Living in a Glass House

I apologize for the delay.

I have no excuses. (I'll be blogging about that later).

Time and life and stress and work got in my way - I allowed them to get in my way - when in reality I desired greatly to wrap up my little journey in word form. My journey is far from complete. My trek into the world of complete transparency is far from over. Every day. Every experience. Every challenge. Every stumble. Every obstacle. All lead me closer and closer to one ever present, never failing, constant in life.

None of this is about me.

All of the masks. All of the illusions. All of the effort I put into trying to portray myself some particular way do nothing but perpetuate the idolatry of self and take everyone's focus off of the only ONE who matters.

Here is the truth.

The honest, in-my-own-face, eye-stinging, heart-pricking, knee-dropping truth.

I am nothing.

I have no talent.

I have no ability.

I have nothing to offer.

I bring nothing to the table.

I have no beauty, no skills, no words, no wisdom, no offering.

(Before you fuss at me, read on. I promise I will continue to do my reason.)

I am nothing.

When I can stop and truly realize why I am here. Just exactly what has been done for me. Then and only then can focus become real. Then and only then can I become real.

Because it matters not how I try to portray myself: as perfect, beautiful, wise, victim, victor, humble, servant, patient, etc. There is One who sees. And knows.

He knows what lies behind every closed door. Under every bed. Underneath the makeup.

And I am once again brought to my knees.

In heartfelt appreciation, devotion, gratitude and humility.

I have nothing to offer Him. There is nothing He cannot do without me. He does not need me.

He simply loves me.

He adores me.

He pursues me.

For no earthly reason.

Simply because it is Who. He. Is.

And now - the glass is clearer than clear.

I am me: broken, flawed, marred, filthy, desperate.

And redeemed.

And renewed.

NOT because of ANYTHING I have done - or can do - or could do.

Simply because of Who He is.

And the Gift of His Redemption.

Going Deeper

So far, I've covered issues on the surface - the ways I try to project an image I am not, or at least a better version of my true self. And I know that this is something that we all do. We can just accept that this is 'how it is' and just 'roll with it' ... or ...

We can go a bit deeper.

I'll go first.

I am prideful. Before you say, "Yes, we all are Nancy," I want to challenge you by challenging myself.

I told you a while ago a reason why I don't like Spring. Just as soon as I think I've conquered a challenge in my life, a weed, I discover it's returned. And it must be dealt with again.

My fiercest recurring weed is Pride. And I hate it.

I don't mean the kind of pride that won't ask for help when needed. I mean the kind of pride that avoids correction; that needs to be right; that wants to be the one providing the answers rather than seeking them.

I enjoy presenting a thought or idea that others find wise and challenging. I feel gratified when I challenge someone with an original concept and perspective.

And I am jealous when someone else thinks of it or shares it first.

I want to be the one with the original, thought-provoking words of wisdom.

"I can't have others thinking I am still learning!"

"I need to have all the answers already so that others will think highly of me!"

These past few days I've finally stopped to listen to the Voice who has been telling me for quite some time now that I am still learning...still growing...and that in those times when I surrender my pride to the greater Wisdom of my Great Love are the times when I learn deeper levels of wisdom and understanding and fall more deeply in love with Him.

Why would I want to fight that?

Because of me. Because of pride. Because of my selfish, vain ambition.

In the end, I'm fighting against the very thing that draws me closer to exactly where I long to be...

In His Arms.

Apples to Oranges: Transparency Part 3

In my quest for the Illusion of Perfection, as I artfully apply my lipstick and stash away any imperfections in my life, I meander down the road of...

Comparison

As hard as I work to deceive those around me into thinking that I do indeed have my act together, I grow increasingly annoyed with others who seem to have their act MORE together than I do. It annoys me because it makes me appear, once again, less than.

So, I casually surround myself with others who have their act together LESS than I do and, voilà, once again I come out on top.

As if graded on a curve, I find it easy to look around me and see others who are:

Superfically:

more wrinkled

saggier

heavier

plainer

messier

lazier

grumpier

less organized

Less. Together.

And...I feel better.

I can even then compete with the 'better' group because I can knit-pick their imperfections and see their facades. I can call them 'fake' and 'phony' and swell with inner pride.

But, at the end of the day, I know the truth. I know that behind closed doors may be another story. And I can get up tomorrow making the choice to either do it all over again, or take a different outlook.

What is it about comparing that makes us feel better - or worse - about ourselves? And why do we do it? What is its purpose?

Just like everything else so far, comparisons serve to deflect the reality. To further perpetuate our illusions and masks so that we feel no need to be real. True. Transparent.

We'll use anything and everything we can find to keep from having to simply be real...

The real question is...what are we so afraid of?

David Copperfield: Transparency Part 2

I am great at illusions.

Yesterday I told you how talented I am at the illusion of beauty.

Watch closely and I will share more secrets with you.

For instance: my house.

I am a master of the Illusion of Clean.

Be careful with opening a door, or cabinet, or looking under a couch or a bed.

Precious few have dared to muster up that courage...and lived.

OK, so I'm a bit dramatic. But, the pitiful reality is that I am a 'stasher'.

Under beds, behind closed doors, under tablecloths is my 'stuff'. Stuff I've not yet made the time to address, or put away, or file, or toss. I get too busy, I tell myself, and someone is coming over and heaven forbid they know I am messy! Confession: I am embarrassed at this. It truly is a sore spot for me. I would be mortified for someone to go through my house and see all the areas of disarray hidden away in recesses. So - stash. Away. Don't I look like "Suzie Homemaker"?

You know what I'm talkin' about.

Illusions:

Of clean

Of neat

Of order

Of organization

Boy, oh boy, what an act. What a big. fat. fake. I am.

But, my master skills as an illusionist are not utilized solely on my earthly dwelling.

I am great at appearing to 'have it all together' wherever I am:

Work

Church - especially at church

Running errands around town

Chatting with friends

Appearing neat, orderly, composed and 'together' is an art I've spent my entire life mastering. And what's even better, I'm passing that on to my children. Aren't you proud?

Yes, please read into this my sarcasm.

Truth is we don't want others to think ill of us. We don't want others to think we are 'less than' anything. Less than organized. Less than composed. Less than perfect.

Truth: We are none of those things

Just as in my house, be very afraid of opening a closet door, I have stashed things away in other areas. I stash away my bad attitude. I stash away my temper. I hide my children's bickerings, I stifle my individuality. I chastise my children for misbehaving because the harsh reality is that I am embarrassed at their behavior more than I am trying to mold and shape them for their future. I holler within the walls of my own house and then smile graciously as I greet brothers and sisters at church. I am patient with others' shortcomings and my words and actions are filled with grace just to turn around and subject my own family to my truly short fuse.

Am I saying not to hide these negative aspects within ourselves but to just go ahead and lose your temper, throwing things and saying choice words, all out in public because it's better to be 'genuine'? No. Stay with me here. This is a several day journey.

Just think about it.

What am I hiding? What am I keeping hidden simply for the purpose of others thinking I am 'all together'?

Am I spending money I don't have so that my house, my clothes, my car, my children, all meet some set of standards that I have bought?

Am I killing myself and placing unrealistic expectations on my family so that others will not think that we argue, disagree, or have frustrating days sometimes?

Am I using valuable energy hiding my messes so that others won't know that I am too tired, too grumpy, too busy or too lazy to do what needs to be done?

The honest facts are that I am a messy, disorganized, often lazy, imperfect woman a little too attached to her stuff and her image.

This 'going deeper' - this 'peeling away of the onion' isn't quite so bad yet...

But, transparency is a journey. It is a process...

My prayer is that my own confession and revealing time will challenge you.

And we've quite possibly, only just begun...

Taking Off the Masks: Part 1

Let's take some time to just get real. OK?

We all know we put on masks. We put our best faces forward. We make the best impressions.

But, sometimes walking through the fire which strips you of everything you have, including your pride, can be the best thing that happens to you. I know this from experience.

A new year brings opportunities for goals, growth and focus. Quite honestly, this has been percolating in my head for a couple of months now...

So, as I do a lot of talking and encouraging, I want to take the first steps at getting real.

One step at a time, as in peeling an onion, I'm going to begin the process of stripping away some masks of my own. My prayer is that all of us will be challenged to go a bit deeper - a bit more real - with ourselves AND with others.

Today I will begin with the Superficial.

(And there is a method to my madness - a purpose in this journey)

1. I am addicted to my makeup. Dark circles and splotchy skin have made my concealer my best friend.

2. I've learned the art of lighting and pose when it comes to taking pictures. And I am the first to admit when I don't like a certain picture of me (so you'd better not post it to Facebook!) With crooked teeth, wrinkles and sagging skin, the perfect stance and lighting can take me from lovely to horrendous within seconds.

3. I don't have good hair. My friends say I do, but the reality is that it is limp, flat and dull without a certain array of products. I hate to blow dry my hair but it is necessary to achieve the look of fullness and body.

4. My nails are atrocious when not painted. I don't have naturally pretty fingernails.

5. I have finger toes.

6. I have large ears for a girl.

7. One finger on my right hand is crooked and for some asinine reason I am self-conscious about that.

8. I wish my skin were darker.

9. I wish I were thinner.

10. I wish I had naturally beautiful hair and skin.

11. I wish I were a natural beauty.

I'm not sharing this to compel you to compliment me. Just the opposite actually. (Because the above is all true. If I posted a pic of me au naturale: no makeup nor hair fixed, it would freeze your computer). This is not about validation. It's about getting real...

I actually desire us all to go a bit deeper in our walks. More real. More true.

Beginning here, I am going to proceed to go deeper and deeper over the next few days; getting more and more transparent and reveal why I believe it to be so very important in our journeys.

And I know God will use this to draw me - and you - deeply closer to Him.

Phoenix

The end has come.

Today marks the end of 2011. And the end of the first year of my blogging.

Looking back, as we tend to do on this day, this year has seen much in my life.

Change. That's a certain.

A New 'Normal' - of which I am never certain.

Checkmarks made on lists:

Debts

Projects

Traumas.

Endings. All the time sad yet often needed in order to grow.

Beginnings. Filled with the wonderment of possibility and hope.

All in all it's been a good year. Every day that I am blessed with breath in my lungs and a voice to share Love is a good day, whether I embrace those opportunities or not.

About four years ago, I remember being in the heat of struggle with marriage and finances and worries. And I remember thinking, and (regrettably, sharing) that I believed that I was simply a speck in the wonder of creation; that I believed God loved mankind but not necessarily the individual that I am, and I was simply a small, insignificant part of His creation for which He had died.

I have now come to believe that He took that as a personal challenge. To pursue me with a vengeance so passionately, so desperately, so relentlessly that I would go from believing myself to be an insignificant speck to knowing in my soul that I am His favorite.

And I am. :)

And as a result, my goal has been to live my life sharing that Love. I fail more often than I succeed. But, the sad truth is that few on this earth experience the revelation of His Love the way that I have. And that, dear friends, is our whole purpose on this planet. To know Him. To know that Love.

And to embrace it. Revel in it. Prance around in exuberance of it.

That is my life's goal. To share that Love with all that I meet. To share my journey and oftentimes weird thinking so that I may point to Him.

He's taken me from the ashes, the tomb, and declared me Victorious and filled with Purpose.

If He can do that with me, flawed and frail and selfish as I am, He most certainly can - and will - do it with anyone.

Some years have passed and I have been filled with praise to see them go (2009 was that year for me). But 2011 is different. I had declared it, in January, to be "my year." And it has ended much differently than I had thought it would. Plans I made did not come to fruition. The road to my future now has taken a much different path than I had anticipated. Yet, the Fingerprints of my Great Love are written all over it. I am blessed. I am changed.

I am Victorious.

Christmas Eve Morn

I am not an Elf on the Shelf mom.

As a matter of fact, if I were, this would be an example of the result:

My home is not a "Hallmark Christmas Movie" kind of home during the holidays. And I am not one to try to portray that to the outside world while either killing myself to make it happen or being a monster mom to my children and a "Hallmark Mom" to the world.

The truth is that at the present moment, my kitchen looks like a tornado hit it. Off and on baking for several days intermixed with actually preparing meals for my children has turned it into a disaster area.

My bedroom is the dumping ground. Mounds of laundry that I have not made the time to fold because I have been working, shopping, baking, wrapping, all in preparation for the big day.

Finishing touches are not completed.

I'm pretty sure I could prepare our dinner from the crumbs presently on the living room floor.

My pantry shelves are filled with half-empty, turned over, knocked down items from the grabbing, pouring, measuring and then laziness on my part to put things back in an orderly fashion.

And I sit here, Christmas Eve morning, coffee in hand and think:

'Yep. That's about right.'

I am not a Hallmark Mom. I don't live a Christmas Movie life. Things are beyond picture perfect. And that's really ok.

At the end of the day - not just Christmas Day but every day - my family has been provided for, protected, nurtured, and loved.

I sit here in a house that at this time last year I knew I would lose but I haven't.

I have a new (to us) mini van.

I've managed not to kill the dog.

We have a new kitty in the family.

My children are healthy and happy.

They have precious friends.

They have a large, loving extended family.

I have wonderful friends, some new and some not,

and they all fill much needed and very different roles in my life.

I have plenty of food in my house and my belly.

(Did I say plenty? Correction: OVER abundance)

I am warm.

I am clothed.

I am loved.

No, it's not picture perfect. As I sit here wearing mismatched pajamas with a hole in the leg.

But, it's the life with which God has blessed me.

And He has blessed me amazingly.

At the present moment, I am receiving my morning kiss from the Great Love in the form of a painted sky to the south.

So, Merry Christmas.

And God bless you.