Author

Lois Flowers

A Weekly Habit That is Restoring My Soul

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Though I read it long ago, one of those pithy statements at the end of an Our Daily Bread devotional has come back to guide me recently.

It went something like this:

Patient: “Doc, I broke my arm in two places.”

Doctor: “Stay outa them places.”

I’ve been thinking about this lately in relation to the Internet and social media. It all seems to be louder, angrier and more reactionary with every passing day. On top of that, there’s so much “content” out there that seems pointless, to put it mildly.

A quick check of YouTube or Instagram proves this, but it really hit home one night when Randy and I were watching Master Chef: Legends (after having not watched broadcast television for many months). The show itself was good, but the programming previewed in the commercials seemed so vacuous and void of anything redeemable that it left me feeling a bit depressed.

The Bible doesn’t address 2021’s digital landscape specifically, but it certainly contains truths that are relevant today. Consider Psalm 12:8, for example: “The wicked prowl all around, and what is worthless is exalted by the human race.”

That pretty much sums up the state of our world today, doesn’t it?

Thankfully, though, the scriptures don’t leave us defenseless against this sad situation. Psalm 119 offers a strategy, stated in the form of a prayer:

“Teach me, Lord, the meaning of your statutes, and I will always keep them. Help me understand your instruction, and I will obey it and follow it with all my heart. Help me stay on the path of your commands, for I take pleasure in it. … Turn my eyes from looking at what is worthless; give me life in your ways. (Psalm 119:33-35, 37, emphasis added)

I don’t know about you, but that last part sounds a bit like “stay outa them places” to me.

We can’t control or dictate what other people look at for the most part, but we can manage where we fix our own gaze, and for how long. With the Holy Spirit’s help, we actually can keep our “eyes from looking at what is worthless.”

This might sound simple enough, but our devotion to our screens can make it tricky. How does the thought of going offline for a day—or even an hour—make you feel? I’m no expert, but I feel pretty confident suggesting that how we respond to this question is a good indication of exactly how addicted we are to our electronics.

And how badly we need to do something about it.

Last April, after noticing how much time I spent was wasting clicking from one article to another on my favorite news and commentary sites, I decided to stop looking at them altogether.

I still hear news on the radio. I get some email newsletters and Randy keeps me up to date on current events that interest me. But for the most part, no news is good news for my mental health.

I know this—I can see it and feel it—but even now, there are times when I really want to check the latest headlines. When I’m tired, bored or feeling out of sorts, the temptation is greater—as it often is for other addictive behavior.

Fortunately, as 1 Corinthians 10:13 promises, God won’t allow me to be tempted beyond my capacity to resist. He gives me a way to escape, I just have to use it.

I can literally close my browser and get up out of my chair. I can get outa that place, if only for the moment.

Quitting the news cold turkey was a good start, but last month I began sensing a draw to do something else when it comes to stewarding my time and attention. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, but I knew something was brewing in my heart and soul.

I wasn’t feeling prompted to fast from food one day a month, like I used to do many years ago. But what about “fasting” from the internet one day a week? Once the idea came to me, it wouldn’t let go.

So for the last month or so, that’s what I’ve been doing. Aside from texting family members and playing music on Spotify, I’m completely offline on Thursdays. No email, social media or Google.

I don’t have Instagram or email on my phone, so that helps. I’m not intentionally spending long periods of time praying or anything like that, but I do find myself engaging in more conversations with Jesus throughout the day.

I thought it would be really hard.

I thought I would struggle much more than I do.

Instead, it’s almost a relief.

One Thursday, among all my other regular activities, I had a very productive texting conversation with my daughter at college. I read three chapters in Mere Christianity. I wrote most of a blog post.

Nothing worthless about any of that, but plenty of life and meaning.

Now I look forward to Thursdays. They’ve been recalibrating my body, soul and spirit in ways I didn’t even know I needed. They’re helping me “live with a heart of integrity in my house” and assisting as I try to “not let anything worthless guide me.” (Psalm 101:2b-3a)

You know me. I’m not in the habit of telling everyone they should do what I do. There’s nothing legalistic about this; it’s simply a practice that is bringing me life right now.

I will say this, though. If the “places” you’re spending your time are sucking the life out of you—perhaps even turning you into someone you don’t recognize or don’t even like—you might want to consider staying outa them places. Even if it’s only for one day a week.

♥ Lois

We can’t control or dictate what other people look at for the most part, but we can manage where we fix our own gaze, and for how long. Share on X Spending Thursdays entirely offline has been recalibrating my body, soul and spirit in ways I didn’t even know I needed. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday, #HeartEncouragement and Grace & Truth.

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What I Learned When I Wrote Every Day

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

When Randy and I decided to do the Whole30 last October, it also seemed like a good opportunity to become more disciplined about writing every day.

I didn’t have a specific topic to cover, although in retrospect, it would have been beneficial if I had come up with some categories in advance. My main goal was to form a habit, to get into the practice of sitting down at the desk in the kitchen and typing until I had strung several paragraphs together.

They didn’t even have to go together, those paragraphs. I just wanted words on a screen, every single day of October.

There were days when I wrote paragraphs that I used later in blog posts, and there were days when I basically recounted what had happened during the last 12 or 24 hours. Somewhere along the way, I realized that this practice I was developing was something I needed to continue in some form or fashion.

I adapted it to fit what seemed to work best for me, which meant not writing on weekends when I’m much more distracted. Some months since then, I’ve done well. Other months (like the whole summer) I didn’t even try.

I don’t know how all these dots connect, but here’s what I learned that first month—while I was writing every day (except for one Sunday when I forgot) and preparing meals within some very strict boundaries.

• Writing every day is helpful. Particularly if I do it in the morning, when my thoughts are more cogent, more meaningful and more likely to lead to something I can use somewhere else.

• Intentional writing breeds more (and possibly better) writing. It may not work this way for everyone, but when I sit down and start typing, words start flowing. There’s nothing sacred about it. For every five paragraphs, one sentence might be worth saving. But every now and then, there’s a chunk of something that captures exactly what’s swishing around in my head, and if I had jotted the idea down on paper and told myself I would come back to it later, it wouldn’t be the same.

• Reading books about writing also is helpful. I know other writers enjoy these types of books, but for some reason, I’ve never really gotten into them. Last fall, though, I read several that challenged and encouraged me to stop talking about writing and start doing it more often, and to pay attention to the worth and purpose of every word. (On Writing Well and Writing about Your Life by William Zinsser come to mind, as does Marion Roach Smith’s The Memoir Project: A Thoroughly Non-Standardized Text for Writing & Life.)

• What helps me, more than reading books about writing, is reading books that are really well written. I realize that what speaks to me is not necessarily what speaks to others. But when I hear a clear, concise voice in a book, it triggers better words in my own mind.

It seems like it’s been a long time coming, but it’s October again. Randy and I are five days into another round of the Whole30, and once again, I have another daily writing goal.

This time, it includes organizing about five months’ worth of writing on a topic close to my heart, in hopes that when I’m done it will resemble the beginnings of a book.

Neither process—giving up sugar, grains, dairy and peanut butter for a month or working on this deeply personal book project—promises to be easy. But I’ve done hard things before, same as you.

One day at a time, one meal at a time, one word at a time.

Onward and upward.

♥ Lois

Intentional writing breeds more (and possibly better) writing. Share on X When I hear a clear, concise voice in a book, it triggers better words in my own mind. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday, #HeartEncouragement and Grace & Truth.

Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash

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Share Four Somethings: September 2021

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

This Rambler Marlin, which Randy and I spotted at an antique car show last month, is way cooler than the boxy Rambler Americans my dad drove throughout my childhood. (See Something Treasured below.)

It finally feels like fall in Kansas.

I don’t care about pumpkin spice and orange leaves, but I’m happily wearing my favorite long leggings with cozy cardigans every chance I get. Even better, the chill in the air gives me about 40 extra springs in my step when I’m out on an early morning run.

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Why We Eat in the Dining Room

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

When I was cleaning out my blog files a few weeks ago, I came across some bits and pieces that I had intended to turn into full blog posts at some point. Reading them with fresh eyes, I realized I still wanted to share the content, but in more of a smorgasbord-type piece.

I should probably do this more often, actually. It might keep the file of future posts from getting overgrown again. At any rate, here are a few thoughts about eating in the dining room, a writing suggestion, and a quote that you might find encouraging. As always, feel free to chime in about any or all of it in the comment section below.

• • •

When I was waiting to pick up Molly from school one day, the hosts of a local radio talk show were discussing dining rooms. One was quite adamant in her belief that “nobody eats in dining rooms anymore.”

I have two opinionated teenagers, so I’m familiar with such emphatically stated proclamations. I also know this: people still eat in dining rooms.

At least they do in my house.

It may come as a shock if you watch HGTV, but not everyone has (or wants) an open-concept floor plan. Our 34-year-old house is sort of a hybrid—there are no walls separating our dining room from the main living area, but the rooms appear to be distinct because the eating area has an 8-foot ceiling and the living-room ceiling is two stories high.

We started having supper in the dining room instead of our eat-in kitchen one December when our Christmas tree was set up in the space between the living and dining areas. When the holidays were over and all the decorations put away, we never moved back to the kitchen, and I’m so glad we didn’t.

What I love about the dining room is that it fosters lingering. We aren’t all in a rush to get up and put the dishes and leftovers away. We often just sit and talk, even after we’ve had a little bit of dessert and Randy pours his customary after-dinner quarter-cup of milk.

Our conversations aren’t necessarily profound. Those that veer toward this territory generally happen spontaneously and are usually brought on by something completely unrelated to the deeper topic.

Whatever we talk about, though, I always leave the table feeling thankful—for our family, for laughter, for the opportunity to spend these moments together every night.

• • •

A few years ago, I was working on a blog post about someone who did something to help me out that I felt went above and beyond the call of duty.

“Her kindness floored me,” I wrote.

When Randy read my post, he suggested I tone down my exuberance a bit. “It would floor me if I won the lottery,” he said, “not when someone does something nice for me.”

I suppose that would depend on what the nice thing was, but he had a point. Words mean things, and choosing the right ones for any given situation is important. There’s a time and a place for dramatic verbiage, but often, stating things plainly is more effective.

Another time, I read a blog post that the author said she had revised something like 87 times because she was so nervous about what she was about to share. A comment like that makes me think one of two things—either the writer is a perfectionist to the point of needing serious help, or she’s about to tell me that she served time for armed robbery when she was younger.

I don’t remember the exact cause of her trepidation, but I think it had something to do with the fact that she yells at her kids too much or struggles with irritability.

I realize that what might be a huge deal to one person might simply be a blip on my radar screen. But if I had the chance, here’s what I’d share with that blogger: If you’re writing about a personal flaw or shortcoming, just write about it. As a very wise editor once told me, don’t put thoughts in your readers’ minds that they might not think of themselves.

For example, resist the urge to add caveats like, “You may be thinking that I am the worst mother in the world.”

Chances are, they are not thinking that, but now that you mention it, they may very well start. Just tell the story—without trying to address rebuttals that might not come up—and hit post (or publish or whatever). Life is too short to revise anything—especially a blog post—87 times.

• • •

Speaking of irritability and yelling at our kids, I’ll close with an encouraging quote by Martin Luther about—of all things—spiritual growth and repentance.

“This life, therefore, is not righteousness, but growth in righteousness, not health, but healing, not being, but becoming, not rest, but exercise. We are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it. The process is not yet finished, but it is going on. This is not the end, but it is the road. All does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified.”

~ from “Defense and Explanation of All the Articles,” in Luther’s Works, Volume 32: Career of the Reformer II

♥ Lois

Eating in the dining room fosters lingering. We aren’t all in a rush to get up and put the dishes and leftovers away. We often just sit and talk. Share on X Words mean things, and choosing the right ones for any given situation is important. There’s a time and a place for dramatic verbiage, but often, stating things plainly is more effective. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Inspire Me Monday and Grace & Truth.

Photo by Spacejoy on Unsplash

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