According to Lent Tradition, I'm allowed to take a break from fasting on Sunday, but I didn't want Sunday to turn into a wasted-day of facebooking. I decided to set a timer for 10 minutes and check facebook just to get rid of all those annoying red boxes at the top of the screen and to make sure no one had sent me any vital information. Well, after about 5 minutes, all the red boxes were gone and I had nothing left to do- I finally just logged out after 7 minutes. What does that say about facebook? I don't need to be on it all day to communicate with friends or know what's going on in their lives- it really is more of a reality escape than I thought.
Monday was a full day with the Everest staff Bible study after school and then going to the Y to workout. Tuesday was a bit less busy, and today was a snow day (which meant midweek Bible study and church was also canceled) so I had the whole day to do stuff other than facebook. I actually sat down and did my Beth Moore studies one day at a time, instead of cramming them all in on Tuesday evening or Wednesday afternoon- I enjoy them so much more when I'm doing them one at a time, and the lessons have so much more time to sink in. I know, I know...duhhhhhh. You'd think that after years of Sunday school lessons and enough schoolwork to earn a BA, I'd have that one figured out by now.
I had a convicting moment on Monday- the student that I normally work with during the afternoon was out sick, so I went to check on another student in the EBD program. The teacher had just called the class to come sit on the floor in the front of the room for an activity, and he quickly sat by a friend who tends to help him get into trouble. I asked him if he thought it was smart to sit there and he said "We can listen, I promise." I told him that was fine, but he wasn't getting any warnings- one time goofing off with his friend and he was moving (using much more positive "teacher-talk," of course). Of course, two minutes in, he's yammering away (loudly) with his friend, and tapped him and whispered, "Come over by me." He "whispered" (loud enough to disrupt the whole class) back, "I'M NOT DOING NOTHING!" in a sharp, whiney tone. I reached over and took his point sheet and dinged him for being disrespectful. Once the activity was over, he came up to me and said that he hadn't "done anything" and I was "getting him into trouble."
"[Name], why did I take points off on your point sheet?" I asked him.
"Because you want to get me in trouble!" he said.
"[Name], do you think that I can't hear you talking to [classmate] when you're supposed to be listening to the teacher?" I asked him.
"I was just telling him that you're always getting me in trouble!!"
Okaaaay, so we were all sitting on the floor listening to the teacher and it was suddenly so urgent for you to tell your friend that I was "getting you in trouble" (by just sitting there near you) that you needed to disrupt your teacher's lesson?
"I didn't ask you what you were talking to your classmate about; I told you that you needed to move, and you refused and talked back to me. That's why you lost points- if you had just moved when I asked, everything would have been fine. But you chose to be disrespectful, and the rule is that you loose points when you're disrespectful."
"No, I always get into trouble because of you!"
Note: I only check on this kid when my regularly assigned student is absent. He's in trouble a lot more often than she is absent. Apparently I get him in trouble on those days, too?
"*sighs* [Name], the sooner you stop blaming other people and start taking responsibility for what you do, the easier your life will be."
(Idk if a third grader could take that in, but what else do you say?!)
That evening I went to Bible study with my coworkers, where we are studying the book of Ruth. The lesson covered the verses where Naomi encourages her two widowed daughter-in-laws to return to their homeland, saying that "The Lord has dealt bitterly with me." Naomi doesn't seem to remember how, before suffering came upon her and her family, she left the land that God had given to her people, went to live for several years in the land that God called "His washbasin," where immorality and idolatry were rampant, and allowed her sons to intermarry with foreign women. Now, she is encouraging her daughter-in-laws to return to their false gods and human sacrifices, rather than come with her and serve her God. And, all the suffering she has faced is soley because God is being mean to her, right?
Granted, Naomi is grieving the loss of her husband and sons, and is unsure of the future- as a woman in Old Testament times, she wouldn't have had any means of providing for herself. In such a dark time, it's easy to be ruled by emotions and say things we don't mean. Even so, Naomi's reaction toward God reminded me of my student's reaction to me- this is YOUR fault, YOU'RE causing all this trouble in my life, and I'm just your victim!
Having been born under a church pew, I'd have to be pretty overwhelmed with emotion before I would consciously blame God for my problems, but how often do I do it in a more subtle way- asking God why He isn't providing for me when I've been careless with money, why I'm so stressed out when I've done nothing but facebook all day, why I'm not healthy when I haven't taken care of myself, why I'm so tired when I've been up all night doing nothing productive. Hmmm...
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Facebook Fast- From Tuesday Until Now (Day 3)
Tuesday- "Fat Tuesday"- Frantically try to figure out who's birthday's I'm going to miss and message them to let them know I'll be thinking of them on their birthday. Stalk friends one last time. Update my facebook picture and status to let people know not to attempt to communicate with me via facebook- use email or cell phone (or, hey, maybe even face-to-face communcation!) instead! Yeah, it's only 40 days- I went the first 19 years of my life without facebook; I can handle 40 days.
Wednesday- Get up, go to work, after work kill some time at Target while I wait for my coworkers to get done so we can have prayer meeting, run into Kari and baby Cael at Target, vent about how expensive clothes are with Kari, watch Cael while Kari tries on a few outfits and give her my opinions (hey, no fair, reasonably priced stuff looks good on her!), rush back to school for prayer meeting with coworkers, rush home and change out of work clothes and grab Bible and book, go to restaurant to meet Maria, have lovely dinner and conversation, go with Maria to Bible study, enjoy an amazing lesson from Beth Moore (and Lynn and Leslie!) come home, crash. Facebook?! Psssshhhh...
Thursday- Come home from work after a rough day. Want to check facebook but resist...am tired, anyway. Get a call from NTC that they might have an adjunct faculty position for me- want to be excited, but, after all the job-disappointments I've had lately, I'm hesitant to get my hopes up until everything is set in stone. Fall asleep for a bit. Dad wakes me up and says we're going to Culver's for dinner. Brush hair and fix makeup quick, and go out with family. Come home, eat Culver's ice cream and watch TV with Dad for a bit. Take shower, get ready for bed, try to work on Beth Moore study but don't get very far because I'm tired. Go to sleep.
Friday- Stop to fill car with gas on way home from work, practically have a heart attack when I see what gas prices are. Worrying that if they keep going up, I'm not going to be able to afford to drive to work anymore- and there's no other way for me to get to work except by my own car. *sigh* Drive the rest of the way home feeling stressed out- come home and find door locked, even though dad and brother are home. Normally a mild annoyance, but that means I have to dig for the house-key while carrying my purse, workout bag (even though I didn't make it to the gym after work), heavy bag of winter clothes for recess duty, and full nalgene bottle. Finally get in and try to kindly ask my dad to leave the door unlocked when it's broad daylight and he's right there in the house, but I can tell he senses I'm stressed out and feels guilty, and then I feel guilty for making him feel guilty. I make myself a cup of tea and try to enjoy a little conversation with my dad, but my emotions are too close to the surface today- it's physiological factors that are causing this, but I find myself really, really wanting to go on facebook for some reason. Urgh. Did I give up a social networking site for Lent, or a narcotic?!
Go to my room and check email and every other thing I normally check online besides facebook. There's some jobs I want to apply to (seems like the hours would work even if I'm teaching at NTC part time) and I need to tweak my presentation for church on Sunday- that should keep me busy. I stop to eat dinner with my family, then come back to the computer and get to work. I'm not really concentrating- I keep wanting to go to pinterest, modeling websites, youtube...grrrrr, this is NOT why I gave up facebook! Feeling the urge to go on it is supposed to drive me to God, not alternative websites. And I don't see myself being any better of a steward of my time than I was before giving up facebook. I just realized it's after midnight and I still have barely done anything today, including reading my Bible. Maybe this is why Jesus fasted for forty days and not 48 hours...it takes a while just to get over whatever you're fasting from. At least I hope that's what's going on; otherwise this is going to be a really wasted Lent.
Wednesday- Get up, go to work, after work kill some time at Target while I wait for my coworkers to get done so we can have prayer meeting, run into Kari and baby Cael at Target, vent about how expensive clothes are with Kari, watch Cael while Kari tries on a few outfits and give her my opinions (hey, no fair, reasonably priced stuff looks good on her!), rush back to school for prayer meeting with coworkers, rush home and change out of work clothes and grab Bible and book, go to restaurant to meet Maria, have lovely dinner and conversation, go with Maria to Bible study, enjoy an amazing lesson from Beth Moore (and Lynn and Leslie!) come home, crash. Facebook?! Psssshhhh...
Thursday- Come home from work after a rough day. Want to check facebook but resist...am tired, anyway. Get a call from NTC that they might have an adjunct faculty position for me- want to be excited, but, after all the job-disappointments I've had lately, I'm hesitant to get my hopes up until everything is set in stone. Fall asleep for a bit. Dad wakes me up and says we're going to Culver's for dinner. Brush hair and fix makeup quick, and go out with family. Come home, eat Culver's ice cream and watch TV with Dad for a bit. Take shower, get ready for bed, try to work on Beth Moore study but don't get very far because I'm tired. Go to sleep.
Friday- Stop to fill car with gas on way home from work, practically have a heart attack when I see what gas prices are. Worrying that if they keep going up, I'm not going to be able to afford to drive to work anymore- and there's no other way for me to get to work except by my own car. *sigh* Drive the rest of the way home feeling stressed out- come home and find door locked, even though dad and brother are home. Normally a mild annoyance, but that means I have to dig for the house-key while carrying my purse, workout bag (even though I didn't make it to the gym after work), heavy bag of winter clothes for recess duty, and full nalgene bottle. Finally get in and try to kindly ask my dad to leave the door unlocked when it's broad daylight and he's right there in the house, but I can tell he senses I'm stressed out and feels guilty, and then I feel guilty for making him feel guilty. I make myself a cup of tea and try to enjoy a little conversation with my dad, but my emotions are too close to the surface today- it's physiological factors that are causing this, but I find myself really, really wanting to go on facebook for some reason. Urgh. Did I give up a social networking site for Lent, or a narcotic?!
Go to my room and check email and every other thing I normally check online besides facebook. There's some jobs I want to apply to (seems like the hours would work even if I'm teaching at NTC part time) and I need to tweak my presentation for church on Sunday- that should keep me busy. I stop to eat dinner with my family, then come back to the computer and get to work. I'm not really concentrating- I keep wanting to go to pinterest, modeling websites, youtube...grrrrr, this is NOT why I gave up facebook! Feeling the urge to go on it is supposed to drive me to God, not alternative websites. And I don't see myself being any better of a steward of my time than I was before giving up facebook. I just realized it's after midnight and I still have barely done anything today, including reading my Bible. Maybe this is why Jesus fasted for forty days and not 48 hours...it takes a while just to get over whatever you're fasting from. At least I hope that's what's going on; otherwise this is going to be a really wasted Lent.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
After-Christmas Thoughts...
Throughout this past Christmas season, my heart was repeatedly drawn to Luke 1:26-56, where Mary first learns that she is to be the mother of the Messiah. For someone who was born under a church pew and can't remember ever not attending Sunday school (like myself), it's easy to mentally categorize people in the Bible into "bad people" (Queen Jezebel, King Saul, etc.) and "good people" (Abraham, Paul, and, of course, Mary and Joseph).
When Gabriel first tells Mary that she is to be the mother of Jesus (and clarifies a few confusing details for her!) her response is, "Behold, the maidservant of the Lord. May it be to me as you have said," (vs. 38). Having heard the Christmas story over and over since I was about two, it's easy for me to think, "Of course that's what she said; Mary was one of the 'good people' in the Bible!" But, then, it's easy to brush aside some of the details I've learned as a teenager/adult, like:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
just as he promised our ancestors.”
I picture myself at age 13 or 14- in middle school, involved in my church youth group and school Bible club, but if God had called me to risk my life, my reputation, and my entire future, would I not only have said yes, but sang a song of praise to Him?
As most of you know, God has called me to (temporarily, at least,) lay down my own goals and dreams and go serve Him in Spain. Even my friends and family who don't share in my faith are excited for me. If I don't make a career out of missions, then having lived abroad and had my own classroom will look great on my grad school applications and resumes. Sometimes (well, most of the time!) the stress of support-raising and other details seem overwhelming, but I can hardly say that what God has asked of me holds a candle to what He asked of Mary 2,000 years ago...and, although I don't know what my future holds, I can't forsee anything that God would call me to having the same magnitude of what Mary was called to do. As I begin a new year, with my departure date for Spain coming closer and an uncertain future ahead of me, it is my prayer that, whatever God asks of me, I may have the same unhindered, joyful response as Mary in Luke 1.
"Behold, the maidservant of the Lord."
When Gabriel first tells Mary that she is to be the mother of Jesus (and clarifies a few confusing details for her!) her response is, "Behold, the maidservant of the Lord. May it be to me as you have said," (vs. 38). Having heard the Christmas story over and over since I was about two, it's easy for me to think, "Of course that's what she said; Mary was one of the 'good people' in the Bible!" But, then, it's easy to brush aside some of the details I've learned as a teenager/adult, like:
- Mary may have been as young as 14 when she gave birth to Jesus. She might have even been 13 when the angel came to her.
- She was engaged but not married. In her time and culture, having a baby out of wedlock (especially a baby that wasn't her fiancee's) wouldn't just mean nasty talk behind her back; it could mean death by stoning.
- That even if Joseph had broken off their engagement "quietly" as he planned to in order to spare her from public disgrace, her life still might have fallen apart- she couldn't simply go out and get a job or apply for government assistance in order to support herself and her child.
- The tremendous responsibility that fell upon her- as I've watched several of my friends become moms for the first time (or second, third, or fourth time!) the all seem to ask the same questions: "Can I handle this?" "Will I be a good mom?" "What if I don't raise this child right?" How many times would these concerns be amplified to an unmarried teenager responsible for raising the Son of God, who was to save His people from their sins?
“My soul glorifies the Lord
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
50 His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
53 He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
54 He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
55 to Abraham and his descendants forever,
just as he promised our ancestors.”
I picture myself at age 13 or 14- in middle school, involved in my church youth group and school Bible club, but if God had called me to risk my life, my reputation, and my entire future, would I not only have said yes, but sang a song of praise to Him?
As most of you know, God has called me to (temporarily, at least,) lay down my own goals and dreams and go serve Him in Spain. Even my friends and family who don't share in my faith are excited for me. If I don't make a career out of missions, then having lived abroad and had my own classroom will look great on my grad school applications and resumes. Sometimes (well, most of the time!) the stress of support-raising and other details seem overwhelming, but I can hardly say that what God has asked of me holds a candle to what He asked of Mary 2,000 years ago...and, although I don't know what my future holds, I can't forsee anything that God would call me to having the same magnitude of what Mary was called to do. As I begin a new year, with my departure date for Spain coming closer and an uncertain future ahead of me, it is my prayer that, whatever God asks of me, I may have the same unhindered, joyful response as Mary in Luke 1.
"Behold, the maidservant of the Lord."
Friday, December 9, 2011
50 Things to do Before I'm 30 (Inspired by Kayleigh!)
(Okay, so Kayleigh did a list of 100 things to do before she's 30- but she's a year younger than me, AND I don't know how much of this I'll be able to accomplish while I'm on the mission field, so I wasn't quite as ambitious as she was!! Let's see if I can get all these things done before April 21st, 2016!)
1. Do a triathalon
2. Memorize a book of the Bible (as least 4 chapters!)
3. Memorize Psalm 139 in Spanish
4. Earn either Wisconsin DPI Teacher Certification or my Master's Degree (if not both!) (May 15, 2015)
5. Be debt-free
6. Read 200 Books
7. Run a marathon
8. Learn how to knit and make something useful*
9. Read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series in Spanish (already read it in English, don't worry!)
10. Pray for every country in the world (July 21, 2014)
11. Donate blood
12. Compete in a national/international pageant or modeling competition (July 27, 2013- Miss International)
13. Finish my novel
14. Earn a $1,000.00 check from my Amway business
15. Go to Disney World
16. Fill an entire journal without tearing any pages out*
17. Meet my Spanish penpal (Check!)
18. Dress up as a lobster for Halloween (this has been a dream of mine since I was about 11) Halloween 2013!!
19. Write lyrics for ten songs and actually share them (not just keep them in my private journal!)
20. Sew a skirt
21. Learn how to play my guitar
22. Go back to Puebla (June 22, 2015- just drove through it,but it still counts!)
23. Go vegan for a month (Feb 10, 2014- Mar 10, 2014)
24. Follow through on my promise to Kayleigh to take her to the Rainforest Cafe
25. Learn American Sign Language
26. See "Michigan Katie" (Katie R.) face-to-face
27. Watch the Miss America pageant live in Vegas
28. See a live production of "Phantom of the Opera"
29. See all of the Lord of the Rings movies
30. Move ALL of my stuff out of my parents' house
31. Sponsor a Compassion Child again (Dec 30th, 2013- Lidia from El Salvador!)
32. Take a vacation with my girlfriends (overnight, outside of Wausau!) (July 2014- Winnepeg with Camille and Jeesoo!)
33. Learn how to ski or snowboard
34. Take my cousin, Mandy, on a fun trip somewhere to thank her for all the times she's let me crash with her (and carted me around) to modeling gigs in Milwaukee!
35. See a live Packer or Badger game
36. Have $2,500.00 in savings
37. Go a year without drinking soda*
38. Support a missionary at $50.00 a month for 12 months*
39. Be able to have a conversation in French with a native speaker
40. Run a 5K in under 20 minutes
41. Write a children's book and begin the publishing process
42. Become licensed as a Wisconsin foster parent (hopefully I'll be ready for my first placement, but we'll make getting the license my first goal!)
43. Make a vlog channel (Started Jan 21, 2012)
44. See my old roomie, Katie T, face-to-face...regardless of which side of the border we have to do it on! (June 22, 2015)
45. Go to a concert with Heather K, and NOT get snowed out this time!
46. Have my hair cut/highlighted and my nails done by a professional (I take pride in my DIY skills, but this would represent having the financial stability to have a pro do it!)
47. Take a picture with Miss America (had the chance with Caressa Cameron and chickened out- was mad at myself afterwards. I know for a fact that that crown will NOT go on a fan-snubber's head!)
48. Go on a two-day water-only fast (for prayer, not a crash diet!) (Check!)
49. Go to Central or South America
50. Be an actual teacher- have my OWN classroom and students! (May 24, 2012, started teaching at Northcentral Technical College)
*=In progress
1. Do a triathalon
2. Memorize a book of the Bible (as least 4 chapters!)
3. Memorize Psalm 139 in Spanish
4. Earn either Wisconsin DPI Teacher Certification or my Master's Degree (if not both!) (May 15, 2015)
5. Be debt-free
6. Read 200 Books
7. Run a marathon
8. Learn how to knit and make something useful*
9. Read the entire Chronicles of Narnia series in Spanish (already read it in English, don't worry!)
10. Pray for every country in the world (July 21, 2014)
11. Donate blood
12. Compete in a national/international pageant or modeling competition (July 27, 2013- Miss International)
13. Finish my novel
14. Earn a $1,000.00 check from my Amway business
15. Go to Disney World
16. Fill an entire journal without tearing any pages out*
17. Meet my Spanish penpal (Check!)
18. Dress up as a lobster for Halloween (this has been a dream of mine since I was about 11) Halloween 2013!!
19. Write lyrics for ten songs and actually share them (not just keep them in my private journal!)
20. Sew a skirt
21. Learn how to play my guitar
22. Go back to Puebla (June 22, 2015- just drove through it,but it still counts!)
23. Go vegan for a month (Feb 10, 2014- Mar 10, 2014)
24. Follow through on my promise to Kayleigh to take her to the Rainforest Cafe
25. Learn American Sign Language
26. See "Michigan Katie" (Katie R.) face-to-face
27. Watch the Miss America pageant live in Vegas
28. See a live production of "Phantom of the Opera"
29. See all of the Lord of the Rings movies
30. Move ALL of my stuff out of my parents' house
31. Sponsor a Compassion Child again (Dec 30th, 2013- Lidia from El Salvador!)
32. Take a vacation with my girlfriends (overnight, outside of Wausau!) (July 2014- Winnepeg with Camille and Jeesoo!)
33. Learn how to ski or snowboard
34. Take my cousin, Mandy, on a fun trip somewhere to thank her for all the times she's let me crash with her (and carted me around) to modeling gigs in Milwaukee!
35. See a live Packer or Badger game
36. Have $2,500.00 in savings
37. Go a year without drinking soda*
38. Support a missionary at $50.00 a month for 12 months*
39. Be able to have a conversation in French with a native speaker
40. Run a 5K in under 20 minutes
41. Write a children's book and begin the publishing process
42. Become licensed as a Wisconsin foster parent (hopefully I'll be ready for my first placement, but we'll make getting the license my first goal!)
43. Make a vlog channel (Started Jan 21, 2012)
44. See my old roomie, Katie T, face-to-face...regardless of which side of the border we have to do it on! (June 22, 2015)
45. Go to a concert with Heather K, and NOT get snowed out this time!
46. Have my hair cut/highlighted and my nails done by a professional (I take pride in my DIY skills, but this would represent having the financial stability to have a pro do it!)
47. Take a picture with Miss America (had the chance with Caressa Cameron and chickened out- was mad at myself afterwards. I know for a fact that that crown will NOT go on a fan-snubber's head!)
48. Go on a two-day water-only fast (for prayer, not a crash diet!) (Check!)
49. Go to Central or South America
50. Be an actual teacher- have my OWN classroom and students! (May 24, 2012, started teaching at Northcentral Technical College)
*=In progress
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Reach Out Wausau Reflection: "Hablo Espanol"
When my church first started preparing for "Reach Out Wausau," a free clinic offering medical care, eye exams, a hot meal, free clothing, and various other services to the Wausau community, I was excited for my churchmates, but didn't pay much attention since I thought I'd be in Spain by then. Well, once I realized I would still be in Wausau on October 1st (the day of the clinic), I started thinking about signing up to be an "advocate" (a volunteer who would stay with an assigned family at the clinic and guide them to whatever services they needed). Several weeks before the clinic, Adam, the husband of one of the clinic-coordinators, urged me to sign up as a bilingual advocate. "A church in another community that didn't even think they had a Hispanic population did a clinic like this, and the people they served ended up being about 70% Hispanic," he told me.
Okay, Wausau definitely has a Hispanic population- that's why I had the job that I did at Kiefer last year. But..."I don't know if I'm really qualified to do it in Spanish," I told him. "I worked with little kids who spoke Spanish this past year (under the supervision of a teacher who speaks Spanish at a nearly-native level), but we're talking medical or deeply spiritual lingo, here."
"Well, I can tell you right now that, no matter how deep the language gets, a Spanish-speaker would be a lot better off with you than they would be with me, or most of the other people in our congregation," Adam pointed out.
Well, yeah, good point...so, I signed my name on the advocate sign-up sheet, and put "Bilingual- English/Spanish" immediately after it. I walked away wondering what I had just gotten myself into.
As I mulled it over in my head over the next few weeks, I was able to calm myself down (somewhat). I didn't think I could handle working with children in Spanish, either, and that had worked out just fine. And when I was studying abroad in Mexico, I managed to get through haircut appoints and doctor's visits- how bad could this be?
However, as October first approached, my nerves started acting up again, especially after we had our advocate training meeting the Monday before. Our associate pastor, Greg, reminded us, "If we give these people a free meal, free clothes, free medical care, or anything else they might need, but don't share the reason why we are doing this, we haven't given them anything." Our number one priority as volunteers was to share the love of Christ with them. I confess, while this should have been an encouraging reminder, it took me from "anxious" to "terrified". Could I even share my faith with a stranger in English?! How could I take this all on in Spanish?! To stress me out more, I discovered that only one other person had officially signed up as a Spanish-speaking advocate- he is certified to teach Spanish and is much more fluent than I am, but he was still only one person. It was pretty much a sure thing that I would be called upon to use my Spanish.
Saturday, the day of the clinic, my dad offered to drive me to church in order to save a parking space at the clinic. I'm glad he did, as I was a nervous wreck and probably wasn't fit to drive that morning! Anyone who saw me beforehand at the volunteer-meeting saw what a pile of nervous energy I was! My good friend, Maria, tried to calm me down and remind me that God was in control, but I barely heard what she said. As the meeting concluded, the advocates all lined up along the hallway that runs through the church building, and, with shaking hands, I wrote, "Habla Espanol" on my nametag. Already, families were lining up to register for the clinic, and many of them were speaking Spanish. Clinic coordinators were going through the line of advocates asking if anyone else could possibly speak Spanish- I think they might have found one other volunteer who said he'd give it a try. I watched as a few families were assigned to their advocates, including the first Spanish speaking family to come in. They were assigned to Eric, my Spanish-speaking churchmate. I watched him greet the family and interact with them confidently in Spanish, and fought the urge to compare my Spanish skills (and general social skills) with his. Then, Carrie, the clinic coordinator, approached me. "Hannah, we need you to take this couple; they need a Spanish speaker."
GAUGH, NO!! I CAN'T DO IT!! "Okay," was all I said out loud, and followed Carrie over to where the couple was seated. It was at that moment that I felt God asking me, "Who are you doing this for?"
Who was I doing this for? Was I wanting to show off my Spanish skills to my church family? Did I want this couple I was about to serve to see me as a hero? Was I trying to prove something to myself? No, that's not why I was here. I had signed up to help out so that God might be honored and glorified, and so that the love of Christ would be reflected to people in need. And nowhere in the Bible had God commanded me to speak another language like a native speaker- He had simply commanded me to rely on Him and follow where He lead me- and now, He was leading me to serve this couple. "Okay, God, take over. I am nothing without You," I prayed, then took a deep breath and gave the couple my warmest smile, "Buenas dias, soy Hannah," I greeted them.
From there, God answered my prayer and "took over." The couple were both able to get eye-exams and much-needed glasses, along with a wonderful meal, some clothes (they had just moved to Wisconsin and were very thankful for free winter clothes!), and information about some programs in the Wausau area that they needed. In between times, I was so blessed with the conversation I was able to have with them. I learned that they lived in Merrill, and had also lived in Wisconsin several years ago, and had lived in several different states in between (he was a construction worker, which moved him around a lot!). I learned that they had one son, who was married and had three children and lived in Peru. I told them that I had a brother who lived in Africa, and that I had lived in Wausau all my life, but had studied at UW La Crosse and had spent a year in Puebla, Mexico. It turned out they were from the same area and were familiar with the university where I'd been an exchange student. At one point, they mentioned that they had lived in Chicago for a short time. "Our pastor is from Chicago!" I told them. "He is a Bears fan. El le gusta los Osos de Chicago!"
"Los Osos de Chicago?!" the husband exclaimed dramatically. "No, no, no! Los GREEN BAY PACKERS!!" All three of us laughed together, and I was reminded of how much we had in common, despite our different cultural backgrounds. At another point in our day, he shared with me that he had suffered from "blastocysts" (comparable to cancer) on his brain several years ago, and didn't expect to live. A doctor had performed surgery, and he had suffered from severe depression afterwards, which is common after such a surgery. "But prayer is powerful, and our God heals," he told me. "Today, no blastocysts, and no depression, even though I never took medicine for the depression. God has healed me. Jesus is the great physician."
I was sad to have to say goodbye once they received everything they needed. We closed in prayer together, and they were presented with Spanish Bibles as a gift. They both gave me hugs and thanked me, asking me to pass their thanks along to everyone who had been a part of this clinic. I served one other guest (an English-speaker) before the clinic closed. (Eric and I joked that neither of us could think in English after speaking Spanish for so long!) As the volunteers began tearing down the clinic and resetting the church for Sunday morning, we all had stories to share- what started out as a cool idea had turned into an incredible day where we were reminded of God's goodness and faithfulness.
As I pulled into church this morning, I almost felt like it was the day after Christmas- weeks of preparation finally climaxing in an incredible event, and now it was all over. However, our speaker in church reminded us that we are called to be the light of the world- that doesn't mean we flip our light on for a Saturday and turn it off when the clinic closes. Being the light of the world is a 24-7 calling- and my prayer is that myself, my brothers and sisters at Wausau Alliance, and the entire Body of Christ might answer that call, all for the glory of God.
Okay, Wausau definitely has a Hispanic population- that's why I had the job that I did at Kiefer last year. But..."I don't know if I'm really qualified to do it in Spanish," I told him. "I worked with little kids who spoke Spanish this past year (under the supervision of a teacher who speaks Spanish at a nearly-native level), but we're talking medical or deeply spiritual lingo, here."
"Well, I can tell you right now that, no matter how deep the language gets, a Spanish-speaker would be a lot better off with you than they would be with me, or most of the other people in our congregation," Adam pointed out.
Well, yeah, good point...so, I signed my name on the advocate sign-up sheet, and put "Bilingual- English/Spanish" immediately after it. I walked away wondering what I had just gotten myself into.
As I mulled it over in my head over the next few weeks, I was able to calm myself down (somewhat). I didn't think I could handle working with children in Spanish, either, and that had worked out just fine. And when I was studying abroad in Mexico, I managed to get through haircut appoints and doctor's visits- how bad could this be?
However, as October first approached, my nerves started acting up again, especially after we had our advocate training meeting the Monday before. Our associate pastor, Greg, reminded us, "If we give these people a free meal, free clothes, free medical care, or anything else they might need, but don't share the reason why we are doing this, we haven't given them anything." Our number one priority as volunteers was to share the love of Christ with them. I confess, while this should have been an encouraging reminder, it took me from "anxious" to "terrified". Could I even share my faith with a stranger in English?! How could I take this all on in Spanish?! To stress me out more, I discovered that only one other person had officially signed up as a Spanish-speaking advocate- he is certified to teach Spanish and is much more fluent than I am, but he was still only one person. It was pretty much a sure thing that I would be called upon to use my Spanish.
Saturday, the day of the clinic, my dad offered to drive me to church in order to save a parking space at the clinic. I'm glad he did, as I was a nervous wreck and probably wasn't fit to drive that morning! Anyone who saw me beforehand at the volunteer-meeting saw what a pile of nervous energy I was! My good friend, Maria, tried to calm me down and remind me that God was in control, but I barely heard what she said. As the meeting concluded, the advocates all lined up along the hallway that runs through the church building, and, with shaking hands, I wrote, "Habla Espanol" on my nametag. Already, families were lining up to register for the clinic, and many of them were speaking Spanish. Clinic coordinators were going through the line of advocates asking if anyone else could possibly speak Spanish- I think they might have found one other volunteer who said he'd give it a try. I watched as a few families were assigned to their advocates, including the first Spanish speaking family to come in. They were assigned to Eric, my Spanish-speaking churchmate. I watched him greet the family and interact with them confidently in Spanish, and fought the urge to compare my Spanish skills (and general social skills) with his. Then, Carrie, the clinic coordinator, approached me. "Hannah, we need you to take this couple; they need a Spanish speaker."
GAUGH, NO!! I CAN'T DO IT!! "Okay," was all I said out loud, and followed Carrie over to where the couple was seated. It was at that moment that I felt God asking me, "Who are you doing this for?"
Who was I doing this for? Was I wanting to show off my Spanish skills to my church family? Did I want this couple I was about to serve to see me as a hero? Was I trying to prove something to myself? No, that's not why I was here. I had signed up to help out so that God might be honored and glorified, and so that the love of Christ would be reflected to people in need. And nowhere in the Bible had God commanded me to speak another language like a native speaker- He had simply commanded me to rely on Him and follow where He lead me- and now, He was leading me to serve this couple. "Okay, God, take over. I am nothing without You," I prayed, then took a deep breath and gave the couple my warmest smile, "Buenas dias, soy Hannah," I greeted them.
From there, God answered my prayer and "took over." The couple were both able to get eye-exams and much-needed glasses, along with a wonderful meal, some clothes (they had just moved to Wisconsin and were very thankful for free winter clothes!), and information about some programs in the Wausau area that they needed. In between times, I was so blessed with the conversation I was able to have with them. I learned that they lived in Merrill, and had also lived in Wisconsin several years ago, and had lived in several different states in between (he was a construction worker, which moved him around a lot!). I learned that they had one son, who was married and had three children and lived in Peru. I told them that I had a brother who lived in Africa, and that I had lived in Wausau all my life, but had studied at UW La Crosse and had spent a year in Puebla, Mexico. It turned out they were from the same area and were familiar with the university where I'd been an exchange student. At one point, they mentioned that they had lived in Chicago for a short time. "Our pastor is from Chicago!" I told them. "He is a Bears fan. El le gusta los Osos de Chicago!"
"Los Osos de Chicago?!" the husband exclaimed dramatically. "No, no, no! Los GREEN BAY PACKERS!!" All three of us laughed together, and I was reminded of how much we had in common, despite our different cultural backgrounds. At another point in our day, he shared with me that he had suffered from "blastocysts" (comparable to cancer) on his brain several years ago, and didn't expect to live. A doctor had performed surgery, and he had suffered from severe depression afterwards, which is common after such a surgery. "But prayer is powerful, and our God heals," he told me. "Today, no blastocysts, and no depression, even though I never took medicine for the depression. God has healed me. Jesus is the great physician."
I was sad to have to say goodbye once they received everything they needed. We closed in prayer together, and they were presented with Spanish Bibles as a gift. They both gave me hugs and thanked me, asking me to pass their thanks along to everyone who had been a part of this clinic. I served one other guest (an English-speaker) before the clinic closed. (Eric and I joked that neither of us could think in English after speaking Spanish for so long!) As the volunteers began tearing down the clinic and resetting the church for Sunday morning, we all had stories to share- what started out as a cool idea had turned into an incredible day where we were reminded of God's goodness and faithfulness.
As I pulled into church this morning, I almost felt like it was the day after Christmas- weeks of preparation finally climaxing in an incredible event, and now it was all over. However, our speaker in church reminded us that we are called to be the light of the world- that doesn't mean we flip our light on for a Saturday and turn it off when the clinic closes. Being the light of the world is a 24-7 calling- and my prayer is that myself, my brothers and sisters at Wausau Alliance, and the entire Body of Christ might answer that call, all for the glory of God.
Friday, September 16, 2011
God in the Details...
So, earlier this week I was offered a modeling job in Chicago- it wasn't glamorous and I only turned over a small profit, but it was with an agency that had just offered me a contract, so I was hoping it would be a chance to get my foot in the door for higher-profile jobs. The plan was for me to leave Wausau at 4:30am, meet up with the client and his wife in Hartford (near Milwaukee), drive to Chicago with them, and then return that evening to Wausau.
Well, Wednesday night I went to meet up with my good friend, Maria, for a bit, and then help out with AWANA at church. Just as I was pulling into our meeting spot, though, the "Brake" light came on in my car. I checked to make sure the emergency brake was off (it was...which I knew, since that car won't go over 3 mph with the e-brake on!). I was concerned, but I enjoyed my time with Maria, drove the car to church afterwards, and then drove home after AWANA. The brake light was on the entire time, even though I made absolutely certain the e-brake was off. I mentioned the problem to my dad when I got home, and after verifying that I had NOT just driven across town and back with the e-brake on, he decided it was probably an issue with the switch on the light. Annoying, but nothing that should stop me from driving to Milwaukee and back.
So, I left at 4:30am as planned on Thursday and made it to the client's home with no problem, successfully completed the modeling gig (easiest job ever, by the way. I literally had to stand there and look pretty for a few hours), then returned to Milwaukee with the clients and hopped into my car to drive home, expecting to be home in time to have dinner with my parents. I stopped to get gas before hitting the interstate, and as I pulled in I felt like I had to hit the brakes awful hard to stop...maybe I was going faster than I realized? Hmm...well, I filled up with gas and headed back toward highway 41. I slowed to a stop before turning onto the on-ramp, and that's when I realized my brakes were complete mush! Um...okay, how about if I don't get on the interstate and drive 75mph with mushy brakes?! (By the way...if you were one of the drivers that I confused with my sudden lane change out of the turn-lane, I apologize!)
I went further down the road hoping I could find a gas station or body shop to pull into, but all there was were residential areas and farmland. I finally pulled over in a residential area and called my dad to ask what he thought I should do. He advised me to find someone to look at the car and not drive it home until it was fixed. Thankfully, there happened to be a mom playing with her kids in front of one of the houses, so I approached her and asked if she knew who I could call. She turned out to be a police officer for the county and arranged for the sheriff to come out and call a tow-truck for me. Unfortunately, there was no way my car could be fixed until morning. The repair shop offered me a rental car to drive home, but my insurance wouldn't cover that, so it would cost several times more than what I had just made at the modeling job! Thankfully, I discovered I was actually in West Bend, where my (biological) sister, Justice lives. Actually, the auto repair place was just around the corner from her boyfriend's mother's house, where she was babysitting his little sister. Justice came to my rescue and picked me up, and they were nice enough to let me crash on their couch for the night. As frustrated as I was that I wasn't able to get home, it was great to catch up with my sister and meet her boyfriend's family (and so wonderful not to have to pay for a rental car or hotel!). My car was fixed by 1:00 this afternoon (it turned out that a brakeline had rusted through, and the brake fluid had leaked out), and I was back home by 3:30.
Reflecting on this whole string of events, I am awed by God's hand of protection and His provision. My brakes could have fallen apart in so many other places- as I was driving home from church on Wednesday (and my church is on top of an extremely steep hill!), before I made it to Milwaukee (which would have meant having to cancel the modeling gig and probably never being booked by the agency again), or, had it been 30 seconds later, as I was going 70 miles an hour on the interstate! The timing couldn't have been better on that one! Then, God lead me to a safe neighborhood where the right person to help me just happened to be standing outside with her children. To top it all of, I happened to be in the same town as my sister...even just a few blocks from the place that repaired my car!
What a great reminder of how, even in a time of frustration and uncertainty, God was still present and at work!!
Well, Wednesday night I went to meet up with my good friend, Maria, for a bit, and then help out with AWANA at church. Just as I was pulling into our meeting spot, though, the "Brake" light came on in my car. I checked to make sure the emergency brake was off (it was...which I knew, since that car won't go over 3 mph with the e-brake on!). I was concerned, but I enjoyed my time with Maria, drove the car to church afterwards, and then drove home after AWANA. The brake light was on the entire time, even though I made absolutely certain the e-brake was off. I mentioned the problem to my dad when I got home, and after verifying that I had NOT just driven across town and back with the e-brake on, he decided it was probably an issue with the switch on the light. Annoying, but nothing that should stop me from driving to Milwaukee and back.
So, I left at 4:30am as planned on Thursday and made it to the client's home with no problem, successfully completed the modeling gig (easiest job ever, by the way. I literally had to stand there and look pretty for a few hours), then returned to Milwaukee with the clients and hopped into my car to drive home, expecting to be home in time to have dinner with my parents. I stopped to get gas before hitting the interstate, and as I pulled in I felt like I had to hit the brakes awful hard to stop...maybe I was going faster than I realized? Hmm...well, I filled up with gas and headed back toward highway 41. I slowed to a stop before turning onto the on-ramp, and that's when I realized my brakes were complete mush! Um...okay, how about if I don't get on the interstate and drive 75mph with mushy brakes?! (By the way...if you were one of the drivers that I confused with my sudden lane change out of the turn-lane, I apologize!)
I went further down the road hoping I could find a gas station or body shop to pull into, but all there was were residential areas and farmland. I finally pulled over in a residential area and called my dad to ask what he thought I should do. He advised me to find someone to look at the car and not drive it home until it was fixed. Thankfully, there happened to be a mom playing with her kids in front of one of the houses, so I approached her and asked if she knew who I could call. She turned out to be a police officer for the county and arranged for the sheriff to come out and call a tow-truck for me. Unfortunately, there was no way my car could be fixed until morning. The repair shop offered me a rental car to drive home, but my insurance wouldn't cover that, so it would cost several times more than what I had just made at the modeling job! Thankfully, I discovered I was actually in West Bend, where my (biological) sister, Justice lives. Actually, the auto repair place was just around the corner from her boyfriend's mother's house, where she was babysitting his little sister. Justice came to my rescue and picked me up, and they were nice enough to let me crash on their couch for the night. As frustrated as I was that I wasn't able to get home, it was great to catch up with my sister and meet her boyfriend's family (and so wonderful not to have to pay for a rental car or hotel!). My car was fixed by 1:00 this afternoon (it turned out that a brakeline had rusted through, and the brake fluid had leaked out), and I was back home by 3:30.
Reflecting on this whole string of events, I am awed by God's hand of protection and His provision. My brakes could have fallen apart in so many other places- as I was driving home from church on Wednesday (and my church is on top of an extremely steep hill!), before I made it to Milwaukee (which would have meant having to cancel the modeling gig and probably never being booked by the agency again), or, had it been 30 seconds later, as I was going 70 miles an hour on the interstate! The timing couldn't have been better on that one! Then, God lead me to a safe neighborhood where the right person to help me just happened to be standing outside with her children. To top it all of, I happened to be in the same town as my sister...even just a few blocks from the place that repaired my car!
What a great reminder of how, even in a time of frustration and uncertainty, God was still present and at work!!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
So How Did it Feel to Have an Eating Disorder?
"So, how did it feel to have an eating disorder? I mean, how did you resist food all the time?"
This question was recently asked of me by a stranger in an online forum. Of course, the beauty/problem of the internet is that it allows you to conceal your identity- I don't know if this person was a 50 year old man or a teenage girl. It sounds like an innocent question- maybe a bit tactless, but innocent nonetheless. However, I remember when I, like so many other people, was the one asking that question...and my curiosity threw me into a long, downward spiral that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I'm hoping I can answer that question here (maybe, if I can remember where that forum was, I'll send that person a link to this blog.)
Let me start with an analogy that most of us can relate to. Have you ever thrown yourself into a project in a poorly ventilated room? Maybe you were doing intense labor in a room that was already hot and stuffy, and whatever you were doing was kicking up dust (or worse) to add to the atmosphere. Or maybe you were painting or polishing wood or gluing something with rubber cement, or coloring with magic markers, and didn't realize how suffocating the fumes were becoming? Maybe you started to feel a little headachey or nauseous, but you were determined to get that project done, so you kept plugging through it. When you finally finished, you stepped outside- and suddenly, the fresh air hits you. You didn't realize how severe that headache or nausea had become until that breath of clean air starting curing it. Why did you spend all day in that disgusting, polluted room? Well, at least now you have a finished project to show for it, right?
In some ways, that's kind of how an eating disorder feels. Let me explain. As early as age nine or ten, I caught on to something about society: people who were overweight were perceived as lazy, disgusting, a burden to others, and ugly. On the other hand, someone who was too thin was at best "lucky to have that problem," and at worse, "A poor, sick person who needs love and compassion." Okay, so apparently being too skinny was waaaaay better than being heavy.
I was also picking up on a message from the media- diet-product commercials and journalism stories talked about how people had gained weight and their lives had fallen apart, or how they had lost weight and their lives "were changed" for the better. Plus, by junior high, I was being exposed to teen movies and stories that glamorized eating disorders. It was always the prima ballerina, the head cheerleader, or the homecoming queen that was anorexic or bulimic. In the worst of these movies, the eating disorder lands her in the hospital (for a whole three minutes of the movie) and the boy she likes comes rushing in to tell her he has loved her all this time and doesn't want to lose her, or her controlling parents sit beside her hospital bed apologizing for pushing her to this point and promising to listen to her from now on. By the next scene, she's fully recovered, still looking like a model, and hand in hand with her new boyfriend or laughing with her parents about something.
I remember in 6th grade, a few of my girlfriends and I discussed how we "wondered what it was like" to have an eating disorder. I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that maybe MY life would be "changed forever" if I dropped some weight, or picturing my crush sitting beside my hospital bed begging me to get well so he could be my boyfriend. At any rate, I was terrified of gaining weight (even though I knew I wasn't done growing yet) because gaining weight made one "disgusting," didn't it?
So, one day when I was almost twelve, I gave in to my curiosity and my fear of gaining weight and tried making myself throw up- actually, I don't think it was the first time I tried, but it was the first time I succeeded. And it didn't feel good at all, but, somehow, it felt like a great accomplishment to me. From that point on, the suffocating fumes of addiction began to flow around me, but I refused to stop because I wanted to "finish" what I started. I knew that my sore throat was caused by purging or that skipping lunch would mean I couldn't focus on my afternoon classes. I knew that the headaches and nausea I felt were the result of disordered eating habits (although I wouldn't admit it to myself). But I was determined to fit into size zero clothes and weigh under 100 pounds all my life, so I wouldn't give up.
I remember a few times when I tried to stop- I remember meeting my friend's mom who had severe dental damage as a result of being sick and throwing up all the time, and fearing that bulimia would cause the same problem for me. But I couldn't stop- the minute I was left home alone or had the chance to skip a meal unnoticed, I would find myself slipping again. Food had control over me- I was either terrified of it, or I was turning to it for comfort or stress relief, followed by painful episodes of purging. I was willing to sacrifice my own integrity for it- I'd lie to cover up my disordered habits, or steel food and hide it...and then I wondered who I was. Didn't I claim to be a follower of Christ? Wasn't I looked up to as a leader in my church youth group and school Bible club? Why was I doing all this?! Of course, the stress those questions caused me only lead me to more episodes of binging and purging or starving myself.
Freedom finally came for me one night when I was seventeen and a senior in high school. I was on a retreat with my church group and listened to a message about offering myself as a "Living Sacrifice," to God. For the first time, I saw my eating disorder not as just a bad habit, but as an addiction and a sin...a sin that God wanted me to give over to Him so that I could find freedom in Him. When my youth pastor initiated an alter call, I went forward and knelt down to surrender my struggle to God. Afterwards, I confessed to the other girls and female youth leaders, and then went with my three closest friends to call my parents and tell them the truth. I had expected judgment (so much for the fantasies in the movies) but only received assurance that I was loved and that my friends and family would stick by me on the road to recovery.
That was when I stepped out of the stuffy, fume-filled room into the fresh air. I had forgotten what it was like to be free of addiction and to have food as an alli, rather than an enemy of my health. I had not realized how much my eating disorder had taken over my life until I remembered what it was like to be physically and emotionally healthy.
There's one way, though, that my opening analogy fails: after I stepped out of that addiction-polluted room into the fresh air of freedom, there was no successful, completed "project" to show for it. I wasn't any more pretty, popular, or successful than I would have been without the pain and suffering I'd put myself through. I try not to dwell on what could have been, but sometimes I wonder how my teen years would have been different if I had committed to a healthy lifestyle, rather than allowing an eating disorder to overtake me. I played tennis from 8th to 12th grade, and I doubt I could have been a star, but maybe I would have won more matches or made the lower end of varsity if I had been physically healthier. Maybe I could have done better academically if I had been more energized and able to focus on school. I guess those are questions that can never be answered. I am extremely blessed in that I recovered physically 100% from my eating disorder- I have heard horror stories of people facing lifelong medical issues, ranging from not being able to lay down unless their stomach is empty (or else they'll throw up) to sterility.
So, to the person who asked me, I hope that answers your question. I am so grateful for God's forgiveness, mercy, and healing power...but, if I had the chance to travel back in time to any day of my life, I would choose that day when I was twelve, and just never take that first step.
This question was recently asked of me by a stranger in an online forum. Of course, the beauty/problem of the internet is that it allows you to conceal your identity- I don't know if this person was a 50 year old man or a teenage girl. It sounds like an innocent question- maybe a bit tactless, but innocent nonetheless. However, I remember when I, like so many other people, was the one asking that question...and my curiosity threw me into a long, downward spiral that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I'm hoping I can answer that question here (maybe, if I can remember where that forum was, I'll send that person a link to this blog.)
Let me start with an analogy that most of us can relate to. Have you ever thrown yourself into a project in a poorly ventilated room? Maybe you were doing intense labor in a room that was already hot and stuffy, and whatever you were doing was kicking up dust (or worse) to add to the atmosphere. Or maybe you were painting or polishing wood or gluing something with rubber cement, or coloring with magic markers, and didn't realize how suffocating the fumes were becoming? Maybe you started to feel a little headachey or nauseous, but you were determined to get that project done, so you kept plugging through it. When you finally finished, you stepped outside- and suddenly, the fresh air hits you. You didn't realize how severe that headache or nausea had become until that breath of clean air starting curing it. Why did you spend all day in that disgusting, polluted room? Well, at least now you have a finished project to show for it, right?
In some ways, that's kind of how an eating disorder feels. Let me explain. As early as age nine or ten, I caught on to something about society: people who were overweight were perceived as lazy, disgusting, a burden to others, and ugly. On the other hand, someone who was too thin was at best "lucky to have that problem," and at worse, "A poor, sick person who needs love and compassion." Okay, so apparently being too skinny was waaaaay better than being heavy.
I was also picking up on a message from the media- diet-product commercials and journalism stories talked about how people had gained weight and their lives had fallen apart, or how they had lost weight and their lives "were changed" for the better. Plus, by junior high, I was being exposed to teen movies and stories that glamorized eating disorders. It was always the prima ballerina, the head cheerleader, or the homecoming queen that was anorexic or bulimic. In the worst of these movies, the eating disorder lands her in the hospital (for a whole three minutes of the movie) and the boy she likes comes rushing in to tell her he has loved her all this time and doesn't want to lose her, or her controlling parents sit beside her hospital bed apologizing for pushing her to this point and promising to listen to her from now on. By the next scene, she's fully recovered, still looking like a model, and hand in hand with her new boyfriend or laughing with her parents about something.
I remember in 6th grade, a few of my girlfriends and I discussed how we "wondered what it was like" to have an eating disorder. I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that maybe MY life would be "changed forever" if I dropped some weight, or picturing my crush sitting beside my hospital bed begging me to get well so he could be my boyfriend. At any rate, I was terrified of gaining weight (even though I knew I wasn't done growing yet) because gaining weight made one "disgusting," didn't it?
So, one day when I was almost twelve, I gave in to my curiosity and my fear of gaining weight and tried making myself throw up- actually, I don't think it was the first time I tried, but it was the first time I succeeded. And it didn't feel good at all, but, somehow, it felt like a great accomplishment to me. From that point on, the suffocating fumes of addiction began to flow around me, but I refused to stop because I wanted to "finish" what I started. I knew that my sore throat was caused by purging or that skipping lunch would mean I couldn't focus on my afternoon classes. I knew that the headaches and nausea I felt were the result of disordered eating habits (although I wouldn't admit it to myself). But I was determined to fit into size zero clothes and weigh under 100 pounds all my life, so I wouldn't give up.
I remember a few times when I tried to stop- I remember meeting my friend's mom who had severe dental damage as a result of being sick and throwing up all the time, and fearing that bulimia would cause the same problem for me. But I couldn't stop- the minute I was left home alone or had the chance to skip a meal unnoticed, I would find myself slipping again. Food had control over me- I was either terrified of it, or I was turning to it for comfort or stress relief, followed by painful episodes of purging. I was willing to sacrifice my own integrity for it- I'd lie to cover up my disordered habits, or steel food and hide it...and then I wondered who I was. Didn't I claim to be a follower of Christ? Wasn't I looked up to as a leader in my church youth group and school Bible club? Why was I doing all this?! Of course, the stress those questions caused me only lead me to more episodes of binging and purging or starving myself.
Freedom finally came for me one night when I was seventeen and a senior in high school. I was on a retreat with my church group and listened to a message about offering myself as a "Living Sacrifice," to God. For the first time, I saw my eating disorder not as just a bad habit, but as an addiction and a sin...a sin that God wanted me to give over to Him so that I could find freedom in Him. When my youth pastor initiated an alter call, I went forward and knelt down to surrender my struggle to God. Afterwards, I confessed to the other girls and female youth leaders, and then went with my three closest friends to call my parents and tell them the truth. I had expected judgment (so much for the fantasies in the movies) but only received assurance that I was loved and that my friends and family would stick by me on the road to recovery.
That was when I stepped out of the stuffy, fume-filled room into the fresh air. I had forgotten what it was like to be free of addiction and to have food as an alli, rather than an enemy of my health. I had not realized how much my eating disorder had taken over my life until I remembered what it was like to be physically and emotionally healthy.
There's one way, though, that my opening analogy fails: after I stepped out of that addiction-polluted room into the fresh air of freedom, there was no successful, completed "project" to show for it. I wasn't any more pretty, popular, or successful than I would have been without the pain and suffering I'd put myself through. I try not to dwell on what could have been, but sometimes I wonder how my teen years would have been different if I had committed to a healthy lifestyle, rather than allowing an eating disorder to overtake me. I played tennis from 8th to 12th grade, and I doubt I could have been a star, but maybe I would have won more matches or made the lower end of varsity if I had been physically healthier. Maybe I could have done better academically if I had been more energized and able to focus on school. I guess those are questions that can never be answered. I am extremely blessed in that I recovered physically 100% from my eating disorder- I have heard horror stories of people facing lifelong medical issues, ranging from not being able to lay down unless their stomach is empty (or else they'll throw up) to sterility.
So, to the person who asked me, I hope that answers your question. I am so grateful for God's forgiveness, mercy, and healing power...but, if I had the chance to travel back in time to any day of my life, I would choose that day when I was twelve, and just never take that first step.
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