Path of Most Resistance

Forgiveness. Gah!!!! It’s the worst! It’s the thing we do desperately hope to receive from others when we have wronged them. It rolls off the tongue in song lyrics and makes a fantastic story arc for movies and shows.

But when you are on the other side. When you have been so deeply wounded by someone else’s careless or malicious actions, forgiveness shape shifts.

Now it feels like permission. Now it feels like dismissing. Now it feels like down playing, saying was OK, or it doesn’t matter.

No ma’am. Forgiveness couldn’t be any further from any of those things.

Forgiveness recognizes that the offense was so grievous that to deny it happened and to continue to carry the burden yourself will crush you. Forgiveness recognizes that it wasn’t fair and you didn’t deserve what happened. Forgiveness recognizes that the pain is real, palpable, and at times debilitating. Forgiveness recognizes that allowing Jesus to carry the weight and hurt and heartache isn’t actually for the other person. Forgiveness is for you.

When we cooperate with the process of forgiveness, the bitterness and resentment that we are harboring lose their footholds and begin to slowly pass (not unlike a kidney stone or impacted bowel). Over time, there is room for peace. Quiet, calm peace.

He’s faithful to hold and carry it for us. He’s faithful to exact justice and mercy when and how He sees fit. He’s faithful to heal wounds that have been festering.

It wasn’t OK.

It should not have been like that.

You didn’t deserve it.

Do you think we could let Him hold it?

If you know her at all, you know her well. She’s loud, incessant, and expertly fit to the dark recesses of our mind. She sounds like: if they only knew, there’s no coming back from this, they could never actually love all of you, your fate is sealed, this is your legacy, you’re ruined. Shame will dare you to and then put her foot on the back of your neck when you concede. She sounds like the narratives that keep you from showing up for your life out of fear. That keep you isolating. Camouflaging. Shame will tell you you’re the only one. No one understands. Shame will tell you you’ve forfeited your chance at an abundant life. There is no other side of this.
But love. Love covers a multitude of sins. Love reminds you who you are, Whose you are, and that there is nothing – NOTHING- that can separate you from Him. Love crushes the enemy under His heel. Love slays the dragons of fear, insecurity, and regret, and victoriously stands on the top of the mountain with the head of the enemy in His hand. Love. Never. Fails.

I usually start my blog posts with a relatable or funny story to segue and connect to the overarching theme. But the reality is this one comes straight from a place of fear and insecurity. There are a lot of times (most of them) when I struggle with the nagging question: Am I enough? Or her very ugly, wart-covered stepsister: Am I too much?

Am I enough? She’s thinly veiled in, what looks from afar, to be humility. An attempt to not seem braggy or too forward about ourselves, skill sets, or talents. Don’t be deceived, ma’am. When she enters the narrative, I can become so paralyzed by the perceived threat of failure that I am not even willing to try. If I don’t try, I can’t fail. And why bother trying if I can’t do it with great skill and mastery straight out the gate. (I know. Bless my heart.) I would rather sit it out than risk deflating hope and disappointment in myself OR (!even worse!) the woefully anticipated disappointment of the people I know and love.

Then, there is the second narrative. She’s a real heifer. Am I too much? If I show up, and give them all of who I am, as I am, is it going to be too much for them to handle. (High 5 if you now have “Hard to Handle” by the Black Crowes playing in your head.) So then I play small, shrink back, or edit and photoshop my personalities to fit the circumstances and preferences of those around me. (Disclaimer: Don’t read that last statement as free license to be a douche because you’re showing up as you’re authentic self. “Manners maketh the (wo)man.”)

Both narratives are toxic. They put us in a defensive posture to either puff up, shrink down, play small, or disengage all together because we would rather not try than try and fail. (Spoiler alert! There’s life on the other side of failure!)

But. What if we can shift the narratives of not being enough or being too much by asking a different, better question?

Am I willing to offer whatever I do have for Him to use? Am I willing to trust that when the numbers don’t add up that He will be faithful and more than sufficient to fill in the gaps?

Jesus specializes in using the small and unexpected in mighty, mind-blowing, history-altering ways.

King David is touted as being a man after God’s own heart. He wrote the majority of the book of Psalms in the Old Testament of the Bible. That guy wasn’t 👏🏻 even 👏🏻 in 👏🏻the 👏🏻 lineup with his brothers to be considered as king. The line up that his DAD arranged. His dad!!

The story of the widow’s mite in the New Testament of the Bible tells how she gave all of what she had, even though it was so little, to stand the faith of the Pharisees on its head.

The story of fish and loaves in the New Testament where the disciples hijack a kid’s lunch of tiny loaves and some sardines has been used for centuries to demonstrate how when the Lord blessed it, it was multiplied to feed 5000 people to satisfaction. 5000. To satisfaction. From a Happy Meal.

And then there’s the Christmas Story. Where the savior of the world became Emmanuel. God with us. But not wielding swords and an army (that happens later in the story.). No. He came down as a small, vulnerable baby to grow, walk, love, and live among His creation. To carry out a purpose awesome and incredible that eternity would never be the same.

I don’t want to pander to fear or insecurity -though those narratives are loud and convincing!! I don’t want to sit out, play small, or overextend. I want to show up, with open hands, willing and trusting that either He has equipped me for the task at hand, or that though it is way over my head, He is Emmanuel. Faithful, sufficient, and with me.

If you’re reading this and all of your ducks are in single file rows, color-coded, cross referenced, and in ABC order, keep scrolling. But if you have found yourself in a fiendish frenzy trying to herd cats, lean in. You’re in good company.

I may or may not have experienced a threat level midnight come apart in the not too distant past. (I can’t exactly blame the singular set of circumstances because I may or may not have had a very comparable experience a few months prior.) Long story short, before it was all said and done, my voice was up 2 octaves and 3 decibels, and my arms were flailing like an air traffic controller.

The specifics don’t matter, but here’s the general formula: Anticipated Event ➕ Logistics A though M ✖️ Limiting factors and unmet expectations ➗ 24 hours in a day to the 1 person power.

As easy as it is to think that we are the only ones struggling to keep our head above water, I would be willing to bet your lunch money that every woman you’ve come in to contact with has at some point found herself overwhelmed and undone. The New Testament Book of Luke tells us a story of a woman named Martha (one of Jesus’s closest friends), and her very public unraveling . Let me set the stage…

Here’s Martha, opening her home to Jesus and his motley crew. I have zero doubts that the disciples excitedly took Martha up on her offer to host because ol’ girl knew how to put it down in the kitchen. This is far from her first rodeo. But somewhere between “Y’all come on over! I’ve got a goat that’s been marinating!”, and the food hitting the table, there was a breakdown in expectations and focus. We don’t know a lot of details, but Luke does tell us that Martha was distracted. (Same, sister. Same.) This is the point in the story where she usually catches a bad wrap from some commentators. Mary, her sister, is heralded as a wise and perceptive follower of Jesus as she posts up at his feet while he talks and teaches. I get it. From a 2000 year view, you can see the forrest and the trees. But Martha is in the weeds. All she can see is the mounting pile of dishes in the sink, an overburdened oven and stove top, a shortage of silverware, and a living room pregnant with guests INCLUDING the Messiah! If I pull these tables apart, I can squeeze 2 extra people at the ends. Is the goat ever going to cook through?! I can’t give these people food poisoning! Crap! The rolls are burned! Yes, the restroom is the 3rd door on your right. No, they’re isn’t a gluten free option. Yes, please help yourself to something to drink! Then she breaks. “LORD!!! Don’t you even care…” Conversations are abruptly halted and piercing silence falls across the house. Martha’s heart is in her throat. “Oh no. Did I say that out loud?” And then Jesus. “Martha, Martha…” (He probably says it twice because she didn’t hear Him the first time with all of the whizzing and throbbing in her ears.) “You are worried and upset about many things…” She gasps to herself because she realized that while everyone else is looking at her, He SEES her. He continues, “but few things are needed- indeed only one…” He goes on to say something about her sister, but a tuning fork has just been set off in her core. In that moment, Jesus releases her from every expectation set by herself or anyone not Himself. He sees her desire to serve and love others well. He sees her fear of failing. He sees her desire to hold it all together, even though she is crumbling. He sees her. And in that moment, He gives her permission to pause. To breathe. To be ok with the outcome falling somewhere between perfect and eff it. To recognize that what would have been considered bottom of the barrel execution by your own standards a year or two ago now gets you a high 5 to yourself. To let good enough be good enough.

Because sometimes putting your name on the paper and submitting the assignment with 2 days of dry shampoo has to be good enough. Because sometimes “pantry and fridge clean out night” (ie. I have zero planned for dinner, so every man for himself) has to be good enough. Because sometimes sexy date nights that look more like comfy jammies has to be good enough.

We don’t know any other details on what happens that night, but the next time she finds herself overwhelmed with the passing of her brother, she doesn’t busy herself or numb her way out of it. She goes directly to the Lord. Not knowing what he will do but that he made a promise that He will keep.

There are many things that have to be done, but only few-indeed only one- is required of you right now. In the middle of the overwhelm, with the circumstances and responsibilities swirling around – even if they are circumstances they chose, or hoped or prayed for – good enough can be good enough. And there are wide lanes of grace and new mercies in the morning.

*True confessions: I’ve been sitting on this for 13 months with writer’s block, reluctant to post it because “it just wasn’t quite right.” She’s not perfect. But she’s live. Good enough just has to be good enough.

2020. Webster’s newest profane induction to the dictionary. Man, she’s been a heifer. You remember when we all were doing puzzles and speculating about Carole Baskins? Who knew that was the “fun” part of 2020! Now, it feels like everyone is holding their breath as we find out who is going to hold office for the next 4 years. (Now listen, I’m gonna need y’all to remember back to your rec league basketball days. At the end of the game, you high 5 your opponent, and say “Good game!” 80003747 times. Even if the entire game was a dumpster fire. Act right, y’all. Don’t be ugly.)

I digress.

I was previously working on a marriage post about how your feelings follow your focus. ( So if the internal narrative is all of the ways my husband offends/annoys/burdens me, guess what I’m going to find?) Honestly, it wasn’t until this week that I realized just how much that was true across the board.

I’ve allowed myself to hone in on things that are wildly outside of my control, and with less than inconspicuous agendas.

I forgot the spillover effects. Input ➡️ Thoughts ➡️ Attitudes.

I just can’t with this anymore. Tightness in my chest, short temper with my boys, difficulty sleeping, stress eating (hello, Covid-10!). Enough.

I may not be able to change my circumstances. But I can set my focus. And when I determine my focus, my feelings will follow.

If I want a joy-filled life, I’ve got to seek and celebrate spots of joy. If I want a peaceful life, I’ve got to breakaway from the noise and chatter and carve out time and space for a hard reset.

This year will end. How I experience it will be up to me.

Oh man. I really thought we would be on the other side of this by now. I really thought Rona was just going to be a blip on the 2020 radar, and we’d be able to have some of the humor that comes with time and perspective over how wild of a ride it was and “you remember that time toilet paper and bidets were impossible to find?” I really thought schools would be preparing for a typical re-entry for Fall. I really thought our summer vacation would go unscathed because “that’s 3 months from now. Certainly all of this will be behind us by then.”

I really thought we would be back to some semblance of normal by now. But here we sit. With families and those in leadership trying to thread an impossible needle for which there is no right answer. For any of it.

The first few weeks seemed to be padded with grace and understanding for our neighbors. We were birdwatching, night capping, puzzle assembling, banana bread baking, front porch sitting geriatric versions of ourselves.

But the new shiny of quarantine has worn off.

And it seems that this extended period of social distancing has caused some people to forget what their momma taught them as they air their opinions wontonly and willfully with just enough information to be dangerous. Now people seem to take free license to cast all manners aside and detail out all of the ways you are doing whatever you’re doing (or not doing) wrong.

Let me spare you the trouble! I have no idea what I’m doing here!! I’ve never navigated a world wide pandemic!

You know what I love? A good plan with clear objectives and timelines. You know what we don’t have?? See above.

Frankly, I’m tired of it all. I’m fighting daily to hold space for myself, my kids, and my team. And the fact that my 4 year old can use the word “coronavirus” in context a little bit pisses me off.

So what do we do with all of this? Honestly, I am pretty salty about the entire gig when left to my own devices. But that’s not helpful. So, if I am unable to change my circumstances (preferable but not possible in a pandemic), my only other choice is to adjust my perspective. What am I going to choose to focus on? What is passing through my hands at this very moment that I can choose to see or use for good? David was walking through the shadow of death and not fearing evil. Huckleberry Drive is a far cry from that.

Breathe.

Focus, Tiff.

Green pastures. Still waters. Righteous paths. Refreshment in a world full of noise and chaos.

I have no idea what I’m doing. But there is none of this that comes as a surprise to Him. For today, that will just have to be enough.

“Surrounded (Fight My Battles)”

Aye, Corona.

This heifer came in like a wrecking ball! (Turn it up, DJ!) One minute, we are washing our hands and not being idiots about basic hygiene, and the next minute we are preparing to shelter in place. Heavens to Betsy.

Here in South Carolina, the governor (initially) closed down all schools for two weeks, and recently extended it for a total of almost 6 weeks. Listen, we here in the South will shut it down over a flake of snow, but a statewide mandate of this magnitude is “unprecedented”. In fact, everything about this worldwide pandemic is “unprecedented”. Educators, clinicians, retailers, and virtually every other industry has had to turn on a dime.

Now that schools here have gone to a distance learning model, and many employers are encouraging staff to work remotely, we are all trying to navigate synonymously being parent and employee and teacher IN THE SAME PLACE without the benefit of field trips to the park or play dates with friends.

All of the people in the house for all of the time.

Lord, be near.

The first two hours of the new (temporary) normal were fine. By lunch, I knew we were in trouble. By Wednesday, I had a mini (it wasn’t mini) meltdown. (In my defense, I was “fine” until a sweet family film entitled Togo, catapulted me in to a cry that cannot be described with English words. If you ever find yourself constipated with emotions, that should do the trick.)

There’s a story in Mark 2:22 that has brought immense comfort and perspective for me in this “unprecedented” season. Jesus explains that we cannot pour new wine (expectations for working from home, distance learning/homeschooling, quarantine) in to old wine skins (previous constructs for working, schooling, socializing, living). And if we do, the new wine (new temporary normals) will burst the wine skins (schedules/habits/workload/routines we were accustomed to), and we will ruin them BOTH.

New wine requires new wine skins.

I cannot parent, work, gather, or peruse like I did 3 weeks ago. And if I do try to shoehorn all of my old normal in to this new construct, it’ll burst. This season requires me to zoom out, and look at the big picture. Joel and I are able to tag team work and kids and schoolwork and house stuff (these people are now leaving trails of life all around my house all day) so that both of us are able to show up with some level of efficacy. But right now, it isn’t perfect. It isn’t comfortable. But it may just be sustainable.

(If you sang the title instead of reading it, you are my people.)

In honor of International Women’s Day, I would be remiss to neglect the opportunity to shout out to the ladies.

To the ladies are hustling day in and out chasing your dreams, I see you. Get after it, sister! Seeing you succeed creates space and possibility for me to chase my own dreams!

To the ladies that raised us, we will not take lightly your lessons and sacrifices. Thank you for loving us so well.

To the ladies surrounded by littles that need you for all of the things all of the time. I see you and salute you in solidarity with matching mystery stains on our shirts. (They tell us it’s just a phase and we will miss this one day. In the mean time, invest in caffeine and Tide-To-Go pens.)

To the ladies that wince with longing for the chance to be surrounded by littles when you’ve only been faced with the single line month after month, I see you and know there’s no good or easy answer, but you are not alone.

To the ladies with “littles” that are now standing eye-to-eye with you, with their heavy sighs, less than discrete eye rolls, and declarations that you’re “the worst”… you’re not. May the odds be ever in your favor.

To the ladies raising parents and running interference for doctor’s appointments and procedures, who are trying to find balance in being a daughter, wife, and mother, I see you and the worry and questions you carry.

To the ladies that refuse to be slave to the curse of generational statistics, DO. NOT. GIVE. UP. I see you. The battle is yours to win.

To the ladies waking up dark and early to have a moment to and for themselves before all of the world needs something from you, I see you. Protect that space you’ve carved out. It’s more vital than most know or understand.

To the ladies that find solace in the shower to let the tears flow freely because “it” has taken so much from you. You didn’t ask for this. You don’t want a “new normal” when the old normal was just fine… I see you, and I love you.

Ladies, we are incredible, strong, compassionate, fierce beings. We can do amazing things. But we cannot run this race solo. It’s when we attempt to insulate and isolate ourselves that the lies, fears, and insecurity can begin to take root. But authentic friendship (the kind that shows up with a cup of coffee and says, “you can say as much or as little as you’d like,” is life-giving. We can borrow strength, courage, and faith when our brains are full, our hearts are overwhelmed, and tanks are low.

Can I tell you that for me, it is FAR easier to go to my people when they need me than it is to allow my people to see when I’m hurting and struggling. I rationalize it with “I don’t want to make a big deal about it”, “they have a lot going on right now”, etc. etc. But for the sake of full disclosure, it’s a nice way to mask pride (I can handle this on my own) and insecurity (if they really knew me, I’d be too much/not enough). Both of those statements are lies from the pit.

Do you have women in your life that you allow to see you? That are allowed to call your bluff when you’re “fine”?

Find your tribe, pod, squad, or crew- be it the 1, 3, or 12. Find them, be real with them, and love them hard. To the women that have and continue to love me, thank you.

(One of my favorite articles on female friendships and the inspiration for the image above can be found here: https://wednesdaymorningwhispers.com/female-friendships/15/ )

Some of the greatest lessons the Lord has taught me have occurred in real time as I am disciplining or redirecting my children. I swear the Holy Spirit just sits there looking at me sometimes with equal parts sass and sanctity, with His head angled and eyebrows raised. “Are you hearing the words coming out of your own mouth?!”, He says in a voice I wish was more like Morgan Freeman, and less like the still small voice I sometimes attempt to tune out BECAUSE YOU’RE STEPPING ON MY TOES, DEAR SIR.

We are raising two humans that, despite emerging from the same gene pool, are wildly different In personality, food preference, motivations, you name it! Our boys love each other fiercely, and they take issue with one another with equal intensity. While they are learning to navigate conflict with one another, we will occasionally need to help them reset when things begin to take a disrespectful turn. Enter the often used phrase- mind your tone.

Translation: It’s OK to express your frustration with someone, but I’m gonna need you to tuck the banshee back in.

Fast forward to 3 hours later when I am talking to my husband about (fill in the blank with some sort of mild inconvenience), and my tone takes a hard right towards frustration and annoyance. Enters the still, small reminder to, “mind your tone”. I’m not sure if I should be pissed at Him interrupting my zinger of a one liner, or be thankful that despite my (repeated) need for correction in this area, He still sees potential for moving me back to grace and understanding. (I’m sure the answer is the latter, but I may or may not be keeping that one liner in the ol’ back pocket for future reference. I’m a work in progress.)

If I’m being honest, I would rather blame Joel. Frankly, it lets me off of the hook, and allows me to shift responsibility. But that strategy has led to less than desirable outcomes.

Alright, Lord. Let’s try this again.

What would happen, if before the tips, strategies, date nights and good sex, I sought to mind my tone and intentions with my spouse? What would happen if instead of defaulting to a position of “he always” or “he never”, I chose to assume the best in my husband. What would happen if I stopped complaining- in word and thought? What would happen if I actively expected and searched for opportunities to show gratitude for my husband?

I already know the answer. Over time, it would monumentally alter our marriage. Our marriage would lead with grace as it spoke truth. (Instead of the recreational “Let me tell you something about yourself!”)

It would be the kind of marriage that I would want my boys to see modeled.

It would pave the way for connection and intimacy. It would create space for courage because failure was not met with ridicule. It would be both a solid foundation and a soft place land.

So here’s the challenge… Can we go 7 whole days are you without complaining about our spouse? 1 week. You should know that within the first day, you’re going to have the opportunity to practice believing the best in them because something will undoubtedly hit the fan. When it does, assume the best, seek first to understand, and mind your tone.