Scar Tissue

The reasons for many of my scars :)

I have six scars on my abdomen.

Some are larger than others, but each of them tells a story. A few days ago I was at my post-op appointment for the hernia surgery I had two weeks ago. The surgeon remarked how he had opted to make incisions lower than normal in case I ever "wanted to wear a bathing suit that shows your abdomen."

Leave it to a surgeon to use five separate words in place of "bikini." Anyway.

I got to thinking about it. The past few years have been big for me in terms of body image/acceptance/love. Negative body image and an eating disorder are in my past- not something I enjoy discussing, so I won't go into the specifics of it, but know that there were many years of struggle to overcome some debilitating habits and, more importantly, some deeply held beliefs. For whatever reason, I had come to connect my self worth with the number on a scale or the size of my jeans or how many of my ab muscles were visible. When I got married it got a bit better, but I wouldn't say I was completely okay with myself until the last couple of years. It was probably a combination of things, but turning 30 and having my third son really seemed to mark a turning point in how I felt about myself.

As a Christian, my self worth is found solely in my savior. At 31, I have been a Christian for almost half my life now, but for whatever reason I had been unable to give up this struggle with pride and anxiety over my body image. Last time we went to Florida, I did hide my abdominal scars. Yet in recent months I've been able to step back from those negative thoughts and question their validity- the number on the scale or tag does not determine my worth. A few extra blemishes doesn't make me unworthy of Jesus's sacrifice-- I was unworthy anyway. My entire being belongs to Jesus and he chose to die for me because he loves me. He loves ME. It is finished. Previously, a doctor mentioning all the scars and how I would want to hide them probably would have made me ashamed. (For the record- my surgeon is a great guy and in no way was he trying to imply I should be ashamed of all the scars, he's just a dude saying what he always says and I'm just a woman reading WAY TOO MUCH into everything.)

Anyway, the scars on my belly used to bring me sadness.

Two are from my ectopic pregnancy, the loss of our first sweet baby.

One is from my C- section with Silas, which contributed to my PPD.

And now, three news ones from a hernia caused by carrying my children.

But where I once saw reminders of sad memories, I realized last night that I now see them as stories of strength. My husband pointed out that each of the scars comes, both directly and indirectly, from our marriage, and our children.  The ectopic pregnancy was devastating, but through it I saw miracles and have been able to share the gospel many times over. The C-section wasn't what I hoped or dreamed but it brought me Silas who now is a healthy, vibrant 6 year old. The hernia was excruciating and the recovery hasn't been all roses, but each time I look at these three new scars forming I'm reminded of how my body changed and grew to make room for my sons.

Jesus's scars have purpose- this sermon by Spurgeon explains that his scars establish his identity, they are his "glories" and precious jewels, his trophies of love. When I will look on his scars I can't even imagine the gratitude and love I'll feel.

My scars, in turn, remind me of who I am- what Christ has done for me, the graciousness of God and the blessings he's given me in this life. They tell a story of redemption and life, and I will never be ashamed again.

Parking Lot Gospel

Today was not one of my finer days.  It started out well enough-- my kids actually slept till 7, we got a good hour and a half in of school, and the fighting was pretty minimal between my boys.  I decided to load up the kiddos in my big, giant, gas-guzzling SUV and haul them to the library to pick up the books I'd put on hold for our next couple of homeschool units.  I also made a list of birthday-party-items I thought I'd get at Hobby Lobby (my new obsession, even though I am probably the least crafty person on the planet. Do you know how many amazing things they have there???)

I should have stayed home.

First, Oliver fell asleep about 5 minutes into the drive (I don't know about you, but it ruins.my.life when my kids fall asleep in the car.  "I took a 3 minute nap! I don't need another one! But I will cry ALL DAY LONG because I AM SO TIRED!!") When I maneuvered my giant SUV into the library parking lot, of course it was full.  But aha! I spotted ONE open spot... squeeeeezed in between a median and another SUV, which was *slightly over* the line, and whose driver was currently strapping a baby into a stroller.

Maybe it's because I'm pregnant/delusional/same thing, but I really thought I could make it.

Yeah.  Remember my GIANT SUV? Not so much.

I ended up scratching this poor woman's (much nicer than ours) SUV while she and her kids watched in horror.  I was in horror.  Silas was in horror.  Oliver, who up until this point had been taking a nice little snooze, woke up and BECAME a horror.

I have rarely felt so humiliated.  How could I ever think my hulk of a vehicle could fit into such a tiny space?? The woman was actually very kind, we exchanged information and the damage will be taken care of (by us, of course).  The boys and I picked up our books and got out of there, abandoning the rest of the errands I had planned to run today.  The whole time, Oliver (who had calmed down but was now fascinated by what had taken place) kept saying, "Mommy, you hit dat car, mommy? You do dat? You say sowwy, Mommy?"  Thank you, child.

I was shaky, but I really lost my composure once I got home.  I just couldn't believe I'd done something so dumb.  In full view of my kids.

I spent some time berating myself for my stupidity, and then feeling sorry for myself because I was so stupid.  And then I realized that maybe it would be a good time to pray.  So I did-- I prayed for the poor woman whose car I hit, her kids who saw the whole thing.  I prayed for my kids, who also saw the whole thing.  And as I prayed, my attitude about the event began to change.  I started to thank God for things-- obviously, I should NOT have hit this car.  But I did.  I screwed up, and I cannot change that.  But the woman was so kind and gracious, when she really could have chosen not to be-- and I wouldn't have blamed her one bit.  I did not deserve her kindness, but I am still thanking God that she showed me such grace.  I got to thinking about how this is an illustration of how God shows us grace on a much bigger scale.  I absolutely 100% deserve whatever anger and wrath this woman had towards me.  But she chose not to react that way, and I'm so thankful.

I also absolutely 100% deserve the wrath of God.  It's true.  Yes, God loves me, but he is also holy.  This means, in the limited understanding my tiny brain can grasp, that unless I can live up to the perfect standard HE (not me) sets, I will ultimately face the wrath of God.

It is pretty obvious that I do not, and in fact, can not live up to these standards.  But praise God, he has made a way to show me grace-- completely undeserved grace.  2 Corinthians 5:21 says, "For he made him who knew no sin to be sin for us, so that we might be made the righteousness of God in him."  One of my favorite verses, hands down.  The hope of the world, summed up in that there sentence.

Though this woman was exceedingly gracious, there will still be consequences for me (insurance rates go up, money out of pocket at not such a great time).  Though my sins are forgiven, and I am spared the wrath of God, I will still face some consequences for my sinful choices and actions.

However.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ--by grace you have been saved-- and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.  For by grace you have been saved through faith.  And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." --Ephesians 2:4-9

Words cannot describe my thankfulness and gratitude for grace-- ALL grace, which (directly as well as indirectly) comes from God.

I am also thankful for cupcakes, which I purchased and consumed later to heal my wounded pride.

This is my son Oliver, wearing a helmet while I drive, which is probably a good idea.

..On Failing.

I think it's pretty clear from my posts that I do NOT have it all together.  My house does not look like it belongs in a magazine, my kids are not perfect (or even really all that clean), I have issues folding socks and would really rather use paper plates all the time if I could.  I am a Pinterest failure.

Often as mommies I think we inadvertently (or sometimes ...advertently... ? on purpose, I mean) engage in the competition/comparison battle.  We women (generalization alert) spend way too much time comparing ourselves to each other, and then judging one another--- along with ourselves-- based on what we *think* we see.

In my own small way, I am going to combat this by sharing with you a list of things that I am absolutely terrible at.  Next week I may share a list of things I'm good at, but who are we kidding, I suck at blogging on schedule so let's plan for October. (<--One more thing on the list...)

1. Cleaning high spaces.

THIS is a picture of a cobweb in a window in my dining room.  I do not look at these window corners.  I do not, obviously, clean these windows.  My fans also haven't been dusted in maybe a year.  You can usually find a long dusty cobweb strand or two hanging down from the ceiling in  room corner.  I really don't care.
Maybe I should...

2. Weeding my garden.
I love our garden.  We grow lots of yummy things-- sweet corn, all sorts of peppers and tomatoes, herbs, cucumbers, beans, broccoli and cauliflower, etc.  We also grow some not-so-yummy things (KOHLRABI).  Mostly, we grow weeds.  When I quit my job to be a SAHM I had visions of myself spending time on my knees in the garden, my hair pulled back in a kerchief (right? is that what it's called?) pulling weeds while imparting Biblical wisdom to my children, who were playing sweetly nearby.  This has NEVER happened in my almost 4 years of staying at home.  Not one bit of it.  I think I've been in there to weed twice.  And nobody was being very sweet while I was in there, myself included.

3. Saving money/electricity.
I love air conditioning.  As much as I wax poetic about living off the grid, when the rubber hits the road I will almost certainly spend the vast majority of July and August in the basement.  Today in eastern Iowa it's about 92 degrees with 90% humidity.  I spent most of the day outside and really felt like I was melting.  My amazing, hard-working husband works outside, an average of 72-80 hours a week, in this (and worse) heat.  I am conceding my homesteading hat to him.  I am a huge wimp, and am planning on researching solar-powered AC.  Or inventing it.

4. Keeping my mouth shut.
If you read this post, you'll know that I blamed this on my pregnancy hormones.  Most of the time I'm not so rude.  However.  The truth is, if I REALLY and TRULY think I know something to be true, and I REALLY and TRULY believe that you are wrong, there is no stopping me from letting you know.  THIS is something I have to work on.  I am wrong a lot, and it's humbling to admit that-- especially to others.  This is a spiritual battle for me.  I am a know-it-all and I like to, ahem, share my wisdom with others.  If took me a very long time to admit my desperate need for a Savior, despite me *knowing,* intellectually, that I was a sinner.  Realizing that my own justification and reason were NOT enough to save me from the holy wrath of God took several months and years of painful sanctification-- and really still is an ongoing process.

5. Not comparing myself to other women/mothers.
Last year at MOPS I heard something that was a revelation to me.  When we think about our children, and how special and beautiful they are, each in their own way, it would be devastating as a parent to have a child constantly wishing that he or she were a completely different person-- ignoring the strengths and skills and characteristics they were given and spending all their time wishing they had someone else's.  Why, then, as women/mothers/daughters of Jesus do we do this? Instead of being thankful, humbled, and blessed by the gifts God has given me, do I constantly look at other women and envy/covet who they are and what they have? God has created me to bring glory to Him in my current situation-- and I. Am. Blessed.  I need to praise Him and thank Him where I am at, with everything He's given me {and He's given me everything}.

There's a lot of other stuff I'm bad at, but I'm tired.

Is there anything you're terrible at? What has it taught you about yourself, and your relationship with Jesus?

5 Things I Learned from Reality TV

This is a picture of my son and his cousin.  They are wearing buckets for hats, which would probably be considered haute couture on Project Runway.

I'm a big fan of Buzzfeed.  Whether it's something incredibly important that I need to learn about myself, like how big of a Harry Potter fan am I REALLY, or something really ACTUALLY important like which member of the Baby-Sitter's Club I am, I always find myself entertained and/or enlightened as I procrastinate.  Today I was inspired to create my own little list, which will probably help you grow as a person in ways you can't even imagine.

My list is called: 5 Things I Learned from Watching Reality TV

THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT

1. Always carry a fire-starter with you.
I'm a giant, huge fan of Naked and Afraid.  If you're wondering, no, it's not because they're naked (usually pretty gross-- first they're all white and flabby and then they're sun-burned skeletons).  It's because, as you know, I'm a bit of a prepper.  Not as in "I have a stockpile of weapons and seventeen years of toilet paper in my bomb shelter" but as in "I'm not convinced things aren't going to go downhill economically so I have a lot of rice and canned goods."  I like to call myself optimistically pre-Trib, but realistically post-Trib.  These factors combine into a fascination with survival shows.  I love Bear Grylls, but Naked and Afraid is the best.  These people know their stuff-- or they get legitimately injured or deathly ill and have to be e-vac'd off of whatever remote tundra they've been dropped onto.  The ONE BIGGEST TIP I've learned from this show is that whatever Egyptian-Bow-Drill-Hatchet-mechanism you SWEAR worked in your backyard the last 300 times you did it WILL NOT WORK in an actual survival situation.  So stock up on lighters, people. The last thing you want when the zombies come is a wicked case of cryptosporidium.

2. Hats aren't for everyone.
A few years ago I started watching Project Runway.  I'm not a huge fashionista (most of my wardrobe is from Target) but I do love watching creative people create.  I also wish I knew how to sew (more than hems and buttons and the occasional curtain, anyway) so Project Runway is one of my favorites.  I've learned that much of fashion is out of my reach, both economically and aesthetically, but I have noticed that many of the hats attempted by Project Runway alumni are utterly ridiculous.  Don't get my wrong-- they are glorious and amazing, but like much couture fashion, if you ever tried to wear one you'd probably be mistaken for an extra terrestrial.  Hats work for Posh Spice and all those other London-ers and Ketucky Derby-ers.  Hats, however, do not work for everyone.

3. Listen to your elders. 
I love Deadliest Catch.  I love watching how these people make their living in the toughest way I can imagine.  I also love Mike Rowe's voice.  Anyway, if you ever want to spot a train wreck a mile before it happens, watch a cocky greenhorn on Deadliest Catch.  About ten minutes into hauling their first set of pots (see how I used crab-fishing-terminology there? Not quite sure what it means or if I used it correctly, but I feel like part of the of the Northwestern crew right now) the newbie who was sure he was the good Lord's gift to crab fishing is slipping all over the deck in his own vomit, whining that everyone is mean to him and he can't keep up.  All these things are true, of course, but things would probably go a whole lot better if he would have kept his mouth shut, tried harder, and obeyed every order given to him.  Who wants to get on Freddie Maugatai's bad side? AN INSANE IDIOT, THAT'S WHO.

4. Pick up your crap.
Hoarders is a sad, fascinating show.  Every time I watch it I'm equal parts disgusted and saddened.  I'm disgusted because, let's face it, someone living in literal feet of their own literal excrement is at the top of the grossness scale.  I'm saddened because there are people in this world who have to-- or, as it may be debated, choose to-- live this way.  Yet once it's on, I have a hard time turning it off.  And seriously, it's been a great motivator for me when I'm lazy and tired and just don't feel like picking stuff up-- because here in Iowa in the summer, if you don't wash your dirty dishes fairly soon, you will have ant colonies take up residence in your kitchen.  And while ants aren't cockroaches or possums or cat skeletons, they can be kind of icky.

5. Make ice cream.
I love the Food Network.  I fancy myself a decent home-cook, and I love to try new things.  I love watching Chopped-- where four elite chefs compete to make the best meal out of crazy mystery basket ingredients like pig's ears and squid lips and root beer.  I have noticed, however, that the person who wins is almost always the person who makes ice cream for dessert.  You'd think the rest of the world would notice this and the judges would be having ice cream on nearly every show, but I guess it hasn't caught on yet.  Seriously, everyone who throws their twinkies and olives and hot dogs in some heavy cream and sugar into the ice cream machine is guaranteed to be the winner.

So there you go.  An utterly useless list of things that you needed to know to improve your life.  Once again, you're welcome.