God's ways don't always mirror ours

This morning I woke up before 5 a.m. If you know me, this is highly suspect! I am NOT a morning person. I'm more likely to stay up until well after midnight writing, editing or reading than I am to get up before 6 a.m. 

The sheets were freshly washed, cool and smelled so inviting. I didn't want to get out of bed. But I felt rather rested and had a lot to do. But just so I could prolong the cozy state I was in a little more, I decided to spend some time meditating. Except I didn't have a verse I felt compelled to meditate on, so I opened up my email and pulled up today's devotion from Anne Graham Lotz. 

Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass.

Psalm 37:5, NKJV

What perfect words for the moment, I thought, as I meditated. It eventually brought me to a prayer about my husband's back, which he had recently injured and was causing him great pain. I prayed that he would commit the healing not to pills or heating pads but to the master Healer. 

In typical God fashion, He continued to bring this verse to mind all morning. This time not in a prayer of things I want Him to do but as a celebration of what He's already done. 

On Saturday, we held our first official fundraiser for Mighty Strong Girls. Some might say it was a flop. We raised $388. 

But we had a space donated to us, a full set of amazing decorations loaned to us and a sponsor who paid for the meal. Part of the intent that God put on our heart for the fundraiser was to bring fathers into the fold of Mighty Strong Girls — to share our mission with them and to encourage their vital roles in raising up Mighty Strong Girls. 

So despite lackluster ticket sales, we were reminded to do what we had from the beginning. Give it to the Lord and trust Him. 

It's no coincidence that the verse doesn't say trust the Lord and then commit your ways to Him. Trusting in Him requires an act of faith FIRST, and so we commit to what we cannot see. His ways. They aren't our ways. They are mysterious and unlike the world's ways, and they always require an act of faith! 

If I'm totally honest, I must admit the verse was a reminder of my own heart. I dislike holding events. They are time-consuming, expensive, difficult, draining, complicated. There are always last-minute problems. Always. On the day before and the day of the event, volunteers have more questions than you have time for, someone inevitably fails to come through on a commitment and there's some catastrophe. And this is more than enough reason for me to despise holding events. 

But when God called me to do Mighty Strong Girls, it wasn't so that I could do ONLY the things I wanted to do, do well and loved. Where could He possibly refine me if I didn't do the hard stuff? How could I possibly grow to love people like He loves them if I didn't work through the difficult situations alongside them so that we could see His glory together? 

Committing my ways to Him means knowing that His plans will be brought to fruition. Not mine. His vision will be complete, not mine. I don't have to do the hard stuff; I GET to do the hard stuff. Because when I do, when I trust in Him, He shows me more and more of what He's made of. And my faith grows. And I am filled up with more and more of Him and made complete in His grace, mercy and great love. Then I WANT to commit it all to Him, because He has revealed I can trust Him and my faith is being made complete! It's so joyfully freeing!

Because God provided all we needed for this event on Saturday, we were able to hand out several sets of free tickets. One set went to a homeless family. The daughter is not currently in the family's custody, but they had visitation privileges with her on Saturday. The mom, whom we had met at a previous Mighty Strong Girls service project, said the daughter was upset because two brothers were returned to the parents' custody. She was feeling dejected, angry and unloved. So I handed her two tickets and prayed the dad and daughter would show up. They did. Some younger girls took the daughter under their wings, lavished her with love and made her feel like the most important person there. And that dad gave. Out of his poverty, he gave to the ministry. Even though we wanted them there so we could bless them, he was the one who blessed us the most. 

What an incredible reminder of the great power of God's love and what happens when we simply put our faith in Him! I am forever in awe!

Girls need heroes

     About a year ago, I happened across the Instagram account of a girl on my daughter's softball team. Turns out, she was in her grade at school. If I'm doing my math right, that would have made her 9 or 10, maybe 11, at the time. 
     I was stunned. 
     First, her account was public. Anyone could view her profile and all her posts/photos/comments. 
     Second, everything she posted reeked of desperation to be loved.
     Her professed relationship status (not a mandatory part of your Instagram profile, by the way) was "used to be taken" with lots of sad faces. She had photo after photo of handwritten notes about her unrequited love for a boy in her grade. She took every opportunity to let anyone who would give her attention know that she still yearned for her ex-boyfriend and would take him back in a heartbeat.
     Third, what on earth is a child this young even doing on social media. Ugh! This kind of thing just annoys me! If you give your elementary or middle school age kid a phone and access to the internet (which I think is dangerous and unwise to begin with but if you decide they are responsible enough) police it, hover like a helicopter, comb through everything daily, watch over them like a hawk. They are children. It's your job! Help them discern what and how to post. Protect them from being vulnerable and victimized! 
     Anyway, I talked to my husband about this, as he was assistant coaching the team. He said this girl made him feel uncomfortable in her desperation for his attention, baiting him for remarks about her appearance and constantly needing to be validated that included being on her cell phone texting people if she couldn't get anyone in the dugout to talk to her. She had no sense of boundaries in relationships.
     In that entire season, I never saw a dad. I never heard mention of a dad. Not that she didn't have one. I have no idea. But he was not present. 
     Her story is hardly unique or new. Girls whose dads (or stepdads or grandpas) aren't around or available are naturally desperate for masculine love. Shouldn't this be predictable? 
     Well, we can simply observe, shake our heads and be critical. OR, we can all decide to do something to come alongside these girls. It's not their fault! 
     Of course this girl craves love. We were ALL built to desire love. 
     Why do dads matter? 
     — 21 percent of 12-15-year-olds said their No. 1 concern was not having enough TIME with their parents, while only 8 percent of parents thought they didn't have enough time with their kids. 
     — Girls who live with their mothers only have significantly less ability to control impulses, delay gratification and have a weaker sense of conscience (right or wrong). 
     — When a father is involved in his kids' day-to-day activities, they are more likely to confide in him and seek his emotional support. 
     — Girls with good fathers are less likely to flaunt themselves to seek male attention. 
     Again, these are all statistics gathered for Dr. Meg Meeker's amazing book, Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters: 10 Secrets Every Father Should Know. 
     How can you really live out the role of a strong father? 
     According to Meeker, you can become her hero. In fact, she's naturally chosen you, and she cannot survive without a humble hero who is her rescuer and defender. 
     "She needs a hero to navigate her through a treacherous popular culture. And you should know that being a twenty-first century hero is tough stuff. It means walking into embarrassing, uncomfortable or even life-threatening situations in order to rescue your daughter,"  says Meeker.
     As much as it irritates me that the media and popular culture is responsible for objectifying and sexualizing girls, it angers me that it demasculinizes men and boys. They've made men appear weak, spineless and without purpose.
     It's no wonder our men aren't sure how to be a hero anymore. Culture is robbing them of a key component of their God-ordained identities, just as we are deceiving girls about their value in God's eyes. 
     It's my prayer that events like this weekend's Father-Daughter Gala and others will begin to heal the past hurts that have come between relationships and seal a bond between dads and daughters that is filled with redemption and hope. 
     As Father's Day approaches, I celebrate the awesome dad my husband is for his daughter. He builds her up, joins her in the things that interest her and expresses love for her that encompasses all of who she is. 
     Let's pray for a courageous generation of dads to come to the rescue of ALL girls. We need for men to intervene when girls are young and begin speaking truths into their lives! They don't have to be dads; mentors and father figures like grandpas or uncles can be very effective, too. Godly men, it's time to be courageous; we support and celebrate you! We are fighting this battle together. Let's do it radically and with conviction! 

Dads play a HUGE role in affirming a girl's true value!

     Not long ago, I overheard a man compliment a teen girl he knew. 
     "You're getting so thin and tan and fit. You're really looking good," he told a girl, who looked a little shocked and embarrassed by the remark. 
     I don't think the man meant harm. I believe he wanted to let her know that she was evolving into a lovely young lady, and I hope his intentions weren't just about the physical transformation. Sometimes, especially with people we don't know well, we can't find the right words. It's those times when no words might be better!
     Well, this girl happens to be thin, tan and fit mostly as a result of a sport she excels at, so perhaps focusing on that would be more appropriate. I felt just awful for her, awkwardly hanging on his every word. Fortunately, she's the kind of girl who knows she's more than the superficial.
     More than anything, all people need to know they matter. But when the message girls repeatedly get is about their body shape, skin color, size/weight, makeup, hair, eyes, legs, butt, curves, then suddenly they realize that's what matters MOST. It's hard enough when the media focuses only on these, but when people do....well, just ick! These girls are more than the sum of their "parts." What about their intellect, talents, skills, interests, goals, academic pursuits, athletic abilities? It suddenly all comes down to how physically attractive — how "sexy" they are. 
     I'm watching my own 11-year-old daughter evolving into this young lady, a process that is just as much an emotional and intellectual maturity as a physical one. Some of her traits that have always been there are becoming more honed, more obvious — her compassion, her service, her creativity, her giftedness. She NEEDS to know she's loved for her character and her attributes that have nothing to do with her physical appearance.
     ALL girls need and deserve to know, and they need to know from their dad or a father figure.
     Here are a few reasons why: 
     — Parent connectedness is the No. 1 factor preventing girls from indulging in drugs and alcohol and premarital sex. 
     — Girls with doting fathers are more assertive. 
     — Daughters who perceive their fathers care about them, who feel connected to their dads, have significantly fewer suicide attempts, fewer instances of body dissatisfaction, depression, low self-esteem, substance use and unhealthy weight. 
     — A girl's self-esteem is BEST PREDICTED by her father's physical affection. 
     — Girls with good fathers are less likely to flaunt themselves to seek male attention. 
     — Girls with involved fathers wait longer to initiate sex and have lower rates of teen pregnancy. Teen girls who live with both parents are three times less likely to lose their virginity before their 16th birthday.
     All of these are statistics Dr. Meg Meeker compiled for her highly-recommended book, Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters: 10 Secrets Every Father Should Know. 
     If you haven't spent some quality time with your daughter lately — or you know a girl who could use a father-figure in her life — please take three hours this weekend to show her she matters! Life is busy. Time moves quickly. But you can be the answer to a big prayer in her life...show her she matters for all the right reasons! And it takes such a small investment: Three hours and $20. What you'll get in return is priceless!
     Some awesome volunteers with Mighty Strong Girls are taking the awkward out of this by holding this special event where you can spend quality time together, create memories and give your daughter what she needs. 
     Buy your tickets now at http://www.eventbrite.com/e/father-daughter-gala-tickets-11674624115?aff=eorg

This year's swimsuit shopping shocked me!

Something new happened when I went shopping for a bathing suit this year. It was unexpected and shocking. 

First, I found several on the rack that I sincerely liked — and not because of the label language that goes something like this: "flattering on all figures" or "pattern that disguises tummies" or "perfect for post maternity (and moms who had babies 10 years ago and still can't get the weight off)."

 

So I stepped in the dressing room with an armful of suits and something new: optimism. Oh, two something news. I also brought an accomplice.

 

I pulled on a bathing suit top first. It tied around the neck and the midriff, with a mostly open back. There were four layers of ruffles down the front. It was black and white and bright pink with lots of polka dots. It was very happy and fun. So much so that I had taken two tops of similar styles with me into the dressing room. 

“Oooo, mom, I love it. It looks so good on you!” said my enthusiastic 11-year-old daughter after she secured the ties in the back.

Normally a suit like this would have specific “triggers” for self loathing: the low cut that might show off a mole I don’t like, the general wide exposure of the back that could reveal the folds of skin on my “fat back.” 

Those were the reject-worthy features I was specifically looking for, but here’s what was unexpected. I didn’t see them, the negative things. The mole. The rolls. Maybe they were there, maybe not. All I saw was a pretty phenomenal looking middle-age woman in a bathing suit that flattered her figure. 

“Wow,” I replied. “I love it, too! Well, I guess I’ll try on the others to see if I like any of them.”

Normally, that would be a bad idea. If you’ve ever shopped for a swimming suit, I’m pretty sure this is a golden rule. If you find one that you like — even the slightest bit — you stop trying on suits immediately and buy it. The odds of further swimming suit shopping success are stunted at best. To keep trying them on is an invitation for disappointment.

It had been two years since I graced the dressing room with a bathing suit. I typically shop at a large department store with a huge selection and a range of reasonable prices. I would not mind paying more for a suit that made me look more fit than I am. In the past, I might have even considered taking out a loan for one that could erase 20 years. 

I would drag a dozen suits illegally (six item limit and all….as if you really want to make the walk of shame to the discard rack that many times!) to the dressing room. What kind of lighting is this, I would wonder, as I pulled off my clothing and contemplated the frumpy, stretched and pocked thighs and belly appearing before me. 

Well, it must be a combination of the lighting and this cheap mirror, I would think, because there’s no way I really look like that. Do I???? 

So after the first 12 discards and the walk of shame, I would creep back into a different dressing room — the one in the back where the flickering fluorescent light is, a gamble that a shadow or six might improve things — my shoulders sagging a bit more than the time before. 

As I would suck in my stomach and fight with myself about the fact that I am now one size away from the plus sizes — how did that happen? — I would pray that this one would be THE ONE.

 

A match made in heaven. 

 

A God-ordained suit that would make me look like I didn’t just down a pantry of Doritos and glazed donuts washed down with a monster-size fountain soda.  (I don't really eat those things...I just have a figure that indicates that I do.)

Please, God, please! 

 

Make this torture end. 

 

I manage to get by most days with a decent self-respecting confidence, and this feeling is uncomfortable. I KNOW I am more valuable than the way I look in a bathing suit, but is it too much to ask for you to ordain a bathing suit for me that will make me feel good about myself while swimming, too? 

So here I am, two years later, loving one suit and trying on two more. 

The second one is tricky. It’s adorable — bright pink and polka dots — but it’s hard to tug on. It’s a size too small. It fits, but the fight of putting it on isn’t worth it. I set it aside. If they have it a size up, I know I’ll buy this one, too. 

And my daughter, she loves it! She’s gushing about not just the suits but how great they look on me. I could do this all day. This happiness and pleasure in a dressing room is unheard of...I think I heard the clerks discussing whether to have security on backup in case I was delusional, on the verge of breakdown and putting the whole store at risk.

It’s about this point I realize that I had not showered yet today. We worked at a garage sale all morning, and I had no makeup on. Can you believe it? I was shopping for a bathing suit with no makeup on, with hairy armpits. Unheard of! The giddy factor just raised two notches, and I could definitely hear murmurs of disbelief on the other side of the door.

I’m grabbing the third suit at this point. It’s floral print with a style that is reminiscent of the 1950s. I absolutely love this suit, so I’m praying God will make this a match, too! Why not? Things are going so well.

I pull up the straps of the one-piece, and my daughter is in love with it. I spin and look. Wow! I look like Marilyn Monroe. Curvy and carefree and cute as a button. 

I step out of the dressing room, my shoulders back, my neck stretched high, my chin up. I meet up with my husband and son. 

“You’re never going to believe this,” I say, still reeling from the shock myself. “but I love every suit I tried on. This never happens. So which one do you like?” 

I hold them up and he picks the pink polka dot. I go to the rack and grab the next size up. Unfortunately, it was mislabeled and I had to return it. I ended up getting the Marilyn Monroe number. I love how it makes me feel. 

I spend the next several days reflecting on this experience. What changed in two years? 

Initially, I attribute it to the fact that I had my daughter there, cheering me on, telling me how fabulous I looked in every single suit. I must admit, that was nice. I think I will bring her next time. She saw me the way I should have seen myself, and it was a good check and balance. I believe she helped me see past the self criticism, as I always choose my adjectives wisely around her when it comes to the way I see myself. 

Here’s the kicker, though. I was shopping at Wal-mart. I would normally never consider buying a bathing suit at Wal-mart. The dressing room was a mess. The lighting and mirror had to be way less flattering than anything I had ever been exposed to in a suit. 

Aside from her comments, I was giddy about how nice I looked in the suits. I think mostly what happened was a shift in my perspective — a transformation that began on the inside two years ago that made me look at my physical self in a whole new way. 

I cannot be absolutely sure, but I am fairly certain I am bigger and weigh more than I did two years ago. 

I’m learning to love myself — even without makeup. Even the stretch marks. The ones my husband has loved since they day they became part of me — somewhere in the sixth or seventh month of my second pregnancy. Badges of honor, he called them. Rewards for being able to be the mother of my son, the miracle conception. Well worth it to wear them the rest of this life. 

Easy for him to say. 

Turns out it was easy for me to say, too, but simply harder to believe. My baby will turn 10 this summer, and I can FINALLY just now in this moment at age 40 agree that I love them when I look at them. It’s true…I LOVE my stretch marks. 

It’s funny when I mentioned them the other day, my husband insisted I didn’t have any. He applauded them 10 years ago and forgot them in the time that’s lapsed since. He doesn’t see them anymore. Or at least he doesn’t label them. They are simply a part of me like any other part. 

Why do we loathe a process of change that is God-ordained. My physical beauty is SUPPOSED to fade — or droop, depending on your perspective. Stretch marks, spider veins, wrinkles, grey hair…they are all part of life and aging. If God created us, and this is natural aging, then it is GOOD! Why on earth would we ever presume to criticize the work of a holy, loving God?

What is even better than how I look in this moment is the transformation of realizing the truth in this. What I love most about my swimming suit experience isn't that I loved what I saw, it's that I loved what I FELT. The emotional part was exhilarating!

2 Corinthians 4:16 says “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.” 

Praise be to God for the transformation that is the renewal of my inner self who sees what God sees: True beauty!