confidence

No Picking at Your Past

3863_1140532066489_4079474_nNight before last, I slept in a bed for the second time in two weeks. My son, Cub, whose leukemia is currently in remission, has been in the hospital for 13 days with a fever caused by a random spore that “thrives in the Mississippi and Ohio River Valleys.”

When I woke up, I felt refreshed, and hopeful. We had finally, after more than a week of spiking fevers, discovered the cause, and were applying the cure. Cub will get to come home soon, and things will get back to our new normal. But, something didn’t seem quite right with my idyllic musings. My face hurt. More accurately, my chin hurt.

My gingerly exploring fingertips were met with an angry hot protrusion. A blemish. A big blemish.

I groaned. What am I? Fourteen again? Sigh.

Before I even got out of bed, my mind was flooded with memories – awkward memories of braces and boys, misery and missed opportunities, layers of embarrassment over family secrets and a negative-on-the-number-line low self-esteem. Blemishes.

Have you noticed that your past seems to pick the most vulnerable times to pop up in your life? Like, when your child is sick, or you have money problems, or relationship issues?

God’s Word says, “Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past. Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43:18-19

When your past rises up and tries to drag you back to places you’ve outgrown and overcome, don’t go. Turn instead toward the new path. God promises to make your direction clear in the confusion of the wilderness, and to refresh and sustain you in the draining isolation of the desert.

Your now and your future need your full attention. Leave your past in the past. You don’t need it anymore, dear hearts. ❤

My weight loss journey, May 16, 2014

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So, this is me, like 100 pounds ago. I was a size 4 or 6 in this picture. Cute, huh? 🙂 At that time, I sure didn’t think I was cute. My then husband and I were about to file for divorce. He was leaving me for his girlfriend who, in his words, wasn’t as nice as me, but was more attractive. Girls, can I just say right now that we are all beautiful in God’s eyes? It took me years…no, DECADES to really start to understand that thing that I’d heard over and over again through the years. That I am God’s precious daughter, and that He loves me. He knows my heart and created me from the inside out, so he knows the sacred secrets of my innermost being, and sees that they are lovely.

He thinks you’re lovely, too 🙂

This summer, I go into the season the thinnest I’ve been in 3 or 4 years. Now, that’s not necessarily saying much as I’ve gained and lost the same 10 pounds for the last 3 or 4 years, but I’ve finally crossed the threshold and am on my way down again.

The last week or so, I’ve experience something new that I’ve been wanting to share with you. It’s peace. I don’t feel driven to lose 50 pounds in a month, or 100 pounds in 3 months. I feel a new peace with my journey that I can’t quite explain, but I know where it comes from – that same place that brings us all peace that we can’t fathom – our Father’s heart. It was always there, waiting for me and, for some inexplicable reason, I find myself with open arms, accepting it.

If you’re somewhere on a journey, whether for weight loss or forgiveness, healing or a fresh start, I encourage you to open your heart. Open it to the world around you – to the friends and family who love you, and the God who adores you. You’re not alone. You are worthy. You are enough, and you are lovely.

The Language of Motherhood

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My husband and son, at the beginning…

My earliest memory of my mother is of her hands. Strong, soft and sure, one holding me fast by the arm while the other sudsed me up with a soft cotton washcloth. I was sitting in the kitchen sink. It was stainless steel, cramped, and cold against my back, even though it was summer. But she had me, and wasn’t going to let me go.

Now, looking back over the last 40 years, I can see my mother’s hands over and over again. Brushing my hair, scrubbing the floor, rolling out dough, pulling weeds, holding her Bible, ironing with steam, sewing a button on, making sandwiches, tucking me in, wiping away my tears, pointing the way, holding my hands and waving goodbye…

Sometimes, often in fact, during my own journey through motherhood, I wish I was more like her. She was a doer, always busy, always with a goal in front of her – she didn’t rest until her work was done. Our house was spotless. Her hands were always busy and full.

Sometimes, when I was young, I would get frustrated. Why can’t we just relax and have fun once in a while? I would ask. Because there’s work to be done, she would say. Won’t it feel good when we’re all done?

Now, I wake up in the morning, feed the cats, feed the dog, feed my son, get my son ready for school, and get myself ready for work. I get dressed and while I’m curling my hair, I see that the bathroom could use a sweeping. I should plan on going to the laundromat tonight after work, but my son has a music concert, so it will have to wait. Backpack? Check. Lunches? Check. I pull out of the driveway…did I make the bed? Uhm…maybe not. Geez, the flower bed needs weeding…I sure wish I was more like mom.

I look at my son in the rear view mirror, and we share a smile, my hands gripping the steering wheel in a tight turn into our busy, busy day. We laugh and talk. At the stoplight, I reach back and we hold hands for a brief moment, our secret signal to one another that everything will be alright. Then, we move on.

We get home at the end of our day, and I fix supper, we eat and do a few chores, and then there’s this precious window of opportunity – about 45 minutes before my little boy has to go to bed. The bathroom floor still needs swept, but I don’t do it. Instead, I sit on the couch with my son, and we read. Or tell stories. Or play Legos. Or watch Green Lantern. Or have a tickle fight. Or just snuggle.

The time goes by, and we say our prayers…a tuck here and a tuck there, and he’s off to sleep.

It’s 8 o’clock. I go into the bathroom. I forgot the broom. Why can’t I be more like mom?

I indulge in a pity party. Mom was a better mother than I’ll ever be. She worked so hard and loved so much.

Then, I hear her whisper in my ear. You love just as much. You work just as much. You are everything just as much, just different. You are just what you are supposed to be.

I came to realize that my mother’s love language was acts of service. Every jar of pickled beets, and every starched blouse; every hot meal, and every clean floor said I love you.

My love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. So, every conversation about my son’s day at school, his favorite Skylander or Pokemon, and every snuggle on the couch says I love you.

So, mom and I are different, but the same.

Our love is different, but the same.

Our mothering is different, but the same.

It’s easy to compare ourselves with others, especially those we hold in high regard. It’s also easy to use that comparison as a way to tear ourselves down instead of building ourselves up without seeing the good that we do. We come to equate different with wrong.

Try to see yourself with loving, truthful eyes. That’s the way those who love you see you, and it’s the way your children see you, whether your bathroom floor needs swept or not 😉

 

 

 

 

The Journey, February 26, 2014, I gave up diet soda!

Sugar by any other name…

Imagejust isn’t sugar.

So, 6 days ago I decided it was time to give up diet soda. Brilliant, right? I wasn’t really happy with my decision. It was more of a deep-seated recognition that I needed to do something different. I needed to drink something different. Like, something that didn’t taste like liquid Raid.

You may be asking, “Marilyn, why would you drink something that you don’t like?”

Excellent question. As a matter of fact, I have been asking myself the same thing for, oh, the last 25 years or so.

I didn’t start drinking diet soda until later in my high school years. Prior to that, I drank things like iced tea (strong, no sugar), milk, juice, water, and the occasional Coc’-Cola, which, by the way, is my favorite carbonated beverage. Once in a while, I would play refined and have a nice cup of Earl Grey with cream and sugar. But diet pop? Ugh. Until…

Somewhere around the age of 16, I decided that my size 10 Irish/Italian curves could benefit from a bit of slimming down. Mind you, being a size 10 in 1986 wasn’t a bad thing. There were no size 2, 1, 0 or 00 to obsess over in the Wal-Mart Lees for Her section. But, what if…I was thinner, would I get asked out more? Uhm, no. Even after my conversion to diet soda, I only went out on a date like twice in my entire high school career. — junior and senior proms – with guy “friends.” And, honestly, after looking back at old pictures documenting my size 8-10 fluctuation over those years, I don’t really think my size was what kept me from getting asked out, but that’s a different post entirely.

But, what really matters is that at the time, I thought it was why I didn’t get asked out. So, I drank diet soda by default. Real soda was for people who didn’t have weight problems. Right?

Ahem. Well, I’ve learned a lot since then. It’s not necessarily about what I eat or don’t eat, or what I drink or don’t drink. It’s about portion and variety and self control.

For over two decades, I have consoled myself with something I didn’t really like, but felt that I deserved because what if I couldn’t control myself with the “real thing?” What if I stopped drinking diet soda and gained weight?

Well, guess what? Drinking diet soda didn’t keep me from gaining weight, and it wasn’t the “secret weapon” back when I was thinner. I gained weight because my input exceeded my output. When I was thin, my output exceeded my input. Period.

I’ve been drinking alternative beverages for 6 days now, and I haven’t gained an ounce. (Yay, me!) And guess what else? I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve had to drink. Milk, iced tea, water, vanilla chai, and the occasional Coc’-Cola. 🙂 And an unanticipated bonus? A fuzziness that I didn’t realize was there seems to have lifted from my brain. BOOM! How cool is that?

What’s the takeaway from my a-ha moment? Don’t be afraid to try something different. Change course just a little bit. Be brave. Be wild and crazy. Be daring. Go left instead of right. Try a vanilla chai. It might just be worth it 🙂

Irreplaceable

One of my favorite quotes is credited to renowned 19th century playwright Oscar Wilde.

He advised, “Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.”

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Dying Star Photographed by the Hubble Telescope

My first husband had a saying, too. A bit more Poe than Wilde, his words were the cautionary, “You can be replaced.”

The glorious truth? I am many things, but replaceable I am not. And neither are you.

Sure, most any woman would be capable of keeping house, running errands, and taking care of things in general. But all the little things that make up who I am are the sum total of my DNA, my life experiences, and how I’ve chosen to respond to those experiences. Never before, and never again will there be another Marilyn Elizabeth Luce Robertson who is like me. I am one of a kind – irreplaceable, for all of time.

Recently having lost my mother to leukemia and congestive heart failure, I have understandably been thinking a lot about life, purpose, and the brevity of our window of influence on our world and fellow man. I’ve been spending some time in the past, remembering good and bad and relishing both because it was real and true and mine – my life with my mother, who was irreplaceable, too.

I have also been thinking about the future. My future as well as the future my mother stepped into just over three weeks ago. I’ve been reading a variety of accounts about heaven by believers and non-believers alike. I even watched a video clip of the transcendent theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking describing his belief on the afterlife, which is that it is non-existent. He explained that he sees the body as a highly complex computer that eventually shuts down. And, when it shuts down, that’s the end of it.

Be assured that I have neither the desire nor the ability to debate Mr. Hawking, one of the premiere minds of the last century at least. No, I will not debate Mr. Hawking. However, me being me, I must beg to enter the conversation in my own way, here on my little blog. I don’t even want to approach the idea of heaven. I want to start with the basics – the belief that we do or do not have a soul, which Mr. Hawking seems to believe that we do not.

I would argue that a computer does not have a presence, as a person does. Any intelligence that it has, has been created on it’s behalf. It does not have a hunger for knowledge or a need for relationships. It doesn’t dream of flying or exploring beyond the stars. It does not know jealousy, compassion or love. Even advances in artificial intelligence are only the product of man’s invention and intervention. I do not see the logic in using the creation to define the creator. Even we Christians do not do that. We believe we were made in God’s image, and we strive to reflect His character. It’s not the other way around.

About now, I am guessing that you are asking yourself what Stephen Hawking’s spiritual view has to do with  Oscar Wilde and my ex-husband. Where is Marilyn going with this?  Don’t worry, I have a plan 🙂

One of my favorite laws of physics states that two forms of matter cannot occupy the same space at the same time. When a computer dies, we put it in the trash, take it to a recycling center, or stow it in the garage to save for parts. It does not transform of it’s own accord. Unlike, say, a star. When a star dies, it changes form and in most cases, it eventually explodes, sending all the things that it once was out into the galaxy.

If I had to explain the spiritual side of death scientifically, I think I would do it this way. When a person dies, everything they were goes someplace else, not totally unlike a star. When I explained it to my 5 year old son, I told him that when Grandma died, God gave all the parts of her that belonged to the earth back to the earth, and that He took all the parts of her that He breathed into her, like her personality and charisma, her humor and love, all the things that made her irreplaceable, back to heaven with Him.

I think that makes a lot more sense. Sorry, Mr. Hawking. Even Transformers believe in the AllSpark.

The Journey, December 21, 2013

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Many years ago, when I was overweight the first time, a dear family friend offered to pay for a few counseling sessions for me. The counseling was a gift of guidance through some rough waters I was navigating at the time – college, boyfriend, my father’s deteriorating mental health. I met with the counselor for my first session. She and her husband shared a counseling practice in a detached office space behind their Chicago-land residence. She was middle aged, blonde, and petite. We talked briefly about a few things at first. I call it the “getting to know you” stage. Then, she said something that took me by surprise.

“You’re really tiny, aren’t you?”

Confession – I was VERY overweight at the time, considerably more  than I am now. Her words stunned me.  And, they frightened me. My obesity failed to hide my 5’2″, small-boned frame from this woman. Somewhere inside, I was tiny, and the realization that she noticed was terrifying, even though I didn’t know why. And, at the time, I wasn’t willing to find out. My first visit to that counselor was my last – I didn’t go back.

Over the years, I have occasionally thought about that day, about her words and my reaction.  As miserable as being overweight can be, it can serve as a great excuse to get you out of all kinds of situations, both passively and actively. It provides a protective barrier of insulation, literally and figuratively. Unfortunately, it’s not very versatile. There is a price to pay for trying to make yourself invisible to the world. The price? Success. For every bad thing you think you’ve protected yourself from, there is a multitude of positive experiences that you deny yourself, and the people around you.

Invisibility doesn’t equal immunity.

Whatever any of us thinks we’re saving ourselves from by hiding behind weight isn’t worth it. There is suffering even in the so-called invisibility. Trust me, being overweight doesn’t make you invisible. It makes you misrepresented. You don’t take as many chances. You deny yourself opportunities. You don’t let your talents shine. You don’t contribute as fully as you might otherwise. You can’t fulfill your true earthly purpose when you’re not being true to yourself. And, you know what? That’s really sad.

It came as a surprise.

Until that day in the counselor’s office, sitting in a plush, overstuffed chair, I had no idea that I was invisible. I wasn’t consciously trying to hide who I was from the world. What’s more, I had forgotten that I really was, well, tiny. Could it have been that, instead of hiding myself from the world, or at least, in addition to hiding myself from the world,  I was attempting to hide myself from myself?

Why would I do that?

I don’t know if I have the answer to that question. When I consider it, I think of words like self-preservation, denial, fear, lack of confidence. That’s probably a good start. I think that when we are in situations we feel we have no control over and we need comfort that we can’t seem to satisfy, we turn to alternatives. Some of those alternatives are healthy, and some are not. I don’t think any of us do it on purpose. Who would want to be unhealthy? Who would want to be overweight? Who would want to be invisible?

Breaking true.

So, I’ve lost around 15 pounds now. I probably have around 80 to go, at least. And, that’s okay because I’m moving in the right direction. I’m more comfortable with who I am than I have ever been. I’m looking forward to moving forward in this journey, and to learning more about myself and the world and my place in it. The exciting thing is that the ride is so much more fun with my eyes open 🙂 Because I am willing and able to look at myself and the truth of my situation – the truth of my health, my priorities, my options, my dreams, my environment, my family and friends, my job, my past, my now, and my future, I have all the tools I need to break through to my next goal, and the next, and the next.

I hope that, as you move forward in your journey, whatever it may be, that you choose to be bold. Be willing to open your eyes to yourself and the world around you. You deserve to live and walk in the truth of who you are. Brave is as brave does 😉