Pretty

I had some free time today to get out and about, so with vacation approaching in a few weeks I thought I would go take a look at (gulp).....swimsuits.  Since I'm on day 12 or so of a new diet, this wasn't something I was excited about, but I figured they would be completely picked over by the time I really needed one.  I had the dude with me as I looked through all the fullest-coverage pieces I could find.  In true form, he enjoyed pulling things off hangers and touching every garmet he could get his hands on while I shopped.  I pulled a couple things and drug us, buggy and all, into the dressing room.  I put on the size-too-small bottoms (ambitious thinking) and then the top...and as I stood in front of the mirror picking out which rolls were the most obvious, my two year old stopped me in my tracks.  "Dat pretty, mommy.  Mommy pretty."  Heart.  Melted.  And you know what I did?  I bought that swimsuit, rolls and all, because the person that matters most to me thought it was pretty.  Maybe it will be look better in a few weeks, or maybe it will end up returned to the store, but that's really beside the point.

Point number 1....Kids aren't born seeing fat.  They aren't born seeing ugly.  You know who they learn it from?  First they learn it from us.  They see us getting on the scale every day.   They hear us giving ourselves grief.  I shamefully admit that I can't count the times little man has watched me step off the scale and said "My turn" and climbed on right after me.  I know there are probably a thousand other bloggers making the same point, and maybe I'm making the same one over and over.  But maybe that's because we need to hear it over and over.  I struggle to make myself believe it even as I type it.   Are we teaching our kids to be healthy or are we teaching them to hate themselves?

Point number 2...What is more important than how our kids see us?  Should I be more concerned about how many dimples are showing (and I don't mean on my face), or about how much fun I'm having with my child in the water?

Last week I did a Father's day activity with some preschoolers...the kind where they have sentences to complete about their dads.  Most of them were the same..."My dad is good at working, My dad likes to mow the grass, etc."  But the one I loved the most said things like "My dad likes to fight.  My dad is good at handstands.  He is not good at backflips."  I was telling my husband about this and he said, "You know, that's the kind of dad I want to be.  I don't want my kids to think all I do is work."   So simple, yet so powerful.

I understand that most of us don't have any choice but to work, and we don't have as much time as we'd like with our kids.  But I think quality wins over quantity.  Let's make the time we have count.  Let's be moms that don't just stay fully clothed and stick our feet in the water, let's jump in and play!  Let's be dads that do backflips and handstands in spite of exhaustion from a long day's work.  That five, or ten, or thirty minutes is what makes our kids think we're pretty.

Perfection

Why, oh why, are we so hard on ourselves?  What is this perfection that we seek?  This is something that keeps coming to my attention through interactions with my friends and it really is heart breaking.

The other day I went to pick up something at a friend's house.  She has four children under the age of 7, and the first thing that came out of her mouth were apologies for the condition of her home.  Yet, my heart leapt to see piles of laundry in the floor and toys scattered about.   It sure did give me validation for the mess I had waiting on me at my own house.  I came home and texted her pictures of my mess, in hopes of returning the favor.  See, I think my house needs to be perfect.  I know there are women who are wired differently than me who are able to stay on top of things a little better than I am.  I want to be them.  But I'm not.  I'm not going to say these messes are "real life," because they aren't everyone's reality, but the point is, why do we think we have to have to be like everyone else?

Another friend texted me a picture of the both of us the other day.  The first thing I did was start making digs at myself regarding how awful I looked in the picture.  She pointed out that she had done the same thing of herself.  And here we are again, comparing ourselves to others.

I left a friend's home today nearly in tears of embarrassment over my child's behavior.  Why am I not a better parent?  Here I am,  professionally trained to deal with children and I can't get ahold of my own child. I couldn't help but wonder what my friends were thinking or saying after we left.

And it goes on and on...why can't I control my diet, why can't I be a better wife, why can't I be a better Christian.......why can't I just be perfect!?!?!?!

These are the lies we believe, the flaming arrows the enemy pierces us with when we aren't dressed in our armor.   Most of us know the truth, it's just a matter of letting it reign over us.

Today at church we sang "How He Loves."  I will post a video in case you haven't ever heard this amazing song.  Here a few of the life-changing words:

He is jealous for me
Love's like a hurricane, and I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy
When all of a sudden, I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realize just how beautiful you are 
and how great your affections are for me.

And oh
How He loves us oh
Oh how He loves us
How He loves us all.


That line in italics is the one that shouted at me today.  I've sung those words 100 times, but they've never stung me like they did today.  When we think about God's love for us, how huge and sacrificial and unimaginable it is, all of those imperfections we dwell on are rendered insignificant.  After all, we are made perfect in Christ Alone.

We've spent a lot of time discussing the story of the prodigal son (see Luke 15) at church lately. And the whole point is that the father, after seeing how horribly flawed his son was, and how inexcusable his behavior had been, still welcomed him home with open arms and enormous celebration.  He didn't see his mistakes, his failures, or his flaws.  He looked at him through eyes of love.  

We are all that prodigal, and God doesn't care too much about how imperfect we are.  He only cares that we are running to Him for rescue.  Maybe we should stop looking side to side at what we think we need to look like, and start looking up to the One who sees and loves us as we are.

2 Corinthians 12:9 
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.