The Art of Tidying Heart and Home
I love a new year. Back in the US, when things are
still cold and dreary (or unseasonably warm so I hear), even in the overcast
mornings with biting air, I could still sense the promise of newness. And, ever
the one to eagerly prepare and a list-maker, I find that there is a certain end-of-the-year
reflection period that needs to happen for me to truly enter into what a
brand-new opportunity of time can hold. It’s a tidying up of my soul and my
priorities by taking an inventory. There is just something about a new
beginning that makes me want to clear space whether it’s in my home or in my
heart or in my schedule. This usually starts with a couple of things:
1) Asking God to recap how He moved in my life based on my one word for the year. This is a practice I adopted after moving to Honduras and one I came across via the site Velvet Ashes. It’s truly just seeking God to give you a solitary word as a theme for an entire year. It’s not daunting or complicated or hard to remember. Once you know that word, it’s interesting to apply that lens to life as it comes. After I ask God for a reminder of the things that I learned centered around that word, I also ask Him to give me a new word for the upcoming year.
In 2016, my word was “beloved,” and that year entailed a lot of recuperating in my heart, learning to open my heart up to others again, and was also the year I got engaged.
In 2017, I had two partnering words, “boundaries” and “purpose.” Those words shook my world and priorities in the best way possible. I read the book Boundaries by Dr. Cloud and Dr. Townsend and started doing some psychological and emotional work to be a more honest person and to understand better when I was taking responsibility for things that should not have been my responsibility. I learned how my lack of boundaries was affecting my quality of life (and overall sanity!). I like the person who emerged from those words after 2017 as well as the priorities that were set. Sometimes your greatest strength comes after you tear everything down to rebuild a new foundation.
In 2018, my word was “alive,” and it’s been a much subtler word though still very challenging. That became my word after my Granddad’s ongoing battle with cancer. It served as a reminder that I am alive, and I want to make the most of it without wasting time. It also served as a defiant reminder to death that even after my Granddad passed that he is still alive with Jesus. Lastly, “alive” has unexpectedly become a bit of a survival pull spiritually.
I ran a 5k my senior year of college when I was training regularly, and I won second place in my age division for women. Five months later, after I’d not been training at all and was sleeping about four hours a night during my student teaching, I ran another 5k. It had a lot more hills than the first, and my pace was abysmal. But, I clearly heard God say to me, “Sometimes, your life with me will be a breakneck run. Sometimes, you’ll be reduced to nearly a crawl. That’s okay. Just keep going.” As an accelerated overachiever, I have held onto that word for years. This year, in many ways, felt like a “just keep going” kind of year. It wasn’t spiritually catastrophic or filled with heart crises. It was just rough keeping myself encouraged and willing and walking out of some leftovers of past seasons of heartbreak, over-exhaustion, and disappointments. I have come out of 2018 not only still spiritually “alive” but also with an increased desire to more passionately pursue God in greater relationship.
My word for 2019 is “abundance.” I have some inklings as to what that word will entail in shifting my thinking to more of a Kingdom mindset in terms of resources. But, every year it’s always a surprise how a word can evolve.
2) Reflection. I spend some sit-down time taking stock of the previous year. This year, I found myself getting stressed over common missionary doubts of “Am I actually making a difference? Is what I’m doing fruitful? Was this year worth the losses of being with family? ETC.” And, what calmed my speeding thoughts was taking the time to sit down and answer some questions I devised for myself (with the aid of the internet) to answer at the end of every year. They are:
1. What was the single best thing that happened?
2. What was the most challenging thing that happened?
3. What was an unexpected joy?
4. What was an unexpected obstacle?
5. What are 3 words to describe 2018?
6. What were the best books that you read?
7. With whom were your most valuable relationships?
8. What was your biggest personal challenge?
9. What were ways you grew emotionally?
10. What were ways you grew spiritually?
11. What were ways you grew in taking care of your physical health?
12. What were ways you grew in relationships with others?
13. What was the most enjoyable part of work or home?
14. What was the most challenging part of work or home?
15. What was your biggest time waster?
16. What was the best way your time was used?
17. What is the biggest/most important thing you learned?
18. What is a phrase or statement to describe 2018?
This year, in need of some extra brain settling and heart reassuring, I also made a list of the highlights of 2018 month by month. And, following yet another internet prompt, I made a simple list of what things were negative and what things were positive in 2018.
It sounds like a lot, and I get that it’s not for everyone. But, reflecting helps me to clear out mental and soul clutter. It helps to remind me that I did grow this year, that I was productive, and that my life did touch the lives of others. It helps me calm self-doubts or arguments that the year flew by with little purpose. The information gleaned from reflection is also very useful in setting myself up in a healthy place for the next year. I can recognize the people with whom I want to spend as much or more time. I can recognize spiritual and emotional rhythms that worked for me, and things that didn’t and don’t need repeated. I can analyze how I’m doing in physical health and prod myself in knowing the areas that are still lacking. I can admit what my biggest time waster was, which is the first step to walking away from that time waster more often. (This is hard and isn’t always done at once for me.) It also helps me congratulate myself on new habits I have started and to bolster the confidence that if I started that new habit, I can start another new, positive habit. And that, of course, brings me to the next way that I do premature spring cleaning for a new year—planning.
“Where there is no prophetic vision the people cast off restraint, but blessed is he who keeps the law.” – Proverbs 29:18
In other versions, the verse says the people perish, and I think I’m pretty nearly the embodiment of that verse. I’m like a small child tucked in a car for hours on end during a family vacation, incessantly asking “are we there yet.” I like to know where I’m going, the pace I’m going, and what I’m supposed to do next to ensure that I “get there.” In everyday life, put me in a quaint town or a bookstore, and I’ll wander aimlessly through life with joy. But, in terms of spiritual growth and carrying out my calling, fog and I do not mix without heightened anxiety at least initially. In some seasons, if God just gives me a heads up that the fog isn’t representative of internal conflicts but is just His way of leading me for that season, I will be uncomfortable but will stop panicking.
Seeking a prophetic vision involves listening in quiet stillness to God’s voice to hear His heart, His secrets, His plans, and His strategies. It involves being a good, trustworthy friend to the Father. And, it involves actually valuing what He has to say because—I don’t know about you, but—it’s pretty annoying to share advice or direction over and over and never have anyone pay it any attention (but still want to gripe about their circumstances…um, what?) Thankfully, God is more patient than I am.
There is joy in dreaming with God because He is the only who makes all things possible. I myself have a nasty tendency to get half a word and then want to run to put it into action—forgetting that my part of things is obedience and walking true to who He has called me to be. He’s the One who truly makes things happen. My obedience and closeness with God are definitely a component to that, but without that dependency on God, it’s all in human strength. Word to the wise—humans aren’t that strong.
The second aspect of planning—whether spiritually or otherwise—is putting actual practical steps to follow. I think for the most part North Americans have a culture that instills some concept of planning as a rite of passage to adulthood. Planning may not mesh with every personality, but it’s hard to find an occupation that doesn’t involve at least some mental planning. For many, it starts when we’re little kids, and we have notebooks with our homework assignment written on it that our parents have to sign. I had a required planner to write down all of my assignments in middle school, and that habit of using a planner voluntarily carried over to the entirety of the rest of my life. If I tried to keep track of everything in my brain, I’d epically fail all over the place. Why waste the neurons on remembering to buy toilet paper when I can write it down and consult a reassuring list later? (Then have the ample joy of crossing something off of a list!) So, my point is, living in a culture geared toward planning and also geared toward extreme time management (because we’re so obsessed with productivity and efficiency), means that taking practical steps to a goal seems like common sense.
Since I have moved to Honduras, I have had to learn that it is, in fact, not common sense. Hondurans don’t necessarily grow up making lists. A lot of kids are great auditory learners because since the age of five, their mothers have been sending them to the pulperia, or little neighborhood shop, to buy any number of things. The list is dictated and sometimes repeated back, but usually, it’s not written on a piece of paper. A Honduran friend of ours was married to someone from an Eastern culture where the level of studiousness puts the US to absolute shame, and one of his biggest conflicts with his wife was that she always had a list every morning of the things to do. She planned her route first when she ran errands (instead of running back and forth all over the city…um, gas money?), and these things were so foreign to him that they annoyed him. I hate to say it, but in some ways, I’m sure I similarly drive Raúl nuts. Conversely, my mind boggles when my husband listens to me suggest that something should change or needs done or could improve, and his eyes glaze over as he sighs, “I just don’t know where to start.” Even after I give him some simple suggestions on where to start, we get nowhere, friends. So, while I’m over here learning that I don’t have to be so obsessive about time and productivity, that I should take some time to take things in and live in the present, I do hope that sometimes my sense of planning and step taking does rub off in some capacity. Can’t we value both stopping to smell the flowers as well as the budgeting, time allotment, and planning of planting the garden? I don’t think it has to be so either/or.
One danger that I think we can run into on an emotional level in living our lives and making the most of the time we have is passivity. We can sometimes think that being a passive person makes us noble somehow. We aren’t competitive or demanding. We really think about things a lot and have good intentions even if we never put them into action. And, we go so easily with the flow that practically anyone and everyone is running our life just so that we can avoid any potential conflicts because of differences in opinion. But the reality is that most often, when we are passive, fear is running our lives. We aren’t noble. We are cowardly. Not only are we not competitive or demanding, but we’re also not growing. You don’t have to be competitive or demanding to be assertive and alive. And, when we’re not growing, it’s almost a guarantee that we’re depending on someone else to be the adult for us and haven’t taken full ownership of our lives. And, in being so agreeable, we need to question whether we have our own identity at all or whether we have allowed our identity to be 100% people pleasers. The root of someone not taking responsibility in his/her life goes so much deeper than habits or topical choices. The heart of that struggle resides in self-esteem, identity, and recognizing the power that God has placed in each one of us to truly live. Our time on earth is so fleeting that it’s hard for me to fathom why anyone would want to waste time not growing. But I’m only in charge of my own life and the compassion I choose to extend to others.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, those of who are planners and overachievers run the risk of falling into codependent habits and taking responsibility for others’ obligations. We can try to do all of the things and be all of the things and miss out on the entirety of our lives. We can get so focused on the tomorrows that we miss the here and nows. In one of Shauna Niequist’s books, she talks about embracing the limits of time and space and energy rather than seeing them as enemies. When we open our hands to see the things we have occupying our time and pulling on our skirts for our attention, we have the power to say, “These are the things I am and want to be and do, and these are the things I’m not and don’t want to be or do.” The don’ts are just as powerful as the dos because they are what free us up to be real people and let us breathe. And, sometimes, our dos and don’ts will look drastically different from those in community with us—that is completely okay and part of what makes us unique people.
So, back to practical planning. I came home the other day with my thoughts whirlpooling. My house was a mess with dishes to wash, Christmas decorations to take down, and so many lofty goals of going through books and clothing to decide what to keep and what to donate/toss. Meanwhile, I had a kid to get registered in university, needed to plan a board meeting, and had various English classes to plan for. I hadn’t been in my rhythms of ongoing reading for a while. I had tax summations that needed done and non-profit reports to get started. My dog needed bathed with tick shampoo, and there was food in the refrigerator taunting me that if I didn’t cook it VERY SOON it was going to be inedible. Raúl hadn’t been studying anything—English or civics—in ages, and I was partially to blame (partially, not mostly). And my bangs are too long to do anything with but pull back with a bobby pin. I have some pillows in dire need of a washing. And I had only four clean pairs of underwear left. Just all of the thoughts of all of the tasks. As I slumped on the sofa staring blankly into space and feeling so overwhelmed with not knowing where to start that all I wanted to do was turn on Netflix to get lost in an episode of whatever to avoid all of it, I realized that the first place to start for me is planning.
What’s the most important? What are all of the things that have invaded my brain space and become squatters without invitation that won’t move on until they’re on paper? There’s no way I can tackle all of this RIGHT NOW, but what are realistic time frames for me to address each thing in the timeliest fashion possible? What sacrifices can be made if they have to be? I spent probably 45 minutes list-making, scheduling, establishing a calendar, and deciding when I could do what. For some people, that was, perhaps, not the best use of time. But for me, I emerged from that planning session armed with clarity (and grace—you have to have grace because we’re all humans and sometimes set too lofty of goals and also you can’t plan for when your home’s plumbing will suddenly decide to go haywire or when your in-laws will call for a spur-of-the-moment family outing or when your body will say, “I’m thinking about getting sick, if you push me, I most certainly will. If you give me a break, I’ll consider letting you off of the hook.”)
I am all for practical steps. I find that if we don’t take that initial abstract concept of improvement and at least think of a couple of practical ways we could carry that out, it will stay just that—this magical idea that lives out in space that maybe someday, we hope, but also kind of don’t, will just suddenly strike us like lightning. It doesn’t even have to be a rigid thing of “I will study two hours every day and clean my house every day before bed and write for two hours a day and run five miles every day.” It can be something loose and simple like, before I watch TV, I could spend just five minutes studying. Or I will try to move my body in some form of exertion a couple times a week. I’ll put a timer on for twenty minutes, and whatever I clean in that twenty minutes will make the house better off than it was before. Thinking of practical steps and then little by little choosing to carry some of those out is what personal responsibility and putting forth our part means to me. It doesn’t have to look the same way for all people. Everyone has their own style and learning curve of what works for them and motivates them and what doesn’t. That’s definitely okay. But allowing time to pass us by, blaming God when our lives or circumstances or characters don’t change, is heartbreaking poverty to me.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may cultivate and bring to You a heart of wisdom.” – Psalms 90:12
Time is the most precious resource we have, and too often, it’s what the enemy most easily steals. Don’t get me wrong—there are seasons for each of us. Walking seasons are important too. You don’t have to conquer all of your fears today or thrust yourself into all of your dreams tomorrow. But, do keep growing and moving forward even when that growth is at a crawl. Knowing the value of our time, especially in light of eternity, is what grows that garden of wisdom and allows us to carry a heart of Kingdom priorities.
Tidying up my thoughts and schedule improves my quality of life. When everything has its place on the totem pole of priorities, it’s easier for me to start enjoying some simple things in my spaces of margin and even within my schedule. (This is a good point I should make—I’m pretty adamant about jealously leaving some margin in my schedule. I have at least one day a week that I try to leave as catch-all days, which are different than a rest day. I could use that time to finish tasks I didn’t finish during the week or to have lunch with a friend or to make a nice dinner for my husband. I never plan every second of every day because I will naturally defy even my self-imposed, dictatorial structure. I do need structure to be productive, but loose, graceful structure leads to more productivity for me.) When the demands all have their place, my brain opens up to sensing simple, enjoyable things—the smell of fresh pineapple, the neatness of a breakfast bento box for Raúl, cooking a brand-new dish, enjoying a new writing rhythm, visiting with my dog. It becomes less about striving and more about seeing the world with fresh possibility. Not everyone will echo this sentiment, but I am most able to be present when I have done the preparation of scheduling my obligations.
Recently, due to Netflix and her book, Marie Kondo has become a bit of a cultural phenomenon. She is a Japanese organization guru who has written a few books on the topic and also has a Netflix special. Cleverly, Netflix released her special on New Year’s Day, and the masses have responded with great aspirations for organizing their homes and ridding themselves of their junk and clutter as a New Year’s resolution. I’m hesitant to say that I’m one of them. I don’t buy into a lot of her rituals. I don’t feel like I need to thank an inanimate object for its use to me, but I’ll gladly thank my Heavenly Father who provided that object for me. I don’t feel the need to greet my house, but I’ll gladly greet the Holy Spirit who I always want to invite to live with me in my house. But, I do find value in taking the time to remember all of the things that are in my home and to assess what still needs to be in my home and what can be cleared away to have some fresh, crisp space. Marie Kondo asks her participants to bring all of a related item to one centralized location—all of your clothes for example. It’s amazing what a wake-up call it can be to see just how much of just one thing one has. She also offers some great tips on folding and how to tackle such a daunting organizational job step-by-step. Her philosophy is to approach all of the things in your home with the question, “Does this spark joy for me?” In her Netflix special, she encourages the families to act accordingly to the answer to that question. If something does spark joy, find a way to keep it in an organized fashion. If it doesn’t, feel free to let it go.
I think she’s onto something that I can easily see applying to life organization. Like a cluttered junk room, too often we can get into the habit of tucking something emotionally unsightly into the hidden places of our hearts, or we can assume that we have to keep some aspect of our lives just because we’ve always done it that way and it’s served us until now. There is something important about hauling out all of our emotional baggage to really see what’s going on inside. Much like going through a box of old memories, we’ll discover things that we thought we’d forgotten and already dealt with but that we’d actually just brushed off on a surface level. Aside from emotionally, what about spiritual disciplines? How often do we keep a rusty, dusty tool just because we’re afraid that if we don’t hold onto it, someday we’ll need it or that we’ll somehow be betraying something that once worked? God is highly original and is always so creative in finding new ways to connect with us. If the usual routine of praying before bed feels cold and broken and distant, maybe it’s time to let that tool go for the time being and start journaling prayers, taking prayer walks with God, or praying the Psalms. Maybe it’s time to stop talking altogether and time to start listening. In the realm of future goals and carrying out dreams, I think it’s also important to analyze what fits. Like a bottomless closet, sometimes we’ve insisted on holding onto dreams to the point that we’re still cramming them into corners, stacking our shelves to the ceiling, and trying to shove just one more hanger onto that clothes rack. But, when we unpack that great closet of life aspirations, do all of those things fit together with how we’ve grown? Are we still dreaming of owning a small business just because that’s what our parents did? Do we want to continue to build houses in our ministry because that’s what’s expected or because it fits in with the direction God’s given us? Is this job still what God is asking of me or where I belong? Does homeschooling still make sense with our time needs and values, or could we give ourselves permission to think of other educational options for our children? It’s not a betrayal to ask those questions. Inevitably, there will be dreams we will have to let go of—we’ve been doing it since childhood. I didn’t end up as an ice skater, and I’m pretty cool with that. I still enjoy ice skating just for fun when the opportunity presents itself; I didn’t have to totally banish it from my life. Obviously, my ten-year-old goals were just outgrown.
When we are growing as people, I think it’s only natural for some dreams to need to be dismissed so that our true callings can be developed. Or, perhaps, the entirety of a dream doesn’t need released but rather a strategy we’ve been implementing. Oftentimes, it isn’t overt sin or something negative that steals our purposes or robs our true passions of our attention but rather good things and good intentions and expectations from good people. But, similarly to Marie Kondo’s method, I think we can be guided by some simple questions: Does this aspect of my life, my time, my priorities, my attitude, my behavior, my __________________ spark joy for Jesus and for me? (Keep in mind that within the Kingdom of God, joy doesn't mean a lack of suffering or difficulty. It means unwavering hope and connection with our Perfect Provider and Redemeer regardless.) Is this ____________________ bringing me closer to God or carrying me farther away from God? Does ___________________ reflect who God has made me to be, the calling He’s placed on my life, and the desires He’s placed in my heart? Who is asking me to be or to do this—God, myself, or others? What are my motivations for having/being/doing this thing? Are those motives God-honoring?
At the end of the day, tidying up our hearts and homes, thoughts and schedules is about opening ourselves up to a new perspective. So many times in my life I have felt oppressed or overwhelmed until I’ve given myself the permission to imagine a different version of my life and until I’ve realized that I have so much more power over my own life and priorities than I wanted to take responsibility for. It’s not so much about striving. It’s about making space for the Holy Spirit to enter and gently start nudging us—to clean up our heart by asking for forgiveness, to remove a commitment because it’s cluttering our God-given direction, to set boundaries and guard our hearts, and to be better stewards of our possessions and home. Once there is space and new, refreshing neatness, we have made the way for new priorities, new opportunities, new resources, new friendships, new attitudes, new behaviors, and more of the Heavenly Father’s presence in it all.
1) Asking God to recap how He moved in my life based on my one word for the year. This is a practice I adopted after moving to Honduras and one I came across via the site Velvet Ashes. It’s truly just seeking God to give you a solitary word as a theme for an entire year. It’s not daunting or complicated or hard to remember. Once you know that word, it’s interesting to apply that lens to life as it comes. After I ask God for a reminder of the things that I learned centered around that word, I also ask Him to give me a new word for the upcoming year.
In 2016, my word was “beloved,” and that year entailed a lot of recuperating in my heart, learning to open my heart up to others again, and was also the year I got engaged.
In 2017, I had two partnering words, “boundaries” and “purpose.” Those words shook my world and priorities in the best way possible. I read the book Boundaries by Dr. Cloud and Dr. Townsend and started doing some psychological and emotional work to be a more honest person and to understand better when I was taking responsibility for things that should not have been my responsibility. I learned how my lack of boundaries was affecting my quality of life (and overall sanity!). I like the person who emerged from those words after 2017 as well as the priorities that were set. Sometimes your greatest strength comes after you tear everything down to rebuild a new foundation.
In 2018, my word was “alive,” and it’s been a much subtler word though still very challenging. That became my word after my Granddad’s ongoing battle with cancer. It served as a reminder that I am alive, and I want to make the most of it without wasting time. It also served as a defiant reminder to death that even after my Granddad passed that he is still alive with Jesus. Lastly, “alive” has unexpectedly become a bit of a survival pull spiritually.
I ran a 5k my senior year of college when I was training regularly, and I won second place in my age division for women. Five months later, after I’d not been training at all and was sleeping about four hours a night during my student teaching, I ran another 5k. It had a lot more hills than the first, and my pace was abysmal. But, I clearly heard God say to me, “Sometimes, your life with me will be a breakneck run. Sometimes, you’ll be reduced to nearly a crawl. That’s okay. Just keep going.” As an accelerated overachiever, I have held onto that word for years. This year, in many ways, felt like a “just keep going” kind of year. It wasn’t spiritually catastrophic or filled with heart crises. It was just rough keeping myself encouraged and willing and walking out of some leftovers of past seasons of heartbreak, over-exhaustion, and disappointments. I have come out of 2018 not only still spiritually “alive” but also with an increased desire to more passionately pursue God in greater relationship.
My word for 2019 is “abundance.” I have some inklings as to what that word will entail in shifting my thinking to more of a Kingdom mindset in terms of resources. But, every year it’s always a surprise how a word can evolve.
2) Reflection. I spend some sit-down time taking stock of the previous year. This year, I found myself getting stressed over common missionary doubts of “Am I actually making a difference? Is what I’m doing fruitful? Was this year worth the losses of being with family? ETC.” And, what calmed my speeding thoughts was taking the time to sit down and answer some questions I devised for myself (with the aid of the internet) to answer at the end of every year. They are:
1. What was the single best thing that happened?
2. What was the most challenging thing that happened?
3. What was an unexpected joy?
4. What was an unexpected obstacle?
5. What are 3 words to describe 2018?
6. What were the best books that you read?
7. With whom were your most valuable relationships?
8. What was your biggest personal challenge?
9. What were ways you grew emotionally?
10. What were ways you grew spiritually?
11. What were ways you grew in taking care of your physical health?
12. What were ways you grew in relationships with others?
13. What was the most enjoyable part of work or home?
14. What was the most challenging part of work or home?
15. What was your biggest time waster?
16. What was the best way your time was used?
17. What is the biggest/most important thing you learned?
18. What is a phrase or statement to describe 2018?
This year, in need of some extra brain settling and heart reassuring, I also made a list of the highlights of 2018 month by month. And, following yet another internet prompt, I made a simple list of what things were negative and what things were positive in 2018.
It sounds like a lot, and I get that it’s not for everyone. But, reflecting helps me to clear out mental and soul clutter. It helps to remind me that I did grow this year, that I was productive, and that my life did touch the lives of others. It helps me calm self-doubts or arguments that the year flew by with little purpose. The information gleaned from reflection is also very useful in setting myself up in a healthy place for the next year. I can recognize the people with whom I want to spend as much or more time. I can recognize spiritual and emotional rhythms that worked for me, and things that didn’t and don’t need repeated. I can analyze how I’m doing in physical health and prod myself in knowing the areas that are still lacking. I can admit what my biggest time waster was, which is the first step to walking away from that time waster more often. (This is hard and isn’t always done at once for me.) It also helps me congratulate myself on new habits I have started and to bolster the confidence that if I started that new habit, I can start another new, positive habit. And that, of course, brings me to the next way that I do premature spring cleaning for a new year—planning.
“Where there is no prophetic vision the people cast off restraint, but blessed is he who keeps the law.” – Proverbs 29:18
In other versions, the verse says the people perish, and I think I’m pretty nearly the embodiment of that verse. I’m like a small child tucked in a car for hours on end during a family vacation, incessantly asking “are we there yet.” I like to know where I’m going, the pace I’m going, and what I’m supposed to do next to ensure that I “get there.” In everyday life, put me in a quaint town or a bookstore, and I’ll wander aimlessly through life with joy. But, in terms of spiritual growth and carrying out my calling, fog and I do not mix without heightened anxiety at least initially. In some seasons, if God just gives me a heads up that the fog isn’t representative of internal conflicts but is just His way of leading me for that season, I will be uncomfortable but will stop panicking.
Seeking a prophetic vision involves listening in quiet stillness to God’s voice to hear His heart, His secrets, His plans, and His strategies. It involves being a good, trustworthy friend to the Father. And, it involves actually valuing what He has to say because—I don’t know about you, but—it’s pretty annoying to share advice or direction over and over and never have anyone pay it any attention (but still want to gripe about their circumstances…um, what?) Thankfully, God is more patient than I am.
There is joy in dreaming with God because He is the only who makes all things possible. I myself have a nasty tendency to get half a word and then want to run to put it into action—forgetting that my part of things is obedience and walking true to who He has called me to be. He’s the One who truly makes things happen. My obedience and closeness with God are definitely a component to that, but without that dependency on God, it’s all in human strength. Word to the wise—humans aren’t that strong.
The second aspect of planning—whether spiritually or otherwise—is putting actual practical steps to follow. I think for the most part North Americans have a culture that instills some concept of planning as a rite of passage to adulthood. Planning may not mesh with every personality, but it’s hard to find an occupation that doesn’t involve at least some mental planning. For many, it starts when we’re little kids, and we have notebooks with our homework assignment written on it that our parents have to sign. I had a required planner to write down all of my assignments in middle school, and that habit of using a planner voluntarily carried over to the entirety of the rest of my life. If I tried to keep track of everything in my brain, I’d epically fail all over the place. Why waste the neurons on remembering to buy toilet paper when I can write it down and consult a reassuring list later? (Then have the ample joy of crossing something off of a list!) So, my point is, living in a culture geared toward planning and also geared toward extreme time management (because we’re so obsessed with productivity and efficiency), means that taking practical steps to a goal seems like common sense.
Since I have moved to Honduras, I have had to learn that it is, in fact, not common sense. Hondurans don’t necessarily grow up making lists. A lot of kids are great auditory learners because since the age of five, their mothers have been sending them to the pulperia, or little neighborhood shop, to buy any number of things. The list is dictated and sometimes repeated back, but usually, it’s not written on a piece of paper. A Honduran friend of ours was married to someone from an Eastern culture where the level of studiousness puts the US to absolute shame, and one of his biggest conflicts with his wife was that she always had a list every morning of the things to do. She planned her route first when she ran errands (instead of running back and forth all over the city…um, gas money?), and these things were so foreign to him that they annoyed him. I hate to say it, but in some ways, I’m sure I similarly drive Raúl nuts. Conversely, my mind boggles when my husband listens to me suggest that something should change or needs done or could improve, and his eyes glaze over as he sighs, “I just don’t know where to start.” Even after I give him some simple suggestions on where to start, we get nowhere, friends. So, while I’m over here learning that I don’t have to be so obsessive about time and productivity, that I should take some time to take things in and live in the present, I do hope that sometimes my sense of planning and step taking does rub off in some capacity. Can’t we value both stopping to smell the flowers as well as the budgeting, time allotment, and planning of planting the garden? I don’t think it has to be so either/or.
One danger that I think we can run into on an emotional level in living our lives and making the most of the time we have is passivity. We can sometimes think that being a passive person makes us noble somehow. We aren’t competitive or demanding. We really think about things a lot and have good intentions even if we never put them into action. And, we go so easily with the flow that practically anyone and everyone is running our life just so that we can avoid any potential conflicts because of differences in opinion. But the reality is that most often, when we are passive, fear is running our lives. We aren’t noble. We are cowardly. Not only are we not competitive or demanding, but we’re also not growing. You don’t have to be competitive or demanding to be assertive and alive. And, when we’re not growing, it’s almost a guarantee that we’re depending on someone else to be the adult for us and haven’t taken full ownership of our lives. And, in being so agreeable, we need to question whether we have our own identity at all or whether we have allowed our identity to be 100% people pleasers. The root of someone not taking responsibility in his/her life goes so much deeper than habits or topical choices. The heart of that struggle resides in self-esteem, identity, and recognizing the power that God has placed in each one of us to truly live. Our time on earth is so fleeting that it’s hard for me to fathom why anyone would want to waste time not growing. But I’m only in charge of my own life and the compassion I choose to extend to others.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, those of who are planners and overachievers run the risk of falling into codependent habits and taking responsibility for others’ obligations. We can try to do all of the things and be all of the things and miss out on the entirety of our lives. We can get so focused on the tomorrows that we miss the here and nows. In one of Shauna Niequist’s books, she talks about embracing the limits of time and space and energy rather than seeing them as enemies. When we open our hands to see the things we have occupying our time and pulling on our skirts for our attention, we have the power to say, “These are the things I am and want to be and do, and these are the things I’m not and don’t want to be or do.” The don’ts are just as powerful as the dos because they are what free us up to be real people and let us breathe. And, sometimes, our dos and don’ts will look drastically different from those in community with us—that is completely okay and part of what makes us unique people.
So, back to practical planning. I came home the other day with my thoughts whirlpooling. My house was a mess with dishes to wash, Christmas decorations to take down, and so many lofty goals of going through books and clothing to decide what to keep and what to donate/toss. Meanwhile, I had a kid to get registered in university, needed to plan a board meeting, and had various English classes to plan for. I hadn’t been in my rhythms of ongoing reading for a while. I had tax summations that needed done and non-profit reports to get started. My dog needed bathed with tick shampoo, and there was food in the refrigerator taunting me that if I didn’t cook it VERY SOON it was going to be inedible. Raúl hadn’t been studying anything—English or civics—in ages, and I was partially to blame (partially, not mostly). And my bangs are too long to do anything with but pull back with a bobby pin. I have some pillows in dire need of a washing. And I had only four clean pairs of underwear left. Just all of the thoughts of all of the tasks. As I slumped on the sofa staring blankly into space and feeling so overwhelmed with not knowing where to start that all I wanted to do was turn on Netflix to get lost in an episode of whatever to avoid all of it, I realized that the first place to start for me is planning.
What’s the most important? What are all of the things that have invaded my brain space and become squatters without invitation that won’t move on until they’re on paper? There’s no way I can tackle all of this RIGHT NOW, but what are realistic time frames for me to address each thing in the timeliest fashion possible? What sacrifices can be made if they have to be? I spent probably 45 minutes list-making, scheduling, establishing a calendar, and deciding when I could do what. For some people, that was, perhaps, not the best use of time. But for me, I emerged from that planning session armed with clarity (and grace—you have to have grace because we’re all humans and sometimes set too lofty of goals and also you can’t plan for when your home’s plumbing will suddenly decide to go haywire or when your in-laws will call for a spur-of-the-moment family outing or when your body will say, “I’m thinking about getting sick, if you push me, I most certainly will. If you give me a break, I’ll consider letting you off of the hook.”)
I am all for practical steps. I find that if we don’t take that initial abstract concept of improvement and at least think of a couple of practical ways we could carry that out, it will stay just that—this magical idea that lives out in space that maybe someday, we hope, but also kind of don’t, will just suddenly strike us like lightning. It doesn’t even have to be a rigid thing of “I will study two hours every day and clean my house every day before bed and write for two hours a day and run five miles every day.” It can be something loose and simple like, before I watch TV, I could spend just five minutes studying. Or I will try to move my body in some form of exertion a couple times a week. I’ll put a timer on for twenty minutes, and whatever I clean in that twenty minutes will make the house better off than it was before. Thinking of practical steps and then little by little choosing to carry some of those out is what personal responsibility and putting forth our part means to me. It doesn’t have to look the same way for all people. Everyone has their own style and learning curve of what works for them and motivates them and what doesn’t. That’s definitely okay. But allowing time to pass us by, blaming God when our lives or circumstances or characters don’t change, is heartbreaking poverty to me.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may cultivate and bring to You a heart of wisdom.” – Psalms 90:12
Time is the most precious resource we have, and too often, it’s what the enemy most easily steals. Don’t get me wrong—there are seasons for each of us. Walking seasons are important too. You don’t have to conquer all of your fears today or thrust yourself into all of your dreams tomorrow. But, do keep growing and moving forward even when that growth is at a crawl. Knowing the value of our time, especially in light of eternity, is what grows that garden of wisdom and allows us to carry a heart of Kingdom priorities.
Tidying up my thoughts and schedule improves my quality of life. When everything has its place on the totem pole of priorities, it’s easier for me to start enjoying some simple things in my spaces of margin and even within my schedule. (This is a good point I should make—I’m pretty adamant about jealously leaving some margin in my schedule. I have at least one day a week that I try to leave as catch-all days, which are different than a rest day. I could use that time to finish tasks I didn’t finish during the week or to have lunch with a friend or to make a nice dinner for my husband. I never plan every second of every day because I will naturally defy even my self-imposed, dictatorial structure. I do need structure to be productive, but loose, graceful structure leads to more productivity for me.) When the demands all have their place, my brain opens up to sensing simple, enjoyable things—the smell of fresh pineapple, the neatness of a breakfast bento box for Raúl, cooking a brand-new dish, enjoying a new writing rhythm, visiting with my dog. It becomes less about striving and more about seeing the world with fresh possibility. Not everyone will echo this sentiment, but I am most able to be present when I have done the preparation of scheduling my obligations.
Recently, due to Netflix and her book, Marie Kondo has become a bit of a cultural phenomenon. She is a Japanese organization guru who has written a few books on the topic and also has a Netflix special. Cleverly, Netflix released her special on New Year’s Day, and the masses have responded with great aspirations for organizing their homes and ridding themselves of their junk and clutter as a New Year’s resolution. I’m hesitant to say that I’m one of them. I don’t buy into a lot of her rituals. I don’t feel like I need to thank an inanimate object for its use to me, but I’ll gladly thank my Heavenly Father who provided that object for me. I don’t feel the need to greet my house, but I’ll gladly greet the Holy Spirit who I always want to invite to live with me in my house. But, I do find value in taking the time to remember all of the things that are in my home and to assess what still needs to be in my home and what can be cleared away to have some fresh, crisp space. Marie Kondo asks her participants to bring all of a related item to one centralized location—all of your clothes for example. It’s amazing what a wake-up call it can be to see just how much of just one thing one has. She also offers some great tips on folding and how to tackle such a daunting organizational job step-by-step. Her philosophy is to approach all of the things in your home with the question, “Does this spark joy for me?” In her Netflix special, she encourages the families to act accordingly to the answer to that question. If something does spark joy, find a way to keep it in an organized fashion. If it doesn’t, feel free to let it go.
I think she’s onto something that I can easily see applying to life organization. Like a cluttered junk room, too often we can get into the habit of tucking something emotionally unsightly into the hidden places of our hearts, or we can assume that we have to keep some aspect of our lives just because we’ve always done it that way and it’s served us until now. There is something important about hauling out all of our emotional baggage to really see what’s going on inside. Much like going through a box of old memories, we’ll discover things that we thought we’d forgotten and already dealt with but that we’d actually just brushed off on a surface level. Aside from emotionally, what about spiritual disciplines? How often do we keep a rusty, dusty tool just because we’re afraid that if we don’t hold onto it, someday we’ll need it or that we’ll somehow be betraying something that once worked? God is highly original and is always so creative in finding new ways to connect with us. If the usual routine of praying before bed feels cold and broken and distant, maybe it’s time to let that tool go for the time being and start journaling prayers, taking prayer walks with God, or praying the Psalms. Maybe it’s time to stop talking altogether and time to start listening. In the realm of future goals and carrying out dreams, I think it’s also important to analyze what fits. Like a bottomless closet, sometimes we’ve insisted on holding onto dreams to the point that we’re still cramming them into corners, stacking our shelves to the ceiling, and trying to shove just one more hanger onto that clothes rack. But, when we unpack that great closet of life aspirations, do all of those things fit together with how we’ve grown? Are we still dreaming of owning a small business just because that’s what our parents did? Do we want to continue to build houses in our ministry because that’s what’s expected or because it fits in with the direction God’s given us? Is this job still what God is asking of me or where I belong? Does homeschooling still make sense with our time needs and values, or could we give ourselves permission to think of other educational options for our children? It’s not a betrayal to ask those questions. Inevitably, there will be dreams we will have to let go of—we’ve been doing it since childhood. I didn’t end up as an ice skater, and I’m pretty cool with that. I still enjoy ice skating just for fun when the opportunity presents itself; I didn’t have to totally banish it from my life. Obviously, my ten-year-old goals were just outgrown.
When we are growing as people, I think it’s only natural for some dreams to need to be dismissed so that our true callings can be developed. Or, perhaps, the entirety of a dream doesn’t need released but rather a strategy we’ve been implementing. Oftentimes, it isn’t overt sin or something negative that steals our purposes or robs our true passions of our attention but rather good things and good intentions and expectations from good people. But, similarly to Marie Kondo’s method, I think we can be guided by some simple questions: Does this aspect of my life, my time, my priorities, my attitude, my behavior, my __________________ spark joy for Jesus and for me? (Keep in mind that within the Kingdom of God, joy doesn't mean a lack of suffering or difficulty. It means unwavering hope and connection with our Perfect Provider and Redemeer regardless.) Is this ____________________ bringing me closer to God or carrying me farther away from God? Does ___________________ reflect who God has made me to be, the calling He’s placed on my life, and the desires He’s placed in my heart? Who is asking me to be or to do this—God, myself, or others? What are my motivations for having/being/doing this thing? Are those motives God-honoring?
At the end of the day, tidying up our hearts and homes, thoughts and schedules is about opening ourselves up to a new perspective. So many times in my life I have felt oppressed or overwhelmed until I’ve given myself the permission to imagine a different version of my life and until I’ve realized that I have so much more power over my own life and priorities than I wanted to take responsibility for. It’s not so much about striving. It’s about making space for the Holy Spirit to enter and gently start nudging us—to clean up our heart by asking for forgiveness, to remove a commitment because it’s cluttering our God-given direction, to set boundaries and guard our hearts, and to be better stewards of our possessions and home. Once there is space and new, refreshing neatness, we have made the way for new priorities, new opportunities, new resources, new friendships, new attitudes, new behaviors, and more of the Heavenly Father’s presence in it all.
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