My father was losing his battle to colon cancer; we all said our goodbyes, cried countless tears, and took turns sitting by his side. As we rolled into the second week of watching my strong, stubborn dad hold on, the hospice team suggested that maybe he needed some time alone. Perhaps he needed some peace and quiet to move on from this life.
With this suggestion made, my sisters, Mom, and I divided our attention and attempted to give him some space. Mom went to the back room to wrap gifts (because, of course, it was the week before Christmas), one sister went to the office to get some work done, my other sister tried to take a nap in the guest room, and I headed home to check on Hubby and the kids.
After a couple of hours, I verified that my house was still standing and my family was doing okay, so I headed back to Mom and Dad’s. When I arrived at the front door, there was a bird just sitting there like a tiny, feathered, slightly-dazed sentry.
The bird didn’t move as I approached, but I could tell it was still alive. After passing the bird’s glassy-eyed station, I stepped inside and announced its stupified presence on the stoop.
My sister, who had returned to Dad’s bedside, replied, “Yeah, we thought it was Dad’s angel coming to get him, but it couldn’t get through the door.”
When we think of people going mad, the mental images of their insanity can manifest in a million different ways.
We might picture the tortured soul giggling, huddled in a corner, with eyes devoid of coherent thought. We could envision someone enraged and mercilessly searching for their next victim to mutilate. And sometimes, we imagine them simply closing in on themselves, shutting out the world, and stowing away any of the traits that made them “normal.”
Well, my internal monologue went mad this past weekend.
It’s not the first, and I’m certain, it won’t be the last time this happens, but my inner voice took a long walk off the short pier of reason.
After three weeks of battling a sinus infection that morphed into bronchitis and then into a “touch” of pneumonia, I was already feeling pretty run down. After being told, “You should be better” and “It’s been three weeks. You think you’d be over it,” by two people that I love, I felt even worse.
As the day wore on, I found myself home alone. In my efforts to be a valuable member of our home and society, I did some dishes. As I scrubbed the dishes, the dark thoughts kept washing over me.
“Do they think I enjoy not being able to breathe?”
“It might just be better if I DID stop breathing.”
“Seriously, if I just gave up, at least my coughing and nose-blowing wouldn’t annoy them anymore.”
The thoughts went on and on. The dishes got done. The floor got swept. I was out of breath, depleted of energy, and maybe just a little bit angry.
In order to maintain my status as “Meanest Mom Ever,” I assign chores to my children. One of the most frequent tasks assigned is that of unloading and reloading the dishwasher. In response to their frequent whining about the task, I, in true “seven miles up hill, both ways, in the snow” fashion, sadly lament that I didn’t have a dishwasher growing up.
If grumbling continues, I remind them of when our last dishwasher died and we went weeks without one. To emphasize the experience, I will start filling the sink with hot, soapy water and invite them to go ahead and wash the dirty dishes by hand. I encourage them to dry those dishes AND put them away, IF they can’t find the energy to take care of the fully functional dishwasher. (It’s child abuse at its finest.)
The other day, I found myself in need of one of these “Don’t forget you’ve got it” reminders as well. Everywhere I walked in my house, I noticed things begging for my attention. Too much laundry to fold, too many floors in need of sweeping, too much mail to sort, and more sticky notes with stuff to do than I could muster the strength to tackle. It was truly a first-world crisis.
To distract myself from the despair of too much to do, I did what any normal human would do. I chose to scroll through Facebook. One of the very first posts that popped up in my feed was from Ms. Sunshine. I love her posts because they are always short, sweet, and uplifting. That particular day, her message was a bullseye to my heart, reminding me that I had way too much to be grateful for.
Each and every day, we have blessings and burdens laid at our feet. Their significance is determined by how much power we give them through our actions and intentions. Do we remember to go heavy on the thanks, or do we overload our focus with our problems?
I felt like someone turned on the hot, soapy water in the sink for me and said, “Are you gonna clean your attitude up the hard way? Or are you going to take full advantage of your abilities to make a difference?”
After sharing Ms. Sunshine’s post, I put down my mind-zapping, cellular device and got back to getting things done. Later that night (after my attitude and house were cleaner), I revisited my Facebook feed and was pleasantly surprised to see how many of my friends “liked” and shared the Ms. Sunshine post.
Maybe they all needed a “Don’t forget you’ve got it” reminder, too, or maybe their purpose for the day was to broadcast that reminder to others. Any which way, gratitude got some attention, and attitudes got some adjusting.
Here’s your Intentergy positive purpose for today: Go heavy on the “Thank you, God, for everything” and remember that you have an abundance of tasks, chores, and opportunities available to dedicate some energy towards. You’ve got so much going for you that the possibilities may seem overwhelming. There are tons of people out there cheering for you. The world is full of resources, energy, education, and joy. The key is: Don’t forget you’ve got it all at your disposal.
By: Melanie A. Peters
P.S. No children or dishes were harmed in the unloading or reloading of the dishwasher, and a little hand washing won’t hurt anyone.
P.P.S. At least we have running water and soap to clean the plates that had been covered in healthy, delicious food.
This past winter, Mother Nature kicked our butts and knocked down four of our barns. She was having some sort of meltdown and threw a bunch of ice and snow at us. Hopefully, that’s all out of her system, and this next winter will be calmer.
We struggled mightily with the load of losing buidlings, but were supported by our community and family. People came out of the frozen woodwork to help us rescue turkeys and cattle from the collapsed buildings and provide food for the crews. Countless others sent prayers and messages of support. It was a mess, but we were still blessed.
After the winter storms passed and the snow melted, the scene that remained was one of a war zone.
Spring brought crazy winds and unpredictable rainstorms. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we continued to persevere by shifting our production schedule and praying for a break in the weather so clean up could begin.
While our buildings may not have all been standing, optimism could still be found
Most of the feed bins were still intact. The concrete foundations remained usable. Only one of the three turkey barns actually had birds in it, and only one calf was lost in the collapse of the barn that housed our feeder calves.
So what could posibily have stuck out as positive in this situation?
In the fold of mangled metal, our best ladder remained upright. It was hard to spot at first, but there it was just hanging out there waiting to give us a little lift.
How in the world did that ladder not get pulled down by the weight of the collapsing building?
We all strive to bring these characteristics to our relationships. No one wants to be known as the “canceller” or the “flake” in friendship. Even with the universal expectation for accountability, we all know life happens. Sometimes we are forced to detour from plans or take rain checks.
I hate asking for rain checks, and it absolutely kills me to be the one who lets someone else down.
(Seriously, I lie awake at night and stew about failures to follow through on plans, even when there was no way to prevent it.)
Despite my extreme aversion to being a “canceller,” there is one person I let down way too often.
In Girl, Wash Your Face, the chapters are dedicated to the lies we tell ourselves. These lies prevent us from seeking out our most successful selves. Hollis shares in her writing how she debunked her personal lies and her methods for overcoming predicaments she faced with each lie. I hadn’t even gotten through Chapter 2, “The Lie: I’ll Start Tomorrow,” when my personal-lie-realization rammed me right in the heart.
As I’ve ventured through the process of seeking healthy boundaries, there is a situation that has been nagging at my heart. (See my recent post “All Full Up – New Perspectives on Boundaries” )
It took me over a year to realize a former friend was just that. Former.
After 12 months of unreturned cards, calls, texts, and messages without a hint as to why for me to say, “It’s not me.”
After 2 years and 5 months, it shouldn’t hurt that someone severed ties bound by 18 years of friendship, but, dang, it hurts.
Here’s the good news. I am not alone. There are roughly 8,092,034,510* other humans roaming this planet, who could be my friend.
Your odds are just as good (if not better based on your geographic location). This statistic is formulated from the Census.gov projection that on January 1, 2025 there were 8,092,034,511 people on Earth.
So, even if one person has moved on or you have chosen to go a separate way from someone else, the world is full of other possibilities. Possibilities for you to find friendship, support, and love.
If you are in a lonely situation or a place of being put aside, I hope you find solace in the fact that you have options. The odds are favorable that others have felt the same way. Even better there is someone out there to help you heal because, hey, they’ve been there too!
The Intenergy message here is that we are not alone. Ending a relationship or losing a connection with someone hurts. We can’t avoid those kinds of suffering, but we can give ourselves some grace as we move, grow, or heal when a relationship falls apart. We can embrace the potential for new friendships or greater development of old ones. With 8,092,034,510* other folks making their way through this world, we are bound to find someone to build a connection with and fulfill our lives in healthy, loving, and productive ways. You are not alone (verified by Census.gov).
By: Melanie A. Peters
P.S. The * is due to the fact that 8,092,034,511 is an estimate. People are always being born and passing away, and I wasn’t sure I should count you or myself in the estimate because I am the one experiencing a loss and maybe you are the exception because you are looking for a new friend. ANYWAY, the * means there are still lots of possibilities for friendships, love, and bonds out there.
P.P.S. I love ALL my friends, even if we haven’t spoken for a while OR they didn’t choose Kentucky to win on their March Madness bracket.
Good Boundaries and Goodbyes: Loving Others Without Losing the Best of Who You Are by Lysa TerKeurst screamed, “Read me!” from the shelves at the bookstore, library, and in my Amazon “Something you might like” recommendations. I added it to my WTR list and after a particularly disheartening week, I thought I’d give it a listen while Ubering the kids around. Yup, Amazon was right. I do like it.
I’m grateful I chose to listen to the audio version because hearing the words from Lysa TerKeurst’s actual voice made the message much more authentic and relatable, but it’s the words that have my heart aching for healthier ways to set boundaries for those I love and myself.
The crazy thing is that it took nearly to the end of the ninth chapter in a twelve-chapter book for my desperate self to realize my real problem. It’s not the expectations of others that fuel my need to establish boundaries. My issue is that I’m trying to build boundaries from the wrong end of the emotional gas gauge. I am full up on obligations while running on empty when it comes to inspiration, self-worth, and time.
Before listening to Lysa’s narrative, I believed that creating boundaries between myself and others could cause me to fail as a Christian. I thought refusing to give of myself as Christ did resulted in others not needing or appreciating me, and the best way to feel accepted and helpful was to run myself into the ground fulfilling the expectations of others. (If I’m killing myself to help, they will see my efforts and love me more, right?!?)
My friend Emily sent a text announcing that her 2025 will officially begin on February 1st. (I received this message on January 21st.)
I replied, “We all have to start somewhere.”
If your 2025 has started a little rocky, you are not alone.
Since January 1st, we’ve lost four buildings, a couple thousand turkeys, and some cattle on our farm to Mother Nature and her nasty ice and snow fits.
The building Hubby and our crew retrofitted after one of the turkey barns collapsed completely froze up and enough portable heaters had to be procured to warm the poor, traumatized birds inside. It’s not easy to find heaters in the middle of an Arctic depression.
My family planned to celebrate my grandmother’s 97th birthday this past weekend at her nursing home. A COVID outbreak occurred 48 hours before the party and the celebration had to be canceled. (Please pray for the nursing home staff and residents.)
My daughter’s cell phone was lost in the one fun thing she didlast week (sledding) before Snowmagedon, and we have not relocated it.
AND I’ve been suffering from a nasty cold that has my brain, ears, and nose all clogged up. (Yuck!)
Some serious clean-up is needed to get past this dumpster fire of the first three weeks.
Do-overs aren’t really an option. We can’t turn back time, but we can create a reset for ourselves. Here are three things I’ve decided to focus on in an attempt to celebrate our newly established New Year:
#1. It’s important to acknowledge we are not alone. #2. Sometimes we have to take the trash out before we can see the clean start before us. #3. We all have to start somewhere.
Here’s the good news. The first three weeks are behind us and there are 49 glorious 7-day series ahead ready for us to find success. Finding the right place to start is imperative because we all have to start somewhere.
How do we decide what trash to take out? How do we reclaim that fresh start?
Let’s revisit our checklist: #1. It’s important to acknowledge we are not alone. #2. Sometimes we have to take the trash out before we can see the clean start before us. #3. We all have to start somewhere.
A huge portion of the time I feel like my family doesn’t think I’m smart enough to wipe my own butt. (If you have teenagers, you know.) Even more often I believe the people I encounter in daily life think I’m a cheeseburger short of a Happy Meal. Why is that?
Do you ever feel this way?
Even though we have immediate access to infinite information at our fingertips, we all seem to doubt our own ability or the ability of others to have a lick of sense. We have all developed complexes that make us feel either too smart for our own good or too dumb to function.
There’s nothing smart about either of those mindsets and it makes me want to borrow the words of Stewart Smalley from Saturday Night Live, “I’m good enough. I’m smart enough. And, doggone it, people like me.”
I want to get to the point where I can confidently say, “Shut up, insecurity. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I’m just as guilty as the next guy for using knowledge to puff up my self-esteem in certain situations and act like a know-it-all. (I always want to kick myself later for being snotty.) There’s something to be said for admitting we don’t have all the answers and even more to lifting others up for the knowledge and skills they possess.
It’s important to value the intelligence of individuals and recognize that it’s our unique knowledge and skills that make the world go round. If you aren’t feeling like the brightest crayon in the box, it’s okay. Broken crayons still color and can be molded to make a difference that lightens any situation.
We all know about the proverbial plates in our lives. Plates that are always full of responsibilities, expectations, and commitments. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I guess our proverbial and physical plates are about to be or have been overflowing with good stuff, stressful stuff, and stuff we really don’t need.
This morning was jam-packed with rushing to try to make all my plans fit into a time frame that probably wasn’t feasible. The harder I tried and the faster I rushed, the fuller I felt with frustration.
I heard a voice ask what I was “so darn upset about.”(It may have sounded like my husband.) I wasn’t sure why I had tears in my eyes and a burning at the back of my throat that only happens when I cry. I guess it felt like crying would take away some of what was weighing on me. But crying wasn’t going to help anything, and it sure wasn’t going to clear my proverbial plate from all my commitments.
Intentergy 