Warning Flags!

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I got up early one day this week and headed into work with an extra spring in my step. I was looking forward to some concentrated time to attend to several tasks that needed to be completed by the end of the week and was expecting about two hours of almost uninterrupted time to focus on them. I was charged up to be super productive, and I drove to work practically whistling “Hi ho, Hi ho!”

I parked my car, walked into the building, and ascended two flights of stairs, excited to get right at my work. However, when I walked into our office and saw our office assistant on the phone, I had an uneasy feeling. A 7:55am phone call could mean one of two things: 1) a student was cancelling instruction, or 2) a staff member was calling in late or sick.

I quickly learned that it was the second option, and I would need to cover a session with a student, sacrificing one of my coveted hours of uninterrupted work.

My inspiration and positive attitude quickly turned to frustration and irritation. I mentally stomped through the center gathering materials, grumbling under my breath about how I would be behind for the rest of the day.

I was annoyed, and it was going to take real work to shift my attitude.

Now, I love working with students, but this was not the morning I had expected. The plan that had me whistling and practically skipping into work had been altered, and my psyche was flung from enthusiasm to disappointment. I had to take action so that I could still give my student — and myself — a quality hour of instruction.

With set jaw, I mentally talked myself down — certainly I can recover from one lost hour. I could ask our office assistant to reschedule an appointment, I thought, logging into my computer. I could still get everything done. My blood pressure was coming down; it’ll be ok, I thought. Then, I settled in with my student.

By the time we were finished with our surprisingly fun and effective session, I had mentally realigned my tasks and developed a new set of expectations for how the rest of my morning would go.

And then, you guessed it, my office manager informed me that after my meeting, I would have to take another student hour and sacrifice my newly adapted plan.

I bet you are thinking that at the second change in plans, I much more easily adapted.

Nope.

I am quite sure my face said it all, “I am not happy. This is not how I pictured my day going.” I glowered and muttered a few discontented comments as I looked at my calendar and my list of tasks. I was definitely and obviously frustrated.

Once again, I talked myself down: Ok, Ok, shift this here, shift that there. It’ll be fine. Come on; you’re a professional. I completed a couple of tasks and then moved into the meeting. I celebrated with a parent who shared some great news, I fully enjoyed my second hour of instruction, and I did, actually, manage to once again redistribute my work and make another plan for its completion before the end of the week.

Everything I was hoping to get done, would get done; it just wouldn’t happen in the way that I had expected.

So here’s the question: why did these small interruptions make me so upset? Why couldn’t I more easily shift gears? Why did I get emotional at each transition?

I retold this saga to my husband when I got home that day, still kind of simmering emotionally. “Why,” I asked him, “why did this make me so upset? I hate feeling this way! I want to be a team player, to go with the flow, to step in and help. Why is it so hard for me to shift gears?”

He, the therapist, said, “That’s your flag. When you respond to something in a way that seems off, you need to ask yourself why.”

As we talked some more, we unearthed a couple of things that were bothering me — some stressors that I hadn’t been realizing were stressors– and I made a plan to address them.

By the next day I was able to communicate some of those frustrations with the people who had the ability to do something about them. This allowed me to stop burying my emotions and, rather, express them appropriately.

I am feeling stretched thin. I am disappointed by this reality. I don’t feel heard.

When I stated my grievances, I was told, “Please be sure to share these things when they come up; don’t carry them around for so long.” But, you know what? I didn’t know how much I was bothered until I started paying attention to the flags.

When my husband said, “That’s your flag,” several images popped up in my mind of other times recently when my emotions flipped like a switch as a result of seemingly insignificant circumstances. I thought to myself, I’ve been overreacting to small things for quite a few weeks. I guess I have been more bothered than I was aware.

This has, of course, happened throughout my life. I’ve snapped at an inconvenience, I’ve growled at a surprise turn of events, and I’ve stomped and slammed when the people in my life didn’t behave in the way that I expected them to. However, rather than noticing these behaviors as flags, I often just chided myself and felt guilty for reacting so emotionally.

I saw myself as too emotional — I cried too much, laughed too loud, and had big emotional responses to almost everything. But I’ve come to see my emotions as a gift — they reveal what’s going on inside of me when I am unaware, and they stand by the side of the road, waving bright red flags so that I’ll stop and take notice. They draw my attention to internal hurts and frustrations so that I will do the work that allows me to be present for others.

Paying attention to the flags this week helped me unearth the real issues. I was never upset that a coworker called in or that I needed to work with a student when I wasn’t planning on it. I was upset for legitimate reasons that had nothing to do with the current situation. I just wasn’t allowing myself to admit it.

Now that I’ve acknowledged some underlying stressors and have some strategies for managing them, I’m hoping to have a more balanced response to the unexpected changes that will undoubtedly arise this week. Maybe when my plans get rearranged, I’ll be able to roll with the punches, unfazed.

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:6

for my Stephen

Twenty-one years ago today, twelve days after his due date, my son arrived after a mere four hours of labor weighing over ten pounds — and so began a life that has been marked by a refusal to conform to expectations.

Born to two extremely type-A personalities, this kid is so laid back that behaviorists have almost decided to create a type-C.  He does everything when he wants to, not when convention has determined he should.  For instance, he walked at nine months, but potty trained at three years. At six, he read Popular Science and asked if he could learn how to play the violin– about the same time that we were trying to teach him how to ride a bike.   When all his classmates were looking forward to senior year, he decided to take the GED and try out college.  At twenty-one, he still doesn’t have a license to drive a car, even though he’s driven many vehicles, including large Army machinery.

Some people are impressed with my kid. I mean he’s good-looking, he’s run hundreds of miles already this year, and for his job he has fired weapons and jumped out of planes.  He can talk about any kind of music, or history, or art, or religion or simply laugh with you while watching slapstick. He can clean and reassemble a weapon in no time flat, cook a killer breakfast, and alter or embellish his own clothing.

Some people get annoyed with him. I’ve been there myself — when he disassembled the thermostat when he was two, tried to melt crayons in my oven when he was seven, and got kicked off the school bus for ‘testing’ the emergency door when he was ten. Teachers wrung their hands when he couldn’t be bothered to do homework because he had a “philosophical objection to it.”  He argues sometimes just for the sake of arguing.

Most people are confused by him. Why would he not want to graduate with his class? Why would he decide to join the Army at seventeen? What do you mean he doesn’t want to drive or buy a car? He runs how many miles a week? Studies Art History? Attends college classes when he’s home on leave?

Me? I love the kid. He invades my space, pushes my boundaries, alters my plans, and makes me laugh.  He has refused to be what others have expected him to be, even when they have mocked him, bullied him, or shunned him.  He has continued to stand tall and determine for himself what paths he will take. What could make me prouder? Not one thing.

Over twenty-one years ago I was sound asleep in my bed when I suddenly woke in the middle of the night.  Although I was large with child, we had no idea if we would be having a boy or a girl. In that midnight moment, I felt an overwhelming urge to pray for this unborn child who I felt compelled to name ‘Stephen’.  I felt led to pray that he would have the staying power, as did the Biblical Stephen, to stand in the middle of the rock-throwers and not crumble, to hold true to his faith and his convictions even when others didn’t agree or understand. I was a little overwhelmed in that moment — not knowing what our guy would be up against.  But I’ve watched him for twenty-one years now. I’ve seen him defend his faith, share it with others (even during boot camp or in the belly of an aircraft), and I’ve seen him take his share of rocks.  Let me assure you that God heard that prayer so many years ago. He has made my boy into a man who can stand and not crumble.

 Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom…. and they chose Stephen, a man full of faith and of the Holy Spirit..

from Acts 7

Expect the Unexpected

If today was any indication, living in Ann Arbor is going to be all about being still and expecting the unexpected. 

This,  my first day in Ann Arbor, was our 24th wedding anniversary.  My husband treated me to breakfast out at a quaint coffee shop near our new home.  A couple of eggs, some potatoes, and bacon joined a great cup of coffee to make me a very content wife.  We finished so that we could get back to the house to meet the movers who said they would arrive around 11:30 or noon.  While we were still in the car, the moving coordinator called to say it would be more like 1:00-1:30.  No problem, we would take the dog for a walk in the mean time. 

So, we enjoyed a leisurely walk near the river and returned in time to make a coffee run before the movers would arrive.  The second coffee shop of the day did not disappoint — excellent coffee and a delicious gluten-free brownie!  We got back to the house and received a call from the movers announcing that it would be another hour “or so.”  We decided to relax and rest until they got to there.  

While we were resting, one of my husband’s coworkers arrived with a cooler full of food — chicken, ribs, brisket, beans, veggies, and champagne — to help us celebrate our anniversary!  Since the movers had still not arrived, we invited them in to chat for a while. While we visited, the phone rang again. The movers had arrived at our destination, but were not able to maneuver the narrow drive back to our house.  They would have to reload our possessions onto a smaller truck tonight and deliver them tomorrow morning!  

So, we took another walk, on a different side of the river.  We returned home and ate some of the delicious food that had been delivered earlier and enjoyed chatting with one another.  

I forgot to mention that due to construction the power in our building had been out since early in the morning.  We had spent the whole day in the house with no TV, no Internet, and no lights.   We had spent the whole day talking to one another. 

We took the third walk of the day to pick up our mail.  We ran into people that my husband has been working with and chatted with them.  We returned home and talked some more. 

This day was nothing like i planned.  I expected that we would be directing movers and unloading boxes the entire day of our anniversary.  Instead, we spent the day sharing coffee, walks, and talks.  Am I disappointed?  Nope.  

One day when Jesus was teaching the masses, the disciples suggested that the people had been there long enough and that Jesus should send them away so that they could find themselves something to eat.  Jesus did something they didn’t expect.  He suggested that they feed the crowds themselves.  With five loaves and two fish, they were able to feed 5,000 people, with tons of food leftover.  They weren’t expecting that at all!  Were they disappointed?  Nope. 

Perhaps one of the lessons I will be learning this year is to be still enough to watch what God is doing instead of trying to do so much myself.  Because we weren’t busy with the move today, we had time to talk to several of my husband’s coworkers, but more importantly, we had time, after eleven months apart, to talk to one another on the anniversary of the day that we committed to walk together  “’til death do us part.”  I think I am going to like being here, being still here, that is. 

And tomorrow, the movers will come….or not.  I’m just going to watch and see what happens.