I Am a Soul Who Has a Body

I recently read a thoughtful article titled Body Talk (written by C. Jane Kendrick).  Each day since, I've spent a significant amount of time thinking deeply of my body and soul.  I have been analyzing my feelings and how they affect the way I eat.  I've been thinking of the things my body says to me and how I'd like to answer.

I eat when I'm hungry, but I also eat when I'm lonely.  Sometimes I eat to celebrate things that make me happy and sometimes I eat because I am depressed.  I eat when I'm overwhelmed, frustrated, stressed, disappointed, bored, tired, and often when I'm really just thirsty.

I eat because food tastes good to me, even though I know health would taste even better.

I have five senses and only one of them is taste.  I know that healthy living would enhance all of my senses, and all of my best emotions.

I'm ready for a change.

I've been asking myself what I could do to feed my body (including the part that is made up of soul) more appropriately.

I have learned from experience that my mortal machine will run better if I take preventative measures.  I feel better if I eat before I am hungry, drink before I am thirsty, and sleep before I get tired.  And I have learned that a walk every morning is my vaccine against depression.

Then, when I am lonely I could call a friend or write a letter or blog or hug my husband or play with my children or work on my family history.  I could do something nice for someone.  Eating will not help but these things will.

When I want to celebrate, I could let time with the ones I love be the reward (not the food we eat together) or play a game or scrapbook.  I could find a reason to just laugh. 

When I am sad, I could go for a walk or read scripture or write in a journal or take a nap or cry.  I could do something nice for someone else who is depressed.

When I'm overwhelmed, I could sit and listen to a favorite song with my eyes closed and breathe slowly, deeply.  This could give me strength to face my work with energy instead of fear.  Music could help me in my work as well.  Music is food for my soul.

When I'm frustrated, I could scream at the sky or punch a pillow.  I have never done either, but I think they could do good for me.

When I'm disappointed, I could look for the silver lining and move on with new dreams.  I could work on a procrastinated project from my hobbies of crochet, calligraphy, sewing, or cross stitch.  I could do something to improve my home.

When I am stressed, I could take a bath or get a massage from my husband or convince one of the kids to tickle my feet.  I could look at my list and only worry about what is eternal.  I could pray to my Loving Father who watches over me every day, every moment.

When I'm bored I could do any of the things listed above and drown boredom in goodness.

If I were a lazy parent, I'd just give my kids toys or candy to solve every problem or face every emotion.  But I wouldn't do that because I know that in the long run, my children don't need toys or candy.  They need to be loved and cared for.

And that's what I need too.





What does your body say to you and how do you answer?

 "You don't have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body." ~C.S. Lewis.

Some Things Never Change

I recently read my school journal from the third grade.  Some of it made me smile and some of it made me teary.  It was remarkable the amount of truths there were about me, even all the way from 1986:

"I like it when it's cold...I like to wash my hands when I get in.  It feels good."
"I like to play all the time."
"I love you, Journal."

This was supposed to be a thanksgiving turkey on a table.  Fact (still true today):  I cannot draw.

This sentence was my favorite:  "I do talk a lot.  I should learn to keep my FAT MOUTH SHUT."

And that seems like a good place to stop.



 P.S.  I love you, Blog!

Association

At Christmas time this last year, I ran in to my high school creative writing teacher at the grocery store in my home town.  She looked exactly the same as she did when I was in her class, which is hard to believe was about sixteen years ago.  I must have looked different to her with an extra fifty pounds on my body and a couple of young wrinkles.  With our carts parked across the aisle from each other, we had a nice chat.  I told her about my four children and she told be about hers.  It was good to see her again.

Then yesterday when I was supposed to be getting started on my taxes, I began reading some old school journals from the filing cabinet instead.  The first one was from third grade and the last one was from her class, my senior year of high school.

I wish I could remember if I thanked her when I saw her at the store.  Did I thank her for all she taught me about writing?  Did I thank her for helping me to find ways to write about my troubles (something that was good therapy for me)?  Did I thank her for providing assignments that fed my creativity?  What about the many hours she must have spent reading my journals and stories before she wrote her own supportive comments?

I can only imagine the boys and girls she has been able to help over the years.  Perhaps because I could never thank her enough I did not thank her at all?

I'm not sure what I said.  I hope I said thank you.

And I hope I told her how beautiful she is.

Judge Not (Part One)

I was born of a woman who is good at not judging people.  I can not think of a time when I heard her say something unkind about someone else.  I, on the other hand, have heard the bible verse that says "judge not that ye be not judged" echo in my mind many times over the years when I have let my pride talk out loud in my head.

Lately I have come to realize that the words of that scripture may have a double meaning I didn't think of before.  I always understood it to mean that if I judge others (righteous judgement excluded), I will be in the wrong and will have to stand before God with the fault of judging others on my head.

I still believe this to be true.

However, I am also starting to wonder if sometimes I am plagued with the very thing I once looked down on someone about...just so I could learn a lesson by being guilty of the same mistake...and then be judged of others in the same way I had once judged.

Here is just one example:

As a young infertile wife who longed for motherhood intensely, I often looked at mothers and saw crimes I was sure I would never commit if I only had the opportunity to be a mom myself.  I remember questioning a group of mothers in an internet chat room about soggy diapers on babies.  I had it in my mind that disposable diapers should always be changed immediately, even if they were just a little wet.

Skip forward twelve years.

Picture a Christmas tree and a stuffed ride-able reindeer in the front room.  Hear Big Sister say excitedly, "Mom, MOM!  There is snow in the house!"

I walked in to see glistening white fluff all over the floor under the reindeer and a confused husband poking it...looking like he was wondering why it was wet but not cold and WHERE ON EARTH IT CAME FROM since the ceiling was intact (it turned out that he actually thought it was stuffing from the reindeer and he was just confused about it being wet).  As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was.  In my concentration on the Christmas baking I had forgotten to change my reindeer-riding son's wet diaper, so it had broken open and emptied EVERYWHERE.

We all had a good laugh.  I shook my head and smiled...hoping the mothers in that chat room had forgiven my greater-than-thou voice all of those years ago.

And I also find it ironic that the "snow" wasn't yellow...

I just now became overwhelmed thinking of all the other examples I could give on this subject.  I will have to share them another day because I need to go clean ink from my walls and piano keys...something I was so sure I would be able to prevent when I was a mother.

You can go ahead and judge me now.  I deserve it!

You Might Be Living on a Teacher's Salary If:

1.  Mom would rather go to a yard sale than the mall.

2.  Dad brings home his paper sack from his lunch so it can be used again.

3.  Mom and Dad only go on a date once or twice a year because paying a babysitter to watch four kids costs more than a meal out.

4.  Almost all of the children's clothing are hand-me-downs (Mom loves hand-me-downs, by the way).

5.   Half of Mom's shirts are more than fifteen years old.

6.  Mom decorates all of the children's birthday cakes herself, even though they sometimes turn out like this:

7.  After the birthday child blows out the candles, removes them and licks off the frosting, Mom washes them off and saves them to be used again.

The Baby Hungry Years

Years ago, a sweet little white-haired woman was admiring my baby in the hallway at church.  She said, "Oh, I've never gotten over having to stop having babies.  I loved that time."

Her words have haunted me.  She must have been almost eighty.  Forty years is a long time to be baby hungry.

Let me just interrupt myself here to say I wish there was a better term: I do think babies are delicious, but I would never actually eat one.

Anyway, I have already lived seven years of my life STARVING for a baby.  Those times were hard.  And though I think those years turned out to be good for me, I don't necessarily want to live them over again.

Because I lack the ability to see the future, I can't say for certain if this is our last baby, but I'm pretty sure he is.  I have treasured each of my children, but knowing this baby may be my last, I try to pause as often as I can to hold on to these little baby moments that go by so quickly.

These paused moments are like photographs in my heart and I love them.

I know an empty-nester who doesn't even enjoy looking at pictures or old movies of her children when they were little because it makes her sad.  It makes her long for those times again.

That haunts me too.

Everyday, there is a lecture going on in my head.  It sounds something like this:  "Love the phase you're in.  Enjoy this time so you don't regret wasting it.  And when this time is over, it will be okay because then you won't have to endure _________ anymore."  (Insert whatever is hard about the current phase.)

Tell me if you know, is it possible to talk myself out of being sad when this time is over?

To-Do List

Yesterday I made myself a to-do list hoping it would motivate me to get some things done in this disaster zone.

This is the list:

• Water plants
• Do dishes
• Vacuum
• Finish thank-you notes
• Make Chinese

This is what I actually did:

• Watched an episode of "America's Funniest Home Videos" with my three little kids
• Watched another episode just so I could listen to my two-year-old laugh some more
• Sewed an ear on a bunny rabbit
• Sewed a tail on a kitty cat
• Watered the plants
• Did half the dishes
• Vacuumed half the house
• Let my husband make hot dogs while I fed the baby

 So as a grade, did I earn about a 75%?

I'm okay with that.


Post-edit:  I realized later today that I killed the math in this post!  I only did half the dishes & vacuuming, & I didn't make Chinese, so I should only get a score of 40%...which explains why I was so content with the 75.  Can I get extra credit for doing laundry?