Hey You, Is Your Life GOOD?

Jonathan Fields, host of The Good Life Project podcast, always ends conversation with guests with this question:

“How do you define the ‘good life?’ What does a ‘good life”’look like to you?”

Human science expert Brene Brown answered, “ A good life happens when you stop and are grateful for the ordinary moments that so many of us seem to steamroll over to try to find those extraordinary moments. To me, my good life is soccer practice and carpool line. And tuck-ins. And date night. That’s the good life for me. And knowing it’s good. Acknowledging and stopping and saying that it’s good.”

What’s interesting to me is what she didn’t say.

No mention at all of being grateful to write six New York Times best-selling books, host two podcasts, or hold a research fellowship at the University of Houston. She didn’t have to say that she’s the premier voice for courage and empathy. Those are the things that define her work.

And her life is not defined by her work.

The good life is all these little things.
Easily within reach of any one of us.

And this isn’t new information. Kurt Vonnegut once said, “Enjoy the little things in life because one day you’ll look back and realize they were the big things.”

(***We all nod our heads and murmur in agreement. ****)

Some things we have to discover on our own.

It’s our experience that changes how we perceive the present.

As I sit here writing this, my new kitten is basking in a patch of sunlight, and my other kitten is nestled against my back and the chair. They both got so excited when I opened a package of treats earlier today.

I started thinking about my own small things journey.

• Walking out of a cold building and into the hot August sun (am I the only one that loves that?)

• A surprise thundershower this afternoon that brought with it a cool breeze.

• Finding a bag of my favorite chips hidden in the pantry.

• A package waiting for me on the front porch.

Dr. Brown said we should stop and acknowledge that it’s good.

And this is where I struggle.

Because when I’m in a big room and someone asks me about my life, these little things sound pathetic when I say them out loud. And I know that’s a “me” problem, not a “them” problem. I’m the one who needs to come to terms with my good life.

It really is so, so good.

Want more good stuff?

One Choice We All Have

Seize the Day

“Make good choices,” I call after my kids.

I don’t know if they’re even listening.

And sometimes I feel like I need my own reminder!

Somebody needs to hold my face, look me straight in the eyes and say “Make good choices, Chantel.” Darn it. Grownups have to be their own spoil-sport.

That’s why COVID 19 finally caught up to me.

It was bound to happen. Sooner or later. After all, I was out there. At the gym. At my daughter’s cheer competition. At the grocery store.

So here I am, in my house, quarantined from the world for ten days per CDC guidelines.

It’s a real bummer, although I know I’m luckier than most with symptoms that are mild. I have the tell-tale malaise, of course, and unfortunately I also lost my sense of taste and smell.

Utterly and completely.
Which is very weird.
Suddenly, 40% of the way I communicate with the world is gone.

And I know what people are thinking, the people who saw me at the gym or at the competition or doing my grocery shopping. They’re thinking

“Was it worth it?”

And I don’t know.

It’s easy to say yes when you don’t know what the consequences will be. I’m ten days out now from my very first symptom, and so far I haven’t heard that anyone close to me has gotten sick because of me.

I followed the rules. I wore a mask when I was out in public. At the gym, I wiped down the equipment after I used it.

But every time I went out, I assumed a certain amount of risk.

“Make good choices” is a reminder I need to tell myself.

One of the biggest and most important questions we ever ask ourselves is”

“Is this worth doing?”

Every decision I’ve ever made has been through the lens of whether or not something is “worth it.”

That question has never held more promise than it does right now, when deciding if something is worth doing affects so many people.

I’m the only one in my house who is sick, but everybody is home. My husband can’t go to work. My kids can’t go to school. All the people who were with me in the days leading up to my diagnosis had to be notified, and of course now they’re waking up every morning asking themselves if they still feel normal.

It’s easy to take for granted all the decisions we make. We’re lucky we get to choose. Choosing is a real privilege.

Americans have more choices than almost any other people group on the planet. Entire books have been written about the choices we make. The paradox of choice is a real thing: Having too many choices can lead to decreased feelings of happiness, less life satisfaction and even decision paralysis.

But choice is also the hallmark of our freedom.
And our faith.

I don’t know if I would have made different choices had I known I was going to get Covid. I did all the right things, except remain at home until I could get a vaccine.

And now I have a lot fewer choices. That’s both good and bad. Since I have to stay home, I don’t get to choose among all the fun options available to me right now. I know I’m going to dig in, order groceries via the Kroger Clicklist and surf Amazon for last minute gifts. I’m going to wrap presents and rest.

You’ve got choices, too.

One of the most important choices we have at our disposal is the response we make to the emotions we feel.

The other night I was talking with my sister-in-law and at the end of the conversation, I felt like I had been overly negative in my observations about what was happening in my life. “You know what?” I told her. “I can’t end the night like this. There’s so many good things in my life right now. I’m not going to hang up this phone until I’ve said five good things.”

And right then and there I listed them, my five good things:

1) sunshine streaming through the window
2) a good night’s sleep (10 hours!)
3) a little dog curled up on my lap
4) the arrival of the first Christmas cards
5) and good friends who have checked on me daily

We may not have as many choices as we used to have, but we can always choose to be thankful. There’s an added benefit, too: Did you know it’s almost impossible to be thankful and anxious at the same time?

If that’s true, then now is the perfect time to choose gratitude over grumbling and faith over fear.

What are you most thankful for right now?

Want more good stuff?

The Best Things Come in Small Packages

Who’s thinking about Christmas?

Some of my friends have already put up their trees and other holiday decorations. I’m one of those people who doesn’t do anything until at least the day after Thanksgiving, but with all these posts showing up in my email inbox —20 Stocking Stuffers to Knock Your Socks Off (I made that one up, but if it’s out there, I’ll read it!)—and advertisements for this year’s top gifts (Anybody getting an Oura ring?)—I, too, am itching to get this show on the road.

Yesterday an advertisement for a miniature chainsaw came across my feed. “Man, I wish I had a chainsaw,” I thought.

Just last week a huge storm blew through our city, and covered my backyard in a fury of sticks, leaves, and at least two small(ish) uprooted trees.

That chainsaw would have come in handy.

But then reality set in. I’ve never used any kind of saw—be it a hacksaw, circular saw, buzz saw, jigsaw, or hand saw, let alone a chainsaw—big OR small.

What was I thinking?

The tiny saw, however, made me feel like I could do something. It was manageable. I might even be so bold as to use the word approachable, although as I type this I’m thinking “approachable” might not be a great adjective to use when talking about a chainsaw. That’s the stuff horror movies are made of.

But I digress….

I think we can all agree that 2020 hasn’t been the year we had hoped. All our plans for holiday get-togethers and celebrations look different than we imagined. And if you’re anything like my family—you like to do holidays big. I get it. I feel sad about that, too.

But seeing the tiny chainsaw in my news feed reminded me that there are small, useful, beautiful versions of just about every big thing that’s out there.

And sometimes the smallest celebrations are the most memorable.

Here’s a “little” glimpse of what we’re doing this year:

• Instead of running our usual Turkey Day 5K, which is 3.1 miles, I’ve convinced my daughter to do a 1.3 mile neighborhood run in honor of her 13th birthday, which this year also happens to fall on Thanksgiving day. She’s stoked!

• I love a nice, fall bonfire, but lately, my husband and I have just been enjoying the cozy fireplace on our back porch. We used to long for the day when it would be “just the two of us” and now that our kids are getting older, we’re getting a tiny glimpse of that special time.

• I’m sad there will be no large holiday party at our house this year, but that doesn’t mean we can’t see our friends at all. Sharing a meal together fosters intimacy, and we’ve been really intentional about inviting other couples over for dinner on the weekends. A few candles, a fancy place setting—and voila—instant festivity!

I pray your holidays are filled with joy. Look out for unexpected experiences that inspire gratitude. You may be surprised to find that choosing to pay attention to all the good little things in your life makes a big difference in your attitude—and your gratitude.

In honor of the mini chainsaw, this Benjamin Franklin quote seems doubly apt:

“Little strokes fell great oaks.”

— Benjamin Franklin

Just because you can’t do something big doesn’t mean you can’t do anything at all. There’s a reason why they say “a little goes a long way.” How are you adjusting your expectations in this season? What small step will you take toward making a BIG difference in your little sphere of influence?

Want more good stuff?