A post about nothing

What do 40 degree weather, May 31 and Missouri have in common? Today. I just wore pants and a fleece on my walk around the block. It was so cold my jaw froze shut, the type where you sound funny if you try to talk.

Walking clears my head and so does the summer season. Students aren’t running around on the floor above me, burning popcorn or knocking on my door at 2 in the morning. The dorm gets abnormally quiet and my pace of my life changes for 2 short months. Instead of rushing from one thing to another, the highlights of my day include things like watching Seinfeld at 6 p.m., learning the new One Direction song at Jazzercise and practicing my cooking. It’s almost as if my body quickly goes from New York time to Southern time, where I’m leisurely sitting on the front porch, sipping sweet tea, with not a care about the time. Sorry for the stereotype, Texas. Or Louisiana. Whichever. Stopping for summer lets me hear the wandering thoughts passing, sometime dancing, through my head. They’re not always revolutionary. In fact, they can be quite ordinary.

For instance…

*going inside Liz’s head today*

My car needs washed really bad. I hope it rains.

I really hate the ants coming out the floor of my bathroom. I’m glad I Googled “how to get rid of ants living in your house” and drenched the floor in vinegar water and lined the ants’ entry point in chalk. It’s working so far. Ants really gross me out. They kind of make me gag when they come out.

I love lying out in the sun. I feel guilty because of the gobs of commercials selling products that help with the skin damage the sun causes. But I wear 50 SPF sunscreen. You just can’t win, can you?

I can’t stop listening to country music. #soundtracktomysummer

I think the junk jammed in the closet over the past 9 months is starting to crawl out. I should call it “The Hub of Indecision” since it’s full of things I never know what to do with: college papers, birthday cards, award ribbons. Maybe I’ll need it someday? Probs not. I’ll keep them anyway. I wonder if I’m a hoarder?

I really like drinking out of straws. If I had the choice of a bottle, can or fountain drink of Diet Coke, I’d choose the fountain drink. I’ll trick myself into filling a Quick Trip 32 oz. cup with ice water so I drink more water. Now I picture myself on a weight-loss infomercial, holding that cup, telling you my testimony of how drinking water from the QT cup “worked for me” and “made me lose weight and inches FAST!” I’m not sure why I thought of that, or why I shared it. Moving on.

Walk away from the bag of chocolate chips.

Buying new ear buds for my iPod is just as complicated and dreadful as shopping for a swimsuit. Maybe I should spend more than $10 on the replacement pair. I’m sure spending the extra $5 or hello, getting the actual iPod ones (I’m just realizing the genius idea now), would solve my issue. The ear buds fall out of my ears. The pair I bought today has a cord you could wrap around your body twice. Who needs a cord that long? I’m adding headphones to the top 42 reasons why I hate to shop.

I wish I could sit at Starbucks and have them make fun drinks for me all day, write my name on all of them and call them out each time.

I wish I wrote more often.

I wonder how Bob’s doing?

I want to open my own coffee shop. I think it’d be a cool coffee shop.

Why don’t people turn off the T.V. in the lobby when they’re done watching it? That’s dumb.

I hate the amount of time and energy we put into social media. And yet I love it. I’m addicted.

How do women wear those humongous heels?

Maybe we should be glad we don’t live in each other’s minds. It’s interesting, though, what you’ll find when you unplug and listen to what’s going on up there. It’s not easy to do and it’s not always pretty. And it will sometimes drive you crazy. But it’s important. Just like it was for me to write this post about nothing.

I stopped today

The Plaza is swarming with families and couples, all dressed to impress on this Easter Sunday. I’ve seen some hysterical Easter hats, the kind you wonder if anyone wears anymore. Well, they do. There are dogs galore here on the Plaza, the expensive, elite looking ones. They are little, puffy and proudly carried by their owners. Live music is on every corner, pick your genre and you’ll find it. I made a lap around the shops, adoring the beautiful detail in the buildings and soaking up as much April sun as possible. I talked with a homeless man who stands in front of the movie theater with an empty cup. I was looking for my friend Billy Ray that I met there the other day. Instead, I met his friend, Cliff. I introduced myself, we talked and I said “Happy Easter.” The crackers I brought to give him were left in my car, leaving us both empty-handed, but he didn’t seem to mind. After walking around, I landed at a coffee shop, which is one of my treats to myself. I have the perfect seat. I’m inside in a single comfy chair in the corner, right by the open door where the warm breeze makes the air condition less frigid and the live music on the patio filters into the building. I am in the best seat for observing the people coming in and out of the store, and the people passing by outside. It’s really the best seat. And sometimes I pretend no one sees me. But they do.

Anyway, today, for this short period of time, I’m able to escape from reality for a bit. This afternoon I’m able to enter into the world of my books and writing. I can finally entertain all the big-picture thoughts and dreams that have tried to interrupt by schedule this week. There’s a real tension between reality and the place where you can be carefree and rest. It’s hard to let yourself go there. On vacation, you feel entitled to not checking your email and fine ignoring business calls. But in real life, you don’t know when it’s OK to let yourself escape. Instead, my days are dictated by my to-do list. My money is directed straight to the bills I have to pay. There’s always something pressing on my mind, telling me to hurry and be efficient. My work doesn’t stop and pack up itself up at 5 p.m. on Friday. This is reality.

But on days like today, I force myself to be stop and appreciate just being. I breathe in deeper, I look around more, I do the things I enjoy. I spend time investing in relationships that are important to me. “Liz, do what you want to do today,” I told myself, forcing my eyes away from my planner and sticky notes telling me the things that have yet to get done. It’s liberating, really. I gave myself permission to walk around aimlessly, drink iced coffee, talk to a stranger, lounge in a coffee shop, seek out live music, wear my Chacos even if they don’t match my outfit, walk outside in the warm sun. These are some of my favorite things.

Because I realized this week that I am often in a constant state of worry. I stress unnecessarily. And it’s annoying. I lose the essence of life when I do that. I don’t appreciate gifts I’ve been given when I’m too busy to stop and recognize them. I’d love to invent a switch that could turn off my busy mind, or send me a daily text reminding me to stop trying to control the things that are out of my reach. Life is short. And I want to live like I truly get that.

Lord, teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. -Psalm 90:12

Spring has sprung

As I walked outside last week, spring greeted me like an old friend I hadn’t seen in ages. The sunshine welcomed me with warmth and kindness while the ground stood nourished by the rain the day before. The wind twirled in circles, excited to be free from winter and, thankfully, made the unexpected 85 degrees more bearable. The breeze blew my hair quite perfectly as I walked and I could sense the content smile on my face. I compare the feeling to the beginning of a movie when they introduce the main character and show him/her walking through the city, greeting people, smelling flowers, grinning obnoxiously and walking with a special kind of confidence, like all is right with the world. Alright, maybe I’m thinking of Meg Ryan at the beginning of You’ve Got Mail. Because I really love that movie and I wish I were her sometimes. Anyway, the flowers are blooming, the birds chirping; Earth screams of spring and this means so much more than having an extra hour of daylight. Spring means the dark, grey colors that gloom heavily over us for a season finally turn vibrant greens and yellows. The bare trees start blooming petite and potent flowers that make you sniff twice when you walk by and the grass begins looking more like grass and less like haunting weeds. Spring signifies new life. And that’s exactly what I feel.

The winter brought me some real moments. You know those moments that make you feel unbearably raw emotions? They leave you saying, “Wow, this is real life.” Suddenly, you can’t hide behind charades or pretend you’re naïve to those things anymore. Life surprised you and brought you it’s toughest game, forcing you to embrace realities that always seemed out of your reach. These “real” moments sink through any buffer you may have left on the surface to protect things like this from getting in there. You can’t keep life out and you can’t control it. It happens. And it feels, well, real.

In the internal disaster I found myself engulfed in (how about that dramatic language?), I realized I had no choice but to bear it and feel whatever aches and pains that came with it. I drudged forward even though I wasn’t sure where I was going. I’ve discovered time and time again how horribly unsuccessful I am at getting myself out of these things. And I’m convinced that the only power that can truly get us through difficult times, and somehow make difficult times beautiful and productive, is Jesus. In ways that are above my own, He surrounded me with grace, people and strength this winter. And He escorts me into a new season of hope, of new life.

The sunlight is awakening the slumbering parts of my heart. They are slowly coming to life, peaking through the covers and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Areas that have been suffocated and unworked, screaming for fresh air, finally have room to grow. I never planned for those places to fall asleep. In fact, I spent a lot of days shaking them and yelling for them to wake up. They must have all decided to hibernate for the winter and it’s only the sunlight of spring, or more accurately the grace of God, that has brought them back to life again.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.”   Isaiah 43:19

Running and I Are Casually Dating

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but running has become a new trend among the 20-something-year-old population. No longer are only the long and lean claiming the activity, but now people of all shapes and sizes are becoming runners. In case you were also interested in the activity, here is the process: You begin by getting a running buddy and paying the $25 to sign up for the nearest 5K (3.1 miles). Then you make sure to tell everyone you know so that you would feel dumb to back out of the race at the last-minute. After that, you go home and research things like “How to train for a 5K” and “Running tips for beginners” on Google. You buy new running shoes, cool synthetic clothes and load your iPod with high intensity rap music (and maybe the occasional Rocky anthem to play when you need an extra boost).  After following your 8-week training schedule, you complete the 5K and feeling on top of the world, post cool pictures on Facebook (sporting your running number badge thing, of course) and begin training for the next step, the half-marathon (13.1 miles). Then if you don’t die after that, you’re crazy and sign up for a marathon (TWENTY-SIX miles). And after running a marathon, you’ve pretty much arrived and have total bragging rights. The end.

So since I’m into trends, fads and tend to go along with the crowd in my decisions, I have decided to take on running. Now, if you read in a previous post, I put this as a goal for the new year. I’m not sure how I feel about it nor do I know what will become of it. I guess you could say running and I are casually dating. Lately, I’ve been out running, poking my toe in the water a bit, flirting with the idea of signing up for a race. I’ve been saying it out loud to a few people, gauging their responses (I don’t realize how much I rely on other people’s feedback to guide my decisions). I’ve gotten some blank stares and a few enthusiastic “go get em’s.” What I’m really looking for is a few experienced runners to be realistic and tell me if I’m being dumb, and affirmation and impressed glances from the rest of you. Basically, I have commitment issues when it comes these things. I want to be sure that I know exactly what I’m signing up for and can accomplish it successfully. Because like most of us, I don’t like failure. I work hard to avoid it. I hate looking like I’m bad at something and having to be the “new guy.” Because the “new guy” has to go through looking like a fool, asking others for help and sucking up their pride for a time. Who would want to be that guy?

I was a softball player as a child, buff and meaty. They stuck me at first base so I didn’t have to run far for the ball and put me as 3-4 hitter because of my large arms. I could never understand the cross-country kids in high school that would run 8 miles every day (or whatever they ran, probably 27 miles). I always thought, “Is the school punishing those kids by making them run? Why would anyone willingly run?” The point being: Running has never come naturally to me. It wasn’t something I chose to do for fun and wasn’t in the family genes. People yelled things like “Unhook the trailer!” to my brother as he ran the bases in baseball. We just aren’t runners.

That being said, I have committed to taking risks this year. And I’ve realized lately that there are many things I don’t do because of fear. I have a list of things that I would love to pursue but don’t, because there’s a chance that I will 1) have to work really hard at it, and/or 2) fail miserably. I’m pretty sure that these two things keep many of us from achieving our goals. We wait for the phone to ring or life to magically be nice to us, while some things are just out there for us to go get. And I am starting to think that our dreams/goals are more about the journey it takes to get to them and less about where we end up at the end. Think of all the movies where the main character(s) has to fight through challenges to reach their goals: Rudy, Field of Dreams, Remember the Titans, Rocky. It wouldn’t be a great movie if there wasn’t determination, conflict, friction and triumph involved in the process. When was the last time that I overcame challenges to achieve a goal? Been that passionate about something I would fight for? Worked hard to reach my dream?

I’m not sure what will become of my running relationship this year. It might become something serious (who knows, maybe even Facebook official) or it might just be a one-time thing. But I know beneath the surface, this is more about me taking the risk to do something that might make me look stupid for a while. It will take me learning from those who know better than me and resisting the temptation to quit when it gets hard. Just add running to the cloud of uncertainties looming over my life, but it will stay there if I don’t bring it down and try.

Be here

I wandered through a field today. It was liberating. Maybe it was being outside in 60 degree weather on a January day that was liberating, nonetheless, I was adventurous. I usually walk on this paved path, always looking out and dreaming of dancing/skipping/running with reckless abandon through the field. Anytime, really, that I pass by a big open space, like driving through Kansas, I picture myself frolicking through it like the Dixie Chicks in one of their music videos. I’ve always figured it’d be such a freeing feeling. But sometimes there are people around this park and I don’t want them to feel worried for me, like I’ll get lost in the woods or am doing something illegal. So I refrain from that urge to break away from the path. But today, feeling the fresh breeze fly past my face, I decided to venture off course. I paved my own way through the rugged terrain in search for the perfect spot to lay and gaze into the countryside. I committed to a spot on the hill where I could lay down and people wouldn’t see me and call 911 after seeing my motionless body in the field. I sat down in the grass. It was amazingly quiet. Perfect.

I felt peace and stillness, the kind you want to bottle up and keep for a bad day. And when I listened to the worries blaring in my head, I realized that I’ve spent hours over the past few weeks worrying, Googling jobs, reading about grad school programs, all in efforts to prove myself to the world. After one glimpse of uncertainty in my future, I threw myself into a panic and went on a quest to find some security. My effort went into self-preservation; working up a plan to save money, have nice things, be comfortable and have a lofty answer to tell people when they ask about my life. But as I embraced the quiet around me today, I was taken away by that exact moment: the beauty of God’s creation, of His presence. Things seem to click when you stop listening to the noise from the outside. God always quiets me and brings me back to my real self. I don’t have to prove anything to the world. I don’t owe “them” anything. It’s crazy how aggressively I have been grasping for something to hold onto. But I think it’s natural that when things take a different turn in your life, you panic for a little while. Ultimately, my “job” is to be here where He has placed me and to live it well, not wishing for something else. So right now I’m OK with this answer: “Until I see what’s next, I’m here.”

2011

When I was young, after we had acted out the Nativity scene, sang Happy Birthday to Jesus and tried to convince our parents that it was a tradition to open up one gift on Christmas Eve (it worked only one time), my family would sit around the living room and my grandma would have us look back on the year and recall significant events in the year. And together, we’d talk about the big moments in our family, month-by-month, that shaped us as individuals and as a family. It was long and boring as a child, except when we got to October, my birthday month, and they talked about how awesome it was to have me here. Now, I appreciate the discipline of sitting down and thinking about the year: what challenged me, changed me, who I met and what I discovered. I won’t unleash the month-by-month recap on you in this post, but I do want to recap some insights, monuments and lessons from 2011.

2011 started in Steamboat, Colorado where I rang in the New Year with some dear friends. Looking to the year ahead, I desired to find discipline in my life, both spiritually and physically. And I did. I lost 30 lbs, took on the new hobby, Jazzercise (60-year-old women in the 80′s aren’t the only ones that can enjoy this workout), and sought out a mentor to go through scripture with me. I completed the first year in my job and this summer, traveled to the East coast to see the people and places I remembered. In August, another school year began with new staff and residents. I turned 24. I performed a Justin Bieber dance routine and won Faculty Follies at school (I might put that on my resume). I discovered more music and books to add to my favorite list. And I met great people who gave me perspective on life and love.

One thing that I’ve realized is life is full of change; families change, traditions change, circumstances change, people and hearts change. Have you ever told someone, “This is a transitional season in my life” or “It’s just a season of change?” Come on. I’ve used those as default answers for like 6 years. When are we not in a transition? When is life not changing? I hold tight to familiarity because it’s comfortable and known. It also feels like I’m in control when I’m in “the familiar.” But I have to let go of trying to control my life. It’s tiring and there’s no use. 99.9% of my plans fail, proving that I’m not capable of orchestrating my life nor am I the One that can properly do that anyway. So, I just need to stop and let go. When I can embrace change and stop fighting it, I’ll become more present in what’s happening right now. This concept is both freeing and hard to grasp. And maybe understanding it is a sign of growing up.

And as always, I am rediscovering my desperate need for Christ and his redemption. I see evidence of God’s providence in all the details and monuments of this year. He is faithful and proves to be the only One that doesn’t move in an ever-changing world. And yet, even knowing this, my fickle heart myself seeks approval in other things. I run the human cycle, only to come back here once again. That deep longing in my soul is for Christ’s return; when He makes all things right. That’s the Truth I keep coming back to year after year. Oh come, Lord Jesus, come.

So, some aspirations for 2012:

• Take on running (it’s trendy, OK). We’ll start with a 5K, but no promises after that
• Read and write more (this goal rolls over every year)
• Become cultured in popular TV shows (I’m really weak in this area)
• Learn to appreciate the totality of a musical artist’s album
• Take risks and not worry about the result
• Become more decisive
• Take steps to paying off my car loan

These aren’t promises or resolutions, just things to look forward to. A lot can happen in a year and just as 2011 brought many surprises and blessings, next year won’t fall short of surprising me. I’m done trying to predict and control the future. I’m stepping into 2012, both feet in, with a willing heart and open mind.

It’s November

Currently listening to: Florence + The Machine

Currently eating: pumpkin/oatmeal/dark chocolate cookies

Currently learning: the ins and outs of a new cell phone

It’s funny when your body tells you it’s time to slow down. It’s a rainy, cold November day and I think I’ve been in bed for 20 out of the 24 hours of the day. It’s the “I have been too busy, stressed and sleep deprived and now it’s catching up to me in the style of a wretched cold” thing. And since my body feels like it’s been hit by a bus, laying in bed is all there is to do. To embrace the evening, I had a Dirty Chai (Chai Tea Latte with espresso) delivered to me by a kind RA and am wearing a mustard yellow hat around for power. Or just to make my day better. And I spent time reading my old blog posts which is always a healthy thing for me to do. I need to remember where I’ve been and how I’ve changed. I figured I should update the blog world.

Many of you followed me during my time in D.C. and remember my homeless friend, Bob. Well, I ran into him during my visit East this summer. I knew the odds of me finding him were low, knowing the tendency for homeless people to move around a lot, but I passed by the metro station every day just to check. My previous plans had cancelled that day, so on a whim, I decided to stop off at the metro to look for him. I saw that he wasn’t in his usual spot, but I turned the corner to check nearby. I found him sitting there on the ground, surrounded by his newspapers and holding one up to read. He has lost weight, so I was a little unsure if it was him. I walked towards him and said, “Excuse me, are you Bob?” He yelled out, “Elizabeth!” We hugged and I sat down next to him for about 45 minutes. We caught up and talked about life. He told me about my 2 friends that stop by and see him since I left D.C. and how much that means to him. Bob and I established the blessing to have seen each other and said goodbye once again. I got a picture with him, too! I’m overjoyed to share it with you:

On other things, I am happily planted at Jewell still. I love being a part of this community. Below are some recent pictures of my life here:

We welcomed our freshman girls into the new school year!

My amazing RA staff

Melrose won the Ely Vs. Melrose powder-puff Game!

Surprise visit from some great girls for my 24th birthday.

Freshman suitemates reunite for Rachel's wedding!

Leslie had a bridal shower and is getting married soon!

I just love her and think she should be in this post.

And I dressed up and performed as Justin Bieber for Faculty Follies. I know you think this is him, but it's really me.

I don’t have a video of my performance as Justin Bieber quite yet. But I will leave you with a video of what my dancing probably looked like. Enjoy.

I’ve got rhythm

I’m sitting outside listening to the  loud crickets bring the sunset to a close. It’s the sound of summer. And it’s one of the few decently cool nights we’ve had to be able to actually enjoy sitting outside. I’m experiencing the grass and watching bugs land on my legs, leaving itchy, red bumps as gifts of gratitude. And I’ve been thinking about seasons lately, both literally and figuratively. In the Midwest, we have 4 of them. And we have these love/hate relationships with each: summer’s too humid, winter’s too long, spring’s too short, and well, fall is perfect. Anyway, it’s right when we start getting the hang of one when the next season calls for our attention.  We complain about the interruption at first, but the change is quickly welcomed. So we exchange our flip-flops and beach towels for hoodies and jeans, once again.

Seasons provide a rhythm we’ve come to love and expect.  And they all hold different characteristics within them that create different moods within us. I couldn’t imagine living without all 4. Maybe it’s because it’s all I’ve known or I’m too indecisiveness to only pick one. But you know when seasons change. There are markers that indicate  they’ve arrived: the day that pumpkin spice lattes come out at Starbucks (excitement in my soul), snuggling under the blanket at the first football game of the season, the day Christmas music plays on the radio (you all love it, don’t lie), noticing birds chirp after the snow has melted, experiencing your first sunburn and eating watermelon at the first summer cookout. These are exciting days and they usher in a new energy and a sense of renewal. When you dig out last year’s clothes or experience the big holidays of the season, you remember where you were the year before and how much you’ve changed.

Last year at this time, I was discontent, confused and clueless. I wanted to sell myself to the successful chaos of D.C. or live in a shack in Peru. I didn’t want to be here and didn’t think I’d ever be able to adjust to life in the Midwest again. I was antsy, stubborn and proud. This year, I find myself calm, rooted, focused and grateful. I appreciate where I’m at instead of despising it. I have a better idea of where I’m headed, but hold a looser grip, knowing that it’s not me that controls it anyway.  A lot happens in a year and God proves to be as faithful as He’s always been. I’m sad my quiet summer days are over, but looking forward to the late nights, deep conversations and giggling that this freshman dorm welcomes in the fall.

OK, the bugs are unbearable. I must learn to write faster.

Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.   -Henry David Thoreau

Listen

Spend a quiet afternoon carefully listening to your life. -Whole Living magazine

It’s hard to listen to your life. Why? The noise.

There is music constantly playing, news reminding you of the chaos in the world and a To-Do list running through your head constantly. There are expectations you place on yourself, pressures you feel from others and days you try fooling the world into believing that you are someone else. It keeps you distant and distracted, from yourself. Truly listening is hard because it requires sifting through the distractions. And we’ll spend the rest of our lives working to build resistance to these lies, doubts and fears that relentlessly work against us. This is why we’re told to “fight the good fight of faith.” And that’s exactly what this feels like.

In a conversation with a friend yesterday, we shared things that we’ve come to realize about ourselves over this past year. Hearing us talk, one would have thought we discovered gold. Clarity in the post-graduate world is to be hoarded and greatly treasured. But our epiphanies were things that we had known about ourselves all along but forgot. We spent the last 4 years denying, challenging and wondering if we’ll change. And it takes looking back on seasons and seeing constancy in our life to identify and say, “Yes! That is really me. That’s who I am. And I’m OK with that.”  To believe this requires confidence and certainty, which are hard to find.

So it’s when I spend a quiet afternoon “listening to my life,” that I realize I’ve known who I am for a long time, I am just becoming more certain of it. I am losing the things that slow me down and learning to tune out the noise. I’m choosing to listen to my life.

Decide what to be and go be it. –The Avett Brothers

Washing dishes

I was washing the dishes today, staring down at my hands as they scrubbed back and forth. Deep in thought, I saw my hands imitate those of my mothers. I soaked up the dishwater and set out the dishes just like I remember her doing when I was a child. There was a comforting rhythm to the chore. I kept washing, allowing the motion to recall memories of eating large amounts of watermelon with her, the mystery of her brownie walnut cupcakes and the patience she had when she read us stories.

I suppose nostalgic moments like this follow you into adulthood. As we grow up, we begin the process of slowly unpacking the events and subconscious norms of our childhood. We see ourselves repeat simple tasks like washing the dishes or making macaroni and cheese, just like our parents.  It isn’t until we see someone do it differently that we realize our way is merely a product of our up bringing.

I tweeze my eyebrows by the window to get the natural sunlight because my mom always did. I love rice and raisins with cinnamon and sugar on top, make lists for everything, create homemade cards, think too much, enjoy being hospitable, laugh really loud, make sure my apartment is clean before I travel, love warm, blackberry pie with vanilla ice cream. And I do because my mom does.

And because of my dad, I dance frequently, quote The Godfather and Seinfeld, talk with my hands, enjoy public speaking, know what a “consumer” should demand of a store, drive a Ford, know what hard work looks like, know the I Spy books cover to cover, and feel safe.

I appreciate the ways that I’m like my parents and that they embrace the ways that I am different. I don’t thank them enough and will never know how to repay the efforts of love, care and selflessness they put into raising me. I guess that’s the helplessness a child feels towards her parents, even at 23. I’m just glad a thing like washing the dishes can remind me of how lucky I am to have them.