You Learn A Lot About Your Heart When You Don't Have A Closet

Last month marked my fifth move in New York City, and I’ve only lived here for a little more than three years. Moving is never a fun experience, but moving apartments in NYC is enough to make one run away and give up everything to live in a hut on the beach.

In New York City, apartments come and go every day—usually your best bet for finding one is a mere two weeks out. You can’t really plan, and you don’t have a lot of control over your options.

I felt sick with the stress of finding my latest place, affording movers, and coordinating the whole moving process. Moving is one of those things that makes me truly anxious.

I had been checking apartment listings every hour of every day. I was so afraid that I would miss something great and regret it later. My counselor suggested I take a step back. She reminded me that I was not going to be homeless. The Lord abundantly provided during all of my moves, and He was clearly working. My family would have a place for me should I need it, and I had plenty of community around me to support me in the process, too.

After talking to her, I set up filters and email notifications on a few apartment rental websites. Then I stopped checking and let the websites do the work for me.

Just as soon as I quit freaking out, my roommate (not me!) received an email listing for a great spot. She and I saw the place the first day it went on the market. That day was the same day the rental company lower the rent to be within our budget and removed the broker fee. My roomie and I applied that day, and the apartment was ours within forty-eight hours.

If that's not a God thing, I don't know what is.

The situation was yet another that showed me the value in letting go. Loosening up, relaxing the grip on my life, and giving God the space to enter in.

Try as we may, sometimes we just have to let go a little. Moving so often, and under such tenuous city circumstances, taught me to let go of my need to control everything, but in a broader sense it taught me to let go of other things in life that weren’t necessary. Moving has been a grand adventure in learning to simplify my life and let go of the rest.

Here’s the thing: We live in a world full of stuff. It’s tempting to want more and more. During my latest move, my roommate and I discovered we had three SodaStreams. Three! And our new apartment is a sixth-floor walkup. Without closets.

Moving so often really forced me to think about my approach to life. When something suddenly becomes an extra five pounds that must be boxed, carried up six-plus flights of stairs, and stowed in a 900-square-foot space, you really start to examine what it adds to your life.

So I have to ask myself: “Can I find pleasure in a simple glass of tap water and avoid the clunky, costly presence of a 21st-century bubble infuser?”

Yes. Yes, I can.

It’s a lesson in moving, but it’s a lesson in life just the same.

Quality over quantity—that simple lesson has helped me redefine my life overall. I don’t have time to go to every event or see every friend, colleague, or former classmate who comes into town. I make time for the friends who also make time for me—the people I know will bring me life by being around them. When I’m seeing fewer people overall, I allow the relationships I do have to grow stronger, and our time together becomes that much higher quality.

Even more than quality over quantity, I'm learning what true quality really is. True quality means faith and provisions from God. You can't buy that kind of quality. I'm starting to understand why Jesus told us not store up for myself treasures on earth. Earthly treasures are just things. Just things. They are replaceable. As fun or as pretty as they might be, they don't add to my existence.

“But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

— Matthew 6:20-21

Moving to an apartment without closets revealed all the junk I'd been storing up—not just in my closet (and under my bed and in random drawers) but in my heart. It's so easy to store things away, never really addressing them until they're forced to the surface. If I can hide it under the bed, then it doesn't really exist.  

Let me tell you: Cleaning out the closet is good.

Clear out the junk. Organize the mess. Put everything on display and bring it into the light.

Your heart—and your apartment—will be happier when you do.

Oh, and those moving woes I had? Definitely #firstworldproblems. I live and work in the most expensive city in the country. I’m grateful to be able to make a living here in the Big Apple. These moves have shown me that I don’t need to control and plan out everything in my life. For a planner like me, it’s hard to come to grips with the fact that I can’t look for an apartment until the month before I need to move. But there’s such value in being able to let go and trust that everything will work out. It might not look the way you envisioned in your head, but it will work out according to His greater plan. This I know to be true.

Even when I think I’m not going to land an apartment, or not be able to afford moving fees, or not be able to find a roommate, I am pleasantly surprised with ample provision. When I think I can’t get rid of something because someday I’ll want it, I always find that isn’t the case. I’m happy to be free of it, and I can focus more on the things I have that I love. Being intentional about my approach to life and things makes me that much more thankful for it all.

Home is where the heart is. My apartment is my oasis. I rely on good food, good friends, and good music filling the space to make it feel like home. Lots of decorations and knickknacks no longer have a place in my space. They take up room, they’re hard to pack and move, and they ultimately end up collecting dust. Buying fresh flowers on the street after work or picking up a candle from the sale section at Marshalls are two indulgences that make my apartment cozy and comfortable. The rest of my focus is on the peace of my home and love of those I have in it.

I would never have chosen to move five times in the past three and a half years, but looking back on it, I’m grateful for the changes. I’ve learned to not sweat the small stuff and to give up the things I don’t truly need. To let go of control and surrender to Him. Now I understand that at the end of the day, possessions aren’t what makes a house a home. People, experiences, and the presence of God are. My life is so much fuller because of it.

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If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life. 

And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.

Truly, He makes beautiful things.

Let's Honor Our Bodies And Enjoy Food As The Gift It Is

A version of this post originally appeared on Verilymag.com.

Juice cleanses. Detox diets. Meatless Mondays. All these food trends seem to be ushering in not only pithy magazine cover lines about carbs and abs but also an age when food consciousness has become the focal point of many of our lives. "Clean eating" has become an industry all its own. We cling to paleo and gluten-free lifestyles almost like religions.

If that meant we were all adapting healthier, happier lifestyles, maybe these eating fads would be great. And maybe for some people it is a helpful way to eat healthfully. But for many others, and particularly for young women, good health isn't the result. In fact, 50 percent of teenage girls use unhealthy weight control measures, such as skipping meals, fasting, vomiting, and taking laxatives. And on into young adulthood, 25 percent of college women engage in bingeing and purging, and 91 percent of women surveyed on college campuses try to control their weight through dieting. For many women, an acute food focus becomes downright dangerous. 

I should know. It happened to me. 

I've written about this before, but I really don't think eating disorders and our obsession with food can be talked about enough. For me, the desire to eat healthier was the beginning of what led me to develop a life-threatening eating disorder. As a high school varsity tennis player, I ate whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was strong and healthy. I was able to clearly listen to my body’s hunger and fullness signals. I ate everything from broccoli to burgers, and my body knew exactly what I needed. I was what you would call an intuitive eater. Taking care of myself was simple.

But things got complicated. Or I should say, I overcomplicated them.

By the end of my senior year of high school, I was no longer playing tennis for three hours a day. I was busy finishing my studies, working part-time, and preparing for college. My friends started talking about the dreaded “Freshman 15” weight gain that was sure to hit all of us come fall, and it seemed like every girl around me was dieting in order to look fabulous in her prom dress that spring.

I decided to drink more water and to cut out the two or three Chips Ahoy chocolate chip cookies from my lunch every day. I figured I wasn’t an athlete anymore and now I needed to watch what I ate.

As an aspiring magazine journalist, I was very tuned in to the media, often reading headlines and articles about health and wellness. Twelve hundred calories a day to get a bikini body? No dairy or gluten to ensure flat abs? Sixty minutes of cardio a day to stay in shape? I soaked up the information like a sponge, absorbing diet tips, “healthy eating” strategies, and fitness advice.

All my life, I was praised for my body. Genetically tall and thin, I was often told I should be a model and affirmed for the way I looked. “You’re so skinny! I wish I looked like you," people would say. “What’s your secret?”

Subconsciously, I fed on that affirmation. What would happen if I couldn’t maintain this figure? What would I think of myself?

I had developed a sense of pride in my appearance. I had also developed a deep fear of losing it. The fears grew stronger and then the voice in my head changed from me wanting to be “healthy,” to me wanting approval, to me wanting control. 

I was incredibly stressed about starting college at a school where I knew no one and where I would be enrolled in a rigorous program. I was scared I wouldn’t measure up. My long-term friendships were changing—we were drifting apart as the prospect of college loomed closer and closer. I had recently broken things off with a guy I liked, and I was feeling extra-lonely as a result. My life was going through a natural transition. But for me, an 18-year-old perfectionist not used to change or failure, life felt out of control. Nothing felt normal. 

But food? Food I could control. If I could manage my food intake, then I could feel better, I thought.

It was the perfect storm of factors: a desire to eat healthy, fear of failure, stress about my body, longing for affirmation, isolation from my friends, and a great memory for calories/nutritional information/diet tips. Before I knew it, “healthy eating” became restriction and then full-blown anorexia nervosa.

The eating disorder took root and grew during that summer. Calorie counting became my way of life. My thoughts were consumed by food. I pulled away from my friends so that they wouldn't really know what was going on. My parents took me to see my pediatrician who had known me since I was a toddler. He said that while I had lost weight, it was perfectly normal to do so under stress and that they shouldn't worry. Later my parents drove me to an eating disorder treatment center. The psychiatrist there wanted to admit me immediately. I continued to deny having a problem. And my restricting rapidly worsened.

I still went off to college―but three weeks into my first semester, I had to withdraw for medical reasons. I was no longer stable enough to stay in school. Anorexia was destroying my life, and if I didn’t do something serious (and soon), I was going to die. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. And 5 to 20 percent of those who suffer from anorexia will die. That's upward of one in five.

Thank God this is not where my story ends. Let me be clear: I did not save myself. I could not have escaped this devastating downward spiral of sin and destruction on my own. I was saved by The Lord, whose hand of protection was on me through it all. He saved me physically and spiritually. I got help from doctors and psychologists, and slowly but surely, I regained my health and my strength. My family carried me through it all, and I was given a second chance at life. I went back to school, graduated on time, and took a full-time job within a few months after graduation.

Today, seven years later, I am fully in recovery. I am happy and healthy. I meet with a counselor and nutritionist on a regular basis. I have an amazing community around me that watches out for me and that I can talk to when things get hard. Because, I have to be honest, sometimes life does get hard. 

I think of anorexia (or any eating disorder) like alcoholism. Both are diseases; both stem from nature and nurture. Genetics, upbringing, and choices. Alcoholics usually call themselves alcoholics for the rest of their lives, even when they have not touched a drink in ten years. Similarly, I will always say I am “in recovery” from my eating disorder, even though my life looks drastically different than it used to. I am grateful for every single day, and I live life to the fullest.

I am also now highly aware of the world of “healthy eating,” diet, and fitness. We are tempted every day by magazines and websites promising happiness if we can just fix ourselves. If we can eat clean, if we can do more strength training, if we can work a bit harder to get those flat abs/strong arms/skinny waist/perky butt, we can achieve fulfillment. We can be happy.

Except those things will never fulfill us. Food, control, affirmation from others―those things will never fulfill us because only Christ can. It’s taken me years and plenty of struggle to realize that.

Everyone’s body, everyone’s health, is completely individual. What might be healthy for one person is totally different for someone else. I know that, for me, I could not survive on 1,500 calories a day like an unnamed women’s wellness magazine prescribes as necessary for weight maintenance and optimal health. If I did that with 60 minutes of cardio exercise a day, I would not be healthy. I would be sick and run down. And, for me, desserts and other sweet treats are a necessary part of my life. They equal food freedom! I’d like lots of freedom, please.

As my friend, fellow blogger, and dietician and nurse Robyn says so wisely:

“I am not anyone else except ME. Which means the person sitting next to me has different nutritional needs than I do, so comparing myself to them is pointless—the only person I need to focus on with food and exercise is myself.

Health is about trends and consistency—just like one day of ‘dieting’ and exercise doesn’t cause a person to lose weight, eating out of routine for a short time and enjoying foods that allow you to fully experience life and nourish your soul will not make you gain weight. Health is all about the big picture, not a snapshot.

[Food] is meant for nourishment and to be enjoyed and it has nothing to do with how self-disciplined you are, or how much willpower you have, and it certainly has nothing to do with your identity and worth.”

Amen, sister. 

Food is for health, for pleasure, for experience—and all of those things together. 

Think of how food shows up in the Bible: It brings people together. God uses it to bless us and reveal Himself to us. God gives us the gift of food to experience in community. We break bread and drink wine. Food is a gift, a way we can connect with one another.

God gave the Israelites manna in the wilderness, to humble and test them so that it would do them good (Deuteronomy 8:16). He gives us bread from heaven to show us that He is God (Exodus 16:12).

Food is not meant to be overly complicated. My nutritionist often reminds me: Your body is the best indicator of what you need and when you need it. If you’re hungry and your stomach is growling, it’s because your body needs food―regardless of whether you ate two slices of pizza an hour ago or just drank a green juice. The latest diet trends are always changing, but your body is with you for the long haul. Listen to it.

Hyper-analyzing and focusing on food―or anything for that matter―turns it into an idol. It becomes the thing we glorify. It replaces God in our hearts, and ultimately, destroys our lives.

If we’re obsessed with eating perfectly, eating better than the person next to us, or looking good, we are the ones who end up losing. Being so concerned with what’s “healthy” and what’s not means we miss out on the simple joy of food. We miss out on the amazing gift our bodies are. We miss out on the whole life God has given us. He wants us to enjoy these things to glorify Him! 

So eat the kale. Eat the cupcake. Listen to your body, not your fears. Let Jesus ―not food―reign in your heart. And enjoy the full life He has set out for you. 

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If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life. 

And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.

Truly, He makes beautiful things.

Shine Bright Like A Diamond

So much in my life lately has been pointing me toward vulnerability, transparency, authenticity. If you’re a Millennial, you’re probably familiar with those of-the-moment cultural buzzwords, ones that mean being honest and up-front about your life. I already write this blog and would say I’m a pretty open book. But there are some topics that make me bristle. Some things I’d rather not touch with a ten-foot pole, no thank you.

Last week, I penned one of, if not my most, deeply personal article yet. Once my words hit the Internet, I began to question if I said too much. Did I cross the line from vulnerable to can’t-keep-my-mouth-shut? Did I give total strangers permission to get to know me without returning the favor? Did I need to learn to leave a little more mystery in my life?

I never want to be unsafe or reckless with the things I put on the Internet. Being extra conscientious about my public life is a wise move. It's why I don't really write about my location, my day job, or my boyfriend. But if I want to connect with other men and women, meet fellow writers, and one day write a book, then social media and an active digital presence are an important part of that process.

As soon as I let the doubting voices find a home in my head, I’ve let them win. I’ve given them the power to control what I do and what I say, and I’ve chipped away at an opportunity for my life to be used for good.

Because, here’s the thing: Our lives are being used every second of every day. We aren’t some random beings placed on this earth to live and die and be forgotten. God’s purpose for us is much greater than that.

God isn’t in the business of shame.

Those doubters? Shame is their territory. You see, shame is like a boa constrictor. It will creep up behind you, squeezing tighter and tighter until eventually it’s suffocating you.

I’ve spent countless hours stuck in the boa constrictor’s embrace. It’s not a fun place to be, let me tell you. It kept me from writing this blog for the longest time. I didn’t want to put all my mess front and center for people to judge. Even when I did start writing, I kept the blog to myself for a few months. I couldn’t bring myself to post on social media, to open myself up to more readers and viewers and thus more potential for judgment, criticism, assessment. What if they thought I was a terrible writer? What if they thought I was egotistical or self-centered? And what would I do if they saw that I wasn’t the perfect girl-next-door but rather a broken women in progress?

Well… then they would see it. They would see the brokenness, and I would be the same person. I would be okay.

I refuse to let doubt and shame run the show anymore. That super personal article I wrote has over 480 shares, plus countless others directly on Facebook and Twitter. It was the first time when, reading the comments section, I did not see a negative remark aimed my way. I was surprised by that, but I really think it is because people crave vulnerability. We are tired of the filters and veneers. We want what’s real.

My post-publication freakout was a prime example of the “vulnerability hangover” that researcher and best-selling author Brené Brown speaks of in her books and talks. If you haven’t watched her TED talk, I highly recommend it (it’s only 20 minutes!). I recently read her book The Gifts of Imperfection and am currently making my way through Rising Strong. She talks a lot about how we can embrace our vulnerabilities and imperfections, and live in a way that she calls “Wholehearted.” Doing so cultivates compassion, courage, connection. But it can be really, really hard for us to go there.

I allowed myself to be fully revealed—which can be seriously scary. As open as I am, I still fear being exposed. It’s much easier to make myself small and quiet. If I shrink back, I can’t be judged or shamed.

While there will almost always be people who try to shame us for our truth, we don’t have to feel ashamed. I was reminded by my pastor of Paul’s longing to visit Rome:

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes, first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. For in the Gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: ‘The righteous will live by faith.’”

— Romans 1:16-17

I wasn’t preaching the Gospel in my article. Yet I was talking in a way that I hope encourages others and shows them the power of God, the power of being unashamed. Paul’s a perfect example of that.

Paul gives me hope for continuing to share about my life and all God is doing in it. Sometimes, that will look like me sharing things that are so-not-put-together. I might share when I’m sad or angry, or when I’m feeling distant from Him. His work in my life is a process. For that, I’m grateful.

I came across the below quote from Marianne Williamson a year or two ago. A yoga instructor repeated it during class last week, surely not a coincidence. Marianne is right. We fear, at least I know I do. We fear being big even though we were made for more:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

We were created to be full and to be free. That’s what I’d like this little space of the Internet to be about—and that’s the life I plan on living.

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If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life. 

And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.

Truly, He makes beautiful things.

Dear Future Daughter

Dear daughter,

Today is May 11, 2016. I’m sipping my tea, writing to you from my desk in New York City. Yes, The Big Apple; I’ve lived here for three and a half years now. I am 26 years old. I’m not engaged or married, but I write this letter looking toward a future with you in it.

I don’t know when or where I am going to meet you. I don’t know when I’m going to give this to you. What I do know are a few things to be true about you. Things that will never change, no matter the circumstances.

You are, quite simply, a gift.

You make me happier than I ever thought could be. I wondered about you for years and years. Now you’re here, and I don’t know how I lived my life without you.

I spent a long time—too much time—wrestling with fear and doubt, with voices in my head that made me feel unworthy. I listened to those statements. I heard lies that I wasn’t worthy because I wasn’t enough—successful enough, smart enough, pretty enough, good enough. I had my heart broken and discarded. I felt alone, and I didn’t love the woman I was.

That season of my life was difficult, painful, sad. It included many ups and downs. I didn’t know how I’d make it out of the darkness. A family of my own seemed like such a silly desire when I couldn’t seem to take care of myself. I wasn’t sure if I would ever have you. So I put that dream on a shelf, tucked away and collecting dust without much hope for a future.

“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

— 2 Peter 3:9

But I want to tell you today that that season ended. The cold, dark winter melted away, and the world felt a little more like springtime. I began to blossom. I began to hope. I found faith in a God who never really left me, who continually called me back to Him. He watched over me all those years; He was writing my story in the most beautiful way. He gave me a new life that I might one day share that life with you.

Soon enough, the darkness dissipated, the depression diminished, and my anxieties started to fade. The Light of Christ came in, slowly but surely illuminating my world once again.

And I took that dream off the shelf.

I dreamt of you, daughter. I dreamt of your big, bright eyes; your curly hair; your sweet smile and infectious laugh. I dreamt of your tender heart, your wisdom beyond your years, and your generous spirit. I dreamt of the radiant beauty that stemmed from deep down in your soul.

I dreamt of how I would speak to you, teach you, care for you. The more I dreamt of you, the more I began to love myself. Because dreaming of you helped me think of the woman I was designed to be: wholehearted and full of grace. I thought about how I would care for you and point you back to the Father. I will never lie to you, or say that you are unworthy. I will never tell you that you need to be smarter, be prettier, be better, be more. I can promise you that. So why would I listen to those lies myself? Dreaming of you meant I started talking back to the lies, answering them with truth. I filled the space with God and with you.

“Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

— John 14:6

I dreamt that you, too, would stand firmly in the Light.

I know there will be times when you experience your own hardship on this earth. The world might try to hurt you. It might even try to break you down. You’re going to fall and feel weak. You’re going to fail. But when you accept Christ, you have steadfast strength and courage within you. That’s the Holy Spirit.

“For “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.””

— Romans 10:13

Stand firm in who you are. Remember the things that really matter in this life. Remember that your identity is secure in our great God. Set your heart on all that sheds light.

Your dad and I cherish you more than anything. We praise God for your existence. We know you are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139). You are lovely in all your imperfections. You are gifted uniquely and with great purpose—nothing about you is a mistake. From your head to your toes, you are created in the image of God (Genesis 1:27).

We are here for you no matter what. You encourage us and make us better people just by being you. I’m so honored to call you mine. I admire you and look at you with more joy than I ever knew possible.

I want you to know one more truth, daughter: Christ’s perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18). He loves us so deeply—so flawlessly—that He enables us to love you in return. I strive to reflect His love to you each day so that you, too, know He’s calling you into His arms, guiding you and protecting you every step of the way.

I love you, sweet girl.

Mom

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If you want to talk more about Jesus Christ and faith and what-the-heck-is-all-this-stuff, shoot me a message. I love meeting new people, whether virtually or in person, and gabbing about life. 

And if you'd like to know more of my story, you can read my testimony here.

Truly, He makes beautiful things.