The Voices We Entertain

In late December, Joel and I traveled for his work — by ourselves, without our children — for four days, three nights. Before this, he and I only had been away together without kids for four days, so this singular trip doubled the amount of sans-kid travel we've had in the nearly 20 years we've been parents.

As you keep our entirely child-free status in mind, let me tell you the story of how he and I took an afternoon hike. The trail, which was steeper than either of us had anticipated, took three hours to ascend and descend. Given the perfect weather, the trail had a fair amount of activity, and during the descent we had two fellow hikers trailing us at a relatively close distance.

Close enough to hear their conversation, at least.

They must have been late teens or early twenties. It was unclear if they were brother and sister or boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was exceptionally clear that they were bickering.

Bicker. Bicker. Bicker.

Pick. Pick. Pick.

Snarky comment. Snarky response. 

I kept my eyes on the ground, scanning the terrain for my next good foothold, and noticed that I was growing more frustrated with each step. It was a beautiful day! We were supposed to be enjoying a hike! But these knuckleheads were filling our airwaves with argument, complaint, and irritation.

That's when I had an epiphany. These were somebody's kids, but they weren't my kids. I wasn't responsible for my own kids this day, much less someone else's. I didn't have to walk near them. I didn't have to stick with them. I didn't have to let their voices fill my ears. 

I looked at Joel and said, "I can't listen to their arguing anymore. We've got to let them pass." He nodded quick agreement.

I'm not sure if they heard me. It's possible. My epiphany had given me a bit of a rush, and I hadn't guarded that excitement by lowering my voice.  We stepped to the side, pausing until they passed, then waited a few more moments to create enough distance between us before we continued.

The remainder of the hike was much more pleasant. I don't know why we hadn't pulled off to the side to let them pass earlier. Nobody needs that much negativity filling their ears.

This week I remembered this lesson as I thought about the voices that I let myself listen to, the voices I let trail behind me as I move through life. For a portion of time during this hike, I hadn't even contemplate that I had a choice. The kids were behind me, they were complaining, and that seemed like the end of it. Suck it up, buttercup, I could have said to myself. It's a bad hand you were dealt, but these are the people following you down the mountain Just deal with it.

But that's not true at all. We had agency. We adjusted our journey. We better positioned ourselves. We chose to let the negative voices pass by rather than letting them trail us.

This past week, I've had several times where I needed to get intentional about the voices that I've listened to. The voices that were trailing me as I moved about my day, telling me that I had messed up. The voices, whispering accusations that I'm not good enough. The voices that do nothing but create irritation, cast doubt, and suck joy.

In the gospel of John, Jesus reminds us that sheep recognize the voice of their shepherd, and that he is our good shepherd. In contrast, we're we're told that Satan is the accuser. When the running commentary in my head is filled with accusation, it's time to separate myself from that voice. It's not from my shepherd. Metaphorically, I can step aside, let the accusations pass, and choose not to make them my traveling companions. I can choose to listen to what the the Lord is saying to me and about me.

We get to choose. We get to choose the voices we entertain. 

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Let's Chat: Mid-February Musings

IT'S ALMOST HAPPENED. We've almost reached the halfway point of February. I can't tell if these first weeks of February have dragged or if they've gone quickly, but I just realized that I didn't write here once during the entire month of January, which is surprising because January lasted a decade. So, to make up for my silence, it's time for an official Let's Chat post.

LET'S GO! And by let's go, I mean, sit right there and get comfortable. Grab a nice warm beverage. Let's chat.

A new semester. The "spring" semester (which is inaccurately named) is already in its fifth week. We're past syllabus week, learning names, and first impressions. We're now in the thick of things — assigning assignments, submitting assignments, grading assignments — and we'll remain in the thick of things, rinsing and repeating, for the next ten weeks. 

I've taught so many semesters that this rhythm is second nature. Today I enjoyed a rare moment when I got to talk with not one, not two, but three colleagues at the same time in the hallway between classes, which was a gift of levity and connection.

New opportunities. I'm stepping out this semester in several ways. I'm leading an eight-week women's Bible study at my church, and I'm teaching a new class on campus. Both endeavors are exciting. I love prepping for classes and messages, and it's been good to flex my muscles, so to speak. I'm proud my myself.

The benefit of an outside opinion. Last weekend, I roped my good friend and neighbor into a closet-cleaning endeavor. She sat on the arm chair in my bedroom, and I went into my closet, grabbed a pile of shirts, dumped them on my bed, and proceeded to hold them up one at a time so we could judge them. While I already sort through my closet each season, having an outside opinion was a game-changer. She had no connection to anything in my closet and could view each piece objectively, giving me that extra push to let go of pieces that no longer served me well. 

I did this for her at the end of summer, sitting on her bedroom floor as she tried on outfits, giving her a thumbs up or thumbs down like a Roman emperor with my approval or disapproval of fashion choices. It's much more fun to share this task with a friend. More effective, too!

Playtime. I miss working in my garage on projects during the winter. It's been ages since I've spray painted anything. In these cold months, I miss those creative outlets. Still, since I know I feel better mentally and emotionally when I can work with my hands and be crafty, I try to pick up small projects. My most recent was when I used paint and drywall compound (which is uncannily similar to icing a cake) to create textured hearts on an old canvas.

The hearts aren't perfect, but perfection wasn't the point. Playtime was the point. Soon enough, the weather will be warm enough that I can putz in my garage until my heart is content, spray painting anything that doesn't move. For now, these little projects scratch the itch.

Leaning into lingering cold. I'm eager for spring for a multitude of reasons. It'll be warm enough to spray paint. Obviously. And, generally, warmth is good. There will be more color. More daylight. Things will grow. Garage sale season will begin! There's much to look forward to with the approach of spring.

But we're not there yet. Winter still has us in its clutches, and February has some bite. So, for now, I lean into the lingering cold. I make myself a cup of mint tea each night. When I snuggle under a blanket to read, I have the best companion in Peanut, who takes this setup as an invitation to nap in my lap. All in all, when you have a cup of tea in your hand and a cat in your lap, life is pretty good.

February. Is it bad that I still have to carefully sound out this word in order to spell it? FEB-U-ARY? FEB-RU-ARY? What is happening with this word, people? Are we dumping in extra R's into this month merely for kicks, just like we dump in an extra day every four years?  February's tough. I imagine it standing there, taunting us, ready to take the hit. Go on. Give me what you've got. You want to add an extra letter R? Bring it. I can handle it. Just toss it wherever. It's not gonna bother me one bit, but none of you — I mean NONE of you — are gonna actually know how to spell me, so joke's on you.

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Friends, as always, thank you for sitting and chatting. You could spend your time anywhere, but you visited here. I'm grateful you stopped by.

Until next time (sometime later in FEB-RU-ARY), be well and stay warm.

Robin

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