Archives for October 2013

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . TO SAY NO

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There are lots of roads to be traveled in this life.
Many of them are beautiful, enticing,
adventuresome.
But you know what?

We cannot follow them all.
Choosing to go on a particular road usually
means NOT choosing to go on another one.
Like it or not,
we live in a one-road-at-a-time life.

And it’s a good thing, too.
Trying to drive on several different roads at once
is impossible and more than a little bit crazy.

Yet, we tend to do that in other areas of our lives
all the time. 

We fall into the trap of yes.

Don’t get me wrong – saying yes is central to a full, rich, challenging life.
We need to say yes to lots of different things over the course
of our journey.

But we don’t need to say yes to everything.
In fact, we simply cannot.

But sometimes, we believe we can;
sometimes we really think we should.

And sometimes, we simply forget how to say no.

I call this trio the Terrible Threesome,
because any one of them can threaten to undo us;
all three of them, working together,
can send us into burnout in a great big hurry.

We are not superheroes;
we are not saviors;
we are not drudges.

We are human creatures,
designed to live at peace with
God, others and ourselves.

Try as we might, we cannot do everything.
(Because God already has.)
We cannot save the world.
(There is only one Savior.)
And we must not work ourselves to death.
(We are meant to enjoy God, and glorify God,
not to assume responsibilities we were never designed to bear.) 

Do you believe this?
Do you really believe this?

Then begin today to try and live as if you do.
Give yourself permission to say ‘no’ when you need to,
when your plate is already too full,
when what you’re being asked to do is not
in your area of gifting, does not fit in your calendar,
does not add anything but burden to your day.

To do that, you will need to know what your yeses are.
And figuring that out sometimes takes a while.

But it is oh-so-worth-it.

When we know what our yeses are,
what the non-negotiables are,
then we can take a deep breath,
refresh our memories,
and say ‘no’ when we need to do so.

So, what do you need to say no to right now?
Where are your yeses being squeezed out?

And what are you going to do about it? 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . TO CHANGE

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Everything changes.
We live in a world that is bound by time.
And time passes
and things (and people) change.

And we don’t like it very much, do we?
We label this process ‘aging,’
and I suppose that is true, as far as it goes.

But there is so much more to changing over time,
so much more.

Appearances definitely change over time, don’t they?
Last week, we had the joy of viewing this glory, up close and personal. 

Now, we are back at home, glad to be here, and we brought with us a few souvenirs.
This is all that remains of the outrageous conflagration of color
we gasped at all over the New England states.
These leaves, no longer connected to the tree,
still beautiful, but fading.

And eventually, disintegrating to dust. 

Today, I visited my mother and my mother-in-law.
70 years ago, my MIL looked like this –
young, enraptured with her firstborn,
dark-haired, smooth-skinned. 

And 66 years ago, this was my mother,
holding her nearly 2-year-old firstborn,
pregnant with number two,
joyful, loving life, energetic. 

Today, I found them both happily enjoying the beauty of cut flowers,
which they were helping to arrange themselves.
These vases go into their rooms,
to add color and life,
and will be replaced next Wednesday,
when the Garden Ladies come again to brighten their day.

Their skin is wrinkled, their hair is gray, their memories
are shrinking, narrowing. 

And of course, this aging process does not apply to our parents only;
Dick and I have seen our share of wrinkles and gray hairs, too.
Here we are in 1968, just after returning from two years in Africa. 


And here we are last week, sitting on a rock overlooking a New Hampshire hillside.

Yes, indeed, we have changed in appearance.
And we have changed on the inside, too.

We’ve grown up as well as grown old,
we’ve grown a family and careers,
we’ve been enriched by living, and loving, and losing.

Everyone changes.
And though it is sometimes hard,
it is always good.

Always.

Even when change brings the smart of tears to our eyes,
they are tears of joyful memory as well as sorrowful reality.

Because, you see, the past is always part of the present.
because we bring it with us.
We are who we’ve been becoming,
gray hair, expanding waistline, and all.

And you’ll get there, too.
So start now to give yourself permission to change,
to grow, to age – like a good cheese or a fine wine.

Every stage of life is a gift of God, even the hardest ones.
And change is something to be embraced,
and lived into gracefully.
Even though it’s sometimes scary and hard,
life is a gift.

First and foremost,
life is a gift. 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to SLEEP, perchance to DREAM

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SO . . . I may be putting that re-connection thing on hold for another day.
Because I am tired.
GOOD tired, but tired, nonetheless.

And I do believe in sleep,
yes, I do.
Even though I am a night-owl,
even though I have trouble getting to sleep at night,
even though I wish I didn’t need quite so much of it,
quite so often as I do,
I believe in sleep.

Sleep is where some of the most important work of our lives is done.
Our bodies heal and rest,
our spirits quiet themselves,
and our minds and hearts?

Well, they become a working canvas for the Holy Spirit,
the place where dreams happen,
where God helps us work through things
in ways that are unique to us,
yet shared by people around the globe. 

Have you ever kept a dream journal?

I highly recommend it,
especially when you’re going through a time of transition,
stress, or grief.
Just jot down the basics –
what you were feeling during the dream,
what happened,
who was there.
Try to give it a title, if you can.
Then take that journal note to prayer,
during  your daily time, whenever you manage to squeeze that in.

Remember that 95+% or the people in our dreams
are pieces of ourselves.
So, if you recognize someone,
ask yourself which part of yourself you see
in that person.

You might begin to have clarity about  
an upcoming decision,
or a tension you’ve been carrying,
or a puzzle you’re working out.

Sleep is good.
Dreams are even better.

Give yourself permission to dream a little! 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to RE-CONNECT

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Today, we are traveling from this . . . 

to this.

We’re winging our way home after two weeks on the road in New England.
And that followed four weeks on Kauai.
And that followed two weeks on the Elbe River.
And that (for me) followed one long weekend in Lincoln, Nebraska
with the amazing #JTreat team.

It’s been a year of airplanes and rental cars for me.
And each time, I’ve had to dis-connect when I leave,
and re-connect when I return home.

And I’m not just talking about social media here,
I’m talking about life.
Everyday life.
In my home, in my church, in my family.

There is an adjustment period,
increasingly short as the years add up,
every time I return to our home after an absence.

The mail, the bills, the grocery shopping, the laundry.
The family dinners, the visits with my mom,
the committees at church, the directees I meet with each month.

And this place, too.
When I’m at home, this space is somehow
more comfortable and more accessible to me.
My heart is easier to reach,
I have more quiet time and quiet space.

And I am given the wonderful gift of signing on again,
of opening these pages and feeling at home here.

I’m grateful for that.
And I’m grateful for you,
the faithful friends who stop in here and read,
sometimes leave comments,
even occasionally engage me in conversation
about what I’ve written here.

I am grateful.
And I look forward to being at home for a long stretch.
I look forward to re-connecting.

Where do you need to re-connect right now?
Is that a good thing or a hard thing? 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to LET LOOSE

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Some days just cry out for a little drama.
A little laughter, a little (or a lot) of silliness,
a willingness to let go of. . .
troubles,
worries,
inhibitions,
fears,
shyness,
self-consciousness,
sadness.

Because, you know what?

LIFE IS SHORT.

No matter how long your life may be,
it is, in the scheme of things,
SHORT.

And at places along the way,
it’s really important
to let loose of all that constrains us,
to ignore expectations,
to sink into our humanity
with abandon and relief.

We don’t have the answers to
life’s hard questions.
We don’t know what’s coming tomorrow.
We can’t ‘fix’ anyone,
even though we might,
on occasion, be helpful and empathetic.

Heck,
we can’t even fix ourselves, can we?

So every once in a while,
letting loose
helps us to remember all these truths,
and laugh in the face of them.

May you find the space to let loose today, friends. 

I believe it is pleasing to God when we 
let go of our ever-lovin’ need to be
correct,
proper,
in control,
measured.

We are creatures, after all.
And some days, it is good to relax into that wonderful truth. 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to LAMENT

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 I have written about this profoundly important topic before,
just last month, in fact,
and if you have not already read that post,
you can find it here. 

 Over the days that remain in this 31-Day challenge,
I’ll be writing about a whole slew of topics,
some of them sweet,
some funny,
some potentially life-changing.

But here is no other topic that is as close to my heart,
nor as important to the church
as this one right here:

LAMENT.

Lament is a language we all once knew,
and, I believe, we still know, somewhere deep down inside.
But for a long list of reasons,
the contemporary church,
most especially the contemporary
evangelical church,
has forgotten how to speak it.

More importantly, perhaps,
it has forgotten how to hear it,
how to sit with another as they speak it.

We talked yesterday about listening —
about how important it is to listen to ourselves,
to listen to God,
and to listen to one another.

I intentionally put that topic right next to this one
because if we learn how to listen well,
I believe we will re-discover the language of lament. 

We live in a beautiful, broken world.
And we are beautiful, broken creatures.

There needs to be room to affirm that brokenness,
to acknowledge it without losing ourselves to
fear or despair.

When we learn to speak the language of lament,
just like the psalmists did,
just like JESUS did,
we find that room,

and the ability to breathe deeply,
to sigh in recognition and relief.

Can you give yourself permission to lament when you need to?
To weep, or wail, or shake your fist?
God can take it.
In fact, God invites it.
 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to LISTEN

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Talk about a verb with many layers of meaning!
Listening
happens at many different levels, doesn’t it?

We listen to a speaker (which is so much easier to do when said speaker
is as listenable as Jennifer Dukes Lee!)

 We listen in a small group setting,
trying to sift out one voice from another,
opening ourselves to understand and be understood. 

But when it gets down to one-on-one,
an entirely different set of skills needs to settle in,
skills that require us to focus,
to listen without anticipating our own response,
to ask careful questions and make appropriate responses.

When one other person is telling us their story,
we are required to line up our head with our heart,
and to prayerfully look for nuances and unspoken truths.
It’s a complicated and important process,
this kind of listening.

And it is very, very important.

So today, I want to give you permission to make room
in your life, in your schedule, in your heart
for practicing good listening.

And you need to start practicing with . . .

listening to yourself first,
and then, listening to God. 

So, how can we listen to ourselves?
Life is full, there are kids to raise,
jobs to finish,
schedules to keep,
obligations to be met.
There is little space to breathe,
much less navel-gaze, right?

Uh, that would be a ‘NO.’

There is no other form of self-care I know anything about
that is more important than this:
carving out a few minutes every day to
listen to what our heart wants to say to us. 

Ten minutes. 
Just 10 minutes.
Find a quiet corner,
breathe deeply,
close your eyes
and listen.

Who are you in this moment?
Who do you want to be?
What are your dreams —
both literal and figurative?
(Remember that God works in our subconscious
as well as our conscious minds,
so dreams are often rich reminders
of what God is doing in us.)

Then take a big breath and offer what you hear
to God, to the only God who hears us when we cry,
the God of Hagar,
the God who sees and the God who hears.

If you have one, trusted, listening friend – you have a great gift.
Take what you learn in these short listening windows
and talk it over,
and maybe pray it over,
with that friend who hears you,
the one who listens.

I think you’ll be amazed at what you hear,
at how you grow,
at what you learn about God’s faithfulness,
and about YOU,
how you’re wired, who you are.

And that kind of listening can change your life. 

31 Days of Giving Permission . . . to LAUGH

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 So . . . I have this really huge laugh.
It’s embarrassing – just ask my kids or my husband.
I love to laugh, I need to laugh,
but sometimes, I’m too inhibited to really let ‘er rip, you know?

When I’ve had too many days like that,
I need to find a child to be with.

Please bear in mind that I am not a ‘kid’ person.
I adore my children and their children.
And anybody’s baby is fair game, in my book.

But small kids?
I tend to smile benignly . . . from a distance.
When they get a little older,
I’m all in, fascinated by the conversations,
interested in what interests them,
delighted to know who they’re becoming.

And yet, I’ll say it again — it is the little ones
that I need to be with when I find I am
getting a little too full of myself,
or am a little too unwilling to play the fool.

Because the truth is this:
I AM a fool — in a very good way, I hope.
I’m not the fool that the book of Proverbs warns against,
the one who refuses to ‘fear the Lord.’

But I AM the fool who loves a good giggle,
who enjoys good jokes, good writing, good company.

Despite that truth, there are times when
I need to give myself permission to
really, truly LAUGH.

A few weeks ago, I went to Grandparent’s Day at our littlest girl’s school.
Dick had a meeting, so it was just Nana for this event,
which is a rare thing in and of itself.
Because my husband, you see, is a child’s dream come true.
He truly gets them,
he loves them, he volunteers to work
with Lilly’s class of 15 one full day each week.

The man is a saint, I tell you, a saint. 

But this day, it was my turn.

And, my stars, did I have fun. 

Because, this girl?

This girl — she knows how to have fun. Yes, she does.

All I had to do was be her shadow for a couple of hours,
and I felt better about myself, about the world, about life. 

 I even got on a swing, for the first time in years!
I didn’t stay on the swing for very long . . .
because, you know, there were all those adults around . . .
but I swung myself up and back a few times and leaned my head back,
and I laughed out loud. 

 I have written, and will write again in this very series,
about the need for lament, for tears, for letting
the fullness of our grief up to the surface and out.

But today, I want to encourage you to LAUGH.

To smile, giggle, chuckle, guffaw — to let the joy of life
seep through you and then leak out into the world
around you, wherever you may be. 

 Because laughter is good medicine,
it brings relief and release and joy.

Try it!! You’ll like it.

Giving Permission . . . to LEAN

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So, right now,
these people (and a few others)
are saving my life.

These are sisters at the soul level,
and I find that I lean on them for all kinds of things
that are good and important and transformational.

It’s hard for me to lean on others.
I’ve always been the go-to girl,
the strong one, the leader, the loud-mouth.
It’s taken me . . . oh. . . about 40 years,
give or take a decade,
to understand that I am weakest when I try to go it alone,
that strength is truly found in numbers,
that I was never meant to carry the weight of the world
on these shoulders, even though they are b-r-o-a-d ones.

We are communal creatures, even when the community drives us batty.
We need one another to make it to the next Big Thing,
and we’re designed that way on purpose.

Nobody was ever meant to suffer life’s tragedies —
or celebrate life’s joys — all by themselves.
Yes, indeed, solitude is a good and necessary thing.
It helps us become quiet,
it centers us on the Center,
it encourages and nourishes and gentles and guides.

But the solitude and the silence,
the centering and the re-creating
come to fruition in the messes of everyday living,
in the intersections we have with others.

When we learn to lean,
we learn to grow, and even to flourish.

So, right now, this community is the one that
helps me find my way home in the dark,
the one that holds me accountable,
the one that teaches me new things about grace
every.single.day.

Have you found some leaning space?
If so, tell me a little about it.
If you’re working’ on it, let me pray for you.
I’d be honored to! 

Giving Permission . . . to LEARN

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These words speak to me today,

“Come to me, all you that are weary . . .
take my yoke upon you, and learn from me;
for I am gentle and humble in heart

and you will find rest for your souls. . .” 

I consider myself a ‘life-long learner.’
I enjoy learning new things, re-learning old things,
challenging myself with new ideas and difficult concepts.

But some things . . .
well, some things, I never seem to learn deeply enough.

And these lovely words from Jesus tell me that
THIS is one of those things:

resting in Jesus.

Oh, my. I say I love to learn,
that I’m eager to try new things.
But this one?
This kind of learning?

I am a slow student in this school,
plodding through life on my own strength,
adding responsibilities, 
accumulating too much stuff,
making too many commitments.

There is a drivenness in me that
pushes me to jump on that merry-go-round,
the one that spins on my insecurities
and overweening ego,
the one that makes me dizzy and tired.

So today, I am going back to school.
I want to learn from Jesus about gentleness,
about humility,
about rest.

What about you?
Is it time to rest from the spinning,
to let a plate or two drop,
to admit that you aren’t a super-powered human being?

Because the good news is that Jesus wants us to be life-long learners.
As long as this lesson is on the top of the to-do stack: 

“. . .take my yoke upon you, and learn from  me . . .”