The Joy of Not Being Surprised

"I don’t know, Nick! I’m not…Wonder Woman.”

-Bernard, Blackbooks

A cheerful heart is good medicine,

    but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

-Proverbs 17:22

I have a new tool in my Life Toolbox. It’s amazing. I’m not even sure where it came from, but it’s changing the way I see myself, my days, and my circumstances. 

You see, with fibromyalgia (or whatever THIS is), most mornings involve not moving for a while because of mysterious aches and pains. So I have some time to stare at the ceiling while it seems the REST OF THE WORLD goes on with its business. As you may imagine, my thoughts and ponderings in this time can get a bit WEIGHTY. A bit HEAVY. 

It’s pretty much proven that what we think affects us physically, although I cheerfully have no sources to cite for you (this isn’t college! This isn’t even in MLA format). The books and blogs and research I’ve read on chronic pain all deal with changing how we think, in addition to medication, exercise, healthy diet, finding the right doctors, reducing stress, etc. While we may not be able to have much control over our pain, we do get to choose how we think about it. There are some days I’m able to accept my pain and move on; there are other days where it’s all I can think about because it’s so DANG PRESENT. 

Ah yes, the TOOL. 

Here it is: 

This is not unexpected. 

Here we go AGAIN, Summer Flowers.
I will try not to kill you as quickly as previous summers,
but IT WILL NOT BE UNEXPECTED.

Now I realize that this phrase is subtle and quiet in demeanor, making it easy to overlook or dismiss, or maybe it sounds more like a bad line in an action movie when the good guy pops out of nowhere after the bad guy ordered his henchmen to “take care of him.” But! I’ve noticed that when I think this in the morning instead of the usual “Oh my gosh…this is so hard…I can’t move…why me… when will this end…what did I do yesterday to make this happen…when will this end?”, it makes a huge difference. You see, while it still doesn’t give me any false delusions of control (over chronic pain?! bwhahaha), it gives me some much needed perspective. You would think that struggling with chronic pain for years would help me in accepting my usual morning fate, but NOT REALLY. Deep down, I know I’m the Wonder Woman of the Greater Belllingham Area. However, not being surprised by my morning pain gives me a chance to still move forward. Thinking This is not unexpected stops the Splash Mountain plunge of self-crushing thoughts. It gives me the freedom to plan the next step in the day. I get to think “Oh! Right! I’ve done this before. I can do it again today.” I move on to think what I can do when I can get up. 

Ironically, another thing this tool does is give me permission to not expect a horrible morning, either. There is a very fine balance with chronic pain: you don’t want to be surprised by it, but you don’t want to make it worse by assuming it will be terrible. Because, as we know, thinking negatively makes pain worse. It makes everything worse, really. This tool of not being surprised by the difficult things helps me to be realistic, as opposed to needing to be rigidly optimistic all the time OR needing to be pessimistic to acknowledge the pain itself. There’s no need to have a stiff upper lip when you know your limitations and can work around them, just like there’s no need to give in to your limitations all the time. 

See how brilliant this is? I am so excited about this, I can’t EVEN. 

My jolly balcony, wherein I survey my domain.
But mostly read and drink iced drinks.

Because this tool can applied to other areas of life, too! Let’s take, oh, PEOPLE. People, all of them, bless their hearts, are going to let us down. They can’t help it. None of us can. And when we’re not as easily surprised by this, it makes it so much easier. When we can identify foibles and quirks and tendencies, we are free to let others off the hook. We are free to offer grace, mercy. We are free to have a hospitable heart and mind towards others. Thinking this is not unexpected can stem some of the inevitable annoyances and frustrations that comes with being a human with other humans. I am sure you are beginning to see the sheer GENIUS of this humble sentence. 

It also helps with needing to cancel or reschedule plans, as is always the case with chronic pain. It’s not unexpected to need to take a few days off from activities after a busy weekend. Having THE TOOL handy helps me not go insane when I look around the house at my waiting chores: a pile of laundry waiting to be folded, a sink full of dirty dishes, or realizing that because I haven’t wiped up the hair on the bathroom floor in 2.345 hours, it’s taken over that whole side of the house. I’m not a terrible person for not having my house look like something out of an HGTV show, because it’s not unexpected (regardless of if I have chronic pain or not!). Naming and recognizing my individual limitations helps me extend grace to myself, which is hard for this recovering perfectionist. 

Although I balk at the Words on Walls Trend,
I couldn't help myself with this one. 

When we can say This is not unexpected, we can even allow room for God to come through for us. The Apostle Peter says, “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exult you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you (1 Peter 5:6-7).” Peter is not joking when he links casting our anxieties to humbling ourselves—he knows exactly what he’s saying here. It’s a real blow to our pride to admit, let alone embrace, that we can’t handle our anxieties and cares and worries alone. I’m realizing that it’s taking my whole dang life to keep giving my worries to Him. But because He cares for me, I can. The Creator of the universe, of the heavens and the earth and everything in them, cares for me! And nothing in my life is unexpected to Him—He is not surprised when I take back my worries, when I can’t move in the mornings, when troubles hit me upside the head. Even though I can’t explain why He allows pain in our lives, I know He is present in the very middle of it. And I have found that He is indeed enough, time and time again.

And so I hope this little phrase can be of some use to you, too. When pain hits you, when trouble mounts, when things are not going how you want them. It also helps in the little things. You know, when my flowers start to wilt 2 days after planting or I get an unexpected bill in the mail. Or when I open the fridge to look for some produce to supplement my carb-based, fat-based diet and it is no longer viable as a edible option. Not that THAT has ever happened, I mean. 

What are some tools in your Life Toolbox? What helps you get to the Next Thing in your day? I’d love to hear about them!

While We’re Waiting, Let’s Make Pancakes

I like to use 'I Can't Believe it's Not Butter' on my toast in the morning, because sometimes when I eat breakfast, I like to be incredulous. How was breakfast? Unbelievable. 

-Demetri Martin, comedian

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord.

John 21:9-12

The pure goodness of pancake joy. 

I’m going to be honest with you guys. It’s been a long season of waiting. Just standing around, well, lying around, to be even more honest. Waiting and longing and hoping and trying for physical wellness and wholeness. It feels like I’m waiting in the dark, and I am waiting for someone to flip the switch. In the middle of the long waiting, Ben and I try new things. We continue doing the good things, even though we can’t see results. We try to rest in the eye of our storms. We hang out with our family and friends. We listen to good music and watch good shows and make good food and go on good walks together. So we survive and strive and press forward even though our way is often veiled. 

Speaking of food (easily distracted over here), breakfast is definitely one of the good things. It's one of my all-time favorite times of the day and of LIFE. Breakfast food IS life, really. Think about it. All of the really good foods are contained under the Banner of Breakfast.

Bacon. Coffee. Pancakes. Waffles. TOAST. Hashbrowns. Omelettes. MIMOSAS. Doughnuts. Cereal. Cinnamon rolls. French toast. 

One evening not that long ago, I was searching the cupboards for some much-needed dinner inspiration, as we all do. I happened upon a half-used box of gluten-free pancake mix and thought YES. It’s been too long since I had pancakes in my life. I made a Smoothie Surprise (which is code for clean out the fridge and freezer and throw it in the blender and see what happens) and mixed up the batter. I married a genius, and he literally brought the bacon home to go with our breakfast feast. We slathered our pancakes with ricotta cheese and strawberry jam (highly recommend…we’ve been doing this on ALL the toast as of late) and peanut butter and maple syrup. Breakfast bliss, I tell you. 

So what does this have to do with waiting? Well, we still have to do stuff while we wait. Even while we wait and hope, we can still do things we love and make delicious food and be with those we love. We can still have pancakes. When we continue to move forward even in the dark, we will be strengthened and helped and encouraged. Maybe what we’re waiting for is hindering what we can do right now. In that case, we must find new ways and new things to love and do and make. I can’t run right now. But I can walk or ride my stationary bike. I can’t make cookies the way I used to. But I can figure out a new way to bake and create sweets. 

The disciples knew about waiting, too. About living and waiting and hoping and pressing forward. After the resurrection of Jesus, after he appeared to his disciples, Peter still needed to do something, to fill his time, or even to feel normal after all these mind-boggling events. And he went back to what he knew best—fishing. And of course, he and his friends didn’t catch anything, didn’t have anything to show for their efforts, as is so often the case with waiting. And what does Jesus do after this long night? He gives them not only a full catch of fish, but breakfast. Jesus cares about all our needs—He knows that not only do we need breakfast, we also need him to come and make all things right again. 

Jesus could have provided that full catch in the middle of the night, when Peter and his buddies were trying so hard. But by waiting, the disciples were filled with so much more than a hot meal, weren’t they? This whole experience confirmed who Jesus was—they didn’t need to ask who it was on the beach: “they knew it was the Lord.” And this is what we need in our lives, in all the mystery and the sorrow and the sudden joys—to know that it is the Lord who provides, who loves us enough to be with us. It is the Lord who makes our meals communion, who uses something as daily as our daily bread to reveal more of himself. While we wait, let’s look for him on the shore, trusting him to provide and sustain us in all things. 

Embracing Self-Care

And when I run, I feel His pleasure. 

—Eric Liddell, from Chariots of Fire

Have you not known? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God,

    the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary;

    his understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the faint,

    and to him who has no might he increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary,

    and young men shall fall exhausted;

but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary;

    they shall walk and not faint.

—Isaiah 40:28-31

Self-care is really hard. 

I don’t care if you’re single, married, have kids, have a goldfish, work full-time, are unemployed, or whatever. It’s hard stuff, taking care of our needs. 

Self-care is quite the buzzword these days, too, making it sound like yet another to-do item on the never ending list of Things Today’s Modern Woman Must Do. The guilt builds every day we don’t have a hot bath or practice yoga or read for 10 minutes. It’s easy to see the benefits of these things, of course, but who really has the time, or even the will to do any of these things? 

Clearly, I’m one of these women who struggles at the idea of taking care of myself. Of course. Most nights of the week, I TELL MYSELF, THIS, THIS will be the night I have a hot bath before bed! This will be the night I turn off the TV and get myself down the hall to run that delightful and relaxing bath. Haaaaaaaaaa. Yeah, no. Every night, the comfort and sheer impact of routine usually keep me rooted to the couch. And it’s easier to hit Next Episode. Ah, maybe tomorrow night will be different. And so it goes.

But I’m not even just talking about adding in something new, like listening to Mozart before bed or drinking hot water and lemon in the morning…before coffee (sidenote: what.). I’m talking basics here. Getting enough rest. Eating good and delicious food. Taking time to seek out good and encouraging people-time, or taking time to seek out good and encouraging alone-time. Taking time to read the Bible and pray. Pursuing hobbies and interests. Engaging in energizing movement. 

Having chronic pain over the past few years has made me seek out self-care like never before, even though I’m not a natural. I found myself struggling with just the day-to-day running of things, and I couldn’t coast by anymore. I had to adjust, find more ways to take care of myself, to be intentional. Oh, I guess I DO need to go to bed early. Oh, I guess I do need to lay off the sugar and the excessive amounts of caffeine. The list goes on. There has been so much trial and error, so much balancing and adjusting. 

It’s been strange, discovering that it’s good to take care of myself. I know that might sound weird or pompous, but it’s not. I believe most people don’t really believe this. Judging by how run down, ragged, exhausted, and anxious our culture is, most of us are running on steam. And that is terrible. It’s terrible because when we are perpetually exhausted, perpetually at the end of our rope, we are not really ourselves. We are merely surviving. And don’t get me wrong! There are seasons of survival, seasons of coping, seasons of grief. And that’s ok. If we find ourselves in that sort of a season, I pray we can all reach out and get the help we need. 

But when we live out our days and our years, our precious time, by running ragged from one thing to the next, we lose the joy of truly being ourselves, I believe. We stop knowing ourselves, and we lose ourselves in the lists and errands and deadlines and commitments. Perhaps we do this out of guilt. If I’m not busy, if I’m not doing things, I’m not worthwhile. If I’m not pushing myself to the brink physically or emotionally, no one will think I’m doing my best. If I’m not making everyone around me happy all the time, I must be doing something wrong. This is so untrue! While it is best to think of others first and to care for the needs of others, how can we care from an empty cup, as the saying goes? It is not written anywhere we are not allowed to care for ourselves. As a matter of fact, Jesus himself says to love our neighbors as we love ourselves (Luke 10:27). Paul says to look to the interests of others as well as our own (Phillipians 2:4). 

Here is the thing. We are not doing anyone any good when we don’t take care of ourselves. There are no awards for Least Self-Care. You see, it’s all about our motivation, our heart, as most things are. If we don’t take care of ourselves as a way to manipulate or feel like we have one over on everyone, that is just plain wrong. When we want to play the martyr or shock others into sympathy, we are not truly ourselves or acting from a place of trust or faith in God. I have felt this temptation many times in my chronic pain—to not take care of my appearance or let my healthy routines slide so others would actually believe me when I say I feel terrible. Or to work through an event or even keep a job, just so I could prove to everyone that I am a worthy person. 

We are not meant to live our lives in guilt or fear or trying to force sympathy. We are meant to live in freedom, to be ourselves as God created each and everyone of us to be! Each of us, each individual human being, is made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). We are each worthy of dignity and care and consideration: we are image-bearers of God himself! If we are in Christ, there is no condemnation (Romans 8:1). For freedom, He has set us free (Galatians 5:1)! This is good news for all of us. This means we can all take a deep, deep breath. We can rest in the truth that we are each worthy because God has made us worthy, and if we believe in Christ as God and Rescuer of the world, we have nothing to fear. Not even our own sins and foibles and past mistakes. We will never be found out because God has given us His own righteousness, and given us new life. 

And we must see that God doesn’t want us to burn ourselves out. He wants us to be salt to a flavorless world, to be a shining light to a dark world (Matthew 5:13-14). He made us all different and beautiful, each with a certain way to shine light, to be salt, to be something that makes others look back to God in wonder and joy. One way we bring glory to Him is simply to be who He created us to be. Do you love to dance? Dance! Do you love to garden? Garden! Do you love to draw? Draw! Do you love to host and have people over? Host! Do you love to play music? Play! Do you love to cook? Cook, and invite me over!

Instead of making self-care another weary and impossible chore (because we know that it will always slide to the bottom of the list), let us remember the essence of it. Let us remember that it’s not merely some added thing to do. It’s actually much smaller and bigger at the same time. It’s allowing time and space to be who God created you to be. It’s about embracing what you love and letting God shine through that. And it will look different at different times to different people. It might be taking that bath one day, or reading a favorite book, or watching a new show, or just sitting in the park with the sun on your face. It might be saying no to yet another activity, it might be staying home from church sometimes. It might be saying yes to something new, to someone new. It might be forgiving an old hurt, it might be forgiving yourself for an old mistake. 

In this way, I believe transformation will come to each of us. One of my favorite authors, Frederick Buechner, wrote in Wishful Thinking, “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet,” and this is so true. Your deep gladness, the things you do that make you feel alive, the things you do to offer care to yourself, God uses. Don’t ignore your passions and the things that bring you joy, because God longs to use them to help the whole world. Make time to be intentional, to be creative, to be whole. We have no idea what joy and hope will come to the world when we are truly ourselves. 

Going to get fancy drinks at your favorite coffee shop is highly recommended. 

It's ideal to have a favorite restaurant, too!

Sometimes making yourself a cup of tea in a Batman mug can do wonders.

Baking is my JAM. 

Sometimes nothing but the water will do. 

Peanut butter pie is ALSO my jam. 

Get outside sometimes. It's so good. 

Favorite beverage in a favorite mug...mmm, ritual. 

Less is More

True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less. 

-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. 

Jesus, John 13: 14-15

It’s easy to feel ostracized these days. In our days of extreme connectivity and everlasting wi-fi so we basically have no EXCUSE to not be connected to something somewhere, it actually highlights the ever-widening distance between ourselves and others. Lonely, left out, overlooked. If we don’t fit the profile, we can spend so much time running to catch up, trying to fit in, trying to hide our flaws. If we can hide just enough, maybe, just maybe we will find acceptance and community and be free to share our passions and talents. Inside the church or outside of it, online or offline, home or work, it can be so hard to find our place. 

But what if we embraced our loneliness and our inability to be enough? What if we let go of the gnawing need to be seen and heard and surrounded by understanding people? What if we gave up our pride even a little bit? What if, as C.S. Lewis says, we simply thought of ourselves less? 

I think that we would find ourselves in a place of freedom and creativity and confidence we cannot even imagine. 

Humility makes good things happen; humility makes good things possible. 

When Jesus washed his disciples’ feet before his crucifixion and resurrection, he became a servant. He gave his disciples a glimpse of what it meant to be the Messiah, the Chosen One to save all humanity. So that they would understand, he became a literal servant. Vulnerable by taking off his outer garments, he wrapped a humble towel around his waist that would be his clothing and also a way to serve these men, his own. He showed them what it meant to love, which was his new commandment. To love means to serve, means to lower yourself to love others. It means, as Fenelon says in Let Go, to love obscurity and humility. Paul says in Phillipians we can look to our own interests, of course, but we also are called to multitask and look out for others.

If we see others, even our own family in Christ, as more significant, our lives will be in balance, in the proper order. This is only possible when we are confident in who we are as chosen people. Before Jesus picked up the towel and humbled himself, he knew who he was. He knew that God had given him all things and that He was returning to the Father—this knowledge is what enabled him and freed him to take on a very humiliating job in any household at the time. This knowledge made it possible to show the love of God to these men, these chosen ones. 

Knowing who we are, then, will also free us to seek humility and obscurity. Knowing who we are will free us to fully love. Just as Christ knew who he was and to whom he belonged, we can be confident enough to love being offstage, to love being in the backseat, to being behind the scenes. The commandment to love our brothers and sisters in Christ is no small task or easy thing to take on. Families are messy and full of countering personalities and annoying habits and frustrating quirks. And yet, this is how the world will know that we are Christ’s—that we love each other. This is what will make the world sit up and take notice. This is what will make the world sing. 

The hardest thing of all, to lay down our natural and human pride, is what will make the world see the truth of Christ. Not our programs and institutes, not our lists of To-Dos and Not-To-Dos, not our activities and accomplishments. Not if we live a purpose driven life, pray the prayer of Jabez or refute the latest Da Vinci Code type novel. Not if we vote for the right candidate. You can live the messiest life in the world, you can totally not have your crap together, but if you love. Oh, if you love. The smallest things will shine the brightest light. The parables of Jesus, how he told the world what He and the Father were all about, all renamed the small things as the big things. Treasure hidden in a field. A widow giving all she had to the poor, and it being more than what others gave out of their abundance. Someone selling all they have to buy one small invaluable pearl. Servants taking what their master gives them and turning it into exponentially more. 

Jesus, of course, lived this out while he was here. He did not come to the world in obvious royalty, like a Prince George or a Princess Charlotte or a North West. He didn’t come in all the glory and protection of the temple. He was a poor son of a carpenter, lived out most of his days in menial and physical labor. And even when his time of ministry came, he didn’t spend it among the influential or the rich or the purposeful or those full of promise. He spent it among the marginalized, the sick, the poor, the prostitutes, the fishermen, the weak, the crowds with nothing to offer; basically, with people like you and me. He healed those who didn’t appear to have anything to give the world even if they were healed. So that the glory of God could be shown in their lives. 

He came to you, in your specific time in history, in your specific set of circumstances to show you love. He came to you, to tell you are chosen and safe, that you can be part of a big, wonderful, crazy family. He came to you, to tell you that you can reflect the very glory of God in your life, in your face, in all you have to offer, even in all your limitations. 

This, this is more than enough reason to seek humility, to seek to love fully. When we are rooted and grounded in God’s love, we will have no need to feverishly seek pride, position, the next thing. We can be content where we are, who we are with, and with what is front of us, knowing that we are safe and sound and being guided by perfect love. We can truly mourn with those who mourn, and fully rejoice with those who rejoice. We can practice hospitality out of a full and thankful heart, no matter how small or unimportant or left out we might feel at times. We know that, like Paul says in Colossians, our life is hidden in Christ and someday when he appears again, we will also appear with him in glory. And for now, while we see as in a mirror dimly and being loving and humble doesn’t always make sense, let us remember that we are obediently following in the footsteps of our loving Savior who never asks us to do anything he hasn’t already done, who sees and notes all that we do for him, and that somehow love always turns into its own reward. 

For the Time Being

Well, gentle readers. Here we are. 

It’s now been two months and almost a week since I quit my job as Regaled Mammogram Aide and became a Full Time Well I’m Not Sure What. But who’s counting? The Yowling Beast of fibromyalgia has claimed my full attention, for the time being. FOR THE TIME BEING. I must insist upon this point. Not only to you, dear readers, but to myself as well. 

I’ve been employed pretty much since basically Forever, with a few bouts and weeks of non-employment. There was this one time in 2008 where I was without a job for ONE MONTH, and there was this other time in 2011 where I was seeking work FOR SIX MONTHS, and I nearly died. I’m not a workaholic, mind you (as soon as I clock out…SARAH OUT! drop mic). I just like having something mildly productive to do and have something to show for the day. Oh, and the paychecks are good too. I like to eat. But more on that later. 

All this to say, the past couple months have been…weird. 

I am not kidding you when I say it took me a solid THREE WEEKS to calm down after my last day of work. Like I could finally relax and accept all this TIME as my own. And allow it to be a good thing. 

You see, it took me a looooong time to accept the need to quit my job. As my long-suffering and handsome spouse can attest. I didn’t want to GIVE IN. Accept defeat. I’d been fighting through the pains, the fatigue, the brain fog, the lack of good times with friends and family for sooooo long that I was determined to JUST KEEP GOING. Stick it to the man. Pull myself along. Prove to myself, and to those around me, that I am STRONG ENOUGH and GOOD ENOUGH and all these health concerns can just shove it. 

But regardless of the rest, the exercise, the bouts of physical therapy, the madness of trying out new medicines like swimsuits in January, the countless doctor’s visits and subsequent disappointments, the different diets, the fevered research on the internet and the library, the scaling back of activities and commitments, procedures and recovery times, I just couldn’t. Not anymore. One more thing had to give, and that was my….JOB. SAY IT AIN’T SO. 

Accepting the ever-pressing need to slow down even more and become a full time Stay at Home Person was hard enough. But accepting others’ reactions was TRICKY. Well-meaning people shared their very real concerns about this decision. This was a huge thing, after all, and there was potential to be concerned. Would I ever leave the couch after this? I still struggle with those worries, because of course I’d already had them myself.  And I’ll be honest, there have been a lot of days since then that I haven’t left the couch or the house. Because I’m chronically in pain. These days have crushed me more than the actual pain, the actual fatigue. Because I get afraid that my whole life will become not leaving the couch. Really afraid. 

So in the past couple months, I’ve watched a lot of tv from my couch, yes. Bravo for the Property Brothers. I cite them for not going clinically insane. But! I’ve also read a LOT. Still working on my BBC Top 100 Novels project. I read Dune by Frank Herbert this summer. That is a whole other post, my friend. A whole other post. Like the Seven Labors of Hercules, I labored my way through The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (author of The Secret History which I DO LOVE). Cannot resist side note here: Seriously, Pulitzer Prize Committee? I also read The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguru, which made me cry and feel all the feels. I even read some NON-FICTION, which should come as a surprise to all of us. Reread some Frederick Buechner, which is always refreshing, and For the Love by Jen Hatmaker, deliciously hilarious and thought-provoking. 

My house is also a little more organized. I couldn’t help it. I had more time to see what needed doing. I went through books and clothes and kitchen things and donated and consigned a TON. Golly, that felt good. And I had time to decide I needed to do a detox and elimination program, which Ben and I both currently doing. Day 5, people. Day 5. Green smoothies galore. So far, nothing to report but many dirtied dishes, new and very tasty cooking adventures (chicken stock from scratch?! What are you serious??) and questionable bathroom times. But it is ONLY Day 5 so far. Hold fast. 

Insert Necessary Food Thoughts Here. Another thing that the Fibro Beast has taken is my LOOSE PAIR OF JEANS THAT I SAVE FOR EMERGENCIES. Take my gluten and dairy? Whatever. Make me question conventional cleaning and beauty products? I don’t even care anymore. Make me go without coffee for this cleanse? I do care, but WHAT MUST BE MUST BE. But MY EMERGENCY JEANS??? This is CRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT. I accept that I now must make up REASONS to move about, and I DO. Currently able to “exercise” (or as I say, GENTLY MOVE) more than I ever have with this blasted condition. More days than not, you can find me huffing on my stationary bike or getting lapped at the track by the Santa Claus with the huge headphones. And now I’m doing this freaking CLEANSE, FIBRO BEAST. Why take my fat pants? I am about to send a strongly worded letter. I can’t just leave the house in yoga pants ALL THE TIME. Sometimes even I need to look presentable. And trying to walk around in jeans that feel like a denim Iron Maiden is not helping matters any, socially or spiritually. 

So there you have it. The past couple months in a sort of nutshell. But not cashew or peanut—those are NOT on the List for my detox. I didn’t even get to reading through Ephesians and Colossians and remembering the Gospel all over again, and how it’s true now, it’s true for my chronic pain self, and for everyone. I didn’t get to having my friends and family over, who saved me from myself time and time again. Where would we be without Bachelor in Paradise nights, or evenings spent discussing what actors from which British detective shows were in THIS OTHER THING, or hot afternoons on the cool porch talking about life, or delicious plum cobblers dropped off after we had to put the family kitty down? What I’m trying to say is that even though the past months have been hard in every way I expected, it’s been full of surprising graces? I’m looking at you, everyone in my life. I’m looking at you, and I thank you. And the Property Brothers and Tyra Banks and Gordon Ramsay. 

This is my life now. 

I found this gem of a dedication in a used bookstore Agatha Christie novel, and that's why I bought it. 

Sometimes I amaze even myself with my excellent taste. 

You know that's watermelon simple syrup for gin and tonics, right? 

There was this one time we took my niece to the sand castle competition  That's Jaws, of course. 

Dang right I took a picture of a squirrel at the track. Dang right. 

Hard

You can’t take back what you have done/You gotta keep your heart young.
-Brandi Carlile

In our tough and often unbending world our gentleness can be a vivid reminder of the presence of God among us.
-Henri Nouwen

I’m afraid the pain will make me hard. Anxious that the aches will dry up whatever gentleness I had left in me. That the pain will only give me eyes for myself. I see people all the time with chronic pain and the elderly in tired bodies. Some of them have deep lines etched into their faces, and even speaking or pulling out a piece of paper to hand me takes too much effort. Some of them speak soft and gentle, with eyes that know pain but still contain light. And  life and pain have taken too much from others still, leaving them with permanent pain lines, with an eternal sharp tone, always expecting the worst.

These are some of the bruised wicks, broken reeds among us. I suppose we really are all in chronic pain of some kind, chronic brokenness. I’ll be honest, I too feel like a bruised wick most of the time. Unable to hold a flame, or keep a light burning. Every day, I rise and wonder if this will be the day I can’t make it. Will the pain, the exhaustion be too much this day? Most days I can set my mouth and go about the day’s tasks, only to fall on my couch at the end of the day in a wrung-out heap. I can’t keep up with everything asked of me, or everything I want to do. And it seems like every time I start to do something healing, like take up walking or stretching or giving up dairy, something else happens to put me back to square one. Maybe it’s like climbing up a huge mountain and being told not to look down. Maybe it’s not always a good idea to dwell on where you’ve been and what you‘ve lost or given up. Maybe you really need to just focus on what’s in front of you. Take another step. When I stop to think about how long this journey to health has been going on, it’s discouraging. When I think of all the supplements, the rest, the Netflix marathons, the sick time taken, the waiting rooms, the tests, the food sensitivities, the unknowns, the suffered relationships, well-it’s heartbreaking.

With no obvious answers or ease of pain about to happen, I see these as choices before me…gentle or hard, soft or hard, tight or flexible, peaceful or anxious. What will I choose this day? I am determined to choose life, to choose faith. To do what I can do, and not merely focus on what I can’t. To be thankful for the gifts that God has given me-the husband, the grace, the friends, the family, the job, the freedom, the rain, the gospel, the God-Man of Jesus Himself, His precious Word, and words themselves. To still have eyes to see the glory of nature, the glory of humankind. To still have a heart that breaks with the sorrows of the world--bombings and kidnappings and lives broken and lost. To still have hands that can work and reach out to comfort others. To still have a sense of humor and goodwill in this world. To still have ears that hear the music of pianos and guitars and human voices and babies in churches and waiting rooms. To still have feet to sink sand-deep and run in waves. I will keep asking, seeking, knocking, and remember the gentleness and love of a Savior King who went through so much more for the redemption of this entire sad and beautiful world.

The Art of Graciousness

We got to learn to love.
-Third Day

Let your speech always be gracious.
-The Apostle Paul, in his Letter to the Colossians


I’m a girl. I have opinions. Let’s face it, I have a lot of opinions. On.Freaking.Everything. On myself, on the world, and everything and everyone in between. As a girl, I also have a lot of moods that strike at any time, without warning. I also have urgent needs for cookies and quiet and organization. Friendships and relationships are everything to me. I am eternally processing my life to people or a flat piece of paper. I feel the need to express all of these things at all times, to tell everyone my feelings on all my favorite and non-favorite things, and for you to really stop and LISTEN to me. Maybe this sounds familiar.

I’ve noticed, and maybe you have too, that a gracious woman is a truly noteworthy one. It seems to me, and I realize this is horribly general, but women as a group are not always known for their graciousness. Sometimes women can be hormonal, conniving, dramatic, and generally ill-disposed, and I find myself guilty of all the above at different times. I decided a couple years ago that I wanted to be a gracious woman. A gentle one. An inviting and hospitable female. And promptly fell flat on my face. It so happens that as soon as one makes an inward resolution to be more awesome, the world asks if you’re really sure about that, and sends you frustrations, awkward situations, and downright hard crap to deal with. Let it be known I brought loads of this on myself. Some of it was free. Anyway, I find myself now in a much better position to reevaluate this desire of mine.

I still want to be a gracious and awesome woman. There are quite a few wonderful examples in my life to look up to, as far as inspiration. They come to me in forms of co-workers, relatives, friends, acquaintances, and even authors. They have been women of faith. Some of them only go to church on Christmas. But they all have certain characteristics in common.

For starters, The Gracious Woman really.just.lets.others.be. She allows people to just be who they are. She doesn’t expect you to give what you don’t have. She also gives to you and doesn’t need anything in return. How cool is that?! And how often do I do the exact opposite of that? Don’t answer that. Gracious women understand human nature, really. They get it. They get that people mess up, that they are going to fail you, that accidents happen, and that favorite wedding presents are going to break. And she still wants to hang out with you. She still thinks you are a lovely human being. The Gracious Woman also inspires you to be better. Without imposing rules or threatening to withhold, her very existence makes you aware of how you could do things differently, do them better, be a pretty cool individual yourself. I love this artful balance-letting you be you and helping you be better. This is truly one of the Christlike aspects of graciousness, I think.

Allowing everyone else to be themselves doesn’t steal anything from The Gracious Woman, though. No sirree. She knows who she is. She knows what she needs. She knows what she can give. She sticks to her boundaries. I really love this part. This part makes the above part possible. The Gracious Woman is-gasp-NICE TO HERSELF, too! She doesn’t expect crazy things from herself. She probably eats fruits and vegetables on a regular basis, exercises sometimes, and thinks about going organic. She makes an effort to not beat up on her body, even though everyone’s doing it. She realizes that we’re all in changing seasons, and we all need different things at different times. But she doesn’t freak out when she fails at some of these things. Pretty awesome way to see the world. I think she also struggles with depression and sadness sometimes. She’s real, and sometimes things really, really, really, suck. She knows this and allows time to mourn and grieve, knowing that hope is just as present.

I’m verging into Proverbs 31 Woman territory now, but bear with me. These women allow their mindset toward themselves and others to flow into their homes. I’ve been in homes that are incredibly peaceful and hospitable, where I feel I can just be. The hostess let her house be a conduit for true hospitality. These homes may not always be the most clean or organized or magazine-perfect, but they are full of welcoming presence. Gracious women invite you in, you know? They want you to know that you belong, if you want to. But no pressure. It comes full circle with the whole letting you be you quality. Their homes reflect that. It’s really a beautiful thing. I love those homes and seek to make my own that way, too. I want others to love coming over. To say that Sarah’s house is always warm and welcoming, and full of freshly baked brownies and pots of steaming soup and mugs full of hot tea, even if there’s paper everywhere. To say that they felt like themselves at my house. That is such a precious goal of mine.

Another amazing characteristic of gracious women is that they don’t always say what they’re thinking. This is a big one. Women like to talk. I always want to tell you whatever I’m thinking RIGHT NOW. But…it’s not always a good idea. A lot of the cool women I know…well, I don’t know always know what they’re thinking. They don’t over-share. They are cool with themselves enough not to seek validation from every person they meet. I am learning this one. Always. These women have opinions to be sure, but they don’t feel the need to always share. They’re probably right, and we should all listen when they do share, but sometimes we’re just left in curiosity. They don’t gossip, either, which is definitely counter-intuitive. They usually have something good to say about everyone. I really like that, too. They know how to express frustrations and good things appropriately and with the right people at the right time. I’ve come a long way in this, but there’s always more to learn.

These are a lot of really shockingly wonderful qualities that seem impossible to attain sometimes. I’m not overwhelmed, though. Becoming a gracious woman, learning to love people no matter where they’re at, being cool with myself, letting others in, and controlling my big mouth is such a process. As one of my favorite authors, Brother Lawrence, says, you can’t become holy all at once. These women that I know  have been becoming themselves forever. They weren’t built all at once. They’ve chosen graciousness when bitterness and hardness would have been so much easier. They learned the hard way to let others be. They’ve messed up a lot in all these things, but they keep going. They keep choosing compassion and love for themselves and others, even when it doesn’t make sense. They have learned over time to be gracious. I am so inspired by that. It gives me hope that I can be gracious, too. That I can choose gentleness and joy, to learn to love the hard things. That I can invite people over even when my house is a mess. That I don’t have to share the latest gossip. These are pretty cool things to be excited and hopeful about, in a world that encourages women to be the opposite of these qualities. Let’s do some hard things!

Taste and See

I have identified myself as a foodie for some time, finding great joy and comfort in mashed potatoes and baked chicken. I believe with all my heart in the power of a latte and a well-timed cookie. So when Ben and I went on a diet last month,  it was tough. Really tough. But so good, at the same time. We knocked out everything but meat, vegetables, nuts, and some dairy. Oh, and rice cakes. LOTS OF RICE CAKES. I  missed my coffee. But I hadn’t felt that connected to my food in years. I hadn’t really tasted food in so long. When’s the last time you really tasted your food? That’s what I thought. I could weep when I bite into a really ripe peach, the juice dotting my chin in a sort of explosive food confetti. I heave sighs of relief when I get that first sip of either crappy work coffee or a perfectly steamed, perfectly brewed latte. I offer up a true prayer, maybe some of the truest prayers I’ve ever prayed, when I enjoy dinner with my husband in our deep companionship or a slap-stick dinner with true friends. Food opens us up--it satisfies our first needs. Eat and be filled, so you can be filled with the goodness of the Lord. Drink and be quenched so you can be filled with the goodness of whatever company you find yourself in, whether you’re alone or with your best friend or your favorite family member. If your food is crappy, your conversation will probably suffer. I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds right. Well, I suppose you could get by for a while, but over time, your body will start to complain and you won’t be able to enjoy much of anything.

It’s unnatural to not care about food. I think we all do, really, deep down. Why else are there so many  sad and frustrated people who struggle with weight and self-image? We have lost our true relationship with food. We are disconnected. So we grab whatever’s there, whatever’s available, whatever we don’t have to cook ourselves. Chesterton described the polygamist as not actually enjoying sex too much; rather he has lost his appreciation for sex by having many lovers, forgetting how it was meant to be enjoyed. This is true of food, too. And wouldn't you know that of course, I found a renewed appreciation of food in a crazy diet by fasting from what I thought I wanted.

Oh yes! You bet I sat on the couch and cried. I laid in bed and cried, thinking of giving up my bread, my peanut butter, my pasta, my coffee, my cookies, my chocolate, the things that I used for comfort during the day, and my whole life, really. Any day is filled with any number of vexations, of griefs, of confusions. Food is such a constant. I know exactly how that chocolate in my desk drawer will taste, even though I have no idea what’s waiting for me in the next hour. I know exactly how much comfort exists in a big bowl of pasta and alfredo sauce after a long day…like snuggling deep into a pile of blankets fresh from the dryer. Here is the kicker…that is GOOD. In itself, food is meant as a huge present from our Creator. Proverbs advises to give wine to those in bitter distress. Our Lord knows we are but dust. He knows we need good food when we wake up, in the middle of our work day, after a long day of working. Maybe He even knows we need a nice cup of hot chocolate before bed sometimes. He is a good God, a good Father. He knows what we need before we need it, after all.

Sadly, even our relationship with food, one that God meant to be good and full of satisfaction, I believe, was tainted by the Fall. The final rip from relationship from God on that fateful day was one of food, wasn’t it? When Eve opened her mouth and sank her teeth into what was forbidden; when Adam tasted what was not meant for him, all was lost. They wanted the fruit because they were told not to have it, because it was the means to an end, to power, to knowledge, not because they wanted it for pleasure, for enjoying it in the moment, like how presents from God are meant to be received. This is probably why diets usually don’t work. Our motivations matter to God, and to ourselves. God had not meant them to taste this fruit because it was not good for them. He wasn’t being a big meanie. He was only thinking of their good. Just like what I tell my body when it wants not just a cookie, but seventeen.

I can only imagine what that fruit tasted like. Did it taste good going down, like how half a pan of brownies tastes, or a half-pound cheeseburger? Or did that first bite confirm everything God had told them about it? Did it leave a small round lump in the pit of their stomach, or just too full like after Thanksgiving with all the fixings? Did they lean against the tree it came from and puke their guts out in sorrow, like a repentant bulimic? Did they feel dirty and greasy all over, like they’d rubbed a bacon maple bar all over their faces? And the final terrible question I want to ask, but maybe not want to know the answer to, is…did they care? Did they sit in the satisfied stuffed stupor of the glutton with smeared egg on their faces, or were they  in mourning right away for what they had done to their bodies, to their minds?  Did Adam and Eve feel all their relationships, with God and themselves and their bodies, break right away? Or were they so dead and full inside they couldn’t feel at all? And what did God think when He saw them partake and eat? Did He feel a lightening bolt of sorrow in His chest, a plunging sorrow in His belly? Did He feel it before He saw it? He must have felt the disconnection right away, the end of what had been so precious, that communion as they walked in the cool of the day together.

But even in food, there is redemption, isn’t there? Even in that terrible ironic Fall, mirroring our season of autumn, with the promise of summer dying and only a hard winter to come, God Himself made clothes for them. He set them to work, to make their own food, to work the land with their own hands. I know that most people see that as a punishment, and I suppose it was in part, and maybe the satisfaction I feel in preparing a meal after a long day is part of the Fall lingering to this day, but I don’t really think so. I think God provided this small joy in the middle of great sorrow. To work something good out of something so evil. We can still work with our hands and make something good, something akin to that old communion our ancestors had in the Garden with our God, something like walking about in the cool of the day. Perhaps they walked with cold glasses of lemonade or a corndog dipped in mustard. People talk about real things over food, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this grand tradition started in the Garden in the beginning.

In the meantime, we still have broken relationships with food, don’t we? Our bodies rebel, weakened by the Fall and by heredity and by environment, and any other number of reasons. Too many spices give us heartburn and dairy gives us flem and too many treats at Christmas give us a head-cold in January. Worse, we crave what is bad for us, either the wrong foods altogether or our-of-control portion size. Especially in this Western world,  I think we must temper our attitudes and our appetites with thanks. Whatever you do, said Paul to the Colossians, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks. Giving thanks for our food and our drink, our daily communion with our Father, will mend both our hearts and bodies. Only then can we truly taste our food, our daily gift of manna from God. Only then will we will taste and see that the Lord is good, whatever we choose to eat. Paul also said not to let anyone judge you for what you eat or drink, for the substance belongs to Christ. Realizing, for the first time in my life, that Christ cares about what I eat, makes every meal communion, every bite of bread sacred, every sip of water holy.