Donald Miller's Blog, page 17

How to Find Love When You Don’t Feel It

I became a parent for the first time a little over seven years ago.

When my daughter first entered my life, I had been treading water in a sea of desperation, doing all I could to make it to the shores of parenthood. The obstacles in my way, trying to pull me under, drowning my dream of motherhood, included years of infertility, invasive procedures and surgeries, adoption classes, piles of paperwork, and thousands of dollars.

Until one day, exhausted and gasping for breath, I got a call about a three-month-old baby girl who needed a mamma.

I couldn’t have been more elated.

The second she made me a mamma, I was full to the brim with love for her. Like a heart eyed emoji.

Photo Credit: Abi Porter, Creative Commons

A few years later, having realized this motherhood thing fit me like the perfect pair of jeans, I decided to grow my family by adopting another little girl. My second daughter entered my life when she was a week shy of six months old. Upon learning about her, I felt deep deep love for her, and the feeling of love followed me through the first few weeks of her entering my arms.

Then something changed.

My new daughter was gorgeous and funny and smart and healthy. She was the kind of baby most adoptive parents dream of adopting. But as the newness of her faded, so did my feelings of love. I learned later that this is part of the bonding process, and that it’s normal for adoptive parents to struggle with this, but at the time I felt like a total failure.

My waning love for my new child had me shocked and feeling inadequate and, at times, hopeless.

Maybe you’ve had a feeling like this, like there is someone in your life you’re “supposed” to love—a parent, a sibling, a spouse, a child—but you just find it so hard.

The gap between what you are “supposed” to feel for that person and what you actually feel has you feeling desperate and hopeless and maybe even badly about yourself.

That’s how I felt with my daughter.

During those early months I found myself in tears, on my knees before God, searching for a way to love my daughter well. I wanted that emotional connection I thought I was missing. Then I remember the verses in the Bible that talk about what exactly love is:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” (1 Corn. 13:4-7).

I looked up the words and read and re-read them and began to realize:

Love has very little to do with emotion, and everything to do with action.

As I read the words it was as though God was saying to me, “Heather, your love for your daughter is not found in the emotions you feel towards her, but in your actions towards her.”

From that moment on I held tight to these truths of what love is.

I began to see my relationship with my daughter as one full of hope.

And as I made a choice to really and truly love my daughter by being kind and patient and seeking what is best for her and protecting her and never giving up on her, my emotional feelings of love grew and grew.

Today my second born daughter is almost five years old.

And hey, I’ll be honest, there are days when the feelings I have towards her are anything but warm and loving. Some relationships in our lives are harder than others.

But I know now what real, true love is.

And everyday, especially on the tough days, I’m grateful to be able to love my daughter well by the ways in which I treat her and respond to her, despite how I’m feeling.

Because I am her mother, and she is my daughter, and I love her.

Why Creators Are Happier Than Consumers

I’m no fan of the “there are only two kinds of people” idea but in the realm of being a creator or a consumer, I do believe each one of us leans toward one side or the other. I’ve blogged about it before, but it’s been a while and I think I have a clearer view of what these poles suggest, and a much better understanding of how learning to live more as a creator and less as a consumer makes us more happy.

First, definitions.

Creator: A person who leans toward being a creator is not necessarily creative; it only means he believes he has the power to create the kind of life he wants. Within reason.

Consumer: A person who leans towards being a consumer believes he has little power to create the life he wants and instead must shop for it in an endless sea of options being presented to him.

Here’s how it works in real life.

If a consumer longs for community he or she goes online looking for a place to plug in. He might look for a church, a sports league, a class he can take, whatever. And that’s all fine.

But when a creator longs for community he or she invites the neighbors over for dinner, he puts up a screen in his backyard and hosts a neighborhood movie night, he starts a frisbee-golf league, or he teaches a painting class.

Photo Credit: Melissa Wiese, Creative Commons

See the difference? One person shopped to get his needs met and the other created something to meet his needs.

So the real problem with being a consumer is this:

Consumers believe their options are limited.

And if they’re really far on the consumer side, they might even get depressed because they can’t find something to fulfill them. Which is sad, because the whole time they likely could have just created something.

As people get more and more busy, they have less and less time to create solutions and so those who do create products, services and community become more and more influential. The only people who influence culture, after all, are the creators. Consumers only guide culture with their buying choices; they aren’t actually “making” culture at all, only voting for it.

So how do you know if you lean toward consumer or creator?

Here are four informal questions to ask yourself:

Do you often find yourself meditating on your lack? If so, you’re likely leaning toward being a consumer. Creators meditate on what they can do and their imagination excites them.
Do you look for the “right” way to do something? Creators tend to not think something is the “right” way and instead believe there are a myriad of options to get the job done.
Do you look for security in the opinions of others? Consumers tend to go with the flow and feel more comfortable if large groups are affirming their choices. Creators look for options that haven’t been created yet and are okay looking odd to find them.
Do you “moralize your preferences”—meaning do you believe there is a right way to clean the kitchen and mow the lawn and pursue faith and so on? Consumers tend to believe their way is the right way rather than realizing most issues are not moral at all, just practical and pragmatic. Consumers associate their security with following somebody else’s instructions rather than creating their own.

The reason creators are more likely to be happy than consumers is they get their needs met more often and rarely get stuck in fatalistic thinking.

The creator’s world is not a menu; it is an infinite list of ingredients.

What we lose when we lean toward consumer-thinking over creative-thought is our “selves.” As consumers, we wear the clothes, listen to the music, attend the church, vote for the candidate and so on that is presented to us on a menu. Because of this, we stop influencing the world and become a reviewer of it. And yet reviewing somebody else’s products and culture is not the same as having an impact on it.

What if what the world really needed was you?

What if your ideas mattered but they were getting lost because you forgot you were allowed and even created to create? What if God created you to shine, to speak, to influence, to help other consumers realize they could have a fulfilling life of their own making? What if, as Walt Whitman said, you could contribute a verse?

What if, this week you analyzed two things in your life you were dissatisfied with and brainstormed possible solutions you just hadn’t thought of yet.

Go off the menu.

What could you do to make money? What could you do to better organize your time? What could you do to build community? What could you do to express and pursue faith?

What if God was writing a poem on the world and your verse was being silenced?

What if you yelled your contribution for the world to hear? Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it. Let’s be creators like the one who made us!

The First Step Toward Seeing The Miraculous in Your Life

I’ve talked to a lot of people lately who have set a goal in this New Year to be more thankful; especially for the ordinary things that go unnoticed.

Like the sunshine. Or coffee. 

Author Ann Voskamp discusses this choice to be grateful for the small stuff in her book One Thousand Gifts. She says, “Gratitude for the seemingly insignificant—a seed—this plants the giant miracle.”

Photo Credit: minka6, Creative Commons

Gratitude is a very small action can have an enormously positive effect on our lives. Here are two ways giving a little thanks can go a long way.

Gratitude Leads To Happiness

In “The Happiness Project,” author Gretchen Rubin says:

Gratitude brings freedom from envy because when you’re grateful for what you have, you’re not consumed with wanting something different or something more.

 

When society keeps telling you to want something more, gratitude steps in and says all these great things- my stuff, my body image, my people, my life- are more than enough. Instead of wanting more, thankfulness allows us to take more joy in what we already have.

When we’re grateful, life is good. 

Gratitude Is Good For You

Did you know that studies done across the world point to the fact that thankfulness can do awesome things for your health—like boost the immune system, inspire a better diet and reduce the effects of aging? 

“Clinical trials indicate that the practice of gratitude can have dramatic and lasting effects in a person’s life,” says Robert A. Emmons, professor of psychology at UC Davis, in a review by NBC News. “It can lower blood pressure, improve immune function and facilitate more efficient sleep.”

Let’s ditch all the diet fads and get gratefulness trending.

The benefits are just as good and, let’s face it, giving thanks is a lot more fun than eating salad for weeks.

Gratitude isn’t a feeling but more like an action that creates a feeling.

Sometimes it’s hard to be grateful when we’re not so happy about where we are in life so we have to make it a discipline. 

To create the habit of being thankful, try writing down what you’re grateful for. Even if it’s just one little thing each day. Because that one tiny thought can bring you the happiness you’ve been seeking. One “thank you” could have multiple health benefits.  

And that “seed” of optimism you plant in your heart will take root in your life and one-day give way to a “giant miracle.”

The Power of Listening Without Judging

I have a friend who happens to be a rockstar— a strange and confusing word. And yet my friend is one of the more stable people I know.

He doesn’t get down too much when things don’t go his way, and he doesn’t get all that excited when they do. He’s a terrific listener, too, and wants to know more about you than he wants you to know about himself. In a culture that praises fame, my friend hardly notices.

He seems to see music as a service he offers, no different than a waiter bringing more water. He doesn’t think too much or too little of himself. And for the first few years I knew him, I just assumed he was one of those rare people who was given a heaping supply of wisdom and humility, and I think there might be some truth to that. But recently, I met one of the main reasons my friend is so emotionally stable and capable. I met his father.

*Photo by Susieq3c, Creative Commons

I was at a weekend retreat and my friend’s dad happened to be there.

We ended up sharing a room so I got to spend 48 hours or more with him, and engaged in more than a few great conversations. while talking about something I can’t remember, my friend made the statement that he’s made it a priority to never judge his children.

I asked him what he meant by that, and he thought about it for a second and said he always wanted to be the kind of dad who would invite his children to be open and honest about whatever they were dealing with.

And he said he thought he’d accomplish that.

He said he was often really surprised at how much his sons would tell him about their lives. They’d be out surfing and one of the kids would come over and just start talking, just thinking out loud about whatever they were struggling with.

Why do they feel safe? I asked.

He said that he accomplished this by never judging his kids. He said when they were younger, he would discipline them, for sure, and he would would serve as a teacher and guide, but he’d never allow himself to think less of them or express that they’d lost any “value” in his eyes. He also confessed there were plenty of times when he had to bite his tongue.

Today his sons are adults, married and very successful, and yet they interact with the world as though they are wanted, as though the world would not think less of them because they are human.

It got me wondering about whether I’m a good listener.

What are my motives when I think less of people?

For now, though, I’m wondering if you and I can pay attention to how often we “think less” of people. Try not to “think less” of yourself for doing it, but simply pay attention to when you are living into that mindset. And then ask yourself why… Why am I judging this person? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? If it’s a good thing, what good comes from it? If it’s a bad thing, what are my motives? Are my motives to feel better about myself in comparison?

How I Overcame The Fear of Running Out of Money

For the last two years I chose to not take a full-time job. I wanted to explore, rebuild relationships, allow myself space to be authentic and ask risky questions without fear of being fired.

Photo Credit: iulia Pironea, Creative Commons

As I come to a close of this season, I am finding fear creeping up.

I’m running out of money and out of time to find a job. As I write this, I do not have any real prospects. I know I won’t end up on the streets, but the idea of being a burden to those around me is not only difficult to think about, but brings on unnecessary feelings of shame.

Did I waste my time?
Did I squander things too quickly and foolishly?
Will people judge me for the choices I made?

I’ve realized that as I sense the shrinking of my bank account and the shortness of my open calendar, I am feeling a sense of doom and fear that I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m spending less money on things, but even more than that, I think about how little money I have left all the time. I am not planning any more big trips and even feel guilty about the ones I’m taking because I know just how little time I have left to make something happen before I run out of money.

The fact that I have little money and little time left dominates my thinking right now.

In reality, I will be fine. I can’t be unwise with things, but I have plenty for today. But that doesn’t do much to allay my fears. Maybe you’ve felt like this before—that no matter how many times you make it from day to day, you still feel afraid of running out.

You never feel like you have “enough” money.

This is what I’ve learned to call a Poverty Mentality: putting myself into survival mode before it is even necessary.

This mentality has spilled over into other areas of life.

A poverty mentality scavenges and hoards, looking for every possible thing to grab hold of.

My roommate described to me recently a situation with a little adopted Russian girl she had in her first grade classroom. She noticed that her classroom had started to smell worse by the day. With very little detective work, thanks to the fruit flies buzzing, she saw that this little Russian girl had been storing food in her desk for weeks. Her desk was full of rotten bananas, half eaten sandwiches, moldy cheese and more.

She had come from an orphanage where they didn’t get enough food, so with her new found abundance, she was afraid that the kitchen would dry up and so she needed to store for a rainy day.

She didn’t realize her new reality was actually filled with an overflowing abundance.

She could have been giving away the extra food the whole time or eating til her heart’s content, but instead she was holding back, out of fear.

How many of us do this?

And yet, when we hoard things, they go sour.

If I don’t feel like I am getting enough food, I will not only focus on getting food, but when I do, I will see it as precious and must either eat it quickly or hide it for later. Sharing is not an option.

If I feel like I don’t have enough time, then not only am I always trying to explain to people why I don’t have enough time, but giving any extra moments away is out of the question. When I live in a poverty mentality, it puts me in survival mode.

The problem is, this doesn’t just impact my boxes of time and money.

When I am fearful of not having enough time and money, I start to become fearful of not having enough of other things as well. I start to feel like maybe I don’t have enough love. Then what happens is I start hording love. I look for it wherever I can, even if it in unhealthy ways, because even a little love is better than none.

I seek out relationships where I can get something or that make me feel special.

I live out of my poverty instead of my abundance.

Beyond the fact that I look for love in all the wrong places, I feel like I have a scarcity of love, which means I can’t give it out. If I give out love, then there won’t be enough for me. Plus, I may not feel like I have any to give anyway.

It gets very simple.

I can’t text a friend to have a good week because I’m not sure they will text me back. Somehow if I give of myself and get nothing in return, then I will be more empty than I was before. If they have more love than me, then somehow I am deficient. It can get so bad that I can’t be happy for other people when they find love or adulation because I am too busy focusing on my own lack of it.

Jealousy overtakes me.

So I hoard my love and generosity so I don’t feel worse than before. The problem is, I have an abundance of love, not only from those around me, but an unending supply of love from a God who loves me.

If I can grasp that fact, that I am loved beyond measure and that I will never run out of that love, I can stop living out of a poverty mentality and live in my reality of abundance.

I bet that is why Paul said to his friends in Ephesus:

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge —that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:17-19.

I hope you live out of the abundance of love you’ve been given today.

Why You Don’t Need An Instagram-Perfect Life

I have learned so many things from Instagram. I’ve learned my topknot skills are kind of subpar. I’ve learned my my life is lacking in artful ice cream cones and hipster glasses. I think my color story may need work, too.

I know I should be brave about this (because I am a child of God) and kind (because so is everyone else) but it’s hard to remember that when all the other children of God seem to be Instagramming from some kind of minimalist cupcake shop on a beach somewhere.

Photo Credit: kennysarmy, Creative Commons

My life just isn’t going to look like that, no matter how much I practice my whimsical hand-lettering methods.

I’m afraid I won’t ever fit in with the Instagram-perfect crowd.

You know what? I’m probably right. I probably won’t.

That kind of Instagram-fabulousness belongs to someone else’s life. (Or maybe it’s no one’s life. I don’t know for sure. It isn’t what life looks like for anyone I know.)

In Daring Greatly, Brene Brown writes: “Fitting in is about… becoming who you need to be in order to be accepted. Belonging, on the other hand, doesn’t require us to change who we are; it requires us to be who we are.” Even on social media.

I could learn how to use a fancier camera. I could up my selfie game. I could buy a wide-brimmed felt hat.

But fitting in is hard work, and it feels terrible.

I’m never sure I’m doing it right. And the better you fit in, the more anxious you become—because someone might notice that the image you’re projecting isn’t you at all.

I don’t have time and energy for that. I have kids to raise and exercise to avoid and stories to write. I want to spend my days creating the life and the art that are mine to create, not pretending my reality looks like someone else’s idea of perfect.

Fitting in might seem safe, but belonging feels so much better.

Wherever you go in life—online, offline, or to that elusive cupcake shop—show up as you. Show up with your one beautiful, messy life. That’s how you find your people, the ones you belong to, the ones who belong to you.

They see your reality and they say: Me too. They say: I can relate. They say: I know that story, that’s my story. And you both heave a sigh of relief at having found each other.

The real you, with your real life, is interesting.

You’re nuanced. You’re original. You have your own way of seeing the world, and you don’t fit in someone else’s square-cropped box.

Share that with the world. Because your life—the real one, the one you’re already living—is pretty Instagram-perfect, just as it is.

What Your Gut Feeling Is Actually Telling You

I make a lot of decisions using intuition, which researchers are beginning to understand as more reliable and less mystical than previously thought. Intuition is really about pattern recognition, about subconsciously picking up on conflicting patterns in a situation.

One of the more discussed examples of intuitive decision making has to do with a fire chief who, shortly after entering a burning house, commanded all his men to leave the house immediately without really understanding why.

He said the decision came from his gut, that “something wasn’t right” and he wanted his men out of the house.

That decision saved the lives of his men.

Seconds after exiting the house, the floor collapsed. If they had stayed in the house, everybody would have been killed.

Photo Credit: Anthony Quintano, Creative Commons

When interviewed about his decision, the fire chief couldn’t explain his decision logically. Some of the men under his command attributed the command to a higher force, a sort of guardian angel. But guardian angel or not, by design our brains work to protect us from making mistakes, and often we have no explanation as to why.

On further investigation, several things were happening in that fire that worked to inform the fire chief’s subconscious. The first was that the firemen already on the scene had been pouring water into the kitchen, where the fire was supposedly focused. With a normal fire, this would have solved the problem and put out the fire.

But in this case, no amount of water helped.

The second oddity that fed the fire chief’s subconscious is that the fire was unusually quiet. Fires normally rage and are loud. But when entering the house, the fire wasn’t making a sound that aligned with what the fire chief was seeing.

Without knowing it, the chief subconsciously understood something really basic, and that’s that he didn’t understand what was happening. And because he didn’t understand, he knew his men could be in danger. By commanding the evacuation, he was pulling his men from a situation in which he did not know how to guide them, protect them, or solve the problem of the fire.

What was really happening in the house was that the fire was not in the kitchen; it was just burning up through the kitchen. The fire was actually raging in the basement, burning the underside of the wood floors. This would not be understood until later.

All this to say, as leaders, intuition matters.

But we should also understand, perhaps in hindsight, why we feel cautious about a situation. Here are some tips on better using intuition:

When something seems wrong, back off and use caution.
Look for conflicts in patterns. If you’re wanting to hire somebody but he or she has been through three jobs in the last two years, there is a pattern conflict. Inquire as to why his or her pattern is in conflict with his or her ambition to hold a job.
If you suspect something is amiss in a situation, don’t interrogate whoever you suspect too soon. Wait and watch and try to understand why your intuition is sending alarm signals. Once you identify some patterns, sit down with the person you’re dealing with and ask them to explain them.

How have you learned to utilize intuition in your decision making process?

What to Remember About Unwanted Change

I stand in the waves of a changing tide. One moment being pushed in, another pulled out. I desperately want to stand still, but my feet find no footing. Maybe you know how this feels: to be standing in a season where everything is shifting around you, and you’re desperate for something stable.

I long for a season of stability, tired of wave after crashing wave working against my weary soul.

Photo Credit: Joe St.Pierre, Creative Commons

In my vain attempt to find some purpose for the shifting ground, I work to catalog each wave as either positive or negative, but they are neither. They are simply waves. Determined to come in whether I want them or not, their only job is to keep coming. They care not for my purpose or attempts to maintain the status quo. They just come.

They are a powerful force, greater than me.

The first time the word “sea-change” was ever used came in William Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Ariel, a supernatural spirit, sings it in a song to Prince Ferdinand after his father supposedly dies by drowning.

Full fathom five thy father lies,

Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes,
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
into something rich and strange,
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell,
Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them, ding-dong, bell.

The idea is that his body, through death, has gone through a metamorphosis. There has been an actual change of the bones into coral, eyes to pearls.

The beauty of the poem is that it says that through the sea-change, even in death, nothing is gone. There has simply been a transformation that has occurred.

Death has become beauty.

Every part of his body has changed into something rich and strange, there is no decay.

I seem to think of sea-change, change thrust upon me by an outside force, as a time of letting go of things, sometimes having to let things die.

What if that death is not about the loss of something, but beautiful transformation?

It is only when I step a little further out and float in the rhythm of the waves’ renewal that I find peace and my clenched muscles release the tension that is held in more by fear than fight. I don’t know where the tide will take me, but working to stay still requires too much effort.

I am safer traveling with the tide than grasping at shifting sand.

What if instead of digging our feet into the sand and trying to hold our place in a supposed spot of safety, we allowed the sea-change to bring about something beautiful through the death of something old?

What feels like decay and death often brings what is rich and sometimes strange.

My waves of sea-change are not evil or good, they are here and they are not leaving. They are small, but they still have power. My hope comes from giving them consent to move me to a new places of strange beauty rather than fighting them with fury that I may be asked to stand in an unfamiliar position. The only way I lose to the waves is if I fight the move.

The Introvert’s Guide to Recovering From The Holidays

Someone once told me I was an introvert with a high social capacity. In that very moment my whole world made sense.

Photo Credit: Brandon King, Creative Commons

That was me, perfectly.

I love people but I also adore my quiet time. I want to change the world but, in order to accomplish anything, I need to be alone in my world sometimes.  

So after holiday traveling, family time, friends parties, buying kids presents and doing a lot of things with a lot of people, I needed to go to my comfort zone and shut the door.  

If you’re an introvert, you need to be alone to fill back up.

So, to help all of us who need to be alone but have a “high social capacity,” I’ve decided to write the Introvert’s 3-Step Guide to Recovering After the Holidays.

Step 1: Give Yourself Permission To Disappear

Visit your favorite coffee shop. Have a dinner for one. Go see a movie by yourself. You need a secret place to process all the people and pie and stuff that just happened to you from Christmas on into that New Years party.

Come out of hiding after you’ve wrapped your mind around it.

Step 2: Do Something Creative Or Fun

If you’ve set New Year’s goals, doodle pictures of them on a piece of paper. Get your mountain bike and try a new trail. Set a quote as your theme for the next month and paint it on a canvas. Take your dog for a walk and dream of what’s next in your life.

Whatever inspires you, do that. 

It will help your brain breathe after the holidays and give the year to come an inspirational perspective. 

Step 3: Hang Out With Someone Who Fills You Up, Not A Crowd That Wears You Out

I traveled to a few places during and after the holidays. The celebrating overflowing into speaking and sharing airplane space had me worn out.

At some point, I really missed my wife.

When I’m empty, she’s the person who fills me up. I really like all those other people I got to meet. But she’s the one who can enter into my comfort zone because she gets me. When you’re drained, don’t throw yourself into a crowd that will drain you dry.

Instead, hang out with people who fill you up.

A few moments with the right people can give you the energy you need take on the rest of the world. 

Fellow introverts, if you ever want to hit the gas and go again you have to refuel. Give yourself permission to be alone, do something inspirational and be selective about who you spend your time with until you’re refreshed.

Once you’re full again, you can love people well, give all you’ve got back into your workplace and can even get excited again about the next celebration. 

Happy Recovering!

How I’m Learning to Create More “Perfect” Moments

It was supposed to be the happiest place on earth. But my husband and I stood, a good thirty-six inches apart, both of our feet firmly planted in an argumentative stance, smack dab in front of the statue of Walt Disney holding Mickey Mouse’s hand.

I imagine I had fiery eyes, and I’m pretty sure his were rolling back in his head as I stated my case while a sea of 40,000 people swept around us.

I had planned this family vacation for weeks. Disneyland isn’t somewhere you just show up, every mama knows. There are tips and tricks to navigating the place. I felt like my husband expected me to know all of these, like which park the Magic Hour was at, or where the Dole Whip stand was, or how to navigate the FastPass system.

Sound confusing? Despite my research, I was baffled. And frustrated.

Such is life, right? No one starts a business expecting to shut it down within a few years. We don’t get married expecting to get divorced. We don’t plan to have kids expecting to struggle with infertility.

We don’t go to Disneyland and think we’ll end up arguing in front of Walt and the rest of the Magic Kingdom. Very few of us go through life expecting these curveballs. But curveballs are a reality, right?

Sometimes life doesn’t go according to plan; or, at least, not according to our plan.

Photo Credit: Huber Yu, Creative Commons

I’m interested in a practice that stems from the Buddhist and Hindu tradition, called “non-attachment”. It means that rather than clinging to certain outcomes (visions of what could be) or certain people (or what we imagine they could be), we should remain grateful for, but unattached to, what currently is.

Count your blessings, but hold them loosely.

Our culture doesn’t endorse this philosophy.

The secular voice would tell us that we have needs to be met and wants to be satisfied and that, by all means, we should attempt to meet and satisfy them—and then hoard them like trophies doomed for dusty shelves in the McMansion to which we are entitled.

We diligently work to avoid anything negative. We’re quick to buy solutions to our problems, from stains on our laundry to blemishes on our souls. And we long to preserve the mountain top moments, squeezing out every last drop of the happiness emotion. And instead of living, we end up spending every moment trying to control the narrative of our lives.

The idea of letting go of “the plan”? It’s an incredible idea, if still one that seems nearly impossible to me.

Not try to control every single outcome of my life? Not cling tightly to the relationships that I hold most dear? Not attempt to design every aspect of my existence, so that I can ensure my utmost happiness and well-being while securing my legacy?

Sure sounds like crazy talk.

But I know—and I think you do, too—that it’s not. That “non-attachment” is a much more realistic practice than it seems, because really, when have we ever had control of the narrative? When has clinging to something ever ensured that it was ours forever? When has life turned out exactly as we’d planned?

This practice isn’t just specific to those who study and practice Buddhism, though. Within my own faith, we’re always being called to practice something similar. In Matthew 16, Jesus tells us that to be His disciple, we must deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow His plans.

Let go of our plans, and lean into His.

When things don’t turn out the way we plan, it’s time to start looking for another set of plans.

As my husband and I both stormed away from Walt’s statue, I knew it was time to look for Plan B. Something was amuck in the Magic Kingdom. Vacations are hard: people get tired and grumpy, and neither one of us had been feeling well.

I had a choice at this moment.

I could either hang onto my idea of the perfect vacation, or look for the lesson that might hopefully redeem the next day and a half.

I like to think that God has a pretty great sense of humor. I don’t think He likes to mess with us just for kicks and giggles, but I do think that He tries to get our attention in a bunch of unexpected, fun ways. And sometimes, I think we’re so busy hanging onto our plans that we don’t see His.

By the time my head hit the pillow that night, I’d decided to let go of my plan. We were all exhausted. I mumbled a meager strategy for the next day to my husband as we both fell asleep: as soon as our kids were awake, we’d head out to the parks quickly, to get to some of the longer-line rides before the crowds surged.

My kids are early risers.

By 6:45 the next morning, they were dressed, and we were out the door by 7:15. We headed towards the park, showing our hotel keys for the Magic Hour we received as hotel guests. As we passed a crowd of folks who had to wait another 45 minutes to enter the park, I looked at my husband out of the corner of my eye.

How had we just wrangled that?

We headed to the Cars ride—one of the park favorites, and our kids rode it twice before the lines hit. As we walked away from the ride, we were completely astounded. For something that we hadn’t planned, it sure had been a delightful morning. We both laughed.

The surprising thing is, letting go of our own agenda and leaning into being present can sometimes produce the best outcome.

Towards the end of the second day of our vacation, we found ourselves standing in a short line to ride the famous teacups, when suddenly, a beat dropped, and we realized that the nightly parade was going right by us. We hadn’t planned to see the parade. In fact, by that point, I’d quit planning things altogether.

We were along for the ride, literally and figuratively, whatever it looked like. But as we spun in teacups, under charming, bright-colored, Chinese lanterns, and the magical, twinkling dancers and parade sailed by us, it was the perfect moment.

The perfect combination of details: the hidden Mickey, the mark of His workmanship, instead of my plans.

The lesson I learned was a simple one: you can’t plan the perfect moment.

The hallmark of the perfect moment is that it is unplanned. It is unexpected, and it shows up to remind you to quit planning and start savoring.

January offers us a fresh, clean start. It’s tempting to load our planners up with goals and ideas and lists of things we want to do and adventures we want to have. But there’s an art to leaving things unplanned.

So as you set new year’s resolutions or goals or intentions, no matter who you are, I’d like to encourage you: hold your plans loosely. Be on the lookout for a God curveball, and if one comes, hold on for the ride.

You just might stumble into the perfect moment.