Stand Still in the Standstill

We sat facing each other in a not-so-busy salad spot. When it was my turn to share, self-professed external processor extraordinaire that I am, I blurted out all the questions and the doubts and the anxiety I'd been feeling. My friend, ever-patient and thoughtful, listened. When I finally took a long breath, she reminded me not to diminish the realities I have been facing, then shared how I'd just expressed what she was feeling in her own process. We laughed. She's as internal as I am external and I genuinely had no idea that her current experience was so closely relating to mine. I wasn't happy with the reality that she was struggling, too, but I sure felt thankful to know I wasn't alone. 

We went on to talk about the challenge to stay the course when faced with the ongoing uncertainties existing within this life in the in-between. She shared how she had recently been wondering what it meant to keep going when she didn't know that she could. I nodded profusely. Who wants to go back, right? But, how does one go forward when you feel like you don't know that you can? Then she offered this powerful realization she had recently:

"What if you just stand still?" 

We both teared up. Wow. What IF you just stand still? 

Standing still might seem terrible. I mean, aren't we supposed to make progress? After all:

Fake it till you make it. 

Don't give up.

Keep going.

At least these are the things I heard when I thought about making an intentional choice to simply stand still. And, there's merit to these thoughts. Sometimes, continuing to move forward through the challenges is the right course.

For instance, when she and I were standing in line to order lunch, I told her how I'm so not into eating salad or any green thing resembling salad right now. (And, I LOVE salad... I really do...) But, sometimes you eat the salad because you know your appetite will eventually catch up with what's good for you when you keep choosing it. When, like me, you're eating all of the sugar in sight (Jessica Bott Stress Behavior 101), there are times when you pull out a big leafy piece of kale from the fridge, wash it and eat it whole; or maybe you suggest that you and your friend meet to have lunch at the salad place, because that's what's good for you even though you don't want it. So, there's that...

But what if you're really at a standstill? What if you don't know that you can keep going, but you KNOW that you really don't want to go back from the place you've just left (or are leaving)? (...even if it would be so much easier just to go back and even if you really could go back.) 

Standing still in the in-between place isn't a declaration of failure. It's like a little pause. From this vantage point, we can swivel our gaze back in the direction from whence we came to remind ourselves that we don't want to go back. We can also look at what's in immediate proximity to us—we can notice what's real right here. Plus, we can continue to look ahead and contemplate where we're going. It's possible that we may just need a little breather to regain our courage and strength to take the next little step.

It's like mountain climbing. One summer a friend and I took a couple R&R days up in Vail after a conference we attended. Vail Mountain has this beautiful trail called Berry Picker and we set out early enough to tackle the climb and enjoy the view from the top before the afternoon thunderstorms would roll in. My life wasn't super great during that season and the 20-25 extra pounds on my body didn't make the experience easy for me. I can't count the number of times I had to stop on an incline to catch my breath, drink water and refocus. There were so many times I wanted to quit. I sent my friend ahead of me so she could enjoy the experience more fully without all of the rest stops. I remember feeling so much shame along the way.

I felt ashamed that I'd let myself grow so unhealthy.

I felt ashamed that I'd held my friend up along the way.

I felt ashamed that I couldn't do something well that used to come so easily for me.

I felt ashamed for feeling ashamed.

Have we talked about what a nasty and terrible "friend" shame is? We'll come back to that in the future. Suffice it to say, it was a hard day.

What I remember now about that experience, though is how I finished the hike. I didn't give up. I was slow and I was exhausted. BUT, when I reached the summit and took in one of my favorite views (as I laid on the ground panting as though my life depended on it, mind you), I felt hope. I experienced beauty. I reconnected with my friend and heard about her experience on the trail. When we took the gondola back down into the Village, I saw what I'd accomplished with fresh perspective. I'd climbed THAT mountain. The one right over there! It just took me a bit longer to summit, is all.

Have you been there?

Are you there now?

So...

Maybe like me, you've cut the tethering cord tying you to the consistent, safe place and you've already leaped from the cliff edge.

Maybe, like the friend I was having lunch with this week, you've lit the fuse and you're waiting for the big "boom" that's to come in the not so distant future.

In either case, maybe you just need to stand still in the standstill. The courage will come. The energy will return. You will regain your strength. You will move forward. When you can.

Instead of a list of questions this week, why not take a few minutes to be quiet. Listen to your heartbeat. Listen to your breath. Get in touch with your thoughts and your feelings. Remind yourself that it's really going to be okay. Somehow, some way, it will be. There is grace and there is mercy for you right here.

Life in the In-Between

Summertime throughout my childhood was marked by make-believe play, tv, drinking pop and afternoon thunderstorms. Mom and Dad both worked, and when we were old enough we were left in the capable hands of ourselves, under the supervision of my older brother. I have so many memories of those summers, but the thunderstorms stand out the most.

Day in and out, thunderheads would form high in the sky above us. The landscape would grow darker and darker as one set of menacing clouds joined another, forming one gigantic storm. The Rockies would change before our eyes, becoming less majestic and more foreboding. Then the thunder would begin with its powerful rumbles signifying the unleashing of the weather upon us. Bolts of lightning would light up the interior of the thunderheads and at times, shoot down beneath the cloud cover to strike where they may.  

Our German Shepherd would fight his way into the house and into the bathroom tub or down into the basement. He and I shared the same sentiment: "Get me out of here!" I'd run to the large window of our walk-out basement, facing the rolling range of the back acreage, to trace the line of clouds as far as my eyes could see to determine whether the familiar circular motion of a funnel cloud was forming or not. I'd watch the colors, hoping they stayed gray, free of the green haze that came from the atmospheric change signaling the possibility of a tornado.

When I caught a glimpse of a low, straight line along the cloud horizon that seemed likely to form a funnel, I'd run the 30 steps to my bedroom and prepare for the worst. Pulling my comforter, stuffed animals, pillows, Bible and a flashlight into my closet, I'd shut myself in and pray. Where were my siblings? I have no idea. I'd lose track of the reality that I wasn't physically alone, somehow. At the end of a storm, I'd resurface and trace the lines in the clouds, once again, to ensure all was safe. Life would go back to normal, on that side of the storm.

Growing older, I noticed how my posture towards these storms changed. In fact, I've grown to love and appreciate thunderstorms. There's something about the build up, the anticipation of the storm. When it comes, there's a release. The atmosphere shifts, often bringing cooler temperatures and a deep sigh. No doubt that storms can create damage, but this truth doesn't diminish the reality that there's something awe-inspiring about them. When they're over, I've seen how I have fresh perspective and appreciation for my life—just as it is.

I've been thinking a lot about storms as they pertain to our lives this week. We're standing in one piece of land for a time, then a storm moves through and gives us the opportunity to reflect on what we want, what we value. The aftermath has this way of revealing what we internalized in the middle of it, in the waiting. We see our lives and the land differently after waiting out a storm. 

Yesterday, a friend shared another metaphor with me— this one, involving archery. She shared how the arrow has to be pulled back to the place of greatest tension before it can be released in order to hit its target. When it's not pulled back far enough, it lacks the momentum required to make it to the bullseye. And, when a person isn't lined up correctly and releases the arrow too soon, it also results in a miss. Tension and timing are everything. 

Often, we don't want to experience the tension, or the storm for that matter. It's uncomfortable to stay put, so maybe we jump in too soon or hide away hoping it'll pass. Maybe we don't embrace the tension to the fullest extent because it's just too hard to stay in it. Mixed metaphors aside, today, I'm encouraging us to stay. 

New "seeing" awaits us on the other side of the storms we face in our lives. Perhaps we have the new ground in clear view, just ahead. Maybe we're wondering what it takes to cross the threshold, but we're experiencing the tension of being pulled back tightly in the waiting. We don't want to release the arrow too soon. We want it to hit the bullseye.

The waiting itself might seem like a storm. But, perhaps things aren't correctly lined up just yet. Wouldn't we rather wait so we might actually hit our target? Waiting can feel unproductive and painful. Believe me when I tell you that I live the reality of this truth regularly. I like to achieve and when I see the green lights in a direction, I'm ready to go. To be held back by a storm, or the appearance of a storm, feels awful. But, then I remember the beautiful aftermath... 

The air clears, there's a fresh vitality to the land and all of that build up created space for a wonderful release. Each time I take a step forward from this place, I really do experience gratitude—it's cultivated in me through the process. I find myself saying, "If only I had known..." 

So today, I remind you that you do know. You've been here before and you made it. It's not that you didn't struggle or that you walked away without being affected by the experience, but you lived. I think that's the point.

Life is full of tension and storms. What matters is our view of them and what we allow them to accomplish in us. We cannot take new ground in our lives without this tension and without the storms. They actually show us what we're made of and give us the opportunity to authentically live from that place by showing us what we really, really want. Not only that, but they reveal who we really are at the core.

So...

• Where are you experiencing a storm today? 
• What do you think about it? What do you feel about it? 
• What would it mean for the trajectory of your life if you willingly stayed the course through the tension you're experiencing there? 
• Will you?