Why Your Body is Not Your Masterpiece

I read a fabulous blog a few years ago by Glennon Doyle Melton called, "Your Body is Not Your Masterpiece." I haven't read the post since it first came out, but I found myself thinking of its sentiments today.

I have long been obsessed with my body. Specifically, how much my body weighed on a scale at every single possible time of the day.  I think this began when I entered puberty, when I suddenly gained a bunch of weight and felt awkward and bulky and out of sorts. From when I was around 12 years old onward, I started weighing myself multiple times a day. I weighed myself so many times every day that the batteries in one of our family scales died after a few years of being subjected to this regular torture.

And this obsession with weight is something that never really went away. I developed an eating disorder in late high school, marched on, and then had several unhealthy encounters with weight as an adult. Until a few months ago, I continued weighing myself multiple times a day, sometimes up to 10 times a day, all in an effort to stay on top of my weight.

I think I was obsessed with weight because I had bought into the lie that our culture sells, that Your Body Is Your Masterpiece. I think that weight mattered so much to me because I did not consider the rest of my body attractive at all -- and so was convinced that I had to stay on top of my weight at all costs.

I am very proud to report that I have not weighed myself since the end of July. I am 100% positive this is the longest I have ever gone in my life without stepping on a scale. I am positive that I have gained weight in this period of time since I am no longer micro-monitoring everything (and the fact that my clothes seem to not fit as well now is further evidence . .  .), but I don't ultimately care because I feel like I have finally broken through and gotten rid of this ridiculous obsession.

What this whole experience has shown me is that Your Body is NOT Your Masterpiece . . . your body is, as the essay by this name articulates, a tool. Like any tools, those that are taken care of regularly will be able to perform much better (so eating well, sleeping enough, exercising regularly, and all of those boring things like flossing really do matter), but ultimately, it's what we create with our tool that is important. No one is interested in Michelangelo's paintbrush . . . they are much more interested in the Sistine Chapel that he used that paintbrush to create.

May we all work together to rid ourselves of whatever demons we might face -- and come together in the support of the notion that we should celebrate our creations much more than our tools!

On Stewardship

As a CPA and an accounting professor, it is probably not too surprising that I have sat on the Stewardship & Finance committee at my church for the past six years. This is a committee that connects two distinct responsibilities - helping to set and manage the church budget (finance), as well as encouraging people to dig deep in ways that respond to God's love through faithful and generous giving (stewardship). I am comfortable with what it means to carry out the finance role of our church committee. I am much less comfortable in figuring out how to motivate people to increase their levels of stewardship and giving to the church, in part because this is such a personal, private journey for people. My goal is to help shed a little more light on our own family's journey and what stewardship means to us. 

I am someone who is naturally a saver. I saved just about every penny of all of my babysitting jobs as a teenager. I saved almost every bit of the first four years of part-time work. A total stranger once stopped and asked me if I was a tightwad. My nickname among my high school friends was the Frugal Shopper, because I hated spending money. 

But in recent years, I have tried very hard to transform myself from someone who is a "saver" into someone who is also a "giver." I somewhat feel that I cheated at this. I have heard narratives from people in the early throes of marriage, with almost no money, who still managed to tithe and give 10% of all income to the church. This is not my story. When we were broke and had almost no money, we gave almost no money to the church, because I felt depleted and that we had almost nothing left to give. 

Instead, what happened is that my husband and I made a conscious decision when we graduated with our PhDs and began working full-time as professors that we would tithe and give 10% of our earnings to our church. It was a decision we made knowing that our incomes were getting ready to rise, and that we never miss the extra money if we acted as if we never have it. (And can I just say, I feel extremely self-conscious talking about money because it is so personal and value-laden and private and just tacky if you are too open and up front.) 

But through this process, what happened as we started tithing is that my attitude about money slowly started changing. Instead of worrying about maximizing the amount that we saved, I instead tried to challenge myself to maximize what we gave. I began to see opportunities everywhere where we could make a difference, and tried to jump on it. If an organization or an individual or a cause was in need of financial support, I challenged myself to give if possible. 

And one thing I have learned is, the more we open our hearts to giving instead of clinging, the more we are opened to the notion that nothing belongs to us at all, that it all belongs to God, and we are merely charged with being the best stewards that we can. 

Everyone is called to a different journey in life. No one's calling is quite the same. But I know that once I opened my heart to the idea of living generously, rather than living in fear, so much that I thought was impossible began to seem quite possible. And I think that is the essential meaning of stewardship - the idea that all things are possible with God. And what a blessing that is. 

Everything at Once

. . .  As pretty as a picture hanging from a fixture
Strong like a family, strong as I wanna be
Bright as day, as light as play
As hard as nails, as grand as a whale

All I wanna be oh, all I wanna be, oh
All I wanna be is everything
Everything at once
Everything at once, oh
Everything at once  . . . 

I absolutely love this song by Lenka. The first reason is because Lenka has an absolutely beautiful voice. And the second reason is because whenever I heard this song, I think, “ME TOO!!” I feel like my whole goal in life has been to BE EVERYTHING AT ONCE!!!

So many of my life choices have been about finding ways to be everything, all at once. My husband and I somehow found a way to both go back to school to get our PhDs at the same time with a one-year-old daughter in tow at the beginning of our journey. Three years later, when our limited student health insurance suddenly covered maternity benefits, we managed to have another baby. The following year, with a baby and a preschooler and two parents in a PhD program, was the most stressful of our lives. And a year later, we somehow managed to find a solution to The Two-Body Problem of academia and both find great jobs at our alma mater . . . but also had the distinct privilege of being two people who are each very career focused with two children who we love and want to spend as much time as we can with. 

So I feel like my life has been devoted to trying to be EVERYTHING AT ONCE to everyone. And although I have made peace that my house will always be a wreck and I am destined to suffer one series of Pinterest Failures after another, I still want to achieve at everything that I do. My goals when starting at our new jobs were simple: 1. Take Care of My Family and 2. Make Tenure. But then somehow along the way, it changed to also include, 3. Serve on Every Volunteer Organization Possible, and 4. Become an Awesome Runner, and 5. Make the Kids Participate in Every Activity that they Can (even though they don’t really like activities), and, and, and…

It is EXHAUSTING trying to do and be everything at once. I have been struggling with this feeling for years, but I think that I finally hit my breaking point this past month. Like the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, I suddenly hit my breaking point with one small addition, when I learned that my son needed weekly vision therapy sessions in a town 65 miles away. And suddenly, my whole endeavor to be EVERYTHING AT ONCE came crashing down. I couldn't be everything at once. It simply wasn't possible. 

I believe that God placed this song in my heart to help me slowly develop a new attitude:

To everything - turn, turn, turn

There is a season - turn, turn, turn

And a time to every purpose under heaven

A time to be born, a time to die

A time to plant, a time to reap

A time to kill, a time to heal 

A time to laugh, a time to weep . . . 

These words, popularized by the Byrds but originally ascribed in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, have so much power and truth that they take my breath away. "To everything there is a season." A season. It is impossible to do everything at once and do it well. Right now, this is a season with out-of-town medical appointments - but it won't last forever. Just like the baby phase with two crazily stressed parents didn't last forever. And my job isn't to do everything at once, but to simply lean into to the season of life that I am in at the moment and do the best that I can. 

Just like we learn in kindergarten, we sometimes have to Wait Our Turn. There is a time to be a line leader - and a time to be a door holder. There is a time when we will barge full-speed ahead in our careers. And there is a time when we will squeeze in every minute that we can with our children at home because that time is fleeting. And in the end, it is all about embracing the season we are in. Which is a truly beautiful way to live. 

Beauty

When my children were younger, they both had bleach-blonde hair. This was quite shocking to strangers, given that they had two brunette parents, and people were often likely to comment on their physical appearance. This was especially true for my daughter, who never cut her hair during her first five years of life and had hair down to her waist. I was not particularly striking as a child and it was such a new experience to hear strangers come up and talk about our child's appearance. 

Fast forward to today, where our daughter is 12 years old. This summer, before starting middle school, she decided to cut off her hair and go for a pixie cut. She has been wanting to cut her hair short for a long time, both to experiment with something new (trying new things!), as well as to make it easier to care for (practicality!). She is not always comfortable with new experiences and I have been proud of her for branching outside of her comfort zone. 

Tonight, my daughter asked me to post a poll on my Facebook page, to which I readily agreed, because if there is one thing I love, it's posting polls. ;) But her question took me by surprise - she wanted me to ask people if she thought she looked better with short or long hair so she could decide whether to keep her hair short or start growing it out. I prepared a collage for her with pictures of the two looks and then started feeling uneasy. Am I communicating a message that beauty is only validated through the opinions of others? Should you rely on others' opinions when making a decision about your hair? Is this setting her up for a lifetime of second-guessing her own intuition about her physical appearance? 

So I am not posting such a poll. Instead, I hope my daughter learns that she is so much more than her physical appearance. That she is funny and creative and quirky and wonderful, and created by God to be like no one else on earth. That she is beautiful because of her smile and her personality and her spirit, not because of her hair. That she is loved regardless of whether she keeps her hair short or grows it out. That she is beautiful, inside and out. And that she should continue to rock whichever hairstyle brings her the most inner joy. 

Pick 3

Recently, my friend Denise posted an article called "Work, Sleep, Family, Fitness, or Friends: Pick 3." I have been thinking about this article quite a bit, especially after it after discussing it with others. This premise is obviously over-simplified, and there are certainly other aspects that could be on your list (like faith, self, volunteering, community, etc.), but the basic point is that it is impossible to do everything well at the same time.

And I have been thinking that perhaps this is why I have been so stressed - I want to do everything. Right now! All at once! I want to give my very best to my family. I want to excel at work. I need sleep to survive, and fitness to thrive. I want to carve out time to build meaningful relationships with friends. And somehow, I want to contribute to our community and church and school, and still have time to recharge as an introvert.

But what seems like happens is that I bounce from one series of "failures" to another. I am really on top of work for a while, but then my family is neglected. I catch up on sleep after staying up late to work, but then flake out on meeting my friends in the morning to run, neglecting fitness and friends. It does not help that I am also a worrier. I worry that I have failed in raising my children, or that I am failing in my job, or that I am failing my health.

I am not sure what the answer is. More realistic expectations and less all-or-nothing thinking is probably some of it. But perhaps so is the recognition that we are all doing the best we can with limited resources. And that everybody's priorities will look different at different points in time. And that however our priorities look, that is okay. For all of us.

Do you feel like you can only "Pick 3" in your life? What are your priorities right now?

Worst Advice Ever

Last spring, I wrote a blog entry called "Just Say YES!" It was all about stepping out of your comfort zone and taking on new responsibilities and really throwing yourself in and becoming involved. However, there was one problem: It was written in the middle of my light teaching semester, when a lot of activities were in a lull. I have since concluded that trying to take on everything all at once is the WORST ADVICE EVER.

It is now the beginning of the school year, both for myself and the kids, and I am finding myself with a lot of new responsibilities this year. Some of them (such as serving as the chair for an entire section of a national professional organization), I am terrified about and have no idea what I am doing. Others of them (such as serving as a senator on the university's Faculty Senate), I fear will be a greater time commitment than I had hoped. And it's not that any of my commitments by themselves are onerous - it's just that all together, I am feeling so overwhelmed that I fear I am going to not get everything I need to done, let alone actually do a decent job.

I tried to make a list of ongoing commitments that I have, outside of work (which are many) and children (which involve much chauffeuring) to see if I could pare back on anything. These include:

- Teaching Sunday School twice a month at church.
- Serving on the stewardship and finance committee at church.
- Playing in the bell choir at church.
- Serving on the vision committee at church.
- Serving as the Financial Treasurer of our university's United Methodist campus ministry (please God, don't let me screw anything up)
- Serving as the Secretary of Daniel's school's PTO, which includes all of the beginning-of-the-year membership processing and making the entire school directory (please God, don't let me enter anyone's phone number wrong)
- Trying to initiate a Wednesday night book study at church
- Participating in a monthly book club (which shouldn't feel like a "commitment," but adds to my guilt)
- Serving as the Treasurer for the local Crop Walk

In the past month, I did give up teaching children's church at church and serving as the leader of the church ladies' group at church, so I was thinking that I would be in better shape than I am. I just feel like I am going to drown and the semester has barely started!

"Just Say YES!" is great advice if you have unlimited time and energy. But as someone whose resources seem to be more finite than I realized, I think it actually might be terrible advice. This fall semester, "Just Say NO!" might have to become the stand-in instead. ;)

Uninvited

When I was in second grade, we lived in Seattle. My best friend was a girl in my class named Wendy. Wendy's birthday was coming up and she was discussing possible party dates, and I informed her that one of the potential dates would not work because I had a dance recital that same day. When the day came that she passed out invitations to some of the other classmates, I was distraught because I was not invited - even though I had already told her I could not attend if it was on that date. And what is really sad is that despite the fact that this happened 30 years ago, I can still remember my embarrassment and disappointment at being "uninvited" vividly.

I read an excellent blog post today on how parents (especially moms) may be unwittingly contributing to kids feeling left out through "suburban social engineering." It was a great read and made me really think - is this something that I have contributed to? Examples that come to mind include:

• When my children were younger, we would invite the entire preschool class to their birthday parties, but this led to my children declaring that such parties were "too crazy" and they wanted a smaller group. Parties are now much smaller and more intimate - but with a higher potential that someone could feel left out. 
• We had an off-to-middle school pool party for any girls starting at our local middle school - but did not invite boys, because my daughter wanted to limit its size and thought that would be a good cut-off. However, my daughter's closest friend is a boy, meaning that she didn't end up inviting the person she is closest to. 
• I love sharing pictures. I know I have shared pictures on Facebook of when our kids had friends over, or when we got together with a group of people, meaning by definition I was sharing about a situation when not everyone was included. 

So what can we do? I realize that this is part of life, and obviously not everyone can be invited to everything all the time. Spending time one-on-one with others or in smaller groups foster intimacy and bonding in a way that large groups cannot. But I think that making a conscious choice to include others and to be cognizant of when others may be excluded may go a long ways to making others sure that others don't feel "uninvited." And I would love to hear any solutions! 

How do you handle feelings of being "uninvited," either for yourself or in unwittingly causing it among others?