TEN

I was given an assignment last week. To find 10 - TEN - things that I love about my body. As it is right now.

*sigh*

I told my friend that she was crazy and that no woman of any size or any shape could come up with TEN things. Then she told me her list of TEN things and that apparently, some women indeed can come up with TEN things. Much resistance has come with this as I've thought about it. I can think of TEN things I don't like about my body as it is right now, but TEN things that I do?

For someone who has struggled with self-contempt and self-loathing most of her life, I've realized why this is such a challenge for me. Coming to a point where I love who I am as a person - my traits, my laugh, my interests and likes, and all of the things that make me who I am - that has felt like a big enough hurdle to get over. And I know that I still struggle there. But I have found that I no longer have hatred for myself at the core of who I am and who I was created to be.

It's much easier to hate my shell and the body that I am in instead. That is not kind either and no one should sit and hate on their bodies even if they are need of improvement - myself included. To appreciate myself physically is hard when there is so much that is flawed from an eating disorder that has been with me for the majority of my life.

Of course my husband was easily able to point out more than TEN things he loved about my body. In doing this, I learned he had a thing for my calves and I found that somewhat amusing. He thinks they are muscular and sexy and I don't think I would have ever labeled them as such.

I braved a mirror and took a long look at my body. I looked at the places where my eating disorder has done it's damage, at the places that seem to be untouched, and at the places that look in progress as I continue to live in healthier ways. And to my own amazement, I found ten things that I actually love about my body right now.

And here they are in no particular order:

(And no worries. This is all totally G-rated).

1) I LOVE my nose. Always have. I think it's shaped pretty and I would never want it to change.

2) I LOVE my feet. Other than the 9 months that I was pregnant, my feet have never betrayed me. They stay slim and pretty and they look nice in all kinds of shoes. I have a toe ring on the second toe of each foot and my nails are almost always painted red.

3) I LOVE my smile. My teeth are straight, I have great lips - my smile makes other people smile. I look friendly and personable and my smile reminds me of my mom.

4) I LOVE the mole under my left eye. When I was a very little girl I remember being in the bathroom with my mom getting ready to go somewhere. She told me that the mole under my left eye was a "beauty mark." She compared it to Cindy Crawford. And even though I was maybe six or seven years old at the time, that never left me. I remember feeling as if I had been marked with beauty and because of the beautiful way she described it to me, the mole under my left eye has always made me smile. It's my beauty mark!

5) I LOVE my eyes. They change colors. They remind me of people in my family who's eyes that I share. I get complimented on my eyes a lot, but I love them because they sparkle and glow. And when I cry they become fiercely green.

6) I LOVE the new tattoo on my neck. Maybe it's not an actual body part, but it's ON my body so I've decided this counts. I love what it means to me, I love its reminder and I love that it's a part of my physical appearance now.

7) I LOVE my hips. They've seemed to remain just the right size.

8) I LOVE my wrists. They feel small and dainty and when I put a bracelet on them, they look even prettier.

9) I LOVE my hair. Even though I'm starting to pop up with a few gray hairs here and there, it's shiny and brown and healthy. I've come to love my natural color and how it almost always does what I want it to.

10) I LOVE the muscles in my biceps. Since I've started exercising more regularly, I have some awesome muscles in my upper arms that look toned. It makes me feel buff and healthy or something.

I keep taking continued steps to not only believing my true identity in Christ, but loving who that person is. And not just on the inside, but the outside as well. It feels good to recognize progress and change where there once only existed hatred and shame.

I have a long way to go. I would love to one day be able to love other things about my body. But I also recognize that finding TEN things that I currently love feels like a big deal and is worth celebrating.

Can you name what things you love about your body - as it is, right now, today? Please share!

The Easter that ended in a water fight

How can any Easter not be a good Easter when you've found these incredible sandals to wear? Steve Madden kind of made my entire weekend when I found these. I was kind of sure I couldn't go on living if I didn't have them.
I put together an Easter basket for Tommy. I never got a basket growing up and I've decided that one of the perks to being a parent is getting to relive childhood again through having your own kids. Even though it was his basket, I had fun picking out toys and treats I thought he might enjoy.
Though come Easter morning, he had a look of confusion on his face. "What is this stuff mama?"
And this photo was my favorite. They were just Matchbox cars, but you would think I'd given him the weirdest looking present ever based on his facial expression.
Then he finally gets it and understands how FUN his Easter basket is. And all is well in the world.
Church was great. Our Pastor talked about redemption and invited a few people to share some pieces of their story where they experienced redemption and new life in Christ. It was lovely and rich and very fitting for Easter. We took communion also and that has become a favorite thing of mine. Todd and I do part of it in silence and the other part together. That time was sweet - we both had tears and felt soft at where God has each of us individually and together. We left feeling tender and alive.

After church, I tried to take a picture of my handsome boy in his Easter suit. The tie never made it on and he was NOT going to give me a smile.
Um yeah. It was time to get the suit off and take a nap. Maybe next year I'll get the perfect picture of him that I was hoping for. *sigh* My poor baby.
After Tommy's nap time, we headed over to my in-laws for an Easter barbecue. Tommy got a hold of an egg shaped rice krispy treat and kept saying, "Mmmmm cookie!"
And then.....Oma's "Easter trunks" for the grand-kids outdid my little basket. Because who needs a measly old basket when you can have a trunk full of Easter goodies?!
It was full of books, candy, snacks, Elmo things, an outfit and colored bubbles.
Tommy loves his Oma. He knows she spoils him I think.
After dinner we had an Easter egg hunt for the kiddoes. Tommy actually caught on pretty fast and found a few eggs for his basket. He wasn't going to be outrun by his older cousins!
Then the silly began. Oh what fun you can have with those cheap, plastic Easter eggs. (This is Todd's brother, Brian).
Our Easter family photo this year.
One thing our kids will learn from us....not only HOW to be silly, but that being silly is not just for kids. Grown ups can be shamelessly silly too.
This is just plain scary. But, this picture reminds me of just how made for each other we are.
I love this man....
Over the weekend we planted two new trees in our yard since the others had died. We had to give them plenty of water and before you knew it.....
A water war commenced. Tommy had a BLAST.
He loves the water and had great fun.
Me? I totally lost. I instigated things by trying to turn the hose on Todd. And well. It didn't turn out like I had planned.The water fight was probably my most favorite part of the day. We were lost in laughter and playtime and enjoyment - all three of us. It felt like real life, maybe even life abundant that Christ tells us we can have. It felt like new life, like redemption, and like celebrating where we are together. It was the perfect way to end our Easter Sunday.

Easter Egg Cookies

To be honest, I think my idea for this originally came from my disgruntled-ness at the fact that I really wanted to go crazy and buy Spring/Easter decor for my house this year. And then I realized I couldn't, because in order to satisfy any kind of decorating itch, I would have needed to spend hundreds of dollars all at once to make things look festive like I do for fall and Christmas.

I know myself ya'll - and buying one or two things was simply not going to do. Plus my house is so not Easter colored and decorating would require a major overhaul of many items - and because I'm quite matchy, matchy, I can't do it any other way! And well, we simply don't have the funds for me going hog-wild with Easter decorations. Maybe at some point, I will start buying things on clearance and start decorating when I have enough things to put out so it can look cohesive. Someday. *sigh*

So. Because I couldn't scratch my decorator's itch, I decided to bake something fun instead! Baking is the next best thing if I don't have something to decorate!

I thought it would be fun to make some Easter egg sugar cookies for the upcoming holiday to give away to friends and co-workers this year.
I usually do all kinds of shapes for Christmastime. So only doing one shape, an egg, seemed a bit monotonous, but I had all kinds of ideas for different kinds of colors and designs I could do for egg cookies. I made pink, blue, green, yellow, lavender and white icing for the cookies and found some fun springy sprinkles.
Todd actually helped decorate a few with me - it was fun to come up with different ideas to make them look fun and Eastery!
The finished products!
I found some cute bags to put them in to give away - aren't they darling?
Maybe this will be a new Easter tradition every year. Or maybe just until I can afford to go on an Easter decoration shopping spree that is....

What are you doing this year to celebrate and make Easter fun?

My Journey Continues

Last night marked the ending of another semester of Grace Groups. This time though, I sat in the participant's chair rather than that of a leader. And it was good for me - I was thrilled to be able to participate in the second book.

The last night of group is known for a time for celebration.

Over the twelve weeks of the study we've had our stories up on the walls - quite literally actually. Our body outline is drawn and our stories are written out in visible, tangible words that leave you unable to forget what you bring into that room week to week. This was hard for me initially, and as the weeks went on, I began to soften and find more kindness for the outline of my body that I had to look at week to week.

To celebrate, I not only gave myself a face, but I wrote over my story in huge, all capital letters words of my true identity in Christ - like blameless, holy, washed, cleansed, pure, adopted by God, chosen, LOVED, and royalty as heir to the Kingdom of God. You could still see the other words - they are there. They are part of me and my story, but the words of truth of who I really am were large and clear and visible.

It was good.

One of the things I love most about the very last night of group is where we all clothe each other with words. Everyone has selected a word (or two or three) about each person in group - how we have experienced them, what we have seen, or maybe even a vision for them. Last night I was given words that felt new. And it filled me with hope to be given some "new" words that I hadn't received before in group.

Lighthouse, courageous beauty, passionate wrestler, venturesome, passion and alive. They all made me tear up and smile.

I head off to Michigan the week after next to participate in the second book again. Though we will go through it in a week's time. I am full of anticipation and excitement and some anxiety as well for what awaits me there.

A few weeks ago we sat in our group, and instead of listening to one of the leaders teach, we listened to a lesson taught up at SALTS in Michigan from last fall on a CD. The voice of the woman was familiar and hearing her tender tone as she began to speak about Kindness made me cry. My life has been changed because of this woman's impact on my heart, her invitation to Grace Group, and this ministry. My heart remembers her well as I reflect back on how I got here.

This ministry and these groups have been life-changing and life-giving for me. Below are just a few of the women from our group who have made a forever mark on my heart.
Thank you Lord for giving me life and bringing me back to it when I thought it was lost....

The God-Wound

I think that everyone heals differently. And I don't mean physically, though I suppose that could be true also. But when some awful, unexpected arrow hits our hearts, it rocks our world, and it changes forever how we perceive not only ourselves, but the world around us and ultimately - GOD. And each and every one of us heals from those things differently.

For me, there has been one place that has taken longer to heal than others. For years, I felt great shame about the fact that I wasn't able to get over or move on from the tragedy in a more timely manner. My grief has kind of left me on my own, and for a long while, I thought something was wrong with me.

I guess I know better now. I know that what happened was unique for me and no one, but God, will ever really understand. And I know now, that it's okay.

I've been sitting with the Lord in a familiar and uncomfortable place. The place that I have long labeled as my "God-Wound." It was the season of my parent's separation and divorce.

It was more than the events that happened that just led up to the divorce though. My pain is not just where I felt betrayed by my parents. It goes much deeper than that. It's where I felt betrayed by God.

This time of my life was where I felt most deeply wounded and disappointed by God. It's been this heavy ache that I've carried around for more than half of my life. I have described it as a death and a forever loss. Because I not only grieve what happened, but I grieved every memory I would never get to have because those memories were robbed from me. It has left a gaping wound, that on some days, I still wake up with and hurt over.

It felt like God had done something to me - like he struck me with an awful curse. I often wondered if He hated me. Because of what happened and where I felt like He let me down, I have spent a lifetime of doubting Him, being angry with Him and questioning who He really is. My faith has almost always been shifty, though I have deeply longed and wanted more. And anytime something bad happens to me, it pokes at my God-wound. I to go the place where I have been convinced that He's done something else to me, because He has allowed me to be hurt again.

Any hurt, hurts the biggest hurt I have.

It's taken some wisdom and maturity and many years, to look back on what happened and be faced with the truth that God didn't DO something to me there. I know it was evil. I know it was the enemy. I know my parents couldn't and didn't fight like they should have. Regardless, God allowed it, and His allowing it, felt like betrayal. It sent the message to me that He wasn't good and couldn't be trusted. Though I have current evidence to prove otherwise, all it takes is for one negative circumstance to blow in for me to be swayed back to the belief that God is not good and He allows bad things to happen to me. This is ground where the enemy has ensnared me. This belief has affected almost area of my life. And because of that, I have lived my woundedness out in damaging ways.

However....I am finally taking some ground back.

I have done some painful writing about what it was I needed during that time. I needed things from my parents, from God, from others, and I needed to know truth about what I was feeling. There was much that I needed during that time that went unmet for me - and fifteen years later I am finally looking at what those things were. I have done that privately and in conversation with others and I don't feel the need to write that out here.

But I still have questions. Why God - if you could see what I needed, didn't you provide those things for me? Why didn't you intervene in a better way?

I have a thousand whys for God and He seems to leave them unanswered. And I don't think I'll ever know them as they are part of some great mystery that He will reveal someday. It's feeling easier to trust Him with my why questions though.

Fifteen years later, I am letting God back in to a piece of my heart that was closed off. And I love that He's given me time to be ready to go in there with Him. He hasn't pressured me. He has waited, He has wooed me, and He has drawn me to Him with His gentle-loving kindness throughout the years. I love that He hasn't been in a hurry for me to "deal" with this.

So we've been going there together slowly. This place has felt like a dark room that was locked up for years. It's dusty and it smells moldy and it's full of cobwebs. It's a MESS. And we have our sleeves rolled up as we sit and sift through everything that is there. I still feel guarded about letting Him back into this place of pain for me since I felt like HE gave this pain to me to begin with. But I am also hopeful. Because the room is open again. It's not shut or off limits. It's open. I'm open.

I have been participating in Grace Group this semester as a participant in the second book. Over the last twelve weeks, I have gained this heightened awareness of my surroundings - the enemy and his tactics against me, my responses, how I am showing up to others and God's presence in my life. I have felt more alive - through good or bad - just more ALIVE. It feels good. And it feels scary too.

But through this process I am beginning to see that my greatest pain, my greatest shame and my greatest wounds have led me to a point of finding real life. If things had gone picture perfectly the way that I thought it should have gone, I would not experience life or God to the depths that I have and that I am.

I would be missing out.

God has loved me too much to give me that small of a story. And it feels both beautiful and uncomfortable to be loved that way.

God loved me too much too much to give me a lesser story where everything I had ever hoped would happen or work out or go my way. He wrote into my story, tragedy, desperation, death, heartbreak, and sorrow. When I think about the book I read by Dan Allender called "To Be Told" about co-authoring with God, I can see where I wrote the parts of violence, addiction and sin - because that's where I went with it all. And maybe that's just what happens when we "co-author" with someone like GOD. Either way, my story is changing. I'm on to what He's been writing and my parts are looking less violent, more kind and lovely, and very vibrant and life-giving.

Where I have only found anger and hurt, I am finding thankfulness towards God. Even in the places that I felt like He hurt me.

One of my favorite songs ever is called "Let it all out," by Reliant K. The lyrics to the chorus say, "You said I know that this will hurt. But if I don't break your heart, things will just get worse. If the burden seems too much to bear, remember, the end will justify the pain it took to get us there."

God did break my heart. God did devastate me. And where there was once resentment and anger towards Him for that, there is now thankfulness.

God broke my heart so that only He could piece it back together again. He broke my heart so that I would see Him and need Him and want Him in places that I might never have if the divorce hadn't have happened. He broke my heart so that my life would look like His best for me and not what I had planned out or thought was best. He broke my heart so that I could find Todd - the man He knew I needed. He broke my heart so that we could have a marriage where we fight, not just to stay together, but for our marriage to be GOOD. He broke my heart so that I could have deep, meaningful friendships with others because that's how relationships ought to be. He broke my heart, because He needed to.

And it makes no sense. He makes no sense. And I've stopped trying to make sense of why any of it happened, because there is no explaining some things that God does and why He does them. I think maybe how people have tried to explain my "God-wound" to me in the past, has aided in keeping me hard to God. Maybe others have to find a way to explain things in order to get through them. Because....doesn't everyone heal differently?

Sunday is Easter. It feels fitting to be sitting here as the day of celebrating not just His resurrection, but His power, His might, and His love is upon us. I feel like maybe He brought something in me back to life again too. And now - it's time to celebrate!

Time to Dance

I have always wished I could dance. And I never really have. I've stood on the sidelines watching others. I've watched dances on stage from the seat of a theater or stadium. I've watched other people dance at weddings. I love dancing scenes in my favorite musicals. But me....I don't dance.

In 2007 I went to Michigan for SALTS. A huge celebration is held the last night of the week. After a lavish dinner, there was a time for dancing. There was much that week that I could have celebrated and danced over.

There was a huge floor where people got into a giant circle and took turns doing various things across the dance floor. All night long, people celebrated. They danced and spun and shook and shimmied and glided. That year I think I joined in on a group version of the "Hokey-Pokey" - but only because everyone was doing it and I didn't want to stand out.

For the most part, I stood on the sidelines and watched. I watched both old and young people making complete fools out of themselves on the dance floor - completely shameless. Just enjoying, dancing and celebrating. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to dance. I wished that I could have allowed myself to.

I think one of the things that has held me back from dancing is my weight. I carry most of my shame around on my body and it feels awkward. I wonder what other people would think about me if I were to dance as freely as others were. I convince myself that I belong on the sidelines or that I don't really deserve to dance. And if I dance, I will only invite myself to be ridiculed if I do so.

But, I don't want that to be my reason for not dancing anymore. It feels like it doesn't match my personality and who I am now - even with the extra weight. I've decided that I'm not going to let evil keep me from dancing anymore. I'm pretty sure I'm a dancer. I'm pretty sure I was born to dance.

I'll be going back to SALTS again the first week of May. There will be the same celebration dance that Friday night. While I don't know what that week will hold for me, I do know that I have much to celebrate. I have much to dance over. And I am hopeful that I will find the courage to step out of some of my old, familiar ways of thinking and be the dancing fool that's dying to get out.

What has kept you from dancing?

Pure Enjoyment

Maybe it's his age. Maybe it's because he is almost two. Maybe it's because he wakes up saying half a dozen new words every day like "Oh cool man!" Maybe it's because his laugh is so contagious. Maybe it's because he loves to kiss everything once he realizes that it's fun or safe. Maybe it's because he still likes to cuddle in my lap for a few seconds after he wakes up from his nap.

Or maybe it's just something in me that's made some conscious effort to really enjoy where I am at right now.

Whatever it is....I have found myself enjoying Tommy and enjoying motherhood to the fullest lately. So much so, that I've risked looking like a fool in public because we PLAY everywhere we go.

Todd was out of town until Sunday, so we were left to our own devices. And we played a LOT. I lost track of how much time we spent in the swing at the park. He didn't want to get down.
He went down his first slide. I loved watching the look of thrill and unsure excitement as he barrelled down a slide made for a little boy just his size. I loved that he wanted to do it again and again. And I felt my heart surge with pride when he went down for the first time on his own without holding on to my hand.
I love the look on his face when he runs - especially when someone is coming after him.
I love that he loves to be outdoors. It's good for me for so many reasons.
But I guess most of all...I just love that I get to be his mama.
Oh Tommyboy, I love you so.....