Fears and tears

I've had another busy week with work and family commitments. It's amazing to me how my weeks fill up sometimes. I won't give you a blow-by blow account. I've struggled to get to my desk and my to-do list, but it has been a week rich in investing in outside-this-family relationships (which I needed towards the end of these long summer holidays).

This morning, as I've sat down and tried to whittle down that list of work items that needed doing (mostly editing/writing/email), a few niggling thoughts from recent conversations and emails keep poking in. Part of it was the theme of fear. That sounds a bit stark, written just naked like that, but I'm going to explain.

One of the things that I've talked about one-on-one with a couple of friends this week has been dealing with conflict in my work (this has just been in general terms, I'm haven't revealing specifics to my friends). 

I don't like conflict, I avoid it as much as possible, but that is impossible to do all the time in the work I do. My job as an editor is to have opinions and my role in working with many writers is ripe-ground for conflict. My work as I guide a magazine (and now a blog feed for a website) means I have to set standards and guidelines and seek to conform to them. And not everyone likes it where I draw the lines or the opinions that I have, even when I tread softly.

One of my friends reminded me to repeat to myself, "It's not personal."

I find that harder to do in some situations than others. I guess it depends on the "who" and "how" and "what was said". I'm getting better as I get older and more experienced. But I also know that God made me with a sensitive side and I don't wish that away at all, because it gives me empathy for others and it tempers my impulsive side too.

But fear of what people will say about my decisions can paralyse me and make it very difficult to do my work, or to write anything at all. That is something I've been finding myself fighting against, at times, these last few weeks.

The other time that fear came up was when one of my friends insightfully asked about the upcoming year (in the context that we're about to start a new school year) and how I want to grow during that time. Two big upcoming challenges came to mind:

1. My eldest son will most probably leave home to study in another country during the year.
2. We're planning to go on home assignment after the end of this school year (in late June) and last time I moved countries my stress resulted in uncomfortable reflux, the effects of which lingered for months.

My thinking about all of this is that I'm probably more fearful and anxious that I'd like to admit. Moving countries is stressful, but I don't know why I can't be more calm about it. That level of stress I'd like to avoid when we move next year and so, my answer to my friend was that I'd like to survive this year in better shape than I did the last international move in our lives.

She followed up with, "So what 'fills your cup'?" My main thought was deep conversations like the one that I was currently engaged in—with friends. Preferably with coffee in hand!

So we'll see how I go. As God continues to grow me through dealing with conflict in my work and in the stress of major changes in my family, I need to be intentional in seeking good conversations with friends, but also in turning to God.

I don't know where I found this blog post by an Aussie (it was published seven years ago), but it entices me to dig into the Bible again, and lean into another opportunity to cast myself upon God: Praying your fears. Here's just one nugget that I need to follow through on daily: 

We need to relocate our glory: not in our talents or our role, or others' opinion of us, but in God's approval.

Its pair is: Praying your tears, which is also an excellent post. For surely, the fears are often accompanied by tears (for me, in conflict, especially). And another nugget (which I think is a Timothy Keller quote):

Weeping is fine. Weeping and grief is fine. Weeping and disappointment is fine ... but weeping in self-pity will make you a small little person, someone who can't forgive, someone who is always feeling ill-used, someone who gets incredibly touchy and incredibly over-sensitive. ... Look at the cross and say, "... My sufferings are nothing compared to yours. If you suffered for me I can be patient with this suffering for you."

But now I need to get back to my work—looking at people's words and deciding what to do about them.