Breaking Out of Indecision

Today's post may seem a bit silly to some of you, but humor me. Is it just me or do any of the rest of you out there ever have trouble making a decision? Some of you are laughing, because you can't imagine not knowing what you want (and going for it). That's great and more power to you, but there are some of us who occasionally "freeze up" when it's time to make even simple choices.

Like many kids, I grew up wanting to do everything right. I reasoned that if I were perfect, everyone would like me and I would be successful. I became an excellent people-pleaser and highly adept at reading other people's reactions to me. I also was a bundle of nerves when it came to making decisions. I so hated the idea of making a wrong decision that I would try to postpone hard decisions until I had polled all my friends and researched the decision ad nauseum. Even then I still hated making decisions.

Eventually I got to the point that I would "freeze" at some simple decisions as well as the major ones. It was especially true when I had serious PMS (more on that subject another day). The "freeze" usually meant one of two things:

1. Two choices were so similar that I couldn't see one as better
2. I was afraid of making the wrong decision

So one day I came up with a simple strategy:

-Label each choice with a title.
-Choose the one that comes first alphabetically
If I am having dinner and the choices are between a hamburger or a chicken sandwich, I will choose the chicken sandwich. It doesn't really matter which choice I make: the point is that the freeze is broken (I do eat a lot of chicken).

-People don't always know what they want, but they know what they don't want. Occasionally, I make the choice based on the alphabet and suddenly discover that I really would rather have the hamburger this time. There's nothing that says I can't do that - as long as I don't keep flip flopping.

-The more practice you have at breaking "freezes", the less they will happen. Eventually they just melt away.

I just wondered whether or not I made the right decision to post this, but I've decided I might as well (not bad for a recovering people pleaser).

Do any of the rest of you have trouble making decisions like this or know someone else who does? Please post a comment so I know you're out there.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

The Blue Ball

Nora was in Tiny Grandma’s backyard playing in the old tractor tire sandbox when a little boy her age strolled down the alley, a small blue rubber ball in his hand. Nora said hello and invited him to join her in the sandbox. Smiling, he obliged. He had short dark curly hair but was dirtiest little boy she had ever seen. Nora asked if he ever bathed, and he said his mama made him take a bath “’most every night”. Nora was somewhat dubious – how could he be so dirty if he washed so often? She queried him on the proper use of soap and a washcloth, and he insisted that he used them every time. Nora showed him her white skin and told him that he must be doing it wrong, because if he had been doing it correctly, his skin would come clean and be just as fresh and white as hers. Roddy told her he would scrub and scrub, and that he would come back tomorrow.

The next day Roddy came back with a sad expression- he had scrubbed until his skin ached, but it was just the same dirty brown. Nora said it didn’t matter – at least he had tried. She did compliment him on the soles of his feet and the palms of his hands; it was obvious his scrubbing was more successful there, since his skin was definitely lighter. They spent that day playing together and before Roddy went home, he gave her his blue ball to keep overnight as a sign of friendship and said they would see each other the next day.

What they did not see was Tiny Grandma standing at the kitchen window watching Nora play with her new friend. A hard line replaced her usually smiling lips and a chill frosted her cornflower blue eyes. She told Nora’s mama that no granddaughter of hers was going to play with a Negro boy.     

And so the rest of the week was spent in a carousel of activities. Nora and her family swam at the lake, hiked through the state park and sat on a blanket under the stars for the evening band concert in the new bandstand gazebo. They shopped for postcards to say what a fine time they were having, having explored Uncle Ole’s huge garden and ate his fine homemade BBQ chicken with its sweet flame-licked secret sauce. They rode in a speedboat across the lake, and even stopped at the little amusement park to ride a few rides. They walked over the footbridge that had been used in a Hollywood movie, stopped by Aunt Susan’s to see her collection of hand painted porcelain figurines and then picked dark purple grapes for Ole to use in his homebrew. In short, they did everything they could to keep Nora out of the backyard where she might meet Roddy again. Nora did not guess what the adults were doing, but each time they went in or out of the grey little house she kept looking for a glimpse of Roddy so that she could return his beloved blue ball.

Days passed, and all too quickly the end of the week had come with still no sign of Roddy. After all the farewell hugs and kisses had been passed around all the relatives at least twice, Nora’s family all piled into the family station wagon with Nora in her usual seat in the “way-back” where the seat faced out the back window. Just as they waved a final goodbye to Tiny Grandma and pulled away from the curb, Nora saw Roddy run into the street to catch up with their car. She had been holding his blue ball, hoping for one last chance to return it to him. She cried to her father to stop and open the back window so that she could throw the ball to Roddy, but as fathers are sometimes wont to do, he didn’t understand and just kept driving. Roddy got smaller and smaller as his young legs could no longer keep up with the station wagon. Nora looked out the back window and tearfully held up the blue ball to show him she had tried. Roddy shrugged and motioned for her to just keep it and looked at her in the window as the car drove out of sight. Nora buried her face in her hands, and her mama thought it was so sweet that Nora had had such a good time with Tiny Grandma that Nora was sorry to leave.

Nora kept the blue ball and played with it sometimes, but it always made her so sad to think of Roddy that she put it away somewhere and never found it again. Years later she found out how many different colors of skin there were in the world, and her easily-burned-to-a-cancerous-crisp complexion was just what had been most common in her neck of the woods.

NOTE: Coming out of my NANOWRIMO experience last year, I wrote this account of vacationing at my grandmother’s in northern Iowa. My grandmother’s brother, Uncle Charlie, had actually fought for the Union army as a young boy at the very end of the Civil War. My mother used to tell about sitting on the back porch stoop with Uncle Charlie as he taught her “Tenting Tonight” and other songs the soldiers had sung at the campfires at night. My grandmother, nicknamed “Tiny Grandma” because she was several inches short of 5 feet, was one of the most gracious women I have ever known, and it is continues to be difficult for me to reconcile her actions regarding Roddy with the sweet Christian woman I knew her to be. 

Lord, please help me to see everyone with Your eyes and heart and respond accordingly.

He Has Something More

Several dear friends of mine are going through times of transition where one season or job is coming to an end and the details for their future are unknown as yet. As part of the theatre community as well as a university, we see a lot more transitions than many other settings, but it makes it no less traumatic or difficult even when you know it is coming, like my husband's May 2012 graduation with an MFA in theatre.
What message does God have for those of us looking at an indistinct future? The word for you and me right now is "more" - as in, our Heavenly Father has more for you than what you have done here to fore. You have been suspecting this was coming, sensing light breezes blowing from a new direction, and He is holding you as securely in this transition as surely as He has in your steadiest job. It is never fun to see a door close before another obviously opens, but this is a special season when you will experience how previous you are to Him.
God does not have any less resources to meet your needs right now than He did when you had a contract or salary with medical benefits, so do not assume you need to hunker down just to survive. Psalm 34 is one of my favorites and I especially love verse 10:
The young lions do lack and suffer hunger;
But they who seek the LORD shall not be in want of any good thing. (Psalm 34:10 NASB).
Of course, Jeremiah 29:11 is my official transition time favorite verse -
For I know the plans that I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope. (Jeremiah 29:11 NASB).
In my heart, this verse has long deep scratches on it where I have held on with my fingernails, but it has always proven true. Whether or not we know the specifics, He always has plans for us - something more. Let's trust Him together.

This post is dedicated with love to my dear friend KBB, Regent University's Theatre Cohort A and friends from Pigeon Forge and Lancaster.

Saving Graces

It happens more frequently than I care to admit. I’m in a group of people and suddenly I do or say something embarrassing or awkward. Clumsy or clueless or whatever – I have somehow separated myself from the pack in a not-so-good way and I pray beyond hope that no one else has noticed. As the room grows unnaturally silent, I freeze with the realization that everyone witnessed my gaffe, and brace myself for the first scathing critique sure to come, the first person to throw a sharp-edged verbal stone.

But I won’t go down so easily. With a snap my head comes up and I attempt an unnaturally bright fake smile. “Oh, how silly of me! I can’t believe I did that…” and I attempt to brazen my way out of the situation by criticizing myself before anyone else can. Somehow it feels like it won’t hurt so much that way. But it does.


 Why is it we are all waiting for someone to pounce - to point out our flaws or pick apart our carefully crafted public personas? Sometimes I am not the unlucky one who dropped her tea cup or made a stupid comment, but I know how she feels. I cringe with her, dreading the judgment of the group.


But then something marvelous happens. Someone reaches out a hand and murmurs soft words like, "Here, let me help you," and everything changes. The focus of the group shifts to something else and the danger has passed.
What just happened? Grace. Rather than reach out in judgment, someone has gently redirected the focus away from whatever gaffe was done.


Many of us are quick to give grace to others but are oh so reluctant to give it to ourselves. I used to mentally berate myself for things I said or did, and if I had spoken to another person that same way, it might be considered verbal abuse. 
We belong to our Heavenly Father, who created us in His image. Listen to your inner dialog with yourself. Are you highly self-critical? Rather than harping at yourself for your flaws, try extending a hand of grace - to yourself. 


"Love your neighbor as yourself" is a well known verse, but most people don't realize that you cannot truly love others until you have loved yourself. Do you want to be loving toward others? Start with yourself, and the rest will follow.

                                                                                                             

Tree-climbing Fish

I have spent more time than I care to admit trying to be a tree-climbing fish, as in the Albert Einstein quote: “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

God has built into each of us a personal passion - an inner dynamo that starts humming and energizing when we are doing that passion. "Sandra" means "helper of mankind", and guess what my passion is? Nothing energizes me faster than seeing a need and being able to meet it, from a physical need to giving a word of affirmation or encouragement. On the other hand, if you need to me to sit down with a spreadsheet of numbers and check them for accuracy, I could do it, but it would just drain me, being afraid I might make a mistake. 

Am I more or less worthy because I love helping people but would make a lousy accountant? What is so bad about admitting that I am not good at x, y and z? It is normal to not be good at some things - in fact, it allows me to specialize and be an individual. Unfortunately, we have become a nation of generalists - people who are barely adequate  in a lot of things, but don't excel at anything enough to make a difference.

By choosing to be so broad in our interests, we are short selling the influence we might have had if we had allowed ourselves to specialize a bit more. What if I am  so busy trying to prove I can do everything that I don't have the time or energy or creativity left to accomplish the specific assignments that God has for me to do? Ouch.

Making choices means giving up one thing for another - tradeoffs, if you will. Let's give each other permission to NOT be good at something, to cut others some slack - and while you're are at it, cut yourself some as well.

A Dubious Explanation of Feng Shui

Yesterday someone sent me one of those emails where it promises you that you will be very lucky because this is November and this particular one has five Saturdays, Sundays and Mondays (first time in 843 years). That apparently means this is the month of Moneybags (according to Chinese tradition of Feng Shui) and that if I sent the email to a certain number of friends I would be lucky. Well, I never forward those things so I must not be lucky, but I am perfectly happy being blessed instead.

The mention of feng shui (pronounced Fung Schway) got me thinking, though. I know it has to do with some harmony of spirit and the earth, and therefore the way buildings and rooms are set up are supposed to have some kind of balance, according to this Chinese religion.

I'm rather dubious of the whole concept of Feng Shui (pronounced Fehng Shway) so I came up with a personal theory about that. I think Feng was probably a Chinese man who was weary of moving around the furniture in his house every time his wife felt like rearranging things. One night he came home a bit inebriated to find his wife wanting to switch around the furniture yet again. He put his foot down and said that there was only one right way to arrange the furniture and it was his way – “Feng’s Way”. Over the years other husbands told their wives the same thing and said it was all Feng’s fault. Eventually people just said something was “Feng Shui” whenever they wanted to do something without being argued with. And that is the origin of Feng Shui.

All kidding aside, I find it so intriguing that people are always looking for some philosophy or belief to hang their hat on. Even the ones who say there is no order to the universe still hold the belief that there is no overarching purpose (and that in itself is a philosophy).

I used to really wonder what was true (or even if there was such a thing as truth), and the only way I came to any peace was by asking God to show Himself to be real in my life. God never refuses an invitation like that, and He is the only reason I have peace in this rocky little boat I call my life.

What are you building your life upon? You have to believe in something - and God is the only One who could fulfill that longing I had for so long. Post what you think - i'd love to dialog with you.

Have a good evening - this has been post #2 in my series of 30 November posts. See you tomorrow.

Sandy Kay Salsbury

November, NANOWRIMO and a blog a day

Welcome to November! November seems flavored with gratitude all month long – day by day I think of little blessings and by the time Thanksgiving rolls around, there’s this amazing crescendo… so today I am grateful to have an outlet for my creative thoughts. 


A year ago I decided on the spur of the moment to sign up for NANOWRIMO - an insane competition (basically with yourself) to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. You are a winner if you complete 50,000 words in that time frame and you get bragging rights (I also got a cool NANOWRIMO mug but that came from my husband for Christmas). NANOWRIMO stands for NAtional NOvel WRIters MOnth. Check out their website at http://www.nanowrimo.org/ . They also have a script writing contest in the spring.


The emphasis is get the words out of your head and onto paper (or electronic blips) and churn out 50K words in 30 days. The time for editing comes later, so you just write and write and write... I love the motto: "Thirty days and nights of literary abandon!"  - there is something freeing about just letting the words flow. 


One of the best things NANOWRIMO taught me was that I have a whole lot more going for me than I gave myself credit for. Not only did I come up with characters and a plot on the fly but I managed to write almost half of my wordcount with just a little over a week left (and we were going out of town for Thanksgiving weekend). I'm still a little shocked I made it, but with support from family and understanding friends, I nailed it.  


An interesting paradigm shift happened in the next month or so - if I could win NANOWRIMO, there were a lot of other things that I could probably accomplish. I began to dream again and start new projects. My NANOWRIMO novel was split up into 2 short stories (and an unwieldy narrative I may or may not return to).  


Interestingly, my job at work has started giving me more writing assignments, and I know I am much more confident as a result of doing NANOWRIMO. I have been getting affirmations on several fronts, and it appears that writing is a renewed outlet for me. 


What's your NANOWRIMO? What challenge would you like to accomplish? It's never too late, and this could be the start of a new season in your life. 


As for me, I'm skipping NANOWRIMO this year, but I have a new goal: to write a new blogpost every day in November. Maybe I should call it SABLADMO (SAndy's BLog A Day MOnth) - or not. Regardless, here is Day 1.