Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meditation. Show all posts

Real Women

I've had something on my mind: Real Women.

Look around you sometime at the grocery store, or gas station, at work or at the gym.  Look at the real women around you.  How many of them look like the women on cover of magazines, in commercials or at elite fitness competitions?  I propose almost none.  There was one woman today who I saw at the gym who legitimately looked like a elite fitness/pin-up model.  Maybe she was one.

Our sex-crazed culture is so perverted in it's message about what a woman should look like.  Most of us real women spend way too much time, money, thought and energy into trying to achieve some semblance of that air-brushed, artificially-preserved image.  To clarify, my point here isn't let yourself go, throw healthy diet and exercise out with the dirty bathwater of trying to look like the perky-disproportionately-large busted, thin-waisted, flawless-skinned, whitened teeth, stylish, muscle-up repping, 7% body fat, tanned-skin woman we are being told everywhere is what a beautiful woman should look like.  The thing I want to say here is real women everywhere who care about a healthy diet and who exercise their bodies to keep them healthy are all shapes and sizes and have varicose veins, hemorrhoids, postpartum depression, premenstrual syndrome, endometriosis, migraine headaches, fatigue, acne, heavy periods, irregular periods, infertility, eczema, psoriasis, wrinkles, freckles, moles, birth marks, scars, cow-licks, curly hair, straight hair, thinning hair, no hair, brown eyes, blue eyes, blind eyes, glaucoma damaged eyes, are near-sighted, far-sighted, lactose intolerant, have Crohn's disease, osteoarthritis, cancer, hypothyroidism, hyperthyroidism, auto-immune diseases, amputations, skin-grafts, transplants, hearing loss, joint-damage, injuries... I could go on and on.  My point is, none of those things that real, beautiful women live with every day show up on that cover of Fitness Today, or in the friggin' Carl's Jr. commercial with the seductive woman nearly orgasmic over a hamburger for goodness sake!

I have the privilege of talking to lots of women.  Most of them in the hospital for some malady that has plagued their lives or some injury or trauma that has drastically changed it forever.  Their ages range from teens to 100's.  Some of them are strikingly beautiful-  if you saw them all cleaned up and made up and in their best clothes and their best health in the best light you'd be like, "Whoa!  She's beautiful!"  Most of them though wouldn't probably catch your attention on the physical beauty radar, but that's just the thing.  That's MOST of the women in the world.  There are stunningly beautiful women, no doubt.  But most of us are in the girl-next-door beauty category.  We might have beautiful eyes, but our jaw line is receding, or our nose is crooked, or we have an acne problem or we're pear-shaped... and supposedly those things make us not very beautiful anymore according to the media message we are barraged by.  And I just want to say bologna!!  BOLOGNA!  Real women are really beautiful for many reasons including, but not limited to their bust, waste and hip measurements.

I feel so passionate about this right now, I want to start a hashtag campaign for #RealWomen to take pictures of their real selves and post them on social media.  (I just looked up the hashtag RealWoman... don't do it.  It's already being used and perverted... So much for the hashtag campaign idea.  I guess I'll just post an obscure blog.)  I wish we could flood the media with what real women look like and see how beautiful we are with our various struggles and body types.  This passion rises in me as a 42 year old, six-foot tall, blonde, fair-skinned, fairly thin woman who has been told most of her life by various people, "You should be a model!"  All my life I have really dreaded hearing that from people.  I mean I know they're being nice and all, but being a model isn't the pinnacle of feminine beauty and it's certainly not what I want to do with my life.  Unless, I could be a model and show the extra roll of padding that has formed around my waist-line in the last 10 years, and the varicose veins that have disfigured my legs, and the painful-bloated abdomen that bothers me about 2 weeks out of every month simply because of ovulation and menstruation.  If I could show the world what I really look like no modeling agency would have me, because, well, I'm a real woman.  I have a real body with real fat and muscle and bone that don't conform to the cover of Vogue.

So I'll never be a runway model, and I never want to be, but I do model for my husband and sons and co-workers and nieces and nephews and kids at church and in my neighborhood what a real woman looks like and what makes her beautiful.   So what does make a woman beautiful?

The design of the feminine physique is un-mistakeably a thing of beauty.  No doubt, God made a woman as a display of beauty unchallenged by the rest of his creation.  In fact, the physical beauty of a woman is the reason the perversion, molestation and objectifying de-humanization of it is such a thriving industry both in the sex-selling advertisements used on everything from cars to hamburgers, and in the get yourself air-brushed, lifted, tucked, waxed, tattooed, slimmed, dieted, toned and trimmed messages we hear on advertisements everywhere.  We are being told constantly that the female body is beautiful if it makes a man want to engage in sexual acts with it, and if it is physically fit enough to compete in a modeling or fitness competition.  But the truth is, the female body's beauty isn't just like an exotic flower that's stunning and visually alluring for a time, and then, eventually wilts and fades.  It does wilt and wrinkle, fade and age-spot.  But the physical allure of a woman's body is also like fine wine and a timeless piece of architecture- it's beauty develops depth and variety and character over time and gravity and arthritis.   It really does.  The secret to the beauty of a woman that endures time and brokenness is not found at Ulta or the gym.  It's not confirmed in a man's arousal or an elite-fitness award.  This is where the God part of my soapbox on #RealWomen comes in.

I can't avoid it.  This is the thing about thinking through a line of reasoning.  If I leave God out of it, I could say a real woman's beauty comes from good character and trying to stay healthy.  No God needed.  But the motives behind the woman's good character and trying to stay healthy are the real light shining out of the lamp of that woman's life and if the motives are self-actualization and self-fulfillment as defined by other women and men in the world, then the light is a deceptive allure to a dead end.  But if the motives behind the woman's good character and work towards good health is the imaging of God's beauty and worth then she shines a light so bright it breaks through the thickest fog of depression, cancer and loss a real woman lives with, giving her the hope of also becoming a stunningly beautiful woman.  The light that shines from the life of a woman who's hope is in God, not in men or women or society, drives out the darkness that comes with sagging skin and hearing loss and clears the path for women with silhouettes and shapes of all kinds to walk the way of #RealWomen beauty.

God in Christ is the standard of #RealWoman beauty.  He's the creator of it and it's to him I look for what real beauty is, not magazines or what the world around me says.  He says real woman beauty is a gentle and quiet spirit.  He says real woman beauty is fearing no one but God alone.  He says real woman beauty looks fear in the face and laughs, cause nothing can drive out the unapproachable light of God's truth and his good plans.  He says the really beautiful woman knows she's a child of God, and like Christ, lays down her life- submitting to others willingly, and standing firm in the truth unwaveringly.  

I want to look to him for what beauty is and spend my time and energy striving after those things with the strength he supplies.  The physical maintenance of my body and the painting of the house must be done.  But they are not the methods I want to use to achieve beauty.  They are outward, temporary maintenance not inward lasting beauty.

Are you a real woman?  How do you define feminine beauty?



Quieted,
Sheila

while my kids peruse the game section of the bookstore...

I'm sitting in Barnes and Noble watching a huge thunderstorm dump a ton of rain outside. I sort of wish I had stayed home and sat on my patio now.  If there's any redeeming factor to the unbearably hot summers in the Phoenix valley it's the summer monsoon storms.  I'm captivated by the power in the thunder and lightening and wind and dumping of massive amounts of water in minutes.

It's my third day off from working a long stretch at the hospital.  I made use of the first two days with household chores, errands and grocery shopping.  Today was a Goats Make Soap Co. day.  I finished a custom order of wedding party favors and made four batches of our top seller- Lavender Fields Forever, and a 5 pound batch of our Original soap.


Parenthesis: I think I'm sitting next to an invisible skunk or someone in this store has beat my 13 year old son in the stinky feet department cause there's no person within 20 feet of my position at this table at B&N and I'm dying here!  I may have to make this a short post.  Yuck.

Tomorrow I get to go to church.  I'm like Bono when it comes to church... I still haven't found what I'm looking for,  but I've decided I need to commit myself to loving a bunch of imperfect people in Jesus' name whether they do church the way I think is best or not.  But I do enjoy the time of sanctuary where I can sing and direct my affections and longings toward my God in harmony with the dozens of other broken people like me in the same room.

Starting in September my friend and neighbor are going to begin going to BSF (Bible Study Fellowship) on Tuesdays.  I was involved in a BSF for a couple years before I had children.  It was key in developing my Bible literacy.  I grew spiritually so much during that time.  Feeding on God's word really makes a huge difference!   It's been a dry year or so for me without a church and not in the Word as consistently as I need to be.  I'm really looking forward to just soaking my mind in Bible.

I've decided to go the custom order route with the soap biz.  Sometime tomorrow I'll start working on putting out an email blast and re-ordering the website to reflect the coming changes.  I'll finish the year with the current online store and planned soap shows, but starting in 2017 Goats Make Soap Co. with be custom, handmade, locally sourced goats milk soaps and lotions with options for custom orders and some in stock soaps online.  We will be doing a couple soap shows next year but not a weekly farmers market.

During a conference at work the other day I learned of Circle The City.  I'm very interested.  As soon as I go to part time I plan to investigate more.

I'm reading The Insanity of God right now.  Desiring to "go" as Jesus commanded to make disciples of all nations sounds glorious until your in the face to face horror of humanity's evils and no progress seems to be being made.  Going can mean staying too.  Staying in the inglorious marriage and head to head battles with kids.  Praying for that difficult-to-work-with person and making a point to serve them in some way.  There is a definite draw to leaving the mundane in exchange for the adventure of reaching the unknown and unreached.  But it's not glorious.  Any service can be turned upside down and inside out by pride and illusions of grandeur.  But really following Jesus because you love Him and you want to go where He leads and do what He says is an adventure with sure glory in the end and sure trouble along the way.  Knowing my Redeemer lives and with my eyes I shall see him and when I see him I'll be made like him... free from this sin-philic body.  I long.  He's worth it all.




Quieted,
Sheila

A mouthful of a day


Today started off, off, and has continued that way.

The husband stayed home sick.  The kids were informed last night right before bed that the announcement by dad that there would be no school today was really just an April Fool's trick.  This produced tears in one childand I decided we probably overdid the April Fool's stuff this year even though we all do like a good practical joke.  This morning I decided to take the boys out for a breakfast sandwich as a peace offering for yesterday's shenanigans.   A bacon-Gouda sandwich can make lots of things better.

When I got home, the husband was still passed out sick and so I set about daily tasks.  Stepping for a cup from the cupboard I plummeted through the floor in the place where there was (yesterday) a vent cover.  After a brief assessment- nothings broken, laceration butterfly-fixable- I realized I may have just pushed my leg through not only the vent but also the ceiling to the bedroom below my kitchen floor. What had begun last night, before the husband's sickness hit him, as a simple install of floor vents with one minor glitch in needing to adjust the size of the vent in the kitchen, was now going to be an enormous home-repair project.

I'm very thankful for my man's handyman-ness.  He can do many home repair and construction projects very well.  He can also be the least happy person to be around during such repairs.  I knew I had the dreaded task of informing my stuffy-head, sore-throat, headache, just-crawling-out-of-bed husband that there was a hole through the floor... through the HVAC system, because I had stepped into the vent space.  Not my favorite thing to do.

He was gracious, "Not your fault..." followed by sighs and pacing outside, followed by hours of banging, pulling, a couple fist poundings on the floor, some choice words and lots of time online doing wife-damaged-the-HVAC research.  I offered to help, but, yeah, "No thanks..."

So, trying to salvage what was left of my hope for making it a good day, I did a workout outside, some laundry, made lunch and checked in one more time to make sure there was nothing I could do.  Still nothing.

As I was sitting down to eat lunch I noticed my momma goat, Darla, outside flopping all over the ground with her tongue sticking out.  (I'm not making this up).  I just about choked on my fish taco and ran outside yelling at my husband to call the vet.  He, being the calm detective that he is, sauntered to the patio and said, "She's probably got something stuck in her mouth she'll be fine."  I, on the other hand, was in CODE BLUE mode as I approached my 2 week postpartum doe with her grey (should be pink) tongue hanging out of her mouth.  I picked her up with strength I didn't think I had and the force of my grab must have acted like a Heimlich Maneuver because she coughed a couple times, shook her head, licked her chops and nibbled at her grain like nothing ever happened.

I'm worn out by now as I sit in the Starbucks parking lot processing the day's events waiting to pick up my kiddos from school.  We'll make a trip to Barnes and Noble so the kids can browse at books while I try to return to what I began doing this morning:  chewing my cud.  I should clarify: meditating on God's word.

My world is being parable-ized by my goats.  This morning, before all the stuff hit the fan, or the floor vent as it were, I was outside in the cool air feeding my goats, talking to the little kids and watching as my buck was processing the morning's feed.  You can tell they are chewing their cud (regurgitating what's in their rumen) because their cheeks suddenly puff out a bit and their jaw starts grinding away at their mouthful.

The word for meditating in the Bible has a similar meaning.  It means to chew on God's word, to mull it over.  Think about it. Toss it around.  Think about it some more.  Pray about it. Recite it. Gather application from it. Glean more of the vista God is from it. Learn more of Christ.

It hit me this morning that I haven't been doing that much lately. I'm sort of in a rehab place spiritually. I'm doing exercises necessary to regain some strength so I can do some real heavy lifting but I've been going light on the repetition.  I need to take a verse or two and chew on it awhile.

Here's one I heard today that caught my attention:

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy! -Psalm 126:5
I've read it before, but as I brought it for more digestion today I tasted something new.

Sowing in tears is inevitable.  We Christians are on a road of sanctification.  We are being formed into the image of Christ.  Did I think the process of being formed into the image of Christ was going to be chocolate and roses?  Did I think I was greater than the Master who suffered to purchase the grace that is making me more like Him?

Grumpy husbands, broken HVAC systems, a goat-choking scare... just a minor sanding in the daily grind of shaping me to be Christlike.

I'm gonna keep chewing on this one.

 Quieted,
Sheila

Consistently inconsistent

Playin' in the rain
Mud is fun!
They said they were making a trap door for a bobcat :)
Look mom!  I'm sinking!
Goof off
Beautiful
Jack.  Our new pet bearded dragon.

I know, writers write.  But, inconsistent bloggers, blog inconsistently.  Especially when they start working night shift.

It's 1:25am on my day off and I'm trying to stay up so tomorrow I'll sleep late in preparation for staying up all night at the hospital.

The first two shifts were interesting.  I remember why I didn't miss hospital nursing.  I also recall what I love about caring for newborns and their mom's and families.  It's not all Leave It To Beaver out there.  In fact, I don't think there's a single Leave It To Beaver family having babies anymore.  But it's great opportunity to teach, encourage, value life, and be a blessing.

I don't want to be a complainer.  I want other people to leave working with me as a nurse feeling uplifted, and helped, not criticized and dumped on.  It's a shame how many people come to work complaining about the work they have to do.

James has got most of the upstairs bathroom finished.  Just needs drywall, paint and a shower door.  Next project on the list is knocking out a wall separating the upstairs bedroom from the living room.  That will create a larger living room and reduce the house from being a 4 bedroom to being a 3 bedroom.

I read this today in a daily Bible reading plan I'm working through:

But Sihon the king of Heshbon would not let us pass by him, for the LORD your God hardened his spirit and made his heart obstinate, that he might give him into your hand, as he is this day. - Dueteronomy 2:30 (emphasis added by me)

It caught me.  God hardened him so that God could give him into his people's hand.  God made it hard for his people, so that God could be the one who very obviously gave them victory over such hardness.

Hmmm.  Something to think about next time I wish someone or something wasn't so hard.

 

 Quieted,
Sheila

He's chasing me









I'm married to a police office, even still, when I see an officer behind me, I get all nervous. Suddenly I'm trying to recall everything I learned in driving school. How many feet from an intersection do I need to turn on my blinker? Who has the right of way? Grab the wheel at 12 and 2, or is it 9 and 3? And even though I don't have a lead foot, I do occasional drift above the speed limit, so when I see that patrol car behind me, my eyes immediately check my speed.  I've had several of such moments on the road today as we made our way from Litchfield Park to King City, CA where we've stopped for the night.

As I was driving I remembered reading Ann's blog regarding this line from Psalm 23:

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life... (vs. 6 ESV)

She talked about the word for follow: radaph.  It means to pursue or chase or run after.

I smiled as I drove.  God is chasing me with his goodness and mercy.  He is following me, not to punish me for my sins (Christ took all my punishment), but to show me his goodness and give me his mercy.  I'm being pursued by God's mercy and goodness!  Just think about that.

I thoroughly enjoy a road trip.  For me, it's not about getting there fast.  It's about the memories and the experiencing new places and changes of scenery.

This is our 4th year going west for the summer.  This year might be the last two week trip to Nor Cal and Oregon we get for a couple years.  Since I'll be starting a part time position at a hospital 2 days a week, I won't have two months of summer free.  So I'm especially treasuring this year's trip with the boys.

They did really well considering they were stuck in a small car for about 11 hours today.  Connor especially has very long legs and not much room to stretch back there.

While we were driving we listened to 15 chapters of the Last Battle by C. S. Lewis.  I had not read that book in the Narnia series.  So many great analogies in Narnia... the dwarfs hardened their hearts to the notion of there being an Aslan at all.  They'd been told lies by the ape and had been tricked into slavery by the Calormen.  When face to face with the truth about Aslan they chose to not choose.  They would be independent, they thought.

Tomorrow we head to the Monterey Aquarium.  I'm sure it will be a great time.  We went to cannery row last year, but didn't have time to go to the aquarium.  We'll spend the first half the day there and then head north.  At least that's the plan.  Whatever happens tomorrow, I'll be looking over my shoulder for His goodness and mercy and slow down long enough to give thanks for it!  And I'll be missing the sweetness of the gathering of believers at Pathway.



Quieted,
Sheila

Clinging and Being Held

"My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me." - Psalm 63:8

I read this this morning here in the dark.  My body's not fully awake but the Spirit in me resonates an "amen" even in this sleepy shell.  I quicken and stir and whisper it into the quiet house.  I remember Ama.  Amy Charmichael, one of my heroes of the faith.  I remember something I read that Elizabeth Elliot, another woman of God who spurs me on to love and good deeds, said when talking about Amy.  She addressed her listeners first with:

"You are loved with an everlasting love," That's what the Bible says.  'And underneath are the everlasting arms."

It's what Psalm 63:8 made me think of this morning.  I'm tired.  I'm worn.  Being up with a coughing boy through the night is making waking and quiet time with the Lord hard.  But when I read Psalm 63:8 and remembered what Elizabeth said inside my tired body rose up a hope-filled joy.

I am a Christ-clinging woman.  My soul clings to Him.  He is my only hope.  But my clinging is not what keeps me attached.  His right hand upholds me.  I am loved with an everlasting love, and just in case my grip weakens and I start looking around and sink- underneath are the everlasting arms.

I still cling to Him.  Who else could I cling to?  No one else, nothing else, has everlasting arms and everlasting love.  I don't cling because my spiritual safety is dependent upon the strength of my clinging.  I cling because my rescue is dependent up His everlasting love and arms alone.  Who else should I cling to?

It's a relationship.  I cling.  He holds.  His love and might keep me clinging to Him.  And just when I think I'm too worn to hold on, it's not a boost of strength that renews me as much as it is looking again at those strong, nail-scarred arms underneath me.  Remembering His love, and His ability to save keeps me clinging to Him.


Quieted,
Sheila

What I'm singing this morning

This morning the words of this song are overflowing from my heart and reminding why I feel drained, poured out, emptied, and spent in a day. I've given my life, all of it, to Jesus. I'm poured out and drained for Him. Each morning He gives me the grace and mercy sufficient for the day. And this morning as I sang these words to Him I heard, "Remember Sheila, that You gave me all of you today." And as though He was giving me a slide show with that reminder I saw myself on the kitchen floor, cleaning up the fiftieth glass of spilled something, sighing, secretly thinking, "I'm so tired. I'm so spent."

"That's when I want you to remember Sheila, that you gave me all of you. Then you'll be able to smile and gladly worship me in your offering of cleaning up what never stays clean."

If you're a mom, I encourage you to sing this song to Jesus from your heart. And then today your emptied out life as a mom won't seem vain to you. You'll remember that you offered Jesus ALL of you!



Take my life and let it be consecrated Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days, let them flow in ceaseless praise.
Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of thy love.
Take my feet and let them be swift and beautiful for thee.

Take my voice and let me sing always, only for my king.
Take my lips and let them be filled with messages from thee.
Take my silver and my gold not a might would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use every power as you choose.

::Chorus::
Here am I, all of me.
Take my life, it's all for thee.

Take my will and make it Thine it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart it is thine own; it shall be thy royal throne.
Take my love, my Lord I pour at your feet its treasure store
Take myself and I will be ever, only all for thee,
Take myself and I will be ever, only all for thee.

Here am I, All of me.
Take my life, It's all for thee.
x3

(Take my life, Lord take my life. take all of me)

Here am I, All of me.
Take my life, It's all for thee.

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