Measure Up

So what’s your measuring stick? You know what I’m talking about - that thing you use to determine whether or not you’re good enough. I took a minute to look up the word “measure,” (www.merriam-webster.com is one of my best friends) and a couple of definitions stood out to me:

• an adequate or due portion
• a basis or standard of comparison

Let's be real. We're measured and compared to norms our entire lives...literally from birth. You pop out and are immediately weighed, measured and checked. The doctors then decide whether or not you're in a normal range for newborns. We come into the world being compared. No wonder we have issues. I have found that the measuring stick norms go well beyond height and weight throughout our lives - if I can just do this or be that or reach this goal or have this job...the list will never end, because we will never be enough in these scenarios. We can measure or compare literally any and everything in our lives: our appearance, health, relationships, families, careers, talents/abilities, even our very personhood. 

The truth is if our value, worth or “enoughness” (yeah, I just made that up, and yes, I have a degree that says I can teach English) comes from an external factor, nothing will ever be enough. We will constantly try to jump higher, run further, better ourselves or our lives somehow or try to “measure up.” BUT what if you were already enough. 

I’ve spoken with a couple of different people lately who just feel down about how their lives appear right now. The truth is that they have beautiful lives; there are just a few things that aren’t ideal, which, let’s be honest, is probably what many of us think about our lives. So why do those few not-so-ideal things feel SO big, so inadequate, so wrong? I’d venture to say that shame is the culprit. Brene Brown does a TED Talk on shame where she breaks down the difference between guilt and shame. She says, “Shame is I am bad; guilt is I did something bad.”

First of all, I encourage any and everyone to watch this TED Talk - she is phenomenal! Just have some tissues ready...like a whole box of tissues. (You can see her talk here.) Secondly, let’s talk about shame and the measuring stick. I would say that shame is the top notch of the measuring stick that taunts you. In a world where the goal is to constantly improve or be better, shame comes in and bombards your thoughts with, “You’re not there yet - it's probably too late; you’ll never measure up; you can never be good enough; look at your life and what you’ve become - what happened? You'll never be a somebody.” And the accusations can last a lifetime if you let them. 

Shame attacks your personhood and everything attached to it, but the truth is shame is a liar. It tries to tell you who you are, but shame isn’t your Creator and doesn’t actually know you at all. We can often associate what we do with who we are. My roomie, who is a little ball of fiery, Guatemalan passion, is constantly reminding people who they are...who they REALLY are. On the mirror in our room, she has written “you are not what you do.” Actually, it’s on a couple of different mirrors, ya know, just in case we missed it.

I have personally had a lot of breakthrough in this area. As someone who played sports most of my youth, made straight A’s through almost my entire education, and also performs musically, I have had my share of measuring-stick moments where not making the cut meant that I wasn’t good enough; failing meant that I was a failure; missing one play or note meant that I personally was a letdown...at least in my mind. It took me a long time (and I’m still making progress) to realize that my skills, abilities, status, job, life situations (or lack thereof), etc. are not actually who I am - they’re simply pieces of my life, my story that will go up and down as the plot of my life continues to unfold. 

Just yesterday, I realized I was still dealing with this issue. It's funny how these things tend to have layers and unravel at the most inconvenient times. Yesterday, I had my first vocal training lesson, and I’m not talking about just singing some scales to check my vocal range. I was lying on the floor for half of it doing pelvic exercises, making weird noises and trying to connect them with my lower belly, singing at walls with arm movements to project my voice, trying not to use neck muscles, figuring out resonance, etc. (The only reason I didn’t think this was weird is because I’ve sat in on voice and speech classes for acting...I'm use to weird.) My goal in starting lessons was to begin training my voice before destroying it, because I’ve grown up singing, belting, talking and shouting without knowing how to properly use my voice; my coach definitely has her work cut out for her. So the best part (I know, these are the moments you all live for) is I’m lying on the floor while my coach is telling me to relax and not use my muscles - something I clearly don’t know how to do - and is asking me to sing a certain way. I’m starting to get a little frustrated (not at my coach, but myself) mostly because I just don’t know how to do what she’s asking. And then, wait for it...wait for it...yep, there’s the tears. So I’m lying on the floor, crying, and she says, “It’s fine. I rarely have a lesson where people don’t cry.” Ok, now I’m laughing and crying on the floor. Anyway, I realized in that moment I was still trying to get it "right" and do it perfectly - if I don’t get it right, what’s the point? I mean, if I can’t do it right, I’m probably not good enough. I know, even as I’m writing, I realize how illogical that thinking is (but we do this ALL the time). The whole purpose of training is to learn how to do it properly, not to be good enough, but to take care of my voice. 

Maybe you feel like you’ve failed or messed up in some areas, or maybe you even feel like you’re totally failing at life. Maybe you feel like you can't get it right, can't figure out the right answer, can't be perfect, can't make it work or can't measure up. Whatever you can't seem to do, just remember you’re not what you do...or what you don’t do for that matter. The following blows my mind:

As an inventor, Edison made 1,000 unsuccessful attempts at inventing the light bulb. When a reporter asked, "How did it feel to fail 1,000 times?" Edison replied, "I didn't fail 1,000 times. The light bulb was an invention with 1,000 steps." (https://www.uky.edu/) 

You have your whole life to fail. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure. You’re not what you do. Tell shame to shove it and enjoy the current chapter of your story. Sure, it may not look like what you anticipated or what someone else anticipated, but it’s not anyone else’s story to tell or live. No one else gets to determine whether or not you or your life measure up, so remove the measuring stick and be present in the current chapter of your story. You get to figure out the invention at the end of your 1,000-step process.

Unapologetic

Have you ever been around those people who constantly apologize...for nothing? Or maybe you are that person. I both know that person and have been that person. But what are you actually apologizing for? I’m not talking about those moments where we screw up, drop the ball or cause a mess - those are moments that, of course, require some ownership and an apology. I’m talking about those things we apologize for because, along the line somewhere, someone or something made you think that what you do, what you say or who you are isn’t acceptable or enough. I’m sure there’s a line that can be crossed with this, and we have to hold everything in tension throughout our lives in this great balancing act; however, I’m going to assume you know where that line is (for now) and talk for a bit about being unapologetic for who you are and those things that you know you’re suppose to pursue in life. 

I feel like I’ve personally experienced this a lot over the last year and have also had this conversation quite a bit with others - some older, some younger, and some the same age as I am, so I know this runs across the board. 

I was having a conversation recently with a friend who, like me, is in their early 30s, and he was basically asking if I ever felt pressured to pursue a “normal” life - you know, the one with the house, the dog, the career, the family...all that jazz - or to have that 5-year plan laid out. And I responded that I have definitely felt that at some point, but when I looked back over my life, I realize that it wasn’t necessarily pressure that I felt, but shame. I had been measuring what my life looks like by what I thought other people or society thinks it should look like. The funny thing about that is it is often the story that we’ve created in our own heads that puts that measuring stick there. We assume we know what people think and then place that stick so high over our heads that we can never measure up instead of actually taking time to explore our lives and what we really want them to look like. 

I was sitting in a park the other day, you know, just chilling by myself on a blanket while journaling, and as I was writing, I realized I still felt shame about the particular season I’m in right now. I believe the Lord has told me it’s a season to “play,” which, as an adult, feels a bit irresponsible (even though I’ve had several people - some who know me, and some who don’t - confirm this season for me). And the funny (or not so funny) thing is, I have so many people who love and support me in this, who agree that this is what the Lord has said, and who are championing me in this, and yet, I still have moments where I realize I feel shame about my season. What’s that about? I’m sure no one else ever deals with this…

So while I was sitting in the park...by myself...crying…(I’m just going to give you a moment to envision this and laugh a little), I took a moment to repent for shaming myself, and I apologized to the Lord for measuring my season - the season He said I was in; the season He planned for me - by what I think it should look like. He said “It’s time to play,” and that doesn’t mean I have to create some end goal or purpose in it. I just have to listen to and remind myself of what He said until He says something new.

I don’t know about you, but I’m so over that shame game. It’s not fun, it doesn’t benefit anyone, and it is definitely not from the Lord. I am finding the freedom in unapologetically being present in my current season in life. I am finding the freedom in being unapologetically me. I am finding the freedom in unapologetically pursuing the current dreams inside of me. And I’m realizing that even though I have people in my corner, there may be times that I stand alone in this, and that will also be ok, because Jesus never apologized for pursuing the things the Father set before Him, and if He is our ultimate example, we get to do the same.

For those who are playing that shame game, I give you permission to unapologetically be yourself, to pursue your dreams, and to be present in your season. I give you permission to NOT justify your “why” or what the Lord has called you to. We sometimes have to pursue the things that are deep within us at the risk of being misunderstood, at the risk of losing connection, and at the risk of standing alone, but I believe that when you are unapologetically true to yourself that it will be worth it.

Ripple Effects

Lately, there has been a lot of talk about transition.  Transition in most cases is good. Many times it involves stepping out of old mindsets and into new ones.  Transition usually brings growth. Transition is good. Transition is hard. Even when I know that I am doing something beneficial, stepping out into the unknown is usually scary. My greatest insecurities are triggered while I find a new normal.   

One of the things that we don’t talk about is the ripple effect of transition. I have both caused and felt this ripple. Most of the time, my decisions don’t just affect me. If I lived in a bubble, they might, but alas, I don’t. Seemingly innocuous decisions can still affect those around us. .  Then there are the bigger decisions of transition. When I made the decision to move to northern California for ministry school, my decision had a rather large ripple effect. My employer had to find someone to replace me, my mom had to find a new place to live, and my friends had to adjust to me living 1,500 miles away. Unfortunately, not all of my relationships survived the ripples. All of that is part of the transition.

What about when someone else’s transition affects you?  

Two weeks ago, my California best friend moved ten hours away.  To say I miss her is an understatement of epic proportions. That’s real. That’s raw. I support her with every fiber of my being. I actually agree with her decision. I probably knew she was going to leave before she did. I’ve always had a “sense” about these things; however, it doesn’t change the fact that it sucks. Before she left, she was staying with me for a couple of weeks.  Then we had the fire and evacuation, and everything has felt chaotic since.

We have walked through a lot of the transition together. We talk pretty regularly and know what is going on in each other’s lives, but here’s the thing: while she is creating a new normal in a new city, I am also having to create a new normal here. We went from seeing each other regularly to not at all. I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she isn’t just going to walk through my front door. I still invite her to dinner parties even though she is hundreds of miles away, because I just can’t not invite her. Yes, my heart is sad that I don’t have my bestie around to go get coffee with whenever, but at the same time, I celebrate her and the risks she is taking to live her best life.

 

So how do we deal with the ripple effect?  How do we navigate our own new normals while still trying to be supportive of the new normals that caused the ripples? I think the most important part of it is being honest with ourselves and with them. Mel knows I miss her like crazy.  I don’t tell her that to guilt her. She also knows I support her and celebrate her, but I am honest with her. Part of me DOES wish she was still here…sitting on my couch watching a movie and eating chocolate chip cookies.  However, a bigger part of me wants to see her fly and to see her thrive. I want her to live her best life even when that life is hours away from where I am. So here we are finding our new normals together. Now our normals look like FaceTime dates and celebrating each other from afar.  It looks like planning trips to meet halfway to spend a weekend together. It looks like crying at 3:00 a.m. when I can’t sleep again and I’m missing her. That part will get easier as the normals become, well, normal. But there won’t be a point where I don’t miss her. She’s my framily (yes, framily), my birthday buddy, my sister. She’s the one who basically got me through the second year of ministry school, has championed me, yelled at me and fed me when I was too tired (or broke) to feed myself.  That is a friendship that distance cannot touch. We are intentional and find ways to make it work and celebrate each other.

Sometimes the ripples feel like waves that are going to overwhelm and drown, but I guess in the end, we will just learn how to ride those waves to find new adventure. We still have years worth of memories to make with each other.  And seeing someone I love so much chase her dreams and begin to fly to new heights is the reason I can be okay with the ripples. Seeing my best friend thrive just makes it all #worthit.

-Tabitha Smith

New Normals

So what comes after the in-between, after the transition? It’s what I consider the best and worst part - finding a new “normal.” Have you ever found yourself in that place of, “What in the world do I do now?” Of course you have; you’re human. This can be both scary as hell and also super exciting. What I’m finding interesting and a bit hilarious is the very things that make it feel scary are the same things that make it an exciting adventure.

New normals. These come after the in-between. While they can be scary, they are also full of possibilities. Of course it’s scary to leave the familiar routine of what you’ve known. We get use to our routines. We have them for EVERYTHING. We create morning routines. We have them for getting to and from work. We have them for the week days. We have weekend routines. We have church or religious routines. We even have them in relationships. And I’m not bashing on routines. I LOVE them! But sometimes the routine that worked in one chapter of our lives doesn’t work for another. Sometimes they’re great and sometimes they’re not. For example: a routine of brushing your teeth regularly is a great thing to have. Otherwise, you will probably experience one of my biggest fears: all of your teeth falling out. Come on. You know you’ve at least had that thought even if it wasn’t a full on fear. I have even had dreams, well, nightmares about this. (I literally just shuddered at the thought.) Ok, so in cases like that, routines are great! What about in things like relationships? Sure. Some extent of routine can be great, because, and I’ll give all the guys out there a tip: women like security. You’re welcome. BUT, there is also this other side of things where you don’t want to fall into a routine that allows you to settle and prevents you from exploring.

Either way, there are times in life that require us to create new normals. I have recently found myself in such a place. Being in limbo for the last two months has had it’s pros and cons. I’ve just finished ministry school and have found myself in this place of dissatisfaction with certain routines. Some of them were due to patterns I’ve had my whole life, and some of them were due to the season I was in.  Upon ending school, I took the first two months to rest, recover and explore. While they were great, there was also a part of me that felt suspended in mid air - not necessarily falling, but not moving anywhere either. There are definitely times where we need those transitional seasons of rest, but personally, I can only “hang out” for so long before going crazy! Needless to say, I felt like I hit my limit and found myself at the crossroads of having to make decisions that would require new normals.

As I took some time to talk to myself...yes, to talk to myself...about how I was really feeling about these decisions, I realized I was just scared of the idea of creating new normals. I previously touched on leaving the familiar and how that can feel scary, but there is a step beyond that. After initially moving away from the familiar, the next step is creating a new normal. While that first step feels more scary than exciting, the next step of creating a new normal is more exciting than scary. THIS is where the exploration and adventure really begins.

Explore & Discover

I have recently found myself in a new city with new people (and a couple not-so-new) and new possibilities, but I also found myself freaking out a bit. What the heck am I doing? How do I start over? What does life look like here? I’m done with school…oh my gosh, I have to get back to adulting full time now! I experienced all of the thoughts that come in those freak-out moments where you realize you’re starting over. And I finally realized one of the main reasons was that I still felt like I was in that in-between place of one chapter ending and another beginning. So I had a choice to make. (Side note: I am very much an “all in” type person. That one foot in the door and one foot out business doesn’t work for me.) These are the moments you wish the audible voice from heaven will show up and tell you what to do with your life…you know, because then you wouldn’t feel so responsible and adult-like, but that’s not how God typically works, or at least that hasn’t been my experience; however, I usually have this sense of what I am going to do next or what the next step is for me, but not this time. So as I’m in a totally new place for the first time in my life, I’m realizing the Lord is just waiting for me to make a decision so He can meet me in it.

As I took some time to get over the scariness of making (what felt like) a big decision, the scariness of starting over, and the scariness of creating new normals, I finally decided to stay in this new city, invest, and be all-in. Welcome to adulting 2.0 - life after the familiar; life starting over; life after school; life outside of the routine; life outside of the norm. It may be one of the scariest places to be, but it is also the place of exploration and adventure where anything can happen. Why not just go for it?

So what are you waiting for? Where are you waiting to make some decisions because they feel scary? Where do you know you need new normals in your life? Why are you hanging out in the in-between when you have a new and beautiful chapter to start writing in your life? This is the time of great exploration and adventure, and whatever excuse you’re creating in your head to keep you from it…well, just stop it and dive in!

Earning the Ugly Cry

There are many things in life that will earn your ugly cry - some deservingly and some undeservingly, nevertheless, it will be earned. Yes, ugly cries have to be earned. An ugly cry is not something you just give away like a hug; plus that would probably be weird if you walked up to someone and started to ugly cry. (Awkward, right?) But on a serious note, there have been many things that have earned my ugly cry over this last year and season, but the most recent is the devastation from the Carr fire in Redding (and the surrounding towns/areas) - the place I’ve come to know as my city and home over the last two years.

Monday a week ago, a friend and I were heading to the lake like any other summer day for kayaking adventures that we had actually been postponing for about three weeks. We made our way to Whiskeytown Lake where locals and tourists alike spend long summer days on the water and the evenings sitting around campfires. We pulled into Oak Bottom boat marina (one of my usual spots) to unload our kayaks and then paddled off for a day of adventures. We talked, laughed, dreamed, and explored for hours. As we realized that being in the sun for three hours without sunscreen was probably going to have a not so pleasant effect on our skin, we started to head back to the marina.

As we’re getting close, a fellow kayaker points out a stack of white smoke that’s beginning to rise into the air behind us just a short distance away. We pause for a minute on the water, say a prayer for the area and the firefighters that have begun to head that way, and continue paddling back. Two planes were already circling the area, then one…two…three fire rescue trucks go by in the distance. We never would have thought in that moment that just three days later chaos and panic would ensue, black smoke clouds would cover the skies with an orange glowing backlight, mandatory evacuations would have people grabbing priceless belongings they could fit in their vehicles to find safer grounds, and the usually smooth-flowing freeway would be covered in a sea of red brake lights as one-third of our city evacuated not knowing if their homes would still be standing when they returned.

For some in our city, their return wasn’t as bad as the story they had created in their heads; for others, it was much worse. Many are able to continue with life as “normal” (as possible) while others have been completely displaced returning to the devastation of their homes and neighborhoods being completely destroyed, and for some even worse - the loss of a family member.

With my personal soundtrack of sad music playing (Yes, I am dramatic.), I drove around the city I’ve discovered, adventured, known and loved trying to get a glimpse of the places I frequent knowing they’re not the same places they were before, and I experienced both grief and gratitude - grief at the bare hills with vague, charred, stick-figure silhouettes that use to be hills covered with full trees, shrubs and wildlife; grief at the neighborhoods I use to drive through to get to the river trail now leveled to the ground; grief at the loss that our town is experiencing; grief for those that have lost the most precious gifts of all: lives of loved ones; then gratitude kicks in for the firefighters and service workers (both locally, state and nation-wide) that have been putting their lives at risk and working tirelessly through days and nights to protect our city; gratitude for the thousands of people that have been praying all over the world for us; gratitude for the way our community has and is continuing to come together to love, support and take care of it’s own, because even if one didn’t personally suffer loss, the pain and loss of a community is always experienced as a whole.

Needless to say, THIS has earned my ugly cry and much deservingly so. The beauty of a community coming together in the midst of destruction, the beauty of people all over the world taking time to pray, post, volunteer, and donate, the beauty of humanity at it’s finest in a time of loss and need...THIS is what deserved my ugly cry (probably not helped by the sad soundtrack) as I drove around this place I’ve known and loved for the last two years.

Redding, you are beautiful; you are full of amazing people; you will be stronger on the other side; you are loved; and YOU have earned my ugly cry.

Thank you to everyone who is investing in our community in whatever capacity that may be. If you’re wondering if what you’re doing matters, the answer is yes, no matter how small or large your investment may seem. THANK YOU!

For anyone interested in donating to our city and the Carr fire victims, here are just a few sites through which you can donate:

Carr Fire Fund through Tri-Counties Bank

Shasta Regional Community Foundation

United Way of NorCal

California Fire Foundation

Here are a few of my fave pics floating around social media: #carrfire

This is the iconic Sundial Bridge that you cannot miss if you drive through our town. Literally anyone will know it if they have come to Redding for any occasion or amount of time. This lovely thing sits in Turtle Bay beside the Civic Center bridging either side of the Sacramento River and is outlined by river trails. While the background may be in flames in the top portion of this photo, I know it will be back to it's beautiful self in the future.




Signs like this one to the right outline our entire town. You can see them in neighborhoods, on random street corners around town, and even lining the overpasses driving down I-5. THIS fills my heart seeing the community share it's gratitude, love and support. While this may seem like a small thing, to me, it's humanity coming together to share in grief and gratitude. 




Ok, this one below of the firefighters taking a nap gets me EVERY time. These are our people. These are those risking their lives. These are the ones working through exhaustion to save our area. These are the ones taking brief naps on the ground away from their families to build up some semblance of energy to keep going indefinitely. Thank you!

Hope and promise - this time will not last forever. Rebuilding has begun and while things may look bad, unity, community and hope is rising. I cannot wait to see this city and county on the other side!