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Lois Flowers

A Waiting Room Answer to ‘What do you do?’

by Lois Flowers November 3, 2015

by Lois Flowers

When my daughter Molly was younger, people would always ask her, “What do you do?”

What they wanted to know, of course, was which extracurricular activities she was involved in. Soccer? Dance? Piano? Tennis? Competitive tight-rope walking?

The answer? Until her fourth-grade year, nothing.

For a while, she went through a phase of weeding out what she didn’t want to do. Not surprisingly, this endeavor was largely based on what her older sister was interested in the time. Every now and then, on the way home from dropping Lilly off at some practice or class, I’d hear from the backseat:

November 3, 2015 38 comments

Song of the Month: A Look Back and a Birthday Song

by Lois Flowers November 1, 2015

by Lois Flowers

Since I introduced the Song of the Month on Waxing Gibbous last November, it’s been my joy to share with you some of the music that has meant to the most to me over the last year.

This isn’t a feature that draws a lot of response, nor do I intend for it to be. But I do love it when a tune touches a deep place in someone’s heart, and he or she takes the time to let me know.

I’ve heard from the teenage daughter of my college roommate, from my brother across the globe in the Philippines, from a dear former colleague in Arkansas. And every note and comment solidifies what I believe with all my heart—that God speaks to His children in powerful ways through music.

November 1, 2015 8 comments

1 Tip to Help You Say No When You’re Exhausted

by Lois Flowers October 27, 2015

by Lois Flowers

I had an email conversation the other day that made me want to drop everything and take a sympathy nap. Every sentence oozed discouragement as my formerly energetic friend described how exhausted she is. How she has to drag herself through each day. How void she is of enthusiasm and vision.

Her words shot me back several years to a season when I felt much like she is feeling now. I didn’t have near the full plate that my friend carries, but as I’ve shared here and here, I know very well what it’s like to trudge around all day in a state of perpetual overwhelmedness.

I’m not talking about being a bit too busy or somewhat over-committed. No, this has to do with the kind of mind-numbing fatigue that stems from circumstantial, hormonal, relational or physical factors that often are beyond our control.

As I read my friend’s email, I thought of the little phrase that guided how I used my time and energy during my own tired years:

“Only do what only I can do.”

Contrary to what I may think, I am not indispensable. And during seasons of acute exhaustion or stress, if there are others who can do work that I’m struggling to do, I need to step aside and let them.

Here’s a case in point. I used to work in the children’s ministry at my church, teaching a class of fifth and sixth graders once a month. There were some great kids in this class, including my own daughter. But because of my depleted state, I often found my patience wearing thin and my irritability level rising as I tried to get them to focus.

When I actually began to dread going to church on those Sundays when I had to teach, I started to wonder if it might be time for a change. The turning point came when I realized that I would not want someone with my attitude teaching my own daughters. Maybe it was time to move on to something else.

The children’s pastor graciously let me off the hook. I relinquished my teacher title knowing that there were other people who could oversee the class. My little motto gave me the freedom to let go and find ways to serve that better matched my gifts and personality.

That wasn’t the only thing I dropped or said “no” to during those years. I turned down leadership opportunities. I didn’t sign up to be a room parent at my daughters’ school (though I did make treats for class parties). I didn’t volunteer for much of anything, really.

At times, I felt selfish and guilty. I wondered if people were disappointed in me, and maybe they were. But during this season of my life, I had to put my own oxygen mask on first before I could help anyone else.

So I only did what only I could do.

For me, this mostly included taking care of my home and family. Beyond my normal household duties, I focused on what I thought was important, even if it tuckered me out. When Lilly was in fourth and fifth grade, she wanted me to have lunch with her once a week. The cafeteria was noisy and the kids were rambunctious, but I went because I sensed she needed me.

I’m not suggesting that weary people should never participate in activities or ministries that take them out of their so-called “comfort zones” or don’t seem to fit their obvious skill sets. Sometimes when the call for “all hands on deck” goes out, it is our moral or spiritual obligation to answer it, no matter how fatigued we are.

Also, the practice of only doing what only you can do isn’t necessarily a permanent decision-making strategy. You might be worn out now, but you probably won’t be worn out forever. Seasons change, energy levels go back up, enthusiasm returns. It might require medical intervention from time to time, but it does happen.

For a while, I had so much margin in my life there was hardly room for anything else. But as I started to feel more like my normal self, I began adding things back in. But only very strategically.

Today, I volunteer at the elementary school—helping kids with writing, but still not planning parties. I now have lunch with younger daughter Molly every week. (She’ll be in middle school next year and I won’t be able to then.) I help organize special events for the women’s ministry at church.

I do other things, too, but I haven’t forgotten what those tired days were like. Which is why I shared my experiences with my friend, along with these final thoughts that I hope might encourage others who are slogging through their own weary seasons.

I’m sorry you are in this tough place of never-ending butt-dragging, my friend. I know words from me won’t change much, but I do understand, and I would hug you if I could. You are making a difference, even if you see no tangible proof right now. So hang in there. It won’t always be like this.

And if it gets worse before it gets better, as it sometimes does, take a tip from your white-space loving friend and only do what only you can do.

It’s hard to let go, but it’s worth it.

♥ Lois

P.S. Linking up this week with Suzie Eller at #LiveFreeThursday.

October 27, 2015 22 comments

How I Feel is Not Who I Am

by Lois Flowers October 20, 2015

by Lois Flowers

Earlier this year, I read a blog post by someone who was packing up and moving after 38 years in the same house. The writer, Linda Stoll, wrote about depersonalizing her beloved home to prepare it for listing, and about all the memories she would leave behind when she relocates to a new address in a different state.

In the comments section, I told her that the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere (as an adult) has been five years, so I could only imagine how hard it would be to do all that work after nearly four decades in the same place.

Her response stopped me in my tracks and triggered an internal dialogue that continued for weeks.

“Five years, huh?” she wrote. “Wow, Lois, you are courageous. And maybe a bit of an adventurer like (another commenter) was just talking about!”

Out of all the words in the English language, I have never used “courageous” or “adventurer” to describe myself. Not one time.

Deep down inside, I crave security, adjust slowly to change and only take risks with great reluctance. I hadn’t realized it before, but these personal struggles and feelings strongly influenced the kind of person I thought I was. Perhaps that’s why terms like “boring,” “safe” and “structured” often come to mind when I think of myself, rather than other, more exciting adjectives.

Linda’s kind words made me recognize that just because I don’t feel courageous doesn’t mean I’m not courageous, and just because I would never think of myself as an adventurer doesn’t mean I’m not adventurous.

As I shared here, Randy and I have moved eight times in 21 years of marriage, most recently into a foreclosed house that basically needed a top-to-bottom overhaul (which Randy has done almost entirely by himself). This is just the path our residential life has taken, so I never thought of it as very adventurous.

But maybe it has been, just a little.

We’ve also been to China twice to adopt our lovely daughters. Becoming parents for the first time—in a foreign country far away from our own moms and mentors—was what it took to grow our family, so it doesn’t register very high on the courageous scale for us.

But again, maybe it was, just a little.

Thanks to Linda’s affirming words, here’s what I’m discovering:

In real life—the kind that’s lived out loud and in person—actions speak louder than emotions. When it comes to who I am, what I do is far more telling than how I feel.

And this is not just true for me, either.

Everywhere I look, I see people who show up every day, who do what’s right even when they don’t feel like it, who take hard steps for the good of someone else. Based on how they feel at any given moment—or in any given season of life—they would never think of themselves as people of great faith, kindness, patience or generosity.

But their actions speak otherwise. Quite loudly, in fact.

They’re just doing the next thing, taking what comes and trying to make the best of it, attempting to honor God with whatever little or much they have. They don’t realize that, from the outside looking in, they are living, breathing examples of faith in action, love in action, strength in action.

If you know people like this, maybe you should tell them what you see. Take it from me—you just never know the difference an affirming observation might make in someone else’s life.

And remember: Though it’s sometimes tough to believe, our feelings don’t dictate who we are, nor are they the final arbiter of truth about us.

♥ Lois

In real life—the kind that’s lived out loud and in person—actions speak louder than emotions. When it comes to who I am, what I do is far more telling than how I feel. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with Grace & Truth, Suzie Eller at Live Free Thursday, Kelly Balarie at Purposeful Faith, Jennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory and Holley Gerth at Coffee for Your Heart.

October 20, 2015 35 comments

How Do I Nurture My Daughter the Leader?

by Lois Flowers October 13, 2015

by Lois Flowers

Years ago, I had a freelance job writing for an e-zine published by a well-known leadership expert. I enjoyed the work, but as I wrote book reviews, interviewed authors and scoured other publications for leadership trends and quotes, I’d often wonder: Why am I doing this, really? Is it simply for the paycheck (which certainly is helpful and appreciated)? Or am I doing all this writing about leadership for some future purpose?

At the time, I couldn’t imagine what that purpose might be. My professional experience didn’t point to some upcoming leadership role of my own, nor did my interests. I have always been more of a freelancer than a team player; in fact, when leadership opportunities come up, I tend to run in the other direction.

October 13, 2015 19 comments

The Saddest Kind of Comparison (and How to Quash It)

by Lois Flowers October 6, 2015

by Lois Flowers

If you’ve been reading Waxing Gibbous for a while, you may recall a post or two about a quote from The Chronicles of Narnia that graces the wall above my kitchen sink:

“I am telling you your own story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.”

During an especially difficult time in my life, these words from The Horse and His Boy helped me understand that the things that happen in the lives of other people are part of “their story,” and it is neither our responsibility nor our business to know why God allows them to happen.

October 6, 2015 22 comments