Guest Blogger...Mother Inferior, Dena Dyer!
The Swimsuit Bluesby Dena Dyer
Here's a little end-of-summer reflection to (hopefully!) brighten your afternoon:
The other day, our workplace had a cookout/swim party. Because my kids love to swim and my spouse was helping at the grill, I was the designated swim-parent.
Oh, joy.
So I had to get into my suit for the first time in a year. It was not a pretty sight. Since I’m nearly forty, my suit is a “smart” suit, which means it’s made of forgiving fabric and is black with vertical—not horizontal—stripes, for obvious reasons.
Unfortunately, the help stops there. My arms and thighs, God bless ‘em, are fully exposed. And can you say “whiteout”? I needed to apologize to my fellow swimmers for burning their retinas with my paleness. Oh well, at least the pool changing area had no mirror.
You know, on four out of five days, I feel pretty good about myself. After all, I’ve lost over fifty pounds since having my second child (yes, I ate for two—or was it five?—during pregnancy). I could tone up, but who has time when they’re juggling home, family, and work? I’m lucky if I can squeeze in a walk twice a week.
But speaking of squeezing, as I stuffed my post-pubescent body into the Spandex sausage-casing, I rethought my fitness regime. By the time I got one leg through its hole, I was vowing to do one hundred leg lifts a day. After hoisting my other leg up and through, I decided to perform several hundred sit-ups before breakfast. And after sucking in, pulling the swimsuit over my belly, and sticking my arms through, I decided that was workout enough.
Swimsuit season always makes me reconsider my “absolutely not, never, no way” stance on plastic surgery. After all, who couldn’t use a little nip and tuck here and there?
And I’m not alone. The numbers of women who’ve gone under the knife has increased to such an extent that a prominent Miami plastic surgeon has written a children’s book explaining why Mommy is getting a nose job and breast implants (really!).
It’s called My Beautiful Mommy and is written for readers ages 4-7. The book describes a mom explaining how she’ll appear after surgery. The daughter asks, “Why are you going to look different?” and the mother replies, “Not just different, my dear—prettier!”
Yikes!
But maybe the author is onto something. Why not create a whole series of books to help kids understand their mommies:
• My Cellulite-Free Mommy, for kids whose moms have had liposuction. (“Not just firm, my dear—less pockmarked!”)
• My Stylish Mommy, for children whose moms regularly spend way too much on accessories. (“It’s from your college fund, darling—can you say, ‘Prada’?”)
• My Tabloid Mommy, for those with moms on the front page of Star magazine (“I’m just wearing this towel over my face until we get in the car, sweetums.”)
Actually, when I stop beating myself up long enough to consider the costs, not to mention the risks, of plastic surgery, I come to my senses. The only reason I’d consider it is because our culture places such a high value on outer appearances, and I tend to get swept up in all the midriff-baring mania.
The things I read and watch--whether they’re lies on the front of a tabloid magazine or the truth from God’s word---determine the state of my heart. So when I immerse myself in His truth, I remember that God adores me, whether or not my arms are toned. He delights in me more than I can fathom, even though I will never have “abs of steel.” He loves every single part of me, from the stretch marks on my thighs to the tiny dark hairs sprouting on my chin.
And you know what else? My hubby and two sons don’t care what my measurements are, or how perfect I look. They love me simply because I’m me. In fact, they constantly tell me how nice I look. The other day, I woke up with some serious bed-hair. As I sat at my computer in a torn t-shirt and faded sweat pants, my sweet, thoughtful and obviously vision-impaired four year-old said, “Mommy, you’re pretty in your day clothes, your pajamas, or even on a date.” :)
And that, my dear readers, is worth ten Prada bags, fourteen tummy tucks, and at least a thousand sit-ups.
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copyright 2008, Dena Dyer
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Spread the Bread!
"Do you know a TEEN writer or artist?
The global nonprofit organization, Spread the Bread, (
www.spreadthebread.org) is launching a new teen eZine called Planet Bread. They're looking for teen writers and artists with submissions that share real-life messages/stories of HOPE, INSPIRATION or GRATITUDE, using their world as their lens.
Contributors can decide how theyd like to communicate their submission: feature article, opinion piece, poem, cartoon, photograph, blog, video or something else?
The eZine will be launching the last week in October.
For more information,e-mail: planetbread@gmail.com and put "eZine launch" in the subject line.
My two older kids just got home from Mexico!
They traveled there after leaving the Czech Republic and one of the things they did was build a house for a family. The program is called
Homes of Hope.
Leslie building house in Mexico.
Cory building a house in Mexico.
In this photo Leslie is helping to lift a wall.
Special gifts from the team.
The house builders with the family they built the house for!
shingle girl
Cory hauling trusses
Brother and sister teamwork
Leslie nailing up drywall
Cory painting
Botox for the Heart
Okay, I have to admit it. There are days that I'm just grumpy. Sometimes it's due to the rise and fall of my hormones. (I'll stop with that, thank you very much.) But other times it's due to little things. Mud tracked in on a freshly mopped floor. A not-so-positive review of one of my books. The scale.
I may not yell at my kids or snub my husband, but the underlining joy is gone, and my whole household is affected.
I've tried different things to transform my attitude. Sometimes walking my dog helps. Other times a hot bath (yes, even mid-day) will do the trick. But there is one thing that helps no matter what . . . turning to God and realizing my dumpy 'tude is most likely due to a thirsty soul. A soul that needs communion. To be filled up--for only then can I joyfully pour out love to those I've vowed to cherish forever.
Here's a great Scripture to meditate on the next time you feel your attitude sinking and struggling:
As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, O God.
My soul thirst for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God? . . .
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God. (Psalm 42:1-2,5-6)
Thinking and rethinking my need for God, pausing to praise, allowing His voice to speak concerning my discontent, and putting my hope in Him gives me an instant change of heart. My day looks brighter, the "little things" don't seem to matter so much, and a smile returns to my dimpled cheeks. (And, boy, is my family glad!)
In fact, turning to God is like Botox for the heart. It provides an instant faith-lift!
Friday Flashback!
My grandma came for a visit and I think we wore her out. She lives with us now and has the same look on a daily basis!
Stop Lurking! Every week I will draw names for a free Tricia Goyer book from those who comment on my blogs. Winner's choice! Tell your friends.
Guest Blogger...Cara Putman
This week I noticed the weeds were starting to get out of control in my flower beds. I've always loved gardening. Even a perfectionist can find satisfaction in pulling out weeds and noting progress.
This time as I weeded I could see the parable in it.
God has me in a place where He's pushing me to go deeper with Him. I keep praying for that desire -- one of those prayers He will always answer. But now comes the hard work. I have to force myself to get out of bed when I'm exhausted from a rough night with Rebecca. Make my time with Him a priority. Draw near to Him, so He can draw near to me.
I looked at my flowerbeds. From a distance -- even a short one of five feet or so -- they are beautiful. There's a riot of great color coming from petunias and zinnias. My perennials are rich and lush.
But if you get closer...then you see the weeds poking up. The flowers past their prime that need to be dead-headed so fresh flowers can develop. The roses have lots of holes on the leaves from some mite that decided they're tasty.
So I steal a few minutes and stoop down. I get my fingernails dirty as I pull at the weeds, chop off the flowers. At times the job can get overwhelming. But I love the blast of color -- the welcoming nod of the flowers. The flit of the butterflies and bees that like the nectar, So I do the work.
How much more I should do what it takes to go deeper with God. One 5 minute increment at a time, move back my alarm. Each day a new commitment to spend time with Him before I do or read anything else. Turning my thoughts toward Him at each opportunity. Allowing Him to show me the weeds in my own life that need to be pulled and the plants that need to be pruned. All so I can bear fruit that will bring glory to His name.
Cara
www.caraputman.com
New book by former Jars of Clay member, Matt Bronleewe
I don't normally promote books on this blog, but this one seems especially intriguing.
This week, theChristian Fiction Blog Allianceis introducingHouse Of WolvesThomas Nelson (August 12, 2008)byMatt BronleeweABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Matt Bronleewe is a recognized producer, songwriter and author. The former member of the band Jars of Clay, has earned numerous awards producing and co-writing albums that have sold a combined total of over 20 million copies. His songs have recently been recorded by Disney pop sensations Aly & AJ, American Idol finalist Kimberley Locke, and more. Bronleewe has worked with Grammy Award-winning artists such as Michael W. Smith, International pop singer Natalie Imbruglia and Heroes star Hayden Panettiere.
Born in Dallas, Texas, Bronleewe was raised on a farm in Kansas, where he lived until he left for college in 1992. At Greenville College in Illinois, Bronleewe formed the band Jars of Clay with his dorm roommate and two neighbors, and the group soon found success. Though Bronleewe opted to leave Jars of Clay early on to pursue an academic career, he soon found himself in Nashville, co-writing, producing, and playing music professionally.
To add to his list of accomplishments, Bronleewe has expanded his love of story telling beyond music into authorship. He is currently penning a 5 book series for Thomas Nelson Fiction. His first book
Illuminated began the adventurous series about rare manuscripts and the mysteries within.
Bronleewe currently resides in Brentwood, Tenn., with his wife and three children. He continues to write and produce music, and he also volunteers through his church to help disadvantaged youth in the community. Bronleewe enjoys reading, taste-testing good food and watching sports, as well as indulging his interests in art, architecture, design and science.
ABOUT THE BOOK
A mysterious book with a dangerous secret.
An evil brotherhood out to conquer the world.
One man stands between them . . . with his family in the balance.
In the twelfth century, Henry the Lion collected the rarest relics in Christendom. And to protect his most precious acquisitions, he encoded the whereabouts in a gorgeous illuminated manuscript called The Gospels of Henry the Lion.
The manuscript has been showing up and disappearing ever since. No one knows where the relic has been hidden . . . or its ultimate power.
Only one man holds the key to the mystery.
He's carrying it in his briefcase at his son's school for show-and-tell, and he thinks it's a fake. But he's about to find out just how real it is.
Because the wolves are rapidly closing in. And if August Adams can't decode the secret in time, the world's balance of power will forever be altered.
If you would like to read an excerpt of
House Of Wolves, it will be
HERE
