about not doing things for other people

Everyday, I let other people break my heart.

I do it without meaning to. I do it because I want things from other people, and they don't give it to me. You know when you feel like the sky owes you sunshine and then it rains? It's sort of like that. Without realizing it, I often demand that other people love me more, accept me more, and affirm me more. And then - they fail me.  And I realize I set them up for that failure.  

About a week ago, I had the pleasure of hearing a friend's mentor speak about some fundamental rules of following Jesus that will carry you through life.  One of them was this: do everything for an audience of one. 

That hit me like a slap. It is a statement that has been reverberating around the cavern of my heart in echoes, hitting against hard walls and refusing to go away.  Because as a person who, like most people, longs so much to be loved at all times by everyone, I find myself feeling like life is the Emily Thompson reality show and the world is the stage.

I could write about a million reasons why living for the approval of others is harmful.  But what has been resonating with me the most is two things: when we live for the love and acceptance of others, we are 1) settling for an lesser affection and 2) not experiencing freedom.

I love what Jesus makes clear in John 5.  He actually says, word for word "I do not receive glory from people" (v41).  When we try to do that, we're settling.  Glory, which is magnificence, beauty, and honor, simply can't come from where we're looking for it.  It comes from God alone.

Furthermore, looking to people for our glory leaves us as slaves to a cycle of disappointment.  Because it isn't really the source, it's not the well of life.  We'll get a drop of water and return thirsty, only to find there is nothing left for us that will satisfy and fulfill.

So let's stop doing things for other people.  Let's stop seeking their approval.  Because loving someone so that they will love and praise you back isn't really love at all.  And because all we need, even if we are despised and misunderstood and forgotten by every living soul on the world, is something we already obtain -- love and acceptance from the Most Holy, Most Good, Most Powerful, All-Knowing Creator WHO MADE US.  That's a game-changer, folks.

I'm not really positive how it works, the whole "living for an audience of one thing", but here's how I'm gonna try it out.  The next time I find myself manipulating my way into someone else's approval, I'm going to stop just for a second.  I'm going to ask myself "If no one saw me do this, would I still go through with it?" and "What is my motivation here?" and also "Who is my audience, and can they really give me life?"

about the quiet, middle sparks

written with inspiration from a poem by Donald Hall (from his collection "Without") that was performed during Three Acts, Two Dancers, One Radio Host in which the poet deals with the grief of losing his wife, poet Jane Kenyon.  

------------------------------------
Our Middle Garden 

In a dream we dance

on the square kitchen table.

You are weak and fall into

rhythms against my arms.

Narrowly we avoid the fork,

the knife laid beside, but your

foot knocks the water cup

and it rolls beneath the chairs.

When we wake I ask you

what you’d want to do today,

careful not to use the word “like”

or “can”, and wait for the laugh

that will extend beyond your

drying lips – have a picnic inside

a crater on the moon; even

fly to San Diego to visit Allen.

You are tired instead and will

not eat even one slice of toast.

I move you to the red living room chair,

one limb, one breath, one motion

at a time.  You grin your thanks to me,

your love, muscles pulling up

a thousand times your spirit

from the pits and I adore you.

Yesterday I told you, strapped into

the lines that water you with chemical,

that you looked like a flower,

all those vines that cling to you as if

for life.  You said vice- versa, love.

I’m wilted; but I ignore you, and in

your last days we talk of the ordinary

middle ones – the rec room our dogs

destroyed, a burnt ham you served

for Christmas brunch. Now it is

not our initial sparks we labor to 

remember, but the quiet, middle ones. 

about #datingmyself

This blog post is brought to you from my deeply-Introverted perspective, so take it with a grain of salt.
But that being said, today I'd like to encourage you to take yourself on a date.

I've been joking with my friends that if I had to put a hashtag on my year, it'd be the year of #datingmyself.  I've been (super, unbelievably, overwhelmingly) fortunate to build an incredible community in Arlington/DC, and it's the greatest.  But it also means that I, as someone who values alone time to recharge, have to be intentional with myself.  When there are people around all the time and plans constantly being made, I have to remind myself not to forget about me.

That sounds funny, I'll admit it.  But I think our socially-minded culture tells us to be super intentional with seeking out and spending time with others (which is a great thing), but doesn't often tell us to seek out time alone.

And time alone is GOOD, y'all.  Capital G-O-O-D. Truly, I've found that as I've been more intentional about getting away and having adventures alone, the more comfortable I'm feeling in my own skin.  I know myself more.  I know what scares me. I know what things bring me joy. I know more about my patterns.  I'm more familiar with the way that I dream. I've produced more creative work.

I've actually discovered that as a result of spending some time learning about me, I'm more of my best self for other people.  The confidence I have in my own tendencies, beliefs, and passions has given me extra room to connect and respond to the lives of my friends around me.

Sometimes it feels uncomfortable.  The first time I went to a movie alone (which is an activity I'm simply addicted to now), I kept feeling like everyone was staring at me.  The first time I ate at a restaurant alone (it was a Cracker Barrel, so not exactly the finest establishment, but still...) I got a pity look from my waitress.  But the more often I go somewhere alone, the more freedom I find in it. And the more I find to love about this time to recharge.

And so today, on this gorgeous sunshiny-Saturday, I took myself on the greatest afternoon date.  It was so much fun that I simply have to gush about it. I popped into the city and went on a long walk around some new neighborhoods I'd never explored.  I picked out my favorite row houses (I found one that was green with purple shutters that won me over) and people-watched and enjoyed the sun.  I had an Americano at The Coffee Bar in Shaw and wrote a poem.  Then I walked more and made my way to SUNdeVICH for the most delicious Capri sandwich ever (and it was fortunate that my date was a book and not a boy because I scarfed that thing down in a most unladylike fashion) before heading home.

It was just lovely.  I prayed some and created some and thought about some things that are important. I got to explore the city in a way that was new and relaxing.  Perhaps you can use this as a template for the next time you're looking to treat yourself to some time away.  I promise it'll be rewarding.  And you'll be better for it, too.