I Am Beautiful...

First of all...I love all of you!


Second of all...after letting this drift away (a few times it's come back), but you're all right. Damn it...this big bottom has given birth to three crazy children; my hips help me carry them, even when they should be walking (ahem...Elijah...walk!!!). You know the other funny thing...is literally the week before I told Steve that I was starting to like my body: I was beginning to appreciate my curves, and how I can show a waist (and without a butt, you can't do that!), and then I gave this power to someone I don't even know! So, you know what, that boy indeed has no power over me! I am beautiful, damn it (I say that expletive a lot; I need a new one!). I am a woman, created by God, exactly the way that I am. And instead of worrying about what everyone else thinks, I'm going to love what I've got! And, I'm going to get healthy, so I can dance with Evelyn, and tackle Isaac when he's practicing football, and chase the balls that Elijah hits over the fence. And instead of waiting for everyone else to say "you're beautiful," I'm going to say it.

So, here I go...

"Sarah, you are a child of God; a creation of God. You have been blessed by the most amazing of friends and family; and you know what, you are beautiful, exactly the way that you..."
 
Maybe each and every morning, we need to look at ourselves in the mirror and say that exact thing.  "______(insert your name here) YOU are a child of God.  YOU are beautiful."  I bet if we all did that, the world would become more beautiful in an instant, and everyone we met, might see the beauty in themselves as well.  I'm not sure...let's try it!  Let me know how it goes...
 
I love you, my beautiful friends! 

Throwin' it to the Sound...

    After very long, strange days at Harborview (a Trauma One Center in downtown Seattle) my CPE supervisor would have an equally long, strange commute home; she would drive down to the ferry dock and ride the waves of the Puget Sound back to her home on Bainbridge Island.  Each night, she said, she would cast the day into the sea.  Some of the things that she (and sometimes we) would see could leave these indelible images in your mind.  You'd encounter people that would challenge, confront, and test you, and merely walking away from the hospital campus wasn't enough.  So she developed a practice where on the ferry ride home, she'd "let it go;"  by gently casting or ferociously throwing those images and words into the ocean, she could enter again her home, unincumbered, and as the whole, confident woman who began today. 
     I've decided that you...that this blog is my Sound.  Writing it is my ferry ride.  Knowing that at least one person reads it, helps me "let go" of these images and thoughts and words swirling around in my soul. 
    So, today I am ferociously throwing.  I've talked to Steve already, and sometimes he's amazed at the things I'm willing to share, but here it goes...

     I've been having a pretty difficult week since returning from Oregon.  As you know, I gained back 10 pounds (maybe more; I refuse to weigh myself until the end of Sept); Anyway...when I got off the plane and saw my husband standing there, I felt like I had gained it all back.  Steve looks amazing!  He's lost 50+ pounds, the Wii doesn't say obese--and I am so proud of him.  But, that being said, he weighs exactly two pounds more now than I did when I started this damn journey.  He's getting skinny, and I'm getting bigger.  And his skinniness makes my bigness look even bigger.  And so for the last week, I have been awful to him--really, just ask him.  I'm throwing him glares and being mean...and just being not only an awful wife, but an awful person.  And yesterday evening, we had one of those great late-night conversations where I'm literally sobbing and he's holding me and he says "Sarah, you know that I would protect you against anyone.  You know that if someone was hurting you, I would stand up for you...would help you.  I'm just tired of having to protect you from yourself, from your self-hatred, from your punching yourself over and over again..."  And of course, as any over-emotional spouse would do, I cried even more and realized anew that indeed he loves me...that maybe I'm not as bad as I think I am...that I can do this, and I am doing this.  Nice story, huh?  Except this one doesn't need to crash into the waters...
This does:  So, the aforementioned leaves me a little more positive today; I'm still feeling that nagging feeling of having cried for hours, but otherwise feeling okay.  Until...
    I went to Dekalb (a college town where the kids just arrived yesterday) to pick up a few groceries, and as I was walking into the store I hear (and I quote, because I haven't thrown it in yet) "And there goes a girl with a fat bottom."  My stomach sinks and my eyes begin to fill with those left-over tears, and instantly I'm back in second grade where those damn boys called me Miss Piggy for six years, and when someone in high school said finally a boy liked me, but only because he liked the song by that god-awful performed who rapped about "liking big butts..." and my soul literally shrank inside of me, while at the same time I kept thinking--why must I take up so much space in the world?  I try to be positive--at least he called me 'girl,' not old lady (which I attribute to my haircut--thanks Barb!)...but honestly I can't seem to explain it away.  It's not like he's lying ("pear-shaped I am," as Yoda would say).  But, damn it, I'm in a journey--doesn't he know that.  What would have been said 30 pounds ago?  Who says those kinds of things?  Doesn't he know I will forever have his voice and his words in me?  And I left wishing, I could flip him off, or have some wise retort, or at least walk away with my head held high.  But, alas none of that happened.  I walked away, stayed in the store for as short as possible, went out of my way to find my car another way, and immediately thought, where is that frickin' Sound, so I can let this go...
   So, here it is...I'm throwing it...dammit, I'm throwin' it.  The problem is...I'm pretty sure there is no amount of winds or waves that will carry it far enough away for me to forget it...  But I'm still going to try.  Thanks for being the Sound, dear friends...take it...and swim far, far away.

Guest Blogger--The big 5-0

If you have come here to read the wise words of my wife, you may be sadly disappointed. Today, I want to share what is going on in my weight loss journey. It's not just the unholypastormommy that is losin' it, I'm working at it too! I was going to write a couple of weeks ago when I hit the first big milestone but I got busy and the initial excitement wore off and I didn't get to it. Now I've hit another milestone and well, I want to say more than a Facebook status update will allow.

The big milestone of a couple of weeks ago was when my Wii Fit announced that I was overweight. How exciting! For so long I had to hear that dreaded word that I was obese. And I was excited to hear the word overweight. I think my Mii still puffs up too much but I can't control that. This morning I hit another significant milestone. Today when I weighed in, the scale read 239. This is significant because I honestly don't know when I weighed this much last but it was probably in college or when I lived at Holden or something. The other big thing is that I hit the big 5-0. I have lost 50 pounds since I began this weight loss journey! It is an absolutely amazing accomplishment and I don't know what is next. I still have a little more spare tire to lose but it looks more like a bike tire than the tractor tire it once was.

But, I would also like to say how much I miss my wifey. She is my partner in this journey and we are good for one another and we support one another and this whole being apart really stinks. Thursday will come but not soon enough.

I hope you don't mind my disruption in Sarah's blog but I had to share the news with someone. 

They say you can't go home again...

And actually I think they were right.  I'm ten again; you wouldn't know it by looking at me.  But, the emotions are the same; the dynamics are the same, and the results?  the same.  I love my family so very much, but I can't be ten anymore; I can't keep trying to fix all the problems (yes...I'm the oldest); I can't take the drama; and honestly if me and my baby sister spend any more time together, I'm going to have to file for bankruptcy (I love you Bekah!).  So, this post is for all those people who have known me since I've turned 10.  Will you remind me that I am a grown-up?  Will you remind me that I do not need to drown my sorrows, my fears, my anger in brownies (I'm in the midst of a five day binge--hello 200's...)?   Will you tell me that I am a good mother, that I can be a smart woman, that I can be a faithful daughter and sister even if I can't live in the bedroom I grew up in anymore?  I need your help, you guys...so tell me to put down the cookie--and to make things easier, tell me why. 
That's all...

What's the Magic Number of the Day?

     That's right people, it's one!!!!  I did it, I did it, I did it...hooray!  (that's Dora song for you non-parent people).  I am officially weighing in at 199 pounds.  I know, can you believe it!?!?  And, do you know how I did it?  I finally caved and ate that damn cookie in the freezer.  Seriously...I have spent so much energy keeping myself from eating that thing, I think my body thought the world was going to end, and wanted me to live off my fat for as long as possible.  So, once I ate it, it knew indeed the world continued, and would let go of those ridiculous 18 ounces!  I know I still have a long way to go...but 34 pounds down and now only 40 to go.  I have to say I am one happy unholy pastor mommy! 
    Now that I've shared my news, I really have to go and pray to the sermon fairy for a preachable sermon.  Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you how my week sans children is going... 
    Love,
    Your friend whose weight starts with a ONE!!!!!

No Rants for Now, Just a Sermon

You can hear her, can’t you? “Lord, do you not care that this sister of mine has left all the work for me to do by myself?” I am tired of every time company shows up for dinner I am left alone, bringing the water to wash to their feet, taking their coats, making sure they are content and cared for. That’s what you tell us to do, isn’t it Jesus? Help each other? So tell her to get off that floor and to serve someone. Tell her to help me.


You not only can hear her, you can see her. She’s standing there, with her arms folded, her foot tapping, her teeth clenched. All compassion and patience left hours ago, and what stayed around was this frustration at always having to be the responsible sister, of never getting to run off and play like everyone else, of always being good and noble and hospitable, and for cryin’ out loud, if Mary won’t pay attention to the glares and sighs she’s been giving her for the past hour, she’s goin’ directly to the top, Jesus at least will plead her case. “Lord, do you not care that this irresponsible sister of mine is sitting there doing absolutely nothing.” “Lord, do you not care…”

I think her telltale sign, is those crossed arms. Stop for a moment, don’t move and look down at your own arms, where are they? How are you sitting? Are your legs crossed and turned away from me? Are you folding your hands? Are you leaning forward? Or maybe you’re just trying to keep your eyes open? Any good body language expert would say that if you’re arms are crossed and your trying to get as far back in your seat as possible…if you’re drawing into yourself, you are definitely not engaged…you’re not open…you’re pulling in on yourself, and unwilling to receive what’s being offered. Because there is no way you can receive Jesus when literally and figuratively you’ve blocked off your heart.

A story: About four or five people were on a mission trip in an inner city. They were working in some soup kitchen or food pantry or something like that. And one of the workers invited them for dinner at their home. Now, I don’t know about you, but when I’m hosting a dinner party I spend most of the week cleaning—I vacuum up the broken pretzels on the floor, I clean the bathrooms, spray pretty smelling stuff in the air, buy flowers for the top of the piano. I get matching napkins and tablecloths and try to project this perfect hospitable persona. On this occasion, however, when the mission trip people entered the workers’ home, it was evident there was no such preparation—there was cat hair all over the floor—a pile of laundry waiting to be folded next to the couch; there were mismatched plates and folding chairs and box mac and cheese for dinner. But, what the storyteller also said, was there was this most amazing air of openness, the most amazing hospitality. The table had two empty place-settings, waiting for the daughter and her boyfriend; another friend called in the middle of dinner, and was instantly invited over to join the party, not told to call another time. The conversation didn’t center around how lovely the centerpiece was, but on the travelers’ experiences in a new city and their hopes for renewal at home. The hosts didn’t present themselves with arms folded, but opened wide their arms, longing to receive what gifts of presence their guests had to offer.

“Martha, Martha…why are you distracted by so many other things—there is need of only one thing…and your sister here as chosen the better part.” Here’s the thing—we all can be Martha’s, trying so desperately to do what’s right, putting on a good show, showing the world that we’ve got it together. But, more often than not, we do so, with our arms crossed, pushing that very world away. Jesus doesn’t chastise Martha for serving, he’s actually giving her a gift—calling her to open her arms, to open her eyes, to open her heart, to the gift that is sitting right in front of her. “Martha…Martha, there is need of only one thing…”

So you know, this really isn’t entirely a story about Martha, or Mary for that matter, but it’s about Jesus. It’s about a God who took on the glorious body of this world and did it with arms wide open. It’s about a Savior who sees us trying so desperately to serve our way into goodness and who wants us open our eyes to the one and only thing. It’s about Jesus, who loves us so much, that he meets us as we’re vacuuming the floor, or drying the dishes or listening to a sermon, and he walks right up to us, takes a clenched fist in each hand, and gently unfolds our arms.

You know this story doesn’t have an ending—we have no idea if Mary got up anyway and helped with some dusting or if Martha took her hand and sat down to listen. We have no idea is Martha stomped off in disgust or if she realized that sister Mary was doing the right thing. What we do know, though, is what Jesus did…that he ended his life with open arms—open wide enough for all of us cross-armed ones. What we do know is that following Jesus is more difficult than we ever dreamed it would be, but that opening ourselves up to the world, eating at a table with room for one more, serving with fists unclenched and hearts ready to receive, living in the love of Jesus is the one thing, the only thing that will never be taken way.

About to throw in the towel...

     I've been here before...lots.  I'm at this point where a milestone looms, where new territory beckons, where I might have to stop thinking that everyone is staring at me, where I might not have to worry about how much space I take up in the world.  And, I'm scared to death...
     It's been 12 weeks since I began this whole life-style change and actually I'm finallyy to the point where I was exactly a year ago.  Last summer I weighed 203 pounds, left to visit my family in Oregon, planned on losing 10; instead gained 7 and spent the next 9 months gaininig another 23.  This summer, I'm in the exact same place.  I weigh 201; I'm leaving to visit my family in Oregon in a couple of weeks, and I'm wondering why this year will be any different. 
   Because when I get to this point, and those glorious 100's smirk at me from 18 ounces away, I turn and run the other way.  Is it because that's what "normal" people weigh?  It is because then I might have to stop making excuses for not doing things?  Is it because it's too damn hard weighing carrots, and still seeing the same ugly, fat girl in the mirror?  Is it because I've known nothing different than hating my body, and what if I get to that magic number and still seeing nothing but hate for my eyes and my thighs?
     I'm about to apologize for venting in my own blog--but I am sorry!  I'm sorry for complaining, for worrying about such shit when there are people with actual problems in the world.  I'm sorry for gaining and losing thousands of pounds over and over again.  I'm sorry for not loving the body that God has given me, for teaching my daughter not to love her own.  I'm sorry for quitting every time I get so close to actually succeeding.  I'm sorry...hell, I'm sorry for being sorry.  But, you've all found me on a really bad day.  Maybe tomorrow I'll try again, but for now, I don't expect this to work...and I think I'll go eat a brownie.