The Medicine Cabinet

Last month, I joined the WritersGathering that my aunt-in-law, Julie Gardner, facilitates each week. I have never participated in any sort of writing group at all, so I had no idea what to expect. It has been wonderful! I've not found such joy in writing in quite awhile and I am realizing how important it is to make time to do the things you love, just for fun.

Each week we have several different writing segments with various prompts. This past week, one of our prompts was "a medicine cabinet" and this is what I wrote. Keep in mind that it is, of course, fiction. In our group, any and all work is considered fiction unless otherwise specified.

The Medicine Cabinet

I never go into a bathroom with the intention to snoop. Oftentimes, I will visit someone’s home and never even use the restroom and I feel no sense of missed opportunity. But when I’m alone in a room filled with personal things with a locked door assuring that I won’t be caught, what reason is there to not look? I’ve learned a lot about people by what is in their medicine cabinet. My Uncle Joe has at least four manicure kits in his, after the discovery of which I always have a heightened awareness of his fingernails. They are always clean and tidy. My friend Maggie is an excessive junk food eater, but her medicine cabinet is stocked with rows of vitamins and supplements—I can’t figure this out and of course I can’t exactly talk to her about it.

So here I was, faced with another medicine cabinet in another home. It was Kevin’s home—a guy I have been interested in for a couple of months now. We have only been casual friends and this is the first time I’ve been invited over. I hesitate after drying off my hands before I pull open the door. Usually, I’m unconcerned with what I will find in these tiny closets, but today I’m suddenly aware that what I find could matter. I shove any feelings of hesitation away and pull open the door. And there, on those little shelves, I find something I’ve never found before: Nothing. Not even a toothbrush. Who has nothing in their medicine cabinet? What does this mean about him? My mind is full of so many questions by this emptiness; questions that I just can’t have answers to. As I leave the bathroom and rejoin my friends I’m surprised by how I can’t stop thinking about that empty medicine cabinet.  A silly thing, I know, but like I said, you can tell a lot about people by what’s in their medicine cabinet.

the same old thing.

There is a man who I see every morning while I sit waiting for my bus. At precisely 7:10 AM, he walks by with his two dogs which appear to be a mix between Dalmatians and Daschunds. He wears a grey sweatsuit and recently started adding a coat as the weather has gotten colder. Every morning I see him and it always makes me think about his life and what it must be like. He seems a creature of habit and I imagine him waking up early, having his morning coffee and reading his paper, changing clothes to be appropriate for different parts of his day--maybe a little reminiscent of Mr. Rogers. And then I start thinking about how my life isn't like that at all. Outside of going to work, there are very few things I do the same every day.

I have always been averse to consistency in my schedule as I almost feel like routine and structure create walls forming a prison of my life. (Extreme, I know, but true to how I feel). But I have started to wonder--is there something to having a routine that creates fulfillment in our lives. It gives us the ability to make sure we make room for all the things that are important to us.

I have always felt as though I lack a certain amount of self-discipline, but maybe what I have really lacked is the desire to schedule my time--including all those"non-required" things that actually do matter and often go by the wayside when time isn't allotted for them--prayer and exercise being two primary examples.

I still fear the inflexibility that routine suggests, and I am nowhere near becoming the next Mr. Rogers, but I am realizing that without this structure, the things that are important to me may never become a consistent part of my life. Maybe its time to start making some little routines (with the disclaimer that they are always adjustable, of course).

unaware of the world around

They were kissing with the intensity of those who belong to each other, unaware of the world around them.

Every once in awhile, when I am reading a book, a sentence or phrase will strike me and I will find myself thinking about it for days afterwards. Such was the case with this quote from The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón.

The book is a great one, but it is far from a romantic novel, so perhaps that is why this sentence stood out to me even more. I would fill you in on the context of this sentence, but truly it isn’t important for the sake of this post. If you want to know the story, read the book. You’ll be glad you did.

I haven’t been able to get this sentence out of my mind, so I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means. To me, there is so much depth in those words. In the book, they were the only words used to describe the scene that was taking place, and they were the only words that were needed, because you know, with those words, everything that you need to know—that the two people were deeply in love, but not only that. In addition to being in love, they weren’t distracted from their love. They were focused on it. That is what captured me.

I’ve realized in my life that I’m often distracted from love. In my heart, I am a romantic. I love romance. But in my life, I often find that I don’t live out the romance that is in my heart because I am distracted by practicality. Romance and love are a concept of our souls and regardless of our relationship status, they are vital to each one of us. They are the freedom that we have to live life with passion and adventure, letting the joy of life and the relationships that we have fill us to overwhelming. 

But then why am I so distracted by what needs to be done that I so often fail to “kiss with the intensity of those who belong to each other, unaware of the world around them.” --Or to do anything with abandon, for that matter. 

I didn’t used to be this way. But the responsibilities of life have seemed to overtake the place of love and romance in my life. 

It's funny how something so small reminded me of who I want to be and how I want to live. 

The I'm, but generation.

Today I was reading a post on Relevant Magazine's website. In it, author Jon Acuff is quoted as writing "We've become the 'I'm, but' generation... We inevitably say, 'I'm a _____, but I want to be a _____.

This struck a cord with me, as I sit a desk working (sometimes) on menial projects that don't mean anything to me. "I'm an administrative assistant, but I want to be a missionary/humanitarian worker, writer, doula and artist."

Why do we so often end up doing what we do when we want to be doing something different? There are many reasons--and some of them are valid--but so often it's fear. Being afraid to step out in faith. Fear of failure. Fear of financial difficulties. Sometimes, though, we have things like student loans to pay back and we feel the necessity to enter our fields of passion debt-free.

Lately, Luke and I have been talking a lot about doing the things that we love, in spite of the fact that we aren't able to jump on a plane to South Africa in the next few months. We've realized that pursuing our passions is not just a good idea, it's pretty much a necessity to our happiness and contentment in our current phase of life. So instead of just coming home at the end of the day with stories from our boring jobs, we decided to start working toward the things that our hearts yearn for.

Luke loves to fly, but he hasn't been able to afford to sit in a cockpit since April. I have a passion for the babies and women . When we go to Africa, Luke and I both want to utilize these two passions, among others. So at the beginning of the month, Luke ordered a book to study to begin his training to be a flight instructor and I ordered Misconceptions, the first book required for my training to receive my postpartum doula certificate.

I can't tell you how these decisions have changed what our lives are like. Instead of sitting on the couch telling Luke about entering data a surprisingly fast rate, I tell him excitedly how I learned that prenatal amnio tests are dangerous because they often result in the leaking of amniotic fluid and potentially even miscarriages (not to mention they are often wrong, leading parents to think their child has Downs or some other birth defect unnecessarily). See? I love it. And pretty soon, Luke will get to start his training at the airport and get to fly again and it's going to change him, because he loves it.

So, I guess I am writing to encourage everyone that even if you can't go for your "but I want to be a _____" for good reasons right now, still pursue those things your heart loves. It will make you happier and as a result, a better person.

our christmas tree killed itself.

I know, I know. I just wrote a blog the other week about how beneficial waking up in the morning and exercising was to my general life. But then I realized that I was mentally freaking out any time I was going to sleep later than 9:30 and I also realized that since I don't absolutely have to, 4:30am is way too early to wake up. (It's too early to wake up even if you DO have to). So, I've changed things up. I am exercising at night. Given it's impossible for it to be quite as consistent since there are sometimes things going on when I get off work, especially during the Christmas season, but I have realized several benefits to this option. 

• I get to exercise with Luke
• I am more motivated
• I get to sleep until 5:30 or 6am
• I am less stressed about the amount of sleep I am getting

So, this is the way things are going to stay, unless I ever could exercise in the morning and still wake up at 5:30 or 6. 

I'm starting a food journal. Yep, it's starting today. I've learned that a huge part of having discipline is simply being aware of what you are doing. So, if I'm writing down everything that I put in my mouth (even just a bite of cake), I'll be more aware. And I think sometimes I may not eat certain things just because I don't want to have to write them down.

I've also decided to keep a "sentence journal". I got this idea from The Happiness Project (as well as the food journal idea). I've always been a journal keeper, but often I slack off because the prospect of writing seems like something I need a lot of time for. The idea behind a sentence journal is that I can write 1-5 sentences about whatever I want, each day, and I won't feel guilty that I'm not writing more, but at least I am writing something. 

Our Christmas tree killed itself. Ever since we got it the day after Thanksgiving, it has refused to drink water. I hoped it would hold out until Christmas, but by the end of this past week, all the branches were hanging low and it was starting to turn brown. So, we strapped in on the top of our car with twine (and if you have ever seen an unbundled Christmas tree on top of a car, it's quite a site--very Clark Griswold-esque) and took that sucker back where it came from--Lowe's. They gave us a new one. It's not as beautiful as the last one since it's the week before Christmas and the pickins are slim, but it's green and LOVES to drink water, so I love it. 

We went to Leavenworth this past weekend with friends. Leavenworth is a little Bavarian town on the east side of the Cascade Mountains. It was basically a dying town and the city council decided they could save it if they turned it into a little Germany. It's a completely ridiculous place, complete with a classic Bavarian McDonalds, a tiny hill where they have hauled snow in from the mountain (well, some might call it snow--it was more like icy mud) for children to sled on and cheap plastic sleds for $20. My favorite part of the evening was commentating on the ridiculously overpriced Christmas ornaments of angels with no pants on. Also, the bratwursts. 

The Abare's are coming this week. It's going to be a good, old-fashioned Christmas here in Sea-town. 

Merry Christmas, everyone!

the colors of the morning

By the time I get on the 242 from Seattle to Redmond in the mornings, the bus is usually pretty full. Often, the only open seats are in the accordion part of the bus where no one likes to sit (I am pretty sure it would have most people puking within minutes because of the way it moves). Thankfully, I’m not prone to motion sickness, so I usually have two seats to myself, which I really like, because then I am not trying to not slide into someone else when the bus is turning. I hate that. The bad part about sitting in the accordion, though, is that there aren’t windows in that part of the bus, and it’s difficult to see out of the other ones. 

This morning as we were driving across Lake Washington and I was reading my book, I happened to glance up and saw a reflection of orange out of the corner of my eye. I began craning my neck and was finally able to get a pretty decent view of one of the most beautiful sunrises that I have ever seen. It was a fairly cloudy morning, but the clouds were thick and low and as the sun came through them, it created a beautiful orange and hot pink pattern in the sky. That combined with the reflection on the water was absolutely breathtaking. I spent the next five minutes staring out that window. I know it was making the man who I was looking past to see through the window behind him feel uncomfortable as I noticed him awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact, but I really didn’t care. I couldn’t take my eyes away from it. In those moments, I was struck by the phrase from a Phil Wickham’s song, “The colors of the morning are inside your eyes.” That sunset was beautiful and realizing that I worship the God who created it (and is even more beautiful) was a moment of worship in and of itself. 

Whenever I don’t want to get out of bed in the morning, it helps to remember that I might see a sunrise. Sunrises are always worth it. 

there is only love.

I am reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin and in it she addresses happiness—the goals she makes to achieve it, why it is important and why it is not only good for you, but also good for everyone around you, for you to be happy. Each month, Gretchen focuses on different areas of her life that she wants to better—Vitality, Friendship, Attitude…the list goes on. 

In February, she focuses on marriage. Gretchen realizes that she can’t change her husband, but she can change herself. She makes an effort to look past her husband’s faults and focus on his positive attributes. She disciplines herself to be purposefully nice to him. In the midst of the chapter, she recognizes a truth that is quite sad: those we love most, we tend to neglect, take for granted or even fail to treat them with the same courtesy we would treat a stranger. On a quest to better her marriage and be a better wife, Gretchen remembers something a friend once told her: “There is only love.”

A friend of mine was the source of that commandment. She came up with the phrase when she was considering taking a high-pressure job where she’d be working for a notoriously difficult person. The person handling the hiring process told her, “I’m going to be honest with you. John Doe is very effective, but he’s an extremely tough guy to work for. Think hard about whether you want this job.” My friend really wanted the job so she decided, “There is only love.” From that moment on, she refused to think critical thoughts about John Doe; she never complained about him behind his back; she wouldn’t even listen to other people criticize him.…If my friend could do that for her boss, why couldn’t I do it for Jamie [her husband]? Deep down, I had only love for Jamie—but I was allowing too many petty issues to get in the way.

I’m only on the third chapter, but so far this small passage and that tiny little phrase have stood out to me more than anything else. If Gretchen’s friend could do this for her boss and if Gretchen could do it for her husband, why can I not take this phrase and employ it in my life. Why not hold onto that gleaming truth and when I am irritated with the clerk at the store who takes 48 seconds to scan each item? Why not remember love when a friend forgets plans that we made two weeks ago? Or when a customer service agent seems incompetent? These are things I let get under my skin. I can become angry, hurt and most certainly unhappy. Applying this principle, There is only love, seems like simple wisdom in the face of the human tendency to react quickly based on feelings. Instead of letting our feelings guide us, why not guide our feelings. So here is my goal: when someone does something that is frustrating or even hurtful, I will try to remember There is only love.