Happy Birthday, Tara!

Tomorrow, it will be one year to the day since we brought that sad, skinny girl home. Tara, or "Morgan" as she was first named, was described by the Harbor Humane Society staff as, "I am about 5 years old and just the sweetest girl you will ever meet. I am really sad here so I just can't wait to get into my new family. I am housebroken and good with kids. I am very mild mannered and always on my best behavior. I am also a perfect size and only weigh about 35 pounds. Please come down soon and meet me!"

Who could resist such an invitation? We went to see her, and fell in love. "Morgan's" eyes haunted me for days after. Ryan and I weren't sure if it was the right time to get a dog, but we took a leap of faith, purchased the things we'd need, and went to bring her home.

What a year it's been! Lots of training for everyone, including enlisting the help of Al Casimiro, the Lakeshore "Dog Whisperer" for some help with the sticky spots. I've learned more about pet ownership and responsibility in the last year than I could ever have imagined. I also found out that I was a slightly neurotic dog owner at first, as I would get up several times a night the first week, just to make sure Tara was okay. She was always fine, and gradually, I understood that she would wake me if she really needed something. Granted, she tries my patience some days, and can offer some real surprises. To date, her most naughty achievement is tied between chewing up her new bed and yakking it up onto Jenny's floor in the middle of the night or the time she ran out of the yard and down the street, refusing to "come" when called.

All in all, I would have to say the HHS staff was right. Tara is a sweetheart and she has a mind of her own that wants to be expressed! She is definitely much happier and well-adjusted than when we first brought her home. Her warm brown eyes have given unconditional love and support on more than one occasion. Watching Tara chew her toys, lick my feet, get in trouble with Molly, or bike with Ryan has given me a joy and a love for her that I didn't know was possible with a dog. Ryan and I love our girl and are so grateful for the blessing she is to our family!

Count your blessings

Life is getting a little crazy around here right now. Instead of dwelling on it, I'm going to brainstorm things that are going well and that I can be thankful for.

- I'm God's kid (the best blessing of all!)
- A good marriage to a good man (second best blessing of all!)
- Loving family and friends (ties for second best blessing)
- The fact that our basement didn't flood during the deluge last week
- Our home and the homes of our neighbors weren't damaged by falling trees
- We have enough money for everything we need and much of what we want
- We both have jobs
- An intact roof over our heads, food on our plates, and clothes to wear
-Air conditioning when the summer temps spike (especially grateful for this today!)
- Being debt free!!
- The fact that God's in control and I don't have to worry about running the universe

Some of these things may seem a little trivial, but all it took was a HUGE thunderstorm last week and destruction to my in-law's property to make me realize that the most important things in life are not things! We can't take for granted all of the blessings we have.

I am my Beloved's and he is mine

Yesterday, I celebrated my third wedding anniversary. It's amazing how quickly the time has gone by. Three years ago, I had no idea what it would mean to keep my wedding vows. Oh, sure, I meant them, but living them out is a whole different idea.

Somehow, we've managed to get through all of our vows in the first year alone, and have continued that trend for the subsequent two. For better or for worse- check. For richer, for poorer- Dave Ramsey, anyone? In sickness and in health- been there, done that. To love and to cherish- to love and to cherish? You mean, as much as I love and cherish myself? Love my husband like Christ loves the Church- totally, unconditionally, willing-to-die-for-you? Love my husband even when I'm so frustrated I can't see straight?

If I've learned anything in this last year, it's how loving and cherishing Ryan is an act of obedience and respect to Jesus. Feeling love is not enough. I need to choose to love Ryan every day of my life, whether I feel like loving him or not. As the character Michael Simmons in the movie "Fireproof" points out, "And don't just follow your heart, because your heart can be deceived. But you've got to lead your heart." I need to beg God every day to teach me how to be a good wife. Every day, I need to learn how to die to myself- my "rights" and my "needs"- in order to serve my God and my husband.

God meant marriage to be for life. When most people say "for better or for worse", they mean only the "for better" part. I'm willing to die to myself for my marriage to succeed. In the eyes of the world, such talk is crazy, at best. But, as the Bible says, "the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing. But to us who are being saved it is the power of God." (1 Corinthians 1:18).

I still mean every word of my vows, even though I now have some idea of what it means for them to be fulfilled. I'm excited to see what God will teach us in our fourth year!

I have been tagged!

Well, my laptop doesn't have all the photos on it that it should, but here's my fourth picture.

That masked man would be Ryan, my husband. Two years ago at Christmas he received the ski jacket he's wearing, so he had to put on his snow-shoveling get-up to see how it all looked. I think the subtitle is "Bring on the snow!!" (but not in May, please.)

In this photo-tag, you submit the fourth picture in your fourth folder. Therefore, I tag:

Kristin Vawter

Jessica Fitzgerald

John Brandkamp

Or anyone else who wants to share a photo!

And the battle rages on.....

By now, you've probably read my previous blog about the moment of truth in the dressing room mirror. For those of you who might be interested in an update, here it is.

I decided to buy the pants that were a little bit tighter and have cracked down on exercise to fit in to them. Normally, I know, this strategy doesn't work: you buy the smaller pants and promise yourself that you will starve or whatever it takes to fit into them. However, I decided to view the mirror moment as a wake-up call. This week, I am proud to say that I have exercised for at least an hour for four days in a row!! And you know what? It wasn't that bad. As a result, the tight pants are slightly looser but my self-esteem is back in the positives.

Once I get the exercise routine down, my plan is to start paying attention to what I eat. I love to eat- I really do! I love the taste, the texture, the smell: I am an honest-to-God foodie. But I have to learn the difference between appropriate enjoyment and self-soothing behaviors. Right now, I turn to food whether I'm happy or sad. Hopefully, that will change in the next few weeks, but I'm going to take this slowly and learn what it means to be healthy, in body and spirit.

If you've read my previous blog and it resonated with you in any way, I'd love to hear from you and where you are in your battle. I know there are many people out there who are struggling with their weight. You're not alone. By joining together and encouraging each other, we are more likely to succeed in our goals than if we try to go it alone. I don't want to go through it alone if I can possibly help it. Do you?

Mission impossible

You ever have one those experiences that just shocks you? Like a giant neon sign flicks on, reading, "Hello, clue over here!!!!"

I had one of those last week. It started out innocently enough- I went to Younker's to buy some make up for a friend's wedding. I made my purchase and was heading out the door when I was suddenly struck by the idea, "I'm gonna swing through the clothing section and see if they have anything cute for spring." Turns out, they did (Columbia has an incredible clothing line this year for women. Cute shirts, great pants- things that real people wear; not for those on the catwalk.) So, I load my arms and head to the dressing room. Now, let's preface the revelation by this statement: I know I've gained some weight since I've been married. Heck, I've gained some weight this winter. You'd have to be flat-out blind not to see it (or just not present for the daily mirror test before I shower. Come on, you know you do it too.)

Back to the dressing room. Shirts, no problem. They're a size up from what I normally wear, but the love handles aren't bulging too much and the muffin-top doesn't look too bad. You have to remember that if you've got extra fat, it doesn't go away when you put on a bigger shirt. It's just how much that shirt accentuates said fat. Here's the problem: the pants. Now, my jeans have become increasingly tight this winter (mostly in the waist and butt, the legs are fine) but I have found an amazing ability to rationalize this fact. They're shrinking in the wash, they're too old, I'm retaining water at the end of my shift, etc. My pair of "fat jeans" are suddenly my favorite things to put on. Who cares if I'm sweating as the temperature climbs- I can breathe!!! But, I digress. When I was loading my arms with clothes, I grabbed two different pant sizes- the ones I used to fit into, and the ones I'm guessing will now be my size. As I stuff myself into the ones that used to fit, I realize I'm not living in the days of "skinny pants"; can't even get them to button. All right, on with the "fat pants."

The light is starting to dawn, and my heart sinks. The "fat pants" come on. Oh no- they're tight too. Like, I can breathe, but just barely, and my butt kinda looks like someone gave me a wedgie. I stare at myself in the mirror and decide: I have to go up a size. You would have thought someone just made me a spy and handed me a secret mission. I sneak out to the rack, furtively search for (gulp) bigger pants, find them, and bolt back to my dressing room. On they go. Whaddya know- they fit. I can breathe, there's minimal muffin-top, and my waist, butt, and hips are loving the extra room. I flip over the tag and stare at the number. I think, "this can't be. I have never been this fat IN. MY. LIFE. I CANNOT be seriously contemplating buying pants this size." Enter logic: why buy pants that don't fit, you don't want to be miserable wearing them, they'll probably shrink again in the wash anyway. Vanity: but they're THAT size, and I can't buy pants that size, blah blah blah. I sink to the floor of the dressing room, stare at myself in the mirror, and begin to cry.

Please hear me: this is not a pity party. I don't know who the heck is going to read this, but all I'm doing is relating one woman's lifelong battle of the bulge. My weight fluctuates (whose doesn't?) but the real issue here is pride. It's a number on a tag, for heaven's sake. In no way does it define who I am. Okay, so I'm overweight, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm a child of the King. The God of the universe would have died for me if I was the only person living and I know he doesn't care what size my pants are.

I can speak truth to myself all day long, but the problem is, I don't believe it. I came home and sobbed on my husband's shoulder. At first, I couldn't tell him what was wrong. Finally, I manage to gasp out, "I had to buy bigger pants." For the life of him, he couldn't understand what the big deal was. My husband is a wonderful guy, but some things just don't make sense to the opposite sex. He suggests I call one of my best friends. "NO!!!!" I yell. "I am NOT going to talk to my skinny friend about the fact that I'm on par with a beached whale!"

Enter horrible fact number two: unless I do something, my pride is going to block me from receiving help and support. I know for fact that women out there are literally killing themseleves today to be thin, whether it's a slow death with the latest get-skinny-quick-fad or suicide because they can't handle what they've become. I just want to be healthy, whatever that means. I don't know how to do it but I need to learn.

If I could say one thing to you, whoever you are reading this, it would be that you are more than the color of your hair, the size number on your clothes, and the paint on your face. Whether you believe in Him or not, the God who made you loves every part of you and wants you to do the same. He desires freedom for us; freedom from shame, guilt, depression, fear, anything that separates us from Him. I don't know yet how not to identify my self-worth with the size of my clothes, but I'm going to learn.

Will you join me?

Everlasting

Everything I want to say today is summed up in this song. One of my very favorites.

"A thousand times I've failed
Still your mercy remains
And should I stumble again
Still I'm caught in your grace"

"Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame
My heart and my soul, Lord I give you control
Consume me from the inside out Lord
Let justice and praise become my embrace
To love You from the inside out"

"Your will above all else, my purpose remains
The art of losing myself in bringing you praise"

"Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame"

"In my heart, in my soul, Lord I give you control
Consume me from the inside out Lord
Let justice and praise become my embrace
To love You from the inside out"

"Everlasting, Your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, Your glory goes beyond all fame
And the cry of my heart is to bring You praise
From the inside out Lord, my soul cries out"

-Hillsong United, from the album "United We Stand"

If you want to see/hear the song, check out this link: www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-afZJ9_TIM