The Power of Self-Reflection: 13 Questions to Ask Yourself (during and after a Pandemic)

Remember that elevator scene from You’ve Got Mail? The one where Joe Fox, acted by Tom Hanks, and his girlfriend get stuck in an elevator with two other people and they each tell what they’ll do “if I ever get out of here.” I keep thinking about that scene.

“I’m gonna start speaking to my mama,” one woman says.

“I’m marrying Irene. I love her. I should marry her. I don’t know what’s been stopping me,” says the elevator attendant.

When Joe’s girlfriend interrupts his heart-felt survival wish to blurt out that she’s getting her eyes lasered when she gets out, Joe realizes he’s with the wrong woman.

Joe later writes to Kathleen: “There was a man sitting in the elevator with me who knew exactly what he wanted, and I found myself wishing I were as lucky as he.”

Intense life experiences illuminate the essential and dim the superficial. But we can easily miss the chance to extract meaning from our conflict and questions if we don’t stop and reflect. One man in hospice said cancer eventually led him to transform neutral moments in life into meaningful ones.

This pandemic is our elevator moment.

Educational reformer John Dewey once wrote that we “we do not learn from experience … we learn from reflecting on experience.” Teachers, spiritual leaders, athletes, business professionals, poets, and scientists already know the value of self-reflection.

Poet and novelist May Sarton wrote in her published journals, “friends, even passionate love, are not my real life unless there is time alone in which to explore and to discover what is happening or has happened.”

When I was a teacher, I often assigned “reflections” to my middle school students after field trips, science experiments, or completing a novel as a way of shifting lived knowledge into their longer term memory. Studies show that reflecting on past experiences aid more in learning and personal growth than shoring up new knowledge.

In ancient history, the Hebrews celebrated a festival called the Feast of Booths. They wanted to remember their years of wandering in the desert when the temple of God was a temporary structure called a tabernacle. Other versions of the Bible translate the word “booth” as “shelter.”

After their experience of lostness and despair, they continued to celebrate the Feast of Shelters even after they were safe, secure and settled back in their own land. Why bother remembering something so difficult? Those of us who have lived through 2020 may also benefit in the future from instituting a similar Feast of Shelters to reflect each year on what we learned when the threat of sickness and our shuttered doors forced us to educate our children at home and erase every plan from our calendars.

Experts agree that reflection is an essential practice for those desiring a vibrant interior life. Professor Graham Gibbs created a model for personal reflection called the “Reflective Cycle.” His chart includes:

1. Description: What happened?

2. Feelings: What were you thinking and feeling?

3. Evaluation: What was good and bad about the experience?

4. Analysis: What sense can you make of the situation?

5. Conclusion: What did you learn? What would you do differently?

6. Action: If this happened again, what would you do?

As the tide of our society ebbs and flows around new guidelines and policies, fumbling for a new normal, we can benefit from self-reflection.

If we have the discipline (and courage) to carve out time to ask, write our answers, listen, and maybe even pray, these questions can guide us:

  1. What’s been good? (i.e. gains, good surprises, successes)
  2. What been hard? (i.e. losses, fears, worries, deaths, disappointments, inconveniences, discomforts, failures)
  3. What has changed? (i.e. job, school, new skills, family dynamics, friendships, church, community, etc.)
  4. How has my relationship with technology, social media, and the digital life changed? What will I abandon? What will I retain?
  5. How have I seen or experienced God, religion, or the spiritual life through this experience?
  6. What have I learned about my family, children, spouse, neighbors, roommates, or community?
  7. What have I learned about myself? What have I needed most during this time?
  8. Which books, movies, or songs have comforted me at this time?
  9. If this happens again, what will I do differently?
  10. How have I experienced healing?
  11. How have I experienced pain?
  12. What changes do I want to carry over with me to the other side?
  13. What changes do I need to make so that can happen?

Before the world opens again completely (assuming that day comes), we can grasp this unique opportunity to pause and do some soul searching:

What have we learned, how have we grown, and what will we carry with us into the future?

Book Review of Light from Distant Stars

*This review does not contain spoilers.

My husband had a difficult time convincing me this book wasn’t actually scary. He read it first, so I kept checking in, “Are you sure this isn’t a horror story?” He assured me it wasn’t. He was right. Mostly. Light from Distant Stars by Shawn Smucker is the perfect level of suspense for a light-weight like me. Thrilling, but not too gory. Scary, but not nightmare-inducing.

Through disarming prose and complex characters, Smucker entertains readers with a thought-provoking, engrossing story. Switching back and forth in time between the young and middle-aged protagonist, Cohen, Smucker guides the reader to explore the problem begging for answers: Who (or what) attacked Cohen’s father while he was at work in the morgue? (And the unspoken question: Did Cohen attempt to murder his own father?)

If you’ve read Smucker’s first young adult novel called The Day the Angels Fell, this book has some of the same shadowy parallels as he explores themes of death, guilt, the parent-child relationship, and the fears we struggle to overcome. While this novel is geared more toward adults, mature teens would also enjoy this story. Light from Distant Stars is the kind of novel that carries you away in the story and you don’t want to stop until you get some answers. The last quarter of the book kept me turning pages late into the night. Throughout the book, I kept asking myself, “Do I believe Cohen?” “What is reality?” and “Do I trust Cohen’s memories?”

And as for my husband’s confidence that this was not a thriller, I have to say I disagree. If it were a film, I’d put it at the Sixth Sense-level of spookiness. But even though the story concluded with plenty of unanswered questions, Light from Distant Stars was an entertaining, nuanced, and a satisfying read. The books that leave unanswered questions are usually the ones that keep us thinking for ourselves long after we’ve finished the book.

*This post contains Amazon affiliate links

A Philosophy of Home {guest post}

By Josi Seibert

My husband and I live in Chicago on the north side on a quiet, apartment-lined street called Mozart in a neighborhood where our white faces are the minority. Our apartment building is 100 years old and is a four-flat containing four apartments or homes. We (and our two small children) live on the first floor. The other three homes are inhabited by people in our church community. Some call it a Christian commune, some joke it’s a cult. 😉 But we call it intentional and awesome.

The ins and outs of our home are fluid and our door is revolving. Our beloved neighbor-friends “pop in” to chat, ask a question, borrow something, eat a meal or play with our wild kids. Our Afghani friends, who live a couple blocks away, knock on our door at 11pm in tears needing help and comfort. Whether weekend stays of family and friends, a Brazilian man here for a month to study English, or dear friends needing a place to lay their heads in between homes, we have experienced the life-giving, joy-yielding potential of hospitality. We swap stories over bowls of pasta and glasses of wine, laugh together playing Catch Phrase and Funny Bones, and share traumas and dreams over chocolate and cups of steaming tea.

As I’ve thought about hospitality, read about it, practiced it and been a beneficiary of it, I want to share with you five beliefs I now hold that have helped inform my philosophy of home and opening my door to neighbors, friends, and strangers.

1. All is gift. Remembering that everything in my possession (my home, my family, my money, my talents and my stuff) has been loaned to me. As a child of God, I believe He is my heavenly Father, He provides for my needs and that He is the giver of everything good. All is a gift from His generous hand that I neither deserve nor earn nor own. I believe that at the end of my life, I leave empty-handed. All my precious stuff is provisional and short-lived. This belief unpeels my white-knuckled fingers from their grasp around MY things. This belief opens my hand, palms up, ready to share and bless others with what was never mine in the first place.

2. Exclusion vs. embrace. When I meet people I quickly categorize them. Are they better than me? Am I better than them? Are they a threat to me in any way? Can we be so different and be friends? My insecurity demands I judge and compare, which results in walls, defense, exclusion. But when I take a step back and remember every person’s origin, I see an image bearer. Someone who was created in the image of God with beauty and dignity. She is worthy of my time. He has a story to tell and aches to be heard. She has something to contribute. He longs to be loved, lovable, and loving. When I understand how God sees and values them, I choose to soften and embrace.

3. Give it away. Serving others and following Jesus are inseparable. In the Gospel of Mark chapter 10 Jesus says to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be great must become a servant. Whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave. That is what the Son of Man has done: He came to serve, not to be served—and then to give away his life in exchange for many who are held hostage.” (MSG) Jesus gives the example of what it is to serve – both friends and enemies (he invited his betrayer to the table and washed his feet). Hospitality invites us to choose a sacrificial posture of service to others, giving our lives away to build the body of Christ.

4. Boundaries. I think there is a place for boundaries to our homes, especially if our health or marriage is at stake. However, independent Western thinkers, like myself, are bent to believe we need “my space.” We feel entitled to “me time” and do our best to dodge inconveniences of any kind. I’m the first to confess that this is sooooooo me. And, yes, we may need time and space, but they seem to serve us as excuses NOT to invite or live a life accessible to others. I’m convinced, based on personal reflection and experience, that one of the biggest dangers and inhibitors to love (including hospitality) is busyness. We’re hyper-scheduled people with little room for margin. And it’s margin that lets people in. It’s margin that opens the door. It’s margin that has time to listen and to learn how to love another. It’s an act of vulnerability to be available and give people access to your life and home, but it’s the way of love.

5. Learn by being a guest. It’s important to be both the host and the guest. It’s both good and sacred to be the guest. Hospitality is an expression of the heart and nature of God. It is a picture of God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit inviting outsiders to become part of the family of God. I, and all that identify as the family of God, was first a guest. Our being a recipient first informs how we host. God’s generous, all-welcoming love is the stick we measure with and evaluate our own lifestyles and practice of hospitality.

Hospitality has been a good teacher to us. Over the past seven years we’ve intentionally practiced hospitality, we’ve learned lessons in how to create a safe place where people can hang their hats, let their guards down, have their needs noticed and met and belong. Lessons in how to nourish our guests’ stomachs and souls. Lessons in self-sacrifice and laying down our lives for the good and benefit of others. Lessons in the beauty in diversity of culture and beliefs and the power of listening, relating, encouraging, disagreeing and still loving. Lessons in how church can be found around our table. Lessons in how hospitality is a beautiful means to share the gospel.

In a word, hospitality is love.

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Josi’s Recommendations for Books on Hospitality:
The Gospel Comes with a House Key by Rosaria Butterfield
Imitating Jesus by Lewie Clark
Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist

About Josi:

Josi grew up on a farm in rural Nebraska. She received a Masters in Biblical and Intercultural Studies in Chicago. Shortly thereafter, Josi and her husband moved to West Africa to do business and non-profit work. Once they returned to Chicago, they worked for a refugee resettlement agency. Now they work for Icon Ministries to make disciples of Jesus within the context of love, friendship and hospitality. She is enthused about having people around her table, finding ordinary adventures with her husband and two young kiddos and uniquely living out Jesus’ commission to make disciples of all nations.

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This month on Scraping Raisins we’re talking about practical and impractical hospitality. Be sure to follow along on my social media channels (buttons on top right of website) and subscribe to my newsletter to be updated on all the posts, plus links to thought-provoking articles from the web and a few books and podcasts.

 

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A Writer’s Hotbed of Stupidity, Saints & Selfies (#FFW)

As a stay-at-home mom to three tiny children, I no longer feel fluent in socializing or adult conversation. So, as you might expect, a writing conference where I had to meet and interact with some of my writing heroes was a hotbed for saying and doing stupid things.

Lest you think I’m exaggerating, here are a few foot-in-mouth moments for your entertainment:

1. I saw an author I admire and said, “I read half your book!” #whatNOTtosaytoanauthor 

2. I tweeted something Deidra Riggs said during a panel about sex and without thinking, my husband replied something about loving when I talk dirty, accidentally including Deidra in the reply. (okay, so that one’s on my husband) 

Deidra Riggs, “Choosing Us”

3. I told a magazine I couldn’t write for them yet because I have other writing projects now (they didn’t ask me to).

4. I chucked my stuff on a chair, then chased Ann Kroeker down the hallway and slobbered all over her. 

5. I told a girl she looked “so familiar” and she said it was because we had met two days earlier. 

6. I couldn’t go into the expo room for two days after seeing my face on a poster about new authors. (denial, perhaps?)

7. I think I may have sat next to Fleming Rutledge on the flight to Grand Rapids, but didn’t realize it until I got to the conference (this is why you should always make small talk on the plane).

8. I started talking to Shannan Martin in line in the bathroom and when I walked out, I realized I still had my dirty paper towel balled up in my hand.

9. I often said the first thing that came to my mind when I met someone–usually pertaining to their appearance. “You’re so much shorter/thinner/taller than I thought!” Generally not a good idea.

But apart from my many blunders, the conference was still a fabulous experience.

Here are a few highlights for me from FFW:

1. Hearing Luci Shaw and Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughters tell stories about Madeleine, my greatest writing hero. (Did you know Madeleine L’Engle loved playing ping-pong?)

Luci Shaw & Madeleine L’Engle’s granddaughters

2. Spending time with other writing friends talking, crying, trading stories, and sharing on a level I so rarely get to relate on in my regular life.

3. Meeting some of my writing and life heroes: Deidra Riggs, Luci Shaw, Sandra Van Opstal, Shannan Martin, Addie Zierman, Lisha Epperson, Ann Kroeker, Katlin Curtice, D.L. Mayfield, Amy Peterson, Christiana Peterson, inspiring writers from my publishing House, Herald Press, my editor, friends from SheLoves, Redbud Writers’ Guild and my other writing group, and so many others.

Me and Deidra Riggs

4. Meeting my heroes reminded me that even though a writer may have thousands of followers on social media, it doesn’t mean they don’t struggle with insecurity and imposter syndrome like I do.

5. I sat in five fiery sessions about race that burned away my idealism, selfish motivations and pride involved in being a white woman who writes about race. It reminded me that these discussions are messy, complex and yet so necessary in spite of the discomfort. I’m still processing many of the conversations, emotions and challenges.

Deidra Riggs, Karen Sallow Prior, Sandra Maria Van Opstal, Kathy Khang, Katelyn Beaty, “Still Evangelical in the Age of #MeToo?”

Lisa Sharon Harper, Marlena Graves, Kathy Khang, “Writing for Our Lives”

5. Overall, the best part of the festival for me was putting people to the avatars and remembering there is flesh, bone and spirit behind the names and faces on the 2D screen. 

Did you attend the Festival of Faith and Writing this year? What was your biggest take-away? 

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Our theme for April is “Books and Writing,” and I hope to share my favorite books, podcasts and resources for new writers.  Click here if you’re new to the series and want to catch up on old posts. Be sure to follow me on social media and sign up for my newsletter below so you can be alerted of new posts. Please get in touch at scrapingraisins (dot) gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting on this topic!

 

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