Imagine That

I remember playing as a young child. My world was colorful, the possibilities limitless. 


My imagination transformed daily life into an adventure; I was a princess, my brothers were trolls. I loved to pretend with my friends. My entire third-grade year I was convinced I was a lost daughter of Zeus. My friend Melody and I spent our school recesses running away from green nymphs who were sent to this world to get us, and I spent my evenings looking for the hidden secret door in my house that would lead me home.

My best friend Nicalee and I spent summer days pretending to be orphans running away from Ms. Minchin, the evil orphanage director.

(My love and respect 0 the late, great Shirley Temple.)

My imaginary adventures seemed to share the same theme: I was always a girl who, despite ,my best intentions, fell into misfortune. And when all hope seemed to be lost, I would realize that I was more than just a girl, I was the daughter of a king, I was the inheritor of a fortune, or I was the Bionic Woman (that was a fun one). Then, armed with the knowledge of who I really was, my “true identity”, I found the strength and will to overcome.

I always longed to be something more than I was, do something more than I did, be someone more than I was. Then I grew up, and I still had that longing -- to be something more than I am, do something more that I am doing, and be someone more than I am.

But, I can't think that desire is only mine. We are wired to grow- not just physically, but in all respects. It is ingrained into our souls to progress, to reach for more, to do more, to be more. 

When we are young, our limited ability to comprehend our eternal nature is compensated (or perhaps manifested) by childhood imaginings of princesses and dragons. As we grow up, the same desire is there- to be more than who we are. But as we mature, imagination is replaced by pragmatic views, and we find ourselves, at times, feeling unsettled and unfulfilled in life.

I think the reason for those feelings of discontent is that we truly are more that we seem to be here; and there is more to life than life than what we can see- but we just don't fully know it, understand it, or believe it.

 It is as difficult to find a woman who is completely satisfied with herself as it is to find a parking space at the mall on Black Friday. There are a few out there- but they are a real find. Most of us are quite adept at finding and acknowledging perceived flaws, downplaying our strengths and feeling like we aren't enough.

Well, enough with that rubbish!

We are more than we realize we are.

We are more than Pinterest pinners, laundry cleaners, career women, writers, runners, etc. We are more than just imperfect, fallen people bumping into each other in a world full of sadness and pain and joy. 

We are sons and daughters of Deity, with a Divine lineage and a Divine inheritance.

We are more than the knights we imagined when we are young;  we are armed with the shield of faith, and the armor of God, as described by the Apostle Paul. 

We are more than the magicians that used to amaze us with their card tricks; through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, we can have the miracle of forgiveness and healing.

We are more than children playing tag in the front yard; we are valiant disciples dodging the fiery darts of the Adversary.

Imagine that! All the things I longed for as a child are true!

I thought I was just a girl. Now I know my true identity- the daughter of God, my Heavenly Father.

I am the inheritor of an eternal fortune.

I am more that what I appear to be. 

And so are you.

And armed with that knowledge, we can find the strength and the will to overcome whatever this world has to throw at us. 

We are more than just us. We are His.

Imagine that.

Purpose

Ah, the joy of innocence!  When we were children every day was filled adventure and fun. We spent careless afternoons playing in the mud and grass, or inside with blocks and toys. We enjoyed our food without guilt, and we didn't care if we were fat or skinny. We just loved our little lives.

Then we grew up. The bills came. The pressure came. The responsibilities came. And the wonder of life seemed not so wonderful at times.

Oscar Wilde once said, "To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

Here is the question, then: What is the difference between living and existing?


Some would say it's fun, others a career. But, I think it's Purpose.

When we have a purpose, we have a reason for what we do. We have a goal. We have a desired outcome, a drive behind our actions.

When we have a purpose, we understand that there is some other reason--external and internal--for our existence.

There is a reason we are who we are, why we are here. And that purpose defines what we do and how we see ourselves.

It brings richness and color to our world, perspective in our pain, and a deeper joy in our live.

So, what is our purpose?

There is a great purpose that applies to everyone who has ever lived, now lives, and ever will live: To become like Jesus Christ--to mold our character, through faith and obedience, and to experience joy.

But, what your purpose?

I don't know. But God does. Ask Him. I bet he'd tell you. You'd be surprised at the depth and breadth His purpose for you will add to your life.

As much as I love the word Purpose, I love it even more when coupled with two other words, live and on, to create this phrase:

That means to live deliberately. Don't just exist. Live. Take each step for a reason--each breath for a purpose. Dedicate each day to Him. Find a lesson in your struggles, beauty in the clouds, hope in the face of a child, joy in service, and marvel at the wonder you are.

Live on purpose. Do something good. Make something worthwhile. Be better than you were yesterday. Act, don't be acted upon.

Live on purpose. Don't waste your time. Refuse to be a slave to addiction or grudges. Stop being a prisoner of insecurity and doubt.

You have a purpose. So, live on purpose.

And love your life.

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.....

Pleasure Write- God's Will

Have you ever gone on a pleasure drive? Where you have no specific destination, but you simply drive for the enjoyment of it.

Well, that's me today.

I love to write, and want to write, but really have nothing profound or inspirational in mind.

So, I thought I'd just write and see what comes out.

Maybe I should be like this in life more: It's ok if I don't always know where I'm going- sometimes I should live just for the enjoyment of it.

That's not always easy to remember.

I like to plan things.  Everything has a purpose and a place (although you wouldn't know it looking at my closet right now!)

So, when my plan changes, sometimes I feel like my purpose does.

This happened to me recently.

As long as I could remember I've loved working with people.  Since I was a newlywed I have wanted to be a family and marriage counselor.

I wasn't smart with my education before marriage, so I had a loooong way to go.

Then the kids came.  Boom- fifteen months, then -Boom.

All of the sudden I had two little kids and my plan changed.  Luckily, so did my purpose.  I was a full-time  mom and loved it.  Although the dream of going to college was still in my heart and mind.  But, I was young, and thought there would always be time later.

Over the years I have taken a few courses here and there as scheduling allowed- but I have yet to get a degree.

Then, the reality hit my like a ton of bricks the other day.  Someone asked me what my plans are with my college/counselor goal.

I realized then that the plan is outdated.  I am 40 now.  My youngest is 8, which doesn't allow for full-time schooling.  Going to school part-time consistently will give me a Masters degree in 12 years.  That means I will be a young 52 when I enter the competitive world of psychology.

Then, when I get a job- IF I get hired above the 20-something prodigies- I would be able to work for 13  years until I retire, with all the money going to pay off all the student loans I took to get my degree.

I realized sitting there that that ship had sailed. All those years I put it off because "I can always do it later." And now it was later.

And now it was too late.

I'll admit, a small part of me died.

But, here's the miracle.

The larger part of me was really OK with it.  In fact, I was at peace- because I knew that my life was just what it should be.   I knew that, despite my personal plans, I had made every major decision with my husband and my Father in Heaven.

I knew that I was right where He wanted me to be.

My plans had changed, but my purpose was never more clear.

What an amazing and unexpected gift that was.

As I sit and think about it, I am grateful for the path I took.  I am grateful for class I traded to hold my kids.  (I could have passed on the toilet-cleaning parts.  I never got warm-fuzzies scrubbing a toilet.)

I always wanted to be a counselor because I enjoyed it, I thought I had some talent, and I wanted to do good in the world.

As I went through this experience (all in the matter if seconds, unbeknownst to the kind woman who asked me the question) I realized and felt a peace knowing that God knows my talents, and He will use me for whatever purpose He has, if I follow Him.

That made me feel good.

At the end of this rambling pleasure write (which I have very much enjoyed writing) I actually arrived at a destination I hadn't intended but am grateful for.

I feel a peace with the direction my life is headed- even though it looks different now than the picture I've had in my head for 16 years.

I understand that His ways, purposes and plans are above mine- and I am happy for it.

Things didn't go my way, my plan won't work.  But I don't care.  I am happy, and it's because I've lived the plan that He set for me.

There is a sense of unexpected freedom and anticipation about my life now.  That makes me smile :)

So, we'll see what happens next, where He would have me be.

Honestly, maybe His plan isn't that I wasn't a counselor, but just that I lived a life with Him as my partner in all things.  I don't think God wants to run our lives like a puppet master.  He simply knows us better than we know ourselves (given our temporary state of ignorance, amnesia and humanity.)

His will isn't to run- or ruin- our lives; but to guide, enhance and complete them.

Even if we aren't what we though we would be, if we listen to Him, we can be even more.

Hm.  Good write.  I should do this pleasure writing thing more often. Lol.

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.

Room to Grow

My mother passed down many wonderful things to me.  But she did not pass down a green thumb. I wish she did.  I tried to have indoor plants, but despite my best efforts, I killed them all. (I am convinced that at least half of them were suicide.) So, I stopped trying and went a different route. My home now has a array of beautiful plants- all still very much green and very much fake.

In my mothers home is a beautiful spider plant.  It started out small, a shoot from another plant.  Over the years she has watered it, gave it sunlight, nurtured it and loved it.  It grew to a lovely medium size and began to produce shoots of its own.  For years this spider plant sat in the same spot, in between two chairs by the window in her sun room.

Then, last March, I came to visit my parents.  My mother and I sat down in the chairs in her sun room to chat. There I noticed a new spider plant.  It was twice as big as the old one, and was overflowing with shoots.  I asked her where she got it.  She explained that this was the same plant that has been sitting there for years.  When I asked how it got so big, she shrugged her shoulders and said, "I just put it in a bigger pot and gave it room to grow. It did the rest."


In many ways we are all like this beautiful plant. 


If you look at the bottom of the spider plant, you will see nearly a hundred shoots.  One plant has the power to create more.  If left alone, these shoots will continue to grow in size. But, if moved into their own pots, they have the potential to become as big as their mother plant.  


We are all offspring of our Father in Heaven.  He created us.  When we lived with Him before this life we learned and grew. But, there came a time when He knew that to reach our greatest potential, we had to be moved to our own pots. That is why we are here now.  We have been given this earthly life to continue to grow, to become our own plants, to reach our potential.

Throughout life, each of us are different sizes and at different stages in our growth.  Each of us has similar needs as the plant: to be fed, to be nurtured, to be loved.  When these needs are met, we are happy.  We are content.


But, Heavenly Father knows that contentment is not the purpose of life.  Growth is. We have a greater potential than the creatures we are now. And our loving Father knows that in order for us to continue grow, He needs to give us more room.  We need to be moved to a bigger pot.


Each time we are "repotted" we are given room to grow. For some that bigger pot might be a new addition to the family. For others, it might be the inability to add to the family.  For some, a bigger pot might take the form of a trial: a wayward child, a physical disease, a loved one gone astray. And for others the pot might be more positive: a new job, a new talent, a new move, or even just meeting a new friend.


Being "repotted" can be a scary thing. Sometimes we fight it. We long for the smaller, comfortable, familiar pot.  The one where our feet touched the bottom, we could see all around us, and we felt safe. When introduced to the new space, we might question ourselves, and God : "Why must I grow? Why must things be this hard? I can't do this. Why would God do this to me?"  So, we continue to live as we did in our smaller pot.  We do not stretch.  We do not reach. Living this way seems safe, but it isn't.  It creates fear, frustration, regret, and even resentment. We curl up in a ball.  We do not grow.  

But, when faced with new experiences, with faith and courage we thrive like my mom's beautiful plant.  We can stretch ourselves to fill the space. We can find strength we did not know we had.  We may find talents that had been hidden.  We will develop faith stronger than we once had.  We will learn, grow, and even surprise ourselves.  If not for the new pot, we would have stayed the same ol' us, content and still.  But, when given the room and the opportunity, we can become more than who we were. We can become like Him.


So, when things get tough, when new challenges come, when new opportunities are presented, know that all is not lost, it is only a new pot.  Trust the Master Gardner who repotted you. Trust yourself and your abilities as He does. Have faith and courage. Reach and stretch and grow. Fill your new pot. And reach your potential.  

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?

The Door is Open

I have a chocolate lab named Tess.  We love her and she is madly devoted to us. She is a sweet dog that has moments of brilliance, but for the most part is not that bright.  For example, often times when open the back door to let her outside, she will walk onto the patio, then turn around and come right back into the house - even when I know she needs to "go potty" (yes, we talk to our dog like she is our forever-toddler.)

This morning was no different.  She hadn't been out since last night so I knew she needed to go.  I opened the back door.  She walked onto the porch, then immediately turned around and stared up at me, tail wagging.  She would have come back inside but I was still standing at the door.

"Go potty."

Stare.

"Go potty."

Stare.

"Go potty!"

Pitiful stare.

Finally, I just walked away from dumb dog on the porch and the open door, fully expecting her to follow me inside.

But she didn't.

She stood there for a minute and stared through the open door.  Then she turned around and ran out the to grass.  Soon after she came running back inside and straight to me as if to say, "I did it! Are you proud of me?"

I looked at my dumb dog then back at the open door. Then it hit me.

Tess knew was she needed to do.  But it was only when the door was left open - not closed to her- that she went to do it.  When she knew there was a way back in the house she felt she could go.

I realized then that Tess wasn't so dumb. In fact, she is a lot like us.

We used to live in this beautiful place with our heavenly family.  It was our home. We loved our Heavenly Father, and he loved us.  He loved us so much that He created this earth for us so that we could learn and grow. We don't remember that life before. That was purposeful, so that we might be able to develop faith in this life.

So, here we are, in this sometimes very cold, world.  Just like Tess, we sometimes find ourselves staring back home and not wanting to budge.  It's scary down here.  It's hard down here. I am hurting.  I feel alone. 

Luckily (although it isn't really luck) the door has been left open for us.

Life can be hard and scary.  And sometimes we just want to feel safe - feel peace - like we did when we were "home." But take heart. The door is open.  There is a way home.

The Savior has opened the door, through His Atonement. And He has shown us the way back home. So let's have courage in tough times, and faith in the night. Let's find joy in our imperfections and strive to be more.  Let's love and serve others while loving ourselves.  Let's learn of His commandments, and follow Him. Let's be like Paul and "fight the good fight."

The door is open. We can go about our work here with faith and confidence.  We will never be left out. We will never be lost.  We will be forgotten. There is a way home.

As I type this, Tess is lying on the floor at my feet.  Her tail is gently thumping in peaceful contentment.  She is home.

No, she isn't so dumb after all.