I was chopping vegetables with my five-year-old a while ago when he told me a story. He began by referencing something we both heard that morning, but it was his interpretation of what he heard that caught my attention. It caught my attention so much that I could feel my physical anger reaction almost immediately.

My heart beat faster. My breaths shortened. My hands started to shake. I was angry. Within seconds I was forming a response. I wrote down what he said, I formulated the story for my husband, and I started composing a mental email.

I expect my child to be exposed to misogynistic thinking in advertising and television, I don’t expect him to face it here, I wrote in my head to people involved.

I listened to my son, and I let myself get angrier and angrier thinking about it. I was so angry that at some point I realized I was enjoying being angry and enjoying having a reason to be angry about a specific group of people. The evening went on, and when we had some privacy, I told my husband about the conversation. He suggested that perhaps I didn’t understand the context. He told me the story because he and my son had been there for the whole thing. He expanded out the boundaries I put around it.

I didn’t write any protest emails. I didn’t talk to anyone. I misunderstood the context my son was talking about because I wasn’t there for all of it.

The situation with my son didn’t need an angry email from me, but after my emotions settled, I could see something else.

My anger was pointing at something.

It was like an arrow directing my attention toward a situation, a bigger situation,  that needed to be addressed. The specifics here are not important, but I needed to be able to separate what I was getting angry about in the moment from what I actually needed to pay attention to. Because what it pointed at is something that required action.

The bigger picture involved an important decision we have to make. We needed to reflect on our reasons. This would mean many complex, sometimes difficult, discussions between us as a couple. It meant we needed to communicate that decision with others, people who may not understand or may be hurt by our actions. And there were many, many things in there that I needed to let go.

You don’t have to do much to find anger. Just turn on the news. Spin the dial on your radio. Listen closely to your friends. Pay attention to your emotions. We are an angry people. We know more, we feel more and that can keep us from seeing what we need to do. I wonder about your life and its specifics. What events or people push your buttons easily? What else could it be pointing to? Perhaps there is more action for you to take.

Being angry is easy, looking at what our anger is trying to get us to see can be so much harder, taking action can be harder still.

It requires our courage, vision and action. It means we need to slow down, let our emotions diffuse, let the anger go, but let the arrow remain. However difficult it may be for you to look at the thing anger wants you to see, dealing with it is what will bring freedom and peace.

Now it’s your turn: What is anger pointing at in your life? What steps do you need to take to deal with it? Is there someone with whom you could share this who could help you discern what to do next? 

sunrise melbourne australia setting goals

February is almost finished, and I’m still thinking about goals.  Here are a few things I’ve learned after eight weeks of 2018.

The domino effect: intentionality in one area leads to change in other areas.

Some of the small steps I take in other goals have led to other changes in my life, changes I wasn’t even thinking about. Here was my one, real parenting goal for the year: Smile at my kids. It’s simple and actionable, and only I am responsible for it. But making myself smile more at my kids helped me spend more real, playing time with them. It meant we got outside more. I felt more naturally inclined toward encouraging them. I helped my attitude. I think I feel happier and more content. One tiny goal is doing so much more in my life and relationships than I could have imagined.

The easiest goals to accomplish are the ones most clearly broken down.

My big project in January was finishing the kids’ playroom. I wrote down a detailed task list, and systematically assigned those tasks to weeks and days and powered through them. It was concrete. It was clear. It was relatively easy to accomplish. Some goals (see the next point) are less concrete, which makes it harder to work through in the same way. I still think the key is turning those bigger goals into tiny, bite-sized pieces, actionable in a day.

Resistance is real.

It’s what comes after you’ve chipped away at parts of your goal, but you still aren’t “there” yet. I’ve felt resistance most acutely with some of the bigger picture goals for 2018. I broke them down into smaller chunks, I attacked the chunks, and then I heard the questions. Who do you think you are? Why do you think this is going to work? Why should anyone listen to you about this? Dealing with these resistance voices has been the hardest part of working toward my goals this year. For any of your goals that require months or years of work, learn to expect resistance. And develop your plan for how to deal with it. I’m still struggling with this one, but my simplest plan is this: Keep doing the work.

The 80-20 principle.

I’m not trying to “not do this” or “do this” every day, for the whole year. I’m aiming for 80% of the time, and the grace to not do anything all the time has made it easier for me to push for the things I want.

I can only do one thing at a time.

January was my playroom month. As much as I tried to work toward writing goals, most of my capacity went to the playroom. I still did a few writing things on the side, but I can see now that I am just a one-thing person. Not everyone is like this, but for me to get through my days in a good way, I need to remember this and not make myself focus on more than one thing. You get to decide what works for you in what way it works for you.

Now it’s your turn: How are your goals working in 2018? Are you finding it easy to follow through? What’s working for you? 

How we spend our days, of course, is how we spend our lives,” Annie Dillard writes in The Writing Life. I know this because of Google and because of guilt because I, maybe like you, know how to guilt myself at the start of the year. Here it comes, the new year with all its promise and potential, here comes the list of ways I’m going to change. Here comes the list of all the ways I failed in 2017.

These kinds of maxims give insight into the rhythm of life; I believe Annie Dillard. But I also know what it is like to face down February with its slow and steady defeat, the list untouched, your soul, unchanged. I know what it is like to wonder if the sum of my days will be a complete and utter waste in the end.

I write here regularly about small changes, and the power these little steps have in my life for growth. I believe in small changes deeply, the kind you can do any time, anywhere. So here are four small changes for how to think about 2018 and whatever goals and plans you are making right now. Maybe you don’t have them and feel like you should. Maybe you’ve got a huge list and are excited or maybe you’re overwhelmed with your list already. Start here, and see if changing your thinking about these four areas brings freedom.

January 1 is not the start of your life changing. Every day is an opportunity for change, which means you can start on April 14 if you notice something then that needs growth in your life. You aren’t limited by the beginning of a new calendar year, neither are you pressured by it. You are free to change when you want and how you want. For some of us, the pressure of making each year intentional is too much. Maybe you need to dispel the myth that there is something magical about January 1. Maybe you need to go past January, let your days speak to you, give your circumstances time to marinate into you before you decide where and how you want to shift.

Begin with identity. Who are you? If your answer to that has to do with your occupation (accountant, chef or student) or your relational role in someone’s life (husband, wife, mother), may I gently suggest: Go deeper. Our roles are not our identity, neither is our vocation. Identity is given by a Creator when we were made, and I want my goals to connect back to who I am. When it comes to habits I want to break, I want to break them because this isn’t who God created me to be. When it comes to the things I want to pick up or put on, it is because this is who God created me to be. This is better fuel than the shame and guilt that can drive us to “get better” or “be different.”

Differentiate between goals and desires. Goals can only be set for matters over which I have control. It is something actionable by you not by someone else. A goal like “Have obedient children,” while a wonderful desire, will be a frustrating goal because my kids have their own will. I don’t get to determine how their attitudes are shaped or what they will choose. Hopefully one day they will pick “Obey my parents” as a goal for their lives, but until then, my kids’ actions and attitudes remain something I deeply desire. (Of course we communicate and correct hourly with the hope of an obedient end in our sons’ lives. But it is not a goal I name or even work toward at any point in the year.) I do have goals for myself as a mother, this year one of the big ones is to be intentional about using encouraging words with my kids. I can do this because it is entirely within my control, it is not based on the actions of others.

(A digression here about your desires – they are so deeply important. They are not to be ignored. Please write them down, please acknowledge them. If you struggle with even acknowledging you have desires, and that your desires might possibly be wonderful things, perhaps start with your disappointments. Behind every disappointment is an unmet desire. Follow your disappointments and they will lead you to your desires. It’s a powerful thing to name our desires, and I always try to do this in the pages of my journal at any point in the year.)

Make space on your list for fun. This year my fun list includes bake pies, have a spontaneous picnic, and go on a mom road trip with my sons. Most people I know put fun at the end of the list of things to do, and I get it. The older we get, the more those grown up responsibilities seem in reach. Save up and buy a house. Work for a promotion. Find a spouse. Have kids. These are all great things, but there is something soul killing about a list that only requires you to work and work and work. Maybe one gift you can give yourself in 2018 is to let your desires speak to you. Make one goal a fun goal, something that will “accomplish” nothing except to have loads of fun.

Now it’s your turn: Do you make resolutions or intentions for the new year? What’s one small change you can make to make those things possible? What did you think of these four small changes? Relevant to your life or not? I would love to hear what you think. 

You know I like to find my teachers, and when I think about 2018, someone who has taught me a lot in the past week is Elise Blaha Cripe. She’s got two stories in her highlights on Instagram (you’ll only be able to see this on your phone via the app), the five-year-plan video and the 2018 goals one have been hugely helpful for me in thinking through my list for next year.

If you want to read more about small changes, you can start here:

It’s the beginning of summer for us in Australia, and time for me to write my favourite list. I started keeping track of what I learned a few years ago thanks to Emily P. Freeman, and it became a way of caring for my soul, not just something to write. I hardly wrote on the blog during our winter and spring, but I never stopped writing down what I was learning. In a world that keeps changing and moving, I need these practices to keep me grounded and firmly here. Maybe you should try it too? The easiest way for me to do it is to have a place in my journal (like a page), and whenever I learn something, I go there and jot it dow. Re-reading the list at the end of the season (I keep my list according to the seasons) puts a smile on my face every time.

Our spring was warm and beautiful, and here’s what I learned:

I learned how to bullet journal (see above). I love it and will probably write more about it in the coming weeks. The short story is that I enjoy having everything in one place, and it’s become a creative space for me. More life-giving creative outlets are usually a good thing. For an explanation about bullet journaling, you can start here. My version is this one: It’s a homemade planner with whatever you want in it. The end.

You can’t really sift wholewheat flour. I started sifting flour this year, and feel super grown up doing so, but when I sifted wholewheat flour in October, the bran was left behind in the sifter.

For a few weeks in early October (our spring), the evening air smelled like perfume. I think it was jasmine or something else, but all I had to do was step outside for lungfuls of the sweetest smelling perfume. It wasn’t like this last year, and by the end of October, the scent was gone. But it was delightful while it lasted and a good excuse to get outside in the evening.

Grocery shopping in person is a major energy and decision-making drain for me. Even if I have a good list. Even if I meal plan. I’ve been using a few places for online shopping in October and November, and it’s been a sanity saver.

How to wash my face. Apparently you can learn how to take care of your skin as a 35-year-old, and adding a skincare routine to my life gave me so much more than clearer pores. You can read about that here.

Always keep bacon around. This has been a lesson of 2017, and you will have to trust me on this. When you have bacon in the fridge, all things are possible. Including (especially) happy meal times with children. Also, breakfast for dinner. Also, fast tomato sauces. Also, fast white sauces. The sky is the limit.

Putting up photos is a good thing. My phone has lots of photos. My laptop holds lots of photos. Photos that I just look at, on our walls, in a book? Not so many. I changed that up with a giant photo board for our wall as a gift for my husband’s birthday. It brings us all so much joy to see these memories from the past.

The pruning of the trees in the forest is done by the seasons, and I think it is the same with us. I wrote a bit about the way time can cut back our branches for GraceTable in October.

Re-reading my old blog posts reminded me of the ups and downs of the past years and reminded me of the woman I used to be, the good and the bad. It was a sweet walk down memory lane, and it gave me many reasons to be grateful for this space and your investment in it. I wrote about that here.

Ecclesiastes wasn’t written by Solomon (blog post coming about this soon). I finished my first grad school class two weeks ago. Studying again was one of the most enriching and even fun parts of 2017 (also one of the most stressful). I learned a lot from the class and from the process of formal study, but one little lesson was a comment my professor made in class during our 45 minutes on Ecclesiastes. I’ve been told by almost anyone who mentions the book that it was written by Solomon, but he said most scholars – conservative and critical – dispute this claim now mostly because of the Persian loan words in the book. Persian didn’t exist when Solomon was king.

 

I love to keep track of what I’m learning each month, and it’s become a celebration of growth in small and big ways, a way to measure my days. Emily P. Freeman via her blog introduced me to the process, and I like to join her linkups each season. You can head over there to find others who participate. Please do sign up for my email list in the tool bar at the top of the page if you want to be notified of blog posts in your email. I send out a short, weekly email with links to my posts and other little things along the way.

This is a story where I tell you I started washing my face, and I’m guessing you want to know why this matters. So here’s the (unfunny) punchline from the start: the little, daily things we do daily provide an anchor for the rest of our lives. Routines matter. When trying to master the deeper, harder things, it helps to sometimes master something easy first. It also helps when mastering something smells like fresh and coconut-y.

We don’t realize how much we do because we learned it. No one may have taught it to us actively, but we were learning passively. My mother taught me how to read. I have no memory of this, but all my memories of childhood pass through the books I read. My father-in-law taught me how to uncork a wine bottle when he found out I couldn’t do it alone. He stood in our kitchen and showed me how to push the screw into the cork, how to twist and twist until the sides came up and push down for the cork to come out. I think about it every time I open a bottle of wine. No one taught me how to take care of a home, but those are things I learned passively from watching my mother and also the women who cleaned and cared for our house in the Philippines. I watched them wipe dust away with a cloth, sweep the floor multiple times a day and wash dishes. To this day I prefer the broom to a vacuum cleaner even though no one taught me how to use either one.

Here’s another thing I did not learn – how to take care of my skin. No one looked at my skin when I was a teenager to tell me if I had oily, dry or combination skin, no one looked at my breakouts to figure out if something could be done about it, no one showed me where and how to choose a simple face wash. Even though I knew I was supposed to wash my face every day, the simple truth was I had no idea how to do it.

So most of the time I didn’t. Eventually I started buying a face wash and every now and then I would use it, or after a day of make up, I would wash my face. But overall I relied on my sturdy brown skin to hold up under the sun, under makeup, under my own naiveté.

Fast forward to the past year and I can see the wear and tear on my face. Some of it is the natural process of ageing, one that doesn’t thrill me, but I welcome it. I refuse to look down on the life experience that comes with getting older. It is more precious than wrinkle-free skin. But I could also see the impact of years of neglect on my skin. That’s different from ageing.

But on the list of things I want to change in my life, my skin isn’t even close to being a priority. My list is enormous. I want to create more with my kids, be more organized, use my phone less, put the laundry away so it doesn’t pile up, wake up early to write, go to bed early so I can wake up earlier, not get angry at my kids, not discuss the lives of people when they aren’t around, use my phone less, eat less gluten, paint the cabinet that’s been sitting on the deck for most of the year unused, clean out the kids’ toys, set better boundaries with my kids, use my phone less, eat less sugar.

Did that exhaust you? (Just writing it exhausted me.)

I’m guessing you’ve got a list, too, a mental tape that runs on a loop, full of daily categories where you could do better, promising you that if you could just get it together and change, your life would be different.

My list is full of good intentions, but the judgment it can direct toward me leaves little room for growth.

This is why I started washing my face.

It was one small change I chose to make, one that is about skincare yet also so much more.

Here’s how I did it.

I found a teacher. Her name is Jamie B. Golden, and I watched an Instagram live she did on skin care. I have no idea if her ideas are going to work long term, but when you have no idea what to do (and don’t want to see a dermatologist), you find someone you choose to trust and listen. I made a list of her recommendations and routines, and I went to Chemist Warehouse and bought what felt like a lifetime worth of products and terrorized their sales assistants with questions (“WHERE IS THE RETINOL?”). When there is something you don’t know how to do, the first step is to find a teacher. Let them fill in the gaps of your education, give yourself the grace of being able to say, “I don’t know how to do this. I need help.”

I set a routine and follow it. This meant buying products I did not have (other than moisturizer and a basic cleanser). Every evening now I follow a five-step routine. I even use a fresh washcloth every night because Jamie says it’s gross to use the one from the night before. In the morning I follow another routine before I leave the house. I’ve done this now for over three weeks, every single evening, every single morning. It takes me five minutes on either end, tops. I don’t do it because of the results – I’m not even sure I can see any yet – I do it because it is one small thing I can do daily to tell myself I can learn something new. I can follow a routine. I can take care of myself.

Find ways to enjoy the change. There have been times when I’m tempted to skip the cleansing and the toning, but the sheer enjoyment of it keeps me there. This isn’t going to work for every habit, there are some things (many things) we have to do that don’t produce endorphins of happiness. But when I can find something that helps me enjoy the process, it doesn’t hurt. For now that’s the smell of the moisturizer and the feel of a hot washcloth on my face.

How about you? What is one small change that could make a deep impact in your day-to-day life? What is one small thing you can choose to focus on for the next few weeks as the world around you gets more frantic? When the volume goes up and the demands you to do more and spend more, will there be a place in your life where you can tend to something small and watch it grow?

Growth is happening in your life and mine, and it takes place in the smallest of spaces, in the things that seem and feel insignificant. Don’t let someone tell you that thing you’ve changed is trivial. Even the smallest (good) habit is a victory, and the each step you take to take down the bad habits is a step taken in courage even if you feel weak. Every step counts. Every change counts. It all matters.

Now, I’m off to take my makeup off and press a hot (clean!!) washcloth into my face.

Maybe you’re frustrated by the list of big goals but wanting to seize your life and change? Small changes are for the rest of us, the ones whose dreams mock us from the sidelines, the ones who yearn for change but know they can’t just shove everything to one side. We do it bit by bit, piece by piece, and we believe that each piece is making a difference. If you want to read more about small changes, you can start here: