Prestine

Pristine...
What is it?
The immaculate
Without mar
Or ruin.  In its form
It is perfect.

Yet, a glass
Tells a different story.

The sun's kisses
Have stained spots
Upon cheeks.
One hand grips in strength,
While a wrist is curved
In weak display.
Scars, callouses and cellulite
Glitter my skin, marked
By miles hiked on life's trails.
Muscles tethered
Joints strained,
Years of wear from
Battles on grass and dust.

The crows rest 
Next to my eyes,
Revealing the tears
I have cried.
The lines above
My brow shares
The worries I've endured.
Creases lay
Where dimples should,
Uttering the joyous
Moments felt.

No, my body
Isn't pristine.
If it were,
It would prove
I never lived.

However,
Maybe it's not the form
But the story displayed
That makes 
My body pristine.

Apparently, I'm Fat

I stared at myself shocked.  I looked amazing!  It was the style I needed, totally my personality, and just look at that price!  It was $16.00 (and from the mall!).  But the shock was more at the label.  An extra-large?  Apparently, this store needs some new eyes, cause that’s the first time I’ve ever needed that size at…my size.  As I compared my figure in the mirror to the piece of paper attached to the fabric, a dark humor then kicked in.  And we wonder why girls are starving themselves.    Comfortability in one’s own skin has been an ongoing battle for girls and women for many generations.  Within my own formative years, it was one that was lost daily.  Sure, I had the “perfect” body, but I questioned by what standard.  After all, “you are skinny” is not synonymous with “you are beautiful.”  It has only been when I have gotten older that I have taken a holistic understanding of my health and body, thereby appreciating it - in its different forms.     Not that I look that much different from my teens.  I stopped being gangly about the age of 15, and with the interest of playing sports combined with puberty, my body became a small, but built box (as I call it).  I am still similar in form, though I have recognized more curves to my hips and skin.  However, where my teen self would be mortified at such a notion of being bigger than skinny, I now am coming to an understanding that my body is going to go through many seasons.  And it will take on many forms.  My goodness!  What will I look like in my 50s or 80s?  What fat and wrinkles will I have then?!

    The truth is, in my thirties, something changed.  I could tell it takes more activity and less food to keep the same image I have kept the last decade or so.  Hormones are a lovely thing, aren’t they?  But not only is the feminine biology to blame.  In the past couple of years, my season of life has changed as I have lived with families, and so, my diet has changed.  Am I still active?  Yes.  But are there other important components of my life to which I must be present?  Also, yes.     When my image is taking precedence over relationships, it is a red flag that physical health is an idol.     There is more to health than what is seen in the mirror.  There are plenty of people who “have the perfect body”, but their amygdala is going on high alert.  Or, all the right nutrients are being fed, but the emotions and soul are left depleted.  True health is more than just what form the body takes.  But it’s taken me some time to personalize this truth for me.     Some things are out of our control.  And as the years pass, the more things are added to that list of things out of my control.  My brain could hyperventilate concerning what I need to fit in my box, or I can change the box according to my season.  I choose the latter.  Especially in the matter of health to my body.     Because I do enjoy food.  I sometimes want a treat.  There are going to be times when I am with people or on vacation and won’t be able to work out as hard and long as I wish.  There may be a time I will be a mother, and well, who knows what that’s like.  And, with strength and conditioning, there is NO WAY I am going to be mini.  But health and beauty doesn’t dictate that one has to be.  Look at P!nk.  That woman can sing, do acrobatics…at the same time.  Her body needing to be strong enough for her shows will change based on the demands.  She is no twig, but she isn’t supposed to be.     If there is one thing I could tell my teenager self, it would be:  prepare your body for what is presently needed.  Whatever that looks like, no matter, as long as you are healthy - that is what counts.  This public obsession over the latest trends of losing fat and how many less calories to eat, and body types is overrated.  Why aren’t we concerned with feeding the person physically, yes, but also mentally, emotionally, and spiritually?     We are in a time where that seems to be the trend.  Plus-sized women are becoming bolder (look at Lizzo), and fashion trends are designing clothes for women of all shapes and sizes.  It is now more possible to find something cute, no matter your form.  But simultaneously, women are praised for being big, but then are also disgruntled against having lost weight for health (medical) reasons.  Or if there are women who were skinny, then gained weight, we still say that time hasn’t been kind to them.  What the heck?! Even in the promotion for self-esteem and loving one’s own body, there is hypocrisy in the news and advertisements.     No matter how society bends, labels have been made and define the value of a person. Labels have rarely, if ever, carried a neutral stance. The irony is that I had a woman tell me that there are dresses being made for curvy women, and “they look great”, but she, herself a plus-sized woman, cowers from confidence.  She finds her security in hiding her form, but genuinely, she herself has never learned to love her body apart from a certain image. Though society had changed its definition, her reality was perpetuated by past labels so much so, that though she knew the beauty standard was more complimentary, she couldn't believe it for herself. With changing seasons, changing labels, and changing definitions, it is hard to keep up. Unless one is defined by a Label that cannot change.     The truth is every woman has been created in the image of God.  We have been fearfully and wonderfully made, and are here and now, for such a time as this.  There is a good work prepared for us.  And so - whatever your body’s form - whether it be extra small, or multiple x’s in front of large, the question is are we equipped for what God has in our lives?  Yes, the discussion for body image may include discussions for health (food and exercise, hormones, etc…) but to even address those sufficiently, one then must let go of the image that they have to be a certain way to finally have “the perfect body”.  No one has it, anyway.  Our lives ebb and flow in different paths, experiences and journeys.  The marks and forms we bear tell a story weaved as a tapestry.  If we weren’t so focused on hiding ourselves until we were “perfect”, I wonder what gift the world would receive.

My Shelter

A bloodstained heart
Beats for the ones
He came to die.
A devoted fondness 
Poured upon, undeterred.
What man may
Define or do;
Think or believe
Cannot withhold
The love You have 
For me.

How You are for me!
Your Grace reaches
To the depth of my soul.
I never need grasp,
Convincing or begging.
His majesty delights
In my being.

I admit: I forget.
Praises cease when 
The unfortunate is my focus.
If Your face is hidden,
Your presence unfelt,
Your voice unheard,
I'm quick to blame Your memory.
But Your ways
Are not my own.
Your foresight stretches
Into eternity beyond
My finite understanding.

I was persuaded
Your shelter proved
An elimination of any threat.
Nonetheless, when gray clouds surround,
You are holding me.
Protection established preparation
To face the enemy
In ways that running never would do.

When I thought it was me
Who fought for myself,
It was You who interceded for me.
You gave my legs 
Strength to stand.
You were the giver
Of words that needed to be
Spoken within the moment's
Danger.

I believed
Your goodness became evident
With the absence of evil.
Nevertheless,
Your faithfulness demonstrated
When death threatened my soul.
As tears touched the earth,
Your comfort drew near.
Your truth penetrates lies.
What scars I bear
Commemorate Your healing.

What redemption I hold,
Your love its inspiration.
What salvation bestowed,
It was Your desire first.
Grace's definition
By Your delight;
Never by my hand.

There are secrets
Only You know.
In my wanderings,
In the wrestlings,
In the joys that fill my eyes.
You see all of me, yet
In Your love,
Your arms cover me
As a robin's feathers
Flutter above her nest
In the rain.

*Romans 8:28