Spiritual Lessons... from swimming?

Last week, I finally returned to my habit of swimming for exercise.  Between the Christmas holiday and then dealing with mom's illness and death, it had been about 2 months since my last swim - and last week I really felt it.  As I get back into the groove, I've discovered some truths that apply not only to my exercise routine, but also to my spiritual life.

If you want to succeed, set reasonable, achievable goals.  Last fall, when I decided to start swimming again, I wanted to set a goal to push myself enough that I got real exercise.  Scholarship-level college swimmers can usually swim a mile in ~20 minutes.  This is not a reasonable, achievable goal for a 41 year old, out-of-shape me.  I started with the goal of building up to a half mile swim within 2 months (made it in a month) and then set a new goal of < 20 min for a half mile by the end of the school year. (achieved for the first time today).  Now I am setting a new goal of regularly swimming a < 20 min half mile.

Spiritually, we need the same kind of game plan.  When Michell passed away 3 years ago, my personal Bible study habits were (I'm ashamed to admit) nonexistent.  I had great church-going habits and good service/outreach habits, but no personal study habits at all.  I know they needed to be better, but I had always set UNreasonable, UNachievable goals that frustrated me to the point of not trying anymore.  You know the drill - I would hear a message about reading the Bible daily, decide to change, and set a goal of reading my Bible for 30 minutes every day (for the rest of my life!).  UNachievable - even things we normally do every day we miss occasionally: we get sick, we go on vacation, etc.  UNreasonable - to go from 0 minutes a month to 30 minutes a day instantly?  Well, God certainly can make such changes happen instantly, but more often He helps us to make small changes daily.

I have finally succeeded by setting better goals - I bought a page-a-day devotion book with postcard sized pages.  I set a goal of reading the 1-page devotion 5 days each week.  It was a ~5 min commitment with some "free pass" days.  I didn't have to be perfect, and if I missed a day it didn't feel like total failure.  That has built over time to bigger and bigger goals, and now I try to read a full chapter and study the margin notes that go with that chapter.  I still keep to the 5 days a week part - I often read more than 5 days each week, but if I miss a day it's not a failure, it's still a goal met.

That voice that says "You can't" is usually lying. My first day back in the pool, I thought I was going to die about halfway through.  I was tired.  I was sore.  I wanted to quit.  I rationalized: I hadn't swum in a while, I would eventually get back to my norm, I should just stop.  But I decided to try and do a little more.  Before I knew it, things seemed to get easier.  Not easy, but easier.  I finished my half mile, and began to wonder how often I give in to temptations to sin like I almost gave in to the temptation to stop short of a half mile swim.  How many times do we give in just before it's about to get easier? 

When we get tired, we tend to get sloppy.  When teaching swimming lessons, the first part of the lesson usually focuses on getting the details right - how to cup your hand, what path to pull your arm, how to kick your feet.  It's important to practice and focus on these before you get tired, so that (hopefully) as you get tired you will still do them correctly.  We, or at least I, tend to get sloppy with my strokes as I get more tired.  I don't focus so well, and so my kick gets ragged, my arms flail, and I don't hold my had in the best position.  Consequently, I waste energy and don't go as fast as I could. 

Similarly, when I get tired, I tend to have more difficulty with sin.  Most obvious to me, I get angry more quickly, and tend to snap at people for little things that normally wouldn't bother me.  Just ask Rachel - I tell her "Daddy's tired, do you know what that means?" and she says "It means I may get in trouble for stuff that's normally OK, so I should be extra good." 

Less obvious, but perhaps more important, I tend to give in to temptations more.  Areas that I struggle with become more of a problem when I am tired.  I make poor choices and don't always follow through with disciplines that I have developed to keep me away from past sinful behaviors.  It just reinforces the need for me to develop good, Godly habits when I'm not tired, so that when I am tired I don't tend to deviate from them.

Motivation... where have you gone?

Haven't posted for a few days, partly because Zoe has been sick and partly because I haven't known what to post about.  Grieving for mom has been very different than grieving for Michell was, which shouldn't surprise me.  I think the biggest issue I am having since losing mom is a total lack of motivation to do... well... almost anything.

In general, I'm a fairly lazy person, and at best a crisis-centric, last-minute worker.  "Never put off to tomorrow what can be put off to next week," I say.  But I still do (usually) get things done.  I may not pick the best times (note the near midnight timestamp on this post), and I frequently stop at "good enough" rather than working all the way to "done", but I do eventually get stuff done.  But right now, I'm just not motivated to do anything.

This happened before, right after Michell died.  Then, I chalked it up to being tired from all the new responsibilities I had to deal with.  But now, I am beginning to recognize it as an expression of my grief.  Michell used to have a list (an extremely detailed, never ending list, but I digress) of things for us to work on, and when she was gone I was without a clue about what I should be doing - especially after the kids were in bed.

As I slowly got back into doing things each evening, my mom became the person that I would call to tell of tasks completed.  Talking about those things with her seemed to give them more meaning, and that is now lost.  I mean, really, who can I call to tell them that I got the laundry put away?  Not exactly noteworthy...

And so, for the past few weeks, I have simply been sitting down each evening and doing nothing.  "I just sit, sit, sit, sit.  And I do not like it, not one little bit."  Or maybe I do like it... just a little.  I just don't like the sink full of dishes, or the Christmas decorations still out, or... or... or...

And the lack of motivation does not limit itself to household tasks, it also seems to impact my social life (or lack thereof).  I was in the habit of going to lunch with friends fairly often, and haven't recently.  I haven't looked for a place to watch the Superbowl yet, because I'm just not motivated to go.

Fortunately, I know it's not permanent.  I am a social creature, and will eventually want to get out again.  I will find motivation to get things done around the house again.  I will not let grief become depression, nor will I allow it to become an ever-present excuse.  But at this moment, motivation is missing. 

Funny thing is, I never saw my mom have a lack of motivation.  She worked all day every day getting things done.  When I had big things to do, I would often call and ask for her help, not because I really needed help doing, but because I needed her "let's keep working until it's done" attitude.  Ironic, isn't it.  I'm grieving my "workaholic" mother by being a "lazy-bum" son.

Finally read my mail...

So, I opened my mail tonight.  Now, many of you are thinking... "So?  I do that every day.  What's blog-worthy about opening your mail?"  Well, let me try and explain.

You see, I usually open my mail about once a week.  I don't get that much each day, and given that most of the time I spend with my mail involves the pre- and post-opening activities, it's much more efficient to wait until the stack is of reasonable size before opening it.  Let's be honest, there's just not much that comes in the mail that can't wait a few days - if it was that urgent, it wouldn't come in the mail to start with.

But the past month has been anything but "usual."  With mom's time in the hospital and death, I just never got around to it.  I would see the pile continue to grow each day, but wouldn't be in the right frame of mind to open it.  So it sat... until today.

It was an interesting read.  I started by dividing it into 3 categories: sympathy cards, tax info, and other mail.  Most of the "other" mail was bills (don't worry, all my bills are auto-paid, so nothing was late).  Not much unexpected there.  The tax info was... well.. tax info.  It's now filed and waiting for the rest to come in.

The sympathy cards were the biggest part, and the most interesting.  If you've ever worried about finding "the right card," quit worrying.  I can tell you from experience that the most important thing is the return address.  What?  Did you read that right?  the return address?!?  Yes.  The return address.  You see, what matters most is that people took the time to let you know they cared and are praying.  And you find out who those people are by the fact that they sent a card at all. 

The second most important thing is the quick note written inside.  I can't speak for everyone, but I rarely read the "official" (pre-printed) words in the card.  There are only so many sympathy cards out there, and duplicates are almost inevitable.  In addition, there are no "perfect words" that can be said.  What matters is that you took the time to write something just from you, not from the card company.  It doesn't even have to be a whole sentence, just a word or two is enough.

The end of the card pile was especially interesting.  About 2/3rd of the way through, I ran into a couple of birthday cards, which was nice.  Then, as I got to the very end, I ran into Christmas cards.  Some were actually "New Years" cards, and some were the late coming cards that I hadn't opened yet.  That was really nice.  It's always fun to read Christmas cards.

So, as I look back, I think this was probably a really boring post.  No deep thoughts, no new revelations.  Just an excessively long status update.  But, I've already typed all this, so I'll post it anyway.

Oh, and for those of you who sent me a card... thanks.

Waiting for the Right Time

Had a good day today.  Shopping at WalMart, time at dad's house while Rachel was at a friend's house, shopping at Lowes, and some work around the house late in the afternoon.  Got lots done - much more than is normal for me.  It's like I have to prove that I can still accomplish tasks without mom around.  She was always so much more motivated than me to get things done.

In fact, today at dad's house, I had to keep stopping myself from starting certain tasks.  You see, I remember how much better I felt after I would go through some part of the house and re-organize it.   

Several times within an hour, I wanted to start going through the drawers in one of the bathrooms at dad's house - to go through and pull out all the stuff that doesn't need to be there anymore.  I wanted to change that small part of the house to reflect mostly dad instead of mostly mom.  But I stopped myself.  And that was a good thing.

You see, it took me several months to get to the point that I was ready to do that with Michell's stuff.  And dad has to come to his own decision about when he is ready to go though mom's stuff.  She was my mom, but his wife.  He is the one who has to live in that house, and he is the one who has to make decisions about when and what he wants to cull.

So, I'm waiting.  Waiting for the time when dad is ready - when he either cleans it out himself or asks someone for help with it.  Waiting for him to be (more) at peace with both his loss and his life.

He'll get there.  Just like I did.

What I really want to say is... zzzzzz

I cannot believe how tired I was yesterday and am again today.  It's not a lack of sleep - many have asked, and I am sleeping well.  I have not needed any medications, rather I have been able to go to bed around my normal time (1130p) and get to sleep before midnight.  I have been able to sleep until at least 6 and usually 7. 

I think I am simply exhausted from the stress of the past 2 weeks.  The week mom was in the hospital, I was home with a very sick little girl (no stress from either of those, right?).  Then this week had all the stress of making decisions regarding mom's services. 

I also had a monumental challenge the past 2 evenings.  While she was here, Michell's mom Sandra did a bunch of laundry for me.  This was extremely kind of her to do.  Unfortunately, along with the girls' laundry bins, she mixed in a bin of clothes which were clean and had been set aside to put away for summer... and she mixed in a bin of clothes which were new from Christmas that I hadn't looked at enough to know what shirts go with what pants.  It was like dumping 20 puzzles together, all of which are solid red, and trying to sort out what pieces go where.  My family room floor still looks like a laundry war zone. 

Funny thing, the laundry challenge was what made me miss mom the most.  I am... shall we say... fashion-sense challenged.  Those of you who have known me a long time might remember the bright yellow shirt and bright red shorts I used to wear together.  Very Ronald McDonald.  Whenever clothes came back that I didn't know how to match, I would call mom.  And she could magically pair things up over the phone - without even seeing them!  Just another example of how she took care of me.

She would be proud of me, though.  It took me about 3 hours the first night, but I finally got Zoe's stuff matched up.  Then Rachel and I, with an hour on Skype with Sandra and 2 more hours together, got 75% of her stuff matched up last night.  Quite an accomplishment for the fashion-challenged me.  I do, however, still have 6 pairs of pajama pants missing their tops.  Anyone need some?

So if you see Rachel or Zoe (or me, for that matter) in an outfit that makes you cringe, just remind yourself that the girls are stuck with me, and let me know so that I don't embarrass them in public... or at least so I don't embarrass them that way.

Take Pictures of the Everyday

Yesterday, my sister and I spent about half a day going through pictures to use in a slide show of mom.  I already knew that mom didn't much like having her picture taken, but what I didn't realize is how often I let her get away with that.  There were even a few years where the Christmas pictures had me and my kids, Steph and her kids, and dad... but no mom.  What were we thinking?

But the more glaring thing that I realized is that while I am pretty good at getting pictures of events, I am lousy at getting pictures of the everyday.  As I went through my pictures, I found that since moving back to Tennessee in 2005, I have more pictures of Michell's parents than of my own.  Why?  Because when we saw Michell's parents, it was an event; we saw my parents every week, so that was just everyday life.

The good thing is that between Stephanie and me, we found plenty of pictures of mom - really good ones.  But from here on, I plan to carry a camera with me more often on "normal" days, so that I can capture more of our everyday life.

Finding A New Normal... Again

I thought this blog was essentially dead.  I had pretty much stopped posting here, probably because I didn't have the need for it.  Life was going well - joyful and fulfilling.  With less struggle, 10-second Facebook posts were more the norm than deep, introspective blog posts.  And then...

Most of you alreday know.  Mom passed away.  One week with her "not feeling good" and then a week in the hospital and then... home to heaven.  And the similarities to Michell's death just 3 years ago are overwhelming.  Both started out thinking it was just a muscle pull.  Both ended up in the hospital with bad bruising and extreme pain.  Both diagnosed with leukemia.  Neither surviving to start chemo.  Both having cerebral hemmorages leading to death.  I can still remember telling myself that this time (with mom) was going to be different.  Not so much.

Oh, and by the way... Worst. Birthday. Ever.  That's right, if you didn't know, mom died on my birthday.

So now I sit at home, and at times the silence is so incredibly LOUD.  I can feel how quiet it is.  It's opressive.  The girls are both in bed, both sleeping well.  The TV is off.  And I miss calling to talk to my mom.  It's one of the things that I started doing right after Michell died - I would call mom every night.  I doubt I missed 10 nights in the past 3 years.  Recently, the call had moved earlier to right after I got the girls in bed.  Last week, it emphasized that mom was in the hospital - she wasn't at home for me to call.  Now, that one simple daily phone call seems to stand for all that is wrong with the world today.  I can't talk to my mom.

I know it will get better.  I've been down this road before.  God promises to change mourning into dancing and sorrow into joy... and He does.  It's happened in my life over the past 3 years, and I know it will happen again.  I know that I will find a new normal... again.

But at this moment, I'm just hearing the overwhelming silence, and wishing I could call my mom.