"You will keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you because he trusts in you." Isaiah 26:3 (CEV)
I've found lately I've had to work much harder at achieving that internal peace I so desire. I blame the unrest in my spirit on a certain clandestine dating relationship I've been involved in over the last ten months. My suitor? Menopause. Even though I'm certain I'm much too young to be involved in such a torrid affair, Menopause has been pursuing me relentlessly. I'm a long way from being married to Menopause, but I suspect by the end of next year we will at least make a long-term engagement commitment.
In the beginning, our relationship was quite casual. Menopause started waking me in the middle of the night and like an annoying relative who refuses to leave at the end of a party, Menopause would not let me be. It's nearly impossible for me to meet my necessary nightly requirement of eight hours of sleep since Menopause has been courting me. The sleep deprivation has made it so much easier for Menopause to attack me in the area where I tend to be the most vulnerable ... my emotional state of being.
Menopause has me experiencing a full spectrum of mood swings and meltdowns like a giant emotional pendulum wreaking havoc on my hormones and otherwise stable personality. In a matter of seconds I can go from crying over a sappy email to screaming at whoever forgot to load the dishwasher properly. There is no rhyme or reason and no logical explanation for my hormonal power surges. Life was simpler when I could blame my occasional lapses in my sunny disposition on a PMS outburst.
And what about that five pounds of "water weight" I accused PMS of causing each month? Menopause has attacked me where it can do the greateast amount of damage to my already unstable pysche ... the scale! That unwanted five pounds of "water weight"has taken up permanent residence around my midriff and refuses to leave. What's that all about??? I feel like I have a spare tire around my mid-section. Not quite a 4x4 spare tire, exactly. It's more like one of those little donut tires made for compact cars that are always noticeably smaller than factory tires. You know the one that makes you cringe in embarrassment because it rolls down the street screaming, "I don't belong here! I'm a spare!" That's what the fleshy roll around my waistline is screaming ... "I don't belong here! I'm a spare tire of fatty deposits!"
I've really grown tired of this bothersome relationship, but yet I know Menopause could realistically stalk me for an indeterminate amount of time. Is there a point at which I can throw in the towel and gracefully accept the cosmic joke Mother Nature and Father Time are playing on my body? I admit, there are days it would be so much easier to stay and bed and hide until I feel like myself again. Thankfully, wisdom tells me, this too shall pass, and this Menopause phase, is just that. A phase. Another season of life that I and my sisters must all endure. I'm sure I must have experienced similar emotions when I "dated" puberty all those decades ago - and I obviously survived that ordeal. The difference between dating puberty and Menopause however, was that when puberty was through with me, I was left with a new pair of perky breasts as a consolation prize. I'm concerned about what lovely parting gifts Menopause will leave me ... liver spots, spider veins, saggy breasts??? H'mmm, I wonder if I could get an upgrade on those breasts, please!
Maybe I just need to set Menopause on the trail of a fresh victim and take the focus off of myself. A dear friend of mine is turning 40 later this year. I wonder if it's too soon for her to start dating my bothersome suitor? You never know!
Oh Lord, I pray you will not leave me or forsake me in the middle of this difficult season in my life. Help to balance my out of control hormones and be to able deal with things in a rational manner. Help me not to fly off the handle unnecessarily. Help me not to stress out about the "normal" changes in my body and my weight. I pray for the peace necessary to go through this phase in my life for however long it takes. Amen
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Gotta love the Jiggle Temple
"... 'You must love him [the Lord your God] with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength.' The second most important commandment says: ' Love others as much as you love yurself.' No other commandment is more important than these." Mark 12:30-31
The directions on the vial of liquid eyeliner read, "Shake well before application." I shook that little container for all I was worth. Much to my horror, the flesh on my upper arm continued to wiggle, jiggle and vibrate for some time after I was finished shaking the eye liner. I was hypnotized by the untethered gyrations. I was grateful not to have been blinded by the quaking of my flesh. A girl could lose an eye that way!
The Word of God tells me that our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit (1Cor. 3:16). For the life of me, I don't remember at what point my body turned into the Temple of Jiggle. When exactly did I become a walking adverstisement for Jello gelatin? I know for a fact that Father Time and Mr. Gravity will eventually pay us all a visit. After a certain age a girl has to expect a normal amount of epidermal elasticity, but the stuff hanging on the backside of my arms has enough fatty deposits to qualify for its own zip code.
The above scripture commands me to love my neighbor as myself and on normal (non-PMS days), I have little or no problem heeding that word. It's the second half of that command that I struggle with. How's a girl supposed to love herself when she is so dissatisfied with her outward appearance? I know ... we're not supposed to concentrate on the outer shell, but hey ... I'm only human. Everywhere I go - there I am - in the flesh! Not only am I not happy with my current body weight, but there's a whole lot of other stuff about me, myself and I that I am less than thrilled with. So how can I be obedient to God's Word and learn to love myself?
EVERY DAY I have to get out of bed and MAKE A CHOICE to love myself exactly as I am. EVERY DAY, I must forgive myself for my shortcomings and physical imperfections and grasp the concept that I am not perfect, nor will I ever be perfect in this lifetime. I am encouraged by the fact that even though I'm not exactly where I wish to be physically, spiritually or emotionally, I have made great strides from where I was last week, last month ... last year, etc. I accept that I may never reach my ideal body weight this side of Heaven (that's the number that appears on my drivers license), but that's not a requirement for salvation and the love of Christ. God loves every inch of me and my Temple of Jiggle!
Thank you, Lord for this imperfect body of flesh because it reminds me daily, that I need you to sustain my life. Were it not for you, I couldn't even draw my next breath. Help me to love those people you put in my path today. Help me to be able to love myself, forgive myself and accept myself for who you have created me to be. I am unique in the body of Christ. Help me always to love you with my whole heart, soul, mind and BODY! Amen.
The directions on the vial of liquid eyeliner read, "Shake well before application." I shook that little container for all I was worth. Much to my horror, the flesh on my upper arm continued to wiggle, jiggle and vibrate for some time after I was finished shaking the eye liner. I was hypnotized by the untethered gyrations. I was grateful not to have been blinded by the quaking of my flesh. A girl could lose an eye that way!
The Word of God tells me that our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit (1Cor. 3:16). For the life of me, I don't remember at what point my body turned into the Temple of Jiggle. When exactly did I become a walking adverstisement for Jello gelatin? I know for a fact that Father Time and Mr. Gravity will eventually pay us all a visit. After a certain age a girl has to expect a normal amount of epidermal elasticity, but the stuff hanging on the backside of my arms has enough fatty deposits to qualify for its own zip code.
The above scripture commands me to love my neighbor as myself and on normal (non-PMS days), I have little or no problem heeding that word. It's the second half of that command that I struggle with. How's a girl supposed to love herself when she is so dissatisfied with her outward appearance? I know ... we're not supposed to concentrate on the outer shell, but hey ... I'm only human. Everywhere I go - there I am - in the flesh! Not only am I not happy with my current body weight, but there's a whole lot of other stuff about me, myself and I that I am less than thrilled with. So how can I be obedient to God's Word and learn to love myself?
EVERY DAY I have to get out of bed and MAKE A CHOICE to love myself exactly as I am. EVERY DAY, I must forgive myself for my shortcomings and physical imperfections and grasp the concept that I am not perfect, nor will I ever be perfect in this lifetime. I am encouraged by the fact that even though I'm not exactly where I wish to be physically, spiritually or emotionally, I have made great strides from where I was last week, last month ... last year, etc. I accept that I may never reach my ideal body weight this side of Heaven (that's the number that appears on my drivers license), but that's not a requirement for salvation and the love of Christ. God loves every inch of me and my Temple of Jiggle!
Thank you, Lord for this imperfect body of flesh because it reminds me daily, that I need you to sustain my life. Were it not for you, I couldn't even draw my next breath. Help me to love those people you put in my path today. Help me to be able to love myself, forgive myself and accept myself for who you have created me to be. I am unique in the body of Christ. Help me always to love you with my whole heart, soul, mind and BODY! Amen.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Butt for the Grace of God
"But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect." (I Cor. 15:12 NIV)
I am what I consider to be a Career Dieter. Over the course of the past 30 years, I have tried just about every fad diet and several legitimate weight loss programs known to man (and woman). During those years I have lost about 350 pounds. Startling, I know. That weight loss is not a result of being morbidly obese. No, I'm a fairly "normal" size, middle-age woman. That weight loss is a direct result of yo-yo dieting. I have lost and gained the same 30 pounds at least 10 or more times over the last three decades. I've also owned just about every piece of exercise equipment available on the open market hoping to sculpt those buns of steel, yet I've never actually achieved steel bun success. I struggle daily with weight issues.
Even at my ideal weight, (which I only achieved for a total of two days in my entire life. Once in 1976 and once again in 1987), I've never been satisfied with my bottom half. I have legs like tree stumps and I'm convinced I'm the first person to sport "saddle bag thighs." Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but I'm a writer - that's what we do! I'm firmly convinced however, the mirrors installed in any clothing/department store fitting room are really the same mirrors used in carnival fun houses. Rarely have I had the occasion to try on a pair of jeans and been totally satisfied with the way my backside looks. It always looks somewhat distorted and slightly magnified - usually times three, since most stores have that triple mirror thing going so you can see what you're trying on from every possible angle. Yuck! I stand there conversing with myself, "Is my butt really that big? Dear Lord, when did that happen? I'm convinced my behind is the size of Nebraska. (Okay - maybe not the whole state, just a small rural township.) In reality it's more in the normal to slightly above average category. It's a genetic thing. I swam in the wrong gene pool consisting of a long line of round, Sicilian woman. I was doomed from the womb?
Why are we a generation of people (not just women, either) so consumed with the size of our butts? The age old question has always been, "Does my butt look fat in this?" I tell myself that if I spent half as much time studying the Word of God or praying for others, I would be eligible for sainthood. Logically, I know that God loves me regardless of the size of my butt. He doesn't love me less based on the amount of jiggle hanging from my underarms. And He certainly wouldn't stop caring about me if my waistline was proportionate to the circumference of say a Beluga Whale. So why do I beat myself up if my butt looks larger than normal in a pair of jeans? Why am I so obsessed? I hope I'm not the only person whose tried to find the answer to this dilemma. As a Christian I know I shouldn't fixate on the external, but as a woman, that's easier said than done! I live in a body of flesh who wants to look like the women I see on TV, even though I know that's unrealistic.
For today, I will remind myself of the words found in 1 Samuel 16:7 that reads: "Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
Please Lord, help me to remember that when I shop for new jeans this week. It's not the size of my buttocks that really matters to you, but the size of my heart! And I really want a heart the size of Nebraska! Amen.
I am what I consider to be a Career Dieter. Over the course of the past 30 years, I have tried just about every fad diet and several legitimate weight loss programs known to man (and woman). During those years I have lost about 350 pounds. Startling, I know. That weight loss is not a result of being morbidly obese. No, I'm a fairly "normal" size, middle-age woman. That weight loss is a direct result of yo-yo dieting. I have lost and gained the same 30 pounds at least 10 or more times over the last three decades. I've also owned just about every piece of exercise equipment available on the open market hoping to sculpt those buns of steel, yet I've never actually achieved steel bun success. I struggle daily with weight issues.
Even at my ideal weight, (which I only achieved for a total of two days in my entire life. Once in 1976 and once again in 1987), I've never been satisfied with my bottom half. I have legs like tree stumps and I'm convinced I'm the first person to sport "saddle bag thighs." Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, but I'm a writer - that's what we do! I'm firmly convinced however, the mirrors installed in any clothing/department store fitting room are really the same mirrors used in carnival fun houses. Rarely have I had the occasion to try on a pair of jeans and been totally satisfied with the way my backside looks. It always looks somewhat distorted and slightly magnified - usually times three, since most stores have that triple mirror thing going so you can see what you're trying on from every possible angle. Yuck! I stand there conversing with myself, "Is my butt really that big? Dear Lord, when did that happen? I'm convinced my behind is the size of Nebraska. (Okay - maybe not the whole state, just a small rural township.) In reality it's more in the normal to slightly above average category. It's a genetic thing. I swam in the wrong gene pool consisting of a long line of round, Sicilian woman. I was doomed from the womb?
Why are we a generation of people (not just women, either) so consumed with the size of our butts? The age old question has always been, "Does my butt look fat in this?" I tell myself that if I spent half as much time studying the Word of God or praying for others, I would be eligible for sainthood. Logically, I know that God loves me regardless of the size of my butt. He doesn't love me less based on the amount of jiggle hanging from my underarms. And He certainly wouldn't stop caring about me if my waistline was proportionate to the circumference of say a Beluga Whale. So why do I beat myself up if my butt looks larger than normal in a pair of jeans? Why am I so obsessed? I hope I'm not the only person whose tried to find the answer to this dilemma. As a Christian I know I shouldn't fixate on the external, but as a woman, that's easier said than done! I live in a body of flesh who wants to look like the women I see on TV, even though I know that's unrealistic.
For today, I will remind myself of the words found in 1 Samuel 16:7 that reads: "Do not look at his appearance or at the height of his stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart."
Please Lord, help me to remember that when I shop for new jeans this week. It's not the size of my buttocks that really matters to you, but the size of my heart! And I really want a heart the size of Nebraska! Amen.
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