Write hard and clear about what hurts. - Ernest Hemingway
Apology
What do you do when there are no tears left?
Nothing left to say, for there are no ears to hear it.
How do you stop the bleeding of your heart?
There's no bandage large enough to cover the gaping hole left in my chest.
Why do I want to sit around with this pain?
Curl up with it like a blanket wrapped around me.
To assuage this guilty conscience I have?
To sooth the ache of the stark reality that I've not been there?
This pain feels like a punishment.
Just desserts for turning my back.
Walking away from everyone to avoid explanation.
And now no amount of confession will return you.
I am all cried out, all dried up.
Left here with a wound I can't heal.
I can't rewind, can't go back.
Just left with the guilty refrain of my heart...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
Sorry, I don't have any cash...
"Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you." - Matthew 5:42
I walked into Walgreens, child in tow, and upon entering the sliding doors I was stopped by a disheveled young guy and his girlfriend. Both looked high.
"Hey, I'm trying to catch the bus with my girlfriend. Do you have any change you could spare?"
"Sorry, I don't."
As we kept walking into the store, my daughter asked, "Mama, what did he want?"
I looked down at her big, innocent brown eyes and said, "He wanted money to catch the bus."
"Oh" was her reply.
A little further into the store we were again stopped by a young woman who looked worn and tired. She said, "Ma'am, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I'm a brittle diabetic and I'm just trying to get some money to get food at the KFC next door. Can I trouble you for some change?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have any cash," I replied.
"Thank you anyway, Ma'am. God bless you." She hung her head down and kept walking on to ask other customers.
"She didn't have any food, Mama?" my daughter asked. I didn't answer.
My daughter and I made our purchases and headed out the door. As we walked out, yet another man stopped us asking for money. I gave him the same pat answer and continued walking to my car. As I rounded the corner to where my car was parked, the tired girl was standing in the shade. She held my eyes and she said, "Have a good day, Ma'am. God bless you."
I got in my car and drove home feeling overwhelmed with guilt. Guilt for not helping. Guilt for not extending my dollars to these people, especially once I realized that I, who never carries cash, had a $5 bill in my purse I'd forgotten I had. Guilt for not following Matthew 5:42.
A few months ago, my husband and I were at Arco filling up my car. A lady approached us and said, "God bless you ma'am but we've run out of gas and could use some money to help us get home."
My husband said, "What pump are you on?"
"9," she said.
He went inside and put $10 on pump number 9 while I paid at the pump for our gas. While walking back to our car another guy walked up with the same predicament. Ken told him he'd already given money to the other lady and the guy retorted, "She been here all afternoon. She's had enough gas," and stormed off.
My husband just kind of shook his head at the man's indignation and we went on with our evening. A couple weeks back while getting gas with my mom, the same lady came up and asked me the same question, the exact same way.
Irritated I said, "Sorry, I don't have any money for you this time" and without batting an eye she just moved on the next car. Apparently, this was a full time gig for her.
Normally, I have a "give to everyone and let God sort out their motives" kind of philosophy about pan handling. However, lately, I'm so overwhelmed by the sheer volume of hard luck stories I'm bombarded with that I've stopped giving on the spot entirely. It's instances like the one above where they're just using your money or donation of gas so they can keep their money to buy booze and cigarettes. Is this the case always? No. But it happens often enough that I don't want to just fork over money anymore. And it really irritated me that God is used as a manipulation ploy once my car stickers or necklace is spotted.
I don't want to be bamboozled, but I also don't want to feel those pangs of guilt because I am a "have" and they are a "have not." Most of us are one lay off, one serious illness, one major disaster away from being in or close to a similar situation.
My question to you, especially my Christian brethren, is how do you personally handle these situations? Go with your gut on who gets helped? Let the Spirit lead? What do you interpret the Bible to say about how we should act in these situations?
Please feel free to comment here or Facebook. I'm interested to hear your thoughts on this matter and how other folks handle this sort of thing...
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Ch-ch-ch-changes (turn and face the strain)...
“It is well for us that, amidst all the variableness of life, there is One whom change cannot affect; One whose heart can never alter, and on whose brow mutability can make no furrows.” ~ Charles Spurgeon
So, this last Sunday our beloved pastor announced that he was answering a call from God to shepherd a church in Staten Island, NY which, for me, meant several things. Number one, I'd be losing a fabulously terrific pastor, who has challenged my walk and growth in many, many ways. Number two, I'd be losing a very cherished friend (or at least having a much different kind of friendship due to proximity or lack thereof). Number three, I'd no longer get to snuggle up with Lincoln. I love that baby.
Sunday I spent most of the afternoon teary and in a funk. Not a "Debbie Downer" kind of funk, but the kind that comes along with fear of the unknown. What if the new pastor is vastly different? What if everyone loves him but I'm just not feeling it? What if my friend and I lose touch? What if that baby grows up as the only one in the family with a NY accent? What if.... And then I stopped and did what anyone experiencing this kind of anxiety would do. I took a nap. A long one. I just needed to turn off my brain and reset. I needed to get the heck over myself!
Monday I stayed home with my daughter, who was ill, and was able to reflect, spend time with God in prayer, and wrestle through some of my fears and anxiety about the future. Romans 8:28 came to mind, which says, "And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose." Since this is a God thing, then God, who loves and cares for VCC more than any of us do, will most assuredly provide JUST the right pastor for our congregation and has abundantly good plans for our pastor's family as they move to the other side of the country. So what the heck am I afraid of? Men bungle things, God does not.
Over the past few days I've had a lot of peace about our upcoming situation. While still grieving for our loss of both friend and mentor, I'm able to see that Bethany Lutheran needs our pastor and that there is another pastor who needs us. God grows everyone in different ways. Our pastor has attended VCC since he was a youth and perhaps you preach differently to those you know from a young age than a group of people who don't know you from Adam. Our pastor needs to grow, Bethany needs to grow, VCC needs to grow and whoever comes to pastor us needs to grow and I am trusting God to do that growing.
The happiest realization is just how many good, close friends I have through VCC. Though I began attending simply because I'd made a friend through work whose pastor husband went to high school with me, and though it's often been a two steps forward, one step back journey for my family, I am proud to say that VCC is my family, regardless of who holds the title of "pastor." I have strong friendships with people I can lean on for support and lend my support to as well. I grieve when they grieve and rejoice when they rejoice. We pray for one another, comfort one another, and strive to help each other in our Christian walk.
We have our pastor for a few short months, then he begins his new adventure in NY. My focus is to pray for him and his family, pray for their new church, pray for our church and serve in any way I can and enjoy the time remaining with our pastor and his beautiful family.
May Staten Island be blessed as we have! And if they need a translator, my husband is always just a phone call away...
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Out of the mouths of babes and adults with Aspergers...
In an effort to be real, I'm just putting it out there, sometimes being fat sucks. In the last two days, I've had my self esteem kicked in the teeth.
A couple days ago, while picking up my daughter from daycare, her little friend (who's all of three years old) asked rather directly, "Why are you so big?" She didn't mean any harm, and I just told her this is what happened because I ate junk food for many years. However, what ensued next made it kind of embarrasing. Our daycare lady, who didn't fully hear what was asked, but heard my response, asked incredulously, "WHAT did she just ask you?" Fail #1. I had to repeat the question. Then our formerly-heavy-but-now-thin-thanks-to-lap-band daycare lady says, "___, we do NOT say things like that! It's rude! Say you're sorry!" So the little girl, who looks like she's going to cry, squeaks out an "I'm sorry" and hangs her head. Fail #2. Making someone feel like crap for asking a question out of curiosity, not spite. That made it so much worse than if we addressed the question and left it at that because that added an element of shame to it. The lesson taught to this little girl was "Being fat is something you hide, not discuss and it's bad." I would have rather presented it to her as "Being fat just means you're a different shape and you shouldn't eat junk food, you should eat healthy because it's better for you." And we wonder why we have such body phobias in life.
The second and third blows came yesterday. While sitting at lunch, one of my sweet, elderly co-workers asked out of the blue, "I know you don't want gastric bypass, but have you considered Lap-band?" Like sitting there watching me at my trough at the lunch table brought up thoughts of my should-be-necessary-need to make myself smaller. Then after my 3 o'clock break, one of our aids (who I SWEAR has Aspergers, just judging by the lack of filters and social graces continually exhibited), while waiting for supplies asks me, "So, what made you fall off the wagon? I noticed you gained all your weight back," as he then proceeded to tell me exactly how I needed to telepathically channel my ancestors via the cosmos to beat my genetic predisposition to being fat. Wow. I'm also thinking he may sit around at night in a tin-foil hat trying to intercept alien transmissions.
So last night, I let it get to me. I let it ruin my day. It's one thing to be fat and be comfortable being fat. For the most part I am. I know I want to clean up my eating so that my blood pressure will go down and my breathing will be easier, and shaving my legs isn't an olympic event anymore, but do I care that I have more adipose tissue than the average person? Not really. I still dress up and do my hair and makeup and feel pretty. I think I do a pretty good job. I'm not haggard and slovenly. But it's another thing entirely that other people are sitting around pondering my weight and thinking of the best way to approach me with their opinion of what I should do about it? Why do I care?
I honestly don't know. I don't write this to have a "Whoa is me" pity party or anything like that. For starters, it just reaffirmed that I need to educate people on how fat people like to be treated. It amazes me how many people hate that I use the word fat, as if the word itself is bad. It's a word. And it is what it is. It's a descriptive word. It is neutral, not good or bad. It's only what prejudice we attach to the word that gives it sway one way or the other. I am fat. And I'm ok with that being used as a descriptive word. To use the terms chubby, fluffy, rubenesque, queen-sized, heavy-set, big-boned, etc seems to be just a way to "soften the blow" of a prejudice towards fat. I guess maybe that is why it bothers me when someone questions why/how someone became fat. Do we ask an overly thin person how they became that way? Perhaps if there was a great transition from fat to thin. And it's usually posed with a level of excitement. Because someone has beat the fat curse and attained the thin body that everyone should have. That's never the way someone asks how someone became fat. Truth be told, I don't mind when little kids ask. They're just curious and innocent, and as of yet, there's no stigma attached. It's for gathering information only, rather than the way grown people ask, always with either a sound of sympathy or derision in their voice. It's never a "Hey, I noticed you're fat. Have you always been fat?" Do you think perhaps that's because grown adults KNOW the answer, or at least understand how it works. So why do they act like they don't? We don't go around telling random people how they can get a handle on their diabetes or high blood pressure or acne or whatever, unless asked for advice. Yet, it never fails to astonish me the number of people who want to give me the "cure" for being fat.
I don't want to be cured from being fat. I want to be healthy. I want to have a strong heart, so I will walk. I want to have a body that isn't inflamed, so I will eat non-inflammatory foods. I want to have increased mobility, so I will stretch and do yoga. Undoubtedly, weight loss will accompany many of these things. But will it make me "skinny" - not necessarily. But I don't want to be skinny and unhealthy, the way many are, living on nicotine and caffeine, who manage to remain a size 6 due their regime of Hydroxycut and Diurex with iceberg salads. No, thank you.
Thank you for allowing me to flesh out my thoughts here. To be able to organize my goals, my stance, and my self worth is such a help. I already am feeling better and am realizing that my self esteem is just fine. I'm just reminded that the world is a fractured, fallen place. Not everyone is on the same journey I am, nor understands that journey, but so long as my eyes are on Christ, my self worth is secure. Fat or thin, healthy or not, I am a daughter of the King Most High. He loves me in ways too grand to measure. His opinion of me is the standard by which I hold myself. No matter what size my body is, I'm choosing to honor Him.
1 Corinthians 6:19,20 - "Do you not know your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit...therefore honor God with your body."
A couple days ago, while picking up my daughter from daycare, her little friend (who's all of three years old) asked rather directly, "Why are you so big?" She didn't mean any harm, and I just told her this is what happened because I ate junk food for many years. However, what ensued next made it kind of embarrasing. Our daycare lady, who didn't fully hear what was asked, but heard my response, asked incredulously, "WHAT did she just ask you?" Fail #1. I had to repeat the question. Then our formerly-heavy-but-now-thin-thanks-to-lap-band daycare lady says, "___, we do NOT say things like that! It's rude! Say you're sorry!" So the little girl, who looks like she's going to cry, squeaks out an "I'm sorry" and hangs her head. Fail #2. Making someone feel like crap for asking a question out of curiosity, not spite. That made it so much worse than if we addressed the question and left it at that because that added an element of shame to it. The lesson taught to this little girl was "Being fat is something you hide, not discuss and it's bad." I would have rather presented it to her as "Being fat just means you're a different shape and you shouldn't eat junk food, you should eat healthy because it's better for you." And we wonder why we have such body phobias in life.
The second and third blows came yesterday. While sitting at lunch, one of my sweet, elderly co-workers asked out of the blue, "I know you don't want gastric bypass, but have you considered Lap-band?" Like sitting there watching me at my trough at the lunch table brought up thoughts of my should-be-necessary-need to make myself smaller. Then after my 3 o'clock break, one of our aids (who I SWEAR has Aspergers, just judging by the lack of filters and social graces continually exhibited), while waiting for supplies asks me, "So, what made you fall off the wagon? I noticed you gained all your weight back," as he then proceeded to tell me exactly how I needed to telepathically channel my ancestors via the cosmos to beat my genetic predisposition to being fat. Wow. I'm also thinking he may sit around at night in a tin-foil hat trying to intercept alien transmissions.
So last night, I let it get to me. I let it ruin my day. It's one thing to be fat and be comfortable being fat. For the most part I am. I know I want to clean up my eating so that my blood pressure will go down and my breathing will be easier, and shaving my legs isn't an olympic event anymore, but do I care that I have more adipose tissue than the average person? Not really. I still dress up and do my hair and makeup and feel pretty. I think I do a pretty good job. I'm not haggard and slovenly. But it's another thing entirely that other people are sitting around pondering my weight and thinking of the best way to approach me with their opinion of what I should do about it? Why do I care?
I honestly don't know. I don't write this to have a "Whoa is me" pity party or anything like that. For starters, it just reaffirmed that I need to educate people on how fat people like to be treated. It amazes me how many people hate that I use the word fat, as if the word itself is bad. It's a word. And it is what it is. It's a descriptive word. It is neutral, not good or bad. It's only what prejudice we attach to the word that gives it sway one way or the other. I am fat. And I'm ok with that being used as a descriptive word. To use the terms chubby, fluffy, rubenesque, queen-sized, heavy-set, big-boned, etc seems to be just a way to "soften the blow" of a prejudice towards fat. I guess maybe that is why it bothers me when someone questions why/how someone became fat. Do we ask an overly thin person how they became that way? Perhaps if there was a great transition from fat to thin. And it's usually posed with a level of excitement. Because someone has beat the fat curse and attained the thin body that everyone should have. That's never the way someone asks how someone became fat. Truth be told, I don't mind when little kids ask. They're just curious and innocent, and as of yet, there's no stigma attached. It's for gathering information only, rather than the way grown people ask, always with either a sound of sympathy or derision in their voice. It's never a "Hey, I noticed you're fat. Have you always been fat?" Do you think perhaps that's because grown adults KNOW the answer, or at least understand how it works. So why do they act like they don't? We don't go around telling random people how they can get a handle on their diabetes or high blood pressure or acne or whatever, unless asked for advice. Yet, it never fails to astonish me the number of people who want to give me the "cure" for being fat.
I don't want to be cured from being fat. I want to be healthy. I want to have a strong heart, so I will walk. I want to have a body that isn't inflamed, so I will eat non-inflammatory foods. I want to have increased mobility, so I will stretch and do yoga. Undoubtedly, weight loss will accompany many of these things. But will it make me "skinny" - not necessarily. But I don't want to be skinny and unhealthy, the way many are, living on nicotine and caffeine, who manage to remain a size 6 due their regime of Hydroxycut and Diurex with iceberg salads. No, thank you.
Thank you for allowing me to flesh out my thoughts here. To be able to organize my goals, my stance, and my self worth is such a help. I already am feeling better and am realizing that my self esteem is just fine. I'm just reminded that the world is a fractured, fallen place. Not everyone is on the same journey I am, nor understands that journey, but so long as my eyes are on Christ, my self worth is secure. Fat or thin, healthy or not, I am a daughter of the King Most High. He loves me in ways too grand to measure. His opinion of me is the standard by which I hold myself. No matter what size my body is, I'm choosing to honor Him.
1 Corinthians 6:19,20 - "Do you not know your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit...therefore honor God with your body."
Monday, August 20, 2012
n=1 : Be your own experiment...
"Let food be thy medicine and let thy medicine be food..." - Hippocrates
Although I'm fine with being fat from a physical appearance stand point and believe that fat is no less beautiful than thin, and will remain someone who actively campaigns love and acceptance of people of all sizes, I am not fine with myself being unhealthy and feeling like crap and taking a ton of pharmaceuticals. So, with that being said, I'm changing my diet.
Now by diet, I don't mean restricting calories, running on treadmills, or following some crazy formula of Slim-Fast and diuretics. I mean changing my food from the crap they peddle at drive through chains and the center of the grocery store in boxes with cartoon characters and instead fueling my body with whole, nourishing food that comes from natural sources. My goal is not focused on losing weight, but to reverse the conditions in my body that are keeping me from living a healthy, pain free, and medication free existence. If weight loss accompanies, which it may, then that's fine, but it is not the main goal. I do not want to undermine my commitment to love and beauty at every size or have this journey be taken as a change of acceptance of myself or any other. However, health is an admirable goal and I believe that one can truly acheive health at any size and being thin is NOT what makes someone healthy, nor is being fat what makes someone unhealthy.
OK, that stated, here are my goals:
1) I want to be completely off my blood pressure medication.
2) I want to be in better control of my bipolar disorder and able to take less medication, and ideally adjust my brain chemicals to the point that I can stop taking it altogether (don't lecture me, there's studies, it can be done).
3) I want to eliminate the plantar fasciitis that causes me immense foot pain.
4) I want to have better lung function to improve my singing.
5) I want to be able to keep up with my daughter while playing.
6) I want to be able to have a second child, medication and pre-eclamsia free.
7) Consistenly have BG (blood glucose) numbers in the "normal" range.
Here is how I plan to achieve these goals:
1) I'm completely cutting out processed food, with the exception of cheese, butter, coconut oil and EVOO. No more "crap in a box" or fast food.
2) I'm completely cutting out gluten, wheat, and all grain products, though occasionally I will eat long grain wild rice because it's actually a grass, not a grain and doesn't affect the body in the same inflammatory way.
3) I'm focusing on eating grass fed meat, lots of organic veggies, and organic fruit in limited amounts.
4) I will walk 30 minutes a day most days of the week. I will do some strength training a couple days of the week. I will rest 1-2 days a week.
5) I will read my Bible as my form of relaxing meditation to reduce stress and bring calm into my day.
6) I will do foot exercises and ice therapy to reduce inflammation in my fasciia on my feet, rather than resort to pills.
7) I will research herbal alternative therapies to my symptoms rather than settle for a prescription I know nothing about.
There you have it. That's the game plan. My plan is to measure my blood pressure and my blood glucose daily and to NOT measure my weight. I am avoiding the scale entirely and using my external signs of health rather that my gravitational relationship to the earth as my markers of success. If my doctor insists on weighing me, whatever, but for my own peace of mind and assessment of true health, I choose not to.
I invite you all along in my journey to better health and encourage you to work toward improving your own health and how that looks for you. I'm excited. I'm anticipating great upward changes in my health. Thank you all for your continued love, friendship, prayer and support. I couldn't ask for better family and friends. Be blessed and eat healthy!
Although I'm fine with being fat from a physical appearance stand point and believe that fat is no less beautiful than thin, and will remain someone who actively campaigns love and acceptance of people of all sizes, I am not fine with myself being unhealthy and feeling like crap and taking a ton of pharmaceuticals. So, with that being said, I'm changing my diet.
Now by diet, I don't mean restricting calories, running on treadmills, or following some crazy formula of Slim-Fast and diuretics. I mean changing my food from the crap they peddle at drive through chains and the center of the grocery store in boxes with cartoon characters and instead fueling my body with whole, nourishing food that comes from natural sources. My goal is not focused on losing weight, but to reverse the conditions in my body that are keeping me from living a healthy, pain free, and medication free existence. If weight loss accompanies, which it may, then that's fine, but it is not the main goal. I do not want to undermine my commitment to love and beauty at every size or have this journey be taken as a change of acceptance of myself or any other. However, health is an admirable goal and I believe that one can truly acheive health at any size and being thin is NOT what makes someone healthy, nor is being fat what makes someone unhealthy.
OK, that stated, here are my goals:
1) I want to be completely off my blood pressure medication.
2) I want to be in better control of my bipolar disorder and able to take less medication, and ideally adjust my brain chemicals to the point that I can stop taking it altogether (don't lecture me, there's studies, it can be done).
3) I want to eliminate the plantar fasciitis that causes me immense foot pain.
4) I want to have better lung function to improve my singing.
5) I want to be able to keep up with my daughter while playing.
6) I want to be able to have a second child, medication and pre-eclamsia free.
7) Consistenly have BG (blood glucose) numbers in the "normal" range.
Here is how I plan to achieve these goals:
1) I'm completely cutting out processed food, with the exception of cheese, butter, coconut oil and EVOO. No more "crap in a box" or fast food.
2) I'm completely cutting out gluten, wheat, and all grain products, though occasionally I will eat long grain wild rice because it's actually a grass, not a grain and doesn't affect the body in the same inflammatory way.
3) I'm focusing on eating grass fed meat, lots of organic veggies, and organic fruit in limited amounts.
4) I will walk 30 minutes a day most days of the week. I will do some strength training a couple days of the week. I will rest 1-2 days a week.
5) I will read my Bible as my form of relaxing meditation to reduce stress and bring calm into my day.
6) I will do foot exercises and ice therapy to reduce inflammation in my fasciia on my feet, rather than resort to pills.
7) I will research herbal alternative therapies to my symptoms rather than settle for a prescription I know nothing about.
There you have it. That's the game plan. My plan is to measure my blood pressure and my blood glucose daily and to NOT measure my weight. I am avoiding the scale entirely and using my external signs of health rather that my gravitational relationship to the earth as my markers of success. If my doctor insists on weighing me, whatever, but for my own peace of mind and assessment of true health, I choose not to.
I invite you all along in my journey to better health and encourage you to work toward improving your own health and how that looks for you. I'm excited. I'm anticipating great upward changes in my health. Thank you all for your continued love, friendship, prayer and support. I couldn't ask for better family and friends. Be blessed and eat healthy!
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
#rant
After battling what has turned out to be one helluva chest cold, I realized I hadn't written anything last week, which means I'm already behind and I've only just begun. I also haven't really known what to write about. Still don't. There were several things I was batting around but with no solid direction for any of it, so perhaps this will just be a random vomiting of all the crap swimming around in my head keeping me occupied while my cough withholds any meaningful amount of sleep.
For starters, I'm REALLY tired of the political mudslinging going on between all people, parties, candidates, etc. and have decided to completely disengage in any/all political discussions. If everyone insists on acting like children, I'll refrain from speaking on the matter entirely. I'll speak my piece by checking the box for my preferred candidate come election day, until then, I don't want to hear or talk about it. I'm sick to death of the division everyone is so keen on causing. That seems to be the driving force of people anymore.
Secondly, I'd like to change the title of "Facebook" to "Bitchbook" as it appears that's all anyone uses it for. To bitch and moan about all the negative crap in their life. I can hear you now, "Hey, isn't that exactly what she's doing right now??!" Yes, yes it is. But this is actually rather out of character for me and I'm thinking perhaps this tirade is because I'm hormonal and sleep deprived. Whatever. I spend half my time of Facebook shaking my head as I read post after post of people just spewing negativity, vitriol, and bitterness. Rarely do I read about something positive or upbeat. And the majority of my "friends" on Facebook are Christians! Where is the JOY people!? Not that the Christian life is all rainbows and lollipops, but wow, to hear some people tell it, they're absolutely miserable. And it's usually with some "First World Issue" that next week won't even be an afterthought or with situations that are simply results of their own poor life management skills.
So in an effort to focus on positive things in my life, I am listing some potential negatives in my life and focusing on the positive side of it. The silver lining, if you will.
1) My roof has an unfound leak. However, I have been blessed with a roof over my head, and do not have to worry about battling 100+ degree days or fighting off Malaria-carrying bugs as I sleep.
2) I have an unrelenting cough. However, I am not terminal and will recover. Should I deem it necessary, I have medical coverage that will ensure treatment by a physician and access to medication at one of the top healthcare providers.
3) I am "morbidly obese". However, I have a job that pays enough money to buy food and live in a country that provides me with access to food 24/7. I have a husband, family and friends who love me unconditionally, regardless of my size and have never caused me to feel shame about my weight.
4) My daughter is not able to attend kindergarten this year. However, we know she is cared for each day by people who love her as their own and provide her little brain with lots of knowledge and challenge her to grow daily. We are able to work and feel secure that she is safe. The fact that we have the ability to provide her with an education at all is a huge blessing.
5) My job sucks sometimes. However, I am extremely blessed to have a job, especially one that pays well, considering I have no degree, economic times are rough, and that provides me with wonderful benefits and has co-workers I genuinely love and care about.
6) Being a Christian is not an easy road nowadays. However, I am able to freely worship a God Who loves me, attend a church of WONDERFUL people who love me as well, and teach my daughter about our faith openly, without fear of physical harm or need to hide out in underground caves. I can read my Bible at a park, or a restaurant, or in a courthouse. I can say the name of Jesus easily in passing conversation without fear of death.
I could go on and on. I guess my point is this, I know life can be crappy, but if you're always only looking at every raindrop that falls, you miss out on the rainbows often left by the storm. If you look for the negative, you'll always find it. As my favorite band, The Grateful Dead sings, "Every silver lining's got a touch of grey." BUT, the opposite is true as well. I think when we start focusing on the positives in life, it creates a "snowball" effect and we end up much happier, positive people. No one wants to be around a "Debbie Downer" all the time. Maybe that makes me a Pollyanna. So be it.
So, thank you for allowing me the freedom to rant and carry on. If you notice it becoming a habit, though, call me on it. I'll save my rant about hypocrisy for another post.
For starters, I'm REALLY tired of the political mudslinging going on between all people, parties, candidates, etc. and have decided to completely disengage in any/all political discussions. If everyone insists on acting like children, I'll refrain from speaking on the matter entirely. I'll speak my piece by checking the box for my preferred candidate come election day, until then, I don't want to hear or talk about it. I'm sick to death of the division everyone is so keen on causing. That seems to be the driving force of people anymore.
Secondly, I'd like to change the title of "Facebook" to "Bitchbook" as it appears that's all anyone uses it for. To bitch and moan about all the negative crap in their life. I can hear you now, "Hey, isn't that exactly what she's doing right now??!" Yes, yes it is. But this is actually rather out of character for me and I'm thinking perhaps this tirade is because I'm hormonal and sleep deprived. Whatever. I spend half my time of Facebook shaking my head as I read post after post of people just spewing negativity, vitriol, and bitterness. Rarely do I read about something positive or upbeat. And the majority of my "friends" on Facebook are Christians! Where is the JOY people!? Not that the Christian life is all rainbows and lollipops, but wow, to hear some people tell it, they're absolutely miserable. And it's usually with some "First World Issue" that next week won't even be an afterthought or with situations that are simply results of their own poor life management skills.
So in an effort to focus on positive things in my life, I am listing some potential negatives in my life and focusing on the positive side of it. The silver lining, if you will.
1) My roof has an unfound leak. However, I have been blessed with a roof over my head, and do not have to worry about battling 100+ degree days or fighting off Malaria-carrying bugs as I sleep.
2) I have an unrelenting cough. However, I am not terminal and will recover. Should I deem it necessary, I have medical coverage that will ensure treatment by a physician and access to medication at one of the top healthcare providers.
3) I am "morbidly obese". However, I have a job that pays enough money to buy food and live in a country that provides me with access to food 24/7. I have a husband, family and friends who love me unconditionally, regardless of my size and have never caused me to feel shame about my weight.
4) My daughter is not able to attend kindergarten this year. However, we know she is cared for each day by people who love her as their own and provide her little brain with lots of knowledge and challenge her to grow daily. We are able to work and feel secure that she is safe. The fact that we have the ability to provide her with an education at all is a huge blessing.
5) My job sucks sometimes. However, I am extremely blessed to have a job, especially one that pays well, considering I have no degree, economic times are rough, and that provides me with wonderful benefits and has co-workers I genuinely love and care about.
6) Being a Christian is not an easy road nowadays. However, I am able to freely worship a God Who loves me, attend a church of WONDERFUL people who love me as well, and teach my daughter about our faith openly, without fear of physical harm or need to hide out in underground caves. I can read my Bible at a park, or a restaurant, or in a courthouse. I can say the name of Jesus easily in passing conversation without fear of death.
I could go on and on. I guess my point is this, I know life can be crappy, but if you're always only looking at every raindrop that falls, you miss out on the rainbows often left by the storm. If you look for the negative, you'll always find it. As my favorite band, The Grateful Dead sings, "Every silver lining's got a touch of grey." BUT, the opposite is true as well. I think when we start focusing on the positives in life, it creates a "snowball" effect and we end up much happier, positive people. No one wants to be around a "Debbie Downer" all the time. Maybe that makes me a Pollyanna. So be it.
So, thank you for allowing me the freedom to rant and carry on. If you notice it becoming a habit, though, call me on it. I'll save my rant about hypocrisy for another post.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Us vs. Them??
Let me first preface this by stating this particular post is in no way meant to be incendiary, although I am aware and accept that I may catch flack from both sides of the argument. I respect and uphold your right to an opinion, even if it differs from mine.
Secondly, let me say to all my gay friends, of which I have many, that I love you. Most, if not all of you, know that I am a Christian, and as such, hold to biblical teaching of God’s design for intimate relationships. However, since you know that, I see no point in shoving my belief on you repetitiously, as if doing that would somehow magically change your opinion on the matter, nor does it change our friendship and my love for you. Most of you know and accept that and we agree to disagree and go right along loving one another.
This brings me to my actual comment on the matter. My friend, who is gay, posted on his blog his response to the Chik-Fil-A brouhaha. In summary, he was fine agreeing to disagree up until the mass “eat-in” taking place at Chik-Fil-A’s all over the country yesterday and seeing a photograph of it.
From his perspective, the message he saw was not one of Christian love, support and solidarity for a Christian brother voicing his 1st amendment rights. It was hatred for what he holds to be intrinsically him, and dangerous to young people wrestling with their feelings and orientation, not old enough to understand the whole picture. And he isn’t alone in that feeling. While it’s fine to voice your view and it’s fine for people to support that, on either side of the fence, the “eat-in” did not speak of the love we run around professing we hold as the main “fruit” of our belief in Jesus Christ as our Savior.
Shame on us.
As Christians, we should be asking ourselves are we more concerned with the well being of the neighbor we are told to love and sharing the redeeming power of Christ’s love and forgiveness, or do we care more about being “right” and shouting that we will not tolerate other people voicing opinions against someone sharing their opposing belief simply because we happen to agree with one side and not the other?
The issue here is not eating at Chik-Fil-A. If you want to support a Christian establishment and agree with the views they hold and causes they support, whatever. I eat there. I don’t plan on changing that. I also, similarly, wouldn’t stop eating at an establishment simply because they contributed to LGBT causes. Or even non-Christian ones for that matter. Short of growing your own fruits and veggies and raising your own livestock, shearing your own sheep, making your own clothing and living TOTALLY off the grid, there is no way you can ensure that you are not supporting a cause on any front that you do not agree with. Period. So let’s not make that the issue.
The issue is when we make this “us vs. them.” It serves no purpose. It doesn’t teach people about God’s love or God’s grace. There’s no balance. When all you’re shouting at people is Law, there’s no hope.
Acting as though we are somehow less sinful, more righteous, we become the Pharisee in Luke 18:11,
“The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector.”
Based on some of our actions, we may as well just insert “homosexual” into that list. Who came up with this “Top 10 Most Grievous Sins” list, anyhow? Last I remember, there’s a whole laundry list of people who God says “won’t inherit the kingdom of God
“Don't you realize that those who do wrong will not inherit the Kingdom of God
It’s not an issue of repentance or non-repentance either, because as a “group,” are we boycotting establishments run by those having hetero sex outside of marriage? Or being openly hostile to those guilty of idol worship (Possessions? Celebrities? Career? Spouse? Children?), as they elevate something else to the status of God Almighty. Do we stage protests with picket signs on corners opposite of the corners being worked by hookers?
No. In those circumstances, we lovingly come alongside the person and try to counsel them, or help them out of the situation they find themselves in, while pointing them lovingly toward a gracious and forgiving Savior who desires to see them made whole. We offer to pray with and for them. And in the end, we can peaceably agree to disagree if we come to a stalemate on the issue.
Somehow all bets are off when it comes to being gay. It breaks my heart and it makes me sad. So often, Christians focus on the “cause” and forget the so-called "opposition" is made up of real people. People who are God’s children, the same as you or I. People who have hopes and dreams, love and feelings.
So, my closing thoughts are these. Believe as you will, financially support whom you will, but let truth AND love be your motivating factor in ALL you do. Not hopping on the band wagon. Not proving a point. Not being right. Once you’ve shared your belief, there’s no need for you to beat people about the head with it. Because if you say you believe that God is enthroned in glory, and God is in control, then why take it upon ourselves to do God’s work? Last I checked, neither one of us received notice we’d been promoted to the position of the Holy Spirit.
Just love them.
Monday, July 30, 2012
OOTD - Butterfly Dress
So, I thought I'd do an outfit of the day post today, too, since I love this dress. I scored this dress at Avenue for $9.98 on clearance in my birthday haul and it is probably my favorite piece I purchased that day. It's a silky stretchy knit that hangs beautifully. It has big dolman sleeves and a pretty braided belt that ties at the empire waist. The pattern is hard to capture on a crappy phone camera, but it's bright blue, pink, orange, and yellow butterfly wings on white and black background. The jewelry I accessorized with came as a Christmas gift from a co-worker and is a rainbow of jeweltone shells in a multi-strand necklace, earrings and 4 bracelets. My shoes are a black leather thong with a cork wedge heel. I absolutely LOVE this dress! I ended up pairing this outfit with a smokey eye and a nude pink lip.
Dress: Avenue
Shoes: Payless
Glasses: Coastal
Jewelry: Gifted
Happy Birthday to Me!
So last Monday was my birthday, which makes me a wise and enlightened 34. Happily, I thought I was 34 all last year, so in my mind, I didn't even age this year. I meant to post some lengthy diatribe about aging and its perils, but truthfully...I just ain't feelin' it.
I'm blessed so far in that I don't have gray hair. At least, I don't think I do under the varying shades of everchanging haircolor. Having slightly oily skin, I'm cursed with the occasional breakout (hey, they're youthful right?), but the benefit is I have very few wrinkles. Just the typical lines present from a girl with chubby cheeks who smiles and laughs a lot...the marionette lines (though minimal as of now) and the crinkly under eye wrinkles, but would I trade those for frown lines and a furrowed brow from worry? No, thank you. But other than that, generally I don't FEEL old.
Generally.
Some days, I feel positively ancient. Like when it occurs to me that a baby born the same time as Nirvana's Nevermind album can now legally buy alcohol. Or the beautiful baby born to one of my besties just before high school graduation just graduated high school herself. Or when I drive by the high school near my daughter's daycare and realize ALL the students look like babies.
However, I've found many positives to growing older, that I didn't even know I'd find. Of course, I expected the "normal" positives, like my wonderful husband and my beautiful daughter. Then there are the other unexpected perks that I cherish. For me, the main one, is feeling comfortable in my own skin. Not giving a damn what other people think about me. There are exceptions, but relatively speaking, I've come to a place of acceptance that I just didn't have in my younger years. When I was younger everything was always about pleasing everyone else and fitting into their ideals. So much so, that I was often called a "chameleon" by family members. Not in a perjorative sense, but more in a matter-of-fact way. And I was. If I hung out with any one person for any length of time, I began speaking like them, dressing like them, adopting their mannerisms, etc. and I didn't even realize it in my angst-ridden, teenage mind. It was just from an overwhelming urge to fit in, to belong, to be the person I thought was somehow cooler than me. I didn't have a defined sense of self. Now I feel as though I do. So today I give you, 10 things you didn't know about me...a few of MY favorite things, not someone else's.
1) My favorite food is sushi
2) My favorite music is 60's, 90's and "coffeehouse singer/songwriter-esque" type
3) My favorite dessert is Chocolate Lava Cake from Dominos LOL!
4) My favorite season is fall
5) My favorite scent is pumpkin
6) My favorite color is yellow
7) My favorite author is Shakespeare
8) My favorite tea is Earl Grey
9) My dream vacation would be visiting Ireland
10) My dream job would be librarian
So there you have it...a little insight into my slightly twisted, utterly chaotic mess of a mind. I'll be getting my thoughts together, as well as photos, and some semblance of a basic format in the coming weeks to make this a bit more fun/exciting to follow. Be patient with me, I promise I'll get this all figured out!
I'm blessed so far in that I don't have gray hair. At least, I don't think I do under the varying shades of everchanging haircolor. Having slightly oily skin, I'm cursed with the occasional breakout (hey, they're youthful right?), but the benefit is I have very few wrinkles. Just the typical lines present from a girl with chubby cheeks who smiles and laughs a lot...the marionette lines (though minimal as of now) and the crinkly under eye wrinkles, but would I trade those for frown lines and a furrowed brow from worry? No, thank you. But other than that, generally I don't FEEL old.
Generally.
Some days, I feel positively ancient. Like when it occurs to me that a baby born the same time as Nirvana's Nevermind album can now legally buy alcohol. Or the beautiful baby born to one of my besties just before high school graduation just graduated high school herself. Or when I drive by the high school near my daughter's daycare and realize ALL the students look like babies.
However, I've found many positives to growing older, that I didn't even know I'd find. Of course, I expected the "normal" positives, like my wonderful husband and my beautiful daughter. Then there are the other unexpected perks that I cherish. For me, the main one, is feeling comfortable in my own skin. Not giving a damn what other people think about me. There are exceptions, but relatively speaking, I've come to a place of acceptance that I just didn't have in my younger years. When I was younger everything was always about pleasing everyone else and fitting into their ideals. So much so, that I was often called a "chameleon" by family members. Not in a perjorative sense, but more in a matter-of-fact way. And I was. If I hung out with any one person for any length of time, I began speaking like them, dressing like them, adopting their mannerisms, etc. and I didn't even realize it in my angst-ridden, teenage mind. It was just from an overwhelming urge to fit in, to belong, to be the person I thought was somehow cooler than me. I didn't have a defined sense of self. Now I feel as though I do. So today I give you, 10 things you didn't know about me...a few of MY favorite things, not someone else's.
1) My favorite food is sushi
2) My favorite music is 60's, 90's and "coffeehouse singer/songwriter-esque" type
3) My favorite dessert is Chocolate Lava Cake from Dominos LOL!
4) My favorite season is fall
5) My favorite scent is pumpkin
6) My favorite color is yellow
7) My favorite author is Shakespeare
8) My favorite tea is Earl Grey
9) My dream vacation would be visiting Ireland
10) My dream job would be librarian
So there you have it...a little insight into my slightly twisted, utterly chaotic mess of a mind. I'll be getting my thoughts together, as well as photos, and some semblance of a basic format in the coming weeks to make this a bit more fun/exciting to follow. Be patient with me, I promise I'll get this all figured out!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The one where I become a Christian...
I was not raised in a religious household. My mother sporadically took us to church when I was younger and I occasionally attended Lutheran church with my grandmother or aunt and even occasionally Mormon church with my other grandparents. My father has never been much interested in religion, but wasn't antagonistic toward it, however unless my mother wanted to take us, we just simply didn't go. That's not to say I wasn't taught about who Jesus was. We just didn't attend church and he was in no way part of our daily lives.
I remember my Grandma Marlene (my maternal grandmother who passed away when I was 10. I loved her deeply and Autumn's middle name is given for her) sitting with me at her kitchen table one morning after I'd spent the night at my grandparent's home. She'd discovered I did not know the Lord's Prayer and was appalled. She sat with me at that table and wouldn't let me get up until I memorized it. It's one of my fondest memories of her now. The sunlight coming in through the kitchen window, the gold-flocked design of her 70's decor wallpaper in her dining area, the smell that is burned in my brain as being "Grandma's house smell"...It's funny, my step grandma still lives in that house, even now that my grandfather is since passed, and with all the changes it no longer smells the same. I don't know if the scent was the wallpaper, now long gone in a remodel, or if it was the linoleum or some cleaning product my grandma had used, but I remember it in my mind like I can still smell it. My kitchen in my own home is actually decorated with all my Grandma Marlene's kitchen castoffs that my Grandma Peggie boxed up when she did the long overdue kitchen remodel. I love that my 70's inspired kitchen reminds me of my grandma and also that very special memory. I now have that kitchen table in my dining area and plan to teach Autumn the Lord's Prayer in the same manner. I cherish that memory.
My choir and neighborhood friend, Angela had a cousin named Paul that I very much had a crush on. One afternoon, while thrift shopping with my mom, I ran into Paul outside. He'd just started attending this new church and was really excited about it and invited me to come. He'd have his friend come pick me up and we could all go. I agreed happily, more due to the crush that any desire I had to go to church. Because I wanted to impress this boy so much I started attending regularly. I went to the women's conference with the other "sisters," I went to "discipleship classes" during the week, I had a "discipler" who would call me during the week to make sure I was doing my devotions and confessing all my sins. My mother grew suspicious and attended with me one Sunday. She flipped the hymnal to the page in the back and her suspicions were confirmed. "International Church of Christ, Boston, Mass" otherwise known as "The Boston Movement" - a legalist cult that was being exposed by various mainline Christian spokespeople as being an up and coming problem, especially on college campuses. They were apparently very good at getting kids to commit to their church and if their families weren't on board, they would gradually pry these vulnerable kids away from their families. They dictated who you could date and where you could go and, ultimately, who you could marry. Control was the name of the game. My mother pulled me aside and said, "If you want to go to church, fine. But you're not going here!" Because I was under 18, they didn't persue me when my mother told them she was removing me from the church and putting her foot down. By that point, it was apparent my crush had invited me to impress his crush, so I wasn't all that worked up about leaving anyway.
The following Sunday, my mother took me to Harvest Christian Fellowship, the very large megachurch of Greg Laurie, in Riverside, CA. Though it was really large, my mom felt comfortable there and they had an awesome High School ministry. One Wednesday night, I, along with my best friend and my brother, went forward and gave our lives to Jesus. I began attending there Sunday and Wednesday nights for most of my senior year. Toward the end, I lost focus and stopped going. By the time I graduated, I wasn't going at all.
I graduated High School when I was 16. I turned 17 the following month and began attending Chaffey College. Harvard on the Hill, we called it. My first semester, I took a "Intro to Music Theory" class taught by Ms. Shannon. She was a crotchety lady, probably in her late 70's to early 80's, still dying her whispy, thinning hair a dark brown, which only added to her spinsterly appearance. She was a horrid teacher, long since tired of teaching people who didn't want to be there, and it was evidenced in her teaching. Though I'd been a "choir kid" all 4 years of High School, I was totally lost in this class. It was there that I met one of the best friends of all time, Bryan. He was a musical prodigy of sorts and could explain the stuff so I got it. He was a Godsend...in many ways.
It was Bryan who introduced me to "One over One" the on-campus Christian club. I began attending and making friends and we all went out to lunch frequently. It turned out that many of these folks went to Water of Life, a growing church, who at the time was meeting on Sundays at Ruth Musser Middle School and had a Thursday night college group. It seemed even the ones that didn't attend there on Sunday still went to the Thursday night group. I began attending that as well. I also began attending Sundays with my mom, who thoroughly enjoyed it. I was a part of this group for a few years while I attended Chaffey, finishing the dental assistant program.
My first dental assisting position was in a Christian dentist's office. Christian music was piped through the P.A. and everyone that worked there was Christian. I was allowed to leave work on Thursday 1/2 an hour early, so I wouldn't miss Bible study. It seemed to be a great job. I loved my co-workers, the dentist, and the environment. There was one problem. The boss' wife. She was the office manager, slightly passive agressive and had a chip on her shoulder. Because I was so young, she treated me like one of her children. I resented her for it.
During this time, I learned a friend in my college group was losing a roommate. The price was right, so I approached her about considering letting me rent the room in her condo. She agreed and was excited. I moved in with her and each week we had a Bible study in our living room. Sometimes we'd have so many people, some would be up the staircase, some in the kitchen. I really enjoyed it, until, one evening afterward a group of us went to Spires, a local 24 restaurant, not unlike Denny's but a bit classier. As we walked passed a section of tables, I heard someone call my name. I looked over in the direction where my name was called from and a past co-worker from my time at Montgomery Ward's was seated with a friend in a booth. I excused myself from the group to go over and say hello. My friend Todd has recently separated from his girlfriend and was living with this friend who shared the booth with him and they were eager to catch up and hang out. We exchanged numbers and hugs and I rejoined my friends.
The next day, Todd called me and we agreed to meet up at his friend's house where he was staying. We had a nice evening and it was apparent he was into me. By the time we parted company that night, he admitted as much. We agreed to hang out the following night. And the next. And the next. I discovered quickly just how superficial my Christianity had been. It wasn't long before I moved out of the condo, leaving my poor roommate with not much more than unpaid bills and a note. Looking back now, I feel horrible about it.
I moved into the house of the friend where Todd was staying less than a month after we began dating. I skipped work so much I got fired when I really did get very sick and needed to be off, but they no longer believed me. I managed to justify my actions due to my resentment for the dentist's wife. I was constantly borrowing money from my parents because I no longer had steady income. I started smoking, drinking, and now for the first time ever had an active sex life. When I discovered he hadn't exactly totally broken up with his former girlfriend, I let it slide once he officially did a couple weeks into our relationship. He was into occultic practices, specificially The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, an occultic "high-magic" group, who use a lot of Egyptian diety and Jewish Kabbalistic teaching. He was rather arrogant about his belief system, believing it to be one you had to be exceedingly intelligent to master. He was very disparraging toward Christianity and, not wanting to scare off my new, and first, boyfriend, I left behind anything that would have tied me toward my Christian past. The only thing I kept was my friend Bryan. For whatever reason, Todd liked Bryan and that fact he was a Christian didn't bother him at all. Bryan accepted me for where I was and never made me feel that he was judging me. He would tell me when he didn't agree with me, but he spoke the truth in love, and truly was my anchor during this time.
Since I couldn't be Christian and I didn't feel smart enough to be included in Todd's Golden Dawn stuff (though I tried some of it, which pleased Todd greatly) I settled on Wicca. I liked the nature aspect of it and began buying books and learning. Eventually I erected an altar and was doing full moon rituals regularly and attending an open circle at one of the Wiccan stores in the area each month. I was casting spells and had made my own Book of Shadows and practicing my craft like a good little witch. I remained Wiccan through my separation from Todd, being diagnosed with manic depressive disorder, through a couple more short term boyfriends, and up through the beginning of my relationship with my now husband.
While dating my husband he admitted to a faith in God, but it wasn't defined. He was okay with my being a Wiccan and beyond the initial conversation, we didn't discuss it much. About 8 months into our relationship, around Easter, we decided to watch the Passion of the Christ. We'd both heard it was a good film, even if you weren't a Christian; That it was well done and the effects were amazing. We sat down to watch it as one couple and emerged on the other side as a completely different couple. We sat silent watching it. We wouldn't look at each other but could tell the other was tearing. I openly sobbed during parts of it. The unspeakable torment that this man went through. Even as a non-Christian, watching a fellow human being put through that pulled at my compassion. When we finished the movie, neither of us really talked about it. The atmosphere in the house that evening was somber. It was apparent were both deep in thought but not willing to discuss it with the other yet. However, it wasn't long before I was snatching up Christian apologetics books and reading aloud to Ken parts that I found fascinating. As the Truth revealed itself, re-watching The Passion became almost unbearable. That God would send His Son to come to be put to death in such a way to save me from all the crap I'd done. That I'd done flippantly, not a care in the world. Not just "little" sins here and there. Bold faced sin. Ugly, deep unrepeatable sin. Not too long after that we found ourselves asking our neighbor if she knew of any good churches in the area. She pointed us to Sandals Church in Riverside. We began attending there and I still persued reading as much as I could about Christianity wanting to be really sure before I committed this time. I didn't want this to be a superficial thing. I didn't want to be someone who flip flopped back and forth between this religion and that religion. But when Jesus got a hold of me, there was no uncertainty. His love for me was so deep, so unshakeable. There's no way I could have mistaken it for something superficial. It was completely different this time around. God was doing all the work this time, not me.
One night in the kitchen I asked Ken, point blank, did he believe that Jesus was the Way to God? He looked right into my eyes and said he absolutely did. I felt a huge weight lift off me because I did too, but I was worried that Ken might have an issue with it, since it wasn't exactly what he'd signed up for when he and I started dating. To hear that he was sure too was wonderful. Not long after I called my friend Bryan to come over and hang out. Ken was working nights so it was just Bryan and I and he looked around at my books and my altar, that I had yet to take down. He basically told me it was time and we spent the rest of the night taking down and destroying the altar and those books.
That following Sunday, the Pastor referred to Acts 19:19 "And a number of those who had practiced magic arts brought their books together and burned them in the sight of all. And they counted the value of them and found it came to fifty thousand pieces of silver." I felt it confirmed in me that I'd done the right thing. There was no "Plan B" with Christ.
We've evolved as time has gone on and as I've studied various doctrine and learned new things. We no longer go to Sandals, although I love them with all my heart and know that God is using them to touch a lot of people. Doctrinally, we line up more with the Lutheran view of scripture and now attend a wonderful Lutheran church filled with beautiful people who love God and love us. We finally feel home. I try to read my Bible daily, though that is an area I am still growing in. I pray daily and spend time alone with God each day. I try to be "good" but ultimately I know I'm a wretched sinner incapable of being good outside of Christ. It is by His grace alone that I am called as one of His children. Occasionally, I'm a hypocrite. Occasionally, I screw up big. But, He loves me and forgives me and for that I am eternally grateful.
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze."
Isaiah 43:1,2
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Interview with the Fat Girl
Greetings, Readers! Or rather, "Hi Mom!" since that is most likely my audience currently. I'm alright with that. This is really just a place for me to emotionally vomit my every idea and thought for all the world to see. Wow, now that I've read that in black and white, it's a bit unnerving. Now I'm relieved it's just my mom!
Well, to quote Louis from Interview with the Vampire, "Shall we begin like David Copperfield. I am born... I grow up...?" Or shall we begin when I was born to...Fatness, as I call it. (Yes, I am a fan of Interview with a Vampire...back when Vampires didn't look like they were the love child of Dracula and Tinkerbell. Sparkling vampires, hmmph)
I haven't always been fat, or even chubby. I was 8 lbs 10 oz when I was born, which is fairly good size for a baby. I was a "gerber baby" with chubby little rolls and big cheeks, but as I got older, I slimmed out. I was downright skinny until I was in about 6th or 7th grade. Thanks to good old puberty, I got a little "huskier." In High School I walked a lot to get to any friends houses and swam all summer long, so even though I was gaining a bit, it was curbed mostly by my high level of exercise. I am 5'5" and I graduated at 180 lbs. Overweight, but not ready for Sumo training by any stretch of the imagination. Then came college, which wouldn't have been so bad except it necessitated a job (at a Pharmacy with lots of free time and candy) and a driver's license. Those two combined were the impetus for my foray into the world of Plus Size fashion (or lack thereof). By the time I was 21 in 1999, I was 235 and a size 18/20. By the time I hit 25, I was about 250 and a 22/24. During this time, I was in a steady relationship (read: long term, not steady like not chaotic...it was hell) so I didn't much pay attention nor care that I was gaining. It just didn't really occur to me. When that boyfriend and I split, I was out clubbing most nights (I'm a recovering Goth) and making friends and getting male attention were non-issues, so again, I didn't care or give thought to my size. By then, fashion had, for the most part, caught up with the idea that the vast majority of America is NOT a size 6 and retailers like Torrid and Lane Bryant were coming up with cute clothes that made me feel sexy and confident. It was during this time I was diagnosed with ultra rapid-cycling manic-depressive disorder, which means my brain chemicals are wonky and although I tend to lean more to the manic, occasionally I have a depressive swing, but they're usually short-lived. Because of this, I was making horrible decisions - spending money I didn't have, sleeping with people I didn't love, and just flushing my life generally down the crapper. Once I was diagnosed and my doctors were able to medicate me to bring my chemicals into balance, it's like a whole new world opened up to me. However, some of those medications, do cause additional weight gain and, insult to injury, make it very difficult to get the weight back off. Luckily for me, my medication is one of the less horrific ones and hasn't been as bad as it could be. Now that I'm 34, I'm not ashamed to say I weigh 325.
So, that is how I gained it. But there is more to the story. Some would read the story and say, "Oh, how sad." Or expect me to now tell you how I plan to drink Hydroxycut or reroute my bowels and lose 100 lbs. But that's not my journey. I went on my first diet August 2006. My now husband had proposed and we were doing a "Quickie wedding" in Vegas in October. My mother and I went to find a suitable dress and my options were sorely lacking. I didn't want a big white travesty of a dress anyway, but the biggest size they had in anything at all was a 26, I was closer to a 28. So I went on Weight Watcher and lost 17 lbs and fit into a 26, plum colored, floor length satin dress and I loved it.
What I traded, however, was being comfortable in my own skin and accepting myself for the way I was. I began chasing one diet after another, feeling like a failure if I didn't live up to my expectations rather than realizing I didn't fail the diet, simply the diet failed me. I began to view my body as this disgusting lump of flesh that I need to manipulate and hide. I stopped going places by myself. I would only go grocery shopping with my husband if I got to push the basket, as if the cart would somehow hide me and not let anyone see I was fat. I wouldn't go to the mall. I started mail ordering everything. I stopped living life. I felt like I had to go to Omar the Tent Maker to get anything that fit and had destroyed my self esteem so much that I felt like a side show at a circus. And it was ALL in my head. No one treated me any different. No one made comments.
We, as a culture, tend to be pretty narcissitic. We think that people are thinking about us and judging us more often than they actually are. Truth is, most people are too busy worrying about themselves to even care about what you are doing. And if they did, should we care? It's one thing when well meaning relatives slap us on the tummy and say, "Hold your tummy in!" or "What are you eating?" because you know they don't mean to be hurtful, they're just making a statement either out of concern or lack of thought. It's not meant to be antagonistic. But when someone across the street yells "HEY FATTY!" or when you're walking through a club and you hear someone tell their friend, "Isn't there a weight limit to get into this club?" and you have to lay them out on the floor (true story!) why do we care? Why do we let someone who we don't even know define how we view ourselves?
So I did something about it. I started to look into the Fat Acceptance movement. I began reading "Health at Every Size" and discovered just because you're fat, doesn't mean you're destined to be sick. Eat your veggies, cut out the processed crap in a box because it isn't real food, exercise doing something you love (not running on a treadmill like a damn hamster - unless you love that sort of thing), and focus on being happy and healthy. Throw out your scale. Don't let the impact of what the number says define who you are. If you want chocolate, have some, and make sure it's hella good chocolate and ENJOY it. I personally am trying to avoid things like wheat, flour, and rice because they are inflammatory to your system and wear out your pancreas out faster, but you do you. We all walk a separate journey.
It's been a rough road, but I'm finally arriving at a place of acceptance and self love. I can look at pictures and truly appreciate what I see in the mirror. Instead of picking things apart, I can appreciate the whole. I find beauty not only in myself, but others of all shapes and sizes. I no longer look at other women and judge them for being skinny and I no longer play the "Am I the fattest girl in the room" game. I am far from perfect at it, but each day it gets a little easier. It's so remarkably freeing. And the journey continues...
Come on back next time when I will share my long crazy road from Wiccan to Christian...
Well, to quote Louis from Interview with the Vampire, "Shall we begin like David Copperfield. I am born... I grow up...?" Or shall we begin when I was born to...Fatness, as I call it. (Yes, I am a fan of Interview with a Vampire...back when Vampires didn't look like they were the love child of Dracula and Tinkerbell. Sparkling vampires, hmmph)
I haven't always been fat, or even chubby. I was 8 lbs 10 oz when I was born, which is fairly good size for a baby. I was a "gerber baby" with chubby little rolls and big cheeks, but as I got older, I slimmed out. I was downright skinny until I was in about 6th or 7th grade. Thanks to good old puberty, I got a little "huskier." In High School I walked a lot to get to any friends houses and swam all summer long, so even though I was gaining a bit, it was curbed mostly by my high level of exercise. I am 5'5" and I graduated at 180 lbs. Overweight, but not ready for Sumo training by any stretch of the imagination. Then came college, which wouldn't have been so bad except it necessitated a job (at a Pharmacy with lots of free time and candy) and a driver's license. Those two combined were the impetus for my foray into the world of Plus Size fashion (or lack thereof). By the time I was 21 in 1999, I was 235 and a size 18/20. By the time I hit 25, I was about 250 and a 22/24. During this time, I was in a steady relationship (read: long term, not steady like not chaotic...it was hell) so I didn't much pay attention nor care that I was gaining. It just didn't really occur to me. When that boyfriend and I split, I was out clubbing most nights (I'm a recovering Goth) and making friends and getting male attention were non-issues, so again, I didn't care or give thought to my size. By then, fashion had, for the most part, caught up with the idea that the vast majority of America is NOT a size 6 and retailers like Torrid and Lane Bryant were coming up with cute clothes that made me feel sexy and confident. It was during this time I was diagnosed with ultra rapid-cycling manic-depressive disorder, which means my brain chemicals are wonky and although I tend to lean more to the manic, occasionally I have a depressive swing, but they're usually short-lived. Because of this, I was making horrible decisions - spending money I didn't have, sleeping with people I didn't love, and just flushing my life generally down the crapper. Once I was diagnosed and my doctors were able to medicate me to bring my chemicals into balance, it's like a whole new world opened up to me. However, some of those medications, do cause additional weight gain and, insult to injury, make it very difficult to get the weight back off. Luckily for me, my medication is one of the less horrific ones and hasn't been as bad as it could be. Now that I'm 34, I'm not ashamed to say I weigh 325.
So, that is how I gained it. But there is more to the story. Some would read the story and say, "Oh, how sad." Or expect me to now tell you how I plan to drink Hydroxycut or reroute my bowels and lose 100 lbs. But that's not my journey. I went on my first diet August 2006. My now husband had proposed and we were doing a "Quickie wedding" in Vegas in October. My mother and I went to find a suitable dress and my options were sorely lacking. I didn't want a big white travesty of a dress anyway, but the biggest size they had in anything at all was a 26, I was closer to a 28. So I went on Weight Watcher and lost 17 lbs and fit into a 26, plum colored, floor length satin dress and I loved it.
What I traded, however, was being comfortable in my own skin and accepting myself for the way I was. I began chasing one diet after another, feeling like a failure if I didn't live up to my expectations rather than realizing I didn't fail the diet, simply the diet failed me. I began to view my body as this disgusting lump of flesh that I need to manipulate and hide. I stopped going places by myself. I would only go grocery shopping with my husband if I got to push the basket, as if the cart would somehow hide me and not let anyone see I was fat. I wouldn't go to the mall. I started mail ordering everything. I stopped living life. I felt like I had to go to Omar the Tent Maker to get anything that fit and had destroyed my self esteem so much that I felt like a side show at a circus. And it was ALL in my head. No one treated me any different. No one made comments.
We, as a culture, tend to be pretty narcissitic. We think that people are thinking about us and judging us more often than they actually are. Truth is, most people are too busy worrying about themselves to even care about what you are doing. And if they did, should we care? It's one thing when well meaning relatives slap us on the tummy and say, "Hold your tummy in!" or "What are you eating?" because you know they don't mean to be hurtful, they're just making a statement either out of concern or lack of thought. It's not meant to be antagonistic. But when someone across the street yells "HEY FATTY!" or when you're walking through a club and you hear someone tell their friend, "Isn't there a weight limit to get into this club?" and you have to lay them out on the floor (true story!) why do we care? Why do we let someone who we don't even know define how we view ourselves?
So I did something about it. I started to look into the Fat Acceptance movement. I began reading "Health at Every Size" and discovered just because you're fat, doesn't mean you're destined to be sick. Eat your veggies, cut out the processed crap in a box because it isn't real food, exercise doing something you love (not running on a treadmill like a damn hamster - unless you love that sort of thing), and focus on being happy and healthy. Throw out your scale. Don't let the impact of what the number says define who you are. If you want chocolate, have some, and make sure it's hella good chocolate and ENJOY it. I personally am trying to avoid things like wheat, flour, and rice because they are inflammatory to your system and wear out your pancreas out faster, but you do you. We all walk a separate journey.
It's been a rough road, but I'm finally arriving at a place of acceptance and self love. I can look at pictures and truly appreciate what I see in the mirror. Instead of picking things apart, I can appreciate the whole. I find beauty not only in myself, but others of all shapes and sizes. I no longer look at other women and judge them for being skinny and I no longer play the "Am I the fattest girl in the room" game. I am far from perfect at it, but each day it gets a little easier. It's so remarkably freeing. And the journey continues...
Come on back next time when I will share my long crazy road from Wiccan to Christian...
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