I Am the Unlovely

In the wake of the horrific tragedy that took place in Orlando, FL last weekend, I instantly noticed a disturbing trend. Maybe you did too? Posts in the blogosphere and Pinterest pins and Instagram photos started flooding my news feed.

And many of them pointed out ways Christians could “love the unlovely”.

It made me ill. And mad.

If you’re still reading, let me tell you why. And if you follow along here regularly, you’re already ahead of me, aren’t you?

I am the unlovely. 

This isn’t a slam against myself. Or self-deprecation. Or a result of low self-esteem.

No, it’s Truth, with a capital T.  And I believe in a God who so loved me, and you, that He was willing to die to show us the extent of that love.

And because I believe that Truth, and am so overwhelmingly thankful for His love, I long to love everyone like me.

Every unlovely.

So, you know, every human being.

Not just now, all of the sudden, since evil attempted to get an upper hand (once again).

Not just in the aftermath of any great “reveal” where we find out someone we know or love is addicted or afflicted.

Humans don’t suddenly become “unlovely” in those instances. And I’m beyond sure about this, friends, because I am now, and always have been, unlovely.

From dust we came and to dust we will return.

Truth.

So the next time we are tempted to look upon another human heart as “unlovely” and worthy of being loved, let’s take a quick look in the mirror.

And remember…

If we call ourselves saved, well…

Jesus didn’t come to save the healthy ones.

And, I’m not good with if/then statements in science, but I get this one. If He came to save the sick, and He surely did save me…

Then that makes me one of the unlovely ones.

Oh, yes indeedy!

 

Diet Math

I’ll keep it short and sweet.  My patience is thin and my brain is still working out the fuzzies.  Apparently, “carbo-loading” is only for athletes. Not for mothers of 4 year olds who insist they are 13 or 9 year olds who insist that 7 x 8 = 46, despite how many ways of Sunday you attempt to show them otherwise. Who knew?

 

I am attempting to detox from All Of The Deliciousness that took place last week.  We are leaving for Disney World in T minus 2 weeks and 3 days.  I feel it necessary to walk around the parks in something other than my largest pair of yoga pants and baggiest sweatshirt.  Who’s with me?

 

I have concocted the following formula to help me in this endeavor:

 

 

No, no, no.  I jest.  My formula is more along the lines of simply eradicating Devil Dogs from my diet.  I figure that should net me a 10 pound loss in 2 weeks.  Not unreasonable, right?(Believe me! If you could see the rate of my Devil Dog consumption of late?  You might be tempted to agree. Sadly…)

 

This mad-hatched formula was introduced on Sunday evening.  I’d like to state, for the record, that so far, everyone in my home is breathing and no one has threatened to turn me in to the Diet Police for infractions involving Devil Dogs.  It has required much restraint on my part. Just, you know… for the record. Oh, yes indeedy.

 

To recap:

 

Goodbye to these:

For now! Of course, only for now…

 

And hopefully, hello to a far friendlier number on the scale.  Soon.

 

Like, maybe tomorrow?

 

Too hopeful?

What healthy habits are you picking back up now that the Triptofan Oblivion has worn off?

Scatterbrain Gets the Smush and Squish

I’m having one of those mornings where I have added a couple of sentences to no less than five posts that I’ve started over the last couple of weeks.  And I can’t seem to gain traction, for any long period of time, on any one of them.  Ever have one of those mornings?  It’s frustrating, to say the least.

Anyhoo, to add insult to injury this week, I had my yearly Mammogram appointment.  Joy of joys, it is not.  Necessary, though, it is.  I just went all Yoda on you.  I apologize…  I think the smushing of the girls also inadvertently did something to the brain.

I’ve been going for 10 years (as The Nana had some fun lumps – as in both of her girls removed, when she was 40).  And guess what? This is my 40-year-old Mammogram.  And I’m a bit more than nervous.  I keep repeating to myself that I’ve got a Faith bigger than my fear, no news is good news, early detection is key, and all them good thangs.

Here are a few things I’m going to try to remember for next year’s Annual Smush and Squish Appointment:

1. Don’t make appointment so early as to not even have time to grab a cup of coffee to see myself through the hour.

2. Don’t try out lame Tata jokes on the Mammographer.  She will. Not. Laugh. Even when I break out into a rendition of “Do your boobs hang low, do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie em’ in a knot?  Can you tie em’ in a bow?”.

3. Discomfort grows as does age.

3a.) Age grows as does discomfort.

4.) “I’ll position you.”  And, “Don’t help.”, are code phrases for “Keep your dern hands to yourself! I’ll be the one handling your Tatas this morning, thank-you-very-much!”  Whatevs…

And lastly,

5.)  Schedule Mammogram on Hump Day next year.  It’s far more appropriate.

Indeed.

Some Other Neat Things

Making lists is an awfully wonderful thing to do.  It’s awful because you now have ideas down in black and white forcing you to potentially take action.  It’s wonderful precisely because those thoughts are down in black and white and now there is no way your scatterbrained self can forget them.  Unless you lose the paper they’re written on.  Which is why blogs rock.  If I “lose” my computer, I have far worse issues to contend with…

All of this rattling on about nothing is leading to something.

I’ve been thinking about some other neat things that we like and/or use around here.  I thought I’d share. I’m friendly like that.

  • In an effort to cancel out the delightful harmful effects of my daily devil dog consumption, Sweetman has gotten me hooked on having a cup of piping hot decaf green tea with him each night before bed.  He figures it will at least balance out some of the “harm” done.  (He has NO room to judge – he with his Suzy Q’s sitting dangerously close to my Devil Dog!)  I’ve become quite a fan of Allegro Organic Decaf Green Tea.  Thank you Sweetman for keeping me somewhat healthy!
  • Wild Olive Tees.  If you’ve never been over to their site, run!  It’s got the cutest t-shirts for women and children.  Each shirt has a graphic on the front and a Bible Verse on the back.  We bought a “mini” one for Sweetgirl last year and that poor t-shirt needs to be retired in a big way.  But Sweetgirl is gonna fight that all the way to the donation bag.  Here’s a pic of the back of hers:
  • I can’t do  curry. Seriously.  I puke.  Involuntarily. I’m sorry, TMI, I know. (Which really is a double shame, because Sweetman’s best friend is Punjabi.  I wasn’t able to be anywhere within a two-mile radius of his wedding festivities throughout most of the wedding party weekend. Poor Sweetman had to literally change his clothes before entering the hotel room each night so as not to prompt The Puking.) So, why am I mentioning that?  I hesitate to display the range of my ignorance, but here goes…  I foolishly thought that Taboule had curry in it. Therefore, I’ve never attempted to try it.  Unbeknownst to me, while at a little housewarming party last month, I tried a dip that had Taboule in it.  And it was delicious!!! So, I’ve fallen a tad bit in love with the stuff.  I think I’ve had it with some pita chips for lunch once or twelve times this month.  Cedar’s Taboule is my favorite this minute.  But if you have a brand that you love and would like to share, please do! And, that’s a wrap.  It’s a gorgeous day here, so I’m off to play.  Enjoy!