April 18, 2013

This Body

At 7 months post partum it's no surprise that I have body issues. Everything is starting to get back into place (kind of), but I hate that I can't seem to lose those last few pounds. I hate that I know I could, if I would just commit to and stick with it.

What I hate most, is the way that it consumes me.  I spend most of the day thinking about what I will eat next or what I want to eat. When I'm on track, I think about the things I want that I am denying myself. And when I choose to indulge those cravings (which is more often than I'd like to admit these days), I think about how I shouldn't have eaten those things and mentally berate myself. It's lose-lose.

My life has become a constant battle between the food I love and my desire to be thin. Like if I just lose those last few pounds of baby weight, something magical will happen. 

But happiness isn't found in a pair of size 4 jeans. In fact, happiness is the very thing that changed this body and put those size 4's on the shelf.
I look in the mirror and see wrinkles and gray hairs and ugly, unmanicured hands. I see stretch marks and cellulite, and sun spots and acne scars.

And I hear God's voice. 
I hear Him say that those hands have labored hard over the years. Making meals. Scrubbing dishes. Wiping tears. Serving others. Serving Him.

Those hairs were once lice ridden from scooping children in Baja, Mexico and giving "caballos", piggy back rides, to the children running in the dirt filled streets. 
Those wrinkles were formed over years of laughter and smiles and joy. 
I hear Him say that this body, that I so wish would look different, has given life to 3 beautiful children. 

This body is the only home my son knows outside of Heaven. He lived and died here. And he left me a few tiger stripes to remember him by. His own way of etching "Noah was here" into my skin.

This body has sustained my daughter since the moment she was formed. Through gestation, birth, and every day since. To her, my body is life. 

Those scars and stretch marks and wrinkles, each are an alter, a reminder of the life lived. 

This body was fearfully and wonderfully made. The hairs that are always falling out of my head are numbered. Each day of my life, every square inch of this pale white skin was known and loved before it ever came to be. This body was created in the image of the Creator.

YOU are fearfully and wonderfully made. Each hair on your head is numbered. Every day and every square inch of your body was known and loved before it ever came to be. 

YOU are beautiful. 

It doesn't matter if you're a size 4 or a 14. YOU are made perfectly in the image of God, and He has made you just the way you are. 

So today, I will not look at myself and see everything I wish was different. No, today, I will look in the mirror and see the daughter of a King, loved and accepted. I will see each moment that gave me each mark. I will be grateful for the story this body tells and I will love it for what it has done. 

My prayer is that you will do the same. 

Because YOU are beautiful.


  1. Oh girl! You found your beautiful. I am moved to tears with you friend... that you are seeing you just as God sees you! I cannot wait to hug your neck!

  2. She read. She took a deep, relaxing breath. She closed her eyes and thanked her Heavenly Father for this truth and as her eyes opened, cleansing tears wet her cheeks.

    Thank you for this stolen moment, friend. I needed this.

  3. Amen just doesn't feel like it screams Yes loud enough with this one!!!

    So much Amen! So much Yes!

  4. I just found you through a retweet on Twitter. As I read your thoughts, I gasped: I have a daughter whose only home outside of heaven was my body...wow, what powerful words you chose to remember Noah! Sara left her marks on me, also. And I wouldn't trade being her mother. Four more babies have lived in me, and lived to grow into incredible people. I treasure them beyond words.

    Thanks for writing this post.


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