Michelle Wuesthoff's Blog, page 3
August 15, 2018
Oh Hey, Anxiety. You’ve Been Unfriended.
Sometimes I think that if I write enough posts about my anxiety, I may just get somewhere with it. Well…it may actually be working, and I thought I’d let y’all in on a little technique I’ve been using to deal with it.
Not too long ago, I wrote that I’ve given up using alcohol to cope (this Friday, it’ll be two months without a drink), and hinted that I was ready to try using some kind of daily medication. Well, I was ready, but for one reason or another, I just haven’t been able to get in to see a doctor about getting a prescription. That being the case, I knew I had better figure something out quick, before I found myself struggling and tempted to address the anxiety in some less-than-healthy way.
To (re)state the obvious, I AM NOT A THERAPIST, and I haven’t had any training on how to counsel people through their experiences with anxiety, depression, and the like. I’m just a regular girl that has had plenty of personal experience dealing with anxiety. I’ve had a ton of therapy and learned a lot of good stuff from it. Inner healing sessions, conferences, books, prayer…you name it. I’ve done the work, yet anxiety is still a part of my life.
CAN I GET A WIT-NESS???
So let me lay a little foundation here, a background of basic things I believe about anxiety:
It has a root cause (or causes). While someone may be predisposed towards being an anxious sort of person (genetics, personality, etc), some event, thought, or perception triggered it in the first place. We must figure out what that is if we are to get anywhere.
It has been reinforced over time by a chain of similar events, thoughts, or perceptions. Think about that phrase: a chain of events. Think about that chain being an actual chain—one experience forming one link of a chain. And that link connects to the next experience, thought, event, and so on. Some of us have very long chains with extra-strength links that practically require a bolt cutter to unhinge them. And however long your chain is, that chain is wrapped right around you. (can I get another witness?) In a panic attack, you can feel the chain around your neck and chest, tightening. We need to recognize each link, and then one by one, we have to cut these things off.
ANXIETY LIES LIKE A RUG, y’all. Seriously, it evokes fear in us based on lies. You know that old acronym about fear? “FALSE EVIDENCE APPEARING REAL”? If anxiety wore a t-shirt, that’s what it would say.
We have to work on #1 and #2 as long as it takes for real freedom and healing to take place. Identifying the root is vital, but even once we have done that and addressed it, we have to methodically cut those links off as we recognize them. That could take a really long time, like even a lifetime—but don’t be discouraged by that! It means there is something we can do. We are not powerless over our anxiety.
But what about when anxiety inevitably invades our space, gets all up in our faces, like some unwanted bully? Even when you’re doing all the ‘right’ things???
OK, put your creative thinking caps on with me now as I try to paint a little analogy-picture for you.
Most of us (who are reading this post) are on social media. We all know some pretty annoying, toxic people from those sites, right? Negativity, bullying, obnoxiousness. Posting images you don’t wanna see. Writing crapola you don’t need to hear. Stressing you the heck out. How long do you put up with those kind of people? Hopefully not long. You get rid of their sorry selves; you unfriend them. That does not mean those same people cease to exist, or even cease to be posting their garbage. They’re still there, spewing their junk. But you…you just gave them the ol’ heave-ho. Buh-bye.
Now, when I’m ‘doing the work’—doing all the stuff I should be and not doing the stuff I shouldn’t—and anxiety rears its ugly head, I unfriend it. I’m serious. I acknowledge it for what it is, like,”oh hey, anxiety, I see you there, but I don’t have time for this nonsense.” I realized recently that I often get what I call ‘night anxiety,” so I acknowledge that too. “Oh yeah, it’s you, it’s nighttime, and here you are again.” And I put my hand up and wave it off and I carry on with whatever I am doing. It may still hang around for a while, taunting me, but I remind myself (and the anxiety), “You lie! Every single time, you lie.”
I realize this all may sound silly, or like I am making light of the struggle. I am and I’m not.
Listen, I’ve gone for days at a time unable to leave my room because I was so wracked with anxiety and panic. I’ve lost a serious amount of time to it, and anxiety has ruined far too many otherwise wonderful moments in my life. I’ve worked super hard to rid myself of it. I even checked myself into a residential clinic for 30 days (you can read about that journey in 3 parts, beginning here). I’ve identified the roots and I’m breaking chain links left and right. I work hard, and I literally do not have any more time for this crap. It’s ridiculous, and I’m beginning to treat it just like that.
And it’s working. It’s actually working!
It’s been so important for me to acknowledge and name the anxiety. I mean, I didn’t give it an actual name, like Fred, but if it works for you…
I don’t accept that anxiety is a part of my identity, but it is part of my story, my ongoing story for the time being. Will I ever be rid of it? I hope so. But pretending it isn’t a recurring issue isn’t helpful. So I acknowledge it to myself, and to my husband and friends, when it feels like it’s bigger than I can handle alone. I imagine the anxiety being beside me, behind me, over me, whatever. But it’s not IN me or OF me. It’s an outside force that I can straight-up turn away if I choose to.
And choosing to is working really well for me right now. It’s a major victory, actually. I haven’t had debilitating anxiety, taken a pill, or taken a drink in almost two months. So apparently, anxiety, I’m getting on just fine without you. And I’ve got plenty to do without you hanging around and bothering me.
Buh-bye.
Do you have any tips or tricks you use to deal with anxiety or other mental health issues? Share them with me and others. Help a sista or brotha out!
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The post Oh Hey, Anxiety. You’ve Been Unfriended. appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
August 1, 2018
Why I’m Choosing to Let Go of My Dreams
Most people who know me probably would recognize me as somewhat of a dreamer. Creative, a little bit visionary, not terribly optimistic all the time, but definitely a hopeless romantic. I live for the happy ending, and my dreams often conjure up all sorts of scenarios that will bring them about.
Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted the fairy tale life. I was an avid reader and especially loved stories of adventure, heroes and heroines, magical creatures, and the happily-ever-after that most certainly came at the end. Real life was far from that, of course, but somewhere along the line, I began to believe that the fairy tale ending was the cure for real life.
The reward for all the pain, struggle, injustice, and hardship.
And because I was just getting to know God at the point that I was reading these stories, I began to attribute one to the other. I began to stitch together a belief system that if you live a life pleasing to God, He will reward you with a happy ending.
It’s amazing to me how the things you believe as a child can still affect you so powerfully as an adult. Especially when you’re not really aware of it. But what has brought this childhood belief to my attention lately has been a growing awareness of the quiet disappointment I carry around with me.
For me, it’s not that my life isn’t living up to my expectations. Or even that I’m unhappy. It’s more that certain circumstances just aren’t coming to pass the way I’ve imagined them in my dreams. That God isn’t following the brilliant script I’ve created—you know, the one with the heartwarming ending where everyone’s hugging and laughing together. I dream up these things without even trying or realizing that’s what I’m doing.
I do this a lot (like, A. LOT.) as a mom. Whether it’s a momentous occasion like graduation or a family vacation, or an intended heart-to-heart in the kitchen, I’m always dreaming up some idealized scenario of how it’s all going to go down. A “Kodak moment” (remember those?) or a Hallmark made-for-TV movie. My motives are good, but who can live up to that? It’s a recipe for disappointment, yet I do it again and again, hoping this time, God will make it all turn out the way I want.
I have a pretty unshakable belief in God’s ultimate good plan for us. And I believe that, in the end, all will be made right, perfect, and joyful when His kingdom comes in fullness. And that at last, “He will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Rev. 21:4)
The problem is, I want it all now.
The problem is, without meaning to, I’ve been living my life persistently disappointed when the fairy tale ending doesn’t happen, as if either God has failed or I haven’t lived up to my end of an imaginary bargain.
And it is imaginary. God doesn’t promise justice every time. He doesn’t promise healing every time, or restoration, or victory. Ultimately, He does–I still believe that. But not in every situation, not even in every situation where the consequences are big, or dire, or really, really important to us.
Sadly, I think the root of those dreams isn’t that I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s that I believe I know what’s best. For me, for my situations, and a lot of the time, what’s best for other people, too.
But I really don’t know.
And holding onto those kinds of dreams and that imaginary bargain can only disappoint me and limit my perspective about what God is actually doing in the midst of my circumstances. I risk missing it altogether because I’m focused on my own script instead of the Lord’s. And the truth is, even when my dreams have been shattered, He is still working for my good, and for the good of others.
I think it’s critical that we acknowledge our disappointments and shattered dreams, especially to the Father. He totally gets it. He understands, and He will comfort us. If we don’t voice them, our disappointments can turn into bitterness and begin to color how we see everything.
But once we voice them, we need to let them go. Not only our disappointments and heartbreak, but the dreams themselves.
This is a hard one for me. But it’s where my faith and trust in Him have to kick in. Because when I choose to hold onto something for dear life (like I do my dreams), my hands are not free to receive what He offers me instead. And that is always something better. Even if I don’t see it quite yet.
I’m letting go of the dream, the hope, the desires of the old me— the me that was formed and raised in the clutches of uncertainty
and in the seductive lure of hopelessness.
Those dreams, albeit core and foundational longings of the heart,
are ones made too small and narrow by former realities,
the shadows or refracted images of what is now possible and true.
So I must let go of the old dream to make room for the new:
the new possibilities,
the new dreams,
a new hope.
For hope is arising within me; it springs forth, promising a full bloom.
Why should I let my thoughts linger on former days spent hiding from the storm,
watching the rain from the window and praying for the clouds to part and make way for the sun?
No, the Truth now lies in springtime warmth, the beauty and hope that is right here before me.
The Lord has drawn my dreams of old like a needle and thread
through the curtain that marks entry into a greater Kingdom reality.
So, while the essence of the dream remains, it changes shape and form to reflect a new paradigm,
and the promise of what has been hoped for now awaits me there.
It is real and tangible and true, but my eyes and heart must recognize it in order to lay hold of it with both hands.
I cannot be torn between two worlds: one that is constrained by the limits of brokenness, and one that offers life and fullness and endless possibilities, made possible by the One who has made me.
I stand over the gap of a deep and frightening chasm, one hand clasping, grasping at the now-present-future Truth that offers itself to me.
My grip on the side behind me is weak and tenuous; still I must risk letting go of what’s behind to take hold of the Truth with both hands.
So this I choose; this I must do:
(deep breath) I am letting go.
—”Letting Go,” from my upcoming book, Grafted In: Leading Your Orphan Heart to the Spirit of Adoption
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The post Why I’m Choosing to Let Go of My Dreams appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
June 27, 2018
Beginnings and Endings: Graduation Day
Well, they did it. We did it. Children #3 and #4 walked across the platform, smiles and handshakes extended, and received their high school diplomas. Last Wednesday was graduation day and the big party was Sunday, and it all has left me feeling more than a little sentimental and reflective.
Though we’ve been down this road twice before, this experience is different for a few reasons. For one thing, there is only one more kid to go before they’ve all reached this big milestone and moved on to the next phase of their lives. Also, all our daughters have now finished high school, and with that marks the end of band, the end of chorus, the end of cheerleading. Buying dresses for proms. The everyday hormonal rollercoaster of living with three teenage girls.
But more than anything, our daughters’ graduation marks the end of a particularly long and difficult road; one that’s been traveled by blended families, families who have adopted older children, and multi-racial families. All of which we are and have done. And those are some big issues to pack in your car as you head out on that road trip.
As I sat in my metal folding chair on the high school lawn, a slideshow of memories began to play in my mind.
I saw Emilee, who arrived to us from Korea, chubby-cheeked and bald and dressed in four layers of clothing. Her perfect little face with a perfectly flat bridge on her nose–the ideal landing place for kisses from her mama. How she chattered nonstop as a little girl, with her soft “Rs” and her sparkling eyes. The inseparable bond she had with her older sister when they were small. How she traveled to Uganda with us at twelve years old to adopt her new sister and brother, and never complained once during that very challenging month overseas.
I thought of how she imagined she was getting a new best friend, a same-age sister, and was crushed that she was the one who was hated, blamed, mocked, and shunned by her new siblings. But nevertheless, Emilee loved. She forgave, and she pressed on despite the growing darkness she experienced in her spirit. She kept smiling, kept achieving, She pushed forward, though she rarely felt like it mattered, and her graciousness and her love made a relationship possible with her new sister. They hugged and laughed and posed for pictures before graduation…and it was real and genuine. And then they stood there, first side by side, and then one after the other, they walked down the platform to receive their diplomas. No one really knew what it took for Emilee to arrive at that place, decked out in her honor garb and her many colored tassels. But we did.
And I also saw Victoria when I first met her at eight years old, carrying a wooden bench on her head–a bench for me to sit on as I visited her and her brother in Uganda. How the following year, she knocked over a chair rushing into my arms, hugging, crying, not wanting to let go. And how, as our adoption process dragged on, she grew colder, bolder, and more self-reliant. How she stood so bravely before the judge in his chambers and told him she wanted us to adopt her and Martin, even though their biological parents were there in the room.
I recalled how thick her walls were, how deadly her defenses, how resistant she was to loving or being loved. But I also remembered when she first told me she loved me. How the room would light up and the atmosphere shifted whenever she smiled or laughed. How hard she fought to fit in and excel at school. How desperately she wanted friends even though she said she didn’t need them.
I remembered feeling doubtful when she announced she wanted to be a cheerleader and astounded when she made Varsity her junior year. How she had to take tumbling lessons (with no background in gymnastics) to even have a chance to qualify for the competition team, but she did. I chuckled under my breath when she announced she was going to play softball (not even knowing what it was) but was humbled when she stuck it out all season, nearly every game on the bench.
She did it all, despite the odds, and often in spite of herself. She made honor roll every single semester since eighth grade. She went to both her proms without a date and without shame. Her senior year, she made friends, her sister being one of them. And it was Victoria who initiated the graduation photos and hugs with Emilee. As she walked across that platform, my husband and I knew that no one really had any idea what it took Victoria to get to that place. But we did.
My kids’ graduation brings about such a complex mix of emotions in me: pride, sadness, joy, relief.
Excitement. Exhaustion.
Fullness and emptiness at the same exact time.
Wanting to hold onto them forever and wanting to launch them into their futures right this very minute.
Sorry I wasn’t a better mom, but proud knowing we did what few people would choose to do.
Not feeling really sure we’d do it all over again, but so glad that we made it all the way through.
And here we are, on the other side. They did it. We did it. A somewhat bittersweet ending to a difficult but rewarding journey. And now, the dawn is breaking on a brand-new beginning. A brand-new road heading into uncharted territory.
Every new beginning for them is a new beginning for us, too.
And for that, I am grateful.
Photos by Michelle Wuesthoff and Jane Carmona on Unsplash
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The post Beginnings and Endings: Graduation Day appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
June 19, 2018
Why I’ve Decided to Stop Drinking
Of all the vulnerable posts I’ve written (and there have been many), this one tops the charts, you guys. Maybe it’s because I’m writing this before I’ve had any success, any victory. Because normally, no matter how difficult the topic, I write these posts from a place of strength. Today, I write from a place of weakness and vulnerability. I decided to stop drinking last night. It wasn’t really my idea. I can’t even say it’s something I really want to do either, but I’m gonna follow though with it.
I want to clarify that this is not a post about the evils of alcohol. It’s not. Nor is it a deep delve into why I’m in the place I’m in now. It’s more of a confession and an attempt at public accountability. Because the real problem is that it was God who told me I needed to stop drinking last night, and sadly, it wasn’t the first time.
But before I go any further about that, let me give you a brief background on my relationship with alcohol, because it’s probably not your typical story.
I never drank as a teen and I don’t even remember celebrating my twenty-first with a drink. If I did, it certainly wasn’t memorable. Other than the occasional glass of champagne or super-sweet liquor I’d drink at weddings, I pretty much abstained until I was in my early thirties, when I, like many other young mothers my age, discovered the magical powers of wine.
At that time of my life, drinking was really just a reprieve from the hard work of parenting and working through my (many) issues with counselors and prayer ministers. Having some wine diffused the tension, even if only for a little bit, and it loosened me up. My friends could tell you I needed that desperately. I was insecure, introverted, and inhibited. Wound tighter than the elastic band that held up my spiral-permed hair.
Thankfully, part of that personality package kept me from ever wanting to be out of control, so I never drank too much. I hated the feeling of being altered, of not having my full faculties about me, and the two times I actually did get drunk were honestly accidental.
But somewhere along the way, I made two critical associations with drinking;
It relieves stress and anxiey
It’s how one celebrates the good things in life.
I’ve been very open about my struggles with anxiety throughout my life. I’ve let you guys in on the feelings, the worries, the victories, and some of the fears. But I didn’t let you in on a couple of the fears, because I didn’t want to communicate the wrong message.
I’ve been afraid to ‘need’ to take medication daily for my anxiety. I never believed there was anything wrong with that (for other people), but strangely for me, I felt like it would be an admission of my powerlessness over my anxiety. As long as I didn’t ‘need’ to take daily medication, I had the upper hand on my anxiety. I was in control of it.
The other fear I had was becoming addicted to the “take only when needed” medication I had, which I reserved for extreme emergencies, when the need was unquestionable, and the risk of nuclear meltdown outweighed the risk of possible addiction.
Anyway, I discovered along the way that taking a drink had the same immediate effect as those ‘as needed’ meds, and usually by the time I finished my drink, whatever was troubling me didn’t seem such a big deal anymore. It was also way more enjoyable than swallowing pills.
But the problem was (and is) that I feel anxious just about every day. And some days are more anxiety-producing than others. You can see where this is heading.
Now, add to that my dedication (my mission!) to enjoying life, celebrating, and thriving, and my association between those things and drinking.
And I realized, you guys, that both in the good times and in the bad times, my life has begun to revolve around drinking.
I think it about it more often than I’m comfortable admitting.
I have planned events, dinners, and get-togethers around it. Even ones in the future, I’m already thinking about what drinks I’ll have then.
And I am genuinely sad, like, grieving sad, as I think about having to give that all up.
I am actually filled with fear about it.
Fear that I will be miserable without it.
That I’ll never really have as much fun as I could be having.
That people won’t like coming to my parties if I don’t drink or if (gasp!) we don’t serve it.
That I’ll run out of ways to cope with my anxiety.
I’ve never been in touch with these thoughts before and it scares me. And I’m ashamed that I’m sadder about giving it up than the fact that I’ve let myself get to this place.
I must admit that this place I’ve gotten to isn’t healthy, and before I can consider having a drink again (if ever), I must completely break the grip it’s had on me.
It’s had enough of a grip that I’ve turned a deaf ear to God when He’s told me to stop. More than once. It might be the only area I’ve ever knowingly disobeyed God in.
And that breaks my heart, because I love Him so much and He has been so, so good to me. And though He wants the best for me, I have turned the other way in this area because I wanted what felt best to me.
Drinking, for me, has felt like freedom. Freedom from legalism, freedom from my own inhibitions, freedom from worries. It also felt like celebration, like fun, like enjoying life the way it’s meant to be enjoyed. But because I did not submit all of that to God and let Him in on my decision-making, what I thought was freedom has now become bondage.
Will alcohol always be bondage in my life? I can’t say right now. Maybe, maybe not. But I won’t really know that answer until I have the clear perspective of walking in true freedom without it.
Just so you know, I have the support, encouragement, and accountability of my husband and my close circle of friends on all of this. And I don’t want to misrepresent how things are on the outside, either. I don’t drink to excess, but it’s become way too often. It hasn’t interfered with my life—as in, my job, my family, or my relationships—but it’s interfering with my desire to live whole, free, and right before God. And you can’t be living right before Him when you’re ignoring what He’s telling you to do.
And that’s where I am right now. No victory story, no inspiring words. Just plain truth, plain facts.
Today, I quit drinking. And that is that.
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The post Why I’ve Decided to Stop Drinking appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
June 11, 2018
5 Easy Tips to Make Your Next Party Great
Let me start right off the bat by assuring you this post is for regular people–like you and me. I will not be suggesting anything that might require an advanced degree in party-planning, a bucketload of money, or numerous trips to specialty stores. Nor am I going to be talking about the type of party you might throw if, say, Harry and Meghan were popping by for a “casual” meet-and-greet with a hundred or so of your closet friends.
What I’m talking about here is how to throw the kind of party that your friends and family will find relaxing and fun, and hopefully, so will you.
Tip #1: Your guests are coming to see you–like your face, not your back end in front of the sink or the stove. Be available to them, not only to serve, but to visit. Nothing makes people feel loved, valued, and welcome like someone who is willing to park it in front of them, listen to their stories, make eye contact, and engage with them.
Tip #2: The key to being available to your guests is having a plan and keeping it simple. I use a self-made ‘template’ for every event I have at my house. Every gathering, every party has basically the same elements:
Keep it clean. And I mean reasonably clean…there is no need to be able to eat off your floors if you’re inviting people that love you for who you are. But put away the clutter, vacuum the crumbs and pet hair, and by all means, make sure the guest bathroom is clean and presentable. I never make any promises about the other ones in my house—if it’s an emergency and the guest bath is occupied, you better be able to go with your eyes closed. Having a clean space isn’t really about impressing your guests, it’s about making them feel comfortable (like, the phrase, ‘ew’ should never cross their minds) and making them feel welcome. As in, they’re not intruding on your laundry day or have possibly been invited to a group dishwashing party.
Music/Candles. Atmosphere is everything. Seriously. Whether you’re inside or outside, light a few candles. Dollar store tea lights are fine and you don’t need anything fancy. Watch out for ones with overwhelmingly strong scents, though. You may find that Warm Vanilla Marshmallow Sugar Rush candle delightful, but the smell just may send cousin Lucy into an asthma attack. Subtle scents, happy friends. I always try to have background music going when I have people over. Just loud enough to be festive without interfering in people’s conversations. I personally prefer jazz or old standards, but I also like to match the type of music to the party theme if it has one (Cinco de Mayo, etc).
Keep your food simple, yo. This will seriously impact your enjoyment level of the whole affair. I have a go-to list of very simple main dishes that fit the season and the size of the gathering. I go for the biggest bang for the buck—meaning, the most food for the least amount of money. Soups are great for this, as are grilled chicken thighs, or my favorite: make-your-own whatever. Taco bar. Asian-inspired tacos, regional-style hot dogs with all the toppings. Basically, cooking is minimal and you’re assembling ingredients for your guests to choose from. Did I mention salads? I make impressive-looking ones that are sooo simple. Bagged salad. Add purple cabbage, shredded carrots, cucumber. I always add something a little special. Cooked asparagus, marinated artichoke, fresh fruit. And buy the good dressing. They’re worth it (the dressing and your guests). Stay tuned for a later blog post with specific recipes and ideas for food and drinks. Oh yeah…
Drinks. Also keep your drinks simple unless it’s the focus of your party (We throw an annual New Year’s Eve Old School Cocktail Party). Always have coffee and tea on hand and ready. Serving water in a large, clear beverage dispenser is cheaper and less wasteful than buying bottled water. No matter what else you decide to serve—seltzer, soda, beer, wine, or liquor—it’s a nice touch to have some wedges of citrus fruit available (lemon, lime, orange) for garnish.
Tip #3: Have a theme. Whoa…hold on, don’t get nervous. I’m not suggesting anything elaborate here. But having some sort of a theme (even if only you know what it is) will help with planning everything else. Lemme ‘splain:
You’re having a Sunday afternoon get-together for your favorite people you don’t spend enough time with. What are you gonna make? How about that make-your-own taco bar idea? Let the taco be your theme. Tacos are your main course, you throw together that awesome bagged salad, but you include chopped cilantro, a little pico de gallo, and avocados on it. Maybe buy a few different Goya nectars and some plain or lime seltzer…Margaritas…Corona, a little Dulce de Leche creamer for your coffee, and you’re done! See what I mean? I have a ton more ideas, and again…those will come in a later blog post.
Tip #4: Have a party set-up “kit.” I have a go-to, handy-dandy set of plastic platters, bowls, serving spoons, etc. that I got from the dollar store. Every so often, I also get a large pack of hot cups, cold cups, plastic plates and utensils from Amazon or Costco, and I keep them all together.
Sometimes I do prefer to get paper stuff I can throw away, but those cheap plastic dollar-store serving pieces last through a bunch of washings. I like to use these rather than my own dinner and service pieces because…you know…it’s a party and stuff sometimes gets broken. The key is, you keep it all in a plastic bin or all together in your closet and when company comes over—planned or not—Voila! You’re all set!
*cat not includedAnd finally…
Tip #5: For the duration of your event, and whenever possible, put the rest of the world on hold. Unless your company is coming to watch a sporting event or a movie together, keep the TV off. At best, it’s a distraction. At worst, it makes your guests feel like they’re interrupting something. Same with your computers and phones. Don’t use ’em unless it specifically is something you’re sharing with others. Nothing brings people together like YouTube.
This has been a fun post to write. Parties are fun! But the truth is, I never really thought so (when I was hosting them) until I figured out these 5 things. Planning and hosting don’t have to be stressful if you put a little organized thought and planning into it ahead of time and follow the tips I’ve outlined. You can then basically apply these to any kind of event—just fancy it up with favors and decorations where needed!
If you liked this post and found it helpful, would you please let me know? I’d like to be writing more content that people want and want to share, too. So add your comments below and don’t forget to share any tips you have! A party girl can never have too many ideas!
Photos by Danielle MacInnes, Aziz Acharki, Rhianon Lassila, Emily Simenauer, Paul Hanaoka , all on Unsplash
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June 4, 2018
Why I Need the Beach
Anyone who knows me, even if they’ve only known me for a short while, can probably tell you that I love the beach. I always have.
It isn’t that I’m a sun-worshiper, seeking the perfect golden glow. It’s not that I love to be in the ocean, swimming or enjoying some kind of water sport. I rarely go in the water at all.
I don’t like crowds or myself in a bathing suit, for that matter. So what’s the attraction?
It all started when I was a little girl, vacationing on Cape Cod with my grandparents. Every morning, my grandma would come to my bed and quietly wake me up so we could walk down to the beach, just her and me. I don’t really remember what we talked about, just that we talked a lot, and I felt special. We chose and collected shells together (only the best ones), and she would wash and dry them for me back at the cottage, after she cooked breakfast for us all. I viewed that time with her as sacred. I miss those days, and I miss my grandma. But a seed was planted in me way back then that has now grown to full flower.
Now every spring, on a warm day and after a dreadfully long and cold winter season, I go back to the beach, and it’s as if I am reunited with a long-lost lover. Every year my eyes tear up, my shoulders drop, I sigh, and all feels right in the world.
Even without my grandma, the beach has become a sacred place for me, a place to meet with God and feel, without a doubt, that I have arrived home. I belong there.
Do you have such a place? One that stirs up longing inside you when you think of it? Someplace you just need to be?
For some it’s in the mountains, for some at the lake. For others, among the vast cornfields and plains of the Midwest. But no matter where your place is, the longing, the drawing, the belonging-ness of it all…it comes from God.
For starters, I think we all long to be in a place of beauty. Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder (you won’t catch me frolicking in the cornfields,) but all beauty points to the Creator. Just like a great painting lets you into the minds-eye of the artist, so the natural world testifies to the wonder of God himself. And he draws us, his greatest creation, to the places he knows we will meet him in one way or another.
He knows us so well, and he knows just what puts us at ease and in a place of receptivity to his voice. I think even the colors speak to us. For me, it’s the blue. Blue is deep, serene, calming–the antidote for my persistently anxious soul. Others may find the dominant colors of their chosen retreat to be the ones that most satisfy their own needs. The newness and refreshment that comes from an expanse of green fields, the majestic purple skies over equally majestic purple mountains.
Think of the colors you love and how they make you feel. And the places they are on display the best, and how those make you feel.
The vastness of the ocean and its seemingly endless horizon put eternity in perspective for me. The relentless waves never stop rolling in. From the dawn of time they have ebbed and flowed without ceasing. There’s something profoundly comforting in that for me. That, in a world where nothing feels stable (often, me included,) there are some things that do not change.
Once, during a train ride along the northwestern coast of Italy, I caught an unexpected glimpse of the ocean as we emerged from out of a long, dark tunnel. I think I actually gasped, it so took my breath away. But before I could draw in that next breath, the Lord spoke these words to me:
See that ocean you love so much? Think of how vast it is, how deep, how wide. Think of the volumes it can contain! Think of how the horizon stretches out to infinity in your sight. I am telling you, all of that cannot contain my love for you. It is bigger. It is deeper. It is wider. And it has no end.
You don’t easily forget words like that. And you know that every time you revisit the ocean, you will be reminded of the magnitude of God’s love for you. And I think that’s probably the point.
I used to feel silly about my unabashed love for the beach, and my pie-in-the-sky dream of owning a beach house someday. But a friend asked me this provocative question several years ago that changed my perspective: “What if God put those dreams in you? Wouldn’t it then be incumbent upon you to pursue them?”
And I’m asking you now, are there dreams that burn inside you, places your heart longs to go, ones that are so powerful you just can’t shake them?
Could it be that God gave you those?
Do you need permission to pursue them?
I’m here to tell you, my friends, don’t let those dreams stay on the back burner for long. Get out and pursue God in the places you love most. He’s waiting to speak something really special to you there. I just know it.
In a few more years, we will have that beach house I have dreamed of, and most any day I please, I will be able to walk along the ocean shore. We’ve taken those dreams seriously, and this is one of the ways we’ve chosen to go running after God. It’s certainly not the only way that I can meet with him, but it’s definitely my favorite.
I have a hunch it’s His favorite way to meet with me, too.
And that’s why I need the beach.
Dream with me. Where is the place you most long to be? Where do you enjoy meeting with God?
Photos by Michelle Wuesthoff, and by Tianyi Ma and Karsten Würth (@inf1783) on Unsplash
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May 17, 2018
Creating a Culture of Honesty
I was at the gym today and noticed this headline on one of the national news channels:
“Epidemic of Dishonesty.”
It was referring to a commencement speech given by former New York governor, Michael Bloomberg (you can read the article here). Though he was specifically applying that phrase to politics, it got me thinking. What about the rest of us? Have we caught that epidemic? Do we live out and promote a ‘culture of honesty’ in our relationships, our circles, our churches?
I’m pretty sure all of us have lied at one time or other, probably many more times than we’d like to admit. Even those of us who highly value honesty succumb to the temptation to lie. Sometimes it’s to avoid uncomfortable situations, to save ourselves from embarrassment, or to protect ourselves from judgement or penalty. It’s human nature, but it’s also our sin nature to do so.
Like with any other sin, if we want to be able to resist lying, we need to understand its root causes.
So before we look at what it takes to create a culture of honesty, we need to examine some of the roots of dishonesty:
Pride
Pride, arguably, is at the root of all our sins, but it is a significant root cause of lying. Our pride tells us that we are elevated above others, above the rules, even above God. (Ironically, pride itself is based on lies!) Because we see ourselves this way, pride motivates us and provides justification to preserve our elevated position by skirting the truth. We can believe we are merely protecting ourselves, but what we are actually protecting is the deep-seated belief that we are somehow better, more important, or more indispensable than others.
Insecurity
When we lie, we view the truth as some kind of a threat to us. To our position, our pride, our sense of self, or even our wellbeing. It’s a lack of understanding of who we truly are, who we belong to, and where our security is found. We can face the truth (and tell the truth) when we believe that, ultimately, our value as a person is not connected to outside forces or circumstances, and not diminished in the face of unflattering truths about us.
Fear
Also likely to be at the root of most of our sins, fear drives us to make poor choices. Plain and simple.
Weak Character
This is a biggie. Our character isn’t something we inherit or are born with—it’s developed over time. Strengthened. Honed. Tested. And it’s developed through the choices we make. Meaning we are 100% responsible for our own character. People can damage your reputation or call your character into question, but they can’t actually affect your character. That’s up to you.
I’m sure these four areas are only some of the roots of our dishonesty, but even so, even when one is present in our lives, destructive patterns follow. Interestingly, the same things that help keep pride, insecurity, fear, and character weakness at bay are the same things that can help us create a culture of honesty:
Transparency
Transparency doesn’t mean you have to tell everyone everything or that you cannot have privacy, but it means, I do not hide behind secrets and lies. Someone (or better, a trusted circle of friends) knows all your junk, loves you anyway, and calls you to a higher standard than that junk. Having this system in place allows you to have complete transparency about the rest of your life with most people. It’s allowing yourself to be an open book. And that equals trustworthiness, in most cases. An honest person is trustworthy, and a trustworthy person, honest.
Accountability
Accountability is absolutely key to creating (and maintaining) a culture of honesty. You must have people and systems in place that will tell you the truth and hold you responsible for your words and actions. Ideally, these are people who love and care about you. But they are also not people who can be influenced or manipulated to hide anything incriminating on your behalf. Those that really are looking out for your best interests will not shelter you from the consequences of your choices. Accountability partners and groups are intended to help you avoid the pitfalls you are likely to encounter before they occur. And if and when you do fall, they point you in the right direction. Of course, all of this only works if you are honest with them to begin with!
Vulnerability
This goes hand-in-hand with transparency, but it’s not exactly the same thing. We all walk around wearing a bit of defensive armor, protecting us from the hurtful experiences of life. Vulnerability is the choice to remove some of that armor in order to allow others to see your weak areas, and expose your heart to them. Exposing your heart enables others to see what’s in there, and it positions you to be moved by compassion for others. Allowing others to see your weaknesses does two important things. It removes your pride from the equation and it withholds judgement. Sure, the other person can judge you if they choose, but by opening yourself up to them, you yourself assume a posture of non-judgment.
Integrity
I haven’t looked up the actual definition of integrity as I write this, but to me, integrity means a few things. First, it’s doing what’s right, no matter what. How do I gauge what’s right if it’s not perfectly clear? I imagine presenting the dilemma to Jesus and seeing how he responds. His response (even in my imagination) must be consistent to how he lives, what he teaches, and who he says he is in the Bible. Second, integrity means your words and actions can be trusted, are consistent and therefore, somewhat predictable, over time. Third, you practice what you preach, and you do not require others to live up to a standard you can’t maintain yourself. Finally, you own your mistakes and take responsibility for your actions.
Honor
Who should we show honor to? EVERYONE. No matter their position, especially those without position. When we truly believe that every human being is worthy of dignity and respect because he or she is a child of God, we honor them. That doesn’t mean their behavior or their position or their title warrants our honor and respect. I don’t want to mislead here. There are definitely people out there I don’t like or respect. But the minute we start thinking some lives are more valuable or deserve more dignity than others, we fall right back into the pride trap. And when we treat others with honor, we cannot think that lying to them is ever acceptable.
Honesty is an expensive commodity in any culture. It will always cost us dearly.
But what is costly is also of great value.
We must value honesty, integrity, transparency, and strong character if we are to reflect God’s character and live like Jesus—which is what we are called to do. None of us can do any of it (for long) on our own. We need His help. But creating a culture of honesty is a necessary inoculation against the epidemic before us, and a solid place to stand amidst a broadening mudslide of morality.
Photo by Kristina Flour on Unsplash
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May 1, 2018
Five Ways to Recapture Your Joy
If you ever want to see what joy looks like, watch the face of a small child as you first blow bubbles for them. You can see their happiness, fascination, and wonder, and the all-too-fleeting contentment they experience as the first few float up and away. Eyes (and probably, mouth) wide open. That pretty much sums up how most of us experience joy, too.
That is, until one by one, the bubbles pop as they hit obstacles or disintegrate with the passing of time. Both bubbles and joy seem to have an unbelievably short shelf-life, and so our attention is quickly drawn back to the ordinary and the mundane.
The thing about joy, though, is that it’s not supposed to be just a feeling. It’s meant to be a state of being when we are connected closely with God. The Bible says that it’s in His presence that we experience the fullness of joy (Ps 16:11). Now, I know we are not yet actually in his presence, so we cannot really have that full measure…not yet. But we do have the Holy Spirit living within us—right now. And He is not only the joy giver, but joy embodied. If we carry His presence, we have access to joy at all times.
When life is coming at you like a freight train, it’s hard to believe that, and even harder to know how to actually tap into the joy we are promised. As always, I’m here to say I haven’t gotten this all figured out. But I’m always in hot pursuit of a more beautiful life. So this is what I’ve learned/experienced/trying to implement in my own life:
1. Be present.
This is probably the most valuable lesson I’ve learned lately. Mindfulness is a popular topic right now out there in the secular world, and has been a core principle in Eastern mysticism for centuries.
But make no mistake, the Bible also teaches us the same basic thing. Being present means to live and experience life in the moment, without dwelling on the past or worrying about the future. Isaiah 43:18 tells us, “forget the former things; do not dwell on the past.” And Jesus himself instructs us in his Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6) not to worry about our future. We are told to fix our eyes on Jesus and renew our minds so we think and act more like him.
While it is an important technique to regularly quiet ourselves down and meditate on his truths, “practicing the presence of God”, it is also necessary for us to be in the moment throughout the day. And to do so with an eye to look for the good things and overlook the bad ones. And when we see and experience the good stuff, we can intentionally soak it in. Take a snapshot of it in your mind and file it in your joy album. If you can actually take a few moments and write them down, even better.
2. Choose the right filter.
No matter what kind of eyesight you have, you put on a pair of glasses every day when you wake up. It’s the filter you see things through, and it colors how you see and experience life. It can totally be related to your current mood, but it’s so much more than that. Our prior life experiences create filters that we look through as we approach our current life experiences. As you can guess, many of our perspectives are warped and inaccurate.
Choosing joy isn’t merely choosing to be in a happy mood; it’s a decision to attempt to see life through God’s lenses.
3. In order to experience joy, you must be willing to experience the other emotions, too.
If you choose to numb out the challenging emotions—fear, sadness, grief, anger—you will be numb to joy also. We are designed to experience (and then process) all emotions because we are made in the image of God. He experiences all emotions and gives each of them its proper place. But for us, to whatever extent we are pushing our emotions down and using alcohol, drugs, television, relationships (whatever we use) to suppress them, we are also suppressing our ability to tap into true joy and happiness.
4. Be thankful (you knew this had to be in here).
Gratitude is not optional. Our happiness, and most certainly our joy, is dependent on it. We are instructed again and again throughout the scriptures to remember God’s goodness and give thanks. That’s not so God feels appreciated—He has no need of that, or of anything, for that matter. It is for our own good and wellbeing that we are to be thankful. Paul tells the Corinthians that the overflow of thanksgiving towards God sustains and renews them, that, because of it, “we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.” (2 Cor. 4:16) Keep a gratitude journal. Or at the very least, speak out loud to someone every day something you are thankful for.
5. Be on the lookout for beauty.
Beauty is absolutely key to recapturing your joy. Do you recognize what is beautiful? Can you think of something right now? Beauty exists for two reasons (in my opinion): to bring glory to God and to inspire joy in us. No matter how hard, how ugly, how evil things may be around us, there always, ALWAYS is beauty present. God sews it into the very fabric of life itself. Nature, art, music, literature. Children, the elderly, people of all colors, cultures, and persuasions. Compassion, love, mercy, kindness, generosity… Are you taking this in?
There is so much beauty to behold.
It’s everywhere and in everything around us. Open your eyes, your ears, your heart. Take it in. It’s there to bring you joy! It’s there to testify to the wonder and the glory of our Creator!
Precious friends, no matter who you are, where you are, and what is happening right now in your life, you can recapture your joy. God does not promise what He cannot deliver.
But we must be present and at home to open the door.
What brings you joy? If you’re brave enough, share something specific. Somebody out there needs to be inspired by what inspires you.
Photo by Leo Rivas on Unsplash
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April 4, 2018
Facebook Friends and “Secret Sins”
Yesterday, to ease my guilt and get a few laughs, I put up a confession on my Facebook page. It read, True confession: I threw away a bunch of Easter candy in the trash so I wouldn’t eat it. Then later I took it back out again and ate it. It was true. I actually did that. And you know what? I know that absolutely no one doubted me.
The really funny thing was how popular that post was. More than 85 likes in the first couple of hours, and more than 30 comments on top of that! And most of those comments were ones of hilarious solidarity.
What touched me in particular was who did the liking and the commenting. It was an incredibly diverse group—good friends, old friends, high school friends, Facebook friends I don’t actually know. People were coming out of the woodwork to join in and share their similar, laughable, “secret sins.”
I’ll also confess that I knew what I was doing when I posted that.
How many of you know Kristina Kuzmic, aka the Truth Bomb Mom? She’s become an internet sensation with her truth-telling, tell-it-like-it-really-is video confessionals. Go to any motivational conference (Christian or otherwise) and usually the keynote speaker will share an embarrassing story, disastrous decision, or awkward defining moment as their lead in. They want to get you laughing and at ease. But even more importantly, they want to draw you in and demonstrate that you and I are really no different than they are. Being disarmed like that makes us more open to hearing and receiving the message they’re about to bring.
You see, confession connects people. I’m convinced it’s one of the reasons why the popular proverb says it’s good for the soul.
Confessing our sins to God accomplishes several important things. One, it puts us in the correct posture—submissive before him. Second, our confession and repentance releases God’s forgiveness. Third, the forgiveness we receive sets us free from carrying the weight of what we’ve confessed. And fourth, it also restores right relationship between us and the Father.
Confession is meant to be relational.
The Bible tells us to confess our sins to God, but it also tells us to confess them to one another. Why is that?
Because when we confess, we allow ourselves to be vulnerable. We operate from that heart of flesh rather than the heart of stone. It kicks us right out of the judgement seat—how can we possibly judge others for their sins when we’re regularly admitting to (and confessing) our own?
It allows us the opportunity to see the brokenness in ourselves and in others, and to respond with compassion, empathy, and forgiveness.
It prompts us to hold one another accountable for our actions.
And it keeps us from being isolated, feeling alone.
That’s the beauty of AA and any other 12-step group. Support groups of any kind, really. They give you the chance to share your story, but maybe even more importantly, a chance to listen to the stories of others.
There is power in “me too.”
Power and healing to know someone else has been right where you are, thinking the same things, doing the same things. It may be as ridiculous as, “I’ve also eaten chocolate out of a garbage can” or as profound as, “I’ve had an abortion, too.”
“I’ve been raped.”
“I stole money and I feel so awful.”
“I’m so depressed that I have trouble making it through the day.”
I could go on and on listing examples, and every single one would resonate with somebody. Confession needs to happen in a safe space, wherever that might be. With a trusted person or group, or even anonymously. Sometimes the sheer volumes of “me toos” makes it a safe place. Sometimes people are just looking for an opportunity to put it out there and have it off their shoulders.
I’ve worked pretty hard at being a ‘safe space’ for people to be vulnerable. Some of that is a product of my own willingness to confess and be vulnerable, too (interesting how a regular practice of confession also helps make you a safe person.) I’ve had really wonderful, touching responses to my series about mental illness. Lots of “me toos,” and I don’t take those confessions lightly. There is honor and courage present in each voice raised.
And maybe, just maybe, one step in the direction of healing.
We can be that for one another. We can be vulnerable and put it out there. We can listen, receive, forgive, and confess.
It really is good for your soul.
Don’t carry the weight anymore. Reach out to God—he’s waiting for you. Find a safe person to talk to—they’re out there.
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9 NIV)
Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective. (James 5:16)
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
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The post Facebook Friends and “Secret Sins” appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
March 28, 2018
I Used to Hate Women
I used to hate women. I honestly did. Well, hate is a pretty strong word. But it does encompass other strong emotions, like fear, intimidation, and distrust. I was always uncomfortable around them. I felt unsafe. Invisible—and at times, exposed. The sad memory of that hatred still lingers like the bitter aftertaste of a pill you’ve already swallowed.
The reasons why I used to hate women aren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things. We all have our reasons for the way we feel. But those reasons are never as important as the lies they’ve made us believe. And the fact that those lies end up controlling us and dictating how we do life.
I remember years ago being sort of hijacked to a Women of Faith conference. I conceded to go because I wanted to be seen as both likable and agreeable by the women who invited me. But as I entered the arena, I could feel my skin start to crawl, and by the time I was seated and the opening music began, I was positively cringing inside. Ugh! It was all so…so…women-y. I think if I had to pick a particular judgement I was making on the whole affair, I’d say I thought it was all fake.
Fake and superficial.
I mean, ten thousand smiling women praising Jesus? I didn’t buy it. No, I knew how they really were. At least I thought so.
But what really annoyed me was when I found myself getting sucked into one of the messages—even starting to tear up just like every other woman around me. For just a moment, I felt a part of something. But whatever camaraderie I felt with the women around me disappeared quickly once we left the arena. And then I was back to hating them.
Now, fast-forward a few years, and along came a woman who seemed somehow different. She was straightforward, honest, and kind, and she didn’t gossip. To my amazement, she pursued my friendship relentlessly, doing everything she could to let me know she loved me unconditionally. She wasn’t perfect, but she was consistently loving. And I began to trust her.
When you’re in a very dark room and someone cracks open the door, light floods in. No matter how small the crack.
And at that moment, my world began to open up, if even just a little. That friendship opened the door to more friends, because she was a magnet for women with similar hearts. Before I knew it, I had a group of girlfriends. A posse. A tribe. It was wonderful, but I was still hanging onto lies, and so I became exclusive about who I let into my circle.
Because I believed that most women, deep down, were untrustworthy.
Competitive. Jealous. Fake.
I tried to hold onto the few good ones I believed were out there. But seasons changed, as they always do. My beloved friend–the one who cracked open the door—got cancer and died. That loss ripped a hole right through my spirit. Several other of my friends moved or drifted away, and some even turned their backs when things got really hard. I was poised to embrace the hatred again.
But then…God.
And then…women.
One by one, beautiful, kind-hearted women showed up at my door. Steadfast, supportive, encouraging, and honest women. And as I let each woman through my door, the door was pushed open wider. More light came in. More truth.
And the truth I started to see for the first time was that a kinship exists between women that is unique, irreplaceable, and sacred.
There is a bond available between us that can’t be replicated across the gender-line. And it turns out that all women aren’t the way I viewed them, either. Some are, but most are not—the issue was mostly with me and the lies I believed.
Amazing women really are out there. They’ve been there all along. I just couldn’t see them for who they were because my lies were in the way.
And I got to thinking…what if you and I were ‘that woman’ who cracked open the door for someone else? And what if we linked arms with others committed to do the same?
Sisters, we need to band together! Not against men, not in protest. But in love, with love, for the sake of another sister out there who is hurting. She who needs a friend she can trust, one that isn’t out to compete with her. Someone who will have her back when her world crashes in.
I have watched, awestruck, as God has brought more and more incredible women into my life. Ones who have broken every stereotype I’ve ever tried to pin on other women.
And you know what?
It’s changing how I see myself, too. Because I am one. And I’m not going to leverage the same judgements against myself that I used to hold against other women.
A couple of weeks ago, I was sort of hijacked again into attending another women’s conference. I was going on a retreat with Encouragement Café, and I honestly didn’t realize there was a big event attached to it until I got there. Then I was stuck. It wasn’t Women of Faith, but it was still the kind of gathering I might have avoided if I had known.
But then…God.
And again…women.
The funny thing is, when God has softened your heart and you’ve been exposed to the truth, those old lies don’t stick like they used to. And here I was again, surrounded by amazing women. Women who know how to love, and encourage, and lift you up. Women that I can both aspire to be like and fit in with at the same time.
Turns out, women like that are everywhere.
And as I looked around the room full of a thousand, multi-generational women–smiling, hands raised, and praising Jesus—I had a brand new thought. A brand new truth. For the first time in my life I said to myself,
“I am so proud to be a woman.”
Friends and sisters, daughters of light and truth, don’t hide your light behind closed doors. This world needs you.
I need you, too.
Women, have you ever experienced anything like this? Reach out and share your stories! Your sisters are listening.
Men, does this happen to you too? Educate us girls.
Photo by Omar Lopez on Unsplash
Recent Posts
Why I’ve Decided to Stop Drinking
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grief (2)
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judgement (6)
kindness (1)
longing (2)
love (7)
offense (1)
overcoming (14)
perspective (8)
prayer (1)
racism (1)
relationships (10)
rest (1)
revolution (1)
shame (2)
sin (7)
sorrow (2)
spiritual growth (10)
thriving (4)
transformation (16)
truth (3)
victory (8)
wholeness (13)
The post I Used to Hate Women appeared first on Michelle Wuesthoff.
