Patti Asaad, in our opinion, is a pillar among women’s ministers of the ICOC. For
years, despite living with a debilitating chronic illness and all the usual challenges that
come with leadership in any large group of human beings, she has been faithful and
enduring for many years as a senior women’s minister in the American churches, most
recently in Texas. She has always been the embodiment of Southern grace — the kind
of woman who turns heads, but not just with the effortless poise of a true Southern
belle, but with the disciple-of-Jesus-brand of Proverbs 31-type wise instruction ready on
her tongue. She may bring the charm of magnolia blossoms and sweet tea to every
room she enters but God has also given her a sharp-as-steel wit and intellect. Over the
years she has grown a backbone of courage and faith in her Lord that would surely
inspire anyone who hears her story.

Now retired from full-time ministry, Patti has finally made time to hone and share
her exceptional gift for writing. We are proud and privileged to repost some of her work
here with her permission. It seems appropriate for us to begin with a piece that features
Jennifer Lambert, a trailblazer and another pillar among the early waves of women’s
ministers out of Boston from the beginning of our movement. Jennifer’s story of courage
and faith is both empowering and uplifting. May the love and strength of our Lord fortify
us all as we read and share these sisters’ stories.

 Originally posted on Patty Asaad's blog. 

Usually, I don't care what I drive if it gets me from point A to point B. But I hate Clem. Clem is Todd's pickup truck. I named him Clem because that was the dumbest, most hillbilly name I could think of, and it summed up my feelings for Clem.  Riding in him is bumpy and uncomfortable, and the mirrors are so big that to turn, I need to stand up halfway to see around them. Clem is impractical for short people. Even getting into him resembles getting out of a swimming pool without a ladder. 

Once, during the Texas triple-digit heat, Todd was driving to work in the Volare, and a horrible stench filled the car. It was so bad he even pulled over and checked under the seats and in the glove compartment, but he couldn't find the source of the odor. Finally, after enduring the putrid smell all day, Todd opened the trunk and found two bags of rotting garbage. I had put the garbage in the trunk to drop it off at a dumpster but had forgotten. I did apologize; however, I was laughing so hard I could barely say, "I'm sorry." Todd might have doubted my sincerity.

Complaining damages our mental health

I need to stop grumbling about Clem. He's a reliable vehicle and blah, blah, blah. However, it's satisfying to gripe about Clem even though it's not beneficial. The more I complain about him, the more irritated I become. Research has even shown that complaining damages our mental health.

A Stanford University study proves that complaining shrinks the hippocampus, which controls learning and memory. Repeated negativity creates new neural pathways in the brain that trigger negative thinking, making it a default response. Grumbling also generates a release of the stress hormone cortisol, which puts us into fight-or-flight mode. 

It’s like breathing second-hand smoke

Griping even affects the brains of those around us. Our brains have mirror neurons, which provide a neural mechanism to help us understand others. Those neurons will create new negative pathways in the brains of our listeners just as if they were the people complaining. It's like breathing second-hand smoke.

Decades ago, I memorized, "Do all things without grumbling and complaining." (Philippians 2:14 NIV) But knowing the added harm my words can cause helps me stop before I air them. 

However, that doesn't mean I must suppress all negative emotions. It's learning to express those emotions truthfully without impure motives and identifying when my candidness devolves into complaining. The difference depends on my motivation. I ask myself whether I'm hoping others will join my pity party or if I'm striving to change. Also, will a discussion of my problem bring peace or more agitation?

Openness would have helped me process my feelings

Jesus set an example in this the night before his crucifixion. He said, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (Matthew 26:38a NIV). He was vulnerable and unashamed to admit his negative emotions. I can look back and see many times when openness would have helped me process my feelings, but instead, I held them in. 

On Saturday, I wasn't feeling good, but I wasn't sick enough to stay in bed. I had several vital commitments and needed to push myself. By late afternoon, I was exhausted and irritable. 

We met friends for dinner, so at the table, I announced I was cranky. I've noticed if I admit my lousy mood, somehow it holds me accountable, and I don't give in to an ill temper. I explained how specific comments from a conversation that day had upset me.

Complaining and being open about difficulties differ drastically

My friend understood and told me not to be so hard on myself. That helped, but what pulled me out of my mood was talking and processing my emotions. By the end of dinner, I was refreshed, happy, and at peace again. These situations make it clear that complaining and being open about difficulties differ drastically. 

Sharing my troubles to find solutions, admit my weaknesses, and improve my emotional state brings healing. However, if I list my problems just so I can hold on to them and feel justified, I need to rethink my motivation, hold my tongue, and sometimes reframe my thoughts.

Gratitude permeates every aspect of emotional well-being

Multiple Psalms show us how to connect with our feelings and process them. David wrote to God, "How long will you hide your face from me?" (Psalms 13:1b NIV) That was a bold question to ask God Almighty, but then David processed his emotions, came to faith, and proclaimed, "I will sing the Lord's praise, for he has been good to me." (Psalm 13:6 NIV) David worked through his issues until his appreciation for both his circumstances and God returned. Gratitude permeates every aspect of emotional well-being. 

Perhaps I need to work on my gratitude for Clem, but I'm hoping I won't have to. Todd recently said, "I'm thinking about selling the truck."

"What a delightful idea!" I said.