My closest friend (part 2)

I hope that it's painfully obvious that I don't actually talk to my friends like that.

But that is the way the Lord chose to reveal this sin to me. Because that's what it is. Sin.

I tried to sugar coat it. I tried to tell Him that I'm just giving myself a realistic self-image. I'm not depressed. I'm not unhappy. I'm fairly confident but, Lord, do YOU see my thighs? And do YOU see the numbers on the scale? I'm just being honest when I say that I'm lazy and I did this to myself.

That's when He replied: "Don't talk about my friend like that."

Ouch.

I'm not alone in this, right? I think we women are especially prone to being harder on ourselves than on anyone else.

We would never scream at our best friend for gaining two pounds.

We would never deny our child breakfast because she had dessert with dinner last night.

We would never demean someone or make them feel like a failure because they made a mistake.

We encourage. We uplift. We even tell little white lies so that people feel good about themselves. We love. We forgive. We overlook. We forget.

As women, we have the profound ability to look past someone's imperfections, to see beyond their outward appearance, to search deep into their hearts, and to find a reason to love them despite their apparent flaws. We hear about it all the time in cases of abused women. We listen to their story in disbelief as they answer the question, "Why did you stay?"

Because I love him.

Because when he isn't drunk, he really is a good man.

Because he never hurt the kids.

Because he promised me he would change.

We sit back and judge their reasoning. But is it really so unbelievable? Is it really that difficult to understand their need, their desire, to see past the flaws and love the person underneath?

We women love hard. God has given us the rare ability to love our husbands, our children, and each other with a love that goes far beyond a fleeting, wimpy love. It's a love that pierces through the outside shells and sinks into the soft, god-like part in the middle.

But when it comes to ourselves, we can't get past the cottage cheese thighs.

Women can forgive the most heinous of crimes against our soul. Rejection. Abandonment. Neglect.

But we can't forgive ourselves for eating that potato chip last night.

We look at those who suffer from anger, and see abuse from their past. We look at those who run from relationships, and we see the abandonment with which they still wrestle. We look at those who work too hard, drink too much, or care too little... and we see who they are beneath all the crap that the world has laid upon them.

But when we look at ourselves, we see failure and lack of discipline. We see the enemy.

But I'm done with that. It's disgusting. It's unfair. It's a self-inflicted nightmare that I refuse to give into.

Because He created me. He loves me. He is my friend.

And I won't talk about His friend like that anymore.

My closest friend...

I have this friend. She is very dear to my heart. I've known her for as long as I can remember. We were in diapers together. We went to the same high school and college. We had kids around the same time. For most of our lives, we have been joined at the hip.

I love this dear friend. She has been with me through every difficult situation, every boyfriend (and subsequent rejection), every big event, every major decision. She knows more about me than anyone else, and she still loves me.

But sometimes she's a little, well, obnoxious. She talks way too much. She's REALLY hormonal. And she's fat. Like, really fat.

What?

It's not like I'm talking behind her back. I tell her all the time.

That's the other thing. She NEVER listens to me. I am constantly telling her what she needs to do to not be so fat. But she's stupid too. Like, seriously, really stupid. And lazy. That's probably why she's so fat and stupid. All she has to do is get off the couch and stop eating so much. And if she had just studied a little harder, she wouldn't be so stupid. It all boils down to laziness.

But I love her. Really. I would do anything for her. It's just, you know, she RARELY does what I want her to do. But it's okay. I'm working on ways to get her to obey me.

First, I yell at her, you know, just to get her attention. Then I remind her of all her faults. "You're fat! You're stupid! You're a terrible wife, mother, friend, and daughter!"

Then I simply instruct her on how to fix all those things: "Work harder. Get up earlier. Eat less, and for goodness sake, STOP BEING SO LAZY."

But, as I said previously, she never listens to me. So I have to figure out ways to make her listen.

First I make her eat so much ice cream that she's sick; then I don't feed her again for three days. Sometimes I just make her look in the mirror while I point out every single little flaw in her appearance. I start with her hair and point out how it's not like the other girls' hair. It's dry at the ends and oily at the roots. It's frizzy and, if she would just take some time to fix it, it MIGHT not be as shapeless as it ALWAYS is. Plus, she should totally go blond. Then I move on to her teeth. ACK! They're SO yellow. It's from all the coffee she just HAS to drink (though I've told her over and over again how bad it is for her). They're also getting more and more crooked every day because (hello!) she stopped wearing her retainer too soon.

Now we get to the easy part. Her arms look like somebody stuffed cottage cheese into pantyhose. Her stomach makes her look pregnant. I put my mouth next to her ear and SCREAM about her butt and thighs because, oh. my. word., they are HUGE! I remind her AGAIN that she should NEVER wear a skirt. Who would want to look at THOSE ankles? And her feet? Well.. size 10... need I say more?

Once I'm finished pointing out her flaws. I tell her she disgusts me for not being stronger. Why should all that stuff bother her so much? She should be used to it by now. It's not like she's a victim. I mean, every single thing I pointed out to her was put there by none other than herself. She IS the one who ate so much ice cream. If she had listened to me all along, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

Finally, she caves in. She bolsters every bit of confidence she has left (which isn't much, for some reason. I make a note to talk to her about that later). And she PROMISES me that today is the last day she will rebel. Tomorrow, TOMORROW, she will do what I ask and start eating better, exercising more, and become an all-around better person.

I tell her to be sure she does, and to keep her emotions and "hormones" (whatever those are) in check in the meantime. "There's nothing worse than a needy female" I tell her.

Honestly, she's a really sweet girl. She loves the Lord and tries really hard. I just can't figure out why she won't listen. Doesn't she understand that I genuinely have her best interest in mind?

What's been up

So, there's a lot of stuff going through my head recently, and a lot that I could blog about. Some of these topics include...

1. I am going completely 'poo free! No shampoo. Ever. Interested? Check out the Winnowing Woman (one of my favorite blogs)to see what I'm talking about.

2. In the past month, Maple has... been to the doctor 3 times, seen a specialist, scheduled a surgery, CANCELLED a surgery, and is now completely healthy. Expect more on this topic later...

3. I'm not losing weight. It's as simple as that. I'm not GAINING, but I'm not losing. I'm stuck. Blah.

4. It's Yard Sale Season!

And while all of that stuff would make for some decent reading, I need this post to be about my need to write. There's some stuff I've been learning recently that I need to get off my chest. Some lessons that have been (and continue to be) difficult, but are totally worth sharing. While I could probably write a book about some of this stuff, I'll try to limit this post to a blog-worthy brevity.

My main struggle since returning to the states has been in the simple act of knowing myself. I spent an entire year of my life striving to become just like the people around me, and once that habit is established, it's a hard one to break. As I have continued the effort to become "like" the people around me, I have become more and more miserable with myself.

I'm too loud. I'm too honest. I'm too passionate. My personality is too much for people. My wardrobe is too colorful. My sense of humor is weird. My opinions are alien.

I'm a weirdo, y'all.

Not only that, but I'm a sinful, self-absorbed, painfully blunt weirdo.

Scared yet?

When I first started feeling this way, I hid from the Lord. I have tried to think of a better way to present that on a blog. But the full truth of the matter is: I hid from the Lord. I couldn't take any more judgement. I didn't want to hear about any more of my shortcoming. And I certainly didn't want to know how to fix them and thereby confirm that they are, in fact, major problems. It was His fault anyways. He's the one who made me this way. He's the one who spoke to my heart so many years ago: Speak forth in boldness, for the harvest is plentiful while the laborers are few. So what right did He have to condemn who I am?

Because, you know, God's a vengeful, spiteful, holier-than-thou, condemning, cruel God who likes to point out my flaws and give me a 12-step program to fix who I am all on my own.

Except He isn't.

And that's the part I forgot.

...until He reminded me.

You see, there are days when I am too honest, when I should shut my mouth instead of speaking up, when I should be gentle instead of firm, when I should choose peace over being right.

But there are also days when God calls me to speak light to the darkness and truth to the lies.

There are days when my emotions get the best of me. I laugh when I should be angry. I am angry when I should be in tears. And I cry when I should be able to brush things off as no-big-deal. On these days, my emotions are too raw - too much - too apparent, and those emotions make people uncomfortable.

But there are days when I can sit in the gutter and weep with those who are broken, when I can laugh with someone else's joy, and I can stand alongside them in righteous anger when they have been wronged. On those days, my emotions are weapons against bitterness and loneliness .

There are days when my passions are misdirected. There are days I am passionate about coffee, or a TV show, or the temperature of my office at work. There are days when my passions become others's problems.

But there are also days (and I have to believe there will be more day) when my passion causes me to raise up and defend the oppressed, the suffering, and the poor. My passion gives voice to the voiceless. My passion will make a difference in this world. Of this I'm certain.

So I'm resting in the Lord and trusting that He will show me a balance. I pray that my uniqueness will be a blessing and not a curse, that I will appreciate the way he made me and not wish to be like someone else, that someday (even if it's in Heaven) I will see how each and every "weirdo" trait was part of a grand design to better our world and glorify His Kingdom.

And I'm relying on grace... a lot of grace.

OK, Dave Ramsey, anwer me this...

So Brandon and I have taken to teaching our eldest about money. She has a list of chores that are *her* responsibility: cleaning her room, putting her toys away, throwing her dirty clothes in the hamper, brushing her teeth (and, yes, that is a chore for a three-year-old). But there are also a few chores for which she gets a quarter: setting the table, feather dusting, sweeping the patio (with mommy, of course), and throwing away diapers.

One of the thing I love about this process is that it gives me an "out" when she asks for a toy at the store. I don't have to say "no." I simply say, "Sure you can buy it, if you save enough quarters."

Sometimes she'll ask me how many quarters something costs, and if it's a number outside of her comprehension (like 23), she responds, "Woah... that's too many monies for me." End of discussion. No weeping, wailing, or gnashing of teeth. No begging, pleading, or puddles of disappointment. It's too many quarters, and that's that.

We're quite proud of this system, her father and I, as we feel it is setting her up to manage her finances for life.

But...

Tonight we went to the store because she decided that the money in her bank was burning a hole in her pocket... or something like that. She chose five shiny quarters (about half of her supply) and clamored into the car, chattering away about all the many toys she would buy with her five quarters.

Of course, by the time we got to the store, I had explained that she probably could only get one small toy with five quarters, but she was undeterred.

Off to the dollar section of the local Target, and right to the small basket of balls. She picked out a sparkly purple ball - the kind that's filled with air and looks like a porcupine. She carried it around the store, happily taunting her sister with it for about 45 minutes.

We checked out, and she paid the cashier herself. She was thrilled to get a few "golden" coins back right before we headed to the car.

In the car. Seat belts snapped. Last-minute decision to stop and get ice cream on our way home. The perfect outing.

POW! Pshhhhhhhh...

I looked in my rear view mirror to find a purple, sparkly, porcupiney - completely deflated - former ball.

I braced myself and prepared for the wailing that would soon ensue.

No such thing.

"Aw, mooommmmmm," she said. "What happened to it?"

After a round of questions, we concluded that, in an attempt to help her sister get the toy she dropped, Chloe had put the ball between her teeth in order to free her hands. She bit a hole in the ball.

We were already halfway home, and Dave Ramsey said that kids have to learn tough lessons like these.

"Can we go back and get another one?"

What would you do, moms?

*In that moment - due to the sprinkling rain, and the fact that bed time was approaching fast - we did not turn around and get her another ball. After discussing it with my Sweet Hubby last night, we decided not to get her another one - yet. We are in the final stages of potty training, which means (cue dramatic music) no pull-ups at night! She has been doing great, but we still have some work to do. So... we have told her that if she can go two weeks without an accident, she will get a secret surprise. Guess what it will be?

Ain't no stoppin' me now....

Ohhhhh bloggity blog blog bloggity blog.... whatever am I going to do with you?

Lots of surface-y things are going on 'round these parts. My friend Superstarr is headed into town this weekend on her way back from visiting kin. Work is going pretty well - I moved offices today. Maple is crawling like her diaper is on fire. Chloe has learned the meaning of a "secret spot" and has taken to hiding her most prized possessions. Sweet Hubby is off at basketball having a guys night.

And me? I'm sitting between the arms of my green comfy chair, listening to the grumble of distant thunder, watching my favorite scene of Julie and Julia (for the ka-jillionth time)... all the while thinking... I should be blogging.

So... here I am... trying to blog it out on the surface. But you know what? That's just not cuttin' it. Because on the surface, life is sweeeeeeeeet. I'm slowly but surely losing weight. My house, while always bombarded by toys and dishes and that one sock that never has a mate, is fairly orderly. My job is improving by leaps and bounds every week. My kids are happy. My husband is enjoying our life here.

It seems I'm the only one who's out of place in this picture.

Waa waa... poor me.

Sorry.

You see, I came to a realization a few weeks back. And since arriving at said realization, it has latched onto me sumthin' fierce and just won't let go.

What I realized was this: I'm not perfect.

I know, I know. I was just as surprised as you are.

(You are surprised, right?)

But that's not all... it gets worse...

I am sometimes so far away from perfect - so far away from what I am supposed to be, from what want to be, from what I am called to be - that I don't even recognize myself.

And I could tell you a million reasons why this particular realization has hit so hard during this season of life.

But the bottom line is this: my very best... everything I have to give...

...my talents.
...my giftings.
...my boldness.
...my sass.
...my organizational skills.
...my parenting skills.
...my cooking.
...my teaching.
...my encouraging.
...my hope.
...my faith.
...my ability to love fiercely.
...my work ethic.
...my quirky style.
...everything that makes me who I am.
...everything that defines me.
...every little thing to which I cling... the things that give me confidence and hope... all those things that set me up for a successful life...


They. Are. Rags.

Dirty.

Worthless.

Stained.

Torn.

Ugly.

Smelly.

Mildewy.

Rags.

And that, my friends, is a hard lesson to learn.

To be continued....

Anybody out there?

This is the 3rd time I have opened this page today. I'm still not sure where to begin. Coming back to a blog after 30+ days of nothing is like running into a friend after you haven't returned her calls... all 30+ of them.

So, like, hey. How you doing? Yeah, I'm good. Hey, look, sorry I haven't been around. Life has just been kinda crazy, ya know? So much going on. Work. Church. Home. Life. You know. Chloe's been sick a lot this year. Yeah, I'm still trying to get over something myself *cough*cough*... *awkward pause*...So... it was good running into you. Um, let's get together and talk soon, ok? Seriously, I'll call you. Mmmkay? Good to see you *awkward side hug*

Ok, so now that the initial awkwardness is over and done with, lets move on to more important things, shall we?

Recently... well... recently... life kinda sucks (if you'll pardon my French).

Here's the thing. The thing is, it's easy to blog when things are going well. I like to blog during those times. I like talking about weight loss and the funny things my kids do and all the things the Lord has been teaching me.

All of those things are fun to write about... except maybe the last one. I only like to blog about that one after the lesson is all said and done. I like to tell you how the Lord took my messy life and wrapped it up in a neat little 100-word-or-less devotional-type lesson for me to share with my nearest and dearest blog readers.

But when I'm in the nitty gritty of learning one of those lessons. When God peels back the bandage and reveals a nasty, gaping, infected wound that should have been dealt with a long time ago.

Well, you know how it's fun to show a scar after you've had a big accident? But it's not so fun to gross your friends out with the wound right when it happens?

It's kinda like that.

So that's where I've been. In the nitty gritty. In the nasty. In the infected, sensitive, painful lesson.

And, frankly, I wasn't ready to bring y'all in on that action.

But then I had a conversation with a friend the other day. She told me how she doesn't really like reading the blogs that give the idealized version of someone's life. She likes to feel like she's there, sharing someone's life with them.

And there I was, in the middle of that conversation, heaped in blogger's conviction because I've cut you out. And it's a habit I seem to have developed.

I write when it's easy. I write when it doesn't hurt. I write when all the healing is complete, and it's just a fun story to tell.

So I'm going to try to change that. I'm not making any grand promises, and I'm still not sure on what level those discussions are appropriate for the general public.

But, I am admitting it's a problem, and that's the first step, right?

Day 1... again....

So here's what's up y'all:

1 baby + 1 preschooler + 1 mommy + a nasty flu = no blogging + no diet + really really really messy house.

So, since my house work is getting caught up (sort of), and since everyone is feeling better (mostly), I have deemed today as the first day of my 20-day diet... again...

The plot: 1 twenty-something overweight wife and mom, twenty days, 600 calories, and a blog where it all goes down.

Soooo... that seems to be all the creative oomph I have tonight... soooo... I'll end with my end-of-the-week weight.

As of Saturday, February 13, three weeks (a full 17 days) into the process....

I have lost 18 POUNDS!!!!!

My doctor's goal for the first 30 days: 20 lbs. Looks like I might make that and then some.

Woo hoooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!

19 days down; 71 days to go.