dirtydish online

Open Call for Articles

Theme: In a year's time...

What is a year to you?

Our last theme was changes and transitions. In a year's time, how have you transformed or remained the same? Are you the same person or do feel your identity has shifted? In what ways has the world changed you? In what ways has God changed you? What questions did you find answers to, or what life experiences have brought new questions? Have physical changes led to spiritual changes or vice versa? It's been a long time since ddo has published and we'd like to reacquaint ourselves! Feel free to answer any of the above questions or come up with something else related. Please provide your own applicable title.

Speaking of change, check out the newly designed site. We are now using a blog format that will hopefully foster community discussion. Our new email address is dirtydishonline@gmail.com. Also, the dirtydish online will no longer be affiliated with Vintage21 church in light of a future women's publication, so please consider a larger audience than the V21 community. We look forward to hearing from you!

ddo

Editors:

Amy Gusefski

Beth Parent

Paige Puckett

Vapor - Paige Puckett

Each life is but a vapor breathed and dissipated
like fog from a child's breath on a cold glass window
as he awaits winter's snow, palms pressed to the pane.
A vapor that disappears in brief moments,
but pauses long enough to trace words with fingertips.
And what of the culmination of our lives?
Earth heaves one long sigh, a gentle moan
and we read words traced on eternity's cold window.
Let there be Life.

In the space between seven and eight,
He breathed into dirt and bones born from my body.
In the long moments waiting for him to breathe
were nothing but heartbeats and prayer.
Breathless, hand in hand, foreheads pressed together,
we cried out to the Author of eternity.
Life, Giver of life, please breathe life into him.
We exhaled a sigh of relief at his first gulp and cry.

I know nothing other than this present vapor of a life,
and it seems to me like an eternity is just too brief.
Timelessness it etched onto my soul
like an engraving on a pocket watch – you are Mine.
As the second hand moves around the face
I am changed, I am changed, I am changed…
A quick puff to the glass and I rub it on my pants' leg.
Has a year gone by?

Contributors to the dirtydish online

Over the past three years, we have had the pleasure or working with amazing writers and artists. The following are the people that have helped make the DDO happen. Past editors are in bold.

Anna Adams, Melanie Amerson, Angie Armstrong, Jenn Arthur, Martha Bennett, Ida Best, Jason Boone, Joni Boone, Samhita Brown, Claire Cain, Whitney Chambers, Amy Cochran, Angela Davis, Andi Drew, Holly Dwan, Danielle Ericksen, Alex Ford, Virginia Hebert, Angela Gardener, Sharon Glazener, Nicole Griffin, Stacy Gunter, Amy Gusefski, Mike Gusefski, Truly Gwaltney, Jessica Hamm, Courtney Hathaway, Jennifer Haydysch, Virginia Hebert, Kimberly Humphrey, Dustin 'Deuce' Kidd, Katie Kinsella, Megan Jerse, Erika Lizotte, Sarah McCoy, May Mitchell, Jessica Orr, Beth Parent, Heather Patterson, Paige Puckett, Marcy Rader-Rhodenbaugh, Jennifer Rocha, Jane Schelbe, Jon Scott, Sarah Rice Scott, Jen Stancil, Christin Stevens, Matt Stevens, Matt Suffern, Dallas Thompson, Greg Turmel, Teva Webber, Mary Williamson, Jessica Winebrenner, Renee Wolk, Lisa Wood, Erin Wright, Matt Wood, Geoff Wood

DIY - Changing the World - Beth Parent

The radio station that I listen to when I'm getting dressed every morning is a little bipolar. During the week, it's "adult contemporary," playing everything from The Commodores to Kelly Clarkson, but on Sunday mornings, it transforms into a contemporary Christian station. I don't understand this, but I'm too lazy to bother with turning the dial, so I just listen to it regardless of what's playing, whether I like it or not. What I don't like about adult (or any other) contemporary music can pretty much be summed up in two words: John Mayer. Don't ask me why, but I've never been a fan of his music. I just think he's a tad overrated, and "Your Body is a Wonderland" drives me up the wall. The one that really gets under my skin, though, and the one they play all the time on this radio station, is "Waiting on the World to Change." It's like the anthem for the apathetic.

Here's a guy with an unbelievable amount of influence and a platform from which millions of people hear him every day talking about how he's unhappy with the state of the world, but doesn't have the means to do anything about it? This is a dude who could suggest in a song that we make Peeps our national marshmallow mascot, and a million googly-eyed girls would leave Hollister and start a petition to make it happen for him. But instead, he's gallivanting around Italy with Jessica Simpson (well, maybe that's old news, but still...) talking about how tragic it is that there's just nothing we can do about anything. So we keep on waiting...

In the meantime, almost every Sunday morning, the same radio station plays a song by Natalie Grant called "What Are You Waiting For?" Grant asks the same questions that John Mayer does, but she comes to a very different conclusion about it all. She says, "Sometimes I feel a little helpless./ Seems like I can't do a thing,/ But anything is possible/ Just you wait and see.../ If I tried to make a difference, would it help anyway?/ But then I stop and to myself I say,/ So you want to change the world?/ What are you waiting for?"

I'm not saying we should only listen to Christian radio, and I certainly mean no personal affront to John Mayer, because we all float the blasé boat at times. It's a problem of our generation. He just happened to be the one to write a song about what we all feel at times. Sometimes I don't care, sometimes I'm lazy, and sometimes everything just seems pointless. I go to work, I go to the gym, I go home, I write an article for a little online magazine that not many people even know about. What am I doing that could possibly change the world? And then we get an email from a complete stranger, who somehow stumbled across our site, thanking us for what we are doing here, and it all makes sense. One word, one article, one woman at a time, we are doing our best to make Christ known. And that is not only world-changing; it is earth-shattering, purpose-giving and life-altering.

The dirtydish desires to cultivate a community of women who, through discussions, humor, stories, poetry, music and art, can fearlessly explore God together by opening up their hearts and minds to each other. Through these explorations, women may be able to gain and foster in each other integrity in friendships, work, the home and all areas of life and the strength to fearlessly take on life's problems with grace and honor as outlined by Biblical principles. The dirtydish also seeks to redeem culture and the arts by pursuing excellence so that the message of the cross is not only projected, but projected in such a way that God may be glorified by others seeing and responding to His unlimited creativity.

To that end, you're going to be seeing a lot of changes around here. And if you're so inclined, join us in changing both the dirtydish and the lives of those who read it. As the physical manifestation of Christ’s love in today’s world, we, His body, are called to use our talents and resources to love and redeem everything around us. We pray that God would use the dirtydish to do just that.

Returning to the Unchanging God - Megan Jerse

In the span of approximately one year I will: graduate college, move back to my hometown, start my first “real” job, get married, become a military wife and move away from my hometown to Maryland, move again to Kentucky four months later, and see my new husband off to war.

Gosh, I never saw this coming!

It’s a funny thing about change. I have always been mentally welcoming but practically begrudging of change. I have always been a planner- one who could not handle the unknown or be flexible enough to grasp a plan that wasn’t my own. Thankfully, God doesn’t really worry about my inflexibility- He does what he wants with my life and I get to come along for the ride.

In July of 2006 my boyfriend proposed to me. Very happily, I accepted. Sadly, just a month later we parted and returned to the drudgery of a long distance relationship—he was living in Utah while I was finishing up my last year of undergraduate study in New York City. I’m back in Utah now, and we’re reunited for the foreseeable future. Our marriage is just weeks away, and I am so thrilled with all this.

I have, however, had a few moments of severe panic. These feeling primarily focus on inadequacy within new territory. I have begun a new job and the reality that I am no longer in school anymore has only started to sink in. Instead of feeling “on top of my game” as a college senior, ready to accomplish the assignments given to me based on years of experience, I find myself in the middle of a workplace environment that is new and unrelenting. I frequently sense the urge to curl up under my desk and cry- weep, even- for the loss of my childhood. All at once these feelings overwhelm me. I won’t ever live with my parents. I won’t ever had the freedom of undergraduate school, the ease of dorm life, the comfort of home for extended periods of time.

For the first time in my life I am truly and independently as ever responsible for myself. Gulp.

Once I have these feeling, I like to find strategy to deal with them. What is so hard is that they are all very new- along with each situation I encounter. I find myself tending towards a hardness of heart and emotion. For some reason my brain believes that if I shut out the sadness, the rushes of fear, and even the excitement for change, that I’ll be dealing with all these changes in a healthier way. Fortunately, God has taken that tendency and brought it to my attention as an unhealthy coping mechanism. I have had to frequently pray that God would hold my bits and pieces together while still allowing me to FEEL. I have asked him to protect me from these feelings of inadequacy and fear, and to (please God!) turn me towards him with them instead of towards whatever I might seek to fill those holes.

While I am in the midst of feeling alternately ecstatic, nostalgic, and sad about graduating, I find that instead of welcoming those feelings and functioning while feeling them, I want to shut down. I want to order a cheeseburger with extra bacon and extra cheddar cheese, cheese fries, and a coke to fill in the places where I might feel sad or upset. I become short and often disrespectful to my parents, fiancé, and even my friends. I feel distracted and essentially end up focusing on MY problems, MY worries, and all the changes in MY life.

And there you have the problem. All of these things cause me to think of myself and how the changes are influencing me for good or bad. Assessing the change is ok, but allowing this time in my life to implode into self-pity, self-consciousness, self-anything is a problem. What God has done is give me blessing upon blessing. He has given me change as a gift and a growth area. He has also given me Himself to help deal with all of that.

A woman once said that she was so in love with her boyfriend that she had to ask God to take that love from her and hold it for her because she could not hold onto it herself without injuring herself and her beloved. This story continually echoes in my head, and I’ve realized I need God’s help with all this (imagine that). I’ve asked him to take all these feelings and hold them- the sadness, the fear, the excitement, ecstasy, and all the rest. This doesn’t mean I don’t feel them, but it means that I don’t have to rely on my human relationship to fully understand what I’m going through. I can rely on an all-powerful Creator and God to fill in my gaps of understanding, calm my fears, comfort my sadness, control my excitement.

Ultimately, I have not figured out how to deal with change other than to attempt greet it with open arms. I am fortunate in that each change I will experience is a beautiful and exciting one, even though they are hard. So for now I’ll look towards those changes and pray God will help me rise to the occasions, feel with healthy emotions, and avoid the self-focus that can hobble the good that is happening. May I and you “taste and see that the Lord is good,” even in the hours of change (Psalm 34:8).

Changes - Claire Cain

The Birth Control Pill - Amy Gusefski

I imagine most women have about the same experiences with birth control that I did. I have never had a regular cycle, it’s either 60 days or 36 or whatever it feels like that month. My doctor never seemed very concerned and I didn’t have cramps or a heavy flow, so neither of us chose to do anything about it. Once I tried ortho-tricyclin for a few weeks but it made me so depressed I stopped it quickly.

About the time I got married, I asked my doctor if I could try the same type of birth control pill (BCP) my sister used since it had lower hormone levels. My fiancé and I were applying to the Peace Corps, so my doctor and I discussed a few other suggestions for birth control, such as condoms or an IUD. I don’t remember a lot of information on side effects of the Pill or even how it really works.

Most of the time, we know the Pill basics. A woman takes a pill containing hormones which either prevent ovulation or keep a fertilized egg from implanting. The pill cycle is 21 days, then you take a placebo for 7 days allowing you to have a fake period. It is a fake period, because your body is not creating a uterine lining capable of sustaining a baby, so the menstrual blood is just bleeding.

For nearly 3 years, I took a BCP every single day. In January I decided to limit the hormones and chemicals I take every day, so I started looking into other birth control options.

I started by learning about the reproductive cycle and how the pill works. In a nut shell, our bodies are pretty much awesome. I started reading the book Taking Control of Your Fertility (not to worry, it’s about more than having babies) and learned so much about my body and how it works. I’m 27, but I felt so naïve! You have 4 hormones that work in tandem to guide your body through the process of preparing for pregnancy, releasing an egg, checking to see if it’s fertilized, then shedding the uterine lining and starting all over. Most BCPs work by changing those hormones – either to ensure you won’t ovulate or couldn’t sustain a pregnancy if you did.

All this hormone manipulation does involve side effects for some women. On ortho-tri-cyclin, I was horribly depressed. On a lower dose of estrogen, I didn’t have any side effects at all. Some of my friends have had severe nausea, decreased sex drive, headaches, weight gain, or pain during sex. If you ever have any of these symptoms or feelings, please talk to your doctor. She can work with you to find another BCP that wouldn’t have these effects or help you explore other options for birth control that don’t involve hormones.

It is sad and sends the wrong message to women to make it seem as if changing our bodies so radically is the only or best option for birth control. I read an opinion piece in the New York Times regarding the new BCP coming out which will give women the option of never having a period. First of all, this isn’t a completely good idea, in case you end up in the 2% who conceive while on the pill – you wouldn’t know for a long time! But second, this pill and what I anticipate its marketing to be will send the message to women the period is not acceptable, desirable, or even manageable. I prefer the Native American method of the moon tent. A woman’s period is seen as a time to take a break, connect with other women, and be creative. To me, that is a lot more empowering (and fun) than being told there is something wrong with me.

After doing a lot of reading, research, and talking to my friends and women older than me, I chose to stop taking the pill. It didn’t seem fair to me to change the hormones in my body, making me responsible for obtaining a prescription, filling it, taking it, and bearing any side effects. My husband is part of our sexual relationship as well, and he should be a part of pregnancy prevention. All parts of this would impact him, so it’s reasonable to make him part of the process.

My point here is to give you something to think about and perhaps spark a little of your own research into the matter, not to dictate a “right” way or a “wrong” way to approach your body, birth control, and family planning. There are lots of options, from barrier methods, abstaining, natural family planning, to spermicides and IUDs.

I know women are at different life stages, and one method that works for me may not be comfortable, effective, or practical for someone else. Some women’s bodies have terrible symptoms around their cycle, and the BCP allows women to control cramping, depression, and exhaustion. I can’t possibly provide all the medical information out there, and I am not a doctor, so definitely do not make changes without talking to yours.

Finding Freedom in Disease - Jennifer Haydysch

Has anyone ever noticed life is hard and often unfair? Knowing these two points can often affect one’s ability to find joy in trials and tribulations. As everyone else, I have also experienced my share of struggles. In June 2003, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. In basic terms, Crohn’s disease is a chronic inflammatory disease of the digestive track and can affect anything from the mouth to the large intestine. It is often characterized by abdominal pain, ulcers, and tissue inflammation. When diagnosed, I knew very well what the disease entailed as my roommate had been diagnosed just six months earlier. My gastroenterologist, in an attempt to keep the situation optimistic provided me his perspective on the disease, saying, “For most people, it doesn’t affect their life, it can be just an annoyance at times.” And with that statement began my life as a Crohn’s patient.

Initially, in an attempt to keep the disease stabilized, I was placed on 12 pills a day. As side symptoms of Crohn’s began to appear (such as acid reflux and slowness in food leaving the stomach) additional pills were added. I had my first flare in December 2003. As I would quickly discover with flares, food was the enemy and the bathroom my greatest friend. I dropped 10-15 pounds during that flare and found myself in many scuffles with my parents regarding my food choices. During flares, nothing would stay down and everything was painful. As a result, I never wanted to eat; it just wasn’t worth the repercussions. Watching a daughter’s weight drop is hard on parents, and we would have routine outings to the grocery store walking every row looking for anything I was willing to eat. Finally, I found baked potatoes and Hawaiian bread! Every meal for the next couple weeks incorporated some form of these items. My birthday is on Christmas Eve, and I was turning 21 that year. As usual, I helped my mom put together our traditional brunch for the family to celebrate and I made my own birthday cake. As everyone was enjoying the tasty delights, I was once again eating a baked potato and Hawaiian bread. I did not go out to celebrate becoming legal drinking age as planned because I didn’t know if it was a safe thing to do with my condition.

It was a tough birthday, and many other tough flares would occur (to be specific, at the end of every semester). Because of the progression of my disease, my local gastroenterologist sent me to UNC Hospital, where I am now a patient. I went through various stages of steroids, being placed on prednisone a couple times and physically blowing up like a balloon. Once, when my flare did not appear to be reacting to the prednisone, my doctor considered putting me on Remicade (an IV treatment with potentially severe side effects) temporarily to bring my body back under control.

By Fall 2005, frequent flares had produced scarring in my intestine, which was creating a permanent blockage. Where most individuals have 2 centimeters in diameter, I had less than 2 millimeters. Because I was in the middle of a semester, I was placed on additional medications to assist with flow until I could have surgery over Christmas break to have part of my intestines removed. Surgery was the hardest battle I undertook. Most Crohn’s patients will say stay away from surgery if possible or you will find yourself in and out of the operating room slowing removing the entire colon and/or small intestine. I knew with scarring, surgery is the only option, but I had never had to allow my mind to enter that arena before. Much was learned during that experience. In preparation, weekly, if not daily, I found myself reading the story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (Daniel 3) as they stood before Pharoh and declared, “…the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. But even if he does not, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." This verse became my power verse. It took a long time before I could stand and verbally speak these words with belief and authority. God did have the ability to cure me. This disease was not outside his control. Secondly, even if he chose not to cure me whether through the surgery or miraculously, regardless, I would worship him still.

The day of the surgery arrived. I was overcome with a spiritual peace. I knew I would make it through, and I knew God was working the hands of my surgeon. I had assumed my time of growth through this experience was complete, but the Lord had more planned. After four days in the hospital, I was allowed to come home only to awake the next morning throwing up and in unimaginable pain. From my parent’s house, over an hour and a half away from the hospital, I was taken back to Chapel Hill and readmitted for an additional 4 days. Thankfully, I made it out just in time for my birthday and Christmas. Through the next week, I continued with my rehabilitation plan set by my surgeon, which included lots of walking each day. I began to find I had higher and higher temperatures in the evening, a growing cramp-like pain in my abdomen, an inability to go to the bathroom, and an uncontrollable clear substance being secreted at handfuls at a time. I went back to Chapel Hill for some tests. All blood work showed I was perfectly healthy with only one test slightly higher than normal, but nothing to cause alarm. I was told to go back home and if problems persisted to come back in a few days for a complete body scan. That night, tired of being forced to wear a diaper and undergo the growingly painful stabs in my abdomen, I decided I would go back in that next day and not wait any longer. I knew by the look on the face of the individual performing my scan the next day that something odd was found. Afterwards, I was informed I had a grapefruit size abscess that had formed as a result of the surgery, which needed to be drained immediately! To this day, my doctor didn’t know how I could even walk and if left untreated for a couple more days, I could have died. I underwent another procedure to drain the abscess; 500mL of fluid was drained and a catheter was implanted to allow the abscess to continue to drain for a couple weeks. Up until this point, I had not eaten after the surgery and had lost significant weight. Finally, my hunger returned and life started to look somewhat normal again. I started the spring semester a few days later.

I know you are probably thinking, man I’m glad I don’t have that disease. To be honest, looking back, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Praise the Lord, since surgery I have been flare free and incurred no direct Crohn’s related health issues. Yes, I do still take medications everyday and being a Crohn’s patient does affect how I can be treated medically in every aspect of my health, but for now, the tough stuff is over.

God has revealed himself in an incredibly real way through these experiences. Since my initial diagnosis I have met multiple individuals who also suffer from the disease or its sister disease ‘ulcerative colitis’. Words do not describe the peace a person with this disease can feel when being able to share with another who truly understands their pains. Furthermore, I had learned the beauty of leaving the future in God’s hands and not knowing what is coming. I continually praise the Lord that I did not know the sequence of events surrounding my surgery. By not knowing, I could just sit in his presence and cry out and thank him over and over that he was there with me and he was making sure I was not encountering more than I could bear. Furthermore, not knowing what was about to arise gave me the ability to focus only on the moment at hand. When back in the ER the day after being released experiencing some of the greatest pain I have ever known and being given no medical attention due to all staff’s involvement in code red, God had the ability to keep whispering in my ear, “Only a moment longer. Trust me. I’m here.” To which I continued to verbally respond, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus.”

Each of us will encounter really hard times in our life. It’s not a bet; it’s a guarantee. When I feel a major trial setting in, I look back at this period of my life and am reminded of how God stands by us, how much we grow as Christians through these events, and that at the end we will be able to count it all as blessings. Do I count this as a blessing? Absolutely. I was given a rare privilege to see God in a unique and majorly real way, and I wouldn’t have traded it for the world!! Therefore, next time a trial comes your way, count it as an opportunity to learn to trust God more because in the end, you will look back and say, “Thank you, God for that moment!” Stand before God and read Daniel 3. Pray over those words until your emotions finally synchronize themselves with what your heart knows and believes: I have a God who is big enough and strong enough to take this trial from me, but even if he chooses to not, I will continue to fall down before him and worship him because he is an amazing God.

Miscarriage and Couples - Truly Gwaltney

Miscarriage has become a huge underground struggle in American families. Over 15% of pregnancies are lost each year. That percentage didn’t scare me when I first found out that I was pregnant. I was young, healthy, strong, and none of my friends had experienced one. But I was very naïve.

Only 6 weeks into my pregnancy I lost the baby. I hadn’t fallen, or done anything that I wasn’t supposed to. I took my vitamins and ate all the healthy food I could stand. It just didn’t make any sense. No one even seemed surprised when they found out. My mother (who also lost her first) just kept telling me that it was OK and that she felt so sorry for me. I wasn’t sure if she really understood or if she just said that to make me stop crying. I wasn’t even crying because I was that upset over the miscarriage itself. I was crying because I was scared. What if something was wrong with me? What if I could never have children? Why did it happen to me but none of my friends? I was confused and angry.

My husband tried to help, but he was going through his own stuff at the time. He was really upset that he was never going to meet his first child. He kept saying that he hoped the baby would be in heaven. That was the last thing on my mind, though. I was caught up in the fact that something was probably wrong with me and that I would be the only person I knew who could not have children. In my mind my household consisted only of my husband and I… and whatever animals we decided to fill it with. I was positive that God was messing with my head. I hadn’t been completely sure that the timing had been right to begin with, but once we found out that we really were pregnant everything seemed to click. It was like God had given us a gift and a direction, then just took it away and messed our newly married life up. I didn’t want to blame God, but if not Him, who? It made sense at the time.

So, I would hurt God the way that He hurt me. I stopped going to church, having time with Him, or really even praying. I pretty much cut myself off from Him completely, and in doing so, cut myself off from my husband, too. My husband just didn’t understand why I couldn’t be comfortable in church, or why I never wanted to have devotions with him anymore. While he was leaning totally on God, I was running in the opposite direction. We didn’t even talk anymore. It was like we were roommates who weren’t completely comfortable with each other. It took weeks for us to be able to have a decent conversation.

When my marriage finally started to feel like it was OK again, work started to suck. I couldn’t stand any of the people that we were hiring. Where I was needed before, I was no longer needed. When one part of my life started to work again, another part started to crash.

Of course, the only place that I knew that I could go was to God. I felt ashamed for my petty anger. I knew that He hadn’t done anything to hurt me, and yet I put all of the blame on Him. I started praying again. One night, after my husband was asleep, I prayed that God would use the loss of the baby for good. I felt like God was saying that even through something horrible, He can and does bring good. Even though it was hard to talk to or be around my husband right after the loss, eventually our relationship grew stronger and deeper. My walk with God also became stronger than it was before. I see Him in a different light than I did before. My relationship with God had always been close, but before I saw Him as an escape from my trouble and pain. Now I understand that He sometimes has to lead us through pain. It sucks, but He doesn’t let it end there. My husband and I are pregnant again. I am a little unsure about whether to be skeptical or overjoyed…. But I know that whatever happens that God will use it for His best.

Ideal Beauty - K. Kinsella

A few months ago headlines were made when a Brazilian beauty, Ana Caroline Reston, died as a result of complications from anorexia. This young girl, a model, had walked catwalks across Europe and Japan. She was tall, slender and seemed to be on the brink of a lucrative career in modeling. She succumbed to the pressure, as many women do, to be ultra thin to fit into a certain ideal; to have that sex appeal the consumers crave. Unfortunately her death was not an isolated incident. Last August another model, Luisel Ramos of Uruguay, collapsed while on a runway and subsequently died of heart failure.

The fallout from these deaths caused Spain’s fashion houses to require that the models in their shows have a certain body mass index (BMI) of at least 18 before being allowed down the runway. Prime time news stories reported on the dangers of how the fashion industry as well as Hollywood showcases extremely thin women as what it means to be beautiful. The covers of tabloids were splashed with wafer thin actresses and celebutants criticizing them for their dangerous physique and for being poor role models for young women.

While it is nice that the issue has been getting attention, there is still a gravely fine line between what is considered “beautiful” and what is fatally thin. It is easy to see how many women who strive to transform themselves into the mainstream ideal can end up spiraling out of control, ultimately putting their lives at risk.

Sadly this drive for ideal beauty is not just a Westernized concept. I recently came across a BBC article by Pascale Harter about women from Mauritania, a country halfway across the globe, with a completely different concept of beauty, but all the while just as risky. These women are not starving themselves to be beautiful; they are eating…a lot.

The traditional standard of beauty amongst Mauritanian nomadic people is a large robust woman. These large women are considered healthy and desirable. The belief that heavy equals healthy is certainly a foreign concept to us in the West, but for this region of the world it makes sense. This is a country where HIV and AIDS are rampant and being extremely thin is often linked with the disease. So naturally women want to disassociate themselves with this illness as much as possible. However, just like in the West were we have a fine line between beautiful and starvation, Mauritania has a fine line between desirable and morbidly obese.

How is it that these women become so large? Well in order for young girls to develop the robust ideal they are often force fed gallons of milk and pounds of couscous each day. In this culture the women are proud of their stretch marks and the flaps of skin that hang down from their upper arms.

Parts of this might sound somewhat appealing to us in the West, no more skipping on desserts or passing up that fully loaded soda, this is just another extreme of feminine beauty being based on unrealistic standards. Mauritanian women believe that they are helping their daughters by fattening them up in order to have their pick of eligible men. Unfortunately this motherly help is creating a lifetime of hardships. These women are facing problems associated with the morbidly obese such as joint trouble, early onset diabetes, heart disease and a low mortality rate.

While many still believe that the Mauritanian men are only attracted to the pleasantly plump variety of the opposite sex, some views are changing. As a result of the shifting climate and a dwindling food supply, many nomadic people are being forced to move into the cities where they are being exposed to different ideals of beauty. Thin celebrities on television are creating new standards for how woman should look. Even though this change is promising, I can’t help but wonder if the transition from fat to fit will lead them from one extreme to another?

After discussing two extremes of feminine beauty, I have to keep asking myself why in any part of the world are women killing themselves to be considered beautiful? And if we achieve this standard of beauty will we be happy? The answer is a resounding, NO! It does not matter if we starve ourselves or stuff ourselves women should never put their lives at risk to fit into someone else’s standard of beauty.

The only ideal that any woman should ever strive for is one that is healthy based on her own body type. There are some women that no matter what will always be very slender or very voluptuous, but regardless of size, the only thing that really matters is that you are healthy.

I was pleasantly surprised when Dove recently launched its new ad campaign celebrating real beauty. Their commercials showcased women of all shapes and sizes as beautiful. Again I was thrilled when several actresses such as Jennifer Lopez, Kate Winslet, and America Ferrera spoke proudly about not giving in to the pressure of the ultra thin ideal.

Now I can push the idea all day that women should celebrate their healthy bodies, but living this daily celebration can be a real struggle. Certain standards of beauty have become so engrained into our lives that is seems impossible to break away from them.

I personally find this to be quite challenging. I want to have a fit body, one that will aid me in athletic endeavors and a long healthy life. There are times when I still can’t help but compare myself to other women. For example, I have a very dear friend who has always been very slender. I know that I could never be the same size as she is, but I have moments when I see myself beside her in a mirror and I feel like a cow. I have to remind myself that as women we come in all different shapes and sizes and I should be proud of who I am. I know that I eat fairly well and I run regularly, but those moments of doubt about my physical size still creep up from time to time. And it just keeps getting harder as I get older, my metabolism is slowing, things are not as perky as they once were and dimples are showing up in places other than my face. I just have to keep reminding myself that someone else’s standard of beauty is not a healthy fit for me (or any woman really).

I am happy to say that I had a break though moment a few weeks ago. My slender friend and I were out at a restaurant and we were both doing the typical quick clothing check in the restaurant's bathroom mirror. I looked at myself and I looked at my friend and I thought, you know I’m really not too shabby. It was the first time in as long as I can remember where I was not comparing myself to any one else and it felt really great! When you break it all down, what really is beautiful is a woman who is happy, healthy and confident with herself no matter what size.

LOVE TRIANGLE: Navigating the Single Life in Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill - V. Hebert

Humble Pie is not just the name of a, uh, humble yet fantastic bakery and tapas restaurant in downtown Raleigh (ladies, be sure to check out the beveled mirror in the equally fabulous powder room). It’s also, according to Merriam-Webster, a meat pie made of the inferior parts of a deer or hog. Okay, that’s pretty gross, downright disgusting really. Which is why I think the phrase “to eat humble pie” came to mean to admit you were wrong about something: apologies are often tough, hard to swallow even – much like food made with inferior bits of meat. For some reason, humility just isn’t something most of us wear well. I for one don’t like admitting I am wrong almost as much as I hate admitting I’m flawed.

Which is why I think it’s taken me almost a year to write this latest installment of Love Triangle. I am down-right humbled by the reality I write a column about dating and the journey that is singleness. I am humbled because my infrequent opportunities to relate to the Average Joe generally cool off faster than a cup of Joe. And I, more often than I’d like to admit, curse this stage of my life despite the fact it is the only time where I, as a single, can remotely get away with being completely selfish as there is no one person who needs me to be selfless all the time. Bottom line: I feel completely unprepared—a total wreck really—when it comes to both dating and singleness. And although I began this journey as a columnist hoping I wouldn’t cram unsolicited life-advice down readers’ throats, I know my own tendency to look to others for the right words, for answers to life’s big questions, some sort of comfort, a hope to cling to – and I think you, my dear readers, can’t be too different from me. So here I go again, spouting a piece of my life story with the sincere hope that some hope will sprout through for you. And possibly for me, too.

Despite my attempts to deny it, I can’t escape the fact that I am human. And, after disclosing my tendencies to wind-up in ridiculously bad relationships and my cheating past (read my previous columns to refresh your memory), there’s no denying my weak, corrupt, and broken-down self. So, as I embrace an understanding of my relationships, I must also embrace the long road to understanding my tendency to look toward all sorts of stuff as an inventory of self-worth. This stuff includes, but is not limited to, my work, my material possessions, and other people and their work and their material possessions. I like this method of inventory when my work is satisfying, friendships are deep and trouble-free, there is the slightest possibility of a boyfriend, and I sport the latest in clothing, technology, and whatever else is trendy. And sadly enough, I find “my success” is even sweeter when other people aren’t having as easy a time at life as I am. Yes, friends, my depravity runs thick and deep.

I like this system even if only “The Big Three” fall into place: work, friends, and the love/like/passing flirtation of a guy. And for a split-second this past fall, this trifecta actually fell into place for me. I was entering into the third month of a fantastic job after spending almost three years selling my soul for a paycheck. I, the gal who had had her share of failed friendships with other women, had stumbled across a fantastic group of them who were accepting and affirming. And here’s the kicker: I, who thought there was no promise of love on the horizon, fell foolishly head over heals into it. It wasn’t perfect and he certainly was the very last person I thought I’d fall for. But our relationship felt honest, and despite the weird and painful circumstances of our separate pasts, it seemed we could work together to start anew. I had no idea if we would last or crash, yet I felt sure I had met someone who would honor me no matter what surfaced. There was some inexplicable sense of security that I wasn’t going to, as my wise friend and fellow Dirty Dish Beth says, “get my neck stomped on.” After so many failed relationships, so much heartbreak, I felt like Sarah must have felt after conceiving her son Isaac well-past the age for childbearing: I laughed and delighted in what appeared to be an instance of God’s ridiculous grace.

Then he was gone. One night he was thoughtful, but the next 250 or so nights he was nothing: no call, no note, no messenger to say that he’d lost interest, lost his mind, lost something. I called, wrote, talked to his friend, asked his friend to talk to another friend – everything short of pounding on his door to demand an explanation.

I would like to report I took this dating disaster in stride, that I gave the defunct relationship its due week of mourning and completely moved past it quickly. But despite still having meaningful work and wonderfully supportive friends, not to mention challenging spiritual community, safe (if not fabulous) roof over my head, and food in my belly, I was fixated on the one person who walked away. I obsessed over figuring out what really happened while giving up on my self-worth despite all that I have in my very middle-class, very privileged life. I felt empty and only capable of clawing at the next new thing, which usually meant the next new person to fill the hole in my heart. In the end, the new stuff didn’t satisfy either. Nothing I’ve ever done to fill the void du jour has worked, and I am tired from living out this miserably fruitless existence.

But with the little seed of faith Someone placed in my heart, I have begun to trust that some other life is possible. Didn’t Jesus say, “My yoke is easy and my burden is light?” He beckons us to come to Him, learn from Him, lean on Him, and find rest for our weary souls. And yet, I am stubborn and often reject this gentle, humble gift. But my refusals are futile: God has and will never cease to beat on the battered door of my heart. What my pride refuses to let me do in regards to my lost love, God does not think twice to do with me. He gently shouts,

These thoughts you have about being worthless – it isn’t so. You are My daughter, My most beloved. Everything I have – My love, My strength, My mercies – all of it is yours and it is more than plenty. Come to Me My love, let Me in. Let Me show you who you really are.

When anyone turns their hearts to [Me], the veil of darkness [self-reliance, self-hatred, anger, restlessness] is taken away. Now [I] am the Spirit, and where the Spirit is, there is freedom. [2 Corinthians 3.16-17]

So I elaborate a bit on Scripture, but my head has no problem thinking all of this is a bona fide guarantee from God. I am not the girl some guy rejected, but the child God accepts. God doesn’t judge me on my 9-5 existence or what I am able to accomplish in the other hours of the day, and I’ve been wrong to think that I have to have my act together before I can go to Him. In reality though, He only cares that I turn to Him and trust Him to provide all that I need physically, emotionally, spiritually. And while seemingly impossibly crazy, it is indeed true: realizing I’ve been wrong for so long about so much, while completely leveling me to the ground, has also completely freed me from immeasurable insecurity and countless pressures. If this is what it means to eat humble pie in the company of God, I can’t wait for a second slice.

**Virginia apologizes profusely for her absence from the DDO scene: shiftings of a professional, geographical, and emotional nature kept her from her keyboard for a very long time. She is happy to report she no longer works in partisan politics, now lives within walking distance of some of her favorite haunts, and recovery from her broken heart is complete. She was wrong to stay away so long, relishes her return to writing, and is thankful she still has an audience for confessing her dating mishaps. Well, her fingers are crossed. Want to accept her and her apology? Blog her.

Tansition - M. Metzler

Transition. Well for lack of a better phrasing, transition sucks. I feel like the past 3 years have been constant transition. Basically it consisted of graduation, moving, job changes, marriage, moving again, and more job changes. However, my life starting in about 6 weeks will be extremely full of transition. Sam will be starting law school in the fall. And I’ve been really excited for him. (We’ll deal with that verb tense in a bit). I’m also beginning seminary in the fall, part time, while I work.

Marriage is a funny beast. We had to work very hard the first 7 months. I finally realized that I had to let go of the things I thought were “preserving” my independence and to put my marriage in the priority that it should have been in the first place. Talk about a transition, that sucker kicked me in my face! But as soon as I got to that point, it was a completely different marriage. So, here comes my big moment, what I learned from that transition, it’s coming back to haunt me, to test to me and see if I have what it takes to put it into action.

I was in a good place, realizing that Sam is my priority under the Lord. I was good with that. That is, until it was challenged. I was so excited when Sam realized what he wanted to do. And he got into law school and we celebrated! Then, the Lord brought to my attention what I wanted to do: counsel women. So, I applied to seminary and got into the Masters in Counseling program. In theory, it was a great plan for him to do law school full time for three years. I could handle working full time (that whole eating thing is a good thing to hold onto) and the program I am enrolled in is pretty manageable to do part time since most of the classes are on the weekends. Then, Sam switched to working part-time this past month until he starts school. And I wake up in the morning to a job that I hate and watch him sleep. This bitterness I know is prideful and sinful. But it’s there. Satan creeps his sneaky self in there saying, “He gets to do what he wants to do full time, why can’t you?”

So, here’s the transition part. Do I transition into actually living out what I said on my wedding day? I believe it went “With all that I am, with all that I have, I honor you.” I can tell you that the things I say under my breath or the way I throw my alarm clock or the thoughts that go through my head each morning are NOT honoring Sam…..or the Lord for that matter. So, how do I carry this transition out?

Well, like most things, prayer has helped. Talking to Sam has helped too. Sharing the struggle to share dreams, share lives, turned out to be a pretty mutual struggle…. or a table for two if you will, and I will. Being able to share that with him made it so much easier… probably because I didn’t feel like such a terrible person. I also have to rest in His promise “For my yoke is easy and my burden is light”. How simple, yes, I am supposed to carry this burden but it’s supposed to be light. If I rest with Him, rest in Him, then He will make my burden light. Sounds simple right? Not easy, but simple.

I wish I had a simple step by step solution to how to trust the Lord and how to transition gracefully but I’m still figuring it out myself. For one, taking it day by day has been huge. Setting aside some time to revel in the things that are permanent in my life, like my friends or my family. Also, I’m trying to change my prayer life. Instead of focusing all my time on what I want, when I want it, and how I want it, I spend time in thanksgiving. Even when I’m hearing the alarm go off, or sitting under fluorescent lights all day, I pray in thanksgiving that I have a paycheck, that I have a husband, that I have health insurance. All of the things that this situation brings me, I still thank Him for it because He has me here right now. So those are just two things that I’m working on, I’m sure everyone has different ways of coping with transition. Who knows, maybe my next article will be about how I’ve all of a sudden come across a crazy old lady who wants to pay all of our bills so I can go to school full time.

Freedom - Paige Puckett

There is a lesson I must learn over and over again. It is humiliating that I never get it right. It is exasperating that I find myself full circle time and time again. Here’s the setup: I am alone in a vast field surrounded by a mass of people coming at me. There is nowhere to run, and like a child in my bed too scared to sleep, I try to pull the covers over my eyes and pretend they are not there. King Jehoshaphat in the Old Testament found himself in a similar circumstance with three actual armies coming against him and his kingdom. In a complete state of helplessness he and his people turned to God in fasting and prayer. This is what the messenger of the Lord said to him,

He said: "Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the LORD says to you: 'Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's. 2 Chronicles 20:15

Unlike Jehoshaphat, the mass of people in my circumstance represents the sin patterns in my life, my personal disappointment, the damage I have done to myself and others. I feel overpowered and nearly taken. In a mere moment I could be completely wiped out. I fully recognize the state of my despair, and I wish to hide from it. Sometimes I try in vain to fight it. Sometimes I want to just surrender. The point is, I, surrounded by sin and am already defeated. I am already a slave. There is no power within in me capable of rescuing myself. I forget this. And in forgetting, unlike Jehoshaphat, I fail to call upon the freedom of Christ. I forget that this is not my battle to fight. Last week, I came back full circle while reading Romans 1 and 2. I nearly cried when I remembered that I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. My only hope is to cling to Him as He fights the battle on my behalf. Somewhere in the battle I got too big for my pants and started swinging my fists. Just last week discovered I was no longer clinging to him.

To spell it out a bit more, whatever we struggle with, whatever sins we repeatedly fall into, whatever spiritual hiccup keeps knocking us to our knees, we are not slaves to. We are no longer under the law and therefore cannot be ruled by sin. Christ has set us free, free to love and obey him. However, hear this and hear this well: obedience is not fighting sin. Obedience is not fighting temptation. Obedience is not self-correction. Obedience is loving Christ as he fights our battles for us. Obedience is dying to ourselves and living in the life of Christ. This is where we find freedom.

Titus 3: 3-7 says:

At one time we too were foolish, disobedient, deceived and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life.

I pray for the joy of a newfound discovery of my freedom. I pray for the relief of no longing swinging my fists and living in shame. I pray for the peace of being reconciled to God. I pray that you too would know this freedom.

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Phillipians 1:21

MOVIE REVIEW: EVAN ALMIGHTY - Beth Parent

We, here at dirtydish pride ourselves on the fact that we are beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful women. We’d probably like for you to think we only go to documentaries, art films and foreign films, but let’s face it. That would be a straight-up lie. I’m a total goofball, so when an opportunity to see Evan Almighty for free presented itself, I jumped on it. Now I don’t claim to be a legitimate film critic by any means, but here’s what I thought.

Evan Almighty is the sequel to Tom Shadyac’s 2003 comedy, Bruce Almighty, starring Jim Carrey as Bruce and Morgan Freeman as God. Steve Carell had a much smaller role as Bruce’s co-worker/rival, Evan. Carell reprises his role as Evan in the new film, only he has moved on from his former job as a news anchor, taking our nation’s capital by storm as New York’s newest representative in congress and promising to “change the world.” All seems to be going well for Evan until God (Morgan Feeman) comes to him and tells him to build an ark. Everyone thinks he’s crazy, there are lots of animals, yada, yada, yada. Lauren Graham (of Gilmore Girls fame) plays Evan’s wife, and John Goodman, Wanda Sykes and John Michael Higgins also make significant appearances in the film.

I was worried going into this movie, just as I was going into Bruce Almighty, that they were going to just horribly misrepresent God, and I was pleasantly surprised that they got at least one aspect of Him right on the money. The overriding message of the movie was that God loves us, and everything He does, He does because He loves us. Even the things that make us feel like God's out to get us are actually happening because of His love for us. And when everything's just going crazy in his life, Evan expresses perfectly what most of us have felt at some point when he says, "I know you do everything because you love me. Could you love me a little less?" But in the end, he sees the point of everything he went through, and it all makes sense, and it turns out that everything God did actually was for Evan's good and the good of his family (and the world, if you really think about it).

I also liked how they explored a pretty typical American opinion; that is, everyone should pray, but if you claim God talks back to you, you're a nut job. We all, on occasion, ask for God's help, provision, intervention, etc., but we don't like how he goes about helping, providing or intervening for us, so we continue trying to do it ourselves and complaining about "Where was God when I needed him?"

We also scheme and plan and work out every little detail, but if God wants to change something, we’ll have none of it, claiming that “it’s just not fair.” But when we’ve got nothing – no plan, no clue really – we pout at God asking why He hasn’t revealed His will to us. Well there's one part in the movie where Evan starts talking about the ark not fitting into his plans, and God, upon hearing of all Evan's plans, just starts cracking up. It’s so genuine that it really puts things into perspective as far as our human plans go. And I have to say...I love Morgan Freeman as God. I just do.

I just have a few criticisms.

The whole white hair/long beard gag was a little too Santa Clause for me, but I think they did it because God was trying to get Evan to stop caring so much about his appearance. And it turned out to be unnecessary for all the animals to come to him two-by-two, but God was trying to get him to stop thinking of animals as being dirty, AND it made for some really funny scenes.

They made it seem like all God wants is for us to be nice to each other. There was a big, cheesy push for Acts of Random Kindness (get it? ARK), and that's a great way to live. I just think there's more to it than that. Why should we be nice to each other? And where do we find the love and patience for it? Is there a greater goal in life than that? And if so, what is it?

And none of us were really buying Lorelai Gilmore as a politician's wife. She was just a little too hip in style to be in politics, but a litle too Stepford as a wife to be that hip. She came around some in the end and made a little more sense as a character, but she never quite made it to realistic.

Over all, though, it was enjoyable movie experience for me. It was thought- and conversation-provoking, and Steve Carell is just fabulous with physical comedy. The scene when all the animals start following him and the sheep are in the back of the Hummer...hilarious. Check it out at some point, even if you wait for it to go to the $1.50 theater or to DVD. In my humble opinion, it's worth the hour and a half of your life.

Sunglasses for God - Dallas Thompson

“I love you more than the sun and the stars that I taught how to shine, you are mine, and you shine for me too.”
~Matthew West, "More"

Amazing how much the simplest things can bring about a radical realization – can speak truth into our lives. A cheesy Christian music song hit home with me last night when I was listening to the radio while driving around with my friend Kim. God loves us. We are His and He is ours. He loves us so deeply, so desperately, that he sent Christ to be with us. But more than that, He is sovereign. We, as humans, can understand love. (Or at least we claim we can.) But sovereignty is something most of us struggle with. God is sovereign in our lives. That means that it is His will we submit to, rather than following our own.

What that also means is that God cares for us in startling ways. God taught us to shine for Him, but He also taught us to shine for each other. God places people in our lives, brings them into our inner circle, whispers in our ears to invite them into our world. They love us, comfort us, challenge us, and speak truth to us. This is no accident; it is by God’s sovereign plan that we are loved and cared for in our communities.

He teaches us to shine for each other. He brings those stars and that sun into our sky. But what happens when we are looking down, and miss the shooting star that passes by? What happens when we, instead of holding our eyes open at the brightness that our fellow Christ-followers represent, put on sunglasses and shade our eyes?

Sunglasses. Sunglasses are pretty cool and useful. Keeps the sun out of your eyes when you’re driving. You can put them on and change your look instantly. Big sunglasses, small sunglasses, pink sunglasses, orange sunglasses. Anything you want, you can find. The other useful thing about sunglasses –and everyone’s done this at one time or another – comes when you need to look at someone, and you’d just rather not anyone see you looking. You know. You want to check that guy out or see what the heck your friend is doing talking to that random person. Slide the sunglasses on and you can be sly. Upset, angry, unwilling to make eye contact? Slide the sunglasses on. Exhausted, hung-over and trying to hide it? Slide the sunglasses on.

The problem with sunglasses is that they turn your world dark. You don’t see vibrant colors the way that God intended. Which might be okay for a time, but when you drop the silly metaphor and think about it in our own lives, sunglasses are a tragedy. God created the sun to shine in our lives. God created us to shine in each others’ lives. We come with colors, and shapes, and sizes, and quirks that make us interesting, and odd and, sometimes, hard to handle. And we judge. Especially women.

Women excel at ripping each other apart. She’s too fat. She’s too skinny. She’s too tall. She’s too short. She dresses oddly. She doesn’t dress up enough. She’s too outspoken. She’s too quiet. Whatever it is, we judge. Silently, quickly. I find myself to be particularly guilty of that fact. Acerbic wit and a knife to slice a sister apart, and I’m comfortable. Comfortable with putting on my sunglasses, and looking away. Comfortable with ignoring the sun and stars that God taught how to shine; both for Himself and for us. What do we miss when we slide our sunglasses on? What disobedience to God’s sovereign will. What pithy disregard for Him.

It’s easy, I think, to write something like this. Of course we should love each other and be kind to each other. We talk about loving our neighbor and we all nod and agree. It takes much more to actually do it. To stop judging. To start loving. And I have no idea how to do it, except slowly but surely try to change the way I think and the way I speak. To take the sunglasses off and put them away. It’s something we all should do. We should strive to hold each other accountable and love each other. I’m going to start working harder. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made - Courtney Hathaway

I think most women will be able to relate when I describe my relationship with my body as a rather shaky truce. As a high school student, I put in the required years of teenage angst where I loathed any and all things that were me, but I soon realized that my body was, for all its flaws, pretty darn dependable. The Honda of bodies, if you will. Certainly not the flashiest or most expensive, but it does get me where I need to go with very little required maintenance, so we developed an almost-friendly working relationship.

After having a myomectomy last year, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. My body was useless, and even the simplest tasks sapped my energy and required assistance. It was a terrifying feeling, and fortunately it only lasted a few days. My body amazed me with its ability to heal itself. And for the first time, I truly appreciated the small things my body did on a daily basis. It was like reconnecting with a childhood friend. I marveled at each small step – the walk to the mailbox, leaning over to pick up a shoe, feeding the cats. And like with any fight, I began to wonder whose fault it was. Had my body wronged me? Or was it I who had turned my back on it?

Regardless, I decided this was a relationship I wanted to invest in. I joined a local gym, committed to six months of weekly personal training sessions, and tried out several different classes. The weakness in my body shocked me. My trainer told me to do 10 sit-ups, and I barely mustered a crunch. Still, I persevered, and my body rapidly grew stronger (and hotter). Now, three months after beginning my gym regiment, my label has changed from “girl who can’t be bothered to move” to “girl who gets edgy if she doesn’t run everyday.” I’m stronger and I feel better physically and mentally. And on the days when those changes aren’t enough to keep me motivated, one look at my new bicep muscles or the lines developing in my abs usually do the trick.

In the midst of all this personal growth, I again had to ask myself how I got so down on my body in the first place. The Bible tells us over and over again that we are made in God’s image, and thus our body shape is no accident and has intrinsic worth. In Psalm 139, the psalmist writes, “For you created my inmost being: you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Ladies, why is it that we refuse to accept the psalmist’s words? Why do we allow this kind of war to break out between us and our bodies? Why do we insist on telling God that the body he created for us isn’t good enough?

Today, I urge you to reject the mainstream media and popular culture views of what a woman should look like and make a commitment to treat your body as a partner rather than the enemy. As I’ve stopped bickering with my body, I’ve begun to marvel at what it is rather that what I wish it was. This body gets strep throat once a year like clockwork, developed an early (and impressive) immunity to chicken pox, can handle a 1,200 pound horse, comes with brilliant hair, and is becoming quite flexible. Now when I go to yoga classes, I look forward to challenge of seeing how long I can hold a balance pose rather than dreading them because I am truly lacking in balance. Self-acceptance is a daily challenge, but it’s a refreshing change.

Moving on and Settling Down - Beth Parent

From as far back as I can remember until I went off to college, I lived in the same house. I had pretty much the same neighbors. I went to school and church with pretty much the same people. So I don't know how I got it into my head that I needed to keep moving around. College is a transient time, I suppose. You live in a different apartment or dorm room every year, spending your summers in different places doing various summer jobs. But afterward, most people settle down somewhere. I could argue that grad school threw off my settling-down schedule a bit, but then I kept moving. In fact, since I left my parents' house bound for college, I've occupied sixteen different places of residence. Three of them, though very brief, were in Spanish-speaking countries, one was in the US but felt like it was in a Spanish-speaking country, two were barely inhabitable, one was a friend's mom's house, one was my sister's house, three were dorm rooms, two were non-dorm campus housing, one was a summer camp, and one was a glorified garden shed.

I'm 27-years-old, and I feel like I've just been given permission for the first time in my life to stop moving. And oddly enough, staying in one place feels more freeing to me than constantly moving around wherever the wind takes me.

I started reading Jeremiah a while back for no apparent reason whatsoever other than I'd never read it all the way through before. There were a couple of verses I'd heard over and over in the past, so I expected I'd just breeze through those chapters, but when I got to chapter 29, I was completely taken aback. Chapter 29, of course, is the one containing the famous and terribly-popular-in-times-of-confusion-about-where-to-move-next, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future'" (verse 11). Also in this chapter is a beautiful promise in verse 13,"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

I'm not really going to talk about either of these. Rather:

This is what the LORD Almighty, the God of Israel, says to all those I carried
into exile from Jerusalem to Babylon: "Build houses and settle down; plant
gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives
for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have
sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the
peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to
the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper." (Jeremiah
29:4-7)

Part of the reason I felt so uncomfortable settling down was that the more I moved around, saw different countries and experienced other cultures, the more I realized that this world is not my home. It is not where I originated, and it is not where I will end up. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says that God "has set eternity in the hearts of men;" we are eternal beings in what can only be described as exile from our true home, heaven.

That said, as followers of Christ, we find ourselves in the same boat as the Israelites, who were also exiled from the home God had promised to them. Their situation was more political/geographical, whereas ours is purely spiritual, but the Word of the Lord remains the same. "It's okay to live fully where you are," God says, "and not only that. Thrive!" We are to be building lives here in this world, not waiting for God to bring us home, but experiencing His blessings and glorifying Him all along. And sure, all of this could be done anywhere in the world, so it would seem that my options are still wide open, but for Acts 17:26, which says that God Himself has "determined the times set for [us] and the exact places where [we] should live."

When I moved to Raleigh, it was following a very clear call on my life to leave where I was and to be here. God determined that I should move, not I, and He desires that I live and prosper here. So many single women (and men too, I suppose) think they have to wait until they get married to really start living. Or they think they're waiting for something else, some sort of calling. Married couples, too, find themselves constantly looking toward the "next step." They're waiting for God to call them somewhere else, to have kids, for new jobs, etc. They wait to buy a house, to develop careers and deeper relationships. Singles often don't get involved in the riskier, messier business of practicing social justice because they don't have a "partner in ministry" (aka spouse). Some close their ears to God's call to overseas missions for the same reason. But when we live like this, we don't prosper, nor does our city, and most devastatingly, God isn't glorified the way He should be because we aren't asking or allowing Him to make His power and presence known among us.

Life doesn't begin later. We're in it here and now, no matter where that is. So if you are where you are because God has placed you there, "build houses and settle down." It's a smart choice, financially, if you can afford it, but if you can't (like me), read it as "make a home for yourself." Even if you live in a glorified garden shed, allow your heart to rest there. My heart has never been more free than it is now that I've stopped looking for my next move (even though more moves are inevitable). Build deep relationships with people, getting to know them and allowing yourself to be fully known. And in those relationships, learn to love one another, plant seeds of trust, and feast on the harvest.

Plant seeds of Christ in the world around you. Live out redemption and love in front of your co-workers and in your relationships with them. Share Jesus with them, and watch Him draw them in. See them flourish and take on new life, and relish the journey you get to travel with them!

When the time comes, get married, but until then (and even if you're already married), soak in the love of your heavenly Bridegroom, and teach people about Christ, making disciples ("spiritual children") just as He commissioned you to do. Build up ministries that will build up people, so that those people can build up other ministries and other people. Start leaving a spiritual legacy even now, building the Kingdom of God (increasing in number) and praying for the peace and prosperity of your city, because as you pray for the redemption of your city and the people around you, and as you bring glory to God with your life, you remove the focus from yourself, which frees you to enjoy the freedom and prosperity that come with faith in a sovereign God.

Let Him be the sovereign God that He is. No matter where you are in exile, God is still God, Creator of the heavens and the earth, Author of life and Perfector of faith. He has plans of prosperity in mind for you, and He promises to be found when sought. So cut loose, go wild, and settle down.

Living Room - Claire Cain

“You’ll want to notice the crown molding that is featured here in the dining room, and of course we saw this same look repeated in the master bedroom and guest bedroom as well.” Jim gestured to the white ceiling and smiled brightly at the couple.

“Oh, yes, that’s just gorgeous,” the woman said.

“We really love this house Jim. We really do, but it’s out of our range by 10,000,” the man explained. Jim felt it welling up in him; this is the game.

“Listen Mark, I know what you’ve said about your budget…”

“You do.”

“And I fully respect a man’s desire to keep things within the means, to keep it simple and make sure the plans are followed through…” He paused here a moment to smile at them again. He could see the woman’s eyes hopeful as she clutched with both hands her brown leather purse. The man looked more uptight; he stood straight with his blue collared shirt pressed and perfectly tucked, his hand stretched to rest on the small of his wife’s back in what seemed to Jim like an effort to find some comfort.

“But I gotta tell you guys this: you aren’t going to find another house like this. And you know what I mean. We’ve seen three other houses and they just don’t compare to this place… it’s your mansion.”

“It is kind of a mansion Mark,” Cindy, his wife sparkled as she glanced around the dining room.

“I understand that Jim, I know it’s the top shelf—“

“It IS the top shelf Mark, and I have to tell you it’s worth every penny.”

Interruption was a tactic he sometimes used. It was not that he bullied his clients, he wasn’t interested in that. He wanted to sell, but sell the best possible home.

“I see that, I do, but we’re stretching already with this budget and to add another ten thousand—“

“Consider ten thousand in this context Mark. It feels big, but really, a drop. And looking ten years down the road… you’re just not going to regret it. You’re going to look around as you sit in front of that granite fireplace in the living room on your leather couch next to your beautiful wife, and you’re going to watch your kids grow up, and you’re going to be ecstatic that this castle is the place you call home.” Mark shifted back and forth on his heels, and shook his head. A smile crept from the left corner of his mouth to the right and he looked down into his wife’s face.

“We’ll talk to the bank.”

***

As he parked his car in the garage at the end of that day, he was bursting. This is what he had been working for. He couldn’t wait to tell her. He needed this, she needed this, they needed this.

“It sold! They bought it El! They loved it and they bought it and finally someone didn’t back out on me!” He exclaimed as he walked in the door at 6:15pm on a Friday night. His wife stared back at him with her grayish blue eyes and batted her lashes twice for effect.

“That’s great hun,” she said as she turned back to her baby pink plastic mixing bowl full of the guts of a casserole.

“Well, Elaine, it’s pretty incredible. I’m the first to sell a house this year, and just in time too. This is saving me big time here,” he explained as he hung his coat in the closet next to the door and approached her.

“I said it’s great Jimmy, and I meant it,” she said with an unusual irritation. Her eyes met his and it was then he saw they were red and puffy from crying. She turned her eyes back to her concoction and rotated away from him.

“Aw, El, what’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” If he had known, he wouldn’t have started. And he would have brought flowers or something. Something.

“I tested again today, and…” she set down the bowl and leaned with both hands on the tiled counter. Tears started sliding down her cheeks and her chin quivered as she pursed her lips together like she did before sobbing.

“And…?”

“It was a no. It was a no Jim, like always.” Her voice was a husky whisper, as if her vocal chords had rejected her statement.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. But we’ll keep trying, and when the timing is right it’s going to happen, you know? I mean, things are getting better for me at work and pretty soon we’ll be in a great place to afford a baby.” He tried to reason these things; it was the only way he could keep it together. For some reason her bright yellow spatula held his gaze as it sat on the counter oozing with mayonnaisey goo.

“We’ve been trying for three years. THREE years Jimmy. I don’t understand what is wrong. Doctor Milner said there is nothing wrong with me, and I hate to say this—“

“Don’t say it Elaine—“

“But it has to be you. It has to be something with you.” She hadn’t ever said it out loud before. And he had prayed she never would.

“Ellie,” his voice stuck to his throat, “I mean…” He had no response and was pretty sure she had just punched him in the neck. He stared at the floral print backsplash behind their sink to escape her.

“Jim, go get tested. Ask them what we can do. This is our family; this is our future. This is your legacy that can’t continue unless we figure this out.”

“You know I hate this, Elaine. Why can’t we just keep trying? I mean maybe you’ve got your days wrong, or something.”

“I don’t see what is wrong with asking the doctor to just check. It doesn’t make you less of a man Jim, that’s what medicine is for. That’s why science and doctors exist…to help normal people with this stuff.” She was begging but her tears had stopped.

“I know.” He paused and stared down at his feet. He couldn’t look at her desperate face; he couldn’t stand seeing her this way.

***

Jim sat with his knees pressed together and ankles touching, scrunched between two other men waiting for their turn. He looked down at the clipboard with the forms neatly piled under the clip and his lip curled up with discomfort as he looked at the next questions. He glanced to either side of him and attempted to keep his head still so no one would notice his embarrassment.

Please Circle One:

Do you find yourself easily aroused? Yes No

Are you able to achieve orgasm during intercourse? Yes No

Do you ejaculate regularly? Yes No

How Often?

Have you ever conceived? Yes No
If Yes, When?

He tried to keep his expression neutral as he slowly circled each answer. Other than the last one, did these really have to do with making babies? He wasn’t naïve to the process, but these seemed particularly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was due to being sandwiched between two sweating and overweight men who alternately snorted and hacked as they rubbed their thighs anxiously. “They must be brothers,” he thought.

“James Thompson” A shrill voice called from a door next to the front desk.

“That’s me,” he said and handed her his clipboard.

She looked it over as she turned and once completely turned