I'm No Angel

Today my Instagram feed was filled with images of women in their underwear.

Not my usual smiling babies and scripture with curly typeset and lovely background images; I was taken aback. With a few clicks, I discovered that Lane Bryant has launched a new counter-campaign to promote their Cacique line of undergarments. Which I wear. Daily. I have for years upon years because they are THE best bras I've ever worn. Truth. 'I'm No Angel' is a play on Victoria's Secret Angels line. One ad touts a feisty, plus sized model lifting up her shirt to show her bra and panties and proclaiming, 'This is the new sexy! I woke up like this!'

I follow Lane Bryant because I wear their clothes faithfully. I've been a plus sized girl pretty much since the day I was born. Give or take a few of my high school years. (The fad diets worked back then.) It is difficult to find plus sized clothing that is of good quality, stylish, and affordable. LB is, and will continue to be, my wardrobe staple.

The marketing angle has an applaudable secondary focus, which is to promote positive self body image in women. As any plus size girl can tell you, we live in a body-worshiping, air brushed, warped reality of a world. Actually, any girl, plus sized or not, can probably tell you that. If you think of five women that you know, I guarantee each of them can tell you multiple things they think are 'wrong' with their bodies. I'm willing to wager that one of those five has had some form of eating disorder at some point in her life.

The I'm No Angel campaign uses other slogans such as, 'How boring would it be if we were all the same?' and 'Beauty Is Beyond Size.' I couldn't agree more with both of those statements. God created us differently and we should absolutely celebrate that. And then, there is that whole issue of inner beauty. Do you have that? Because that is far more important than anything that is on the outside.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. ~Psalm 139:14

There's just one problem, though.

Even in their sincere efforts to help women to feel better about their not-so-perfect bodies (and to sell underwear), they are still making one huge mistake. The focus here is still on the hypersexualization of the female body. Lane Bryant is still flaunting busty pictures of scantily clad ladies. So, what I take from this, is that in order to be sexy - in other words, viewed as attractive by a man - I need to walk around with my midriff and my boobs hanging halfway out? Is this really what we want to see our daughters doing?

Yes, I get that they are advertising lingerie and therefore would need to use photographs OF the lingerie. I have nothing against pretty, feminine undergarments. Lingerie has its place. But its place is just not on a giant billboard in the middle of New York City. Nor is it in daytime commercials on my tv, nor in catalogues sent to my home that my seven-year-old son might lay his sweet little eyes upon.

Wrapped packages create far greater anticipation. Haven't we always known that? Why is it that that we keep uncovering more and more? The whole thing is backwards. If you've got it, flaunt it? No! Don't share your body with just anybody. Save it for the one that matters. Think about it. You know I'm right.

Modest really is the hottest. Now, don't go burka on me here. But please, just keep the girls covered and your booty contained. Your body is a gift. Don't unwrap it until the right time.

Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit who is in you, whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? 20For you have been bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body.   ~ 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

Be Still

Sweet Sister,

Please stop. Please take a minute to be still today. I know you weren't expecting this. Your schedule is off. The day is a mess...the week may even be a mess. But I promise you that this isn't the end of the world! It just isn't! Whatever was supposed to take place this week can be planned again. And whatever you missed may have been on purpose. The Mighty One knows our every need. Our every move. Our every everything. He knows!! Maybe you missed a car accident by being stuck at home. Or maybe you experienced a first today because you were THERE!! A first step or a first funny precious little smile...a first word read...or anything...just anything.

It's still snowing. I know. And they are crying for dinner. And you didn't get a shower today. I so, so know! But these days will be gone soon. Sooner that we'd like to believe. They will be driving and going to college and finding girlfriends. And worse...boyfriends.

We will be wishing for these days back.

And we will not get them.

Father God, bless these mothers. Bless them deeply. Bless them so that they know that the work they do is not just important and necessary but INVALUABLE. Father, let them be so full of YOU that their children can feel Your presence. Let them know that what matters today is that their children are alive. They are together. They are safe. And warm. And loved.

Father, please give them strength to mop that snowy, melted mess in the foyer one more time. Give them the energy to sled down the hill again. Give them the patience to referee one more argument and turn that xbox off when the time comes. Bless them with the creativity to come up with one more thing to do before chaos ensues.

And when the chaos happens, just allow them to bask in those noisy voices that are breathing fresh air with healthy lungs. Let them be thankful for Netflix and ipads and all things that blink and need internet. Help them to make one.more.cup.of.hot.chocolate.with.extra.marshmallows.

Because we will wish for these days back.

And we will not get them.

Amen.

Seize this day! Make it good! In reality, it may not be perfect. But there will be something you can love about it! Find that. Enjoy that. Bask in that.

Because you do not know what may happen tomorrow.

"Jesus said, ‘No procrastination. No backward looks. You can’t put God's kingdom off till tomorrow. Seize the day.’” (Luke 9:62 MSG)

Who needs make-up anyway??

The Routine

I am a lover of routine.

This time of year is my favorite because I get to organize a classroom, plan lessons, create templates, make schedules, stock my pantry, pack lunches, match up freshly laundered clothing...

And then 21 or so little people come marching with enthusiasm into my classroom and I get to teach them to organize their binders and their notebooks and their tool boxes...and their minds.

I love.

Clearly, I love me some Thirty-One.

 
I do better and I AM BETTER when I am in the zone. I am on my game, I am productive, I am feelin' it. I can organize, I can plan, I can produce, I can lead, and I can step in and help.

But Father, I ask you this year to let me live in my routine without becoming a creature of habit. Allow me to live in the process and not just in the product. Let me live in relationships and help me build them in healthy ways.

Help me to be the best me for my family, my friends, my coworkers, and my church...and ultimately for YOU and YOUR KINGDOM.

Slow me down when I need slowing down, but just enough that I can use every gift you have given me. I am forever thankful for your love and your example in Jesus Christ. 

Help me to say NO when it is time.

I am so thankful for the blessing of health this year. Oh, so thankful. I pray for health in our family to be sustained and for those who are sick or healing. You are the one and only True Healer.

Let me hear You in every breath I take and live out your LOVE in every action. And help me forgive myself in the times when I fail.

In Jesus name, AMEN.

He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. ~John 15:2

27"All things have been handed over to Me by My Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father; nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and anyone to whom the Son wills to reveal Him. 28"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.29"Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS.…  ~Matthew 11:1-27

A Beautiful Thing: In Memory of Our Aunt Judy

I am sad today, having heard that my Aunt Judy passed away this afternoon after a long battle with cancer and other health issues. Long is a relative word. While she has suffered over the course of a few years, it doesn’t really matter. A few weeks or a decade with cancer is too much. Too long. Too painful. Too hard. Too mind-bending. Too hope-raising and then hope-dashing. Too expensive. Plus an infinite amount of more.

My younger years were full of family time. Weekends and holidays were spent with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. We knew too much about each other. Good families usually do. I can tell you that my Aunt Judy suffered her share of demons. And heartaches. And she made her share of bad choices. Haven’t we all? Maybe some, more so than others. But people are messy. Life is messy. And God knows this. That’s why he gave us families to hold us up through it all.

The thing I get to remember today though is the beauty in Judy's life. Beauty is a big deal. First, Judy was the mother of Shannon. A dimpled little pigtailed thing, she stole hearts throughout the family. The first child, first grandchild, and better yet...first precious little girl...she was more than enough. (And you still are.) Little cousins came along who idolized her and the family grew in size and in heart.

As hearts grow, after finding Judy's love of her life, Art, they decided to have a baby. As couples do. But things didn’t go well which led to more heartbreak. Thankfully, she and Art had the strength to think outside of the box. To think globally. And by globally, I mean that quite literally. One spring day Judy flew to the Philippines on her own and came back with a four month old baby boy. Her first time on a plane, she crossed the world to do a beautiful thing.

Andy, the love and sacrifice made by your mother and father to bring you here is nothing less than inspiring. Not only because it was expensive and hard and confusing…but because it was visionary. Overseas adoptions were not unheard of during the 80’s, but they were not the norm. Especially not in a little town in Virginia that was nearly as vanilla as a bowl of pudding. Your grandfather thought you were Indian. And he meant well. “Beautiful people, the Indians,” he would say. “Philippino,” we would correct him. But when he held you, we saw teeth. Whenever he flashed those, we all knew he was happy. He loved you, brown skin and all.

Father of orphans, champion of widows, is God in his holy house. God makes homes for the homeless, leads prisoners to freedom...  ~Psalm 68:5-6 (MSG)

And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me. ~ Matthew 18:3-5

I have no doubt that she was welcomed into Heaven today.

Shannon and Andy: Your mother, my dad’s sister, our Nanny’s daughter…did a beautiful thing in this world. I know that you are thankful. But also know that we are thankful. All of us. Because we can always look back and say, “She was so strong.” For that moment in time, she was powerful enough, she listened to God just enough, to change the trajectory of a life. Yours, yes. But also ours. Tonight we can celebrate that and remember her.

LOVE CHANGES LIVES.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. ~ Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ~ Lamentations 3:21-23 (NIV)

PUKE

A four act play. That actually happened in my house last night.

2:15a.m.

Mother is sleeping soundly in her bed. Father bustles in with their five and a half year old daughter, hand in hand.

Father: Murmer...murmer...murmer...(something unintelligible...)

*pauses*

Father: Mother, Daughter is awake. She came downstairs...here...

Mother (groggily): Ok, get in bed with me, Daughter.

*Daugher climbs into Mother's side of bed.*

Daughter: I need water on my stomach.

Mother: (groggily) Hmmm?

Daughter: I feel bad in my chest and I need water on my stomach.

Mother: Ok, we can get some water.

Daughter: No. I need to go potty.

Mother: Ok, go potty in the bathroom.

*Mommy Senses kick in and Mother bolts upright. Immediately locates emergency puke bucket in the dark and dumps out books. Runs to bathroom door.*

*Footsteps from inside the bathroom stop and make a U-turn.*

Daughter: Mom, I just need you to hug me!

Mother: Not yet! Here! Lean over this!

Daughter: PUUUUUUKE!!

OH NO! I'M PUKING!

Father: Go to the toilet!

Mother: No! She's doing great! It's all in the bucket! (to Daughter) Stay right here!

Daughter: This is horrible. (arm flourish over forehead) I don't like this. PUUUUKE!!

Mother: I know. But you did a great job! Dont' get your hand in it. Put your hands down. You got it all in the bucket!

Daughter: Mom?

Mother: Hmmm?

Daughter: YOU. ARE. AWESOME! I have to pee.

*Mother smiles and hands puke bucket to father with directions to wash it out and return.*

*Father mumbles something under his breath.*

Daughter: FATHER! YOU. ARE. AWESOME. TOO! (to Mother) Does puking make you have to pee?

Mother: Sometimes.

 YOU. ARE. AWESOME!



Daughter: This tastes terrible. (with arm flourish over mouth)

Mother: We'll get a little something to drink in a second. Let's finish up here.

*Daughter walks to sink to wash hands.*

Daughter: Mom, I need you to hug me right now.

*Mother goes to hug Daughter...but stops. Grabs well-timed return of bucket from Father and shoves it under Daughter's chin.)

Daughter: PUUUUUUKE!

Father: This is going to be a long night.

Mother disappears briefly to enter absence from school online and to request a substitute for tomorrow.

Father gets water for Daughter. All three settle into the bed as best they can with puke bucket close by on the nightstand.

SCENE.

*******

3:30 a.m.

Daughter: *cough cough*

*Mother bolts upright. Grabs puke bucket. Shoves it under Daughter's chin.

Daughter: My back hur....PUUUUUKE!!

Mother: You're doing great! You got it all in the bucket again! I'm so proud of you!

Daughter: (dramatically) Why do people have to throw up? This is ridiculous. I hate it. I'm so sorry to say hate but is it ok to say hate about puking?

I REALLY HATE PUKING.

 



Mother: It's ok for today. Just don't say it about anything else.

Daughter: I hate puking. This is miserable! (hands flourished out to each side)

*Father brings in wet cloth to wash off Daughter's face. Daughter sips water. Everyone lays back down.*

Daughter: Puking DOES make you have to pee. I have to pee again.

*Mother and Daughter make a trip to the bathroom, wash hands, and return to bed. Daughter crawls into the middle of the bed.*

Mother: Honey, let Mother get into the middle so you can stay on the side.

Daughter. But Mother what if I FALL OUT OF THE BED?

Mother: You've been sleeping on this side for the last hour or so. You'll be ok, I won't let you fall out. It's much better if you're close to the puke bucket.

Daughter. (holds up hand) I know...in case I puke again. (dramatically) WHY does this have to happen to me?

WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO HAPPEN TO ME?

 



Father: Woah, that's a big one.

*Father kindly removes puke bucket for rinsing and comes back with wet wash cloth.*

Mother: It happens to everyone once in awhile.

*Mother and Daughter join Father again and attempt to go to sleep. They are briefly successful*

SCENE.

********

5:30 a.m.

Daughter: My heart is running fast!

*Mother, once again, uses her cat-like reflexes to reach across Daughter to grab puke bucket and shove it under Daughter's chin.

Daughter: PUUUUUKE!! (to Mother) Now I know the signal. When my back starts hurting and my heart is running fast, it's time to puke.

Mother: This is a breakthrough. I'm proud beyond...

Daughter: PUUUUKE!! I just don't know why this keeps happening.

*Rinse. Sip water. Wipe face. Lay back down.*

*Mother sneaks away to write lesson plans and email them to school. Returns thirty minutes later to a sleeping Father and Daughter.*

SCENE.

*******

Light creeps into the bedroom and Mother never really goes back to sleep. Son enters around 7:00 a. m., wondering why Daughter was not upstairs in her bed.

Daughter: Do NOT touch me! (arms out) I still like you but I PUKED!

Son: Oh. Ok.

Daughter: When you get to school, be sure to tell my teacher that I puked. And try to tell ALL of my friends. (double hand flourish) Also, you can tell all of your friends, too. (additional double hand flourish) Tell them I puked THREE TIMES. Ok?

Son: Ok. What's for breakfast?

Mother: Not sure yet. We'll all be eating light today....

FIN.

 

 

or....TO BE CONTINUED?

Elsa

Little girls desire little more than to be real, true princesses. Or so it seems.

This morning I watched my princess flip through Disney Roku to the same little video clips she's watched dozens of times now. Elsa singing 'Let It Go' in 25 languages, Demi Lovato belting out a not-as-good-as-the-original version, and a DIY tutorial on how to make your French braid look just like Elsa's.

Finishing a novel that just may be blogged about next, I sat and let my little Elsa impersonator do nearly painful things to my hair. Telling her in between pulls and ouches that perhaps I might buy her one of those Barbie heads that little girls can practice hairdos on. And I may, but I didn't fully mind her tangling with my hair. 

My love for the more recent Disney princess movies goes even deeper than hers. At sixteen, I was very much taken by the G-rated musical perfection of The Little Mermaid. I still have the well loved cassette tapes. This was followed by Beauty and the Beast and Aladdin. Wonderful, until grown-upness heaped alternate interests on my plate. And someone probably told me I should act my age...and then I did. Thank goodness I don't buy into such nonsense as acting my age anymore.

For a few seconds this morning I worried though. My little girl is not just playing Elsa. She IS Elsa at the moment. Oh gosh, what does this mean exactly? That she likes high heels and a very blond braid swung over her shoulder? That she enjoys fancy dresses and ice powers and the drama of it all?

Simply put...yes.

Frankly, while it's so adorable and entertaining, it's a little discouraging for this nearly-nerd mom to watch my
incredibly bright little girl be so much less than she is capable. I'm reasonably careful with what I offer her for toys. Blocks, tools, legos - she plays with them all. Plus she has an older brother, whom she idolizes.

However, she likes pink. She likes fancy. She LOVES drama.

I started to think back on all the things I've tried to be in my life. I'm a bit of a mix when it comes to people genres. I suspect we all truly are, although most of us lean more towards one than another. I thought about all of the proverbial outfits I've tried on. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, it is said. 

I suspect this little one will try on all kinds of hats over the years. She will choose some and I will encourage some, and people she hasn't even met yet will encourage others. All this trying on will make her who she is. Or maybe, more accurately, it will reflect who she IS.

And if she turns out to choose tiaras (literal or not so literal) over a scalpel or a computer then that's ok. As long as she's using her Gifts. By that I do mean her capital G Gifts - the ones God has given her that make her the ever so unique (and honestly, quite entertaining) person that she is. Blond wig and all.

I love her dearly and am so thankful that I have this lifetime to encourage her to be herself.

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.   ~ 1 Samuel 16:7

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. ~Ephesians 2:10 

Dr. Junior

"Mom, why did Dr. Junior have a dream?"

I had already seen the paper in her take-home folder, so I knew exactly what she meant. Her class has been talking about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in school this week. She is a sharp cookie for her age, but this is a tough concept. I went on to ask her about the investigation her class had done with a brown egg and a white egg. The idea is that you talk about how on the outside, the shell is hard and protects the inside. The only difference is the color of the shell.

Then, you break the egg open and show that the insides are identical. One yolk, one albumin, nothing else. They're both the same. That prompts a discussion about how people are no different from each other on the inside.

(If you'd like to do this activity with your child or students, you can get a FREE printable here: http://www.teacherspayteachers.com/Product/Martin-Luther-King-Jr-Egg-Activity-191824)

She could tell me verbatim what she had done, what her teacher had said, and recounted it with the usual enthusiasm of a child who has an amazingly gifted kindergarten teacher. (We love her dearly, if you can't tell.)

But she wasn't really getting it.

I went further. She is bright, so I felt that I could tell her more. I explained that a long time ago, people weren't always allowed to do the same things. Things like going to a certain school or going to a certain restaurant. Sometimes people with peach skin (as she calls it) didn't even want to be friends with people who had dark skin.

"They didn't?"

"No, they didn't. And sometimes they were very mean."

"That wasn't very nice of them." "Mom, why do people call our skin white instead of peach?"

My answer - "Probably because peach looks close to white."

 But this set off a momentary rage within me. I don't know this for sure, but I imagined for a second that somewhere back in time, someone decided that Caucasian skin should be called white because it would sound the most opposite of black that it possibly could.

When really, we're all just the yolk and the albumin on the inside.

Our conversation ended and I realized...She still didn't understand. Not really. 

Her teacher's lesson and our conversation will now be a part of her schema to help her answer the questions her teachers will ask in years to come. She'll be the one raising her hand. She always is. But really, she just does not get it.

And I am SO glad.

She will never know a world where she cannot hug her friends with dark skin. She will never know a world where it is not ok for the Hispanic boy in her class to teach her how to say Spanish words. She will never know a world where there are no dark skinned baby dolls.

This world is not perfect. It never will be. She will learn things later that will break her heart like they break mine. But for now, there is a little peach girl in North Carolina who will hug your neck and talk your ear off no matter the shade of your skin.

GOD MADE US ALL.

Galatians 3:28 (NIV)

There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.