Archive for the The Journey Category

This morning I pondered perfection. As in, could I ever possibly achieve it. I was squeezing into my girdle(i.e. hosiery) when my youngest child said to me, “Mom, when are you going to lose some weight?” I blinked and blinked again. Did he really say that? I know I’ve told him before that such comments hurt my feelings.

Small children give us the gift of candor without respect to our feelings mainly because they don’t know any different. If I were to say what he said to me to the average person on the street, however, I would most likely end up with a bloody nose. Still, I have been doubting myself all day. When did I give him the idea that it was okay to comment on my body shape? Do I imply that I’m overweight or was he simply noticing my lumpiness? His words felt like a slap in the face and I honestly didn’t have the words to respond, so I kindly gave him his breakfast—homemade muffins that I am not “allowed” to eat—and departed for work.

My young male child(age 6) has never known what it is to carry a baby in his tummy, to experience stretch marks or labor pains. He has never felt the need to go on a diet because his clothes don’t fit or endured the averted eyes of strangers in elevators. He only knows his mom has a flabby tummy and he does not. Therefore something is wrong with her. Why is it our basic human assumption to assess people on their physical appearance, as if any of us had a modicum of control over making our bodies? Beautiful or ugly, strong or weak, feeble minded or intelligent, we do not knit our cells together. We do not determine the number of fingers or toes or, for that matter, the color of our eyes. It does seem as though some of us take great pains to change our bodies because we are dissatisfied in some way with the beautiful gift we have been given, which begs the question, is bodily perfection attainable?

Yesterday I had the pleasure of speaking with a friend at a family function. I explained to her the exact moment I realized I would never be “skinny.” I was three months into my journey, had lost about 40 pounds and was experiencing a plateau. I was at work and ended up walking behind a very cute girl in a short skirt. She was probably a size 4 and had long shapely legs. Her blond ponytail wagged as she walked and she was probably the envy of my male colleagues. I thought she was perfect and I wanted to look like her. After that encounter I remember walking to the bathroom and sobbing. I realized that no matter how much weight I lost, I would never be 20 years old or pre-pregnancy again(not that I was thin before my babies). I don’t want to sound melodramatic, but I actually felt like my heart was being forced through a meat grinder. Why was I going through all the trouble to restrict all of my favorite foods when I would never look like her? Hindsight tells me it was a crisis I had to face to determine my future, but it was extremely painful to realize that sans extensive surgery, I would most likely never have a flat stomach.

Many people hang their health on this argument. They decide to accept their body as it is because they want to eat their favorite foods in the quantities they desire. They decide to stay heavy or unhealthy because life isn’t worth living under a strict regimen of diet and exercise because they will never achieve physical perfection. Whatever the reason, they reject a “healthy lifestyle” and decide healthy people “suck.” Or maybe that was just me. I only know that I wanted to quit and very nearly did.

I look back on that experience as a defining moment in my journey. I also remember the moment one of my friends approached me and asked what was wrong, and encouraged me to keep trying and not to give up. This dear friend reminded me that I was loved no matter what my body was shaped like. So like my gentle friend, I would like to share here a few things to remember as you take your own journey to better health.

A job worth doing is worth doing well. It seems simplistic to say this, but it feels true. I didn’t cheat because I chose not to. I wanted to arrive at my destination honestly and stay there. I am sincerely proud of my accomplishments and I am reaping the benefits. To my great delight, I was able to roller skate with my son yesterday. If my only goal was quality time with my children, this journey was worth it. So what if I’m a lumpy cheese? I’m lumpy and proud of it! This lumpy cheese roller skated with her 50+ pound child on her back when he got too tired to walk.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Pretty people aren’t necessarily happy people. I attend church with a “thin and pretty” woman who struggles with crippling depression and anxiety. Before I knew her I condemned her as one of those “perfect” people. She has a handsome husband and 2 gorgeous children. She is musically talented and has a great job. When I came to know her, I was indicted by her gracious spirit. She loved me in ways I never thought possible. She saw my pain and sickness, and offered ideas to help. She told me she would be a place of refuge should I ever reach a moment of despair, and then proved it by comforting me when I was there. My friendship with her and many others has revealed the sickness of my own troubled soul. If I have learned anything it is this, I am guilty of judging others through the lens of my flaws. When I look at others as having “arrived,” I lie to myself. No one has “arrived,” least of all me.

Bad habits are hard to break. I had to fight for my life to break a lifetime of bad habits. Some habits will forever haunt me because I cannot erase the memory of emotional crutches that comforted me. As a miserable teenager, I sought comfort in candy and books. Any time I read I feel the need to eat something sweet. I consider each battle won a positive step toward winning the war but I will always be at war with my body. Telling it no when it says yes. Pinching it in the buttocks when it insists on wussing out. Giving it the “Three Stooges eye-doink-of-death” when it won’t stop craving cookie dough. The fantastic news is…

Good habits have power too. My husband and I have this on-going discussion about bacon. I used to eat a lot of bacon. BLT’s, crispy bacon with waffles or pancakes, pizza with bacon. Seriously, who doesn’t love bacon? I quit buying bacon early on in my journey for reasons that are obvious(it’s very high in fat and sodium). After years of not buying it, I just don’t think about it because I no longer crave it. For that reason, I forget to buy it. And bacon is one thing my sweetie cannot not live without.

Perfection is a myth. Okay, so maybe the title of this blog is misleading. I don’t consider perfection as a living human being in the least bit attainable. But the good news is I’m not alone. This is what I should have said to my little one this morning. Does my wobbly tummy make you less likely to love me? Does a big belly make me love you less? As we traverse this journey of life, we all need to determine what is most important to us. If one hinges their quality of life on vanity, what will they feel like as they age and have to manage the person in the mirror? I have accepted the reality that if I am fortunate enough to live to old age, my body will stoop no matter how hard I try to stand tall. Gravity wins every time.

Practice Perfect Kindness. My son didn’t mean to be insensitive. I know this because I asked him when I arrived home. “Why did you say I was fat?” He promised me that he never said that and I supposed its true. He had a quick glimpse of my belly and freaked out a little bit. Shoot, I do the same thing when I look in the mirror. I reminded him that we need to be careful with our words because they can hurt others. He said he was very sorry and gave me a hug.

I have learned many things on my journey through life, the least of which is that I will never have a perfect body. In the grand scheme of things that’s probably a good thing. It keeps me humble. However, I am striving every day to perfect my heart.

My youngest son began first grade today and he was scared. We met his teacher Monday night and did everything we could to prepare him for this moment, but the fear lingered like a big, hairy monster. It sunk its claws into his shoulders and sulked there, whispering worries he was too young to defend himself against. I sent him off full of hugs and kisses, pampered with homemade lunch, and prayed over. Then I Iet my baby walk into the unknown. Alone. <P>

A co-worker and I talked about the mystery of children and fear yesterday. Her daughter is not afraid of school at all. She has no need for her mother to drop her off or walk her to class. My friend said she told her daughter, “What about my fears for you?” And there it is. Fear is so deeply personal. We can build up walls against it, but it seeps beneath them. We can devise strategies to cope with it, but it lingers in the air like spores in a moldy basement. <P>

I remember my first day of first grade. I remember the terror that crawled over my skin as I met new classmates. They seemed so happy to be there but I longed to run home. I remember the moment my mother separated herself from me and departed, somewhat annoyed by my pleas not to leave me. I clung to my desk and tried to cope with my overall malaise, even as my classmates invited me to join in the fun. I didn’t know how to accept their overtures so instead I grunted and folded my arms and scowled. This behavior lasted for several days before everyone, the teacher included, was fed up with my attitude. How I wish someone would have understood my fear and broken down my walls. I was terrified! But the truth is, so often we embrace our fear and close ourselves off to those who wish to help us. <P>

Understanding and facing our fears is important. I considered this as I worked out this morning. (I do my best thinking while exercising) There is a task I must do today that leaves me shaking in my boots. I began to ask myself, why does this thing scare me so much? As I processed the reasons I am afraid, I began to see that so much of what I fear are mirages I have built up in my own mind. They stem from simple worries that have mutated into full blown anxiety. In this case, my worries are fairly simple: I care what people think about me and worry something I say won’t meet their expectations. I worry this will damage relationships. I worry people won’t like me. I worry I will be rejected. <P>

Worry devours our peace of mind. So just cut it out already! This clear cut approach, however, reminds me of something someone close to me said recently, “Why don’t fat people just stop eating?” I bit my tongue but I wanted to say, “Why don’t you just stop breathing?” Such a question not only belittles the fundamental issue of obesity, but dehumanizes the person behind the padded exterior. Much the same, it is so easy to say “Stop worrying” when our hearts are hurting. Worry, fear, and pain are intricately linked. To me it seems like saying, “I know a landmine just blew off your arm, but just quit crying about it.” People pass by our pain without trying to bandage our wounds. Instead, they blow off the other arm. <P>

Kill worry with truth. Our worries are often fueled by past experiences with pain. My fear for my children in school is rooted in reality. I was teased and ridiculed in school as a child. I worry my children will be teased and ridiculed. As an adult I have recurring nightmares that I am back in high school and being forced to repeat my senior year. I always wake in a cold sweat with chattering teeth. Oh the horror! So when my little ones depart into that great unknown, I totally freak out. This morning this manifested in me saying an elaborate prayer over my middle school child before his departure. He was very nonchalant about his first day. I was worrying over him not knowing where his locker was(another recurring nightmare). I worried he wouldn’t find his classes. (“Mom, I’ll just ask a teacher.”) In this instance, my son reiterated to me that he was going to be just fine and thought I was rather silly. The truth is my worries did nothing to help him. Speaking truth to our worries helps conquer our fears. <P>

I may lose some readers here, and that’s okay. I understand. Feel free to skip this paragraph if it doesn’t sit well with your world view. But my biggest truth is Jesus Christ. He speaks truth to all of my fears and powerfully vanquishes them. When I am most afraid, I cling to Him. One of my biggest comforts is something he said to me many years ago, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” He spoke this to me as I sat on a courthouse bench and waited for a judge to hear my case. I can’t explain the supernatural peace He gave me or the divine appointment I had that day with another woman in my exact same situation. I only know that He was there. I had prayed that He would be and He answered that prayer. Personal experience tells me that He is faithful to keep his promises and I cling to that truth. <P>

I continue to wrestle with the fear monster. This world is full of pain and problems of every imaginable sort. As a mother, I will always fear for my children because the possibility that I will lose them looms heavy in my mind. My oldest son has made a very important decision to join the Marines. This affects not only my identity, but the identity of my family. It opens a door to a world of worries I never thought possible. My confidence in facing those fears is that my advocate goes before me. I know that He will equip me to face even the worst thing my mind can conjure up. I am also comforted by friends who have faced those monsters and emerged victorious. Their testimony to the fortitude of the human spirit and God’s grace is potent. Which leads me to my final point…<P>

Community is Integral to conquering fear. Who we surround ourselves with speaks volumes to our character. Do we choose to be around people who feed our fears and worries, or do we reach out to strong and courageous people who will tell us the truth and bind up our pain? <P>

Several years ago I called to make an appointment to visit my chiropractor, Dr. John Smith(of Smith Chiropractic). He always fits me in regardless of how busy he is and I am grateful because I am constantly hurting myself and he is faithful to put me back together. On this occasion, he was not available. His staff said he was out of the office on a personal matter. I made an appointment for when he returned and while there asked him if everything was okay. He told me the following story. A good friend of his was walking through the pain of watching his wife slowly die from cancer. They were true soul mates, still in love after many years together, and crazy about each other. As she reached the end of her journey on earth, Dr. Smith’s friend was despondent. He needed people to hold him through that fear and sadness. Dr. Smith cancelled all his appointments and put his practice on hold so that he could spend time with his friend. Together they walked through the valley of the shadow of death. Dr. Smith’s behavior spoke directly to me about his character. He did this at great personal cost by putting his money where his mouth was. <P>

Real friends bind up our pain, worries and fear. They speak truth into our lives when we most struggle to hear it. If pain is God’s megaphone, as C. S. Lewis so eloquently put it, friends are the balm He provides to soothe our wounds. <P>

Today I’m socking it to my Fear Monster. He’s a pretty big fella but I think I’ve got the right ammo. More importantly, even if he bests me today, I will be fighting him again tomorrow. After all, I think that’s all we can really do in this life….keep fighting, keep failing, and keep trying again.