My Spirit Animals

Lately I feel like a few female country music singers are my spirit animals. Small town girls who battle daily life challenges like self-hatred, nosey bystanders, desire for things that want to kill them...It's so comforting to know I'm not alone, so I put these songs on repeat and remember that we're all human.

Thank you, Kacey Musgraves and Miranda Lambert. You are my soul sisters. :)

Thank you for "Bathroom Sink," "Somebody to Love," "Merry Go Round" and "Gravity's a B*tch." Love you girls. We would definitely be friends.

Agree to Disagree

Sometimes I just can’t take it. I just have to turn it off. Shut it down. Everyone seems to be able to give full vent to their opinions, but I can’t/won’t/don’t, and the effort it takes me to restrain myself is almost too much.

Facebook has a way of raising my blood pressure.

I’m sure I’m not the only one whose heart just screams sometimes as we see people engaging in arguments never meant to be had over a computer. Sharing opinions they’re not brave enough to say out loud. Flaunting controversial material because they can.

Part of me is fully in favor of this kind of behavior, to be honest. Free speech and all. I’d rather it be like that than clamped down by an overbearing government. But just because we’re free doesn’t mean we should say anything that’s on our minds, which is usually my dilemma.

If I engage and start firing away, what good will it do? Am I going to win anyone over with my wisdom and wit? Doubtful. What I will do, though, is lose friends unnecessarily.

But here’s what I really hate about it. It doesn’t have to be this way.

Newsflash, world: WE DON’T HAVE TO THINK ALIKE TO BE FRIENDS.

Novel concept, I know. But the TRUTH is that I don’t have to agree with someone to enjoy them. I don’t have to surround myself with Republicans to make it through the day. I don’t have to protect myself in a cloud of Christians to be happy. (In fact, I very much shouldn’t.) That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. It leads to narrow-minded, shallow thinking and deep immaturity.

But that’s how we treat social media. I can only be friends with you if you share posts about protecting gun rights. If you don’t see eye-to-eye on this with me then we have to be mortal enemies.

I hate that. There are plenty of people out there who are for stricter gun control that I love. And I hope they love me even though I’m not. What a horrible world if we can only love people like ourselves.

And what kind of Christ-follower am I if I engage in this kind of behavior? An immature one. But sometimes that’s the point I reach. How could they think that way?? They’re what’s wrong with the world! Um…No. They are created in the image of God just like I am. And I’m part of the problem if I can’t love them regardless of their views.

Of course I don’t have to agree with them. I have every right to form my own opinions as they do, and believe me, I will. No one will ever be able to tell me that killing a baby is okay. No one will ever be able to tell me that Jesus is anything short of the Son of God and the Way, Truth and Life. BUT what I do need to do is see everyone through the eyes of the God who loves them and made them.

(By the way, I have some very vocal friends on Facebook who might think they inspired this post. To you all: You didn’t. This was inspired by a situation last night in which my husband and I watched a video that had gone viral and I had my own little meltdown over what I wanted to say about it but couldn’t. Matt’s like, “You need to pray about your attitude.” Ouch. Yes.)

So here’s my point. The whole goal of this post is to encourage my little sphere of readers that we don’t have to agree with everyone to be friends. That’s such garbage and completely untrue. And it’s a perfectly timely reminder considering we’re entering into an all-out war between Trump supporters and Clinton backers.

Why don’t we all grow up a little and realize that we are never all going to think alike? And that’s okay. We don’t have to lose friends over differences of opinion. Especially when they’re just delivered via social media. We don’t have to agree on everything to love each other. It’s highly possible to pass up a status you don’t like and just let it go. But when you do feel compelled to say something, realize that you can STILL love and be friends with the people who don’t agree with you.

Keep that in mind next time you type something into the status bar.  

And to all my vocal friends on Facebook, I have nothing but love for you, even if we disagree…but only because the love of Jesus lives inside me.

Disagree if you want. J

The Thing I Thought I'd Never Do

It’s finally happened. Brace yourselves. What I’m about to say will shock some of you.

I stopped running.

WHOA there, Jill. WHAT???

I know. To those of you who know how entrenched in that habit I’ve for more than a decade and how much of a part of my identity it’s become, this will certainly come as a surprise. And, let’s be honest. For those who are REALLY close to me, this will be a relief if not a celebration.

Now before you get too excited, this isn’t permanent. I don’t think. I guess it could be. But that’s not for me to decide anymore. Here’s the story. . .

Ever since I got out of eating disorder treatment, it’s been in the back of my mind that I should lay down the running habit for a while. Maybe not forever, but just for a time to see if I could get to a place where it didn’t own me. But for a variety of reasons I’ve never done it—mainly fear and control. How will I burn calories? How will I eat if I don’t run? I’ll gain way too much weight. There’s no other form of exercise I like. I have to run to stay in shape and healthy. I’ll lose every ounce of fitness I’ve worked so hard to maintain. I don’t want to have to buy bigger clothes. I could never live with myself if I wasn’t somehow burning away the calories I put in my body. There’s no way I can ever stop. I’m just going to have to do it forever.

Now, I know running is a health-producing activity for most people. But when it gets to the point that you have to have it in order to function, it’s not healthy. You’re no longer controlling your run; your run is controlling you.

This whole thing started a couple of weeks ago. My husband and I were visiting his old church and listening to his buddy Allen preach. It was a heck of a sermon—so great that I can’t remember a thing of what Allen said. J What I do remember, though, is the big nudge the Lord gave me during service.

For a while I’d been losing weight again. My doctor found out my body can’t tolerate folic acid, which is in just about every processed food, so I’d had to give up cereal, bread, pasta, etc., unless it was organic. So, I lost some weight, which, unfortunately triggered some of my old eating disorder behaviors. I started to enjoy losing weight and wanting to see the scale go lower. I became more and more attached to my running and more rigid with my routine because I could see that this was my chance to get skinny again. It wasn’t totally conscious, but it wasn’t unconscious either. I wasn’t trying to lose weight, but I sure was enjoying it, and I wanted it to continue.

So, sitting in church, whatever Allen preached on prompted me to begin admitting to the Lord the road I’d started down once more. But as I sat there, I also had to admit that it was a road I’d never fully left to begin with. Yes, I’d made HUGE strides and come a long way in my dealings with food, but I’d never let it all go. I’d kept a few things so that, just in case God’s healing and restoration didn’t work out the way I’d wanted it to, I could still manage to keep myself in check. (i.e. Just in case God’s plan for freedom included me getting bigger than I wanted, I could still make sure that didn’t happen because I’d keep running. I’d let God work, but I’d make sure His plan succeeded the way I wanted it to. You know, just in case His plan sucked.)

Funny story…The next day I felt a little freedom from my running rigidity and decided that I was going to give myself an unplanned day off. I was starting to fight back against the old Ed mentality, so I just thought I’d be lazy for a day.

Even funnier story…The next day I did my normal run, but I started to feel an ache in my IT band.

The funniest story…The day after that I get a full-fledged IT band syndrome attack.

And, done.

So, if you’re not a runner, IT band syndrome is pretty much the most annoying thing you can go through. It’s an injury that won’t go away with just rest and time off, you actually have to rehab it actively or it will just stay injured. And it’s an injury that can take anywhere from 1 week to 1 year to heal. It just depends on your body.

Hoping I was in the 1 day category of super-healing humans, I went to my FIT Clinic doctor who heals me from everything and had him treat me. I took the rest of the week off, was really angry and frustrated, and then tried to run again the following Monday.

Boom. The IT band was officially at the point of no return after that. I saw my doc again that day and he treated it again. The next day I did the elliptical machine and could barely walk after. The day after I rode a stationary bike, and it wasn’t much better. I saw my doc again that day (Wednesday), and he gave me the words I never wanted to hear: NO EXERCISE unless they’re rehab stability exercises.

In God’s fun timing, this was Ash Wednesday. I’d been halfheartedly considering giving up something for Lent, but I hadn’t settled on anything. I told my husband what my doctor’s orders were, and he joked, “Looks like you’re giving up running for Lent.” I about slugged him.

There was still no way I was going to give up running without a fight. I was determined to find the magical cure that would put me back on the road in as little time as possible. One week, maybe two. But that was it. I was going to kill this thing before I gained weight and had to go back to my bigger pants.

But here’s the thing. I followed the doc’s orders and didn’t do my morning workouts. Instead, I spent time with the Lord and really began to journal and process. I was angry and sad and frustrated at first. And I was in despair for a while. But after a few days, the Lord really started to work on me as I listened to Him. And, ladies and gentlemen, for the first time in my life, I finally admitted that running was an idol to me.

It may have been obvious to you, but I never would have said it out loud. I protected running by putting it under the eating disorder umbrella. Anytime someone would say running was an idol (something that takes the place of God in your life) I would say, “It’s not running. That’s just one part of the bigger eating disorder issue.” Um…that’s not really true.

What I discovered through time with the Lord and another powerful sermon from Matt Miller at our own church was that running had, in many ways, become my Jesus. Things that I should have been getting from Jesus like peace, stability, security, validity, identity and value were coming from running first. If I didn’t run, I had no peace. If I didn’t run, I couldn’t function as well during a day. If I didn’t run consistently, I began to lose who I was. If I didn’t run and gained weight, I lost my worth and value.

But see the problem with that? Running is inconsistent. I get hurt. I get old. I get slow. I get whatever, and running is over. Because so much of my security is wrapped up in that, it’s failing and my sanity is failing with it. At least it was. But now, I’ve made a decision—one that needed to be made a long time ago: I’m laying it down.

Thanks to a good conversation with my wise friend Trista on Saturday who walked me through what we call the learning circle in which you employ strategies to discover what God is speaking to you and asking you to do when something significant happens, I finally acknowledged what He’d told me two weeks ago. I was to purposely give up running for the 40 days of the Lenten season.

But, Jill, you’re hurt. Didn’t that make the choice for you?

Well, it could have. But if I didn’t lay running down and agree to give this up for the time, I would still be out there trying to beat my leg into healing. I’d be on the elliptical trying to maintain fitness until it healed. I’d be going to the FIT Clinic 5 days a week to get graston treatment on it. I’d be fighting against God’s plan—His GOOD plan. His protective plan. The gift that He’s given me in this injury. Instead, I’ve accepted it, embraced it and am now working WITH Him to let Him work out of me what I’ve been holding onto for entirely too long.

So, there you have it. I’m not running. I’m surrendering. I’m agreeing to let Him take it and apply freedom to what I’ve been holding onto.

Please pray for me if you think about it. It’s scary, I admit it. I’m not without fear in this. I’m scared of gaining weight and getting out of shape. I’ve identified myself by my looks and performance all my life. But it’s time to find out what it really means to be identified as a child of God first and to place my security in Him—the only thing that will never change, break down or leave. The only constant.

Thank You, Lord.

Carrie Fisher is Beautiful and so am I

It just makes me angry. How can you possibly say things like that?! In what world is it okay for people to just start shaming people for GETTING OLDER??

In case you missed it, read this: http://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/dec/30/carrie-fisher-blasts-star-wars-body-shamers-twitter-social-media?CMP=fb_gu

Okay, so Princess Leia isn’t 25 years old anymore. She has gray hair and hips. Um…So do all women who get to be that age unless they dye their hair (I’m not hating; I’m sure I will). That. Is. Life. “Carrie Fisher hasn’t aged well.” “Age hit Carrie Fisher in the face.” Um…Yeah. And it will you, too, you little punk!

What is wrong with the world? In what realm is it okay for people to just say things like that because they don’t look like they did when they were a kid? I’m angry.

But it’s more than that. It’s not so much that people say these things because, well, people are jerks a lot of the time. It’s the fact that it’s okay to judge women based on their age and appearance. It makes me so sick. Am I nothing more than my size? Is that my worth?

Driving home from our family’s Christmas celebration last week, my husband could see that something was bothering me and asked me if I was okay. It’s amazing how well this man knows me after just three years of marriage. But he was definitely right. My weight was on my mind, like it is and has been so often all of my life. I’d eaten a TON for two days straight and was freaking out about the scale going up and how I’d ever be able to get the weight off.

Backstory: For those of you who don’t know, I was in a heated battle with anorexia when Matt and I got married, and even though I’ve recovered SO much, it’s still something that threatens my peace on a daily basis if I let it.

Without me even having to say a word, Matt followed up his first question with, “Are you worried about how much you ate?”

“Yes,” I said, and went on to basically recap the past two days’ worth of meals so that I could affirm my argument that I had, indeed, overeaten and that I was perfectly justified in freaking out. Because, in all likelihood, I would gain 10 pounds and begin a slow, steady spiral into morbid obesity.

“Why does it matter so much if you gain weight?” he asked, already knowing my answer after three years of the same question. (I’m onto him by now. He’s got a master’s degree in counseling, so he knows that by asking me these questions, he’ll get me to out myself with bad logic. He’s right, of course.)

“Because it’s my worth!” I practically yelled.

See? There it is. The root lie that’s still there in my mind. And, really, how can you blame me when this stupid world we live in tells us this same thing EVERY DAY?

Look at what happened to Carrie Fisher! Look at what people said to Kelly Clarkson after she put on weight! Look at what people said to Pink when she was photographed at a NORMAL size with her daughter! (If you don’t follow pop culture, just take my word for it that a few celebrities gained weight and got blasted by people in the press or media.)

It’s SICK and WRONG! Women have bodies! We gain weight and lose it. We are going to have hips, curves and fat cells…and that’s HEALTHY! And OKAY!

I’m really upset now. This is so stupid. In what world does our body shape determine our value? (Ours, of course, but rhetorically speaking.) Is it my workout routine that’s going to love my family? Is it my ability to skip meals that’s going to make me a more patient, kind person? Is it my ability to look skinny in selfies that’s going to change the world? NO!

As much as I’d like to change the world with blog, I won’t. I doubt I’ll change anyone’s mind unless just for a moment. And that’s fine. Honestly, I just needed to say all of this to remind myself of the truth. The truth that God created me to be more than just a body. He gave me a mind, personality, heart and soul and planned out a way for me to use them all for GOOD in this world. And only a VERY SMALL portion of that—the part that involves self-discipline—has to do with sit-ups and diets.

I am more than my body. My body doesn’t get to tell me what I’m worth. YOU, world, don’t get to tell me what I’m worth.

Jesus does that. And He says I’m awesome. (In so many words, of course, but you get the gist.) And because He’s the source of absolute TRUTH, that’s what I’m going to rely on.

But, just in case I forget, will you remind me? J

Love y’all.

- Jill

An Open Letter to the World

Dear World,

It’s been an interesting week for you, hasn’t it? You’ve seen a lot in just the span of a few days, and I know you consider it to be pretty monumental. I get it. I’m sure if I didn’t believe the way I did, I’d think it was pretty monumental, too. But the thing is, I do believe differently than you, so I’m not celebrating. Instead, I’m fighting back the tears and frustration because you seem to be blaming Someone very dear to me for holding you back and keeping you in slavery and oppression for hundreds of years. It seems like you want me to keep my mouth shut about my beliefs so that you can enter into this age of new enlightenment and dance all over the ways of the past. But, dear World, that’s so dangerous. I know you think you’re doing what’s right and generating freedom, and I admire you for wanting justice, but I need to share a few thoughts on the matter. It may not be what you want to hear, but hopefully you’ll discern a heart of love behind it—not mine…His.

You see, I’m a follower of Jesus Christ. I think you’re familiar with His name, but I’m quite sure you have no idea who He is. I can’t blame you. There is a lot of false information out there, as well as a great number of people who claim to be like Him who act entirely opposite. The only reason I know Him is because I was blessed to be raised by some people who knew Him well and showed me that He was (and is) the epitome of love at its highest and most powerful. I definitely don’t do Him justice as His follower a lot of the time when I try to model Him, but I do know a good deal about His real character—that He’s so good and loving and powerful. I don’t think you know that; and if you do, I think you’re only seeing part of the picture—the parts you want to see so that you can make Him into what you want Him to be.

Again, I get it. People like me have done a terrible job of showing His character to you. We’ve said hurtful things and done a lot of damage to His name by saying one thing and doing another. But that’s why it’s important that I share this message with you, because Jesus isn’t defined by the actions of His followers. It is us who are defined by His forgiveness and grace when we fall short.

This Jesus that you keep railing against is not the enemy here. There’s something so much more sinister and evil at work that I really wish you’d understand. It’s not Jesus who has condemned you or made you feel less than loved. It’s not Jesus who has oppressed you. It’s the enemy of our souls who has done this to us all by blinding us to the Truth about Christ and His love, grace and salvation. Jesus wants to free you. He is entirely FOR you, and He promises so many wonderful things if you would just let Him in. He promises grace, mercy and forgiveness. He promises comfort, peace and rest. He promises strength, wisdom and faithfulness. Why are you so vehemently opposed to that? Don’t you want life to be fulfilling and joyful, or do you really want pain, confusion and anger to fuel you forever?

Oh my stars, I’ve been there. I know what it’s like to walk in darkness and be locking arms with things Jesus didn’t desire for me. I’ve been isolated, depressed, sick, angry, confused, terrified, panicked and defeated. I’ve gone my own way, and it was miserable. But Jesus came for me. I let Him in, and He restored me through a slow, beautiful, challenging, beneficial healing process. I still have much to learn in Him, and I still struggle, but He is the only way. I know this now more than ever. He IS life! And I don’t understand why you hate that—why you hate Him for saying that He knows the way to all things good. Why would you be so angrily opposed to that? To Him? Don’t you know how much He loves you?

I know you struggle with His rules. And yes there are some, but they’re all designed to protect you and bless you, dear World. Like I said, He is FOR you. Just like a good parent protects his or her children from touching a hot stove or running with scissors, He wants you to follow Him so that you won’t have to suffer so much pain unnecessarily. And I KNOW you have pain in your life. Don’t tell me that you don’t. It’s the kind of pain that no substance, luxury, person or law can even begin to heal. It’s the kind that eats at your innermost being and won’t ever, ever relent. Pain from the past. Pain from the present. Pain from what you think is your future. That kind of pain won’t go away without the healing of the soul from a Savior. I know.

There’s a parable in the Bible that Jesus tells about a son of a wealthy man who really messes things up for himself. He asks his father for his inheritance early and then goes off and blows it all on everything and nothing. He eventually runs out of money and is so poor and destitute that he is desperate for even a bite of the slop being fed to the pigs around him. Now, he knows he messed up

by squandering his inheritance, and he’s ashamed of himself, so he plans to go back to his father and ask to be brought on as a hired hand so that he can at least earn a living. But to his surprise, when he heads back home, his dad is just so glad that he’s come back that he simply runs out to meet him, rejoices that he’s back and throws him a big welcome home party. The father doesn’t give the irresponsible son what he truly deserved; he just welcomed him home and brought him in.

Man, that’s Jesus. That’s our Father. He doesn’t hold our stuff against us; He LOVES us. But He won’t force His love on us. He’s not into forcing His children to do anything. He’s given us the choice to either love Him back or not, and He will respect our wish. If you/we push Him out of our society and out of our lives, He will let us. But He knows what it will cost us: every ounce of peace, joy and true freedom we don’t even know we want. And, what’s worse, we’ll inherit eternity apart from Him and His unrelenting love.  

So, that’s my letter to you. I may write more in the future because I don’t want to give up on you. You are filled with such promise and talent and wonderfulness, and I am breaking down in tears when I think about how desperate you are to throw away the one relationship that could give you more than this crazy, rebellious society ever will. Jesus died for you, World. He isn’t your enemy. He’s your advocate. And He loves you so much that nothing could ever stop Him from wanting what’s best for you: His beautiful creation.

Sincerely,

Jill

Childish vs. Mature Freedom

I’ve been feeling sentimental lately. It started on Memorial Day and has just been getting stronger this week with the controversy surrounding the release of Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl. Now it’s the 70^th anniversary of D-Day, and I feel sad.

What has happened to us? This tiny infant country that skyrocketed to prominence on the backs of such strong leaders of character now appears to be crumbling. Moral decline, political corruption, patriotic apathy…I hurt just thinking about what George Washington, Abe Lincoln, Dwight Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan would say if they were alive.

As a kid, one of my favorite movies was “The Neverending Story.” Being a cowgirl at heart, I loved the horse Artax more than anything else about the show. But I was always frightened by the mysterious, destructive Nothing that was eating away the land of Fantasia. It was a swirling, black thunderstorm that obliterated everything in its path. There was no face to it—no person. It was just an evil force. And that’s the best way I know how to describe the state of our country today. It feels like the Nothing has descended on us, and we’re just sitting here waiting for it.

Americans have been spoiled by good leadership in the past to the point at which they took it for granted. Just as a teenager resents the discipline of good parents, our nation resented honorable authority figures and begged for a “cooler” set of parents that would let them do what they wanted. “It’s freedom!” they cried. “We deserve it. It’s our right!” While that’s true in theory, I think we’ve missed the point.

The way I see it, there are two kinds of freedom: childish freedom and mature freedom. With childish freedom, you demand the ability to live life according to your own terms. Everything is permissible because you’re free to do whatever you like, and you fully believe you’re entitled to it. Consequences don’t matter because it’s freedom, and it’s your right to use and abuse it regardless of what anyone else thinks. They’re free too, right? With childish freedom, anything less than permission to run amok is captivity, and you won’t stand for it.

The second kind of freedom is mature freedom. With mature freedom, you realize that, while you are free, you also have the ability to make choices and to do so with wisdom and understanding. Mature freedom is having the permission to do whatever you want but realizing that you don’t have to do it just to prove a point. You aren’t enslaved to abusing freedom for freedom’s sake. With mature freedom, you can act intentionally while considering what is best for more than just the man or woman in the mirror.

America isn’t free right now. At least not the way I see it. We’re under the influence of some loud voices who are deciding that what is best for everyone is to throw out all of our founding fathers’ standards and ideals in the name of progress. “Times have changed,” they say. That’s true. But some fundamental truths are timeless. Like working hard to make a living. Respecting your fellow countrymen. Accepting your punishment when you’re wrong. Some things never go out of style.

My dad was a soldier in the Army, and he loved his country. He saw the value in fighting to protect this nation and what it stood for. Though I miss him like crazy, part of me is thankful that he passed away 10 years ago so he wouldn’t have to see what is happening today.

I still love America. I still love our men and women in uniform. And if there’s one thing I could say to them all right now it would be to keep fighting. It’s worth it. This country has a great heritage, and our spirit can be restored. It’s not dead. It’s just being refined. Hang in there and don’t give up.

Today, as we celebrate the Greatest Generation, I pray that we can experience a resurgence of the responsibility that made them so great. I pray that childish freedom will give way to mature freedom and that we can move forward to become an even more beautiful and wonderful nation for those who come after us. 

Hanging up the Green Apron

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." - e.e. cummings

It's time for me to grow again. To have courage. It's scary, and I don't like it. But I'm gonna do it anyway.

I'll be honest. I hate change. I'd rather bathe in a tub of chewed gum than alter my life or routine. Once I get comfortable, I plant myself and don't intend to move from that spot. As you might imagine, this is not conducive to life, which is pretty much all about change. I once heard a pastor say that we should hold everything in life with an open hand so that when God has to take it away He doesn't have to break our fingers in the process. I have yet to get this.

Last Friday I worked my last shift at Starbucks. I took off the green apron I'd worn for a year and a half, looked at all of the Sharpie stains and then cried. I couldn't believe it was over. And I did NOT see such an emotional reaction coming.

But to me Starbucks was more than a job. When I was hired, I was in a pretty critical situation--fully engaged in an isolating eating disorder and almost completely cut off from the world. Too afraid to go out. Too imprisoned to live. Too stubborn to move. But God spoke clearly to me and nudged me to apply. He stirred in the heart of my store manager to hire me, and He began a restoration.

After being sedentary for so long (other than obsessive running), I was exhausted most days when I first started after being on my feet for hours. My arms ached from lugging around gallons of milk and mopping floors. I had coffee grounds under my nails, whipped cream smears on my sleeves and Frappuccino Roast splattered up my arms. I'd worked hard, and it showed.

Being on someone else's schedule rocked me into the reality. So accustomed to dictating my own agenda, I had to adjust to no longer having that power. The work schedule changed every week, and I had no way of controlling exactly what nights or hours I'd be listed. Before I'd taken the job I'd relied on a regimented calorie intake plan, but I now had to learn how to feed myself based on hunger cues and what my body needed to keep going.

Starbucks brought me under someone else's authority, too, which I needed. The only person other than my husband I'd listened to for months had been Ed himself, so it was a big deal that I had to follow the direction of a boss again. If she called and asked me to come in early, needed me to pick up an extra shift or asked me take a break before Ed was ready to eat, I had to roll with it. And slowly this relieved Ed of some of his power.

The part of working at Starbucks that brought the most transformation, though, was the relationships. The eating disorder lost its power when I started building friendships--good friendships--with my coworkers and customers. I shared laughs, tears, songs and secrets with many people in that store, and I felt a heartbeat again. There was conflict, love, anger and joy almost daily, and I learned to flex the relational muscles that had atrophied.

In the years I'd spent as a magazine editor I'd had a knack for leadership. I'd surrendered to Ed in return for his false perfection. After six months of working behind the Starbucks counter, those leadership characteristics started to peek through. My boss soon gave me a shot at being a shift supervisor, and that side of me got a wake-up call. I started running the store at night and managing staff, money, customer relations and other business-y things. I started making decisions again, using my wisdom and gaining confidence. And with a superior boss as a role model, my leadership (I think) only got better.

About a month and a half ago I started to sense that my time at Starbucks was almost up. My list of freelance clients was growing, and I was looking at more possibilities in the line of work I'd done for 10 years. I didn't have time anymore to complete the editing projects I felt I was gifted to do, and it seemed like doors were opening everywhere for me to return to that as my primary job. Just as God had whispered to me to go work at Starbucks, He whispered for me to leave during a church service on Easter Sunday.

I talked it over with the hubs, and we prayed about it. We both believed leaving was the right thing to do if for no other reason than to obey the Lord. (Isn't that the only reason you ever need anyway?) So I made the call and turned in my two weeks.

It was awful. It IS awful. I loved my job. I loved the people. I loved the atmosphere. I loved it so much, and now I have said good-bye. I've cried over this almost daily in the last week, and I know I will cry more. I never thought I would find such life when I went looking for a simple part-time job.

But that's what happens when you follow God. He leads you places you never expected and into situations that stir the most amazing changes inside you. Romans 8:28 says that God works on our behalf in all things, and verse 31 reiterates that He is FOR us.

God was FOR me when He put me at Starbucks. I must choose to believe that He is FOR me now in my new season. I have no idea what He has planned, but I didn't know then either. In fact, I've never really expected the most amazing things He's done in my life. He's just led me to them, carried me through and let me observe with thankfulness on the other side.

So, off I go, into the unknown future. Off to discover what is next. Off to embrace change like a big girl. Off to have my expectations surpassed yet again by God's better plans.

If you happen to see me at Starbucks in the future staring intently behind the bar, just know I'm probably having a flashback and longing briefly for the past. Don't worry. I'm sure it'll pass. Just make sure you stop me if I start to climb over the counter. Maybe remind me that God is faithful and that He has it all under control. Assure me that He has a purpose and a plan for all of His actions and that there's no better place to be than in His will. I'll try to respond gracefully and get back to my writing without making a scene.

- Jill

A Transformation Gone Too Far

No, no, no, no, no, no. No. NO!

That’s all I could think when I watched the new champ of “Biggest Loser” on “The Today Show” this morning. 

Somebody save her. She’s dying.

Instead, the show’s hosts kept saying how great she looked and how incredible her transformation was.

No. No. No. No.

I didn’t watch the episode. I like “Biggest Loser,” but I have trouble with eating disorder thoughts when I watch it. I immediately want to diet and lose weight again, which I’m not ready for. But I saw posts about the winner’s drastic weight loss on Facebook last night and then saw the pictures online this morning.

Rachel is in danger.

Rachel is a former athlete who put on a lot of weight and went on the show to get help. She says that while she was competing she found her inner athlete again and regained her spirit. I totally get that. It’s partially what happened to me too. I worked in an athletic environment and wanted to prove myself among my peers and superiors, so I shed weight in the name of athleticism and let that be how I explained my disorder.

“I run better. I’m just trying to win races. I want to be faster…”

This girl was aiming for the Biggest Loser triathlon, but she went too far. Just like all of us who know Ed usually do.

Before I dive in here, I want to say that I’m in no way speaking negatively about Rachel or criticizing her. How could I? I know far too well what’s involved in this kind of behavior to look down on anyone for embracing it. It feels way too good. The praise is amazing. The shopping is fabulous. The pride is through the roof. Granted, the life itself sucks, but it feels worth it.

But we have to do something here. Right now. Someone has to say something about this so that people don’t think this is what we should all aspire to. This is not healthy.  Women, shedding all of your body fat is NOT healthy. We are not supposed to be able to see every bone in your body jutting out under your skin. The ultimate goal for ourselves is to be healthy, not scary thin.

I get it. I get the desire. I get the feelings. I get the power and control that comes with losing weight. But your ultimate purpose here is NOT to bow down to the world’s idol of body image. You are so much more than that.

When we sacrifice everything for a perfect body, we lose so much. And I’m not talking about weight. Being healthy is great, and being active is important, but when those become our life and weight becomes our purpose we miss the “so much more” that’s available to us. We miss the people, things, moments around us because we’re too focused on the scale, calories, schedule, etc.

Our bodies are amazing things. They really are. But they aren’t worth our worship. The body isn’t meant to be our god. It’s a breakable, fragile, changing thing that WILL NOT maintain our idea of perfection for our entire life. Not going to happen. We are meant to worship one God—the One who won’t change, break, leave, get old or get tired, and who (unlike the treadmill) will actually love us, save us and provide for us. THAT is what we are to worship. Not an image in a mirror.

But oh, how difficult that can be when EVERYTHING in the world is screaming at us to worship our bodies. Commercials, TV shows, magazines, photos. I know. I fall prey to them all the time. Every time I see actresses on a red carpet I feel like I need to restrict calories and run 10 miles a day. Even when I watch “Good Morning America” while I’m running at the gym, I pay less attention to what the women are talking about and more attention to their appearances, wondering how often they work out and how much they eat. True story.

But eventually I get off the treadmill and tear myself away from the media, and if I’m smart I realize that there is actual life to be lived beyond the one in which I constantly pursue physical perfection. There is a life Christ died to give me, and one in which He offers me so much more peace and joy than I’ll ever find in a diet.

I want to hug Rachel. I want to help her. I want her to know that she doesn’t have to keep living under the awful pressure to be perfect. (If, in fact, that’s what she’s doing.) She’s worth so much to God whether she weighs 260 lbs. or 105. We all are.

For the sake of our nation, I hope someone has the courage to say that this “Biggest Loser” transformation was too much. I hope someone credible in the public eye says that. But at the same time, I don’t want Rachel to get hurt, which is what criticism would do to her, of course. But that also could be a good thing for her to hear. Sometimes the truth has to hurt for us to really get it.

Either way, my biggest prayer is for the young (and old) women out there to be protected from pursuing an unhealthy body based on what we’ve now glorified. Ladies, it’s not worth it. You’re beautiful just as you are. Be healthy and active, but don’t worship a false god. Your body won’t give you everything you’re looking for. Nothing will except for Christ. Turn to Him and find peace and fulfillment today.

Jill

The Fear Landscape

Spoiler alert:

In the book “Divergent,” the main character—a teenage girl named Tris—has to endure what is called a Fear Landscape as part of her training. In a giant simulation room, her biggest fears come to life one by one around her, and she has to either conquer each one or calm herself down before she can advance to the next one and eventually exit the simulation.

Enter my own fear landscape. Not all of my fears are manifesting back-to-back, but I feel like I’m getting a good dose of them at the moment. In the book, fears that you didn’t even know you had come to life and make you confront your emotions and stand in the face of them. For the past week, I’ve been standing in the room with a bum ankle watching my fears surface and the emotions rise.

There for a while I was doing pretty good. I was celebrating a year’s worth of recovery, feeling pretty strong in where I was regarding food and body. But this week I’ve realized that there is still a long way to go.

During the whole process so far—eating more, living, working, re-emerging—I’ve maintain a high level of exercise. Nothing could hurt me too badly if I kept running, right? The risks seemed much less severe when I could torch 800 calories six mornings a week. But they seemed challenging at the time. Brutal even. But I was always safe and somewhat in control.

Now that control is gone. I’m alone in the arena with no defense against my fears of gaining weight, being imperfect, not living up to expectations, being a failure, being rejected, being weak and simply not being the best. I’m crumbling. I’m cowering. I’m losing.

Last Friday I hurt my ankle so badly that I wound up in the ER on Saturday morning, unable to walk. I was literally crawling around our house in tears, unable to put any weight at all on my left foot. The hospital took X-Rays and found that nothing was broken. And in the course of the last week I’ve discerned that it’s posterior tibial tendonitis. Unable to get an appointment with my orthopedic doctor until Friday (tomorrow), I’ve had to sit, lay or limp on a crutch all day for the last five. My bedroom feels more like a prison cell at the moment. Forget about working out. It’s hard enough to get to the bathroom.

Tuesday night (two days ago) was a particularly low point. I simply couldn’t see a way out of my destiny to get fat, which is to me, apparently, the worst possible thing that could happen to me…still. “I can’t run, therefore, I can’t burn off what I eat. I will be in this condition forever, gain tons of weight, not be pretty, not be valuable, lose all my fitness and have to start over at square-one with running again.”

Further fueling the discussion in my brain is the voice that tells me I can’t eat, either. “You aren’t burning anything at all. You can’t eat. You should only consume vegetables and lean protein. You must go hungry.”

Fear landscape.

Yesterday morning, I had a small breakthrough. I must surrender. I have to give up and totally give my fears to God.

I don’t know about you, but I never really know what that means until I’m experiencing it. But what I envisioned was myself trapped in a net or a snare, thrashing about trying to get free and then suddenly realizing that it wasn’t doing any good. And then finally stopping. Settling down.  “God, there is nothing I can do here. I’m only making it worse by mentally thrashing around. I’m giving up the fight and letting You take it.”

It’s not that I resign to just laying on the bed for all eternity until the inflammation and pain in my ankle goes away, but it does mean surrendering my fears and emotional upheaval to Him and trusting Him to make the situation right in His time and in His way.

So that was good.

Then today I experienced another step forward by reading Philippians 1. In this chapter, Paul is writing a letter from his prison cell talking about how he’s in a win-win situation. He says that for him to live is Christ (the opportunity to share Him) and to die is gain (he gets to be with Him). Paul isn’t scared. He’s not emotionally distraught. He’s fulfilling God’s plan for him in the middle of adverse circumstances, and he’s not afraid. I guess when you’ve been shipwrecked, flogged, starved and beaten within an inch of your life, fewer things tend to rattle you.

What am I really afraid of? What can possibly hurt me? If God is for me and is working all things together for my good (Romans 8:31 and 8:28), what is there to be upset about?

Courage. That’s what’s manifesting. I’m at my weakest point in a very long time, and this is where the Word of God is coming to life. When I am weak, He is strong (2 Corinthians 12:10). I’m strongest when I’m weak. Because when I have no strength of my own, that’s when His is most clear. When I operate out of the Holy Spirit and maintain peace, joy and courage in the face of fear and uncertainty, it can only be attributed to Him. He comes alive. He shows through. He is glorified. And I am renewed.

I. Will. Not. Fear.

If the worst things I possibly imagine come true, I know God will still love me. My value is not based on my performance. It is based on the fact that I’m His child. And whatever physical state I’m in, that will never change.

Tomorrow I will find out more about the situation and hopefully find some answers and get a plan of action. But I know the healing is already taking place. It’s in my heart, soul and mind. And I believe the body will follow. 

- Jill

Cartoon Beauty

Lord, have mercy.

A friend of mine sent me a link to an article today that highlighted cartoon illustrations of female world-changers. In what I think was a completely satirical attempt to capture our culture's view of beauty, this artist drew Disney-esque versions of women such Rosa Parks, Susan B. Anthony and Marie Curie all slimmed-down and glamorized in sparkly outfits and glitter. Take a look: 

http://www.upworthy.com/i-respect-these-female-heroes-so-much-more-with-tiny-waists-and-sparkly-dresses-lol-j-k-2?c=ufb1

What I wanted to think when I saw this was that the artist was, "Right on. Way to mock our society and make a point! Way to make fun of our standard of beauty and show the difference between reality and fantasy." What I really thought was, "Man, I wish I looked like cartoon Jane Goodall." 

Seriously. If someone drew a cartoon version of me as a Starbucks barista I would want them to draw her with a tiny waist, curves, sparkles and great hair. Yes, I would. Because that's what I think is beautiful. That's what we've been told is the gold standard of appearance. 

Forget what Rosa Parks did on the bus! How did she get those hips?? I don't care what Marie Curie did for medical advancement, I want to know what she eats for breakfast, lunch and dinner to fit in that black dress! What's her workout plan? 

How brainwashed we've become! Those women are only epitomized in beauty once they've been redrawn by the hands of men. 

It makes me mad that I want that. It makes me sad that I would waste so much time and energy on something so temporary and unfruitful as the "perfect" body. God created me to bring His Son to life through me--to love others and show them the hope we have in Christ. I can't do that when I'm distracted by the pursuit of a perfect body. 

Nothing good comes from idolizing our appearance. In my experience, the only benefit it brings is the ability to try on clothes at any store without any of them being too small. As great of an ego boost as that is, my emotional high in a dressing room does little to counteract the isolation, anxiety, fear, bondage and destruction that comes with it. 

The truth is that there is a long life of eternity ahead. This place here is so fleeting, yet I tend to live as if this is all there is. I strive for this body and these looks because it is what will earn me brownie points here on earth. But even that isn't true. If I'm really thinking straight, I realize that no one really cares. What really makes a difference is the love I give and the relationships that are formed as a result. The ability to be the hands and feet of Christ while I'm here. People are impacted far more by conversation and authentic love than they are my jean size. 

I want to do away with this useless distraction of body idolatry. I want to put God first. I want to live for Him and love like Him and not run myself ragged worrying needlessly about looking like a Disney princess. I want my Starbucks barista cartoon to look pretty, but I want it to be because she has love inside that is radiating out of her and spilling onto others. (Hopefully that's the only thing she's spilling.) :) I want to stop buying into the world's system and live to show them that there's SO much more to life. 

"Many women do noble things, but you surpass them all. Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Honor her for all that her hands have done, and let her works bring her praise at the city gate." - Proverbs 31:29-31

That's the TRUTH.

- Jill

The Unplanned Blog

This is not the blog I intended to write.

Saturday afternoon, I wrote out this long blog about the staggering transformation that has taken place in my life over the last year since my husband and I have been married. It’s been a year that has taken my world from black and white to Technicolor. It’s been a year that has reintroduced me to my long lost friends Peace and Joy. It’s been a year that has filled my dark world with light. It’s been a year in which I’ve experienced the pain and pleasure of surrender to Christ. It’s been a year that has brought me back to life.

Yesterday I almost forgot it all.

One of the most difficult parts emotionally of recovering from an eating disorder is the daily battle with the closet. None of my old clothes fit me anymore, and it’s hard to believe anything but defeat and failure whenever I try to put on something that doesn’t fit my new body. Yes, I get to go shopping to find new things, but even that is a battleground as I select bigger sizes and wrestle to believe and tell myself the truth that it’s a healthier size.

So, yesterday morning I had a small breakdown. None of my fall clothes fit, and I had to resort to wearing the only shirt I’d bought so far this season, which I’d worn the past two times I’d been to church. I cried for a while and made us late for church, but thankfully my husband gets me and has tremendous patience. He hugged me and held me as I stood in the closet and even offered to help me pick out an outfit. (lol…ololol.)

Church was great as always, but my mind wasn’t there. It was focused on my body and my size. All I wanted to do was go home and put on a big sweatshirt to cover up and hide.

Then came the bomb.

After service, my husband struck up a conversation with a guy he’d never seen at church before. We stood around talking for a few minutes with him and learned that he’d been coming off and on for a few months. He had a loud personality and odd sense of humor, so the conversation wasn’t dull by any means.

Just before we were getting ready to part ways, the man looks at me and says with a sly grin, “And when is your baby due?”

Oh, no.

On the top 10 list of things never to say to a woman, that has to be number 1.

At first I didn’t get what he was saying. Once I realized what had just happened, I felt myself stiffen and my body temperature rise. I quickly dismissed his comment by telling him I wasn’t pregnant and that I hoped his words would come true someday. He was visibly embarrassed too, and we didn’t remain in that conversation much longer. My husband closed it down, and I excused myself to the restroom.

I could tell I was shutting down. Sinking. I didn’t immediately burst out crying. I just slid into numbness. Shock.

As we walked out of church, my husband asked me if I was ok. I just shook my head no. Once we got to the car, the tears started.

I was humiliated. Ashamed of my body. Ashamed of the weight I’d put on. Embarrassed that I was no longer the emaciated stick figure I once was able to be. No one would have mistook me for pregnant then. Oh, what had I done? Where had my perfect body gone?

The clouds set in, and I let it rain.

After my husband and I got home, I curled up on the bed and wept. He was so tender. He said all the right words and responded like a hero. I love him. But I was down, and I just couldn’t surface.

That evening, we were supposed to go to a worship event that my brother-in-law leads. Normally I love those times, and since he and the band hadn’t done one in a while, this was going to be special. This time, all I wanted to do was stay home in bed.

My husband came upstairs a few minutes before we had to leave, and told me it was time to get ready to go. I nodded and walked to the closet to grab some big sweatshirt.

I just love my husband. He saw what I was doing and basically told me to knock it off. “You’re a beautiful woman—more beautiful than you’ve ever been. I’m not going to let you wallow in this anymore. You’re going to put on some nice clothes and we’re going to go.”

I nodded, did as he told, redid my makeup and we left.

In the car, I tried to apologize. “I don’t know why I can’t just brush this off,” I said. He understood and encouraged me to give myself grace. It was a tough thing to experience, and it was understandable that I would react so severely.

When we got to the church, I put on a smile and chatted with friends. Some I hadn’t seen in months barely recognized me with a fuller face and curves, but once they did, they told me how amazing I looked and how happy they were that I was getting healthy.

The worship started, and I was still just not with it. I wanted to just crawl into the arms of Jesus and let Him speak to me, but I couldn’t. I was surrounded by people and on the arm of the pastor who was giving the devotional message during the service. The songs played, I held back tears, and I just stood there moving my mouth to match the lyrics.

About halfway through, my husband moved to the front row and asked me to join him. “I’m about to do something unplanned,” he said.

When the band finished their song, he took the stage and started talking about God’s power to deliver people from sin, captivity, bondage and destruction, and he invited anyone who had a story of deliverance to come to the front and share a few words about what Christ had done for them.

Seriously? I thought.

I know when the Lord wants me to speak in public and testify, and the Holy Spirit was tugging at my arm.

A spark of life.

“Remember where you’ve been,” the Lord said to my heart. “Tell them. Tell yourself. Tell Me.”

I told my husband I would share, and he squeezed my hand. As I sat there waiting for my turn, I had no idea what I was going to say. I was still shaking off the numbness. I didn’t pray or talk to the Lord in response, I just chose to trust that He knew what He was doing and would give me the words.

When it was my turn, I stepped onto the stage and took the mic from my husband. He stepped to the side and I looked back at him. He smiled. And I shared.

A year ago I’d been a skeleton. Isolated. Weak. Depressed. Controlled by a disorder that claims more lives than any other mental disorder. Now I was standing on a stage filled with energy and hope. I had a marvelous husband. I had my family again. I had friends and relationships. I had a fun, high-energy job. I had been brought back to life. What the enemy had tried to destroy, God had redeemed. I was living, walking, breathing proof of the power of Christ to liberate captives and heal the broken.

I cried as I shared, but I didn’t care. The Lord deserved such praise and honor for where He’d brought me, and I desperately needed to speak about it. If nothing more than just to drive it home in my own heart.

I was free. I was alive. I was saved, quite literally, from death. My God, my God. Where You have brought me. Through the valley of the shadow of death.

Do you know what it’s like to laugh again after not experiencing that sensation for years? Do you know what it’s like to fall asleep on your own after relying on medication for help? Do you know what it’s like to enjoy a hug or an embrace after fighting everyone away? Do you know what it’s like not to be enslaved to the endless demands of a consuming way of life that involves rigid restriction, starvation and exercise?

It’s like rising to the surface and breathing your first breath of air after almost suffocating at the bottom of an ocean. It’s like being hoisted out of a deep pit and allowed to run free through a green pasture. And I’m not going back. Whether I look pregnant or not.

Liberty in Christ is too sweet. Life is too full. There’s no purpose in worshipping any idol that will crush you when it falls. For me that was body perfection and performance. I’m not falling for that anymore. It’s fleeting. It’s superficial. It’s hollow. It’s draining. I’m living now. I’m surrendering to Christ and living in His love, which is THE ONLY ETERNAL thing we can cling to.

Bodies change. People leave. Relationships end. We get old. Jobs come and go. But Christ does not change. His love is with us regardless of anything that changes here on earth. That’s it. That’s why we MUST cling to Him above all else. If we don’t, we’ll get devastated repeatedly when our circumstances change.

My body has changed. Thank God that my focus has, too. It’s not on size or appearance nearly to the degree that it was. Now it’s on Jesus. He’s called the Rock for a reason. He won’t leave, change or shift. My body can change however it will, but Jesus won’t. And that is reason for celebration.

Today I’m still battling, but I’m so grateful for His timing and what He called me to do yesterday. I needed to be reminded of His grace and power. Maybe you do too. If so, I’m praying you can hear His voice and listen to what He says. Maybe He’s calling you out of your own darkness. If He is, let me tell you that it’s more than worth it to follow Him. Whatever you have to give up is NOTHING compared to what you will gain: joy, peace and life in abundance.

Love you all.

- Jill

My Take on the Miley Thing

Normally I blog about things like what I saw on Sunday night's VMAs, but I just haven't felt that pressing need this week. When things from pop culture threaten the well-being of our young women, I usually go straight to my computer for a quick tirade, but this time I just don't know that I need to.

I think I just have a little more hope than that. I just believe better about our young women. By and large I think they're too smart for things like this. There hasn't been one good thing said about the performance from Miley Cyrus, and I think that's awesome. That's a positive sign. Not one kid or adult I know has remarked that they wished they could be like her after what they saw.

Thank God.

To me this shows redemption. There are more level-headed people out there than we think. There are more people who aren't just taking pop stars as role models and then digesting whatever trash they're spoon fed. People might actually be paying attention. There might actually be kids out there who want to respect their bodies and virtue. There might be parents who care enough to spend time with their kids and tell them why they don't have to participate in repulsive behavior to be accepted. I like that.

I'm reminded right now of that Newsboys song "God's Not Dead." Our God isn't dead. He's not overpowered by the enemy even when we feel like it. He's surely alive, and He's revealing Himself in little and small ways every day.

So that's my blog. It's short and to the point. But I like what I saw in reaction to the Miley Cyrus episode. Keep voicing your opinions about the issue because I'm loving it. It's refreshing to hear people stand up against filth. Makes me believe people have morals and a few values.

- Jill

btw...Why was I watching the VMAs? HELLO! N' Sync reunion!! Duh! :) I felt like I was 19 again! :) Now THAT was awesome.

It's Been a Year

One year ago today I was curled up in a ball on the floor in my bedroom crying. It was the night before I boarded a Southwest flight to Arizona to start the most heartbreaking, challenging, humiliating month of my life at the eating disorder treatment facility Remuda Ranch.

It definitely doesn't seem like a year. This battle's been so intense that it feels like only few months. The details are still so clear. My then-fiance and I sitting on the stairs in my apartment, me wrapped in his arms shaking and sobbing. Running 10 miles the morning I left because I was sure it would be the last one I'd take for a long time. (I was right.) Landing in Phoenix and bursting into tears as I walked to baggage claim with the Remuda driver. Crying even harder when I arrived at the facility and was told I wouldn't have Internet access at all while I was there. Clinging to my cell phone as long as I could before they took it away, texting furiously with my family and Mighty Man just to stay in touch. Meeting my housemates and wondering how I would ever be at peace there with the surroundings like they seemed to be. Feeling so defeated, drained, scared and completely alone that first night. Realizing that absolutely every worldly comfort I had was gone and that all I had was God and His Word.

It's been almost a year since I left for Arizona, and I was reminded of the anniversary when I stepped out for my run this morning. I turned on my iPod and the One Direction song "What Makes You Beautiful" was the first song that played. It's not on my normal running playlist, so I hadn't heard it in months. But that was THE song that defined my experience last summer. One, because all I heard in Arizona was pop music, and that was one of only four songs the DJs would play. Two, because it addressed a very real subject that we were all exploring. And three, because it's the song our worship band played at church the Sunday after I got back to help me and all of the women realize that God looks at our hearts more than our waistlines to find true beauty.

I played that song over and over for at least three miles this morning thinking about how I've been changed since then. The most obvious difference is that I'm no longer a Gap size 00 and am now about 15-20 pounds in the northbound direction. While I still struggle with that at a very intense level, I do understand that it's a good thing. Shedding all of your body fat isn't healthy, and it doesn't make up for character gaps or personal imperfections. All it does is make you a thinner, more exhausted version of the person you are inside.

Then there are the non-physical changes, which I think have made the most difference. Only a year ago I was living in so much bondage that I could barely leave my apartment because I was terrified of being in an uncontrolled environment. I functioned, but only when necessary. I'd wake up and run and then starve myself as I wrote articles from my home. I'd eat a few small things to keep me going and then eat a large dinner before going to bed and starting over the next day. I'd go out with my fiance and to church but wouldn't do much else. It was too hard to engage with people--especially around food--because I was always hungry. I couldn't eat anything "unsafe," so I would just sit there wherever I was and endure hunger pangs until I could go home and eat something I'd preordained. To me, social engagements were associated with pain, so it was very difficult to go out.

This weekend, though, provided one of the most telling examples of how much has changed in the last year. My Mighty Man and I drove down to southeast Kansas to spend the day with his parents for Father's Day. We went to church with them and then came back to their house for a big lunch and relaxing afternoon. My mother-in-law had made a beautiful meal of roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, corn and salad with strawberry rhubarb pie and homemade ice cream for dessert. And for the first time I didn't look at it with paralyzing fear.

Only a year ago sitting in that very spot I had trembled with pain and anxiety as I chewed on dry lettuce and picked at tiny strands of lean roast. If anything else made it to my mouth, it was small, untainted by butter or gravy and within a certain calorie total. As everyone else ate, I toyed around in the conversation and tried to convince myself that I was doing the safe thing by not eating.

This year when we sat down to eat, I filled my plate with what I wanted, and I actually ate. The food was delicious, and I loved the flavor and texture of the roast-flavored mashed potatoes. I said yes to pie and ice cream and had a second bowl. When we were done, I sat at the table with the folks and my Mighty Man and just visited. It was about as far from the former scenario as I could get.

I still had high anxiety about the food. The MM and I talked about it on the way there and on the way back. But the difference was that I had freedom.

At the height of my condition, I couldn't think for myself. I listened only to the dictator in my head (called "Ed" in eating disorder circles) who told me what to eat, think and believe at all times. He orchestrated my actions, and, like a compliant prisoner, I did whatever he said without question. I believed everything he told me about failure, safety, value and control and centered my life around behaving by his rules.

I won't take the time to explain all there is to know about Ed and to reassure you that I'm not bipolar, but I will say that there is a new heroic rebel in my head who is refuting Ed's lies and showing me that I don't have to believe them anymore. The still, small voice of the Lord is breaking through and telling me the truth: I'm not a complete failure if I eat pie, and I don't have to run 10 extra miles to make up for it. I can choose for myself whether to either eat it or not and know I will be loved and valuable either way. That kind of change is monumental even if it's still in process.

Another big change from a year ago? I can hold down a high-energy job. Before, all I had the strength to do was run, sit and sleep. Maybe go on a quick errand. Definitely not play outdoor games, keep up with kids or  do anything physically demanding. Now I can stand on my feet for 6 to 8 hours, carry around multiple gallons of milk, clean large machines, make whipped cream and mocha and boss it out on the espresso bar. No way I could have done that a year ago. I would have quit after the first week. But this is life, and I now have the freedom to choose it.

There's so much more, too. I can eat out now. I can sample new things. I can eat a handful of popcorn at the movies with my hubby if I want to. No, I don't always choose to, but I realize it won't kill me if I do.

That's the thing. I've still got so far to go. Every day I battle the eating disorder patterns and emotions. I still struggle every time I'm presented with a menu. I still panic at the thought of not being able to run for a day. But the difference is that now I'm working through those fears more often instead of just quick-fixing them with eating disorder habits.

So, there you go. One year after stepping onto that plane it's clear to see I'm not who I was. The Lord has and is changing me--freeing me. And today I'm celebrating the victories. In fact, I'm even going to rejoice over the missteps and say that they're all part of the learning process. One foot in front of the other, right? Do that long enough and you eventually look back and realize how far you've come.

-Jill

Abercrombie & Fitch vs. The Truth

I've gone from anger to sadness to despair, and I think I'm getting around to resolve. It's not going to go away. This problem in the world is just escalating, and we have to keep our heads and do what we can to shout the TRUTH more loudly. We can't stop those who are countering the message of Christ, but we can share His Word and pray that it falls on fertile soil.

There's an article circulating about Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries and why he says his stores don't offer XL and XXL sizes for women. They only want attractive, popular people wearing their clothes, and overweight kids aren't part of that crowd. The only reason they offer those sizes in men's lines is because they want athletes to wear them.

When I read this, my heart literally started racing. I wanted to punch a hole in something and just cry. Does he know how many eating disorders he just helped start? Does he know that he's doing that to young women and men every day? Every time a girl who wears a size 12 walks past that store, she'll get a little, "You're not good enough" message and believe lies about her physical appearance. She may start to starve herself to fit the maximum size 10 they offer. She may start to eat excessively out of despair. Worse, she may believe the lies they are communicating that her worth and value come from her body size and jeans. She'll battle this for years, and it will eat away at her joy, peace, life and health.

In the past few hours, I've come to grips with something. This isn't going away. There's nothing we can do to muzzle Mike Jeffries or those like him. They're part of the world we live in, and we shouldn't be surprised by these kinds of things. Of course this is going to happen. The enemy of our lives wants to steal, kill and destroy (John 10:10), and this is part of his plan. It's a good one, too. But it's nothing that our message -- the message of Christ -- can't drown out.

Here's our opportunity. When things like this come up, we have the most wonderful chance to tell young men and women that it's not true. That there's a soul inside of them that brings out true beauty. That there's a God who loves them and created them perfectly. That there's a world full of lies that they don't have to believe. That they are precious in the sight of God regardless of whether they wear a size 2 or a size 14.

I'm taking a minute this morning to do some Truth-telling. Men and women -- especially you women out there who are fighting the battle of beauty -- God doesn't stop loving you if you weigh more than the BMI chart says you should. God's love is perfect, unlike any human love, and He won't love you more or less based on the scale. In fact, He won't love you more or less ever. At all. He loves you always. He loves you period. He loves your body, your mind, your heart, your smile. He loves your hair, your skin, your legs, your hands. He loves you because you are His child. He loves you as a perfect Father. Your appearance can not and will not change that.

It's a hard thing to accept that your identity can be based in being a child of God when the world tells you that your identity is what you look like and what you do. But how freeing to know and believe the truth as God Almighty laid it out. You're of infinite worth just because you are His creation.

Girls, if you can't wear Abercrombie & Fitch, it doesn't truly matter. American Eagle makes better jeans anyway. Just know that your soul is what makes you beautiful. Your joy, peace and freedom in Christ will make you shine brighter than any jean label. Seriously.

I love you all and am praying that His Truth resonates in your hearts today.

- Jill

So Sad

Three years ago I sprinted down Boylston Street and crossed the finish line of the 2010 Boston Marathon. It was the single-most thrilling experience of my life at that point and remains one of my most treasured highlights. My mom was on the sidelines along with the massive crowd, cheering like it was the Super Bowl. The noise was unbelievable, and I won't ever forget how much I wanted to cry, laugh, faint and dance all at the same time.

Today, the marathon was attacked. People died, were wounded, lost limbs, experienced trauma and simply suffered. And all I can do is sit in shock.

This is more than just a race. For the runners, it is the culmination of months of training and lifelong dreams. People work years, even decades, to qualify for Boston. Men and women who had imagined this day for years were finally realizing their goals. They'd run multiple marathons, iced muscles and trained through rain, ice, snow and heat. They'd committed themselves to a monstrous goal and sacrificed time, money and who knows what else to get to that point. It was supposed to be one of the best days of their lives.

It brings back so many memories for me, more than just the finish line. I remember the flight there and thinking, "What have I gotten myself into? I can't do this!" I remember the expo where I found a new 25,000-member family of runners who were sharing advice, encouragement and well-wishes. I had my mom with me for one of the most special mom-daughter experiences of our lives. I remember waking up on marathon morning and thinking that the race time would NEVER get there. I remember thinking that Heartbreak Hill wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and then feeling the "thigh smash" as I descended on tired legs. I remember thinking with three miles left that the crowd couldn't possibly get bigger and then being proven wrong. I remember finally finding my mom after the race and hugging her so tightly and crying. I remember the look in her eyes of pride and joy. It was unbelievable.

But it's not just about the runners. It's about their families. It's about history. It's about an entire subculture of endurance athletes who band together for one day a year to take the worldwide spotlight. It's about hopes. It's about dreams. It's about overcoming.

Training for Boston took more out of me than I was prepared to give, but it was worth it. I trained through thunderstorms, ice, wind and pain, and I know that so many others did the same. Through it all, I developed an intimacy with God that I hadn't found before as I allowed Him to speak to me in those miles and push myself beyond anywhere I'd gone before. I rode on His strength, and I opened my life up completely to His leading. There will never be a season like that one again, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I don't know how to deal with today. I wasn't even there. I didn't know many people who were running. All I know is that ever since 2010, my heart has been in Boston on Marathon Monday. It was there today and right now it's breaking, especially for the runners whose dreams or bodies were shattered. I don't know the purpose of this day in each of their lives, but I know that God has a plan to redeem what sin and evil tried to steal.

- Jill

Food, Clothes, Forever...and TMI

Okay, this is going to be gross. I'm just warning you. . .

The other night I was getting ready for bed and I noticed two small bumps on the side of my calf that hadn't been there before. My nightstand lamp was the only light on, so I couldn't really see what they were. At first, they looked like two mosquito bites, but then I touched them and they were squishy. Ew! Being a fidgety person, I picked at them and discovered that they were puss pockets. What did I do? Pop them, of course!

Seriously. I'm like a 5-year-old when it comes to things like that. I can't leave it alone.

And now you know WAY too much about me. :)

Anyway, I went to the sink, washed them and then went back to the bedroom. My leg looked like it had a vampire bite on it. There were two red dots about fang-width apart. haha! Good thing I'm not into the "Twilight" books. I probably would have freaked myself out. But I did start wondering what the heck they were.

Were they spider bites? No. There were no bite marks.

Were they zits? Um, no. Duh.

Cancer! It had to be skin cancer. What was I going to do? My Mighty Man was out of town. Of all the times for me to get skin cancer, I had to do it when my husband was traveling.

What do you do when you discover you've got a fatal disease at 11:30 at night? Should I go to the ER? Should I call my mom? Maybe I should make funeral arrangements. Do I have life insurance? Will my family know I love them? But I didn't get to eat peanut butter pancakes one more time! I will tomorrow. In fact, I'll eat them every day until I die in four to six weeks.

Men, you may think that's a little irrational, but we women can have some crazy thought spirals like that. Oh yeah. Just try stepping inside our minds for a minute. It's exhausting.

After my little panic, I literally shook my head and paused for a second. Breathe, sister. Okay. . . Think.

So, okay. What if it was cancer? Chances were that it wasn't, but it could be. I'd never had red spots on my legs before, and cancer is so rampant that it seems like everyone has to face it sometime. What if my time was now?

Have you ever had those moments when you wonder what you'd do if you knew you only had a few days to live? That's what I did. The first question I thought of was what I'd do if I only had two days left. First, I would eat a huge breakfast of peanut butter pancakes with my hubby. Easy choice. Second, I would ask him to take me back home so I could be with my family.

Okay, two puss pockets probably meant I had at least a month or two, or maybe three, to live. What would I do if I had three months to live? First, I'd eat peanut butter pancakes every morning with my hubby. Easy. But I'd probably keep working at Starbucks. I'd use my time to tell everyone who came in how awesome they were and how they shouldn't take life so seriously. That they should be happy every day just as they are and not care so much what other people think or what the world expects. That they shouldn't waste time worrying--about ANYTHING. That this stop here on earth is only so long and that ETERNITY is waiting.
Of course they'd have to know Jesus to ENJOY eternity, and I'd communicate that the reason we don't have to worry is because of Him and His great love for us. I'd say that life doesn't have to be so dramatic and stressful if we know that it is only a pit stop on our way to forever with our King.

Okay, two puss pockets. I could probably hang in there for a year. What if I only had a year to live? What would I do then? Hmmm...Should I eat peanut butter pancakes every day? Maybe just once a week. (Um, no. Every day.)

What if I only had five years? Or 10? Or what if I only had 30 years or 40?

Um, Jill...You DO only have a certain number of years.

Woah.

That's real.

Puss pockets or none, I realized something: I'm going to eventually die and go on to LIFE for all time with Christ. I'm not here for all that long. Nobody is. We're really and truly only here for a really short time. We're all carrying around a funeral date that's GOING to arrive.

That was quite a revelation for bedtime, especially when all I wanted to do was crawl under the covers and read more about Laura Ingalls Wilder and her family's long winter. But it was reeeeeeeeally profound.

I don't know about you, but most days I am 100% focused on living for the here and now. How can I make it through this day? How can I arrive safely back at bedtime with the least amount of trouble? For me, this also includes, "How can I safely arrive back at bedtime without giving in to temptation with food or gaining any weight?" How sad. Is that really how I live my life?

Life really is temporary. We really are only here for a short time. Why on earth am I wasting that time living only for things that make a difference to me right here and right now? Oh, how backward!

Life here isn't what it's all about. There is a LOT more to come once we die. Or really start life. That's what it's going to be, isn't it? We're really going to START life when we leave here. Eternal life. For ALL time. With Christ. Why am I living with such weight placed on making this worldly time so safe and protected? It doesn't matter! At least not in the way I think it does.

I told a friend the other day that when Jesus said, "Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes," He must have been talking directly to women. 

Okay, moment of reality here. Gut-level reality. I live and die by my body--by food and clothes. Being thin is how I prove my worth and value to the world, and it is based on what I eat or don't eat and the size of my clothes. Oh, Jesus! How sad! You, Lord, even said to us that life was more than these two things specifically.

REAL life has nothing to do with earthly things like food and clothes. REAL life starts when we die here and enter into His presence in Heaven. The only thing this earth is for is making the choice to know and believe God and His Son. The ONLY thing we are here for is to make the choice to follow Him and to lead others into His presence so they too can experience eternal LIFE! REAL LIFE! We do that by expressing His love to others and making our loving, caring, almighty, forgiving, sovereign Lord come alive through us. That's what earth is for. Accepting Him as our Lord and letting others know how much He loves them, cares for them and that He died for them. He loves them so much that He gave up His life for them so that they could spend REAL life--forever life--with Him.

Two puss pockets. They're still there. Well, not the pockets, but the sores. My sis said she didn't think it was cancer and since she's a genius I believe her. But they still had a pretty big impact on my earthly life and my forever life. I like that phrase. I want to live with forever life in mind. I want to enjoy my stay here and not worry so much about food and clothes and things that make absolutely NO difference in my eternity or the eternity of others. Who cares?? Seriously! We're all going to die anyway, and sooner than we think! We only have a few moments here and then we're off to begin the good part. I'm SO tired of being consumed with ridiculousness. Time to live like I'm dying (thanks, Tim McGraw), or live like I'm actually living. haha! I like that better.

Jill

Lessons from Year 32

I kid you not. I have five saved blog drafts that I've started and not finished in the last week. I get distracted like that. And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. What is it about December that is so distracting? Um...Maybe all the twinkly lights and holiday hoopla. Oy. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about Christmas. PRAISE GOD that He sent Jesus! That miracle blows me away! I'm just not all that in favor of the commercialized overkill of "the holidays." Gag me. What is Christmas about if not Christ? Duh. But let's just forget Him and make it a PC happy-happy-ho-ho-ho day that means nothing other than too many presents and cookies.

I'm on a soapbox. It's like the world doesn't even attach the two anymore. Christmas is one thing. Holidays are another. A small minority celebrates Christmas, but EVERYONE can celebrate a holiday, right? What?? What's the point, then? And who gave the world the right to abandon the meaning of the day so that everyone could celebrate it? By all means, everyone SHOULD celebrate it, but it can't exist without Christ, and that's okay! It shouldn't!

Good grief. Linus, get up here and tell us what Christmas is all about again. I don't think anyone heard you the first kabillion times.

Well, folks, on another note, it's my last night as a 32-year-old. Woot woot! Let's hear it for another year! I'd pretty much like to say that this one was one of the most eventful I've ever had. I got engaged, left a job I'd been at for 10 years, spent a month in treatment for an eating disorder, planned a wedding, moved to Kansas and got hitched to the most amazing man on the face of the planet! :) I'm tired. haha! No, really.

I think I could write a book about packing all of the major life changes into one year and outlining the effects. The only thing I didn't do was have a kid. That would have made things reeeeeeeally interesting.

But here's what I learned. Today, I'm sitting here at the same computer I was last year as the same woman. Sure I've changed. I'm stronger in many ways, weaker in others. Wiser, yet more foolish. But you know what? I'm still Jill. I'm the same creation that was formed by God in my Momsy's womb 33 years ago. I still have the same gifts and personality. I still love the Lord and am, at the end of the day, still a sin-stained woman in need of His grace. And the best thing is that, just like He always has and always will, He's still giving it to me.

I loved a quote I heard from Joyce Meyer the other day. She was talking about how we often don't feel like we deserve God's love, mercy, grace and salvation, and she piped off: "Of course you don't. That's what makes it so great!" Ain't that the truth! Every day I wake up intending to live a perfect, holy life, and pretty much before an hour passes I'm already way past that. But every day, God provides the forgiveness and redemption I need. He's amazing like that.

As much as I have and haven't changed in the last year, it's comforting to me to know that God isn't changing, nor will He. That was one of the most valuable things I learned this year. When everything else turns upside down, God remains the same. As it says in Hebrews 13:8, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."

So, as I turn another year older, I'm just going to let it come and go, enjoy the day with my hubby and friends, and know that at the end of the day I'm still the same beautiful daughter of the King that I was when I was born.

Love you all!
- Jill