Allison Vesterfelt's Blog, page 16

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!

The Next Time You Make A Mistake Remember This by Jon Acuff

It’s so easy to get stuck thinking only rookies make mistakes. Then, when you make a mistake, you feel like a rookie. But what if we just assumed mistakes were just par for the course? What if they were an expected part of the journey?

How Multitasking Can Kill Your Relationships by John Richmond (via Storyline)

Multitasking is so glorified in our “productivity” culture, but I love this approach by my friend John, and the advice he gives about using all five senses. What a formula for beautiful relationships and a beautiful life.

How to Give Your Home And Your Stuff Meaning by Donald Miller (via Storyline)

Although I have spent the last three years of my life learning what it lives like with less stuff, I still know that having stuff isn’t wrong or bad. In fact, when we can find deeper meaning in the things we own, we find more satisfaction in all of it. I love this post by my friend Don.

The 10 Worst Habits Holding You Back From Success by Thai Nguyen (via Addicted2Success)

Wow, this post is packed with information, but I couldn’t agree more. No matter what kind of “success” you’re after in life, these toxic thoughts, attitudes and habits are likely keeping you from it.

5 Reasons You Should Seriously Consider Writing A Book by Michael Hyatt

In honor of the great conversation had at the Bloggers Breakfast this week at #StorylineConf (I loved getting to meet some of you there!) I thought this would be a great post to share. Michael has some great wisdom here, and if you’re thinking about writing a book, this might just be the final push you need.

The post Weekend Reading appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

What I Learned From An Addict About Building A Meaningful Life

I’ve always had so much admiration for people who were doing what I perceived as amazing things with their lives.

I had one friend who was a mother of four and also a marathoner, and I thought she was so kick-ass. I wanted to be like her someday. Another friend of mine was a woman of what seemed like a dozen talents. She was a baker, a florist, a vocalist, a friend to what seemed like hundreds and was always hosting dozens of people at her house for elaborate meals.

Photo Credit: player_pleasure, Creative Commons

Then there was my friend who wrote a book (something I had always wanted to do) and it turned out to be a really good book—good enough he could support himself with his writing alone.

In a way, I wanted to be like these friends, but I  also wasn’t sure that was possible.

Where did they come up with the strength and the talent to do the things they did? Where did they find the energy? I was just an average single girl with a simple 9-5 job and sometimes my life felt exhausting.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to add a bunch of books or marathons or children to it.

Then, I heard the serenity prayer.

Actually, I’m sure I had probably heard this prayer before, but until recently, I don’t know that I was paying much attention.

But now that I live in Nashville, every Wednesday morning I’m here, I make it a point to visit a place called Thistle Farms; a non-profit and social enterprise that employs women who have come out of addiction or prostitution. The women spend two years in The Magdeline House, getting clean from their addictions and getting their lives back on track.

Then, they can build their skills and earn a living making all natural soaps, candles and body products.

Members of the community who want to visit or volunteer are invited to their morning meditation on Wednesdays, after which, they always recite the serenity prayer. You may know the prayer: “God, give me the grace to accept the things that cannot be changed, the courage to change the things that can, and the wisdom to know the difference…”

They always end the prayer with this line: “Just for today…”

The idea is this: When it comes to creating a life of meaning, weather that means overcoming addiction, learning a new skill, growing a family, turning a relationship around, building character, finishing a project or something else entirely—it does take a ton of strength.

It takes more than we can probably muster or fathom.

But the prayer doesn’t ask for all the strength, all at once, to accomplish the task. The prayer only asks for enough strength to get through today.

And I thought that was really powerful.

In fact, it helped me to see how I wasn’t any different than my friends who I perceived as so awesomely successful. I could run a marathon if I wanted to. So I did. I had no idea what I was doing, but I printed a schedule off the internet, and just started running—one day at a time.

I could write a book, I realized. So I did.

It wasn’t as good as my friend’s book, but that’s okay. I didn’t need it to be. I just needed it to be the best book I had ever written, and the first of many more to come. I didn’t need all the strength in the world to do it. I just needed enough strength to get up early one morning, and start writing.

I’m not sure what a meaningful life looks like for you.

But whatever it is, don’t get stuck thinking you don’t have the strength to do it. Don’t get caught looking at the people around you, assuming they are stronger or more talented than you.

They aren’t. The only difference between them and you is they took the first step.

They focused on the strength they needed just for that day, and got started.

There is no reason to feel inadequate or overwhelmed. Focus on what I learned from the women at Thistle Farms (who are living some of the most meaningful lives I’ve ever seen).

God, give me strength: Just for today…

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The Myth of “You Can Never Be Too Careful”

You’ve heard it said, “you can’t be too careful” but I just don’t think that’s true. In fact, I’m starting to see how living life too carefully is the fastest way to get a life that is boring and empty of the things I care the most about.

I’ve lived most of my life really carefully.

Photo Credit: Karin Willet, Creative Commons

I was careful about money and careful about friends (I didn’t want to get mixed up with the “wrong crowd”) and careful about each decision I made. I obsessed over where to go to college, and what jobs to take or not take, and always wanted to make sure everything was logical and in-a-row.

I don’t know where this inclination came from in me. It doesn’t even match my personality (I’m more creative and absentminded) but maybe that’s why I decided it was so important to be careful.

I was convinced that, if I was careful, everything would fall into place.

So I went to college and got good grades, and then went to graduate school just for good measure. I got a job with great benefits and a good retirement package and kept a big buffer in my savings account. I was meticulous about charting my spending. I never bought anything that wasn’t on sale.

Because, well, you can never be too careful.

I kept huge margins in my schedule and made sure I went to bed at 9pm every night. I worked out everyday, without fail, and only ate certain foods, both for health reasons, and for vanity reasons (I didn’t want to gain weight). I wouldn’t go on trips, or to other people’s houses, because you never know what kind of food they might serve there.

I was single, and wanted to be married, but rarely went on group outings, or talked to people I didn’t already know, or accepted dates.

Stranger danger, you know. Safety first.

You can never be too careful, I told myself.

The problem is, after years and years of being so careful, I got to a place in my life where I realized that, although I had this perceived control over my environment, I didn’t really like any of it. I wasn’t getting what I wanted. My life felt pretty meaningless and white-washed. The things I cared about most seemed out of my reach.

So I decided to do something completely un-careful. In fact, it was the most careless thing I have ever done. I decided to quit my job, move out of my apartment, sell everything I owned and spent the next year of my life traveling across the country so I could write a book about it.

It was literally the least careful thing I had ever done, but it was also the most rewarding and wonderful and fulfilling.

And, if I had approached the trip carefully, I wouldn’t have gone.

In fact, weeks before the trip happened I nearly backed out in the name of being careful. I was planning to travel with a friend, so I invited her to coffee and told her I had thought a lot about it, and I didn’t want to go. I had my list of reasons. We could run out of money, I told her. Our car could break down. Or (my personal favorite excuse): If I left home now, I would never find a husband.

I’m not sure where I got the idea that I couldn’t get married if I was busy living my life, but that was my strange and unhelpful conclusion.

That was my way of being careful.

And yet, what is most shocking to me about this realization is that most of what I love about my life now, I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for that trip: My job (writing). My home (Nashville). My husband (we met because of an article I wrote about the trip online). I think there’s something powerful about taking our focus off of what we don’t want, and putting it on what we do want.

What if we lived our lives like that—not being careful to avoid anything but being intentional to point ourselves toward what really matters?

I have a friend named Daniel who talks about being mindful—

And, for me, that’s a much better word than careful. When I’m living my life careful to avoid the things I don’t want to happen, strangely, I end up getting them anyway. Have you ever noticed this? When I’m scared of regretting a decision, I’m much more likely to end up regretting it. When I’m scared of saying something stupid, I’m much more likely to put my foot in my mouth.

And yet, when I live my life mindful of what I care about, where I’m headed, what I really want, I have this strange and totally awesome tendency to move toward it.

These days, I try not to be too careful. If I find myself talking or thinking about being “careful” to avoid something bad, I remind myself to reframe that. I ask myself what I really want out of my life.

I fix my mind on that thing and work to move toward it.

The post The Myth of “You Can Never Be Too Careful” appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

How to Deal With A Bully

A few weeks ago, I had a strange experience with a driver here in Nashville and it made me realize something about bullies.

He was driving a big white truck, and I was driving a much smaller Toyota Corolla. We were both circling the parking lot of the grocery store—looking for a place to park. It was a busy night, and I think most of us had been circling for awhile.

Photo Credit: Carl, Creative Commons

After several minutes, I came around a corner, saw that a spot had opened close to the front, so I started to pull into it.

This white truck (who had apparently been waiting for the spot as well) drove right toward me, laid on his horn, and slammed on his brakes only feet before he got to my passenger side door. I was shocked. I looked over at the man driving the truck, motioned my apologies, and backed out of the spot.

I continued to circle, until I found another spot, much further back.

I grabbed my things and began walking toward the entrance of the grocery store, when I passed by his truck—in that same spot—and was surprised to find he was still sitting inside. I looked toward him, with no ill intent honestly, just to figure out if what I was really seeing was true. He was just going to sit in that parking spot, idling.

When he saw I was looking, he looked back and me, glared, and then made a lewd gesture. My heart raced a little, and I hurried inside.

For some reason, I couldn’t get this guy off my mind.

In the grand scheme of things, the incident was small, but it didn’t feel small to me. In fact, for the next several days, I noticed myself feeling hesitant to 1) drive anywhere, 2) go to that grocery store, and 3) take any parking spot that would be considered close to the front door. I kept going over and over the situation in my mind.

Should I have been paying more attention? Should I have stood up to him and taken the spot anyway? Did I do something to deserve his animosity toward me?

And then suddenly, I realized: This guy wasn’t the bully. I was the bully.

I had been bullying myself for days over this, having trouble sleeping and trouble driving and trouble going through my normal routine and activities. I was letting his actions and gestures—from inside his car, for heaven sake—impact the way I felt about myself, and impact what I was willing to do or not do.

Once I discovered that, it was like the situation was back in my hands.

I could decide to let it go.

This process included going back in my mind and asking myself why this circumstance felt like such a big deal to me. What connections did I make with it? What shame was I feeling? Where was the guilt coming from? As I began to unpack the attached memories (most of which were of other people calling me a bad driver, or of my own insecurity around my ability to pay attention to things) I felt an incredible release.

Suddenly the dividing line between truth and fiction became so much clearer, which meant shame (which is really about lies) could dissipate.

The shame I felt was all in my head.

And then, just l like that, my bully disappeared. And what’s funny is the bully I thought was the bully hadn’t really been there all along. I was my own worst enemy, allowing someone else’s inappropriate actions to dictate how I felt about myself. Once I stopped shaming myself, the bully went away.

I know this story doesn’t universally match every bully story.

Some of our bullies are co-workers, friends, spouses—people we see on a daily basis. Some of them are online. Some of them are our bosses or parents. In those cases, changing the way we filter the information they’re giving us can be much more difficult. After all, it’s coming out of a fire hose, not a water fountain.

But still, I think if we can create a little bit of distance for ourselves from our bullies—if we pull back and ask ourselves what’s really going on—we’ll be able to see that we are actually our own worst enemies.

The shame we’re heaping is our own.

And the beautiful thing about that is that it means it is absolutely in our power to put it down, and move on.

The post How to Deal With A Bully 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!

The Promise You Can’t Keep In Marriage by John Mark Comer (via RELEVANT)

The author of this article has played a huge role in the development of my faith as a pastor, teacher and friend. He also just released a book on Love, Sex and Marriage called Loveology that I highly recommend. I’m also so challenged and encouraged by his writing, and this post was no different.

Positively Speaking by Joshua Becker (via Becoming Minimalist)

This take on positive thinking and positive ways to approach problems resonates with so much of what I’ve been learning lately. What would happen if we focused on calling the positive into existence, rather than pushing out the negative? I think you’ll really enjoy this post by my friend Joshua Becker.

The Power of Less by James Clear

When we are willing to live with less stuff, the benefit leaks into all areas of our lives. ALL areas. That’s what I loved about this article. It points to some of those areas even I might not have expected.

The Myth of the Haves and the Have Nots by Ray Hennessee (via Entrepreneur)

The message of this article is stated strongly, and I think will feel fairly controversial, but I just can’t help but agree with the author. It reminds me of what I wrote recently about those who thrive in life, and those who don’t. The beauty of this message is that it empowers all of us to overcome obstacles and make the most out of our lives.

One Thing Parents Do to Change Their Children’s Lives by Darrell Vesterfelt (via Storyline)

I’m totally biased, but even if I wasn’t I would love this article by my husband about what parents can do to change their kids’ lives (and how kids can change their parents). Consider the kind of legacy you could grow if you took this message to heart.

RELEVANT Q&A: Donald Miller

Usually I only share five articles, but I couldn’t help but throw this one in as a bonus. If you read Donald Miller’s post about the church a few weeks ago, you’ll want to catch this follow-up conversation. My favorite quote from the conversation comes after Cameron asks Don if he enjoys ruffling feathers. Don’s reply is, “The fact that so few of us ruffle feathers speaks to the fact that so many of us are afraid.”

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Why You Need More Drama In Your Life (Yes, Seriously)

The human spirit thrives on drama. Have you ever noticed this?

It’s counter-intuitive, in a way, because we all say things like, “I hate drama,” or “I just don’t need that kind of drama in my life,” but we also line up to see movies where the captain of a cargo ship has to fend off pirates, or a young person is faced with a grim choice—and steps in heroically to save her younger sister.

If this isn’t drama, I don’t know what is.

Photo Credit: Mark Turnauckas, Creative Commons

And like I said, we don’t just enjoy drama. We thrive on it.

We function our best in the midst of dramatic situations.

When the twin towers were attacked in New York City, and the skyline crumbled within a matter of hours, we witnessed as the best of the human soul emerged. In the middle of the worst possible conditions, strangers offered money, prayers, and anything else they had to help. An off-duty firefighter abandoned his vehicle and raced across town (in full gear) to rescue any survivors.

No competition. No jealousy. No comparison. No judgment. Just an unbiased willingness to get to work and do something awesome.

As a human race, we do really well with drama.

Have you ever noticed this in your own life?

Maybe you have a job interview, or a plane to catch, and suddenly waking up at 6:00 in the morning doesn’t feel quite so complicated. Your alarm goes off, and you just get right out of bed (or maybe you wake up before your alarm). Consider the last time something new and different was going on in your world—you were going to a concert after work, or someone you loved was coming to town.

Didn’t it make you feel more alert, more alive and more awake throughout your day? Didn’t you kind of feel like you were on cloud nine?

Or, maybe something painful happened—you had a loved one in the hospital, or your house burned down, or you were waiting to hear important news. Didn’t you suddenly feel like your priorities were snapped into perspective?

Did you see the best of yourself come out?

I’ve been a pretty dramatic person for most of my life.

I used to be a terrible exaggerator (sometimes even to the point of lying). This is something I’ve worked to change, and have made major progress, but every now and then I still find myself saying something like, “There were literally one billion people there!” (To which my friends respond, “Yes, Ally, one sixth of the world’s population was literally at the coffee shop by your house”).

And yet, despite my dramatic ways, I would still find myself saying, along with everyone else, “I don’t need that kind of drama in my life!”

But recently, it occurred to me: We actually do need drama in our lives.

In fact, I think that’s part of the problem. We were made for drama. We were designed for it.

The problem comes when there is no drama—when our lives are stale and comfortable and boring—and so we feel we have to make drama up.

That’s when the really nasty drama (and the worst sides of ourselves) come oozing out. This is where lying comes from, and fighting and arguing and blowing things out of proportion. This is where jealousy and comparison come from, where backstabbing and gossip come from, when we start judging others.

This is when we start to panic about what would happen if someone broke into our house, or if we retired without enough money, or how we would cope if our identity was stolen.

These are not likely problems, but we get stuck in anxiety over them, not because we’re bad people—but because our lives are too darned boring.

We need drama that matters for something.

What if, instead of waiting for drama to happen to us, we went out and found it. In a way, that sounds like the worst advice in the world, but here’s what I mean by it: What if we engaged in the drama of saving people’s lives?

What if we made beautiful music that would lift spirits?

What if we wrote books that would shift people’s hearts and minds?

What if we put our lives on the line to save people from slavery, children from starvation?

What if we put our hands to materials—actual physical materials—and made something useful with them?

What if we saw our work as so important, so utterly vital to the beauty and meaning and purpose of the world, that we would risk everything for it—we would let go of house and home, we would hold loosely to our possessions, and we would see every bad thing that happened to us as simply an obstacle in the way of reaching the ultimate goal?

Maybe, then, drama wouldn’t be so bad after all.

The post Why You Need More Drama In Your Life (Yes, Seriously) appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Why I’m Not Making Peace With My Past

When I first started dating my husband, I was pretty hesitant.

He was strong and confident and so sweet in the way he approached me—everything I had been hoping for in a man—but I had just come out of a relationship that had ended unexpectedly, and I was left spinning.

Photo Credit: Oleh Slobodeniuk, Creative Commons

To make matters worse, this wasn’t the first time I’d had a relationship go up in flames. Not by a long shot.

I was beginning to think it was all my fault.

So when Darrell came along, even though he seemed to be everything I had wanted but never been able to find, I decided pretty early on it wasn’t going to work. We talked on the phone for a few weeks. He was in Minneapolis, I was in Portland. I was grateful for the distance, honestly, because I was pretty sure how this would end.

I couldn’t allow it to go on for too long.

So one day, when I could sense things were starting to get serious, I sent an e-mail. It was a long e-mail, and it listed all the reasons I knew he should move on. I told him about past relationships and past mistakes and listed all the things that could possibly happen to him if he stuck around. (Every guy’s dream e-mail, right?)

I hovered over the “send” button for a good couple of minutes before I pulled the trigger, then I did it. “This is it,” I told myself.

But I never could have expected what happened next.

About five minutes after the e-mail sent, my phone rang, and it was Darrell. I picked up, and prepared myself. But instead of agreeing with me, or telling me how weird it was to send an e-mail like that, he said: “Thank you for sharing so honestly with me. But you know what? I don’t know that girl.”

I don’t know that girl.

What did that even mean?

We only could talk for a few minutes right in that moment because he had to get back to work, but later he called and we talked for longer. He explained how, although those things (the mistakes, the failures, the immaturity, the bad choices) were a part of my past, they didn’t need to be a part of my present, or my future.

He was just meeting me now. He was meeting me today.

“Maybe it’s a gift,” he suggested. “Maybe it’s an opportunity to start over.”

And suddenly I realized he was right.

For so long I had been trying to “make peace” with my past—to come up with an explanation for why it had happened (which I usually assumed was some kind of defect in me) and to eradicate the problem by “fixing” what was wrong. But Darrell’s comment made me realize: I didn’t need to “make peace” with my past.

I needed to move on from it.

Maybe, in some ways, those are the same things, but to me, they felt completely different. “Making peace” with my past was about lingering on it, mulling over it, seeking approval (from myself and from others) in spite of it, obsessing over the details, again and again, until I could figure out an explanation.

Moving on was about choosing not to let it define me anymore.

Making peace was about working tirelessly to find some elusive sense of rest and quiet (what a dichotomy, right?). Moving on was about resting in the knowledge that my life was not over, that I was not an accident, that I move forward to create something beautiful and new.

And when I did that—when I stopped letting my past define me—I was able to see how Darrell was right.

I wasn’t the girl who did those things, or said those things, or made those choices, back then. I was someone totally different. I was brand new.

This wasn’t the last time I found myself trying to “make peace” with my past.

Every once and while I still I catch myself begging for explanations, or for justification, or wallowing in my own self-pity or guilt. Every so often I find myself holding grudges against others, or holding grudges against myself.

But each time that happens I try to remind myself of what my soon-to-be husband taught me that day, over an e-mail that didn’t even need to be sent.

My past doesn’t define my future. I don’t need make peace with it.

I need to put it to rest.

The post Why I’m Not Making Peace With My Past appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Why Some People Thrive And Others Don’t

The whole thing makes me profoundly uncomfortable—talking about, or even considering, how one person might be more likely to succeed than another.

But it has to be true.

Photo Credit: Brett Holt, Creative Commons

Some people just have generally more thriving careers, happier relationships, closer families, more satisfying marriages, and less dramatic financial lives than others. Some people have goals they never accomplish, unrealized dreams, addictions, depression or anxiety that seems to cloud too much of their existence.

Others seem to move seamlessly through life, uncovering a continual sense of well-being and freedom.

So what does one person do that the other person doesn’t?

Is one person “better” than the other person? Is one life “better” than the other? The conversation gets sticky here, because although I can tell you which life I would prefer to have, it’s hard for me to admit there is a difference.

It’s hard for me to put a value judgement on a human life—it really is. The whole thing makes me cringe.

But, if I’m being brutally honest, I think there is a difference.

It isn’t about measuring one life against another life; and it isn’t meant to be a tool of shame or of competition. But it is meant to help us understand what would make one person able to face trials and setbacks with confidence and grace; while another can’t seem to find his or her way, despite opportunities.

The other day I was discussing this with a group of friends.

We talked about how every human life has equal value, but how some people spend their gifts and resources more wisely than others. We discussed the role of emotional or relational health, which acts much like physical health—if you don’t ever take good care of your body, as an athlete, you can’t be surprised when it won’t perform like you wish it would.

We talked about family support, community, and how different definitions of success would have an impact on whether you achieve it or not.

We marveled at how none of us are dealt an equal “hand,” but how where we begin is a terrible predictor for where we end up.

Sometimes, even those who are dealt a terrible hand, end up thriving.

But ultimately, one of my friends ended up saying something during the conversation that caught my attention, and I think even answered my question about the mystery of success. Those who are successful in life do this well, he said. And as soon as the words came out of his mouth, I knew it was true.

The areas in my own life where I’ve put these words to practice, I’m thriving. The ares where I’m flailing around, and not experiencing much growth, I haven’t taken my friend’s advice.

This is what he said:

“Those who are truly successful in life care more about success than they do about their own egos.”

At first blush, it was hard for me to wrap my brain around this advice, because when I think about “success” it’s difficult for me to disconnect it from my ego. I mean, I think when I consider what it means to have a “successful” life, I assume my happiness is the only thing at stake.

Happy marriage, great job, nice cars, beautiful house, maybe a little fame and popularity—isn’t this success?

But then it occurred to me, suddenly: Success (true success) isn’t really about me at all. A successful marriage isn’t a happy marriage, necessarily (although happiness is often the result). A successful marriage is a thriving marriage, where both partners are bringing out the best in each other, and the best in the world around them.

A successful career isn’t a well-paying career, necessarily (although its interesting how those who are most successful in their fields are often rewarded with financial gain).

A successful career happens when as many lives as possible are changed.

The only way for us to uncover this kind of success is to lay down our attachment to ourselves.

We have to be willing to admit where we’ve been wrong in the past—we made the wrong decisions, moved in the wrong direction, said the wrong things, went the wrong ways. We have to be willing to change our habits and patterns, even when change is painful or seems unfair.

We can’t assume every bad thing that has happened in our lives has happened to us. That’s letting our egos get in the way.

We have to assume we played a role.

That’s the only way for us to find a way out of the messes we’re often in—to admit that we know the way out because we know the way in. We got ourselves here. We have to follow the breadcrumbs.

Obviously, this is easier said than done.

Even as I write these words, I can feel my ego get in the way. “What happened to you isn’t your fault!” It’s screaming from inside me, and it’s true. What happened to me wasn’t my fault.

But I can’t let myself twist those words to believe they mean I don’t have responsibility now.

Because I do.

And it’s big responsibility.

I have a responsibility to use what I’ve been given. It doesn’t matter if it’s a little bit, or a lot. I have a responsibility to use it to the best of my ability—which means being resourceful and adventurous and innovative. It means I can’t let petty concerns or my precious reputation get in the way.

I have something beautiful to create (a marriage, a family, a business, a life).

I have a responsibility to work hard. I’m not talking about working too much, or never taking space for myself. What I’m talking about is throwing my whole weight into something, giving it my best shot.

Successful people refuse to their challenges as an excuse. They stay committed to things over time.

And what’s truly amazing to me about those who are really successful in life is that success can look a thousand different ways—from a young man with Down Syndrome who opens his own restaurant, to a Olympic Gold Medalist—and yet regardless of the name on the accomplishment, it has its way of reflecting the precious and the divine.

Perhaps it is for this reason it matters so much.

The post Why Some People Thrive And Others Don’t 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!

Wrong Job or Wrong Career? Here’s How to Tell by Penelope Trunk

I thought this was such a fun, practical and authentic take on getting in (and staying in) the right career field for you. I was challenged by her statement that, “The connection between a job and happiness is overrated” but I actually think she’s right.

Everything is Important: A Lesson From Wine by Cole NeSmith

Aside from the fact that I love wine (so any wine analogy has me from hello) I really appreciated Cole’s take in this post. So often I’m looking for the “one thing” that is magically going to change my life or shift my circumstances; when more often than not, what Cole says in this post is true: everything matters.

How to Get More Passion in Your Life by Lisa-Jo Baker

I absolutely adore this post for so many reasons. I’m a passionate person by nature and a bit of a hopeless romantic, but I think these qualities I possess set me up for some misled expectations about passion, romance and marriage. I’m learning, slowly, but this post came as such an encouragement to me. If you’re married or single, I hope it does for you, too.

There Will Be Bruises by The Minimalists

Thanks to Josh and Ryan for this simple, but powerful analogy about the choices we make in life. No choice will be perfect, but if we let that prevent us from choosing altogether, we’ll never experience the satisfaction that comes when we commit to a winding, beautiful, imperfect path.

Lots of Ways to Be A Momma by Jenny Simmons

I’m terrified to be a parent, but this post made me realize: you know what? I already am a “mom” in so many ways—and all the things I’m terrified about when it comes to parenting are all the things that are beautiful and miraculous about calling something new into existence.

The post Weekend Reading appeared first on Allison Vesterfelt.

Love Hurts Like Hell

Have you ever heard the quote, “No man is worth your tears, and the only one who is will never make you cry”? I heard that piece of advice when I was young, and it sounded pretty great to me, so I took it to heart.

Photo Credit: *_Abhi_* Creative Commons

I set out looking for a man who would treat me the way I “deserved”.

To make a long story short, I didn’t find him.

Instead, I found a long string of romantic relationships that were both fun but painful while they lasted, and ended in dishonesty, drama and ultimately, failure. But when each of the relationships ended, I consoled myself: that wasn’t real love. Love wouldn’t hurt like that. Love wouldn’t be so hard.

It always made me feel better to think that “the man who wouldn’t ever make me cry” was still out there somewhere.

I would just have to keep looking for him.

Years later (in my late twenties) I met my husband.

Many things about him were different than the guys I had dated before, and the quality of our relationship was certainly different. But I’ll never forget the first major conflict we had, ending in tears on my part. We were sitting in the front seats of his Toyota Corolla in the Target parking lot.

I felt so defeated in that moment, and so infuriated. “You aren’t who I thought you were,” I wanted to tell him. “You were supposed to be different.”

But just as I was about to shake my head and say, “well… I guess this is it…” he reached his hand across the center console and put it on my knee. He said, “I know this is hard. But I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together.” And that moment, marked by the Target Parking lot, would become infamous in our relationship.

It turned from the moment I thought our relationship would end to the moment I knew this was man was my husband.

Love is hard. Love hurts. But love sticks around.

We went to a marriage conference during the months we were engaged—a generous gift from my parents, a way of supporting us as we stepped into such an challenging new season of our lives—and one of the speakers at the conference said something that has stuck with us ever since.

It went something like this: dysfunctional marriages have strife, conflict, frustration, fear, sadness and betrayal—and no one ever talks about it. Functional marriages have strife, conflict, frustration, fear sadness and betrayal—but each person in the relationship shares freely and openly with the other.

Which only makes me think—great marriages are not easy marriages.

Strong love is not feel-good love, even though sometimes it does feel good. Strong love is love that stays open, admits fault, assumes the best, reaches across the console, says, “I’m hurt…” and keeps coming home.

Love is hard. But love stays close.

Love hurts, but love changes us.

A friend of mine is getting married soon, and the other day, as we were talking about her wedding, I told her: “I’m thrilled and excited for you. You will be so altered by the love of your husband.” My voice shook a little as I said it, and I saw her eyes become glassy and blue.

Part of me wished I could explain to her that, while it isn’t exactly how it sounds, it will still be wonderful. Then again, I could tell from the look on her face that she kind of already knew (and she’ll know more very soon).

Love is nothing like I thought it was.

It’s better.

But it hurts like hell.

I used to think loving people was pretty much like liking them.

And that if I didn’t like someone, or what they were doing, I couldn’t really love them. This also meant that if people didn’t “like” me, or something I was doing, it meant they weren’t loving me either. This idea of love was complicated and messy. It prevented me from truly loving people, and from receiving the love they were offering to me.

I couldn’t see love, and couldn’t find it, because I didn’t realize what it was.

I was so sad, and so lonely, waiting for love to show up.

Love hurts like hell.

And changing the way I see love—from someone who will “never make me cry” to someone who almost certainly will—has changed everything for me. I’m not waiting for love to show up anymore. I’m learning to let it in, to surrender to it. I’m learning to come out of hiding and live toward it, and into it. I’m seeing it all around me.

I’m letting it hurt.

Slowly, it’s leading me home.

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