Learning To Move The Bean Bowl

I bought green and wax beans the other day at the farmers market.  They call them wax beans because they are yellow and look waxy I guess.  The term ‘wax’ in reference to food grosses me out, so I prefer green and yellow.  Or better yet, green and gold (Go Pack Go! Yes, I just went there, and yes, I used my entire first paragraph to set up the Packers reference.  This is what happens when you live in the land of cheese).

I love getting fresh produce from the farmers market but it does require extra work to clean it and make it ready for consumption.  It’s not like buying a bag of Steamers and popping it in the microwave (although I do love Steamers – what an awesome invention).   Fresh food needs to be cleaned and cut and trimmed and peeled.  Kind of a pain, all this eating healthy business.  Some veggies are more of a pain than others but beans are fairly easy in the veggie cleaning line up – just wash and snap off the tops.

My process is to wash them in a colander, spread them on a clean towel, grab a few, snap off the tops and then toss the cleaned bean in a bowl and the top in a pile to the side for the garbage.  Easy peezy, lemon squeezy, right?  Well, I was cleaning my beans after I got home, and I kept accidentally throwing the beans in the garbage pile and the tops in the bean bowl.  What the heck?  After about the 10th time, I realized I had my work area set up wrong.

Green and Gold beans!

My natural tendency was to grab the beans with my left hand and snap off the tops with my right, so the bean bowl should have been to my left and the garbage pile to the right, and I had it reversed.  This would have taken about 5 seconds to rectify and ended the awkward cross reaching, plus the time-consuming need to stop what I was doing and fish the tops out of the bean bowl.  Not to mention that I was using extra energy just concentrating on my process that could have been used to create a plan for world peace and a new energy resource (HAHA.  Okay, I would have created my grocery list and a plan to clean the bathrooms but still, a better use of my time).  Instead, I stubbornly continued to clean my beans counter intuitively, swearing under my breath every time the tops ended up in the bean bowl.

After going thru 3/4 of my beans, I finally set my ego aside and fixed my workstation.  I finished the rest of my beans lickety split (I like to say that word.  Lickety split.  Or is it lickety spit? Hmmmm….).  I wasted a lot of time and effort fighting my body, but was too prideful to admit my set up was wrong and I was too lazy to expend the energy to change it, even though I used way more energy trying to fight it.  Apparently this thing on my neck really is just a helmet holder.

Helmet holder, but at least I get strawberry shortcake!

Life is like that, isn’t it?  The thought of making a change, even one that will make my life easier, seems like too much trouble and effort, so I keep on trying to control the wrong things.  I read once that a person won’t make a change until the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change.  Pain yes, but pride too.  My ego tells me my process is right and if I could just control myself, all would be well.  This is especially true in my eating habits and in my relationship with God.

I will never be able to eat normal portions if I don’t have a handle on why I am eating in the first place, and I will never be able to grow in my relationship with God if I continue to try to commune with Him according to rules and obligation.  It’s hard to change what I have always done, and the process of making that change seems overwhelming.  But like moving my bean bowl, the initial energy needed to make a change is greater, but is less overall because of the energy saved on the other side of the change.  The sooner the change, the more energy saved.  With all those energy savings, I could qualify for an Energy Star.

Thus starts my quest to move the bean bowls in my life that are causing me to stumble and seeking God for change and direction.  I don’t think it will be easy, but I believe with His help, all things are possible.  One of the biggest changes I see coming is my commitment to writing.  In fact, the very idea is giving me anxiety at this very moment.  But, you know how sometimes you crave something, like maybe a bowl of ice cream or a donut, and you decide not to have it because it’s fattening or whatever, so you eat everything else in your cupboard instead, and then end up eating the ice cream or donut anyway?  That’s what this is like.  I feel like I have spent years eating around my desire to write, thinking I would never be able to make a living at it or be good enough.  Instead I have tried to find satisfaction or direction in other areas, and while I have been successful, I am still wandering around my house opening up cupboards.

I’m scared.  I’m scared of failing, of not being good enough, of dying poor and penniless living out of a cardboard box with nothing but my thermos à la Steve Martin in The Jerk.  But I think I am more scared of not trying it.  Of never knowing.

I’m picking out a thermos, for you!

How about you?  What are the “bean bowls” in your life that need moving?  I love hearing from you!

Sue

Jesus Is In The Boat

My husband can fix just about anything.  Cars, washing machines, dryers, the siding, bikes, the plumbing, the roof.  He built our deck, put up our fence, installed a few water heaters and painted just about every room in our house.  Sometimes he fixes things with specific purchased parts, and other times he “MacGyver’s” it out of things he has lying around the house.  In our 27 years of marriage, we have never had a repair man in our home.

I wanted to fix things too, except I wanted to fix things I was not supposed to fix.  If a friend or family member came to me with a problem, my brain immediately began problem solving and plotting a course of action for them.  Instead of listening, I would be patiently waiting for a break in the conversation to give them my sage advice, except that they weren’t coming to me for the Wisdom of Solomon.  They just wanted me to listen.  And to pray for them.

So I learned to be a good listener and prayer warrior.  Except when it came to problems with my kids.  That has been another story.

Of course I pray for them.  Daily.  With fervor.  And sweat.  And some arguing about God’s timing.  And maybe some late night pacing.  But I can’t seem to let go of the anxiety.  Even now, with my kids being young adults – all it takes is one phone call or late night text to put me over the edge into “fix it” mode, my brain scrabbling to put together a solution for them, every instinct screaming at me to step in and take over.

I have struggled with this ever since my kids problems graduated from skinned knees and broken toys to middle school angst and broken hearts.   I would often find myself as torn up and anxiety ridden as they were, or so angry that I wanted to go Mama Bear on someone – often times them.  I tried harder and harder to control them or the situation, thinking good parents had good children, and why were my children running amok?

A few years ago, I was sitting in a Companions In Christ class at church, explaining how trying to control my kids made me feel anxiety ridden and hopeless, but that I couldn’t seem to stop because at least by trying to control them, I felt like I was being a good mom.  We were reading the story of Jesus and the disciples in the boat, and how the storm hit and the disciples were freaking out while Jesus slept thru it all.  The Holy Spirit flipped a switch, and I had an incredible Ah-Ha moment.  I was a freaking out disciple, and Jesus was right there in the boat with me.

I shouted, “That’s it!  Jesus is in the boat!!  He’s in the boat!”  And then I had to explain, that no matter the storm, if Jesus is in the boat, you’re going to be okay.  I was going to be okay.  My kids were going to be okay.  Everything, no matter what it looked like outside, was going to be okay, because the Master of All was in the boat.  It reminded me of the time my daughter was diagnosed with leukemia when she was four.  Feeling helpless and alone, I gave her to God, regardless of the outcome.  Regardless of whether she lived or died, she belonged to God and not to me.  As the years progressed, I had lost site of that.  Finding Jesus in the boat with me, realizing I did not have to calm the storm nor try keep everyone from falling out of the boat, was such a relief.

I still struggle with wanting to take over for God and solve all of my kids problems.  And although I have gotten better at surrendering them back to Him, it still scares me to let go.  I have to constantly remind myself that He is in the boat, that I can let Him calm the storm.  And even in my weakness and in my fear, and in my lack of faith and trust, He still does.  For that, I am ever grateful.

Originally posted on The Neighborhood Church Lenten Pasha Blog.

Beauty of a Woman Blogfest: Skin Deep

A couple of days ago, I let you all know I would be participating in the Beauty of a Woman Blogfest, sponsored by August McLaughlin, and inspired by the Sam Levinson poem (click the link to go to her site and check out all the entries, which will be posted Friday.  I promise it will totally be worth your reading time).  Here is mine:

Most of you have heard the term, “Beauty is only skin deep”.  Probably someone used this statement to console you at one point or other in your life, when you felt intimidated or inferior to someone who used their physical beauty to belittle you.  At the very least, you heard it in passing.  But is it?  Is beauty only skin deep?

Like many women, I have struggled with body image since I was a little girl, and first heard someone tell me I was fat.  I have dieted, exercised, cried, lamented, criticized, rationalized, judged, and binged my way thru the last 45 years.  I once described myself as a “Big, Beautiful Dutch Woman”, as a tongue in cheek way of trying to accept myself for who I was.  It was mostly a bravado filled, fake it till you make it statement.  But I think I am finally ready to own it.

And it’s about time, I guess.  I am one year away from my 50th birthday, and I don’t think I want to waste any more of my precious time or energy worrying about measuring up to someone else’s idea of beauty.  I have better things to do, and frankly Society, I just don’t give a damn anymore.

I’m tired of worrying if someone will notice my size 11 feet, my man hands, or my jiggly belly.  Tired of wondering if someone disapproves of my loud laugh or inappropriately placed comment.  Tired of feeling exposed and vulnerable just because I am a size 16 and not a 10.

At the top of my blog, I reference a scripture about our bodies being the temple of the Holy Spirit.  I originally chose that as a way to remind myself to feed my body and spirit with healthy things, to keep it prepared to be God’s servant.  But now – now I see it as the defining start to beauty.  It begins with God’s accepting and loving Spirit entwined with mine.    Fearfully and wonderfully made.  Oh hell yes.  Because He is the Author of this piece of work I have held in judgement and loathing for so long, and He sees His creation as beautiful.  Who am I to argue?

So I will embrace the goofy German woman – unconventional and glorious – who hams it up for the camera, loves the spotlight and relishes the laughter from her audience.  Who giggles at off-color jokes and makes funny faces.  Who sings “Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz” loud and joyously in the bathroom and whistles her way thru life.

Weirdo Fun

But I will also embrace and accept the judgmental side of this woman, who can be quick to criticize and use shame as misguided motivation, and I won’t beat myself up anymore for having these traits.  I will continue to ask God to help me channel them into constructive behaviors, to use them to problem solve and organize, love and accept.  To use them to fuel my determination and spirit, to reach my goals and God’s.

I will embrace the Belgian woman, who loves puns and word play, and really, really dumb jokes.  Who loves a good fluffy book and a bag of chips with her butt plopped on a sandy beach and nothing but blue sky above.  Who is nurturing and gentle, kind and encouraging.  Who comes thru the door at the end of the day, and can’t wait to see her family.

But I will also embrace and accept the lost, passive side of this woman, who can spend too much time as a wallflower and go unnoticed in a crowded room.  Who is uncomfortable with people she thinks may be above her and not assertive enough to claim what is hers.  I will ask God to give me strength to believe in myself, to step forward and accept a compliment, and to recognize my worth in any situation, among any group of people.

And finally.  The big, beautiful Dutch woman.  I will embrace this woman most of all, as she is the one I have had the biggest love/hate relationship with.  Her big hands, breasts and feet have been the prime source of contention and ridicule in my life.  She is the one I see in the mirror when I get out of the shower, that I cover as much as possible to avoid having her be seen.  She is the one I have been ashamed of.

But this woman is also the one who has brought me the greatest joys.  She gave me the strong legs that pedaled 100 miles and ran 13.2…twice!  The strong arms that carried my babies and helped my husband with chores.  A body that at 49 can keep up with the 20 year olds in the gym (well, maybe the 30 year olds).  A body that nurtured, grew, and birthed the two greatest gifts God has ever given me – my kids.

Me and my “babies”

She has cellulite and scars.  Saggy skin (not to mention the direction the ‘girls’ are headed) and stretch marks.  Age spots, moles and wrinkles.  Bunions and cracking knees.  Her feet hurt, she can’t remember where she put her car keys much less the name of the person she just met, and she has some old-fashioned values her kids don’t always appreciate.  But she is beautiful and lovely and gets up every single day and does what I ask her to.  So, from this day forward, I will love, accept and cherish every single square inch of her.

Several years ago, I started trying to see other people – family, friends, enemies and strangers – as God saw them.  I tried to picture them thru His eyes, and it truly has helped me grow as a person, to be more loving and accepting of others, to be kinder and more forgiving.  But I left someone out of that equation.  Me.  Today I will begin a new journey, of remembering to see myself as God sees me – fearfully and wonderfully made, a home to His Spirit.  I will truly believe I am His temple, that my beauty starts in my core where His Spirit resides and engulfs mine, bubbling joyously to the surface.

Beauty is not skin deep.  It is Spirit deep.

Blessings,

Sue

The beginning – my parents wedding – German on the right, Belgian and Dutch on the left.

Mixed Messages

My sister’s tree – so beautiful! This is why she is in design!

Is anyone else having a hard time getting organized this Christmas?  I feel like I can’t get the fuzz out of my brain.  I guess that makes me a cotton headed ninny muggins this year.  Son of a nutcracker!

“You smell like beef and cheese!”

And is it me, or is it just a little depressing this year too?  Maybe it’s all of the talk about the “fiscal cliff”.  I mean, honestly.  How is one supposed to celebrate when they feel like the Marshall family, about to plunge over the waterfall into the Land of the Lost, where they will have to fight for survival with poorly animated dinosaurs, reptilian Sleestaks and Cha-Ka?  I have no where else to go with this analogy, other than to say I hope we have better luck at getting out of trouble than the Marshall’s did.

The Sleestak is probably the least scary of any villain. Even I wasn’t afraid of them.

If we don’t we’ll be like the castaways from the SS Minnow, making cars out of bamboo and vines while living on banana cream pie.  Hmmm.  That actually doesn’t sound that bad.  Oh wait, add giant spiders, head hunters and the occasional radioactive meteor in the mix.  And icing on the cake – a professor that can make a Death Star out of a coconut, but can’t fix the radio.  Of course, we may have a few visits from the 1% portion that is in the entertainment industry.  They’ll invite us up on stage, we’ll sing some songs, they’ll promise to help rescue us, but in the end, leave us stranded in our Honey Bee costumes.

Giant spider from Gilligan’s Island. Still scarier than a Sleestak.

When it’s not the fiscal cliff, we are entertained by war and rumors of war.  Shootings in spas, malls and movie theaters.  There certainly doesn’t seem to be any peace on earth or good will towards men.

So, I have been dealing with this the best way I know how.  Walking the dogs past the neighbors, listening to Christmas music and checking out the local light displays, fueled by Christmas cookies and chocolate.  And prayer.  Lots of prayer.

Dudley Birder Chorale Holiday Pops Concert. It was awesome! My brother in law is in the last row, third guy from the right…

The hope I cling to is the reason we celebrate in the first place – the birth of a Savior.  My Savior.  Your Savior.  Our Savior.  Like the Whos in Whoville, when faced with the loss of their Jing Tinglers, Flu Floopers and Tar Tinkers (not to mention the Roast Beast!) , my Joy must come from within, regardless of the Grinches in this world, and I will sing on Christmas day for my love of the Son, who came to rescue me.  For where my treasure is, there my heart will be also.

Have a good weekend everyone!

Sue

 

Forgot To Mention…

Hammered dulcimer (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

On my last post, “Weekend Update”, I forgot to mention Ted Yoder.  Ted plays the hammered dulcimer, and he played during our church services on Sunday.  I wanted to mention him, because I thought he was pretty awesome.  So awesome that I bought all 4 of his CD’s.  I listened to three so far, and haven’t been sorry.  I am saving the Christmas one for the day after Thanksgiving.  I just can’t bring myself to put up decorations or listen to Christmas music until then, even though I know the stores are already bombarding us with it.

 

I just finished up a book study on Francis Chan’s “Forgotten God“, and our group had a discussion a couple of weeks ago about the time King David danced in his priestly underwear in front of the Ark, and his wife was embarrassed and basically told him he was nuts.  We talked about what would have to happen for one of us to ‘dance before the Lord’ in such a manner – I mean, it’s kind of ‘out there’ for most midwesterners to dance in church.  Actually, to dance at all, even at a wedding, unless they have imbibed in several ounces of liquid courage.

 

I used to have the Muppet Movie soundtrack but it was on cassette from my high school years and who knows where it is. I do, however, own “Muppets: The Green Album” thanks to my home girl, the divine Miss J.

 

Well, listening to Ted play on Sunday put me in a ‘dance before the Lord’ frame of mind.  Others too – you could see it on their faces – everyone was animated and on the edges of their seats.  And maybe it’s because he was in person – music has more of an effect on me when I hear it live than on a CD or the radio, and maybe you won’t feel the Holy Spirit move in you when you listen to it.  But I invite you to visit his website and check it out.  He’s very down to earth, and plays other music besides Christian.  One of his CD’s has his “Yoder-ized” version of “Rainbow Connection” that I love (from the Muppet Movie – yes, I am a Muppet fan.  I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you).

 

I’m always open to new musical experiences so would love to try your recommendations too if you are willing to share – what kinds of music or songs or specific artists do you listen to that you connect with on a spiritual level?

 

Blessings!
Sue

PS – tomorrow, I am back at the workout posts – I have a few things to share!