The Lord is the strength of his people;
he is the saving refuge of his anointed.
Oh, save your people and bless your heritage!
Be their shepherd and carry them forever. - Psalm 28:8-9
People all around me are hurting today. As I step back and look at the bigger picture, it becomes quite overwhelming, actually. Between church issues, physical illness and pains, and even death, it feels like everyone in my community is getting rocked over and over again.
God is the strength of the church. He is where we need to run for refuge. I need to cry out to Him to help us. He has already committed to being our shepherd and carry us forever as we put our faith in Him as our Savior. It is all I need.
Please, Lord. Make it all I need.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
Tuesday, February 26, 2019
Speaking to the One Who Hears Me
Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 4:5-7
I've been working on word studies of this passage today in preparation for a retreat I will be speaking at in April. I've been thinking a lot about my prayer life and why it is that I don't pray through my anxiety first. I had a horrible dream last night, and I know it was the result of the anxiety I've been feeling about the lack of control I have ultimately have over my own life.
I've had some circumstances recently which made me very aware of the fact that I don't have as much influence over others as what I previously thought. Also, what an idol that perceived influence has been in my life. Knowing that with "just one word," I could change people's minds has been something I've relied on, and realizing it's not true has been very devastating to me. Of course, this devastation is ultimately revealing an idol because the loss shouldn't have wrecked my life the way it has. My dream reminded me of how difficult the process has been in my life, as I was confronted with a very wrong situation and didn't feel comfortable telling people because I wasn't sure they were the "right" people to tell because I was scared they would betray me too.
God hears me. He listens. He is not easily influenced or manipulated or changed. He is constant. I can tell Him. He will hear me.
Light dawns in the darkness for the upright;
he is gracious, merciful, and righteous.
It is well with the man who deals generously and lends;
who conducts his affairs with justice.
For the righteous will never be moved;
he will be remembered forever.
He is not afraid of bad news;
his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.
His heart is steady; he will not be afraid,
until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.
-Psalm 112:4-8
I've been working on word studies of this passage today in preparation for a retreat I will be speaking at in April. I've been thinking a lot about my prayer life and why it is that I don't pray through my anxiety first. I had a horrible dream last night, and I know it was the result of the anxiety I've been feeling about the lack of control I have ultimately have over my own life.
I've had some circumstances recently which made me very aware of the fact that I don't have as much influence over others as what I previously thought. Also, what an idol that perceived influence has been in my life. Knowing that with "just one word," I could change people's minds has been something I've relied on, and realizing it's not true has been very devastating to me. Of course, this devastation is ultimately revealing an idol because the loss shouldn't have wrecked my life the way it has. My dream reminded me of how difficult the process has been in my life, as I was confronted with a very wrong situation and didn't feel comfortable telling people because I wasn't sure they were the "right" people to tell because I was scared they would betray me too.
God hears me. He listens. He is not easily influenced or manipulated or changed. He is constant. I can tell Him. He will hear me.
Light dawns in the darkness for the upright;
he is gracious, merciful, and righteous.
It is well with the man who deals generously and lends;
who conducts his affairs with justice.
For the righteous will never be moved;
he will be remembered forever.
He is not afraid of bad news;
his heart is firm, trusting in the Lord.
His heart is steady; he will not be afraid,
until he looks in triumph on his adversaries.
-Psalm 112:4-8
Wednesday, February 20, 2019
Bigger than the Boogeyman
Ran across an old favorite on the Kids Christian Music Spotify playlist I'm listening to today:
Having a baby has made me realize there are a lot more boogie men than I can even name. He had the sniffles yesterday and there was the RSV boogie man. I have been beginning the process of sleep training and up popped the "you are doing this too early in his developmental process and are going to damage him forever" boogie man. My husband just shared some work struggles and there was the "I will need to go back to work when my husband has to quit his job" boogie man. Unfounded but real fears pop up everywhere. For someone who has real struggles with anxiety, having a kid has given me many more opportunities to face them.
God is bigger than the boogie men. Satan is a real foe. His primary aim is to steal, kill and destroy. As a believer, I'm sealed with the Holy Spirit, destined for eternity with Christ that begins now. Satan can't do anything ultimately to impact that. However, he can encourage me to doubt God's goodness, greatness, graciousness, and glory. When I doubt these things, fears begin to run rampant and I forget Who it is that I ultimately serve.
Part of being a child of God is that He is bigger than anything I will have to face in my future and He will be with me, so I have nothing to fear.
God is bigger than the Boogie Man.
Having a baby has made me realize there are a lot more boogie men than I can even name. He had the sniffles yesterday and there was the RSV boogie man. I have been beginning the process of sleep training and up popped the "you are doing this too early in his developmental process and are going to damage him forever" boogie man. My husband just shared some work struggles and there was the "I will need to go back to work when my husband has to quit his job" boogie man. Unfounded but real fears pop up everywhere. For someone who has real struggles with anxiety, having a kid has given me many more opportunities to face them.
God is bigger than the boogie men. Satan is a real foe. His primary aim is to steal, kill and destroy. As a believer, I'm sealed with the Holy Spirit, destined for eternity with Christ that begins now. Satan can't do anything ultimately to impact that. However, he can encourage me to doubt God's goodness, greatness, graciousness, and glory. When I doubt these things, fears begin to run rampant and I forget Who it is that I ultimately serve.
Part of being a child of God is that He is bigger than anything I will have to face in my future and He will be with me, so I have nothing to fear.
God is bigger than the Boogie Man.
Temporary
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. - 2 Corinthians 4:16-18
The baby has already outgrown his sit up-chair. When Aunt Jen came and visited him last month, she decided that he would love a sit-up chair. I hadn't even heard of it, so when the package arrived, I was interested to see it. He loved it! Having the freedom to sit on his own agreed with him. Two weeks later, I was at the doctor's office and she asked me if I had put him in the exersaucer.
"Um, no. He's been in a sit-up chair."
"He's trying to stand quite a bit. He will love being able to stand in the exersaucer."
With that, he has moved into the exersaucer, which he loves just as much (which means, he loves it until he gets bored and wants to be held).
Life is temporary. Having a kid has made me much more aware of how short the days are. We get settled into a routine and then everything changes. I am realizing it's just a microcosm of life.
We are going through a ridiculously hard season at our church. People are hurting in ways I can't even imagine. Going around the table for prayer requests at Bible study reminded me that everyone has their struggles, but it seems like all of our people have huge struggles right now. I look at the national church scene and it doesn't seem better. Mega church leaders falling left and right and the climate toward the church in America becoming more and more frosty. I begin to be overwhelmed with the burden and feel I need to do more to help or to stop it.
This life is temporary. The reason we do not lose heart is not because it is going to be easy, but because it's short and the struggles we go through are creating something in us and for us that is far better. My firstborn instinct is to try to take away the suffering, but I can rest assured that God is using it.
Someday soon, I will graduate from my sit-up chair. I will stand before my Heavenly Father and say "Was that it? Is my time over?" and I believe He will reply with a smile and open arms "Yes, it's over. Come home, my child."
The baby has already outgrown his sit up-chair. When Aunt Jen came and visited him last month, she decided that he would love a sit-up chair. I hadn't even heard of it, so when the package arrived, I was interested to see it. He loved it! Having the freedom to sit on his own agreed with him. Two weeks later, I was at the doctor's office and she asked me if I had put him in the exersaucer.
"Um, no. He's been in a sit-up chair."
"He's trying to stand quite a bit. He will love being able to stand in the exersaucer."
With that, he has moved into the exersaucer, which he loves just as much (which means, he loves it until he gets bored and wants to be held).
Life is temporary. Having a kid has made me much more aware of how short the days are. We get settled into a routine and then everything changes. I am realizing it's just a microcosm of life.
We are going through a ridiculously hard season at our church. People are hurting in ways I can't even imagine. Going around the table for prayer requests at Bible study reminded me that everyone has their struggles, but it seems like all of our people have huge struggles right now. I look at the national church scene and it doesn't seem better. Mega church leaders falling left and right and the climate toward the church in America becoming more and more frosty. I begin to be overwhelmed with the burden and feel I need to do more to help or to stop it.
This life is temporary. The reason we do not lose heart is not because it is going to be easy, but because it's short and the struggles we go through are creating something in us and for us that is far better. My firstborn instinct is to try to take away the suffering, but I can rest assured that God is using it.
Someday soon, I will graduate from my sit-up chair. I will stand before my Heavenly Father and say "Was that it? Is my time over?" and I believe He will reply with a smile and open arms "Yes, it's over. Come home, my child."
Grace and Consequences
When is grace no longer grace, but enabling sin?
I was watching my four-year-old foster niece yesterday while a friend visited. We were in the living room and my niece was in the kitchen playing play dough. The rule is no play dough in the living room. This meant that the four-year-old was climbing the walls trying to relay all of her wonderful creations while we were in the other room. Distracted since I was catching up with a friend, I told her "Your play dough waffle is wonderful, but the next time you bring any play dough into the living room, you will need to put it away." She acknowledged she heard me and then played quietly in the kitchen until my friend left. Sure enough, moments later, she came out to show me the new dragon head she had fashioned, and after acknowledging her hard work, I told her, "If you bring it into the living room again, you will need to put it away," already forgetting I gave her that warning.
"You already told me that, Miss Gina."
"Told you what?"
"That if I bring it into the living room again, I would need to put it away."
Wow. In that moment, I remembered I HAD already given her that warning. I acknowledged I had forgotten and told her that because I forgot, she was getting another chance. Interestingly, she only played for a few more minutes before putting the play dough away on her own. I personally think she was unimpressed that I didn't follow through and make her put it all away.
I've been thinking a lot about grace lately. I'm not sure where I first heard the definition of grace as when you are "given something you don't deserve," but it's stuck with me for years and makes sense based on the way I see it used in Scripture. In this case, my niece was given another chance to play, even though she didn't deserve it based on her disobedience. Perhaps I shouldn't have given it to her, but since it was my error, I decided to give it.
Is that grace, though? Is allowing sin to continue actually giving someone what they deserve? We've recently had a church discipline situation in our church that I believe was poorly handled from the beginning based on the information I had, and I struggle to wonder if giving the leadership time to work things out in hindsight now is not grace, but is hurting them in the long run. Is my silence perpetuating a problem, or allowing others to grow? When is the time that it becomes a part of the problem?
I was reading in Philippians 4 this morning and thinking about the issues in this church that Paul was addressing. What were those women of a different mind about? Were they fighting with each other, or individually fighting with the leaders? What does "the same mind" look like in this context? Were they, perhaps, disagreeing with how leadership had disciplined someone and spreading gossip about it? Were they not showing forgiveness?
I respect Paul for calling them out by name in a letter that was being read in front of the church, but he obviously didn't feel details were necessary and the Lord ordained that they would not be provided for us, so this is what we are left with. It is what we need. So, it is enough. I wish there were more. I wish that there was a procedure outlined in Scripture.
I know God looks at my heart. He is the only one qualified and the only one who truly sees me for who I am, even more clearly than I can see myself. When I catch glimpses, it often makes me nauseous.
I was watching my four-year-old foster niece yesterday while a friend visited. We were in the living room and my niece was in the kitchen playing play dough. The rule is no play dough in the living room. This meant that the four-year-old was climbing the walls trying to relay all of her wonderful creations while we were in the other room. Distracted since I was catching up with a friend, I told her "Your play dough waffle is wonderful, but the next time you bring any play dough into the living room, you will need to put it away." She acknowledged she heard me and then played quietly in the kitchen until my friend left. Sure enough, moments later, she came out to show me the new dragon head she had fashioned, and after acknowledging her hard work, I told her, "If you bring it into the living room again, you will need to put it away," already forgetting I gave her that warning.
"You already told me that, Miss Gina."
"Told you what?"
"That if I bring it into the living room again, I would need to put it away."
Wow. In that moment, I remembered I HAD already given her that warning. I acknowledged I had forgotten and told her that because I forgot, she was getting another chance. Interestingly, she only played for a few more minutes before putting the play dough away on her own. I personally think she was unimpressed that I didn't follow through and make her put it all away.
I've been thinking a lot about grace lately. I'm not sure where I first heard the definition of grace as when you are "given something you don't deserve," but it's stuck with me for years and makes sense based on the way I see it used in Scripture. In this case, my niece was given another chance to play, even though she didn't deserve it based on her disobedience. Perhaps I shouldn't have given it to her, but since it was my error, I decided to give it.
Is that grace, though? Is allowing sin to continue actually giving someone what they deserve? We've recently had a church discipline situation in our church that I believe was poorly handled from the beginning based on the information I had, and I struggle to wonder if giving the leadership time to work things out in hindsight now is not grace, but is hurting them in the long run. Is my silence perpetuating a problem, or allowing others to grow? When is the time that it becomes a part of the problem?
I was reading in Philippians 4 this morning and thinking about the issues in this church that Paul was addressing. What were those women of a different mind about? Were they fighting with each other, or individually fighting with the leaders? What does "the same mind" look like in this context? Were they, perhaps, disagreeing with how leadership had disciplined someone and spreading gossip about it? Were they not showing forgiveness?
I respect Paul for calling them out by name in a letter that was being read in front of the church, but he obviously didn't feel details were necessary and the Lord ordained that they would not be provided for us, so this is what we are left with. It is what we need. So, it is enough. I wish there were more. I wish that there was a procedure outlined in Scripture.
I know God looks at my heart. He is the only one qualified and the only one who truly sees me for who I am, even more clearly than I can see myself. When I catch glimpses, it often makes me nauseous.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
Loved and Constipated
The kid is constipated today. I've been told breast-fed babies have poopy diapers pretty regularly. Not my kid. He seems to store up his poop for 24 to 36 hours and then has an explosion that goes through at least three diapers and one outfit. It's always a bummer when it happens in the middle of the night.
For the hour or two prior to the explosion, he tends to be pretty fussy. I can usually tell he's trying to work something out. He's often at the very least whining, and more commonly wailing. Typically, he is quite content to just sit in my lap, but when he is working out his poop, he is often writhing around. He also wants to nurse more. It makes sense, after all, his tummy hurts and at four months, he's not old enough to be able to tell when he is experiencing hunger pains or is constipated. I will rub his little tummy and move his legs around to help him to work things out, or heaven forbid, put him on his stomach for tummy time. He reacts to any of those things like I have betrayed him on a level consistent with the worst arch nemesis in all of the Marvel movies (who is this, anyway? Thanos now?). He screams with his mouth wide open and his eyes squeezed shut, and no amount of my talking to him or trying to comfort him is heard.
This is so like me when difficult circumstances hit.
God is working idolatry out of me this week. I can tell because he's targeted huge areas of idolatry. I hurt my back (idol of self-sufficiency), we got three bills in one day totaling a ridiculously high amount (idol of security), and I still am not losing weight (idol of pride/appearance/identity). It hurts. I hurt. Literally, with the back pain, but emotionally and spiritually too. Since there are no coincidences, I know this is what God is doing in me. I still don't like it. I find myself wanting to squeeze my eyes shut and scream.
God loves me anyway.
Even as He is working on these areas of idolatry in me, working it out of me gently, firmly and with a patient hand, he is reminding me of his truth.
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God (Ephesians 3:14-19).
Paul's prayer for Christ's church is that they would understand how much God loves them. He wasn't praying for them to be more lovable, or that God would love them more, but that they would see how much God already loves them.
God loves me. Even when I am hurting and screaming against the pain. He still loves me. It's always true.
I am loved. Even when my back hurts and when I get bills and when, no matter how many calories I count, the pounds do not disappear, I am loved by the God of the universe.
Lord, make this truth a reality in my life today, even as I am hurting.
For the hour or two prior to the explosion, he tends to be pretty fussy. I can usually tell he's trying to work something out. He's often at the very least whining, and more commonly wailing. Typically, he is quite content to just sit in my lap, but when he is working out his poop, he is often writhing around. He also wants to nurse more. It makes sense, after all, his tummy hurts and at four months, he's not old enough to be able to tell when he is experiencing hunger pains or is constipated. I will rub his little tummy and move his legs around to help him to work things out, or heaven forbid, put him on his stomach for tummy time. He reacts to any of those things like I have betrayed him on a level consistent with the worst arch nemesis in all of the Marvel movies (who is this, anyway? Thanos now?). He screams with his mouth wide open and his eyes squeezed shut, and no amount of my talking to him or trying to comfort him is heard.
This is so like me when difficult circumstances hit.
God is working idolatry out of me this week. I can tell because he's targeted huge areas of idolatry. I hurt my back (idol of self-sufficiency), we got three bills in one day totaling a ridiculously high amount (idol of security), and I still am not losing weight (idol of pride/appearance/identity). It hurts. I hurt. Literally, with the back pain, but emotionally and spiritually too. Since there are no coincidences, I know this is what God is doing in me. I still don't like it. I find myself wanting to squeeze my eyes shut and scream.
God loves me anyway.
Even as He is working on these areas of idolatry in me, working it out of me gently, firmly and with a patient hand, he is reminding me of his truth.
For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God (Ephesians 3:14-19).
Paul's prayer for Christ's church is that they would understand how much God loves them. He wasn't praying for them to be more lovable, or that God would love them more, but that they would see how much God already loves them.
God loves me. Even when I am hurting and screaming against the pain. He still loves me. It's always true.
I am loved. Even when my back hurts and when I get bills and when, no matter how many calories I count, the pounds do not disappear, I am loved by the God of the universe.
Lord, make this truth a reality in my life today, even as I am hurting.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
Mommy Blogging
So, I have this amazing kid now.
Does that automatically make me a mommy blogger? What does that even mean?
Identity is a tricky thing. For years, I had it nailed. I was a single Christian female (notice the order) who worked for a non-profit organization and lived with her sister. I always weighed in between 180 and 190 pounds, worked out at least six times a week and fit size 14 jeans. I did ministries such as counseling, teaching, and watching other people's kids. I watched Marvel movies with my best friend, read Christian fiction in the hammock over the summers, and I NEVER sang in choir.
Then I met my husband.
He didn't start out as my husband, obviously. He started out as a single guy at church. That was a rare and phenomenally special type of bird in and of itself, so I honestly didn't expect him to last too long on the dating market.
(Sidenote: this is a funny picture. Scenes from the Christian dating market: "Ladies, ladies!! This one is available! Loves Jesus! Has a full-time job! Does not live with his parents! Attractive in his own special way! Do I have any takers? Whoa!! Slow down, ladies! No need to stampede here!! AAAAHHHHH!!" ::trampled by the single ladies at church as they walk by and try to appear attractive without single man noticing they are trying to do so::)
However, oddly to me, the new single guy expressed interest. I don't think of myself as unattractive, but I have been told I am unapproachable. The fact that he approached me and kept approaching me (even after I threw everything at him...including and not limited to, my baggage, my history, and the kitchen sink), was an identity shaker. I had been praying at the beginning of the year that God would help me to accept my singleness wholeheartedly and I was taking active steps to make some career changes to support my single lifestyle, so this man felt sort of like an intrusion to my new, accepted identity.
But, he was cute.
And he loved Jesus, his family, and his friends.
And he kept pursuing me.
I knew it was what God wanted for me. Even down to my prayer that God would sanctify my selfishness and ability to submit. A husband was certainly the best answer to that prayer I could come up with. And this guy was phenomenal. He cherished me as a woman and a person, jumped into ministry with me, found ways to serve my family, and asked me great questions that got to my heart. I was thrilled to say "yes" when he finally asked me (don't ask: there were issues with the ring construction).
So began the deconstruction of my identity.
I don't complain about not being single. I don't miss that lifestyle most of the time. Having someone to do daily life with on the intimate level the way my husband I can do it is a privilege. But, I am no longer autonomous. I have to take into consideration someone else at a new level. Add to that the fact that we are using just one car; and we are intertwined on a level I never envisioned. I would have thought I would hate it. I don't. I love it.
Then I got pregnant.
I am not one of those "cute" pregnant people. When the nurse at my 8 week appointment told me that a healthy weight gain is 15 to 25 pounds, my eyebrows shot up. After all, I was already starting out heavier than I had been in 15 years (I like eating with my husband) so at that point, I had already surpassed the 15 pound mark. When it was all said and done, even thought I was struggling with morning sickness all day up until the morning I gave birth, I gained over 35 pounds during my pregnancy. I realize this is not a ridiculous number, but my weight (and ability to lose weight) has been a part of my identity for years. Someone told me to "just get a rubber band and you can wear your old jeans, Gina." Sister, it is going to take a lot more than a rubber band... perhaps an entire box of bungee cords from our nearest bulk store?
So, no longer a size 14. No longer able to walk 5 miles in a stretch. No longer able to get up off the floor in one fluid movement (these days, it takes a small crane and half of those bungee cords!). This part of my identity is shredded.
I am fortunate. I am under no pressure whatsoever to lose weight from my husband or family. It just confuses me. If I am no longer the girl who can lose weight easily and fit those 14's, who am I?
In Christ.
I love that phrase. I honestly feel like I have not even remotely plumbed its depths, but I love it. I am in Christ. In Him, I have everything I could ever want or need, including acceptance. That means I am in Christ if I am size 14 or size 24. When I am single, now that I am married. Childless and mother of one or three. None of those circumstances change how God sees me.
Lord, help this be enough.
I have gained and lost many identities this year. The one I want to focus on with single-minded determination is the one I have in Christ.
Does that automatically make me a mommy blogger? What does that even mean?
Identity is a tricky thing. For years, I had it nailed. I was a single Christian female (notice the order) who worked for a non-profit organization and lived with her sister. I always weighed in between 180 and 190 pounds, worked out at least six times a week and fit size 14 jeans. I did ministries such as counseling, teaching, and watching other people's kids. I watched Marvel movies with my best friend, read Christian fiction in the hammock over the summers, and I NEVER sang in choir.
Then I met my husband.
He didn't start out as my husband, obviously. He started out as a single guy at church. That was a rare and phenomenally special type of bird in and of itself, so I honestly didn't expect him to last too long on the dating market.
(Sidenote: this is a funny picture. Scenes from the Christian dating market: "Ladies, ladies!! This one is available! Loves Jesus! Has a full-time job! Does not live with his parents! Attractive in his own special way! Do I have any takers? Whoa!! Slow down, ladies! No need to stampede here!! AAAAHHHHH!!" ::trampled by the single ladies at church as they walk by and try to appear attractive without single man noticing they are trying to do so::)
However, oddly to me, the new single guy expressed interest. I don't think of myself as unattractive, but I have been told I am unapproachable. The fact that he approached me and kept approaching me (even after I threw everything at him...including and not limited to, my baggage, my history, and the kitchen sink), was an identity shaker. I had been praying at the beginning of the year that God would help me to accept my singleness wholeheartedly and I was taking active steps to make some career changes to support my single lifestyle, so this man felt sort of like an intrusion to my new, accepted identity.
But, he was cute.
And he loved Jesus, his family, and his friends.
And he kept pursuing me.
I knew it was what God wanted for me. Even down to my prayer that God would sanctify my selfishness and ability to submit. A husband was certainly the best answer to that prayer I could come up with. And this guy was phenomenal. He cherished me as a woman and a person, jumped into ministry with me, found ways to serve my family, and asked me great questions that got to my heart. I was thrilled to say "yes" when he finally asked me (don't ask: there were issues with the ring construction).
So began the deconstruction of my identity.
I don't complain about not being single. I don't miss that lifestyle most of the time. Having someone to do daily life with on the intimate level the way my husband I can do it is a privilege. But, I am no longer autonomous. I have to take into consideration someone else at a new level. Add to that the fact that we are using just one car; and we are intertwined on a level I never envisioned. I would have thought I would hate it. I don't. I love it.
Then I got pregnant.
I am not one of those "cute" pregnant people. When the nurse at my 8 week appointment told me that a healthy weight gain is 15 to 25 pounds, my eyebrows shot up. After all, I was already starting out heavier than I had been in 15 years (I like eating with my husband) so at that point, I had already surpassed the 15 pound mark. When it was all said and done, even thought I was struggling with morning sickness all day up until the morning I gave birth, I gained over 35 pounds during my pregnancy. I realize this is not a ridiculous number, but my weight (and ability to lose weight) has been a part of my identity for years. Someone told me to "just get a rubber band and you can wear your old jeans, Gina." Sister, it is going to take a lot more than a rubber band... perhaps an entire box of bungee cords from our nearest bulk store?
So, no longer a size 14. No longer able to walk 5 miles in a stretch. No longer able to get up off the floor in one fluid movement (these days, it takes a small crane and half of those bungee cords!). This part of my identity is shredded.
I am fortunate. I am under no pressure whatsoever to lose weight from my husband or family. It just confuses me. If I am no longer the girl who can lose weight easily and fit those 14's, who am I?
In Christ.
I love that phrase. I honestly feel like I have not even remotely plumbed its depths, but I love it. I am in Christ. In Him, I have everything I could ever want or need, including acceptance. That means I am in Christ if I am size 14 or size 24. When I am single, now that I am married. Childless and mother of one or three. None of those circumstances change how God sees me.
Lord, help this be enough.
I have gained and lost many identities this year. The one I want to focus on with single-minded determination is the one I have in Christ.
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