How to 'Show Up' for Your Life

A few weeks back, like any good American, every evening I was home with my eyes glued to the TV. The Olympics were on, and I simply had to see the games. They were thrilling, challenging, and unifying for our country.

One game that didn’t particularly thrill me was swimming, but doing my duty as a true fan, I faithfully watched it. I cheered for the women’s relay team and respectfully nodded as Phelps won his 18^th gold metal.

One thing that impressed me about swimming was how the athletes approached the pool. One swimmer leaned far over the edge of the pool and sunk her long, loopy arms in the water, scooping the cold water right in her face. Another jumped straight into the pool, no warning or prep splash. Just straight in.

They continued these preparations, and sooner or later they were all completely submerged in water, ready to swim. They showed up for their race.

It started me thinking about what I do in the day-to-day to ‘show up’ for my life. These swimmers are Olympians. They don’t go to the pool when they feel like it, or eat sugary cereal for breakfast because it’s quicker than making eggs. They prepare, they’re intentional about their days, and they start every day as if each day has a reason. Do I do that?

Over the past few months, I’ve been reading several blogs about time management, learning how to become a morning person, and what it means to take each day seriously. From reading, watching the Olympics, and deciding what’s best for my schedule, I’ve come across a few things that help me ‘show up’ for each day. Here’s what I’ve learned:

1.     Set a morning routine that works for you. Jeff Goins just wrote a great post about this that really helps. Going off of what he suggests, what works for me is to wake up at the same time every day (during the week). I also shoot to actually get up when my alarm goes off, and spend time eating a leisurely and healthy breakfast. I’m a foodie and it helps jump start my day to have a good meal.

2.     Come in to work as if that’s what you meant to do. Don’t treat work like an obligation. Work throughout day diligently and with purpose. It’s a privilege to work every day, especially if it’s something you love.

3.     When go to the gym, work out like you mean it! I love to take aerobics classes. One night after kickboxing during our post workout stretch, the instructor said, “It’s a great day when you’re healthy enough to work out.” I had never thought of it that way. It’s changes the way I look at my workouts.  

4.     Be intentional about setting your weekly schedule, and stick to it. Your schedule is just that, your schedule. It’s not your spouses’, or friends’, or co-workers’, it’s your’s. Don’t purposely schedule things that you dread (if possible), don’t hang out with people who bring you down, and try your best not to veer off course. (Excluding the occasional capers and spontaneous adventures J) You’re not being selfish with your time, you’re being wise and exercising discipline.

This is just a short list, so add to it! What do you do in the day-to-day schedule that helps you ‘show up’ for your life? I’d love to know in the comments section below. 

Do You Want to Buy My Nissan Maxima?

Max is a gentleman and a scholar. He is like a fine tweed vest that doesn’t go out of style and will never let you down. His plush leather seats will set you up for a smooth ride while his Bose stereo system sets the mood.

SINCE I POSTED THIS THE CAR HAS SOLD!!

Don’t let his long life fool you; his years on the road have made for a wise and honest comrade. I can testify – he has been nothing but a trustworthy car and a dear friend. He has taken me to job interviews, short trips with friends, and accompanied me on my daily commute through Atlanta traffic. 

But now it is time for a new owner. Max is retiring from driving Ms. Jessica, and is fervently looking for a new Mr. or Miss to drive around. Will you be the next lucky chap to sail down the highway on his brand new tires, newly detailed seats, and recently tuned up engine?

Max is looking for a new home.

Here’s the skinny: I am selling my 2001 Nissan Maxima. You can see the live ad on autotrader here. Here are the details –

2001 Nissan Maxima

·      190,000 miles

·      New tires

·      Well maintained and detailed

·      Clean title in hand

·      Has never been wrecked

·      Pearl white

·      Leather seats – minor tears

·      Bose stereo system

·      Ice cold AC

·      Excellent heating

·      Sunroof/moon roof

·      Cruise control

·      Large trunk

Interested? I’d love to chat. Give me a call at (770) 596-1819 or email me at jessmit86@gmail.com. He really is a great car. I just bought a newer Nissan J

Dream BIG

An organization called Plywood People are gracious enough to let me contribute on their blog. I wrote this post for them last week. Hope you enjoy!

“You can either accept the reality as it is or create it as you wish it to be. This is the essence of dreaming—and thinking big.”

-Michael Hyatt, Platform

When I was a little girl, I would run around my backyard freckle-faced and sun burned burying things. I would bury my prized possessions; new birthday gifts, jewelry boxes, and anything I dubbed as ‘treasure worthy.’ Promptly after burying my jems, my brother and I would rush inside out of the Georgia summer heat and draw up a treasure map. We would always start near the patio furniture, circle around mom’s flowerbeds, and land ‘where X marks the spot.’ We would dig up whatever we had buried, jump up and down and act like pirates who just struck gold. Every time it was a victorious moment.

You see, I lived in the suburbs of Atlanta; a sort of corralling of identical houses that sprang out of the eighties. I rode the yellow bus to school, went to the grocery store with my mom, and was in bed by 8:30 sharp. Our two story, white picket fence home didn’t leave much room for the imagination, so I had to create my own reality, as I wished it to be.

My closets suddenly became little Narnian realms, the air-conditioning vents were portals for my toys, and the master bathroom suddenly became a witch’s castle. Sadly, I am not exaggerating. Looking back at those times, I have to say I am thankful for not only for my imagination, but also the willingness to make that imagination my reality.

So often I talk to adults who tell me all of the things they ‘wish they were doing’ or ‘ought to be learning’ or ‘hope to do one day.’ It has always been such an enigma to me as to why bills, appointments, and day-to-day frivolities get in the way of our dreams. But, for a lot of us, (myself included) the calendar, alarm clock, or commute wins over our dreams.

I have never heard it so eloquently and sensibly stated as to when I read the quote above in Michael Hyatt’s newest book, Platform. He was talking about thinking big (no BIGGER!) and writing down your dreams and all of the possibilities that come with them. He dismissively states to ‘ignore the mocking little voice that tells you to be more realistic,’ and to start thinking big. The minute I read that I knew it was be wisdom I wanted to hold onto throughout my adult life.

My purpose in taking you down memory lane into my childhood is to encourage you with there is always a place to start. No matter if you are a barista, financial advisor, or mom-of-four, your reality is what you make it. You have a little bit of control over what you do with your life. For myself, I seek wisdom from the Lord and his roadmap for my journey, and so far it’s been nothing less than exciting and ever changing. You never know what ‘reality’ you might stumble into when you start making them a priority.

*If you would like to purchase Michael Hyatt’s new book Platform, you can do so here. 

Slowly

The rain is pounding on the roof as I type. It’s the kind of slow, steady rain that lulls you to sleep and makes you feel like there is no alarm in the morning. Summertime is creeping by and I feel like I can almost hear whispers of the next season. I won’t say it, because it seems when I talk about months passing by quickly people get antsy and anxious. But it does feel like _ _ _ _ is coming very quickly, and I can hardly contain my excitement.

Today was rough. No, today was an overload of anxiety and worry – which was an abrupt change to my normal day-to-day. I’m not going to go into the causes of those two symptoms, because they simply aren’t the focus of this post.

After work on Mondays I normally drive over to the gym for an hour and a half of sweating. Not feeling like cooping myself up in a cold concrete room with BO hanging in the air, I drove home, picked up my dogs, and went for a hike. I decided the sunshine and sweet summer air were a better choice. I parked at the foot of Kennesaw Mountain and got my overly excited pups on leashes. As we began the journey, a calming presence followed. My shoulders relaxed, my pace slowed, and I began to enjoy my surroundings.

The trail was wide and dirt covered. The tall trees stretched way up into the sky, and hung over the hikers like a protective arch. I felt like I was walking deeper into a mystery, a sweet and slow mystery that wasn’t at all scary.

I stopped every so often to sit on a bench or a rock and pray. I brought my tiny travel Bible, and I would read it often and let the words soak in like air, like life. The evening seemed to stretch out like molasses dripping off a toothpick. Two tiny fauns grazed literally 20 feet in front of me, sweetly and without a care in the world. The night was perfect, and I was beginning to feel at ease again.

Tonight reminded me that God created the trees and his creativity brought forth the mountains. It reminded me that days come and go just like seasons, and burdens are meant to be lifted off our shoulders. Soon the crackle of a fire will replace the splashes of children in a pool and we will crave hot cider over iced sweet tea. Honestly I’m ready for that time. But I can wait for now, listen to the rain, and think about how big and brooding the trees were tonight. For now. 

Cool Drinks and Summer Nights

I worked with a pastor in the Dominican Republic who was probably the kindest man I have ever known. He had the biggest and broadest white smile, with a cheery heart to match. One evening, a couple teammates and I walked over to his house with a guitar and sheet music in hand. We were planning on running through some songs for the kids’ service.

Manuel lived in a beautiful Dominican house about two blocks away from where we were staying, and it ways a great night for a walk. Manuel and his wife Patricia welcomed us into their home. We chatted and sauntered out on the back porch where we made ourselves comfortable on the chairs and white fence.

Manuel had a mischievous look on his face. As soon as we were comfortable and had run through a few songs, Manuel’s wife brought out a tray of ice-cold orange liquid.

She had made us homemade mango milkshakes, complete with buttered toast to dip them in. I know it sounds odd, but the shake tasted like a thick, juicy marmalade on deep-dish buttered toast. It was actually a very sweet combination to the palette.

He set down two HUGE pitchers in front of us and said, “I am the Pastor and in charge of this house, so I say you have to drink it all!” Needless to say, we didn't have any trouble finishing the sweet refreshment.

This is a simple recipe I’ve wanted to share and I thought it would be a perfect first food travels post. Here is the recipe:

Peel, cut and blend several fresh mangos in a mixer.

Add about a cup of creamy milk

Add about 3/4 cup sugar

Add about one part ice

Bend until thick and creamy

Try it with thick sourdough bread, toasted and buttered. Great for summer nights! 

Why I Traded Business Attire for Chacos and a Backpack

Another blog I wrote for Plywood People that I never got around to posting:

Last year I lived out one of my dreams. I did something that everyone talks about, but never does. I stepped into one of my lifelong dreams, and slowly felt it become a reality.

Two and a half years ago I sat through an all day training for my first professional job, fresh out of college and ready to tackle my big girl dreams. I had a closet of freshly pressed blouses, my own office, and a typical Atlanta commute to match every droning 9-5er out there.  My life had just started and I couldn’t wait to pay off my student loans, set up a budget to establish credit, and lock in my 401K.

But something was missing. All of the securities of a steady salary, a comfortable work environment, and a fluffy pillow at night slowly became less and less appealing. This isn’t my dream. Although it could be for someone else, it isn’t for me. So I began to search for something new. The more I searched, the more my dreams seemed to reach out to me, like a beaconing whisper alluring me to the mystery of the unknown.

One day I decided I was going to listen to that whisper and do what I’d been dreaming of doing my whole life:

travel the world.

help the hurting.

live in a different circumstance.

create meaningful experiences in my life.

have stories to tell.

I went for it. I signed up for a mission trip called The World Race, where I traveled to 11 countries in 11 months to feed the hungry, clothe the poor, and take care of orphans. I lived on $4 a day for food and $5 a day for lodging. I traded my morning commute for tea with the Iranian teashop owner next door. I traded my comfy bed for a camping sleeping pad and my car for the bed of an old, rusty red truck.

I traded the commonalities of my life for unique, one-of-a-kind experiences with people from the African bush all the way to a Thai market.

I took a risk and gave up a very comfortable, normal life for an uncertain (and some may say crazy) year of service and travel. I don’t regret riding elephants through a rain forest in Thailand or spending Christmas with eight orphaned toddlers in South Africa. I don’t regret giving up a stable life to pursue the nagging desire for something more. Even if your MacBook Pro crashes in Haiti, the restaurant fails, or no one likes your idea, nothing is lost in the pursuit of your dream. You will only gain knowledge, experience, and stories to tell to your grandchildren. Don’t we all want to live a story that’s worth telling? 

Food Travels

Food always comes with a story. The taste of the searing hot tamale from your grandma’s tomato soup, or the feeling of the slippery oyster as it slid down your throat; we each have vivid images branded in our minds when we think of food.

I will never forget (and my friends will never let me live it down) when I tried candied ginger for the first time. It. Was. Awful. It felt like someone had stuck the bitterest blob of congealed liquid in my mouth and made me swallow. I think the candy had a mind of its own because it made its way to the side of my mouth and sat there as if to say, “You will like me. I am going to sit here and rub myself in your taste buds until you do.”

But I didn’t like it, and I don’t think I will ever like it. But I will always remember the side stiches I got from laughing so hard after the whole incident.

I also remember the bunny cake. My mom made me a bunny-shaped chocolate cake for my 9^th birthday, and I will never forget it. I remember the moist, thick chocolate layers and the creamy white frosting throughout the center of the cake and smeared on top. There were flakes of coconut coating the top of the white frosting like an inch of snow from the North Georgia Mountains. It’s been 16 years since we had that cake, and every Easter Sunday or birthday celebration I sneakily ask if she will make it again. She sighs and rolls her eyes, but eventually she caves in and agrees.

Over the past few years of my life, I had the distinct privilege of doing some travel. I translated in Guatemala, studied in Spain, and packed up my room, quit my job, and traded my pressed white button up for green-strapped chacos to go to 11 countries in 11 months. It kind of sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? It was a dream fulfilled for me. Between the helping, serving, and elephant riding, I learned a thing or two about cooking. We hopped from grass hut to South African orphanage, with every country bringing a different smell and taste with it. You see, I love food. I love how food cultivates community in an evening, early sunrise breakfast, or afternoon lunch with a friend.

So I’m going to start sharing the stories, recipes, and humorous antidotes I learned through my ‘food travels;’ one recipe at a time. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope it inspires you to cook these new creations! (As I hope it inspires me to do the same :D)