Monthly Archives: November 2012

Wanna Talk about ME!

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Dear Lindsey,

“Will I ever keep my mouth shut?!” I have thought after regretting an argument at an event

English: Northern Mockingbird juveniles at a b...

with friends.  The truth is, the problem was not my mouth, but my heart that was speaking. John Maxwell says pride is the reason for ALL conflict. The Bible says it comes before the fall. Pride develops through the way we view ourselves and will affect the number of relationship conflicts we have this Christmas season, and in life. In these next few letters, I hope to sharpen each other as iron sharpens iron, while we enjoy laughing (or gasping!) at stories of my prideful past, learn to diagnose an ego problem, and get to the HEART of the matter. “Peace on Earth,” begins with pride-under-construction, so let us aim for a Christ-full Christmas leading to Christ-full lives.

Kids say the darndest things! They tell the unmasked truth at times, like when my then 6-yr-old said, “Sometimes I feel like my friends aren’t listening to me. It’s like they are quiet when I talk, but they are only thinking of what they are going to say next.”

Toby Keith’s song makes me smile every time I hear it:  “Wanna talk about me, wanna talk about I, wanna talk about number one, oh my me my!” In the song, he’s talking about a girl he is dating who talks so much about herself, he never gets a chance to say anything.

I really don’t even remember dating Toby Keith, but the song describes me (at least the “old me”) so well! I even had a “gramma down in Alabama!” (the song states).

“Pride” is defined as:  a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements (or children’s achievements or possessions), according to the dictionary. However, a Christian definition may be:  Full of self, and therefore no room in the vessel to be full of God.  Proverbs 11:2 says that with the humble comes wisdom. Too often, we walk around, so “unwise.”

Like a skirt accidentally tucked into nylons, revealing a woman’s undergarments for an entire wedding reception dance, pride is a sin that is evident to all those around, but seemingly hidden from the bearer.  I have heard that “EGO” stands for “Edging God Out,” but when I first was figuring out my own pride problem, I loved God, and really, I figured I loved God more than most did, so I was safe from any ego issues. Ha! There was that pride again.

Pride destroys teams.

Whether it’s a business team, a church team, a marriage or a family, pride is a cancer that will starve the body. However, a problem cannot be solved until it is properly defined, and a prideful person, it seems, cannot see his own sin. “That’s about others, because I don’t feel good about myself,” I can remember thinking EVERY time I heard the word.  This is where the reader is cautioned: we may be talking about YOU and you don’t know it! (Just kidding! We all know we are talking about the ones who would never read this letter!)  All I know is that I am talking about me. As I said in another letter, (Turkey Tastes Better without Lilypads) pride is an addiction from which I am always recovering.

I often hear people say that they have low self-esteem, and not high self-esteem, and so therefore this problem is not applicable to them. Ironically, when I collected the following symptoms of pride, and subsequently compared them to the symptoms of low self-esteem from the book, Building Your Mate’s Self-Esteem (Rainey), I couldn’t believe the irony that many of the symptoms were identical.

“How is that possible?!” you may ask. “Aren’t low self-esteem and high self-esteem opposites?”

In the middle of each description is the answer: “self.”

Whether it is “low-self” or “high-self,” when we esteem ourselves as anything other than God-esteemed, we are doomed to live lives of conflict.

That leads me to the first symptom of pride: talking about yourself.

I can change ANY subject back to me, and I used to think it was quite a talent!  Imagine my conversations:

Her: “We moved here from Colorado.”

Me: “I have family in Colorado.”

Her: “My child is really struggling in math.”

Me: “Oh that’s funny; my son is acing math!”

Her: “I had such a rough day today.”

Me: “Oh I know; I hate Mondays.”

Blechhhhh.

I HATE to think of myself having these conversations. How much could the Lord have done through me if instead I had been interested in the others’ words? How the math student’s mom could have been encouraged by words about HER not ME! Maybe the “rough day” was looking for truly caring words: “I’m sorry to hear that! How can I help?” What if the one from Colorado was only wishing for someone to know that she was new to the area?

Pride. It leads to relationship conflict and edges God out.

So what now? What if as we read the symptoms through the next letters, we identify an issue with pride, what next? Don’t despair! God is bigger than the pride boogie man.  Identifying the problem is half of the solution.

Ironically, I feel VERY confident writing about pride but not qualified to write about humility – which is the only solution.  Reading CJ Mahaney’s book Humility: True Greatness gives the reader great perspective.

However, for this first symptom (talking too much about oneself) the practical answer is obvious:

  1. Talk less about yourself. Some will read this and think I am saying that we should NEVER talk about ourselves; however, it is truly a matter of the heart. Are we listening to others? Are we caring about others? Or are we pushing opinions, experiences and ourselves on others, trying to uplift ourselves?
  2. Pray. Well …maybe that should have been #1. Since pride seems to be the king of invisible sins (Invisible only to the beholder, visible to all others…), we must ask God to open our eyes to where we are blind.
  3. Think more of others than of yourself.  C. S. Lewis said, “true humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.”

“True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.” -C.S. Lewis

My husband says that a man doesn’t marry a woman for her body, her brains, or any other of “her” self. He says he marries her because of how she makes him feel.  It is the same in business relationships, friendships and marriages alike: In relationships, our goal should NOT then be to make others think highly of us, but our goal should be to make them think highly of themselves, or better yet, think highly of our God when they are around us.

The most important commandment is to “Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, soul and mind; and the second one is like it: love your neighbor as yourself.” Matt 22:37-40.  To truly love God, we will love His people. We will care about them, and listen to them.

May we use our ears twice as much as our mouths today!

“Let every man be swift to hear and slow to speak.” –James 1:19

God bless,
Terri Brady

Recommended reading: Building Your Mate’s Self-Esteem by Dennis Rainey

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Dampened Impressions, Toddler Style

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Dear Lindsey,

Company is coming!!! The holidays begin! Candy still lingers in my kitchen and I can’t believe it’s already the next holiday!

My preparations today remind me of a day a couple years ago:

I have had their last name for almost two decades, but trying to make a good impression on my in-laws is still one of my strong desires. I want to make sure they know I am the perfect wife for their perfect son :).  They encourage me and tell me nice things all the time, but as a daughter-in-law, I always want to do more for them.

Case in point:

The oven had been hot, preparing the holiday goodies all day. The laundry room was equally hot, as I tried to get all of the tasks done before their arrival. I wiped counters and awaited their text: they could be here any minute. All the checkmarks were in the box! …if that last load of laundry could get put away.

“GPS says we’ll be there in 10,” the text arrived!

I worked to mop that floor one last time, and hopefully put on makeup as if I always look “done-up” for their son…but that one last load of laundry was still in the back of my mind. Oh, how I wish I could clone myself for times like this! Wait?! Isn’t that why I had kids? (smile)

“J.R.?” I yelled up the stairs to see if the last remaining unworking child was within earshot.

“What, Mom?” the 5-yr-old yelled back down.

“Grammy and Papa will be here in 10 minutes. The dryer has your clothes in it. Could you please fold those and put them away?”

“10 minutes?!!! Yaaayyy!! Sure! I’ll put my clothes away!”

A tinge of guilt crossed my mind. Is that a lot to ask of a 5-yr-old? He’s folded clothes beside me many times before. The dryer happened to only have his clothes in it, so he would know where it all went, right? They don’t have to be folded perfectly; they only need to disappear into his drawers, right? Perfect! I have time to get myself ready! I raced upstairs to the master bath.

“They’re here!!” the screams began from each of the four children. No question that the white van from Michigan had pulled into the driveway.

Phew, the floor dried in time! I thought as I descended the stairs to the clean kitchen greeting Grammy and Papa. Chris came out of his office; the holiday had begun!

Later that evening, as is tradition (and such a great break for me!!) Grammy and Papa headed up the stairs to help the kids to bed. The kids anxiously picked out their favorite books and brushed teeth, while looking forward to their “scratch-backing” time while Grammy and Papa read books. That’s when Grammy yelled down:

“Terri? Do you have a leak somewhere?”

A leak? You’re kidding me!

I raced upstairs to find that she was baffled why all of J.R.’s pajamas in the dresser were WET.

As I inspected the situation, I found that not only were the PJ’s wet, but so were all of the underwear, pants and shirts…that he had put away from the dryer.

“J.R., was the dryer off when you took the things out to put them away?”

“No. You didn’t say they had to be dry.”

…

Enjoy your Thanksgiving! Be thankful you have clothes…even if they are wet.

God bless,

Terri Brady

Turkey Tastes Better Without Lily Pads

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Dear Lindsey,

The westerly wind blew little waves into our lake, like marks of a knife on a frosted cake. It wasn’t enough to cancel our beach day with my friend Sheri and her teenage girls, but it was enough that our normal boating and fishing were deterred.

We owned the entire perimeter of the forty-acre body of water that provided homes for bass, pike, bluegill and countless turtles and frogs. The homemade sandy beach was perfect for fun family picnics, business events and girlfriend days like this one.

“Can I go kayaking?” my 5-yr-old son asked. Kayaking was a newly acquired skill, and he was always one to love the kudos people gave him for being so athletic so young.

“It’s windy. I don’t think it would be much fun to have to fight it,” I tried to detour the request. “Do you want to show them the trails?”

“I understand you don’t want me to, but it’s not that windy; I can handle it!” he pleaded*.

There was really no more danger in kayaking that day than other days. Though he was a good swimmer, his life jacket would provide extra safety from the water. The wind would be more of an inconvenience than a danger, so I pushed his boat into the water and off he went!

His brother, three years older, followed. Within minutes, it was obvious to the elder that the wind was going to win the battle for the steering, so he returned and beached his kayak.

I looked out to see my youngster in a full-out struggle against the wind. His small stature kept him low in the boat – his armpits barely cresting the edge of the cavity where he sat. The special kayak oar, (which has paddles on both ends, rotated ninety degrees from each other,) was in full motion OVER his head. The cumbersome motion looked exhausting, as he paddled water on the left of the boat, then lifted the six foot oar over his shoulders, twisted, and quickly put in to pull equal water on the other side. Under calmer waters, each stroke would have propelled the rider through the water almost endlessly like a friction-free glide. Not today.

Each stroke looked as though it took his entire body, down to his toes. He struggled against the wind. He rowed and rowed, trying to get to the west end of the lake. But the wind was too much, and it continued to pull him backwards.

After a few minutes, I asked my oldest son to get into the paddle boat (which kited less) and go save his naïve brother. Prepared with the rope and friends (Sheri’s girls), he went to the rescue.

Sheri and I enjoyed our moment alone. Girl time is a gift that rarely comes with silence! I suppose I should not have been surprised when our peace turned into noise as a Brady brawl broke out on the water. I heard splashing, and paddle-smacking and screams of torment, as the 5-yr-old rejected his brother’s offer.

“Get out of here! I can do this by myself!”

Embarrassed by his behavior out of my reach, I calmly went to the side of the lake and told the rescuers to retreat. “I guess he doesn’t want help,” I explained.

They returned and we continued our day of fun with friends. Fire started; hot dogs ready; Polaris Ranger was full of gas for the trail tours.

I watched the lake, and my little guy was going east as fast as the wind was blowing. His tiny arms were no match for the forces from above. Soon, he “landed”. The bed of lily pads at the east end of the lake held on to many of our lost fishing lures. Any boat without a motor surely ended there due to westerly winds, but in the kayak, they presented more trouble, since the oar could not get water amidst the weeds, even on a calm day. I knew he was stuck and going nowhere. I waited.

Then we heard it: a sound like a ghost moaning.

“Mrs. Brady, I think he’s crying on the lake,” the girls came to me, concerned.

“He’s ok, or he would be asking for help,” I said, trying to stay tough.

“Wooooaaaaaahhhh!” the moaning continued, but got louder.

“Are you sure he won’t drown?” the 9-yr-old girl asked.

“As long as I can hear his voice, I know he’s above water,” I joked, but then explained: “If you listen, his cry is getting louder. He’s trying to get our attention, but I really just want to hear the words, ‘I’m sorry. Please help me.’ I believe if he sits long enough, he will realize the plight of his situation, and he will kindly ask for help.” (And I quietly prayed that would be true!)

“Wah Wah Wah!” the noise reached full crying, and vocal cords were at a maximum.

“Mrs. Brady, don’t you think we should go out there and make him come in?” the girls asked, so kindly caring about his well being.

I debated for a minute. I AM the mom, I thought. I could go win this battle with force, and punish him for the rest of eternity! But my senses kept coming back to me, if he struggles long enough, he will recognize that he is NOT the one in control.

Finally, the crying turned into intelligible words, “Mom!”

“Yes, dear?” I answered from the shore.

“Can you please help me?” he said, between sniffles.

“Of course! I will send your brother; but before he can tie your boat, you owe him an apology for trying to hit him with the oar, right?”

Silence, no answer…

“Say, ‘ok, Mom.’” I directed.

“Ok, Mom,” he mumbled, almost resolved to his lack of control of this situation.

I listened for the proper words and attitude toward his rescuers upon their arrival to the kayak. “Thanks and sorries” filled the air, replacing the space the moaning had occupied moments before.

…

Lily Pads

As an adult, I wonder how many times I’ve had to end up “stuck in the lily pads” to learn my lesson?

Someone will cry out today, “Why is God letting me drown?!”

Yet He’s hearing every word, and knows we’re still breathing.

I’ve cried, “I can’t handle this!!”

And He already knew that. We are not meant to handle it.

I am sure my son must have been thinking, “Why won’t Mom help me?!!”

…when he had already batted away the very person I had sent to help, because he wanted help from anyone but that person.

“Doesn’t God hear my moaning and crying?!”

Yet He tells us He would rather hear “sorry,” “thanks,” and “please help me.”

…

Pride.

It’s at the root of all conflict, according to John Maxwell.

It always leads to fall, according to the Bible. (Prov 16:18) Haughtiness is an abomination to the Lord! Yet, I battle it like an addiction.

Pride is when we turn down the help, because “we don’t need it.” It’s when we say “God isn’t answering,” because He’s not solving the situation the way WE think it should be solved. It’s caring more about looking good to others than being good in His sight.

God’s power is made perfect in weakness, (2Cor 12:9) yet I’ve often laughed, but do I really have to LOOK so bad? haha!

Yes, I could have done a blog on “thankfulness” this Thanksgiving week, and yet sometimes I believe our pride blocks our thanks from being heard.

Why talk about pride during the holidays? Because with holidays comes family:

  • Your husband is going to ask you to make his mom’s recipe.
    • Hook your rope to her boat.
  • Your sister-in-law is going to wipe the table exactly where you just wiped!
    • Tell her thank you.
  • Your grandkids are going to spend more time with the other set of grandparents than you.
    • Thank God that He gave you grandchildren that you love.

***********************************************************************************************

I really believe my best weight-loss program was when I realized the weight of the world was not on my shoulders, and it never was.

***********************************************************************************************

Come on, girl, you can do it! Rise above being offended this year!

Take the help and give the help. God has great plans.

Turkey tastes better without lily pads.

Love ya,

Terri Brady

Proverbs 16:5 The Lord detests all the proud of heart. Be sure of this: They will not go unpunished.

James 4:10 Humble yourself before the Lord, and He will lift you up.

Matt 8:27 The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!”

* nice “wise appeal” from Say Goodbye to Whining Complaining and Bad Attitudes by Turansky and Miller. Obviously, we had not reached the goals of that book by this point, but I am so grateful for “the wise appeal” in the Brady family!!

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The gift that says, “I’m the big one!”

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Dear Lindsey,

I know it’s not much to look at, perched on my office bookshelf among the cluttered books, but just seeing it floods my memory and heart, sufficing the intention of any gift.

My husband, Chris, had taken the boys, age 2 and 5, to the store and handed them $10 each. He told them they could buy anything they wanted for me for my birthday.

Nate, full of personality (and leaving very few of his thoughts to mystery) had those pudgy cheeks the church ladies would squeeze.  Always a competitor, when asked his age, he would answer “5,” (his older brother’s age) with full confidence.

“My! You are such a cute little boy!” a stranger had once told him.

Nate replied, “I’m not little! Except when I look in the mirror, then I’m still little, but I’m not little for real.”  (Although, it sounded more like, “I’m not wittle!”) Ha! Such spunk!

Casey, a sweet spirited pensive type, made the perfect best friend of opposite personality.  I am sure he kept the birthday shopping in line, as he turned down Hot Wheels and guns, aiming for the perfect gift for Mom, not himself.

The package wasn’t wrapped professionally. Evidence of novice hands’ work made it all the more special.  Nothing needed tearing for the present to be opened, since the young deliverers who shared in handing it to me had torn most of it. They stood, or maybe bounced, in anticipation, waiting for my response to their deeply-thought-out purchase.

The torn colored paper revealed the gift: two pigs.

Chris stood in the background, smiling so hard his cheeks might have cracked.  It was truly delightful to see these two boys so excited to give. Casey (5) explained the reasoning for the choice: “They are two brothers, just like Nate and me. We put our money together to buy it!  We thought if you put it in your office, then you would think of us. We knew if we got you candy or something, you might eat it and then it would be gone, but this you can keep FOREVER. It says, ‘I love you,’ because we do!” His reasoning continued, while I basked in the joy of the moment. I gave hugs of gratitude while they both beamed with pride over their selection.

Afterward, I cleaned up the papers and sent them for their PJ’s to start the bedtime routine.  As Casey started toward the stairs, Nate suddenly turned away and ran to my side, cupping his mouth to my ear so Casey wouldn’t hear. (–This is my favorite part!!:)

“I’m the big one!” the 2-year-old whispered, happily pointing to the pigs, which ironically both looked identical. That adorable memory of my “big” 2-yr-old sits on the shelf where the pigs still reside 10 years later.

What makes the gift special?

–      Chris. He thought to take time out of his busy schedule to let toddlers do the shopping.

–      It’s the thought that counts…always; their hearts beamed brighter than the most valuable diamond.

–      The 2-yr-old’s and 5-yr-old’s antics are no longer in my house; I cherish those memories.  No material possession could ever rank over moments that cannot be relived except in our memories. Some things truly are priceless.

Dear young mother: please remember that toddlers are a gift, temporary though they are.  When it seems you can’t get anything done…when you get more boxes to check than checkmarks in the box every day…when you are exhausted with the illness and realize you still have more kids to get it…when you are tired of finding syrup in places you didn’t know it could get to (and you haven’t even had pancakes in weeks!)…stop and find a memory for which to thank God. Blow some bubbles.  Drink in the smile. Pinch the cheeks. They disappear more quickly than the to-do list.

May you find the value behind the gifts you give and receive. I think the remembrance of the giver is “the big one” of them all.

In love,

Terri Brady

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