Five Minute Friday: Out of Focus

I'm linking up with Lisa-Jo's Five Minute Friday, and I couldn't have picked a better word to lead me to some important realizations. This week's word: focus.

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I am terribly nearsighted. Yesterday I had my yearly eye exam and had to wait a few minutes, without my contacts in, in the exam room before the doctor came to examine my eyes. The letters on the wall were a complete blur, but when I held my phone up, everything was in perfect focus. If I hadn’t seen the fuzzy letters on the wall, I wouldn’t even know by looking at my phone that anything was wrong. As far as I could tell close up, my vision was perfect. 

But like so many things in life, my vision is far from perfect. The same goes for my focus. After my post on Tuesday, I’ve done a lot of thinking, and I think the realization I’ve come to is that I’m incredibly self-absorbed. It’s no surprise that I am tired of thinking about weight loss and food because both of those things? They’re all about me.

If you look in the Bible, you won’t find any verses that talk about spending all of your time thinking about yourself. You won’t find any that exhort the reader to spend countless hours devoted to personal neuroses. What you will find are verses that urge followers of Christ (of which I am one, though ever so poor an example) to be joyful always, to pray continually, to give thanks in all circumstances, to think of others as higher than themselves, to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, to love their neighbors as themselves. I look in God’s love letter to me and am reminded to count everything as loss except the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. When I think on these things, when I live a life that radiates these truths, what room is left over for thoughts of me? None whatsoever. And that is just how it should be.

What I am coming to realize is that my view of Christ has become blurry because my view of myself remains in constant focus.

Turns out I am nearsighted in more ways than one.

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I invite you to join in the challenge of writing for just five minutes this Friday. Who knows what will come of it?

The Importance of Accountability

This morning I did NOT want to run. When the alarm went off at 7:30, I promptly shut it off and stayed in bed, relishing the soft sheets and cold air. Then hubby, dear sweet hubby, came in and pulled off aforementioned soft sheets and made me get up. How cruel is he? :) But he knew I had planned on running this morning, and he knew I would regret it if I didn't, so he did his part to get me out of the bed. And then after I had eaten breakfast and was STILL lounging around in my workout clothes, he pulled me up out of the chair and wouldn't leave me alone until I started heading for the door.

That, my friends, is what accountability can do. Had I been by myself, had I not shared my goals with my husband, there's a very good chance I would have given myself a free pass on exercise for the day. But instead I ended up going outside in the unseasonably cool and non-humid weather, and I ran 4 miles and walked 1.2!

I think it is so important to let others in on your goals, whether they're weight-related or otherwise. My husband has been my greatest accountability partner in many areas beside weight loss, and he continually motivates me to be a better person. And not only has my husband been a source of encouragement and motivation, but writing this blog has done the same. I was initially hesitant about sharing all of the dirty details of my weight problem and attempts to lose weight, but I am so glad I did because being transparent has kept me honest and on track on days when I didn't feel like it. Blogging about an exercise plan or a fitness goal helps ensure that I will actually attempt to meet those goals, and knowing that I'll have to own up to a day of bad eating or laziness causes me to think twice about those acts. Yes, I still have imperfect days, but I think had I kept my weight loss goals to myself, I would have a whole lot more of those imperfect days.

So the surest way to guarantee that you will work at losing weight or running a 5k or learning a new skill or being consistent with Bible reading is to tell people about it. Make it public. Encourage your friends and family to ask you about your endeavors regularly. Find someone else who has a similar goal and ask them to join you in your pursuit. Start a blog about it. The more you announce your goals, the more you'll intentionally pursue them.

It worked for me, anyway. :)

Looking Back to Move Forward

Though this blog is only a little over two years old, I have actually been a blogger for over four years. Most of my early blogging was done on Xanga, and even when I decided that I preferred Blogger to Xanga, I posted entries in both places for a long time before finally posting solely to this site. Even now, I haven't had the heart to delete my Xanga because it was so foundational for me and contains many important memories and connections to people, so I have been in the process of shifting all of my old Xanga posts from there to here. This will take quite some time, as in the early days of blogging I would often post multiple times a day (usually very silly things, to be honest), and my blogging in general was much more frequent than it is now. You'll notice the archives on here increasing as I continue to add posts, and I wanted to share with you a few snippets I came across today as I was adding posts from 2005.

One of my earliest posts, in February of 2005, in which I blog about trying to be healthy:

Being healthy is stinkin' hard! Especially when you don't like eating healthy food. The only veggies I like are broccoli, corn, carrots, and potatoes, and I can only take so much of those. Did you know that the FDA recommends 3-4 servings of veggies a DAY? Who are they kidding?? Who eats that many veggies, except animals? Does anyone reading this post, b/c if you do, I wanna hear about it. Now, if they considered french fries veggies, I'd be in good shape! And really, they should, b/c french fries are potatoes, right? Absolutely!

Haha, I don't think that particular experiment in healthy living lasted long.

One from the end of March 2005, in which I blog about frustrating shopping trips and ice cream:

The human mind is a funny thing; I went shopping this weekend and was depressed by how fat I looked in everything I tried on. But instead of going out and exercising, what did I do? I went and got some ice cream. Even as I was paying for the ice cream, part of me was screaming, "What are you doing? This is the very thing that's made you fat, and here you are getting more?! Stop it!" But I can't. And then I feel guilty and apathetic, but nothing changes. I'm still me, and that's what I have to live with, only sometimes I'd just rather not.

Just reading that makes me sad for how I felt back then.

A post from July 2005 in which I blog about the spiritual aspect of weight issues after yet another unsuccessful shopping trip:

I struggle with being angry at God because it seems like so many other people can eat whatever they want and not really have to worry about gaining weight, whereas I look at food and it immediately latches onto my thighs. But I know that's wrong. I just read in Isaiah that I have no right to quarrel with my Maker. He certainly knows what He's doing. I just hate my body sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. I hate how I always feel like the fattest person in the room; I hate feeling dread whenever I simply walk past a bathing suit display; I hate having to constantly think about what I'm eating is causing me to gain. Most of all, I think I hate how I'm too lazy to change it, and how that must displease my Lord. Jesus, help me help myself.

So much about these entries seems foreign to me now, and yet so much of it still rings very true. I am no longer drowning in self-pity about my weight but am actively working to change myself for the better, but I still fight a constant battle with food and laziness and longing. I think I always will. But I know that I am the better for having struggled, and I am glad that I can look back on these entries and see how far I've come instead of realizing that nothing has changed.

Where were you four years ago? Are you proud of the person you've become?

Skinny=Happy?

I have said before that if I am expecting weight loss to make me deliriously happy, I am setting myself up for failure. Most days I am fully aware of and accept that fact, but some days I fall into the trap of thinking, "If I could just be a size 10 everything would be perfect." Of course that kind of thinking is a total lie because losing weight doesn't make all of life's problems go away, and yet how can we escape that kind of thinking when the world around us constantly lauds people for their beautiful physical appearance?

I have thought about this a lot recently as I have looked back to where I was before I started trying to lose weight last January. I have read many weight loss stories in which the people telling them say varying versions of "My life was miserable, I was miserable, and I just wanted to be thin!" They paint a picture of their "fat" life as being one of unhappiness and despair and their new "skinny" life as one of rainbows and sunshine. And while I definitely think that losing weight has made me feel more confident and happier to a certain extent, I also can't say that my "fat" life was one of misery and unhappiness. Yes, I had my difficulties, especially during grad school, but those difficulties weren't caused by my obesity; they were caused by my insecurities about my intelligence and personality. To look back on my life before I started losing weight and just see a miserable fat person is to see the past incorrectly. You see, while some things about my life have changed, like the fact that I now love cardio (who knew??) and eat better foods and focus more on my physical health, a lot of things about my life have not changed, like my faith in Jesus, my love for my husband, my relationships with dear friends, my love of books. Yes, losing weight has made it easier to find clothes and has allowed me to feel better about my outward appearance and I do get a little thrill when I see a lower number on the scale, but if I am neglecting my relationships or neglecting the cultivation of my inward appearance, what am I really gaining?

However, just because I know I am the same person now in a lot of ways doesn't mean I don't struggle with how I used to look then. The hardest thing is looking at pictures of my wedding. I see myself in those pictures and have thought more than once, "Why didn't I lose the weight then? Then I could be proud of how I look!" But then I stop myself because I realize that the person in those pictures is glowing with happiness, with love. The person in those pictures is thrilled to be marrying the love of her life. And that person is still here today. Sure, it would have been wonderful if I could have worn a size 10 or 12 wedding gown, but just because I didn't doesn't mean I should look on that day with regret. So I choose the alternative. I choose gratitude. I am grateful for the life I have lived, both past and present, for I know that all of it has made me who I am, and at the end of the day, the number on the scale or on the waistband of a pair of pants means little when compared to a life lived to the fullest.

The Right to Bare Arms

For as long as I can remember, I have hated my arms. My upper arms in particular. I have always felt that they were disproportionate to the rest of my body. Even when I was at my smallest (which still wasn't small to anyone else but me), my arms were large. I sometimes had to buy shirts a size larger just so my arms would fit in the armholes! How crazy is that?? I pretty much avoided wearing anything sleeveless, even when it was 100 degrees outside with 100% humidity, such was my insecurity. I always felt self-conscious if I was wearing a bathing suit (well, I was self-conscious about that for a NUMBER of reasons) or a bridesmaid dress that was sleeveless. I sometimes couldn't even enjoy myself because I was thinking about how big and flabby my arms must look. I imagined everyone staring at them and being grossed out by how huge and fat they were. In truth, I probably imagined them to be larger than they actually were, but I do believe that for whatever reason they are abnormally large.

Now that I've lost 70+ pounds, you'd think that I'd be comfortable with my arms, right? Nope, not so much. I have several cute, sleeveless tops (one is a size LARGE!) in my closet that I haven't worn because I am afraid of what people will think. I still feel like my arms are too flabby and unbecoming to force other people to see. I have worn some tank tops while working out because running in the heat is much more bearable that way, but the whole time I'm wearing that sleeveless shirt, I'm wondering what people would think if they saw my flabby arms. Honestly, how vain am I? Does anyone even care what I am wearing, much less what my arms look like? It's not like I surround myself with shallow, cruel people who would point out my horrible arms even if they did think they looked disgusting. And it's not like I'd even want to be friends with someone who judges me based on my appearance or clothing attire. Yet I am still hung up on this.

I've decided that the best approach would be full immersion. I'm going to pledge to you, all 4 of my dear readers, that I will wear one of those aforementioned sleeveless tops out in public this week and in a situation other than exercising. And I will do my best not to obsess about what everyone else must think of my arms. I realize that this fear of bare arms and the accompanying criticism is irrational and silly and vain, and I need to get over it, so surely the best way to do this is to grin and bare 'em, right? :)

What irrational fears do you have? Any body parts you need to learn to love?

The Big One

Last night on The Biggest Loser (stop now if you don't want to be spoiled), the contestants got makeovers and then got to see some of their family and friends. I loved watching the contestants have fun looking at clothes, knowing how excited they must be to see the new possibilities their changed bodies have opened up for them. What made it even better is that the contestants didn't know they would get to see their families, so I was loving watching the reunions. Then Ron and Mike, a father and son team, were reunited with their family. If you don't watch the show, it's enough to say that Ron and Mike were both big guys (Ron was over 400 pounds when the show started and Mike at over 370 pounds). At the reunion was Ron's son and Mike's brother, Max, who is also big. Mike and Max hug, and Max's shoulders are heaving, he is crying so hard. When Ron and Mike asked Max why he was upset, he said, "I'm the big one."

My heart broke when I heard those words. I know exactly what he meant. My whole life, I have felt like "the big one." I still remember times in school or at church when I would go into a room and automatically look to see if anyone else was even remotely close to being as fat as I was. If I saw someone else who was big, I felt a modicum of comfort, but if I didn't? I felt complete misery. For some reason the fact that I was fat seemed a little bit less awful if someone else around me was also fat. I know Max feels utterly left out now that his father and brother are losing weight while he stays the same size. Misery loves company, and Max has lost his company.

The thing that bugged me about Ron and Mike's reaction to Max was the way they kept saying they would be coming home soon and would help him lose weight, help fix him. Max didn't need to worry because they were going to get him to be like they were. While I think it was so sweet the way they both tried to comfort Max, I think those comments were all wrong. Max doesn't need to wait until his father and brother get home. He doesn't need them to fix him. Ultimately, Max has to fix himself. Every person who is overweight has to decide for themselves that there is a problem. As much as loved ones may want to help or offer advice, if the person doesn't want to lose weight, it's not going to happen. I'm not saying Max doesn't want to lose weight because I think he obviously does, but if he's waiting on his brother or father to swoop in and make a transformation, he is misguided. That transformation has to begin within, and it's only when there is true commitment and determination to change, and even a little desperation connected to the desire to no longer be "the big one," will there be a true change.

I wanted to lose weight for years. I would look longingly at my skinny friends, my skinny mom and brother, and wish I were them. But wishing I was someone else didn't help me lose weight, just like wishing I weren't "the big one" didn't magically make the fat disappear. Until I owned up to the fact that I had made choices that led to my weight of 261 pounds and realized that only I could fix the problem, I was going to remain "the big one" who hated mirrors and shopping for clothes and being in a bathing suit. Until I recognized that the only true way to lose the weight was to work hard and eat well, I would remain "the big one." It was only when I was so desperate to be anything but "the big one" that my transformation began.

Even if I am still the biggest one in the room sometimes, I don't feel like "the big one" anymore. And that makes all the difference.

Just Keep Running

Today was Week 3, Day 1 (W3D1) of C25k, and I was completely dreading it. I have never been a runner, and times in the past when I've tried to run, I've given up rather quickly because I was gasping for air and feeling as though I might die. However, I made it through the first 2 weeks of the program with little difficulty, but then I looked at the schedule for Week 3, and I freaked out. Last week, each session consisted of 90-second intervals of running with 2-minute intervals of walking. This week it is 90 seconds of jogging, 90 seconds of walking, then 3 MINUTES of jogging followed by 3 minutes of walking, and repeat. So essentially the jogging intervals double this week, and that seemed almost impossible to me. Over the weekend I battled myself, the pessimist in me thinking, "There's no way I'm going to be able to run 3 minutes; it's just not going to happen. I'll have to do less and just try to do week 3 again next week." Then the optimist in me started thinking, "Well, maybe you can do it, but you'll have to take it really slowly. And you can always take a longer break between the jogs." The pessimist in me talked much louder, though, so when this morning came I was anxious but told myself that even if I had to jog at 4.4 mph (I walk at 4.2), I would NOT quit.

I started my 5-minute warm-up walk, mentally preparing myself for the jog coming up. I use a great podcast that has voice cues that tell me when to start jogging and when to stop, so when the voice said, "Prepare for your first run," I steeled myself, upped the speed to 5.0, and started jogging. As I ran, I kept up a steady refrain in my head of Don't look at the clock, don't look at the clock. If I didn't look, perhaps the time would go faster, perhaps I wouldn't freak out if I didn't realize I still had 2 minutes left. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the voice told me, "Now go into your recovery walk," and then I looked at the clock and remembered that before doing the 3 minute jog, I had to do a 1.5 minute jog! I hadn't even done the whole 3 minutes yet! Oh goodness, how was I going to do it?

The 90 seconds of walking seemed to fly by in half the time of the running segment, and before I knew it the voice came back, telling me it was time to begin my 3-minute run. Here we go, I thought, the moment of truth has arrived. I began my mantra again. Don't look at the clock. Don't look at the clock. But my resolve weakened, and I snuck a peak: 1.5 minutes done. I was halfway there! I thought of Dory from Finding Nemo and began chanting in my head, just keep running, just keep running.

So I did. And I did it, I completed the whole session! I didn't have to take a longer recovery walk, I didn't decrease my speed, I didn't quit. I did it! I am so proud of myself for trying this and not giving up. So often I have thought about attempting things and then have dismissed them for fear of failing. As mentioned previously, I like to try things I feel pretty certain I will succeed in, and running never seemed like one of those things. Now I wonder if I could have done it all along. Have I been selling myself short, telling myself I couldn't do it all these years, when in fact I just hadn't pushed myself enough? What else am I missing out on because I don't want to try, to believe that I can do it?

What is something you are afraid to try?

Who Am I to Question?

The following is from the beginning of a SparkPeople article:

If we had friends that treated us the way that many of us treat ourselves, they wouldn’t be our friends for very long. Imagine a friend who calls up just to complain–about you. Or an alleged buddy who quickly says “I told you so” when you screw up. Or someone who encourages you to give up instead of encouraging you to do your best.

Why do we do this? Why do we treat ourselves in such horrible ways? For some, the negative self-talk is so bad that it would literally be considered verbal abuse if coming from another person. Do any of these sound familiar? “I’m not good enough.” “I knew I’d fail.” “I can’t believe I messed it up again.” “Why can’t I be more like (fill in the blank)?” “I don’t deserve to be happy.” If someone said these things to you, imagine the impact it would have on your confidence.

Those 2 paragraphs really resonated with me, and I think there is a lot of truth to the idea that we rarely subject others to the same level of abuse to which we subject ourselves. I am constantly saying things like, "I am so stupid" or "I can't believe I did that," or "What is wrong with me?" and yet I would never dream of talking to someone else like that! And I don't think this concept of self-hatred is just some kind of pop psychology; it has theological roots. If I am profoundly dissatisfied with myself, that dissatisfaction stems from distrust in God's perfect wisdom and design. His Word tells me I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), and He takes great delight in me and rejoices over me with singing (Zephaniah 3:17). Those are powerful words, friends! God rejoices over His children! He DELIGHTS in me. And I look at myself with contempt and loathing, questioning why God made me the way He did, as if I know better. How dare I question the Maker of heaven and earth, He who placed the stars in the sky, who causes the mountains to tremble?

Does anyone else struggle with this? How do you deal with it?

Do Unto Others

I don't do waiting well. I especially don't do waiting well if I'm in a grocery store. I start swaying back and forth, huffing indignantly to myself, and criticizing people in my head. (Do you still like me?) And I always pick the worst checkout aisle. It can be an aisle with one person who only has a handful of items, and I'll choose that one (of course) over the aisle with three people with loaded-down carts, but who ends up in the quicker line? The loaded-down carts group. Something always happens in my lane to slow down the process, whether it's an item that won't scan, a coupon that won't scan, or a check that won't clear. (Why do people even use checks anymore? They're such a hassle!) This trip to Wal-Mart was no different; I found a lane that only had one couple in it. Their cart was quite full, but I figured it was the best bet since the other lanes (all 2 that were open) had several people in them. The couple was an elderly couple, and the man was slowly placing his items on the belt (emphasis on slowly). As I watched him pick up one item at a time and debate on where to put it, I started to get antsy. Couldn't he grab more than one thing at a time? Did he have to be sooo slow? As I was chastising him in my head, he turned around and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, ma'am, I just don't move like I used to. I hope we're not too much trouble." Awww. I immediately smiled and said, "Oh, it's okay, I'm not in a hurry." I mainly said that just to be nice, but the thing is, I wasn't in a hurry. I had no reason to be standing there huffing and puffing and getting all agitated at this sweet old man. What did it matter if I spent 5 more minutes in the grocery store? Why am I always in such a hurry? What am I hurrying to? Time on the Internet? Time in front of the TV? I chided myself and thanked the Lord for this check in my spirit, and I helped him put out the rest of his groceries.

As I left it occurred to me that I hope people will treat me with respect and patience when I'm older and can't "move" like I do now. I am ashamed at how quickly I grow impatient, how easy it is for me to criticize instead of love, and I am thankful that God showed this to me through a man in a grocery store. I act like my time is such a valuable commodity, and yet I waste a lot of it doing things that aren't important. May I learn to spend my time in ways that matter to the kingdom of God, in ways that show love and not hate, that build up and don't tear down.

"What is that to you?"

Stephen and I have been going through a one-year Bible, and today I read the end of the book of John, when Jesus asks Peter if he loves him and then tells Peter to feed his sheep. I really love this passage and blogged about it before, and I was reminded again of how like Peter I am. After Jesus has instructed Peter to feed his sheep, Peter is still not content but looks at John and asks Jesus, "What about him?" Jesus replies, "If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me." In other words, "Who is your focus? Is it John, or is it Me?" You must follow Me.

Last week at my church's music camp I had 5 girls under my care, and I had ample time to discover their individual personalities. One girl in particular--we'll call her Samantha--is a tattle-tale. She is constantly on the lookout for others to break the rules so she can then come to me and report it. She loves getting onto the other kids if she sees them doing wrong, and she constantly would look to me for affirmation of this behavior. But instead of affirming her for her policing of the entire group of children, I would tell her gently but firmly, "Samantha, you are not the leader here. You are not in charge of these kids. All you need to worry about is yourself." She would sigh in great annoyance and say, "Yeah, but what are you going to do with them?"

Samantha reminds me a lot of myself. I hate to say it, but I have a feeling I was a lot like her when I was younger. I relished opportunities to please others, especially those in authority, and I felt that a good way to do that would be to find what others were doing wrong and report it. (How did I have any friends??) All it came down to was a desire for attention and a yearning to feel significant, to feel as though I measured up. I imagine this is how Samantha feels, and how Peter felt. We want so much to feel significant, to feel as though we measure up, but then we look around at other people and wonder how in the world we'll ever make the grade. How could Peter, the one who denied Christ, be like John, the "disciple whom Jesus loved?" How could Samantha get attention unless she did so by pointing out the flaws of others? How can I ever feel successful in my weight loss when so many others are doing much better?

The answer is that we can't do it, and there's no need to even try. Just as Jesus exhorted Peter to follow Him, so also must I do the same. I don't have to look at other people for my example; Jesus is the perfect One! I don't have to worry about what other people think because it's not them I'm trying to please. Paul wrote in Galatians 1:10, "For am I now seeking the favor of men, or of God? Or am I striving to please men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a bond-servant of Christ." If there's anything I want, it's to be bonded to Christ. But I can't do that if I'm a slave to the world and its expectations. I can only serve one master, and Jesus is far better than anything the world has to offer. If I look to Him, I will be so blinded by His glory that I will see nothing else. So I fix my eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor. 4:18)

I must follow Him.

I'm SO Glad I Changed My Major

I'm not a huge play-with-a-lot-of-kids kind of person. I love kids on an individual basis, but put me with more than 3 in a room, and I get a little stressed. What is most hilarious about this is that at one time I thought I wanted to be an elementary school teacher. I even went to a summer-long program in high school geared towards that profession. Then, suddenly, I realized during my freshman year of college that while I admire children from a distance, having 20 of them in a room in close proximity to me every day isn't really ideal for me. I prefer to teach people who already know how to tie their shoes, sit in a chair, use the bathroom by themselves, and write legibly. Most of my college students have mastered these skills. :)

However, despite all of this, I thought it would be fun for Stephen and I to sign up for extended session (the time between the end of Sunday School and the end of the service) at church. We have been looking for a way to serve together, and extended session with kids sounded fun. When we got the schedule and saw that we had been assigned to the 4- and 5-year-olds, I was relieved. At least at that age they can follow orders and are used to some semblance of structure, right? They also would require no diaper-changing! And since the time was full of structured activities (snack, video, craft), it should be no problem getting them to follow along. Piece of cake.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

About an hour and fifteen minutes after we arrived to pick up the children and guide them to the classroom (for some reason we had to switch classes), we were exhausted. Chairs were strewn about the room, along with glue stick lids and craft pom-poms, the orange mark of cheese puffs was all over hands and cheeks, and one kid was missing.

Okay, so the last part isn't true. And I wouldn't say things were "strewn about" exactly, but the room definitely wasn't in the state of order in which we'd found it. And we were actually smart enough to wipe the kids' hands after they had their cheesy snack (cheese puffs are a terrible snack idea, if you ask me). However, I don't think the kids learned a single thing while we were in there. At first mention of a video, they excitedly went to the chairs, but that interest disintegrated within seconds, and one boy was roaming about the room, another was trying to kiss one of the girls, and a third was playing with some jingle bells. (That is all true.) About 2 minutes into the video, one request for a bathroom break was made, followed by 7 other requests, so we paused the movie and took them all to the bathroom. (I got lucky with this, as there were only 3 girls, but Stephen got to deal with 5 boys, one of which touched the urinal and then licked his finger. Yum.)

After the video was over, there were only about 10 minutes for craft time. The craft involved glueing small pom-poms onto a cardstock arrow (it somehow tied into the lesson), using a glue stick. I know glue sticks are a lot less messy than other glue, but should you ever get the desire to glue pom-poms onto a cardstock arrow, know that the glue stick is virtually useless unless applied in copious amounts, which some of the kids gleefully did. I think only one boy actually finished the craft. Two of the girls spent several minutes debating over who would get to use the pink scissors (the pink scissors are CRUCIAL to the completion of the craft) and therefore didn't get much accomplished, a couple had trouble even using scissors, and others just goofed off. Even though most did not get any pom-poms glued to the arrow, plenty of pom-poms made their way all over the table. Yippie!

After this wonderfully adventurous morning, Stephen and I have decided not to have kids. KIDDING. Well, maybe. :)

Happiness

I was going through old files on my external hard drive to see if there were files I could get rid of, and while doing so I came across one called "My Happy Book." The utter cheesiness of the title aside, I was instantly reminded of what this file contained. In the winter break before my last semester at Union, I was browsing around one of my favorite haunts, Barnes & Noble, when I happened upon a book in one of the carousels by the cafe'. I think the title was something like 10,000 Reasons to be Happy or 10,000 Things to Be Happy About, but I can't seem to find a book of that title, so perhaps I made it up. However, I do remember thinking several things about this book.
1) It was a little sad that people needed to read a book of generic things someone else had come up with, in the hopes that it would make them happy.
2) It would be silly to buy this book, as I could make a much more personal list of my own for free, thereby saving myself $10.99 and ensuring that each item truly was a reason for me to be happy. (For example, I remember one of happy things being "cigars after dinner," and cigars are disgusting.)
3) Making a list of happy things would be a good way to remember all that is good in my life, all that God has so richly and lavishly bestowed upon my small existence.

After leaving the store that day I started the document, resolving to add at least 5 items to the list every day. Unfortunately, I'm notoriously bad at coming up with good ideas and never seeing them through, so the 5-happy-things-a-day plan lasted perhaps two weeks before life crowded in and caused me to forget to dwell on the happy things. Every now and then, though, I would remember, and I'd go back to my list and add whatever came to mind, often adding a lot more than the self-imposed 5 happy things minimum.

My Happy Book, as I came to call it, hadn't been opened for a while, as far as I could tell. When I opened it today, the last item was #317: The smell of freshly-cut grass. It's been almost four years since I first started that list, and I only managed to get to #317. Reading over the list was quite interesting, and I found my happy things ranging from the general (#27: God's infinitude) to the very specific (#88: a Miles Davis CD on eBay for $.250), to the academic (#37: Making an A on a paper and knowing I earned it; #201: Correctly breaking up a word into morphemes [I've completely forgotten how to do that!]), to the food-related (#20: Chocolate brownie frappuccino from Starbucks [which they no longer have!]; #211: Cherry limeades from Sonic), to the book-related (#29: Sitting in front of a blazing fire and reading a good book; #43: Finishing a really good book with the knowledge that I will definitely want to read it again; #68: Beginning a new book; #69: The smell of a new book; #195: Lying in a hammock on a spring day and reading a good book).

The funny thing about a list like this is that it's easy to tell what stage of life I was in at the time. I could tell when I wasn't at Union because I looked forward to break being over so I could go back, and I could tell when I had left Union and had begun grad school at UT because there were mentions of a new city and an apartment and small victories in theory class or Old English. Reading these happy things is like opening up a box of photos and thumbing through them one by one, and I'm so glad I have new happy things--more verbal photographs--to add (#318: My husband; #319: My husband bringing home flowers; #321: Being able to use the word "husband").

Life is good. I am deeply blessed by a God who shows me His grace every day.

What would you put in your happy book?

Day 31: The Least of These

She was in 8th grade, and she liked Clay Aiken and Beyoncé and (strangely enough) Avalon. She also loved to "style" my hair, which usually resulted in my wearing a side ponytail and her giggling profusely. Her name was Erica, and she was my Little Sister. I met her through my roommate, who had worked with Erica through the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. When the program closed due to lack of funding, my roommate kept seeing Erica, and when she was getting ready to graduate, she asked if I would be a mentor to Erica. Eager to "make a difference," I said yes.

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Sometimes she'd talk about her family, but not often. What I did know saddened me. She lived with her mom and older brother in her grandmother's two-bedroom house in the "rough" part of town. Her dad had disappeared years ago. Sometimes he sent birthday cards, but most of the time he forgot. Her mom was rarely around, her brother often out of the house, and her grandmother quiet and distant.I would pick her up once a week and take her to the mall (her favorite store was the music store), or to the park (she liked walking the trail), or to my dorm, where we'd watch Disney movies and make cookies. Often I'd help her with her homework. ("No, Erica, I'm not writing that paper for you, but I will help you get started.") I wanted our time together to be fun and positive and encouraging.

Often it was just difficult.

Maybe it was because of her home life, or maybe because she missed her dad. Maybe she just enjoyed it, but for whatever reason, Erica liked lying. The first time we hung out, she told me that the night before her house had been raided by the cops, who were looking for a man who had murdered someone. Erica said they'd found his shirt in her room, and she was scared they thought she did something. After a panicked call to her mom, I found out the story was completely untrue. Not only that, but she'd told the same story to my roommate more than once. After a few meetings, I became a pro at deciphering which stories were true ("We had pizza in the cafeteria today.") and which were false ("We went on a field trip to the bowling alley.") What puzzled me is that most of her lies were not about serious things, like the cops raiding her house, but were about things like school field trips or parties or boys. At first I didn't no how to respond to her, but after a while I began calling her on her lies, then asking her to tell me what really happened at school. Soon she began calling me every day, sometimes multiple times. If I wasn't there, she'd leave a message, then call again 5 minutes later.

A few months into our relationship, I began crying out to God to help me with Erica. I was in over my head, and I was having a hard time loving her. How could I love someone who lied to me? How could I love someone who tried to shoplift in the mall when she was with me? How could I love someone so unlike me? The answer was easy:

"I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Matthew 25:40)

"Jesus replied: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" (Matthew 22:37-39)

As I began praying for Erica, praying that God would help me to love her I was reminded of God's love for me. How could Jesus love me, when I so often shunned Him? How could Jesus love me, when I often placed everything else in my life above Him? How could Jesus love me, when I was so completely unlovable? The answer is that Jesus is the Lover of the Unlovable. That includes me and Erica, and as I learned that, my love for Erica grew.

I wish I could say that at the end of our time together, Erica was a changed person. She wasn't, not completely. She still lied, but a lot less frequently. She'd ask me questions about God ( more than she asked me about sex), and we prayed together.
The last time I dropped her off, the day before I graduated from college, I said, "I love you, Erica." She smiled and said, "I know."

There are lots of girls and boys just like Erica, children that come from homes very different than the ones I imagine a lot of you did. And they need people in their lives to love them, to show them hope, to listen to them. Big Brothers Big Sisters is one way to become personally involved in the life of a boy or girl. The commitment is small, only one or two hours a week, but the potential for impact is huge. According to the BBBS web site, children who are in the program are:
* More confident in their schoolwork performance.
* Able to get along better with their families.
*46% less likely to begin using illegal drugs.
*27% less likely to begin using alcohol.
*52% less likely to skip school.
You can look for a Big Brothers Big Sisters program in your city, and if there is not one, there are other ways to find children who need mentors, whether it's through a church or a community organization. There are so many needs in the world, so many that often they seem overwhelming, but this is one need that you could meet, in your city, on your street, one child at a time.

Only a Vapor

Today I found out that one of my colleagues--no, one of my friends--in the English department died last Wednesday. She was only 51, and she died after a blood clot in her leg traveled to her lungs. I was completely stunned when I got the email. No way could it be true. Surely there was some sort of mistake; she couldn't be gone. But she is, and she's left behind a husband and two children and a new grandbaby who all love her and will miss her dearly.

I haven't had much experience with death; in my short 25 years of life, I can count on one hand the people I have known who have died. Nina Nell is one with whom I interacted on a fairly regular basis. We shared conversations in class, in Starbucks, in the departmental computer lab, and every time we talked I felt cheered by her kindness and her genuine warmth and concern. She spoke lovingly of her family, and she was so proud and excited when her grandson was born, excitedly showing me pictures and looking forward to visits she would make to see her family. Everyone who knew her at UT loved her; you couldn't help but do so. I'll always think of her with fondness.

Our lives, wrote James, are but vapors--here one moment, gone the next. I know that Nina Nell's was a life lived with love for her family and friends, and I pray she knew Jesus. My one regret is that I never bothered to ask. Learning of a death like this renews my appreciation for life and inspires me not to take for granted the ones I love. Cherish each moment--each laugh, each smile, each hug, each tear--for you do not know when it will be your last.

Late-Night Musings

Why am I wide awake at almost 3 in the a.m.? I have no idea, but it's been a common theme since I've gotten back to Knoxvegas. At first I thought it was because I was sick, but I'm 90% better now, so I don't think that's it. I don't really know what it is. But there's nothing more frustrating than wanting to be asleep and not being able to get there.

American Idol is holding auditions in Memphis Labor Day weekend. I totally want to go and try out. I wanted to last year, but the Memphis audition got canceled because the city was hosting so many Katrina victims. I really just want to see if I could get past the preliminary auditions and face the judges. I wonder if I'd crack under pressure or actually be able to sing normally. Probably more of the former than the latter, I'm guessing.

What do you think it is that makes people attractive to one another? I mean, I think it is fairly safe to say that there are some people that the majority of the population would find attractive, but what about the others? Because I'm completely judgmental and critical, I sometimes will spot a couple and think to myself, "I wonder what he (or she) see in her (or him)." Isn't that terrible? And then I have heard people describe the person they're with as the "most beautiful" person in the world, and I have to wonder if they really believe that in their hearts or if they're just saying it. I would never expect Stephen to say I'm the most beautiful woman in the world because that's, well, completely absurd. I guess when it comes down to it, personality has to factor in somewhere. I know some really pretty people whom I find really unattractive because I've seen their character (or lack thereof), and it's kind of nullified whatever outer beauty their appearance may possess. On the flip side, I know some people who I'm sure will never end up on the cover of Vogue that have some of the most beautiful souls, and that's what I find attractive. And I believe that's what the Lord finds attractive as well.

"Man looks at the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart." ~ 1 Samuel 16:7

I'm Okay

I'm still writing. Why do I do this to myself? What really sucks is I have to do it all again for Thursday. Aargh. I would say that next semester will be different, but this semester was supposed to be different as well. Oh, and did I mention that my computer shut down by itself while I took a nap and I lost the 8 pages I had written? I've been up since trying to reconstruct it, but it's not going all that well. It's not like I can tell my teacher my computer ate my paper; how lame is that? I don't know what to do. I am supposed to present this paper in class. I need to just embrace the fact that I am a procrastinating slacker and get used to the idea of no sleep for a few days. But I can't really be content with that, either. Also, part of me wonders if the fact that I put off all of my grad work until the last possible minute indicates a lack of sincere interest in the subject matter and in academia in general. I've been thinking a lot lately about whether or not I want to pursue my PhD after this, and the more I think about it the more I think spending five additional years in school on top of the two I'm dedicating to my master's would drive me absolutely batty.

As much as I love delaying the real world and being paid to go to school, I don't know that I really and truly and passionately love school itself. It's weird for me to say that because those of you who know me probably think of me as that nerd who lives for school, but I don't think that's really who I am anymore, at least not entirely. Part of the reason for that may be because I no longer find my entire identity in my schoolwork so I don't need to throw my entire life into it. I used to be so wrapped up in being the smartest and the best because I felt the only way I could ever make a mark in the world was by doing the one thing I thought I was good at--school. I've since come to realize that 1) it's pointless trying to be the smartest and the best because there will always be someone better; 2) being smart really isn't going to make that much of a mark on the world, as I doubt my writing about masculine authority in Troilus and Criseyde will revolutionize much of anything; 3) school isn't the only thing I'm "good" at (I think.); and 4) I'm not really all that "good" at school if you consider the amount of time I have to work on school in proportion to the amount of time I actually spend working on school-related stuff.

Basically what I've concluded is that my love of books and learning will not be sufficient to carry me through a doctoral program, and I'm okay with that. I can love books and continue learning outside of graduate school, and I might even be able to do that in a way that's more fulfilling and enjoyable, since it will be on my terms and not simply compulsory. It's why I've been thinking about becoming a librarian at a university or teaching high school. It's why I'm at peace with where I am right now because I definitely believe that coming to grad school at UT was what I was supposed to do, if only to show me what I'm not supposed to do after it's over.

Hmm, perhaps I should write blog posts at 5 am more often. 5 am brings a surprising amount of clarity to life.

Goodbye For Now

This will probably be my last post for a few days, since we move in the morning and I'll be out of town anyway. Last night when I was going through the stuff in my room it occurred to me that I keep the strangest things (movie stubs, ribbons I won in 4th grade, notes from all of my college classes, foreign currency I'll probably never use, random quotes). I have always found it hard to throw things away, and I haven't quite figured out why, but I think it's unhealthy. I mean, some of the stuff has sentimental value, but there are other things I can't part with for fear that "I might need them" at some point or another.

I can't help but think that shows a lack of trust on my part. I don't like to over spiritualize things, but maybe part of my reluctance to throw things away is my way of showing God I don't trust Him to provide. I have this irrational fear that the minute I let go of something, I'll need it. For example, if I throw away those notes from my first English class in college, what happens if I need them in one of my grad classes? Well, hello, God gave me a brain! I didn't get into grad school b/c I take good notes, although that does help; I got into grad school b/c I have a certain degree of intelligence, and for whatever reason, UTK saw something in me that warranted admission into their program. God is not going to let me flounder through grad school; He'll be with me every step of the way, and the help He offers is far more valuable than some notes in a binder. The value I place on these material objects should be overshadowed by the value of the intangible that God offers me everyday--grace, peace, wisdom, truth. Does not His Word say that He has given us everything we need for life and godliness? (See 2 Peter 1:3). So maybe I'll go throw away that poncho I've been saving in case I "need" it...

I hope everyone has a fabulous Memorial Day weekend!

EDIT: Just though you'd all like to know the books I want to read this summer. My list will more than likely expand.

1. Critical Theory: An Introduction by Terry Eagleton
2. An Experiment in Criticism by C.S. Lewis (he was a medievalist, you know, which makes him doubly cool)
3. Old Man and the Sea by Hemingway (can you believe I've never read it?)
4. Captivating by John and Stacy Eldredge
5. Searching for God Knows What by Donald Miller
6. Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man by James Weldon Johnson
7. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
8. Persuasion by Jane Austen (the only Austen book I haven't read)
9. Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince by J.K. Rowling (July 16, can't wait!)

Anyone have any recommendations?

Trust

"You can trust the man who died for you."
--from Streams in the Desert

I've been thinking about trust lately, about whether or not I really trust God with my future. I say I do, but does my obsessive planning and scheduling really reflect that? I'm gonna go with no. I'm afraid God doesn't quite have things under control, so I need to help Him out a little, take some of the burden off His shoulders. Please! He must be so frustrated with how completely ridiculous I can be!

I used to think I had "self-esteem" issues, but I've since come to realize that all of that just masks a lot of pride and a superiority complex. The words of Psalm 50:21 could have been written about me: "These things you have done and I have kept silent; you thought I was altogether like you. But I will rebuke you and accuse you to your face." God, have mercy on me for thinking I am altogether like you!

In a way, all of us do that in little ways every day. We do it when we leave the house without having given Him a thought, thinking we can handle things fine on our own. After all, how hard can it be? We do it when we attempt to mold circumstances to fit our plans and our ideas of how things should be, afraid that God has forgotten about us and won't take care of it. And I do it every time I worry about the next day or the next month or the next year. So how do I learn to trust? How I do learn to correct 23 years of wrong thought patterns? I don't know, but I know Someone who does...

Trust

I trust You, Lord, in the depth of quiet night,
When my mind is turning endless circles
And the beating of my heart rings loudly in my ears.

I trust You, Lord, though the tempest rages strong around me,
and fear begins to take mysterious shape
in the murky corners of my mind.

I trust You, Lord, in the loud silence of screaming doubts
that haunts my nights and darkens my days
with dogged persistence.

I trust You, Lord, though the path is unclear,
and the way is choked by what ifs and unknowns
that threaten to overtake the light You give.

I trust You, Lord, though inside I long to betray you
And trust instead myself, though You know and I know
I cannot be trusted.

Strange Encounters at the Citgo

So I was just getting gas on my lunch break (gas for my car, not gas from my food, haha), and the guy at the pump next to mine starts talking to me and asks for my number! It totally freaked me out b/c that's happened maybe twice in my whole 23 years of existence, and I didn't know how to respond. I told him I didn't give my number out to strangers (what am I, two?), to which he replied that I could get to know him if he would let me call him. Then I tried to witness to him, and he told me he was a Christian and mentioned that he and his child go to a nearby church. Well, that about settled it for me; I finally managed to get away from him to go inside and pay, and when I came out he was gone. Sheesh. That was a weird experience. Now I feel bad b/c when he said he had a kid I immediately judged him and didn't take his claim of Christianity as seriously as if he didn't have a kid. That's horrible! I have to be the most judgmental person in the world. For all I know he had the kid before he became a Christian, or he strayed but then repented. Or he could be lying. Either way it's not my place to try and figure it out, either. That's between him and God. Anyway, I'm troubled by my lack of compassion in that situation, and I usually feel like I'm a pretty compassionate person. If I could do it over again, would I act differently? I still wouldn't have given him my number. I don't know, I'm just kind of thinking out loud. Any thoughts are welcome.

An Internal Sense of Facts

One day I was talking to one of my professors, and I was freaking out about life, and he tells me I need an "internal sense of facts." I'm like, "huh?" He explains that I need to think of things I know to be true all the time, so when I am feeling overwhelmed or discouraged or whatever, I can turn to those truths and know that things will be fine. So I thought about that for a long time, months actually, and I realized that what I know to be true is God and His Word, so then I thought about the lies that I tell myself all the time, the ones that really trip me up and cause me to lose focus. Then I found Scriptures to counter the lies, and now I have my internal sense of facts, or what I call my "truths to live by." I don't always succeed in living by them, but I'm sure trying. At least they help me on my way to "taking captive every thought and making it obedient to Christ" (see 2 Cor. 10:5). So, without further ado, here they are:

1. I can criticize my appearance and bemoan every flaw, or I can take comfort in the knowledge that God has made me holy and beautiful through the redemption of His Son Jesus Christ.
Isaiah 61:10: I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God. For he has clothed me in garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

2. I can fear living a life of singleness, or I can embrace the fact that as long as I have God, I do not need anyone or anything else.
Psalm 73:25-26: Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

3. I can obsess over achieving perfection, or I can realize that I am not perfect, so there is no use trying to be so. God does not want me to be perfect, but to be holy. My job is to glorify the Lord and show others to do the same.
1 Corinthians 10:31: Whether then you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.

4. I can kill myself to try and make all A’s, be loved by everyone, and achieve success in life, or I can relax and rejoice that all of this is rubbish compared to knowing Jesus.
Philippians 3:7-9: But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ–the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith.

5. I can spend my days wallowing in self-pity and wishing I were this or that person and could do this or that, or I can praise the Lord for His blessings and rejoice in Him and who He has made me to be.
Philippians 4:4: Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: Be joyful always, pray continually, and give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
Psalm 139:14: I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

6. I can analyze and worry about every aspect of my life, or I can stop and realize that worrying does nothing but rob me of my joy and God of His glory.
Philippians 4:6-7: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
Matthew 6:27, 34: Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

7. I can be crippled by fear, allowing it to kill my spirit and my dreams, or I can trust the Lord and rely on His strength.
Isaiah 41:10: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

I know this was really long, so if you made it all the way to the end--good for you! And remember, He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion!