INTENTIONAL

: done by intention or design : intended

There are many words describing me in the slim journal I bought for my 40th birthday.

Some make me stop and think.  Others are so well-stated I can only nod assent.  A few are so unexpected I haven't yet assimilated them into my vision of myself.  But one word appears several times, in entries by friends who don't even know each other.  That word is intentional.

One friend says the very existence of a journal to explore who I am is evidence of my intentionality.  While some words frighten me with implied responsibility, intentional is a word I will gladly own.

I want, perhaps more than anything else, to live intentionally.  I want to choose my path and walk it with my eyes open, not somnambulate through life.  This is a continual choose, not a rigid setting forth nor a stubborn refusal to take the scenic route.  But this continual choosing is deliberate and thoughtful, even when of-the-moment.

I don't want life to happen to me.  I claim an ownership stake in my yesterdays, todays and tomorrows.  One way I claim this is by planning.  Without forethought and a plan, I wouldn't get many of the moments I treasure:  a Thursday afternoon at Cheekwood isn't possible without three previous days of working ahead, family vacations don't appear fully formed from my forehead and family dinners require provision and preparation.

The best plans I make are those I hold loosely, that I am willing to change as a part of the continuous choosing of my life.  Because while I believe in planning, I also subscribe to the theory that plans, like rules, are made to be broken.  I want a plan to help me get where I'm going, not to shame me for taking too long to get there.

As I read the words I've written so far, I think I might sound like a bit of a control freak.  But I don't equate intentionality with control.  Things happen (every day) that are beyond my control or choosing.  I can fight against that or I can choose my response to those things.  I'm not a control freak, but I do believe I always, always have a choice.  Even when life hits me with hard things, I can choose to hide, walk through the pain or cower in fear.

I think the beauty of living intentionally is that it enables you to turn your back on shame and regret.  If I've consciously chosen the path I'm on, I'm far less likely to back with regret or longing on the things that brought me here.  I don't do this (or anything) perfectly.  I have days where I seem to simply be pulled through life by my to-do list or the activities we have on the calendar.  Those same days can find me numbing out with a book or a game instead of choosing rest for my weary soul.  But even though I fail repeatedly, I want to be intentional.  

A Cheekwood Day: Valentine's 2013

May I remember that I can continually choose - even on those days when life feels bigger than I am. 

May I always see before me the choices I have and may I choose one, instead of passively waiting for new choices to appear.

May I stay anchored to the present, where choices live.

May I remain awed, humbled and inspired by the chance to be intentional.

DRESS-WEARER

:descriptor of me by my 13 year old daughter

I want to know who I am.  Not just who I think I am or tell myself I am, but who I really am and who God made me to be.  To help me explore that concept, I bought a journal and asked people I love and trust to use this journal to tell me how they see me.  It is my hope that their words will sink into my heart and eat away at the lies that I have allowed to live and breathe there for years.

I let my immediate family write first.  Amongst A's descriptive words of me was the term "dress-wearer."  Its truth made me smile.  I love dresses.  And skirts.  I have for years.  I can remember wearing dresses in high school, when all of my friends favored jeans.  Don't get me wrong, I wore jeans, I just wanted some dresses to mix things up.

Over the years, I've weeded the pants from my wardrobe until a few years ago I gave them all away at a clothing swap.  I just don't like wearing pants.  I'm short and curvy, not long and lean.  Dresses and skirts are more flattering and more comfortable.  Dresses have the added bonus of being an easy choice in the mornings - there's no choosing a blouse or belt to match my pants - just pick a pair of boots and throw on a dress - decision making over.

I started this post with the idea in my mind that it would be a lighthearted one that encourages you to smile a bit at my idiosyncratic ways of wearing dresses or skirts year round - no matter the heat, cold, rain or snow.  But that just wasn't working.  I was stalled and couldn't see a way forward, so I saved and waited.  Today I realized why - I was missing the bigger truth that lies behind the description "dress-wearer."  And there is a bigger truth there than my desire to minimize morning decisions.

The truth is that I have fought my way to my current sense of style.  I've cycled through years of wearing what my mother wanted me to wear, wearing what my friends were wearing, what made me fit in and what I needed to for my job.  It was only in my mid-thirties that I began to really think about what I wanted to wear and what felt best on my body.  Some clothes make me feel constricted or exposed, so why would I want to wear them?  Others make me feel like I am pretending to be someone I'm not.  But the right outfit feels like slipping into a second skin.  The right outfit can make me feel feminine, confident and ready.

I think the key was that I started to not only ask myself what I wanted to wear, but to actually listen to my heart.  I've received push back or comments from people along the way.  A friend once complained that I always seemed more dressed up than she did.  When she said it, I felt ashamed that I would make someone else feel they were under-dressed.  But looking back, I think my motivations were and are pure.  I do tend to be on the dressier side, but not because I'm competing with others.  I just want to feel good in what I wear.

In the interest of honesty, I want to admit that the right outfit can also make me feel armored for my day.  I hate to go to certain parts of town if I'm not dressed the right way.  In places where I feel like I stand out for not being enough (pretty enough, thin enough, wealthy enough), I want the armor of the right dress and boots because it makes me feel like the glances that come my way will skim over me rather than penetrate and wound.

None of my daughters are currently drawn to dresses.  Even on Sundays, they opt for a pair of jeans without holes rather than a dress for church.  When she was between 5 and 8, B wore dresses quite often.  She's always been a strong and active child, so it made me smile to see her climb a tree or walk a creek in a dress.  It also encouraged me to see her wear what appealed to her with little regard to what others were wearing.  There has always been so much to learn from my children.

A, B and K each picked their favorite mom dress

I don't know how my wardrobe will evolve in years to come, but I hope it will evolve.  Because I hope I'll change and grow and be willing to let those changes show on the outside as well as in my heart and soul.