But I Ain’t Bread and Butter Hungry

” ‘ But I ain’t bread and butter hungry,’ said Davy in a disgusted tone. ‘I’m plum cake hungry.’
‘Oh,’ laughed Anne…’that’s a kind of hunger that can be endured very comfortably, Davy-boy.’ ”  – Anne of Avonlea by Lucy Maude Montgomery 

I don’t really know hunger. I’ve never been hungry for more than 18 hours or so. Actually, that’s not even true, because the first couple hours of that 18 hours I wasn’t hungry, I had just eaten. Like I said, I don’t know hunger. So why do I constantly feel hungry?

But not just any type of hungry. I don’t want rice and beans. I don’t want hummus and veggies. I don’t want split pea soup. I want mac and cheese. I want ice cream. I want pizza. I want foods rich in fat and flavor. Which tells me that I’m not REALLY hungry. I’m just not satisfied. And no amount of food can satisfy a dissatisfaction that is not real hunger.

Ecclesiastes 5:10-11

Whoever loves money never has enough;
    whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with their income.
    This too is meaningless.

11 As goods increase,
    so do those who consume them.
And what benefit are they to the owners
    except to feast their eyes on them?

The more I eat to try and satisfy my “hunger” the bigger I get. And the bigger I get, the more I need to satisfy my new “hunger”. I have so many options that food isn’t just food, it’s a wealth, it’s a status, it’s a source of happiness.

But why am I so dissatisfied when it comes to food, what is that I am really hungering and what can possibly satisfy my outrageous demands?

The Reality of My Food Addiction

The triggers are everywhere. Has anyone else noticed an issue with this or is it just me?

I’m just relaxing for the evening watching a show and then BAM: ice cream craving. No one in the show is even eating ice cream, someone just said the word. I hear the word and all other sounds disappear.

*whispers* ice cream

*louder* Ice Cream


Damnit, I want ice cream right this moment! Not just in the moment I am writing about, but like right now as I write this, I want ice cream.

It doesn’t take much to trigger my food addictions. Have you ever been to a 12 step program where one of the rules is not to use explicit language because it can be a trigger to others? For example, if someone started talking about getting high and they went into details about the trip and how it felt, etc. it could trigger a bunch of people in the group who then might go out that night and get high, so explicit descriptions aren’t allowed. If anyone feels like something is triggering them, they simple have to raise their hand and the speaker must stop their description.

So what do you do when your drug of choice is food and everyone talks about it, and eats it, and posts it on Facebook and Instagram, and advertises it, and, and , and, and!!!

I can tell you one thing, you do NOT binge watch Gilmore Girls! As much as I love that show I can guarantee that my coffee intake increases by about 50% and my junk food cravings sky rocket. The last time I watched that series I swear I put on 20lbs. Let me clarify something, this does not mean we need to get rid of the show Gilmore Girls (please God, no!!) or make people stop talking about food. This doesn’t mean that I get to go around telling people to stop talking about food. This means that I, Liz, need to start facing these issues I have with food. It’s MY problem when I hear the word, “brownie” and immediately need something to satisfy my brownie craving, it is not the fault of the person who said, “brownie”. Unless, of course their intentions were deceitful, in which case they will have to answer to God for their actions, but it is not my responsibility to change them and that’s going down a whole different rabbit trail.

Most nights after dinner, when Dean and I watch TV, I have to put my guard up and renounce every single food craving that emerges simply due to hearing foods named or seeing foods on set. It doesn’t even have to be real food! Does anyone remember Reptar Bars from the cartoon, “Rugrats”? What about that oozy cheesy pizza from “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” or lollipops and ice cream from any cartoon?

Maybe I should just stop watching TV….

BUT cutting out TV isn’t going to cure me of my food addiction. It will probably set me up for more success at home than what I am having now, but what’s the real issue here? The second I go to the fair, or a restaurant, or the grocery store, or Sam’s Club…basically the second I step out of a controlled environment my food addiction is skewing my view of the world. My thoughts revolve all around food:

“When will I eat next? When do I want to eat?’

“What will I eat next? What do I want to eat?”

“Where will I eat next? Where do I want to eat?”

“Mmmm is that a waffle cone I smell? I want it. ”

“Oh man, they are just pumping that fresh bread smell into the air aren’t they? I want it.”

“Mmmmmmmm gaaaarrrrllliiiiiicccccc. I want it.”

Have you ever looked out a window with blinds? When I was a kid, I used to spy on my neighbors all the time from my bedroom window. At night my blinds were drawn and I had to lift up a single blind with my finger to see out. If an object moved out of my very narrow line of vision, then I had to lift up a different blind to find the object again; sometimes this very small, but significant movement, made the difference between seeing something happen and not seeing something happen. And every night, despite the enticing promise of scandal or a funny scene, I would have to stop spying because my arms would get too fatigued to keep holding up the blinds.

My food addiction is like a set of blinds over my eyes. Some days the blinds are open and I can see pretty well. Some days the blinds are shut and I have to use a lot of energy just to see a very small sliver of the real world through my thoughts about food. And that usually means I am missing a lot of life due to food. I spend so much time worrying where my next meal will come from I don’t enjoy what’s happening in that moment. What if I get hungry while I’m hiking? What will I do? And on top of that, all that energy I spend trying to navigate life around my food thoughts is enough to exhaust me!

Goodness gracious, Liz! You’re not going to die if you miss a meal! This is so embarrassing to admit because I have never once in my life gone hungry because food was not available. NOT ONCE! I’ve gone “hungry” because I refused to eat something at dinner as a child. And that hungry wasn’t even real hungry. I missed ONE meal…ONE! And I missed that meal out of my own ability to refuse a meal that I didn’t like the taste of! That in itself tells you I was not really, desperately, hungry. Even when I was in Kenya and we ended up not having lunch, we still had lunch, because guess what? I packed a bazillion Luna bars in my bag just in case something like that would happen.

What I really need is to look at these food addictions. What am I running from? What am I searching for? What am I scared of?

I want to be full.

I want a reward.

I want to taste goodness.

I want to be satisfied.

I’m scared of being hungry.

I’m scared of missing out on goodness.

I’m scared of regret: regretting not eating something and later wanting it; regretting eating something and feeling guilt or shame over it later.

I’m running from loss.

I’m running from inadequacy.

I’m running from imperfection.

I’m running from unfairness.

I’m starting to recognize that I have a HUGE issue with envy: “I want to be eating that too…”, “I want to be able to enjoy eating kale like she does…”, “I want to want to stick to eating foods that are healthy…” I so badly want to be skinny, healthy, active, etc. but I so badly want to eat junk and drink with friends; I can’t have both. I so badly want to feel good in my skin with regard to my looks and physical health (no stomach cramping due to too much sugar and bread), but I so badly want to feel good in my skin with regard to eating yummy things; I can’t have both. Not in my current emotional and physical state anyway.

I fear writing these things because I know I will receive messages, comments, and emails from other men and women that say, “Eat that donut! You can feel good about yourself and eat what you want!”, “Love yourself where you are at and redefine what healthy means to you,” “Don’t let society tell you that you aren’t beautiful and worthy just because you carry some extra junk in the trunk.” And although there is SOME truth in these words, it isn’t the complete truth, which means it’s entirely a lie. Here is the honest to goodness truth:

I cannot eat whatever I want and not feel guilt or shame because the guilt has nothing to do with the actual food and everything to do with the fact that I am running to food instead of Jesus. Don’t tell me to not feel guilty over worshipping an idol instead of my Lord. Don’t tell me that I should not feel shame when I worship food instead of Jesus, when I cry out to donuts and Frappuccino’s during hard times, instead of my creator. The guilt I feel is a helpful reminder that I am sinning when I overeat and thus that I NEED JESUS for forgiveness, love, and help!

 “21 For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. 22 Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools 23 and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles.

24 Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another.25 They exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served created things rather than the Creator—who is forever praised. Amen.” Romans 1:21-25


As much as I try to make it so, loving myself does not come from redefining healthy. Sure there are some lies I believe about health, but guess what, redefining what healthy means for me isn’t going to change the fact that I have an insulin resistance problem and an addiction to sugar and carbs. I can tell myself that it is healthy to eat grain and sugar in moderation all I want and it won’t change the fact that, for me, it simply is not healthy physically or emotionally. Believe me, I have tried this for years! Four years to be exact. I can’t have sugar in moderation because if I have the smallest amount I need more and more and more and more and more. Would you tell an alcoholic to love themselves where they are at and redefine what it means to be healthy? If you redefine alcoholism then you won’t be an alcoholic!

Uhhhh no…that’s not how it works. I wish it did, but it doesn’t. This is called denial. And this here is a simple problem of acceptance. I am not accepting the body God gave me. I am not accepting that I have limits. I am not accepting that I am human and not God; I am desperately holding onto the position of ruler of my body and captain of my soul, BUT I am not the god of myself.

19 Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own;20 you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20


Now this I know:
The Lord gives victory to his anointed.
He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary
with the victorious power of his right hand.
Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.
They are brought to their knees and fall,
but we rise up and stand firm.
Lord, give victory to the king!
Answer us when we call! Psalm 20:6-9


And as far as not letting society tell me what should and should not be beautiful or worthy, that’s just a cop out, a scape goat, and blame-shift. Guess what? I am a part of this society. I judge others, because I AM A SINNER, because I chose to believe the lie that I have a right to judge others. Yes,  I do believe that society has influenced me and the way I think, but there is so much more that needs to be done than “not listening to society.” I need to start listening to God. I need to start influencing our society by starting to let God heal the brokenness in me instead of denying that I have any blame in my own brokenness.

14Then we will no longer be infants, tossed about by the waves and carried around by every wind of teaching and by the clever cunning of men in their deceitful scheming. 15Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into Christ Himself, who is the head. 16From Him the whole body is fitted and held together by every supporting ligament. And as each individual part does its work, the body grows and builds itself up in love. Ephesians 4:14-16

I don’t want my fix, I want HIS fix. I don’t want your fix, I want HIS fix. I want HIM to be enough for me, but when I run to food I never give HIM a chance to show me that HE IS. And when I run away from my part in the blame I just perpetuate the problem and ensure that it will continue to affect me and my community. And if you wave a donut in my face and tell me, “eat this, and you will be happy; surely you can eat this and feel no shame.” Then I will be forced to say, “Get behind me Satan!” Because God has told me I make an idol out of food, and I am sick of these stupid fig leaves of shame because I do not listen to Him. I wish to walk in the garden with my Lord once more. I wish to be completely exposed in his presence and feel no shame. He has given me a fix and all I need to do is accept it and press into Jesus. Easier said than done, am-I-right? But there is no better time than now. There is no better moment than this.

17So I tell you this, and testify to it in the Lord: You must no longer walk as the Gentiles do, in the futility of their thinking. 18They are darkened in their understanding and alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them due to the hardness of their hearts. 19Having lost all sense of shame, they have given themselves over to sensuality for the practice of every kind of impurity, with a craving for more.

20But this is not the way you came to know Christ. 21Surely you heard of Him and were taught in Him in keeping with the truth that is in Jesus. 22You were taught to put off your former way of life, your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; 23to be renewed in the spirit of your minds; 24and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness. Ephesians 4: 17-24


“Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6:35

iPhone iDol: iNeed iAm

My son’s ability to sense a cell phone in the room and then zero in on it is incredible. He will go to extreme lengths to try and get it, even stop in the middle of his first morning feeding if he so much as catches a glimpse of it. He is seven months old. It was fascinating at first, even funny, when he would drop everything to go after mommy or daddy’s phone. We would think, “Oh, he must know that we think they are important because we always have them.” Dean and I really try to be present with Sammy when we are with him; which means not sticking our noses in our phones all day, but there is still a lot of time that we spend on them and Sammy wants what we have.

Recently, I had started to feel a little uneasy about Sammy’s obsession with my phone, but it wasn’t until this morning that I understood the true capacity of what my phone really was. Sammy was eating ravenously, it was his first morning feeding and it had been 10 hours since he ate last. I knew better than to have my phone anywhere in Sammy’s line of sight. If Sammy saw the phone he would stop everything, even eating a meal he so desperately wanted and needed just so he could try to possess the device. All of a sudden Sammy stopped drinking and started squirming around and fussing. He must be experiencing some gas or discomfort. But no matter what I did or tried he still squirmed and fussed. Then I felt it, a weight in the front pocket of my sweatshirt shift: my cell phone.  I looked down to see Sammy’s chubby little fingers retreat out of my pocket, knuckles white with determination and strength, he had the phone in his clutches. Just for a moment his face shown of shear victory, until I pried the phone from his hands, lobbed it to the other end of the couch, swiftly followed by a pillow, which, upon landing, hid the phone from view.

This phone was becoming a problem. I didn’t even remember it was in my pocket, but he knew, he found it, how did he find it? No, this phone was already a problem. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that this phone wasn’t so much of a problem for Sammy as it was for me. Last night my phone’s battery was almost dead. I plugged the phone in at an outlet in the kitchen, so I could try to be more present with my family. But I found myself constantly searching for my phone. I would look for my phone in my pockets before I remembered that it was in another room charging.

Who is that actress? I know her from something else… Feel around for my phone to find an answer.

These menstrual cramps are miserable…Feel around for my phone to complain to a friend and find some essential oil mixtures to help.

I need a little break…Where is that phone?

Do we have plans tomorrow? Search for my phone to look up my calendar.

What is the weather supposed to be tomorrow?

That video of Sammy in the bath was so cute, I want to watch it again.

Did our lawyer email over his retainer contract?

I need to remember to find a David’s Bridal to get sized for my friend’s wedding.

I’ve seen this episode so many times, what else can I do while I watch? Chess? Facebook?

What are other people doing right now?

I want to talk to someone…to connect.

The list goes on and on and on. I need my phone, where’s my phone, I’ll check on my phone, maybe I can find it on my phone… I’m obsessed. It has become such a part of me that I didn’t even realize it; my phone has become my god. My phone is an idol! I know, I know, we have all seen those videos about how we miss things when we are on our phones. We all KNOW our phones can suck us in, but we also all KNOW that our phones aren’t all bad, it’s all about balance and blah-blah-blah. It’s so easy to blame the phone and declare, “I will give up social media for lent!” or “I will put my phone in another room while I am home!” or “I will take my email off my phone!” and hope that things will change. But no matter how long I refrain or how many promises I make about my phone, I always seem to get sucked back in. Why?

When it comes down to it, it’s not really about the phone at all. I have these desires engrained in me. I want to connect with others. I want to know and to be known. I want answers. I want purpose. I want guidance. I want rest. I want success. I want recognition. I want to remember. I want to plan. I want comfort. I’ve been going to my phone for understanding, purpose, communion, guidance, knowledge, remembrance, and the list goes on. I have been going to my phone when I should be going to my God. And the worst part? I’ve been teaching my son that the answers come from a phone…. A PHONE!!! Not Jesus, but a phone! Sure, I pray out loud with my son every night before bed. I pray with him when he isn’t feeling well. We read books about God. We listen to bible stories. We go to church. We have times of worship. We do all these things, but even with all of that, when my first response is to check my phone, I’m teaching my son that phones come first. I’m teaching my son that communion comes from the phone, comfort comes from the phone, rest comes from the phone, etc, etc, etc!

My phone itself is not bad, but in my brokenness I have turned it into something that God never intended it to be. Why is it so easy for me to choose a phone as my god instead of recognizing that God is God? I don’t need to stifle my desire for rest, communion, purpose, guidance, etc. Those are not bad desires. God created me to have these needs and desires, because guess who those needs draw me closer to? HIM!

Satan would love to try and get me to believe that I am horrible person for this. But I’m not. You know that, I know that, but there is that little nagging feeling inside me that says, “I failed again.” But guess what? I didn’t fail, I mean I did, but I didn’t. Is it failing if you fall down and get back up? No, I didn’t fail, I won’t ever fail. Not because I’m awesome or great or whatever, but because He is! Jesus said, “it is finished!” and it is! I have already won. We have won. I am still fighting, I am still running toward my Lord, but even a fall is not a complete failure when I know that nothing can keep me from winning because Jesus has already won the race for me. Recognizing that I am NOT God is a victory. Recognizing that I NEED God is a victory! Recognizing that I am trying to fill my need for God with something else is also a victory!

Philippians 1:6 “For I am confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will continue to perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus.”

God is working in me, He is perfecting me. I have not been called a failure, but progress. This is my resurrection. I am not dying, but I have already died and now I am rising back to life. There is hope.

The other day I was practicing yoga. I have not been able to fully express an arm balance for over two years now due to the tendinitis in my wrist and subsequent muscle loss. The other day I was practicing crow pose, a pose where your hands are planted into the ground and your knees rest into your armpits so your feet can lift off the ground. I haven’t been able to put my full weight into my hands and lift my feet of the ground in ages, and the other day was no different. However, I was able to lift one foot off the ground. If I looked at my practice from a perspective of what I have done before it looks like I’m getting worse. Once I had both feet off the ground, but now I only have one… is it possible that pretty soon I won’t be able to lift even one foot off the ground? But the reality is so different! I had both feet off the ground once, and then I was broken and needed both feet on the ground, and now I am regaining my strength and I am able to take one foot off the ground. I am not getting worse, I’m getting better. I was well, I got sick, and now I am on the mend. But the evil one is trying to convince me that I was well, I got sick, and I’m getting sicker.

I won’t believe that for a second! God is doing a good work in me! He is revealing his Truth to me. He is mending me. I am not perfect, and I won’t be until the day Christ comes again, but I am on the mend! I am not dying, I am being resurrected!

So back to the phone, I have not failed, I am not a bad mom, I am not a sad excuse for a human. No, I AM human. I am not God and I am recognizing my NEED for God…and that is a victory!

Worship with me:


“Does Your Mom Know You are Wearing That?” *REVISITED*

I know I made this entry several days ago, but I am putting it up again and this time I am not simply going to look at it. I am going to destroy the lies and take the plunder! 

“Elizabeth, does your mom know you are wearing a midriff shirt?”

What was a midriff? What does she mean does my mom know I am wearing this shirt?  Of course my mom knows what I’m wearing, I’m five, my mom helped dress me this morning.

It was warm out,probably summer, and my outfit looked like sunshine. Bright yellow. That’s all I really remember, bright yellow with a small red or pink pattern on it, flowers? Boats? Lady bugs? It was sunshine, I felt like sunshine and then suddenly I was unsure of my sunshine.

“I’m sure your mom would not want you showing your belly button.” What? Why not? What’s wrong with my belly button? My mom let me wear this outfit, she let me be sunshine! But just in case, I spent the rest of the day trying to hide my belly button from my friend’s mom.

For years I didn’t understand why showing my belly button should be shamed (it shouldn’t be- that’s between me and God). It wasn’t until I hit puberty that those little flutters in my stomach and heat in my face let me know that there is something about belly buttons that is exciting (yep, I went there…puberty…). But not belly buttons of a child. I had no lust in my heart, no desire to tempt a brother or sister; I was a child and my intentions were to look like sunshine, I was not at fault in this situation. And I know there are some of you out there who will say, “but there are broken people who lust after children.” Yea, that’s true, but I was not created to live in fear of the broken. It is not my responsibility (as a five year old) to protect a broken man or woman from lustful thoughts. That shame is misplaced and needs to be destroyed!

Psalm 139:13-16

For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

Psalm 100:3

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 127:3

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.

My belly button is a reminder that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My bully button is a reminder that I was knit together in my mother’s womb. My belly button is a reminder that I am a reward! I am a heritage from the Lord! I am His and my frame is not hidden from Him. He knows it all, I need not hide in shame, He knows it all, I am a gift and He claims me as His own.

Walk In and Take It!

“But the Lord said me, ‘Do not be afraid of her. For I have given her and all her people and her land to you. Do to her just as you did to Anxiety of the mind, who lived in the land of Panic.”

This is a verse from Deuteronomy 3 that I amended for my own use. She is me, and yet she is not me at all. I am going into battle against the me that is a believer of lies. I am going into battle against my own thoughts; thoughts that at first merely set up camp, then settled into the region of my mind and fortified its position with walls and fortresses. Thoughts that told the rest of me I was not enough.

I’m scared to go in there. I’m scared to destroy these villages of thought. I’m scared to kill every last living thought and I’m even scared to take the plunder for myself. What if destroying these thoughts means I lose everything I had once gained: admiration from *Bea (name changed),the prettiest girl in the land, for those rare moments when I was enough. What if destroying these thoughts meant I would lose every single victory of being chosen by others because of what I did and who I was. What if instead of gaining a village of thought I am destroyed by it!

Numbers 14

That night all the members of the community raised their voices and wept aloud. 2 All the Israelites grumbled against Moses and Aaron, and the whole assembly said to them, “If only we had died in Egypt! Or in this wilderness! 3 Why is the Lord bringing us to this land only to let us fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be taken as plunder. Wouldn’t it be better for us to go back to Egypt?” 4 And they said to each other, “We should choose a leader and go back to Egypt.”

5 Then Moses and Aaron fell face down in front of the whole Israelite assembly gathered there. 6 Joshua son of Nun and Caleb son of Jephunneh, who were among those who had explored the land, tore their clothes 7 and said to the entire Israelite assembly, “The land we passed through and explored is exceedingly good. 8 If the Lord is pleased with us, he will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and will give it to us. 9 Only do not rebel against the Lord. And do not be afraid of the people of the land, because we will devour them. Their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us. Do not be afraid of them.”

Will I rebel and retreat just like the Israelites? Will I be doomed to wander this desert of self-loathing for another 38 years? NO!!!

NO!! I will not stand down. I will not retreat!

It is time. I am armored up, and I am going into battle. I will face these lies , I will fight these lies, and I will conquer these lies! I will take my mind back! I will because God is and He has already devoured these lies! It is finished, all I need to do is walk in there and take it!

Does Your Mom Know You Are Wearing That?

“Elizabeth, does your mom know you are wearing a midriff shirt?”

What was a midriff? What does she mean does my mom know I am wearing this shirt?  Of course my mom knows what I’m wearing, I’m five, my mom helped dress me this morning.

It was warm out,probably summer, and my outfit looked like sunshine. Bright yellow. That’s all I really remember, bright yellow with a small red or pink pattern on it, flowers? Boats? Lady bugs? It was sunshine, I felt like sunshine and then suddenly I was unsure of my sunshine.

“I’m sure your mom would not want you showing your belly button.” What? Why not? What’s wrong with my belly button? My mom let me wear this outfit, she let me be sunshine! But just in case, I spent the rest of the day trying to hide my belly button from my friend’s mom.

“It’s a long climb up the dusty mountain
to build a turret tall enough to keep you out
but when you wage your wars against the one who adores you,
then you’ll never know the treasure that you’re worth
but I’ve never been a wealthy one before
I’ve got holes in my pockets burned by liars’ gold,
and I think I’m far too poor for you to want me”

       -In Memoriam by The Oh Hellos


It’s true, I carry lies around in my pockets that burn holes. It doesn’t matter that the liars’ gold falls through the holes because its goal was to burn the hole. The goal of the liars’ gold was to make sure that real gold could not be collected in my pockets.

But Jesus’ love cannot be bought and Jesus’love cannot be contained by a pocket, so whatever my pocket could hold doesn’t really matter. An empty pocket can’t keep me from a love that was, is, and will be. A hole in my pocket can’t keep me from a love that surrounds my entire being like water.

It’s funny, I think I am clothed in robes of white and gold and purple. I know the bible just says white, but I see trim of gold and purple. From far away the robe is just white, but close up there is trim, intricate little details embroidered with love. And it’s not embroidered with the things I have done, really the embroidery has nothing to do with me. The gold and purple is not me, it’s Jesus. And yet I am the one who gets to wear it. I am the one who gets to show the world the beauty that I am clothed in and that beauty has nothing to do with me, and yet it has everything to do with me. It is not of me, but it is what makes me beautiful. It is not my work, but it is what sets me apart. In fact it is what sets us all apart. My embroidery is different from the others, each of us has a unique design, but none better than the other.

But I don’t interact with the world like I am clothed in these robes. I am so focused on what others have and are, that I can’t see what I have is undying, never failing love and what I am is beautiful. I have been chosen to wear this robe; this robe that as been washed in the blood of the lamb. I have been chosen to display Jesus, the Jesus that is everything and the only thing. I have been chosen for a life of riches and beauty and I am somehow getting caught up in the fact that I couldn’t wear So-and-So’s robe because she is so much skinnier than me and it would cling in all the wrong places.


Who cares?! Clearly I do, but why? Why does it matter so much? It’s that damned liars’ gold! I keep believing that He will choose others over me.


“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12

An Object to Be Saved


It’s not a word I ever relate to myself. I don’t really understand how I could ever be chosen. That’s a big problem isn’t it? Excuse me for wanting to shift the blame, I know that’s not the way to go, but I just need to get this out, I need to put words to my thoughts, even if just to recognize the lies I am believing:

Somewhere along my childhood I learned to never believe I could be chosen for me, just me. Circumstances taught me to not see myself as worthy. I was taught to be a damsel in distress that needs a prince, a knight, a savior: I was an object to be saved. That was my purpose; saved so someone else could get the glory of saving me and I could be deemed “saved” and thus forgotten about. No one would have to worry about me anymore, think about me anymore, and I would just fade into the background of a happily ever after story. As a damsel in distressed I was chosen to be saved out of pity for my circumstances and the more pitiable the circumstances the more glory for the savior. Life taught me that I was chosen to be saved, not out of a desire to truly save me, all of me, but out of a desire for the savior, knight, or prince to earn more glory.

And upon the return of Prince Charming the town erupted into cheers and applause. The children chased after the prince’s horse and house wives paused from hanging their washing to wave and bow to the two riders upon one horse. The rumor going around was that Prince Charming slayed a dragon and freed the damsel from her fiery prison. The damsel was imprisoned for years and thanks to the prince she is free! Free to live a life beside the prince. Free to be remembered as a person of pity, then of salvation, and finally free to forever sing the princes praises to all. Free to give glory but never glorified, because the damsel is only good for saving. She has no other purpose and they lived happily ever after…

I know, it’s a bit extreme, but there is some truth to it especially when my knight in shining armor, is constantly switching between Jesus, my husband, and a made up version of everything I think a husband should be. When I think of Jesus as my savior I’m “ok” with not getting the glory…because I’m not supposed to want His glory. There is so much in me that wants to shout from every mountain about what Jesus has done for me, but I also want someone to shout from the mountains about how wonderful I am too. Is that wrong?

I am totally itching to tell the world about how Jesus saved me from the dragon of anxiety and panic, how he broke open the dungeon door of depression and carried my weak, starving body outside the walls of a prison masquerading as a beautiful castle. It’s a great story really, but what about afterwards? What am I good for afterwards? What about me?

And they lived happily ever after.

WAIT! What happens now that I’m free?

And they lived happily ever after.

I know the end of the story is that I live happily ever after in eternity with Jesus, but there is a moment, a breath of life, a split second in eternity where I am free and not yet happily ever after. There is that moment before the “and”. The knight saved the damsel (breathe in)  AND they lived happily ever after. That moment, that pause right before the “and”; a slight intake of breath before the eternity of happiness. What do I do in that moment? Because that moment is now, and I don’t just want to sit around waiting for the “lived happily ever after”.

And can I find that “what now?” in the REAL reason why the knight saved me? Because I can’t bear to believe that I was saved just for the purpose of that savior to gain glory.

There has to be more to me. I need to be chosen for more than that. I don’t just want to be a pawn used and discarded. Because if I was created just to suffer so someone else can be glorified, then why create me at all?

I Put My Hope In You, Back-Fatless Super Model

My new bathing suits arrived in the mail. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of ordering a bathing suit online…in February. But last year I waited too long and found myself so limited in my options that I ended up wearing a sports bra and compression shorts most of the time. Aside from the fact that the sports bra dyed everything it came into contact with hot pink (including my boobs), it worked pretty well. But this year I would much rather just wear a real bathing suit, and I would really like it to be the right size. So instead of shopping super late and getting all the mismatched sizes that don’t actually fit but can sort of fit, I sucked up my fear and went online to shop for a suit.

Let me tell you something, online shopping for anything clothing related is VERY dangerous for me. The best way to ensure that I will absolutely hate myself in everything I buy is to look at it modeled by an air-brushed model first, and then dream about it for a week while I wait for my magical purchases to come in the mail so it can make me look like an air-brushed model.

Even the “plus” size models (you know, the models that are hired by the “caring” fashion lines to make us “normal” sized people feel good about ourselves) are airbrushed and although they still have their beautiful curves, you know the editor took out some of those back fat rolls. I never once looked at a picture of a plus sized model and thought, “she should not be wearing that in public…” But just about every time I put on a bathing suit I say that to myself. I mean let’s be honest; would YOU buy a bathing suit that shows off your back fat? I wouldn’t…which means I am a huge part of the problem. I am the reason companies airbrush their ads, because I choose to put my hope in the picture of the model and not my creator. I choose to hope in a back fat-less image of myself in my mind rather than the One who ultimately created back fat. And let me tell you something, even a shirt can’t adequately hide my back fat…so why I thought a bathing suit would, I don’t know…

So anyway, I chose to put my hope in a back fat-less image of myself and I knew that’s what I was doing, but I had to do it anyway. I couldn’t seem to bear the thought that maybe, just maybe, no matter what suit I wore, nothing would change the fact that I hated my back fat, the pudge on the side of my armpits, the love handles, and my small, but definitely present double chin. Some part of me had to hope that maybe THIS time I would put on a bathing suit and love what I saw. Maybe THIS time I would be enough.

Luckily, I had days to think about this decision of mine. I was able to recognize where my mind was and thus try and combat the lies. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to combat those lies. Telling yourself that, “you WILL have back fat in your bathing suits and it WILL look beautiful” does not work.

When I put those suits on I DID have back fat and it DID NOT look beautiful. BUT!!! I think I’m keeping both suits. And here’s why:

Something happened to me that never happened to me while trying on a bathing suit. Something was clearly revealed to me (aside from my belly). Actually two things were revealed to me. The first thing was that for the first time in my life my initial thought while wearing a bathing suit was, “Oh damn, I have nice boobs!” and my second thought was, “I look fabulous!” It wasn’t until my third thought that I started being mean, “Dean would still be embarrassed to be seen with me.” It was in that third thought that the second thing was revealed to me: my feelings of being not enough stem from a fear of what I think my husband thinks. Not actually what my husband thinks, but what I think my husband thinks. Actually, I think I have written about this like 50 times, but man, I kep forgetting and going back to it!

Goodness gracious I have so many issues. So, I knew that I feared what my husband thought of me, but I didn’t know that it literally affected my vision. In the span of two seconds I went from, “I look fabulous” to “ewww, back fat! No one should be subject to the torture of seeing my body testing the confines of my bathing suit as a sausage does its casing. And I definitely don’t want to embarrass Dean in front of his friends.”

We are going on vacation with some friends in the next coming months. In reality, these people are the nicest people in the world, but in the sick corners of my head somehow I transform them into really judgmental snobs:

“Did you see Liz trying to sport that bikini?”

“Oh my gosh, yes, I feel so sorry for Dean. How could he have known that she would turn out to be such a chubber later in life?”

“He couldn’t have foreseen it. That’s the hard thing about life: one day you marry a beautifully fit bride and then seemingly out of nowhere she turns into Jabba the Hut.” (Dean’s friends love Star Wars…)

But I had a glimpse; a glimpse of reality; a glimpse of self-love. I had a moment when I thought, “I look fabulous” and it had nothing to do with anyone else. I don’t think it had anything to do with the suits either, but I like those suits, and I am determined to keep them and rock them in the body I have right now and LOVE IT.

So, I need to really start fighting these lies: that my husband and friends are embarrassed by my weight. And honestly, if they are embarrassed by my weight that’s on them, not me.

I have a part in this and it is not “become perfect so everyone will love me and accept me.”

I’m still trying to figure out my part exactly, but I know God is holding me accountable to the times that I use food as a crutch instead of Him. I know my struggle with not feeling enough has something to do with me not thinking God is enough for me. So for right now, that’s my goal; not a goal to lose weight, or to work out every single day without fail, or to count my calories religiously, but a goal to allow God to be enough for me. I want to rely on God when I want to go to food for a “fix”. I want to rely on God instead of a mirror to show me that I’m enough.

I’ve decided to find verses about God being enough for me and then post them around my house, particularly in areas of great temptation: the fridge, the pantry, my mirrors, etc.

I know reading truth during my moments of weakness will help transform my mind. Romans 12:2 says, “Do not be conformed to this world,[a] but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.[b]”

So, I’m testing. I’m not asking God to make me skinny. I’m not testing God with requests like a Genie- “If you really are God you would take away my cravings of all unhealthy things”. He asks us to put his LOVE to the test and that is what I am doing.

Do you ever have times you feel super unwanted and ugly so you go to someone else and try to get them to tell you that you are beautiful and loved? But that person doesn’t quite understand what you need or he does and refuses to give it to you because you are being manipulative or whatever. Do you ever have times like that? I do…all the time. God knew what he was doing when he brought Dean into my life. Dean does not feed my incessant need for affirmation. I’m pretty sure he sees right through my tactics and while that usually pisses me off, I’ve come to realize that what it’s really doing is leaving space for God to be that person for me. Dean cannot be my savior. My cousin said something to me the other day, “Dean was never the one who saved you, he just helped you.” I don’t know if she quite understood the full truth of her statement, but man did that hit me hard. It’s true! Dean did not save me, he brought me to the one who did: Jesus. Dean’s was not called by God to be my everything. As a man, Dean is called to lead me to the one who IS my everything. Damn, I got a pretty good husband, and he’s hot too!

Ok, so going to God… here are the verses I have found so far.