2 Timothy 1:7

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and a sound mind.

What is God saying to you through today’s meditation?

While perusing my January edition of Marie Claire, I came across an interview with author Caitlin Flanagan about the upcoming release of her new book, Girl Land (released Jan 12th.) When asked to share her thoughts about strong and sexy artists, she praised Beyonce because “Single Ladies” is a sexy way of saying ‘marry me.’  I loved that!  However, liberal sources are tearing this book apart, calling it sexist and limiting to females.  Cathi Hanauer at Elle magazine says that a modern upbringing doesn’t corrupt, but rather empowers young women.  She cites her daughter as an example of a young woman researching the humanitarian needs in Sudan via the Internet.  So, I had to find out for myself . . . What’s with all this chatter about Girl Land?

In the book, Girl Land is described as the territory between girlhood and womanhood.  It’s the times when we’re torn between the pink lace and play dolls of our youth, and the yearning to become an autonomous (and sexy) woman.  Flanagan, an award-winning essayist, investigates the evolution of Girl Land over the last century.  It’s no longer a safe journey, taken under the scrutiny of parents and safety of a village.  Instead, father’s abandon us, mothers want to be “cool” and the village is corrupt. 

How are we, as young women, supposed to navigate this treacherous journey?  How are we as mentors, meant to offer guidance to our younger sisters (as in sisterhood)?

If you’re eager for clear positions and solutions, hang in there . . . you won’t get them until the last few pages of the book.  Girl Land reads like a study of culture and anthropology.  But, it’s fascinating.  I will concede that it’s dramatic at times – I hardly think we need to relive the smell of first menstruation, or the first feeling of sexual ecstasy, to the degree that Flanagan relates.  She’s probably spent too much time with her two boys, dreaming of what it would be like to raise a little girl.  However, when it comes to matters of the heart (and I think this where our feminist readers go bonkers), she’s nailed it:

Make no mistake: the mass media in which so many girls are immersed today does not mean them well . . . it wants her to live her private moments in public, to expose every aspect of her interior life for all to see, to dress in ways that will draw the most heated reactions from boys and men.

Flanagan goes on to suggest that parents do the tough work of creating a counter-culture in which to raise their girls.  (And here’s where I started wishing for a different ending.) As suspected, Girl Land is a book for moms.  It gives anxious moms ammo for telling their daughters, “I told you so.” And, I hardly doubt it has the power to convert a lackadaisical parent.  She may be right in her admonition, and I think she is, but it’s not the sexy ending I longed for.

I wanted to see the power given back to the young girl. That’s what modern culture is trying to do – empower women.  When we get it right, the results are amazing – voting, education and equal opportunity.  The problem is that we so often get it wrong by giving young women the freedom of pornography and oral sex.  Surely, the best and only solution isn’t for mom’s to shelter young girls!

I asked myself this question . . .  What if the girls, rather than moms, pursued a counterculture experience of Girl Land? What if the girls themselves sought an experience of Girl Land that wasn’t dominated by mass media?  What would that look like?  Can young girls shelter themselves, censor their friends and make responsible choices?  You know, it is the era of “The Protestor.”

What if we encouraged young women to protest the cultural demands of Girl Land?  Do you think it’d work?  Now that’s a sexy ending . . . Imagine millions of young women embracing true empowerment while rebuking the filth that taints her Girl Land.

-The Words of Jesus  (paraphrased by The Message Bible, Matthew 5:43-47)

Who is your frenemy?

Enemy is a strong word, no doubt.  We think of evil powers and wars abroad. However, Jesus isn’t talking only about people who outright harass and bully us.  He’s talking about our frenemies . . . the people we love, but hate.  The ones who have more stuff than us – popularity, a dream job, Mr. Wonderful and maybe a puppy.  The ones who gossip behind our backs and play nasty GCB games with our soul.  Learning to love our frenemies takes us to a deeper layer in our heart – our motives.

From enemy to frenemy, do you intentionally pray for people . . . and with love in your heart?

Who can you add to your prayers this week?

ASK ANGIE:

Signed, For the Love of Dance

DEAR ‘FOR THE LOVE OF DANCE,’

I hate delivering bad news, but here it is.  It’s not gonna happen . . . you’ll never be able to have a genuine friendship with this married man.  I know that’s disappointing to hear, but it’s true.  Plus, it’s going to create major problems for your life if continue to take dance under his instruction.  Your conscience will bear down on you, and you’ll constantly feel insecure by all the weird relational dynamics.

Take inspiration from Joseph’s example in the Bible.  When a married women hit on him . . . he ran away.  It’s time to run.  Find another dance studio.  Your dance will benefit from the change because you’ll be able to focus on the art, instead of the drama.

Don’t fret . . . you’ll get over this guy.  Whatever you find attractive in him will fade as you turn your attention elsewhere.  Besides, you deserve to be friends with men who treat women with respect.  Based on how he’s treating both you and his wife, he’s not that kind of guy.  Trust me, run and you won’t regret it!

Three days later, I finally admitted the truth.  God was speaking to me.  I really did need a break.  I can’t afford not to take a break.  This year, life picked up pace.   I want to finish my book, while keeping things organized around my house.  I want to stay committed to my health.  To do that, I need to regularly reboot.   The solution is clear.  It’s time to get back into my “take-a-weekly-break-from work” routine. Full disclosure:  It’s been nearly five years since I’ve done this.  Now, just two weeks back in the habit  . . .  and I remember why I love it!  I thought I’d share with you just HOW I make this work each week.

10 STEPS TO TAKING A BREAK FROM WORK

(The Big 3 Non-Negotiables)

1. Make a list of what you are resting from. The list will change at various seasons of your life.  Here’s mine: ALL Internet & emails, house chores, errands, and (sometimes) cooking.
2. Determine your 24-hour break time. Mine is Saturday pm – Sunday pm.  This alleviates anxiety because I can still send emails on Sat am and Sun pm. Plus, it’s a more traditional way to rest going back thousands of years.
3. Think ahead about what you need to do so that you can actually follow-through on rest. On Saturday afternoon, I send emails, finish laundry and make a big crockpot recipe that we can munch on through Sunday.  Then, I work hard up to the time that my break begins.

(Plus, 7 Suggestions)

1. Keep the starting time flexible. I start my rest after I’ve finished my chores.  Generally between 5pm and 8pm.  If 8pm hits and I’m not done . . . I stop anyway.
2. Light a candle. When the rest begins, I light a scented candle for the first half hour.  Seeing the candle reminds me that this is a sacred time.  Smelling the candle pulls me away from habitual working – just accidentally migrating back to the computer.
3. Practice a new rhythm. After lighting the candle, I read a scripture verse and take a shower.  It’s helps me switch gears and get into a new, relaxed rhythm.
4. Keep a note pad handy. During the alloted rest time, I inevitably think of things I need to do.  Rather than supress this urge (which makes me obsess about my ‘to do’ list all the more), I just write them down as they come to mind.  This gives me permission to stop thinking about them.  I do this on paper so that I’m not tempted to let my smart phone or iPad take over.
5. Do what works for you. Each rest day varies depending on how I feel.  I might stay home or go out with friends.  I try to not have any extra rules for myself such as: Read your Bible or pray for a certain amount of time.  That starts to feel like work.
6. Worship. On Sunday morning, I go to church.
7. Establish an ending ritual. On Sunday night, before the rest ends, I light my candle again. Then, I read my Bible and pray.  Sometimes I do this for an extended time, but it’s usually about a 5-10 min process.

Then, I go back to working hard.  The difference is that I’m refreshed and I think more strategically.  More importantly, it’s easier to hear what God wants me to be working on, rather than the demands of life.  It’s not that I necessarily get more done, but rather that I get the right stuff done.

How often do you rest for an entire day?  What do you do during that time?

God is my Provider & Protector, I shall not want.

I shall not want for romance.

I shall not want for respect or recognition.

I shall not want for promotions.

I shall not want for food, clothing or shelter.

I shall not want for riches.

Christ alone is my life’s supply.

I shall not want for . . .

How does your heart respond?

When I told my husband that I was starting a diet, he said I needed to see a therapist.  He suggested that if I tried to lose the weight, without addressing any underlying issues, I’d probably just pack it on again.  I agreed that he was correct while imagining that I was poking his eyes out.  I hated him for being right.  I asked Liz, a spiritual director and licensed therapist, to help me with my food issues.  When we first met, I told her how it all started . . .

I was only six years old when my parents divorced, and my dad moved into a small apartment down the road.  As a child I didn’t know what divorce meant.  I’m told that my parents sat me down and explained how my entire world was changing. While I have no memory of said discussion, I feel certain they didn’t mention how this would completely suck and require therapy well into adulthood.  Again, I was six.  I didn’t grasp the magnitude of the situation.  I remember thinking dad was on vacation.

One weekend, while visiting him, we went to meet daddy’s “new friend.”  I held his hand as we walked the long, sterile apartment hallway to another unit.  When the door opened, I instantly hated daddy’s new friend.  She was a tall, pretty, blonde woman and I felt threatened.  Something was wrong.  I didn’t understand.  Why was this woman daddy’s friend?

She attempted to befriend me, but I became the exact opposite of my usual outgoing self.  I completely shut down.  Trying to win me over, she asked if I wanted a cookie.  I nodded.

That’s when she reached into a closet and pulled out a magical bag.  In my memory, it’s glowing with an angelic halo whiter than anything else in the room.  I lusted for that bag.  And, it just got better.  She pulled out of the bag little frosted, pink and white animal cookies.  They were pretty.  And, I ate one.  It was the best cookie I’d ever tasted.   Even better, it really was made of magic!  In one instant, all my yucky feelings vanished.  Just one bite and the world was suddenly a better place.  I felt comforted.  Everything was okay.

Emotionally, that’s where I stayed the rest of my life.  When I felt uncomfortable, confused and powerless, I’d turn to the magic of food.  It works.  Except, as the writers of ABC’s Once Upon A Time remind us, “magic always comes with a price.”

Daddy’s new friend, who is now daddy’s wife, didn’t do anything wrong.  She was being a nice stranger.  She was a kind woman meeting her boyfriend’s kids for the first time.  I don’t blame her for my toxic relationship to food.

Yet, that’s where my problem began.  Of this, I’m certain.

As I told this story to Liz, she nodded at all the appropriate places.  Then she said, “we need to connect with little Angie.  There’s a little girl inside you who needs your comfort.  If you can comfort her, then she won’t turn to food for comfort.”

This made sense, and so I agreed to follow her counsel.  With Liz’s help, I imagined that a little girl was sitting in front of me, and I could talk to her.  We cried, and talked, then cried some more.  This works for me because I’m quite visual and imaginative.  So, we had a little chat – me, little Angie and Jesus.  I keep these conversations going because the more we talk, the less interest I have in food magic.

(To read this series from the beginning, see My Toxic Relationship Is Eating Me Alive)

5 Dating Truths Derived from Watching the Bachelor:

1. Your only competition is your self. In dating, it seems like other women are your competition.  In fact, that’s the wrong perspective.  The right guy will love you for who you are – not because you’re better or worse than any other woman.  He’ll love you for you.  If the guy your dating is comparing you to other women, then he’s the problem.  Move on.
2. First impressions should never be rehearsed. I’m horribly embarrassed watching women give a canned introduction on the first episode of The Bachelor.  They’ve clearly been rehearsing their first impression for weeks.  It feels forced because it is forced.  The best relationships, in person or online, start naturally.  Put your best foot forward, but trying to impress just looks like your trying . . . trying too hard.
3. Smart girls lead with their strengths. Everyone has a sordid little secret – divorced, thigh cellulite or emotionally insecure.  There’s no need to mention that at the first rose ceremony (oops), I mean date.  Let a man get to know your personality and interests before divulging your past mistakes and present weakness.  If you divulge too soon, you’ll be labeled.  He’ll think, “Oh, she’s the girl with baggage.”  If you wait, he’s likely to think, “I’m really into this girl, I hope her previous marriage won’t be a problem for us.”
4. Unless you’ve been dating for several months, he’s not worth your tears. Crying after only a few dates (God forbid the first meeting!) means that you’re not crying about him.  It’s really about your own issues.  Be sure to sort those out before moving on to the next guy.
5. When dating becomes a game, it always ends in disaster. Don’t let a man play with your heart.  It’s not the stuff of true love.  There’s lot of clues that it’s a game.  You’re first hint . . . broken promises.

(Photos by The Bachelor)

(scroll down to meet Max the Toxic Food mascot)

Argh! I had a session with my therapist yesterday and was forced to tell her about my epic failure of massive proportions in the war against food.  And because I’ve committed to take you along in my journey . . . I’m going public.

It was two weeks ago on the day of my last therapy session.  Just as our allotted hour was coming to a close, Liz cast a shadow on an already painful story I told her.  It was a story related to my parents divorce which is no doubt where this all started.  Duh.  I’m sure she was doing the therapist thing.  In fact, since I’m also a therapist by trade, I’m certain that’s what she was doing.  She said, “It sounds like eating is really about feeling powerless.  You might pay attention to the times you feel powerless.” End of session.

This was the smallest comment, but it felt like a dinosaur emerged from my heart and was suddenly staring me in the face.  As a kid, did you have those bath toys that start off as little pills, then expand in the water?  It looks like a gel cap, then when immersed in water grows into a giant foam dinosaur.  That’s what happened to me.

My husband was traveling, so I went from therapy to dinner with a friend at a Mexican restaurant.  I was good.  I ordered salad with Salmon, no cheese and light dressing on the side.  Then, during the meal, my friend decided to offer advice about how I could improve my life.  While I normally welcome input from friends, this was not the day.  Suddenly that dinosaur was sitting at the table, sharing our meal.  I smiled politely while raging inside, glaring at the dinosaur and cussing at my salmon salad.  Why didn’t I order those enchiladas?  I couldn’t remember.

On the way home, I stopped at Yogurtland out of sheer necessity.  It’s touted as a better option than icecream – until you load it up with cookies, caramel, candy and sprinkles.  Which of course I did under the misconception that these things make dinosaurs disappear.

I ate my candy (yogurt) alone, but it wasn’t enough.  So, I turned to something that I never ever use for self-soothing.  Alcohol.  I consider myself a responsible, social drinker.  Never alone.  Never for therapy.  Who needs booze?  I have food for that. Two stiff drinks later . . . and that blasted dinosaur was still hanging around.  I was just so pissed!

Half way through my second drink, I got a text from Chris notifying me that he had landed at LAX.  It was a nice gesture.  But, I wasn’t feeling nice.  So I responded with a nasty, attack-mode text.  It was so extreme that he called me with some concern in his voice.  One of us had to be the bigger person.  I’m glad he nominated himself.

He asked what was wrong.  I told him how I felt stupid and powerless.  How this blasted dinosaur showed up at the last minute of therapy & I didn’t know how to get rid of it.  And, he listened and listened and listened . . . then he told me that it would be alright.

I woke up the next morning.  And, it has been alright.  One explosive episode on my path to recovery?  Check.  It’s gonna happen people.  Let’s hope the next one isn’t such a disaster.

When I told Liz this story, she asked me what I learned.  Lesson #1 No Mexican food after therapy.  Lesson #2 I’m making great progress.  Thank God we found that dinosaur!  No telling how long it’s been hiding out!  Lesson #3 With some time & prayer, it turns out that my dinosaur looks a little more like this . . .

Max the 'Toxic Food' Mascot

. . . confused, a little sad, and in need of TLC.

What do you do with the dinosaurs that pop-up in your life? With Christmas around the corner, there’s bound to be a few.  I hope they look like Max.

(Read about my toxic relationship with food from the beginning HERE.  Or, read the next article in the series HERE.)