A Strong Daughter

This is Megan. She’s honest and loving and gets $h*t done.  In church, I like standing by her because her voice makes me happy.  And God gave her good hair–the kind you just want to touch to see if it’s real.  It is.  A few weeks ago I invited some women in my life to share their thoughts on this blog.  (You can
read more about my intentions here.)  Megan responded to the below quote, reflecting on her own relationship with her mom. I hope this quote and Megan’s thoughts spur on reflections for you too! 

“If you want to understand any woman, you must first ask about her mother and listen carefully… the more a daughter knows the details of her mother’s life–without flinching or wining–the stronger the daughter.”  -Anita Diamant, The Red Tent

Strength. Something I have always wanted to be true of me.  So to be the daughter in this quote is appealing to me.  But if you were to ask me about the details of my mothers life, her story I would only be able to tell you a one sided story.  You see, my mother only showed me the good stuff.  The strength, the popularity, the socially skilled extrovert, the leader.  And everything else was hidden.  Oh sure, there were moments when it could no longer remain out of my view and I got glimpses of past pain and failure but they were fleeting and I was never invited in.

Over time, this taught me to keep me from showing my weaknesses to others. But that was difficult when my weaknesses were seemingly her strengths.  Her ease in starting conversations with strangers was a stark contrast to my inability to engage with those I didn’t know.  Her stories of boyfriend after boyfriend was the lens through which I saw my own singleness.  And her ability to nurture and care for things was a glaring opposite to my independence.

It hasn’t been until recently that I began to catch myself becoming my mother.  It’s the curse of being a real adult. 

And while this realization is usually followed by me rolling my eyes and sighing, it has led me to realize that I was given more of my mothers story than I knew.  There are pieces of me that are a part of her that give me a more intimate view of her story than she ever could ever have told me out loud. 

Not only do I see that there is pain and rejection in her story,  I can feel it as I respond to my own pain.  And I can see the insecurities in her past as I see myself respond to my own. 

So ask me about my mother.  And I’ll have to show you the inner parts of me. 

30 Before 30

This is Julie. She is one of the smart women who said yes to sharing a piece of her life for me to read- and to letting me post her thoughts on this blog.  (You can read more about my intentions here.) Julie turns 30-years-old this year and she made a list of things to get done before her 30th birthday.  Here’s a snapshot of her list- and why she decided to create it!  Happy list reading!

I’m turning 30 in 4 months.  It’s easy to get caught up in the day-to-day and forget to stop and appreciate life until a large milestone is right around the corner.  I’m not a huge birthday person, but I decided I wanted to make this year something to remember. 

I first heard about the idea of a 30 Before 30 list from a woman I knew through a non-profit I volunteer with.  I thought it was a great idea and started looking online for ideas of what to include on my list.  Pinterest has a lot of posts about lists like this which typically included things like sky-diving, learning a new language, running a marathon, traveling…it was harder than I thought to come up with a to-do list that seemed meaningful and somewhat significant!  Some of these were suggestions from friends, many were easy to come up with, and yet others took a lot of brainpower to figure out.  I decided my list would be a combination of new things to do/try as well as activities I might have done in the past but don’t take the time to enjoy any longer or would like to have more of in my life.  

In no particular order here is my 30 Before 30 list:

  • Go to a Blackhawks game (combined this one with a road trip and went for a girls weekend in Nashville to see the game)
  • Sit by a bonfire (originally I thought of going camping, however I don’t have any camping gear and it seemed like a lot of money for a s’more!)
  • Plan/take my next passport necessary trip 
  • Read a biography of someone I admire
  • Read 5 classic American novels (this came to me when I heard Maya Angelou passed away)
  • See Eric Church in concert (best Christmas present ever from my sister)
  • See a show at Second City
  • Handwrite one letter a month (suggested by my friend Alissa who loves to send and receive letters)
  • Take a class (I thought this would be something related to cooking, however I went rock climbing instead, much better!)
  • Do something horsey (I’ve been around horses most of my life, however living in the city has made that next to impossible)
  • Find another volunteer activity
  • Wine tasting at a winery
  • Visit 5 Chicago neighborhoods
  • Movies/Music in Millennium Park
  • Go out on the lake (still trying to figure this one out…do you know someone with a boat?!)
  • Visit Arlington Race Track
  • Read my book on Walt Disney (got it several years ago as a gift and still haven’t picked it up)
  • Cook a new food every month (this has been great, I’m a much better cook than I thought!)
  • Get on Twitter (this was the first thing I accomplished, started off with something easy)
  • Go ice skating in the park
  • Make a new friend (surprisingly harder than it sounds, it’s easy to make acquaintances but a new friend…that takes time)
  • Visit Cedar Point
  • Find a mentor
  • Tone triceps (this was my fitness related one since I wasn’t planning on running a marathon)
  • Learn how to do eye makeup
  • Buy a new piece of art
  • Go on a road trip
  • Learn about cheese
  • Learn about wine

I’ve completed or am on the way to accomplishing about two-thirds of the list.   The next few months are booked with all sorts of fun activities and some downtime to finish all the reading on my list.  So far, my 30 Before 30 list has been a great conversation starter, a way to connect with friends, and an opportunity to consciously plan to spend time enjoying life and all that it offers.  It won’t be too long and it will be time to write a new list, although I think I’ll end up with a 35 Before 35 this next time around!  Can’t wait 🙂 

I WIll Quit Robbing You

RoseyThis is Rosey.  She is an artist and I asked her to refer to her paintings in this blog post where she responds to what she’s quitting this year.   

I am lucky to have smart friends.  In an effort to capture some of their brainpower I asked a few of these smart friends to respond to a specific topic. And the below is what Rosey had to say. (You can read more about my intentions here.)  
 
I Will Quit Robbing You

By Rosey Lavine 

Sitting on the sidelines, wide-eyed, taking in each moment, and absorbing each hidden meaning in the situations around me… Shrinking until I almost disappear, I taught myself to sneeze quietly, walk softly, talk minimally, and of course, keep the boat as balanced as possible. No waves. In kindergarten I remember trying to hold my breath for as long as possible so that the sound of my breathing wouldn’t bother the girl sitting next to me. I did not feel safe to be me in my own skin, and to this day, it is still something I struggle with. The swell of life around me feels too big for me to fit into. Years later, I breathe better, but my mind is darting through every possible doubt in what could be, like exposing my true self, whether good or bad, would step on someone’s toes.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?” Actually, who are you not to be?” – Nelson Mandela

Ironically, I spent a good portion of my youth on a stage. I even held the lead role in the local ballet a number of times. The stage was an escape to be someone else for a while. People loved Clara. I found value in their love for her, and I was great at playing the part. But there were a few people who saw something behind the role – the real me behind the layers. In their utter frustration I heard the words, “Why are you holding back!?” more times throughout my life than I can count. These people are dear to me in my attempt to dig me out of the layers I’ve hidden behind.




And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. – Anais Nin

I find sometimes that I’m still playing a role in a play. It’s become
easier to be what others expect me to be – a sort of scripted, quiet,
unburdened, unobtrusive role – sweet, and helpful. Somehow there’s
comfort in playing a role – Terrible, hospital bed like comfort. Not the
kind of comfort to settle into, lest you become paralyzed. In the role,
I’ve gone through motions that sometimes look like me. Sometimes they
even are me, but I’ve also lost myself in a bit of fear that I might
expose too much. And that vulnerability is difficult to overcome.

But
oh, how I’m attracted to the people that aren’t afraid of being the odd
ball, rocking the boat, and standing up for what they believe in. I’m
attracted to the vulnerable. People who are kind when it’s not normal,
and who get angry at the right time in a stand against injustice. People
who don’t care what others think. How can I love that person, and be
afraid of being that person at the same time? How I desire such freedom.

I’ve heard that firefly lights are the most efficient lights in the world – 100% of the energy is emitted as light, compared to  an incandescent bulb which only emits 10% of its energy as light, and the rest as heat. I’d like to be a firefly – bright and free in flight rather than a light bulb under a bowl.

“You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” – Jesus

When did I become so afraid to shine?

It’s time to do some pruning, and some quitting, and some life disrupting, daily, good change.

One of the best words of advice I’ve ever received was to,

“Quit robbing others of the gift of you.”

It’s a daily struggle as I overcome my insecurities and embrace the lovely me.

But today, I dare myself.

Today, I will quit holding me back. Today, I will quit robbing you.

Practice Happiness

Over the past years I’ve grown a lot.


You
know how sometimes you look back and see how much you’ve grown. And a
little twinge of embarrassment comes over you as you think about how you
were before the growth.  Thankful to be standing, I wish I could have
learned more quickly (or less painfully- or less publicly).  But that’s
not really how my growth worked.


In
the past 7 years I’ve experienced dark days when I wondered if my
marriage would make it, I felt lonely and angry a lot, instead of
letting people get close to help-I found ways to avoid being known, I
had to learn how to lean into my husband instead of away from him, I
encountered intense physical pain with no clear solution, I got a
glimpse of my imperfectness close up (it was uglier than I imagined), I
was wrong a lot—but acted like I was right a lot, I had to change shitty
thinking patterns, I wrestled with my identity being tied to my work, I
started seeing a listen lady to talk through my problems because
getting stronger on my own was a dead-end. And I wrestled with God’s
love for me.


They say every
7-9 years your marriage will go through some kind of turmoil- the way
you interact with each other and how you love each other needs to be
re-addressed.  And you have to fall re-in love.  I wonder if that 7-9
years thing is also related to personal growth.  Enough time goes by for
real life change to happen- for better or worse.  It’s like enough time
goes by that you can’t avoid the real poop of life- you actually have
to deal with the poo (or be covered in it… or cover it up with a really good numbing strategy).


The
path since I left my job in March 2014 has been slow and tender– in so
many good ways. I have experienced a closeness to God that I was too
busy to accept/see/acknowledge/appreciate/fill-in-the-blank before. I
have margin for relationship, for gratitude, and for community.  And
as it turns out- those things each contribute to our individual sense of
happiness!

I recently
watched a documentary called Happy.  It was, of course, about finding
out what makes people happy.  40% of our happiness on any given day is
due to genetics.  We’re hardwired for a certain spectrum of happiness,
which explains why some people seem happier than others. Another 10% of
our happiness is affected by events and experiences.  Like “I got a
promotion” or “I lost my dog”… you know things that affect your outlook
on any given day.  So that leaves 50% of the pie left.  50% of our
happiness is within our control.


So happiness isn’t something that happens to you. It’s something you practice! 


So here are the three things you can do to practice happiness:

  1. Be
    in relationships where you’re known.      People
    who are in relationships where they are able to be vulnerable and known
    in all their imperfections are happier.
  2. Serve
    the community.      Whatever community you’re a part of, join it.  A study
    of people who live in Okinawa Island, which also has highest # of 100+
    year-olds per capita, attributed their longevity and happiness to their
    sense of community. Instead of asking what do I get?  happy people ask
    what do I have to give?
  3. Practice
    fruits of the spirit.      Since it wasn’t a Christian documentary- they
    said ‘practice spiritual concepts’.  But the point was, that even if
    you’re not a religious person, those who practice concepts like
    gratitude, empathy, compassion, love were happier.  And furthermore, you
    can actually train your brain to light up with those emotions.

Over
the next 8 weeks, I’ll be writing and getting input from friends on how
they practice happiness, on how they use their voice, and on how
they’ve grown. 


Please stand by for more posts from some of the most loving creative respectful thoughtful people!


Love and happiness,
Hanna

Slaying Dragons

I’m pregnant with Amelia.  It was a long journey to get here. Getting here has been good but it has been a scary one with dragons disguised as helpless emotion and big thorny plants that resemble self-pity and can swallow you whole. Luckily I’ve discovered I have swords to slay the dragons and some round-up for the weeds.  I haven’t written about this pregnancy much because it feels personal and a not that unique.  Every mother has a story of a child- of her child- of the journey to have a child.  Wherever you are in (or out) of that journey, thanks for reading a glimpse of my baby story

Amelia has been diagnosed with CCAM, which means part of her lung is filled with unhealthy cystic tissue. Which means the unhealthy tissue in her lung is big enough that it pushed her heart to be on the wrong side of her chest.  Which means the pressure on her heart could cause heart failure.  Which means that we go in to see a doctor weekly to monitor the health of her heart and the size of the cysts. Which means she’ll likely need surgery after she’s born to remove part of her lung. The outlook is good.  The process is scary.

On a Friday Brandon and I went in for a routine ultrasound to measure our baby’s little body and organs.  When the ultrasound was over, the technician printed out pixelated photos of what we saw on the screen and we cooed over the photos as if Anne Geddes herself handed us the first colorful vibrant pictures of our baby.  The technician left and I wiped (smeared) ultrasound goo from (around) my expanding belly—making sure to get the puddle from my soon-to-be-outie belly button.  When the ultrasound technician entered the room again, the words that left her lips were quick and to the point, “your baby has a large mass in her chest so an appointment on Monday for follow up tests has been scheduled”.

I held it together for a good six minutes, which is just enough time to make it to the hallway where my emotion flooded my cheeks and neck with tears that couldn’t take my helplessness away. I wished my tears had magic healing power.  But they didn’t make me braver.  My tears didn’t numb how scared I was.  They didn’t give me peace.  All they gave me were puffy red eyes and clumpy has-been mascara marks.  After making my way to the restroom I lowered to my knees in the stall.  I wasn’t in control.  I’m not in control. While Brandon’s emotions stunned him into his stoic German roots, mine swirled into a steady flow of heavy tears. 

We’ve had lots of follow up appointments, been through lots of tests, and met with lots of specialists after that Friday.  We gained insight into our new reality.  We talked about potential scary outcomes and we talked about hopeful possibilities.  Each visit with a specialist brought both a sense of fire-breathing anxiety and the undeniable fact that ‘this is really happening’. Sometimes I was filled with a bright ray of hope though. And I loved feeling the hope. I wanted more of that feeling.

So I decided to go get some hope.  I decided each visit was an opportunity for more information.  Information helps make better decisions.  And I like good decisions.  I decided that I would not wallow in helplessness.  Instead I would repeat pep-talks to Amelia (which I think were really for my soul) about being a strong healthy person in the face of imperfect situations.  I stopped allowing myself to feel sorry for having to see all of these specialists and I started being grateful for weekly checkups on my baby’s health.  I decided that in my lack of control, my love for Amelia would have to do.  I didn’t have any magic tears to numb the feelings I didn’t want to have, all I had were dragon slaying tools like gratefulness, love, and compassion to fight with.

Not everyday is perfect and my thoughts are not positive 100% of the time- sometimes I’m frozen in the thorny weeds with fear.  But on those days, I go on a walk.  I think about holding Amelia and send her as much positive energy as I can bring about.  I listen to a happy song.  I smile.  I’m not in control but I’m okay even in an imperfect situation.

These Things You Must Do

I’m not into babymoons—too trendy for me.  But I am into doing fun things.  I’ve heard wise friends tell me to take
advantage of all the free time possible before a baby arrives. And by my
calculations, Brandon and I have about 10 weeks-ish to live a diaperless, sleep
in, sleep all night schedule. 
Unfortunately (fortunately) I can’t plan exactly when our wiggly sweet
Amelia Olive will arrive but I can plan my “before baby bucket list”. 

Here’s a list of activities I hope to accomplish before
Amelia changes our lives (more) forever: 

Visit Morton Arboretum with Brandon (and take lots of pictures)

Attend to the Joffrey Ballet (to admire the way the some
people are able to express feelings with movement) 

Get Frozen Yogurt (and cover it with an excessive, I mean excessive!, amount of sprinkles)

Sleep In Without Guilt 

Learn a New Line Dance (and actually go line dancing)

Eat At Mago (and savor every single bite from my favorite
local Mexican restaurant) 

Buy A Pair of Shoes (just because my cute feet deserve cute feet
outfits)

Eat a Burger from Au Cheval in the West Loop 

Take My Mom & Aunt to a Fun Restaurant in the City 

Take Hubble on a Daily Walk (to make me feel like I’m taming
her crazy but in reality, I know she’ll always be our quirky stubborn dog)

Clean Out All Closets (to, of course, make room for a little
baby) 

Read a Baby Book (but don’t take it too seriously-because
there’s only so much planning a new
parent can do)

Talk Brandon into Fixing the Light Above the Sink  

Hang Curtains Across Our Back Door (and say a prayer, make a wish, cross my fingers that Hubble-see above post about crazy dog- doesn’t shred them)

Ask for Help When I Need It

Think About Purchasing a Dining Room Light (but take no
action) 

Contribute to Instagram 1x week (instead of just passively
browsing)

Replace my favorite M.A.C. Lipstick 

Figure out How Much Babies Need to Eat

Write a Blog Post 1x/Week Until Amelia Arrives 

Everyday, Tell Myself I’m a Beautiful Daughter of God (with
meaningful intentional gifts to contribute to the world)

Bake My Favorite Red Velvet Brownie Dessert 

Stop Apologizing for Being Me (but don’t stop apologizing
for my real mistakes 😐 )

Thank Jesus Every Time I Feel Amelia Move (…this is really
happening!)

Cheers to a new future!
Love, Hanna

April Baby

I’m having a baby.  A little girl is growing inside of me right now.  I know because I can feel her strong kicks and jolts as she wiggles from side to side of my belly. 

From Autumn to Winter to Spring, my April baby will do some of her most crucial growth in the cold dark winds of winter.  She’ll experience long nights and short days, and skies that barely let a sliver of light through—as if we’re always living in a giant planet’s shadow. 

Her organs will develop just as it turns cold. Her skin will lose its translucency on a night when the concrete sheet of clouds hide even the brightest stars.  Her heart will grow strong when the chill of winter takes on startling permanence.  And when there is nothing but shades of brown and gray to look at, her eyes will begin to open.  She’ll hear the winds swirling around my belly and tuck in further. 

April babies grow through the seasons where life seems quiet and slows down to an indoor pace.  I used to wonder how life survives such coldness but now I know life is adaptable.  Each day as my April baby grows, I’m one step deeper into winter and one step closer to spring—when new life will bloom for the first time.

Her arrival feels distant and strange.  I’m waiting to meet the tiny person who will come into this world with a jolt, take my heart, take Brandon’s heart, show us our weaknesses, prove to us we’re not in control, and remind us of God’s love. I don’t know how to prepare for something like that—a person who requires so much of us physically and emotionally. 

I keep waiting for someone to tell me I cant meet her until I get my degree or certificate or license or whatever is required to be a parent.  I keep waiting for a call with directions for how to practice to be good parents.  And yes, I have read books but books are insignificant.  Reading a book to prepare for parenting is like being sent blindfolded skydiving into a foreign land.  I don’t speak the language. I don’t have skills to navigate the culture.  I don’t know how to skydive blindfolded—but I read a book. 

I know this is the rite of passage every parent must walk through.  It’s a human thing.  We create children and we love them and we can’t prepare for the future like we want to. Unable to practice for this life change, I wait out the cold winter cherishing every nudge that reminds me life is hearty and life grows in Winter.

Dave Matthews Band Concert Strikes Again

Watching the woman in a purple tank top do a rhythmical version of a snake charming dance seemed normal. What seemed out of place was the stuffed animal monkey Velcro’d to her wrist.  I said a quiet “cheers” to the woman and her Velcro’d monkey, for she was brave enough to wear it.  Then took another sip of beer and tried to enjoy the music of the Dave Matthews Band concert and the glimpses of Lake Michigan breeze floating between the thick puffs of smoke hovering in the air.  But my enjoyment was skittish and my relaxed state retreated farther away from my reach.  I became distracted by the guy in Lee jeans and a golf shirt in front of me who had been bobbing (not rhythmically) for the past half hour.  I watched a guy in a cut-off University of Illinois t-shirt passionately punch the air with each drum beat.  I watched his friend follow suit, only wearing a different color cut-off t-shirt.  I ignored the guy behind me blowing smoke at my head and tried to ignore the women in our row making constant small talk with Brandon-for they were unrelenting.  But I mostly didn’t mind.

Crowds give me an anxious feeling of no longer being unique.  At a concert you just blend into the masses–a voiceless face at the mercy of one big group.  The general public gives me a sense of uneasiness. If you can get past our drunkenness and hipster dufus-ness, humanity has beautiful parts to it (extra points for you if you get the Seinfeld reference). But if you’re at a concert and you’re a little bit shy, you might not be able to appreciate all that humanity has to offer.  Cue: loud man announcing that he’ll be relieving himself behind the restrooms due to long lines. 
Trying to distract myself from the 36,000 people belting out mumbled versions of song lyrics, I wondered why my dentist thinks I smoke.  Despite the fact that I don’t smoke, ever, my dentist kept pushing the topic the last time I went in.  What is so wrong with my teeth that my dentist doesn’t believe me when I say, ‘I don’t smoke’?  I now have developed a giant-jawbreaker-sized insecurity of my yellowing teeth.  But old habits die hard and I probably still won’t floss.  Sorry dentist man. 
Then my thoughts drifted towards a man named Rodriguez and I’m confident those thoughts came because Dave Matthews Band did a cover of one of his songs at the very same instant.  A popular documentary was created about this singer/songwriter’s stardom in South Africa–but the plot twists when you realize that Rodriguez had no idea he was famous.  In the US, he spent his days working blue collar jobs and quietly gave up his dream of singing.  Just watch the documentary- it’s called ‘Searching for Sugarman’.  
The music swirled around me and I wondered how many stories and moments of people giving up their dream filled the pavilion. When looking at humans, we’re a little bit weird and gross.  But we also have these glimmers of bright moments where we show kindness and compassion. Where we assume the best. Where we ask questions.  Where we realize that disagreeing doesn’t have to turn ugly. I hope my story gets interesting someday.  
Just as I forced myself to settle into the evening and pondered a soft pretzel, DMB began this song (below). Maybe it was the hazy air getting to me but my ears quickly fell in love with Long Black Veil by Lefty Frizzell. If you’re in the mood for an old emotive country song- today’s your lucky day! 

Dave Matthews Band Concert Strikes Again

Watching the woman in a purple tank top do a rhythmical version of a snake charming dance seemed normal. What seemed out of place was the stuffed animal monkey Velcro’d to her wrist.  I said a quiet “cheers” to the woman and her Velcro’d monkey, for she was brave enough to wear it.  Then took another sip of beer and tried to enjoy the music of the Dave Matthews Band concert and the glimpses of Lake Michigan breeze floating between the thick puffs of smoke hovering in the air.  But my enjoyment was skittish and my relaxed state retreated farther away from my reach.  I became distracted by the guy in Lee jeans and a golf shirt in front of me who had been bobbing (not rhythmically) for the past half hour.  I watched a guy in a cut-off University of Illinois t-shirt passionately punch the air with each drum beat.  I watched his friend follow suit, only wearing a different color cut-off t-shirt.  I ignored the guy behind me blowing smoke at my head and tried to ignore the women in our row making constant small talk with Brandon-for they were unrelenting.  But I mostly didn’t mind.

Crowds give me an anxious feeling of no longer being unique.  At a concert you just blend into the masses–a voiceless face at the mercy of one big group.  The general public gives me a sense of uneasiness. If you can get past our drunkenness and hipster dufus-ness, humanity has beautiful parts to it (extra points for you if you get the Seinfeld reference). But if you’re at a concert and you’re a little bit shy, you might not be able to appreciate all that humanity has to offer.  Cue: loud man announcing that he’ll be relieving himself behind the restrooms due to long lines. 
Trying to distract myself from the 36,000 people belting out mumbled versions of song lyrics, I wondered why my dentist thinks I smoke.  Despite the fact that I don’t smoke, ever, my dentist kept pushing the topic the last time I went in.  What is so wrong with my teeth that my dentist doesn’t believe me when I say, ‘I don’t smoke’?  I now have developed a giant-jawbreaker-sized insecurity of my yellowing teeth.  But old habits die hard and I probably still won’t floss.  Sorry dentist man. 
Then my thoughts drifted towards a man named Rodriguez and I’m confident those thoughts came because Dave Matthews Band did a cover of one of his songs at the very same instant.  A popular documentary was created about this singer/songwriter’s stardom in South Africa–but the plot twists when you realize that Rodriguez had no idea he was famous.  In the US, he spent his days working blue collar jobs and quietly gave up his dream of singing.  Just watch the documentary- it’s called ‘Searching for Sugarman’.  
The music swirled around me and I wondered how many stories and moments of people giving up their dream filled the pavilion. When looking at humans, we’re a little bit weird and gross.  But we also have these glimmers of bright moments where we show kindness and compassion. Where we assume the best. Where we ask questions.  Where we realize that disagreeing doesn’t have to turn ugly. I hope my story gets interesting someday.  
Just as I forced myself to settle into the evening and pondered a soft pretzel, DMB began this song (below). Maybe it was the hazy air getting to me but my ears quickly fell in love with Long Black Veil by Lefty Frizzell. If you’re in the mood for an old emotive country song- today’s your lucky day! 

You’re the Perfect Shape

Vanity creeps into our lives so subtlety.  Or not.  Leaving Chicago, I was distracted the entire ride on the Metra Train heading to my sweet sunny home in the suburbs.  In front of me sat two chatty 20-somethings. They wove in conversation about guys, about how they looked, about how their friends looked, about how their friend’s Facebook profiles looked.  And then they began miming exaggerated facial expressions as if to replicate the photos they were critiquing.  As I listened, I remembered my shaggy eye brows needed waxed, my makeup from the morning had faded into a smudgy oily blur, and my lips were chapped. I prayed to my sparkly lip gloss to give me magic unattainable beauty. Nothing happened.  I’m still me. Thankfully.

An instant later I remembered something that no woman over 30 should ever forget: I’m a grown ass woman.  Confidence can do more for smudgy makeup, or no make up, or oily skin or imperfections than any amount of CC cream- tinted or not.

Brandon and I just returned from a place in this world that God must have created when he was really feeling good–before the whole humanity + sin fiasco.  Cozumel, Mexico contains the kind of views that calms even the most restless person.  The shades of blue in the sea have so much brilliance your eyes begin to fill with tears as deep emotions stream out of the corners of your eyes.  The sparkle of the water reflects your happy tears back and dolphins jump in the distance (no joke) as the giant sun begins its daily incline to warm the earth and all of it’s inhabitants.  I never once thought, if only God would make the blue less bluey.  I just absorbed it- no critique- no judgement- no fix this or add that- or if only there were less dimples on this part…

I think that’s the great trick of our culture.  Stay focused on yourself and your screaming imperfections and you won’t (a) value yourself enough to do work you’re passionate about or (b) even have time to think about what your passion actually is.  I’ve seen it again and again.  I’ve seen it in myself.  A little less over here, a little more over there… then you’ll be good.  What the hell man.  I can be so self obsessed that I sell myself short (when i’m _______, then i’ll get started) or I don’t even give myself time to think about real issues because I’m too busy wondering if my jeans are actually getting tighter or the dryer is starting to shrink my clothes.  I get it.  I’m smart and know this kind of thinking is stupid.  We have to stop this kind of stupid thinking against ourselves.

Each day at the pool in Cozumel a large group of Israeli 20-somethings would parade in.  It was like watching a real life version of an H&M catalog.  These girls were all different shapes and sizes.  And their bathing suits were itty bitty tiny. I became aware that my 2 piece swim suit had approximately 39 times more fabric–next to them I felt like I was wearing a parka swimsuit.  I watched as each girl displayed the confidence of woman comfortable in her own skin.  It was like these girls had never been told that their value is based on their weight or their looks.

When we tell our little girls in subtle and overt ways that their value is in their looks, we’re hurting them.  We’re hurting their little souls.  The souls that believe that they can take on the world.  The souls that believe that they can be whatever they want.  Fast Company just published an article about Princess Reema Bint Bandar Al-Saud, a woman in Saudi Arabia who took over some key decisions at the luxury retail store her family owns.  Decisions like hiring women.  Decisions like not requiring women to wear a veil.   Sales at the store dropped 43%.  Much due to her radical change in empowering women.  I know it’s not the whole story and I know there are cultural and religious differences at play. But for God’s sake or Allah’s sake, or the sake of this beautiful broken world- women are more than a sum of their lumpy thighs and chapped lips and bushy eye brows.

We’re a beautiful mess.  We can do anything.  Change starts with yourself- and your damaging thoughts. You’re hurting all of us when you beat yourself up.  But most importantly, you’re hurting you every time you bash your skin, your arms, your legs, your belly, your whatever is yours.  You have beautiful curves and eyes like the sea.  Your legs are strong- even when you’re tired of trying to stand on your own.  Your arms are womanly and wonderful.  You have a perfect shape.  And you are destined for whatever great things you decide you want to do.

For a little more reading-
I love the sentiment in this blog post by Man Repeller.

Love to my sisters out there.