Dealing with Difficult People: Part Two

Hello, sweet readers! 

In the last post, I shared notes from a bible study I attended led by Pam Thompson - dealing with difficult people. I shared her notes on identifying "very tricky people" in our own lives and also some examples from the scriptures. Today, Pam answers the question "What in the WORLD do I do about this person in my life, this person that is so difficult and exhausting and often impossible to deal with!?" 

Responses to Very Tricky People: 

A) Admit it. Acknowledge who are your tricky people. (We usually have 1-4. If you can list 12, or 18, you might want to think about yourself as the tricky person. :) )

B) Distance yourself. Especially if it is not a relative who you need to see on a regular basis. If you have truly tried with this person to work things out, and they're "stealing your joy" it may be time to breakaway. In Genesis 13, God gives us a biblical example - Abram and Lot split up. They part ways because of bickering between their people. Life is too short - sometimes, Pam says, distance is a good thing. 

C) People Related to You Who Are Tricky

If your tricky person is related to you - your mother, your sister, your father-in-law, etc - you cannot quite apply the same tactics as if they're not a relative. You're going to see this person at Thanksgiving, birthdays, etc. So there are some different ways to approach the relationship with that person when you cannot just put distance. 

1) Do not place your hope in thinking they will miraculously change. The enemy has a pattern to rob you of your joy. When that difficult person does the same thing they always do, and you spend time being shocked or surprised by it - that is on you. 

2) Realize your person has encountered much pain and perceive them as handicapped. (IE, cannot have the same expectations of them as you of others.) 

3) Acceptance vs Resignation. Step back so the Lord can work. (IE the prodigal son, the father had to let go for awhile before things were resolved.) 

4) Speak the truth in love. (Resist anger, bitterness, etc.) 

5) Maintain boundaries. Only let the Lord have your heart. 

6) Pray. Pray for that person, for the relationship, etc. 

Psalm 86:11 "Give me an undivided heart, Lord." 

Releasing Intense Emotions

Dealing with people who are truly difficult (selfish, manipulative, immature, characteristics previously discussed) can be emotionally draining. Here's how to prevent that...

A) Dump it on the Lord. He is bigger than this situation, he can carry your burden, he's got this. 

B) Go read the Psalms. This will soften your heart. Psalm 55:17, Psalm 55:22-23, Psalm 55:1-3 - Say, Lord, I do not want this to be my story. I want to get past it. 

C) If this continues, talk to a third person about negative emotions, seek wise counsel. 

D) God uses frustrating people and events in our lives to help us grow. 

E) No offense by another person can equal our guilt before the Lord. Because of his bloodshed, we are forgiven for being very tricky people ourselves. 

2 Tim 4:14 - "I am going to let the Lord deal with that! Be on guard. I'm forgiving him/her, but I'm going to keep boundaries."

Hopefully this has helped you as it's helped me! Thank you, Pam, for your teaching!

Dealing with Difficult People: Part One

Last spring, I attended Pam Thompson's bible study for women at Second Baptist, and have been planning to type up my notes because it is just SUCH good stuff that I need to remember and reread. So I'm sharing it with you, too. (Learn more about Pam's study and get the link to sign up for Tuesdays this fall at 10 am at this post. You don't have to go to Second Baptist to attend - for example, Drew and I go to Grace Bible Church in the Heights.) 

Pam's semester was focused on being a "Godly woman," something that may sound generic or a bit "pie in the sky", but she got down to specifics quickly. The sessions I attended were about dealing with difficult people. We all deal with frustrating people from time to time, right? People who seem to be very self-focused, or manipulative, or just constantly immature. Can you think of a person who is consistently hard to deal with in your life? Okay, then you'll get something out of Pam's study. 

She starts out by reminding us that the bible teaches us this: Count it pure joy when you face trails, because it makes you a stronger person. (Paraphrased, James 1:2-4.) 

But sometimes when I'm dealing with a person who is SO DIFFICULT AND EXHAUSTING, it's really not that helpful to remind myself to be joyful because God is making me a stronger person. Amiright?! So Pam goes on to give us lots of practical ways to suck it up and deal, and to make it easier to deal with this person, too. 

Pam asked us: Who has the enemy used in your life to rob you of your joy? Typically there are 1-4 people in your life that fit this criteria. (What a great way to ask that question - immediately I'm convicted that I let this person/people get to me, impact my joyful attitude, ruin my day, etc. But I'm in charge of myself. They should not run the show. It's my fault if I let them...) 

Characteristics of "Very Tricky People":

A) Emotionally Blind - They do not "see" you or your side. 
B) Emotionally Deaf - They do not hear your heart, or when you try to explain things. 
C) Verbal Immaturity - They often say the wrong thing, they cannot apologize, they are very easily offended, they are complainers. 
D) High Level of Control - Their opinion matters. Their way or the highway - it is all about them. 
E) Not Walking in the Truth - Their lies are their reality. They believe their own reality. The enemy wants us to be bitter towards that person, but then they become our "story." 

Biblical Examples of "Very Tricky People":

(Sidenote from me - I had not even realized that the Bible contains pain-in-the-toosh people. Of course it does!) 

Pam talked about how these people are redeemed, but they are "so messed up." Jesus had tricky people all around him - Judas! Even one of his twelve closest people was difficult to put up with. 

A) Adam - selfish
B) Cain - murdered his brother
C) Abraham - great man, but tricky, asked his wife to lie for him, etc. 
D) Sarah - despised Hagar
E) Jacob
F) Joseph's brothers - envious, controlling, threw Joseph in a pit to die
G) Judas
H) Peter - great guy, but denies Jesus repeatedly 
I) Alexander the Coppersmith (2 Tim)
J) Nabel - 1 Samuel 25

"We can become like our "tricky person" if we are not careful. We will match anger with anger, bitterness, etc. 
We must remind ourselves that the Lord is my banner, and His banner over me is love!" -Pam

Pam spent a lot of time with the example of Nabel and his wife Abigail - I was unfamiliar with this story in 1 Samuel. Go read 1 Samuel 25 - here's a link to the online passage. 

So Nabel, Abigail's husband, was a very tricky man. The bible says right there - he was mean. But Pam discussed how Nabel is NOT Abigail's story. She was bigger than him. 

Abigail speaks life, and changes the atmosphere. She knows who she is in Christ - her identity is not her husband. She compensated for her husband's weaknesses - but she did NOT enable them. She doesn't cover them up and say "Oh that's not what he meant." She walked in the truth. And yes, it turns out, Abigail married a fool, but she maintained respect because she had unconditional love, through the Lord. 

So to me, Abigail's story was eye-opening, but at the same time, hard to break down the steps for today's world. For starters, we don't ride donkeys or sheer sheep - not in my part of Houston, at least. So Pam gives us practical responses to those people in our lives who are total pain-in-the-tooshes. But I'm going to save those notes for the next post! 
(click here for part two)

to sign up for pam's fall study on tuesdays at 10 am, click here. childcare provided!

Pam Thompson's Bible Study

Last spring, I did something that was awesome, but felt so very weird every time I did.

I joined a Tuesday morning women's bible study. At 10 am.

"I should be at work!!!!" my mind screamed. For eight years since college, I have not been "free" at 10 am on a Tuesday morning. It felt sort of absurd. But my life changed so fast when Thomas was born in June 2015 - and I've slowly, over the course of a year, adjusted to the fact that I am a part-time SAHM. (Stay at home mom. Apparently there is an abbreviation for everything.) Sidenote, I am constantly reminded, mostly through conversations with others, that I am incredibly lucky to get to work three days a week and be with Thomas for the other two. I feel so grateful for that and promise myself to never grumble or take it for granted.

Anyways, so on a Tuesday in January, my sister in law Amy and I planned to meet at Pam's bible study. I dropped six month old Thomas off in the childcare building, where he was the only one in the class for that week, and a sweet lady promised to take excellent care of him for the next 50 minutes.

Before I tell you more, I will tell you this: I cannot wait for Pam's fall bible study to start. This was the BEST use of my Tuesday morning - and somedays it felt like quite the feat to get Thomas dressed and me presentable and his bag packed and out the door to be at Second Baptist by 10 am. But I learned so much, felt recharged from Pam's teachings for the week, and we usually got to play with Clare and Amy after the study. A win for all!

Do you know Pam Thompson? She is amazing. I got to know her when she was a Renovate client (my mom is an interior designer and her firm/storefront is called Renovate, and I work for her. Or she works for me...depends who you ask.) Anyways, it was a neat perspective to meet Pam outside of her study - to see how genuine she is, and to see how she really shares herself and her life when she is leading. I felt the same sitting in her living room with just my mom, Pam, and myself, as I did sitting in a pew with over one hundred women listening to her share wisdom from the Bible.

Also, we should note that Pam is a bubbly, energetic, beautiful blonde, long and lean, but somehow pulls off her beauty without being intimidating. I show up for her class in workout clothes, simply thankful my teeth have been brushed and Thomas is wearing pants. Yet I feel welcomed and not out of place. Pam is, as they say, the real deal.

Okay, so after all this, here is my pitch for you women to join Pam's study on Tuesday's at 10. Whether you're a young mom or not as young mom, or if you're not a mom but your schedule allows it, I highly recommend signing up for Pam's study that meets in the Second Baptist chapel once a week. Here is the link. Pam also teaches on Wednesdays at the West/Katy location for you west-siders.

Because this post is long enough already, I'm going to divide up the teaching from last spring into another post - or maybe two. She taught about "difficult" people and how to deal with them - how there are actually "difficult" people in scripture. I was pretty blown away by the examples she gave and the tactics she shared for dealing with difficult people. It was a good reminder that universally, we all deal with some pretty tricky people in our lives - people who are manipulative, hurtful, selfish, etc. But it's been hard for me to know what to do with them. Love your enemy and all that sure, but Pam has practical, real ways to move forward with your life and not let that difficult pain-in-the-toosh person be your "story."

So check back for my summary of Pam's teaching.

up in the air, wild blue yonder.

Recently, I came across this note from Stuart Ford to my mom, which he wrote the week my dad died. I found it very comforting to reread, so I'm sharing it below. We actually printed it and passed out Stuart's words at my dad's memorial service, so I hope he'd be okay with me sharing them again now. 

Someone recently asked me if I felt like people were really supportive right after Dad's death, and then they kind of went back to their own thing after a few days. Great question, and thankfully for me, I have a great answer: no. I really do not. The Lord has continuously provided such grace and joy through numerous friends for each of the five of us: Mom, Gentry and Amy, Drew, and myself. 

This note from Stuart Ford was a reminder that immediately, upon hearing about my dad's accident, people came running. On the night that Dad's plane engine malfunctioned, (Sept. 8, 2012) we were packed in at the Carrigan's house on Pine Grove Circle. People that we called didn't just answer their phones- they hung up and came over to hug us and cry with us and be brokenhearted right along with us. And they kept coming, all week. I wanted a burnt orange dress to wear to the service, and I had quite the shopping posse with me that Wednesday, as most of my close friends in Houston wanted to help in any way that they could, or just be near me as I did trivial things like shop for a dress. 

Stuart Ford and his wife Pat are friends of my parents: their son is my age and their daughter, Kelly, is Gentry's age and they were cheerleaders together at Memorial. (Being a dude cheerleader at MHS is cool.) The Fords are good friends, but they would by no means call my parents best friends. Stuart's kind words show how thoughtful he was to take the time to comfort us by writing down his thoughts and sharing them. 

He is a great example that you don't have to be "super close" to someone to comfort them and walk with them in their grief. You don't have to know exactly what to say, or how to say it, but Stuart shows us - just do something. Some people brought us toilet paper. Others brought us multi-vitamins to keep our immune systems up. Some brought sandwiches and drinks. Some said nothing, they were just present. Some said too much, but we knew they meant well. 

I've learned to listen to the Holy Spirit (insert eye roll for some, I know, it sounds hokey sometimes) but  I've learned to listen to what the Lord is guiding you to do, to be His love in the flesh, when someone you love is hurting. 

Death is terrible. But God is bigger than death. He sends people to hug you, love on you, wipe your tears, listen to you rant that this. is. not. fair. God is bigger than our pain. 

I miss Dad more than words can ever say. I miss Dad more than I thought it was possible for a heart and body to miss another being. And in that longing, I am greatly comforted by memories. Thank you, Stuart, for these great words, and thank you Mom, for reading them and immediately saying "I want to print these to pass out at the service." His words are worth holding on to. 


Cathy, 
The first time I ever flew with Tom was one of the most memorable days of my life. I am a plane fanatic and have been from birth. I was the kid in the outfield not picking flowers but watching every plane in the sky. There is still not a plane that flies over my head that I don't watch, try to identify what type of plane that is and wonder where it came from and where it is going. I have many friends with planes and every time they take off, I have an app that informs me of their flight and gives me a map of their progress and tells me when they land. 

I have flown in many, many types of private planes, from large jets to single engine planes, but, until I flew with Tom, I realized that I had never experienced what flying truly is. 

No doors, no windows, the wind in your face, the spray of the water when we would land on the lake, waving out the window to people I know when we flew over them, having the ability to turn the plane around to look at something we missed... 

When I met "The Real McCoy" and Tom at the Lakeway Airpark that morning, he was getting gas at the pump and there was a plane behind him waiting until he finished to get fuel, too. When Tom finished, the other pilot and I offered to help him push the plane away from the gas pump, and that is when Tom said "No problem, I got it" and Tom lifted the tail of his plane and effortlessly pushed it by himself. That is when I snapped this picture. (no e-version of the pic) 

Like many who have flown with Tom, Tom had me get in the front seat while he climbed in the back and made me familiar with the flight controls, instruments and gauges of the Real McCoy. After answering several hundred of my questions, Tom said, "Let's Go!" And I said, "I'm ready!" 

He then said: Start the plane. Of course I think that since I'm in the front seat there must be some key to turn or button to push and I am rapidly trying everything I can to not look stupid... I then gave up and said "Tom, I can't find the button." And he said: "Stuart, you have to get out and put the prop in your hands and pull down hard" ... and of course I said "Tom, that sounds like a perfect job for you" and he said "I've got to stay in the plane and hold the brakes so that the plane doesn't run over you"... terrific. 

It look me literally 15 times to start it because I kept backing away from the prop as I pulled it down... He finally told me that I had to stay very close to the prop in order for the downward motion to be powerful enough to start the engine. Wow. What a lesson! 

That first flight with Tom was the wonderful beginning of stregthening a terrific relationship that began years ago as members of "DOX - Dad's of Cheerleaders" a secretive fraternal organization designed to keep our children safe and alive during their tenure as Memorial High School cheerleaders! 

Tom and I shared the love of airplanes and he was so very kind and patient to take me and my family on more flights than I can count. All of us loved waving towels at him off of the back porch of our lake house when he flew over and we went crazy when we knew that he saw us when he waved his wings! 

When he would fly over our part of the lake, especially in the sea plane, and was unable to pick me up, I would watch him until he disappeared from view, wondering what it was like to be there with him. I am so proud of Tom. While we shared the passion of flying and the love of airplanes, he did so much more. He took that passion and love and did something about it - instead of just dreaming like me. He trained, he studied, he practiced, he researched, he practiced and he practiced and he became a proficient, safe pilot and he shared the dream with so many young and young at heart. He not only shared the flight but many stories about sleeping in hangers and landing in fields, flying cross-country and meeting wonderful people who helped him along his way. I hope to remember those stories. I believe that I know, with all the confidence that I have, where Tom is right now. He is sharing the wonders of flight with others right now! And I will fly with him again. 

-Stuart

it's pretty cool that my parents got hitched, i guess

Let me give it to you straight. My parents' marriage is one of the best, most tangible examples I've ever seen of love - unconditional, laugh out loud, love each other through the tough stuff, everybody farts and nobody's smells like roses, still making out "over the hill", straight outta Nicholas Sparks "The Notebook" kind of marriage. 

My friend Ali Kefalos Smith (huge encourager of my writing) sometimes shares these instagram posts that she tags as "honest instas." Well, here's an honest-insta-kind of post....wait for it....

My dad once threw a plate across our backyard. I was in elementary school, and still remember it. He stood up from the table, where we were eating as a family on our patio, and, in serious frustration, flung the blue and white ceramic plate across our backyard. Frisbee-style. I can't make this stuff up. Somehow it landed far out in the grass, undamaged. We all sat their with our mouths open. We might expect a grand gesture like this from my mom in the middle of a heated conversation, but patient Tom, well....

I tell you this so that you know my parents argued. Not all the time and certainly very rarely was it over anything major. But, if your last name is Thornton, Trackwell, Chenoweth, Martin, Gentry, Carrigan, the list is endless, you realize - we Robinsons argue. We push each other's buttons. My parents did that. But their eyes sparkled for each other like characters from  the big screen - my parents were always in love. I don't remember what the argument was that caused the rare overreaction from my dad that day, but I do remember him constantly reaching for my mom's hand when we were driving - somewhere mundane, or on a long roadtrip, or a big event like a friend's wedding - it didn't matter. He was in love. Holding my mom's hand made him happy, even after decades of already doing so. They were romantic. Dad made it evident he had eyes only for my mom. They argued, they played, they worked through life together. 

My parents celebrated their 30th anniversary the July before his plane crash. Thirty years. What once sounded so long, seems too short. Way too short. 

My dad loved cracking jokes, making fun of people he loved, and mostly, turning the jokes on himself. One of his favorite one liners..."Being married to your mom has felt like 10 minutes!... Underwater." Chuckle chuckle chuckle. Good one, Pops. 

Gentry still blushes when he recalls Dad telling him how attractive he found Mom, both when they met, and on that current day. One of the last times I spent with Dad on Lake Marble Falls, his dream home where he would pull my mom close and say "Pinch me, I must be dreaming..." We were on the dock and he blasted the song "The Wobble" from the boat speakers. His feet jumped onto the dock from the boat. He bounced along to the song. "Hey BIG GIRL." he sang. "Baby back it up!!!" My mom was not too thrilled that he said the song reminded him of her. Beyonce and The Wobble, Dad had good taste in music. Danced like a white boy for sure, but still, great taste in music. 

I will forever cherish the handwritten note my mom saved that my dad wrote and left for her to find in their hotel room in New York City. "I love this city, but I love it mostly with you." 

My dad knew he had a keeper when he found my mom. Her bravery is astonishing. She's returned to New York City, with colleagues and friends of my dad, to support them and the company he worked for over twenty years. I know it was painful. I know it was more bitter than sweet, but sweet for sure. I know this: my mom does thing to honor my dad every single day, like keep her cheerfulness to help me and Gentry do the same, like get out of bed everyday and face the world without her teammate, roommate, soulmate if we're going to get cheesy. 

A lot of us love our parents. A lot of us are incredibly thankful for the example that our parents' marriage is for us, as we are adults and getting married, too. A lot of us witnessed extraordinary love in our kitchens, driveways, our living rooms. And I am so, so grateful that Gentry and I are in that group of "a lot of us." 

We will look at pictures of the beautiful couple, young and tanned on their summer wedding day, older and paler on winter ski trips, and all the memories in between, and we will share their story. The commitment Tom and Cathy made on July 31, 1982 will last far beyond their years together on this Earth. We will share their stories. And we will share their love. 

my dad was a weirdo.

 

In a culture consumed with seeming cool, my dad was an outcast.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve seen the high school pictures. His long blonde hair and pooka shell necklace- my dad thought he was cool. But in the days I knew him, the twenty-six years I knew him on this planet, Dad didn’t spend much time trying to be “cool.”

TWR lived large. I think he left the earth with very few regrets, which is really saying something since he died so suddenly, and, by many definitions, young. I think a lot of that has to do with how he lived – how well he loved others, where he based his faith and his worth, and how silly he was on a daily basis.

When I was little, Dad made even going to bed fun. I can remember him getting us to “blow” out the lights like we were blowing out a candle, and he’d subtly flip the light switch at just the right moment to turn out the light. He dressed up as a clown for one of mine and Gentry’s birthday parties – head to toe, we’re talking. Picture a short, skinny version of Cam from Modern Family. Our very own Fizbo.

My dad made life interesting. He made it fun. He made it an adventure to be around him.

In high school, I somehow was on our homecoming court senior year. The five of us brought our dads to  a weeknight practice with the band, getting ready for the actual football game coming up that weekend. My dad brought Bubba teeth in his pocket and wore them during all of practice. He really liked our class principal and thought it would make him laugh. I was half mortified and half beaming with pride that this weirdo belonged to me.

I remember helping him plan t-shirts for his softball team - he was playing with his Young Life high school guys while he was a leader. The Narwhals, he chose as the mascot. What a goofball! You know the animal from the movie Elf with the long tusk like a unicorn? Yep. Silly. But those guys thought he was cool. 

When Kelsey, Stephanie, and I lived in an apartment in the Heights, Dad snuck through an office parking lot to climb the concrete walls of the bayou that our windows overlooked. He used a bucket full of sidewalk chalk and wrote our initials and alma mater logos on the concrete for all to see. (He did this I am sure just so he could draw a giant UT sign for Steph) – and he wrote “Happy First Day” – which I saw in the wee hours before my first day as a teacher with Teach For America.

Some dads might have been as thoughtful as him, and sent their daughter flowers. Not mine. No, he risked getting a ticket for graffiti and sidewalk-chalked White Oak bayou to show he cared.

My mom tells the best Tom stories, tales of the prankster in action. There are legendary stories from each of their New York Life study group meetings – including the time they had run out of space in the rent cars when the large group went to dinner. So Tom offered to ride in the trunk – for fun, my mom reminds everyone. And then at red lights he would bang on the trunk from inside to freak out the people in other cars. Silly. Hysterical. Never a dull moment. 

What I love most about the author Bob Goff (Love Does, read it already!) is that he draws you in to his life, inspires you to live boldly, without throwing bible verses in your face or being “preachy.” He’s just real. And he’s goofy. And he’s fun and exciting and makes everyone feel like they matter. All things that make me want to be more like my dad.

Gentry is like my dad in countless ways, and I know his Hans alter-ego is something straight out of Tom's book. (But Gentry has Saturday-Night-Live quality accents. Dad had ... none.)

We spent years witnessing important lessons, never knowing that someday soon all we’d have were those laugh out loud memories of a hilarious man.

Though my dad was very successful in business, that was not always the case. He fought long and hard for that "success." I love in the speech my mom gave this past year for New York Life agents that she mentions how he was fired from a bank in the late 80s when Gentry and I were little. Not a good time to be fired. Not a way to "look cool." 

But no matter my parent’s bank account status or his stress level, no matter how many toys he had at the time (from zilch to boats and planes) my dad found the time to be joyful. To be funny. To be goofy. To make life an adventure. Whether he was driving a beat-up Ford Taurus on it's last leg or a brand new fancy Acura (ordered from Costco, he was so proud of that) road trips were a riot with this man. Adventure was the goal, what you were driving was just a detail. 

To Tom, age was merely a number. Coolness was subjective. Life was, as Helen Keller said, a daring adventure, or it is nothing. I don't want to have nothing. Tom reminds me to get off my couch. To talk to strangers. To smile at people. To stop worrying what people think and just do stuff.

Our final silliness story – my dad LOVED flying his little blue plane and because it was open air, he could fly low and have his passenger (or himself) throw nerf balls out to campers at Camp Longhorn or boats on Lake LBJ. He would write names on them and “deliver” to people. It made his day more than it made theirs. He had people all the time at Lake Marble Falls ask to go flying with him. Never once did he say no. 

He was like Summer Santa – instead of a sleigh with reindeer, it was a little blue plane and a short little man. He would do a “gum drop” for their annual Young Life trip to the lake and throw gum out of the plane for kids to catch. He did this often to boats, too, and people began to recognize the blue plane. "Oh, that crazy man is gonna throw us something!"

Usually, someone else would throw while he piloted the plane – and the wind would knock some pieces right back in your face and into the plane. Sometimes you'd find stray pieces by your feet from his last drop, pieces that had blown back in instead of flying out. 

When the FAA inspected the plane after Dad’s crash, they came to the house in Houston to give us preliminary reports and answer any family member’s questions.

The FAA rep was personal and patient with us. We were huddled together in the living room. 

“You know, when we took the tail off the body of the airplane, we found something I had never seen in all my decades with the FAA.” Long pause. “And I don’t think I’ll ever see anything like it again.” 

Long pause.

 “We found handfuls of Double Bubble bubble gum in the tail of the airplane. Can someone explain that?”

“Every day God invites us on the same kind of adventure. It's not a trip where He sends us a rigid itinerary, He simply invites us. God asks what it is He's made us to love, what it is that captures our attention, what feeds that deep indescribable need of our souls to experience the richness of the world He made. And then, leaning over us, He whispers, "Let's go do that together.” 
― Bob Goff

happy new year! {reflections on 2013, part two}

Recently I saw the movie “August: Osage County”-though that is a whole post for another day- Julia Roberts’ character has just lost a close family member in a sudden accident and says:

 “Thank God we can’t tell the future. We’d never get out of bed.”

When those words hit my ears, I kind of felt like someone socked me in the stomach. We went through a lot at the end of 2012 and spent 2013 still reeling from the shock. Through each day, I learned things, gradually, things about life, myself, my family, grace, the world... This is the second part of a post about lessons from 2013. So here we go.

6) We all need to be heard.

My family saw a family counselor several times together summer 2013. Because we've had a few instances, we’ll call them melt downs, where everything has come pretty close to blowing up. Life seemed to be, for a few moments, spinning completely out of control. My brother and I have always argued and been really good at it, but now, our family dynamic out of whack and grief in places we didn't even know it – we needed help. The professional kind. Either that, or we needed to sign a contract for a reality show because we were having “made for TV” train wreck moments.

And Dr. Bourne taught us, through tears and listening and trying to put our grief into words, that we all need to be heard. That as a family, the three of us (plus sweet Amy & patient Drew) didn't know how to communicate. We all talked, he said, and no one listened. He was like... a genius!

Though we do not need agreement, we need acceptance of what we are saying from those that love us. Dr. Bourne explained that I needed to listen to my brother, but I did not have to agree with my brother. Nor should I expect him to agree with me.

We all need to be heard by those we love. And, in turn, we all need to listen. Such a simple concept, yet it has been a game changer for getting along with my closest peeps.

7) Singing is healing.

I have found that church is really, really healing, and really, really hard. As I’ve tried to figure out why, it's occurred to me: it’s not hearing scripture that’s hard, or seeing friends, or listening to the sermon – it’s the singing. The words and the sound and the being still - singing, though painful, has been very healing. I am incredibly thankful for musically inclined who write and play music because I can do neither, and it’s good for my soul.

8) People, above all else, matter.

My dad’s financial provisions for our family have been so wonderful, don’t get me wrong. Truly, wonderful, and have brought much peace, stability, and comfort to my mom and my brother and myself. However, without my parent’s friends, without his friends from various stages of life, and without my own friends, and my husband, and Amy, and the Carrigans, and all of you that love on us and care for us….all the “financial security” would be meaningless. In the end, people matter above everything else. And though my dad had great life insurance policies and investments and budgets in place, more important to him were his connections, and networks: the work out guys, his friends from middle school/high school/college, his favorite federal agent, his study group, his young life leader Luke, his chapelwood softball team – all these people who have loved us so well in his absence. One of my dad’s annual goals in 2011 was to spend time with William Chenoweth – written in there among different business goals, he wanted to be sure his calendar had plenty of room for baseball and his friend. He wanted to be sure his staff was aware of his priorities. I need to mimic that idea.

People, above all else, matter.

9) My mom is my hero.

I relearn this almost daily. The stuff she has been through... wow. Sometimes it feels like the hits just keep coming – my uncle totaling his truck and closely avoiding seriously hurting himself in an accident. My aunt getting breast cancer. My grandfather and great-grandfather dying. My brother and I being the jerks we can be. She’s ramped up her business full throttle. She’s traveled with New York Life and spoken about my dad’s career six times. She’s mastered a teleprompter beautifully! She loves on people. She smiles. Shoot, she gets out of bed everyday! She brings us all such laughter and joy and she’s also shown us it’s okay to just be ticked off every now and then. She's modeled forgiving and taking the higher road, more times than she should have had to. 

You've seen those commercials for the Olympics where they have the hot-shot athletes as little kids, and it shows how much their moms do for them? Gentry & I, unfortunately, are not Olympics material. But, our mom deserves one of those commercials nonetheless.

10) Untimely death can make you bold.

Faith has pulled us through this thick muck. I should loudly give God the credit for all he has done for our family and all he has provided. I know that there are kids out there (and adults, too!) that never had the chance to have the gifts we’ve had (healthy great-grandparents, an amazing-terrific-rare-find-totally-awesome Dad) and that God has not been “unfair” to us and God did not cause the plane accident. I should be much bolder in crediting God when people ask how we’re doing or how we get on without TWR.

11) It is good to be silly.

I’ve got lots of notes on this theory, how it is a good thing to be ridiculous. It’s actually enough to save for a full post, soon, so for now, enough from me. 

Thank you, so very much, for reading. You are awesome.

Happy 2014 & Love,

Courtney

happy new year! {reflections on 2013, part one}

2013 was a loooooong year. A wonderful year! A year of grieving, a year of celebrating, a roller coaster of emotions. The Houston marathon was this weekend and I mentioned to Drew – remember last year when it was really cold and rainy and I stayed in bed but you went out to watch your friend? 

He responded: “Wow, was that really only last year? Feels like so much longer.”

Drew and I got married on December 31, 2012, so 2013 started off new and fresh immediatly. It was a year full of firsts, full of learning about marriage, full of pinching myself that he had actually said “I do.” 

Every year brings learning- about the world, about yourself, about life. I’ve written a few year-end wrap ups before, but I can easily say 2013 brought the most joys, most pain, and most learning I’ve ever experienced in a 365 day window. So I’ll share a few lessons if you’re interested. If you’re not, I’d certainly understand. J

 1) You. Cannot. Control. Death. 

Not yours, not loved ones, not your parents, nor can you control anything about death. But what you can control is what you do with the time you’re given to live.

I have much better days when I focus on what I can do with my life and days on earth than when I dwell on how my dad’s accident could have been prevented, or question why it happened at all. My maternal grandfather and great-grandfather both died in 2013, and I’m still adjusting to the reality that they’re not here anymore. But we had them both longer than we “should” have, and for their memories I am forever grateful. 

2) Vacations are grrrrrrrreat. Time away from the hurried pace of daily life is marvelous. Getting to go on a honeymoon with Drew was incredible. It was great to start married life with a reminder that alone time is good, a break from daily routine is good, and traveling is important to both of us. And also, room service may be one of the greatest inventions ever. Blueberry pancakes? Yes, please! Smores in the hot tub? Don't mind if I do! 

3) We are not leaving this earth with anything.

We got robbed in June, and a lot of sentimental stuff was lost, permanently. It could have been worse and homeowners insurance covered a lot, but. I lost jewelry that was passed down, as well as my Dad’s iPad, and all the photos on our laptops and cameras – honeymoon pictures, rehearsal dinner pictures, pictures from Gentry & Amy’s wedding weekend, the list goes on. But when I calmed down and really thought about it, all that mattered was that we were safe. All that was missing were things that will eventually fade away anyway. It was a good lesson to attempt to stop storing up treasures here. Because it’s true, that old saying – you can’t take it with ya when ya go. Putting too much value in any object, even the sentimental ones that remind us of others, is not good. Being robbed will teach you very quickly that less is more.

4) Darkness is all around us.

I know that sounds negative at first glance, but I think acknowledging this darkness gives us more ammo to fight it. Manipulative, petty people. Oh they just seem to come out of the woodwork sometimes, don’t they!? Liars, thieves, selfish, bitter, scum sucking people. But you can either let them consume you and take over your happiness, or you can realize that’s satan trying to get in the way of you living. I would hate to sound like Joel Osteen here, but…satan is trying to keep us from living the life we’re meant to be lived. I learned that in 2013. I also saw a quote that came from Harry Potter actually, that says “Happiness can be found, even in the darkness of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.” And not just Harry Potter thinks this, but the Bible too: “In Him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5-6

5) Jesus is the light of the world.

Cliché, I know, but if you read point #4 you need to know point #5. This world is maddening, has plenty of evil and darkness, but it also has, light. Kindness. Goodness. Gentleness. Joy. Faith. Abundant grace.

I will never, ever forget the light that poured from the children at the Tree of Life, a community of homes full of Zambian orphans in Africa. Children who had been rescued from the streets, and brought to live in homes, with a house mother, and a toilet, and comfy bed, and brothers or sisters, and food, and school. Most of them never had any of those things before: a bed, regular food, school, running water, love. And all of them still had little compared to us in America – can you imagine growing up with three siblings all living in your room? Gosh we’d complain to our friends! Can you imagine having just enough clothes to take up one drawer and one quarter of a closet? Gosh we’d think we were poor! But these children, you can see it in their eyes and feel it in their hugs, and hear it in their voices when they sing praises to God – they are filled with light. I will never forget their eyes.

I wrote down five more major lessons of 2013 – six actually, but I feel as though I’m rambling now as I type from my pages. So for now, that’s all. 5 things to think about heading into to 2014.

I wonder how God will use the next year to teach us, to love on us, to make us better stewards of his grace. I wonder what doors will close and what windows will open.  I don’t know much, but I know that God will always be there and will always be good. 

christmas without a tree

In 2001, I was a sophomore in high school. For Christmas that year, I wrote – for months – a story on my giant Dell computer that was passed down to me and was my in my own bedroom. My own computer!

I wrote a story for my parents’ gift – I edited and edited and printed the final draft on red computer paper. I gave it to them Christmas Eve, and I can remember them sitting in our living room downstairs reading it together late that night.

The story was my first real attempt at becoming a writer, and it was probably the loudest applause I got from my ever-affirming parents. My dad still mentioned it when he would read one of my more coherent blog posts. I can hear him now, calling and saying “I read your blog today. Remember the Christmas story you wrote? Things like that – you need to keep writing, you need to get published.”

The story was called “Christmas Without a Tree” and was told from a sixteen year old girl’s point of view on September 11, living out my worst nightmare – losing one of her parents. In the story, the girl’s mom died, she was in a meeting in the World Trade towers. She and her dad spent the night visiting NYC hospitals hoping to find her in a bed somewhere.

Who knew that eleven years later, I would lose a parent suddenly, just like the character I created. Dad died suddenly, tragically – sure, much less tragic than at the hands of terrorists, but still – every day that we woke up last fall and approached a new day without Dad was tragic, just as it was for the girl in my story.

Last year, we couldn’t bring ourselves to get out our Christmas ornaments. Most of them tell a story – from a trip we went on as a family, or a trip my parents took and thought of us and brought home an ornament – my mom and Gentry and I just couldn’t dig through those ornaments and dig through those memories. Not to mention Drew & I were getting married just six years after Christmas.

My mom did decorate last year. She didn’t want to feel like “Scrooge” and she did a fantastic job of remaining alive as we dealt with my dad’s death. But I remember one night my memory clicked – remember that story I wrote mom? They family didn’t want to ignore Christmas, but they wanted to do something different to honor/recognize the mom’s absence, so they decided together to not put up a tree like usual.  

Just tonight, Drew & I set up our tree. It was his idea last year to go buy a tree December 27, take advantage of the after-Christmas sales. Just like him, always planning, always looking ahead to our future together. He reminds me so much of my dad, living in the moment, but always excited for the next adventure, always making it clear that life with me is fun and he loves thinking about the next step. Just like Dad made it clear he felt that way about life with mom, with us – Dad and Drew are both magnetic, and fun, and for their many similarities I am thankful.

I’m allergic to real trees, so we have a fake one.  I tell myself it’s good for the environment,  but - some factory had to crank out this tree, so I’m not sure that’s really true.

Christmas music is painful for me, as is most music without my dad. So many songs remind me of him, jamming in the car, on the boat, in our living room as a little girl, on the dance floor at family events later on, he loved music.

But I sucked it up tonight and played Christmas music on Pandora. I spread out the branches on our tree and thought of our mom, doing it year after year as we didn’t help much until the fun part – ornaments!

I wrapped a vintage red and white ribbon my mom found for me through the branches of me & Drew’s tree, and I thought about the twinkle lights. I thought about how my parents had done this for 30 years. Just 30 Christmases. Sounds like a lot and so few at the same time.

I want him back. I want my dad back for me, for my brother, for Dad’s friends, but I want him back for my mom above all else.

At a women’s brunch on Saturday at our church, the women’s minister talked about the mystery of Christmas. She talked about how she loved Nancy Drew as a child and how she loves to look closely at the mystery of Christmas.

I realized, as I wove the branches in among the twinkle lights of our tree, that it’s not just Christmas that is a mystery. It’s faith in general. Believing in Christ is a bit of a mystery, and where we question and doubt, the Holy Spirit zooms in (sometimes much less quickly than I would like) and softens our hearts, quiets our questions, brings the “peace that passes understanding.”

I love Christmas, just as my dad did, my parents together. But… Christmas is a mystery. The savior of all people wore diapers. (Likely the cloth messy kind, bless Mary having a newborn and no such thing as a washing machine!)

Christmas doesn’t add up, and that’s what makes it beautiful. How did God become flesh and dwell among us? How is the Word God and also “with God” at the same time? How does the darkness not overcome the light? (John 1)

Christmas is a mystery, and we gather as families in our churches and our homes and we sing and we celebrate and we rejoice, though we have questions. Our questions are quieted by the joy, the fellowship, the light.

My dad’s death is the same, I think. As is anyone’s death this is untimely. Anyone who dies too young – it’s a mystery why the good die young, and others that wreak havoc and wreck families remain living. I question, just as I wonder how God was laid in a manger, why my dad’s plane engine failed. I wonder why he couldn’t have just sold it, why he needed one more ride. I wonder why the trees couldn’t break his fall. I wonder why God died for me, and you, and my Dad, and all the rest of us messy people.

It is all a mystery. I’ve known this about Christmas, that it doesn’t really all make sense, but I’ve never really compared it to other things in life that don’t make sense.

Have you ever sat around with your family Christmas Eve and talked about all the things that aren’t logical with the nativity and the story of Christ’s birth? Probably not. Most families likely just enjoy the time together and the parts that they do understand. They rejoice in the miracle and the star that shone in the night. That dwell in its light and wrap themselves in it’s warm glow.

This is what I know I should do with Dad, too. His death leaves a lot of questions, but I should focus on his memory. On his wonderful stories and the funny things he used to say and the way he brought joy wherever he went. I should focus on how loving he was, to me and Gentry and mom, I should celebrate that he spent a Christmas morning with Drew and Amy and that he knows we are all alright- we are more than alright.  

My dad loved Christmas music. He used to looooove to drive around, with me and Gentry and whoever else in the back, and mom upfront, his hand stretched across the center console to hold hers, glancing over and smiling at her often. Or making fun of her and then looking over at her to wink in his loving way.

I can see his head bobbing in the driver’s seat, enjoying Christmas and the songs and time with his family.

It’s hard to pinpoint his favorite one, but right now, Wonderful Christmastime is playing, and it seems perfect. 

“We’re here tonight, and that’s enough.”

The moon is right 
The spirit's up 
We're here tonight 
And that's enough 

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time 
Simply having a wonderful Christmas time 

The party's on 
The feelin's here 
That only comes 
This time of year 

Simply having a wonderful Christmas time 
Simply having a wonderful Christmas time