Allison Vesterfelt's Blog, page 14

How I Discovered Peace In Marriage Was Possible

My husband and I are fighters. We’ve always been this way—since before we were even married. We’re both the highly competitive, super-passionate, stubborn-as-mules type of people. We’re not the “let’s sit down and talk about this calmly” people, or the “oh-you’re -so-smart-you-must-be-right” type of people.

So put the two of us in the same room together and you get fireworks, one way or another (if you know what I mean).

Photo Credit: Jon Clegg

Anyway, the point is, when we were first married, our fights would be perpetually explosive. We would raise our voices, say things we’d later regret, and usually one of us (who shall remain unnamed) would end up stomping out of the room in a fury.

We’ve worked for a few years to make our arguments more productive—

recognizing arguing is not a bad thing, but that if we set some ground rules for fighting, we’ll end up making more progress in the end. This was a frustrating process for me, and I have to admit, I’ve wondered, at times, if we made some sort of mistake getting married. Not that I don’t love my husband, but I allowed the following thought to creep in and take hold:

Passionate, competitive people shouldn’t marry each other. They’ll just fight forever.

It wasn’t until the past few months that I started realizing how this thought process could be acting as a limitation for us, preventing me from believing peace was possible.

So I started opening my eyes for evidence to the contrary.

I started watching for other married couples who had similar temperaments to my husband and myself. Michael Hyatt and his wife Gail released a series of podcasts about what it was like to be married to an entrepreneur, and I listened to those. I saw myself—my marriage—in those conversations.

Darrell and I also developed a close relationship with a couple I really admire, and who reminded me of us, and I started paying close attention to the way they communicated with each other.

The more time we spent around them, the more I began to see how the quality of their communication was really more about the skills they were implementing than it was about their personalities or passion. In other words, despite their passionate temperaments, and competitive personalities, they were still able to fight fair, with practice.

Slowly, I began to see it: peace was possible.

But of course, my realization couldn’t stop there. If it did (“wow, other people can have great communication within their passionate marriage”) it wouldn’t have done me much good. In fact, it likely would have made me feel even more hopeless about my own set of circumstances, since we still seemed to be flailing.

The next step was that someone was going to have to be a leader.

In other words, the next time we got into an argument, one or the other of us was going to have to lead the other one out of it. One of us was going to have to prove it was possible to come out healthier and happier on the other side.

I’ll be honest: I wish I could say I was the first to do this, but I wasn’t. My husband was the first to put down his weapons and come to resolution. For months, in fact, he would be the one to lead us out of our arguments. Then, one day, a discussion we were having started to get heated and I just told myself: It is possible. You have to believe that…

And I led us out of it.

I really believe, in that moment, I became a leader.

It wasn’t glamorous. In fact, it was sort of messy. I was crying at the end, and I would tell you he was crying, too, but he’d probably deny it, so let’s just say we were both demonstrating strong emotions. There was mascara all over my face and we were both sitting on the edge of our unmade bed.

I would have been embarrassed to have you see me in that moment—and yet it was so empowering.

And I guess this has just been a huge epiphany for me about leadership.

It’s helped me to see how I am a leader, whether I want to be or not. It’s allowed me to see how being a leader isn’t really about who has the fanciest blog or the most elegant prose or the coolest wardrobe. It isn’t about lights and glamour and fame. I mean, I suppose some of those things, some of the time, allow us to lead even more people, in more effective ways, and for that, I’m grateful.

But for the most part, leadership is pretty messy. Leadership is hurting feelings and apologizing and never giving up. Leadership is sticking it out and turning over tables and cleaning them up again. Leadership is making a decision—even if it’s the wrong one. Leadership is wrinkled sheets, an unmade bed and smeared mascara.

Leadership is simply being the one to say—and to show—“You guys, this is possible. We can do this.”

In that sense, leadership is really about hope.

So the next time you find yourself wanting to say you’re not really a leader, stop yourself for a minute, and ask if that’s really true. I doubt it is. Because to say you’re not a leader is to say you aren’t about hope. And I get it. Hoping is hard. Hoping takes work. Hoping is not a fluffy or a pretty word—it’s self-sacrificing, get-your-hands-dirty, back-breaking kind of word.

But, at the same time, what are we without hope?

What are we without leaders?

As for me? Here’s what I hope: I hope I can lead you into believing you are a leader. I hope I can help you see how it’s possible, even if you’re not sure it is. I hope you’ll start hoping with me and that, together, we can lead others into hoping, too.

I hope…

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Weekend Reading

photo: Vinoth Chandar, Creative Commons

Each weekend I love to leave you with a list of the best things I have read on the Internet because, well, sometimes, you just need something great to read. I’m so excited to share these articles with you, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

If you read something great this week, leave me a note in the comments. And mostly, enjoy your weekend. Do something awesome!

You Are Allowed Your Process by Jamie Wright

I loved this post for so many reasons. Not only do I resonated with the need to correct people (after all, my way is the “right” way) but I forget that process is how people learn. Everyone (myself included) is allowed their process.

Some Thoughts on Self-Promotion and Why Arrogant People Think It’s Wrong by Donald Miller

I’ve definitely struggled and wrestled with this concept over the past few years, but I’m coming (slowly) to the same conclusions Don comes to here. The more humble I become, the easier it is to share my work.

The Great Porn Experiment [VIDEO] by Gary Wilson (via Ted Glasgow)

This is not a blog post, but I stumbled across this TED talk this week as I was researching for a project I’m working on and I found it fascinating: a totally secular, totally scientific study of the effects of pornography on the brain.

Doing Less, Being More by Brian Gardner

Oh, yes. I needed this message so badly this week. I don’t know about you, but the past few weeks have just been really busy for me. And I guess I’m (still) trying to learn that more stuff doesn’t always equal more progress. Sometimes we cover the most ground when we slow down.

How to Be The Most Stressed Out Person You Know by Lindsey Holmes (via Huffington Post)

Speaking of being super busy, for me that always comes with a lot of stress. For that reason, I really enjoyed this article about the things stressed out people do that are making them even more stressed.

The post Weekend Reading appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Want to Be More Creative? Stop Doing This.

I’ve been in a major creative slump lately. Like, major.

So major that I just said “like” and repeated the word major three times in three sentences. I know. Bad, right?

Anyway, so I’ve been doing the things I always do when I’m in a creative slump. I have my usual go-to books and habits and practices. I wake up at 5am and write first thing on my mind. I take myself on Artist Dates (thanks, Julia Cameron). I try to give myself permission to slow down and notice things and be more imaginative.

But nothing was working. I was so frustrated.

Then this morning as I sat down to write and for some reason I thought back to advice that was given to me awhile ago about something unrelated, and I made a connection.

Photo Credit: Erin Kohlenberg, Creative Commons

Last year, I had a pinched nerve in my back. It was terribly painful, lasted for months, and I wasn’t sure I was ever going to feel normal again. During that time, I started seeing a doctor who worked with me through the process so I could type again. She had some unconventional (think: not Western) thoughts about medicine, but she helped me heal without the use of narcotics—so I really grew to trust her.

One of the surprising things she told me to do was to stop icing the injury. Icing had been the only thing (other than Vicodin) that had helped my pain and reduced the swelling, so I was really shocked by that advice. But her reasoning was this:

Icing numbs the pain, but it also reduces blood flow.

In other words, Icing might keep the bad stuff at bay—the pain and swelling. But it will also keep the good stuff at bay, all of those helpful blood cells that speed up the healing process. In other words, I could do all the right things (yoga, stretching, resting, vitamins, therapy, etc) but ultimately, if I was numbing my pain, I wasn’t going to heal as quickly as I could heal.

As I thought about this, I couldn’t help but see how this applied to my creative life. You can’t numb yourself to the bad stuff in life without also numbing yourself to the good stuff. It doesn’t work like that.

I’ve been numbing myself for awhile now.

I have a great life. I get to wake up every day and do the work I love. I’m married to a man who respects me and believes in me and is constantly putting my interest above his own. I live in a beautiful apartment where I get to host all kinds of family and friends. I have everything I want and more. I have no complaints.

But life is still hard, you know?

There are still difficult decisions to make. There are conflicts to work through. There are mistakes I’ve made and anxieties I hold and things I have to grieve that have nothing to do with my current circumstances. In fact, it seems as if the more I like the circumstances of my life, the more glaring these difficulties become.

I can’t blame them on my situation anymore… I have to admit they’re a problem.

It would be easier to pretend this wasn’t the case, to pretend everything is “just great” all of the time. It would be easier to go through the motions… so I could keep working, keep making “progress…”

I use TV or social media or food or exercise or alcohol as a way to shut out those negative thoughts or feelings. I don’t do it consciously, but I do it, and each time I do it, I block more than just negative feelings. I shut out the very source of my creative energy.

We all do this—numb ourselves to reality.

We watch TV and drink alcohol and tool around on social media and distract ourselves. We follow the rules and say the right words and go through the motions and act like everything is “just great.” And while numbing ourselves to life reduces the pain, it also slows down the healing process.

It impacts our ability to create something beautiful, whatever that looks like.

Do you want to create something meaningful?

For each person that looks different—a piece of art, a book, a song, a business, a family, a child, a marriage. But if your primary goal is to avoid the inevitable pain of life, you might be missing your creative power, like I was.

Try taking a sabbatical. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to watch less TV and take more walks. I’m going to drink less alcohol and more water. I’m going to be more intentional about the food I eat—opting for something cooked on the stove, rather than something out of a package.

Already, in the writing, the admitting, the letting go… I’m starting to feel my creative power come back.

The post Want to Be More Creative? Stop Doing This. appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

A Conversation: Do Men Read “Women’s Books”?

Recently I received an e-mail that made me stop and think.

For the most part, the message was a glowing review of Packing Light. The young man who sent it (he said he was 20-something) claimed to love the book and resonate with many of the themes. Then, toward the end of the message, he said something that caught my attention. He said:

“I didn’t love all the girly stuff because, well, I’m a guy, but everything else was great.”

His statement didn’t make me mad. But it did make me wonder:

What did he mean by “girly” stuff? Was it the romantic relationship I included? (I received feedback from two other men who were irritated by that relationship, but what was it about the relationship that made them irritated? I’m not sure…)

photo: LostConfusedLoved, Creative Commons

I generally just started feeling very curious.

What makes one book “girly” and another one not?
Does the fact that I’m a female author make the book “girly”?
What about the fact that the cover is baby blue? Is that a deterrent?
What exactly are men looking for when they open a book?
Is it different from what women are looking for?

I know that talking about the answers to these questions can get a little sticky. They’re not cut-and-dry, first of all, and what one man wants is not the same as what another man wants. It can get really easy to start generalizing, or start judging one person’s preferences as more acceptable than another. That’s not what I’m going for.

This is not an angry conversation. I’m not trying to start an argument here, or to make a statement.

I’m simply looking for information—information that will help me understand, and that hopefully will help me write a better book in the future. I’m incredibly curious.

So, will you tell me: Do men read “women’s” books? Why or why not?

The post A Conversation: Do Men Read “Women’s Books”? appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

What You Have To Say Matters. Don’t Hold Back.

A few years ago, a simple question changed my life. It went like this: “What would you do if you could do anything?” I had never thought about that question before—never considered asking or answering a question like that. Was it even useful? Was it allowed? Was it “right,” in the moral sense of the word?

Wasn’t it selfish to just do (or even dream about doing) whatever I wanted?

Photo Credit: anton petukhov, Creative Commons

But when I let go of my ideas about what it meant to want things, and to go after them, what I uncovered was a life full of passion and humility and faith in a way I had never experienced before. It was (and is) truly beautiful.

Now, in my life, I’m being challenged by a new (and similar) question. It goes like this:

What would you say if you could say anything?

At first blush, this might not seem like a difficult question. And for many people, perhaps it’s not. But for some reason, for me, this question feels as clunky and uncomfortable as the “what would you do?” question once felt.

I feel torn between thinking, “No one should just say whatever they want. Everybody should think about the feelings and reactions of others…” and also asking myself, honestly:

“If I were allowed to speak freely, what would even come out?”

Have you ever asked yourself this? If you’re anything like me, you have, and yet when it comes to answering, you have no idea. What would I say if I weren’t afraid of judgement?

I’m not sure.

When it comes down to saying something I know is controversial, or something something I worry will upset someone else, or saying something I fear will receive judgement in return, I would rather lie, or bend the truth, or be “diplomatic” or just shut up.

I hate this about myself. Here’s why.

First, I’m wasting an incredible amount of energy. What I try to do (not consciously, but I’ve started to pay attention to myself) is get a gauge for how someone is feeling in a certain situation, and then altar my communication based on that assessment. So if I sense a topic is making someone uncomfortable, I’ll change the subject.

The problem is, often I’m wrong about how that person is feeling. Maybe I’m picking up signals that weren’t really there, or I’m interpreting them wrong, or I’m projecting my feelings onto the other person.

Either way, even when I’m right, my desire to keep emotions in check keeps my words vague and muddled.

This is affecting even the closest relationships in my life.

My husband and my friends and my family ask me questions about what I feel or what I think, and I try to answer them honestly—I really do. But my answers tend to be clouded by what I fear they will think of me.

As if that weren’t enough, I’m really starting to perceive this is holding me back in my pursuits as a writer. The most common piece of criticism I’ve heard about Packing Light is this: I wish you would have been more honest. And while I know that feedback is valuable, it drives me crazy. You know why?

Because I thought I was being honest. I’m starting to see now that, even in the places where I thought I was being honest, I was holding back.

I don’t even know how to speak (or write) without fear of judgement.

And maybe part of this is just the human condition—or my temperament—and I should stop wasting energy trying to “fix” myself, but you know what? I don’t want to. If I’m being honest (really honest) I feel totally trapped by my fear of telling the truth.

I wish I could speak openly about the things I really thought.

I don’t think it’s selfish to desire this, or to go after it. I don’t think it’s inconsiderate of others. In fact, if I learned anything from answering the “what would you do” question, I know the answer to this question could wake up me up to a whole new kind of passion, a whole new kind of faith, a whole new way of life.

Maybe our ideas—the real ones—matter for something.

Do you think?

If that’s the case, if what I have to say matters, I need to learn to not hold back. So do you. We need to learn to practice sharing our opinions—even bad ones. Not online, necessarily. But somewhere, with someone we trust. In a journal, with a friend, to our spouse, quietly at night.

Because it’s in the sharing, I think, that healing comes, humility comes, growth comes. It’s in the sharing I’m changed, and you’re changed, and a bridge is built between the two of us.

It’s in the sharing that life and faith and hope come back.

So what would you say if you could say anything? What you have to say matters. Don’t hold back.

The post What You Have To Say Matters. Don’t Hold Back. appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Weekend Reading

photo: Vinoth Chandar, Creative Commons

Each weekend I love to leave you with a list of the best things I have read on the Internet because, well, sometimes, you just need something great to read. I’m so excited to share these articles with you, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

If you read something great this week, leave me a note in the comments. And mostly, enjoy your weekend. Do something awesome!

What God Wants Us to Learn From Kids by Scott McClellan (via Storyline Blog)

Although I don’t have kids, I loved this post about what God wants us to learn from them. I could think of a few sticky, messy, expensive, myopic things God might want me to learn from, as well.

Transcend & Include by Aaron Niequist

Basically, if you feel like you wrestle back and forth between wanting to forget your past (what you did, what was done to you, or what you were taught) and allowing it to define you, you need to read this post. I so appreciated Aaron’s thoughts.

How to Ignite Your Creative Energy by Courtney McDermott & Julia Cameron

Not only is this a great interview, but Julia Cameron is absolutely one of my favorite writers about all things writing and creativity. Make sure you not only read the article, but also follow Julia on Twitter. You’ll thank me later.

A Year of Grieving Dangerously by Kay Warren

I’ve never suffered grief as tragic as Kay, but I’ve certainly felt rushed through a grieving process. Don’t miss this absolutely heart-wrenching interview where Kay shares how to respond to someone grieving and where she stands a year after the tragic loss of her son.

6 Changes That Will Make You More Imaginative by Marty Neumeier (via Fast Company)

While I’m on the subject of creativity, I couldn’t help but share this little gem. Great suggestions for all kinds of imaginative energy—art, business, or even problem solving. Read it!

The post Weekend Reading appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Don’t Miss The Beauty of Your Life. Do This Instead.

This is a guest post from my friend Amy Wolff. Amy is not only an exceptional mom and public speaking coach, she’s also one of the most insightful people I know. You’re going to love what she has to say.

***

In August of 2003 I went on an intense backpacking trip for six days in the Sister’s Wilderness in Central Oregon. There were 12 of us, two leaders and ten students from my university, preparing to be Residents Assistants. This experience, named ‘Walkabout’, was part of our training.

I had been camping before, but this time was different.

Photo Credit: Thomas Shahan, Creative Commons

We slept under stars. We ate spaghetti out of mugs. We filtered water from streams. And the most shocking: went to the bathroom in the woods (not my favorite).

I was completely out of my element. We didn’t shower, put on makeup, or listen to music. I had no watch or phone, no concept of time except the movement of the sun. And I was wearing the ugliest hiking boots ever, with tall wool socks. A fashion statement indeed.

And yet, to my surprise, being out of my element was completely exhilarating.

Even the part I had been dreading the most—24 hours alone in the woods—didn’t end up being as bad as I thought. Realistically, it was the not being alone that worried me. What animals were keeping me company? I couldn’t help but wonder. I survived the night with only minimal bug bites (and minimal sleep, unfortunately).

But the greatest lesson I learned came mid-trip. It was a day of climbing steep, rocky terrain. I remember getting into a rhythm with the pair of boots in front of me. Watching them, studying them as I followed, making sure I didn’t slip and fall down the side of the mountain. My eyes stayed glued on that path, focused on the boots in front of me.

At first, it wasn’t so bad.

But after climbing and climbing and climbing, I had to stop for just a second. I put my hand on my hips, took deep breaths, and looked up.

That’s when I realized: I was surrounded by the most beautiful terrain I had ever seen. There were white capped mountains, a rushing river below. I saw acres of what looked like thousands of telephone poles, trees which had been the victim to wild fires years ago. It was an overwhelming sight.

My breath escaped me. I was dumbfounded.

Had I been missing this the whole time?

In that moment, I didn’t hear an audible voice, but I did feel God unravel an invaluable life lesson inside of me—one that has come back, like a catchy song on repeat, over the last 10 years.

It went like this: “Look up.”

I was so focused on the trail, so focused on keeping up, so focused on not tripping, I had missed it. I missed the beauty surrounding me. I had forgotten to look up.

It’s so easy to miss the beauty of life, isn’t it?

We focus on our mistakes, or the risk of making one. We are preoccupied by juggling our filled-to-the-brim schedules. We’re simply trying to keep up with life’s crazy current.

We fix our eyes on computer screens, smart phones, televisions, and day planners forgetting to fix our eyes on Jesus and the beauty around us.

On the sixth day of our trip, I was the first one awake.

I sat with my journal, pen poised, with eyes wide open to the beauty around me. The eerily-still lake,the vast variety of green hues,the surrounding hills. Clouds were hugging the snowy tip of the mountain we were about to summit that day.

A few minutes later, my leader woke up. I pointed out the majestic mountain to her, and she hastily got on the walk-talkie to contact other groups on the mountain. Evidently those weren’t wispy clouds.

They were smoke. We had to evacuate.

Not only can looking up reveal beauty, it can reveal danger, too. Lift your head. Look around. Take inventory. Open your heart. Sit in silence. Become aware. And embrace the journey.

If I look up from my computer screen right now, I see two beautiful daughters begging for my attention. Adventure beckons!

What do you see when you look up?

***

Amy is a public speaking coach for a company called Distinction Communication based out of Portland, OR. She blogs in her spare time at amynwolff.blogspot.com and likes to stay connected via Linkedin. Amy is a lucky mom of two beautiful girls, Avery and Harper, and wife to one lucky husband of 8 years, Jake.

The post Don’t Miss The Beauty of Your Life. Do This Instead. appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

This Is Where Your Fear Comes From (and How to Get Rid of It)

Have you ever noticed how fear seems to creep up on you when you least expect it? Maybe you’re afraid of things you realize you shouldn’t be afraid of, things you should be able to reason your way around, and yet, every time you turn around, there’s the fear again, rearing its ugly head.

Photo Credit: Elliot Brown, Creative Commons

Recently I was on an airplane, a few rows behind a mom and her young son, and watching the two of them interact helped me understand why this might happen.

The flight was rough from beginning to end.

Before we even left the ground, the pilot informed us of an electrical problem that would need to be dealt with before we could take off. The ground crew was working on it, he explained, and we waited for 45 minutes.

By the time we did take off, you could tell the everyone on board was a little tense. Probably most of it was just that we had been waiting, but I’m sure part of it was that we were wondering to ourselves: if there was an electrical problem with the plane, are you sure it’s safe to fly this thing…?

To add to all of this, the flight itself was turbulent. The pilot came over the intercom and told everyone to expect rough air the entire way, that he would leave the fasten seat belt sign on until we reached our destination.

Meanwhile, I watched the mom and young son in front of me.

She talked him through the entire process. When the pilot informed us of the electrical problem with the plane, she told her son, “don’t worry sweetie. There’s a problem with the plane, but the pilot is going to fix it.” When it was time to take off, she said, “here we go, sweetie. Don’t be scared, everything is going to be okay.”

She looked all darty-eyed and stressed. He looked out the window, wide-eyed and curious.

When the turbulence started to get bad after take-off, you could hear the tone of the mom’s voice change. Every word that came out of her mouth sounded squeaky. At one point, the plane sunk and we all felt our stomachs drop. The young boy yelled, “wheee!”

The mom replied, loudly (and still squeaky): “Oh no! Sweetie! Don’t be scared!!! We’re going to be okay!”

Suddenly the young boy’s face went from curious to concerned.

He nuzzled up into his mom’s armpit and furrowed his brow, clearly worried. The two of them cuddled together, and yet I couldn’t help but wonder who was comforting who, now.

I noticed something fascinating in that moment:

Fear is learned.

As I watched the young boy’s demeanor turn, I realized the fear he felt in that moment wasn’t really his own response to the circumstances. Sure, the flight we were experiencing was  a little bit rough, but the roughness didn’t bother him. In fact, his natural response had been: “wheee!”

Right?

And yet as soon as he realized his mom was panicking, he panicked too. She did her best to hide it, always using her words to focus on the positive, and yet he picked it up.

It was almost like fear was contagious. Isn’t that weird?

It made me think about how fear works in our lives.

I started thinking about the things I’m afraid of—running out of money, making a fool of myself, being a bad friend—and I realized that I’ve never actually had a situation that would warrant me being afraid of these things. I mean, sure, I’ve had a little bump in the road here and there, but nothing life-threatening. Nothing beyond fixing.

And yet, often fear dictates my reality. It makes me move prematurely from curiosity to concern (like the little boy on the plane). It causes me to blow things out of proportion (like the mom).

It takes an experience I would describe as “whee!” and changes it to one I would resist experiencing again.

But it helps me to know this is where fear comes from—

It helps me head fear off at the pass, before I take on fear that isn’t my own. It helps me see how I was born with an internal longing for risk (“whee!”) and keep myself from turning too quickly to concern.

I wonder if it might help you, too—to see where you’ve been convinced to be afraid, without really getting a decision.

I wonder if it might help you take that choice back.

I hope it will keep us from being the kind of people who feel fear unnecessarily, who spread fear to others, who miss what life has to offer because we’ve “caught” fear like one might catch the flu while flying on a plane…

{Note: I don’t want this to read like a parenting critique. I’m not a parent, and although I could be an excellent parent of purely hypothetical children, I have no place to critique this mom, or any mom for that matter. What I noticed here was more about the transfer of fear than anything else.}

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How I Learned A Mess Could Be Beautiful

If you walked into my house, most days, you would find things in perfect order. I don’t say that to brag. I say it to paint a picture of the obsession that can sometimes control my schedule. You would find my carpet vacuumed, my clothes put away in the closet, my hangers each spaced perfectly one inch apart (no joke).

Photo Credit: Artotem, Creative Commons

It’s been this way for as long as I can remember, since I was in middle school. My mom never had to convince me to clean my room. I would always do it myself.

And do it well… (the hanger-spacing thing started early)

Later, when I moved out of my parent’s house, I was a roommate’s best dream and worst nightmare (simultaneously). Since I was obsessed with keeping the house clean, I would do most of the cleaning myself. But since I was obsessed with keeping the house clean, I would also be frustrated with even the smallest mess.

I hadn’t ever thought about this much until recently.

I just figured I was one of those people who liked the house clean, you know? Who can fault me for that? But in the past several months, as my travel schedule began to ramp up, and I had less and less time at home, I started to notice a problem. It wasn’t just that I liked the house clean. It was that I couldn’t leave it dirty.

In fact, it would give me anxiety.

I would try to leave dishes in the sink overnight, or leave the house without making the bed, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave clutter around, either.

And that’s when a little phrase popped back into my memory, a phrase I learned as early as middle school. It goes like this: “When your room’s a mess, your life’s a mess.” I don’t remember exactly where I picked this up, but I do know this. I internalized it, and embodied it and lived it out from a very young age.

Now that I’m an adult I have to ask myself: Do I really think I can keep my life clean by cleaning my house?

Recently, I was hanging out with a friend of mine.

She’s just moved into a new, beautiful house and you can tell she cares about the way it looks. It’s always beautiful and always clean. But recently she had her family in town—four extra people staying with her and her husband for a couple of days—so this particular day her house wasn’t totally spotless.

But you know what really impressed me about it?

She didn’t apologize for the mess, or even cancel plans with me, as I might have done. In fact, she said something to me I won’t soon forget. She said, “I love this mess. This mess reminds me of the people I love.”

And her comment got me thinking.

What if a mess can be a good thing? What if a messy room, or a messy house, or a “messy” outward appearance (an older car, a faded pair of jeans, a not-so-shiny pair of shoes) doesn’t have to be the sign that something is out of place?

What if it can be the sign that something is in place—that priorities are straight, that a life is full and meaningful?

What if half-full glasses sitting out on my coffee table don’t mean I’m a bad housekeeper? What if they are a sign we were up late laughing together? What if dishes in the sink mean we opened our doors to friends, that we are being hospitable?

What if an unmade bed, laundry undone, cluttered hangers, or a pile of clothes sitting on the floor—means my day was filled with work that is fun and meaningful?

What if a mess can actually be beautiful?

The post How I Learned A Mess Could Be Beautiful appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Weekend Reading

photo: Vinoth Chandar, Creative Commons

Each weekend I love to leave you with a list of the best things I have read on the Internet because, well, sometimes, you just need something great to read. I’m so excited to share these articles with you, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.

If you read something great this week, leave me a note in the comments. And mostly, enjoy your weekend. Do something awesome!

Why I Love Thursdays by Shauna Niequist

Something powerful happens when we gather around a table with people we love. I have been working to figure out how to make this work practically in my group of friends in Nashville. This post encouraged me to see how it doesn’t have to be perfect to be  rich and meaningful!

The Freedom of Authenticity (and my Seven Greatest Flaws) by Joshua Becker

It’s so easy to get used to sharing the most attractive parts about ourselves (especially online) while holding back the more quirky or negative qualities. But something amazing happens when we’re willing to share our failures and struggles. I love this perspective from Joshua Becker.

On Writing: Ego, Insecurity and the Life of the Beloved by Micha Boyett (via Antler)

Anytime we create something, we have to face fear, but that fear doesn’t have to cripple us. I love Micha’s approach to overcoming fear—considering how my different “selves” might respond differently. Like Micha, I want my Beloved self to the take the hand of my terrified self, and lead me to freedom.

The Top 10 Things I Learned From Drinking Only Water by Chris Bailey

I’ve been trying to drink more water lately for a thousand reasons, so I found this post fascinating and really helpful. What a good reminder that what we put into our body has a huge impact on what we get out.

15 Metaphors You’ll Only Understand if You’re A Millennial by Todd Van Lulling

This made me laugh a little at myself, so I couldn’t help but share it with you. If you’re a Millennial, I hope you laugh with me. If you’re not, you may not understand, or you might roll your eyes (in a way that says, “you’re ridiculous, but you’re also kind of cool). Either way, I hope you enjoy.

The post Weekend Reading appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.