return.

I had bought the book at the door and sat down for the readings to begin, but I cannot simply hold a new book in my hands without taking a peek inside, and that’s when I had to fight the urge to sit and read one of the essays and tune out everything around me.

The essay, written by co-editor Erin Lane, is called “Married without Children.” She’s talking about me, you know. That’s this good aunt. And words cannot express the surge that went through me that this group of women, that Erin Lane in particular, had picked my particular taboo topic to include in this book.

I saved reading the essay until after the party, actually waiting until I could sit in the quiet of a Caribou coffee shop sipping pumpkin chai (so, so delicious). The coffee barista stopped mid-order when she saw the book I was holding and wanted to know all about it. So I told her: it’s essays by Christian women about taboos within the church, taboos about gender and addiction and sexuality and more. I told her there was an essay in there about being married without children. Her response? “Oh, that is a taboo.” You’re telling me, I thought.

Reading that essay there in Caribou, I felt like I was sitting beside a new friend, one of those that you know from the first handshake really gets you, really understands where you’re coming from. I underlined, starred and even drew a heart beside words as I read. There were moments I was afraid I might have to gather up my things and leave, the wave of emotion – equal parts relief and revelation and validation and a feeling of kinship washing over me.

I hope you’ll pick up a copy of Talking Taboo. (It’s available through Amazon, but it would make me happiest if you would look for it in a local bookstore.)

You may find your own taboo topic discussed out loud in there. I hope you find the essays as freeing and energizing as I have. Once you’ve read the book, come back here and let me know what you thought. What made you laugh or cry or blush even though no one was looking?