He blames it on the detergents. And the fabric softeners. Over time, he says, they plug the Tygon tubing that connects to the switch that senses when to shut off the water. And when that happens, the floor gets flooded.

His recommendation? Use less detergent, and use a different type. And NEVER run the washing machine when you are not there to watch it and make sure it doesn’t overflow and flood your house.

The washing machines of our world are imperfect. We think they should be better. In fact, they could be better. One could easily design them with an additional sensor that would shut them off it they started to overflow. Or maybe the detergent makers could make better detergent products. But the extra protection from an infrequent overflow would cost more, and because our washers don’t overflow every day, we wouldn’t want to pay the difference. Unless maybe our house had just been flooded.

So because no one makes that washer that will never overflow, we live with ones that might. And because our easy chairs or our desks aren’t in the laundry room, we don’t sit and watch washers to make sure they’re not going to overflow. We just live with the uncertainty, learning to allow it to be pushed from the fronts of our minds by other things.

More importantly, we want a life that we can control, a life that is surprise-free, a life that isn’t disrupted by unexpected incidents. No one makes that life, just like no one makes the washing machine that could never overflow. Things happen, some of them tragic, some of them painful, some of them even fatal. That’s the way life works.

So we learn to live with uncertainty, and the prospect of not only flooded floors, but disrupted lives. Because we have no other choice.

Well Used

Some weeks I need my Moleskin.

I need to physically write things down, bullet lists of to do’s that I can check off as I go.

For some reason, it just doesn’t work the same when I do it on the iPhone. I’ve tried all the apps, some of them very good. But I end up feeling more overwhelmed, instead of more focused.

During Dad’s illness and recovery period, it was my go-to for information ranging from his Rx list to Dr. contact information to lists of what I needed to handle and ideas of how to do it.

It’s not a big Moleskin. It’s one that will fit in my pocket, one which will allow a pen to be held when it’s kept closed by the elastic closure thingy.

When things are going along pretty smoothly, I don’t need it. I keep up with things in my head or on my calendar.

But when things get hectic, as this week’s going to be, I grab it and start writing. It’ll be in my pocket the whole week, keeping me focused, keeping me comfortable, like a blankie.

What helps you be focused and comfortable during hectic or stressful weeks?

I think he's smiling!

It’s Friday, and I woke up early this morning.

I’ve enjoyed the quiet, watching the sun rise in a clear sky, hearing and watching the world in my back yard wake up. I saw the great horned owl come home to roost from his night’s hunting, ready for his day of rest. I saw the wasp that started building a nest on our back porch go from sleeping while hanging by a thread to the nest to resuming active building. I heard the sounds of other creatures big and small beginning to move, and the sound of traffic as people became busy.

Meth the goldfish, the name Eloise gave him because he’s lived so long (short for Methuselah), was excited that I was up, hoping for a few flakes of food. Missy Dog was still curled up in a ball when I went to let her out of her kennel. But she too was eager for the day after a few stretches.

I slowly sipped a cup of home-roasted Honduran coffee, not because I needed the caffeine, but because of the joy of its rich taste.

And I had a quiet conversation with God. We talked about Jim and Pam, and the slow process of recovery from a double lung transplant, about the joy of small steps, about the challenges of each moment. We talked about Earnest and Xenia, each caring for spouses who have suffered debilitating strokes. And we talked about many others, currently on my prayer list, asking his blessing and intervention for them.

But we also talked about how amazingly beautiful this world is that he’s given us to live in for a little while, and I spent some time wondering what Heaven must be like if this world is so gorgeous.

Most of my mornings are not this good. I wish they were. It’s a calm in a storm, a chance to catch my breath, a time of refreshing.

Much of the last week has been about caregiving. It had worn me out. I had lost a night’s sleep at the ER with daughter Sara as she suffered though another bout of pancreatitis. Then after getting her home, there was concern and being on call as she rode it out. I also spent long hours with Dad at doctors’ appointments and tests. Sara’s recovered and Dad’s test results were good. Another storm weathered. I’d never wish that I was not the go-to guy for them — I prize being able to be there for them. But it has its price.

My refreshing comes from quiet times like this morning. And from some focused time taking and processing and sharing photographs of beautiful things. And reflecting. And conversations with a God who loves me they way I am. And having a loving wife who puts up with me even when I’m weird.

I’m hoping that you’re having times of refreshment along the way too.

It’s not that I don’t dearly appreciate the gifts of having enough and good health and toys and meaningful things to do.

But having God, family, and friends love me in spite of me is truly the priceless gift. They know me for who I really am, and it’s still okay. That’s an amazing feeling.

I hope you know that kind of love this Christmas season.

Merry Christmas to you, and thanks for your gifts of mercy and grace!

More is Not Better ©2009 Jim Hughes

The slogan sells stuff, but often is just not true. In fact, more is often worse.

Take megapixels, for example. Camera manufacturers know that most people believe that the more mexapixels a camera has, the better it is. That’s true to a point. But beyond that point (generally between 10-12 megapixels), noise increases significantly, actually providing worse photos. You’re now seeing some high end camera makers reducing the number of pixels to improve photo quality.

In the 1950′s and 1960′s, more speed in jet fighters was assumed to be good. That was true until a speed was reached at which the fighters could no longer maneuver effectively to participate in a dog fight. So the push for more speed ended. Enough was enough.

There are so many areas of life in which, once there is enough, more can be bad. How about a little time this Christmas season thinking about where in your life less might be better, more might be bad?

Bright sun just seems to make such a difference in how we feel, and how we are able to deal with our aches and pains — physical and emotional. Grey mornings seem to accentuate the aches, the pains, the emotions. Light makes such a big difference.

I’m working to add more light to my life, especially on grey mornings.  Sometimes it’s as easy as flicking on a few light switches. Other times it means choosing to look at light, such as the photo below. And sometimes it’s choosing to turn on an emotional light.

Hope you’re seeing the light today — and not the grey fog currently enveloping Houston.

High Blue Sky (© 2009 Jim Hughes)

Light and Leaves

I haven’t posted on Difficult Seasons for a while.  It wasn’t something that was planned.  Rather it was something that just happened. Once it started, it continued.

I have been posting a lot of photos to my personal blog, and in truth, have been spending a lot more time working on my photography.  It’s part of my self care effort.  It helps me see. I find myself looking at things more closely, studying the light, looking for the beauty. I love the challenge of learning the skills. But even more, I enjoy the creative process of trying to capture an image, working to get it just right in the camera, and then fine-tuning it in Lightroom.

I’ve also continued to post frequently to Twitter and facebook.  Twitter keeps me connected to a fairly large group of folks, most of whom I’ve never met in person, but many of whom I’ve developed friendships with.  It also provides me a window into several of my interests (including photography), as well as exposure to a broader world than I encounter in my normal daily walk. Facebook is similar, except nearly all of the people I’m connected to are people that I’ve met face-to-face, including a large number from my church family.  I intentionally limit my facebook friends to people I know — it’s a more intimate forum than Twitter for me.  It allows us to keep up with what’s happening in each others’ lives and keep more connected than we otherwise could.

To be honest, though, I just haven’t felt like writing. There’s been a lot going on that would have provided material for this blog. I’ve attended four funerals for my friends’ parents or spouses, and there are stories that go with each. I have several good friends who are struggling against long odds with cancer, and there are lessons in how they are dealing with this part of life. My visits with patients at M.D. Anderson provides plenty to share. I just haven’t wanted to process all of this through writing.

But I think that’s changing. For the past week or so, I’ve felt the pull to begin again — as much for me as for those who drop by and read.

Maybe there are seasons to write, and seasons to be silent?

Sometimes I forget that.  I get busy dealing with situations, trying to help others, and don’t work on Jim, or more accurately,  allow God to work on Jim.

That’s been happening lately.  What brings it to consciousness is usually a combination of emotional and physical symptoms: feeling tired, struggling to get things done, feeling overwhelmed, wanting to pull the sheets over my head, looking for things to keep my mind occupied.

When this alarm goes off and I become conscious of what’s going on, I know pretty quickly what the problem is and what I have to do to reverse course.

I have to very intentionally turn control of all of the things that are weighing me down over to God. It’s not that I haven’t prayed often about all of the situations and all of the people, or that I don’t have faith that God will provide exactly what’s needed. It’s just that I have unconsciously retained a portion of the responsibility for the outcome.  I haven’t completely given these things to God, robbing myself of the peace that comes from doing so.  And of the joy of watching how He works and allows me to participate.

So today I began the day intentionally by doing just that — naming names, and listing situations, verbalizing my trust in Him to provide and lead. And I feel more peaceful, more able to respond to His urges for these situations and these people.

I’m adding “Turn Over Control” to my daily calendar.  I need daily explicit recognition that I am not in control, but that the One I serve is.

Tweet About WSJ Article

For example, we can have cancer, and our perspective may be, “I’m dying of cancer.”

Or, we can choose to have a different perspective:  ”I’m living with cancer until I pass.”

This example is from an article in today’s Wall Street Journal discussing a program for helping cancer patients deal with their illness.  While it’s dealing with cancer patients being able to find meaning for their lives in the face of their illness, it has a lot of value for those of us facing other challenges.  I highly recommend that you read it.

With cancer, nearly everyone’s biggest fear is dying.  But it’s usually unspoken, unsurfaced even.  Once it’s surfaced, the fear can be dealt with.  One can choose to adopt a perspective that gives life meaning and purpose, that takes control away from the fear.

But this principle is much more widely applicable.

Any chronic illness — heart disease, diabetes, arthritis, and any of so many others — generates fears.  What if I have another heart attack?  What if I have to live in a wheel chair?  What if I …?

Your fear may not be from a medical condition, but from a situational condition.  What if I lose my lose the ability to live at the standard of living I’ve become used to?  What if I lose my job?  What if I …?

So what fears are you, or those you love, living with that haven’t been dealt with?

How could you, or could they, benefit from a change of perspective?

Worth some thought!

We were driving to church, and about half way there, the aura began.  So we made an unplanned stop to buy some Advil, the medicine that works best for me.  I took some, and we went on to church, then a meeting with our family caregiving support group, and then to lunch with Dad and Sara.  The migraine wasn’t gone, but it was dulled.

It bounced back on Monday, and again on Tuesday.  Not bad for a migraine, like they used to be when I was younger.  But migraines anyway.

I’ve always accepted migraines as a message — one that says I’m not doing a good job taking care of myself.  I already knew that before this week’s warning messages.  I’ve been writing about and working on self care for a few weeks now.  But it takes some time and effort to turn things around.  And other things don’t wait for that to occur before they happen — like my Dad’s cancer diagnosis last week.

So this week, I’ve redoubled my efforts at self care.  And I’m getting some support from my friend Jon Swanson, who’s writing about his approach to the same issues.

Having worked as a life coach, I know the elements of self care well.  Practicing them is often more difficult.

Self care starts with getting rid of Tolerations, those things that we are putting up with, but which bug us, bother us, upset us, worry us, and so forth.  Most people can write a list of 25 tolerations in less than 5 minutes, which is quite telling in itself.

So Monday I made a short list of tolerations that also had a urgency component, and started working on them.  Between my headache and generally bad attitude, it was sort of like slogging through knee-high mud.  But I kept at it and made some progress.  Tuesday I picked back up where I had left off, and made some more progress.  And Wednesday, and Thursday, and Friday and today — more of the same.

I’d made enough progress by Wednesday that the headaches went away, and, my attitude about things was much improved.  I was feeling good about some of the things I had gotten handled, hopeful that I could handle what was to come.  We capped the week by cleaning and reorganizing the garage.  The car even fits again.

Getting rid of tolerations — many of which involve clutter and disorganization — is a big piece of self care.  It’s amazing how much more peaceful we feel when things are in order, when things are where they’re supposed to be, when the stuff we don’t need has been disposed of.

It’s taking care of stuff like cleaning the garage.  And cleaning out our closet, getting rid of the stuff we no longer wear, organizing the things we do wear.  And cleaning out my office, filing the piles into folders so that they can be easily retrieved, throwing out what is no longer needed, getting rid of things that I might find a use for some day.  And the list goes on.

Why does working on tolerations help?

1. We’re working on things we have some control over, and we can see progress.
2. We’re simplifying and organizing the things that otherwise bother us every day.
3. We’re spending time and effort taking care of ourselves.

There’ll be progress reports as I keep working on it.