Healthy Living - Not Just Eating

Yesterday I wrote about when I began to consider getting back to basics. My primary motivation at the time was our financial situation. Getting back to basics saved money.

 As our financial situation improved, the need to save every single little penny didn't seem as urgent. We weren't rolling in the dough (we worked for a non-profit organization, enough said) but I didn't feel the need to make my own baby wipes anymore. Gradually our kids went from homemade playdough to Hasbro Play-doh. Needless to say, I was getting away from the "every little bit counts" mentality towards "I don't have any time or patience to make my own things" mentality.

Then a friend recommended the book What the Bible Says About Healthy Living. I loved the book because it's written by a medical doctor who spells out what God told the Israelites to eat and not to eat way back when, and then he explains the medical reasons why God would say that. Even though those dietary restrictions aren't necessary today, they're still a good idea for reasons the author explains very well. It turns out, God had some good reasons to tell His people not to eat pig.

the [love] language barrier: an American in Paris

Me and my son sitting along the Seine in Paris.

I've travelled quite a bit in countries whose language I don't speak. I know what it's like to have that whole language barrier thing. I think that it's a good idea to travel with a language dictionary and try to learn some basic phrases you will need along the way. It's also a good idea to travel with a sense of humor.

I've been thinking about how my husband and I speak love to eachother - and how we want to have love spoken to us. It occured to me that being fluent in a language involves not just speaking, but hearing and listening and understanding. In Germany I can get around because I can understand German, though I can't speak it as well as I understand it.

As I was thinking about different love languages, I reflected on my travels in countries where I don't understand the language at all. Then I thought specifically of my travels through France and how some Americans complain that when they travel in France the French won't speak to them in English. I have always been a bit puzzled by that complaint. You don't need to become fluent in French in order to travel in France, but it's a good idea to learn (or travel with someone who has learned) enough French to get around - or at the very least have a French/English dictionary handy.

Collaboration Inspiration

Here is the poem that I chose to do my collaboration art piece from:

WALK WITH ME IN MORNING LIGHT
by Kit Rohrbach

Only ashes remain from the fire we built on the beach.
Its warmth is something now just out of reach.
Pale shells wash up across moth-colored sand.
Things aren't turning out the way we planned.
Make me believe that everything's alright.
Come walk with me in morning light.

Collaboration X

A while ago I blogged about my art history and my new favorite place and Marie who has been encouraging to me by challenging me to just dive in and do art. And so to fly.

At her urging I entered a poet / artist collaboration exhibit. Looking back, I was crazy to do it. I had only just learned how to make a clay tile when I said I would be an artist in the exhibit and use clay tiles as my medium. At the time I didn't realize just how difficult a medium it is to work with. Making flat tiles is tricky because the clay has a tendency to want to curl up. Painting the tiles with ceramic glaze is an exercise in adjusting your expectations.

I can do it.

My counselor told me to put little signs around the house with truths that I need to believe to replace the lies I've been listening to. One of the lies I've believed is that "I can't do it." It took various forms at different times. Sometimes it was, "I can't do anything." Or sometimes, "I can't do anything right."

I think my counselor had post it notes in mind when she told me this, but I've been trying to feed my creativity, so I decided that an evening spent painting would feed that creative part of me while I remind myself of the truth that "I can do it."

My Mix Tape

I've recently had a couple conversations regarding the saying "time heals." It's been eye opening to me  me how deeply rooted this deceptive saying is. It's devestating, really.

There are several seemingly harmless cliches that play in my head like a bad mix tape. Coping cliches.

Side A: Coping
Armed with coping cliches playing on my mind's mix tape, it's no wonder that I've developed coping mechanisms to avoid the pain. As long as I can ignore the pain, then I'm okay. That is, until I need to find something else to dull the pain. Things like watching television, escaping into books or Facebook, cleaning, or various hobbies. Trying to be a good (perfect!) mother, wife, or hostess can be a form of coping. Investing time in relationships that aren't primary relationships is coping. (Developing relationships with friends is good, developing relationships to avoid pain and that cost your primary relationships is not so good.) Even submersing myself in bible study becomes an unhealthy coping mechanism if I'm doing it to avoid facing my wounding.

Psalm 151 Recycled

I've been crazy busy between trying to get my art piece ready for the April exhibit and being a mom and making my seven year old's baby book (finally) and the whole trying-to-figure-out-what-went-wrong-and-how-to-fix-it thing - Oh! - and I had to read Hunger Games for book club. Of course, since it's book one in a trilogy I couldn't eat or sleep until I read all three.

So, like I said, I've been busy. Too busy to blah-blah-blog about what I am thinking about. So I thought I'd re-post something that I wrote in 2008 that still seems to reflect my thoughts in 2011.

> Psalm 151 | Originally posted July 3rd, 2008:

I was reading Psalm 139 this morning and these verses struck me, especially because of my last post.

If I say, "Surely the darknes will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night." Even the darkness is not dark to You, and the night is as bright as day. Darkness and light are alike to You. (verses 11 & 12)

It inspired me to write my own psalm:

law and/or grace

This has nothing to do with this post, but I like it.

Here's something else I've been thinking about lately: why do I sometimes feel more loved outside the church than inside of it?

[Oh boy. Here I go.]

Sometimes when I go to church I feel condemned, not loved. I'm sure my experience differs depending on what church I go to, and is influenced by my upbringing and my own insecurities. But I'm finding out that it's not just me that feels condemned at church.

A lot of non-Christians who I talk to feel that way. I guess some technical saints might say, "Well, of course non-Christians would feel condemned at church. They are condemned, so that makes sense." And that makes me really sad.

Some people think that the church is really only for Christians. "The church is the Body of Christ, the Body of Believers," they'll point out. "We need to feed the sheep that are in the flock. We can't make even all the Christians happy, let alone try to make non-Christians happy." (I've had this conversation. That's what they said.) They believe that the church should be focused on Christians because it's Christ's body. They say that if non-Christians feel uncomfortable at church that's too bad because church is not for them anyways.

My forever reminder

I've been thinking about butterflies lately.

I've been thinking about the pupa stage in particular. This is when the caterpillar is in the chrysalis. From the outside it doesn't look like much is going on. But on the inside the caterpillar is being transformed into a butterfly.

Within the chrysalis the old - and let's face it, ugly - body parts of the caterpillar are undergoing a wonderful transformation called ‘metamorphosis.’ The tissue, limbs and organs of a caterpillar are all changing, turning into the beautiful parts that make up the butterfly. By the time the pupa is finished, it emerges as something entirely different, entirely more beautiful, entirely more able to fly.

What joy that ground bound raggedy caterpillar must experience the first time it spreads it's wings!

The Long Road Home


This road's not easy. It's not the one I would have chosen but it's the one I'm on. It's not very pretty, this road, with the dirt and the ruts that run so deep.

Yet I'm finding beauty here on this long road home. Beauty even here.

I'm coming home.

thoughts on soul-flying, mostly

http://www.saragroves.com/

I've been thinking a lot about flying lately. Not flying on an airplane (though I do like that kind) but heart and soul flying. I've been thinking about learning to fly again. And I've been considering the idea that I never knew how to fly to begin with, so maybe I need to learn to fly for the first time.

Yesterday on my Facebook news feed I saw a post by Sara Groves (whose page I 'like'). It said simply "Glad to provide music for 'Date Night' tonite in DC. Love 'Family Life'. A great organization that saved our marriage 8 years ago."

I had several thoughts that flew through my head so fast that I didn't latch on to anyone of them.

DC... I miss that I can't visit my parents on Capitol Hill anymore and shop at the Eastern Market. I wonder if that painter is still there, I loved his paintings... Family Life... I wish it had saved our marriage way back when we were in the ministry affiliated with it... Sara and Troy... I'm glad they're doing well.

Then I remembered her song Fly because, um, I've been thinking about flying lately, and my mind latched on to that.

When I first heard her Fly song (they're all fly, by the way, this one just happens to be named it), we lived in Ohio and things were not so good. They hadn't been good for a while and all I knew was that I could not listen to that song. I loved Sara's music, and I knew that she was authentic like a twenty-dollar bill held up to the light and swiped with a magic marker. But as much as I liked Sara, when that song came on I hit the forward button. I couldn't listen to Every Minute either, the song right before it. As far as I can remember, they were not on my copy of All Right Here.

awkward candy conversation

I have to plan a party for the seniors at the place I work. I decided that one of the games we'd play is "Conversation Heart Bingo." Apparently Bingo is big with seniors.

I couldn't find a free download of conversation heart bingo cards, so I decided to make my own. As I was typing out the candy messages on the bingo cards, I made a few typos. Then I started to wonder: what would happen if the person who's job it is to type out the candy conversation hearts made typos? Or, what if they put something in as a joke and forgot to take it out before candy conversation heart production?

Here is a sampling of what that might have looked like:

Brian Regan is family's favorite comedian and the origin of my musings (at 1:42, but watch the whole thing because he is just too funny not to watch):

on raggedyness

Why on earth embrace raggedyness? Isn't that the opposite of what we're inclined to do? Aren't we encouraged to embrace greatness and strive for improvement? Shouldn't we embrace the opposite of raggedyness: spiffyness?

I don't think so. Or, at least I don't think so anymore. Here's what I've discovered: I can't be perfect.

I'm sure some of you have arrived at this conclusion about me before I did, but it's a fairly new discovery for me. I mean, I knew I was not perfect and I would not let me forget it. I would get discouraged with myself if I messed up. Somehow I thought I should be perfect. I thought that if I wasn't perfect I would be letting people around me down. Not to mention letting God down. Implicit in the assumption that I should be perfect is the notion that I could be perfect. Of course I know that is not true, otherwise I'd be God. 

r&r at the b&b

I stayed in the Gypsy Room on Friday night.

This last weekend I spent some time by myself at a bed and breakfast in Red Wing, Minnesota. I admit that I felt a little awkward being the only single in a Victorian house full of couples. But it was wonderful to get away and be surrounded by old and beautiful things.

It was an assignment, actually: to get in touch with my 'little girl.' When my counselor told me that I had to spend a weekend alone at a bed and breakfast, I was thrilled for the get-away but I was scared of being with myself for so long. I have successfully avoided being with myself for many, many years. I've avoided thinking about myself for a long time, too. After thinking for so long about doing what other people want to do, I had to think about me - and not feel bad about it. Boy, was that tougher than I thought.