Sunday, February 13, 2011

Crazy Beautiful

***By no stretch of the imagination could this post be considered original. I am not going to pretend for a second that I am the first woman in the world to fight the internal battle of beauty. Nor am I going to pretend that I have any new answers or insights that haven't been discovered by far more wise women far sooner in their lives. Rather, this is the post I make because I have had an epiphany, however small. Also, this is my blog and I can pretty much do what I want. :) :) :) ***


The other night I found myself having a little pity party over my face. My actual face. I did not feel beautiful, in any sense of the word. So my solution was to repeat the words "you are fearfully and wonderfully made." And yeah, I took it completely out of context, but that wasn't the point. The point was to repeat it long enough that my pity and self-loathing would trigger the tears I desperately wished to cry for my poor non-pretty self.

Little tip: You don't actually get to use God's word to throw yourself a cry-fest over how non-pretty you feel. Instead of tears and sadness, that little exercise in repetition had the opposite effect. The tears didn't come, but a sense of peace did. And then--and seriously let me tell you this actually concerned me for a moment--I started to believe what I was saying. To myself. In the middle of the night. Until I realized that God was probably smacking His forehead and muttering, "That's what I've been trying to tell you!!" Well. I never said I wasn't stubborn.

I have started a new battle in my heart this week---self image vs. God's image. What began as two ideas on complete opposite sides of the spectrum are beginning to mold themselves into a much healthier view. The battle sounds a little like this:

Me: I have really short legs. That are also kind of fat.
God: You are a really fast swimmer. Mostly 'cause of those legs.

Me: What's up with this "baby weight" four years later?
God: YOU CAN MAKE ACTUAL BABIES. You're welcome.

As I've been having this dialogue, it hasn't escaped my attention that when I focus on what is beautiful about me in God's eyes, it tends not to be the physical. It tends to be things like my compassion, my sense of humor (I am hilarious, in case you were wondering), my gifts...and well, my hair. I have seriously great hair. So I guess the physical gets thrown in a little bit. What has been missing this week is the "I am not pretty" dialogue. I look at my face and I see something slightly different than in weeks before. I see excitement for life. And passion for Christ (not necessarily in that order). I see my mother's lips and my daughter's round face. I see beauty in a way that cannot be created with make up or a skin care regimen. Even better, I am starting to really like this new idea of beautiful.

My mom avoided pictures while I was growing up in the same way I do now. I hate being in them, because a flash is really not all that forgiving. I have great parents and they did/do tell me I am beautiful. I just didn't believe them. We all came to know Christ as adults, including my parents. So the opinion that mattered for me growing up wasn't God's, and it wasn't even my parents. It was me, carefully cataloging all of my various faults and using superficial high school relationships to convince myself I was pretty. Things have changed a lot since I've gotten to know Jesus, but the beauty thing has been a real stickler. And even knowing what I know now, I fear that my daughter will see herself as she grows up the same way I did. I look at her and cannot believe how gorgeous she is. Beautiful smile, beautiful eyes, the cutest little nose...she is mesmerizing. It does not escape my attention that God sees me the same way. I am mesmerizing in His eyes.

God really doesn't appreciate me slamming his awesome creation. It would be like making a cake for your firstborn and hearing them say, "The frosting's a little lumpy and your penmanship could really use some work. But hey. You tried, right?" Not cool.

So let's explore that verse in its entirety for just a second. I left out a few key words.

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well."


Hmmm. I know that full well. After only a week of seeing myself through God's eyes, I can't really jump on the "full well" bandwagon yet. But. I am definitely getting there. The Pity Party That Wasn't has given me some great insight. Instead of asking God weird questions like, "Why do I have that one slightly googly eye?" I am working on acknowledging things like my infectious laugh and how expressive my eyes are. I won't pretend that my new found knowledge means that Hannah will never struggle with body image issues, but confidence doesn't come from Sephora. It comes from the knowledge that God knew exactly what he was doing when He created you. Fat legs and all, I am mesmerizing.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Stuck in the Middle With You

I...am in limbo. In so many ways. Music, as if often does, has caused me to reflect recently on my life and I have come to the conclusion that my dreams and my reality have resulted in a stalemate. Let's discuss, shall we?

Colorado. Despite the fact that the winds are blowing at a truly alarming rate as I sit here typing this blog, I can admire the beauty of Colorado. Mountains, sunshine, cute little prairie dogs...I see it. It's great. Good for you, Colorado. Perhaps as I'm waving goodbye, I'll ignore your crazy libertarian ways and terrifying drivers. However, I truly hope to be saying goodbye soon. As in, yesterday. Our hearts are simply not here. This is made obvious by the fact that even my son has been known to say, "We live in Michigan." There are so many things I could be doing--and doing well, I might add!!!----in another state. That preferably does not even border Colorado. I should probably mention (in the interest of fairness) that living so close to my brother and his wife has been a blessing. I have come to realize that they are both really cool people, and her family in particular has made sure we've felt included now that my own parents are on the other side of that rather large pond known as the Atlantic Ocean.

Radio. Oh, radio. I love you. The day God introduced you into my life was a day I will never forget. The station I work for is amazing. And I am so sad that I am just a "tracker," recording a show in my room after the kids go to bed (or, far more likely, in the morning approximately half an hour before the first break is due). I have HUGE things I would love to do at that station, were I there. I mean. Epic. I miss the camaraderie of that station--the people, the listeners, I even miss sitting on the back of that convertible waving in parades, while people all wondered who I was. More importantly, I feel God has called me to work in the radio ministry. What I struggle with however, is the capacity. Right now, it is minimal, at best. I blogged a loooooong while back about sending a demo into a station here. Clearly, that did not work out or I would totally be bragging about it right now. So for now, my amazing radio station has to be enough. And the occasional skype chats with this guy. Not my total dream, but a step in that direction, nonetheless.

School. School is...cool. Seriously, kids. I like school. I am good at this whole "analyze the law" thing. However, right now I am currently paying someone else to give me the privilege of analyzing the law. And let's be honest. The stuff they're letting us do in class will probably never occur during any paralegal career I have. So...it's a good "middle," but it's that whole journey thing again. No point A reaching Point B. Yet.

My sister. My sister. How do I explain my heart when I think of my sister? She got married last Thursday, and it felt...like goodbye. Like we were sending her off into a world we could no longer be a part of. I miss my sister, and yet I never really had her. I have always envied the relationships of sisters on television. You know. The "over-sharing" types. My sister is five years younger than I am, and I believe that my lack of being awesome when she was younger has created some of my current sadness at our relationship. I find myself in this strange quasi-relationship that is neither genuine nor satisfying. I have to believe that things will not always be this way, but at this stage in the journey, I doubt my ability to forge the bond I want to have with her. To share in her life, instead of just being a distant observer. This created so much tension and sadness that it was actually quite difficult to stand as her maid of honor last Thursday. There have been many, many moments when I've had to seek forgiveness, and I am sure that this very situation will require that of me at some point. There are so many emotions wrapped up in this relationship---sadness, anger, confusion, and this unrelenting guilt that I have created this situation over a lifetime of...well, a lot of regrets. I should have been a different sister, a better sister. I know that through God all things are possible. I know it isn't too late. The struggle now though, despite my own shortcomings and responsibility, is to actually embrace the concept of forgiveness when it comes to others. Simple, right? Just...forgive. For me though, the very act of needing to forgive instead of ask for forgiveness makes me feel ashamed. Who am I to say I've been wronged? Am I really comfortable throwing stones from my glass house?

In short (perhaps you should have just skipped to this part)...I am in a moment of doubt. And I hate that. When things are amazing, I praise God like nobody's business. When things are in extreme turmoil, I hold onto God so tightly that I don't even care about the darkness--just the end of the tunnel He's promised to see me through. What is it about the mundane middle that gets me to question so much? Will I ever work in radio in the way I want to work in radio? Does God really want us here, in Colorado? Have I ignored my "true calling" by not taking a giant leap of faith? Will I ever have the relationship with my sister that I so desperately crave?

Oddly enough, it was my sister and her new husband who reminded me that God is in control. On the night of the rehearsal dinner they gave us each a gift. Inside my bag was a beautifully etched bible verse---Jeremiah 29:11. Even then, in the face of all this unrest, God called to me that night. I actually found myself tearing up as I read those precious, precious words. "I know the plans I have for you." I have to believe that God has a plan for all of this---Colorado, school, radio, and even---especially---my sister.

We're supposed to enjoy the journey more than the destination anyway, right?