Being uncomfortable - where it's at

So I've been thinking.

I've read a great many blog posts in the past two weeks that have the "new year - new you" flair. Many are great posts where the authors have vowed to be more accepting of themselves, to believe that enough is truly enough. They are savoring small moments and helping time stand still more by slowing down. They have resolved to stop punishing themselves, comparing themselves, being anything other than themselves.

I love all of this.

And I'd be tempted to make many of the same resolutions. Except I can't. If I am honest with myself, I have tended toward these types of resolutions for several years now with the ultimate goal of seeking greater comfort for myself. They are good resolutions, but need to be grounded in the right reasons.

Usually I want life to be easier because it feels hard. It feels that way because I am running around in craziness, all wrapped up in things I shouldn't be. So of course it seems hard. And of course, I want to step back, slow down, and make better choices.

But my "step back and slow down" is usually code for "hide in your bubble until all the ugliness goes away."

It often doesn't go away. Because really, I haven't changed anything. Really, I am all about the challenges ending so I can "enjoy" life. Once a storm passes, though, I am still rooted in the same place.

Everything is the same - just more comfortable than it was before.

Well, here we go. Real change means being uncomfortable for a time. So it's time to get uncomfortable.

Like completing a 10-day cleanse that forced me to get rid of my most favorite foods in the world. Uncomfortable.

Like seeing a therapist. Uncomfortable.

Like being on Day 10 of kicking my wine-a-night habit for the longest time ever since 2011. Uncomfortable.

Like planning a couple of mission trips for 2015 that include going somewhere new and different and facing a lot of unknowns. Uncomfortable.

Thirteen days into the new year and I already venturing out of my bubble. But I am doing it because I believe God works in insane ways when you are uncomfortable. He breaks down barriers and hauls away the garbage and makes room for something beautiful to happen in a place that was cluttered with layers of comfort. And I am ready for that kind of insane.

Care to step out with me?

Sunsets and ice cream

Sunday was the culmination of two solids weeks of indulgence, celebrations, family, friends, and way too much time in the house.

By 3 pm that day, the kids were squirrel-ier than ever and dreading going back to school the next day. After separating them from picking at each other for the umpteenth time, I declared enough and said "We're going for a drive."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know, let's see where the road takes us."

<Insert skepticism and a smidge of whining.>

"It will probably take us toward ice cream."

"OK."

And we were off.

I headed where I usually do when I want to escape - toward downtown. Where I feel like I've ditched the 'burbs and malls and chain restaurants and the same-old for moments of inspiration.

I happened to drive right into the sunset on Lake Monona.

Sam starting shooting pictures like she was paparazzi and Peyton ask a hundred questions about the ice on the lake. It was too cold for any of us to venture out of the warm car, but I wanted to. I really wanted to run toward that sun. To stop it in its tracks long enough to bask in it. I wanted it to stay and warm the car window, the houses across the street, the kids sledding at the park next door (new find!)

But it kept it's long, steady slide behind the lake and disappeared - just like that.

And that's how moments are. They slip through our fingers quickly, even the tough ones. I know that's hard to imagine - some stages of life feel like forever. I'm in the middle of a hard season that seems to be playing out in a running loop. But I've been there before. I know I will look back in a few short years, and appreciate all that is coming out of these days. They will feel like no time at all.

Our adventure did include ice cream and a slow drive home. And no arguing. On the way, Sam said, "It went so fast." I think she was thinking about winter break, but probably also about the day, the drive, and the sunset.

It did. It does. 

Watch all the sunsets you can this year, staying long and appreciating each second.

Celebrating a year in moments

The merriest of all holidays is here, and I'm feeling pretty darn reflective.

We've started the Christmas cards, Scott is working on his annual letter, and I've been thinking about how big this year was. It was both intimidating and exhilarating. God threw in a few surprises, but I've learned not to shy away from anything in His grasp.

So let the celebrations begin!

Here's a little ditty from me to you. Make it the best Christmas yet!

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All peanut butter'ed out

I made my umpteenth peanut butter and jelly sandwich this morning.

I have no idea how much umpteenth actually is, but in this case it means thousands upon thousands. Given how long my kids have been on this earth and of the PB&J-eating age, it's got to be at least that.

And I am burnt out, friends. For the love, can we just pack something else in a school lunch? Or can we abandon the sandwich altogether? Snacks are food, too! It's only November, and already the school lunch routine is taking me down.

this choosy mom would no longer like to choose PB, please.

I have a love-hate relationship with routines. There are some I can't live without, and others - mostly morning ones - that I'd rather change every day. But the thing is, I live by these routines because I find they're the most efficient way to get something done.

Have you been there?

Sometimes we are so engrossed in routines that we see no other way around them. The thought of changing becomes too daunting, even if we feel a tug to switch something up. It takes loads of intentionality to change.

Especially if you live in a home where no one else sees the need to change (ahem.)

But if you've done it - if you've made your move, either because you wanted to or you had to, you know. You absolutely know the exhilaration of building new routines around new circumstances and stretching yourself in ways that you haven't in a long time.

That's what happens when you toss the PB&J for the turkey-and-cheese rollup. It's dang exhilarating.

So why am I writing about this?

I fear I am losing my ability to think creatively. I know this isn't entirely true, but the sharpness is gone and the spark that ignites when I put a new idea into action is fading. It's getting harder to gear-up for the same-old/same-old. It's even harder to develop something new.

I've put a Band-Aid on the situation a number of times: my 40-by-40 list, and for-going certain traditions to see what new ones might crop up. All fun, all good stories to tell. But what happens when the list is fulfilled (it's still not, by the way) and old routines crop back up? All my efforts have spread me too thin and I feel more self-consumed than I want to be.

I don't want to be one of those people looking for the next big thing. I know greener grass isn't always on the other side. And mostly, I know that I should be (and am) entirely grateful for what I do have.

But wouldn't it be great to find that spark?

So I guess I'm already making my resolution for 2015: pare down and build back up, focusing on what will make an eternal impact. I'm already off to a good start (several weeks off of Facebook and I am still alive!)

Stay tuned ...

STATE CHAMPIONS!

So I guess I left you hanging with that last post. Unless we know each other well - in which case this is all you have heard about! The Waterloo Pirates are the State Division 3 Champions!

Listen, I don't think I could really summarize last weekend and do it justice. About 50 amazing things happened, and I haven't wrapped my head around all of them. Let's just say that this has been years in the making at the Schumann house - and definitely for these gals - and it feels incredible to see all the hard work come to fruition in this way. And the Waterloo fans - man, oh man, they were awesome.

We made sure to give thanks where thanks is due.

This is the first big announcement I have made in long awhile without Facebook. When Peyton was diagnosed with T1D, Facebook was a lifeline of support to hear from so many people. Not having it in this case seems so strange. But we've been fielding all kinds of texts, calls, and emails with this news, and that's been great too. It's weird to shift your thinking and remember that the world no longer knows your news because you aren't broadcasting it. It definitely feels Stone Age to me, but yet more personal.

But back to volleyball.

The weekend games were intense, with the girls coming from behind in most sets. NAIL BITERS. HEART ATTACK INDUCERS. At one point, the girls were down 10 points in what seemed like a done deal for that set. But they came back. Every time. It felt like a miracle.

Since then, there have been TV and radio interviews. A parade into town that included numerous fire trucks, ambulances, and other such noisy vehicles. Pep rallies. Impromptu pep band concerts. Impromptu parent cheers. Celebration parties with friends. And a little exhaustion.

But it's all been good, good, good.

Thanks to all who helped us celebrate, especially coming to the games this season and supporting something that is such a big part of our lives each fall.

We are grateful.

leaving it all on the court. perfect.