About that Extra Five Pounds I Gained Over the Holidays

A reminder from the archives; because I need it!

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It’s still hanging around.

I can feel it, and I know when you hold me, you do too.

It was unfortunate that the elliptical broke mid-September and attempts to collect on that warranty proved fruitless. It became a monstrous clothesline—convenient for hanging jackets and sweatshirts on arms and pedals and console. And then the cold snap, with temperatures so low these running legs became paralyzed. Remarkable then, that my right heel bruised tender with plantar fasciitis, protesting with each step. We were sequestered inside with Christmas cookies and muffuletta sandwiches and that extra, unnecessary cocktail.

Those little treats remain with me, reminding of the making merry—echoing laughter around my waist. Sometimes hospitality means a second helping. And so around mid-December I began to feel it—the slight snugging of my clothes, a gentle softening around the edges of me.

We are getting back on track, of course we are. But slowly. There are more important things. Like the way you still think I’m beautiful. How you pull me close, and the way our bodies melt like wax together. It’s a thick kind of love that breathes under fingers, a love that sees beyond the skin, beyond the years, and peers back into the wedding day.

You still look at me with fire in your eyes, because you see the “imperishable” beauty that Peter talked about (1 Peter 3:3-6). And because you love me this way, I also can. I can love myself enough to feel beautiful, to see with God eyes and embrace beauty from the inside out.

I can love myself enough to embrace these extra five pounds. But also enough to take better care of this fragile vessel, this temple for the Spirit I carry within my skin.

So about that five extra pounds I gained over the holidays? I’m not too worried about them. They may be here for a little while longer. But I’m taking my eyes off the scales and looking through Love.

And I doubt I’ll even notice when they’re gone.

The Weight of Waiting: A Giveaway

Last week we finally had our first frost and I was forced to abandon waiting on those last green tomatoes to turn. I picked the vines clean, tomato and pepper, marveling all the while at such a bounty in the second week of November.

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November. How can it be November, I mused? I sat at the kitchen table with a filled-to-the-brim colander in front of me and watched the leaves drop off the walnut trees. They fell from the branches in huge clumps, looking like birds dropping down to the earth.

I’d hoped to can this final crop but I knew the busy would catch up to me first. So I bagged up a poke of chilis and sent them off to a friend—another lover of growing things. It felt good to give away something long-awaited.

I’m attempting to lean into waiting seasons,” says my friend Kris Camealy, in her Advent devotional Come Lord Jesus, “to let God grow in me, a holy promise for the things promised but not yet revealed.”

Advent begins November 27th, and I can hardly catch my breath thinking it. Tomorrow we will pick up our boy from college—the nest will be full again for a short time. My hungry heart beats joy at the thought of kith and kin gathered around the hearth again. Thanksgiving ushers in that season of waiting in the sweetest of ways, stoking our hearts with wonder for the most common moments.

Advent always stirs that deep longing, fills with expectation. I strain my neck to see the manger, but also look inward to find Christ in me. I look ahead to the day when all will be made new in this tired world. Sometimes, it’s hard to let that work begin with me, let my fingers slip from the tight grip with which I hold it all. Waiting is hard.

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John Calvin said that the world is a theater of God’s glory, that he is “inclined to allure us to himself by gentle and loving means.” In his book Ravished by Beauty, theologian Belden C. Lane says, “[P]raise is a matter of studying in minute detail the footprints of God in the world.” He is referring to nature, but I have followed God’s footprints through the ways he is working in the lives of those I love of late. Some things are worth waiting for: watching my boys become amazing young men, feeling the bloom of marriage open into full blossom, friendships that weather the long storms …

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The past two weekends our church hosted a War Chest Boutique party for WAR International. If you’re not familiar with that ministry and its good work, by all means, read about it here. They are fighting human trafficking, among other things, and helping victims of this atrocity rebuild their lives by training them to in the craft of jewelry-making and the like. We sold over $1800 of merchandise. I find it a fitting thing to give away some of that beauty as we prepare to usher in Advent. Purple is the color of Advent, so we have a purple theme going on. If you’d like a chance to win a signed copy of Kris Camealy’s Advent devotional Come Lord Jesus: The Weight of Waiting, a beautiful purple clutch purse, an Amethyst chip ring, and a lovely  handcrafted Christmas ornament, just leave a comment on this post. I’ll announce the winner next Friday, November 25th.

This year I will step into Advent with thanksgiving and wonder and awe. This is how I feel God grow in me, this is the gift of waiting: the giving back of what has been sown and waited for, the giving away of that which has been tended with love.

April Fools

church windows
It snowed
on the first of
April and I
slept through the
sunrise; clutched
dreams tight to my
chest. rest, you
said, when my
eyes tried to flutter.
rest. I awakened
to find that heaven
had let down her
hair—those pearled
strands of gossamer 
thread striving
for the earth. you
came home early
and we walked
through tendrils—my
feet wet but
bivouacked under 
love,  my
bare hand was
warm in yours and
the earth slurped
deep from the
frozen drink of
the April fools.