Living Thanksgiving

By Taisa Efseaff Maffey


I never thought I would already be doing a themed post, but with Thanksgiving coming up, I could hardly resist.  For me, Thanksgiving is a holiday that inspires reflection, and if there’s anything that writers feed off of, it’s reflection.  But even reflection can become routine.  I regularly reflect on my life and thank God for my blessings: eternal salvation, good health and physical mobility, marriage to my soulmate, wonderful family and friends, a nice home, a reliable vehicle to drive, good food to eat, etc.  It may seem silly, but I also make it a point to thank God for relatively less significant blessings as He gives them: finding a lost item, getting a parking space in front that seemed impossible to get, a close call with dropping or breaking something (this happens much more often than I'd like to admit).  But even though I'd like to think I have a thankful heart, I have to acknowledge another attitude that all too often creeps in and contradicts my professions of gratitude: Discontentment.

I’m convinced that discontentment must be a built-in aspect of human nature.  I distinctly remember going to my nephew’s birthday party a few years ago, watching him tear away wrapping paper to expose a new action figure he wanted, and then hearing him exclaim, “Cool!  Now all I need is the yellow one!”  If you ever want to see human nature in its most transparent form, all you have to do is spend some time with kids.  Adults can become pretty good at hiding our flaws from each other – our pride, greed, vanity, selfish ambitions, ill intentions – but young children haven’t learned to do that yet.  My nephew unknowingly revealed a universal truth to me that day.  The more we get, the less we appreciate what we have and the more we want what we don’t have.

Hopefully this makes my point: Go look into your closet right now and count how many pairs of shoes you have, then ask yourself if there are still others you’re interested in getting.  I can tell you that I have three pairs of flip flops – flat, medium wedge, and high wedge.  I have three pairs of athletic shoes – one for working out inside, one for running outside, and one pair of fashion sneakers that I’m getting antsy to change up.  I have multiple pairs of heels and flats of varying styles and colors.  I currently have a pair of rain boots, a pair of snow boots, and a nice pair of mid-calf leather boots, but I’ve been “needing” to get a nice pair of TALL leather boots to wear with dresses and skirts in the winter and a pair of regular ankle boots for wearing with jeans.  You get the idea.

Living in a country and culture with such abundance, it’s easy to get carried away with what we think we need and what we want.  For Ethan and me, going to places like Costco and IKEA are danger zones.  All of a sudden, we start seeing things that we never knew we needed, things that would make our lives so much better.  The latest high-powered blender, a bigger TV, his and hers electronic toothbrushes, a new duvet cover to “freshen up” the bedroom, a KitchenAid stand mixer in candy apple red, all six Star Trek original series movies on Blu-ray.  (Can you tell which are his and which are mine?  Spoiler: Ethan was the one who wanted the new duvet cover.)

In 1 Timothy 6:6-9, Apostle Paul writes, “Now godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.  And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content.  But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and harmful lusts which drown men in destruction and perdition.”  The masses of people with credit card debt in this country is enough proof that discontentment is a snare.  Practically speaking, when we desire to have things we don’t need and spend money we don’t have or shouldn’t be spending, we can end up drowning – in financial problems, in too much stuff, in further discontentment.  Most importantly, these “foolish and harmful lusts” lead us away from remembering how blessed we already are.

Apostle Paul experienced more affliction in his life than any of us will ever even think about.  And yet, after all of it, he could say, “Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound.  Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.  I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:11-13).  The bit I always go back to is, “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content.”  I’m encouraged that contentment is something we can learn.  And like many things, the first step is acknowledging that we have a problem.  Once I recognize the propensity I have towards discontentment, I can purpose in my heart to choose contentment when temptations for riding boots and KitchenAid mixers arise.

Personally, I don’t think it’s enough to say that we’re thankful for what we have.  As Christmas approaches and we find ourselves and our children making lists of what we want, we need to take care that we are not giving more significance to what we don’t have instead of focusing on what we do have.  Philippians 4:8 is a great reminder: “Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.”  What is true?  We are extraordinarily blessed and have so much more than most of the people in this world.  What is noble?  Thinking more about how we can bless or help others, rather than what we expect or want to receive from them.  Who is praiseworthy?  Jehovah-Jireh, the Lord who provides.

Transformation, not Conformation

By Taisa Efseaff Maffey


It was one year ago, on an ordinary day in the middle of an ordinary week in the middle of the extraordinary month of November, that I emerged from our home office, flounced into the living room, and excitedly informed my husband, Ethan, that I was going to start a blog.  Ethan thought this was a great idea -- just like he thought it was a great idea each time he suggested it to me over the course of the previous two years.  He knew that, as a college graduate with a degree in English, I had always harbored aspirations of writing... something.

When I was a kid, I decided I was going to author children's books, and my mom was going to be my illustrator.  (I couldn't write that without smiling, but it's true.)  As a middle school and high school student, I thought I would instead create a young adult book series.  (Sure!  How hard could it be?)  In college, my ambitions turned to writing a novel.  Any fellow English major can guess what came next after graduation.  REALITY.  I can't count how many times I sat down to write; how many private brainstorming sessions; how many first chapters of "books" I wrote.  I had tons of ideas and no idea what to do with them.  What's more, the prospect of creating a lengthy, significant, cohesive piece of writing -- namely, a book -- was daunting to the point of inducing paralysis.  So, I did what any modern, recent English graduate would do.  I turned to Facebook.

It may sound silly, but Facebook freed me up to write again.  After all, there are no special criteria to consider when writing status updates, no requirements of length or quality; there is no fear of being compared with writers of other Facebook status updates and not measuring up.  And so, I wrote status updates.  Even before Ethan came along, some family members and friends began encouraging me to start a blog.  I appreciated the faith they showed in me, but I didn't want to blog unless I had a reason to, unless I had something worth writing about.  Which brings us back one year ago.

I had been married six months.  I was also working full-time in an exceptionally stressful environment at a busy law firm in town.  Maybe this sounds completely unremarkable.  After all, most middle class couples consist of two people who both work full-time jobs, which can often be stressful.  But for me, the new responsibilities that came with being a wife brought on a pressure of their own, and I couldn't seem to handle the strain of both roles together very well.

I wanted to be a good wife.  I felt impelled to create and maintain organization within our home, our paperwork, our finances.  Life seemed entirely chaotic if the dishes weren't done or the bathroom was a mess.  I needed to ensure that we had clean, wrinkle-free clothes to wear each day; to make sure there was an extra toothpaste in the drawer before we ran out.  I wanted to be a good cook.  Good cooking required menu planning and grocery shopping in advance, aside from the trial and error time added to the actual meal preparation when cooking unfamiliar foods or recipes.  Beyond my self-imposed wifely duties, I wanted to be physically in shape and feel and look good, which would mean devoting virtually the last remnant of my personal time to working out, not to mention summoning supernatural strength to abstain from habitual stress eating, while still managing to get to bed on time every night.  In short, I felt like I went to work every morning and then came home -- tired, anxious, and already discouraged -- to my second job every evening.  Meanwhile, I was a newlywed who of course wanted nothing more than to just spend time with her husband.

A conviction began to grow within me that I was not living the kind of life that God intended for me.  It ate at me that the bulk of my energy and time each day was wasted on people who didn't care about me or appreciate my work, at a job that rendered me weary and frustrated for my more important and preferred job as a wife at home.  I felt like I was giving away my best at the law firm, and Ethan just got what was left over of me at the end of the day.  Moreover, I suspected that other women were in similar situations and could relate to my feelings of frustration and defeat.  And so, I decided I wanted to write about THAT.  Not necessarily about being a wife or mom and balancing a work life, but about focusing on what God has called us to do and being the best that we can be at it, whether it's being a wife, a mom, a single girl, a woman with ambitions, all of it.  What does our own, individual roles as women look like?  Is it right?  Would we like it to be different?  Can it be different?

Romans 12:2 says, "And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."  From time to time, I've found myself captive to expectations, sometimes internally and sometimes externally imposed, that I have to deliberately examine and evaluate before deciding whether to allow their continued hold on me.  I've come to the conclusion that it can be quite easy to allow our environments and the people in them to dictate what our lives should look like or who we should be.  Perhaps this is especially true for women.  Similarly, there's also a tendency to take it for granted that our status quo always was and always must be.  But Romans 12:2 reminds me not to conform when I'm feeling that gnawing in my gut that something isn't right.  Instead, I need to be transformed by opening my mind to other possibilities that the Lord may be preparing for me.

One year ago, my status quo remained and I continued working in the same stressful environment, all the while feeling hampered from truly being who I wanted to be in my personal life.  But the Lord was indeed preparing another way for me.  Two months ago, I was able to quit my job, and I am now able to focus my time and energy on what I actually feel called to do, not least of which is to write.  Eventually, books.  For now, a blog.