Confession #23: The Scheduled Escape of Inner Me

Sometimes I feel like unzipping. You know…setting the inner me free.

Inside is my inner me waiting to climb out of the suit the outer me is wearing.

Sounds like a science fiction movie, doesn’t it. The heroin, wearing the old lady disguise, unzips her flesh and the youthful and energetic younger version of herself emerges, old-lady flesh and tired clothing dropping to the floor.

There are days when my inner me longs to be set free.

She dreams of a beach vacation and a good book.

She dreams of a long soak in a jacuzzi tub with no knocks at the door followed by, “Mom…I need…”

She dreams of a weekend away with the hubby, sitting on a porch overlooking a lake, temperatures in the mid-60s, a bottle of wine, an outdoor fireplace, and the sound of crickets.

She dreams of free time to be more organized for the busy times. You know, organized closet, organized sock drawer, organized catch-all drawer in the kitchen.

She dreams of an hour a day to practice piano and discover new favorite pieces and composers.

She dreams of never being rushed or in a hurry, but instead having the appropriate amount of time to get things done right.

She dreams of a Wal-Mart where the lines are short. (Just had to slip that one in.)

At our house, we have frequent conversations about super-hero powers. If you were a super-hero, what would your super-power be? And with my daughter anywhere near, you are going to get multiple hilarious answers.

One day, her answer was, “I’d have super-skates and could skate anywhere as fast as I want.”

On Saturday evening, Reagan and I enjoyed dinner at the American Girl Doll bistro in Dallas, Texas with her Girl Scout troop. They sold a bazillion (exactly how many is that?) boxes of cookies and earned a weekend trip to Dallas which included ice skating, swimming at the hotel, and the magical visit to the American Girl Doll store.

On the table was a small gift box filled with questions. The questions circulated the table and served as great conversation starters. The best and most discussed question was, “What super-power would you choose? To fly? Or to be invisible?”

Of course, Reagan and I had fun with that question because it is frequent conversation between us. She chose flying. But I chose being invisible. I’m pretty sure it had something to do with that inner me who’s trying to get out. Inner me needs a little peace and quiet, and being invisible could be a handy tool for getting away without going far away.

So what does your inner me say to you?

Perhaps your inner me is like mine. She needs some rejuvenation. I think that’s typical of women in my age group (and men, too). We are moving through the busiest time of our lives. We are juggling the activities of children, spouses, extended family, friends, work. There’s not much left over for ourselves.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned as my children have gotten older and busier is that I need a little time to unwind. And setting aside that time is the priority that gets pushed aside most often.

So what to do? Even if it’s only 30 minutes, that investment in your own rejuvenation will pay dividends the rest of your week. And everything will get in the way of your rejuvenation time unless it is SCHEDULED and you have ACCOUNTABILITY for that time.

So go ahead. Schedule a facial. Schedule a masssage. Schedule a yoga class. Schedule lunch with a friend. Schedule a girls’ night. Schedule a mani/pedi with your daughter. But do something.

Your inner me is waiting…

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Managing Partner of SPRING Media USA, a boutique marketing firm in Ruston, LA. Her training: BA in journalism degree from LSU and a BFA in piano performance from LA Tech. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and mother to Langdon, age 13, and Reagan, age 7. Her passions: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education; lover of music – choir director and piano teacher; lover of a good game – job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. Follow her on Twitter or Pinterest and see what she’s up to today.

Confession #22: The Trap of a Busy Life

I must confess, slowing down and being still is very difficult for me. I guess because I’ve always had a lot on my list of things to do, I find myself multi-tasking, hoping to get it all in. There’s the book I’d like to read but never seem to find the time to crack the cover. There’s long list of music I’ve been salivating to learn but never have time to practice. Of course, the laundry is a never-ending item on the to-do list as are the groceries and the errands.

As a wife, mother and business woman, my life seems to be a series of tasks that are required to fulfill the responsibilities I’m committed too. Don’t get me wrong, I have no complaints or regrets. Not even about laundry. I’m thankful that I have clothes to wash, a laundry room in my house with a working washer and dryer.

Sometimes, however, I wonder about the world I live in. During this season of my life, I am so obligated that I have no time to stop and serve others. I’ve felt very convicted about it. I’ve prayed about it. Lord, how can you use me if I don’t even have enough time to get done these things you’ve set out before me?

It’s funny how God answers prayers.

This morning I got up and went through the usual routine: wake the kids, make my bed, throw on clothes and tennis shoes, make breakfast. Then off I went for my morning job of taxi driver, delivering Reagan and Langdon to school. I needed to mail a letter, so I thought I’d drive by the post office while I was out and about. On the way, however, my routine came to a screeching halt.

In the distance I saw them. He was a young man, mid-20’s, carrying a blanketed bundle securely held to his chest. She followed behind, wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt in the cold morning air that must have been in the high 30’s or low 40’s. “That’s odd,” I thought as I watched them cross a very busy road, darting around the morning traffic as they could. I realized he must be carrying something valuable, but couldn’t really tell what it was until I got closer. It was an infant.

I continued my errand, dropping my letter at the post office and u-turning to head back home. Once again, I passed the couple. “She must be cold,” I thought. I was cold and I had on several layers, a seat heater, and was sitting in my warm car. Where could they be going?

I passed them and decided to pull over and pray for a minute. I’ve been told my whole life never stop for strangers. I had a busy morning ahead of me, including the task of writing this column. The voice inside was screaming in my ear — STOP!

I pulled into a parking lot and said a quick prayer. “Lord, what should I do?” So I grabbed my iPhone and opened my Bible app to see what scripture would pop up, hoping that God would give me a clear word. He did.

“…for not by their own sword did they win the land, nor did their own arm save them, but your right hand and your arm, and the light of your face, for you delighted in them. You are my King, O God.” Psalm 44:3-4

Everything I have is a gift from a generous God. His expectation of me, at that moment, was to share it with someone that I didn’t know.

I turned my car around and drove back to where the young couple was walking. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man clutching the baby said. “We’re walking down to the store. My truck is out of gas.”

“Can I help you?” I asked. “Can I drive you down there?”

“That would be great. I’m keeping the baby as warm as I can,” he said.

“Okay. I’ll take you down there,” I said as my heart leaped with joy. I drove them a mile down the road and dropped them at the store. I offered them what little cash I had on hand, which they didn’t want to take. “I don’t have much, but if I can help you out, I want to,” I told them.

Reluctantly, and with an offer to pay me back once he got his paycheck, the couple took my $20 bill and climbed slowly out of the car. Their heartfelt thank you’s were matched by the sincere look in their eyes as they tried to navigate their difficult situation.

As the young mother walked away, she turned around and mouthed the words “Thank you” to me. I drove away, crying and thankful. I spent the drive home praying for them.

Today, I stopped being busy and had a moment to serve someone in need. While it might have helped them out, I thanked God for how it changed my busy routine and opened the door for a magnificent blessing of joy.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Managing Partner of SPRING Media USA, a boutique marketing firm in Ruston, LA. Her training: BA in journalism degree from LSU and a BFA in piano performance from LA Tech. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and mother to Langdon, age 13, and Reagan, age 7. Her passions: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education; lover of music – choir director and piano teacher; lover of a good game – job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. Follow her on Twitter @edrewett.

Confession #21: The Change-A-Life Resolution – Forgiveness

Every January, I look back at the previous year and attempt to evaluate it honestly. You know how that works. It’s the hard look in the mirror. What were the best moments of 2011? What were the worst? Where do I go from here?

I’ll be honest. Most years, my resolutions are very personal in nature. Exercise more. Eat healthier. Accomplish X, Y and Z. Spend more time with the ones I love. How about you? I think it’s our human nature to look at the New Year as a time of renewal and creating a better version of ourselves.

On a recent trip to Phoenix, AZ, where my husband and I lived for over 14 years, I was overwhelmed as I visited with friends I haven’t seen in several years. The universal theme of many conversations was the pain and suffering that comes our way as we journey through our lives. It startled me.

The older I get, the more I realize that we are all human. My friends in Phoenix are certainly not unique in their suffering. Along with our humanity comes broken promises, hurt feelings, misunderstandings, anger, bitterness, resentment. The pain of life is universal.

The healing from that pain is not.

I’ve known many in my life, including myself, who have held onto bitterness and anger. It colors one’s outlook with shades of grey, resulting in dark and desparate feelings of general malaise, depression, anxiety as well as very real physical issues such as high blood pressure. Even more painful is the continued bleeding of that emotional wound onto those around. The hurt begins to wound others, too. Maybe it’s family relationships. Maybe your children. Emotional wounds are far-reaching.

The Mayo Clinic offers “Forgiveness: Letting Go of Grudges and Bitterness” as a suggestion for maintaining a healthy lifestyle on their website. Surprising, isn’t it, that a clinic as well-regarded as The Mayo Clinic would suggest that forgiveness could lead to a healthier life? They are certainly not in the business of healing the spiritual life of their patients, but they acknowledge, by virtue of publishing the article, that there is a physical benefit to ending emotional pain.

Interesting that one of the final acts of Jesus was to plea for forgiveness on behalf of those who were putting him to death. “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” Jesus said as he hung from the cross. [Luke 23:34] Even if you are not a follower of Christ, you can’t help but ponder the last words of a man who lived a life such as his. In the midst of unspeakable physical suffering, he held no resentment for being wrongly and unjustly tried and put to death. He simply prayed, as an act of intercession, for them.

I’ll be honest with you. Praying for and having a heart of forgiveness for someone who has wronged me is not my natural reaction. The journey from anger to forgiveness is a longer one for me, of course depending on the severity of the injustice. But what if…

…what if we offered complete and total forgiveness to someone…someone who wronged you in a huge way. What if?

I do not think we as humans have the capability of continually offering true forgiveness. Becoming forgivers is part of the spiritual journey God intends for us to take. And as we learn to forgive as He forgives us, then we will be forgiven as well. [For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. Matthew 6:14]

And so, as I dip my toe into 2012, my resolution is not my usual variety of live healthier, exercise more, laugh louder, or live better. Instead, I resolve to offer forgiveness more freely, even to the unapologetic wrongdoer.

In the words John MacArthur, “Forgiveness unleashes joy. It brings peace. It washes the slate clean. It sets all the highest values of love in motion. In a sense, forgiveness is Christianity at its highest level.”

May God give me the capacity to forgive.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett is a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the ages of 30 and 50 and is the Managing Partner of SPRING Media USA, a boutique marketing firm in Ruston, LA that boasts clients such as Seasons, The Health Hut, and Portico. She received a BA in journalism degree from LSU and a BFA in piano performance from LA Tech. She’s the wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and mother to Langdon, age 13, and Reagan, age 7. As Miss Louisiana 1992, she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education. She’s a lover of music (choir director and piano teacher) and a lover of a good game (job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns). Her favorite things are an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. Follow her on Twitter @edrewett.

Confession #20: Courage, Infamy, and Miracles

President Franklin D. Roosevelt made one of the most memorable speeches in United States history when he spoke these words: “Yesterday, December 7, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked…”

For my generation, our “date which will live in infamy” was September 11, 2001. We stared at our televisions in disbelief and watched the horror unfold before our eyes. A terrorist attack on American soil shattered the illusion of safe surroundings just as it had in 1941.

My “date which will live in infamy” came just one month prior to the 9-11 attacks, on Tuesday, August 7, 2001. On this day, courage, infamy and a miracle placed themselves in the center of my life as my two favorite men looked death squarely in the eyes.

My story begins just three months earlier, in May of 2001 in Phoenix, Arizona. My parents, lifelong residents of Louisiana, moved to Phoenix to be closer to me and their only grandchild, my son Langdon. My dad knew his days were numbered due to a 1996 diagnosis of Hepatitis C contracted from a blood transfusion in the mid 70’s. Daddy spent that day in May at the world-renowned Mayo Clinic. His case was reviewed by their team of doctors, and, following extensive testing and evaluation, he returned home to share the news. He must have a liver transplant within the next three months if he were to live more than six.

I know what stunned silence sounds like. It is loud. It rang in my ears. As the world spun around me, I steadied myself so as not to faint.

Rank on the transplant list is based on immediate need and severity of condition. Unfortunately, Hepatitis C patients often become too sick to survive the transplant. The Mayo Clinic team advised my dad that while his position would now be high on the transplant list, his best hope was an experimental procedure – a living donor transplant. A new surgeon at Mayo Clinic had just begun a living donor liver transplant program and one transplant had already been successfully performed.

I was the first volunteer. I had biology on my side and, hopefully, a high likelihood that I would be a match. My hopes were shattered when the doctor looked me in the eyes following the first round of testing and said Elizabeth, you cannot be the donor. That now familiar feeling of loud silence ringing in my ears returned. If not me, who?

At that moment, I heard the words, “I will” from the mouth of the one sitting beside me. They passed over the lips and out of the mouth of the man I love, my husband, C.P. Drewett. Six weeks of testing later, we received the amazing news. C.P., though not a blood relative, was a perfect match even down to the circumference of the arteries and veins entering and exiting the liver. The transplant was scheduled for August 7. The countdown had begun.

The next six weeks were a blur. The heaviness of the moment soon descended upon me. My husband and my father would be in surgery simultaneously, both facing great risk of not surviving. I faced the possibility of losing them both. The mother of a 3-year old son, I looked at hope and tragedy all in one glance. I had only one choice. Believe.

If God could direct my path by virtue of a blind date (the only one in my life) to the man I married, and if that man would turn out in a millions-to-one chance to be a perfect match for my dad’s transplant, then God could be trusted to hold destiny in His hands. I could have never scripted my life the way it has twisted and turned. God’s amazingly creative storyline was proof enough that He held the outcome and He would give us all the strength to face it, no matter what that outcome might be.

The day arrived. We seemed to float to the hospital on the wheels of prayers. Fourteen hours later, everyone emerged. Alive and well.

My dad lived two wonderful years after that infamous day. I am thankful my son had more time with his Papa. I am thankful my husband was willing to put his life on the line. And I am thankful God revealed himself with such an amazing storyline, a miracle in every sense of the word.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett

About the author: Elizabeth Haynes Drewett is a hormonal woman rumored to be between the age of 30 and 50. She lives in Ruston with her husband C.P. Drewett, Jr. and her muchkins Langdon, age 12, and Reagan, age 6. As Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer prevention and early detection education. She is the managing partner of Spring Media USA, a unique marketing company which specializes in new media, and Operations Manager at Seasons. Her favorite things are an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. You can find her on Twitter and sneaking around Google+. Her father was Eddy Haynes, Ed.D., a native of Shongaloo, LA. You can read more Confessions of a Hormonal Woman here at seasonswc.com and in The Minute Magazine.

 

Confession #19: It’s All About Your Point of View

I was born in Ruston. It’s a typical rural southern town. The best part about north Louisiana is the generally mild weather. Well, most of the time.

The last few weeks have been some of the hottest I remember in all my years here in Louisiana. It has been over 100 degrees for most of the past three weeks. It’s even hotter than I remember south Louisiana to be. I moved to Baton Rouge when I was fifteen and spent the next twelve years rarely donning a sweater due to the much milder winters. Daily showers cooled off the summers, leaving me with weather memories that were shrouded by humidity and mild temperatures. I recollect a few 100 degree days. But a very few. Saying that is has been HOT this summer is not a stretch of the imagination.

My weather experiences have spanned not only the state, but also the US. After marrying my college sweetheart, we moved west to the desert – the Sonoran Desert, that is, in Phoenix, Arizona. Over the next 14 years, I learned how to survive unbelievable heat for five months a year contrasted with perfectly amazing weather for the remaining seven months of the year. And by the way, if anyone tells you it’s a dry heat, they forgot to mention that an oven is still an oven, no matter what.

I’ll never forget my first July 4 in Phoenix. A heat wave was moving through the state, and it was as miserable as you might imagine. My husband was, at that time, serving in the Army National Guard. His two weeks of Annual Training took him to Flagstaff, Arizona, two hours north and 80 degrees cooler. In fact, he called me on July 4th to tell me that it was snowing in Flagstaff. Yep. And while he was enjoying the snow, I was sweltering in 123 degree heat. That was officially the hottest day in my entire 14 years of living in Arizona. And it was not a dry heat. I was drenched in sweat and produced my own humidity.

Because my 14 years of desert dwelling made me a professional at enduring heat, I thought I’d share some tips with you to help you cope with our unusually hot summer.

Rule #1: Never go anywhere without a water bottle in hand. Staying hydrated was an important coping technique! Not only does it keep away heat stroke, your skin will feel better if you are hydrated.

Rule #2: Always test drive a new car in the summer to ensure that the air conditioning will cool down the car quickly. I still live by this rule. This is my summer for test driving as I decide which car manufacturer will take my hard-earned dollars. The finalists in my car decision must pass the air conditioning test as well as the cool door handle test, another important purchasing factor when living in Arizona. After a car sits in 110 degree heat, you may find yourself unable to get in your car due to door handles that are too hot to touch!

Rule #3: Know where the covered parking is and always use it. I became quite skilled at finding covered parking as well as shady parking. Sometimes it might require a longer walk to the store. However, the end result was a car that cooled itself in minutes rather than what seemed like hours. I also learned to grocery shop after the sun went down or before it came up. Even though I lived one minute from my favorite grocery store, ice cream could melt in the back of a car inside of five minutes on a 110 degree day!

Rule #4: A cool shower or a dip in the pool will cool your body down and help you sleep better. Summers in Phoenix could produce three to four months in a row of 100+ temperatures. Even most nights, the temperature would remain over 100 degrees. I found that a dip in the pool made me feel cooler and sleep better. But if you don’t have a pool, a quick, cool shower will produce the same results.

Rule #5: Escape to cooler temperatures for the weekend whenever possible to give your psyche a break. In Phoenix, summers were desolate. Everyone would escape to somewhere as often as possible. San Diego was six hours to the west and offered 75 degree temperatures year round. Flagstaff was two hours to the north and offered nighttime temperatures that required a sweatshirt!

Over the past few days, I’ve heard many complaints about the heat. And my response is always this: be thankful for where you are. One of the reasons that I returned to my birthplace of Ruston four years ago was to escape the desert heat. Fellow southerners, I can assure you that even though we’re having a mighty hot summer, this is far better than the alternatives. It all comes down to your point of view!

 

 

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Operations Manager and Marketing Director for Seasons Wellness Clinic and Seasons – The Spa in Ruston. Her training: bachelor of arts in journalism degree from LSU and a bachelor of fine arts degree in piano performance from LA Tech University. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and doting mom of Langdon, age 12, and Reagan, age 6. Her passion: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education and the importance of early detection; lover of music – invested 10 years as a piano teacher into the lives of the most wonderful kids in the world; lover of a good game – job experiences include communications at PING Golf Equipment and public relations with the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day.

 

 

Confession #18: Life, Love and Charity

One of my favorite authors is the great C.S. Lewis. I’ve read many of his books. His stories, such as The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe are classics that should be on everyone’s reading list. Undergirding his creative and otherworldly stories is a thinking man’s theology.

While I adore his storytelling in The Chronicles of Narnia, it is actually some of his other writings which unravel the inner workings of man that intrigue me the most. One of my latest reads, Lewis’ book The Four Loves, is particularly challenging and wonderful. And deep within this book, I found truth about the loves in my life.

Lewis breaks down love into four different kinds: Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity.

Affection, Lewis states, is “the love in which our experience seems to differ the least from that of the animals.” This is the kind of love that a mother has for a child and a child for a parent. I gaze upon my two precious children and I know this kind of love so well. I am amazed at how deep and wide my love for them can be. This is a love of sacrifice, a love where the welfare of another comes before one’s own basic survival instinct.

Friendship is a love most overlooked and undervalued in our culture. Yet Friendship is one of the greatest relationships described in the Old Testament. The story of David and Jonathan speaks to a relationship of honor, support, sacrifice for the safety of the other, and a brotherly love not typically seen in our culture. It’s also the kind of love that I imagine exists between siblings, although I am an only child and can’t truly fathom what that love is like. It’s certainly what I feel towards my closest cousins. It is a camaraderie that is built through the shared ups and downs of life. As one of my dear friends says, “It’s about doing life together.”

Eros is the passionate love. It goes far beyond the physical bond that can occur between a husband and a wife. I love Lewis’ words on this subject. He says, “Eros makes a man really want, not a woman, but one particular woman. In some mysterious but quite indisputable fashion the lover desires the Beloved herself, not the pleasure she can give.” [All well-intentioned Hallmark card writers should take note of that one.] Eros is the love I see in my husband’s eyes. I am so thankful that God has blessed me with that kind of love in my life. It’s the “till death do us part” kind of love. As my pastor says, “The first institution that God created on this earth was marriage, even before He created the church.” For my husband and I, with God’s sovereign grace, we will have Eros until death parts us.

Then there is Charity. Charity is different from the others. It is a cultivated love. Lewis spends several pages in his book describing this kind of love as a garden. It is a love that must be tended, weeded, fertilized. It needs sun and water. It can be overtaken if not nurtured. It is a love that satisfies a man’s heart in a unique way. Charity is the love a heavenly Father wants for himself. It’s the filling of the heart, through tending the garden of the heart, with a love that is unrivaled.

As I look at my life, there’s one love that I have had since childhood. Although Lewis indicated that all four loves are relational, this love of mine has enveloped itself into Charity. It is my garden. I have devoted countless hours of my life to its tending.

This love began so early, I have no memory of it not existing. It has grown and flourished over the years. It has changed, deepened, broadened, and continues to grow.

What is this love? This love began on the front pew at church. Sunday after Sunday, I watched my mother’s fingers glide over the black and white of the piano keys producing sounds of praise to a God she adored. Every Sunday, I imagined growing up and doing exactly the same thing. I was fascinated by how she could play so many keys at once. Then, when she would move over to play the organ, I watched her feet and hands work together with a mind-boggling cooperation.

She tended her love for music. I spent countless hours on a Saturday morning running through row after row of church pews while she prepared for an upcoming Sunday. The beauty of her love was not only the tending, but also in the sharing. Seeing a Sunday morning service come together after the hours of work deepened the love all the more.

It was here…among the pews and practice…that my love affair with music began.

Formal piano lessons began in third grade. By then my hunger for music was already in play. I had worked myself through the beginner John Thompson piano book…you remember it….the red one. My mom, in her infinite wisdom, knew that piano lessons from a parent might not be such a good thing. So my music career began with piano lessons from Mrs. Susan Minchew.

My connection with the piano was instant. I liked it. It liked me. We rolled through every event and competition in the first year with ease. There wasn’t a song that I didn’t memorize on the first day of practice after my lesson. I just couldn’t get enough of the music.

The end of my first year of piano brought with it my first experience of heartbreak. Mrs. Minchew was moving from Ruston to Baton Rouge and I needed to find a new teacher. One thing I’ve learned in my life is that for every closed door, God opens a window for his children. The next musical mom in my life was Dr. Sue Holder, head of piano at LA Tech University.

Dr. Holder and I had an amazing relationship. Her musical mothering instincts were perfectly tempered by her professionalism and respect for the instrument. She was a clinician, the tender of the talent, the gardener for my musical gifts. She taught me how to develop my skills and play the music I longed to play.

The love affair with music grew as I did. It branched into other musical expressions like flute, accompanying and choral music. It’s interesting as I look back. I think of these different expressions like planting different vegetables in my musical garden. All, however, were an expression of the same love.

As an adult, I found myself singing in the choir at Camelback Bible Church in Phoenix, Arizona. It was there that I finally came to grips with my love affair. Until that point, my love for music was one of the strongest influencers of my life, and it stole part of my heart. However, as my passion for music expressed my love for my Savior, my heart leaped with joy. The love affair was no longer with the music. Instead, it was wrapped around Charity.

Lewis refers to one of his heroes and one of the greatest Christian theologians in history, St. Augustine, for the illumination of exactly what Charity is. St. Augustine experienced great desolation upon the death of his friend Nebridius (Confessions IV, 10). From this experience, Augustine drew a moral. “This is what comes, he says, of giving one’s heart to anything but God. All human beings pass away. Do not let your happiness depend on something you may lose. If love is to be a blessing, not a misery, it must be for the only Beloved [Jesus Christ] who will never pass away.”

This, my friends, was an “Aha!” moment for me. The light bulb came on, and I finally understood where my love for music fit into these four loves.

There is nothing on this earth that will not disappoint. Even music has let me down at times. In expressing my music towards my true love, my Savior Jesus Christ, I found a fulfillment in my music that cannot be matched by anything on earth.

Charity requires risk. Lewis says, “…to love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.” Even loving God carries risk as He illuminates our brokenness and humanity. “The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell,” says Lewis. So true. So true.

So how to avoid the heartbreak of any of the four loves? Lewis says that this “is why it is of such extreme importance so to order our loves.”

Order our loves? Yes, order our loves.

There is not true happiness in any thing, any person, not even in the greatest expression of your passion (like my music).

Happiness and satisfaction in my soul comes only when my eyes stay on Him, the creator and sustainer of my faith, and when each of my loves comes in priority behind Him. Through His love, I find love to give…Affection, Friendship, Eros, and Charity.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett

 

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Operations Manager and Marketing Director for Seasons Wellness Clinic and Seasons – The Spa in Ruston. Her training: bachelor of arts in journalism degree from LSU and a bachelor of fine arts degree in piano performance from LA Tech University. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and doting mother to Langdon, age 12, and Reagan, age 6. Her passions: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education and the importance of early detection; lover of music – invested 12 years as a piano teacher into the lives of the most wonderful kids in the world; lover of a good game – job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. You can follow her on Twitter. Her column, Confessions of a Hormonal Woman, is published bi-monthly in The Minute Magazine.

 

Confession #17: Making Peace and Making a Plan

Aging is a fact of life. From the time we are born, we’re aging. In our younger years, aging is manifested as growth. But it’s official. I have arrived at the point in life where growth has ended. Well, at least the kind of growth that is good. Now we’re in the area of bad growth…growth of the gluteus maximus. But that’s a story for another day. Let’s just say…I’m at the turning point…the crossroads…it’s time to make peace and make a plan.

Isn’t this what middle age is all about? It’s saying good-bye to your youth. It’s an acceptance of where you are. If you don’t make peace with life at this stage of the game, you are headed for a MID-LIFE crisis. You’ve seen it before. It’s usually an impractical two-seater sports car. Or maybe an infidelity that wrecks your life forever. No thanks. I’m all about making peace and making a plan.

Grow old gracefully. My mantra has always been to grow old gracefully. And I still subscribe to that. There’s nothing more beautiful than a mature woman who has grayed naturally and looks comfortable in her own skin. Cindy McCain, wife of Arizona Senator John McCain is a great example of that. She’s just lovely. I’m pretty sure she’s made peace and made a plan.

My goals for growing old gracefully are these:

1. To have the energy to do what I want when I want.
2. To live my life to the fullest without a lifetime of poor health and disease.
3. To look younger than I am, but not so young I look foolish.

Make peace with the present. I’m a practical girl by nature. I’ve learned to push up my sleeves and solve the problem. And making peace with the present is best done with action. Guess what? There’s no way you’re going to avoid aging. And guess what else? There are advantages to being older.

1. Wisdom. You’ve heard the expression, “If I knew then what I know now.” The wisdom I’ve gained in my life is a precious commodity. And honestly, I wouldn’t go back to my youth because I had too much to learn. I like knowing a lot about life and sharing that with my kids. They love my stories. And I love telling them. If you’re not sharing what you’ve learned with someone, it’s just knowledge. Knowledge becomes wisdom when you share to help others live a better life and learn from your life lessons.
2. Warmth of heart. I remember one thing about my great-grandmother in particular. My Mee-Maw, Lula Leonard Haynes, was always good for a hug. She poured unconditional love straight from her heart into mine. Her hugs were so memorable that I still vividly recall them after 3 decades. Having a warm heart, not a cold one hardened by the trials of this world, is what I want people to see in me. It’s what I want to give to my children…and one day…my grandchildren.
3. Priorities. The great thing about having years of life behind you is you gain a clear vision of what isn’t important, which helps you determine what IS important. The peculiar thing about a high school reunions is this: at the 10-year reunion everyone returns to impress with worldly accomplishments; at the 20-year reunion everyone returns happy to see each other and visit like the old friends that they are. My dad, organizer of an annual high school reunion at Shongaloo High School, told me the later reunions were so much sweeter than the earlier ones. I think people lose sight of the materialistic goals they might have embraced at a younger age, thank goodness. Over time, we learn the real value of relationships…and we learn the lack of value in possessions.

There’s no doubt that growing older has substantial benefits. I can think of several things that I am happy to give up. Changing diapers is one. Cleaning up my then-4-year-old’s vomit because the concept of throwing up IN the trash can was not yet mastered. I’m happy to move past that one. Dating…my husband and I regularly look at each other and express thanks that we don’t have to be in the dating world anymore.

Leaving the past where it belongs is an important part of making peace with the present. My desire is to embrace the life I have now and enjoy the positives at this stage, not looking back longingly at a past that will not return.

Make a wellness plan for the future. Prevention is one of my favorite words. Why in the world would you sit back and allow something bad to happen if prevention is possible. When it comes to healthcare, this is where our priorities should lie. Instead, our entire healthcare system is based on a DISEASE model. We go to the doctor when we’re sick. We get a quick fix. We go home and run ourselves into the ground until the next round of getting sick and then head back. It’s an agonizing treadmill we’re on that leads to a poor quality of life.

What if we spent our time pursuing wellness instead of just stopping the sickness? How would we go about doing that? Are we relegated to the genetics that we are born with?

While genetics plays a role in our health, it’s probably only 20% of the deciding factor according to Dr. Nathan Goodyear, a board certified and fellowship trained Metabolic Specialist. Our environment contributes the other 80% of influence in determining our health status.

We can’t change the genetics, but we can improve our body’s environment. How? There’s five areas that need to be part of our wellness plan: nutrition, exercise, hormone balance, reducing inflammation and detoxification.

Here’s a quick rundown.

1. Nutrition. You are what you eat. But are you really eating healthy? Eat foods rich in nutrients. Choose organic and eliminate your exposure to toxins. If you read the label and can’t pronounce the ingredients, don’t eat it. Yes…that includes giving up soda. Have you read that label?
2. Exercise. There’s no way around it. You will feel better every time you invest your time in exercise. You don’t have to run a marathon. You can just run a couple of miles. Or maybe just walk around the block a few times. As Nike so eloquently says: “Just do it.”
3. Hormone Balance. Hormones are the communication system of the body. And when hormones become imbalanced due to stress, poor nutrition, or even genetics, they need to be rebalanced. Keeping a healthy hormone balance requires proper testing and follow-up. Bioidentical hormones can help rebalance a body that has been tilted out of balance by the world.
4. Inflammation. Cited as the source of all disease in much of the latest research, reducing internal inflammation is key. But how? Avoiding foods that cause silent inflammation and increasing the ones that decrease inflammation is a great beginning. A diet rich in Omega-3s is key. Supplementing with fish oil, nuts and seeds, and wild fish will boost your Omega-3 intake and reduce chronic inflammation.
5. Detoxification. There’s no denying it, we live in a toxic world. Getting the toxins out of the body and reducing your exposure to toxins is an important lifestyle choice that will pay dividends in your longterm health. Using natural cleaners and avoiding chemicals is a great start. Detoxify your body with exercise (sweating is good for you) and infrared sauna, too. Again, buy organic and reduce your exposure to more toxins.

We plan for our retirement. We plan our vacations. But when was the last time you sat down to plan your wellness routine? You can’t enjoy the retirement or the vacation if you feel bad or suffer from chronic disease.

Here’s what I want. I want a healthy living plan that actively returns my body to optimal wellness. I want to feel good from the inside out. And by feeling good on the inside, the outside will look better, too. I’m doing my retirement planning…it’s just not financial planning, it’s wellness planning! I’ve got to be healthy to enjoy my future grandbabies.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Operations Manager and Marketing Director for Seasons in Ruston. Her training: bachelor of arts in journalism degree from LSU and a bachelor of fine arts degree in piano performance from LA Tech University. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and doting mother to Langdon, age 12, and Reagan, age 6. Her passions: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education and the importance of early detection; lover of music – invested 10 years as a piano teacher into the lives of the most wonderful kids in the world; lover of a good game – job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day. You can follow her on Twitter. Her column, Confessions of a Hormonal Woman, is published bi-monthly in The Minute Magazine.

Confession #16: Resolving to Choose Definition #8

Resolution. According to the dictionary, one definition of resolution is “a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.” I think that’s what we most commonly associate with the New Year.

But New Year’s resolutions never last long. The first two weeks, it’s go time. The third and fourth weeks, it’s hit or miss. By February, I am beating myself up for not sticking with the resolution and accomplishing THE goal.

I am determined, however, that this year will be different. I’m going to go with definition #8. According to Dictionary.com, definition #8 states that a resolution is “a solution, accommodation, or settling of a problem, controversy, etc.” I like that definition. It has more permanence. A solution. A settling of a problem. That’s the kind of resolution I want to have.

It’s a lifestyle change. But what are the roadblocks that so often entangle us and prevent the resolution from becoming a lifestyle? I can think of a hundred. But here’s a few I have experienced that might ring true for you, too.

I’m too busy. As a mother/wife/daughter/marketing director/operations manager/piano teacher…well, you get the picture. Some days, I find it difficult just to get a load of laundry done, much less devote time to making a life change permanent. Periodically in my life, usually at my husband’s request (Thank you, honey!), I de-clutter my life of activities. It’s easy to say yes to so many projects or volunteer opportunities that interest me. It’s hard to say no. Because my “no” doesn’t work as good as my “yes,” I periodically clean house on my obligations.

How to choose? Start with your priorities. For me, it’s God, family, work, self, friends. I’m not saying this is the “right” order. But it’s my order. Every activity needs to be evaluated with your priorities in mind. In January, I’ll once again go through this process in my life. It’s time to bow out of the activities that don’t relate to the highest priorities because the busyness of my life has become “a little too much.” It’s also time to embrace the opportunities that support my new resolutions for 2011.

Is my resolution motivation superficial or genuine? I’ve learned a lot about motivation in my lifetime. One of the most difficult and most valuable lessons came from my experience as Miss Louisiana 1992. The experience of competing for that title marked my life with countless positive life skills. But swimsuit competition created within me an ugly secret – a superficial desire to be skinny. Don’t get me wrong. Young girls watching TV or looking at today’s fashion magazines can be lured into the same ugly motivation. It’s not my pageant experience that gave me that unhealthy motivation, it was me.

Over time, I have conscientiously focused my attention on the pursuit of good health. Changing your internal motivation is a tough one. But being motivated by a genuine purpose instead of a superficial one sure makes it easier and more honest to be committed to a goal. In transforming my motivation from a superficial motivation to a genuine one, I find myself more comfortable in my own skin, even if I’m no longer a size 2. True contentment cannot exist where motivation is superficial.

Is my plan realistic? Any resolution requires a plan. Too often, my resolution plan has been overly optimistic. I am convinced that being realistic is a trait acquired over time and with life’s experiences. I am an optimist. And if I err, it’s on the side of biting off way more than I can chew! So my realistic plan requires baby steps and long-term goals that aren’t out-of-reach.

Lack of moral support. Making authentic change requires accountability to be successful. We all need a good friend or maybe even our spouse to remind us of our resolution. And the more support we surround ourselves with, the higher the likelihood that we will be successful with those resolutions. We all need a team. So let’s surround ourselves with people who will encourage us and keep us on track with making that resolution transform from just an idea into a lifestyle.

So what will your resolution be? Will it be a solution? Will it be a settling of a problem in your life? Will you make it through the quagmire of potential pitfalls? I resolve to make 2011 the year that the resolution becomes reality.

Elizabeth Haynes Drewett: a hormonal woman rumored to be somewhere between the age of 30 and 50. Her job: Marketing Director and Operations Manager for Seasons, the medical practice of Dr. Nathan Goodyear, and Seasons – The Spa in Ruston, LA. Her training: bachelor of arts in journalism degree from LSU and a bachelor of fine arts degree in piano performance from LA Tech University. Her life: wife of C.P. Drewett, Jr. and doting mother to Langdon, age 12, and Reagan, age 6. Her passions: the state of Louisiana – as Miss Louisiana 1992 she devoted her year of service to breast cancer education and the importance of early detection; lover of music – invested 10 years as a piano teacher into the lives of the most wonderful kids in the world; lover of a good game – job experiences include PING Golf Equipment and the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Her favorite things: an underdog who overachieves, a good laugh, a good book, a good word, and a good hair day.

 

Confession #15: A Gift For You, A Gift For Me

You know, the hardest part about Christmas shopping is focus. Five little letters. F – O – C – U – S.

Why are five little letters so difficult?

5. It’s the sights. I find myself with a headache at the end of a day of Christmas shopping. Never fails. I’m so busy looking at things and reading signs my eyes hurt. I’m trying so hard to find the good deal, the perfect gift, something they’ll love and wouldn’t buy for themselves. By the end of a 5-hour spree on a Saturday afternoon, I’m at maximum exhaustion.

4. It’s the sounds. I find myself overwhelmed with the noise of indoor shopping. Fourteen years of living in sunny Phoenix spoiled me to beautiful outdoor malls, brisk air, and no roar of the mall in my ears. But alas, in lovely Louisiana, the reality of outdoor shopping is difficult with all of our rainy days. And my ears pay the price of hydration. I love being home. I love a rainy day. But I am not a fan of a noisy mall at Christmas!

3. It’s the smells. You know, shoppers beware. At Christmas time, stores know how to get us…they cook and offer samples. Or they light the Christmas candles…all of them. You are surrounded by clouds of pine, cinnamon, and fudge. If you weren’t hungry when you started shopping, you are now! Stomach growls. Churns. Grumbles. You are going to have to feed it sooner or later.

2. It’s the list. Agony. The list. I definitely do better when shopping with the list. I carefully list possible options for each person on my list. But the problem with that scenario is that you are faced with choices under pressure. You could get little Heather some American Girl furniture and clothes to go with her doll. But what if she’d rather have a hula-hoop. Both are on my list. But how will I decide with the pressure of a pressing crowd around me?

1. But the number one difficulty in maintaining focus during Christmas shopping. It’s me! For every one gift I see for a person on my list (that I can no longer see because my eyes are crossed, my nose is burning, and my ears are plugged), I find 10 things that I’d like to buy for myself. Ugh. Isn’t that just the worst part of human nature? I don’t want to think about shopping for myself. But I just can’t help it. That adorable jacket would be so cute for the staff Christmas party. Oh, those earrings would look divine with the jacket. And the shoes…I haven’t bought shoes for myself in…well, I can’t remember. And even better, IT’S ALL ON SALE.

It is absolutely maddening to me. My goal every year is to complete my Christmas shopping before Thanksgiving. That way I avoid the hustle and bustle and I save my eyes, ears, and nose from jumping off my face during a 5-hour mall adventure. But most importantly, it keeps me away from the great deals and temptation to come home with extra bags full of goodies for myself.

While I have great hopes of being done early, the truth of the matter is that my children have birthdays in November and December, further complicating Drewett life at end-of-year. While working THE LIST and buying gifts for friends and family, I must also space out the my kiddos’ gifts so that they are not so spoiled by January that I’m convinced they are from another planet. And, sometimes, the birthday planning foils my Christmas shopping just as I get geared up to complete it. Ugh.

Good news, though. I’m almost done with THE LIST. And as I write this, it’s not yet Thanksgiving. I think that’s a breakthrough. I do it this way to save my sanity…and my eyes, ears, and nose.

But, there’s one more reason I shop early.

More than anything, I want to truly soak up and enjoy the Christmas season. Advent is a wonderful time of the year as we celebrate and anticipate the coming of the Christ child. I want to enjoy the Christmas Cantata at church (mom-in-law and dad-in-law both sing in the choir). I want to enjoy the Christmas program my adorable kindergartener will be presenting at school (she’s singing “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” and her top two teeth are wiggly). I want to feel festive (and not exhausted) for all the gala celebrations here and there.

And, I want to give myself and my family the gift of peace on earth. Yes. Peace on earth. I can’t give the kind of Peace on Earth that only a Saviour can bring. But I CAN give a little peace on earth to my family. Because when momma is stressed out about Christmas shopping, there is no peace.

To all my fellow shoppers, if you’re not done with your shopping yet, take heart. There’s always next year. And you can start shopping for next year on January 1, 2011. There will be lots of sales. And you’ll need even more focus! Good luck. Merry Christmas. And Happy New Year.

Confession #14: Memories of Trees and Roots

My people have deep roots. And because both of my children were born in Scottsdale, Arizona, a long way from those deep roots, I am trying to share with them, when time allows, some of their heritage. Labor Day served as an opportune moment to dig into the root system of our family tree.

Not only is Labor Day a day to celebrate the American worker (that’s me), it is also a great time to be with family. And a special member of my family had a birthday that day. To celebrate this wonderful occasion, my son, my daughter and a few other family members headed north to pay him a surprise visit.

Where north, you ask? Well, my roots, on my dad’s side of the family, are in Shongaloo. A small town about 8 miles south of the Arkansas/Louisiana line, it is here that some of my earliest and most precious childhood memories were made.

I remember learning to drive…at age six…sitting in my grandmother’s lap…all the way to the country store. And yes, I would roll over and die if my almost six-year-old were in her grandmother’s lap driving today! But my grandmother had a sense of adventure! So off we went. I sat in her lap peering over the steering wheel. My foot sat on top of hers, her foot an extension of mine as I pressed on the gas and break pedals. My first driving experience was a little less than a straight drive. And it was fabulous! I don’t have any idea what I might have purchased at the country store once we arrived. But I will never forget the drive there and back!

I remember climbing my first tree. At her house, there were many wonderful and climbable (is that a word?) trees. My cousins and I would spend the whole morning out in the trees imagining that we were escaping some great danger. Donnie, Keith, Alyssa and I, even though our regular lives were quite different, always found a common enemy to avoid up in those trees.

I remember learning about the circle of life…birth, death, and everything in between. In the country, you can’t escape the circle of life. I loved helping my grandmother gather eggs from the chicken coop. I also remember watching my grandmother grab a chicken by the neck, swing it around with arm fully extended and chicken in hand, until there was suddenly a headless body running frenetically around the yard and only a chicken head left in her hand. Even though it was quite a sight for this little girl to watch, I knew how much I enjoyed that fried chicken the next day at lunch, and I certainly learned to appreciate the work it took to prepare that wonderful meal.

I remember learning to express my inner creativity. You name it, we could make a pie out of it…a mud pie that is. My grandmother let us set up an outdoor “kitchen” complete with loads of dirt and water, and tons of pie plates. We had no fear of being dirty. When we were done, she’d wash us off with a water hose. Our pies would “bake” in the sun while her real homemade pie baked in the kitchen. Following an afternoon “nap” watching her favorite soaps, we’d pretend to eat the mud pie followed quickly with eating the real pie, and chased by an ice cold glass of milk fresh that morning from the cow.

I remember mowing miles and miles of grass. My grandmother and I would saddle up on the riding lawn mower, she with her wide-brimmed straw hat and me hanging on tight for the ride. She had acres of grass to mow. It seemed like millions of acres at the time. Now I know it was probably more like one.

All those memories are precious to me. They collectively make me who I am. I wish there were some way to funnel all my memories in to my kids. But since that’s just not going to work, I will settle for filling their minds with as many of my precious memories as possible while taking them to the very spot those great memories occurred.

And so, on Labor Day, the memories flowed. But not only did they hear tales of years gone by, we made new memories that will be unique to them. They celebrated a birthday, laughed at my uncle’s jokes, played with DeeDee – the weiner dog, and saw all the landmarks of my childhood, like the grass that had to be mowed, the trees I climbed and the country store I drove to. My daughter laughed til she cried thinking that her momma drove that far. And then, of course, she wanted to try it. She didn’t get to drive that day, but her Daddy has been known to put her in his lap, just like my grandmother did me, and let her drive around the neighborhood. I’m sure my neighbors will now be keeping a closer eye on who is actually driving the Drewett vehicles!

So my thoughts following Labor Day led to one big question. What will be the memories that collectively make my children into adults?

The hardest part of being a parent, other than the crisis situations that interrupt our busy routines, is deciding how to parent with purpose. It’s easy to muddle through parenthood reacting to this situation or that one. Well, maybe not easy, But taking pause to plan your parenting is a lofty goal I’ve made every attempt towards, sometimes successfully, sometimes not.

My hope is to parent children who live with purpose and integrity, who serve others before themselves, and who place great value on people, not things.

But with both of my children now being school-aged, and my husband and I being working parents, that valuable teaching time is diminishing every year. My challenge is to creatively and effectively use the time we have to develop their character as we create a few memories of our own.

I worry about my children’s probably over-planned lives, a side-effect of a parent’s busy-ness combined with the complications of modern day life. It looks like this: wake kids up, feed kids, get kids dressed, deliver kids at school, work all day, pick up kids, take kids to piano lessons, drop kids at tennis, monitor kids homework, eat, do laundry, brush teeth, and go to bed. What ever happened to playing outside, riding your bike, and crawfishing in the creek behind your house? Oh wait, those are my memories. My world was vastly different than theirs. I treasure my childhood memories. I’m reminded, however, that my memories are what make me unique. Their memories will make them unique.

I have no great miracle solutions for parenting here, but the most wonderful moments seem to be the unplanned ones. And where the grey areas of parenting exist, there is prayer on my part and mercy on God’s part that will cover them.

In the meantime, I find myself resting under my family tree of memories, sitting on a root that has presented itself above ground. I look up and see sunshine twinkling through the leaves. The whisper of the wind and the smell of outdoors returns to my mind images of days gone by. Those memories are magical. They take me back to precious times. They give me comfort. They make me smile. Even laugh.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Glynn. I’ll be back next Labor Day to “surprise” you again, and most importantly, to make a few more memories under my family tree. In the meantime, I love you, DeeDee (the weiner dog) and Aunt Dolores. Thanks for being two of my biggest fans. And thanks for a beautiful day of memories. My kids will treasure them, and so will I.

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