Christmas blessings

Hello, friends. It's been a long time since I've written anything in this space. It's been a long, hard year at our house, and continuing to show up here just hasn't worked for me. But I've missed being here and especially missed interacting with you all.

Now it's less than one week until Christmas, and I'm excited to say that I'm going with my husband and sons to see a movie tonight. See if you can guess which one:

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly,” sing Clark and Ellen as their station wagon zooms down a freshly plowed highway. Russ and Audrey roll their eyes in the back seat. The search for the perfect Christmas tree is about to begin.

Yep, we found a theater with a special engagement of Christmas Vacation on the big screen. You know, I never saw this movie when it was first released, but then I had three sons. . . and watching Christmas Vacation every year became one of our family traditions. I know, I know—it’s dated, it’s silly, and sometimes it’s inappropriate, but year after year we follow along as the Griswolds make their way through December. We laugh until our sides hurt as Clark cuts the rope binding the Christmas tree (“Little full. Lot of sap.”), pours egg nog for Cousin Eddie into a moose-shaped mug (“Drive you out into the middle of nowhere, leave you for dead?”), and investigates the noise in the living room (“Squirrel!!”). If you’ve watched Christmas Vacation over the years, I’ll bet you have your favorite lines, too.

Of all the heart-warming Christmas movies available, all the beautiful musicals, all the rollicking comedies, why does this one endure? Why do we watch it over and over? Clark Griswold is a farcical character, so why do we identify with him so enduringly?

I think it’s because we’ve all been there. In our sometimes crazy-busy lives, who among us hasn’t aspired to create the perfect Christmas?

Who hasn’t tried to create a lasting memory by tracking down the perfect tree? Or attempted a stunning lightscape in the front yard? Or labored to plan the merriest holiday party? Or slaved to cook the most toothsome holiday meal?

We have good intentions. We want to make the holidays memorable for our families. And everywhere we look, we find inspiration. With all the magazines we read, the blogs we peruse, the Pinterest boards we scour, and the Instagram photos we scroll through, we’ve convinced ourselves that every element of the perfect holiday should be within our grasp.

This influencer has a different tree in every room of her home, each one decorated with a particular theme.

That influencer boasts the most beautiful front-door wreath and garland we’ve ever seen. 

One magazine features the six most elegant holiday desserts ever created, while another provides recipes for ten kinds of homemade candy that we simply must try.

We start with good intentions, and we work hard to create something special. But as we collect more and more inspiration, our plans for Christmas have enlarged to include more, more, more.

Somehow we imagine that we can take the best elements of everyone else's holiday plans and combine them into one stupendous effort. Clark Griswold called it a "fun old-fashioned family Christmas." These days I have my own term for it. I call it the Mythical Composite Christmas.

Many years ago my husband told me that I was constantly comparing myself to everyone around me. He said, "You choose the best attribute of everyone you meet, and you assume you should share that attribute. You've created for yourself a Mythical Composite Woman made up of all those attributes, and that's who you think you should be."

I struggled with comparison for so long that I finally wrote a book about my journey of wrestling with it. InterVarsity Press published the book, called Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison*. (You can read about the book and even read the first chapter here.) I'm finally finding some freedom from the trap of comparison.

But then Christmas comes, and if I'm not careful, I'll slip right back into my old ways of trying to create the perfect Christmas. This year, I'd like to leave the farce to the Griswolds, so I'm taking my own advice.

In Mythical Me, I tell a story that I'm remembering this Christmas. One week I was rushing around like crazy, trying to pack too many activities into too little time. In the middle of one of the busiest days, a friend asked how I was doing, and I answered honestly: "Frantic."

My friend pressed for details, and I shared them: in addition to the normal activities and responsibilities of the week, my son was celebrating a milestone birthday, I was hosting a dinner party for an important client, and I was preparing for a business trip that would keep me away from home for a week. With a haircut and a dentist's appointment thrown in for good measure, I had way too many things to do and not enough time to do them, at least not the way I wanted to do them.

And how did I want to do them? Well, I had great examples. One of my friends makes each family celebration unforgettable. Another is an ace hostess. Yet another glides through business trips with apparent ease. I wanted to perform at least as well as the people I was comparing myself to, if not better than anyone else could.

Had I stopped to think about how privileged I was? Did I pause to consider how rich my life was? Not one bit. Instead, I let myself be frazzled by trying to be the best at everything.

My friend prayed for me, and I heard God's voice speak to me. Simply and clearly, God said, "I made you to bless, not to impress."

Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized that truth. The reason I was working through my long list was to bless people. When I got stuck in comparing myself to others, I lost sight of that purpose. My talented friends had inspired me and taught me, blessing me with their examples. But when I started comparing myself to them, I twisted that blessing into a kind of contest that no one could win.

This is the trap I'm especially susceptible to at Christmastime. Maybe you struggle with it too? Then maybe you'd like to join me.

This year I'm choosing to remember God's words to me: "I made you to bless, not to impress."

When freed from the burden of wanting to impress people, we are able to bless them and be blessed by them. That's the way God designed us to be, at Christmas and all other times.

May you be both blessed and a blessing to others this Christmas! 

*This is an affiliate link. If you make a purchase after clicking on this links, 

I will earn a small commission. Your price will not be affected in any way.

The thief of Christmas joy

Even though it's 2020, and even though nothing seems to have gone right this year, here's one thing I know to be true: Christmas is coming. 

And this year of all years, I am so ready for it. I deck the halls with boughs of holly. I read my Advent devotional books. I light candles. I sing carols at the top of my lungs. I wish I could stand outside, mouth wide open, like a kid trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue—and that joy would just pour into me. I want the joy of Christmas to pervade every nook and cranny of my heart. 

Then I open Instagram, hungry for more holiday inspiration. And as I browse through all the beautiful images, I feel my joy drain away. Stolen once again.

I've done this so many times before. 

I see the beautifully decorated houses, and my own home seems plain and boring by comparison.  I get a glimpse of small but heartwarming family celebrations, and in comparison I feel cold and lonely.  I click through photos of amazing crafts and gaily wrapped packages and sugar cookies perfectly flooded with royal icing—and my efforts seem pitiful by comparison.

Even the good things I do seem to pale in comparison to others' work.  I hear that someone has raised thousands of dollars for a charity, and my gifts seem paltry by comparison. Or else I read that some parents give their children only three gifts, and in comparison I feel extravagant and embarrassed. 

Finally I realize that I'm doing this to myself.  I'm comparing myself to others at every turn. Instead of gathering inspiration online, I've gathered reasons to feel inadequate.  Rather than embracing the beauty of the season, I've turned it into a kind of competition.  

Am I the only one?  Or have you done it, too?

Comparison has always been my Achilles' heel. In fact, I struggled with comparison for so long that I wrote a book about my journey of wrestling with it and the ways I've found freedom from it. InterVarsity Press published the book, called Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison. 

In Mythical Me, I tell a story that I'm remembering this Christmas. One week I was rushing around like crazy, trying to pack too many activities into too little time. In the middle of one of the busiest days, a friend asked how I was doing, and I answered honestly: "Frantic."

My friend pressed for details, and I shared them: in addition to the normal activities and responsibilities of the week, my son was celebrating a milestone birthday, I was hosting a dinner party for an important client, and I was preparing for a business trip that would keep me away from home for a week. With a haircut and a dentist's appointment thrown in for good measure, I had way too many things to do and not enough time to do them, at least not the way I wanted to do them.

And how did I want to do them? Well, I had great examples. One of my friends makes each family celebration unforgettable. Another is an ace hostess. Yet another glides through business trips with apparent ease. I wanted to perform at least as well as the people I was comparing myself to, if not better than anyone else could.

Had I stopped to think about how privileged I was? Did I pause to consider how rich my life was? Not one bit. Instead, I let myself be frazzled by trying to be the best at everything.

My friend prayed for me, and I heard God's voice speak to me. Simply and clearly, God said, "I made you to bless, not to impress."

Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized that truth. The reason I was working through my long list was to bless people. When I got stuck in comparing myself to others, I lost sight of that purpose. My talented friends had inspired me and taught me, blessing me with their examples. But when I started comparing myself to them, I twisted that blessing into a kind of contest that no one could win.

 

I'm determined to follow my own advice this year. So this Christmas season, every time I am tempted to compare myself to someone else, I'm going to stop and pray this simple prayer:

"Dear Lord, please bless ___________. Thank you for giving them beauty to share.  And please help me to share the beauty you've given me."

That's it.  Nothing profound or deep; just a simple prayer of blessing. Praying it certainly won't impress anyone. But I think its effect on me might be profound. 

This Christmas, rather than concentrating on how other people outshine me, I'm going to remember that we all shine because God has given us light. If someone shines more brightly than I do, that's okay. There's so much darkness to overcome. Someone else's bright light doesn't eliminate the need for my little light.

Would you like to join me? Maybe we can all concentrate on blessing rather than impressing. 

In 2020, like never before, there's plenty of room for all of us to shine our lights, reflecting the glory of the One whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.  

Comparison and a checkpoint for my heart

It happened again just the other day, a trigger that startled me. I thought this weapon had been disarmed, that it no longer carried power to bully me.

Having TSA pre-check status was supposed to prevent this problem: a quick step through the metal detector and I’d be on my way. But as I hurried to catch a flight home recently, I had to go through regular security screening at the airport, and like several times before, the scanner flagged me as a potential threat because of my birth defect.


I was born with a rare disorder, a genetic abnormality that left me with a huge birthmark and one side of my body larger than the other. I try not to think about my birth defect too often these days, but then I’m rudely reminded of it by something like a TSA scanner. Apparently the size difference between my right side and my left side fools the machine into thinking I’m trying to smuggle something nefarious onto the plane.

To read the rest of the post, I'd love for you to join me at (in)courage!

A new perspective

January is over, and we are here for it.

Think back over the social media posts you've read over the last few days. How many have said something like "January is the longest month!" or "Thank God January is behind us!"?

Isn't it interesting that we approach January 1 saying "Hurray for new beginnings!" but by the time February rolls around, we're sick of the new year? Some research indicates that 80% of new year's resolutions are broken by the second week in February.

It seems that our new year's resolutions, however well-intentioned they may be, aren't serving us very well. Why is that?

It's not because we don't have the right tools. With dozens of apps on our smartphones to keep us on track, we're able to keep up with all kinds of details.

It's not because we fail to write down our goals. In fact, even with the use of smartphone apps, the sale of paper planners and journals has skyrocketed in recent years.

So why are we failing to keep our resolutions? I think it's because so many of them start from a bad premise. It's because so many of our resolutions are based on comparison.

Think about it. How often does your new year's thinking run along these lines?

She looks so pretty! I need to lose 20 pounds so I can look like her.

Their house is amazing! We need to complete six projects to make ours look better.

He's in such great shape! I'm going to start going to the gym every day so I can get in shape, too.

Their life is so organized! We're finally going to declutter so we can be that organized.

There's no denying it: when we begin with comparison, we end up dissatisfied and disgruntled.

There's a better way, I promise—and it all depends on where you start.

Instead of beginning with an eye toward how you stack up against others, start from a place of assurance. No matter what elements of your life you'd like to change, you are deeply loved and genuinely liked by God. You may not believe that you are loved and valued, I know. But disbelief doesn't alter the facts.

We compare ourselves with others because we're seeking assurance. We're unsure of ourselves, and we see that others seem to have what we want.

But comparison doesn't bring the assurance we crave. Comparison usually leads to one of two outcomes: either we feel less-than, which can lead to jealousy or envy, or else we feel greater-than, which can lead to arrogance and disdain. Those are all soul-crushing outcomes.

So we need another source of assurance, and we can find that in the God who loves us with an unshakable love.

If you want to lose 20 pounds or start exercising, that's great. That will be good for your health. No doubt it will make you feel better and will give you more energy. But you don't need to lose 20 pounds in order to be lovable and valuable—you already are.

If you want to get more organized and declutter your house, good for you! I'm trying to do this myself. But we don't need to get organized in order to be loved—we are loved already.

Let assurance, not comparison, shape your approach to this still-new year. Let the "new year, new you" pressure roll off your back. The old you is dearly, deeply, eternally loved.

Want to know more about escaping the trap of comparison? 

Read Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison. 

Click here to learn more!

Joining these parties:
Inspire Me Monday
 Inspire Me Tuesday
Thoughtful Thursday
Heart Encouragement

Christmas of blessing, not impressing

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly,” sing Clark and Ellen as their station wagon zooms down a freshly plowed highway. Russ and Audrey roll their eyes in the back seat. The search for the perfect Christmas tree is about to begin.

I make some hot chocolate, and once more my husband, kids, and I settle in to watch our favorite funny holiday movie, Christmas Vacation. It’s dated, it’s silly, and sometimes it’s inappropriate, but year after year we follow along as the Griswolds make their way through December. We laugh until our sides hurt as Clark cuts the rope binding the Christmas tree (“Little full. Lot of sap.”), pours egg nog for Cousin Eddie into a moose-shaped mug (“Drive you out into the middle of nowhere, leave you for dead?”), and investigates the noise in the living room (“Squirrel!!”). If you’ve watched Christmas Vacation over the years, I’ll bet you have your favorite lines, too.

Of all the heart-warming Christmas movies available, all the beautiful musicals, all the rollicking comedies, why does this one endure? Why do we watch it over and over? Clark Griswold is a farcical character, so why do we identify with him so enduringly?



I think it’s because we’ve all been there. In our sometimes crazy-busy lives, who among us hasn’t aspired to create the perfect Christmas?

Who hasn’t tried to create a lasting memory by tracking down the perfect tree? Or attempted a stunning lightscape in the front yard? Or labored to plan the merriest holiday party? Or slaved to cook the most toothsome holiday meal?

We have good intentions. We want to make the holidays memorable for our families. And everywhere we look, we find inspiration. With all the magazines we read, the blogs we peruse, the Pinterest boards we scour, and the Instagram photos we scroll through, we’ve convinced ourselves that every element of the perfect holiday should be within our grasp.

This blogger has a different tree in every room of her home, each one decorated with a particular theme.

That Instagrammer boasts the most beautiful front-door wreath and garland we’ve ever seen.

One magazine features the six most elegant holiday desserts ever created, while another provides recipes for ten kinds of homemade candy that we simply must try.

We start with good intentions, and we work hard to create something special. But as we collect more and more inspiration, our plans for Christmas have enlarged to include more, more, more.

Somehow we imagine that we can take the best elements of everyone else's holiday plans and combine them into one stupendous effort. Clark Griswold called it a "fun old-fashioned family Christmas." These days I have my own term for it. I call it the Mythical Composite Christmas.

Many years ago my husband told me that I was constantly comparing myself to everyone around me. He said, "You choose the best attribute of everyone you meet, and you assume you should share that attribute. You've created for yourself a Mythical Composite Woman made up of all those attributes, and that's who you think you should be."

I struggled with comparison for so long that I finally wrote a book about my journey of wrestling with it. InterVarsity Press published the book, called Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison. Finally, after many years of comparing myself to others, I'm finding freedom.

But then Christmas comes, and if I'm not careful, I'll slip right back into my old ways of trying to create the perfect Christmas. This year, I'd like to leave the farce to the Griswolds, so I'm taking my own advice.

In Mythical Me, I tell a story that I'm remembering this Christmas. One week I was rushing around like crazy, trying to pack too many activities into too little time. In the middle of one of the busiest days, a friend asked how I was doing, and I answered honestly: "Frantic."

My friend pressed for details, and I shared them: in addition to the normal activities and responsibilities of the week, my son was celebrating a milestone birthday, I was hosting a dinner party for an important client, and I was preparing for a business trip that would keep me away from home for a week. With a haircut and a dentist's appointment thrown in for good measure, I had way too many things to do and not enough time to do them, at least not the way I wanted to do them.

And how did I want to do them? Well, I had great examples. One of my friends makes each family celebration unforgettable. Another is an ace hostess. Yet another glides through business trips with apparent ease. I wanted to perform at least as well as the people I was comparing myself to, if not better than anyone else could.

Had I stopped to think about how privileged I was? Did I pause to consider how rich my life was? Not one bit. Instead, I let myself be frazzled by trying to be the best at everything.

My friend prayed for me, and I heard God's voice speak to me. Simply and clearly, God said, "I made you to bless, not to impress."

Tears sprang to my eyes as I realized that truth. The reason I was working through my long list was to bless people. When I got stuck in comparing myself to others, I lost sight of that purpose. My talented friends had inspired me and taught me, blessing me with their examples. But when I started comparing myself to them, I twisted that blessing into a kind of contest that no one could win.

This is the trap I'm especially susceptible to at Christmastime. Maybe you struggle with it too? Then maybe you'd like to join me.

This year I'm choosing to remember God's words to me: "I made you to bless, not to impress."

When freed from the burden of wanting to impress people, we are able to bless them and be blessed by them. That's the way God designed us to be, at Christmas and all other times.

I'm joining Debbie Kitterman for Tune in Thursday
Linda for Encouraging Hearts and Home
Maree Dee for Grace and Truth

Life beyond comparison

Every now and then, life brings you a surreal experience. Know what I mean?

I had one of those last weekend. Take a look at this:

photo from Elizabeth Lauren

You might recognize some of these women. From left to right, they are

Sarah Mae
Niki Hardy
Ruth Chou Simons
Maria Furlough
Hayley Morgan
Emily P. Freeman
Myquillyn Smith
Tsh Oxenreider
Kennesha Poe-Buycks
Jess Connelly
Anne Bogel

And there I am, right in the middle of these beauties. One of the authors at The Nest Fest.

A couple of times this weekend I found myself singing that old song from Sesame Street: "One of these things is not like the others. . . "

But only for a moment.

Because, y'all, here's the thing. I've spent a lifetime comparing myself to other people, always coming up short, and when I consider both the immense talent AND the immense popularity of these women, I could easily get stuck with comparing myself to them. But I've learned a better way to approach moments like these, as well as the run-of-the-mill moments of every day.

Comparison puts you on one side of the scale and another person on the other side of the scale. By its very nature, comparison isolates you from others.

And just look what I would have missed if I've given in to that. I wouldn't be standing in this collection of lovely women, smiling for the camera, glad to be part of this group.

To be clear: I'm not usually part of a group of people quite this famous. Sure, I could give myself a pass if I felt a little intimidated by this much girl power. But what's good and right for the small moments of my life is good and right for the big moments, too.

We were meant to be together. We were created in the image of a God who is relationship in his very being (ever think about that?).

We were created for relationship because we were created by relationship.

Want to know how I got invited to be one of the authors at The Nest Fest this year? Here's why:

Back in 2009, before Myquillyn was the famous author of best-selling books, I connected with her. Her blog, Nesting Place, meant a lot to me, so I reached out to her. We've been friends now for 10 years. And here's the thing: connection trumps comparison.

Finding my way out of the comparison trap took me a long time. In fact, that journey is the subject of a book I've written for InterVarsity Press. Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison is now available for purchase. I'm excited to share that story with you, and I hope you'll take a look at it.

Here's what I know: You're important. You matter. YOU BELONG. This world would be so much poorer a place without you in it.

Do you know that in your bones? If not, let me say it again, louder this time:

THIS WORLD WOULD BE SO MUCH POORER A PLACE WITHOUT YOU IN IT.

Much love to you today.

Less without you,

Looking for Freedom from Comparison

I've lost count of how many years I've struggled with constantly comparing myself with other people. I'm not certain about this—I'd have to do a thorough comparison to be positive—but I'm pretty sure that I've contended with comparison more than any other woman in North America, perhaps the world.

Maybe I could be the winner of a comparison contest. Maybe this is the one way I could win at the comparison game.

Or maybe not.

For quite awhile now, I've known that constantly comparing myself with others is not a good idea. So I've spent a lot of time looking for wisdom about how to overcome the problem. I've found that well-meaning teachers sometimes addressed the topic, but their advice usually ran along these lines:

"You shouldn't compare yourself to others, for you never know the truth about anyone other than yourself."

"You can't compare yourself to anyone else, for you are one of a kind."

"Be yourself; everyone else is already taken."

"You are God's creation, and God made you incomparable."

"People are like snowflakes; no two are exactly alike. So you can't compare yourself to anyone else!"

All this advise might be wise and true, I know. Sometimes it encouraged me; other times it just irritated me.

The worst part was that it didn't help.

I wanted to stop comparing myself to others, but I couldn't break free from admiring one person's achievements, someone else's personality, another's skills, yet another's relationships. And don't get me started on how I looked at other people's appearances.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn't heed the advice I heard. I was unable to live up to even one of those catchy slogans. I was haunted by the admirable attributes of other people, certain that I could never measure up. No matter how well-intentioned the teaching or pithy the advice, I found that most of didn't help me change my thoughts, feelings, or actions. I might listen to a speech or read an article and feel inspired, but in no time I'd slip right back into my old habit of constant comparison.

It was as if I was lost in a maze or stuck in a steel trap of comparison. The more I struggled to free myself, the tighter the jaws of the trap clenched.

That's the bad news.

The good news is that, by the grace of God and the help of a lot of His people, I've learned that there is a way to break free.

But it's not an easy way. There's no instant cure, at least not that I've found. No catchy slogan. No quick fix.

But there is a way, I believe, and I've written a book about it. Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison. It releases on Tuesday, October 22. You can read all about it here.

But you know what? Of all the ways that I've been tempted to compare myself with others, perhaps none is so great as the temptation to compare myself with other writers. If you follow me on Instagram, you might have seen this photo of me with my friend Gem Fadling, who released a book from the same publisher (InterVarsity Press) just last month.

For instance, if I let myself, I can get completely wrapped up in the fact that Gem's book is a beautiful hardcover edition, while mine is a lowly paperback. And that's just the first of a thousand comparisons I could make.

The irony is not lost on me that I've written a book about finding freedom from comparison and in so doing have gained a new way to compare myself to others. 

Here's something I've learned: the temptation to compare will never be gone. But I don't have to fall into the trap. I can choose to embrace the opportunity for community rather than give into the isolation that comparison brings.

God, who is a relationship in His own being, designed His image-bearers for relationship. We were designed for relationship because we were designed by relationship. 

I believe that no matter what we're doing—writing a book, practicing a profession, keeping a home, rearing our children, whatever—the cure for comparison is community. There is a way out of the comparison trap—and it leads into the loving heart of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Do you ever find yourself stuck in the trap of comparison? I'd love to hear about it!

The journey from comparison to contentment

I know you've seen signs like this on Facebook and Instagram:

Makes it sound so simple, doesn't it? Just change your attitude, and your heart will be at ease.

Some days that's much easier said than done. The last few days have been easier-said-than-done days for me.

Here's the photo I posted on social media on Friday:

You can probably tell that this an open suitcase. You may not be able to tell that it's sitting on my dining room table. Last Wednesday evening, right after we printed out our boarding passes, my husband and I were filling this suitcase with everything we needed for a trip the next day.

A big trip. To London.

That suitcase never made it to London, because Hurricane Michael made its way through North Carolina on Thursday, the day we were scheduled to fly. Our flight was cancelled, and there were no other flights available. (Believe me, we looked.) We had to cancel our much-anticipated trip.

First I was mad, then I was sad. And then in the very next breath I was embarrassed for feeling sad. What I was I thinking, I said to myself, when others were suffering much worse than disappointment over cancelled plans? Surely I had no right to feel sad, I thought, when others' suffering was so much worse than my own.

On an on went the conversation in my head until I finally recognized it for what it was: the same old comparison game. I was downplaying my feelings of disappointment by comparing my loss to the devastating losses that hurricane victims in Florida and Georgia were suffering. This is just one of the things I've learned from writing a book on comparison: we sometimes use comparison as a way to manage our feelings.

Well-intentioned Christians do this a lot, I think. When we're uncertain or embarrassed about our feelings of disappointment or sadness, we stuff them down and compare our losses to those of other people. Have you done this?

"I shouldn't complain about having the flu when she is facing surgery."

"I shouldn't be disappointed about not getting that promotion when he doesn't even have a job."

"Why do I feel so sad about this? After all, it's not nearly so bad as that."

Here's something I've learned: feeling management doesn't work. Feelings buried alive never die. You can't hang an attitude of gratitude hashtag on your heart.

Far better, I believe, to admit our true feelings to God and ask for His help in dealing with them rather than to minimize them by comparing our situations to those of other people. I believe and trust that God is able to comfort us when we’re hurting, to give us perspective on whatever we’re facing, and to give us compassion for our neighbors.

God can do all that and more. So much better to trust God with our feelings than try to manage them by saying “I can’t be sad because someone else is more sad.”

This I know for sure: the back door of comparison is not the way to contentment.

Linking with Kelly Balarie
Holley Gerth

The real me (and a birthday giveaway)

55 has always seemed like an important number to me. Perhaps it's because, when I was growing up, the highways were filled with 55 mph speed limit signs. Anyone else remember those years when the speed limit on interstate highways was 55 mph? Anyone else remember truckers with their CB radios who traveled in convoys, disregarding the speed limit laws? Anyone else love the country song "Convoy" by C.W. McCall? Or is that just me?

Anyway, 55 has always loomed large in my imagination, but I never really gave much thought to being 55 years old.

Until now. And here I am.

My husband snapped this photo of me so that I'd have a picture of myself right when I turned 55.

This past year has been a big one for me. When I turned 54, I was hoping that perhaps a book proposal I'd submitted might find favor with a publisher. Before the end of last year, I was offered a contract with InterVarsity Press, and I turned in the manuscript for Mythical Me: Escaping the Trap of Comparison on August 1 (read more about the book here).

I suppose this topic is very much on my mind because I've spent so much time the last few months reading and writing about comparison, but for whatever reason, here's where I want to get real with you. As we post photos of ourselves on social media, isn't it tempting to make ourselves look just a little better? Don't we sometimes wish we could wave a magic wand and erase the years? Well, here's the same photo as the one above with just three minutes' worth of work on my computer's pre-installed photo software. (In other words, anyone could have made these edits.)

Here, look at the two pictures side by side:

See how the second photo lacks a few wrinkles and imperfections? No line between my eyes, no lines on my forehead, no lines on my neck. . . just a few simple little touches enacted with a click of the mouse.

And you'd never know the difference unless I told you, right? After all, the two photos are mostly the same. It's not like I made any big changes.

If we all make just a few little changes to our photos. . . if we do some innocent doctoring so that the subtle signs of aging are erased. . . and we don't mention to anyone that the photos are edited, no harm is done, right? It's not really dishonest, is it? It's just a little of the kind of "pampering" we all deserve, right?

Certainly it's not wrong to wish that we could erase a few of the signs of aging or other physical imperfections. Don't we all wish we could look our best at all times? Of course we do. And if you know of any good creams or lotions or exercises or supplements that can help me to look my best, I'd love to hear about them.

But I'm convinced that if we make those "innocent" little edits and we don't tell people that the photos are edited, we are in fact doing some harm. First, we're buying into and propagating the myth that imperfections are shameful. Second, we're most certainly harming ourselves by assuming that we're not acceptable and lovable just as we are. And third, while we're not responsible for the actions of others, we are adding fuel to the fires of comparison when we make ourselves look different from the way we actually look.

Jesus reminded his followers that the greatest commandment was to love God with all their heart, soul, mind, and strength, then exhorted them to a second great commandment: to love their neighbors as themselves (see Matthew 22:35-40, Mark 12:28-31). The more I think about it, the more firmly I believe that we don't love ourselves or our neighbors very well when we edit our photos to remove the imperfections in our appearance. I think we can do better than that.

So even though I might be sorely tempted to "improve" my photos just a little by erasing a few of the signs of aging, I promise not to do that. I am proud to be 55 years old today. I've been married 33 years, and I've reared three wonderful sons to adulthood. I hope that I'm aging gracefully, but of course my face has some lines and wrinkles! I've earned those wrinkles. They represent the joys and heartaches that go into a life filled with love.

And I think that this big birthday calls for a celebration! So I'm going to give away $55 to one of you in whatever form you like--cash, gift card, or whatever you like. No hoops to jump through--just subscribe to my blog or follow me on Instagram or Facebook (whatever works for you) and leave a comment below to enter. I'll choose a winner randomly on September 12. I'll be tickled to share my big 55 celebration with one of you!

Here's to an incomparable new year

It's 2018! Time to ring out the old year and ring in the new.

If you follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you may have already seen my big news for this year. I just signed a contract with InterVarsity Press to write a book!

The working title for my book is Mythical Me: Escaping the Trap of Comparison. You see, comparison has been a lifelong struggle for me. Here are the first words of the book's introduction:

"I've lost count of how many years I've struggled with constantly comparing myself with other people. I'm not certain about this—I'd have to do a thorough comparison to be positive—but I'm pretty sure that I've contended with comparison more than any other woman in North America, perhaps the world.

Maybe I could be the winner of a comparison contest. Maybe this is the one way I could win at the comparison game.

Or maybe not."

I've written some about this here on my blog, and I'm thankful to tell you that God has been working with me on this issue, and I think He's given me something new to say on this problem that has plagued me for so long. I'm excited to get it all written down so that I can share it with you, too.

Meanwhile, the struggle continues. I wanted a quick photo to share on social media; it seemed that it would be more fun to share a picture of myself signing the contract rather than just sharing the news about the contract. But here's what happened when I asked my husband to snap a photo with his phone.

First, my hair hid half my face as he tried to get a picture:

Then he tried the other side, but my hair was still falling all over the place:

So I tucked my hair behind my ear, and looked up at the camera, but all he managed to get was this surprised and somewhat pained look. Not what I was hoping for!

And this doesn't even show the ones with my eyes closed; he deleted those immediately.

You know, I have friends who post gorgeous photos of themselves to social media all the time. Why can't I be more like them? Why do I struggle so much to get one decent shot?? UGH!

Oh, dear. Even when I'm writing a book about comparison, that old comparison issue raises its ugly head.

Can you relate?

With God's help, I'm going to beat this monster. I'm on a journey to stop comparison in its tracks, and I surely would like for you to come along.

I've already written an introduction and three chapters of the book. I have seven more chapters to research and write, and my manuscript is due in August. Will you pray for me as I work on this? It would mean so much to me!

And for now, do you have any stories about comparison you'd like to share? Any resources you've found helpful? Or is this not an issue that's ever troubled you? I'd love to hear!

Real-life Christmas preparations

"It's the most wonderful time of the year!" Perry Como's voice singing those words is one of my favorite things. Thanksgiving is past, and now it's time to turn our attention to preparations for Christmas. How exciting!

Today I'd like to show you what I've already accomplished with decorating for Christmas.

Well, that's what I would like to show you.  The problem is, I haven't really accomplished anything yet.

It's not that I haven't started. I've managed to put up the tree in the living room:

And I can see from this photo that the tree is leaning to the right a bit, isn't it? Oh dear.

It's not that I'm not looking forward to decorating for Christmas. It's just that I am disorganized and messy. So here's the truth about my Christmas decorating so far:

That's my guest room at the moment. As you can see, the makings of my Christmas decor are currently strewn all over the place. A discerning eye might even catch that my Fall decor is still waiting to be put in the attic.

Now, here's how I want you to see this room, the way it looks when it's all fixed up for guests:



Actually, that's not quite how it looks. I stole a piece of furniture from this room, so things are a little different now. And I had to take out the pretty rug because the dog peed on it. So there's that.

It can be so tempting to try to present only magazine-worthy loveliness on my blog. And I do love to make things pretty and to share ideas. But over this past year I've found that presenting only loveliness doesn't sit quite right with my spirit.

You want to know a secret? A few weeks ago the city of Durham turned off my water. Why? Because I'd lost the water bill and didn't see the warning letter they sent. Thank God I could pay the bill, so my water service was promptly restored, but if you'd seen my house on that day without water things surely wouldn't have looked too magazine-worthy.

That incident reminded me of the time that a good friend told me that there had been a mix-up with her utility bill and that her gas had been shut off. I sympathized with her having to deal with this inconvenience, but secretly I wanted to jump up and down and say, "Thank God! I'm not the only one!"

Maybe you don't have any organizational issues. Maybe you're a person who is naturally tidy and put-together. If so, I admire you greatly. The truth is that I wish I were like you.

But here's another truth, one that I need to learn more fully:

God doesn't wish I were like you. He doesn't wish that I were like anyone but me. He loves me just the way I am. He'll take me just like this—piles of stuff, lost utility bills, and all. Certainly God wants to transform my heart so that I'm more and more like Jesus—but He still wants me to be me. The real me. And that's how He feels about you, too!

So here's to real life: the beautiful and the messy, the organized and the disorganized.

I hope that by next week I will have some beautiful Christmas decor to share with you.  For now, I'll just share this beautiful thought:

Tell me--are you the organized type? Or do you struggle like I do? Do you have "real life" scenes that aren't so pretty?  I'd love to know!

I'm joining these wonderful parties:

Inspire Me Tuesday at A Stroll Thru Life

Share His Story with Jennifer Dukes Lee

The thief of joy at Christmastime

Our tree stands fresh and fragrant in the corner of the living room. One by one packages appear below its branches. I listen to my favorite carols, and my heart swells at every note.

Christmas is coming, and I don't wait for December 25: "Joy to the world!" I sing at the top of my lungs.

I find myself wishing that I could sustain those feelings.  I want the joy of Christmas to pervade every part of my life.  

Then I sit at my computer to look for holiday inspiration. And as I browse through all the beautiful images, I feel my joy drain away. Stolen once again.

I see the beautifully decorated houses, and my own home seems plain and boring by comparison.  I get a glimpse of heartwarming family celebrations, and in comparison I feel cold and disconnected.  I click through photos of amazing crafts that someone created, and my efforts seem pitiful by comparison.

Even the good things I do seem to pale in comparison to others' work.  I hear that someone has raised thousands of dollars for a charity, and my gifts seem paltry by comparison.  I try to make Christmas merry for my family, but then I read about the amazing holiday experiences of some families, and ours feel lame in comparison.  Or else I read that some parents give their children only three gifts, and in comparison I feel extravagant and embarrassed. 

Finally I realize that I'm doing this to myself.  I'm comparing myself to others at every turn. Instead of gathering inspiration online, I've gathered reasons to feel inadequate.  Rather than embracing the beauty of the season, I've turned it into a kind of competition.  

Am I the only one?  Or have you done it, too?

There's a way to end the comparison game. There must be, and it has become my quest to find it.** 

For now, I simply want to change my behavior. I want to call a halt to allowing the thief of comparison to steal the joy of Christmas.

So this season I will practice two alternatives: gratitude and blessing.  I'm hoping that if I concentrate on being grateful for what I have, there won't be much time or energy left for concentrating on what I don't have.  Then, filled with gratitude for my blessings,  I am choosing to pray for others instead of comparing myself to them.  

This Christmas season, every time I am tempted to compare myself to someone else, I'm going to stop and pray this simple prayer:

"Dear Lord, please bless ___________. Thank you for giving them beauty to share.  And please help me to share the beauty you've given me."

That's it.  Nothing profound or deep; just a simple prayer of blessing.  But I think its effect on me might be profound. 


This Christmas, rather than concentrating on how other people outshine me, I'm going to remember that we all shine because God has given us light. If someone shines more brightly than I do, that's okay. There's much darkness to overcome. Someone else's bright light doesn't eliminate the need for my little light.

Would you like to join me? I believe there's plenty of room for all of us to shine our lights, reflecting the glory of the One whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.  


**Note: I continued that quest for several years, and I've written a book about it! Mythical Me: Finding Freedom from Constant Comparison is available now!