It's Sunday

So here's the deal, when you follow a pastor's wife's blog...Sundays you probably aren't gonna get a lot of meat. For substance...I defer you to yesterdays post.

Today it's below freezing yet again....I'm mustering up some sort of thankfulness or positivity and here's what I've come up with.

1. Cold weather makes ice cream less appealing. For an ice cream addict like me, that's a good thing.
2. Cold weather makes me wear socks all the time and use lotion from the tip of my toes to the top of my forehead sometimes twice a day...therefore my toes and feet look way better and don't need the pampering they do in warm weather seasons. Also, who cares if I get a pedi or not cause no one ever sees my feet!

It's All About HAIR!

Aaaannnnddd….we’re back! Yesterday was a glorious respite from the freezing temps (at a whole 34 degrees) and today the high is 21. So…here we go with the Winter Writing. Right now I’m basically in the most picturesque writing position one could be in. I’m sitting at our dining room table (which has been nicely cleared off from its usual piles because we have guests this weekend), sipping on a latte that a friend brought me, rereading a beautiful love note from my husband while I watch the sunrise. I wasn’t kidding when I said picturesque. This weekend of my life won’t be the most romantic because of church activities, but I will cling to this morning and all it’s wonder!

Today’s winter glimmer of gratefulness is all about hair! Haha and you probably thought I was going all deep since I’m in my nice cozy quiet place. A friend gave me the idea for this post last week at bible study after I was apparently having a rare wavy hair day haha! We got into a whole discussion of humidity, of which there is none during the winter. So I am thankful for no humidity for my wavy/shaggy/lion mane hair days. I’m also thankful for the cold dry air because my scalp just can’t take a bunch of washes without drying out. Therefore, I only have to wash my hair every three to four days, which is an amazing time saver! Woohoo! So winter, my hair thanks you (even though I do have to double up on moisturizing products).

MOVE: From Normal to Healthful

This has taken me longer than usual to write because I want to be sure that I balance both sides of this just right. I want to share my testimony about chains that have been broken, but it is very important to me to share the physical tools and choices that have changed my lifestyle. The best way I can put it is this: The biggest transition in this area of my life is not what workouts I do or what I eat, the most important transition has been the transition of my purpose. I'm so pumped about this particular post! If you have followed my blog for any length of time you probably know I've been painstakingly transparent about self-image issues that I've wrestled with ever since I started popping kids out (and yes having three kids in three years does give me the right to make jokes). I'm so so happy, gleeful, content, thankful, at peace, and excited to share that I'm free! I'm not writing to you from my own personal prison cell! I used to view my body as a necessity to deal with and make as skinny, pretty, cute, and attractive as possible. The purpose for my physical body used to be equivalent (in my mind) to the way I looked. Now I live in the truth that the purpose for my body is to glorify Christ both with the way that I use my body and in the way I treat my body.

        Almost exactly a year ago, my husband started taking some pretty drastic measures to change habits in his life to start a more healthful lifestyle. I was able to somewhat join him while I was pregnant, and since having Fletcher I have had so much fun diving in alongside him. I'm so thankful that I'm married to the kind of man who will lead by example and patiently wait for me to follow him. The changes we made in our lifestyle were of course to lose a little weight, but mainly to get our bodies working for us instead of in spite of us. I truly believe that God led our hearts and our desires to honor Him with our physical bodies and a beautiful by-product of that was freedom from endless self-centered thoughts about how I looked in the eyes of the world. I'm so excited about this post because I want everyone to know the excitement and freedom that comes with healthful living. 

I know that when people hear that "eating healthy" most of the time that usually translates into "nutty-drastic-no-fun-diet." I know until recently I used to think that way. I used to think that giving up certain foods would be all about sacrifice and missing out and a bunch of rules, and just feel like a huge punishment. But the reality is that yes, I have had to make myself say no to late night sweets and potato chips, but it has never felt like a punishment. It feels like freedom. Freedom in enjoying what I eat and how great it makes me feel and fuels me to face the day. Freedom from worrying about how clothes will fit or what I look like. Freedom from many things; but mostly freedom from myself. I’ve really come to believe that for the believer a healthful lifestyle paired with the desire to glorify God produces a selflessness which is totally countercultural to the narcissism we have come to accept among the health and fitness community. And I would dare to say it's something that every believer is called to.

I will be sharing the pratical things that altered our lifestyle in Part 2 of this post. For now, I’ll just leave you with this thought that has shaken my perspective. I know the God that I worship and adore chose to give me His image when He created me. When I stand before Him will I be a faithful servant who has made much of the Master’s most valued creation or will I have nothing to show but a run down cheapened version of what He intended?

Frenzied Fussy Good Day

Today has been a really good day. Nothing huge happened. In fact, the first couple of hours were a little rough. Lily has been waking up earlier and earlier, which isn't that bad except that I had this awesome grand plan that I would start waking up 30 minutes before the kids so that I could use that time to quick shower and get dressed for the day. My plan was that with that task out of the way I could hit two birds with one stone, 1. have naptime to myself for homework and writing and 2. to train myself to become more pleasant in the morning for my poor husband's sake. Since the evening I declared my new schedule, Lily has literally beat my alarm clock by ten minutes every day (even when I set it for earlier than the previous day). I already started my day off behind schedule, then I had a super fussy baby on my hands, and then for the first time ever in this pregnancy I fell asleep without even realizing it. Thank the Lord I had already put Lily back down for her morning nap when I fell into one of my own. So when I woke up still in pajamas with yesterday's makeup and some nasty hair, I thought for sure this would not be a great day.

But with a splash of blush and a touch up of my old makeup (ok if you are reading this and thinking about how gross that is, you are a liar...either that or you haven't truly lived if you have never put a "top coat" over yesterday's mascara). We were out the door, frenzied but all safely buckled in. And then a glorious thing happened. The day went beautifully! I came home and felt energized to both write and do homework and maybe even a little clean up if I am really crazy. This post doesn't really have some huge reflective meaning or depth to it, but just to encourage you. Get out there! Live your life, go have fun, go spend time with someone new, just do something! Even when your makeup is crunchy--believe it or not it can still be a good day. My favorite news anchor growing up always ended the morning segment with the same sign off and I will leave you with the same (from Scott Sam's mouth to your ears). "Make it a great day!"

Struggle or surrender

So, if you have been following my blog over the past couple of years, you know that I have been very honest about the good, the bad, and the funny parts of my life. I have been mushy and lovey about my awesome husband. I have used my misfortunes and misadventures to get a laugh. I've told you about my tat (yea I'm hardcore haha). I've been transparent about the pain of my miscarriage and my battle against self loathing and body image after having my son.  Well I had an amazing sweet silly baby girl 3 months ago (after much impatience for labor to start) and I have been determined to stay out of the chains I once found myself in. I prayed hard before her birth that I would not be defined by the size, shape, or weight I was left in. I sought out accountability to keep my actions in check. I have even decided that every time I go to try on clothes at stores I will first look myself in the mirror and audibly say "This doesn't define you. The way these clothes fit or look is not your identity." I have been more honest with my husband and confessed to him when I find myself feeding lies during the day. I have taped scriptures all over the edges of our bathroom mirror to replace lies with Truth. And with all this...it is still hard. Thank the Lord that I do feel like I am on the winning side of the battle this time, but the other day in worship at our church I found myself thinking "I thought it would be easier to fight against this stuff." But that's the thing, fighting sin is fighting sin. Engaging in war is far far better than just surrendering myself to being a prisoner, but that doesn't mean it is easy.

Once when we were newly married, Austin was trying to explain men and their constant battle against lust so that I could understand a little better. He told me that every man struggles with lust. And if a man isn't struggling against it, then he is surrendering to it. But struggling doesn't mean losing. Struggling can mean winning....but that victory doesn't come easy and it doesn't ever bring that struggle to an end. As long as we are on earth, men will have to make the choice to surrender to Christ or surrender to lust.

I think for most women, at least for me... as long as I'm here on earth I will have to choose to surrender to Christ or surrender to every lie about my body in connection to my worth and my value. I'm winning, but it is a constant wrestling match. I know that there will be seasons of life when the fight isn't so bad and won't really need much attention from me, but right now that fight has to be intentional. That is just where I am. It feels good to fight. It feels good to take the side of Truth. It feels good to not be a victim to the Enemy's lies and my own self hatred. It feels heavy and wonderful to know that the way I fight now, will be the heritage of either love or hate I can leave my daughter. I can show Lily how wonderful it is to be thankful for the personality, heart, dreams, talents, and health that God blessed her with.

**In the midst of all this fighting I have been endlessly searching for podcasts and books and any resources I can find from Christian women I respect about this very thing. What I am finding is that there is so much out there for our daughters and teenagers, which is awesome! But just because you get married and become a mom doesn't mean you don't need a little help out too. No one really talks about that, I think because 1.As moms/wives we honestly do have much more demanding our energy and don't have to face bullying from our peers about our bodies anymore, but 2. We aren't helping each other out! The response I got after sharing my story after the birth of our son was mostly from wives or moms! Hello! That tells me a lot. It tells me that we aren't doing a big part of our job as the body of Christ. Sometimes you wake up and need encouragement and sometimes you wake up and feel equipped to encourage, so stop being so quiet! 

Tattoo Taboo?

Recently there has been some talk of tattoos around us, friends getting them, parents asking about them, and brides covering them up. It made me realize, I haven't really shared my tattoo story with many people.

Things this blog post is not:
1. a tactic to encourage or divert anyone from or for tattoos
2. a way for me to show off, although I do love my tattoo, its about my story
3. making a statement about others choices or motives for getting inked


 Right before Lyric was born I was looking for his life verse, and I wanted it to have a music reference in it. I wanted this reference, not because we love music in our family, but because I wanted Lyric to have the biblical and spiritual connection for the name we chose for him. When we were picking names, and we came upon Lyric, I personally loved it so much because I feel like life is a song of sorts and having Lyric was like putting words to our song as a family.

 In July, four weeks after Lyric was born, he was diagnosed with Pyloric Stenosis and had to have a minor surgery (you can read a past post about what exactly happened). During that time I clung to the verse Psalm 28:7 as my utter comfort and promise. Ironically, I had nearly forgotten that this was Lyric's life verse, I just knew that the truth within this particular verse was such a source of encouragement and strength when I felt that I had neither of my own. The verse says "The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him." Being a parent and feeling like this baby's life was completely in your hands, and then suddenly being completely and totally out of control and unable to prevent and protect your child shakes you to the core. I would never have wanted to go through this, to be with our teeny tiny baby in the hospital, but I would never trade it.  The Lord was so near and so strong. The way Austin tells the story of the day is almost humorous to me. I was unusually composed and unemotional, and Austin was (while still composed) definitely emotional. If only he had known at the time that I was repeating this one verse in my head over and over and over like a crazy person. (Oh and no worries, I don't have a heart of stone, after we left the hospital with Lyric I completely lost it).

Psalm 28:7 was brought to life because of Lyric's surgery, but it was it's content which was completely glued to my heart and mind. The Lord is my strength, yes absolutely true. The Lord is my shield, definitely had experienced that protection. In him my heart trusts, God had not been taken by surprise--even though I had. My heart exults, yes yes...he is worthy of rejoicing even when I'm scared, alone, drained, hurting, and exhausted. With my song I give thanks to him, both with my literal song and the song of our life and family.

So now you know the back story. The actual sentimental and personal reason why I was compelled to get a tattoo. I should also note that I already knew that I liked tattoos (since marrying a super hot guy with one himself), and I knew that when/if I had something meaningful enough for a lifetime, I would get a tattoo myself. For me, my tattoo is not art (even though I think it's pretty), it's not self expression (I mean kinda is...you can't totally avoid that when you permanently mark yourself), it's not an attention grabber by intention, it's my Ebenezer.

In 1 Samuel, God comes to the aid of the Israelites when they were in battle. Ebenezer means "stone of help" which was set up by Samuel in remembrance of the help God had brought them. (To get the full story, read 1 Samuel 7)

My tattoo is my ebenezer, a mark to remember what God is, was, and will continue to be.



And for the logistical side of things: I waited until I was out of my parents house and no longer under their authority (they were not big fans of the idea), I waited until I was married (my body isn't just mine, it is also my husbands, so I didn't want to do something permanent until I knew that the man I would marry would love it), and I waited until and only tattooed after I was sure that this was something that I would never regret.

Ok...now you have the full story.

Paige Newton Photography

It is He who made us

This is the post I didn't really want to write. I have been avoiding writing this by telling myself I couldn't share something so personal until I had some sort of resolution. I compromised with myself. But please, bare with me, it's scary to be vulnerable.

"You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, you make beautiful things out of us." This amazing lyric is from the song Beautiful Things by Gungor. Ironically, ever since Austin introduced this song to me I have been obsessed with it. Like the one-song-repeat-for-an-hour kind of obsessed. I persistently requested that Austin do this song with our dear sisterfriend Camie. All this time I have been singing this song to my Creator, and unwittingly I was lying. I didn't really believe He made beautiful things out of us... well not all of us. Not me. (my heart hurts just putting that to words)

Since being pregnant, I have been so dissatisfied with my physical appearance. No, that isn't sufficient. I have lamented over my physical appearance. I have avoided mirrors. I have believed evil lies about myself. Shamefully, I even dreaded future pregnancies because of what it would do to my body. (I feel completely mortified putting words to that) I lived in bondage, whilst giving my Redeemer a slap in the face. Nothing looked good enough or felt good enough or was good enough. I had just welcomed our amazing and healthy son into the world and moved across the country being lead to an awesome church and community. I was learning so much about Him, but there was a growing spiritual cancer inside. I had come to a point where nothing in my closet was doing the job, and finally a point where nothing in any store could work either. At first I was buying new clothes and returning them the next day out of dissatisfaction. Around Christmas my sweet husband let me go out and buy a few things for myself, but I couldn't. Nothing fit right, nothing was cute enough, nothing was worth waiting in line for or paying for. We were in Dallas mind you, a place where I have had no issues blowing money in the past. This wasn't the first time that clothes or the lack thereof had broken me. This time, I was so anxious to get back to my parents' house and see Lyric. I was convinced that if I could just see him, I would remember why my body had changed so drastically and how worth it that small sacrifice was. But it didn't work. I sat looking down at him sleeping, and cried, whispering to Lyric (mainly to myself) "why aren't you enough? having you should be enough"

God had not been silent. My Savior had not abandoned me ever. He had been whispering and sometimes pleading with me to understand. He showed me that there are so many women that would give up their physique if they could just have a healthy baby in their arms. He opened my eyes to the other side of the coin, that if Lyric had been unhealthy that I too would have gladly traded my looks for him. He told me about my creation, "Katy, I did not create you as an infant and stop being your Creator. I created who you were yesterday, I created who you will be in 50 years, and I created you as you are now." And yet...and yet my sin was my comfort. My hatred of my changed body was fastening chains that bound me tighter and tighter. When I realized that this was sin that I was facing and not--what exactly was it that I thought I was dealing with? It had been so long since sin had seemed so big to me.

There was a series of events which served as a catalyst in breaking chains. In a long dark drive to a relatives' home, I finally started to understand how much it hurt my man that I completely despised my physical self while he "was obsessed with [me] post pregnancy." Being married, I almost always forget that "being one" isn't just a figure of speech. When I hate me, I hurt him. While we were in Dallas we had the opportunity to share dinner with our beloved friends the Patronellas, and after sharing my shameful feelings of inadequacy with sisterfriend, Andea, I knew that I had to move from this place. I wrote a timeline of sorts in my journal. How did I feel about myself pre-preg, during preg, and post preg. If I highlighted the number of times the word "proud" was written, you would need sunglasses to read the thing. Of course. Of course my pride had found another way in. Why did I think that this idol would just disappear from my life? While we were in Texas, we had the joy of attending my sister in-law, Tara's church, Stonegate Church. Our friend Rodney Hobbs is the pastor there and we were a little sad that he was out of town, but their associate pastor Dan was speaking in his place. Dan taught on biblical repentance, a topic that would hit me right straight between the eyes. Dan shared that sin was not just doing wrong things, it was anything that put tension between us and God and needed to be repented of. BOOM. And there it was. Finally, finally I could see the steps that were before me. It was repentance. It was not a total postpartum make over. It was not finding the most flattering clothes. It was repentance.

It seemed like God had softened my heart and taught me, like I had gotten that big fat nugget of wisdom I needed, but He was not finished. I just started the Siesta Scripture Memory Team through Living Proof Ministries. The idea is too choose two scriptures a month and memorize them, for a year (along with countless other believers). I need to arm myself with scripture to fight these lies. My Precious Lord gave me this to start "Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture." Psalm 100:3. Such a simple truth, but one that shapes my identity. I just started looking for my next scripture to memorize when I read this with fresh eyes "but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious" 1 Peter 3:4. "in God's sight is very precious." Why wasn't that my approach? Why have I been living this way? While journaling away about these precious jewels, I found myself writing "It's exhausting trying to be beautiful for everyone." BOOM.(again) I was living for the world. I wanted them all to think I was beautiful, for all of them to give me a pat on the back for being beautiful. Not conforming to this world holds a stronger meaning when it means not caring what the biggest trend is or how thin I am.

This post has taken me a full week to write (not including all the "mental writing" aka lying awake at night with this looming over me). All week I have struggled back and forth. On one hand I felt like this battle was too current and fresh for me to post for the whole world to have access to. On the other hand, I needed (still need) to know that other women share this battle, so maybe if I share this then some woman out there can turn from her chains, or at least realize she is living in them. But, I can't ignore the call that compelled me to share this part of my heart.