Project 365 {2013} - Day 218

The only thing better than this article is Justin being a dork in the background of me taking a picture of this article. I love that boy. Anyways, it seems like I have found myself surrounded by a lot of body conscious and food conscious people over the last year and a half. I think it's largely due to me being part of the CrossFit community. I am not going to say it is like this across the board with all CrossFit folks, but this ever-present sort of obsessive mindset seemed to be exhibited by some around me. I couldn't help but absorb some of that and had it skirting around the periphery of my mental vision. For reasons I won't go into here, because it's a big, old long back story, I will suffice it to say it was bugging me and messing with my mind. The obsession with which I saw other people living was really bothering me. Then I found myself subconsciously feeling like I needed to be doing the same thing, even though it wasn't what I wanted for myself. 

Prior to ever stepping into CrossFit, I had lost about 50 lbs on my own and kept it off for over a decade and throughout four pregnancies. I felt like I had a pretty good idea about what worked for me. Moderation. Using common sense. Exercising. But then I was introduced to this mindset that complete, unwavering perfection was the only key to success and performance and it was suffocating me. I felt I was somehow a failure because I didn't have the desire to adhere to that way of life. I craved to feel okay with moderation again, but was surrounded by those who said that was just weakness. I felt there was shame in standing alone in my thoughts on food, for not falling in line. I started feeling like a rebel for wanting to eat oatmeal for breakfast for crying out loud.

Additionally, I exercise not to look good, but to feel good. While I like seeing progress made, my goal has never been to conquer the world nor has it been to strut around in a bikini, so the whole world can see how hard I workout. That doesn't matter to me. I just want to feel comfortable in my skin. I want to feel strong and healthy. I am not interested in being driven to the point of pushing myself to injury to achieve. I workout to sweat. To feel oxygen in my lungs. To push myself further than what is easy. To let my body know I am giving back to it for all it gives to me. To let it know it is loved and taken care of.

So when I came across this article, my heart skipped a beat. Because it perfectly puts into words how I feel about my body. It perfectly puts into words how I feel about food and relationships. It perfectly describes my view of what a healthy perspective is. It was such a relief to shake that feeling that I'm crazy and standing alone. That there is someone else out there that feels the way I do and isn't ashamed of it either.

My muscles may never be as defined as someone else. I may never be as fast or as strong as someone else. I may be faulted for eating oatmeal or birthday cake. But that's okay, because setting my standards to fulfill someone else's vision for me was never my goal. My goal in life and in fitness is to be good to my body, by my own definitions. By what feels good for me. And to appreciate who I am, for what I am and recognize and give credit for the efforts I do give, rather than feeling like whatever I give is never enough.

Here is the article that put that skip back in my step...

"How To Talk to Your Daughter About Her Body"

 How to talk to your daughter about her body, step one: don’t talk to your daughter about her body, except to teach her how it works.

Don’t say anything if she’s lost weight. Don’t say anything if she’s gained weight.

If you think your daughter’s body looks amazing, don’t say that.

 Here are some things you can say instead:

“You look so healthy!” is a great one.

Or how about, “You’re looking so strong.”

“I can see how happy you are – you’re glowing.”

Better yet, compliment her on something that has nothing to do with her body.

Don’t comment on other women’s bodies either. Nope. Not a single comment, not a nice one or a mean one.

Teach her about kindness towards others, but also kindness towards yourself.

Don’t you dare talk about how much you hate your body in front of your daughter, or talk about your new diet. 

In fact, don’t go on a diet in front of your daughter. 

Buy healthy food. Cook healthy meals. But don’t say “I’m not eating carbs right now.” 

Your daughter should never think that carbs are evil, because shame over what you eat only leads to shame about yourself.

Encourage your daughter to run because it makes her feel less stressed. 

Encourage your daughter to climb mountains because there is nowhere better to explore your spirituality than the peak of the universe. 

Encourage your daughter to surf, or rock climb, or mountain bike because it scares her and that’s a good thing sometimes.

Help your daughter love soccer or rowing or hockey because sports make her a better leader and a more confident woman. 

Explain that no matter how old you get, you’ll never stop needing good teamwork. 

Never make her play a sport she isn’t absolutely in love with.

Prove to your daughter that women don’t need men to move their furniture.

Teach your daughter how to cook kale.

Teach your daughter how to bake chocolate cake made with six sticks of butter.

Pass on your own mom’s recipe for Christmas morning coffee cake. 

Pass on your love of being outside.

Maybe you and your daughter both have thick thighs or wide ribcages. 

 It’s easy to hate these non-size zero body parts. 

Don’t. 

Tell your daughter that with her legs she can run a marathon if she wants to, and her ribcage is nothing but a carrying case for strong lungs. 

She can scream and she can sing and she can lift up the world, if she wants.

Remind your daughter that the best thing she can do with her body is to use it to mobilize her beautiful soul.

Project 365 {2013} - Day 209

 

Standing in the kitchen, slicing cucumbers fresh from my sweet neighbor's garden, enjoying the citrus smell soaking into my skin as I squeezed juice from lemons and being strangely reminded of dyeing Easter eggs as I measured vinegar. Dashes of salt, pinches of sugar. Relaxing as the sounds of Ben Howard's "Old Pine" filtered through the computer speakers, transporting me to another place. Anticipating the summery char on the grilled chicken and refreshing cucumber salad for dinner. Enjoying the idea that all of my family, after a long month of fragmented togetherness, were all under one roof. Lulu wandered into the kitchen and I picked her up and we slow danced as I told her how I was so sure that God had made her just right.

I live for these moments.

Just minutes later cacophony broke out in the living room and the moment passed. Everyone was sent to their rooms for some "alone time". As I came back downstairs from making sure everyone made it to their rooms without killing each other, I took in what was before me. The house that I had spent four and a half hours cleaning the day before had been completely destroyed. After I recovered from the initial annoyance of my peace and hard work being disturbed, I mentally shrugged it off and decided to not let it negate the goodness I had just experienced. 

That's just the way life is.

If we never had those moments where we had to mentally, physically, emotionally or spiritually push through, we would never fully understand or appreciate the good that does come into our lives. I had a moment of gratitude for those experiences I have had in my life. Ones that lifted and strengthened me and also the ones that have crushed my heart and soul. Because they have all given me perspective, which I have decided is one of life's most precious gifts.

Project 365 {2013} - Day 199

I could have lost her today.

"Where's Devyn?" a voice, that sounded just like my own, silently whispered in my ear.

Just minutes before Brynna had sweetly taken her to the bathroom for me. But now Brynna was next to me and Devyn's floaties laid unoccupied at my feet. Brynna's friend had walked in just as her and Devy were walking out of the bathroom and in the midst of happy hellos, she and I lost our concentration for a moment.

As the voice whispered, adrenaline surged as I scanned the pool. There, on the opposite end, I made out a little shape, struggling to kick under the water.

Instinct took over, not even feeling the pavement beneath my feet as I flew to my baby. Running then leaping into the pool and scooping her out from beneath it's surface. She inhaled deeply and in a shaky voice said "Mommy, I held my brweaf. Mommy, dat was scawy."

I held her close and quietly hugged her. Wanting to keep calm so she wouldn't feel scared by my reaction, but meanwhile the voice in my head telling me "Sarah, it could have all been over. You could have lost her." I have never before been confronted with that in-your-face fear. That in-your-face perspective.

Later tonight after the bustle of the day ended and kids were tucked in, I crawled into her little toddler bed with her and brushed blonde curls from her eyes and stroked her freckled, baby-soft cheek. I breathed her in. Her presence, the steady rise and fall of her chest, her eyelashes laid peacefully across her cheeks. I don't know how I would ever live if something happened to any of my babies. Especially as a result of a shortcoming of my own.

I vowed in my heart to stop just being around my kids when I am with them. But to see them, appreciate them and soak them in. Because you never know when the day you wake up, could be the day that changes your life forever.

Bodies

     Lately I have been writing back and forth with my brother Matt. He has had a drug problem for many years and is finally at a place in his life where he is getting the help he needs and confronting the demons of his past. I know with drug abuse it is a life-long battle. But I am so grateful to be able to interact with him and it be him. Not the drugs posing as him in his body. He was telling me how exercise and meditation have really been helping him. Recently I have discovered the joy of exercising too and am grateful to share that common ground with him. In my most recent letter I wrote...

"....It was good hearing from you again and I’m glad things seem to be going relatively well. I love how you are exercising regularly. I have to say, working out changes my whole outlook for the day. I go in early in the morning a few times a week before the kids wake up to get my exercise in. I can’t tell you how much better I feel when the kids do wake up and I have to hit the ground running! I’ve already had my “me” time and so I find that makes it easier to give the rest of my day to others.

    I kind of had an epiphany at Nana’s funeral. As I sat there looking at her little body, knowing her spirit was no longer there, I felt such a reverence for these vessels that we have been given to carry us through this life. Every day our heart beats, every day our blood pumps, our brain sends signals, muscles move and flex, bones support, eyes see, ears hear. It’s such a miracle. As I looked at the table with pictures of Nana’s life; of her as a baby, a young girl, a young woman, a mother, a Nana…I saw her body had been there with her through her whole journey, supporting her and providing a home to her Spirit the whole while. It’s pretty amazing and gave me a different outlook on our own bodies and how we appreciate them, how we treat them, how we feel about them. It made me get more serious about fitness and giving back to the body that gives to me every day. I am glad that after years of abusing your body you are treating it with respect and taking care of it. Keep up the good work!..."

   I am grateful that every day I wake up my body is there to serve me and to help me serve others. I hope my girls grow up with that same knowledge. It took me a really long time to see my body as a gift rather than an imperfect "thing". I hope my girls recognize the wonder that it is and always strive to take care of the gift they have been given here in mortality. And while I know we all will age and eventually die, I'm grateful that our bodies, including our minds, during our time on this earth have the ability to heal and to renew. I am grateful that my brother has this time to reconnect with the vessel he has neglected for so long. It is my sincerest prayer that he is able to renew his life, his purpose and his body and become the man he was sent to this earth to be.

Bath Buddies

 Lauryn and Devyn being bath buddies!

Monday, Mondays....I started working one or two days a week back at Dr. Taylor's office about a month ago. I started with Dr. Taylor, who is a pediatric dentist who also does orthodontics, when Justin and I first moved to Georgia back in 2000. When Maryn was born in 2003, as much as I loved everyone there, I quit to stay at home with her. Now nine years and three more babies later I am back! It's been a nice, little outlet for me and keeps my brain cells firing. But waking up at 5:00 a.m. and not getting home until about 6:45 p.m. on Mondays makes for a long day.

So I was grateful to be able to come home and give my Littles their bath before bed tonight and watch them play. It's so strange, it doesn't seem like that long ago that it was Maryn and Brynna singing and playing in the tub. Now they can run their long-legged selves to the shower and do their own thing. But my Littles, they still love a good hair-washing from Momma and relished giggling as they saw how ticked off they could get me with their splashing. I am ready to freeze these two. Because if the passage of time with their sisters has taught me anything, it's that these little, squeezable years fly by way too quickly.

Fall Is In The Air

     The air that has hung over Georgia as a result of Hurricane Isaac has been warm and thick. Clouds loomed from horizon to horizon like a playground bully loving to see it's victims squirm and sweat under their oppression. But this morning some force of nature pushed Isaac and his unwelcome presence out and we were greeted with a crisp 58 degree morning with an endless view of blue sky. I cooked up a big pot of oatmeal with apples I picked myself from a North Georgia orchard this week, walnuts, cinnamon, nutmeg, brown sugar and butter.

     The girls cozied up to their warm bowls of goodness as they exclaimed "Mom! This tastes just like Fall!" They then started in, going back and forth, about their favorite things that were inspired by cooler weather. Pumpkin patches, Halloween, warm wassail laced with cinnamon, orange and cloves. They drooled at the thought of chocolate chip pumpkin bread and eating breakfast wrapped in a blanket. The turning of leaves and the hope that winter would bring snow. All things I love so much myself.

     I've often wondered what it is about Fall that captures my heart. Spring has blooms and new life. Summer, warmth and carefree days. Winter, the anticipation of the holidays and all the wonder that goes with it. But Fall....there is something about it that I love so much. Maybe it's that with the turning of the seasons, as leaves change from who they were, we see that there is beauty in that transformation. And maybe I like the idea that that change can be reflected in our own lives. That time may change us and challenge us, but it doesn't have to diminish us. That our beauty, inside and out, can become more vibrant than ever with each turning season of our life.

Thoughts on Sister Hinckley

“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”
-Marjorie Pay Hinckley

The first time I read this quote I was in my mid-twenties. I thought it was a lovely sentiment, but I remembered thinking "I don't know... I wouldn't mind a good manicure and some good looking clothes and a nice car. And being okay with sticky on you? Can't I be a good person and not want sticky on my shirt?"

The long and short of it was, I didn't get it. Of course there is nothing wrong with a good manicure. But what I failed to grasp five or six years ago was the feeling that when you lose yourself in living life, specifically a life in service to God and others, all those other things become peripheral. I failed to understand that you find more joy in helping others than you ever could in solely taking care of yourself.

I just love every bit of the way Sister Hinckley worded that. It gives me a feeling of peace that yes, my van may at times look like a rolling garbage can. Yes, my laundry pile may never be completely conquered. Yes, I may wear the same pants three days in a row...but fulfillment isn't just found in the things the eye can see.

I am okay if some things get put aside so that I can write a family member, or watch a friend's child, or make a pot of soup for someone you care about who is sick or whatever it is. Those are the things that matter. Not a vision of perfection, but the reality of solid relationships. The reality of knowing that this one life we have to live was spent in the ways that really matter.

Grateful Heart

I woke up this morning cocooned in warm blankets that protected against the nip in the morning air. I could hear the older girls playing happily upstairs in the playroom. I got up and walked into Devyn and Lauryn's room and was greeted by ear-to-ear grins and happy, little voices. I came downstairs and was welcomed with a smile from my husband and music filling the airspace around the breakfast table. As Devyn and I munched on our granola, she kept grinning at me and patting my shoulder. I LOVE it when she pats my shoulder! Brynna ran downstairs to give me a squeeze before she was off to play again. After finishing breakfast, I was off to go upstairs to get showered so I can meet up with my friend Laura this morning...and then I stopped and felt the moment. I said a prayer in my heart thanking my Father in Heaven for my life and for the many, many good things in it.

When I was in my twenties I thought that true happiness or contentment would finally be achieved when we had a beautiful home filled with nice things, new cars and could afford to go wonderful places. I thought happiness was never having conflict. I thought happiness was when the Lord blessed you with the things you wanted right away....

Happiness, and I had to take a moment to record this so that my children know, isn't any of those things. Happiness resides in a home, regardless of size or furnishing, where there is respect and love. Happiness is knowing that even if your van has 118,000 miles on it, it is paid for and starts each time you load your kids into it. Happiness is knowing that you and the people you care about can survive tough times and live to love stronger and more earnestly the next day. Happiness is knowing that God loves you so much, that He knows what plan is right for you. Even if it means you have to wait and even if it means you have to work for it. Happiness is knowing that out of all the places in the world you could be, nothing compares to sharing a couch and staying in with a husband and children who love you with all the generosity hearts can hold. Happiness is having friends that you don't have to put on any pretenses for. Ones that love you like family and you know would do anything for you.

I have all these things.

My life is simple. But I want my children to know that I consider myself one of the most blessed women alive. Because I have everything that really matters. I have everything in life that I need. I think when we cultivate a genuine thankfulness for every need that has been met, our wants for the frivolous dwindle. Because we realize what is really important, what really matters and we find contentment and joy in those things. I know I have. I know that my life is blessed, beyond measure.