Living the Sweet Life

Let's face it.....some days just really stink. Then there are weeks like I had last week and the entire WEEK stinks. It would be so easy for me to concentrate on the negative aspects. It's especially a draw for me to do that as that had been my m.o. for most of my early 20's. I was a young, single mom and life was tough. Feeling sorry for myself, although got me nowhere, became a place of,sadly, comfort. I was most comfortable while playing the martyr.

The fact that no one does anything without some sort of reward for themselves came up at our church's small group yesterday. I know what you're thinking. What about all of the things that we have to do as adults, and do, but are really comfortable and we don't want to? Where's the reward in that?Trust me, if there wasn't a reward, we wouldn't do it. We do the "right thing" even when it's uncomfortable, or downright excruciating knowing that somewhere, either in our conscience or down the road there will be a reward for ourselves. Even doing the right thing for reasons of salvation and karma, we have our own best interest in mind. Yes, even doing the right thing for the praise of a Higher Power, we do it because it's the right thing to do and it feels good deep down to do the right thing. Or, maybe we do the wrong thing sometimes because that feels good too. Sure, that is easier to point out. Of course, doing the wrong thing for pleasure is part of human nature. Well, doing ANYTHING for pleasure is part of human nature.

So why did martyrdom make me feel so good at that time in my life? I've never really pondered it too much. I kind of acknowledged that it was true, that I needed to stop because it wasn't healthy, and then moved on. But why, would engaging in a behavior where concentrating on the negative, become a place where I was most comfortable? I'm no masochist, in spite of some of my wilder decisions that I've made where it must seem that I've thrown away reason with wild abandon (puppy, anyone?). I suppose feeling "Woe is me," allows me to forgive myself in my imperfection a little easier. Oh wait, didn't you know that I am somewhat of a perfectionist? I forgot to mention that? Well, I am. There it is. I have very high standards for myself, and often times for others (just ask my loved ones). So I guess that if I allowed myself to feel sorry for myself, then I had an excuse when I wasn't performing up to my unrealistic standards. Do you see the pattern of sickness here? It really can be a vicious cycle.

What was the turning point? Has there really been a turnaround for me? I mean, here I am a mother of 5 with a schedule big enough to bring Donald Trump to his knees and I'm BLOGGING. Don't be fooled though. This blogging is (and here's that self-serving behavior) like therapy for me. There's something so comforting in journaling. Putting all of the insanity that is my life down in neat little words allows me to compartmentalize (OK sometimes BIG words) that insanity and make sense of it all. I know that a big part of my growth came from my vanity. Yep, not the kind of motivator that I am proud of, but if I'm being honest, I cared about what people thought of me. I hated to think that anyone would take me for a negative person.

I had to start off small. Awareness of course is always the first step. I had loved ones who would (sometimes not so gently) let me know when I was sitting on the pity pot too long, or seeing the glass as half empty all of the time. My husband gets to see the un-polished version of Sara on a daily basis and it's not pretty. Living with a person who is negative all the time can be draining. I know that he felt that a lot in the first few years of our marriage. You see, getting married didn't change the martyrdom I felt as a single mom, it simply morphed into, "I do so much more than you," (which I did btw haha). I would sit on that pot on a daily basis and there was little happiness, little harmony, but if I didn't get to that load of laundry that day it was OK because I-______________ fill in the blanks, so much more than you today. Not a healthy place to be in. So the small step I took after being aware and then being willing (amazing what a motivator pain can be!), was faking it till I made it. That's right, I pretended to be a positive person. I'm a pretty decent actress. Was Emily in "Our Town" in H.S. lit class you know......So I acted as if I was looking at life with rose colored glasses, when in the meantime I was thinking, you know what this happy nonsense is really just that, nonsense! Of course I prayed on it. Asking God for His will for my life and the power to carry it out, I knew that God didn't want me to be negative.

Slowly, but surely things began to change. My fake actions, started to come more naturally. I actually began to find myself looking at that glass as half full. It almost became a challenge that I gave myself. Seeing nothing but ugly? Where can I find the beauty. It was like a breath of fresh air that I craved. The more I got, the more I wanted it. Now, don't for a moment think that I am a PollyAnna in any way, shape or form. I'd like to think that I'm pretty grounded. I see the horror and tragedy in Haiti and I don't think, "Well, gee that's OK, this is a great opportunity for others to serve." That may be, but the horrors are real, and nothing can take that away. I guess the shift is, that I can acknowledge life's difficulties, tragedies and sadness, but I don't have to dwell on them. I acknowledge them, sometimes even hold onto them a little while just for old time's sake, and then I move on. Letting go and letting God.

Today was one of those days. Coming off of the week from hell (there I said it!), I woke up this morning to what seemed to be a mini-hurricane. It's January and it's 55 degrees and pouring. Lovely. What's even better is that my roof leaks in my kitchen when it pours. So I had about 5 pots lying around the kitchen catching the mini-waterfalls coming down my ceiling. My back was still killing me this morning and I had to go food shopping. My grocery bags, myself and Charlotte were soaked as we came home. Cold and wet, I drove up to my house only to find that the 200 year old stone wall in front of my property had washed out as if its very own landslide onto the street. I unpacked my soaking wet groceries and headed to pick up Luke and then went to the chiropractor. I got a little more relief for my back and came home to finish unpacking the groceries. At this low point in the day Charlotte came into the kitchen with a library book that we had taken out a few days ago and asked me if we could make the recipe that was in the back. It was a neat story about a little boy who's grandfather is a bee-keeper. After going through all of the work of taking care of the bees and harvesting the honey, the little boy and his grandparents reap the fruits of their labors by eating grandma's apple-honey muffins. The author includes the recipe for these muffins in the back of the book. Now, most of the pots that were filling with rain water were on the floor of the kitchen in front of my oven at this point, but I knew that this is just what I needed to do. Shift my perspective. Concentrate on something sweet. What could be sweeter than baking with my sweet Charlotte.....and 2/3's a cup of honey! As Charlotte helped to sift the flour and baking powder, smelling the cinnamon (mmm Momma!) and nutmeg (eww Momma!), I immediately could see that silver lining. The wind was still howling outside, but inside my oven was warming, the apples I was grating were sweetening the air, and my heart was full.

It made me think a bit. How amazing is it that something as frightening and potentially painful as bees, when handled correctly, can provide us with something as sweet and golden as honey? How many things in life are just like that? As long as I'm open to God's will, and accept that what happens in my life can be used to fulfill His will (notice how I don't say that all that happens in my life is God's will, but how I choose to handle what may come can be used to fulfill that will) I can only come out with something sweet and golden for my life. I just need to handle these episodes carefully. I also need to put them to sleep, just as the bee keeper lulls the bees so that he can collect the honey, I need to put my anxieties to rest in order to reap the benefits of the growth that has come by living through the hard times.

The muffins turned out wonderfully and as if that wasn't sweet enough, the rain began to subside and I noticed a pink glow out my kitchen window. My kids came running to me as they noticed it too. "Mommy, look outside! Look at that sunset!" It was, in fact, a most beautiful, glorious sunset. The horizon just over the nature preserve was tinged salmon, coral and soft pink, silhouetting the barren tree-tops. I watched for a while, as my tea pot began to whistle and as I settled down with a cup of hot tea and a warm homemade muffin, I forgot about the week before and the mess of today and could only taste and see the sweet goodness of where I was.