How to do your best, without giving your all?

 
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It's no coincidence that this is the post I have been working on for weeks and scheduled to post last week, but didn't finish. Life has been busy, full of the usual daily demands amplified by my intense need to do everything and do it the best.


You may have noticed I said “do it THE best”, not “do it MY best”. This is a deep rooted desire and most of the time brings me a tremendous amount of unnecessary stress added upon an already busy, stressful life. I wish I had the answers to the question I posed as the title of this post.


Oh, you did notice that big fat question mark there, didn’t you? If you didn't and clicked this link in search of a detailed list of steps that will solve all of your pouring out problems, this is not the post for you. I am not the poster child for living a peaceful life of pouring out just enough to do my very best without crossing over the line of giving my all in everything I do. No, that's not my natural tendency at all. Instead, you will more than likely find me giving all of myself to every project all the time. Unfortunately, this leaves me often in a place of over-worked, over-stressed and overwhelmed.


If you can't relate to this, let's shout a big “Hallelujah” together, but if you can relate to my words at all, let’s give a sweet praise to Jesus that He in fact can help us. We are not all together broken and our future can look less overwhelmed and we can learn how to pour out less of ourselves and learn the art of doing our best, without giving our all.


Have you ever heard of the book, “The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman? Gary found that each individual expresses and best experiences love in five basic ways. He believes that if we know how we communicate our love and learn how others send and receive love, we are better able to effectively love the people in our lives. I took the Love Language test years ago, it was no surprise the main way I receive love is through acts of service. Nothing speaks louder to me than my partner’s willingness to do the tasks that are usually reserved for me. I also show my love for my family by serving them. Early in my marriage it was important to me to iron all of my husband's clothes. I wanted him to know just how much I loved him and the best way I could think of was to iron his jeans, complete with extra starch. This act was quite the undertaking, as my husband’s ideal result from heavily starched jeans would leave his jeans with the ability to quite literally stand up on their own. To achieve this level of starchiness, after washing his jeans in the machine I would then fill the utility sink in my laundry room and pour half a bottle of Stay-flo liquid starch and dip his jeans in the cloudy water, over and over, ringing them out between each dip. After the jeans hung to dry for a few hours I would iron them while they were slightly damp and finally hang them to finish drying. All of this could take six or more hours. All of the work was worth it to me. I loved my husband and wanted him to feel that love. Oftentimes, I would be so worn out by the time my husband came home I couldn't even muster the energy for a quick hug and conversation would be out of the question. Unfortunately for both of us, my husband's love language was not acts of service. He finds physical touch and words of affirmation much more fulfilling. When he shared his idea of sending his clothes to the cleaners he had no idea the offense I would take from the suggestion that anyone could starch his jeans other than me. I took it as a blow to my attempts to love him well, while he was offering a solution to my exhaustion and therefore leaving me available to love him in the ways he needed to be loved.


We were just a hot mess. This is often how I feel; a hot mess. Forever pouring out all of my energy and love only to feel tired and empty. I can recognize that my natural showcasing of love is through performance. So how do I express my love while still guarding my sanity and without giving too much of myself and experiencing burnout?


Seriously. How?


Friend, I wish I had the “How-to” steps all figured out so we could always feel full and joyfully able to passionately do all of the things we want to do. That is just not the case, maybe one of the aforementioned Hallelujah shouters will have the tool kit I undoubtedly lack. For now, all I have is a basic outline and the desire to become healthy and full, instead of drained and overstretched and ineffective.


I was recently listening to a book titled "Unglued" by Lysa Terkerst. She talks about the same tendencies I have and explains how she wants immediate results from the work she is doing to change her natural tendency to pour out all of herself and forget to refill. She shares how she has become willing to accept the imperfect progress of life change. Lysa seems to be a pourer-outer, as I like to call myself. People like us just love so fiercely we forget to turn down the faucet of said love and pour everything out all at once. We want to change, but even the desire to change can act like our fully opened faucet draining us completely of the energy required to continue with change. Lysa explains how she has learned to be accepting of the progress she is making without giving up when complete transformation hasn't happened yet. Just our willingness to create change and learn from Jesus allows for us to grow and learn to not pour everything out all at once. Accepting imperfect progress seems like a great “step one” for this journey of learning to do our best without giving our all.


Gaining perspective on the important things seems like a great next step. (Remember friends, I'm learning right along with you). The first few months after losing my son, I seemed perfectly regulated. I understood the true value of what was important and couldn’t care less about the things that weren’t. I understood the value of relationships and focused only on growing those relationships. My body also did a great job at regulating my emotional and physical expenditure. I understood the importance of rest and guarded my time to study my bible and nap often. I felt balanced and as if, for the first time ever, my faucet was pouring out only what my body and mind didn't need while holding onto what I needed. Unfortunately, those distinct lines have faded away. My faucet has been turned on full blast again and I find myself struggling to hold on to the things I need. Reminding myself of perspective seems to be a great tool to regulate my out-pouring. Bringing to mind those first few weeks after suffering tremendous loss reminds me of what is truly important and allows me to regulate my faucet once again.


Another tool I wish I was better at utilizing is seeking help. Asking for backup is just simply not something I am good at. Even writing about this topic is difficult for me. Like I said earlier, I tend to gauge my ability to love and be loved greatly on my performance. Asking for help, to me, signifies my failure. Like Lysa says, “What a lie!”. When I fell in love with Jesus I found myself attempting to perform for Him, much like the way I was trying to perform for my husband. I felt like the only way to show the Lord my love and earn His love in return was through achievement. Of course, pouring out is short lived. Our bodies and minds can only give so much, so when I would inevitably exhaust myself and have to pause, I would feel as though I failed. Crazy right?! Instead of gratefully accepting rest and allowing others to fill in where I fall short, I would feel guilt. After the death of my son, I was forced to accept help. I was so mentally and physically exhausted from the hard work of grieving, daily tasks were simply unachievable. Thankfully, the people closest to me knew my character and didn't wait to be asked. My sweet mother dropped off food and cleaned my house. She even knew me well enough to claim the effort was more for her than for me. My husband was the same, he took over many chores and encouraged us both to do whatever felt good to us at the time. The support from my family and friends has taught me the importance of seeking help when we find ourselves trying to do our best. The Lord tells us that we are much better together than we are on our own. Seeking help is not a sign of failure but an invitation to link arms with the ones around us and do bigger and greater things than we could ever do on our own. Oh, what a lesson to learn.


I think the most useful tool of learning to do our best without giving our all is learning what is our responsibility and what is not. I tend to describe myself as a fixer. My biggest desire is to help everyone fix everything. I tend to claim responsibility over other people's words and actions. I posted a few years ago on social media that “I just want to save the world”. This is and always has been my desire. My heart breaks for brokenness and while I should and do try to spread hope and love fixing the world’s problems is not my responsibility. We as individuals are only responsible for the choices we make. The Lord is the business of repairing the rest of humanity. This is the lesson I need to learn most of all.


So, how do we do our best, without giving our all? I think we need to trust. Trust in the fact that we have very little control in this world. Accepting that we only control our choices and nothing else relieves us from the burden of over-pouring. Second, We need Jesus. It is as simple as that. We need a full, unwavering trust that we have a good Father willing to take all of our burdens upon Himself. And finally, we need to refuel. We need time for rest. Each of us need guilt-free, peace.


I didn't post this blog last week. I thought I failed. I felt like I let down my readers, My God, and myself. What I didn't realize was that God wasn’t done explaining this idea to me. Pausing and allowing myself an extra week, I learned to turn down my faucet and pour out only what was needed and nothing more.