What a word. Everywhere we look today we see billboards imploring us to feel and look confident, we constantly hear from the media how we are to be strong, dominant, and aggressive in order to be perceived as confident, and in fact, in resumés, this keyword is one of the most frequently used self-decriptors. For who wants to appear that they have a lack of confidence? You would never see as the opening line in a cover letter "My name is so-and-so, I am the VP of a very successful company, have consistently achieved above average results, I am dependable, reliable, but I have confidence issues". No way! We all want to appear like we have it together, even though many of us, myself included still don't have a decent grasp on what true confidence is.
I've been thinking a lot about this issue lately, and it has been coming up in many different forms, through conversations with friends and things I've been reading. A question was posed to me by a good friend a couple of weeks ago, and at the time, I had no good answer. She mentioned to me that her confidence, the confidence that seemed so strong in her younger years, had simply evaporated in recent years. She asked me how we, as twenty-somethings, could regain this confidence. I, coincidentally, had been feeling this exact same thing. We lamented about the loss of our "boldness", our feelings of inadequacy, and our total inability to be assertive and blunt like we had been when we were younger.
After thinking about this more, I came to a very interesting conclusion. At first, I thought, Gee, I miss this confidence. It enabled me to say and do things without regard to how it would be perceived. It enabled me to go places and do things that others thought crazy. It allowed me to speak my mind, and to not worry about the reception. When I first started thinking about this, I will admit, I quietly mourned those days. Any friend of mine (especially older friends) would likely testify that I have been a very direct, forward, un-shy person who will absolutely not stay away from sharing my opinion. While this is true about my younger self, my older self has a certain aversion to these qualities. As I pondered this, something hit me like a ton of bricks.
In the Bible, there is a story about two men who each build a house. As I'm sure you know, one builds his house on the soft sand, and the other builds his house on the rock. When storms come barreling towards the two homes, of course, the one who built his house on the rock still has a house, however battered, at the end of the day. The foolish man, however, whose house was built on the sand has nothing but bits of plywood and nails to show for it (PS, this is the Whitney translation... if you'd like the original version, you can find it in Matthew 7.) The moral here is that I used to think this story referred ONLY to the message of salvation. Follow Jesus, and your house will stand, don't and it will collapse. As I think more about this, though, I have begun to see how this story is applicable in so many areas of life.
One such area is this exact topic. Confidence. The confidence I mourned, the confidence of my younger years is just that, an immature, young confidence. As I have thought more about it, I really delved deep into where this so-called confidence came from. What I found was a very ugly portrayal of my deepest sins. The "confidence" I had was based on judgment, hypocrisy, and on my OWN understanding of the world and the things in it. I was confident, alright, but I was confident for the wrong reasons. I would look at someone else and start to mentally pick them apart. I would hear someone's accomplishments, and instead of congratulating them, I would try to one-up them. I would see someone's achievements and goals and I would push myself to the absolute brink to beat them and to achieve better results. Of course I felt great on the surface. People congratulated me for my awards, I had immense pride in my abilities. But, you know what they say... pride comes before the fall.
Somehow, as I've grown older, I have realized that I was like the foolish man who built his house on the sand. I had built my confidence entirely on two very shaky principles. The first, and most dangerous, was my own self-understanding. I had a go-getter attitude that told me that I could handle my own issues myself. The second problem was that I used other people to feel good about myself. Maybe not directly, but certainly mentally. This instilled in me an immense bitterness toward others, a tendency to belittle or make light of others' opinions and wreaked and is still wreaking havoc on my relationships.
For a long time, I identified these negative qualities in myself, but had no idea where the root was. In realizing these issues and dealing with them, I always said to myself "at least you still have confidence". What the Lord has been teaching me so much lately, though, is that the more I chip away at the foundation of this immature "confidence", the less secure the confident appearance on top is. It is like an immense rock, balancing on a miniscule pedestal that is threatening to collapse at any moment. I feel less confident at this moment in my life than I ever have. And I think it's healthy. I would rather feel totally unconfident, as long as I am leaning on the Lord, than have all the confidence in the world, leaning on and using other people. It is as simple as that. I have total faith, however, that through my brokenness the Lord will pick up the pieces and instill in me the confidence I desire. If I have pure motivations and intentions, I fully believe that I will be able to gain the right kind of confidence, one built from the ground up, steadily and with intention, rather than the kind of my past - one where I haphazardly constructed the facade of my confidence and worked desperately to support it from the bottom through my own limited abilities.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
"This is Lovely"
Today was really one of my least favorite days I've had in a while. Prior to about 5:00, I would have told you that I was becoming a cave woman and moving to Madagascar, where I didn't have to bother with interacting with anybody but me, myself and I. This option seems very appealing to me on days like today, where I am forced to contend with work drama, relational issues, miscommunications, issues to be resolved, embarrassment in front of a group of people, emotional rollercoasters, and a general feeling of inadequacy and disappointment. Sounds like a lot - and it is. The fact that I process things emotionally also wasn't helped by my extremely full schedule. I went from one meeting to another to another, and over the day, things built up to a very, very dangerous level (hence the Madagascar talk). It is on days like these that I really get down. I get in a funk, and I can't seem to see the silver lining in any situation, get easily frustrated, feel inadequate, and generally need a good sleep to reset myself and start over again.
Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.
Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.
Today was no exception. I came home from work, ate a couple of leftover potstickers, and immediately headed to my other job, nannying. This job is really hit or miss as far as the kids go. Some days, they're perfect, fun, and mind me. On other days, they are crazy, restless, stubborn, and that's just the beginning. As I walked the brief distance to their house, I began pondering what kind of day I was about to have. My mind immediately led me to the worst assumption, and I entered the house ready for a battle. What happened next didn't disappoint. The boy, age 7, was throwing a gargantuan fit about not doing his 15 minutes of required reading. It was suggested that he could read to me out loud to satisfy this portion of the homework. I begrudgingly agreed, and we sat down on the couch together as he read. Every thirty seconds he asked how much longer he had, but as I listened to his adorable lisp-accented, second grade pronunciations (correcting only so often) something changed. I saw him smile as he read through the funny parts of the book, and watched as he reveled in his correct pronunciation of the word 'exceptionally'. I suddenly wasn't thinking about my horrible day, but was enjoying time with him.
Later on, after he and his grandmother went to boy scouts, I took his sweet sister to the park. As we walked, hand-in-hand, I began to see the world as she did. She pointed out cars that look like her mommy's car, told me that we needed to look both ways before we crossed the street, and spun in excited, 5 year old circles once we finally got to the park. She and I went on the swings, played on the playground, but eventually laid down on the rubberized bridge suspended between two parts of the play structure. As we laid there, pointing out things we saw, and learning the colors in Spanish, she said something that I thought was remarkable. She reached over, grabbed my hand, and said simply, "This is Lovely". I looked at her, and saw smiles ear to ear and a glint in her eye. It was at this moment that I realized... kids are profound. I mean, I have been aware of this before, but I often lose sight of it or simplify it due to my adult self-importance. What I re-learned in the moment is that those moments are precious-she has no worries at all. Nevermind that her mother abandoned she and her brother when they were younger, only visiting occasionally, nevermind that she is being raised by (fabulous) grandparents who can't physically do everything they wish they could, nevermind that she has seen more in her short lifetime than many adults have encountered in theirs. At that moment, the azul sky, cool breeze in her hair, and the moment to relax were enough for her, and they were for me, too.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Taking time to hear the music
Do you ever have days where you feel like life, or God or whatever you believe in is trying to tell you something? I had lunch today with a sweet friend, one who I like more and more every time we spend together. She and I got into a discussion about patience, and that led us into a conversation about appreciating the now - for truthfully, it is really all we have. As much as both she and I are forward-looking, planned out people, we identified that these traits sometimes create dissatisfaction in our lives. Now, I'm not suggesting that we should entirely block out the idea of the future, or that we should only focus on this very moment at all. What I would argue, however, is that we place so little emphasis on the NOW. We spend months planning vacations, and once we get there, all we can think about is the next thing. Where will we go next? What is waiting at home? What kind of work will I have to make up once I return? This kind of flawed thinking breeds discontentment. No matter how great, how sweet, how perfect a moment is, we as people fundamentally look for the next best thing. Perhaps this is our way of dealing with an uncertain present. It is certainly easier to imagine a future in our minds, one that we seemingly have unlimited control over - why else would we escape the living, breathing moments right in front of us?
I saw a post on somebody's facebook today, and finding myself with a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to check it out. It is an experiment done by the Washington Post that centers in a way around this exact question. What they did was approach one of the greatest violinists of our time, one who plays a 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius violin, (incidentally enough considered one of the most perfect violins ever crafted), and ask him to take part in a social experiment. They placed this guy in the entrance of a DC metro station. Dressed simply and with an open violin case, he played some of the most technically challenging and beautiful violin pieces ever written- and the newspaper placed a hidden camera to see what people would do. Although the music was beautiful (they included samples) hardly ANYBODY stopped and listened. The paper was clever enough to stop people after they walked out of sight and ask them why they didn't stop, and the majority of people said that they were either a) too busy, or b) didn't even notice. They didn't EVEN NOTICE! Maybe I'm biased because I'm a music appreciator, but I found this appalling.
Hold on a second, Whitney. I began to reminisce back to experiences that I have had in the past with street musicians, and I find in myself, gasp!, a hypocrite. I remember really vividly being in London and Paris this past year, and walking past countless street musicians with not an appreciation of their (sometimes present) musical prowess, but rather a suspicion that I was about to be mugged, by a weapon cleverly disguised as a guitar or ukelele. I even remember being back in London in March for my second go-round and seeing that the city had cleverly placed half-circle 4 foot in diameter stickers in strategically placed locations in the underground with the explanation that these half-circles were indeed occupied by legitimate street musicians who had registered with the transportation authority. A digression... only in London would one find such ultra-organization for such a seemingly insignificant issue. Even then, with these circles designated for musicianship, never did I pause to appreciate what i was hearing. In all of my times passing street musicians, and even the times that the musicians came to me (an accordion player plunking out La Vie En Rose on a Parisian metro train comes to mind), I never appreciated them. I think this was most often out of fear, or busyness. I was simply too scared or too self-involved to take time to marvel at their music.
I think that this is such a great metaphor for life and how we devalue the things that truthfully, probably bring us the most pleasure, and how we overvalue intangibles that we may never attain. The next time I pass a street musician (assuming they're good!), see an amazing sunset, cast my eyes past a beautiful starscape, or walk past a garden, I promise myself to pause and enjoy the moment. I can worry about the meeting with a parent of a Junior High student and how I might get fired for letting kids smack each other with pool noodles, I can think about tomorrow, and all of the excitements, challenges and issues that will be brought, I can even think about where I'll be in ten or fifteen years. But in the end, I promise myself that I will take time to appreciate the now, because it really is all anybody has.
I saw a post on somebody's facebook today, and finding myself with a few extra minutes to spare, I decided to check it out. It is an experiment done by the Washington Post that centers in a way around this exact question. What they did was approach one of the greatest violinists of our time, one who plays a 3.5 million dollar Stradivarius violin, (incidentally enough considered one of the most perfect violins ever crafted), and ask him to take part in a social experiment. They placed this guy in the entrance of a DC metro station. Dressed simply and with an open violin case, he played some of the most technically challenging and beautiful violin pieces ever written- and the newspaper placed a hidden camera to see what people would do. Although the music was beautiful (they included samples) hardly ANYBODY stopped and listened. The paper was clever enough to stop people after they walked out of sight and ask them why they didn't stop, and the majority of people said that they were either a) too busy, or b) didn't even notice. They didn't EVEN NOTICE! Maybe I'm biased because I'm a music appreciator, but I found this appalling.
Hold on a second, Whitney. I began to reminisce back to experiences that I have had in the past with street musicians, and I find in myself, gasp!, a hypocrite. I remember really vividly being in London and Paris this past year, and walking past countless street musicians with not an appreciation of their (sometimes present) musical prowess, but rather a suspicion that I was about to be mugged, by a weapon cleverly disguised as a guitar or ukelele. I even remember being back in London in March for my second go-round and seeing that the city had cleverly placed half-circle 4 foot in diameter stickers in strategically placed locations in the underground with the explanation that these half-circles were indeed occupied by legitimate street musicians who had registered with the transportation authority. A digression... only in London would one find such ultra-organization for such a seemingly insignificant issue. Even then, with these circles designated for musicianship, never did I pause to appreciate what i was hearing. In all of my times passing street musicians, and even the times that the musicians came to me (an accordion player plunking out La Vie En Rose on a Parisian metro train comes to mind), I never appreciated them. I think this was most often out of fear, or busyness. I was simply too scared or too self-involved to take time to marvel at their music.
I think that this is such a great metaphor for life and how we devalue the things that truthfully, probably bring us the most pleasure, and how we overvalue intangibles that we may never attain. The next time I pass a street musician (assuming they're good!), see an amazing sunset, cast my eyes past a beautiful starscape, or walk past a garden, I promise myself to pause and enjoy the moment. I can worry about the meeting with a parent of a Junior High student and how I might get fired for letting kids smack each other with pool noodles, I can think about tomorrow, and all of the excitements, challenges and issues that will be brought, I can even think about where I'll be in ten or fifteen years. But in the end, I promise myself that I will take time to appreciate the now, because it really is all anybody has.
Friday, August 07, 2009
New Life Project
I have been über hesitant to write this post recently, because it means that I actually have to follow through on this. But, I have decided that with my new big girl life in my new city that I should bite the bullet, as my mother says (what does that even mean?) and do it.
I, over the next two but no more than three years have decided to undertake a reading project. After reflecting on my reading choices over the summer, a sampling of which included "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Everyone Worth Knowing", I decided that I was doing myself a huge disservice by setting my intellectual bar too low. Now, don't misunderstand me. These books are all great - in fact, I need a light, quick read as much as the next person. But, my reading subsistence as of late has consisted of only these kinds books. I like to think of it as an intellectual diet of fats and sugars with very little green vegetables. We know what a diet like this does to the body - and I have now decided that I will not stand by and allow this to happen to my mind. Just like my body feels after a long absence from the treadmill, so I expect my mental hamstring and quad muscles to rebel at first.
The insane idea to start this project happened after seeing someone's facebook status with "The Best 100 Books of All Time" listed. I wish I could remember who this person is so that I could thank them and send them something REALLY interesting, like Crime and Punishment. I kid... but seriously, after doing some research through various lists and compilations, I settled on a user-voted list compiled by a website called www.best100novels.com. I know, very original. On many of the other websites, the vastness of the reading lists were intimidating (and I admit, the thought of reading the Iliad and the Odyssey again are beyond my current intellectual scope (think running a marathon after a decade of couch-potato-ness)). The jury is still out on some of the selections that I will read - indeed, some of the things I'm going to read are outright terrifying to me (see: War and Peace). Thankfully, others excite me (The Hobbit and the Time Traveler's Wife), and some, I have confessedly never heard of before (Madamé Bovary).
All together, after taking a poll on facebook about where I should start my journey, I decided on Slaughterhouse Five. I visited Moe's bookstore last week in Berkeley, and bought a lot of great books for super cheap. Amongst them included, the aforementioned, the Hobbit, Madamé Bovary, and Of Human Bondage. I realized today as I started to peruse through the books that I got the abridged version of 'of Human Bondage', which will definitely not do for this project. I know that I'm just one abridged version away from completely avoiding the longer books, so I have decided not to read any abridged versions at all. This, of course, will add time, but I think it will make for a better reading experience. In any case, as it is SO late tonight, I've decided to start tomorrow. That's the spirit! Procrastination!
But, seriously, as I go along with these books, I hope that I will be challenged, inspired, and stretched in ways that I haven't been before. I'll be keeping this blog (hopefully regularly) to reflect on what I'm reading. I will likely read a couple of books at a time (because I have no idea how I'd crank out Tolstoy without some other form of written encouragement alongside it). Hopefully some people will read these blogs and comment, because I know that my opinion is only that. Mine. I'd love to hear what others think about these books, and clearly people have opinions. They didn't get voted the 100 best novels for no reason, now, did they?
I, over the next two but no more than three years have decided to undertake a reading project. After reflecting on my reading choices over the summer, a sampling of which included "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and Everyone Worth Knowing", I decided that I was doing myself a huge disservice by setting my intellectual bar too low. Now, don't misunderstand me. These books are all great - in fact, I need a light, quick read as much as the next person. But, my reading subsistence as of late has consisted of only these kinds books. I like to think of it as an intellectual diet of fats and sugars with very little green vegetables. We know what a diet like this does to the body - and I have now decided that I will not stand by and allow this to happen to my mind. Just like my body feels after a long absence from the treadmill, so I expect my mental hamstring and quad muscles to rebel at first.
The insane idea to start this project happened after seeing someone's facebook status with "The Best 100 Books of All Time" listed. I wish I could remember who this person is so that I could thank them and send them something REALLY interesting, like Crime and Punishment. I kid... but seriously, after doing some research through various lists and compilations, I settled on a user-voted list compiled by a website called www.best100novels.com. I know, very original. On many of the other websites, the vastness of the reading lists were intimidating (and I admit, the thought of reading the Iliad and the Odyssey again are beyond my current intellectual scope (think running a marathon after a decade of couch-potato-ness)). The jury is still out on some of the selections that I will read - indeed, some of the things I'm going to read are outright terrifying to me (see: War and Peace). Thankfully, others excite me (The Hobbit and the Time Traveler's Wife), and some, I have confessedly never heard of before (Madamé Bovary).
All together, after taking a poll on facebook about where I should start my journey, I decided on Slaughterhouse Five. I visited Moe's bookstore last week in Berkeley, and bought a lot of great books for super cheap. Amongst them included, the aforementioned, the Hobbit, Madamé Bovary, and Of Human Bondage. I realized today as I started to peruse through the books that I got the abridged version of 'of Human Bondage', which will definitely not do for this project. I know that I'm just one abridged version away from completely avoiding the longer books, so I have decided not to read any abridged versions at all. This, of course, will add time, but I think it will make for a better reading experience. In any case, as it is SO late tonight, I've decided to start tomorrow. That's the spirit! Procrastination!
But, seriously, as I go along with these books, I hope that I will be challenged, inspired, and stretched in ways that I haven't been before. I'll be keeping this blog (hopefully regularly) to reflect on what I'm reading. I will likely read a couple of books at a time (because I have no idea how I'd crank out Tolstoy without some other form of written encouragement alongside it). Hopefully some people will read these blogs and comment, because I know that my opinion is only that. Mine. I'd love to hear what others think about these books, and clearly people have opinions. They didn't get voted the 100 best novels for no reason, now, did they?
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
New things all around
I'm starting a new job next week. Which terrifies me. And excites me all at the same time. I've been trying to figure out what I'm doing with my life for about the past two years, and this is the point that I've come to. I'm going to be the director of Junior High ministries at a medium sized church in California. I'm excited. And terrified. Did I say that already? So much of what I think about myself, my skills, talents and so on tell me that I'm prepared for this. I've done internships, read books, and think I know what I'm doing. But, what if I get in there and totally bomb? See, it's these kinds of thoughts that drag me down lately. Fear. This is a word that we are all accustomed to in one form or another. But fear isn't intended for us. Fear is not what we (Christians) are supposed to be led to feel. Fear is derived from a lack of trust, and more specifically a lack of trust in the one who will never leave us. Looking on my life at times, I feel like I have the biggest safety net ever, with harnesses, helmets, pads, arms to catch me, love me, and support me, yet I am unable to jump. Is it our human mentality that causes us to fear, or something else? I'm not sure, but I know that I need to leap - to get over the things that scare me and just do it!
I have a lot of changes happening in my life these days. Moves from Denmark to the US, moves from Texas to Phoenix to California, serious relationships, changes in family dynamics, decisions about careers and choices about life. These things should all be impacting me in a serious way, yet I feel frozen. Maybe it is because I've been too afraid to leap out into something that I can't tangibly see or feel or touch. Maybe its because my mind hasn't caught up with my newly free-spirited heart? All I know is that it is about time I give myself a good kick in the butt and get out there. I will never know until I try....
I have a lot of changes happening in my life these days. Moves from Denmark to the US, moves from Texas to Phoenix to California, serious relationships, changes in family dynamics, decisions about careers and choices about life. These things should all be impacting me in a serious way, yet I feel frozen. Maybe it is because I've been too afraid to leap out into something that I can't tangibly see or feel or touch. Maybe its because my mind hasn't caught up with my newly free-spirited heart? All I know is that it is about time I give myself a good kick in the butt and get out there. I will never know until I try....
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