A few weeks ago, Pete preached a sermon with this same title during the "Greater" message series at www.Crosspoint.tv. The ideas are still ruminating in my mind and heart, and I'm actually listening to it again as I write this.
In the car after church that day, I asked my husband if he thought I was pretentious. I've been asking myself the same question over the past couple of weeks. And as I think about it, I realize that pretention has become a part of my very being.
My pretention is not toward others. It's toward myself. I pretend that I'm better than I am, that I have less issues than I do. And in actuality, what I'm doing is hiding from myself. I'm hiding my insecurities, my frustrations, my sadness, my happiness. I'm pushing away the glimmers of truth--whether they be amazingly joy-filled or desperately sorrowful. I'm becoming more and more numb to my own life.
And I don't want it. I don't want to live in a numbed stupor--whether I numb myself by avoidance, eating or ignorance. I don't want people to see me pretending to be something else.
"You are already a person who is deeply pleasing to God."
Everything about me--the core of who I am--already pleases God. After all, He made me, right? Did he not mean to make me the way I am? Did He not give me emotions to walk through? Did he not give me convictions to share? Did he not give me a family to fully love? Did he not allow me imperfections in this life so that I can see his goodness "in the land of the living"?
What am I thinking trying to hide everything about who I am? It is for His glory that he has created me. I am called to live life to the fullest--it is a gift from the Creator of this world. Whatever my life is full of in the moment, I'm called to live it--not stuff it, ignore it or numb it.
So back to authenticity. Back to reality. Back to imperfections and joyous occasions. Back to real life.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Lessons and Reflections from Robin Quivers
"You need to get past the idea that food is communal--it's not. Eating is personal. You're not having what your spouse is having or what your neighbor is having--THEY'RE eating it, and now their body is going to have to deal with it."
--Robin Quivers, The Vegucation of Robin
This summer, my husband has deemed our kitchen "vegetarian". This is not a shotgun decision. It comes after years of his reading books and watching documentaries about food, the value of it, and the rape of it by our government and mass producers. This decision has been a long time coming... and not an easy one--after all, my husband is an Italian who grew up with a lot of Mexican friends.
Now, he won't admit to this, but I've asked for this in the past and touted it's benefits. I even decided to go a semester as a vegetarian, for which he did modify his cooking a bit so I could eat accordingly. But in order to make this a family decision, he had to get there on his own. And because he's the foodie and cook of the house, I have followed along with whatever food decisions he was (or was not) making, thinking I was the martyr for doing so.
Last night, I engaged him in a discussion of our future kitchen--if we are in agreement that this is a better way of life we want to see sustained in our family. We agree that it is. I expressed to him that I finally feel empowered to eat and live the way I've always wanted to because he, being my other half, is on the same page (barring the occasional addition of morally produced meats). I also explained to him that, in the past, I've felt bullied into eating a certain way because those around me are not making the same choices I want to make. The worst of this happens when we have family or friends in town. I find that I resent visits from out of towers because it means I'm going to have to eat foods that make me feel gross, fat and unhealthy.
So because people are in town visiting, I have to make myself feel unhealthy.
What is wrong with me?
Enter The Vegucation of Robin. I picked this book up at the library because I thought my husband might want to read it. Not so. This book was 100% for me. I needed someone who understood my own personal journey with food/healthy who has walked the path ahead of me to teach me the real life lessons that come with leaving behind emotional eating, overeating, heavy eating to embrace something that makes me feel good and healthy in every aspect of my being. The quote that opens this blog is one I read this morning and directly relates to the conversation I was having yesterday. Feeling bullied into eating a certain way doesn't have to be my lot in life. I can be empowered to make my own decisions based on how my own body and mind are going to feel about eating X, Y or Z. I'll deal with my decisions and others can deal with theirs. Period.
This might not be news for you, but it is a freeing little tidbit for me... so much so that I had to blog about it in order to reference it in the future. Feel free to respond or discuss. I'm always interested in what other people think about food and lifestyle. This part of my life will forever be a work in progress. :)
--Robin Quivers, The Vegucation of Robin
This summer, my husband has deemed our kitchen "vegetarian". This is not a shotgun decision. It comes after years of his reading books and watching documentaries about food, the value of it, and the rape of it by our government and mass producers. This decision has been a long time coming... and not an easy one--after all, my husband is an Italian who grew up with a lot of Mexican friends.
Now, he won't admit to this, but I've asked for this in the past and touted it's benefits. I even decided to go a semester as a vegetarian, for which he did modify his cooking a bit so I could eat accordingly. But in order to make this a family decision, he had to get there on his own. And because he's the foodie and cook of the house, I have followed along with whatever food decisions he was (or was not) making, thinking I was the martyr for doing so.
Last night, I engaged him in a discussion of our future kitchen--if we are in agreement that this is a better way of life we want to see sustained in our family. We agree that it is. I expressed to him that I finally feel empowered to eat and live the way I've always wanted to because he, being my other half, is on the same page (barring the occasional addition of morally produced meats). I also explained to him that, in the past, I've felt bullied into eating a certain way because those around me are not making the same choices I want to make. The worst of this happens when we have family or friends in town. I find that I resent visits from out of towers because it means I'm going to have to eat foods that make me feel gross, fat and unhealthy.
So because people are in town visiting, I have to make myself feel unhealthy.
What is wrong with me?
Enter The Vegucation of Robin. I picked this book up at the library because I thought my husband might want to read it. Not so. This book was 100% for me. I needed someone who understood my own personal journey with food/healthy who has walked the path ahead of me to teach me the real life lessons that come with leaving behind emotional eating, overeating, heavy eating to embrace something that makes me feel good and healthy in every aspect of my being. The quote that opens this blog is one I read this morning and directly relates to the conversation I was having yesterday. Feeling bullied into eating a certain way doesn't have to be my lot in life. I can be empowered to make my own decisions based on how my own body and mind are going to feel about eating X, Y or Z. I'll deal with my decisions and others can deal with theirs. Period.
This might not be news for you, but it is a freeing little tidbit for me... so much so that I had to blog about it in order to reference it in the future. Feel free to respond or discuss. I'm always interested in what other people think about food and lifestyle. This part of my life will forever be a work in progress. :)
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Pieces
Pieces. My heart, body, mind... life... feels as if it is lived in pieces. I am fragmented. From the inside out. Fragments of time--schedules (mine and others). Fragments of space--outside, inside, work, home, school, store, church. Fragments of thought--God, needs of my husband and daughter, practical living, money, work-related thoughts, bigger pictures, leadership, future, worry, memories.
Every piece of me feels as if it is pulled in a thousand different directions. There is no center. There are pieces strewn around a broken and nervous bit of more pieces called my heart. But even my heart lies fragmented and divided in its direction and loyalties.
In short, I'm a mess. From the inside out.
Peace. Just the word makes me breath deeply. Not because I possess it. But because, by definition, it is a restful place to be. The hope of the existence of such a thing makes me relax for just a second. I found this on a website this morning--
"Peace is the absence of disturbance, a calm and composed soul. It is a quiet equilibrium even if surrounded by tumultuous events."
Peace. It is not fragmented. It creates unity... from the inside out. It is quiet.
It would stand to reason that, by this definition, inner peace would be an unfragmented and quiet inside. Those who possess it are not ruffled by stress or circumstances. They experience the same (or worse or better) than the rest of us, but somehow their core remains undisturbed.
Oh how I want this peace.
And that's really all I have for this morning. The want. The desire to breath deeply with all my parts--body, mind and spirit--in complete, unfragmented unity. It's happened before, and my prayer is that as I begin this crazy year (crazy for me, anyway--full time course load, 30 hours/week of work plus working a side business and doing homework and projects... in addition to being a mom, wife, long-distance family member, church member and volunteer), God will "hem me in, behind and before". He will speak peace to my innermost parts. He will keep his promises and hold me close.
And I will let Him.
Every piece of me feels as if it is pulled in a thousand different directions. There is no center. There are pieces strewn around a broken and nervous bit of more pieces called my heart. But even my heart lies fragmented and divided in its direction and loyalties.
In short, I'm a mess. From the inside out.
Peace. Just the word makes me breath deeply. Not because I possess it. But because, by definition, it is a restful place to be. The hope of the existence of such a thing makes me relax for just a second. I found this on a website this morning--
"Peace is the absence of disturbance, a calm and composed soul. It is a quiet equilibrium even if surrounded by tumultuous events."
Peace. It is not fragmented. It creates unity... from the inside out. It is quiet.
It would stand to reason that, by this definition, inner peace would be an unfragmented and quiet inside. Those who possess it are not ruffled by stress or circumstances. They experience the same (or worse or better) than the rest of us, but somehow their core remains undisturbed.
Oh how I want this peace.
And that's really all I have for this morning. The want. The desire to breath deeply with all my parts--body, mind and spirit--in complete, unfragmented unity. It's happened before, and my prayer is that as I begin this crazy year (crazy for me, anyway--full time course load, 30 hours/week of work plus working a side business and doing homework and projects... in addition to being a mom, wife, long-distance family member, church member and volunteer), God will "hem me in, behind and before". He will speak peace to my innermost parts. He will keep his promises and hold me close.
And I will let Him.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Healthier Days Ahead
I've never blogged about my weight loss. I am not a "weight loss" blogger. But those who know me, know my journey. I lost 100 pounds after graduating college. My weight fluctuates, but for the most part, I've kept it off.
Two summers ago, a friend of mine asked me (okay, pestered until I gave in) to lead a Made to Crave study at our church. That was the summer I realized that, even though my body was no longer obese, I still had heart issues that God wanted me to bring to him. I had a very healthy summer, and achieved a good weight, but unfortunately, those heart issues remain today. And those heart issues are what breed my physical battle.
When I am lonely.... not bored or happy or anything else... but when I am lonely, I am driven to food like others might be to a drug, a lover or a drink. This is a direct reflection of the experience of my childhood. I remember growing up in a house where I felt very lonely a lot of the time. My Mom started working nights when I was young, so even though I was in the house with other (older) family members, I was basically on my own. I would lie in bed and watch TV all night. I don't really remember playing with toys or having other hobbies. Sometimes I would read or write (the 2 hobby-esque things I still enjoy), but mostly it was me and the TV. While I was watching, I would go into the kitchen to get snacks--always high salt or high fat (read: chips, cookies, ice cream). They were my friends. TV. Chips. Ice Cream. Cookies. Ham sandwiches with mayonnaise. Whatever I could find.
And as I write this truth about my past, I shed tears. This is a heartbreaking truth for me to confess... just so we are clear.
I so wish I could leave that childish behavior in the past. But I haven't been able to stop this cycle I have of grieving those friendships while still holding tightly to them as if they are all I have when I feel alone. But it's not all I have. I have friends. I have a family. I have interests and other ways to fill my time or feel connected. I have other actual relationships that I could turn to for comfort, laughter, joy, companionship, fulfillment. Yet I hold onto food because it has never hurt me nor turned its back on me or made me cry. It has also never brought me joy, held my hand, made me laugh until I cried, brought a smile to a stranger's face or fulfillment to my heart. It has never saved my soul or dried my tears.
Food is food. If I can just remember that. Food. Is. Food. Nothing more, nothing less. It is necessary. But it is not everything.
And if you're reading this, food may or may not be your heartbreaking truth. Maybe you have something else that you run to like I do to food. It doesn't matter what it is. It's the thing that plagues you, frustrates you, battles you. Whatever it is, it's not everything. It doesn't define you... you just let it. God sees more than that in you in me. He sees someone he created for greater purposes. You (and I) are meant for more. Let's start living like it.
Two summers ago, a friend of mine asked me (okay, pestered until I gave in) to lead a Made to Crave study at our church. That was the summer I realized that, even though my body was no longer obese, I still had heart issues that God wanted me to bring to him. I had a very healthy summer, and achieved a good weight, but unfortunately, those heart issues remain today. And those heart issues are what breed my physical battle.
When I am lonely.... not bored or happy or anything else... but when I am lonely, I am driven to food like others might be to a drug, a lover or a drink. This is a direct reflection of the experience of my childhood. I remember growing up in a house where I felt very lonely a lot of the time. My Mom started working nights when I was young, so even though I was in the house with other (older) family members, I was basically on my own. I would lie in bed and watch TV all night. I don't really remember playing with toys or having other hobbies. Sometimes I would read or write (the 2 hobby-esque things I still enjoy), but mostly it was me and the TV. While I was watching, I would go into the kitchen to get snacks--always high salt or high fat (read: chips, cookies, ice cream). They were my friends. TV. Chips. Ice Cream. Cookies. Ham sandwiches with mayonnaise. Whatever I could find.
And as I write this truth about my past, I shed tears. This is a heartbreaking truth for me to confess... just so we are clear.
I so wish I could leave that childish behavior in the past. But I haven't been able to stop this cycle I have of grieving those friendships while still holding tightly to them as if they are all I have when I feel alone. But it's not all I have. I have friends. I have a family. I have interests and other ways to fill my time or feel connected. I have other actual relationships that I could turn to for comfort, laughter, joy, companionship, fulfillment. Yet I hold onto food because it has never hurt me nor turned its back on me or made me cry. It has also never brought me joy, held my hand, made me laugh until I cried, brought a smile to a stranger's face or fulfillment to my heart. It has never saved my soul or dried my tears.
Food is food. If I can just remember that. Food. Is. Food. Nothing more, nothing less. It is necessary. But it is not everything.
And if you're reading this, food may or may not be your heartbreaking truth. Maybe you have something else that you run to like I do to food. It doesn't matter what it is. It's the thing that plagues you, frustrates you, battles you. Whatever it is, it's not everything. It doesn't define you... you just let it. God sees more than that in you in me. He sees someone he created for greater purposes. You (and I) are meant for more. Let's start living like it.
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Everything Old is New Again
Faith. It's a funny thing. I've "walked" in my faith for so long that, like an old pair of pants, I've forgotten how much I was in love with them when I first bought them. My faith has been washed, ripped, stretched, flooded and worn to the point of being just like those old pants I'm ready to throw away because they remind me that I'm not {new, young, skinny, vibrant, fill in the blank...} anymore. The fresh faith that carried me through so much of my teens and twenties is now tired, worn, and... what was that word I used on Facebook yesterday? Ah, yes, reticent.
But here I am blogging, as I am prone to do when I need to think through my life and faith... when I need God to make me new again. When my reticence must give way to the life of faith (because make no mistake--any faith described as reticent is no faith at all).
This all comes on the cusp of God telling me "no". I've had "faith" that God would provide financially for my family in a couple of very specific ways as I start Graduate school next week. As of Thursday, He has officially said no to both of my expectations. It makes me angry. It hurts my feelings. It makes me want to cry and kick and scream and potentially give up on this dream I have watched God hand deliver to me over the past year.
But that is not the way of faith. The way of faith takes the first step without seeing every step on the path. The way of faith allows God to direct. The way of faith is simple. It is not overthought, hyper-planned or easy. It is serendipitous. It is beautiful. It is fun and unexpected. It is allowing God to make me smile instead of counting on myself for joy. It is peaceful--something I have not been for months.
Faith lets go. Faith opens its heart. Faith smiles. Faith breaths. Deeply.
So as I begin this journey... however long it takes and wherever it may take me, I will breath. I will be quiet. I will stop trying to be in control of everything just because that's what responsible middle class American adults do (ha). I will learn to walk in the way of faith--a way I started walking 20 years ago--and I will learn what faith looks like each day. And if you happen to see me, please ask me how my faith is growing and changing. And if you sense any bit of resonance in my answer, ask me again.
- ret·i·cent
- reserved: unwilling to communicate very much, talk freely, or reveal all the facts about something
- reluctant: unwilling to do something
But here I am blogging, as I am prone to do when I need to think through my life and faith... when I need God to make me new again. When my reticence must give way to the life of faith (because make no mistake--any faith described as reticent is no faith at all).
This all comes on the cusp of God telling me "no". I've had "faith" that God would provide financially for my family in a couple of very specific ways as I start Graduate school next week. As of Thursday, He has officially said no to both of my expectations. It makes me angry. It hurts my feelings. It makes me want to cry and kick and scream and potentially give up on this dream I have watched God hand deliver to me over the past year.
But that is not the way of faith. The way of faith takes the first step without seeing every step on the path. The way of faith allows God to direct. The way of faith is simple. It is not overthought, hyper-planned or easy. It is serendipitous. It is beautiful. It is fun and unexpected. It is allowing God to make me smile instead of counting on myself for joy. It is peaceful--something I have not been for months.
Faith lets go. Faith opens its heart. Faith smiles. Faith breaths. Deeply.
So as I begin this journey... however long it takes and wherever it may take me, I will breath. I will be quiet. I will stop trying to be in control of everything just because that's what responsible middle class American adults do (ha). I will learn to walk in the way of faith--a way I started walking 20 years ago--and I will learn what faith looks like each day. And if you happen to see me, please ask me how my faith is growing and changing. And if you sense any bit of resonance in my answer, ask me again.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Do I always have to be 2nd?
If you know me or catch my Facebook updates on a regular basis, you know that I have an obsession with the I am Second website.
Well, that's because, in my life, I try to live my life as 2nd in command. Heck, with a family, sometimes I feel like I can't even get to 2nd place...it's more like 3rd or 4th...or 10th.
I don't have a lot of time to write this morning, but the thought just occurred to me that there are certain things I do (and continue to do) only because I have God as first place in my life and I believe He has a plan He is unfolding for me.
So here I sit, printing out recipes, remembering once again, that I am Second in my own life...and hoping you will find satisfaction and peace in your own 2nd place. That's the funny thing about being 2nd place to God alone. Even if you don't think you're 2nd, you probably still are.
Well, that's because, in my life, I try to live my life as 2nd in command. Heck, with a family, sometimes I feel like I can't even get to 2nd place...it's more like 3rd or 4th...or 10th.
I don't have a lot of time to write this morning, but the thought just occurred to me that there are certain things I do (and continue to do) only because I have God as first place in my life and I believe He has a plan He is unfolding for me.
So here I sit, printing out recipes, remembering once again, that I am Second in my own life...and hoping you will find satisfaction and peace in your own 2nd place. That's the funny thing about being 2nd place to God alone. Even if you don't think you're 2nd, you probably still are.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
So I guess my Mother was right...
My Mom has told me for years that I am a snob. Of course, my response is, "How can I be a snob? I don't have a lot of money. I can't afford expensive things. I can't send my daughter to expensive schools and look down on those who don't."
Well, it appears that, after years of fighting it, I am, indeed, a snob. But it's not because I think I'm better than anyone...well, usually I don't think I'm better than anyone. It's because I'm insecure in who I am and what I do (or don't) have, and I'm afraid other people will judge me because of it.
A few years back, I spent a week with a counselor on Coronado Island. A couple of days ago, after attending a birthday party at one of Bella's classmates' houses, part of a conversation came back to me. The counselor asked me if I was a discerning person. After I answered that I was, and we talked a little bit about my type of "discernment", she challenged me. She said that my type of discernment wasn't something that simply saw people for who they were and accepted them anyway. It was a discernment bred out of self-protection. I'm afraid of getting hurt, so I size them up as either "safe" or "unsafe", and then I quickly either let them in or build a wall up between myself and that person so they can't hurt me first.
I'm guessing this is something I learned at a pretty young age because I had to determine who to be friends with based on whether or not they would accept me as the "fat girl". I had to make quick decisions and hope I was right so that they wouldn't turn their backs on me or end up saying hurtful things after I'd let them into my life. That happened a couple of times...and it hurt a lot.
As I think about it now, it's exactly what I'm doing as a Mom. Ever since Bella started school, and I have been faced with handling relationships with other Moms, I have put up wall after wall because I'm afraid that those Moms are like the girls who hurt me when I was a kid. If you've ever talked to me about the other families we're around at Bella's school, I'm sure you've noticed my snobbery. I judge them before they judge me...or I judge them FOR judging me.
...And it's not my place to judge anyone. In the grand scheme of things, it makes no difference where our children go to school...or what anyone thinks of me because of it. It doesn't matter if they live in a big house and I don't, or if they judge me because of it. What matters is that I stop acting like it matters.
I love my home...that is small and that I rent. I love the trees outside of our windows, and I love the people on the block I live on.
I love my husband and my daughter and they love me.
I like my dog most of the time.
And I know and love a God who is graceful and teaches me these things about myself so that I can continue to change and be more of who He created me to be.
My Bible is open to this verse right now--"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves."
I don't consider myself to be powerful. Let me make that very clear. I very much feel like a "fragile clay jar" as I write this. I am breakable, and I need a lot of care and protection to keep me intact. But I do believe I have a remarkable gift inside of me that people (and I) periodically get a glimpse of. My hope is that as I continue walking through life and seeing myself for who I am and who I can be, that Gift will be much more visible.
But first I have to start taking down some walls. And if you're a wall-builder like me, I'd encourage you to start doing the same thing.
Until next time...
Well, it appears that, after years of fighting it, I am, indeed, a snob. But it's not because I think I'm better than anyone...well, usually I don't think I'm better than anyone. It's because I'm insecure in who I am and what I do (or don't) have, and I'm afraid other people will judge me because of it.
A few years back, I spent a week with a counselor on Coronado Island. A couple of days ago, after attending a birthday party at one of Bella's classmates' houses, part of a conversation came back to me. The counselor asked me if I was a discerning person. After I answered that I was, and we talked a little bit about my type of "discernment", she challenged me. She said that my type of discernment wasn't something that simply saw people for who they were and accepted them anyway. It was a discernment bred out of self-protection. I'm afraid of getting hurt, so I size them up as either "safe" or "unsafe", and then I quickly either let them in or build a wall up between myself and that person so they can't hurt me first.
I'm guessing this is something I learned at a pretty young age because I had to determine who to be friends with based on whether or not they would accept me as the "fat girl". I had to make quick decisions and hope I was right so that they wouldn't turn their backs on me or end up saying hurtful things after I'd let them into my life. That happened a couple of times...and it hurt a lot.
As I think about it now, it's exactly what I'm doing as a Mom. Ever since Bella started school, and I have been faced with handling relationships with other Moms, I have put up wall after wall because I'm afraid that those Moms are like the girls who hurt me when I was a kid. If you've ever talked to me about the other families we're around at Bella's school, I'm sure you've noticed my snobbery. I judge them before they judge me...or I judge them FOR judging me.
...And it's not my place to judge anyone. In the grand scheme of things, it makes no difference where our children go to school...or what anyone thinks of me because of it. It doesn't matter if they live in a big house and I don't, or if they judge me because of it. What matters is that I stop acting like it matters.
I love my home...that is small and that I rent. I love the trees outside of our windows, and I love the people on the block I live on.
I love my husband and my daughter and they love me.
I like my dog most of the time.
And I know and love a God who is graceful and teaches me these things about myself so that I can continue to change and be more of who He created me to be.
My Bible is open to this verse right now--"We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves."
I don't consider myself to be powerful. Let me make that very clear. I very much feel like a "fragile clay jar" as I write this. I am breakable, and I need a lot of care and protection to keep me intact. But I do believe I have a remarkable gift inside of me that people (and I) periodically get a glimpse of. My hope is that as I continue walking through life and seeing myself for who I am and who I can be, that Gift will be much more visible.
But first I have to start taking down some walls. And if you're a wall-builder like me, I'd encourage you to start doing the same thing.
Until next time...
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