embracing imperfection

a present-over-perfect practice

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

words and reflections from 12.31.16:

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It’s a quiet New Year’s Eve in our home. We are tired from long travels back from SC, and the inevitable letdown that comes post-Christmas. In the quiet of reflection tonight, I am choosing to believe that as 2016 closes and 2017 dawns, God will be faithful, kind, and loving, even to me – who can be ungrateful, unkind, ungenerous, way too stubborn for my own good, and fearful. I’ve chased a lot of perfection and dreams in 2016, and from the outside looking in (or what you’d see and what I posted on social media), it looked pretty good. But part of what I’ve missed in that pursuit is real connection with friends and family. So for 2017 … I’m praying for God’s grace to show up through less trying-to-act-perfect and more real-life-community. Through less idealizing and more getting into the nitty-gritty work of forgiveness, love, kindness, courage, and faith. Amen?

***

 

stories of shame, part 6: entering a new group

/ Heather Davis Nelson / Leave a comment

stories of shame blog button (1)

{Part 6 of a 10-part series entitled, “stories of shame.” Read the rest here.}

It had all the markings of a social-shame triggering situation:

  • New group of people
  • Desire to belong to new group of people
  • Representing not only me but my daughters (and their future social standing, added my inner critic)
  • Feelings of insecurity and self-doubt – do I have what it takes? I’m sure everyone else there is more qualified than I am. 

What, you might ask, was the event in question?

Team

Parents’ orientation at our daughters’ new school.

All of you veteran parents might be laughing a bit at this point. But just remember with me for a moment those feelings and doubts that you held before your child entered a new school. And kindergarten, at that. It’s their official beginning of all that school will be for them – the good, the sweet, and the bad and the ugly too. As I paused outside of the school building last night, I felt myself holding my breath and mentally replaying some of my memories of kindergarten. My beloved teacher, Mrs. Casey, is a highlight. My friend, Jenny, who I wanted to sit next to before I understood the “assigned seating” thing meant the teacher decided where you  sat. The girl with the same name as me (I kid you not – the only other “Heather Davis” I’ve ever known was in my same kindergarten class!). Learning to read with easy-reading books like “See Jane Run.” Meeting friends who to this day are in my life – Shelby and Kathryn – and being bridesmaids in their weddings and vice versa. It’s momentous.

For someone who loves social settings and fears them, too, you may understand why I was feeling a bit nervous last night before we walked into this auditorium. It wasn’t only my own social shame that was triggered, but the reality of my daughters’ shame-and-school narratives beginning in a new way, too, that made anxieties and insecurities rise to the surface.

Until I paused for a brief moment of prayer, admitting my anxiety to God (and then also out loud to my husband). The still, small voice of the Spirit answered back with the word, “authenticity.” I began thinking about my goal of the evening. Social shame told me my best bet was to be impressive all evening, from what I wore to how I spoke and interacted with other parents and the new school. Perhaps because I’ve been steeped in this truth I’m teaching others – that freedom from shame comes from encountering Jesus and acting according to a new narrative – I stepped out of this “must impress” mantra. I asked myself the question, “What if I was authentic tonight? What could it look like to be real instead of impressive?” The focus shifted from “impress” to “be real.” And being authentic reminded me that it’s likely that many other parents felt the same way I did – so how could I show up in a way that made space for them to feel insecure, too?

Instead of pasting on the got-it-all-together mask, I asked questions that showed I certainly didn’t have all the answers and felt a bit nervous about this whole kindergarten thing. We met other parents and were open about feeling a bit overwhelmed – as well as being authentic about who we are, what we do.

For its part, the school did a fabulous job reassuring all of us nervous parents through the headmaster’s words of warm welcome – saying that relationship is primary and acknowledging our collective nervousness. The kindergarten teachers resonated his welcome and answered all of our newbie questions, and we met new friends along the way who seem great, too.

Maybe best of all, social shame was dealt a major blow as I lived according to who I am, not who shame tells me to be, and as I focused on being authentic instead of being impressive. 

scattered chaos – or a story?

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

A half dozen (or more) children’s books are scattered in piles of two or three around the perimeter of our living room. The one most recently read lays atop our ottoman beside a discarded ballet slipper. Its pink partner sits in front of my husband’s recliner. A pink polka-dotted blanket is on top of the rug, and a paper airline peeks out from underneath the couch. Blue sparkly Cinderella shoes and fuzzy pink slippers grace another corner, and the pink bin of Legos sits opposite. A plastic green cup with a straw sits proudly beside the remote controls. Cushions are all in tact at the end of this day – and that says something.

In my more frustrated moments, I’d say this is scattered chaos. I look around and feel annoyed that I didn’t ask my daughters to pick things up before they went to bed. I’m annoyed with myself for not picking up more before grabbing my laptop to write a long overdue blog post. But then I try to remember how this mess tells a story of a full day well enjoyed by two five-year-old girls. The books are from reading time at the end of the day, me in one chair with one twin and my husband in another chair with her sister. Before this there were dance parties (hence the ballet slippers and Cinderella shoes) and a yoga session (note the blanket on the floor as makeshift mat). One twin adores her slippers and hates cold feet, so she wore them downstairs until the day’s play began. Another girl was thirsty before bedtime and so she brought in her ice water with a straw while being read stories.

In ten years, the mess will look very different.

In twenty years, we’ll miss the days that left behind such a scattered chaos.

I wish – I pray – that I would have the long view as I parent during what feels like a long summer in the midst of a long season of gloriously imaginative play and charming smiles punctuated by sibling conflict and mommy frustration.

My word of 2016 has been “rooted.” I haven’t written about it here before because, well, the book has taken a lot of air time. But it’s because of the book’s publication that I chose this word as a focus and prayer for this year. It can be too easy to get lost “in the clouds” of a book release, becoming a published author, engaging in speaking events I’d only dreamed of before – and forgetting my roots. The lovely, hard, sanctifying thing about motherhood and marriage is that my family roots me and grounds me in reality. There is laundry, and the dishes pile up when neglected, and meals need to be cooked and planned, and these ones I love are always present. Loving me and counting on me for their rootedness.

This task feels too immense. And it is until I remember where I am rooted. Deep in the eternal love of God, secured for me by Jesus Christ, spoken into my heart and soul by the Spirit. To be rooted in him, all I need to do is rest and abide and remember. Reading the Bible and praying and worshiping in our local church community help immensely. roots

The truth is that as I look around my living room this evening, the scattered chaos and the story it tells reminds me where I am rooted. Physically and emotionally – here with my family at a house in Virginia amidst a neighborhood and community of friends. Spiritually – I am rooted in a story that often looks to human eyes like the scattered chaos of this room. But it is telling a bigger story of redemption and hope and joy as the life of God is known through my work and play and parenting and marriage and friendship.

 

the Christmas of unexpected Joy

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 5 Comments

For a long time, 2015 will be remembered as the Christmas when we were barely hanging on, and the Advent of finding joy in unexpected places. I told my physician-brother a few months ago that if there were a clinical diagnosis for “too busy,” Seth and I would have met the criteria for it several months ago. It is just too easy for two over-achievers to keep doing and forget to rest, relax, and take a break. To focus on who really matters: God, each other, our daughters, and the family and friends we love dearly. And I guess I should speak for myself – Seth does a way better job of this taking a break than I do. My counseling heart and artistic impulse are gifts … but they have the dark side of my tendency to say “yes” to more people and projects than I can adequately follow through.

This fall has been the process of me taking a giant step back – a step out of leading our small group, teaching women’s Bible study, over-scheduling with extra-familial commitments and appointments, and a step back that culminated in a decision to take a sabbatical from my counseling practice starting January 1, 2016. There are many reasons for this particular timing – two of them being:

(1) My pastor-husband will be graciously receiving the gift of a sabbatical from our church from February through April (an every 7-years-rhythm they’ve established for the pastors) – and I want to join him for that.

(2) My first book is being released in June, and I needed/wanted space to devote to this venture.

In the stepping back, there is much that I already miss – chiefly among them, the courageous women and men I’ve had the privilege of sitting with and walking together through stories of love, loss, and hope despite the darkest of backgrounds. (I do find myself already counting down the months until I will reengage with this calling again!)

Yet this is the beauty of God’s gifts of realizing our limitations: the limitations form the boundaries of our truest calling.

Until I said no to over-scheduling, I couldn’t have known the joy of just being … of writing … of enjoying the gift of a quiet home the mornings our daughters are at preschool … of being present for their many unscheduled moments (highs & lows) that happen when I’m here to notice them. I couldn’t have known the frustrations that push me deeper into faith in a God who sees – the frustrations that come when I see how poorly I love my family for whom I profess undying love (and when I experience their imperfect love towards me, too).

And herein lies the beauty of this Christmas-Advent season: in slowing down (being forced to, might I add, due to a litany of never-ending illnesses), Joy still came. Despite what felt like barely hanging on in terms of health and the fullness of our days and the way we typically celebrate Christmas (lots of parties both hosted and attended, etc.) – Joy came in being still and quiet enough to notice The Greatest Gift, Jesus. Jesus ushered in the best gifts of this season:

  • grace given and received in the midst of fraying emotions and harried tasks
  • a beautiful painting by a dear friend
  • a necklace for this season, reminding me to “be still and know”
  • a bracelet from my beloved, and all the love that is patient that it represents
  • words to speak to you and to God – expressing my heart and inviting us deeper still into the mystery that is Jesus
  • many hot cups of tea sipped while editing the manuscript of a book I need more than anyone else possibly could
  • gifts from neighbors for us and our girls – and the gift of having great neighbors!
  • family and friends who continue to love us through our imperfect moments and to lavish us with their time, attention, and generosity

For all of these gifts … for the Greatest Gift to match my deepest need … all I can say is what’s been sung for generations (reminding you and me that “faithful” is not what we are in our own efforts, but what Jesus calls us who cling to him by faith):

o come all ye faithful

order your print from Etsy here

Day 5: it takes abundant grace {to raise twins}

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 3 Comments

How ironic/interesting/intriguing that just after Day 4’s post about learning dependence through having twins, we got hit with a new wave of overwhelming life events! And so now “day 5” of #write31days is happening on October 8th. I tend to panic if I’m behind what “should be.” I’m a mixture of type A and type B, enough type A to care about meeting deadlines and being on time, but too much type B to be able to consistently do so (without lots of stressing out for me and towards my family). I’d always known that having kids would prove challenging for the being-on-time part of me.

But having two babies at once? Well, that just blew right through any pretenses of punctuality and organization and having-it-all-together.

The problem is that I’ve been in denial and that I try to still act as if it’s only me who has to make it places on time. I do know after 36 years of self-observation how much time I need to get out the door on time. But five years into parenting twins, I still cannot predict how much time one or both of them will take to get out the door. We’ve had wonderful moments of speedy efficiency that surprised even me at their ability to get dressed-eat-breakfast-put-on-shoes-brush-teeth&hair-get-whatever-special-toys-they-must-have-today-and-grab-backpacks in order to get to preschool on time. The problem is that they trick me. I *know* that they can do all of the above in 15-20 minutes, so I assume that they *will* do all of the above in 15-20 minutes any given day of the week. Ha, ha, ha. Silly me. {For a hilarious YouTube video about this phenomena for all parents, check this out.}

The twin connection often means that one of them is operating under the “normal/fast/efficient” timeframe, but there is 100% more likelihood that her twin sister will not be.

And, no, it is not consistently one or the other. They trade off. So A. might be super-speedy on Monday, but L. has a freak-out because “I cannot find my LOVIE!!!!!!!” So then on Tuesday I make sure that L. has her lovie in plenty of time, but unbeknownst to me, A. is the one who will freak out because her green dress is “too SCRATCHY!!!!!!!”

It’s emotionally exhausting for someone who really, truly wants to be put-together but daily confronts the reality that I am not. The smallest things can tilt my well-ordered but precarious “balance.” And twins? Well – picture a supermarket after an earthquake (and an earthquake with multiple aftershocks). I’m still trying to put the pieces back together if I’m honest.

And I’m learning that there is no other better way to be than honest. Anything else? It’s too exhausting. 

During one of the hardest seasons of twin motherhood so far when the girls were 18-months-old, a friend introduced me to this poet-twin-mama, Sarah Dunning Park, who is beautiful inside and out and whose poetry book became a lifeline for me. Click here to read her poem “Resolution” which perfectly captures for me the gap between who I’d like to be and the reality of who I am – and she points to the grace needed to fill all those empty spaces.

If you want to continue to follow along, subscribe to my blog or like my Facebook page “Hidden Glory” to get updates. For the month of October, I’m participating in “Write31Days” and my series is “31 Days of Parenting Twins.” 

summer book report, a trio of “ordinary” books, part 2

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment
image from emilypfreeman.com/simply-tuesday/

image from emilypfreeman.com/simply-tuesday/

Following up from part 1 of my summer book report of “ordinary” books comes part 2 with a review of Simply Tuesday by Emily Freeman. I had to review it on a Tuesday. It was released on a Tuesday, and the premise of the book is that Tuesday is the most ordinary of days. It’s not the beginning of the week like Monday is, nor the happy weekend or almost-weekend days of Thursday through Sunday, nor is it celebrated as the half-way-through-the-week that Wednesday is. Tuesday is just simply Tuesday. And these are the type of moments and living that Emily writes about as where life happens which we too often overlook in our everyday hustle and bustle. Her ideas of this book are imaged by “bench living,” taking a moment to stop and sit and observe, sometimes solo and other times beside someone sitting next to us on the bench. Emily introduces her thesis this way:

I’m paying attention to the small ways that Jesus — and his kingdom — shows up in the daily ordinary, in the actual places where I live. When I think of where to find “the kingdom of God in our midst,” Tuesday comes to mind. This is the day of the week housing the regular, the ordinary, the plain, and the small. … What if we stopped asking God for big ways to serve him and started walking with our friend Jesus into the next simple moment in front of us?

Ouch. This really gets me. I want the next big moment or milestone for my kids, and I want the next big thing for me or our church or for our family. I can’t wait for my first book to release (next June 2016), or to be on a panel at The Gospel Coalition Women’s Conference next summer. Surely, these will be the big moments God will show up to me and through me. And while I hope and pray so, I also want to be someone who notices God showing up in the ordinary days, moments, and conversations between now and then.

I’ve never been good at that. Just ask my parents what it was like the week after I got home from a church youth retreat. I had experienced a spiritual highpoint, where God met me in new ways, but I struggled to put truth into action through loving my family in the day-in and day-out. As I write this, I wonder how much has changed.

I need Emily’s book and more books like hers which highlight the life-changing power of our daily moments, and the reality of God’s presence here, too. Her book talks about the gift of smallness, that home is what happens as we’re waiting for the next big thing,the importance of releasing outcomes to God, the problem of success and envy, how to lean into our limitations instead of resist them, relationships where we seek to know and be known rather to impress, and letting my soul speak its truth. Simply Tuesday is the third of her books I’ve read, and like the other two, Grace for the Good Girl, and A Million Little Ways, I come away feeling like I’ve walked a journey with a friend who speaks the words I couldn’t quite articulate myself. As she is honest with her heart and God’s presence in her ordinary moments of life, I find myself drawn to follow her down this path.

A few of my favorite quotes:

Until we begin to be honest about how these small interactions are shaping and forming us into either the ways of our earthly kingdoms or the ways of the eternal kingdom, we won’t know how to move into the brokenness of the world simply because we haven’t let Christ move into the brokenness of our own souls. (153)

Fear pushes both ways, you see — keeps you from doing things you might want to do and convinces you that you have to do things you don’t want to do. (208)

On the benches of community, I’m learning what it means to be honest and mature with myself first and then in the presence of others. I’m learning that I won’t move perfectly, but that must not keep me from moving at all. And my movement needs to be focused on building benches of connection rather than building walls of protection. If I’m competing with you I cannot connect with you. (211)

When we sit, we let what is be, we remember to release outcomes or at least finally admit how tightly we are clinging to them. When we sit, we let ourselves be human. (230)

If you haven’t bought this book yet, don’t wait! I’d love for you to share with me what you’re learning, and I’m sure that Emily would be even more honored.

***

One disclaimer: I received an advance reader’s copy of this book in order to help promote her book upon its release. I’m a few weeks late since it released three weeks ago but better late than never, right?!

Embracing imperfection, part 3 (or how imperfection frees me to create)

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment

I realize I’ve been away from this space for longer than usual. A few good reasons: vacation with extended family in South Carolina, and finishing the first draft of my book (Unashamed: healing our brokenness and finding freedom from shame, Crossway – to be published next June 2016). So I am reposting a favorite from last year in May. It was part of an ongoing series of “embracing perfection.” You can read the others here: part 1, part 2, part 4, and “July edition.”

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One of the first assignments was to draw a self-portrait. In crayon, no doubt. Sounds simple, childish even. And is that what paralyzed me in front of the box of 64 Crayolas? I would dare to take one crayon out, only to have to put it back because it didn’t seem quite right. Do I start with the eyes? or the nose? Or the outline of the face?

Trying to create art paralyzes me sometimes. And it’s my drive for perfection, to be perfect and produce perfection that often holds me back. Nestled underneath that desire is a fear of imperfect, of failure, of disapproval and messing up. When the art I’m working on is visual colors on a page, it can be easier to jump over that hurdle of fear mixed with desire – but when the art is words capturing ideas on a screen. Aahh. That can stop me in my tracks. I can honestly say that most times I begin to craft a blog post, I start with beating down the doubts inside of, “you have nothing to say … what new thing can you add to this topic that hasn’t already been written well [better] by someone else …?”

But I am called to show up and to offer myself, my story, my words, my heart. All of those are imperfect. The more you know any of me, the more you’ll see my imperfection. Yet I don’t want that to paralyze me, just like I don’t want that to hold you back from offering yourself either. In fact, when you (my friend, sibling, parent, husband, pastor) admit your imperfection, it frees me to acknowledge mine. And also to find strength not to allow my own imperfection hold me back from my offering. 

Emily Freeman is teaching me through her book A Million Little Ways. I read this yesterday, and inside I said “yes!”

Knowing we can’t fully live the words we call others to live can keep us from ever saying the words at all. … Just because you can’t fully live your life the way you so long to live it doesn’t mean you don’t fully believe it’s possible with all your heart. And it doesn’t mean you are forbidden to share what you’re learning unless you are living it perfectly. Christ is in you and wants to come out through you in a million little ways – through your strength and also your weakness, your abilities and also your lack. … God calls us his poem. And the job of the poem is to inspire. To sing. To express the full spectrum of the human experience – both the bright hope that comes with victory and the profound loss that accompanies defeat. We must make art, even in our weakness.

So what’s your poetry? Your imperfect poem you’re being asked to write today? For me, it’s a poorly rhymed poem expressing thanks to the preschool teachers my girls have learned from and loved this year, their first year of preschool that ends today (sad!). I offer it here, not because I think it’s beautiful art but because it’s imperfect art. Not my best poem and certainly won’t be published anywhere, but here’s to hoping that it will bring big smiles to the two women who have certainly brought big smiles to my three-year-old daughters in their first school experience.

You have taught us our letters,
And now we can count much better;
We know how to spell our names,
And follow the rules of a game.
 
We have learned to share
Under your tutelage and care.
We stand in line and wait
And can look at a calendar to find the date.
 
You’ve introduced us to school,
And how to follow its rules.
You’ve welcomed us with love
Reminding us of God above.
 
For all of this we say THANK YOU –
And that next year we will miss you! 

Five Minute Friday: tomorrow

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 2 Comments

We arrived home yesterday from a great several days’ getaway/conference in Orlando at The Gospel Coalition. More on that in a future post. Too much to process for now! Let’s say that returning home has been equal parts wonderful (twin 4-year-olds’ enthusiastic welcomes are the best!) and rough (where are the tropical breezes and the deep conversations?). Parenting is not for the faint of heart … I might have said that once or twice before?

I come here to Five Minute Friday, sliding in before midnight … to write in my favorite of regular blog activities. Five minutes of free writing on a given topic, hosted by Kate Motaung.

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photo from macstuff.net

photo from macstuff.net

Tomorrow.

Cue the theme song from Annie here. No, really, let’s talk about tomorrow. Tomorrow is when I will not be plagued by the sin and shame of parenting struggles. Tomorrow I will get organized, and work out, and write more, and be more loving. It is the holding place for all of my attempts at self-improvement and hoped-for answered prayers. 

No wonder tomorrow can feel so uncertain. Yet it is also hope-filled.

I lost it tonight when she kept crying uncontrollably, insisting on her way when I kept telling her she could not have it. I was patient and calm for about all of one minute, and then I unleashed my anger in a tirade of frustrated words. A parent at her wit’s end. A parent who feels out of control, as out of control as her daughter does. She was tired, up way past her bedtime; and I was tired of parenting (as was my husband). I just wanted her in bed and out of the way. And yikes, that sounds awful. That is (and was) raw emotion.

But I stepped away for a minute. Prayed, took a deep breath, and came back to her forgiving arms. We cuddled in close and I heard her whisper “‘give you” in response to my request for forgiveness. And I whispered to her about the promise of mercies that are new tomorrow. Strength for obedience that we both need. Grace to forgive that we’ll both need, too. And freedom not to be tied to today’s failures. 

Only in that hope can I face any of life’s tomorrows.

***

just how flexible are you?

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 7 Comments

I’m not referring to physical flexibility. For I am far from flexible in that category, and the V-sit reach in middle school was the bane of my existence. (Can anyone relate?) Compared to some people in my life (looking at my husband, wink, wink), I’m pretty flexible in terms of scheduling and plans. I usually prefer a loose can-be-changed-depending-on-the-needs-of-the-moment plan for each day. If my daughters are really engrossed in the book section at Barnes and Noble, for example, we will skip doing anything else at the mall. Or we might push lunchtime back a bit. And if I am caught up in a good conversation or a creative pursuit, I will always lose track of time.

But then enters a two month stretch that will push even the most flexible of people (which, sad to say, I am not). I am not exaggerating about all that our household has experienced in the first two months of 2015:

  1. A 4-week bout of continual illness from one person to another to another to another
  2. Discovering (and then the expensive removal of) raccoons in our attic
  3. Plumbing issues requiring a multiple-hour house call from our plumber
  4. Snowstorm #1, then snowstorm #2, and finally (?) snowstorm #3 in a two-week period of time [which = more homebound time since my area isn’t quite prepared for snow and has about 4.3 plows for the entire city]
  5. Cancelled and rescheduled speaking engagements
  6. Quite labor-intensive work weeks for my pastor-husband, between leading/organizing our missions conference mid-January and then preaching and about a million meetings in between
  7. Good news about getting a book contract, then see #s 1-4 above as to the limited amount of time available in which to write.

I’ve come face to face with the haunting truth that I am not flexible when I’m not the one in charge of changing the plans. My so-called “flexibility” when it comes to my daily schedule actually has more to do with my ability to change plans to fit in what I want most to do instead of a general proclivity to flexibility.

Where do I go from here? Well, back to the only place I know for hope and change: the grace of Christ. For behind all the shifting, changing plans, there is a Divine Planner – who is over it all, never surprised, and WITH ME THROUGH IT ALL. He loves me. That never changes, despite my bad attitude and my complaining, and my less-than-stellar parenting days lately. He loves me with a love that’s both inflexible (as in unchanging) and infinitely flexible (as in able to flex to what I need for each moment of each day).

day 22: expect

/ Heather Davis Nelson / 1 Comment
photo credit: churchleaders.com

photo credit: churchleaders.com

It implies hope of something certain. Yet what happens if what you expected clashes with the reality of what you’re given? Like the wife who says – “I never expected him to work so much,” or the husband who can’t understand why his wife is so distant. The parents who come quickly to their wit’s end with their 2-year-old or their teenager, and they say with desperate pleading, “I didn’t expect parenting to be this hard! When will it get easier?”

The hardest can be when I myself turn out differently than I expected. I never thought I would be the mom who struggled with anger, or the wife who wanted more alone time, or the friend who went “off the grid” when life felt too hard, or the pastor’s wife who would resent the church at times, or the counselor who grew cynical. But I have been all of these and more. And it’s surprising to me, yet not to the God who made me, who wrote out each of my days before they began. Though I do not meet my own expectations, God’s love for me always exceeds what I expect of Him. This brings hope – that there is a Love to carry me through all that I do (and especially what I do not) expect in life.

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Part of a 31-day writing series on various topics – 5 minutes of free writing each day. Read all of them here.