21 Days: Day 11

Despite how much I talk about it, I rarely seeweight. That sounds silly, I know, but it comes from years of my mother’s narrow focus on it. “Did you see so-and-so? Boy, did she put on weight!” and on and on and on. My brain evolved not to see it. Sometimes, I notice when people lose weight, but because of my neurotic tendency toward catastrophic thought, my immediate reaction is not that they look great or must be working out. No, I fear they have either a drug problem or terminal illness. To be fair, I’ve watched people in my life shrink and disappear from both of those things so it’s not all in my head.

But it isn’t just outsiders, I can’t see it with myself or Brad or the kids. The only way I know is by the scale. I never look different to myself. Sometimes I feel different. Sometimes my clothes–and wedding ring–are tighter. When I was a little bit bigger of a nutbag, I used to get really freaked out about the wedding ring thinking it was an ominous sign. It was actually just a sign that I was 22 and 100 pounds when we got married. I don’t want to be either of those things again. Still sometimes against my better judgment and the voice of reason screaming, “DON’T DO IT! NOTHING GOOD WILL COME OF THIS!” I still get on the scale and think, “Oh boy.”

Thanks for indulging me. I needed to get that off my chest.

1. I was wide awake at 4:46–probably because I fell asleep at 9 p.m.–but the alertness that comes with waking up unaided when your body is fully rested makes for pleasant blessing counting. Of course I stayed in bed and counted until the alarm did go off.

2. Today, I happened upon a person from my past. “By happened upon,” I mean that she came into my consciousness, and I googled her. It wasn’t malicious; I just wondered what became of her. We were either reasons or seasons to each other, but I never figured it out. I think a lot about the reasons and seasons people. Mostly because I want to make sure to learn the lesson the first time so as not to repeat any painful ones.

That rabbit trail led me to forgiveness. I think, talk and write about forgiveness quite a bit. Although I have read and heard this many different times in a variety of ways, for whatever reason it seemed to click in my head today: Forgiveness doesn’t absolve others; it allows you to move on.

Forgiveness is permission to let go of the hurts, slights, offenses, traumas, or whatever is taking up an unnecessary amount your psychic energy without producing anything positive. Forgiveness allows you to be free from ruminating over the pain and the people who caused it. Forgiveness is a gift to ourselves.

Forgiveness is not, however, a free pass. When we forgive a person we love so that we can move closer in a relationship, then we should absolutely forgive and forget. However, I get all idealistic and dreamy and decide to invite the wrong type of person back into my life or heart again. I probably don’t need to tell you this is a bad idea. Guess what happens? They hurt me again, and I have to start forgiving them from scratch. Please learn from my example and spare yourself. Don’t get all spiritually conceited and try to break bread with the jerks of your past. Just leave them in the past.

 

3. Today, in my Jesus journal, the devotion was about listening. I know that I talk a lot sometimes, but more often in real life, I listen. Actually, I am drawn to people who want to tell me their life stories and vice versa. It’s a tiny defense mechanism, but it works out. People need a listener, and I often like to be anonymous since I’m so open and transparent here. Tangent. When I pray and then listen, I know who is getting thank you note. Today, I got a thank you for a thank you. How ’bout that little circle of love?

 

How are you guys doing? How are your fasts? I made some really good soup today. Here’s my Daniel Fast board with all the recipes I have been yammering about. Did you make anything good today? What was your meaningful experience?

 

P.S. I wrote this at about 10 a.m., then when I started editing at 7:30, I messed up and deleted the whole darn thing and had to rewrite. I wasn’t particularly grateful for that.

 

xoxo

21 Days: Day 3

Today started out wonderfully. Last night, we prayed that school would be canceled today, and lo and behold at 5:45 a.m. it was. We (or I) were super excited for a day of doing nothing but watching movies and snuggling. That is a pipe dream because my little dynamo girl wants an itinerary and a social director, not her actual mom who prefers to sit curled up in a chair trying to cajole her into watching a movie or reading or just snuggling. Anyway, this morning my own mom quickly snapped me out of that daydream by sending me on a drug store errand. I won’t go into detail about said errand, but suffice it to say: It was unsavory. The kind of purchase that might send someone to Walgreens incognito. Fortunately, in my advancing age, I’ve reached a level of self-awareness that no longer lets my self-image get wrapped up in cashiers’ opinions of me and my purchases. Still. The only snuggling was with the cat.

1. I woke up easily because I was anticipating that I’d be able to go back to bed as soon as the superintendent called. So, I drank my hot water with lemon and ginger, counted lots of blessings and was supremely grateful to crawl back into bed at 6:15 a.m. and count a few more.

2. My goal is always to be real and genuine and truthful, so describing today’s meaningful experience also involves divulging that I was nasty today. I was short-tempered with my mom, impatient with Lily, irritated with the geriatric dog and just an all-around bitch. P was wise enough to stay in his room so he didn’t face my wrath. Then, this afternoon, I spent a blissful hour and a half talking to one of my dearest friends on the phone. We laughed until my sides ached and then talked about some serious stuff too. It was like a therapy session and coffee date combined. She is also my best coffee friend. When we worked together, we hit every Starbucks in northeast Ohio and western PA. Although we live states apart now, we still manage to have coffee dates a couple times a year, even if they are only on the phone. So, while I was talking to her, I had a cup of coffee. Yes, I cheated on the fast. I put cream in it too. I’m not feeling horrible about it though as my little perfectionist self would have in the past because you know what? I have been a lot nicer since then. I’m not sure if it was the delicious caffeinated delight or just laughing and chatting with a dear friend, but my soul got some much-needed nourishing.

3. I did better today with my Thank You note. It’s the coffee. I am admittedly smarter when I drink coffee.

Last year, “cheating” on the fast would have filled me with guilt and shame. This year, I realize: There’s no shame in knowing and admitting that I chose to drink a cup of coffee. I didn’t smoke a cigarette or use any illegal drugs. It’s coffee. And God still loves me. And it was soooooo good. I’m not sure if I’ll drink it tomorrow or not. School’s already been cancelled so I might. I’ll be a way better social director if I do; That. Is. For. Sure.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I gained 2.5 pounds. Isn’t that awesome? Not even sure how that happens? I stayed away from nuts today. Stupid. Freaking. Scale.

Despite some shortcomings, it was a pretty good day. I made spaghetti squash with peanut sauce that was absolutely phenomenal–I don’t know how I could be gaining weight :). How are you guys doing? I have talked to several friends who are doing way better than I am. Good for you, you bunch of overachieving show-offs 😉 I still love you. And thankfully, I’ve also heard from some people who, like me, are struggling. I’m praying for you, my sisters. And by the way, I’m super grateful for all of you who are with me on this fast, cheering from the sidelines, and even those of you who are reading this simply to fuel your loathing. Keep on keeping on, my lovelies!

xoxo

Just Because Your Name is Mary

Sometimes things shake you to your core and make you question everything you think you know. I have had a few of those instances: my brothers dying and getting pregnant with my girls–both were unexpected blessings with unexpected being the key word (I may or may not have extreme control issues) are a couple.

Recently my daughter wrote an amazing blog, and I realized that in trying to raise her differently than I was raised, I managed to instill in her a whole host of different issues. She was born at a crazy tumultuous time in my life. Imagine your life at 21. Drunk? Partying? Well, I was crazy in love with a tiny baby while finishing college, getting an amazing job, never weighing more than 100 pounds, and planning a wedding to man I never saw. At least those were the idealistic balls I was trying to keep in the air.

I approached motherhood pretty much like this: I’m not gonna be like my mom. Period. Yesterday, my mom mentioned that her doctor had gained a few pounds and that she hopes “he doesn’t get fat as a pig.” That should clear up any residual questions about my weight issues. Fat is the worst thing you can be in my mom’s eyes.

I had a lot of self-esteem issues that took/are taking a good part of my life to sort out. I wanted acceptance and people to like me. My mom’s acceptance came the skinnier and blonder I was–the more I was like her. But, I like to eat, y’all. So, 100 pounds wasn’t in the cards for me. Although, this Fast Metabolism Diet might just help me get close.

Now, I love my mom, know that she loves me and was the very best mom she knew how to be. She was tremendously awesome in many ways, but she didn’t exactly excel in the body image department, and body image is a big deal to girls. I accept her for who she is; good grief, she lives with me. This isn’t about bashing my mom, that was context. 

I didn’t want my kids to have self-esteem issues. I wanted them always to know how beautiful, smart, talented, precious, special and so forth they are. So, if they didn’t hear it from the world, you better believe they would hear it from their mama. I am not that mom who thinks my kids are perfect and puts them on a pedestal; trust me if you came out of my womb, I’ll put you in check. BUT, I am pretty sure that they all know I am always their biggest fan, cheering the loudest, and willing to do and be ANYTHING they need.

So that brings me to this earth-shattering revelation: Shouldn’t I have that same attitude about God? Shouldn’t I start asking what He wants from me? My sister gave me a book, Anything, by Jennie Allen, and more than any book I’ve ever read other than the Bible, it is changing my life. The premise: Be willing to do anything God asks of you. Do it when He asks.

Many times I’ve asked God what He wants me to do, but I don’t think I’ve been listening well enough. Instead, I look at the gifts He gave me and try to figure out how He wants me to use them. But I don’t have to figure it out. I just have to listen. The beginning of the week, God put two people on my heart. I said, “What do I do for them?” The answer was so simple: Pray. Last night, one of them sent me a message saying how much they loved coming to our church and thanks for inviting them.

Here’s the shake-you-to-your-core part: I’ve been waiting for Gabriel to swoop down in all his angel splendor with a harp and a shield (maybe because my name is Mary?) and announce some great calling for my life, and I have been missing millions of little whispers.