YOLU: A Field Report

It’s the third Tuesday in January and we’re three weeks into YOLU – the Year of Living Uncomplainingly.

 I started down this road last fall when a sneaky little edict from the Apostle Paul grabbed me by the collar. “Do everything without complaining and arguing,” he instructed his peeps at Philippi. 

 Everything?  Sheesh. Did Paul really mean that we can’t whine just a smidge? And what about good old-fashioned fussing!  Isn’t there a small budgetary allowance for moms at least?

  Just as I’m trying to eat mindfully this year, I’m following a different sort of linguistic diet as well.

 YOLU is Turkish for “road,” and this is one I’m choosing to walk in 2012 despite daily detours and the phonological potholes I fall into. If you’ve been following my journey from previous posts, you know it’s a lot easier to define what complaining is not than what it actually is.

 It’s not complaining when you express a truth that happens to be difficult, register a legitimate protest or recognize a wrong that needs to be rectified.  If you are feeling particularly awful and a sympathetic friend notices, I don’t think Paul meant that we have to hide our pain behind a pretense of false cheer.

There are other people on this path with us.  Following last week’s post, my friend Lana (name changed) emailed me from her missionary post overseas:

“Maggie, I have been working on my YOLUing and just wanted to let you know.  Yesterday I woke up with one of my major headaches.  That’s not a good thing.  I had plans to meet with two of my teammates and pray, then a group of five over for lunch, then time with a friend I haven’t seen in 13 years and dinner out with some other friends.  So what does one do with a headache when one is trying to live a YOLU day?  I did a lot of praying, took a good dose of Excedrin, and made it through the day – actually having a good day.  Now – for your round table discussion with Mike and Jordan – is it complaining when one has a headache?  I didn’t complain because complaining comes too easy to me.  I wanted to see if I could make it through the day.  And I did!!  With God’s help, and [my husband’s] prayers (he knew of my headache – he can always tell just by looking at my eyes) and Excedrin!  It felt good to not complain – funny!” 

So there you go – a day in the life of a fellow YOLU’er.  And here’s the really funny thing – my friend Lana is already one of the least-complaining people I know.

Another friend, Joy, has taken her YOLU clarion call to social media. Just last night she posted this plea on Facebook:

“I’ve grown weary of seeing folks use Facebook as a forum to gossip in “code,” criticize people just to hear themselves, and publicly berate their husbands. These are just a few examples. I realize I subject myself to these things by even being on Facebook.  It just seems like if people need to vent, why do it online, for hundreds to see? Vent to God. If you’re married, vent to your husband.  Or vent to your journal.”

So as I plan ahead for the rest of 2012, I can tell you I have already  reduced the amount of currency allotted for this year’s personal  Fussbudget.  I’m saving my complaints for the things that really matter.

LIke the Chicago Cubs, maybe?

The Year of Living Uncomplainingly

So now you know my secret. The blogpost I was scared to write has been sitting out there for a week now staring back at me, arms crossed, silently defying me to recant my YOLU vow – a year of living uncomplainingly.

My friend Pam tells me that “yolu” is Turkish for road, and this is not one I’m sure I want to take. It’s not well marked and I suspect the tolls collected will be steep. Way easier to take the fast freeway of speech unencumbered by watchfulness.

I’m a week into this discipline, and it’s making me think if nothing else. Just as I’m trying to choose my meals mindfully this year, I’m trying to eat my words as well. But the tricky part of this particular linguistic diet is figuring out what’s allowed and what’s verboten. It’s easier to identify what complaining is not than what it actually is.

• You’re not complaining when you validate a truth that happens to be difficult. People all around us are navigating turbulent waters. We do them a disservice when we downgrade their personal hurricanes to the status of tropical storms or worse, pretend it’s actually fair weather when they know it’s foul.
• You’re not complaining when you register a legitimate protest. Women and men who are victims of abuse, workplace discrimination, deceptive business practices or a host of other ills have every right to speak up.
• You’re not complaining when you recognize a wrong that needs to be rectified. Scripture commands us to be concerned with issues of social justice. “Spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed” (Is. 58:10).

So then, why does our English word complaint have such a negative vibe, conjuring up expressions of discontent, censure and resentment, lament and faultfinding?

I decided to poll my husband and son over dinner this evening. Forking waffles from the hot iron onto their plates, I put the question to them. I consider both Mike and Jordan pretty experienced in this subject. Jordan has worked in customer service and Mike - well, you know what he does.

“Lamenting our losses is legitimate,” Mike commented, “but it strikes me that complaining is counterproductive when it becomes focused solely on self: my needs, my problems, my wants. When we turn inward we forget that others are hurting too.”

Jordan added, “Complaining is attention-seeking. Looking for pity is a cheap way to get attention, because you want someone to feel sorry for you, and when you complain maybe you can guilt them into it. It’s funny but I think Facebook has changed the way we complain. We sort of put it out there and look for others to ‘like’ our misery.”

When Jordan speaks, I listen, because he was never one to complain even as a kid. And as I drove to my after-dinner meeting, I mulled over his and Mike’s words. Is that what the Apostle Paul meant when he cautioned the Philippians about complaining, or was he issuing a larger warning to the entire community?

We’ll continue this conversation in a future post.

The Blogpost I Was Scared to Write

It’s the start of a new year, right? Time for inspiration, revelation or at least a resolution or two.

Dieting? Already doing that – doctor’s orders. Mike and I are both using a tracking tool called myfitnesspal.com, and he’s more self-controlled than I am. I’ve lost about 5 in the past two months and have 20 to go to reach the goal my doctor recommends.  Yikes. Like discipleship, it’s gonna be a long obedience in the same direction.  (And since my primary care physician is a female my age, I can’t even play the my-metabolism-is-slowing-down card.)

Fitness? Yep, working on it. I have watched Mike head out to swim laps at 6 am for decades, and I’m finally getting myself moving consistently as well. Elliptical trainer at the gym; workout DVDs at home.

Reading through the Bible in a year? Mike has done this for years because nothing is more important to him than hearing from God. I cannot substitute the reading I do for my classes or the prep for retreats for time alone in the Word.

You’d think my husband’s attention to physical and spiritual disciplines would have rubbed off on me after 35 years together, but you don’t catch them by contact. Instead you have to emulate them by example.

So here is my major resolution for 2012. I resolve to live uncomplainingly. 

When Mike is vexed by a problem, he takes it straight to the top, to the only One who can truly do anything about it. Solutions for him are nearly always Spirit-directed. I admire this in him, because it makes him among other things a superb listener. He has little need to complain to others when he already has the ear of the Holy One.

Yours truly, on the other hand, is a verbal processor. When I am vexed, worried, bothered or bewildered I voice my fears aloud, and to my ears, at least, it’s come to sound like complaining. I’ve been thinking a lot about the Apostle Paul’s charge to the church at Philippi to “do everything without complaining and arguing,” (Phil 2:14) and it occurs to me that maybe, just maybe, good old Paul actually meant it.

So I am dubbing 2012 The Year of Living Uncomplainingly.

See why I am scared to write this post? What if someone (say you, for example) is actually reading this and lovingly holds me accountable? Sheesh. Do you know how hard it is to get through even one day without being verbally grouchy, grumpy, crabby or cranky? (THERE. See what I mean?! I can’t even write a post about complaining without whining about it.)

Seriously, this YOLU-stuff is harder than it sounds. If you resolve not to be a whiner, how do you avoid the everything-in-my-life-is-so-perfect Pollyanna Syndrome?

In her book Grumble Hallelujah, Caryn Dahlstrand Rivadeneira makes a terrific case for honesty.

“I’m no Pollyanna,” she writes. “I don’t wake up with a song in my heart or one coming from the little baby bluebirds chirping outside my window. In sharp contrast to a friend of mine who once told me the first thing in her head every morning when she woke up is, I love being a mom. I have a great life! the first thing in my head every morning is, Morning already? You’ve got to be kidding! or its cousin, Can’t these kids sleep?!”

So if Living Uncomplainingly is not Pollyanna Pretense, what does it look like? What happens when you have legitimate reasons to protest or a need to offer constructive criticism?

I’m trying to figure this out in the year ahead, and you’re invited along on the journey. And if you catch me fussing about something, you have my permission to post a comment that simply says “Whine Alert” (or Waa!).

Living Uncomplainingly, after all, may just have something to do with remembering what we have rather than what we lack.  Focusing on being thankful more than being fretful. Putting others’ needs before our own.

Love U!

Living History

Call it nostalgia, wistfulness or simply appreciation for the past – living history sites have always fascinated me.

 When we were raising our children in New England, we made frequent trips back to the early 17^th century (Plymouth Plantation) and the 19^th (Sturbridge Village.) We even made it to the 18^th a time or two when we visited our niece who put herself through William and Mary while working as a costumed interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg.

So when our daughter Amber visited us just before Christmas this year, we took advantage of a snowy Saturday morning to visit to one of the treasures of DuPage County: Kline Creek Farm, a living history farm dating to the 1890s that is just minutes away in West Chicago.

Amber, Mom Wallem and I arrived just as the first farmhouse tour of the day was scheduled to begin, and a friendly volunteer offered to lock up the gift shop and run us up to the house in a golf cart. OK, so that part wasn’t exactly period, but courtesy is welcome whatever century you find yourself in. Wayne offered a cheerful commentary on the history of the farm as we rattled over Kline Creek to the farmstead and waved to the helpers who passed us in a horse-drawn sleigh.

“They’re getting the team ready for the biggest job they’ll have this winter,” he explained, “cutting blocks of ice from the pond to store in the icehouse. We’ll have ice for storage until August!”

Inside the house, another volunteer dressed in the homespun layers of a 19^th century farm wife took us through the restored farmhouse, pointing out the original cook stove, the dining room set with period oyster plates for dinner guests, and the parlor complete with a candle-tipped evergreen Christmas tree – a tradition that didn’t catch on in the United States until after Queen Victoria introduced it in Great Britain.

As we moved through the rooms, Mom and I enjoyed comparing farm life in the 1890s so what we experienced sixty years later. We had a lot more conveniences, but Mom and Dad worked just as hard as their 19^th century forebears. And Amber and I discussed a movie she had recently seen, Midnight in Paris, in which the protagonist longs to live in the past. After he is mysteriously transported to Paris in the 1920s, though, he discovers that the writers and artists he meets yearn to live in an earlier era themselves.

So it got me to wondering. Yearning for a seemingly simpler time in history is not unusual. Many of us of a certain age wax wistful about earlier decades when life didn’t move at the breakneck speed it does now. Living history farms such as Kline Creek teach us about the past, but they don’t instruct us how to live in the present. We have to learn that for ourselves.

And here’s the funny thing…we are all “living history.” The choices you and I make every day affect far more people than we realize. Our own families, yes, but also those with whom we share an office, a neighborhood or a church pew.

I wrote a series of theology papers this fall for my OT class based on the book of Ruth, an ordinary woman who became part of the lineage of King David and ultimately Jesus Christ. As I studied Ruth’s life, I was challenged by her example. Whose ancestor might I be one day? What legacy will I leave? How can I “outlive my life” to be a blessing to future generations?

It’s a big question I’m pondering as another year ends. I am living history; you are, too. This coming Sunday, a new chapter begins in each of our biographies. Let’s make it  a real page-turner!

On Tests and Being Tested

It happened again the other night. At the graduation recognition ceremony for our friend Liz, a sound technician stepped to the auditorium microphone just moments before the program began. He cleared his throat. “Testing!” he said quietly into the mic. “1…2…3…testing!”

It’s awkward to test equipment with several hundred people looking on, but it has to be done. And taking tests aren’t exactly a barrel of fun either.

Earlier this evening I completed a two-hour final exam for my grad class – the first academic test I have taken in over 35 years. All day long I felt a frisson of anxiety running up my spine, so annoying that if my fear had been a person I would have slapped it. 58 years old and I’ve got test-taking anxiety all over again? Sheesh…gimme a break. Anyone old enough to read this post knows what real tests in life are like, and they are infinitely harder than the six essay questions I was handed this evening. You can’t study for them either.

But you can prepare.

So many people beloved to us are facing real tests as this year ends – trials of the hardest kind. Several couples we know are estranged or have children facing divorce. More than a few close friends are urgently seeking employment, and the wait is lengthening from months into years. A couple in our church family lost their college-age son, their only child, just last week.

As one friend quietly said when he heard this last news: “There are no words. This is an unspeakable loss.”

So how do we prepare for the real tests of life? I guess it’s a little like what I did to get ready for my exam this evening. You review what you’ve learned in the past. You focus on the needs of the present. You lean into the faith that sustains you.

And you reach out to take hold of the hands waiting to grasp yours.

“Holding,” writes Karen Mains in Comforting One Another, “is one of the primary works of the church. We must learn how to hold one another well, with mercy, because in doing this work, we do the work of God in the world. We hold when we take people into our embrace. We hold when we take people into our hearts. We hold when we take them into our schedules, our lives, our homes. We hold when we keep vigil with them in deathwatches. We hold when we take them into our prayers.”

Who needs you to hold them this Advent season? “Your care for others,” Jesus said in Luke 9:48, “is the measure of your greatness.”

Doing great things for God is not about positions and possessions and paychecks. It is about protecting those who are hurting, hastening to surround them with a protective screen of prayer and provision. The word protect comes from the Latin pro (before) + tegere (to cover) – meaning to cover someone before they can be further harmed.

If you’re not in a time of testing right now – glory hallelujah. Celebrate like I did when I turned in my exam this evening. But don’t forget to look around you for those who are still being tested. Reach out a hand and pull them into your heart, your life, maybe even your home.

At the very least, pull them into your prayers.

GUEST BLOG: Gifts for Those Who Have (Almost) Everything

Note from Maggie: I’m studying for finals so no new blogpost this week, but I thought you’d appreciate this great post from  Janet Denison, who blogs at http://www.janetdenison.com/blog/.   Enjoy!

“I am glad you are reading this blog, in spite of the fact that it was probably hidden between 47 other e-mails from every department store and catalog company in the United States and beyond.  I open my e-mail account with fear and trepidation these days half expecting to see the number unread to exceed 100.  I am amazed at the items that can be purchased during the holiday season.  Who buys this stuff and to whom do they plan to give it?  Surely they can’t consider Sudoku toilet paper to be an appropriate gift!

I ran across one website that is entirely devoted to things which can be described as “unusual” gifts.  I would give you the name except there was just too much stuff that would be considered in “poor taste” – at the very least!

Having perused the bonanza of possible gifts I have made a list of all of the things that I don’t want to find in my stocking or under the tree.  They are as follows:  A) A bacon ornament. Does it just look like a piece of bacon or is there a “fragrance” as well.  (Imagine what a dog would do to the Christmas tree!)  B) Egg Nog soap.  I guess that is supposed to evoke a holiday spirit!  C) A yodeling pickle.  And it’s probably not LeAnn Rimes doing the yodeling.  D) A Monkey Nail Dryer – this was actually kind of clever.  The monkey blows air on your wet nail polish.  The problem is you actually have to stand in front of that monkey trying not to feel too foolish as your family walks by.  Actually, it would probably fit into our family dynamic.  E) A motorized ice cream cone.  Instructions:  Drive through the line at DQ and purchase a soft serve cone.  Insert said cone into this contraption.  Then you hit the “on switch” and just hold your tongue out because the machine turns the cone for you.  I’m not sure if the sin for this would be gluttony or sloth.  I guess it depends on whether you purchase the large, medium or small cone.  F) I would not like either of the following action figures: Marie Antoinette (her head shoots off the top of her body) or the Lunch Lady (she comes with the standard lunch tray and school cafeteria counter).   G) The word search shower curtain.  We have a serious water shortage here in Texas.  H) And because I am somewhat sensitive about my culinary abilities…I don’t want the inflatable fruitcake or turkey.  (I can almost hear the comments on the similarities in flavor…)

Now that you have received the LONG list of what I don’t want…here is what I would like.  A) For all of you to find those who don’t have enough this Christmas, and give them something they need.  B) For all of you to encounter the baby of Christmas who is now seated at the right hand of God…and truly worship him.  C) I would like for every Christian to speak up when you are wished a happy holiday and say, “It is happy…it’s Christmas!”  D) And finally, I would like for all of you to pass along this blog…so I can introduce people to my Lord, the Christ of Christmas.  Have a blessed day!”

© 2009-2011 Copyright, Janet Denison. All rights reserved.

‘Tis the Season to be…Mary

Photo courtesy of Whitmer Photography

How would you feel if you had portrayed an historical figure for nearly two decades and then discovered that in God’s mysterious providence you might actually be related to her?

Last summer I was astonished to discover that my maternal great-grandfather, Karl Bachmann, was Jewish.  Who knew? Mom’s grandfather, a German-speaking immigrant from Switzerland, died when my grandmother was a baby. My dad’s parents as well as mom’s father were Norwegian, so my sibs and I grew up in a Scandinavian tradition.  But not long before my Uncle Ed died at 90, he mentioned their mother’s father’s heritage to his youngest sister, my mother. When she told us we have a Jewish ancestor I nearly fell over.

Why? Because all these years I’ve struggled with the oddity of being a middle-aged Norwegian-American preacher’s wife running around the country portraying a Jewish teenage virgin.

“I’m too old!” I said to the Lord (this when I was only 40). “And I’m the wrong ethnicity!” I whined.  How can a blue-eyed Scandinavian credibly portray a middle-eastern Jewish mother?

Even Jahweh can only take so much complaining (especially when it comes from a woman whom I know now is genetically wired to kvetch.)

So when I was 57 years old, He let the bomb drop. “Too old?” He said. “You think I can’t use older people however I choose? What about Sarah and Elizabeth?

“And the wrong ethnicity? Well, my little nudnik, guess what? You’ve been Jewish all along. Mazel Tov!”

Ok, the conversation didn’t go EXACTLY that way, but I swear I heard Him laugh.

So…where does a new Jewish girl go to enroll in Judaism 101? You ask a rabbi, of course.

When I was in Washington, D.C. this past January for the annual March for Life, I spotted one. A rabbi, that is, and one most satisfyingly of the Orthodox persuasion. Black coat, distinctive flat hat, long payot (side-curls) and all. And just to make sure I didn’t miss the opportunity, he was holding a sign proclaiming “New York Rabbis for Life.”

Perfect! I thought. A real live rabbi standing right in front of me. Just the one to answer my questions!

So I ran up to him and tugged on his sleeve to get his attention.  He turned around with a smile that became stern when he saw who had touched him.

(Oops, my first mistake. I think I read somewhere that women are not supposed to touch rabbis.)

“Rabbi,” I said with my best Gentile chutzpah. “It’s good to see you here! I am pro-life too and I have just discovered that I have a Jewish heritage.”

His expression became one of interest. Wagging a long finger at me, he inquired, “Is it through your mother’s mother? If so then yes, you are a Jew.”

Thrilled, I said, “So Rabbi, what do I do next?”

“Why, get yourself to an Orthodox temple to study,” he responded.

“That would be difficult, Rabbi,” I responded. “You see, my husband is a Baptist preacher.”

(Oops, second mistake. Do not say Baptist and preacher in the same sentence when you are trying to score points with a rabbi.)

You know what they say about fools rushing in, so I sealed my fate.

“I guess that makes me a Messianic Jew!” I said brightly.

End of conversation.

So I suppose that makes me a bad Jew.  But you know what? God is used to schlemiels like me.

I did get myself to an orthodox temple to study. It’s called Wheaton Graduate School. Maybe it’s not quite what the rabbi had in mind, but I’m spending all year immersed in the Torah, or what we goyim call the Older Testament.

And as a student of Torah and a lover of the Jewish Jesus, I know that Yahweh can use anybody, anytime, in any way He so chooses. He always has. Always will.

Maybe He has a surprise in your future too. Mazel Tov!

Photos courtesy of Whitmer Photography, Wheaton, IL

A Heart of Thanksgiving: Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

I did it again. Forgot to enter a check in the check register, that is.

 My long-suffering husband peered at me over the top of his reading glasses from the table where he was attempting to balance the checkbook. “What check do you suppose we failed to record?” he asked, tactful soul that he is. “Unless we remember, our account won’t balance again this month.” Sighing, I pulled out my day planner and began to mentally retrace the places I might have been with checkbook in hand.

Balance. It’s important in a checking account, and even more so in life. I looked up balance in the dictionary recently, and was struck by two different denotations of the word.

Balance can stand for steadiness of purpose – rejecting the extremes. I love the balanced guidance that God promises us in Isaiah 30:21: “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

But balance has a second meaning as well: equality between the debits and the credits in an account. When the debits in my checking account exceed the credits, it cannot balance. I am overdrawn.

Life is like that as well. I easily become ‘overdrawn’ when my spiritual debits seem to be outstanding – debits such as unconfessed sin, lack of forgiveness, and self-centeredness. Each area is like an outstanding check in my spiritual account.

I’m grateful for the way God keeps the books, though. He adds credit to my account just like Mike and I used to make deposits to our son’s checking account in college. The key to true credit is found in the book of Romans, particularly Romans 4:3: “Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness.”

The legal term quid pro quo can be translated “something in exchange for something.” God made a covenant with Abraham, and Abraham believed Him. What did he receive in return for his faith: quid pro quo? Righteousness.

God has made a new covenant with us through the blood of Jesus (Rm. 10:9,10). If we confess He is Lord and believe in His name, quid pro quo? Salvation!

When we truly realize, therefore, that everything credited to our account has been placed there by God, it is time to – quite literally – give credit where credit is due.

Isn’t that what Thanksgiving is all about?

- copyright 2009 Maggie W. Rowe

Image courtesy of Mary Whitmer

Maggie’s Top Ten Time-Savers – Part Deux

Jim and Michelle Duggar - with child #20 on the way - are experts at time management. (And I think I'm busy?!)

Last week I posted five time-management helps that actually work for me. Following are my final five.

For those who asked about my photo of the Scottish sundial, the inscription reads: “Neither can the wave that has passed by be recalled – nor the hour which has passed return again.”

There’s nothing new under the sun (dial), of course. People have been frittering away time ever since Eve wandered away from her gardening to shoot the breeze with a serpent.

 I’m a slow learner so the following tips may not be new to you, but they help a recovering procrastinator like me keep my sanity at least some of the time:

(5). Pull the plug. No TV. Nada. Zilch. Ten years from now I will not regret that I didn’t watch more television. I get my morning news from the Chicago Tribune and during the day online news alerts will warn me if a tornado is bearing down on Wheaton or aliens invade the planet. 

(4). Buy in bulk. If I could invest in stocks I’d put some money in Costco. They sure have plenty of mine. But for a family who likes to open our home to groups and guests, I can’t do without the place. Once a month I make a lunch-hour run to stock up on canned pet food, TP, paper towels, greeting cards and staples. It keeps me out of stores most of the rest of the month.

(3). Take 5. Five-minute jobs that is. I have a natural tendency to recoil from clutter, rationalizing that I’ll get to it when I have time. That moment may never come. So I’m learning to do what I can for five minutes while I’m waiting for a pot to boil or before I leave for class. Gradually the piles are getting smaller.

(2). Refill your own well.  You can’t fill others’ cups if you’re spiritually dry yourself.  Corporate worship, personal quiet time and making memories with Mike are priorities for me. If I neglect those key relationships in order to try to meet everyone else’s needs, I will soon run dry.

Speaking at the Catalyst conference in Atlanta last month, Andy Stanley commented: “You can’t shut it all out but you can’t take it all on. You do for the one or the few what you wish you could do for the many. You can empty your own cup but you can’t fill up somebody else’s life.”

 (1). Show up for your life. Attend to the moment you are living right now wherever you are, whether you’re commuting to work, caring for a child, or tackling a project. Savoring time is the best way to save it.

And what if you heartily dislike the life-season you’re in and wish it would pass more quickly? We’ve all been there. Some days you just want to close your eyes, click your heels and wish yourself out of your present state of mind.

Choose to live life with your eyes wide open instead.  When you’re caring for that child, study his face. If you’re helping someone else, remember how often you’ve received assistance. And on that commute to work leave the radio off and savor the silence.

My friend Pam sent me a tip for a future post. Anyone else have a favorite time-saving or savoring tip to share?

Maggie’s Top Ten Time-Savers

Saw this sundial last month in St. Andrews, Scotland - love the sentiment

Time not only flies, but these days it’s got frequent-flyer credits on more carriers than ever.

So where’s the hope when you’ve got too much to do and too little of you to go around?

In last week’s post  I mentioned that I’ve been using some time-saving tips to help me navigate a full-time day job, evening grad classes and weekend ministry. I’ve always appreciated reading other people’s life management hints and helps. Even if I don’t learn anything radically new at least I know I’m on the right track. (Until I see the lights of that oncoming train, anyway…)

So following for your delectation are Maggie’s Top Ten Time-Savers (in reverse order:)

(10.) Resist vegging. Vegetables are for eating, not emulating.

 What, one protests, you’re preaching that a working woman or man can’t even collapse on the couch after a long day’s work or when the wee bairns are napping? Mais non, this is not what Miss Maggie means. Instead she suggests that you resist reaching for the remote when you collapse. Take 5, heave a big sigh, count a blessing or two and go on to the next thing.

(9.) Use clutter contraceptives. Don’t let paperwork, dishes, and just-worn clothing meet their kin in the hollers of your home or they will breed in a shameful way. Seriously.

Sort the mail as soon as it comes in. Corral the clutter in baskets in case you need to stash it out of sight till you can put it away. Start at the 12:00 position in a messy room and work your way around the room clockwise in 5 minute slices of time until surfaces are clear.

(8.) Separate tasks into segments. Do you have a major paper due for school or project at work? Are you dallying when it comes to sorting through your kids’ outgrown clothing? Plan to do one part of the dreaded task right away so you stop fretting about it.  Look sternly at the date when you need the job finished and then budget small, steady segments of time to tackle it.  (Golly this is so unoriginal, but IT WORKS.)

(7.)  Write it down. Get all that minutiae out of your brain and onto a list. Use your Outlook online calendar to organize your day. Carry a month-at-a-glance planner with you and plot out your priorities. Put a 5 x 8 spiral notebook with your Bible and take it with you to church so you can note who needs a call, a card or a prayer.

(6.) Cut yourself some slack. (Nope, this does not negate Anti-Vegging #1.)  When a rope is continually taut the stress causes it to fray. Perfectionism can be insecurity masking as achievement. Even Good Housekeeping magazine now instructs its readers on what’s “good enough.”

Try picking one of these to try this week and let me know how it goes. Better yet, send me your own time tips. Next Tuesday I’ll post my Final Five.