Straining at the Oars

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 7 Comments

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of kayaking or canoeing, you know how even on the most placid of lakes, after a while, your arms get tired from rowing. And if you’re on rougher waters, fighting against the current brings exhaustion much faster—and progress much slower.

This past summer my husband and I were kayaking when it started to rain. It wasn’t much of a rain, but we pulled off and waited till it stopped. Not a big deal. I would not, however, be a fan of trying to row my way in the middle of a dark storm. Nope. I’m already fearful of being that close to deep, dark water—throw in a storm, and I’m toast. (Just ask my husband how much I love the movie Perfect Storm. Not only does it hammer at a phobia of mine, but I am very frustrated that a “true” story is built around guys who didn’t live to tell the story that is being told. But I digress.)

 

stormy sky_2

 

At times, isn’t life just like rowing in a storm? Aren’t there moments or days or even entire chapters that feel like you’re trying to row your way through a tumultuous storm? I know it’s true for me.

Fighting against the wind and current, I try to go in the direction I think best only to struggle and make little progress. It reminds me of the story of Jesus walking on water. His disciples were in a storm and straining at the oars, and when Jesus appeared, they didn’t even recognize him. They panicked. He had to reassure them and climb into the boat—and then the winds died down.

 

calm waters

 

Go figure. Even the guys who hung out with Jesus on a daily basis didn’t always understand his power. I love that there are so many stories in the Bible of the disciples being knuckleheads—it helps me relate.

Life is a bit stormy for me right now, but I feel like I am at a point where I am ready to put my oars up and await direction. As I write this just now I decided to look to see if there is an actual term for putting oars up while rowing, and I learned that “once the rower extracts the oar from the water, the recovery phase begins, setting up the rower’s body for the next stroke.” So…oars up and the recovery phase begins. I like that. I like that a lot.

I’m ready for my recovery phase.

 

water lily

 

But how will I hear my coxswain? (I can’t help it—I love looking up stuff like this!) Because after recovery, I need to be ready to take my next stroke. If I’m striving to stop fighting the wind and no longer strain at the oars, I need to be still and listen.

I love this passage from 1 Kings 19 where Elijah is to go and listen for God:  The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. It was God’s gentle whisper that spoke to Elijah—not the obvious and fierce wind or earthquake—but a soft whisper.

And so I am listening for God’s whisper—I wish it was easier to hear, but perhaps it is this way because in order to hear it, I need to shut out all the other noise and focus on him. And maybe he won’t bring calm waters at all, but he will help me navigate the storm. After all, there will always be storms. Calm waters come, but they also go. Knowing how to row through the storm is critical in navigating life. I’ve got to listen to my Coxswain!

 

stormy sky

 

Even though I am at a point where I’ve concluded one chapter of straining at the oars and am now ready to listen for my next right stroke, I know the temptation to row my boat my way and strain at the oars will be an ongoing battle for me. I know there will be times that I will exhaust myself and make no progress because I think I have the answer. But I also know that I have a Coxswain who is in my boat waiting to help, forever patient even when this knuckleheaded rower fights the wind with all her might.

 

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Fight the Vortex

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 4 Comments

Thanksgiving used to be a “purer” holiday. No Black Friday. No Cyber Monday. Just family, friends, food, and football—along with being thankful for our many blessings. Commercialism hadn’t dug its talons into Thanksgiving yet—not like it had done to Christmas years ago.

Christmas has so much hoopla and hubbub surrounding it that it is easy to lose sight of why it came to be a holiday in the first place. It seems each year the pressure to have the “best” Christmas pushes earlier and harder.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the swirl of it all.

 

peace

 

Over the last few years, though, I have made a conscious effort to push back. While some of the choices are a result of tighter finances, some are from my desire to simplify and stop the madness. I am fighting the vortex that wants to pull me in and cloud my vision with the “stuff” of the season—rather than the Reason for the season.

A few Decembers ago, the month was jammed—I was either scrambling to get things ready or scrambling to be at whatever it was that I was scrambling to get ready for. I could have easily won the “dog chasing her own tail” contest.

And then a little question popped into my head: why?

Yes, there were the things I was committed to doing—like getting the house decorated and ready to entertain—but what else was I taking on? And why?

Asking why made me opt out of a thing or two. Though the yearly cookie exchange was a tradition, I stepped back and asked myself why was I adding on the additional tasks of choosing the right recipe, shopping, and baking dozens of cookies when time was already so precious. It wasn’t because I love to bake—because I don’t. And while the cookies I came home with were (mostly) delicious and the couple of hours with friends was nice, I realized that it wasn’t worth the additional stress in a month already crammed with stress. (Though February would be a great month for such a thing!)

I realized it was time to say “no thank you” to the cookie exchange. Exhale.

 

joy

 

And then there was our Christmas letter. For years I had crafted the Roach Report, which was a whimsical little newsletter of updates and photos. People always said they loved receiving it because it was fun to read, but it also took time to put together. And, quite frankly, our life events of late were getting a little harder to share in an amusing way: “Another job loss!” or “My mom nearly died!” are not exactly smile-inducing headlines. In my heart, I realized that—at least for now—the Roach Report was on hiatus. No writing, designing, printing, stuffing, stamping, or mailing. Exhale.

Some simplifiers come from necessary belt tightening due to job loss(es. Yes, plural. I told you the Christmas letter would be a downer!) Less money means fewer gifts, and fewer gifts means less to shop for and wrap! Staff parties are no longer on the calendar when you no longer belong to a staff, either! Simplify, simplify! Exhale.

For years, family and friends have come to our house to celebrate on Christmas Day. It’s “my” family holiday. Except for last year. As my sister’s kids get older and have significant others to plan around, coming down to our house on Christmas Day has become difficult. So last year, for the first time…my sister had Christmas at her house. At first, it was hard for me to acquiesce to losing “my” holiday, but…you know what? I realized how nice it was just to BE for Christmas. With the absence of the planning/cooking/doing, there was a whole different perspective to the day. It was so relaxing! Exhale.

Now, mind you—I will be, at least in part, hosting again this year—but I don’t want to forget the lesson of what the reduced stress felt like. There is middle ground to be had—and I’m going to find it if it kills me! (Which would be kind of ironic, given what I’m striving for…)

 

believe

 

I’ve come to truly understand over these last few years how paring down does not mean losing the spirit of Christmas at all. In fact, it actually increases the true spirit behind the holiday. As a Christian, for me Christmas is the celebration of the coming of Christ (or, as Ricky Bobby would say, “dear 8 pound, 6 ounce newborn infant Jesus”)—that is THE reason for the season. Not Santa or decorated trees or ugly sweaters—not even family. Calming some of the chaos of the season only helps me to feel that more deeply. My heart draws closer to the Love that came for me. And you.

I’m not here to preach to you how you should handle your holidays. Nope. But I am here to say that losing some of the insanity of the season works for me and maybe it will work for you, too. I am encouraging you to fight the vortex—don’t let the holiday “spirit” deplete your Spirit.

 

reason for the season

 

Maybe you are already feeling the tug and stress of all of the HaveTos facing you and thinking there is no way that you can realistically stop the madness. If that is where you find yourself, I hope that you are at least able to carve out moments to exhale and feel the Spirit. While stopping may be impossible, let’s at least make it a point to hit a few rest stops along the way!

 

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10 Things I’m Thankful for Every Day

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 45 Comments

With Thanksgiving this Thursday, I thought it would be a good time to reflect on those very things for which I am thankful…and maybe you are, too. Continue reading “10 Things I’m Thankful for Every Day” →

The Long Goodbye

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 6 Comments

So many goodbyes can be seen down the road…like the last year of junior and senior high school, or eyeing that college diploma shining in the distance while the final credits are being racked up…You know it’s coming and are able to soak up some of the bittersweet moments that come along with marking the milestone.

 

memories

 

Those kinds of lasts are often communal—they don’t call it “class of” because you are graduating by yourself. Moving forward with others has a different feel than turning a life corner on your own. Sharing the experience brings a camaraderie that helps celebrate the joys and cushion whatever sorrows may come along with the farewell.

Solo goodbyes are tougher.

If you read last week’s post, you know that “lasts” have been on my mind, and they continue to be as I am about to say another goodbye.

I’ve had several “solo goodbyes” in my life, as I’m sure most of us have. I remember when I transferred universities after my freshman year. All the friends I made were, of course, sticking around for sophomore year while I was headed to a new place to call home. Pre-dating the era of texting and Skyping meant leaving one state for another would make it difficult to stay connected. I recall driving away as a group of my friends waved on, tears on both sides—I tried to etch their faces into my memory as I realized I would most likely never see them again.

And I was right.

Even then, I was aware that the promises of “we’ll keep in touch” would fall away quickly. It rarely ends up like the movie Grease—there are no cars flying into the sky while vows are made that “we’ll always be together…”

Life goes on.

This goodbye will be no different. Life will go on. (Though unfortunately my paycheck won’t, as this is the very first time I am leaving a job not of my own doing.)

The plane will keep flying its route even though I am no longer a part of the crew. Perhaps there may be a brief moment or two of turbulence, but that is all. The itinerary will not change. It will still be all systems go.

Life goes on.

 

luck

 

Most all of my previous jobs have had long goodbyes where I knew well before my last day that I was closing one chapter for another. This meant I was able to appreciate the good parts while looking forward to leaving the bad parts. And again, this goodbye will be no different. Even though it was not by my choice, I was given a lengthy notice—and another long goodbye. It has been an odd experience to stick around for a while in a job you know you are losing.

But now the closing of the chapter is here, and the goodbye feels both real and surreal at the same time. Having been at this job for over 14 years, it is the longest work chapter of my life…heck, my job is as old as a high school freshman! If I stayed for a couple more years, my job could get a driver’s license!

It’s been quite a ride.

In that time, I have made many memories and friends. I smile at the recall of cubical volleyball, prank phone calls, and lunchtime giggles. Of weathering each other’s various storms both professional and personal. Of sharing in an understanding with colleagues that only comes from mutually inhabiting a crazy workworld over so many years. Of knowing the hard work I have done for nearly a decade and a half.

Yes, as the goodbye finally arrives, I know my days will be very different. Experiences will end and relationships will change. But there is no going back—there is only going forward—and I can’t wait to find out what God has in store for me.

Can you hear the final keystrokes of this chapter?

I can.

 

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The Rhythm of Days

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

This past week began with a baptism and celebration of a friend’s baby and ended with a funeral for another friend. From one end of the spectrum to another…and it reminded me of both the beauty and pain of life.

When my son was a baby, a friend gave me the children’s book Let Me Hold You Longer by Karen Kingsbury. It’s a beautifully sweet picture book that reminds parents to not only enjoy the “firsts” of their little ones, but also the “lasts,” too. I could never (still can’t) get through it without tears. “Mom, why are you crying? Is something wrong?” my little man would ask as he looked up at me with big eyes, wondering why the tears were welling as I read to him. Through my sniffles, I would reassure him that all was well…but I could already feel the time slipping away.

 

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And that is indeed life. We have certain things in our lives that happen to a rhythm, but then one day the rhythm changes, and what was routine is no longer. Aware of this, I really do strive to be mindful of “lasts” with my son. Like when he grew to the age where carrying him was getting harder and harder, it would flash across my mind, “Could this be the last time?” I didn’t want to take anything for granted; I wanted to tuck the memory away in my heart for safekeeping.

But even with that mindfulness, there is no way to know the lasts for most things. I didn’t know the last time my son would snuggle on my lap and really fit my lap. Or the last time he would say “brefkist” instead of “breakfast.” And I doubt I’ll know the last time he willingly holds my hand as a boy—though there will most likely come the day he will hold my hand as a man in order to make sure his old mom doesn’t fall.

Even though I know the lasts are coming, I simply don’t know when in order to be able to savor them in the moment.

Sometimes I recognize the lasts in hindsight. Having lost my dad at a relatively young age, I still sometimes reflect on the “lasts” of my time with him. The “lasts” I didn’t know were lasts until he was gone. Especially while looking at old photos, I find myself noting, “That was the last vacation we ever took,” or “this was the last birthday he celebrated…”

I wonder what would have changed if I knew it was a “last” for us? Certainly Kingsbury’s book title reflects the answer. Knowing would be so very bittersweet.

My heart hurts for my friend whose husband’s funeral I just attended. She had no idea of the lasts that she was experiencing. There was a familiar rhythm to life, and then, in an instant…he was gone. The “lasts” had been recorded without warning.

And now, along with the “lasts” she may eventually come to know, she will embark on a whole new journey of “firsts.” While many of the “firsts” are painful—like first holidays celebrated or returning to a favorite place filled with memories—the day will come when some firsts will offer the hope of better days, and new life rhythms will be created. The “lasts” are final, but the “firsts” can just keep coming. Thank God for that.

In the end, the firsts and lasts of life are only part of the story. Important parts—but not the only parts. They help us mark times of growth or change, but if they escape us, life goes on. The rest is the InBetween.

And so, for me, I must continually strive to be present for the InBetween, aware of the fragility of it all but savoring the beauty of it as best I can…Listening for the rhythms of life and dancing to the beat of each day’s song.

 

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The Joy of the Journey (aka The 10 Minute Nerf War)

~ Lisa Ancona-Roach ~ 3 Comments

For weeks, preparations, planning, and discussions about design and strategy took place. Something big was on the horizon, and my son and his good buddy were afire with how they wanted it to happen. The amount of time they dedicated to preparation was noteworthy—and so was the fun they had in doing it.

The event? A neighborhood Nerf war. A bunch of boys picked a date to have a shootout to decide who was #1 in the Nerf world on our street. The last man standing would be the winner. The boys wanted to make sure they were prepared, and so they really got into it. My son wanted to buy a $30 vest that would hold his Nerf gear. After he heard a very clear and resounding “no” that definitely had the tone of “are you out of your flippin’ mind?” he realized he needed to follow his father’s and my suggestion to create what he needed. What followed was a wonderful think tank of my son and his friend. I just loved watching their imaginations catch fire. They did indeed come up with some very clever answers to their needs, and they were proud of their handiwork.

After a few weeks of strategizing and creating, they were ready. It was finally the afternoon of the showdown. This is where all of their hard work was leading…

 

Nerf

 

Ready…aim…fire!

It was over in ten minutes.

Who won is not important. (Okay, it was my kid.) They kind of giggled at how fast it all went down—but there was no regret in any of it. Not in the time they took to prepare or the speed in which it all culminated…Because all of it was fun.

As kids, so much of the fun is in the planning and anticipating. The actual thing is often secondary. I’m sometimes guilty of keeping my kid on a “need to know” basis (usually because I just forget), but he has told me that he wishes I would tell him about things earlier so that he is not only aware of it but can look forward to it, too. So I’m trying to remember not to be so scatterbrained (a bit of a catch-22) so that my son can have more joy of anticipation. And I think his desire for that is wonderful.

I can remember plenty of times when I was a kid where the figuring out and the setting up was so much of the fun—sometimes the main part. My friend Jen and I would decide we were going “camping,” so we would engineer a make-shift tent with a tarp and poles—we never much went for the store bought stuff because…what fun was that? And we would finally get it all set up and hang out in it just for a bit before it was time to take it all down and go in for dinner. And that was just fine with us.

 

a classic blanket fort
a classic blanket fort from a few years back

 

I remember one time my sister and I were building forts in our basement. There were different sections to the basement, and one of them was a nice little room with a TV and a couple sofas. She claimed she wanted that space, so of course, I wanted it, too. I felt so victorious when she gave in and said I could have it. Ah-HA! I got the great room! And so I flopped on the sofa and watched some TV…but I could hear my sister very busy on the other end of the basement. I peeked over in curiosity and saw that she had half of the Ping-Pong table down and had covered it with blankets. Light was emanating from underneath. I had to go check it out. Sure enough, my sister had built an awesome fort with its own groovy light and everything! My victory was hollow…the real fun was had in building the fort and then hanging out in it. Being the generous sister, though, she did let me look inside her fort to see how cool it was, but then she told me I had to go back to my place. Ah, big sisters…

Certainly there are plenty of times where the destination is by far the biggest slice of the pie, but even then we must not forget the journey. Yes, a long car ride to an amusement park or a nerve-wracking flight to vacation may not be the best of journeys to savor, but they still merit appreciation.

 

map

 

A life lived in the “are we there yet?” mentality will mean that only bits and pieces of life will truly be lived and enjoyed.

That is simply not enough.

If you read my recent crossroads post, you know that I am at the beginning of a journey in which I do not know the destination. Naturally, as an adult with responsibilities, this puts a ton of additional stress on me. But even during this anxious time, I know I need to be more like the kid I was who truly felt the value of the dream as the dream…of the journey as the destination.

If all I do is look and pray for the end game, then I may once again find myself quickly maneuvering for the basement TV room rather than the wonderful Ping-Pong fort.

And this time around…I really want to enjoy building the fort.

 

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