A Love Letter

Dear Body,

Hello there!  I don't talk to you very much these days, I know.  I'm sorry.  But look at what you've accomplished!  Look at what you've been through!  Normally when I talk to you, it's bad things, and I don't even want to repeat them here, because this is a love letter.  Today I feel good about you.  No, nothing has changed - you're not more tan or more buff, you're not thinner or stronger and your skin isn't clearer, but you are my body, and the only one I'll have on this earth.  I'm grateful for you.  Shall we reminisce?

See those little poke-holes in your elbow?  That's from when I gave blood over and over and over again - every chance I got!  I gave it because 21 people gave blood for my Mama just after I was born, and because of them, she's alive.  1, 2, 3 on each side, and a couple of them are doubles.  I'm going to keep giving, because her life is worth so much.

Oh, that spot where the hair always grows in!  Ouch, hey?  I know, it's a bugger.  But it always happens, right there, no matter what, and it's just a part of this body, a tiny flaw that makes it this body, special and mine alone.  Remember how every year as a kid I'd pick a 'special' leaf in my big leaf maple tree and visit it every day of the summer?  It was always flawed in some way so it was special and mine.  A tiny hole or misshapen edge made it special!

Oh that line on my legs where my favourite shorts land.  Guess it shows I've been enjoying the summer just for me, not specifically to show off a perfect tan.  You're beautiful even with tan lines, dear body.

There's that little triangular scar on my hand from when I worked at the organic farm when I was 14!  I was cutting beautiful flowers in a hurry, do you remember?  What a beautiful summer that was - and it was my first job!  I learned so much there about food, plants, and the earth.

The two little scars on my face from chicken pox, those are on you from when I was just 4 years old in Switzerland.  Kind of ruined the last couple weeks of vacation, but it made for some pretty cute pictures of a red-spotted little girl in the Swiss Alps with the cows.

And lookie there, the slightly in-turned toe that developed from walking all over campus getting an education.  It was a challenging time, but such a good one, developing amazing relationships and stuffing my head full of incredible facts and learning what I am capable of.

You're beautiful, dear body.

There are the scars, the real ones that show, the ones I keep trying to hide by wearing skirts with my swimsuit.  They weren't there last summer.  I haven't known exactly how to feel about those scars on my leg.  The ones on my shoulder, too.  But body, you carry them well.  They are evidence of pain and conquering, that I didn't give in to the depths, that Jesus held me in the darkest moments.

Funny, not all the things to look at are on the outside, are they, lovely body?  Throughout the day I feel the effects of the challenges you've had to weather with me.  Sometimes my throat burns hours after eating - my tummy just doesn't always stay as shut as it's supposed to, does it?  But the more we practice, the better it gets.  I'm sorry for the headaches you've endured and the bloodshot eyes, and the swollen glands that have come with my eating disorder.  I promise I'm continuing to work on making that happen less and less.

You have bumps and lumps and callouses and moles, soft spots and hard spots, a knee that clicks when it's not supposed to, and arms that flare up in pain after the smallest exertion, but you are mine.  You've carried through good times and bad.  And I'm so grateful that I still have you, and that God has let me live in you, this beautiful, wonderful, perfectly flawed body.

Love always (I promise.  Even when I don't show it),
Sheila  <3

Bulimia 2.0

It's time for an eating disorder update.  Most of my posts lately have been rather vague on the recovery front, and that was the whole point of this blog.  So here goes!

I'm actually doing okay right now.  I haven't been counting, but I think I'm at a week or so.  The spring was great, I went a month two or three times.  Being with my love helps me to stay calm and get through it.  We work together on recovery, and we get there.

The summer, being away, tons of stress, everything new, lots of unknowns... yeah it's been hard.  There have been some bad weeks, as evidenced by the puffy-cheeked little picture here a few weeks ago.

It's hard, not binging.  I've managed to not purge on a number of occasions, but stopping the urges, that's painful.  My whole body almost hurts when I have to resist.  It's like a menace that takes over your brain.  But the less I do it, the less I struggle.  So that's good.

Overall, I'm still seeing steps forward.  I'm learning the patterns that create bad cycles.  Now it's just learning when I have to be on guard.  That's a hard thing, and the world is full of triggers.  It's impossible to avoid them all, so I just have to learn how to work around them.  But God is gracious, and sustaining, and I have to rest there.

Lots of love,
Sheila

All the Controversy.

I'm feeling a lot of pain.  My own personal pain, the pain around the world.

I almost don't want to scroll through facebook for all the hurt and struggle that I see.  It's messy.  I'm here, crushed about my own circumstances, wishing they were different, but also hoping for a bright future.  Somehow.

I'm sick of the politics, the two sides, no matter the country.  I'm tired of the leftists dumping their garbage on the right-wing people, and the right-wing-people badmouthing the left-wing people.  It's messy and it's ugly, and it doesn't help anybody.  My view?  Every politician has a streak of ugly in them.  Some also try to make people's lives better.  Leave it at that.

I'm sick of the people gunned down.  I'm tired of gun law debates.  Yeah, I know, sometimes it seems good that someone had one, and other times it is the weapon of mass destruction.  I've heard both sides.  I choose a side that I think will help in most cases, but is it perfect?  Nope.

I'm tired of racism.  It's 2016.  Maybe it's because I grew up on the West Coast of Canada, but it just doesn't seem like it should be a thing!  A person is a person, no matter the colour of their skin or their country of origin.  (Also tiny humans are humans, but hey, another story, right?)  Let's start treating each other like we're all created in the image of God, because we are.

I'm beyond tired of homophobia.  I never really saw it in full force until I came out.  Wow.  It's not just fear, it's prejudice and nasty comments from the people you would least expect.  It's snide remarks about reproduction or my love being worth less.  I love a human, that is all.

I'm really sick of fat-shaming and calorie counting and obsession about steps taken or pounds lost.  I have enough struggles as it is to be faced daily with everyone else's body sagas.  All our bodies are beautiful in their own way.  Again, a masterpiece of God's creation.  THE pinnacle masterpiece in fact!  Keep it healthy, whether big or small, eat quality food, and enjoy life in the body God made for you.  That's it.

Religion.  SO TIRED OF IT.  I'm a Christian, but I'm not going to shove it in your face along with some of the above dogma and expect you to suddenly want to believe like I do. 

So pray like you mean it.  Love like you mean it.  Treat other humans like the In-God's-Image creatures that they are.

The end.

From the Island of Misfits

Hey world,

So I'm queer and I'm a Christian.  For a lot of Christians I know, this seems an oxymoron, and I get questions about it frequently.  Honestly, this post isn't about why I believe that the Bible isn't condemning committed homosexual relationships (Others have already done that, for example, HERE or THIS).  What I'm here to talk about is this:  I know a lot of well-meaning Christians, both gay and straight, who have attempted to include members of the LGBT community in the body of Christ simply by erasing parts of Scripture, choosing to believe that the Bible is flawed, or that maybe some of the writers weren't inspired.  I respect these people and love many of them dearly, but I cannot for one moment agree with that stance.

In the near future, I plan to marry my fiancée, and she will become my wife.  But what will our marriage mean in light of my just-proclaimed belief in the sanctity and innerancy of Scripture?  Not to mention the fact that this is a strongly-held belief my my future wife as well!  Will our marriage be a disgrace to the concept of Christ and the church?  No!  Our marriage still represents the incredible union that is to take place when the Church is wed to Christ, the long-expected fiancé returning from a journey, so-to-speak.  Should we let our oil lamps run out as we run around trying to convince the next lesbian or gay couple, dedicated fully to the Lord, not to serve Christ together?  Should we not instead be putting our energy into filling our lamps and being prepared for the return of Christ when He chooses to come?  Where are our priorities?

I'll switch gears.  This issue has been swirling around my heart and mind a lot these days and I need to address it from several angles.  Throughout my childhood and teenage years, my personal social, political, and spiritual views shifted drastically every year or two, from far left, to far right.  I'd become more open with myself and who I was, finding joy in pursuing life abundant, and then find myself afraid of the open-mindedness I'd discovered.  I'd quickly switch out my shorts for long skirts, my scoop necks for crews, and my crazy hair for braids.  I'd try to exemplify discipline, early morning walks, and spiritual rigour.  I had to look every bit the part of the Conservative, Homeschooled, 'Good Christian' (all capitalized because they did indeed feel like titles).  I joined causes and read theology books, I witnessed every chance I had, to the shame of Christ's Name in some cases.  At which point I'd often realize that I wasn't honouring God simply by acting the part of something I wasn't.  I was simply trying to fit a mold created my humans in an attempt to sidestep any possibility of sin. Funny, I was still impatient sometimes, and I still disobeyed my parents when I felt like it.  Sin didn't go away because I dressed differently or carried tracts.

So I'd slowly swing left, tanktops and shorts, a different approach to my daily Scripture reading, a more open look at life.  I still sinned.  And that scared me.  So before I knew it, I was trying a different conservative box, maybe wearing a head covering or going to the evening service on Sunday.  So I'd swing left.  A little harder each time, to the point where I actually turned my back on God at one point.  When I arrived at rock bottom and the Lord spun me in a 180 toward Him again, I went from the liberal, Wiccan hippie to a Bob Jones University Boje (read: avid rule-follower and generally annoying person).

- Skirt below the knees.
- Neckline no more than 4 fingers below the collarbone.
- Lights out at 12.
- No headphones.
- No Skype.
- "Hey 'friend'?  They said no headphones."
- No demerits.
- 4.0 GPA
- I'm a good person.
- I must really be honouring God.

But was I?  Or had I simply turned to another form of idolatry, yet again?  Whether it was being determined to follow all the rules (written or unwritten), or freeing my mind to believe whatever felt 'right,' I had a mind that wavered.  It was tossed by the wind (Eph. 4:14).

So here I am, defying unspoken rules, so to speak.  Is this just another leftist shift?  Or, in reality, is this a choice to stand firm, to choose the uncomfortable part, perhaps the better part?  I'm at a place where I'm not taking a popular route.  I'm not the lesbian with a mission to prove that all religions are the same.  They're not.

"I am the way, the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father but through Me" - Jesus, John 14:6

But I'm also not heterosexual.  Nor, in many arenas, conservative - Jesus wasn't.

So where does that leave me?  Where does that leave my future marriage?  It leaves me in that painful place where I can't just believe something or act a certain way because it is prescribed or because that's how someone I respect believes or acts.  It leaves us choosing to painstakingly study the Word of God, to seek Him daily (and nightly!) for wisdom and strength through the pain and heartbreak of others not understanding, and remembering that our Lord, too, was misunderstood so often.

So I'm a misfit.  It's nothing new.  But I'm a misfit who loves Jesus, believes unwaveringly in the innerancy of His Word and the importance of spreading it to all who will hear.  I'm a queer, misfit, follower of Christ.

What can I say?  I've got great company.