The Tale of the Wooden Spoons

The Gospel of Mark 12:41-44

Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins.  Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.”

This story has always moved me.  I've always imagined that this widow looked like my Grandma Jim, sporting a kind, open, softly wrinkled face, twinkling eyes and ready smile as she dropped the last of her money into the collection box, unconcerned for her own wants or needs.  She simply gave all she could, completely unaware that she was being observed by Jesus Christ himself.  But after Friday night she is no longer a widow in my mind.  She has become an 8-year-old girl named Sadie with long, blond hair, sparkling eyes and a radiance born of a deeply compassionate and sensitive heart, all wrapped in a pretty party dress with silky flowers and a bow.

Here is the story of how I met Sadie and why she gave me one of the best gifts I've ever received.  My dear friend Sandy decided to stop by my apartment the day we were cleaning up after the fire. Although she couldn't stay she dropped off snacks for all of the volunteers hauling out pieces of my soot-covered life. Driving off with her granddaughters in the back seat, she explained what had happened and why she was delivering snacks.  After a long silence, the eldest, Sadie, told her that she had some girl scout money that she would like to donate to my neighbor and me, to help us recover from the fire.  After a long discussion spent explaining the depth of the need and what else she could do with the money, Sandy realized that Sadie's pure and compassionate heart could not be denied.  She was DETERMINED to help.  She NEEDED to help.  She DID help.

Sadie became a girl on a mission.  She grew obsessed with helping me, a woman she had never met nor even known existed until that fateful Saturday.  She talked about me and the fire frequently.  She wanted to meet me.  She wanted to meet Zeus.  A few days later Sandy called me and told me about her.  She explained what had transpired in the car after leaving my apartment.  She told me how deeply concerned Sadie was for me.  I choked back tears when I learned that she had offered her own hard-earned money.  I was deeply moved by her merciful nature and realized the same thing her grandmother did.  She could NOT be denied the opportunity to give.  I told Sandy that I did not want her to spend much money but that there were lots of little things I needed like wooden spoons and pantry items and she could bring a small gift to my birthday party where she could meet Zeus and me.

A few days later, Sandy picked up Sadie from school.  Sadie immediately wanted to know if Sandy had called me so Sandy told her about our conversation.  Eventually Sadie went home and that is when Sandy found a note left behind in the back seat:

When Sandy emailed me the photo of that note I sobbed uncontrollably.  Where did this little girl come from?  I still had not met her and already she had pierced my heart with her innocent, sweet spirit.  Here was an 8-year-old child offering all she had and refusing to be denied, and just like the widow I'm sure she was completely unaware that she was being observed by Jesus Christ himself, or that she was mimicking his humility and ultimate sacrifice in the only way she could.  The purity of it was and still is one of the most beautiful things in the world to me now.

Friday night I was privileged to finally meet sweet Sadie at a birthday party in my honor.  She hugged me and listened to the story of my escape from the fire, repeating how bad she felt for me as I talked. She petted Zeus and praised him for being such a good dog.  We talked about how much she loved performing and reading American Girls books.  She played with another friend's 8-year-old daughter and generally floated around the party like a beautiful butterfly, delighting everyone who met her and heard her story.  

Before she left, she wanted to watch me open the gifts she brought. She gave joyfully, genuinely delighted to offer me something I needed.  There was as much joy on her face as there was on mine when I opened the gift and saw a brand new set of wooden spoons. She also gave Zeus a funny thank you card involving a chicken, I'm assuming because he saved my life, and a gift of chicken jerky.  It was all I could do not to break down into an "ugly" cry.  How could I not fall madly in love with this child?  

In this Holy Week, a season of sacrifice and redemption, I see clearly that Sadie loves like Jesus loves; beautifully, sacrificially, mercifully and purely.  I did nothing to earn her favor, and quite frankly I don't deserve it, but I'm certain that I will never be the same because of it. She was DETERMINED to help.  She NEEDED to help.  She DID help. Just. Like. Jesus.

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Average

I saw a print ad for Pantene shampoo the other day and I was reminded of their old commercials. Remember the one that featured a glamorous model tossing her thick, glossy, luxurious mane of hair and uttering the phrase, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful"?

I detested that commercial because I was painfully aware that I could never utter those words in good conscience. Maybe they should make a new commercial featuring yours truly. I could toss my less than luxurious, graying hair and utter the phrase, "Don't hate me because I'm average." I guarantee you that women throughout the world would relate because from our hair to our makeup to our clothes many of us spend hours trying to look beautiful, and most of us end up looking, well.....average. Like a friend of mine says, "It takes a lot of work to look this average." Yeah, no kidding. For me it takes at least 30 minutes to put on a face that won't scare the masses!

On a more serious note, that ad got me thinking a lot about physical beauty, especially since seeing it again coincided with my near disastrous makeover. Beauty has often been a double-edged sword for me garnering a lot of unwanted attention, and yet I still wrestle with it because it's very clear to me that I do not fit the "mold" of what a beautiful woman should look like, at least not today! But I'm finally mature enough to grasp that real beauty has very little to do with looking "hot" and much more to do with who I am. How I wish my younger self could have understood that true beauty is mysterious and invites others to stop posing and striving and rest in its presence; it's a soothing and peaceful refuge when life is chaotic and overwhelming. And although it is elusive that's the kind of beauty I want to possess.

So while I believe that it's okay to enhance what remains of my physical beauty, I want it to reflect my inner beauty otherwise it's hollow. Perhaps my nephew has the most balanced perspective. He loves me no matter how I look maybe because he sees how much my heart loves his. But he also appreciates physical beauty and tells me when he thinks I look "cute". One night when he was about 6 we had the following exchange as he was brushing my hair and I was painting my nails.

Zachary: You know Wobin, when I am 40 you're going to be old.

Me: Yes, I know that Zachary, but will you still love me?

Zachary: Yes, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Me: But will you still think I'm beautiful?

Zachary: What? That's silly, you are bootiful.

Me: But will you still think that when I'm old and gray and full of wrinkles?

Zachary: Wobin, that won't matter.

Me (about to get what I deserve): But will you still think that when I'm old and gray and full of wrinkles AND I don't have on any makeup?

Zachary studying my makeup-free face: Hmmm, I'll still love you....but Wobin, the makeup helps!

Indeed.

Flowers

Almost every day, after several hours spent working or lately perfecting the fine art of CYA, I take a nice, long walk through the historic district surrounding me. I walk all the way down to my favorite street - Lynwood - and take the long way back to my little pad. I zigzag up and down the blocks and walk by stately mansions, some still in the process of being restored to their former glory. I make sure to walk past my favorite home every day, a strange green and white structure mixing Spanish and Craftsman architecture. It also boasts a beautiful garden, beautiful enough to elicit admiration from my 8-year-old nephew!

As I walk down the tree-lined streets my sense of smell is filled with the mingling aromas of honeysuckle, roses, magnolias, lavender and a variety of other flowers carefully tended and proudly watching over the old homes. The air smells so fresh and fragrant that I wish I could find a bench on which to sit so I could linger in the scent.

As I continue walking, my eyes feast on the beautiful colors and shapes of the delicate petals gracing the proud stems. The shockingly orange, yellow and pink hibiscus on the corner. The beautifully tended and sculpted rosebushes. The gorgeous, flowering magnolias. The whimsical and wild honeysuckle. In my mind they collide and resemble an abstract painting.

Being surrounded by beauty brings deep peace and contentment to my weary soul. That's one reason why flowers are one of my favorite gifts. It makes me feel special to have someone spend money to give me a few moments of something beautiful. Flowers are also one of the few indulgences I allow myself. I think it's because they are impractical and contrast sharply with my practical nature. No matter how hard I try I cannot resist their beauty, nor do I want to. Besides, I can ultimately justify the expense; it really IS practical to buy myself flowers because it keeps me on my diet. After all, I purchase flowers with money that would have otherwise been spent on food!

So, if you happen to see a girl with her nose buried in the magnolia blossoms, or her mouth agape as she drools over the abundance of choices in the flower department at the local grocery store, it's probably me, appreciating God's creativity and bold use of color and form. As I find rest and peace in beauty my soul finds the freedom to worship the One who loves me enough to delight all of my senses.

Battle of the Bulge - Texas Style

They say everything is bigger in Texas, and I'm tired of lending credence to that statement. It is time for my battle of the bulge to end. I mean, the other morning when I woke up I was confused because I thought someone was in bed with me - but it wasn't someone else, IT WAS MY STOMACH!!!! THAT IS JUST GROSS!!!! I am not one of those women who loves herself no matter what she looks like - I FIRMLY (pun intended) believe that blubber should NOT be my fashion statement.

However, in admitting that I am in the midst of this battle, I have to say that I am worried about about what you will think. By telling you that I am trying to lose weight - AGAIN - I risk failing - AGAIN. And I HATE failing at any time, particularly in public. Failure haunts me. Especially when I try so hard, but just can't seem to get it right. Facing my failures in front of others is so - well - vulnerable. And those of you who know me well know how I feel about that! :)

It took me years to figure out why I was hiding beneath so many layers of fat. Of course I have many excuses (some are REALLY good too), but just recently I finally realized that in trying to control everyone and every circumstance in my life, I had failed to control myself. (Thanks home group and Cloud and Townsend!)

So now I am faced with a huge (literally) challenge. I must lose weight not just for my physical health, but also because I want to stop hiding. If I can't be beautiful, I would at least like to pass for cute again! But now it's scarier because gravity is involved. Certain things will never go back to where they used to reside! I've accepted the fact that I will not be skinny. I expect to have some leftover flab and cellulite. I know that the stretch marks aren't going away; I would say that they're more like a road map of all the places my body and I have been, some of which were really good, (I definitely don't regret all of the gelato and pasta I ate in Italy!)

I want my outside to match my inside and so far, so good. I am down 12 pounds as of this morning. I walk for at least 30 minutes every day, rain or shine. I am eating a balanced diet full of veggies and lean protein. I have cut back on cheese (sniff, sniff) and limited my diet soda intake to 2 a day (I DO blow that from time to time.) I also allow myself one square of extra dark chocolate every night. I plan my "cheat" days and I already know that on February 14, 2008 I will eat whatever I want! Maybe the good habits will actually stick this time.....

Overall I feel energized and happy. Each time someone notices that I have lost weight I do the dance of joy (INSIDE my head, I NEVER dance in public since I resemble Elaine from Seinfeld!!!) By surrounding myself with people who love me despite my physical flaws and obvious failures, I have found the courage to try to improve myself. Thank you for being part of my journey. Thank you for encouraging me and reminding me that I am too hard on myself. Thank you for making me feel special and loved and known. Thank you for helping me fight this battle - I couldn't do it without you.