Our clothes dryer wasn’t working well, and I was irritated. I’d changed out the flexible vent tube behind the dryer and the lint trap. But it was still struggling. The dryer is the hero in this story though. I googled the symptoms of my dilemma and discovered that there was a duct in the wall that could be clogged. I had no idea about this duct winding its way in the wall back there. I assumed the outgoing air went directly to the outside of the house because the outside vent was directly behind the inside vent. I ordered a cleaning kit from Amazon that arrived overnight and then went to work the next morning. Let me say, the amount of wet lint that came out of that duct was disgusting. My boys thought it was gross, so that’s saying something. And it was frightening. We could’ve had a fire, a bad one. The dryer stopped heating to prevent a fire. Thank the Lord. 

I thought, I need to put out a PSA on social media. I’ve been a homeowner for over twenty years and didn’t know! I thought perhaps others needed to know about this potentially dangerous situation. But then I hesitated. What if I was the only one who didn’t know about this? I might look like an idiot. I could embarrass myself by sharing that story. I was spiraling with the what if’s and feeling like a bad mom for not realizing my mistake.

Perhaps my reaction is indicative of a larger problem though. We tend to put our best selves forward, especially on social media. We don’t want anyone to see our foibles, and we don’t want to admit our mistakes. Yet, we end up feeling isolated and alone believing we are the only ones going through whatever situation we face. I recently told a new mom that the newborn stage is emotional and exhausting. That I couldn’t believe I’d been so frustrated, almost angry, with baby Riley when she got her days and nights completely turned upside down. I was so tired and didn’t know what I was doing in those early days. She said no one seemed to understand how hard it was. But that’s because we don’t share our stories. Almost any mom if pressed would confess that those early days can be heaven and hell at the exact same time. When we see a newborn though, especially after our own kids are older, we coo and fawn over the baby and sometimes forget to support the mom who might be struggling. 

It’s the same experience in lots of other circumstances. We aren’t real with one another because that would make us vulnerable and expose our emotions. I try to be real with people so they can be real with me, so we can understand that we are not traveling difficult roads alone. Sometimes, there’s not a bright side on the near horizon and that’s okay. To let others know we will walk with them in the darkness without attempting to fix things or put on a happy face is the best medicine at times. To say, this really sucks and I’m sorry, may be the only thing that helps, so they don’t have to pretend that they’re okay when they aren’t. 

Life can be hard. It can be really hard when we feel alone. Let’s try to be more open and honest so that we can lift each other up. We can be real. We can ask for and give understanding. Our stories can help others avoid the same pitfalls we’ve endured. And maybe, go clean the dryer duct behind your wall so I feel my ignorance served a higher purpose in some small way. 

Next week, I will turn 49 years old. I admit that I was focused on turning the big 5-0 next year, but then my friend pointed out that my fiftieth year actually begins when I turn 49. I realized she was right – my birthday signifies the end of the forty-ninth year and the start of the fiftieth. That got me thinking. What did I want to accomplish before I turn 50? There are a couple of things that I want to complete before my next birthday. But the more I thought about it, the question became: how do I want to feel as I live out my fiftieth year?  

I’ve always looked at my birthday like New Year’s Day, as a time to take stock and set resolutions. My birthday falling close to the mid-year mark also gives me a chance to evaluate the year so far and hit reset in many ways. At the beginning of most years, I pick a word to set the tone for that year. At the start of 2023, I was sick and so I never got around to picking a word. But for the past few months, the word “alignment” has been speaking to me. And when I say that I mean it’s been popping up everywhere, in various books, devotionals, and prayers I’ve read. It’s like the word has been stalking me. Jumping up and down, waving and yelling for me to notice it. And so, as I have so many times before when a word decides to vie for my attention, I looked up the definition. Alignment is defined as (1) arrangement in a straight line, or in correct or appropriate relative positions or (2) a position of agreement or alliance. (Oxford Languages). I can work with these definitions. I’ve decided to make alignment my word as I embark on my fiftieth year.  

I want to make decisions that are arranged in appropriate relative positions to the life I want to lead. I can’t give the same amount of attention to everything. I need to prioritize my commitments so that I invest my energy into the people and communities I hold most important. When I determine whether to say yes or no to a request, I hope to feel that my choices agree with who I am and who I want to be.  That my actions are in sync with my values and beliefs. I’d like to be in an alliance with myself as well instead of acting as my own worst enemy. To support myself by striking a balance so that I feel satisfied. I want to be in right relationship with me. 

When I am in alignment, I know it. I feel it. Sometimes I ignore my need to be in alignment though. I agree to do something because I want others to like me, or I think I “should” do it based on other’s standards. But if I’m not acting authentically, if I’m not being true to myself, I will be out of alignment and open the door for resentment and discontent. A particular quote from Oprah caught my eye during this time of discernment: “The meaning of wisdom for me is recognizing the moment when what you know aligns perfectly with what you feel.” Sounds on point to me.

So, during this upcoming fiftieth year, I will focus on attaining alignment with myself. Not perfection because that’s impossible, just simply seeking more alignment. I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to have earned it. 

The new Barbie movie, written and directed by Greta Gerwig, premieres next week on July 21, 2023. Margot Robbie is the perfect real-life Barbie, especially with the spot-on fashions she’s worn to each of the movie media events. When she wore an outfit that transformed from a business suit to a cocktail dress on the red carpet, I was delighted because I had the Day-to Night Barbie who inspired the look. I’ve noticed the “Barbie-core” pink flood of fashion in stores, and I’m here for it. I don’t know if the movie will be good or not, but I already appreciate it because of the sense of nostalgia I’ve experienced. I’ve loved Barbie for virtually my entire life. When I was about four years old, my older cousins asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and “Barbie” popped out of my mouth. They gifted me the Malibu Barbie and Ken complete with dark tans and impressive tan lines, and that was it: I was in love.

Throughout the years, my collection of Barbies grew. My Mom sewed tiny, beautiful clothes for them. One of my most favorite Christmas gifts from my parents was the fabulous Barbie Dreamhouse. My Dad meticulously assembled the impressive structure so that it sat under the Christmas tree ready for play. I cannot count the number of times I dressed my dolls, brushed their hair, and decorated their house. My imagination grew as I weaved stories of their adventures in my head. I posed them in their house and in their remote-control car, which had the remote control attached by an actual wire to the back of the car.

I know that there are body image issues with Barbie. I even used her distorted proportions in a speech I gave in college about skewed portrayals of women’s bodies in the world, which was way before social media created more drastic problems. But I couldn’t help it, I still loved her, and everyone knew it. My law school friends hosted a bridal shower for me complete with a Barbie cake. The cake portion formed a giant ballgown around the doll standing in the center. At the end of my federal clerkship, my co-workers tweaked a Barbie so that she became “Law Clerk Tina.” As an adult, I’ve bought or been given a Bridal Barbie, a Snow White Barbie, an Elvis Ken with a Barbie in a poodle skirt. I bought a President Barbie for my daughter Riley the year she was born. 

Thinking back over my Barbie memories, I’m filled with happiness, comfort, and security. But not just because I enjoyed playing with the toy as a means of entertainment or because it enhanced and strengthened my imagination. I also feel warmth because of the relationships those memories represent. In almost every instance, my family and friends are connected to my recollections. I can still feel their love when I recall my Barbie days. And that is what makes the whole phenomenon more special to me.

The other day, we were at another movie and saw a promotion for the Barbie movie. You could stand in a Barbie box for a photo. I waited in a short line of other middle-aged women who wanted their pictures taken. And then, wearing my “MOM” sweatshirt, I proudly posed for my Barbie moment. Barbie, a beloved part of my core memories – past, present, and forever. 

“Mom, what’s wrong? You look stressed,” my son Alex, who is almost 11, asked from the backseat of the van. He’d arrived back from camp a few days earlier and with that he’d brought his special brand of intuition home. He always knows when I’m feeling off kilter. There’s no point in telling him that nothing is wrong because he won’t buy it. So, I said, “I’m worried about your sister.” Riley is at camp working for ten weeks and doesn’t have access to her phone often. I was worried after my last conversation with her because I didn’t know if and how she’d resolved an issue she’d shared with me. Alex asked if anything had happened. I said, “Sometimes she just gets in her own way.” Alex wisely responded, “We all do sometimes. She’ll figure it out.”    

We all get in our own way sometimes. I know I do. I let my anxiety about what could go wrong in a situation stop me from taking a chance. My fear of failure limits my willingness to risk. Lately, this has played out in my writing. I have a project I’ve started, but I can’t get into a regular rhythm of writing. I’m struggling. But I know deep down, the reason I’ve been hesitant is because I’m afraid that my writing won’t be good enough. That I’m not good enough. I’m blocking my progress. I’m standing in my own way. 

Obviously, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten into my own head resulting in self-sabotage. And that’s why I worry so much about my kids when I fear that they’re letting their fear stop them from acting courageously. Alex’s confidence that Riley would figure it out made me realize that I don’t always trust others, including my children, to figure it out on their own. Instead, I give my advice whether they want it or not. I think I know what they should do, and don’t hold back.

But it’s often easier to spot the thoughts and actions holding another person back than it is to notice our own behavior. I couldn’t ignore my own blind spot any longer though after Alex pointed out that we all get in our own way. I realized that I’m the only person stopping me from getting to work in earnest on my project. I also came to understand that I don’t necessarily trust myself to figure out what I should do to move forward. Let me say, it’s not a good feeling to realize you don’t have faith in yourself. 

Alex has faith in Riley and me both though. He told me that my worry was a sign that I loved her and that was a good thing. He checked in on me several times that day, reassuring me that Riley would be okay. He even got a tumbler of ice water for me when he thought I needed it. Perhaps one way to move toward confidence in ourselves is to express our lack thereof to someone who loves us and can believe in us until we can believe in ourselves. My backseat Yoda is home from camp just in time to give me the boost I need to get out of my way and trust that others can do the same if I offer them a dose of belief as well. 

I traveled to Northeast Arkansas last week to visit my family while the kids were at camp and Ben was at work. I also visited two boutiques that I love and are a must when I’m in town. When I got home on Tuesday, I emptied my shopping bags turning them over so that everything fell out on the kitchen table. As I sorted through my purchases and receipts, I turned over a small piece of paper and was shocked to see this written in marker: “LOVED.” I don’t know which young woman in what boutique slipped this in with my purchases, but the message and the fact that it was in the bag stopped me in my tracks. 

I’d told several of my friends that I was going to Arkansas. Some of them know that I don’t love driving the eight hours by myself, so I usually break up the trip into two days. All of them knew that my dad is struggling with the effects of Parkinson’s disease and that I was going with he and my mom to a doctor’s appointment. They understood that the trip could be emotionally difficult for me. Over the course of the week, I received numerous texts from each of them. “When are you leaving for AR? Be safe. Tell your mom I said hi.” “Safe travels and will be thinking of you.” “Did you make it ok?” “Praying.” “How did today’s doctor’s appointment go?” “Keeping you and your parents in my prayers.” “Know that you (and your family) are loved beyond measure.” 

Loved. Just like the tag from the store said. I felt covered in love by my friends the entire time I was away from home. Their acts of checking in on me, their messages of love and support, meant the world to me. I felt buoyed by their love because they thought of me and took time to reach out. Letting me know that I was on their minds and in their prayers was exactly what I needed. 

On part of my drive home, I listened to an audio of Brené Brown teaching a class on “The Power of Vulnerability.” One of her famous quotes is “When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.” We all need to be reminded that we deserve love and belonging, not because of what we produce or what we do for a living or how much money we have, but simply because we exist. We need reminders though that we are worthy of love and belonging. Reminders, like texts, may be all it takes to let someone know that you love them. I know for me, those texts from my friends were all I needed.       

So, let’s try to keep in mind that small gestures can go a long way to show others that they are loved. And if you’re going through a difficult time right now, please remember that You. Are. Loved. Period.  

The other day, I was paying for a car wash when the woman asked if I wanted to upgrade from my single wash to a monthly plan in which I could wash my van twice a day, every day for the month. I declined her offer and thought who would wash their care twice a day every single day of the month? As I pulled into the car wash, I grabbed a microfiber cloth I keep in the car to wipe dust off the dashboard as the machine pulled my van through the wash. But when I looked up and saw the water running down the windshield, I stopped cleaning. I realized that the inside of the car was quiet except for the sound of the water. It was captivating. For a minute, I was surrounded by silence.  

I also thought back to a memory I hadn’t recalled in a long, long time. When we were kids, my brother and I loved to go through the carwash in our parents’ station wagon. We were delighted when the big blue shaggy roller would come down on the car. I smiled remembering how excited we got when we went to the carwash even though it seems silly now. Simple entertainment, but we thought it was so fun.

I often think that if I’m going to have time alone, I need a weekend or longer away from the stresses of everyday life. But I wonder what would happen if I looked for small pockets of time to find restoration? Many of us look for every opportunity to multi-task, me included. If I’m on the phone, I try to find something I can accomplish at the same time. Recently, my daughter Riley called from her job as camp counselor and was particularly attuned to any sound that demonstrated my distraction. “Mom, that is so loud. Please stop,” she said even though I thought I was being discreet performing my additional task. She called me out on the fact that I was not focused completely. But just as I was too busy cleaning the dash of my van to realize I had a moment to be still and enjoy quiet, I was too intent on performing some other job instead of listening well and building my relationship with my child.     

As for entertainment, sometimes we fall into the trap of believing it must be elaborate and expensive. Perhaps though, we are looking at it through the wrong lens. Now, I’m not saying my kids, three of which are teenagers, would find the carwash amusing. At this point in their lives, the oldest two wash their own cars. But what if the goal is togetherness no matter what we are doing? When I was a kid, the carwash was fun because my brother and I were in it together. Laughing with one another was the key to the happiness we found in that small, everyday circumstance.  

Maybe we can reframe the way we view some of our daily tasks and look for time in our schedules to both be alone and be together. Those small moments of renewal may help lessen the stress we carry most of the time. And perhaps I’ll rethink that monthly carwash plan after all…

On May 6, 2023, Ed Sheeran opened his North American tour in Dallas at the stadium where the Dallas Cowboys play. We took our boys to the concert because we all love Ed. The week before the scheduled concert though, I worried that it might not happen because Ed was defending himself in a New York courtroom in a civil suit.  He’d been sued for copyright infringement by the heirs of the writer of another song. They claimed that a portion of Ed’s song “Thinking Out Loud” copied part of their father’s song too closely. Ed vigorously defended himself, and even said he might quit music if the jury found him liable. He explained that only twelve notes exist in music and that popular music uses a limited number of chords, which consist of three or more notes, so some similarities flow through all songs. The jury found Ed not liable a couple of days before our show, and on the night of the show, he said, “I’ve really been looking forward to playing this one” before he launched into “Thinking Out Loud” as we all cheered.

I’m not a musician, but Ed’s statements stuck with me. Only twelve notes and even fewer chords used in popular music. And yet, every single day artists write, record, and produce new music. We hear new songs on the radio every week, and they do not all sound the same. In fact, musicians often break new ground and create new sounds. The possibilities are limitless in part because the musicians who create the music are different from one another. They hear music in their minds that doesn’t yet exist and when they bring it to fruition, the rest of us are allowed to enjoy it. But what if they didn’t create the music they hear? We’d all be the lesser for it.

Sometimes, we fall into the trap of thinking it’s all been done before. This is hard for writers especially; we may find ourselves inspired by our imaginations and then sabotage ourselves by comparing ourselves to other authors. We question whether every story has already been told. It’s not just artists who suffer from this type of imposter syndrome though. If we have an idea for a project or a new way of doing something – in business, for the PTA, at church, in our communities, or for our families – we often talk ourselves out of pursuing them because we decide that someone somewhere must’ve done it already. How could we be the one who comes up with something new? But that’s where our individuality comes into play. No one is exactly like you. No one has experienced life in the exact same way as you. No one has the same thoughts, mental filters, or emotional responses that you have. When you bring your unique self to the situation, you will have a different take from another person. 

Maybe there are only twelve notes and because of that we share similar lives and stories. But the person who creates the song is distinct and irreplaceable. What happens if we decide to show up as our authentic selves and believe that we have something special to offer the world? The world would be better because of it.

I recently drove by the prettiest tree with green leaves and purple flowers. Then, I saw the same type of tree everywhere – in my neighborhood and in the landscaping in the parking lots at Alex’s karate studio, Target, and office buildings. I’m sure the blooms won’t last long, and the trees will simply be green for the rest of the summer, but for the time being, they’re gorgeous. This is our seventeenth summer in North Texas, and we’ve lived in the same house and city the entire time. It’s not like the trees are new because they are tall and mature. And yet I’ve never noticed this type of tree before now, but once I saw them, I couldn’t unsee them. 

At first, it bothered me that I’d been so unobservant. I couldn’t understand how I’d missed them. Was I so distracted I didn’t see beauty in front of me? Was I so busy or stressed about other things that I was unable to “stop and smell the roses” so to speak? But then, I reframed the situation. Maybe if after all these years, I could find something previously unnoticed that now brings me joy, then I might discover other opportunities to notice things that I haven’t yet identified in nature, in my community, and in the people I know.  

During the Covid lockdown in the spring of 2020, we obviously spent a lot of time together as a family with Ben working at home and the kids Zooming in for school. During that time, I realized that my son Clay, who was 10 at the time, was much more laid back than the rest of us. I’d assumed that we were all high strung and anxiety prone as that was my frame of reference, but because we were together as a family 24/7 for months, I saw his personality in stark contrast to his siblings, Ben, and I. Clay had an innate ability to let things roll off his back. He didn’t get as upset or worried as the rest of us. He didn’t have strong opinions on what we ate or what movie we watched. I felt like a bad parent because I hadn’t truly grasped his easy-going traits before then, but once I saw and understood his way of being, I couldn’t unsee it. Instead, over the past three years, I’ve been highly cognizant of his personality and have made sure we press him for his opinions at times so that he feels seen and heard. 

While I’ve felt some distress for not noticing things that perhaps should’ve been more obvious to me, I’ve decided to focus on the beauty inherent when I notice things for the first time. If we remain open to learning new things and willing to let go of our assumptions about situations or people, we may find our hearts and minds expand. We can better appreciate the true essence and authentic nature of the people who fill our lives with meaning if we allow them to show us who they are.

I’ve taken a bunch of pictures of all the purple flowered trees I’ve seen in the past couple of weeks. In part to capture their beauty, but also to remind me to be open to the beauty that can catch us by surprise and teach us how to see with new eyes.   

Earlier this year, we were leaving my son’s high school basketball game after a loss when someone ran into the back of my van. Of course, I was immediately mad, threw the car into park, stepped out in the dark, and slammed my driver’s side door behind me with quite a bit of force. I started to walk to the back of the van to confront the person who’d hit me when I heard a voice say, “It’s me.” I recognized the person who’d hit me as one of our fellow basketball parents and a friend of ours. Instantly, the anger left me. “Are you okay?” I asked, now worried about my friend. Thankfully, we were all fine. I told my friend, “I hate that this happened, but since it did, I’m glad it was you.” I trusted him and knew he would make sure my car was fixed.  

This semester, I took two back-to-back classes in which we studied the Biblical prophets. Some of the prophetic readings were tough and disturbing, but the themes that arose most prominently for me were that God wants us to care for the oppressed, needy, and poor. God wants us to seek social justice. God does not want us to worship wealth and power. Jesus also followed the prophetic tradition in his teachings about how to treat people and his actions toward others, especially those who were marginalized. At one point, Jesus was asked about the greatest commandment. “Jesus answered, ‘The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.’” (Mark 12:29-31).

Love God. Love your neighbor. Sounds easy. But I’ve been thinking about my reaction to the rear-end car incident. I was so angry and ready to give a piece of mind to the other person until I recognized that person was my friend. My reaction in that situation was not my best. I think I may engage in that type of behavior more than I care to admit. I don’t always recognize people as my neighbors right off the bat. When I encounter people whose beliefs diverge from mine or who live different lives than mine, I may see them as “other” instead of my neighbor. And I may keep them at arm’s length so that I don’t have to accept them as my neighbors. 

I think our human nature is to distance ourselves from anyone who differs from us. Fear and self-preservation may cause us to act defensively. When we don’t move beyond our initial assessment that another is different from us, we most likely will never consider them our neighbor. We won’t consider them part of our community. We won’t see them as God’s beloved children. And when we don’t see others as our neighbors, we may fail to help them in their times of need or when they are denied their rights leading to oppression. By denying them as our neighbors, we fail to do what God asks of us. 

My neighbors aren’t just those who are already my friends. I need to remember that everyone is my neighbor even though that may be difficult at times. God expects as much. 

The day of his fifth-grade Celebration of Learning, aka “graduation,” Alex was emotionally tied in knots before school. First, I didn’t have his usual breakfast food available. I don’t know how I messed up the grocery run that week, but I didn’t have either of the options he normally wants. Then, while I was trying to talk him into eating something, he insisted that he needed to put on his nice clothes before I thought he should. I didn’t want him to get food (not that he wanted to eat what I’d offered) or toothpaste on his clothes. He kept saying, “I can’t be late!” Ben and I reminded him that he’d never been late for school. I said, “This is supposed to be fun. It’s a celebration.” Then he exclaimed, “Not all celebrations are fun!” And I felt that in my bones. 

When we prepare to attend a big event, I often feel anxious because of the logistics, like what to wear and how to get there, including directions, traffic, parking. The anxiety that accompanies the anticipation of the event can make it much harder to enjoy the occasion once I arrive. I need to really settle in and calm myself to be present for the performance, game, or ceremony. Of course, that assumes that the people around me won’t talk through the event if they’re supposed to be quiet, won’t stand in front of me the entire time, or launch their phones high in the air blocking my view. And those are the times we are just going to something that someone else has planned. 

When I plan or host a gathering, the stress can be almost overwhelming. If it’s at our house, we must clean and declutter. The areas of the house that need improvement become glaringly obvious. I have friends who are wonderful hostesses, they can pull off a dinner party with a beautiful homemade meal without breaking a sweat. That is certainly not my gift, and I admire those who make it look easy. 

While Alex’s comment that not all celebrations are fun resonated with me, it also made me reflect a little deeper. Do I allow my anxiety to deplete my joy? Do I focus too much on the negative so that I leave little room to celebrate? The answer to those questions is a resounding yes. But as demonstrated by Alex, there’s both nature and nurture involved in this situation. He and I have a bit of a genetic predisposition to worry. Okay, more than a bit. Let’s just say, Alex comes by it honestly.

So, what are we to do? Instead of just giving up and giving in to our natural tendencies, I realized that I could work on the nurture part of this dilemma for Alex and I. When we have an event to attend, I need to be more aware of how I approach it. I can pause before I get worked up in anticipatory anxiety. And if I can do that better, maybe Alex can also feel better about upcoming events. Perhaps I should focus on the reason for the celebration instead of the issues that might arise. If I can keep the happiness of the occasion in the front of my mind, maybe the logistics and my concerns will take a lesser position on the anxiety spectrum.

Celebrations are supposed to be inherently happy. Marking an important or special occasion may not ever be completely stress-free for me, but I’ve decided to try and concentrate on the joy for myself and for Alex. By the way, we both enjoyed his graduation – after we got through the anxiety hurdles. Hopefully next time we can move toward the fun with fewer obstacles, especially the ones we create for ourselves.