Thursday. In the Sketchbook...

Who do people see?

Or what do they see?

I want to see the real person. Behind actions. Behind words. Behind the past.

There's someone inside.

Bingo Night

When I was a kid, one of my absolute favorite things was Family Game Night. Once a week, usually on Saturday nights, we reserved the evening for games. My favorites were Scrabble, Boggle, and Scotland Yard.
Fred grew up in a very different environment-- in fact, you could say it was an opposite environment. His parents (and their parents before them) did not play games. They did not throw birthday parties for their kids. Or take hiking/ camping trips...or vacations. They did not read to their kids, or help them with homework. they weren't really affectionate-- not many hugs and kisses. Not much building up. Now, don't get me wrong. His folks love him. They just didn't really know how to say it or show it. Like I said, this was a generational thing. How does a child learn to show love if they were never shown any? Fred's mom especially wanted to express it, but I believe she just didn't really know what to do with the kids.
Anyway, when I think about this, it astounds me that my husband turned out the way he did. He is kind. Gentle. He loves babies and kids. He loves animals. We are very different, yes, and there were definite areas that weren't quite developed (as we all have) but he's come so far... he's learned to talk through things, show and say how he feels. He spends time with his kids. A lot of time.
When he married into my family, he had his first ever birthday party. First ever. He went to the dentist for the first time (no cavities!) He went on his first vacation (WA and Canada.) And he fell in love with games.
Every day we let the kids watch a show at 6pm. I'm a stickler about tv most of the time. If Fred decides to watch Man vs Wild with the kids, fine. I don't call all the shots, and if it's even going to be semi-educational, then I go with the flow. But we don't let them just veg out all evening in front of the tube. If it's nice outside, they should be out there.
We have dinner at about 5/5:30, then show at 6pm, then a quick bath and stories. Little boys are in bed with lights out by 7:20. (Things change a bit on gymnastics nights.) Then we play games with the older kids until our 3rd grader goes to bed at 8:30.
Most of the time it's Apples to Apples, Sequence, Pounce, Boggle, or Rummikub.
About once or twice a week, my Papaw also comes to play games-- first Pounce with the kids, and then Hearts with just Fred and me.
Lately we've been playing phonics Bingo with all the kids. And they all enjoy it. :)


I'm looking for some other game ideas. We have limited money, but I'm planning to save, search, buy, and put things up for birthdays, as I'm able.
Any suggestions? I've heard that Five Crowns is great, but none of us have played it.
Did you grow up playing games? Do you do it now?
I was blessed with such a wonderful childhood, and I want to give me kids the same kind of memories!

Collecting Pieces of the Past- Bullies

Occasionally God wants to really hammer something home for me, and the issue comes up over and over and over until I deal with it. I do the same thing to/ for my children, when they are struggling with something: help them work on it until it's under control.

My issue (or one of them) is "guarding." I guard my issues, my past, my testimony, my daily messes. It's a tradition that we passed down in my family, generation through generation; similar to "saving face," or preserving your reputation. I believe that when we (my sisters and I) witnessed family members staying mum about issues, we indirectly learned that being open meant inviting judgment. We wouldn't be safe. No one meant to teach those things...and I know a lot of it came from a generation that just behaved and believed differently. I'm not placing blame.

Recently a friend posted this great article on secrets. Read it, if you like, it might stir you the same way it did me.

And so, I started thinking about our family's "secrets," my own issues from the past, and even the current things (minor and major) that I keep behind locked doors. It's so ingrained in me that I don't always realize I'm doing it. Until I see other, more transparent people. Part of it is personality, part is upbringing, and a lot of it is simply that these people want to help others and they put themselves out there to do it. They share because sharing helps. They make the choice to reveal themselves, regardless of what anyone else thinks. I respect and admire that.

Because I plan to slowly but surely learn some transparency (God's doing some work, I tell ya!) I'll start with some clarification up front.

I don't believe every private detail of life should be shouted from the rooftops. Nor do I believe that it's okay to share someone's story for them. My sister wrote an amazing post about pornography, but it's not something I would have presumed to share about her life, if she wasn't open about it. My family reads this blog, from time to time, and I don't anyone to be nervous that I'll leak personal information about them. If I want to write about something that involves you, I'll ask first, promise!
Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, I'll get started.

Bullying. (some offensive material below...)

Yeah, it's not something I talk about often, but it's a daily issue for thousands of kids. I've been hearing about all of these teen & college suicides because of bullying. Then, on Wednesday, our local newspaper in Small Townville had an article on the front page about a sixth grader who was making life-threatening comments to a female fellow student, via facebook. At one point, he said that if she wouldn't perform oral sex for him, he would kill her. People, I'm talking about 6th graders in my town. That's 11- and 12-year olds. My daughter is 11-years old.

The boy was expelled for 5 days. Which-- I'll be honest-- I consider a slap on the wrist. I'm sure the school is taking this seriously, and doing all that they can. But, let's face it, teachers are already responsible for the education of 20+ students. They can't monitor students 24/7. They can't be everywhere. They can't protect your child everywhere s/he goes.

But let me get to my own story.

When I was little, I was very shy. I had some good friends, and just stuck to my little group. I made good grades and behaved well, and became good friends with several of my elementary school teachers. I really enjoyed school! Then, around 3rd or 4th grade, a few students started to pick on me. One boy in particular would taunt me every day on the playground, calling me "big lips" or "fuzz hair." Then a girl chimed in, saying I had bad nails, and echoing the "big lips" nickname. I was so ashamed. My body image crashed. At first, I just tried to avoid him, or hide. Then I started dreading school, and actually feeling ill in the mornings. It was "minor" bullying, but it was mean and effective. Kids can be cruel.

The next year got better. That kid wasn't in my 5th grade class, and I could relax and enjoy school again. I'm sure he simply found someone new to pick on. My 6th grade year was fine. Not very memorable. But 7th grade was a whole new ballgame. We were in the junior high, suddenly walking between buildings... lots of kids everywhere without much supervision. There were bullies everywhere. If they weren't bullying me, then I was witnessing it happening to others. I hated that year. The girls were the worst. It's as if they all grew claws.

My family was close, and my parents always spent a lot of time with us. I had no reason to hide my feelings, except that I felt ashamed. I never told my parents about the early bullying incidents... still haven't told them.

Thankfully, my parents asked us if we wanted to be homeschooled that next year, which was my 8th grade year. I jumped at the opportunity, and had one of the BEST years of my childhood. It was fantastic-- so much time with my family and good friends. I woke up early and started my work on my own, often working outside. Dad had all of our lesson plans written out in the book, and I'd just check things off as I completed them. Mom would help, if I needed her to, and Dad would grade our papers in the evening. I clearly remember laying outside in my backyard one day, reading my history. Suddenly I stopped and just looked around. Birds were chirping, the breeze was blowing, I could smell bread baking. And, at that moment, I almost cried because I was so happy, felt so safe and secure and loved. Every morning my mom made blender drinks for breakfast and we had chef salads for lunch. My parents took us to art galleries, on hikes... so many family activities all the time. Family Game Night was a weekly event in our house. We took walks almost every evening, and had family devotions often. Wish life had just stayed like that.

Then my family moved to South Carolina the following summer. I decided to try public school, so I could make new friends in our new city. That was one of the worst mistakes of my life. And, really, at this point, I don't plan to give my own kids that option. My parents couldn't have known how bad that year would be for me. My life went into a spiral for the next 3 years.

I was thrust into a new world of fighting, drugs, sex. The high school was a 3-story building, with 30 trailers behind it to deal with overcrowding. When the bell rang to change classes, students filed out and packed into the halls like sardines. There were fights every day over the rebel flag. Students were searched all the time for drugs. There were two student suicides and one homicide during the year I was there. Kids were caught having sex in the science lab.

I had a few good friends, but wasn't able to see them often. I was sad and alone, and figured out pretty quickly that I had better find a group, to stay safe.

Oh my. This is getting long, and I haven't even gotten to the real stuff. More soon about my own experience. I will share.

For now, I'll jump to the point: don't let it continue. If you suspect that your child is being bullied, find out! (Actually, I advise just point-blank asking often! And don't just use the word "bullying." Get information!) If the school can't put an end to it, then YOU deal with it. Pull your child out. Find another school. Try virtual school, charter school, or homeschool. Please Don't assume it's just something kids need to get through; some kind of insane rite of passage or something. It's not okay. It doesn't go away if you ignore it. It escalates and often leads to rape or other physical abuse, or suicide. Read the research. There are literally thousands of articles on this, and stories from victims of bullying.

Even if it seems mild, the effects are long-lasting. Don't sit by. Don't let it continue. Do whatever-- whatever-- you can, even if it means moving away. Does that sound extreme? I'm sure the parents of the children who committed suicide wouldn't think so.

Here's one family's story.

And here is a link to volume 1 of the Bully Chronicles written by a dear friend of mine. To read more about her experiences, look down on the right hand sidebar of her blog. It's important stuff. Not pleasant to hear, but important to know about, if we're going to change things.

I hope this helps someone to feel like they're not alone. I hope it prompts parents to get more information and stand up for their kids. I hope it helps a teacher realize the seriousness of the situation. I hope it encourages the friend of a victim to report the situation. I just hope it helps.

More later.

Spinning

Do you ever have those "spinning moments?" You know, when so much is going on, and there are seriously SO MANY things to do, create, fix, clean, and cook that you don't even know which direction to turn? Sometimes this is a bad thing. No one likes to feel dizzy and nauseous, right? However, the spinning is occasionally fun. I might just close my eyes and suddenly stop and point. Okay, I landed on the stove. What should I cook now? ;-)

But, really, boredom is a foreign term for my family. How can anyone ever be bored when there is still so much left to learn, read, do?? Think about? Pray about?

Although I've been very busy lately with school and extracurricular activities, interests and hobbies, I continue to find myself lost in thoughts and memories while I watch the kids play. I suppose when a family is hit by disease, it's natural to reflect on life, goals, decisions, the past and future. (Yes, I sit here "spinning" again...)

My grandmother just had surgery. It was nothing like her last Whipple surgery, but difficult nonetheless.

Papaw wrote,

"this should take care of that terrible nausea and vomiting she has been experiencing for the last two months. But you must realize that it solves nothing in relationship to the tumor--pancreatic cancer. Dr. MacFarlane told us, though, that he saw the tumor and felt it and that it is localized in one spot which is good news because sometimes it just spreads rapidly throughout the whole area. I remind you that the doctor, with our consent, is discontinuing chemo treatments and is ordering hospice care after she goes home.

What you should be aware of, though, is that without chemo and without bowel blockage perhaps, probably, she will have a much better quality of life for whatever time the Lord gives her on this earth."

She has been fighting this cancer for years. Right there, that defeats the odds. Do you realize that pancreatic cancer's 99% mortality rate is the highest of any cancer, and the average life expectancy after diagnosis with metastatic disease is just three to six months?? Pancreatic cancer is the 4th leading cause of cancer death in the U.S. for men and women, and only 4% of patients survive beyond five years. Because there is no cure or early detection methods, effective treatment options are extremely limited. It was a miracle that she could even have the Whipple surgery.

It's easy to NOT think about hard things, right? Until it hits too close to home. For me, death has never really hit close. I've only been to one funeral in my life, and it was for a co-worker of Fred's, a young man I had not met. I grieved for his family, and prayed for them... but the crisis didn't touch my heart like it would have for someone I loved dearly. Do you understand?This is my Mimi, in Monterey, CA in 1998

I have not lost my Mimi yet, and I know I will only be "losing" her here on earth when her time comes. But these times on earth have been so GOOD, and it's hard to let go.
We've been great friends for as long as I can remember.(Mimi and Papaw with 8 great-grandchildren, at my house in 2008)

I used to sit on the edge of her bed while she french-braided my hair and dressed me up.(This was taken at their house in Arkansas, riding on my pony in the screened-in porch,
after Mimi had braided my hair and then my doll's.)

She always let us help her cook, roll out the cinnamon rolls, decorate cookies,

from the time we were very little.(Yep, that picture above is me. Yes, I was a blond. And I wore boy clothes.
And the picture below shows two of my little boys baking with Mimi last year.)

I remember watching her sew, grade papers, host parties, decorate her home... all of the things that I do now as an adult. There were walks by the beach, afternoons for tea parties.(It was a bad-hair-year. I don't know what my Mom was thinking!)

Mimi and Papaw made every birthday and accomplishment a special occasion.

Fine dining for an 8th birthday.

They've never been "too old" for anything! I remember vacations upon vacations, walks and bike rides, swimming and wind-surfing (okay, they just watched me do that!)

Above, a family vacation to Denver, CO. Papaw in a hotel pool with five little granddaughters.
Below, a bike ride while on vacation in Monterey, California (one of the most beautiful places on earth.)
(From left to right: me, Julie, and Amy in front)

So many amazing memories...

Here we're in Mimi and Papaw's backyard. Notice the huge garden & the bike next to our wagon.
We had so much fun there!

This was taken last year. Mimi shows my little ones what she has made for them.

Earlier this year, going to visit Mimi and Papaw in Washington.
I guess it's good to end the post with a sunset.
When her time is over here,
her new dawn will be more glorious than we can imagine.

back in time on the water

After seeing my photos of the rafting trip, my Papaw sent me some old photos of my parents at Beaver Lake, in the late 70's. Hey, the styles are coming back around!

My Dad also reminded me of some funny comments while we were on the river:

At one point, referring to the previous float trip that Fred, Nature Man and Dad took,
Fred said, "I think that's the same gravel bank we stopped at before." The Artist, who was on her first float trip, logically asked, "Are we going in circles?" Good opportunity to explain the nature of rivers!

When we exploring along the bank, Nature Man said, "Poppy, here are some deer tracks." (He's extremely observant of nature, as you know.) Dash helpfully added, "That means that there was a deer here once but now it's dead." NatureMan responded, "That's not what it means at all!"

Dashing in a New Direction!

Dash turned 4 yesterday!!!

Here's my background on my little man:

Dash was a big surprise to us.

We had two toddlers at the time. The Artist went to preschool and my mom watched the Nature Man while I was at school. Yep, I was at JBU full-time on an academic scholarship. The pressure was on.

I spent a great deal of my time studying and doing assignments, trying to maintain my high GPA, and fitting in some housework here and there when I could (which was extremely difficult, so I lived in constant disorganization.) Looking back, I missed so much of that toddler time with my kids.

We thought we had it all figured out. I'd finish school with a nice degree, get a nice job, and move into a nicer house. You know, the American Dream thing. The kids would do preschool until they were old enough to be full-time in public school. Simply because that's what people do.

But God had other plans. I got pregnant with Mr.T/ Dash when it should not have been possible. I didn't even tell hubby at first because I was in shock. And then I waited even longer to tell others. I just had to get used to the idea of it.
And, don't get me wrong, I LOVE being pregnant. I love feeling the baby move, finding out the sex, picking out names, and wearing maternity clothes. But, at that stage in my life, I had other plans.
Besides, I have high risk pregnancies, as aforementioned, and this was going to take a lot of emotional strength. I didn't think I could deal with anyone else's feelings on the matter.

(A couple weeks before he was born.)

To make a long story shorter, Dash changed the course of our life. God had far better plans than I could have imagined. It was his birth that brought me back home with my three little ones. And then I couldn't possibly part with them again. It was his birth that brought the whole idea of homeschooling into my mind. Don't ask me why I hadn't seriously considered it before, even though I myself was homeschooled off and on. I have no answer.

Obviously this is a picture of pictures, which is not usually a good thing to do. But I just needed to post my little man's newborn pictures. This is the day we brought him home. Notice we're both still wearing hospital bracelets.

Big brother and big sister hold him for the first time.

And this is Dash yesterday. Look at that delighted face!!

His brothers, sister, and three little friends hid and jumped out. "Surprise!"
Dash withdraws in very large groups, so we decided to keep it rather simple and small. :-)
I think all of the kids had a great time!

Little Lad has an icing face.

After playdough/balloon/ cupcake time, the kids just ran around and wore themselves out.

Isn't this AWESOME?? Dash loves locks, so Mrs. Smiley and little boys blue made him his own lock board!!!

It was just such a fun day! We had great weather, sweet friends, and just a wonderful time remembering what the Lord does for those He loves. His plans are always far better than ours. :-)

Loss, New Life, and the One Who Conquers All

*Warning* This is gonna be long. You may have already read parts of it. It's personal...a kind-of pregnancy testimony of sorts...and it's not for the feint of heart. If you are pregnant, just don't read it. It's also late and I'm tired, so it may have some typos or whatever. Yeah. Just ignore all the imperfections in my posting!

This year I feel such a torn spirit around Easter. I still have my child-like sadness that Jesus had to die for us. Yes, I am happy and thankful that he loved us so much. But God's only Son..His child, His creation..put to death for us. I look at Ethan...Trevor...Oliver....my sons, my babies, my loves. Oh, it makes you want to scream at the injustice of it all.

But Jesus is the only one who passed the test. He lived a perfect life before his Father and people. He offered his perfect life as a sacrifice for all of us imperfect people. And then He ROSE. Yes, he ROSE and defeated death. Now, the resurrected Jesus offers his righteousness and life to all who trust him as their savior. I try to teach this to my kids every year. Easter is about JESUS!! Sure, we still do the egg thing, but we talk about how the eggs represent new life...our new life from Jesus.

Which brings me to another point. Life. New life. I've always heard that loss is the hardest around holidays. It is for me this year, for several reasons. Oliver was born right around Easter last year. And I had one beautiful precious baby boy...but I should have had two in my arms.

I've written this out, in length, at one other time, but I'm going to recap here.

We've had a lot of loss. This is our 11th year of marriage. We've grown up a lot, and really become strong as a couple. In psychology classes, I learned so much. I really took them to better understand myself and my past, not so much because I had any intention of ever pursuing the field. At any rate, tragedy usually either brings a couple closer or it tears them completely apart. There isn't a lot of middle ground. It may seem grayish for awhile, but eventually it will head down one of these paths. So you have to be determined in the beginning that every trial will result in you clinging tighter to your spouse.

We lost our first baby in 1997. I was devastated and blamed myself. Nobody knew, but Fred, and that made it so much harder. I was young, people wouldn't care, or so I thought.

Within 6 months I was pregnant again. At 9 weeks I started spotting. We lost another baby. This time people knew. We had JUST told everyone. That was hard, because we were already being questioned for having a baby soon. I felt like people were relieved that it would be awhile. Relieved over the death of my child? And maybe I was just consumed by my own shame and hurt. I still felt like this must be a result of my own actions somehow. I had brought this pain and punishment on myself.

In 1998 I got pregnant a third time. I was terrified. I ate all of the right things, exercised diligently (but not too strenuously,) I gave up caffeine and most medications except for Tylenol. I was determined to "be good" and make everything right. I pleaded with God to give me the baby, and I assured him that my punishment was already great enough. I did not know God as I do now. I did not know that He was in pain with me, comforting me, holding me up through it all.

God gave me a wonderful doctor (I thank God for your husband regularly, Trish.)
Isabelle was born in 1999-- a beautiful and completely healthy baby. The child never seemed to sleep and demanded my every moment, but I was totally content with that. My life revolved around her.

In the summer of 2000, after Isabelle had just turned 1-year old, I began having VERY sharp pains one day. I called Fred at work and asked him to come home. The pains got worse and worse. I went to my local doctor and, after some tests, he came in and said that I was having a miscarriage, and I should go home and rest. I was SHOCKED. I had no idea I was even pregnant. I had to call my husband from the office and tell him, and have him pick me up. Well, the pains got worse and worse. Fred carried me to the car that night and took me to the ER. After an ultrasound, they said the same thing and sent me home. I was right back within an hour. Finally, after more ER visits, a doctor had the sense to do an exam....(Hix, if you know him. He may have saved my life.) My cervix was closed. I was NOT having a miscarriage. But I went into shock and had to have immediate surgery. My right fallopian tube was bursting from an ectopic pregnancy. I'll make an already long story shorter, and just tell you that the right tube was removed and the left cleared itself-- yes, I had TWIN ectopics. That is unheard of. I had NO risk factors.

Needless to say, I was devastated. I hadn't even known about the babies, and now they were both gone. And what should have been outpatient surgery lasted for several days b/c I was over-sensitive to the pain meds and I was unconscious for 30 hours after surgery! I woke up to a pregnant nurse. Oh, the pain.

After all of the problems, my doc gave me a 50% chance of having more kids. I had one fallopian tube left, and it was damaged...

It's getting late (and LONG), but I'm going to finish the story. Maybe it will be therapeutic.
That was 2000...I'd been married for nearly three years and I had one baby girl, and had lost 4 babies already.

That winter I found out I was expecting again. On Christmas Day I started bleeding. We rushed to the ER and they did an ultrasound. We were losing one baby--yes, twins again! When you lose one, the chances of miscarrying the other are higher. We prayed, we hoped... I was so scared through that pregnancy... but God heard me cry out to Him... and my precious Ethan was born the following August, in 2001.

So 2001-- I'd been married for 4 years, I had 2 children, and I had lost 5.

In 2003 we lost another baby. It was early. I had just found out. I was going to school full-time and I had two toddlers. I sometimes wonder if it was the stress. After that I decided to get a 5-year IUD. That was a horrible mistake. I bled NONSTOP for 3 months after having it put in. I became anemic and sick. They removed it in January, and I was going to start the pill with the first cycle. The cycle never came...because I had gotten pregnant within days of having the IUD removed. I was still in school full-time, and scared beyond reason that I could lose the baby. At this point, I was obviously a high-risk pregnancy, so my specialist had me come in every three days for ultrasounds. Talk about stress! I relaxed a bit at the 3-month mark. It was a great pregnancy. I was due on Halloween and Trevor was born on November 6th, 2004. At this point my doctor was advising that Fred not even look at me, lest I become pregnant immediately again.

2004-- I had been married for 7 years then, had three beautiful children, and had lost 6.

In 2006 I found out I was expecting again. I waited several days and took three tests before I told Fred. October was the first person to find out. In fact, she bought the second ...and third pregnancy tests for me.

I knew Fred would be happy and excited...but I also knew that we were both scared, we had no money, and I had already postponed finishing school. We were homeschooling and living on a shoestring (still are.) Of course, Fred WAS excited. And scared. We started our every-3-day trips to the OB. Things looked good. Of course, we were very happy and surprised (and scared beyond reason) to be expecting twins again!! They must run in my family somewhere.

This time we got photos of the twins. We started contemplating names. I liked Grant, Adele Lillian, Simon, maybe Oliver and Olivia if they were boy/ girl. It was too early to tell yet. At nearly 3 months, we lost one. An ultrasound showed a problem. We prayed and asked friends, family, our church to pray. But then I bled, raced in, and it was too late. To say that it was upsetting and tragic to us is an understatement. I went on and smiled. I pretended everything was okay. After all, it looked like one baby would be okay, right? But I began to get depressed and couldn't seem to shake the mournful, but hopeful, unnerving, jittery feelings creeping over me. I wanted to be excited about being pregnant again, because I WAS, but I was also so sad for our loss and so scared. Yet I need to be strong for the kids. They shouldn't feel my sadness and my burden. School must continue. Mommy must still "be there" for them.

I prayed constantly for our baby that was left. And he was okay, thank You, God. Oliver was born last April.
This year-- we will celebrate 11 years of marriage. We have four beautiful children, and we have lost 7.
Fred had a vasectomy after Oliver was born. We just couldn't handle losing any more, and Fred said he couldn't handle losing me, if I were to have another ectopic... they are so much more likely after you've had one.

Before I end this, let me just say, when someone loses a baby, just hug them and say how sorry and sad you are. Do NOT say "at least you still have one." Do NOT say "it must have been for a reason" or "something must have been wrong with that baby." Just simply pray for them and tell them that you are praying.

And I will delete any unkind comments to this. I did try birth control, and I don't blame that on my miscarriages. I did want all of my children, and I would have happily had more if I was financially able. I miss my children. I look at Oliver and Ethan, knowing that they were both twins. Will they "feel" that some day? Should I tell them? And when? I kept all of my ultrasounds. I have a tape of beating hearts. And sometimes I just ache for closure, and don't know how to get it. The children I have are just miracles to me. They are absolute miracles, gifts from God.

I do love Easter. I love that God defeated death for us. I know my children are with their heavenly Father. Jesus died to give us all life. I've accepted that gift, with a desperation and urgency...sometimes I just forget how badly I want to see Him and be with Him, and how much I appreciate all He has done for me. And then I remember and it all floods back over me. I want to keep this passion all the time, not just when I am flooded with emotion.

Frankly, sometimes a picture really does say a thousand words. I saw some lovely pictures earlier of beautiful twins boys. So here is my baby boy, when he was about a month old and we were at a homeschool field trip. He was in the baby Bjorn, and Isabelle leaned in to look at him, right as I snapped the picture. Awww...


This God of ours, who gives life and gives it abundantly..wow, isn't He awesome? And then to defeat death! He rose, and conquered all sin and evil in the world, simply because He-- the maker of the universe-- loves US that much. Takes your breath away, doesn't it?

body image

Every Sunday Fred buys donuts. It's just a tradition for him. I usually pass on those fried delicacies, but yesterday I ate TWO donuts with my coffee. Anyone remember that commercial of the girl walking down the street with donuts on her bottom? That's the picture that I immediately conjured up. I wanted to post it, but can't find it. heh heh. Just as well.

After that I tried on three outfits for church before finally sticking on a knee length skirt and blouse. And, let me tell you, I was so self-conscious about it at church. I usually wear longer skirts than that. We all have our body image issues, don't we?

I remember once, in elementary school, a girl told me on the playground that I had bad nails and big lips. (Actually, part of that was a major compliment, but I didn't take it that way at the time. Maybe thin lips were "in" then.) And so started my body image issues.

I've always had a gripe about my thighs, too. Don't we all? ;-) But when I look at pictures of myself, I don't look bad... so it must just be the mirror that I'm looking in at home (and in dressing rooms.)

I have to stop myself and remember that my "little people" are watching me. I want them to love their bodies and be confident with who they are. God made us in His image, and we should treasure that and take care of ourselves, not condemn and gripe, turning this way and that in the mirror.

And, actually, sometimes I feel very good about who I am and how I look. I guess it just depends on the mood of the day. ;-) Fred helps, too, being very complimentary of my appearance. Although he did ask, before the La-Z-Boy picnic, if I was planning to wear what I had on... Hmmm... Needless to say, I quickly changed clothes.

My parents did bless me with healthy habits from a young age. We always took walks, went swimming, hiked and camped, played tennis.... Of course, when you have marathon-running parents, I guess it's natural that they would pass on good exercise and eating habits. Having chips or soda in our home was a big deal. We just didn't regularly eat like that. Cakes were reserved for birthdays only. But we ate tons of delicious fruit, steamed veggies... all the things that I love now.

A gal I know recommended a great article on body image by a friend of mine, Shelley. You can find it here. It's worth the read!