A “FRUIT-FILLED” LIFE: A NEW DEFINITION OF SUCCESS
During this process of analyzing success, I often contemplated God’s perspective on the matter. I wondered how closely it would align with the world’s definition of “accomplishing one’s goals” or “attaining wealth, position, and honors.”2 As I looked through the Bible, I returned to an image that I believe perfectly sums it up: the fruitful life. Or to be more precise, the fruit-filled life:
But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. Legalism is helpless in bringing this about; it only gets in the way (Gal. 5:22–23 MSG).
Here’s the way you might be more used to hearing this passage: “But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!” (NLT).
As we’ve noted before, producing fruit is the Spirit’s work, not our own. Yet each day we make choices that move us toward these nine fruits or toward their opposites:
FRUIT
OPPOSITE
Love
Hate
Joy
Sadness
Peace
Fear / Worry
Patience
Frustration / Impatience
Kindness
Rudeness
Goodness
Choosing the wrong
Faithfulness
Indifference / Disloyalty
Gentleness
Harshness
Self-control
Self-indulgence
Keep in mind this isn’t a divine scorecard, another way to measure ourselves based on behavior. Remember how striving backfires when it comes to our pursuit of happiness? It also backfires when it comes to accomplishing God’s work in our lives. Jesus freed us from the need for self-effort. But when we find ourselves operating out of these opposites, our emotions can serve as a signal. They show us whether or not we’re headed in the right direction. It no longer matters how full our to-do list is or how much we’ve accomplished; what matters is our approach. This brings freedom in the moment as well as when we’re deciding about potential opportunities. With each new choice we can ask, “Will this move me toward the fruits or away from them?” When evaluating my speaking requests, for example, it’s clear that coming home depleted would make it far more likely for me to operate out of my weaknesses; therefore, that’s not the right path for me at this time.
In a typical four-season climate, no tree produces fruit year-round. Different months serve different purposes, all of them contributing to the final harvest, even when it isn’t obvious. If we judge a tree during its unproductive times of year, we might decide it’s dead. We might deem it a failure, make the mistake of cutting it down. If only we’d waited! Winter would end, spring would arrive, buds would appear—a preview of the tree’s coming attractions. It’s the same with our lives. Can we honor our personal seasons of rest, of beauty, of letting go, as much as we do those of productivity? Let’s dare to define the good life for ourselves instead of swallowing the watered-down definition our world tries to convince us matters most.
BRAVE AND BAD: ON BEING A SUCCESSFUL MOTHER
Anything worth doing well is worth doing poorly at first.
SOURCE UNKNOWN
MORNING ROUTINE: THE MOM I WANT TO BE
5:30 a.m. Wake refreshed, ready to soak up needed introvert-refueling time, reading the Bible and hearing from God.
6:00 a.m. Go for an early morning run. (Do people actually do this?!)
6:30 a.m. Prepare and eat breakfast of organic steel-cut oats with a cup of tea and a novel.
7:00 a.m. Write for an hour.
8:00 a.m. Quick shower, ready for a day of teaching and sharing wisdom with my children, who can’t wait to learn more.
8:30 a.m. Greet children with a hug and the Bible verse of the week.
MORNING ROUTINE: THE MOM I AM
5:30 a.m. Grumble while turning off alarm, recalling those ridiculous ideals I had the night before of getting up early. I was so young and full of hope then.
7:00 a.m. Roll over and look at clock on phone, cue internal guilt alarm, turn on light.
7:30 a.m. Okay, I’m up! Take phone with me to bathroom so I can “Count my steps.” Text teen downstairs to request cup of tea.
7:45 a.m. Sit down at desk and log a whopping 15 minutes of writing time.
8:05 a.m. Run downstairs for a bowl of cornflakes (with my phone = more steps), eaten on the way back up (even more!).
8:15 a.m. Grab something to wear and head for a “quick shower.”
8:30 a.m. Children begin knocking: “I need to brush my teeth!” Dry off quickly and throw on clothes as bickering begins.
8:35 a.m. Open bathroom door as my herd of three stampede in; attempt to smile, but they see the truth right away: “Uh-oh, guys. Mommy didn’t sleep well last night.”
There’s a big difference between the mom I want to be and the mom I am. A big difference between the writer I want to be and the writer I am. The wife I want to be and the wife I am. Over the years I’ve realized that if I tie my value to specific outcomes and results, I’m treading on unstable, unsustainable ground.
Outcomes often lie outside our control, and nowhere is this as obvious as motherhood. We see it when our baby refuses to sleep through the night, even though that parenting book promised if we just did this and this, they would. We see it when our toddler licks the floor of the mall in front of a crowd. When the dreams we held for years crumble or when the bills far exceed the balance in the bank account. When our young adult makes a life-altering mistake in spite of all the ways we’ve attempted to help.
Several months ago, a podcast had scheduled me for an interview. I hadn’t recorded any interviews for a while, and I was nervous. I worried I would say something stupid, that I wouldn’t be eloquent or inspiring. In the midst of these negative thoughts came an epiphany: Instead of pressuring myself to record the best podcast ever known to man, what if I judged my success purely based on showing up? After all, doesn’t it take more courage to be brave and bad than flawless and brilliant? This new mindshift squashed my concern. I prepared as best I could, and when I finished the call, I hung up feeling like a champion. My willingness to try, not my perfect performance, had made it a success.
From that point on, “brave and bad” became a mantra for my family life, too. Prior to this, I would beat myself up when a conversation with my spouse or child didn’t go the way I’d hoped, walking away worried that I’d said the wrong thing, didn’t say enough, or said too much. Now I give myself credit for being there, for doing my best to listen and share from the heart. “Brave and bad” enables me to type these words without anxiety paralyzing me. I’ve taught this concept to my children as well, applauding their boldness when attempting something new. “Be brave and bad” now appears on my happiness checklist, a daily reminder of the truth Mother Teresa expressed when she said, “God does not require us to be successful, only faithful.”
We can’t talk about successful motherhood unless we also bring up the high expectations society places on moms. Somehow it’s our responsibility to mold our kids’ educations, financial futures, physical health, spiritual health, emotional health, and mental health, ensuring they thrive at all times. Viewed this way, any struggle our children have reflects poorly on us. Any immaturity signals our own weakness, not just a developmental phase for them to work through. Any public misstep is a humiliation, instead of something to giggle over behind closed doors. Any encounter with a difficult person means we neglected to protect them. Not only are we t
rying to do and be everything for our babes, we’re more likely to be doing it alone, without the support of nearby family members or community. And let’s not forget the pressure on moms to have a flourishing career in addition to all of the above.
Traveling this road leads to only one destination: Crazytown. We must barricade it off and create a detour, one that goes the scenic route and gives us permission to take life less seriously. Mothers in previous generations didn’t carry these burdens; they had other concerns. A hundred years ago, moms prayed that their children would survive to adulthood, that they’d be able to feed and clothe them, that they might receive a basic education, that they’d find work. They hoped their children might not have to fight in a war, or that if they did, they would come home again. They lived by principles, modeling the value of hard work, moving toward a better life one step at a time.
Our generation is different. Many of our children have never known hunger, have never had to wear out clothing before we could afford to replace it. It’s far less likely that we’ll lose a child at birth, or at all, or that our child will lose us. We have machines that perform the basic work that used to take up mothers’ days, but we’ve heaped extra expectations on ourselves to fill the gap. In doing so, our children’s expectations of what we should do with and for them have risen as well.
These internal and external pressures get in the way of what our children truly need that only we can provide: our presence. Not the elimination of struggle, not a lifestyle that attempts to make up for any and every hardship. Even if we managed to eradicate difficulty from our children’s lives, they’d just develop new problems to solve. There’s no growth without growing pains. It’s not our role to be their savior; our role is just to continually point them back to the One who is.
REFLECTIONS FOR INTROVERTED MOMS
Dear Mom of “That” Kid
Motherhood is a choice you make every day, to put someone else’s happiness and well-being ahead of your own, to teach the hard lessons, to do the right thing even when you’re not sure what the right thing is . . . and to forgive yourself, over and over again, for doing it wrong.
DONNA BALL3
Dear mom of “that” kid,
You know who you are.
The other kids stay on the felt squares for story time. Yours scampers away.
The others try plenty of new foods. You can barely get yours to eat at all.
The other kids laugh at the loud birthday party. Your child runs and screams.
The others outgrew tantrums long ago. Yours still has them daily.
The other kids skip into school, while your child leaves marks on your hand from her death grip.
None of the other moms chat about these issues. So it must just be you.
That inner, insecure voice accuses and puts you on trial. Condemns you inside your own head.
But dearest mom of “that” kid, I have a different message for you:
You are valuable, vulnerable, chosen. You can do this.
It isn’t about your successful efforts; it’s about your faithfulness.
Whether that means doing what needs to be done or calling a friend in tears. Texting your husband a crazed “Can you come home now?” message or matching your child’s shouts with your own in a desperate moment and saying sorry later.
Mom of “that” kid, there’s no way you’re going to get this right. Because there’s no one way to get it right.
But you are going to be there. You are going to stay. And that simple act of courage will speak volumes over the years and decades ahead.
It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. Your child’s going to be okay.
Dear mom of “that” kid,
You know who you are. And I do, too.
You are: precious, freed from the need to be perfect, giving your personal best.
You’re a wonderful mother, and I believe in you.
SENT YOUR WAY WITH LOVE FROM JAMIE, ANOTHER MOM OF “THAT” KID
Reflections from Introverted Moms
IN THE MIDST OF A WORLD AND SOCIETY THAT TELLS US SUCCESS SHOULD LOOK A CERTAIN WAY, HOW DO YOU PERSONALLY DEFINE IT AS AN INTROVERTED WOMAN AND MOM?
Success for me has been playing to my strengths and outsourcing the rest for my extroverted kids! I often read out loud during meals, not just to get good literature in, but also to quell the mealtime noise. I’ve been resting in the fact that my kids seem to like being with me, and I like being with them. Our family life might not look like others’, but it works for us, and we are happy.
JENNIFER, ZAMBIA
With a finite amount of interacting energy, success for me is accepting my limits, wisely prioritizing who gets that energy and when. Success also looks like apologizing to others and forgiving myself when I overextend myself. Sometimes, no matter how gracefully I bow out of situations, some people are going to misunderstand and harshly judge. It is vital for me to remember that the extroverted world may not understand, but God does! We must never forget that we are fully known and fully loved.
CASEY, CALIFORNIA
It may sound like a cliché, but I would define success as inner peace that overflows to every aspect of our lives. Leaving a legacy and significance especially with your kids and people around you. To keep running the race that was set before you with gratefulness and a dreamer’s heart: that sums up success for me.
LORIE, PHILIPPINES
We have to own our limitations and work within them. We have to be honest about who we are to ourselves and others. God made us this way. So he has plans to use us the way we are. We are the one-on-one folks. The ones who send a note or a text when we know you are struggling, the ones with the blogs about how it’s okay not to be the perfect mom and wife. We are the encouragers and the background folks. We all have a purpose.
ANGIE, ALABAMA
Success comes when you look at each individual step you have taken out of your comfort zone. Celebrate those small steps. And when you recognise your limits too, even though these two may seem contradictory. There are times when we need to go beyond what is comfortable for us, such as advocating for our children. At the same time, knowing how to say no to things is huge, but feeling comfortable with that choice is even bigger. To me, these are successes.
MANDY, AUSTRALIA
AN INTROVERTED MOM’S MANIFESTO
Believing I am a child of God, a gift to my family and the world, and in order to nurture myself as a woman, mother, and introvert, I will:
Be true to how God created me.
I will honor my personality, knowing I am more than enough as I am. I will focus on my strengths, acknowledging the ways my introversion blesses others.
Accept and embrace my limits.
I will look for “definite yeses” and refuse to settle for less. When I say no, I’ll do so without guilt. When I say yes, I’ll do so with enthusiasm, acting within my sweet spot.
Nourish myself, knowing that rest makes me a better mom.
I won’t sacrifice the essence of who I am on a selfmade altar of perfectionism. It isn’t selfish to need a break from my children. I’ll choose self-care over self-improvement.
Go through difficult life seasons according to my temperament.
I won’t pretend away hardship or disappointment; I will care for the little girl I once was and still am. I’ll extend kindness to myself and accept it from others on behalf of the One who promises to comfort the brokenhearted.
Seek to understand my children’s personalities.
If I have extroverts, I’ll celebrate and nurture their exuberance. If I have introverts, I’ll teach them to value their nature even as I model how I value my own.
Step out of my comfort zone when I sense it’s right.
Courage isn’t the absence of fear, but action in spite of it. I will be brave and bad. Following in the footsteps of introverts like Lincoln, Gandhi, and Rosa Parks, I’ll remember that boldness does not reside within the realm of extroverts alone.
Make time for good books and good friends.
Whether I read a sentence, a page, or a chapter, I’ll soak up inspiring words. Whether I send a quick text, meet for coffee, or get on the telephone(!), I’ll invest in friendship, thereby investing in happiness.
Connect with God in ways that come naturally.
I may “feel a prayer,” read or recite a line of Scripture, write in a journal. I may go to church or commune in the sanctuary of nature. I’ll let my life story display the love of God.
Imagine life five or ten years from now.
When my present days seem long and loud, I’ll take mental and physical snapshots of our current crazy to treasure in the future: his toothless grin, her “help” in the kitchen, chubby arms around my neck—the miracle of being the center of someone’s world.
Cultivate calm in my world and my mind.
I will brew tea or coffee, step outside and exhale, wash my mug with intention, refuse to overanalyze. I’ll retreat to a quiet spot, even if I’m only there two minutes before the next knock comes.
Stop striving to feel happy all the time.
I’ll acknowledge life’s inevitable ups and downs while prioritizing positivity in my days. When I need to, I’ll leave technology in a drawer, and walk away, free.
Dare to define the good life on my own terms.
I won’t measure myself based on how much I get done. I’ll pay more attention to how I get it done. When I notice frustration building, I’ll view my negative emotions as a caution light pointing me back toward the life I most desire.
Forgive myself.
Introverted Mom Page 16
