Bits and Pieces

Norah will not go down. Normally, Norah's bedtime is 7:30 p.m., but here we are at grandma's house, 9:30 p.m., and this one-year old is resisting bedtime with all her might. Flailing arms, kicking, screaming, she's giving this all she's got. And grandma and grandpa need to get up at some insane pre-dawn hour to go to work. I need quiet, and I need it now!

So I do what any parent in my shoes would have done. I strapped her in the stroller and took her for a walk. Change of scenery, fresh country air, chirping crickets. This all should put a toddler to sleep. As we walked I watched for signs of drowsiness. What I got instead was a perky little lady who delighted herself in showing me things that I had seen a million times before. She points to the pond where I used to cut cattails as a little girl, exclaiming "Guh!" She points to the neighbors horses and gives a double "Guh, guh!" and a little laugh (that's how she neighs.) As I walk, the tension of bedtime seeps out of my shoes and leaves me. It was a beautiful evening. I was sharing it with one of my most favorite people in the world. And I was being flooded with sweet summer memories of my childhood.

Suddenly I realized that this was how we learn who we are. I was sharing bits and pieces of my life with Norah. I was helping shape her little identity, just as mine was shaped when I stayed with my grandparents as a girl. Little tidbits that I picked up from watching my parents and grandparents interact became a window into another world. I learned that we were a hard-working family. We stuck together. We took joy in helping others. And we loved to make things with our hands. I also learned that families tie you down. When you're a teen-ager that's the last thing you long for. That's when you want to be free and test your own mettle. But eventually that season of life fades and you're left with children of your own, grateful to have a tied-down family as an anchor. It is a blessing to have roots, to be tied down.

And as I think these thoughts, I turn the stroller around into the bright setting sun. Surely Norah will hate this. Sun in the eyes is not high on her happy list. But as I watch her face in the golden glow I see her close her eyes against the sun. Soon she is breathing that rhythmic sleepy breath that makes my stomach climb into my heart. And I think, thank you Lord for keeping her awake so we could share this together. And thank you for my tied-down family that gives me a sense of belonging in this otherwise wobbly world.

Get Your Mind Out of the Gutter

There is only a small fraction of women who can honestly say they've never thought about it. You, friend, have probably thought about it, too.


I'm sure there are all sorts of scandalous things you're thinking about right now. What is she talking about, you wonder?

My husband will tell you I'm terrible at saving surprises until later, so here's the scoop: I'm talking about poop. Let me elaborate.

I must warn you, reading further will expose you to TMI. But if you positively have to know the dirty details, (and I mean dirty!) read on. And if you think there is absolutely nothing funny about Number Two, you need to visit The humor archives. (Be warned that other pages at this site are not wholesome.)

For the past week our family has been suffering from a virus that affects the intestines. They aren't working properly, and that's allowed some family members to get in some extra reading time. You might call our affliction the stomach flu without the up-chuck. Get the picture?

What I can hardly comprehend is why anyone would want this problem. Yet I cannot tell you how many times I've heard women say, "I was sick for a whole week and I couldn't keep anything down. I lost ten pounds! It was awesome!" And if that isn't troubling, the replies I've heard should give you pause. They go something like this: "I'm so jealous of you. I wish that had happened to me."

Dear ones, we have twisted our minds into unrecognizable contortions. We are glorifying physical ailments because they help us attain the all important goal: thin. The underlying message portrayed is that being thin is more important than health, and that I will sacrifice my health if I could be thin. Because if I could be thin then I would be happy.

It is a sad commentary, but surely true. Women constantly compete against each other, and being thin gives you an automatic advantage. Women judge each other. Women keep score. What are we exactly fighting over? In the dating years it looked like we were vying for male companionship. But this way of relating to each other doesn't evaporate at high school graduation or marriage. Moms in play groups still form cliques. Women in the mall give you the once over when you walk into a new store. We are still competing, but what for?

It boils down to one word: Worth.

Self-worth. Value. My importance in this world. Do I matter? Do I count? Does anybody care?

If I took my answers from the Clinique lady at Younker's today, I didn't count. I didn't matter. I could tell by the way she looked at me that I wasn't up to her standards. (Get ready for this: I went to the mall without makeup on and then dared to go to the cosmetics counter!) Sly, subtle cues were used to transmit her opinion of me...condescending tone, questioning my decisions, pressuring me to buy products without trying to relate to me as a real person.

It was all I could do to get out of there without tears.

I could feel myself spiraling downward. What did I want at that moment? I wanted to be thin and gorgeous and show her! And I wanted to eat.

But for one of the first times in my life I did not let my emotions rule me. I did spend a few crazy minutes in the dressing room contemplating a splurge of ginormous proportions. But when I settled down enough to tune out the background mall music, I heard God's voice.

Sit down and pray. Stop walking and sit down and pray.

So I sat on a leather couch with the crowd bustling by. I put my head in my hands, covering my face. And I prayed (and cried a little.) And God lifted me out of that slimy pit I was in. He brought promises back to me that I had been memorizing. He reminded me that my body was a temple and that he loved me so much that he gave his most prized treasure, Jesus, so that we could have a relationship. He told me of the plans he has for me. And he whispered that I get to pick who has power over me. Would I let the Clinique lady decide how much I am worth, or would it be God?

1 Peter 3:3-5

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful.

Blessed one, may you and I be granted the unfading beauty of these holy women. This is the beauty that lasts longer than we can comprehend.

Stuck in the Mud

It's kind of gloomy at our house today, with overcast skies and cranky kids. The weather forecast is for rain. And I feel exhausted.

Sigh.

On days like this I am encumbered by vague, heavy emotion. I can't get any traction. The laundry piles up, the dishwasher overflows. This downheartedness draws me to food. Eating is something I can do right now to mentally get out of my situation, kind of like a mini-vacation. Food won't talk back, won't reject me, won't require that I do anything for it. So I find myself eating leftover animal crackers from Norah's plate, snitching slicks of whatever looks appealing without even meaning to.

For me, most of this unintentional eating happens in a dreamlike state. I'm aware of what my body is doing but someone else is operating the remote control. When I finally snap back into reality the damage has already been done.

No matter what I do, I can't seem to pull myself up enough to end these out-of-body experiences. I've been thinking about why these strange experiences happen to me to begin with. At first I came up with nothing. This is just the way I am and I have to live with it. But the more I thought about it, the more excuses I found. Things like:

• I am the mother of two small kids. I deserve some type of treat.
• I don't have the time or money to take care of myself.
• I can't overcome my childhood eating habits.

Could you add your own line? Maybe it has nothing to do with eating, but it has everything to do with feeling like a victim. Fill in the blanks:

I do ______________ because of ____________.


That, my friends, is an excuse. It saps all of the power you might have right out of you. You're left feeling dejected, powerless, guilty.


My First Place Bible study is audacious enough to suggest that an excuse is just a lie disguised as a reason. That's blunt (and rude?!) I couldn't believe my Bible Study was calling me a liar. But sometimes shock therapy is the only way to get the message across.

Consequently, I nixed the idea of wallowing in excuses. Instead, I've spent many hours reflecting and praying about what's going on in my mind. Beth Moore's book, Get Out of That Pit has been enormously helpful. So far this is what I've got:

• I like to be naughty. I like the taste of ice cream. I don't want to give that up.
  
• It's hard work to do the right thing all of the time. I can't do it on my own and that hurts my pride.
  
• I don't want to miss out on anything. Satan's famous lie: If you do it God's way you'll miss out on something great (ie: the apple in the Garden.)
  
• I'm looking for help in the wrong places. I've looked to my husband, exercise, and weight watchers to be my savior in all of this. They've all let me down because they are all human.

Beth Moore gives some hope when she writes, "You can get out (of your pit). Regardless of whether you were thrown in (to your circumstances), you slipped in , or you jumped in, you can get out. And I do mean you. I'm not talking about the person who seems to deal with her pits better than you do. We don't need to deal with our pits. We need to get out of our pits. You can do it. Even if you have a history of failed attempts. Even if you don't think you deserve it. Even if you've never lived anywhere else.

But here's the catch: you can't get yourself out. Try as you might, you will never successfully pull yourself out of a pit (91)."

She goes on to explain that people may help us with our problems for a time but they always fail us in the end. She urges us to look to God as our one and only Savior. And the reason we can trust him is found in the New Testament.

Phillipians 1:6 asks us to be "...confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

God is going to stick with me. Where others will crumble when I call on them, God will be there. When I'm having a downer day, God won't look at me as a smile-smasher and run the other way. He stays. He talks. He listens. All I need to do is remember to reach out and be part of the conversation.

I am working on memory verses so that in a time of testing I will be able to hear him and draw on his strength and power. I've tried for many years on my own. It's God's turn. I'm tired of trying to do it alone. Now, I just have to work on that little thing called faith.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

What a splendid day it was!
We went to John Ball Zoo, had a picnic in the park, rode the trolley to Douglas J salon where the kids had their faces painted, "manes" styled, got tatoos, had juice boxes and the mommies had mini-massages. We hopped back on the trolley and went down to the childrens' museum where the kids made lion masks and played (Ellie did a dance for us dressed as a purple lioness and then they all played in the sand box.) One final trip on the trolley brought us back to the zoo, where we sadly had to go our separate ways.

Praise God for good friends, good weather, and lots of fun.

That won't be enough anyway

I just had an aha moment.

I was walking past my pantry (this place and I have issues, if you haven't noticed) and I wanted some gummy snacks. Moments earlier you would have seen me eating a package of gummy snacks, so on this trip I was thinking "I want more. That tasted good and I want some more of it." But what I heard when I stopped and thought this was this:

You don't need this. That won't be enough anyway.

I must lie to myself when I take more. I must tell myself that just this little bit more will satisfy. And each time I go for more I come out wanting more. I'm not satisfied. At the end of it all I am is guilty...guilty of giving into whims, of believing lies, of making myself feel physically miserable.

My verse this week encourages me to honor God with my body:

1 Corinthians 6:19-20 (New International Version)

19Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; 20you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.

Praise him that he is winning battles in my mind. This week has been a hard adjustment to a new schedule in our household. I'm finding honoring God with my body a tough thing to do when the fridge is more available and my schedule isn't so predictable. But I am hearing his voice in the pantry...so there is hope that the Holy Spirit who is in me will triumph over the whims ands ways of my own flighty spirit.

Don't Watch Me

Bright red. That's what my face looks like 5 minutes into exercise. I also sport heavy labored breathing, courtesy of my friend asthma. Still, I manage to go out and jog a few miles a couple of times a week. I jog because it is the most efficient form of exercise, not because I love the activity. More calories gone in fewer minutes. This is like bargain shopping for exercise!


Understand that I live in a very hilly neighborhood. Since 95% of my runs start at the top of a hill I always have to finish my jogs by going up, up up.


One of my runs last week was particularly memorable. I hadn't been out for a run in over a week (rain/heat&humidity/laziness kept me away) so this particular day was going to be difficult. But I suited up and set off anyway, enjoying the downhill descent at the start.

As I ran I found my mind wandering, singing songs, thinking about the day ahead, saying high to two ladies power-walking...


Okay, I didn't just say "hi." I put on a show for these ladies.

What?!

Now that I've got your attention let me explain how you can put on a show while running...

No, I did not flash them. Not that kind of show! But when I run by people I start pretending. I pretend that running is easy. I pretend that I'm not completely out of breath (to accomplish this I have to hold my breath, which means that I'm even more out of breath after I've passed these people.) Ridiculous! This makes no sense even to me, yet this is what I do time after time when I run. If there are multiple groups of people I put on multiple shows.


It happens that it was a quiet morning and these ladies were my only customers. I gave a great performance as I quickened my pace and lengthened my stride. It was easy to do on the flat stretch or road at the time. As I ran my route I kept my inner quitter at bay be promising myself I could walk up the last giant hill.

You know what happened, don't you?


I was almost there, to the mailbox where I could start walking, when the ladies rounded the corner and merged onto my road. They were going to walk up my hill behind me. The audacity! Now I had to finish the show that I started earlier. I could not let them see me walk, not when I had worked so hard to give these strangers the idea that running came easy to me and it was something I enjoyed.


So I ran up the hill telling myself "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. (Phil 4:13 NKJV)." I did make it, but the whole time I was wondering, "Why do I care about the impression that I make on these women? What do they care if I run or walk up the hill?"

My pride was the driving force. I had an image to uphold! What I didn't understand at the time was that working hard to look good to random people meant that I was neglecting myself.


It dawned on me that I do this in other areas of my life, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Consider:

• When company is coming countless hours are spent obsessing over cleaning and decor, forsaking my need for rest.
• Painting projects, craft projects, scrapbook projects, landscaping, getting dressed, etc, are always critiqued by the question, "What will other people think of this?"

Conclusion: I am an approval addict!


I so often search out and value the approval of others that I lose my own sense of self and I forget to seek God's approval. Colossians 3:23 tells us, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men..."


So the next time I am out running I hope you see me running for the Lord. I want to be red and drippy with sweat. I hope my breath is ragged when I greet you. And, as I pass by, I pray that I won't be trying to surmise what your impression of me was.


God's stamp of approval transends any that I or someone else could offer. And if we have God's approval we're going to have an inner beauty that no cosmetics counter or beautiful dress could hope to surpass.

Happy Grandpa's Day

Today artsy Ethan was making a Father's Day craft for his grandpas while Norah ate 1/2 a can of peas (she kept asking for more!)


Anyhow, Ethan colored a piece of white construction paper and was glueing phrases (by painting glue on the backs of paper slips) about grandpa on top. These included things like:
- Grandpa lives with grandma.
- He plays toys with me and makes me happy.
- Grandpa eats all the stuff. His favorite food is chicken.
- It would be hard for grandpa to hop up the stairs on one foot.
- He has grey hair.


Well, as these things go, I had Ethan at the table with glue, Norah in her highchair, and dinner on the stove when the phone rang.


I'm convinced that kids have radar. It works something like this: Bwoop... bwoop... "distracted mommy at 10 o'clock...proceed to mischief. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"


I was in the process of telling my friend on the phone that I needed to get back to Ethan and the glue when it happened.

I saw the paintbrush arc through the air. It was one of those slow-motion moments where you can't get there fast enough.

The tiny droplets of glue spread upward across the breakfast nook. And the descent, well, favored Ethan's head. Yes, that's right. Look closely in the picture at his head. Those are glue drops! The smile shows just how proud Ethan was of his accomplishments. He went on to finger paint with the glue all over the glass top table.

Did I mention that just 2 hours earlier I was getting all the knots in my muscles rubbed away during a fabulous massage? I can't decide if the massage was wasted because it's effects wore off so quickly or if it was divinely placed because it gave me the capacity to react with humor and the presence of mind to grab the camera and snap a picture. I'm leaning toward the latter. What do you think?

Melody

"D'OH" I'm More Like Homer Than I Care to Admit

Sorry, Mom. I watch the Simpsons every now and then. I know you tried to stop us kids from watching them. I mean, what mom wants her kid to watch a disrespectful Bart tell authority figures to "eat my shorts?" But the truth is that I married a man who enjoys the cartoon. So, for the sake of marital harmony I gave in and started watching the show now and then. To my utter shock and amazement I've actually

1. enjoyed watching them to the point I laugh
2. learned a thing or two from them

It embarrasses me to admit that Homer and I share some common traits. I'd rather be compared to Lisa, the smart level-headed one (most of the time.) But Homer does stupid stuff and pays "stupid tax" (Dave Ramsey). And sometimes that's me (and probably you, if you care to admit it...don't worry, I won't stop being your friend.) Read on...

"Why did I do that?! Why do I keep doing the same thing over and over again even though I know it's wrong and it'll end up badly?" Have you ever asked yourself these questions? If we're talking straight to each other I'm sure we'd all confess to that secret something that's got us hooked.

For me it was (and still occasionally is) middle of the night eating splurges. Not sure exactly why I get up at 1 or 2 am and plow through cookies, chocolate, cereal, birthday cake frosting or whatever else happens to be tasty and readily available. What I am sure of is that I do it, often in a zombie-like stupor. And when I'm done I cover my tracks. You know, putting the candy wrappers in 3 different trash cans, hiding the used carton behind the brand new one (MJ!) eating a little bit of everything so nothing will be missed. Oh, I am sneaky, erasing my tracks like a pro.

My dear, if you find yourself in the same boat it's time for a Dr. Phil moment: How's that working for you? For me Homer says it best: D'oh! (Wanna hear it? Click here!) D'oh


For many years, probably 15 of them, I resolved daily that "tomorrow will be the first day of the diet that would change my life." In my dreams I'd be 25 lbs lighter in a few months, a few dress sizes smaller, that much more popular with the cutest boys chasing me. Life would be perfect.

You know the ending. None of that happened. I kept eating and that kept all of my fantasies at bay.

Back to the original question- "why did I do that?" It's taken a lot of soul searching and even more of God's wisdom, but I'm getting closer to an answer.

Every action, no matter how destructive, unreasonable, sinful, or seemingly insane is done because it gives us something we think we need. This might be a something you don't even realize is lacking in your life. Call it subconscious sabotage.

So what could eating chocolate chip cookie dough at 2 am give me?

• Release from the demands of a baby and preschooler
• Companionship without rejection
  
• Satisfaction for my rebellious streak...I was good all day, but now no one is looking...

I've had the worst time breaking free from this middle of the night eating. But God has been more faithful to me than I've been to him. He's put people in life that have prayed me through this. He's prompted me to memorize his word so that when I'm tempted I can fight back with his strength, not my own (that's where Homer and I part ways :).

Matthew 4:4 Says that, "Man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of God."

Maybe you've heard that before, but let it be new today. God's feeding us with his words. His morsels are tastier than Mrs. Fields cookie dough, cooked or raw. Let him give you an infusion of his stuff regularly and you'll start using his food to fight your food problems. Can you picture it? A divine food fight! God flings spaghetti on Satan's head everytime you toss out a verse. Oh...there went a glob of gooey mashed potatoes when you quoted Psalm 40:1-3! And we all know who the winner is when God fights. Let's make sure we're on the right team.

Who's Reading This?

Hi!

I'm wondering who's reading my blog.

If you'd be kind enough to leave a comment I'd sure appreciate it.



Looking forward to what you have to say...

Melody

Strawberry Salsa

Follow this link to a great recipe for Strawberry Salsa from Southern Living Magazine.


My only suggestion is to use half of the suggested olive oil/vinegar mixture.

Norah.One Year

Devilish Dove Chocolate Sayings

It'll be a close call, but "Never Paid Full Price" has a good chance of beating out "Devoted Mother and Wife" on my headstone. My coupon clipping system borders on obsessive and my passion for shopping garage sales has reached an all time high. Mom always taught us to shop the sales and the way the price of gas keeps going up, sometimes I think this way of life is mandatory.


My most recent coup was when I scored eight buy one get one coupons for bags of Dove chocolate. Scouring the ads showed Target running a sale on the candy. I made a run for it and came out with 16 bags of chocolate for $20!


Why do I think I can handle this?
How are 16 bags of chocolate going to help me fit back into my size 10 wardrobe?
Wasn't it obvious that I was addicted to food and that food had become my idol?


So I piled the chocolate into the back of my pantry where it would be "safe." Where I wouldn't be tempted by it, you know? Where I wouldn't think about it's creamy texture, the rich taste spreading slowly on my tongue. Where my husband wouldn't notice a mountain of chocolate and how it slowly disappears.


I'd stop by the pantry

• ...on my way upstairs to get a crying baby
  
• ...on my way downstairs to enforce a time-out
  
• ...to reward myself for all of the hard work I do
  
• ...on my way to the laundry room to wash yet another soiled sheet
  
• ...to get the phone and talk to my husband who's out of town
• ...to lift my spirits when I feel insignificant or neglected

And the Dove people know what they are doing. They put little messages on the inside of each candy to reinforce the little voice in your head that tells you "it's okay to eat chocolate...you deserve this...one little piece won't matter..." Some that I recall:

• Temptation is fun… giving in is even better...

• Be mischievous.. It feels good...

• Hey- Why not?

• Follow your instincts.

• Naughty can be nice.

• Lose yourself in a moment.

• Don't think about it so much.

For your average person these are light-hearted messages written in the name of fun. For me these messages are the voice of the devil.

Whoa, you might say, isn't that going a bit far? Not really.

If Satan can get me to start thinking of going down the path of temptation I'm already half-way there. God wants us to take our thoughts captive and keep them above board. Little messages in chocolates that tell me to give into what I feel...well, that's how I got into this predicament to start with.


Thankfully the Holy Spirit gave me strength last week to ditch all of that chocolate. (I unloaded it on some willing colleagues :) Praise the Lord that last night, as I woke to tend my screaming 3 year old, that the chocolate wasn't there as a solace and that I could bypass the pantry. (I actually stuck my tongue out at it as I walked by. I think Satan was sitting in there pouting.)


I realize that my struggle with food and weight issues are going to be with me for the rest of my life. But I also realize that this is a blessing. It has brought me into a more real relationship with God than I ever could have imagined. Glory to him. Amen.

First Place

FIRST PLACE

a commitment I make to you, Lord.

New every morning.

YOU ALONE deserve this spot of honor.

I deserve nothing

Yet you lift me from the MUCK & MIRE

you save me from myself.

Forgive me, Jesus

my sins abound.

I forget you

I push you aside

I leave you WILLINGLY

I pretend to love you and be your friend

and yet you would still die a thousand

deaths for me

You love me WITHOUT ceasing

when I return and repent

Beauty is what you see in my broken heart

Make my spirit

just as you are

Full of grace, wisdom, compassion

May your glory and love spill out of me

this day.


-Amen