Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve written a little bit. But I haven’t posted anything. It wasn’t good enough. It might offend someone. It might be interpreted in a way I didn’t mean. Someone might argue with me, and I won’t be able to defend myself.
I’ve read some really powerful things lately. Books and stories that have left me raw. And I think, “I’m not as good as them. Should I even bother?”
I guess I’m afraid.
Writers talk a lot about fear. About the fears I listed above. And how overcoming those are the biggest struggle.
I think about fear a lot. I’ll be the first one to tell a friend that fear is trying to hold them back. That fear is a way to stop really big things from happening. That we can’t give in to fear, that we have to overcome it. All the cliché things.
But here I am, letting fear win. Letting fear hold me back, letting it get in the way of potentially really big things. Or small things. I’m giving in to fear.
Because fear would rather I binge watch another episode of Parenthood. Or that I go to bed early and sleep as late as I can. Or that I watch YouTube videos in the 20 minutes I have to spare, rather than writing for those precious minutes.
I think fear sometimes manifests as laziness. Laziness is comfortable and mind-numbing. It can be easy to justify and hard to come out from under. Once you’ve settled into lazy, it’s hard to leave. All things fear loves.
So I’m going to try and stop fear from stopping me. I’m going to write (and post) things that are hard to write (and post). I’m going to let amazing writing inspire me, instead of intimidate me. It still might be slow to come, and it still might not be the best writing, but it’ll be out there. It’ll be better than fear.
Like clockwork, the first week of March is when the novelty of winter officially wears off. It’s no longer charming. It’s a nuisance and I want it to go away.
Listen, I’m as much of a fan of four different seasons as the next person. But seriously… I’m ready for days where I can go outside in one layer. Heck, I’ll even settle for two layers. I don’t want to wear mittens or scarves. I don’t want to avoid running errands because it’s just too cold to go outside. I don’t want to white-knuckle drive while people slip and slide all over the place. In fact, this year for the first time ever, my windshield froze over WHILE I was driving. On the highway.
I’m done.
But today, winter tried to win me over again. A friend shared a post with me on Facebook. A snowy challenge was issued in a park located right behind my condo.
I was intrigued.
I called up my neighbour Caroline, and we decided to check it out for ourselves. We bundled up and went searching for snow ghosts.
That’s right. Snow ghosts.
And we found this sign.
“Your mission if you choose to accept it: go forth and multiply”
And one lonely snow ghost.
One lonely snowghost.
So we obeyed the sign and went forth and multiplied.
Caroline was the brains behind our snowghost.
Snowghost selfless are hard.
And then there were two…
Not a great photo, but trust me, there’s two.
Okay winter. I still don’t love you, but thank you for a fun evening adventure. I’ll put up with you for a little while longer, I suppose…
I was 8 years-old before I learned to ride a bike.
For many hours during many summers, my dad would hold the back of my bike seat up and down the street while I tried to figure it out. I couldn’t understand how to keep my balance on just two thin wheels.
“You have to go faster if you don’t want to fall,” he’d explained.
I stood by my bike and contemplated this while my little brother whizzed passed me on two wheels.
The trick to riding a bike is so counter-intuitive. To learn to do most things, you have go slow before you go fast. You have to walk before you run. You have to master the side streets before you drive on the highway.
But riding a bike, you have to go fast to learn how to do it. “You have to go faster if you don’t want to fall.”
And I don’t do a whole lot fast. I can run 5K, but it takes me a long time. I’m that car that prefers to drive in the slow lane most of the time. My walking pace is so slow that it’s known as the “Turner Walk” by my high school friends. They’ll gladly give you a demonstration too. 12 years later, they still think it’s the funniest thing in the world.
So it’s no wonder the “you have to go faster” bike riding concept was difficult to wrap my head around.
Slow and steady. Take the time to get comfortable before ramping up the speed. I’ll get there eventually. These thoughts often go through my mind.
But just like riding a bike, sometimes you have to go faster if you don’t want to fall.
Sometimes there isn’t time to think and plan and prepare. Sometimes you have to get up to full speed before you figure out what the heck you’re doing. Some decisions have to be made quickly. You don’t have time to weigh options and plan. You just have to act.
I put an offer on my very first condo about 20 minutes after I saw it. The offer was accepted 12 hours later, and I moved in five weeks after that.
Painting my new condo.
I cried a lot the day the offer was accepted. I don’t do fast, and this all happened so so fast. It was so foreign to me, and therefore completely overwhelmed me. In fact, when my realtor called to tell me the offer was accepted, I cried, “I change my mind! I don’t want it anymore!” She kindly explained that I didn’t have a choice. There’s no such thing as buyer’s remorse when it comes to property. I had dived in and I was going to have to swim.
But if I didn’t make that decision quickly, I wouldn’t be sitting here in my little corner of the sky four years later. I wouldn’t have learned that sometimes you have to act fast and figure out what you’re doing as you go.
My dad was right. Sometimes you have to go faster if you don’t want to fall.
There’s a lot of bad TV out there. So it’s surprising that there is (well, was) a show that so brutally beautifully shows what love looks like. In fact, with shows about rose ceremonies and people who are famous for no reason and who’s-the-father talk shows, TV is the last place you’d look for poignant, heart-wrenching examples of what love looks like.
But this show. Oh this show.
And I could talk about the incredible writing because I’m blown away by it. Or I could talk about the stunning cinematography and the sound track and how the most beautiful scenes don’t involve any talking, but music overtop of raw emotion. And the acting. Oh the acting. Because all of these things amount to the most incredible six seasons of television that I’m heartbroken are over.
But since the series finale on Thursday (the most satisfying finale I’ve ever seen), I can’t stop thinking about how Parenthood shows what love looks like.
Love looks like living room dance parties.
Love looks like baby showers and Thanksgiving dinners in hospital waiting rooms.
Love looks like an uncle teaching his nephew how to throw a baseball because his father is in rehab.
Love looks like being a pirate in the backyard with your son who has just been diagnosed with Aspergers, when you don’t really understand and would rather he play baseball, but you wear a bandana and an eye patch anyway.
Love looks like all three of your siblings individually deciding to come over the first night your kids are at their dad’s new apartment. And then having a living room dance party.
Love looks like a dad fighting tears as his daughter who is away at college demands that he tells her the truth about her mother’s cancer diagnosis.
Love looks like accepting any new member of the family. Whether it’s a newborn baby, an adopted 10 year-old son, or an estranged 4 year-old boy.
Love looks like a grandfather taking his granddaughter to the wreck yard to see the destroyed car she almost died in after drinking and driving, and telling her that he dreamed her before she was born and she’s not allowed to mess with his dreams.
Love looks like telling your wife to spend an extra week in Europe painting when you really just want her to come home and stop pursuing a passion without you.
Love looks like cheering on your niece/nephew/brother/sister/cousin at baseball games, school recitals and graduations.
Love looks like a mom explaining racism to a 6 year-old. A 6 year-old who has a white dad and a black mom who hears the N-word for the first time and wonders what it means. And having to explain to him that he might still be discriminated against, but we’ve come so far. And a dad who’s heart breaks because this is a hurt he can’t experience and can’t understand.
Love looks like accepting your daughter who brings home a girl, and it’s not a big deal because she’s your daughter and you love her.
Love looks like making sacrifices so your husband can pursue a dream job with his brother.
Love looks like being vulnerable with your wife, your siblings and your kids. Admitting mistakes, admitting to being overwhelmed, admitting to needing help.
Love looks like not giving up. Not when your son throws a bat through the patio door, not when it seems like your kid will never make eye contact, not when the doctors say there’s nothing else they can do.
And now this show, oh this show, is over. But it will live on on Netflix. Find it, watch it, and embrace the fact that the rumours are true. You will cry. And you will love it.
Last May, I went on an epic New York City trip with my cousin, Katie, and two of our friends, Kerri and Carey. The planning for this trip started almost 10 months before the 4-day trip.
Pre-If/Then
In October, I was texting with Kerri about how excited I was and said, “May is so far away! I can’t wait”.
“But the anticipation is part of the fun!” She wrote back.
I rolled my eyes. I wanted the trip to start tomorrow!
But she was right.
Central Park jump shot
I had so much fun planning excursions and researching places to eat. We had excited emails back and forth about who was bringing what and how many shoes and does anyone have an NYC subway map and do we even need one?
The planning and anticipation was part of the fun, and we totally bonded in the anticipation of this trip. The “waiting” was part of what made it so special.
Central Park
I say “I can’t wait” a lot. I can’t wait for the end of the day. I can’t wait for Friday. I can’t wait for Christmas. I can’t wait for the water to boil. I can’t wait to see this friend or try that restaurant.
But the truth is, I can wait because I have to wait. For the simple fact that time travel isn’t a thing yet.
Though, I guess we’ve come closer. We don’t have to wait for the next episode of a TV show. We don’t have to wait for coffee to be brewed. With “tap and go” credit cards, we don’t even have to wait for a receipt to be printed.
Everything happens right away. So when we do have to wait, it feels unnatural.
Jeff Goins writes this in his book The In-Between, Embracing the Tension Between Now and the Next Big Thing:
“Our culture has conditioned us to expect instant results and overnight success; this impatience runs so rampant that we dress it up in terms like “efficiency” and “productivity.” But really what’s happening is we are conditioning ourselves to get what we want now, all the time. This mindset robs us of the lessons that waiting can teach us, causing us to miss out on the slow but important stuff of life.”
How often do we say “I can’t wait” and then look back and say “wow time flies!”? We’re rooting for time to hurry up, and the next breath, we’re wondering where it went. We’re wishing time away when we actually want more of it.
I’m going to try and eliminate “I can’t wait” from my vocabulary. Because waiting is important. When we wait, we have the opportunity to plan and anticipate and dream. And our plans and anticipations and dreams become clearer in the waiting period.
“We were made to wait, to long for things unseen. This is the place from which dreams and desires come.” – Jeff Goins
The Percys are a family that I knew of, before I knew them well. Because everyone knows the Percys. Or knows someone who knows them. Six Degrees of the Percys is a fun game to play.
Photo by Bamboo Life Photography
Joel was a pastor at my church.
Julianne’s parents were friends with my aunt and uncle, and know my parents. Her mom is the only person that refers to me as “Maurice’s daughter” (and I kind of love that).
Joel’s dad was my boss’s pastor for a long time.
My friend’s sister got to know them while they were both living in Africa years ago.
Then Joel started working for the same company as me.
And then they had twins, just a few months before my coworker had twins.
Then Joel and I worked on the same team.
But I really got to know the Percys two years ago (almost to the day) when I joined their home church.
Once a week, I’d spend a few hours in their house (which, turns out, is less than a kilometer from my house) with a dozen or two other people. We’d talk about life and the Bible. We’d celebrate happy things and walk through messy things. We’d put on some amazing potlucks. We’d volunteer together, make meals for people who needed them, and play board games together.
I got to know their twins, Micah and Caleb, who would sing songs together in their beds while home church happened downstairs. I’d babysit and we’d build forts, go for bike rides in the rain, and I’d answer questions like “Are there Christmas decorations in jail?” or “What do zebras say?”
Selfie in our fort
And all of a sudden, the Percys were no longer a family I knew of, they were a family I knew. And loved. They poured into me. They invited me over. They asked for my help in practical ways. They encouraged me as a leader in the group, and supported me and another friend as we transitioned into taking over their leadership role in our home church.
Because it’s hard for them to lead a home church when you live in Africa. That’s right, the Percys are moving to Zambia. For three years.
They are leaving steady jobs where they are both very skilled and respected, and will be working at Macha International Christian School. They are leaving their families, their house, their cars, their steps-away-from-whatever-they’d-like lives. Because they know God is calling them to Macha. Because they have a heart for Africa and the people there.
And if that wasn’t enough of a life change, they are expecting a tiny little miracle who will join the world in July. I smile every time I think about that.
They are choosing butterflies in a gigantic way.
We are all so in awe of the Percys. They are doing something so hard, so counter-cultural, because they feel led. Because they want to serve. They are living a meaningful story that will not only impact the people in Macha, but people here. Because being brave begets being brave.
I’m so honoured to know the Percys and to call them friends. I’m going to miss them so much. But I’m excited for their next chapter, and so inspired by the story they are living with their lives.
If you’d like to support the Percys or follow along on their journey, visit their blog at www.micsitup.com.
I can almost always tell you what I was doing a year ago. A year ago from today, I was getting over a really bad flu and this was the first day I could eat. I went shopping and met a friend for coffee.
I also knew I was going to take a course that would require me to start a blog. The blog was percolating. I knew I wanted it to be about trying hard things. I knew it was going to be about doing things outside of my comfort zone. It was around this time that the phrase “choose butterflies” crossed my mind. And I knew that was what this was going to be about.
Since that moment, “choose butterflies” has become a mantra. Not just in my life, but in other’s too. Because being brave begets being brave.
And while I’m sure blogs all over the world will recap the year, I’m hopping on that bandwagon too. Because I’ve learned a lot this year.
Photo by geralt, creative commons
Life is made up of choices. We can choose to do what’s easy or we can choose to what’s hard. It is entirely up to us. No one else.
Being outside of your comfort zone doesn’t necessarily mean jumping out of a plane. It could mean dropping food off for a family that’s grieving. It could mean going on a coffee date. It could mean cheering on someone else when you’d rather they stay put.
A job doesn’t define you. It doesn’t define what’s good about you or what’s bad about you. It doesn’t define your worth. It might be where your passion lies, it might not be. But it’s just part of who you are.
God is good. He is bigger than our problems. That is always true.
Sometimes all you have to do is show up. You don’t have to solve someone’s problems or say something profound or be everything to that person. Sometimes you just show up. You sit in the muckiness.
Life is meant to be done in community. We’re not meant to do it alone. Find people that love you, challenge you, sit with you. And then love, challenge and sit with them right back.
Read non-fiction books. Read books that make you think new things, and consider new perspectives. And then reread them. Underline them, make them messy, share them.
Find something that amazes and excites you. For me, that’s anything to do with Broadway.
Find something that calms you right down, where you find peace and presence. For me, that’s anywhere by the water.
A year ago today I hopped on a plane to NYC for 15 hours that changed how I look at Broadway.
It all started in October, when I read that a group of creative people were bringing a concert version of Hit List to life.
For the majority of you who say “Hit List? Like the YTV show from the 90s?” let me clear this up. Hit List was one of the fake musicals in the TV show Smash, which was a short-lived drama about the behind the scenes of Broadway. I still maintain that it was one of the best TV shows ever and I’m so sad it only lived on TV for two seasons.
Anyway, back to October. I emailed the link to my good friend Lyndsay right away. I think all the email said was “this would be amazing!”
Her response: “Let’s go!”
Me: “That’s crazy! We can’t!”
Her: “It is crazy, but we can.”
So we bought tickets without a real plan, and a number of obstacles to overcome. The show was on a Monday night. We both had jobs with limited vacation time. We live 750 kilometres from where the show was playing.
But within 24 hours we had plane tickets and a hotel in order. Lyndsay could only take one day of vacation, so she took two half days, working Monday morning and Tuesday afternoon…with a brief trip to New York City in between. Crazy!
The plan was in place. We were going to New York for 20 hours. Which actually ended up being about 15 because our flight was delayed. And let me tell you, when you plan to fly into NYC only a few hours before a show like this, and then your flight keeps getting delayed in 15 and 30 minute intervals for three hours, it is crazy stressful.
But because of the flight delay, we ended up going straight to the venue. And because we went straight to the venue, we were early. And since we were early, we had front row seats at what was already an intimate venue. Literally, my knees were pressed against the stage.
This was our view of the stage.
And of the performers.
Andy Mientus, Jeremy Jordan and Krysta Rodriguez
And Andy Mientus sat next to Lyndsay in between his scenes.
Lyndsay looks so calm. You should’ve seen her face when she kicked me under the table to take this photo!
The show was incredible. The energy in the room was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. This clip captures a hint of what it was like to be there.
(Fast forward to 2:20…and yes, that is my head bobbing around at the 2:25 mark and onwards)
It was a room full of Broadway people who were in love with this show and this concept. A room full of fans and friends of the people who wrote Hit List and the people performing it.
What’s really cool is that the people involved with Hit List are crazy talented, but relatively undiscovered. And now I’ve seen them live, met them, and can’t wait to follow their careers. Because they will do amazing things.
With Krysta Rodriguez (and yes that is Zachary Levi in the background!)
With Jeremy Jordan
Witnessing Hit List took my love of Broadway and added fire. It’s no longer just about the shows, but about the people who create the shows and bring them to life. This is a community of people who are creative and talented and dedicated to what they do. They chose a career that was risky and hard and full of rejection. But they do it because they love it, and need it. It’s who they are.
Understanding this has changed the way I look at any live theatre, especially Broadway. It’s hard for me to truly express the amount of respect and love I have for the Broadway community.
But Lyndsay gets it. And that’s because we both loved Broadway and then saw Hit List. The seed was planted and Hit List helped it flourish. We experienced it together. We raced from the airport to the show. We sat in awe soaking it all up. We talked to the performers and we listened to them talk about how special the Hit List experience was.
And it’s all because Lyndsay said “let’s go.” She turned “this would be amazing” to a real amazing experience.
We all need a Lyndsay in our life. Someone whose passion for something matches our own, and then says “let’s go” when we’re too cautious to entertain the idea of going.
I think one of the biggest mistakes we make is to think that using our gifts should be easy.
If you are a gifted writer, inspired writing should just flow out of you.
If you are a gifted caregiver, you should instinctively know what another person needs and wants.
If you are a gifted speaker, you should delight in the opportunity to speak in front of an audience.
Right?
Not at all.
Meet Bruxy. Bruxy is the teaching pastor at my church. This means that most Sundays, he gets up on stage and delivers a message to about 2000 people live, and a few thousand more who attend other sites or listen online.
While the message itself is always intensely researched, well planned and poignant, the way he delivers it is crazy engaging.
He’s energetic, passionate, and hilarious. One of my favourite lines from a message was “dude has glory!” when talking about Tony Danza.
Just see for yourself.
See? He’s a fantastic speaker! Completely charismatic and engaging. There’s no doubt that this is a gift.
But he’s honest about the struggle to speak. Every. Single. Time.
He’s shared a few times that he panics on Saturday nights thinking about Sunday mornings. That it’s a mental battle for his introverted self to get up on stage.
Every. Single. Time.
That’s hard to believe when you watch him on stage. You would never know it’s hard. It appears to be so easy. But it’s totally against his natural tendencies.
And what if he didn’t fight those natural tendencies? What if he said “speaking is too uncomfortable for me, so it’s clearly not something I’m designed to do”?
Then there would be hundreds (maybe thousands) of people who would not be following Jesus.
Then there would be thousands of people with deep questions about God stuck inside them.
Then there would so many lonely people seeking community with nowhere to find it.
But Bruxy realizes that using a gift God gave him isn’t always a comfortable experience…and he speaks anyway. And lives have changed.
It’s a flat out lie that when we’re gifted at something, it’s easy to do. And if we believe that lie, then we stop using our gifts.
Often using our gifts means we need to step outside of our comfort zone. It means facing criticism, failure and hurt feelings. We’re led to believe that somehow using our gifts protects us from that stuff. And while it does no such thing, it does give us reason to push through.
Because you know, in that deep place of your heart, that you are supposed to use these gifts. You can’t describe it, but you know the world will miss out if you stop.
When I’m planning to work out, I become the queen of excuses.
There’s a chance it could rain, I shouldn’t risk it.
I had that cookie today, I might not be able to run as well.
I had that salad today. I don’t really need to go to the gym.
My hair actually looks nice today. I bet I could make it last another day. If I exercise, I’ll have to wash it and it’ll be a waste.
Really, why am I not happy with the way my body looks? Shouldn’t I just be comfortable in my own skin?
Exercising is a mental game. If I can shut out these excuses and put on workout clothes, I’m always happy on the other side of the workout.
And the excuse making doesn’t just happen when it comes to working out. It also happens any time I try to choose butterflies. Going on a date (Is being single really so bad?). Signing up for a networking event (It takes too long to drive into the city, it’s not worth it). Walking into a party where I only know a few people (No one will miss me if I’m not there).
But anytime I can shut out these excuses and follow through, I’m glad I did it…well maybe that’s not true for every date, but we won’t go there.
And the excuse making is amplified when it comes to big life decisions. Those “turning point” decisions, as Donald Miller calls them. The doors you walk through and things are never the same again.
One of the biggest excuses I make when I’m working up to a big life decision is “I’m still in planning mode.”
Don’t get me wrong. Planning is good. It’s important. Especially when it comes to big life decisions. Do not quit your job without a plan. Do not move across the world/country/ city without working through the logistics. Do not take a trip around the world without doing research.
But at some point, you need to honestly consider if your planning has turned into procrastinating.
Because plans without action are meaningless.
Yes, it’s hard to put down the books, charts and pro/con lists, and accept the new job, call a realtor, or book a plane ticket. To move out of planning mode and into action mode is like crossing a wobbly, wooden bridge. You’re not sure you’ll make it across, and even if you do, you’re not sure what’s on the other side.
Photo by Don Cload, Creative Commons
But just like finishing a run, leaving a party, or heading home after a first date, the other side feels okay. And sometimes, it feels more than okay, it feels awesome.
And it’s not so much the activity itself, because sometimes those suck. Bad runs, parties and dates are realities. And big life decisions are, at times, going to feel pretty sucky too. Because anytime you step outside of your comfort zone, there are elements that are going to suck. There will be times you wish that you could slide back into your comfort zone.
But even when it all sucks, you still did it. You shut out all the excuses and did it. That’s the part that feels awesome no matter what.
Choosing Butterflies 