Maximizers and Satisficers

Economic psychologist Barry Schwartz coined these words to describe two different personalities.

Maximizers continuously search for the best choice, often discarding the adequate, fearful they will miss out on something better. This leads to anxiety, depression, and discontent.

For the Satisficers, good enough is fine with them. If it fulfills their needs, they’re happy. They make their decisions quickly and then move on. I fall more into this category than the other. But sometimes, my good enough — isn’t — and snap decisions often get me into trouble.

My husband is the opposite. He does research, mulls over the choices, and then contemplates some more. Meanwhile, since I’ve already made my decision, I’m dancing around him, trying to hurry him along. That only makes him dig his heels in deeper. Kind of like the tortoise and the hare. (But after he took six months to pick out table lamps when we had none, that warranted a little nudge, didn't it?)

However, unlike a Maximizer, once my husband makes a decision, he moves on. I imagine that’s why God teamed us up. We balance each other.

Back to the basic descriptions, Satisficers sound a lot like St. Paul in Timothy 6:6-8: “But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into this world: and certainly, we can carry nothing out. But having food, and wherewith to be covered, with these we are content.”

That’s the point. Being content with what we have, not yearning for more, worrying there’s something better around the corner or yet to be discovered. (The grass is greener concept?)

I once asked a friend why some families with large incomes still struggle from paycheck to paycheck. He told me, “Because as their income grows, they upscale their home, cars, furniture, and so on. The ratio of income vs debt remains the same.”

I never understood that. I have always been happy with my modest home and old car. A little more income when I was raising my kids would have ease some of the stress of never having quite enough. But as with the loaves and the fishes, God made my little stretch just far enough.

At this point in my life, our income is larger than our debt. Although we’d love to make some upgrades to our older home, it’s good enough. We drive a twenty plus year-old vehicle in good condition. It too is good enough.

Overall, we’re satisfied. I guess that makes us Satisficers right along with St. Paul.

How about you? Are you a Maximizer, a Satisficer, or a blend of both?

Storms

 

It’s storming. Rain and wind lashing the house and trees. Dark gloomy skies. The scene reminds me of a similar one forty-plus years ago.

 I was barely twenty, married, with an eight-month-old son. We were living in a single wide trailer on the outskirts of town. I sat at the dining table with a cup of tea, looking out the front windows at a similar storm blowing through our little valley. My son played quietly on the floor next to me. I savored the moment, knowing my abusive husband would storm in at any moment and make my life hell again.  

Although I divorced him and remarried a good man, I never recaptured that moment of peaceful contentment. More children, jobs, deaths, financial struggles, and health issues kept my life in constant turmoil.

Last Sunday, our pastor spoke on the Book of Joshua. God encouraged him, more than once, to have courage, strength, and faith while facing the giants in the Promised Land. How different would my life have been if I faced all my challenges with the same faith Joshua had?

In some ways, I did, but too often I worried about the when and the how, rather than leaving that up to God. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, everything changed. At first, I was that terrified twenty-year-old again, facing another monster, but through a vision, God promised to heal me. I stood on that promise through all the surgeries and treatments. After four years, I’m still cancer free.  

From this and so many other experiences, I know God will either bring me through the storm or calm the wind and waves, leaving me floating in a calm sea. Because of this, I can now watch not only the storm currently raging outside my window, but all storms without worrying about the next hour, day, or even year. God’s already there, sorting it out.

Here’s to that terrified twenty-year-old who never gave up.

Thank you, Lord, for always being there to pick up the pieces of my life and restore them into something even more beautiful. Amen.

 

The Master of Unexpected Mercies

Image by tao cui from Pixabay 

I woke up at 3 am with desperate prayers on my lips. I prayed for Afghanistan, for persecuted Christians, for our country and our churches, and for the many victims of Covid-19. It has claimed and changed so many lives.

Jesus told us not to be anxious about anything, but it is hard not to be fearful for those in harm’s way, or not to feel deep sorrow over the loss of a loved one.

How to juggle all this with a loving God? I have no doubt He cares, yet I can’t seem to help being overwhelmed by all that’s going on.

Realizing my early morning wake up was the prompting of the Holy Spirit us to pray, I quite fretting over some lost sleep. Durning my prayers and devotions, another point came to mind.

God is the master of unexpected mercies. When it seems there is no way through a difficulty, He finds a way. We need to watch closely for His next miracle. It might even be today.

Those words reminded me again that being anxious serves no purpose except to keep me in a constant state of turmoil. 

Dear Lord, I pray for unexpected mercies for those in desperate need. Amen.

Serenity Amid Turmoil

 

Photo by urformat @ Pixabay

My oncologist said the chances of my breast cancer returning were very slim, only 2%, but I still get nervous when it’s time for a new scan, and I’ve been dreading tomorrow’s appointment. As usual, mydeovtions offered encouragement. 

My devotional, Good Morning, Lord by Joseph T. Sullivan, expounded the virtues of waking to gentler sounds, birdsong, the gurgle of a creek, the lapping of waves on a lake shore, or even ocean waves. Many of us wake instead to the din of mechanical sounds, diesel trucks, blaring car stereos, motorcycles with loud mufflers — good illustrations of how our minds work. Peaceful, resting in God’s promises, or noisy with many outside worries and concerns.

The imagery reminded me of a painting contest. The artists were tasked with painting their perception of peace. Some chose sunrises or sunsets over a quiet lake or ocean. Others painted meadows bursting with wildflowers. One artist took a different view. He painted a songbird sitting on a nest dangling over a raging torrent. Serenity amid life’s torrents and turmoil, trusting in Our Maker to care for us. I imagine he envisioned the scripture about the sparrows. How fitting.  

It is also fitting that Acts 3:1-10 is listed among my scripture readings. It describes St. Peter healing the lame man in front of the temple gate. Healing. Thanks to my nurses, doctors, and surgeons, I am a breast cancer survivor. God was there with me every step of the way. Will He not be with me through whatever happens tomorrow?

Will all my anxiety vanish? No. Even Jesus wept the night before His passion. However, I will stand on the promise God gave me when I met my husband, that we’d grow old together in health.

There have been a few bumps and challenges in the road, a few detours, a few scars, but we pulled through. Tomorrow will be no different.

So, chin up, visualize rainbows and God’s blessings rather than what might or might not happen.

“I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord.” Psalm 27:13-14.

 

Reflections

Photo by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Several things have garnered my attention recently.

First, my son and daughter-in-law were evacuated from their home because of encroaching wildfires. We spent several anxious days waiting to hear if the house survived. Thank God, it did.

Thinking of their plight, I looked around my home. If I only had minutes to evacuate, what would I take with me? Clothes, old photos, important papers, and what else? We have some expensive art prints, my own paintings, and many collector’s items. We just purchased a new kitchen appliance, one I’ve wanted for a long time. It would be hard to leave it all behind.

My answer to this dilemma was in my devotions. The title in Good Morning, Lord by Joseph T. Sullivan: Can’t Live Without. “You can live without anything but God.”

Those simple words put everything into perspective.

My thoughts then fluttered to the violence occurring across our nation. I played out scenarios of what I would do or say to these hateful crowds. (If I dared.)

I wasn’t surprised when I opened my daily devotions in Living Faith. “How many times must I forgive my brother? Seventy times seven. Forgive, as you have been forgiven, free yourself from anguish.”

Rather than wishing revenge, what am I doing to help? Are my prayers enough? Should I become some sort of activist? But for which organization and where?

My morning devotions again told me the answer. The title in Our Daily Bread: Scaling. “Based on where you are, give generously.”

Don’t compare your giving to someone else’s. Give cheerfully where and how you can. Like rounding up my grocery tab to the nearest dollar and donating to the local food bank. Give a smaller amount to my church every Sunday rather than waiting to give a larger sum all at once. Help a neighbor without worrying about what they might do for me in return. Clean up after my husband without grumbling.

Most of all, I can pray for our country, my family, friends, and for those I disagree with. Not out of duty, but out of charity, love, hope, and faith.

“So faith, hope, love remain, these three, but the greatest of these is charity.” 1 Corinthians 12:31-13:13.

Thank you, Lord, for your guidance. You always know what I need at the exact moment I need it. Amen.

Something's Coming...

Rainbows are showing up in my news feed on Facebook, in random photos on the internet, and near our house. 

God has used rainbows in the past to herald a miracle. Other times, they were attention grabbers, signaling an impending message. With no apparent need for a miracle, I surmise this time it is the latter.

I have jury duty this month, a dreaded month-long interruption to my happy retirement schedule. Although I don’t mind doing my civic duty,  a special court order has requested I appear Friday morning at a special judicial setting separate from the regular courts. Gulp.

What does a special court entail?

According to Duhaime's Law Dictionary:  “A special jury is a jury drawn to certain specifications given the alleged complexities of the matter to be tried.”

I can’t imagine what type of trial this could be and I am feeling a little apprehensive.

This morning my devotions listed Psalm 27:1,13-14.

The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?… I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord.

The message: assurance I am not facing this new challenge alone. He may even give me the grace to be a cheerful giver, sealing my lips from grumbling about this interruption to my plans.

Fear

Some people are afraid of spiders, black cats, ghosts, goblins, zombies, heights, or snakes. Some of these are legitimate fears, others irrational. I have my own mix of terrors. I never used to be scared of heights, but I am now. I don’t like spiders, but I’m not afraid of them. Same with snakes. I am terrified of grizzly bears and one other thing — death. But not my own.

After losing two husbands, I was terrified God would take my current one too soon. He’s healthy, and there is no indication his death was imminent, but I still worried.

In truth, I also worried about my son when he was first born. My brother died from SIDS at three months, and I agonized over the possibility my child would too. After the anniversary month passed, I relaxed, only to have that worry replaced by another. Even my brush with breast cancer was not as terrifying as my anxiety over losing my husband.

This changed last Sunday.

God used another series of odd coincidences to first get my attention and then remind me of His promise that my husband and I would grow old together. At the same time, I realized I was worrying about things out of my control. With that revelation, my apprehensions melted, vanished, disappeared.

I have not woken in the middle of the night to check on my husband’s breathing. When he slept late, I did not sneak into the room and watch for the rise and fall of his chest. His errands the other day ran longer than I expected, but I didn’t pace the floor wringing my hands, or stare out the window willing his truck to appear.

I know one day death will separate us for a time, but when it comes, God will already be there offering His comfort and His strength.

The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom [or what] shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?

I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living. Expect the Lord, do manfully, and let thy heart take courage, and wait thou for the Lord. 

I do believe. 

If I Knew Then What I Know Now...

Some have posed the question, “If you could go back to high school, would you?” 

For myself, no.  I don’t want to go back and live my life over. Once is enough. 

Another popular question, “If you could give advice to your younger self, what would it be?”

I would tell my younger self, “Don’t be anxious over things not in your control. Everything will work out one way or the other. If it is the other, you’ll survive.” 

Oh, but would she listen, even to that? I doubt it.

I have let go most of my worries only because I have walked through the fires and experienced God’s miracles. Had I not suffered and God had not rescued me, would my faith have grown? Would I be able to give my troubles to God and leave them there, along with the anxiety and fear? 

I still fall now and then into that dark abyss, but not as often or for as long. Most dismal circumstances can lead to immense good. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. And I believe. 

No wonder Jesus said, “Blessed are they who have not seen, and have believed.” 

"So, my younger self, don’t fret. Don’t worry. Trust God and do the best you can with the knowledge and experience you have, and most of all, forgive. Forgive others and then forgive yourself. God has, and you should too."

Why, O Why, Can’t I?

It started with the birth of my first son. My brother died of SIDS when he was three months old, and for whatever reason, I became terrified that my son would die at that age too. I didn’t sleep, slipping in out of his room every hour checking for breath. After he survived those first three months, I relaxed, certain the danger had passed. 

But another fear took its place. 

I’ve written about my ex-husband’s abuse before, so I won’t go into any details. However, the residual fear, which I now understand is a form of PTSD, will never completely go away. I will always suffer from occasional flashbacks, nightmares, and panic attacks set off by certain triggers. Bullying is one of them. I vowed once I escaped from that environment that no one would ever threaten or abuse me again.

This last week, a scene in a movie triggered a flashback. Videos of some protestors assaulting pedestrians, torching cars, and destroying property brought on nightmares. The verbal bullying on social media, even though not aimed directly at me, inflamed panic attacks. I couldn’t sleep. I panicked at the thought of going outside. It took tremendous strength not to curl in a corner and sink away to a dark, quiet place where I could escape the terror.

God met me in that pit. He sent my husband to listen, to comfort, and vow to protect. He gave me encouragement through scripture in my daily devotions. 

Psalm 27: 1: “The Lord is my light and my salvation, of whom shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life, of whom shall I be afraid?”

Gradually, the nightmares, panic attacks, and flashbacks dissipated — for now. They’ll be back when another trigger strikes.

This morning another fear replaced the one I had just conquered, one that happens too often. I lay beside my husband listening for his breathing and watching for the rise and fall of his chest. 

After losing two husbands to early deaths, I know the pain and sorrow of being a widow, and understand it is likely to happen again. My husband is nine years older than I am and although it certainly isn’t a guarantee he will pass away before me, it is a reasonable probability.

My morning devotions listed Psalm 23:4: “Though I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils, for thou art with me.” 

He will be with me, and just like in my favorite song all my fears will melt away, over and over again until I fly from this earthly home to my heavenly one, where there is no sorrow, pain, or fear.