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Gratitude.

Thanks to a recent post on Michael Hyatt’s blog (Practicing the Attitude of Gratitude), thinking on what I’m thankful for has been a priority lately. Hyatt wrote that he carries a rock in his pocket and that every time he happens to touch it, he gives thanks for what’s happening where he is (good or bad). Hyatt also called all of us out for complaining as much as we do.

This could be better, that could be better, I wish this, I wish that. I’d be happier if…

He implies, I think, (and if he doesn’t, I still believe) that it is more worth our while to dwell on what we’re grateful for than to dwell on what we wish were different. That isn’t to say we should avoid the things in our lives that we know need to change. It is, however, to say that if we aren’t careful, we’ll get so caught up in what we don’t have that we’ll devalue what we do have in the process. We’ll stop noticing it altogether.

At the end of his post, Hyatt encouraged us to “press the pause button” to take some time to make a list of 20 items we’re thankful for. So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’ll share my list (which is in no particular order). And I encourage you to make one of your own.

Thank you, God…

1. for the death and resurrection of Jesus
2. for the Internet
3. for my parents
4. for my job
5. for Your sovereignty
6. for pepper jack cheese
7. for cheese in general
8. for relationships that are authentic and are not superficial
9. for pillows and blankets
10. for epiphanies
11. that miracles aren’t obsolete
12. for growth experiences
13. that growing pains are both temporary and worth it
14. for putting people in my life who are sane in a crazy world
15. for dark chocolate
16. for carrying me through this semester (and that it’s over in a week and a day)
17. for the sound that waves make at the beach
19. for the night sky (mostly stars)
20. for how much we humans are worth solely because we exist

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“Put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.”

Life is hard.

And it’s harder when we’re anxious. We might, for instance, imagine an event that hasn’t actually happened and become preoccupied by thoughts about it. We might replay something that has happened to us, over and over, and — without awareness of this — fabricate the details that the facts we’ve collected can’t confirm or deny (like Joe Shmoe’s thoughts or intentions). After awhile, we might feel like we’ve lost control of the thoughts. And by then, though what we’re thinking hasn’t actually happened to us, we actually feel the feelings we’d feel if it had. And though we can’t know Joe’s thoughts or intentions, we react as though our assumptions about his thoughts and intentions are correct.

It’s no way to live (and I can say that because I’ve lived it). It is, however, a power a person can learn to harness. In the moment — the instant you realize what you’re doing — you might try asking yourself some questions.

1. Is what you are thinking about relevant to your life today, this hour, this minute? (Do you need to be thinking these thoughts right now? Do you need, right now, to be making the plans you’re making?) Because it’s natural to wonder whether you’ll get the new job or you won’t, but dwelling on it while you are responsible for other things (i.e. being present for your spouse, your child, your current employer) robs you (and them) of your presence and attention. Kick it up a couple anxious notches: it’s natural to think a lot about how sad it will be when your dog dies if your dog is, in fact, dying. It is not, however, necessary to think a lot about it if your dog is at no immediate risk of dying, or if you are, for example, not actually a dog owner. When you ask “Is this relevant?” and your answer is no, say STOP (out loud if it helps, unless you’re the passenger in a moving vehicle — that usually ends badly.). Then get busy or selfless and see what happens. But when you ask “Is this relevant?” and your answer is yes, move on to the next question.


2. Is what you are thinking about rational? (What evidence do you have that proves there is truth to what you’re thinking? What evidence do you have that proves there isn’t truth to what you’re thinking?) Let’s say you texted your significant other this morning, and it’s lunch time now, and he or she still hasn’t responded. For somebody who tends toward anxiety, a thought might pop into his or her head. It starts out like this: “Well that’s strange.” And, usually pretty quickly, it turns into this:  “How dare she give me the cold shoulder! I so bet she’s gonna dump me. This is completely ridiculous.” All the information he has is a) I texted her and b) she hasn’t responded. What that makes “How dare she give me the cold shoulder!” and “I so bet she’s gonna dump me.” and “This is completely ridiculous.” is a set of assumptions, otherwise known as details he fabricated. He has no proof there is truth to his thoughts. There are a lot of facts he doesn’t know, and one of them might be that her phone is off, or she left it at home. When you ask “Is this rational?” and your answer is no, say STOP. Then get busy or selfless and see what happens. But when you ask “Is this rational?” and your answer is yes, move on to the next question.


3. Is the time (and energy!) you’re spending devoted to the thoughts you are thinking worth it? (What good comes from thinking the thoughts? How does thinking the thoughts help your situation? Are there other things you could do that would be more productive?) You got the call, and learned you didn’t get the job. You need a job (a belief that is rational). But now, you stew. You might even seethe since you wanted that job, and, frankly, would have kicked it in the pants. So you think, a lot, about how unjust it is that you didn’t get it. How much better at the job you think you’d be than the person who did get it. How the company’s going to suffer without your expertise. And you think about it for hours. What good does it do you? How far toward getting a job does it push you? Are there other things you could do with that time and energy? Is what you are expending on this worth it? When you ask “Is this worth it?” and your answer is no, say STOP. Then, get busy, doing what is productive, get selfless and see what happens.

And I won’t tell you what to do if your answer to “is it worth it” is yes.

It never is.

“Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either he will shield you from suffering, or he will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then. Put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.” -St. Francis de Sales

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We have not forgotten.

Confession: Canon in D* is to me what nails on a chalkboard is to the average human.

I can’t explain it. But I can’t. stand. it.

So it surprises me every year when I remember that Christmas Canon Rock is one of my favorite Christmas songs.

Of all time.

Ever.


Christmas Lights – Christmas Canon Rock from David Tilson on Vimeo.

It says:

This night, we pray our lives will show this dream He had.
Each child still knows.
This night, we pray our lives will show this dream He had.
Each child still knows.


We are waiting.
We have not forgotten.

We are waiting.
We have not forgotten.

Over and over and over.

And over and over, within and outside the seasons of Advent and Christmas, I wonder what our lives do show.

Love, or anything but?

His dream, or ours?

This night, we pray our lives will show this dream He had.
Each child still knows.


We are waiting.

We have not forgotten.

May we live like we haven’t forgotten.
– – –

*Canon in D

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Toys.

In my childhood, I looked forward to November for three reasons: birthdays (mine, my mom’s and my grandma’s), Thanksgiving dinner and the arrival — via our mailbox and newspapers — of toy catalogs, which I’d use to make my Christmas list.

So this morning, when I stumbled upon a toy catalog in the newspaper, I had to have a look, for old times’ sake. I didn’t figure I’d find the Play-Doh and crayons and board games of yore. But I have one word in response to what I did find, like Bratz and Monster High dolls (the latter of which I had never heard of). That one word is this:

Really?

Of all the things one could buy for kids to play with, “the fun toys” — according to the ad — are the ones in short skirts, tight shirts and pairs of fishnet stockings (which they wear on their anatomically impossible legs).

The “fun toys” are these:

And these:

And if you like how fishnets look on your daughter’s doll, you can also buy them for your daughter:

We wonder why, when a four year old girl is asked what she wants most in the world, it’s to look like Hannah Montana (1). We wonder why little girls look (and act) like teenagers, why teenagers look (and act) like adults. But then, when the impact of dolls dressed like the ones in this ad is questioned, parents say, “Please… every girl plays with this stuff. It’s what they like!”

And why is that?

“When you don’t think critically about what is being consumed, you will throw up your hands and say ‘this is what everybody wears!’ (or ‘this is what every kid plays with!’),” said my human sexuality professor — Dr. Dae Sheridan (2) — in a class over the summer. “You won’t realize this is an industry designed to take your money … you can change the demand.”

She added, “We’re pushing our children into these little boxes based on what’s available to purchase. Be a savvy consumer. Think about Bratz dolls. They have large lips and boobs, tiny waists (and are) dressed in fishnets and belly shirts … Parents say ‘this is just what kids wear’ (and ‘this is just what kids play with’) but it wouldn’t be … if parents stood up and (stopped buying it). We have to question it.”

PREACH.

– – – –

1. It’s Time to Reshape Our Beauty Standards

2. Dr. Dae Sheridan

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Do not quit.

Today, I woke up to realize only five weeks remain in what is, so far, my most difficult semester of grad school yet. Being here — in this position, at this time — reminds me of what it’s like to feel the finish line coming from my seat on a dragon boat.

A couple springs ago, I spent a season on a dragon boat team and a day competing in the Tampa Bay Dragon Boat Races. For those who haven’t “dragon boated,” it’s kind of an art form to paddle in synch with 19 other people. It’s exhilirating. And exhausting. The easy part — once you’ve trained — is starting strong. The hard part is staying strong for the rest of the race. Your job is to throw that arm into the air and put the paddle back in the water, over and over and over like everyone else. You get splashed. You get blisters. Your whole body hurts.

In a race in the Garrison Channel, I could feel the finish line coming. I paddled. And when the only thing everything in me wanted to do was stop, I started to chant.

Do.

Not.

Quit.

It started in my head.

Do.

Not.

Quit. 

I whispered it.

Do.

Not.

Quit.

I said it out loud, one word for every time my paddle hit the water. Seconds later, the race was over.

Five more weeks ’til winter break. I think it’s time to chant.