mandy inchaustegui

The other day, I read an interview of a pretty famous author who primarily writes about spiritual type things. He talked about a near-death experience that he had and the journey he embarked on afterward, going to different countries in the world to talk to people about how they deal with some pretty ugly and horrible life situations.
Besides being convicted in my own attitude lately of allowing myself be consumed with being frustrated with some of my life circumstances, there was something else that really got me to thinking.

He said that a lot of the time, we focus our prayers to God on asking Him to take us out of whatever is causing us pain or to struggle. However, he found in his travels, that people in other places will focus their prayers more on asking God for strength and the ability to get through the pain and the struggle. One is a prayer to be released. The other is a prayer to get through, carrying oneself with joy and grace.

I realized that most of my prayers lately have been much more of the former type. I have to admit, my first instinct was to feel horrible that I had been praying those types of prayers, feeling like I should only be praying those for strength, accepting my circumstances and “hardship.”

Yet, the more I thought about it and spent time in the Scriptures, I noticed both types of prayers all throughout, often prayed in the same breath. Almost simultaneously or with the one prayer implied while praying the other.

As I was initially reading the interview and reflecting on my own life, I understood the two prayers to be mutually exclusive, coming from two different perspectives. Yet, I came to the conclusion that they both are appropriate, honest and necessary.
I believe that God is totally ok with me nagging Him to bring about some breakthroughs in my life. I also believe that He desires to give me the strength to walk through this with a joy and peace that seems weird, but that reveals who He is. Both are prayers of trust and faith. Trust and faith…something I definitely need more of.

So, I’ve begun to pray again for courage, strength and joy to walk through the life circumstances that I’m currently encountering. The good and exciting (yet, scary) ones, as well as the difficult and painful ones. I’ve also continued to plead with God for the painful circumstances to stop, honestly sharing with Him the desires of my heart.

I’ve noticed that as I’ve prayed more of the first, my attitude towards my circumstances is changing a bit. I've also noticed that my other prayers have become more bold, fueled by a renewed faith instead of frustration and disappointment. There's this weird sense of hopeful anticipation to see what God is going to do. This is proving to be much, much better!

I love yoga.

Every Friday morning, you will find me at LA Fitness, checking Elijah into childcare and heading upstairs to the yoga room with my lovely, purple mat in hand. Don’t ask me to skip it. I refuse. I have discovered that life is better for everyone when I go to yoga. Believe me, you want me to go.

I’ve been to a lot of different instructors and I used to think I preferred more of the “power yoga” style. I liked moving a lot and trying to do poses that challenge me. It made me feel more productive and that I had gotten a good workout for that hour.

However, this new class I’ve been attending has been a bit different. First, we come in and relax and breathe for ten full minutes before we officially “begin our practice.” Nothing! For ten whole minutes!

The first time I attended, I almost went bonkers, trying really hard to cooperate but feeling like I was wasting my time. Then, she ended the class by ten more minutes of “deep relaxation pose.” I was so tempted to leave early but I didn’t want to be rude and deep down, I know it’s good for me, so I stayed.

The lessons I learn from slowing down and breathing are a blog for another day. What is most powerful for me is the time in between the relaxing and breathing. Instead of moving through a ton of poses, she has us get into a pose that is stretching a muscle and then staying there. For a very, very, very long time.

Again, my annoyance flared up, feeling like it was a waste of my time. However, the way my body responds to the stretching fascinates me. At first, there is pain because of the tightness of the muscle. Then, the longer I hold the pose, I can feel it start to let up and slowly stretch itself out. The longer I hold the stretch, the deeper into the muscle it goes and the deeper into the stretch I move.

I find a lot of “life metaphors” at the gym and this was no exception. I feel like I’ve been going through a time in my life of deep stretching. I’ve been pretty irritated that it’s been lasting so long but it’s pretty much followed what I found in yoga. First, there was initial pain and tightness. But the longer I’ve been in this place, I can feel my soul begin to relax and move deeper into the stretch, getting to the core of the “muscle,” a place that just doesn’t get used or stretched very often. I’m finding that the longer I hold the stretch and the more I relax into it, the deeper I am able to go. And, ultimately, the pain leaves and a feeling of flexibility and release remains. I know I would never get to that place if I didn’t hold the stretch that long. It’s the only way to get there.

I make sure I stretch after I workout and I know those are good to keep me going and to keep me from getting sore. But, I need the rhythm of my Friday yoga to get to the deep places, which amazingly helps protect me from injury and from minor aches and pains during the week.

I know this time in my life is part of that rhythm. Yoga reminds me to lean into it, enjoy the stretch and remember to breathe.

So, I was brushing my teeth the other day…

I promise this is something that I do reasonably often but this time was a little different for me. Usually, brushing my teeth involves scrubbing as fast as I can just to get done with this necessary part of my day. To be fully honest, I am more than likely brushing my teeth, as well as picking up toys or clothes, wiping a nose or writing what I need to do as soon as I get done brushing my teeth on my to-do list. (Holding the brush in your mouth while you write totally counts towards that whole brush-your-teeth-for-two-minutes thing, right?)

Anyway, I was rushing through my brushing and a thought popped in my head of something I’d heard recently about slowing down and enjoying life. For some reason, I gave it a shot. I took a deep breath, stood still and took time to slowly brush every tooth really well. (My dentist would’ve been so proud!)

After the spit and rinse, I was almost in heaven. My teeth felt amazing! I know this might sound silly but I stood for a minute just enjoying the feeling of clean teeth, which was actually a very great way to leave the bathroom to start my day. I’d been going through a bit of a tough spell, not really finding enjoyment in anything. It was as if taking a moment to enjoy clean teeth changed my outlook for the entire day.

At least for a little while.

I began to pay more attention and realized that, especially with the normal, daily aspects of my life, I rush through life and miss out on actually enjoying what I’m doing. I forget to enjoy cooking because I’m just trying to get dinner on the table. I don’t enjoy the beauty of looking at the mountains through the palm trees because I’m rushing to get to school on time. I don’t enjoy the smell and feel of fresh, clean sheets because I just want to go to sleep. I don’t enjoy the novel because I’m just trying to get to the end to get to the main point of the book.

And those are just the simple things, not to mention enjoying the more important aspects of my life like my husband, kids, friends and meaningful activities that I’m engaged in.

It’s not that I fear that I’m going to miss out on something because I’m rushing through life. With kids, people tell me, “Enjoy it now! It goes so fast!” True, but I’m kinda ok with the change and growing part. For me, I want to do a lot and life is short. I must move at as efficiently as I can, doing all I can to make a difference and living well in the process.

It’s that “living well” part that gets me every time. I might get a lot done but will I have enjoyed my life while doing it? I might have accomplished a lot but did I have a strong sense of well-being as I was accomplishing those things?

I want to be aware of the pleasures to be found in the midst of the “doing.” The sights. The smells. The laughter. The exploring. And the smooth, glorious feeling of clean teeth!

Lately, our family has been some experiencing some life events that have been pretty painful to walk through. I think the hardest part for me is that they’re completely outside of my realm of control. There’s no one to blame. Nothing to do. It just is the way it is. And it sucks.

Because it’s been a repeated thing, I’ve gone through all the Christian clichés finally gotten to being able to say how I really feel and believe in this moment. It might not be what I’m “supposed” to think or feel, but it’s me. Raw and honest.

I was talking with a friend yesterday and she, in her own frustration of watching me walk through these things (and not being able to fix or stop it), commented that it just doesn’t seem fair because Anthony and I are such “good people.” I told her I know lots of good people who have really crappy stuff happen to them. It’s just part of life. But, as most of you can probably predict, the conversation got me to thinking.

Questions: What makes someone a “good person?” What makes us think that if we’re “good people” (however we define that), that life will most often go well for us? If only bad things happen to people who are making choices that hurt themselves and others, why in the world would anyone continue to live that lifestyle? If being a person who loves and serves others before themselves only brings comfort and safety from anything painful happening, wouldn’t it be a no-brainer to live that life?

I choose to be a “good person” not because that will keep me from pain but because myself and others are guaranteed to experience pain. It is the goodness and beauty in my life that gets me through painful experiences. In the pain, a beauty is created that is beyond myself. It also makes the good things in my life even more beautiful because I have a gratefulness for them, knowing they didn’t come because I “earned” them. I am humbly very very thankful.

Great things happen to “bad people” (I’m using that term very loosly…I don’t believe in “bad people” but that’s a blog for another day). Bad things happen, too. But in the good things, I wonder if there is the beauty of gratitude and generosity. And in the painful things, there is often a cycle of pain that begins that rapidly spirals downward creating more and more pain.

I still ask, “Why me? I try really hard to live a good life.” I think that’s an ok thing to ask. It makes me determined to continue to live that “good life.” Then, the pain isn’t just pain but there is a beauty that comes from it that is completely beyond who I am. It creates a richer beauty than what would be created if only “good things” happened to me.

Pain sucks. What I’m walking through right now is not fun. But my prayer is that my life will be full of goodness, beauty and truth…even in this. Especially in this. It is as if, in the backdrop of such ugliness and pain, the beauty becomes even more magnified. May my life be a work of art, displaying the wonder, beauty and glory of God.

I've been thinking a lot about hope lately. I’m hopeful for a lot of things right now and I get frustrated when that hope is differed. My question in my honest moments has been what’s the purpose of hope if it just sets me up for disappointment? Wouldn’t it be better to just not hope at all? Isn’t it easier to just take reality as it comes, playing it cool and with a tough heart?

Maybe. But there’s something in me that believes that life is supposed to be more than that.

I think there's a difference between I’ve been thinking about wanting something really bad and hope. I’m pretty sure I regularly use the words “want” and “hope” as one in the same. So, what’s the difference?

It’s totally good to want things. I want to go on a vacation. I want In & Out for dinner. On a more serious note, I really want to have another kid. I want to have an incredible and intimate relationship with my husband. I want to live a meaningful life. I want to become a better person.

All good things to want.

Hope makes those wants different. There’s an acknowledgment in using the word “hope” of an aspect of what I want that is out of my control. I think this is why the Scriptures tell us exactly where to put our hope.

I love the phrase in Lamentations 3, “dare to hope.” True hope takes courage. It takes risk. Hope doesn’t make practical sense because it’s often in areas that we can’t control. Daring to hope says that I believe that God is God. I believe that I don’t have the power to control everything and that I need him to even focus my desire the right way. True hope takes the focus off of me and puts it back on the Creator of the universe. In him, I can hope. And rest. And have peace.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t still want certain things and that I don’t continue to be proactive. We really want another kid. I’m glad the proactive part in that is pretty fun and enjoyable. However, there’s a lot going into it that is beyond my control.

My hope isn’t in whether or not having a baby actually happens. I know God is capable of making it happen and I’m definitely communicating with him how I feel and what are the desires of my heart.

But even if it doesn’t happen the way I want it to, I will still dare to hope in him, living a life of courage and risk in everything, knowing that he is God.

Last month, Xander was talking about Mother's Day for weeks before the actual day. At his preschool, they made a ton of gifts for me (classic inked handprint, included). It was a big deal! He was totally excited to celebrate his mom.

Father's Day is tomorrow. At his school, they did...nothing. They didn't talk about it. They didn't make anything. Nada.

I am not making a judgment on Xander’s teachers. They’ve been an incredible influence in his life. But I do find it interesting that Mother's Day gets a ton of press yet Father's Day seems like an after-though of sorts. "Well, I guess we should do at least a little something for dads. Just to be fair."

I'm a big fan of Mother's Day. Being a mom is the most challenging and complicated (although oddly, the most natural and fulfilling) thing I've ever done in my life. I appreciate a day of celebrating the pouring out of love that I seek to give to my boys everyday. However, I don't think being a dad is any less difficult or deserves any less honor or celebration.

True...I'm the one that carried the kids and pushed them out. Anthony's part in the whole "fathering" thing didn't exactly have pain involved. (In fact, if I remember correctly, it was quite nice for the both of us.) Yet, giving birth is not what makes me a mom. And getting me pregnant is not what makes him a dad.

I'm reading a book right now called The Council of Dads. The author discovered he had a cancerous tumor while he was the father of twin 3 year old girls. Facing the reality that his daughters might grow up without their dad, he wrote a letter to six of his friends, asking them to be a part of a Council of Dads, giving to his daughters what only a dad can give, in case of his death.

He knew his wife would be ultimately be ok. He was ok about dying because he felt good about what he had accomplished in his life. But he knew his daughters needed the voice, love and influence of a dad. We all do.

I wonder if there is a lack of honor for the role of a father that perpetuates an attitude that father’s are not as important as moms. There are many voices that acknowledge how difficult mothering is. Being a dad is equally as challenging, just maybe in different ways. Possibly, dads need even more encouragement, praise and honor as many are breaking molds, seeking to be more “involved” than dads from previous generations.

My husband is an incredible father. Our boys will know the goodness of God because of the love from their dad. I grew up knowing unconditional love is real because of my relationship with my own father. I love dads. I think they’re amazing. This Father’s Day…I honor and celebrate all of you. Thank you.

Every Sunday afternoon, I meet together with some of the most courageous women I know. A year and a half ago, we committed to walk together through a 12 Step journey, working through a variety of life issues such as depression, all sorts of abuse, anger, self-hatred, eating disorders, grief, etc. I’ve seen each of these women bravely open some doors to parts of their lives that they’ve kept closed for a long time…and with good reason. Again, they are some of the most courageous women I know.

Lately, we’ve been talking about doing a “daily inventory” where we evaluate our day, writing it down in a journal and then making amends with people as needed. At first, I wanted to justify not writing stuff down. I’m a mom of two small kids. The only things I write down are lists: grocery lists, to-do lists, and what-I-wish-I-could-do lists. I do not have time to journal.

However, I also hate making amends with people. I think about it in my head for so long that I can finally get to the point of justifying not doing it. Writing it down makes it feel like more of a commitment. I tend to be scared of commitment, especially the humble-“I’m-sorry” kind. Yikes.

I also tend to be slightly verbose. I used to journal and felt like I needed to fill the page full. If I went over to the new page, I had to keep writing to the bottom. It was a little obsessive. Not so sure I want to start that up again.

And then we’re back to that whole commitment thing and having to say, “I’m sorry.” No, thank you.

Yet, I imagine what my life would be like if I would actually do it. Really do it. Evaluate the day, write it down and act on it. It’d be a lot better than how things are now. Living in peaceful relationships sounds pretty freeing. I could use some of that.

So, is it worth it?

Hmmm…

Because I don’t want to get overwhelmed and I also don’t want to be too hard on myself, my daily journal entries are going to look like this:

1. What am I thankful for today?

2. What went well today? How did I love/serve others well?

3. What went wrong that I need to make right?

I’m going to limit myself to 1 or 2 things per question. Fast, quick, manageable. In our program we say, “It works if you work it! It won’t if you don’t!” If it doesn’t work, I guess I’m not really out much. But if it does…totally worth it.

For my first job out of college, I was a teacher in a juvenile detention center. Every morning, 8-15 teenage women would walk from their cells, their hands behind their backs, dressed in scrub pants and a ratty sweatshirt, into my classroom. The guard would take their place in the back of the room and we'd get started with class.

First thing, we'd go over the classroom expectations ("This is your first warning. You get one more and then you are making the choice to spend the rest of the day back in your cell." Classroom management at it's finest!). Then, I'd follow with my "Very Important Things to Remember." Things like: "You are valuable no matter what," "Every day is a new day," and, "You are only responsible for your own actions." After passing out their individual pencils with their names taped on them, we would move to the journal topic. Usually, I would tell a story, something that had happened to me recently or sometimes I'd share something I had come across or read. I'd make some sort of connection to life's bigger picture and then give them a prompt to help them connect with that truth and ask them to write about it. After they were done with the journal, they'd move on to their school work and the day officially began.

I know they thought the beginning routine was for them: to remind them of the rules, to encourage them a bit because they were in jail and probably needed it, and to get them to write because that sort of thing can be helpful for people who are in stressful situations. This is true. However, the routine was also very much for me. I needed to remember the classroom expectations to remind me to be mindful of respecting everyone in the classroom throughout the day. Many days, I was the one who needed most to remember that I was valuable, I didn't have to live in the past and that I was personally responsible for my life choices. Finally, I absolutely loved having an outlet to externally process through the truth I was observing in the world around me, connecting it with my own thoughts, feelings and experiences. Reading the feedback from their journals was often more insightful than I could imagine, inviting me into many unique perspectives, different than my own.

I miss that job. I absolutely love that I'm home with my two boys, and I know they're glad I don't run my home like a jail, even though I'm pretty sure I'll get accused of that at some point as the years progress. But there were a ton of things that I mourned when I quit the detention center. A huge one for me was the opportunity I had to share with others what I was observing and learning as I traveled through life. I knew my life was very different than theirs but I discovered when it really came down to it, life's truth was life's truth. We were all on a journey together, trying to figure this thing called "life" out. And I believe, there's a lot of beauty and truth to be found all around us. We just need to pay attention.

So, I've started a blog. Finally. It will be filled with my thoughts and observations on the world around me as I question, learn, and grow. I welcome you to journey with me on a search for truth, wherever it may be found. Pretty sure it's going to take us to some interesting places. Let's get this party started.