I love chatting with various bloggers about the writing life. Blogger Annette Irby just posted a new interview she did with me at her site.
You can find a question no one has asked me before, that I found very challenging . . . and see how I answered it by visiting her post.
Thanks for letting me visit, Annette!
Blessings,
Sharon Hinck
Monday, April 27, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Contentment
It seems to me that self-pity lurks in the space between the things we long for and the reality we live.
Often that longing is triggered by comparison to others.
I always thought of myself as fairly content. Oh, I might feel a bit curious about what it would be like to have someone else's level of beauty, talent, wealth, or success. But it didn't often tug me too persistently.
Yet recently I've found a new way that the ugly sourness of self-pity has tried to invade my thoughts. Lately I've been confronted with the comparisons between what I once had, once could do, once was - and new realities and limitations. And suddenly, attitudes that I never thought were my most prevalent temptations are gibbering at me.
Okay. It's a new challenge.
I might remember being able to take a ballet class . . . but slowly walked a mile instead. I can look at the gap between the longing and reality and feel sad or angry.
Or I can celebrate that I walked.
I dream of spring cleaning my house, but was able to do two loads of laundry. I can focus on the things still undone, or be grateful for those clean clothes.
I long for boundless energy to chat with friends, garden, write, organize, teach. But if instead I'm able to answer an email today, or compose a blog post, that is a gift.
During times of significant losses, as I've laid down things that were precious to me, I've found that God's love for me filled the empty places. My daily reality is just as rich with blessing because He is there. I want to learn to focus on that truth, instead of focusing on the gap between longing and reality.
And I suppose that's where we all do battle to live in contentment, whether we're tempted to compare to others, an ideal, or our past circumstances.
Contentment sounds like such a deceptively mellow, easy-going word. But some days it takes fierce, stubborn courage to walk in it. I'm embarrassed at how poorly I've done that recently. But I know God can change my heart.
For any of us facing a painful loss - job, relationship, ability, health, plans, purpose, circumstances - I pray for God to breathe the courage of gratitude into our hearts and keep nudging our focus back to Him.
How about you? Are you generally a pretty contented person? What tends to make contentment difficult for you? What helps you beat off the temptation of self-pity?
Often that longing is triggered by comparison to others.
I always thought of myself as fairly content. Oh, I might feel a bit curious about what it would be like to have someone else's level of beauty, talent, wealth, or success. But it didn't often tug me too persistently.
Yet recently I've found a new way that the ugly sourness of self-pity has tried to invade my thoughts. Lately I've been confronted with the comparisons between what I once had, once could do, once was - and new realities and limitations. And suddenly, attitudes that I never thought were my most prevalent temptations are gibbering at me.
Okay. It's a new challenge.
I might remember being able to take a ballet class . . . but slowly walked a mile instead. I can look at the gap between the longing and reality and feel sad or angry.
Or I can celebrate that I walked.
I dream of spring cleaning my house, but was able to do two loads of laundry. I can focus on the things still undone, or be grateful for those clean clothes.
I long for boundless energy to chat with friends, garden, write, organize, teach. But if instead I'm able to answer an email today, or compose a blog post, that is a gift.
During times of significant losses, as I've laid down things that were precious to me, I've found that God's love for me filled the empty places. My daily reality is just as rich with blessing because He is there. I want to learn to focus on that truth, instead of focusing on the gap between longing and reality.
And I suppose that's where we all do battle to live in contentment, whether we're tempted to compare to others, an ideal, or our past circumstances.
Contentment sounds like such a deceptively mellow, easy-going word. But some days it takes fierce, stubborn courage to walk in it. I'm embarrassed at how poorly I've done that recently. But I know God can change my heart.
For any of us facing a painful loss - job, relationship, ability, health, plans, purpose, circumstances - I pray for God to breathe the courage of gratitude into our hearts and keep nudging our focus back to Him.
How about you? Are you generally a pretty contented person? What tends to make contentment difficult for you? What helps you beat off the temptation of self-pity?
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