Worth: Be Kinder To Yourself

This year, my theme for the year is worth. And while I didn't expect to gain a whole lot of insight from the first three months of focusing on redefining my worth in my own eyes, I have.

I'm always amazed that every time I set out on a journey, God provides me with all the essential tools I'll need.

The tools to mold me.

The tools to shape me.

The tools to make me see myself the way my Creator does.

The past 90 days have been marked--not by defining my own worth--but by realizing that a lot of women deal with incredible amounts of shame when it comes to their bodies. And, as I asked myself if I feel any shame about mine, I'm sad to admit that I felt the slightest bit of shame.

But that shame does not come out of a lack of commitment to eating--and being--healthy.

My shame came in the form of realizing that I truly need to be kinder to myself. To stop picking apart the pieces of myself that don't match up with our society's view of the perfect woman and her physique.

My body--as imperfect as it is--carries the same shape and form that my mother's does, and my grandmother's before her. This body takes care of a household, holds little children on Sunday mornings in church, and irons the clothes my husband wears every day. This body gardens, mows, cleans, cooks and walks many miles while attempting to teach Niko not to pull (I've clearly lost this battle, but I won't lose the war!). And this body has seen me through my roughest moments. BUT I'm not ashamed of it. I don't look in the mirror and echo these words, "You need to change."

Here's the thing: I don't look at myself enough and say these words even though I should, "You are amazing. You are here for a purpose. You are more than what others say about you."

Because if I'm being really honest, it's the world that tells me there is something constantly wrong with me.

"Is that really how you did your hair today?"

"Oh, that's an interesting skirt."

"I would let you try on this jacket, but you might stretch it out."

And if I'm going to be brutally honest, it began when I was eight years old and my father told me I didn't need a second helping of whatever my mother had made for dinner that one dark night.

In the years that followed, I can't remember a time when my father told me, "Jessi, you are beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are." That's not to say he didn't, it's just that any words of encouragement were drowned out by these words instead:

"Stop cutting your hair. Beautiful women have long hair."

"You've gained weight. You need to exercise more and eat less calories."

"Why don't you wear a skirt or a dress? Stop wearing jeans all the time. Be more girly."

Listen, I am in no way, shape or form trying to place all the blame for my less-than-stellar view of myself on my father. Because my father's passion is exercise and healthy eating and I know now that a majority of the things he said came from a place of wanting me to love his passions as much as he did. But I oftentimes wonder who I would be today if he had made every concious effort to tell me that I was beautiful when I grew into my hips before all the other girls in my sixth grade class did. I wish he would have provided me with healthy snack options instead of telling me I couldn't have snacks at all. I wish he would have invested some confidence into me in the form of self-love.

But parents only do the best they can. And we can't undo the past or try to change it. We can just take it and accept it for what it is.

My father--unknowingly--taught me that people can be more cruel to us about our bodies than we are to ourselves. Because the things people say to me are far worse than the things I say to myself. That's why I've really prayed about loving myself even when the world doesn't. And it's been a strange ride thus far. Friends, lots of other women are struggling with this same thing.

How in the world am I supposed to love myself when the world keeps telling me I'm not worth loving?

Here are the three key moments that have stuck out thus far:

The First

I accidentally stumbled across My Big Fat Fabulous Life, a reality-TV show that documents Whitney Thore's BIG life. She weighs nearly 400 lbs., lives with her parents, has a humorous outlook on life, and is on the journey to bettering her health. On top of all this, she is an incredible dancer and shot to YouTube stardom with her Fat Girl Dancing video.

I laughed. I cried. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Jessi, be kinder to yourself. You're worth it." And for that, I can only thank Whitney for opening herself up and sharing her story. The story that you can be happy regardless of what the world says about you. AND you can love yourself even when you others don't. She's a beautiful example of someone who doesn't let anything stop her from pursing her passions.

She made me--somehow--fall in love with the parts of me that are flawed. Because flaws will never keep me from doing what I love--writing, teaching, and helping people.

The Second

I was scanning through my Instagram account and noticed that an old friend had posted a picture of a chubby woman in short-shorts and made a comment about having to "see this" while she was stopped somewhere.

It really disappointed me. Because we should never use social media to bully, shame, or wound anyone. Regardless of whether or not we know them. Regardless of whether or not we agree with their modesty, lifestyle, outfit choice, etc.

It was during that week that I discovered women who love themselves, love other women. And they don't resort to fat-shaming or bullying behind their screen. They don't judge by looks. They don't look others up and down in comparison. They openly give, cultivate, encourage and build-up others.

That's when I began to understand that my love for others is a direct reflection of how I feel about myself. I'm not always kind to myself, but I'm always working on it. I'm always working on loving all parts of me. And, in turn, it has helped me love other women just where they are. Regardless of their choices. Regardless of how much I agree with them.

I judge a woman by how she treats others--especially those who can do nothing for her. That is--and will always be--the gauge by which I judge someone. Not by their size. Not by their flaws. But by their hearts.

The Third

I was sent an article about a plus-size woman who wore a low-rise bikini to the beach. I won't post the link here, simply for modesty reasons. I am not a huge fan of exposing all parts of your body. But that's another post for another day...

What I gained from this article is that we should all strive to be unique. We should all strive to put ourselves out there to affect positive change. Because in the wise words of Dr. Seuss, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Wherever I go, I will be met with critics. But so will everyone else. It's just a part of life.

In summation, the last three months have taught me one giant truth: Be kinder to yourself. Because the world won't ever stop being mean. And we are worth all the kindness we can bestow on ourselves. It should always begin internally, then fan outward to others.

Remember this: the moment you stumble across a woman who feels comfortable enough to attack another woman's body, you can only conclude one thing: she clearly suffers from insecurity issues about her own body. Like I said, women who love themselves, love other women regardless of how they look.

And discovering this truth has made it much easier to really love myself and focus on tuning out what others say about me.

We are, after all, simply human. And we all suffer from insecurity issues about our body and worth. However, our worth should never come from our bodies. They should come from what we contribute to those around us.

--Jessi

Life Lately

Life has been kind of messy lately.

Not in a bad way; in a we-had-a-water-leak-and-I-have-a-concrete-floor-now kind of way.

When Kelly was ripping out the floor, all I wanted to do was throw up.

I was nauseous, light-headed and under great amounts of stress.

All I kept thinking was: "How much is this going to cost us?"

But God always has a way of working things out in our favor.
To date, we have only spent $150!
Thank you sweet baby Jesus for being an intercessor for us!

Our pastor--who we love so very dearly--is a plumber and he took valuable time away from his family and ministry to help us.

And we can't tell you how grateful we are to him.

And his family.

And everyone who made it possible for him to carry our burden for a few days.

Friends, that's why I call my church people my village.
They are my people.
And they care so much more about me than any group of people ever has before in my life.

The leak was a fairly simple fix and our pastor said, "You guys should start thanking God right now!"
And we did.
Oh, we did!

However, we discovered we had more bad news to address.
We need to put in a new bath/shower because ours was installed incorrectly.
So, we are in the process of debating whether or not to turn it into 2 full baths instead of 1 1/2.
We are also talking about putting in carpet in our living room.
Decisions, decisions.

Whatever God's plans are, we are just going to take it one day at a time.

This photo was taken by Kelly's friend, Alex.

Two days ago, we had our first tornadic storm of the season.
It included me being disgustingly sick--with a migraine, two inches of freezing cold
water in the storm shelter, me in tears, and the dogs miserable.
Kelly? Oh, he was fine.
He was perfectly fine.

She couldn't bear standing in the 2-inch water we had yet to get out of the cellar.
So, like any good mother, I let her stand on me.
Notice my soaked pants.
Friends, this is TRUE LOVE.

It was just the dogs and me who were under large amounts of stress.
But that's what happens when you have 3 extremely high-maintenance dogs.
And your husband abandons you with them in the cellar.

Abner was such a good boy!
He literally laid his head in my lap the whole time.

Z waiting for Daddy.

The storm passed over and I can only give God and my never-ending prayers for safety credit for the rotating wall-cloud over us that did not touch down.
I ugly-cried for a good 5 minutes while holding the dogs.
In the dark cellar.
Praising Jesus my three babies would be safe.

Friends, these storms put things in perspective.
I'm not afraid of losing my material possessions; I'm terrified that my fur-children won't be safe.
I don't want them to die in a tornado.
I want it to be from old age.
Comfortably at home.
In my arms.
After a big dinner of steak, veggies and chicken.

On a more interesting note: I wasn't too concerned about Kelly.
He can run fast.
So, I knew he'd be safe while scanning the skies for tornadoes.

The past few days, we've also been working on building our chicken coop.
But there's so much to say about the arrival of the Hansen Chicks that I'm just going to include that in one big post later.
However, here's a sneak peek.

This has been our life over the last week.
Spring is finally here.
But so are the tornadoes.
I will just keep praying my fellow Oklahomans are safe this year from these terribly destructive storms.
And we will be putting benches and lights in our cellar.
Praise Jesus!

Keep up with us here!

A Letter to a Wife on Her One Year Anniversary

Photo cred: designspiration.net

Dear Wife Who's Celebrating Her One Year Anniversary,

Congratulations! You have survived 365 days married to a strange human being. Yes, I just called your husband strange. Because if he's anything like mine, he's really weird. But that's a good thing!

Your first year of marriage probably took one of two paths.

The first being "the year you lived on love."

If this is you, it was me, too. Oh! I so loved that first year of just being in love and taking care of a house. Thankfully, my sweet husband and I decided I would spend my first year in Small Town USA learning how to take care of a household. Even though my mom spent many laborious hours attempting to teach me how to cook, sew, iron, and bake when I was younger, I would laugh it off.

"Mother," I would say very calmly, "I am going to be the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I'll be so rich I'll pay people to do all these things for me."

She always nodded her head in frustration and told me I was a lost cause.

Fast forward a few years.

There I was, learning how to bake cakes, cook chicken, iron a dress shirt, clean baseboards, plant a garden, rake leaves, mow a lawn, drive a really, really old car, and plan meals for the week. And LOVING every minute of it. Here's the thing about me: no matter the job, I give it 110%. Because I want to be successful, even as a housewife.

Though I failed miserably that first year (honestly, my curtains looked terrible!) I always thank God he gave me a very understanding husband. Because I never would have learned how to take care of myself--or another human being for that matter--if I had jumped into a job and never looked back. If I had not allowed myself to embrace my wife role.

Sure, I was met with endless critics. "Get a real job!" they would say. "You're lazy!" Oh, they all said it. But I was so in love and happy that it was easy to brush it off at first. Then, as the insults kept flying, I eventually turned inward and began wondering how people could be so cruel when I was so happy. Because shouldn't we all embrace one another and wish each other happiness?

So, my husband and I went to dinner to brush it all off. Or a mini-vacation. Or a long walk. To leave it behind. To get away. To recollect. And, then, to finally discuss building dreams and goals together. And that's what we've been doing ever since. Living on love and working together.

Had I not had the support of my husband that first year, I don't know if my marriage would have survived. I'm just thankful that each hard moment intertwined us closer together instead of turning us against one another. I'm glad we chose to love each other deeply that first year.

The second path is "the year of tumultuous turmoil."

If this is you, I can empathize. Because I have seen too many first years of marriage turn to turmoil and almost end. Abruptly. With everyone throwing in the towel.

And every time, it grieves my heart.

I guess you could say it's you, tumultuous turmoil-ers who inspired this letter. You have experienced the lows of marriage. You understand that marriage hurts sometimes. That we can wound one another, even in the sanctity of marriage. We are, after all, flawed individuals.

You probably have a list hidden in the back of your mind of all the times your husband has wounded your heart. You probably think about leaving him in search of something far better. You probably dream about a much different life. You probably have even voiced those concerns to the man whose last name you bear.

BUT

I'm here to give you faith in your marriage. And, I hope, lots of hope.

All marriages go through seasons.

Spring is new and fresh. It's calm and peaceful. Life ebbs and flows to the sounds of chirping birds and lawn mowers gently humming in the background. It's easy and simple. Just like love should be.
But Spring slowly transforms to Summer. And life gets busy.

You work. He works. You have a family. A house. Two cars. The American Dream. You're trying to make time for each other and for everyone else. You're on the go and you're longing to go back to lazy afternoons laying on the couch, listening to your neighbors do yard work and kids playing on their front lawns.

Much like Spring, Summer turns to Fall and the leaves begin to fall. There's a sense of urgency to soak up the warm days and enjoy the long evenings. The weather begins to turn and the days slowly grow darker. You find yourself curled up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa watching old movies with your husband beside you.

But then Autumn turns to Winter. And things get cold. They die. They ice over. And you discover the cool temperatures do a number on your body and mind. You can't seem to get through the coldest days of the year. But you cling on to the hope that is Spring.

My husband recently broke a little figurine I have of a married couple. He looked at me and said, "I sure hope this isn't a metaphor for our marriage. Because I almost shattered it."

I chuckled and took it in my hands. "It's the perfect metaphor for marriage. Sometimes we rip apart this beautiful, messy relationship. But there's more than enough glue in this world to put it back together. Imperfectly, of course."

He smiled. Because he knew exactly what I meant.

There are days when I don't respect him and he doesn't love me like Christ loved the church. But that doesn't mean we're going to walk away from our marriage on our worst days. In fact, we often look back over the worst days and thank God that he is our glue.

Because tumultuous turmoil-er, even our marriage goes through terrible periods. Just like the seasons, we're constantly changing and evolving. And one day, when we are old and gray, we will look back on our imperfect marriage, cracks and all, and thank God that no matter how badly we shattered pieces of our relationship, He was--and always will be--the glue that kept us together.

So, as you celebrate your first year of marriage--happy or not so happy--cling to the hope that is Spring. And pick up Dave Earley's 14 Secrets to a Better Marriage. Our pastor and his wife picked this book up for us and we have LOVED going through it together.

And, in the wise words of a missionary who just visited our church this week, "don't try to get your spouse right with God. Get yourself right and let God take care of the rest."

--Jessi

Why the Good Samaritan Still Matters Today

 I recently taught a Sunday School lesson to my preschoolers on the topic of the Good Samaritan.

Here’s what I learned: children are amazing. They can pick up things so quickly and easily. Things that are hard for us to understand are very easy for them to comprehend. They understand far more than we ever give them credit for. And if you sit with them long enough and ask hard questions, you’ll discover that they have a lot of good answers.

When I asked the kids if they thought a priest would stop to help a man who was laying on the side of the road bruised and hurt by robbers, they nodded yes in unison.

“Well, the priest didn't stop,” I told them. “He walked by on the other side of the road.”

“The other side of the road?!” one kid asked surprised. “I don’t believe it!"

“Do you know who stopped to help this man?” I asked.

They thought long and hard. It was a story most were very familiar with. “I think I saw this movie once,” one of the kids told me. “The Samaritan stopped.”

“Yes,” I answered. “The Samaritan man was looked down on by the religious people of that day. But when he saw this hurt man on the side of the road, he helped him.”

“How did he help him?” he asked.

“He took the man to a safe place to help him heal. He paid for the man to stay there and receive all the care he needed.”

“Woah.”

“When you walk by someone who is hurting,” I said very seriously, “do you think that you would walk by like the priest did or stop and help like the Samaritan did?”

“I would help him.”

It’s interesting when you ask kids hard questions. You eventually turn inward and begin asking yourself the same thing. And I wrestled with my own answer. But I settled on one thing: I would help to the very best of my ability.

That day, a group of little kiddos and I walked out of the room wanting to be like the Samaritan man. Not like a man who professed to know faith and good deeds, but when tested, failed.

And I discovered a timeless truth: this story is just as relevant today as it was two thousand years ago. Because though the problems are different, the answers are still the same.

What you send out into the universe will return to you. In one way or another.

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." (Luke 6:37-42)

I've seen it enough times in my life to know that it is all too true.

If you put someone down because of their situation, you just might find yourself experiencing the same thing one day.

Your "tongue has the power of life and death" (Proverbs 18:21). If you judge a situation by what you see, you just might discover that you were very wrong when you find yourself on the other side of the fence.

It's why I do my very best to remember that I can't see behind-the-scenes of every situation. I can’t understand people’s choices fully and don't have an opinion if I haven’t been in the same exact situation.

It’s why I shake my head every time I see someone look down on a single mother on welfare. I shake my head every time I hear someone make a comment on the growing number of people on food stamps that need to buck up and get a real job. And I shake my head every time I watch people judge others who file for bankruptcy "because they never should have let it get that bad".

In all seriousness, if you don't like people needing government assistance--and I say this with much love and grace--offer the single mother a decent paying job. Pay for the groceries of the couple in front of you in line who have spent hours, days, and months trying to find jobs so they don't have to use food stamps to buy their groceries. And instead of sitting on your mountaintop, looking down on those who haven't been trained to be successful with money, offer a book, advice, guidance, a class--anything--to help get them on the right track.

Because the moment you look down and do not help, you are no better than the priest who passed by an injured man and did nothing.

That's not to say people don't abuse the system; I know that some do. But God reveals different truths to different people at different times. In the wise words of Reverend Billy Graham, "It's the holy spirit's job to convict, God's job to judge, and my job to love."

The next time you pass by someone who's in need, are you going to walk by on the other side of the road like the priest, or are you going to help in any and every way you can like the Good Samaritan? The choice is yours. 

Love Is Always A Choice

I was sitting around a table with a few of my students. The topic we had arrived at was a strange one: life is fleeting.

One of my students was telling me about losing her niece to a car accident 11 years prior. I sat there as I started to think long and hard about how fragile life really is. How one moment can change everything. 

One day, I was driving home from picking up lunch. The rain was pouring down in curtains and I was driving unusually slow. I could feel it. Something was coming.

Up ahead, through the dense rain, I could see a white car all over the road. Something was obviously wrong. The white car was now hurtling directly at me. In a quiet moment, I simply whispered, "Jesus". A driveway up ahead looked like a good escape. I swerved into the driveway and closed my eyes. 

The white car scraped the side of my car and ended up totaling the car.

When the police officer arrived, I stepped out into the pouring rain and was immediately soaked to the bone.

"You're very lucky," he grimly told me. "You should see the other car she hit."

The old woman had a heart attack while driving. I managed to maneuver out of her way and suffer minor consequences. From what we were told, the other car she hit going 50 mph, was crunched to pieces. I know she passed away from her injuries, but I have no idea how the other person she hit fared.

For months later, the words, "you're very lucky" would haunt me. I would struggle with the plain truth that God spared my life that day. That he wasn't finished with me. That he had more work for me to do here. That my existence was worth something.

Those are heavy truths to carry around when you've been skating through life without much of a purpose.

As the months progressed after the accident, my life was wreaked with betrayal and hurt. And I often asked God, "Why?" 

Why did he spare me for this? Why did he keep bringing more truths to the surface? Why did he keep asking me to love in spite of it all?

Finally, my husband asked me, "Can I just have my happy wife back?"

And I wept.

Because it was hard to be happy in spite of so much hurt. 

But my husband's words pulled me out of a deep depression. 

God didn't spare my life to watch me relentlessly suffer in my pain. He spared my life to teach me a great lesson in spite of the pain. Love is always a choice. In spite of the pain. In spite of the betrayal. In spite of the hurt. In spite of the carelessness of others.

Love is the choice. And one we should always make. 

Tomorrow, you could wake up without someone you truly love.

Have you been good to everyone today? 

In spite of the hurts they have caused you?

In spite of their mistakes?

Love is always a choice.

Don't let pain consume you.

Let it make you better.

Learn a few lessons.

And believe that no matter how hurtful some people are, there is always good at their core. 

You just may need to dig a little deeper.

Pin-Spired Thursday!

Pinterest is always my favorite place.

And I found lots of awesome reminders this week that good things are sure to come!

Winter has been cold, wet, and long.

Spring, may you grace us with your presence sooner rather than later.

Whatever you're going through, don't forget this!

When you find yourself in the midst of trials, talk to God.

He's the one with all the answers.

Let Him take care of everything.

Struggles provide us patience, strength and understanding.

May we never take them for granted.

Quote of the Week: Never Be In A Hurry

"Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset." 

I'm the Queen of rushing.

I'm one busy woman.

But I have always believed that busyness does not equate importance.

To me, busyness equates a lack of preparation.

And friends, I'm all too often unprepared.

This past week, I was bombarded with terrible, terrible news.

The kind of news that made me instantly weep.

I wept out of betrayal.

I wept out of lost trust.

I wept out of this indescribable feeling of pain.

Then I prayed.

And though relief came slowly, God reminded me that sometimes in life, we have to choose peace.

We can cry.

We can feel pain.

But it should always lead to peace.

This week, I'm not in any hurry.

I'm not willing to sacrifice my inner peace for anything.

Not for people's mistakes.

Not for people's misjudgments.

Not for people's missteps.

Whatever you're feeling today, remember that you are beyond worthy of peace and gentleness.

You are worth giving each moment--no matter how painful--the emotions due.

Then finding peace.

So, never be in a hurry.

Life will wait.

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