Baring it all...

So I am here visiting my folks for a few weeks.  It has been SO nice.  Even though it requires more "mommy energy" as Hubby isn't joining me until half through the visit, it has been nice to think about something other than our ministry in Guatemala.  Don't get me wrong....I love what we do. But, lets face it.  I need to think about (and talk about) something else once in a while.  It has been nice to do that here.

Today, though, I was doing a little cleaning and rearranging.  I always have a ton of mail to go through and organize.  Plus as we buy stuff we need to take home, there ends up just being different piles everywhere. 

My type A personality could no longer handle the clutter this morning, so I had to start making some moves.  And while doing so I found this beauty...

My high school yearbook...senior year no less.  Let the fun times begin. 

I then proceeded to spend WAY too much time looking through the pictures, reading what my old high school friends wrote, and just overall reminiscing about the "good times."  Because really...I actually really enjoyed my high school experience. 

But, then I came across this one...

Yep that's me.  I was Prom Queen.  It was my "crowning" moment...pun intended. 

But, before you start making all kinds of assumptions about what kind of girl I was in high school, let me tell you something else about my senior prom.

I won prom queen, yes, but only weeks before said prom I was the only person in my circle of friends that didn't have a date.  Nope.  Not a single offer.  I was feeling humiliated and extremely sad to say the least.  It isn't like I had a whole bunch of other dates to any of the other dances either.  I usually went with good guy friends.  But, unlike those dances, prom you are expected to actually take someone you are interested in...a real date of sorts...someone you are romantically linked with. 

So there I was three weeks away from my senior prom, nominated for prom queen, but without a date in sight.  Thankfully, it didn't all end sad because one of my good guy friends from church took me.  I don't think he was even planning on going but when his parents found out from my parents that I didn't have a date, he stepped up to the plate.  He was a lovely date, and we had a lovely time, but I am not going to lie...that feeling, albeit 14 years ago, of not having anyone "want" to take you to your senior prom still stings.

Because here's the thing you may not know about me...

I have always been really insecure about not being "pretty."

There I said it.

I have never considered myself pretty.

Sure my yearbook is filled with beautiful messages about me being the "sweetest girl" or the "most positive person I have ever met."  One of my teachers told me if she could have chosen another daughter, she would have chosen me.  One boy called me "the closest thing to perfect I have ever met."  One of the administrators at the school said, "Sara, you are so influential.  You have had such an impact on everyone in this school."

14 years later, those comments can still bring tears to my eyes.  I am far from perfect...definitely not the sweetest girl...and for sure not the most positive person you have ever met.  Just ask my husband.  Nevertheless, their words touch me and remind me about how many wonderful people I got to do life with during those years.

But do you want to hear the ugly truth about those messages.  When I was 18 and reading them, the thing that struck me the most was that in the midst of all those lovely comments and letters from my dear friends and classmates, not a one called me "pretty" or "beautiful." 

And it was something I just couldn't get over.

Here's the worst part. I am 32 years old now...a far cry from 18, and I am still not over it.  

I still want to be beautiful. 

I still look at other girls walking down the street and wish I looked like them.

I still cry when I try on clothes in the dressing room (like two days ago when I finally had to break down and buy shorts because I had forgotten how stinkin hot it gets here).  

I cried this morning when I got on the scale. 

I cry when I am sweating on the treadmill, thinking about all my friends whose "baby weight" seemed to just melt away with nursing.  

I have even secretly cried in the restaurant of a bathroom because I couldn't order what I really wanted from the menu because I knew it would be too fattening.

Here is the big one...

I even cry sometimes because my husband is so small and often times I feel like a hippopotamus standing next to him.

Wow that hurt even typing it.

Why, might you ask, am I "baring it all" in the middle of cyberspace where words cut like a knife and can cause deeper wounds than any physical weapon ever could?

Because I am tired.

I am tired of spending 32 years fighting the same battle and crying the same tears.

I am tired of feeling like the ugly duckling in the middle of swans.

I am tired of feeling like my only "assets" are my brains and "personality."

I want to feel beautiful.  I want to really for once in my life BELIEVE that I am beautiful.

Because I have a daughter.  A smart, feisty, strong, independent, loving, funny, beautiful daughter who is watching me.  I am her compass.  If I don't think I am beautiful, how in the world am I ever going to convince her that she is. 

Insecure mothers grow insecure daughters.

I looked in the mirror this morning, and you want to know what I saw? I saw an overweight, acne prone, round faced lady.  I didn't see beauty. 


The cycle stops with me.


I honestly don't even know where to start.  This battle is big.  You can't just expect to battle a monster that has been harassing you for 32 years with your same old bag of tricks. 

And I can't do it alone.

I need your help.  My daughter deserves better as do all the daughters and little girls everywhere that are growing up in homes everywhere...all over the world thinking they are ugly and have no hopes of ever feeling otherwise.

Because here is the thing folks.  We can talk till we have no breath telling these girls that it isn't what is on the outside that matters. We can tell them that God only cares about the heart. We can even tell them that beauty is subjective and what is beautiful for one isn't going to be for another.

But for the girl who has never felt that she was truly beautiful on the outside, it is going to be really hard for her to hear those words and believe you.  She knows better.  Deep down she wants to be beautiful on the inside and the OUTSIDE. She secretly watches the "pretty girls" and wishes she was one of them.  She analyzes and criticizes every part of her body until she has such a distorted picture of herself that she no longer can distinguish between the lie and the truth.

We can't keep shoving this topic under the rug. We can't keep offering a few scripture verses and hope it will go away.

I am a 32 year old woman who battles this monster EVERY SINGLE DAY.  I know the truth but somehow in this one area of my life, it hasn't penetrated to my heart.

I open myself up to you today reader because I need your help....and maybe you even need mine.  So let's do this together.

Our daughters deserve more.  We deserve more.  I refuse to stand by while society dictates to me how I should feel about myself.  I won't do it anymore.

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Two Mothers. Two Stories.

He asked her, “Mama, do you want one of my chicken nuggets?”

She responded, “No, honey, I have plenty of food here.”

Then, his brother stopped at her table, put his arm around her, and said, “Mama, do you want some of my ice cream?”

She held his hand, “No, son, I am sharing my cone with your little sister.  Thank you, though.”

Then the birthday girl stopped over, “Mama, will you hold my toy from my Happy Meal?  I don’t want to lose it.”

She looked into her eyes, never even glancing another way for a moment, “Yes, 

sweetheart, I will hold it right here.  It will be safe with me”

It’s hard to believe that this same loving, patient, gentle mother lived without her kids for most of last year.   I watch them now, and I actually am a little in awe sometimes at the way she mothers her children.  She never takes her eyes of them.  She participates in the adult conversation but she is always fully aware of what each of her kids are doing.  She never has to reprimand them.  With only a nod or a shake of the finger, they understand what she is trying to say.  Only once she had to remind her daughter to not run inside the restaurant, but even when she did that, there was no sign of anger or impatience in her voice. 

Her kids as well were nothing but angels.  They were considerate and gracious…quick to say please and thank you.  They made eye contact with me any time they asked me a question or answered something I had asked of them.  The three oldest boys were more concerned with taking care of their youngest sister than playing themselves.  They wanted to share with their mother even though they knew she also had food. 

But, a year ago, this family was not together.  A year ago this family had four kids in an orphanage and a mother with a young baby daughter, frantically trying to figure out a way to earn more money so she could have her kids back. 

The family is back together.  The family is still very poor but they are together.  They are happy.  And, I don’t mean just kind of day to day living happy.  They are joyous…content…happy…full of life.  They know what is important, and that is enough for them. 

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Orphan care is an interesting thing.  Most people look at those taking care of orphans as saints and at the orphans as poor, helpless, starving children.  Neither of these statements is true.  

For my part, at least, most of the kids I care for aren’t actually “orphans” at all.   Most of the kids I care for have at least one living parent if not both parents still living.  For many of these kids, abuse is the main reason why they are in our care…physical, sexual, and/or emotional abuse.  This is an unfortunate statistic and one of the hardest parts of doing what I do.  I never want my heart to get hard, so I try to stay sensitive but it hurts oh so bad hearing some of what these beautiful babes have been through.  It’s not fair.  It’s not right. 

But for some of our other kids, it has just been circumstances and poverty that have brought them to us.  Their parents/grandparents/relatives could no longer afford to care for them, so they were sent to the streets to look for food or work and were caught by a social worker or some other government agent….and then in turn sent to us.  Sadly, too many times, I have seen families who have grown accustomed to having their kids with us and look to it really as more of a relief than anything.  They know their kids are safe and are getting an education and learning about Jesus, so they don’t feel any real need to try and change their circumstances and regain custody of their children.  Of course, there are others, like the mother I was spending time with yesterday that did everything she could do to try and get her kids back.  She knew her life would never be full without them.  

Yesterday, though, she told me that some of the teachers at her kids’ school have asked her and her children why they couldn’t just stay at the orphanage.  They tell them that they would have had more opportunities or more “things” at the orphanage.  One of them even said, “If you had stayed, you probably could have been adopted by some American someday and then gone to the states.  That would have been way better than living like you do now.”

Tears sting my eyes even as I write that last statement.  What?! They would have been better adopted by some American than with their OWN MOTHER?! NO! NO! NO! I saw them with their mother.  I saw the love. I saw the joy. I saw the laughter.  NO teacher…they would not have been better off.  

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Last night my daughter was giggling to the point of crying because one of the batteries inside a talking toy is almost dead so it sounds like the little girl inside the toy sucked all the air out of a helium balloon.  She was giggling and giggling to the point that I had to hold on to her stool because I thought she would fall off.  I, of course, then started laughing because really her giggle is one of the best sounds ever.  When I went to bed, I even started giggling a little again just thinking about it.  It was one of those “I wish I could stop time right here” kinds of moments.

But, then I started thinking about that other mama…the one who spent all of last year with her kids in an orphanage…our orphanage.  And, I thought about all the giggles we heard and experienced with her daughter (as her daughter was my sweet girl’s best friend), and it made me so sad.

Because here is the truth…that other mama, the one who lost custody of her kids for a year, yeah her…well she really loves her kids too.  She loves them just as much as I love mine.  But life hasn’t been as good to her as it has to me.  And I don’t why.  

Sure, maybe she has made poor decisions in the past.  I don’t know.  

Maybe she wasn’t very good with money and squandered it.  I don’t know

Maybe she was involved with bad people at some point. I don’t know.

But, maybe…maybe, she was born into poverty just like her kids were.  Maybe she never had a chance to go to school.  Maybe she never had parents that loved her and took care of her and taught her things.  Maybe she didn’t have opportunities.  Maybe the only reason her kids were taken away was because life has been hard. Maybe it wasn’t her fault at all.

 

I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that moment with my daughter in my kitchen last night for anything in this world.  My hubby, my kids, my family…they mean more to me than anything on this earth.  I savor every day I get to be wife to my husband and mama to my kids. 

But guess what? I also had parents that loved me. They took care of me.  They had good jobs.  We had a beautiful home. We had food to eat.  I went to school. I graduated from college.  I had opportunities.  I came to Guatemala because God called me and ultimately I also wanted to.  I had choices.  And now Hubby and I get to provide all those things for our kids. And then someday hopefully they will for their kids.  

The cycle will continue.

For so many though their cycle just includes poverty to more poverty.  But we, as a society, judge them.  We take away their rights.  We grade their parenting skills.  We continue to perpetuate the idea that everything in America is better…that being adopted into a North American family is always better than staying in their own poverty stricken one.

Now please don’t misunderstand me.  I am FOR adoption.  I love adoption. I think it is beautiful.  I thank Jesus EVERY SINGLE DAY that I get to call my oldest, son.  I cannot imagine my life or my family without his infectious smile and joy.  He is my bright, shiny star.  

BUT…but…hear me say this…

Adoption is not always the answer.  Helping families is.  Mamas and daddies should get to experience laughing until you cry moments with their kids.  They should not be punished for being born with nothing.  This is not their fault. Why do we treat them like it is?  

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I am thankful for the privilege of working with an organization that is committed to orphan care but also committed to restoring families.  I pray that you too wherever you live…wherever you are…whatever you do…that you too will commit to helping restore families and giving these families a chance to be together.  TOGETHER. We cannot take ownership over kids that are not ours and were never meant to be ours.  We must fight for something better for them…YES.  But, fight for that right for the WHOLE family.  

Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to do the same for you if you had been that mama? 

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a lovely picture

Growing up one of my loveliest dreams was to grow up one day, marry some tall, handsome rancher from Montana or Wyoming, have lots of kids, and grow old together on our ranch in the mountains.  I would be a stay at home wife and mama, who would spend my days keeping house, cooking, homeschooling my kiddos, and sitting out on my huge porch drinking iced tea in the spring and summer and warm cups of coffee and cocoa in the fall and winter.  My hubby would come home sweaty and stinking from working hard all day to a nice big dinner, and we would all sit around the dinner table laughing and sharing together.  We would finish our day by reading the Bible together and praying next to a big fireplace in the living room.  We would all be happy, healthy, and very loved.

It paints a pretty picture doesn’t it?

Today I laugh at my innocence…and at that young girl that thought she had life all figured out.

Last Friday I turned 32 years old.  Although not old by any means, I definitely have come a long way from the girl that spent hours reading and dreaming and reading some more.  She was so naïve.  She was so innocent. 

 

I admit, sometimes I miss her.  I miss her wild dreams and hopes for a future that in all reality probably didn’t even exist but she believed it did.  She thought everyone was good and that life for the most part would always be kind.  She hadn’t had to face many challenges or hard times.  She was loved.  She was oh so loved and felt so safe and secure all the time.  She felt free to dream big because as Disney has so successfully convinced millions of little girls all over the world, “dreams do come true.” 

I miss her. 

But I am not sorry that she is gone.

This 32 old woman knows better now.  She knows that even though watching the sun go down in the evening, while a cool breeze rustles her hair, surrounded by the majesty of the mountains, and accompanied by the ones she loves most, would be a most beautiful picture, it isn’t the “happily ever after” that she thought it once was.

She knows that keeping all her best gifts to herself is a waste.  She must pour them out…often and to the point of emptiness at times.  She has to give until she feels like she can’t give anymore.  She has to do and work and move and share.  She has to stop thinking about herself.  She has to get up from that rocking chair on the porch and start kneeling down…washing feet, kissing wounds, holding some hands, wiping some tears.

But most of all she has to love...not just love when it is easy and when it is convenient.  She has to love fiercely and deeply.  She has to dig up strength to keep loving even when she isn’t loved back.  She has to go places that are scary.  She has to face her fears.  She has to leave the safety she has always known.  

She gets hurts sometimes.  She feels lonely sometimes.  She doesn’t see a lot of sunsets.  She doesn’t sit and drink much iced tea.  Her table is usually full but isn’t the quiet and slow evening she once pictured.  Most days she goes to bed bone-tired but having trouble turning her mind off after the day’s events.  Life isn’t too easy most of the time.  It isn’t too slow.

But she wouldn’t trade any of it for even the biggest and most beautiful ranch this world has to offer.

Because that woman knows what real, true love is.  She sees it, hears it, touches it, feels it, and experiences it every single day.  

She has been loved by the “least of these.”  She has been touched by those who were once cast aside.  Her tears have been wiped by the ones who never had someone wiping theirs. 

She has learned to love fiercely and deeply and passionately by the ones who were once unloved. 

Sometimes we have the loveliest dreams.  The kinds of dreams that we don’t even want to open our eyes for fear that we will never actually visit or touch that place in real life. 

But, then we do open our eyes. 

And we find something far lovelier…

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Because I just can't take it anymore...

First of all, I just want to say thank you…thank you for taking the time to stop in and read this blog. I know that there are like thousands of them out there these days vying for your time, and I also know that nothing I am saying here is especially unique or original, so thank you. Thank you for having even a remote interest in my little corner of the internet.  

This blog has kind of become a dear friend to me these days. I feel a bit over stimulated with everything happening all around me, so this blog is where I kind of digest and process it all.   

Lately, though, I haven’t really wanted to digest at all. I have just wanted to tune it all out.  It all seems so loud and obnoxious…everything going on in the world that I just want to turn it off.  Walk away.  Ignore it all.

The thing is I am sad.  And mad. I am smad.  (What TV show or movie is that from?  Oh man that is going to bug me.)

There is so much fighting these days.  There is so much hate. There is so much pain.  I know every generation could probably say the same thing, but really guys…don’t you see it too?  Doesn’t it seem like we have reached new heights in our wars of words.  I think the internet has made it all worse.  People can just toss things out there without having to face the repercussions that they might have to deal with if they said those things in real life. 

And do you want to know what I think is the worst part of it all?  We Christians are a major part of the problem.  We hide behind bible verses and make excuses for our lack of a filter with statements like “We have to defend [insert cause].” “They need to be aware that what they are doing is a sin.” “We have to stand up for what is right.” “Their theology is completely messed up.” “Jesus never would have done/said that.” “They are way too liberal.” They are way too conservative.” 

Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.

BLAH!

I am sick of it.

I am so tired of it that it is keeping me awake at night.

I am scared for my kids and constantly asking God to grant me wisdom as parent them and lead them.  That world out there is cruel.  I want my kids to not only learn how to develop a tough skin so that they aren’t constantly hurt by it all, but I also want them to be a light in the madness and not a participant.

So I want to drown out the chaos and noise. I want to ignore it and pretend it isn’t there because my heart is just aching at the way we are treating each other.  

But, I know that if I turn it off then I am going to start to be indifferent to it all.  

And that to me is one of the worst places in the world to be.  

Dietrich Bonehoeffer is one of my heroes.  I devoured his biography a couple of years ago and am ready to dive in again.  I admire so many things about him.  I even wrote a whole post a couple of years ago just about him!  But this is what he had to say about the folks that try to be good people and go to church and do their thing without really taking an interest in the needs and hurts of those around him.  

“Such people neither steal, nor murder, nor commit adultery, but do good according to their abilities. But…they must close their eyes and ears to the injustice around them. Only at the cost of self-deception can they keep their private blamelessness clean from the stains of responsible action in the world. In all that they do, what they fail to do will not let them rest. They will either be destroyed by this unrest, or they will become the most hypocritical of all Pharisees.”

Sobering words.

So no I can’t tune it all out.  I am called to action.  I know sometimes action will require me joining the picket lines so to speak.  Other times it will mean holding my tongue when all I want to do is speak out.  

But how am I to know for sure?  How do I know when to fight and when to stand down? How do I stand up to so many of the injustices I see all around me without becoming part of the noise and chaos myself? How do I lead my kids and teach them what it looks like to really…and I mean really love their neighbor?  

I don’t know what those answers are for you, but this is what I have felt like the Lord has been saying to me.

“Love me Sara.” “Know me Sara.” “See my heart Sara.” “Walk in my steps Sara.”  

Oh Jesus that I may know you more! 

You see friends sometimes I get confused by it all.  I don’t always have all the answers.  I don’t have perfect theology.  I may not fall on the correct side politically.  I may be too conservative. I may be too liberal.  I may be too quiet. I may be too loud.  I may be a lot of things.

But at the end of it all, I want people to say, “Sara loved like Jesus. She was a light in the darkness.”  I don’t want them to say that because I am something great. I am just plain old ordinary Sara. 

But, my Jesus….He is Great.  He is so great, and I want the world to see Him and know Him and love Him.

Maybe then the madness will stop.  And instead of fighting we will start loving.  We won’t be face to face in battle but hand in hand in friendship. We will start striving to change things like human trafficking and poverty and lack of clean water instead of fighting about who is right and who is wrong. 

We are in this together. 

Kids are going into schools and shooting other kids.  Malls are no longer safe.  Movie theaters aren't safe.  Our own front yards aren't safe.

We throw up our hands and cry and pray for it to be different.  But, yet we adults are throwing internet stones at each other every day and degrading each other with words and trying to pass laws only meant to hurt and exclude.  

We aren't any better.  

We are the example of hate.

IT H AS GOT TO STOP!

I beg of you.   Let's make it stop.

I am starting by spending my time only in the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) right now.  Obviously I love the entire Word of God, but right now I just want to know Jesus better. I want to know Him more.  I want to fellowship with Him.  And the best way I can think of doing that is to just sit with Him for a while.

Because oh baby did my Jesus know how to love.  He loved.  He is, was, and will always be the ultimate example of love.

Who is with me?  Let’s let Jesus’ light shine my friends.  

Love.

Love.

Love.

No more hate.

No more sides.

We have to do this together.

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