Daddys and Bedtime Prayers

Bed time prayers are one of the simple pleasures of being a parent that I treasure more than nearly any other task that I complete daily. The confidence in knowing that your child/children, even at ages 1 and 3 are developing a relationship with God and learning to communicate with Him is one of the most beautiful and rewarding aspects of parenthood. Tonight, as I was putting Michaela to bed, after 2 nights of someone else doing it, and she was giggling as we teasingly thanked God for pickles, peanut butter and hippopotamuses, and she reached up to give me "Eskimo kisses" I immediately flashed back to memories of my bed time prayers with my daddy.

My dad is very special to me, in a great many ways that I hadn't observed over the last many years. When there is the teenage rebellion, the overly confident college independence and the scoffing at unsolicited advice in early parenthood it's easy to forget, overlook or simply ignore the life that he spoke into me, the lessons he taught me and some of the great memories that I have because of him. When faced with the prospect of losing that relationship, not having him as a sounding board, a gentle spirit or even the rambling chatterbox, those thoughts and memories become far more precious and the respect and value that I possess for my dad becomes ever more apparent. Tonight, one of those very special memories flashed to mind, as after spending the night with MoMo and PaPa, Michaela eagerly gave "Eskimo kisses" which was always one of my dad's trademark moves.

Our bedtime routine, though it wasn't every night, usually went something like this: We'd chat for a bit, maybe he'd read a story or part of a story and then we'd pray the rehearsed prayer, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen." Then he'd give me eskimo kisses, a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose, and then on the forehead. A kiss on the nose is something that is rare and unique and my dad is one of the only ones I've known to do that, so when Michaela tenderly kissed my nose I couldn't help but get teary eyed thinking of those special moments with my dad. And after all the giggles and rehearsed prayers were done he'd say to me the one phrase that even now he'll still whisper on occasion, "I'll hug you forever." No matter where we are in our lives, how far we've drifted apart, whether we talk daily or not for several weeks, I know that he will hug me as long as he has strength enough to lift his arms, and I cherish that, just his promise that he'll always make sure I have milk and oj, how he showed up at my college apartment with them in hand, long talks and all of the memories of bed time prayers and Eskimo kisses.

I love you, Daddy, and I will hug you forever...

Oh what a celebration...

Yesterday, Alex was routed with a very light day, and a very difficult trainee, so when he returned home just a little after noon, he was happy to spend some of the evening out enjoying the gorgeous weather and relieving a little stress. When the girls got up from their naps we spent some time playing outside before we decided to go for a bike ride. Michaela has anxiously been attempting to ride her "big girl bike" with the training wheels for some time now. She is finally getting better at pedaling but our driveway is simply too small for her to really get the hang of it so we thought we'd let her try it out at Cliff Cave on the trail, fully prepared to strap it to the bike trailer when she tired out. With a little frustration and a very pokey toddler we made it nearly a 1/2 mile down the trail when we decided it was time for her to get in the trailer or else we'd never finish before sunset. Well, the ride was gorgeous. It was just before sunset, the air was cool the sounds of the birds were all around us, and we saw at least a dozen deer in the fields. Since it was late when we finished our ride, we opted to get dinner out, as opposed to making our very hungry children wait any longer to eat, so we went to a new buffet restaurant called Golden Corral.

Now, typically I'm not one for buffet restaurants. I don't feel like it's worth the price for me since I'm not going to make 5 trips to the buffet line, but the kids ate free and Alex would make several trips so the cost would be comparable to any other restaurant. Immediately when we got inside though, my heart broke. As I looked around, all that I saw were severely overweight people at every table, and I felt like this establishment was nothing but a celebration of gluttony. As I made my way down the buffet line, carefully trying to pick out the foods that weren't swimming in a pool of butter, or deep fat fried, and loaded down with heavy creams, my options were severely limited. While all the while people pushed passed me with plates in each hand loaded down with fried chicken, okra, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, baked spaghetti, pizza, and french fries. Or full dinner plates with a whole array of desserts! Now maybe this is harsh for me to be saying, maybe I should shut up, since it wasn't that long ago that I was making my 6th trip to the buffet line for another plate of nachos, but I've never felt so emotionally wounded for people in all my life.

I want to make my point perfectly clear, this is not a criticism of the individuals; while I feel there are always much better options that could have been chosen, this is largely a criticism of the establishment. It was as if this was a place where obesity was not only accepted but celebrated and encouraged. You were encouraged to make several trips, the restaurant made no attempt at offering anything with any health merit. A few raw veggies on the salad bar, but tucked between premixed salads with rich cream dressings. Two options of fresh fruit, again tucked behind the cherry pie filling, and peaches in heavy syrup, every cooked vegetable was bathing in melted butter or stationed next to the pump of nacho cheese sauce to be topped with. And all the while as I sat there, watching this take place I couldn't help but think of Jillian Michaels. Since my obsession with all things fitness, especially Biggest Loser, she has become an important part of my life through her work out DVDs, daily email support, and updates of her app on my phone, she's on my mind a lot. I was wondering what her response would be walking into that place. Would it be heart break like I felt, or anger, or sheer disgust? And I couldn't help but contemplate the name of the establishment...Golden Corral. I'm pretty sure that the name is intended to indicate the carved ham, turkey and steak that are available at the buffet line but my mind went to the concept of animals at the feeding trough, being fattened up for the slaughter. I don't want to be likened to an animal of any sort, especially not in my eating habits, and especially not like that.

Perhaps the most heart breaking was the children. I have an especially soft spot in my heart for kids who are overweight. I largely feel like they are a victim of their circumstances, they have no choice over their weight gain until they make their own food decisions and even then, without having been properly educated their choice is made for them. Seeing as how I've spent the better portion of my life as morbidly obese by medical standards, I know the pain of being an overweight child. I know the challenges, I know how mean other kids can be, I know what it's like to not be able to wear the same clothing as everyone else, because it doesn't come in your size and I hurt for those kids. The kids with the 3rd bowl of whipped cream, plates full of cookies, brownies, cup cakes and ice cream. Plates mounded with mac and cheese and french fries but never any vegetables. Even with the butter bath the vegetables were swimming in I felt it was still the valuable option for nutrients, but I guess I was in the minority. I left there feeling sad and even more secure in the choice that's pulling me towards a career in health and fitness.

Jealousy and Insecurity

I suppose that I'll start today's post with something I've been thinking over a lot lately, it's something I wrote a few days ago, it isn't fully developed and I've been unable to completely articulate everything I've been thinking, but even as such haven't been able to shake the concept from my mind. That's largely because I don't feel like I've fully hashed it out just yet...but I thought I'd share:

Fearfully & Wonderfully Made…

The nature of this post spawns from my own insecurities and inadequacies. As I was changing clothes to partake of my daily obsessive workout routine, I caught sight of my partially clothed body in the mirror and my already wavering morale for the day, immediately plummeted and I wondered if I would ever be happy with the image that I saw starring back at me. I mean here I am, I’ve lost 115 lbs in 18 months and I’m still miserably discontented with my appearance. The voice of faith and reassurance in the back of my mind piped up, “You are fearfully and wonderfully made” but my own insecurities and natural tendency to argue all sides of an argument started to contemplate…

I was knit together in my mother’s womb, fearfully and wonderfully made, but that’s where the creation role stopped. Just like the nature of our sinful world, it was created perfect and without blemish, but we screwed it up. God created me, perfect and without blemish, but from there it was up to me to treat his beautiful creation properly and care for it accordingly. I think about this world, and while God knew the nature of what would happen, the tragic sinful existence that we all would choose, I’m sure it is never what he hoped for humanity. I have to think that in the same way, he looks upon His children which he created with such care and precision and he never would have hoped for them to become drug addicts, or alcoholics, or even food addicts, abusing his creation.

I think of it a lot like this. We are God’s masterpiece. When an artist creates a masterpiece he treats it with care. It is hung in the most perfect of locations, protected in the proper light, no one touches it, or defiles it in anyway. That’s the intended function of that piece, to be beautiful and prized. Imagine the horror that the artist would feel to find that his painting had been used as a table cloth or maybe a drop cloth for a painter, perhaps to wash a car or mop up the bathroom floor. In the same way he would still cherish the piece but mourn over its mistreatment. I think of humans in the same way, and for the sake of my argument I will tackle only the issue that I struggle with, obesity and food addiction. I wonder if God looks upon me and while he still cherishes me as his precious child and the masterpiece that he created, if he does not mourn in the way I’ve mistreated myself, the way that I’ve abused his creation. Over stretched, fed and indulged…

With these thoughts pervasive in my mind, I started a new Bible study for my personal benefit on the subject of jealousy. It wouldn't seem that the two were all that similar or related but the parallels, even on this first day are so astounding that I had to come write about it. Beginning the study we are diving it at the core issues of a jealous heart. Even on page 1 it says this "Jealousy is not the problem. Jealousy is a symptom of a broken heart." As a general rule I don't see myself as a jealous person, but that might be largely due to the fact that I typically only think of jealousy in the relationship setting. I'm not jealous of my husband's ex-girlfriends (I already won that fight) I don't distrust him, or get anxious if he is around other women. I trust him completely, but I have come to realize the things that I am jealous about, especially as it pertains to my health and physical fitness. I'm jealous of the size of other women. I get jealous that some of my close friends can eat whatever they like and not gain an ounce, while I must carefully calculate everything I put into my mouth. I'm jealous that I can't buy smaller sizes, of friends who own houses while we still rent, jealous of nicer things, vehicles, clothing, jewelry, financial security...but why does any of that matter?

I got to thinking about what it said in the study and as it developed more..."Jealousy is they symptom of a broken heart" The prime issue is distrust. Distrust in people, and distrust in God. In Psalm 22:9 it says, "Yet you brought me out of the womb; you made trust in you even at my mother's breast." We were created to trust. I know this is true when I think about the outrageous things that my kids will believe when I tell them. They believe in Santa, the Easter bunny, they believe that teachers live at school, Mommy & Daddy never sleep (because we always go to bed after them and are up before them), and even that the Binky Fairies take their pacifiers to new babies when they get too old for them. They have complete trust in me, and therefore it is my role not to betray that, though it will inevitably happen to them at some point in their young lives, someone will betray their trust, someone will let them down, something will go wrong. The key is to remember that we have lost trust in people it is the people who have let us down, yet somehow we mistake that for God. The study says, "The vacuum created by the lack of trust in our lives beckons jealousy into the empty space. Because so many of life's experiences cannot be accepted without the eyes of faith, we set our sights on acquiring earthly possessions or position to ease the ache of our bewilderment over what God has 'allowed' to happen to us."

I feel challenged to contemplate what it is in my life that has forced such insecurity to the forefront of my existence. What is the source of my inadequacy, the distrust that I've experienced that forces me to long for everything that others have? Father God, I pray that you search my heart and reveal to me this hurt, this anxiety, distrust and source of my jealousy. That you prepare me to accept the things that You reveal to me and make me receptive to your wisdom and life change you have in store for me. Help me to trust in you more fully, and accept you as the source of my satisfaction, not the possessions or physical state of someone else, and guide me that I might convey your truths and your fulfillment to my children so that they will not blindly seek contentment in anything of this world. Amen.

It's been awhile...

It's been quite some time since I've found my fingers delightfully dancing across my keyboard to share the details of my life with the one person who might actually read this thing, but I've had a lot on my mind lately...maybe enough to share with the anonymous blog stalkers of the internet, maybe not, but at any rate as a good friend just recently launched her own blog it reminded me of the joy and comfort I feel pouring my heart out in literary form.

I love words, I love to right and feel like one of my deepest passions is such. So here I am, jumping off again...perhaps I will be successful and regularly entertain you with my wit and charm or perhaps just like the infomercial "Sonic Blade" you'll find this blog tossed aside with the neon green stirrup pants for someone else to snatch up at the Goodwill. But, at least for now, I am back...