Don't Get Too Comfortable....

At church this past Sunday, Fr. Bob spoke about stepping outside your comfort zone. I felt as if he was talking to me specifically. You see, I spent three days last week outside of my comfort zone. I put myself there. I wanted to be there. I was part of a small group that trained to facilitators on the new High Ropes course at camp. I was excited and nervous at the same time, having no clue what to expect. Unlike the other participants, I had never been on or even looked at a high ropes course and was feeling a little overwhelmed at the beginning. I can’t say it was completely the heights, but frankly, 20 or 40 feet in the air, standing on a wire or a teeny tiny platform, scary. The course was mentally challenging, even more so than physically. I made the choice to take that training and wanted to squeeze every drop of experience out of it that I could.



There were people in the group I knew, people I didn’t, people I felt super comfortable with and trusted, and others I wasn’t so sure about. Trust is not something I can give on a whim. I don’t want to be preachy and say that you have to earn my trust, yadda yadda, but honestly, I had a hard time just putting my life in someone’s hands right away. Saying to someone, “Yes, go ahead, clip me into these cables and I’ll just trust you” or “Sure, I’ll stand on this platform with you and trust you to send me down the zip line” or “Uh, okay, I’ll climb this wall and let you control the ropes that keep me from plummeting to the ground,” not so easy. It was a completely different world up there, at least the view I had. It was new, it was scary, it was challenging to the body. I had muscles that hurt that I didn’t know I had, I had scrapes and bruises, I had a thumb that was still healing that got pushed to it’s limits and perhaps beyond.


Going beyond what we perceive to be our limits is not easy at all. As humans we like to comfortable, we find our circle, our niche, the places and people we feel at ease with, and we tend to stick with that. Some people are brave souls, living life outside that circle, or perhaps with no circle at all. It is a challenge and a choice to step outside that comfort zone, to take a leap of faith (though often not so literal of a leap), and try something new. Climbing the wall, riding the zip line, traversing elements suspended in the air, none of these things fall within my comfort zone. I stepped outside, took some deep breaths, and went for it, did the best I could, and told myself that trying something new, taking the challenge, already means I succeeded. I may not have been the best at doing the tasks, but I did the best I could.


It was odd to sit in church, where, to be completely honest, I am not always listening, and feel like someone was talking to me. I know Fr. Bob wasn’t, but relating what he was saying to what I had experienced for three days, was interesting. I can’t say the moment was particularly religiously significant, but rather personally significant. It was a moment when the term, a leap of faith, took on some new meaning for me. I literally had leapt and had to have faith, not only in myself, but others. Faith and trust went hand in hand, and thankfully, those were strong hands!


What have you done that has put you outside your comfort zone? How did you feel afterwards?

Don't Worry Eve, It's Just an Apple....

You know that feeling, the one that makes you want to do something you probably know you shouldn’t do? Temptation. Ah yes, I know it well. Some people are good at walking away and not being tempted, but me on the other hand, well, I am just like Eve. Apparently that damn apple was so good that she couldn’t resist, even though she knew the consequences of taking that bite would be less than desirable.


Oftentimes I find myself knowing that there will be consequences to my actions, and not always good ones. Unfortunately, I give in, a lot. The things that tempt each of us are different. For me, there are things like an extra scoop of ice cream, an extra large bowl of chips and dip for a snack at a time when a small one would suffice. There are things like that one more drink when you are having fun with friends, even though you know you have to drive home, the one more hour of TV that you just had to stay up to watch even though you know you will be exhausted in the morning. Aside from these material things, consuming something, I find that people are often the source of my temptation. I am tempted to continue to forge relationships (and I use that word ever so lightly) with individuals who have hurt me in the past, with people who don’t seem to work as hard to form or build or keep said relationship with me. Sometimes I hold on to long to friendships, tempted simply by memories of what used to be, hopeful that it can be that way still or again.


Perhaps temptation for some is a lack of willpower, the inability to say no to something you really want. I can admit that while I do have my moments of weakness and enjoy that extra cookie (see subtext of I ate a whole tube of Thin Mints), that extra scoop of dip with my chips, I do have willpower most of the time. I know that I make my decisions, be they good or bad for me, and when I give in to these types of things, I know I am doing it and choosing to do so. I can accept (not always happily) the consequences later (see not wearing a smaller size in jeans). The more I think about it, the more that I am coming to believe that my weakness is being, at times, a glutton for punishment. I know when something is more than likely going to hurt me, but I welcome it anyway, either because, as the song says, “it’s alright because I like the way it hurts,” or because I enjoy the initial satisfaction, temporarily blinded to the all-too-familiar outcome. There is a fine line between being tempted and simply being gullible. Being gullible is, in my opinion, like living in a bubble, being naive and perhaps even uneducated at times. I see it as a choice. I think temptation, on the other hand, is part of life, something we all deal with, and anyone who says they always resist temptation, no matter its form, is a liar. No one is perfect and we all have those things that tempt us that we seem almost powerless against. Every Superman has his Kryptonite.


While learning to be strong against temptation is a good goal, I think the strongest of us embrace it as part of life. Temptation is a test perhaps, a test of our willpower, our inner strength, our beliefs and values, a test of who we are as people. Each of us is tempted differently, and while I try to get to know my sources of temptation and realize why they taunt me so, I can admit defeat. That’s not easy for me because I don’t like to give in, I don’t like to lose, but no one can win all the time, no one ever does. Perfection is one of the hardest things not to expect from oneself, especially when we so often expect it from others. Perhaps Eve was just like the rest of us, and whatever her true reasons for eating that apple were (I am sure like most women she had her secrets), she gave in. That doesn’t mean she always gave in or would have given in had the source of temptation been different. What if it hadn’t been the serpent? What if it hadn’t been an apple? What if the consequences had been different? Would she have acted and/or reacted the same way? Temptation is a personal thing and just like we can never understand the circumstances surrounding this historical temptation, we can never truly understand the temptations of others. It is something we all have to live with individually, and try not to judge others on. Perhaps I like being tempted. Perhaps I like being given the chance to flex my will and say no. Perhaps I like giving in at times. As we all know, that apple was sweet, but….

They Call it Daybreak for a Reason....

“Morning has broken, like the first morning

Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the word.”


GAG ME!
Morning and I co-exist because we have to, not at all because I want to. I am not a morning person, I never have been and I probably never will be. That’s okay with me. Some people are morning people, they wake with smiles on their faces, ready to greet the day. They happily jump out of bed, bright and refreshed. They greet everyone with cheeriness, with or without a cup of coffee. It makes me sick. I will never be one of these people. It is okay that they are that way, but if you are this type of chipper morning person, stay away from me!


I wake in the morning because that is what is expected of a person. Yes, I like my sleep, I covet it, I long for it when the sun goes down. Even, on the rare occasions, that I do get enough sleep, enough to feel truly rested, I am still not a morning person. I will always hit the snooze button, I will always mentally try and figure out how to squeeze in a few more restful moments in my comfy nest of pillows and blankets.


I move slowly once I get out of bed and usually, my eyes are not fully open for the first 20 minutes or so that I am in a vertical state of being. My morning state of being is very zombie-like, groggy, slow, I grunt and mumble more than I form actual words and have actual conversations. Sometimes the shower awakens me, but sometimes not. Consider yourselves warned, if you cross my path in the morning, you should step aside and not speak until spoken to. Seriously.


I try not to be a bitch in the morning, but people who do not understand that there cheeriness makes me want to vomit, well, they get the wrath of Christina. It happens. Sorry for that. And don't even get me started on the "have to have breakfast right out of bed" people. Ewwwww. Sick. No thank you! If I am not awake yet, I am not going to eat, and it would benefit you greatly if you did not offer me breakfast before I have indicated I might be interested in something. Eating first thing in the morning is something I have never understood, even as a kid. Back in the grade school days, my mom would have to beg me, force me to eat breakfast before school, and oftentimes, I would not actually consume anything until we were in the car, pulling into the school parking lot. It just doesn't work for me. If it works for you, fine, but don't force me to join you, at least until I am fully functional. Oh and if you are thinking of something fried, please kindly go away.


“Good Morning” is a common greeting from one person to another in the AM hours, but when you greet me, you will get this response from me: “Morning.” It is simply a statement of the time of day and has nothing to do with my mental state, my enthusiasm at seeing you, the weather report for the day, or the fact that sun may be shining. Morning is just that, a time of day. We all function differently, being ruled so often by not only our (often) hectic schedules, but our internal clocks. My internal clock, well it is stuck on a perpetual snooze button. I am unlikely to take joy in seeing the sun rise, but would be more than happy to enjoy a beautiful painted sunset with you!

So, people, are you happy in the morning? Are you grumpy? Are you an eager waker? Are you slow to shake off the sleepiness? Tell me... but not too early in the morning, okay?

How Do You Hand-le It?

If you had to choose to lose your hands or your feet, which would you give up? A ridiculous question, I think, but it was recently posed to me, and despite its ridiculousness, it made me think a little. Obviously, losing any limb would not be ideal, and those who know me probably already know what a tragedy it would be for me to not have feet on which to display my shoes every day. Yes, it is true, I would be somewhat lost without excellent footwear, my soles being connected to my soul. (Don’t judge!) I did think though about hands and how trying to function without them would make life as I know it impossible. I don’t tend to think anything is actually, totally, undeniably impossible, but to exist just as I do now, with no hands, it might just be the one thing that fits into that category.

As I was thinking about what would be different if I had no hands, I started to think about the ways in which other people’s hands are important to me (I’ll give you a minute to get your mind out of the gutter, just in case it went there for a moment). As a baby, a young child, you depend on someone else for just about everything, their hands being the ones that feed you, change you, clean you, comfort you, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. As you grow, you enjoy playing with friends, and their hands are the ones that join yours for afternoons of coloring, playing jacks, Barbies, baseball, or skipping rocks. As adults, we are introduced to people in various settings and a one-sided handshake, well not nearly as effective. As I travel through a day, I realize how many people’s hands still touch my life, physically and figuratively. It may seem like an odd thing to notice or think about, but well, we all know I possess many quirks. Love them or hate them, they are what most often lead to a blog actually getting written.

Let’s explore who I’ve “held hands with” recently:

A grandparent, providing comfort and expressing love

A musician, one who shares beautiful melodies with hundreds of people each weekend as she leads and accompanies others

A parent who gave a much needed hug and with it, understanding and compassion

A friend who shared a toast to just being together at dinner

A co-worker who I worked closely with to successfully complete a project

A troop leader in need of some tech assistance

A child who dropped his blanket at the grocery store, gazing sadly, waiting for it to be picked up

A niece who climbed onto my lap with a smile, wanting just a cuddle and some reassurance

A sibling who needed his tie straightened, needing to look his best for a special occasion

A bank teller who most carefully counted out my cash, smiling the whole time

A barista who took the time to make my Starbucks drink just the way I like it

A friend who sent a hand-written card, just to say hi

A friend who called to chat about the goings on that we miss living far away from one another

A family member who unwrapped a gift, lovingly selected and wrapped just for her

A nurse who cared for a loved one in the kindest and most gentle way

A sibling who indulged my love of dancing by asking for a certain song to played and then dancing with me as a whole room was entertained

A driver who kindly let me merge into his lane, waving at me to acknowledge my wave of appreciation

A group of kids who were excited about getting their faces painted

A nail tech who took a few extra minutes with the hand massage, somehow knowing I needed it

A group that needed extra hands to clean up after an event

A stylist know cuts and colors my hair to near perfection every single time

A whole orchestra, coming together to enjoy making music together

It may not seem like much, but if you really think about it, not only are our own hands so important to our every day lives, but the hands of others “touch” us in so many ways, more often than we ever realize it. I am grateful and blessed to have my hands and to be able to use them for so many different things, to type, to write, to take care of myself, to carry things, to drive, to eat, to play games, to make music. Heck, I am even happy to have hands to do unimportant things like change the channel with the remote, to stir sugar into my tea, to update Facebook, to text.

Oh and of course, there is always using them to put on my fabulous soles!

How do your hands “touch” the lives of others and how do their “touch” yours?