Tag Archives: quiet

Your Plate

You are about to fill your plate at the party or potluck dinner. You tell yourself, like you always do, that you will not over do it. Little by little, with only a bit of this and that, it happens. The empty plate you started with is soon over-filled with small amounts of good things. If you really didn’t plan ahead you may require a whole other plate for salad and dessert. Worst case scenario, it is a paper plate that does not stand up to all your good choices.

We are entering the back to school and fall season of lots of good choices. Summer is winding down and families and individuals are gearing up for the fun and activity of fall. What’s on your plate?

I’m in a season of too much right now. I did it to myself. I said yes to some great things a long time ago and they are now all on my plate at once. That happens sometimes. What do you do when it does?

Here are some coping mechanisms in a season of too much. I’m implementing these myself right now. I’m sharing just in case you also are walking through life with a too full plate.

  1. Remember it is okay to subtract something. Just scrape it right off the plate. You do not have to explain why to anyone. I’m unable to do that will work just fine. Our family once just said no to all select baseball, for example. We just scraped it away and guess what? We have all been just fine without it. One time my middle child asked if he could join a very good organization. I said, No, you can’t. He later thanked me for that.
  2. Your plate has to have white space. White space is margin; space between activities; unscheduled time for breathing, resting, regrouping. You need white space every day.
  3. When evaluating the fullness of your plate, count everything. You need sleep on your plate. You need meal time. You need exercise time. You need time to do the basics like laundry and taking out the trash. The most dangerous time for mental health begins when people start sacrificing these basic tasks in order to get other things done. If your home is filled with trash you don’t have time to take out, you are in trouble. If you don’t have time to wash your hair, body or clothes, you are in trouble.
  4. You also need to count those things you wish weren’t on your plate like grief, chronic problems or new challenges you are facing. These all take time and emotional energy too. You have to be able to be honest with yourself and admit you are in a season of dealing with extra items on your plate before you ever arrived at the potluck.
  5. If your plate is full, turn down some other noise. In my seasons of stress, I end up with a loud tv on or too many podcasts in my ear, when what I need is some silence or soothing faith music instead while I’m carrying around the full plate.
  6. Lean on your spiritual resources. Martin Luther once famously said, I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer. I think he is maybe overdoing it on the time allotted there, but I now understand the point. When I have a full day, I get up earlier to pray, journal and read scripture. I do not skip it. We’ve been commanded to honor a weekly sabbath, to see our bodies as God’s temple and to guard the gift of life that we’ve been given. I wonder why we ignore all that and instead worship our busyness? I have had to learn to stop leaning on my own understanding and my own capabilities and instead depend on God for prioritizing and giving me the energy for all the good things in my life. My inability to manage my plate has kept me dependent on God and I am grateful for that.
  7. Practice gratitude. When juggling too much, it is hard to be grateful. With less, it seems easier. Simplify in order to enhance your gratitude. Create white space and quiet so you can see what you have and hear God’s whispers of guidance.

Personally, as families and even as spiritual beings our life depends on good plate management skills. It is a balancing act for sure. What’s on your plate?

Dr. Cindy Ryan is a pastor, wife, mother of three, Mimosa to Keller and Pace and breast cancer survivor. 

Barely There

Themes for me this year: Removing clutter in order to focus. Going small to be able to see. Downsizing schedule and scope to allow more spiritual space. Having a tiny Christmas.

In the quiet space of this morning, I remembered an infant’s touch. Isn’t it amazing how from the minute a baby is born they know how to touch?  I remember as I was parenting my three children marveling at how physical parenting was. All that constant touching, holding and changing of clothes and diapers; all that drool and contact. You can’t get away from it. You can’t stay clean. You just allow yourself to be one with the child and all that comes with them.

The touch of a newborn…the way the baby wraps a tiny hand around your finger.  The baby can’t hold you there, you are stronger. You can barely even feel it really. It’s this gentle, soft, subtle phenomenon.

It reminds me of some other things. Like being outside when the sun comes out on a gray day and you hardly notice it at first and then you feel something a tad bit warmer on your face. You look up. It’s light. Stars do that. They don’t seem to be there as the dusk heads into darkness. Then, there they are, one after the other; age-old beacons of light and hope.

God went tiny, gentle, subtle, small and star-like for us. When God wanted to grasp our hearts and souls, God touched us like an infant does. That’s it.

Our world is so big, loud, scary and just overblown. Every day, assorted media reports sadden, anger and terrify me. My own life and vivid imaginings do too. Sometimes my heart cries out wondering where God is in all of it.

And then, in a way I can sometimes hardly perceive, the brush of angel wings, the warmth of light and this tiny sweet infant touch, holding me.

The quieter I am, the more I see. When I am still, listening, waiting and open, I feel God’s gentle hold on me. I pray it for you, too, this Christmas; that somewhere in the noise and activity; the much-ness of it all, that you will stop, breathe and feel the newborn hand, barely there, holding you.