Go Ahead. Reject Me...I'm OK with it.

I'll be honest, I have never liked rejection. It sucks. One of the things I'm working on is not taking rejection personally. It's hard! 

I spoke at a wonderful conference for women and young women this past weekend. One of the principles I taught them was the the opinions of others are just that--their opinions. Opinions are not truth. 

Rejection is often coupled with a palm to the face, or insults, or words like "It's not you, it's me." I can handle other people having negative opinions about me, but when it comes to the next layer of rejection, that's where I struggle.

I experience a wave of rejection just a few weeks ago. The first was an email I received from a blogger that was supposed to review my book back in January. I emailed to inquire if she had read the book and was planning on putting up a review. She said, "I've never gotten through it. What I've read is good but I seem to read a chapter then forget about it."

Ouch. Not even a typical female attempt to soften the blow. 

The next day I received word that a speaking group I had hoped to become a part of decided I wasn't "a good fit" for them. 

Ouch again.

Then, two days later, I was told by a publisher that one of my book ideas was "gimmicky," that they weren't interested in it, and that it would be damaging to my 'brand' to publish it.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.

I tried to remember the truth that rejection is more about the person (or people, in my case) rejecting than the person being rejected. But, I didn't do a very good job. I cried for a few minutes. (Ok, days, but who's counting?)

I focused on the trifecta of rejection until I began to take their opinions as truths. Maybe I wasn't a good writer or speaker. Maybe I was just a gimmick. The more I thought about it and chewed on it, the more miserable I became.  I mean, what if they were right? 

Then I wondered if the friend from the past that called me in January was right. She called, out of the blue, angry. She said she was reading my book, and didn't like it. She then proceeded to tell me I was a terrible person and need therapy. How could I write a book like this because I was such an awful person? She said she'd finish reading my book, but she wouldn't enjoy it. I told her I loved her and I would love to talk with her more about why she felt that way, but she said she wasn't interested. She hung up and unfriended me on FB.

Then, maybe the relative that told me the only reason they spend time with me is because they have to was right. We are too different and they just don't 'get' me.

Then, maybe Tim French from middle school was right when he spit in my face and told me I was gross.

The weight of rejection laid heavily on my heart. The more I though about it, the more I wondered if they were all right. Just maybe.

Then, two wonderful things happened. 

A few days after I became a pinata of rejection, I talked with my husband about the string, and sting, of rejections. I said, "You know, I feel like I'm trying to do good things and and be a good person, and the very ones that are supposed to be the biggest supporters, the ones who should 'get' it, are not only rejecting me, but being not very kind about it. It hurts."

His response was unexpected and profound. He said, "It sounds very similar to someone else you know and love." It took only a moment for me to understand he meant Jesus Christ. Not that he or I were comparing myself or what I am doing to Him, but my husband's point was this: 

Sometimes we focus on how much our Savior understands us--and He does. He has felt every emotion, every sorrow, every pain, every joy, every thing we have felt He has felt. He was perfect love and empathy for us. But, how often to do we focus on understanding how He felt, empathize with Him? 

In that moment I understood just a sliver of what He must have felt. He was rejected, not just by His enemies, by the very people that should have been His greatest supporters. Family, friends, church members and leaders. 

As I let this epiphany sink in, the reality of what my Savior went through became more real. He became more real. He was rejected. He hurt. I was rejected. I hurt. I knew that He understood me, but I felt that I had begun to understand Him just a little more.

Jesus Christ was perfect and rejected. His rejection was a direct reflection of others, not Him. I am totally imperfect and rejected. My rejection is a direct reflection of others, not me. Suddenly my rejection became a source of understanding and a spring-board to a stronger relationship with my Savior.

I felt closer to Him, but there were still some lingering doubts. The Savior is perfect. I'm not. What if they were right...even just by a hair?

Then came the second wonderful thing. A few days later I was scheduled to speak to a group of women about the power of doing and becoming. As I spoke the clouds of doubt left and I was lifted and filled once again. It wasn't from the women who came up afterwards and shared their stories with me (though I loved talking to every one of them!), but it was the feeling I had as I taught them.

When truth is taught, God confirms it by the power of the Spirit. If we are listening for it (and sometimes when we are not), we can hear and feel His validation of the things we are being taught or teaching. That morning I spoke about doubt and fear, and having faith in yourself. As I started to speak I felt like an empty well, but as I spoke, God seemed to fill me up with the confirmation that the things I was sharing were indeed true for them, and again true for me.

I say again because I've struggled with rejection in the past and He has helped me feel better--helped me to see once again see myself through His eyes. Not the eyes of the people who don't 'get' me, don't want me, and simply don't like me or what I have to offer, but how He sees me-how I really am. He made me feel good. He's done it in the past, and He's done it once again just last week.

When it comes right down to it, God knows me better than an old friend, a publisher, a speakers group, a blogger. Though they may even have valid points, it doesn't change my worth in God's eyes. It was a difficult, but sweet, reminder to me once again how important it is that we seek His perspective in our lives. I also felt His love for me, and it sweeter than anything I've ever tasted. Even Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie pie. It's that really good.

He also knows you and your worth. If rejection ever has or will come knocking at your door (or email, or phone), I hope you turn to Him. It's easy to get lost in the world of opinions, but He knows more about you that even you do, and His opinion is more important--and more true--than anyone else's.

To me, that's the power of perspective--it can not only help you see the good things in your life, but take the sting out of the negative things. Perspective also gives you the power to direct your eyes, your happiness, and ultimately, your power to where it needs to be--in God and in yourself. 

I gave my power over to others for a few days, but I took it back. I don't dwell on the opinions of others. God knows who I am. I know who I am. So, go ahead. Reject me. I'm OK with it. 

Almost Every Moment

Since the moment I signed my contract with Deseret Book to publish  'Does This Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?' I have been asked a hundred times, 'Aren't you just LOVING every minute?!'

Of course I am! How could I answer otherwise?  I am a published author--of an inspirational book, nonetheless! I landed a my first book deal from my very first pitch session at my very first writer's conference. I am proof that miracles can happen, that dreams can come true! 

So, of course I tell people I am loving every moment. Because I should, right? Right? How dare I not?

I've loved almost every moment.

But, the truth is, I haven't loved every moment. In fact, there are some moments I haven't enjoyed at all.

Like the moment before I signed the contract, where I cried and wondered how I could possibly publish a book about insecurity when I still had moments of insecurity.

Like the moment I realized my book wasn't flying off the shelves, and people weren't fighting to get their hands on the last copy in the store.

Like the moment my book was replaced by the 'next big release' and I was an 'old release.'

Like the moment I was snubbed by someone I looked up to.

Like the moment I walked up to a woman at my book signing, handed her my book, told her all about, only to have her hand it back to me and say, "No thanks, I just want Where's Waldo."

Or like the moment an old friend called me after many years to tell me she she bought my book and she felt the need to tell me I was a terrible person who needed therapy, that I am sick and twisted for writing such things, since I was a deeply disturbed person inside. That she will read my book, though she won't enjoy it at all. 

That moment was awful.

I wasn't expecting any of these moments, and, frankly, they all sucked.

Then there were other moments that were filled with surprising and unwelcome feelings.

Doubt that I could write another book. 

Fear that if I tried and failed I would become an official 'One Hit Wonder.'

Sadness that the phone stopped ringing and the emails stopped coming as I stepped off the euphoric New Release roller coaster and back onto the platform of real life.

Confusion when I struggled to know what direction to take next.

Pressure to write another book before the few fans that I have forget me.

Though these moments and feelings have only dotted the joy that I've felt during this experience, they are still real. And I have felt awful for feeling them.

Have you ever felt like that? Like you had an amazing opportunity, blessing, or experience, and yet, there are some bad or tough moments, or negative or difficult feelings that arise? Perhaps after the birth of your child, or a new job. Maybe a new relationship or marriage. Have you ever felt guilty for not loving every single moment?

I'll admit, I grappled with justifying the contradictory moments and feelings. Then I've found  few things that have helped me to understand how it all fits in--how we can feel bad amid the good, and what we can do about it. 

First, I accepted the fact that I am human. We have bad times, even bad days. That doesn't mean we're bad--that I'm bad.

Secondly, I recognized the adversary's influence in my difficulties. As I looked at timeline of the bad moments/feelings, I saw a direct correlation with my successes and opportunities. As I took a step back, it became easy for me to see the influence of the adversary on my journey. He doesn't want me to succeed. He doesn't want me to be happy. And he definitely doesn't want me to write another book.

One of the things I have loved about the publication of my book is the way it has touched and empowered so many women. I get emails and phone calls, meet them in person and online. Through hugs and tears I have heard their stories, their heartbreak, and the hope and joy they have found through the truths contained in my little book. Satan wants to stop the good from progressing. He wants to stop me.

Once I realized that, I allowed the bad moments and feelings to be just that, moments and feelings. They didn't ruin my experience. They didn't take away from the beautiful and far-reaching effects of my intentions and efforts. They didn't mean I haven't done any good, that I am weak, or that I am not cut out to do this again. They are just moments and feelings. They aren't me.

I am prone to these moments and feelings because I am doing good things, because I am pushing myself, putting myself out there, and trying hard.The adversary wouldn't mess with an unworthy opponent or one who wasn't a threat. It is a sign that I am actually doing good--really good.

Third, I also realized that, though these moments and feelings were real, and sometimes awful, it was the guilt that I felt over even having them that weighed the most heavily on me, as though having them meant that I either didn't appreciate or deserve the wonderful experience as a whole. Once I saw them for what they were, just moments and feelings I could compartmentalize and work through, rather than an indictment of my failure or unworthiness of this experience, I became free to focus once again on the joy of the journey. 

And it has been a joy.

Fourth, I realized, once again, the power that prayer unlocks. Through a lot of prayer, God has mercifully given me glimpses of His perspective and purpose. He has eased my fears, and strengthened my shoulders and heart. And He has let me know that, as always, He has a plan for me--even though I might not love every moment of it.

Fifth was the realization that difficult moments don't mean the experience isn't a or valued one and I can't still be grateful. It's okay to not love every moment or be grateful for everything we have or don't have, as long as we have gratitude in our circumstances. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf spoke of this recently:

"Could I suggest that we see gratitude as a disposition, a way of life that stands independent of our current situation? In other, I'm suggesting that instead of being thankful for things, we focus on being thankful in our circumstances--whatever they may be." 

He acknowledged that it can be difficult to be grateful for the things that are painful or difficult--but, he said, we can have gratitude IN all our circumstances.I can have miserable moments and feelings and still have a thankful heart. And that's ok.

As I look back at my journey this past year, there has not been a day--even days with tough moments and negative feelings--where I haven't felt an overall gratitude to God for His love and guidance. It was ok that I wasn't grateful for every moment, that I didn't love every second. I could have those not-so-happy experiences AND still be grateful. It wasn't an either or. 

That was a big moment for me. The guilt I felt for struggling with these moments and feelings left. There are some residual feelings there, especially as new pressures arise and new opportunities loom (or not loom), and that's all right.

Lastly, I realized that this will probably happen again--and that's ok. Good marriages are dotted with tough times. Parenting is riddled with challenging moments.Pretty much any worthy goal that requires effort to achieve will also bring on moments and feelings that might not be joyful-that might be downright awful. But that is the ebb and flow of life, the rhythm of growth. The reason we are here.

We aren't here to love every single moment of this life. But, we are here to develop the ability to have gratitude in our circumstances, whatever they may be. We are here to reach and grow, to extend ourselves and improve ourselves, to be more than we are today. That kind of reaching brings growing pains, from inside ourselves and out. With God's help, we can have the perspective to see through and beyond those moments and feelings, to the wonderful things He has in store.

So, have I loved every moment?

No. But, I am deeply grateful for my experience.

Do I look forward to the more painful moments and bad feelings?

No. But with perspective and God's help, I am ready for them, and I say, "Bring it on."

Now I'm off on another journey, another book, another amazing ride, and another set of difficult moments and feelings. 

And I'm gonna love (almost) every moment of it.

Why do we care what other's think of us?

That's a tough question. I think, in part, it's because we sometimes have a hard time seeing ourselves so we rely on others to tell us what they see; kind of like taking a friend clothing shopping. 

**Side Story: About five years ago I came home from a shopping trip with some clothes I thought were fantastic. I did the obligatory fashion show for my good husband, who complimented each one, then gently suggested that perhaps next time it might be fun for me to take a friend. Turned out that my clothes were cute, but my style, like my dance moves, seemed to have been frozen in the nineties (yes, I can do The Elaine.)   Luckily I've been able to move past that--well, at least the clothes part.

The problem comes when we allow what others think--especially the wrong others--determine our worth in our own eyes. 

That was something I struggled with as a teenager. In 'Does This Insecurity Make Me Look Fat?' I explained that "I sold my identity for the compliments and criticism of others." And it was true. I would come home from middle school/high school and sit by my awesome rotary phone, waiting for it to ring. If it did, I felt great! If it didn't, I was sure it was because no one liked me because I was totally lame. 

I gave others the power to tell me what I was worth. The ironic thing that I grew to understand later was that they didn't really care. Not that they didn't care about me, but they didn't spend inordinate amounts of time considering my intrinsic value. They were just living their lives.

But I didn't know that then. I let what they thought--or more accurately, what I thought they thought of me, make me feel either good or bad. 

The difficult thing about that is that, for some crazy reason, it is so much easier for us to believe the bad things we hear than the good. So, for a long time I felt pretty bad about myself. 

Then I changed where I was looking.

As I grew older, I stopped looking around me and started looking above more. I began to really strengthen my relationship with God, and in turn, I began to see Him and myself differently. 

I began to see glimpses of how He sees me. And I wasn't lame. I'm still not. I know this because He told me. And He doesn't lie.

I've changed a lot over the years. So has my phone. And so has my view of myself. I know who He is and who I am. I like who I am. And I find great joy and confidence in that.  

But (and isn't there always a big but), sometimes I falter--especially when the threat of a CPS call is looming like at my daughter's Mother's Day Tea a few years ago. (I give a sum-up of the funny story in the video below. The full story is in my book.)

Luckily, those moments don't last, and I remind myself that no matter how bad I think I might appear in someone else's eyes, God know me. 

God knows who I am. He knows my intentions. He knows my weaknesses and shortcomings. He know my strengths and talents. He knows me.

And He thinks I am pretty amazing. 

So I choose believe Him. 

Because He can't lie. 

So, amazing it is.

Of course this doesn't apply only to me.

Are there times when you feel lame? Time when maybe you let  the opinions of others sink too deeply under your skin? Does it sometimes affect your sense of worth? You're not alone.We all do that (well, most of us, anyway. There are some that truly are impervious to anyone else's opinions-though they are few in number.)

The point is, when you feel that way, it's easy to start on the path of feeling better. Start by looking up to God. He knows you. He knows who are. He knows your intentions. He knows your weaknesses and shortcomings. He knows your strengths and talents. He knows you.

And He thinks you're pretty amazing.

So, choose to believe Him.

Because He can't lie.

So, amazing it is for you too. 

Perfection in Progress

Perfect. Perfection. Perfectionist.

These are words that raise the stress level of most women I know.  They seem to be haunted (me included) by the expectation of perfection.  Keep the perfect house, raise the perfect children, say the perfect thing, etc.

Many have seen the fatal flaw in this way of thinking. They have taken it upon themselves to crusade for the right to be imperfect with sayings like:

"A beautiful thing is never perfect." 

"Strive for progress, not perfection."

And though this gives me some sense of relief- it creates a new problem of lowered expectations and complacency. A longing creeps up through the layers of thought- a longing that yes, I do want to be more, I do want to be perfect.

The I wonder where that comes from. Why do I feel this desire, this need to be perfect. 

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks the other day. I was teaching a Sunday School class about Heavenly Father. We were discussing His divine attributes, perfection being one of them. A question popped into my head and out my mouth:

Can a Perfect Being create something imperfect?

I've thought a lot about that in the past few days- even prayed about it. We are created in His image. He is perfect, yet we are not. And the world tells us we aren't supposed to be. And I long for it.

Then a light went on in my head, and in my heart.

God created us perfectly to be perfect. But- we are not finished being made. 

The reason we aren't perfect now, isn't because we are a flawed creation and ever will be. We aren't perfect now because he isn't finished creating us, molding us, teaching us, and raising us.

God isn't finished with me.  I am, in essence, perfection in progress. 

My perfection doesn't lie in my performance, but my potential. This explains my innate desire to strive, to improve, to grow, to be perfect.  This desire is in my heavenly DNA. It's as though my spirit knows something my mind has forgotten:  I was made to reach perfection.  I just haven't gotten there yet.

As I rejoiced in this new perspective, another thought came to my mind:

God's view of perfection has nothing to do with how well I take photographs, or cook, or clean, or exercise, or homeschool my kids (which I don't), scrapbook, blog, Pinterest,  write, dress, or whatever. The perfection God intends for me is perfection in my character and glory and joy.

No where in the scriptures does it say, "Be ye therefore perfect like the skinny, well-dressed  PTA president whose kids always look adorable. Yeah, be like her."

No, the Savior Himself says, "Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in Heaven is perfect."

This is what He wants for me...someday- to be perfect like Him, when He is finished with me.

I know I wont' be for a long time. My whole life and then some. That's the way He intended it.

He doesn't expect a finished product when I'm still going through the production line.  I still have missing pieces and experiences. I am still unfinished.

He doesn't suggest, nor expect, perfection now- He only asks that we look to Him for help to realize our perfect potential, and let Him help us get there.

Our struggles and imperfections are not a surprise nor a disappointment to God or the Savior. They knew we would have difficulties and doubts, sadness and frustration, weaknesses and shortcomings. They also  knew at times we would be weighed down by unhealthy expectations and guilt. These things just get in the way of our progression. They want us to turn to them- to hand our weaknesses and sorrows over to them.

In Matthew 11:28 the Savior says, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Then in John 14:1 he says, "Let your heart not be troubled, ye believe in God, believe also in me."

They want us to be happy now in the knowledge that we will be perfect later. They want to help us now, so we can reach our perfection later. 

That's the beauty of our progression: we don't - can't - do it alone. 

God will be there, if we let Him, to mold us, to guide us, to strengthen us and to cheer us on. He is our creator, and we are His creations in progress. He is actively working with us and through us to help us reach out greatest potential. He celebrates our steps- even the smallest of them - every day. 

He applauds the way we love, serve, repent and forgive. He has given us our innate longing to do better, to be better- not so we will feel sadness in our perfections, but so that we will seek Him out in them. And together, someday, we will be made perfect.

Until then, I know for me, I will find joy in each step I take, knowing that perfection isn't expected of me, but waiting for me someday. 

I'm perfection in progress, and proud of it.

My Worst Nightmare at a Writer's Retreat

This past weekend I attend my very first Writer's Retreat. I have never felt closer to feeling bi-polar in my life that while there.  I went from HIGH to LOW so many times during this retreat that I had to take some Dramamine for motion sickness!

When I arrived I was giddy with excitement  I was at a conference with REAL writers!Little me, who blogs and is trying to write a book in the wee hours of the morning and night, and breaking break (literally, we had really good wheat rolls at dinner) with real-live authors. (HIGH)

I went from giddy to the other side of the spectrum where terror lies- I signed up for my first critique group. That's where you stand in front of a group of strangers, naked, under a bright spotlight, and they use long sticks to point every flaw.  (Can you imagine?!)

Okay- I might be a little dramatic. I really wasn't naked. I wore a pair of blue jeans and a sweatshirt. But, that's what I FELT like. What actually happens is that you take five pages of your writing and read it to the group out loud while they mark up all your mistakes on their own copies of your work.

At that moment, however, I might have opted the naked route.  (No, no, I wouldn't.)

For me, writing is who I am. It's me. It's my best efforts. These are my words, my thoughts. My writing is shows the very person I am.  And to be that fully exposed,  magnified and dissected by other writers, well, it was truly terrifying.

I hadn't spoken to the other four women in my group before, other than an introduction before. They sat around the table smiling sweetly at me. I assumed that was part of the ritual - to lull the victim into a sense of peace before you rip them to shreds.

I smiled back, grateful I was the one seated closest to the door.

One writer bravely went first. Her story flowed with imagination and character. And yet, there were a few flaws, just a few places where she could improve.

The smiles stayed while they (including me) offered our thoughts about the positives and negatives.

It was the first time I had ever critiqued someone else's work. It felt....strange.

Then it was my turn.

I read the first five pages of my manuscript. If only the sweet ladies knew how terrified I was. But, I put on my brave face and read.

I didn't get past the first line when the PUBLISHED writer, Christine,  across from me whipped her pen out and started marking up my page.

I knew it. I knew I was a terrible writer. (LOW)

As I read, the group laughed out loud at the right place (HIGH) and gasped in the right place (HIGHER), but the pens kept flying (back to LOW)

I bravely finished reading and set my papers down, ready for the dream-killers to tell me what I have feared all these years: that I am a terrible writer. (REALLY LOW)

To my surprise, they offered words of praise and encouragement!   They thought I had some talent, and really enjoyed by writing. WHA? You mean, they think I am a good writer? (HIGH) They gave some suggestions to my writing, but frankly, by this point, I was so happy inside I didn't care. I exposed all (another google hit for that one) and was found to have talent.   (HIGH HIGH HIGH!)

The rest of the day was amazing. The classes, the women, the food. I was loving it! I even entered into a flash-fiction contest, where they give you a prompt and you have to write a short story of 300 words incorporating that prompt. Being such a talented writer, I was bound to win, right?

The next morning the winners were posted. I giddily skipped up the wall to read my name. The winner was the aforementioned Christine. Another women got second, then three other women tied for third.

I didn't even make the top five.  (LOW)

Yes, this was proof that the dream was over. I was actually a bad writer: untalented, unskilled and worst of all, embarrassingly over-confident. (LOW LOW)


By the time I got home I was exhausted! Doing emotional calisthenics for three days drained me, and I took a two-hour nap.

I woke up with a fresher, more realistic perspective of  my experience and an imperative realization:  The reason my emotional roller-coaster was so bumpy was because I let others set the track- others who had no idea I had allowed them to.

I was so insecure about my ability (or feared inability), that I looked to them to tell me if I had talent or not.  I looked to them to define my level of talent, and, in part, my worth as a writer.  I analyzed and interpreted their reactions and situations as either personal endorsements or indictments. One moment I was a good writer, and the next I wasn't, depending on what was happening around me.

I need to lay my own tracks- to allow myself to feel that I have some talent and ability, while recognizing - and even embracing - the need for growth.

That was probably the greatest lesson I learned from the retreat. Peace comes from knowing who you are, and what you can become. No other person can truly tell you that. They may have opinions, and some of them might even be right. But only God knows your true potential and worth.

And the beauty of that is that He doesn't keep it a secret. He is more than happy to share what He knows with me.

The sweetest moment I had at the retreat, as I look back, was during a group lecture. The speaker, Heather, quoted a man that spoke about women writer's in the latter day (these days) and that they would, in essence, be a power for good. When she read that, I felt a wave of warmth fill ripple from my head to my feet. I tingled all over.

I knew it was God's way of telling me that that quote would be true for me. Somehow, in some way, He is using me as a power for good.  I was where He wanted me to be, doing what He wanted to me do.

God, Himself, told me over the weekend that He loves me and loves what I am doing.

How can I want more than that?


So, now I move forward, and maintain a steady level of joy, confidence and peace in my writing. I won't compare myself to others- because no on is like me. I will continue seek to learn, and to improve, without the self-condemnation of failure- -because the key to happiness is growth.

And most importantly, I will continually remind myself (because I will probably forget again) that my worth cannot be measured by comments or comparison, but by the One who made me. He sees under all my layers of pride and insecurity. He sees every flaw, every weakness and every fault. But, He is also the only one who can see clearly all my strengths, my talents and my potential.

And He thinks I am a good writer.

So, I'm gonna take that and run with it.....

When Pain Trumps the Pain

I've got a friend who recently had shoulder surgery and wrist surgery on the same day. I was able to visit with her just yesterday and inquired about her recovery.

She shared how the shoulder has mobility, but still is quite painful.  Lifting is difficult, but a necessary part of mothering a young child.  

When I asked her about her wrist she said something that was interesting.  She said that before the procedure the surgeons explained that, even though wrist surgery is painful, the pain is trumped by the shoulder pain and she most likely would not notice it as much.  

She happily told me it was true.  As bad as the pain from her shoulder was, it had drawn nearly all the attention away from her wrist.  It was a blessing in disguise.

I thought about that concept in a spiritual sense. Afflictions aren't a lone breed.  They usually come in pairs, or even packs.  When when ball drops, so does the next.  When a domino falls, it knocks down the others. 

Sometimes we are so bombarded by trials that we just feel pain.

But, maybe that is wisdom in God's plan.  Part of the purpose of life is be tested and tried.  Salvation has a cost, and it isn't cheap.  If we experienced each affliction, each trial, each pain or discomfort in a string of individual experiences, our lives would probably be filled with a never-ending stream of troubles, problems, adversity and pain. Each individual trial would receive our full attention, and we would experience all the pain and frustration associated with it.

But, God in His infinite wisdom, has taken that string of trials and combined and spaced them into clusters of manageable afflictions. (When I say manageable, I mean that we will never be given more than we can handle.)

As we experience multiple difficulties, the harder, more painful ones, trump the lesser ones.  We can experience them and endure them without the full affect of their pain, and yet still be beneficiaries of the blessings that come from enduring them in faith.

Not that I'm a big fan of pile-up trials   - or any trials for that matter.  But the trials in this life are what allow us the opportunity to learn and grow, to stretch and choose who we will be.

I've had a few in my life- but as I look back at those times, I can see that this principle rings true- at least in my life.  As I am going through something big, smaller trials pop up the seem unimportant, even trivial in comparison. But, if I would have experienced them alone, they might have caused me a great deal of discomfort, even pain.

One of the greatest blessings of these cluster trials is the sweet relief when the healing begins and the trials and pain lessons, and the lessons and blessings of peace and growth take their place.  We have more spiritual strength and mobility, and we are better for the wear.

It just goes to show that, truly, we can see God and His wisdom in nearly every aspect of our lives.  Even a shoulder/wrist surgery.  I'm grateful to my friend for inviting me into her home, sharing a fun afternoon and giving me such great food for thought.

Layers

Last year at our church's Harvest Festival there were a variety of games we could play.  One of them was the Mummy Game.  You stand still as your partner runs around you, unwinding a large roll of toilet paper.  You race against another team to see who can unroll the toilet paper first. In the end, you look like a wrapped up mummy (albeit a messy one!)

It was a fun game, and not as easy as it sounds.  (I, personally, enjoyed the eating-a-donut-hanging-off-a-string-with-no-hands one.  I pretty much dominated that one!)

My daughter played the mummy game a number times. One particular time she teamed up with an overzealous partner who speedily unwound three rolls of toilet paper all over her. Nearly every part of her was covered, but her feet.

She stood there, looking like a TP mummy. I wouldn't have recognized her if it weren't for her sparkling prices shoes!

I helped unwind her, layer by layer, until I was able to see and recognize my little girl again.  She said, "Whew, now I'm me again!"

Adopting an older child has had it's blessings, but it has also come with its share of challenges.  There are behaviors and habits that were developed long before she came.  Some are positive, but others are foreign and even detrimental. Some are just down-right frustrating.

But, as I've studied, prayed and pondered about it, I realized that she is playing the Mummy game, although this time it was not of her own choice.

Deep inside is my little girl.  She is strong, sweet, intelligent, patient, loving and kind.  She has amazing potential.  But, covering up much of who she really is are her behaviors.

She is wrapped up in fear and anxiety.  She has layers of sadness and anger.  Since she was young she had partners who ran around her with instability, abuse and neglect. So, now she comes to our home, wrapped in layers; and it's my job to unwind them, layer by layer, until I can see her.

I struggle because sometimes I forget that I am not seeing her, but the layers that she is wrapped up in; when she throws a fit, when tells a lie, when she makes other choices that are contrary to what we teach and practice on our home, I need to remind myself not to just stare at the layers, but to look beyond them.  I remind myself that she is under the layers, and it's my job to get to her.

This concept of layers doesn't only apply to adopted children.  They apply to all.

We are all covered in layers to some degree. Some are wrapped so tightly that it is nearly impossible to see who they really are.  They might even know who they are inside.  Others have only a thin layer; perhaps of insecurity or sadness.  But, we all have layers.

When I see someone acting in a negative way, intentional or not, I have to remind myself that behaviors are  layers.  And when I get frustrated with them, and perhaps even develop feelings of dislike for them, I have to remind myself of a saying I once heard "You cannot love behaviors."

It is difficult look at a person or child who is hurting you or attacking you and think warm fuzzies- because you can't love behaviors.

The key is to look beyond the behaviors, beyond the layers to the person wrapped up inside.  Often they cannot find their way out without help.  And almost always, they want deep down inside to feel like themselves again. Deep down we all want to be happy.

So, when I am offended by an adult, or frustrated by a child, I tell myself they are layers, not them.

Underneath we all want the same thing: to be valued, to be loved, to be needed and to be worthy.  In most cases, the people with the most behavioral issues are the ones with the most layers.  They are the ones that want to be freed the most, even if they don't know it.

I know I have my layers.  Sometimes I will say or do something contrary to who I feel I am because I am acting out of insecurity, anger or selfishness.  That isn't easy to admit, but it's true.  And, I would hope that those around me would try to look beyond my layers, too.  That they would try to see me, my righteous desires, and my potential.  And I would hope that they would love me for me, not judge me because of my layers, but see through them.

I love my daughter.  She is a challenge, with many layers.  It will probably be a life-long endeavor to unwrap them, but she is worth it.



PS- For those of you who were wondering, there is the matter of accountability we all have to unwrap our own layers.  Regardless of what has happened to us, we are accountable for how we act and what we do. This post in no way is dismissing personal accountability. (That's a whole different post!)  It is simply a visual that helps me get past the choices that some people make and see them for who they are.  It makes it easier to love them, not their behaviors. 

$3.51 Well Spent

Guess what I'm doing right now.

I'm looking at my Samsung monitor's beautiful, clear picture.

Guess why that's a big deal.

Because three weeks ago my monitor started to die.

It began with a momentary flicker before showing a clear picture when I turned on my computer. Then, each time I turned it on it would flicker on and off  and on and off longer and longer, until last week the picture never came- only the flicker.

It would cost $200 dollars to replace. Not cool.

So, after a bit of sulking, I decided to take matters into my own hands.  I did some research and found a number of message boards with people who had the same problems.  Turns out it was bad capacitors.

So above my pay scale.

I am not a techy person.  When I was younger I would slice the phone lines, and I am the one in our home who hooks up the TV/cable/DVD wires, etc, but I have never taken anything apart. But the thought of not spending $200 for another monitor compelled me to continue.

I did more research, and last Friday night I spent an hour taking my monitor apart, down to the circuit boards and found that, indeed, I had 4 bad capacitors. I found a reputable company online and ordered 4 new ones: $3.51 including shipping.

Got 'em in the mail today.

I spent two more hours pulling out the bad capacitors and putting in the new ones (had a bit of technical trouble and person epiphany- I don't deal well when things don't go my way.)  I didn't have a soldering tool- I don't even know what one looks like.  But, I know it's a hot thing, so I plugged in my curling iron and used the tip to solder (I guess that's what it's called) the capacitors onto the circuit board.

I reassembled my monitor and held my breath as I turned it on.

Viola!  No flickering!  A beautiful picture!

I was so excited I called my husband in, who responded with the appropriate awe and praise.  The most I could get from my teenage son, however, was a monotone "cool."  But, I interpreted that to mean, "Oh, Mom, you are SO amazing!  I hope I marry someone half as cool as you!"  I takes less effort to shorten that all into one word: cool- but I knew that's what he meant.

I'm not telling you all this to toot my own horn (ok- maybe just a little.)  But, there is a principle in it that I love:  We are capable of doing so much more than we realize- if we only try.

Let me say that again: WE ARE CAPABLE OF DOING SO MUCH MORE THAN WE REALIZE- IF WE ONLY TRY.

If you would have told me at the first flicker that I would be the one to fix my monitor, I would have scoffed.  But, yep- I totally did it!

The principle of doing great things doesn't stop at monitors.  It is an eternal principle.  We are told by Paul that with God all things are possible.  Perhaps God wasn't too concerned with my monitor, but he knew that my family could have used that $200 for something else, and I was prayerful as I tried to fix it.

I don't think we give ourselves enough credit.  I have a brother who is so smart, and has such good things to say, but he doesn't want to start a blog or write because he isn't sure how to do it, or if he even could.  So, without trying he just doesn't.

I have another friend who is so crafty and wants to start her own business, but isn't sure if she is capable of doing it. So she doesn't.

There have been many things in my life that I have been unsure of- and even more that I was sure I couldn't do, so I didn't do them.

But, not this day.  I fixed my monitor.  I didn't think I could, but I totally did.  I'm looking at it right now, and it's cool!

I guess my monitor isn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but the principle is: I am capable of doing so much more than I realize- if I only try. And from now on, I'm going to be trying a lot more.

That's $3.51 well-spent.

It's Hard to Find Good Help These Days

It was my junior year.  Prom.  I asked Kevin to be my date.  He said no, that he was going to ask Cynthia.  I found out the day of the prom that he asked her and she said no. He decided if he couldn't go with her, he would not go at all. Not only was I not his first choice, but I wasn't his second or third. I wasn't even a choice!  He would rather NOT go to the dance than go with me. I was crushed and humiliated.

So, I did what any teenage girl would do under that circumstance: I cried.  I cried and cried and cried.  I felt embarrassed  I felt sorry for myself, I felt angry, I felt hurt.  And I felt them all very loudly.

My older brother, Jim(the not-sensitive one), came into my room (I left my door open, just in case anyone heard and wanted to come give me some attention- even though I denied it) to see what the commotion was all about.  I looked up at him through swollen, wet eyes.  He just stood there, staring.  After a few seconds, he simply said, "Hmmmm."  Then he turned around and left!  Now I was rejected by my brother, too!  My cries grew louder and more pitiful.

A few moments later, my oldest brother, Bob (the sensitive one) came into my room.  How did you ever know I was crying, I asked. Jim had told him (although I think everyone within a 5-mile radius probably were wondering what that pitiful sound was.)  Bob sat with me and said all the right things: Kevin was an idiot, and someday he would regret not choosing me, and so on.  I really didn't believe him, but it was just what I wanted, and needed to hear.

For a long time after that I felt upset that Jim didn't help me that night.  He just stood there like an idiot and left to get the one who could really help- Bob.  But, the older I got the more I began to understand Jim.  He is not a touchy-feely guy.  He was not sensitive in the least.  So, when he came into my room and saw the sad condition I was in, he was not equipped nor prepared to give me the assistance he knew I needed.  His way of helping me was getting me the help I needed. If Jim hadn't gone to get Bob, who knows how long I would have kept crying and feeling miserable.

Often times God sends people into our lives to help.  It is difficult to recognize their assistance, because their help doesn't come in the way we feel we need and/or want it.  So, often it goes unnoticed, and unappreciated 

Sometimes we can get so caught up in what WE are feeling or experiencing, that we miss what others are doing for us.  Our little Grace has been in our family for a year now.  For the longest time I kept trying to figure out her needs, and how I can help her.  I began to feel tremendous pressure to figure her out, to have all the answers.  I finally broke down one evening.  As I was praying about the heavy load of expectations and effort,the Spirit spoke softly but unmistakably clearly to me: You have not been given her to help her, she has been sent to you to help you.

I had not expected that.  And, to be honest, I was taken back and a little disappointed.  I am the one that is supposed to teach her. Not vice-versa. As I silently protested and  questioned (bad girl!) But, the Spirit helped me understand that Grace was sent to me to help me become a better person. Just as I hadn't recognized the help Jim had been to me,  I also had not recognized Grace's help to me.

My brother Bob fell from the coveted position of favorite brother, however, a few years later.  I had begun to make some not-so-hot choices.  He caught me and said he was going to tell my parents if I didn't.  I called his bluff. He told my parents. I was grounded for the rest of my life (translated into parent vernacular- grounded for the summer.)  I was furious with Bob for the longest time.  But, after a while I began to see that he had actually helped me.  I began to see that even though his actions were not what I considered helping at the time, they really did help me get back on the better path and become happier.

Jim, Grace, Bob- I know that God placed them in my family - and more specifically- in that particular time, to help me.  It strengthens my testimony that God really is the Great Choreographer. He knows me and what I need better than I know myself. And thank goodness for that!  I'm still trying to figure me out!

We've all heard someone at on point or another say,  "It's hard to find good help these days." Maybe that's true.  But, perhaps are more appropriate sentiment would be, "It's hard to recognize good help these days."

God has placed people in your life, right now, to help you feel better, grow, repent, or just be happy.  They might not look and act like you want them to, or expect them too. But, the fact is that they are here for you. It may be someone that gets you to the one who helps.  It might be someone you struggle with, that causes you to learn and grow.  It might be someone who is brave enough to have you upset with them, as they lovingly (and sometimes not so lovingly) redirect your life.

You may recognize them, you might not.  You may appreciate them, you might not.  You may want them in your life, you might not. No matter what your will is, God tends to stick with His.  And His will is that you learn and grow, with all the help He can give you.

Be open, be prayerful,  be grateful. You might be surprised to find that the neighbor you can't stand has helped you become more tolerant, or the unruly child has helped you say more sincere prayers, and so on.  

Maybe, just maybe, you might find that somewhere in Washington a blogger was prompted to write this to help you see God's hand in your life.  Hmmmm.

Spalories

There is an empty soda can sitting on my desk. In big letters it brags, "0 CALORIE." That means I can drink it and not gain any weight.  I don't want to gain weight, so I drink it.

Sometimes, when I am hungry, I will drink my 0 calorie soda to satisfy my craving.  I feel full and I didn't take in any extra calories!  Sounds like a win-win. But it's not.

The other day I was in a hurry.  So, instead of eating lunch, I grabbed a soda so my stomach would stop making noise. It worked.  My stomach stopped making noise. But, by the end of the day, even though I had ingested plenty, I had, in reality, taken in little nutrition. Our bodies need proper nutrition to feel strong, fight diseases and to function at it's fullest capacity.  It takes great care and attention to nurture and feed our bodies the right way.

Our soul need the same care and attention. It would be great if our spirituality could be measured in something like calories. For fun, I'll call them spalories (spiritual calories).  Spalories are vital to our spiritual health and well-being. We must take in healthy, good spalories so our spirits ( our testimony and spirituality) will be strong, fight temptation and function to it's fullest capacity.

There are many ways to get spalories.

Here is short spalorie chart:

Prayer: 500 spalories ( add 100 bonus spalories for kneeling.  Add 300 more for crying tears of gratitude or pleading)


Scripture Study: 500 spalories


Attending Church meetings and activities: 1000 spalories


Doing a selfless act of service: 600 spalories


Sharing your testimony: 1500 spalories (that is sometimes really scary!)


Hugging your children: 200 spalories.


Reading this blog: 300 spalories (just kidding.....or maybe not!)

You get the drift.  There are many things we can do that are worth plenty of spalories. I'm sure you can add plenty more to the list.

Let's say I need 2000 spalories a day for proper spiritual nutrition. I could pray twice a day and read my scriptures and be almost completely nourished.

But, Satan has come up with his own 0-spalorie replacements.  He would rather you partake of his goods than those that provide real spiritual nutrition.

Here is the adversaries 0 spalorie chart:

Standing in front of the mirror giving dirty looks at your thighs: 0 spalories


Yelling at your kids: 0 spalories


Being critical of others: 0 spalories


Watching inappropriate tv shows and movies: 0 spalories

The list goes on and on.  You could spend a lot of time on these activities and have a zero spalorie balance at the end of the day! In fact, if you do these things often enough they can actually take away from your spalorie reserve!

What's a spalorie reserve, you ask?

Great question!

We know that testimony and spirituality are not static. They either grow or shrink each day, depending on our spaloric intake. If I don't get enough spalories, my testimony and spirituality lessen- even if it is just by the slightest, imperceptible degree. But, if I meet or exceed my daily spaloric intake, my testimony and spirituality will grow stronger. And, if I go way over and above that amount, I will create a spiritual foundation of spaloric reserve!

But, if I neglect my spaloric intake, and replace it with 0-spaloric activities and attitudes, my reserves with quickly shrink.

Are all 0-spaloric activities bad? No. I like a good reality TV show once in a while.  But, it is bad when it replaces high-spaloric activities, like when I replaced my healthy lunch with a soda.

Bottom line: Feed your soul. God has given us countless ways to take in spalories.  The numbers above are just for fun. Figure out for yourself your spaloric intake.  Make a spaloric goal for yourself.  Find the things that are high in spaloric value that you just love, and indulge yourself!

Watch what you say and do.  Ask yourself, how many spalories is this worth? How many spalories do I need to nourish my soul today?

Love your spalories, love yourself!  I think that's my new slogan!

Now I See

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at my ophthalmologists office getting my eyes checked. It has become an every other year ritual since I was 14 when I first began wearing glasses and/or contacts.

Over the past few months my vision has really taken a turn for the worse. Even with my contacts in street signs were hard to read. Pretty much anything further than 15 took on a soft blur.

This visit started out like any other exam. The Dr. and I chatted a bit while he tested my vision on the big machine in the dark room (I hate getting my eyes checked.) Then, in the middle of the testing, I asked the Dr. why he thought my vision had gotten so badly so quickly. He said sometimes it just happens, but there wasn't any sign of disease or anything that should cause concern. Then Dr. said, "I really don't know. God only knows."

Normally I would have let it go without saying anything. But, lately I've been praying for more opportunities to share my testimony with those around me. So, in our half-darkened room, I simply smiled and said, "Yes, He does."

I guess he wasn't expecting that response, because he did a double take. Then, with a hint of skepticism, he asked, "How do you know God is a He, and not a she or a something?"

Now I was the one taken by surprise. I thought for just a moment before I responded.

Me: "Because He is my Father in Heaven and I am His child." (I felt so bold, like the Apostle Paul!)

Dr.:"But, God is many other things to many people."

Me: "Yes, but truth is truth, regardless of opinion. There are millions of opinions, but one truth. It is not our job to create our version of God based on our personal hopes and beliefs. We must find the real Him and base our hopes and belief on the truth."

Dr. had a scientific mind, and therefor wanted proof of His existence.

Me: "Man can prove anything he sets his mind to. Man has proven that eggs are bad for you. Then he proved they were good for you. I'm not sure where man's view on eggs are right now, but I am sure it'll change again. That is why we shouldn't rely on man for that answer. Things of a spiritual matter can only be taught and understood through spiritual means. That is where faith comes in. It is not a matter of proof. It is a matter of prayer and faith."

Dr. didn't seem too convinced. With little response he continued testing my vision. For the remainder of the exam we had fun small talk about many other topics, but nothing spiritual. I thought my boldness had fallen on deaf ears and blind eyes.

At the end of my appointment, he shook my hand. I thanked him for the exam and the new contacts.

Me: "Thanks for helping me. It's great to finally see again."

It was then that he smiled and said, "You are an interesting person. You've given me some things to really think about now."

I left feeling great. As I drove home I was once again grateful for the gift of sight. Because of my visit with Dr. I was able to see things I couldn't before. The street signs were clear and the clouds and trees once again had definition. How beautiful and clear everything was to me.

Then I smiled at the notion that, perhaps because of his visit with me,the good Dr. might be able to see things he could not before. Perhaps, as he is thinking about God and seeking Him, he might begin to see things he couldn't before. As he begins to look at life through an eternal lens, his potential will become clear, his purpose might have more definition, his trials might have more meaning, and his joy might be more full.

It brings the words to the song "Amazing Grace" to mind: "...was blind, but now I see."

Side thought - Wouldn't it be great if we could patent a contact that would allow us to see the eternal perspective? I'd call them Forever Focus contacts. When we wore them, we'd see our children as God does (even when their rooms are a mess and they aren't doing their homework.) We'd look at our trials differently. We would even look at ourselves differently. Ah, if it were only that easy!

My Emancipation Proclamation

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This is, by far, my most personal and self-revealing post.  Get comfortable- this is a long one.

I am apprehensive as I write.  There is a part of me that feels that I am the only one that struggles with this.  I must be, because everyone else looks so lovely, so happy, so sure of themselves. And yet, I know that there are others.  I have talked with them. They have told me they feel the same way.  But, in spite of shared secrets and fears, there still is a voice that tells me it is only me.

I am talking about feeling insecure. I want so badly to say that I am completely happy with who I am all the time, but it is a struggle.  Especially lately.

There is someone that I compare myself to.  Most of the time it is a subconscious haunting. It crops up when I walk by a full-length mirror, or stand next to someone that reminds me of her. I begin to look at myself, not for who I am, but for how much I am not like her.  I am not as thin as her, or as confident as her, or as eloquent as her.  I am not as good of a mother as her, nor am I as smart or beautiful as her.  I cannot cook as well as she can, and her house is always clean. There are times when I don't feel I am good enough- because I think I am not as good as her.

She is you. It is of no fault of your own.  You just have so many qualities that I wish I possess.  It becomes a problem with I begin to think I am not as good in whole, because I am not like you.  (You should be flattered!)

I give myself kudos for admitting that.  It takes courage to admit that I compare myself to you and other women. I like courage. It's cool.   I don't like insecurities.  And yet, I have them. I typically feel very grounded and happy, but lately the doubts and insecurities are cropping up more frequently. Not cool.

I have though a lot about the genesis of these feelings, trying to figure them all out.  Here's what I've come up with.

1. I've been a little emotional lately. I am a woman.  Women are emotional creatures with high self-expectations and a desperate (albeit sometimes hidden) need to be needed, desired, and loved. When we (I) feel unattractive outside and/or inside, we  (I) doubt that we (I) are worthy to be loved, desired, and needed.  Granted, this is a blanket statement that may not apply to every single woman- but for the other 99% of us (me), I think it applies.

2. Lately I have lost  view of the correct definition of beauty. We are seeds of Deity- daughters of God- and because so, we have an innate drive to progress, to improve, to get better.  That is a good thing.  This good thing, though,  becomes distorted when we look someone beyond God in Heaven as the yardstick for our progress, our success and our beauty.  The media is a terrible God to worship and follow.  It tells us that if we are not a size 2 we are fat.  If we do not have perfect skin, we are ugly.  It tell us that if we do not dress fashionable (again- fashion according to the Media God) than we are frumpy and out of style.  It tells us constantly that we are not good enough,.

The Media God tells us our boobs are too small, our thighs are too big, our hair is the wrong color and our face is too saggy- and we listen.  The message creeps into our minds and breeds self doubt and unhappiness. We look at other followers of the Media God and compare ourselves to them, even try to keep up with them.  So we get boob-jobs, color our hair, take diet pills, get botox, have fake tans and fake nails.  We deny the Media God's influence. We say it's not about comparing,  that we 'just want to feel good about ourselves.' But, that is not completely true.

So, I look at the celebrities in the magazine, then to myself - not the same.  I look at woman around me, friends, then to myself- not the same.  I see so many beautiful and talented people, and I see me and all my weakness, and I feel inferior.  I don't feel worthy.  I don't feel beautiful. I don't feel whole.

That begs the question: Who is the one deciding what is beautiful anyway!?!?

This is not a new dilemma for us women (and men.) In the Middle Ages, women would concoct toxic treatments to remove all facial hair- eyebrows, lashes and even hairlines- all for the sake of their definition of beauty.  In 100 B.C. Greco-Romans women would bleach their hair using carbonized beechwood and goat fat. Women of the Han Dynasty in China would ingest a powder three times a day whiten their complexion. In 2500 B.C. Egyptians applied a mixture of kohl and animal fat around their eyes as eye-liner. In 300 A.D. Japanese Women would lacquer their teeth black with iron filings. In Elizabethan times, women would painstakingly pluck their hairline back to make their foreheads appear larger.

Culture dictates what is beautiful and we conform. It has, and always will.  It is how the world works. But, we know that we are not of the world.  We have a divine lineage.  We lived before, and we will live after this world.  In fact, our lives on earth are but a minuscule chapter in the eternal scheme of things. But, we allow ourselves to become immersed in it, as it dictates who we should be, who we should follow and what we need to be happy.  We all get caught up in it.  It is inescapable.

So, the golden question is: How do we find the balance between feeling beautiful and secure in who we are - not comparing ourselves to others (or what we looked like in high school), all while staying beautiful according to God?

The answer.......... I don't know.  I don't know the formula for amazing self-esteem, impervious to outside influences and inside perception.  Otherwise, I wouldn't be feeling this way! But, what I do know is that I am done feeling this way.

So today I decided to make a stand. This is my personal Emancipation Proclamation (EP). Join in if you'd like:

I, (insert your name here),  hereby free myself from unrealistic expectations and guilt.  

I decree that I will love my muffin-top, embrace my stretch marks, laugh-lines, droopy boobs and frizzy hair.  

I free myself from the oppression of comparison.

On this day, I declare myself free from pressure to be "perfect."

Today, I give myself the right to see me as He does - and agree.

I will hereforthwith recognize and find joy in my God-given talents and strengths without apology or dismissiveness.

I do not stand with the world and judge myself.

Today, I choose to stand with God and tell the world (Media Gods) to take a hike. 

Today, I love myself.

Today I am free.

Sounds totally cheesy.  I know. But, I feel so much better now.

How do you feel as you read this?  Do you agree? Do you need an Emancipation Proclamation of your own? If so- go for it.  If not, well, congratulations!  Maybe you can tell us all your secret!

PS- If you are judging me right now, it's OK. According my EP, I don't care.  :)  How cool is that?