Two Weeks

As ridiculous as it may sound, I think there is something about July 4th that triggers the end of summer countdown. I came from the holiday and moved right into the next weekend of events only to find mid-July quickly descending. But, mid-July means the long planned Europe trip is somehow upon us. I cannot help but overwhelmingly feel that just on the other side of that…school beginning again, this unique summer in my life ending…is all too close.

This summer, due to its complete wide-openness, has always held the expectation that I would write a lot. But it was not until the end of these past two weeks when the feelings of guilt and even embarrassment could no longer be ignored. Days passed without newly typed epiphanies or stories. Posts were not being published every week. I saw stretches on the calendar void of concrete results and proof of production. When friends asked how writing was going I realized I felt dissatisfied with the truthful answer: I was not producing like I expected.

No matter how unspoken my self-created standards, no matter how flexible and loose I tried to convince myself my personal benchmarks were, they taunted me. Slowly but steadily, days without new posts felt like a current of failure deepening in the banks of my life.

Pretty soon my underlying worrying over unmet expectations shifted to self-disappointment and questioning. I questioned and still wrestle with whether I am disciplined enough. Whether I am capable enough. Realistic enough. Determined enough. Creative enough. Gifted enough.

It took actually writing that out to see the pattern, the repeated word: enough.

And yet, I simultaneously cannot ignore the other story playing out and demanding my attention. I cannot deny the goodness of life over just the past two weeks.

Bike rides.

Back porch sun soaking.

Car rides to get coffee with my brother after he returned from his study abroad.

Driving downtown with two of my siblings to eat Chicago’s best burgers with my younger sister.

The birth of a new niece.

Spike ball, Can Jam, and Bags with my in-laws.

A night run in glorious weather with my mother-in-law biking as my companion.

My husband spontaneous driving us to find and watch fireworks from afar, just so I would not spend a Fourth of July without fireworks.

Returning to my childhood piano teacher for help as I begin working on a new piece.

Finishing some of the renovations and decorations in the office I had dreamt of for years.

Buying a sectional sofa that we took years to find and feeling like we found the ultimate deal.

Cleaning the house from top to bottom and preparing to host my husband’s friends.

Snipping loads of hydrangeas to go all over the house.

Baking coffee cakes and muffins and building my very first diaper cake.

Driving to Ohio to celebrate my friend’s baby shower right on Lake Erie.

Bonfires, dinners and getting in the rhythm of weekly hangouts with our closest friends.

One of the most delicious dinners and hilarious mini-golf date night with my husband.

Taking the train into Chicago to catch up with two of my high school friends now living in the city.

Researching, planning, and preparing for our Paris/London trip with every spare hour between all the activities.

And that is ONLY the past two weeks.

This summer may have always been more about living than merely writing, more about people than producing… And I feel no shame about that.

All along, this summer marked something new for me. It meant transitioning from one way of life that I knew so well with all its business, schedules and commitments, to another filled with flexibility, unknowns, and possibilities. On some level I think I was so unfamiliar with that feeling that I seized that open territory and stuck a sign in it instantly claiming new bold plans for it “Coming Soon: A Fountain of Writing, Created by: Anne Gentzler”.

I am starting to think my ingrained familiarity with life lived in a frantic state of constantly running, proving and producing, of meeting deadlines and pushing through, is the side of me that thinks unmet expectations reveal I am lacking in some way. That I am somehow failing.

I think the other side of me, the one that has been deeply feeling the transitions occurring inside of me no matter how hard it is to express, is the one that rejects that incessant measuring rod. It is the side that feels compelled to notice instead how the past two weeks have been bursting with vibrant life experiences that satisfy all the senses.

It is definitely a process. I have to keep surrendering my expectations and embracing what is happening live, right in front of me. Transitions and change mean unknowns and imperfections. I tend to fight that.

I have to keep letting go of the perfect image I create, the expectations built upon comparison and striving. It is only after letting go of that version that I get to explore and delve into who God created me to be. But that’s easier said than done most days. I am still in the middle of learning it, still in the middle of what feels like major shifts. But when I look back over every bit of the past two weeks, I can definitely say it has been quite worth it. Between all the wrestling, the trying and failing to let go, between the imperfections and change of plans have been moments of embracing, resting, trusting, and soaking in all the glorious reminders of what is truly soul-satisfying. I have not been left wanting, but rather find my cup overflowing.

And that is…enough.

#growing #time #transition #comparison