For this week’s photo challenge I decided to go with nature. Enjoy!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Blue
23
Tag Archives: Sanity
Better than a Hallelujah
Better than a Hallelujah
By Amy Grant
God loves a lullaby
In a mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
God loves the drunkard’s cry
The soldier’s plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame
for what’s been done
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing out,
singing out
We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah
Raw Beauty
“Beauty is a short-lived tyranny.” ~Socrates
How do you define beauty? How do the people around you define it? Especially the 13-25 year old crowd?
My 14 year old daughter came to me recently with a copy of a popular magazine in her hand. “Mom, how can I look like this?!” she asked.
“You can’t.” I answered. “This is not reality. This is an illusion.”
“You’re just saying that!” she exclaimed rather passionately.
Oh the drama that is a teenage girl searching for her place in a fallen world. How can she ever find it when she is surrounded by images that falsely portray perfection?
This is an argument as old as time. Should beauty be important? Does God care about beauty? Is it a sin to want to be beautiful? Is it ungodly to pluck my eyebrows, shave, have nice hair, wear make-up? My answer to these questions is, “Yes. God cares about beauty. Otherwise, I think, He would have made the world colorless and with much less detail. I truly believe the answer relies much on your definition of beauty. No. It is not (in my opinion) ungodly to accentuate your beauty.”
(I realize that there are a million different opinions for these questions and a scripture to back up each one. Many of them, I have heard. Please do not waste your energy sending me hateful messages about how God wants all of us to be ugly and poor.)
After making excuses and suggestions, I realized that Bella has seen the Dove ads and the how-to for Photoshopped images many, many times and she still sees that as professionally done (which they are.) I had to make this personal…I did what my ego hates…there was no other way…after all, this is my daughter and her friends and my friends and friends of friends. This is the very reason that I speak openly in conversation, workshops and seminars about a 12 year battle with bulimarexia.
I had to remove the veil of post editing and show her what a real person looks like without any touch-ups or enhancers. I knew that person had to be me.
So, I asked Chris to take a head shot of me with a 100mm macro lens. A lens specializing in all of the tiny details that one would otherwise miss. The point was not to have a perfectly set shot, but rather, a spontaneous moment, as one would capture in day to day life.
I must admit to you that I did not even like the fact that my physical flaws were so exposed to my husband! My vanity does not want him or you or my children or anyone to see the fine lines (or pores on my face) for that matter!
However, it is no longer an option for the number on the scale, the size of my jeans or the fact that my dimples have turned into lines, to define me. To find my identity in such triviality is not only foolish, but possibly fatal.
I did not use Photoshop on the images. I used Aperture. The goal was not to morph into a super model, but rather show how easy and quickly a simple editing program can “fix” my flaws.
As shallow and self-absorbed as I once was, I never would have thought it possible that I now agree with Audrey Hepburn when she said, “The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mode but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives the passion that she shows. The beauty of a woman grows with the passing years.”
Before touch ups using Aperture
After touch ups with Aperture
So to my friend who asked me the other day if I ever take a bad picture, I will say again, “It depends on how much time I spend editing.”
Related Post:
“Does this make me look fat?”
The sins of the father
I have been told that the sins of the father, like some genetic curse, are passed down through generations. I’m not sure if I believe that? I have seen things that would indicate it is true and other things to disprove it’s validity. What do you think?
Do you have a father who does or did the things that you swear you’ll never do? Be careful what you think about. Wherein your focus lies, you will most certainly gravitate.
A recent conversation took me back 18 years to a time when I was thrown into the chaos that was my parents very messy, very public, divorce. I remember being furious at the judgement flying around. I recounted the headlines, the accusations and all of the nastiness from so called Christians. Within moments I was once again in the midst of one of the most tumultuous times in my life.
Wounds I thought had long since healed, suddenly begin to ache. Instead of a band-aid, I need a tourniquet. Pain that I have learned to disregard from years of unanswered questions now surfaces and I am left mentally struggling like a drowning person fighting the current.
I am no stranger to secrets. Secrets of my own as well as those of others that were never mine to keep. I have lived a life wrought with guilt and shame. I have stuffed mental and emotional closets full of regret until the door would barely close.
The problem with this type of coping is that one day, everything comes pouring out. And not gently, but rather forcefully. There is no way to prepare for when this happens.
The beautiful part about the sudden onslaught of contained darkness is that it forces you to sift through the wreckage. There is almost always one of two outcomes. Either the pain is too great and denial so deceiving that one is not able to rise above their circumstantial feelings or healing is found through a journey of painstakingly, rigorous honesty.
For someone who lived a life of secrecy, it is no simple matter to turn from the familiar and embrace the unknown. However, one reaches the point where the silence becomes deafening as it screams truth.
I began sifting through the wreckage ten years ago and here is what I have learned…
There comes a time when I must stop hoping for a better past, accept what is, make amends where possible, and live in the present, continuing to move forward.
Right here, right now, I release the sins of my father and the sin of anyone else (for that matter) that has been projected onto me, either by force or choice. They have no power over me, nor my children, nor my children’s children.
I am not beyond the reach of grace. When the voice of doubt shouts at me, I will turn my ears to the whispers of truth.
Today, I know better. And because I know better, I do better.
Related posts:
The Maze of Ministry
The Maze of Ministry – Part 2
Weekly Photo Challenge: Together
Don’t ever underestimate the beauty of retail therapy.
After talking with a friend this morning about all of the “stuff” going on in life, we both agreed that the circumstances warranted a little retail therapy. Well…here’s what I came home with. After wearing them around the house, they were a top pick for this week’s photo challenge of “together.”
These make me feel like a badass
A force to be reckoned with
A superhero with style
Dorothy had ruby slippers…
I have spiked stilettos.
Where Faith and Facts collide
I’m more than flesh and bone. Right?
Surely this isn’t all there is. Is it?
The wind was blowing so violently today. Trees were bowing to its power as dust clouds from the roadway construction danced on the busy streets.
I try to take the stairs at work, at least when I’m descending from the 4th floor back to the 1st. I love this stairwell. It’s between the 2nd and 3rd floor that I always pause and look out the larger than life windows. Today was no different. I stopped, looked out the window and watched as the trees danced in the breeze. It was so beautiful.
I can’t see the wind, but I know it exists. It is abundantly clear when branches of trees sway in surrender as their leaves are torn away. I don’t ever question whether the wind is real. I just believe it to be…because it is.
It is not unlike my faith. I don’t always appreciate its power until I’m surrendering to something in an effort to move forward or simply survive. In fact, there are times when I go days without thinking about what faith really means. I have it in my back pocket for when I need it.
As I opened the stairwell door to the first floor, visions of the 25 yr. old who jumped to her death only weeks before flooded my mind.
I will never look at those stairs and sidewalk just outside our doors the same way again. It’s haunting when recalling that day. I wonder if she thought there was something more than this life or that this is all there is?
There are times when I think about eternity and it is too much for my mind to take in. I begin thinking, “What if when we die nothing happens? It’s just…over.” a certain sickness comes over me when I question this because everything I know tells me that there is more. So much more.
And then the voice of doubt creeps in and says, “But what if you’re wrong and all of your striving and praying, giving and loving is for naught. What if you’ve been tricked into believing something that simply is not there?”
Then the voice of truth speaks up and says, “But what if you’re right? There’s more. More to this life now. More to this life after.”
And it leaves me knowing that I would rather be wrong in believing that there’s more than this life…a God in heaven who loves me with a love that my brain does not have the capacity to understand…a Savior who gave his life so that I don’t have to perish in my sin…a day when all will be well with my soul…
I would rather live a life, believing that what God says is true and that He is faithful, than to dismiss as silliness the ache in my soul for something not of this world and discover when it’s too late that I was wrong.
“This may sting a little”
I am putting myself through laser treatments to take care of some things that have been bothering me for a while. I’m not sure what I was thinking “laser treatment” is, but for some reason I was not associating it with being burned.
Well…that’s exactly what it is…being burned.
The pain was excruciating and I told the doctor if I could have reached him, I would have punched him in the throat. He just smirked and said, “It will all be worth it when we reach the final treatment and you see the finished product. Have a good day, Mrs. Cannis. See you next time.”
I thought, “Next time?! There won’t BE a NEXT TIME!”
I cried like a baby. The burning continued for several hours. I felt like my nerves were on fire. Tylenol didn’t help (which is what they recommend for “mild” discomfort.) I have had enough medical procedures to know that when a doctor says, “You will have mild discomfort.” What he really means is, “This is going to bring you to your knees, make you whimper like a child and wonder why you ever agreed to this treatment.” The “mild discomfort” burned like hell fire.
24 hours later, I was to remove the bandages for the first time. They had warned that there may be a blister. Thankfully my hubs was a medic so I had him look at it. (Sexy, right? Not even a little.) They had given me a small needle to puncture any blistering, clean it, coat it with antibiotic ointment and re-cover.
At first glance, Chris said he counted about 15 small blisters.
“WHAT?! Why did I do this?!” The tears began to well up in my eyes and the lump was forming in my throat.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Um…I guess so? I don’t know? WAIT!”
“Did that hurt?”
“No.”
“Good. Only 14 more to go.”
Why am I telling you this in such graphic detail? I’m getting to that. Just stay with me.
The following day, when I removed the bandages, there were only two blisters. Hopefully tomorrow there won’t be any.
I am going through some painful things to reach the desired outcome. I have been asking myself for 2 years, “Is it worth the pain I will have to go through to get where I want to be?”
I finally decided that it was.
There will be several more treatments. I will be fortunate if it is less than 5. As the doctor told me, “Each time, it’s gets easier.”
When I had wiped the mascara from my face and regained composure, I realized that I really didn’t hate the doctor and I started thinking about what I could learn from the pain.
Upkeep on our body is costly and with age comes more expense. Some of the maintenance is chosen while some is required. Whether it’s maintaining beautiful brows, hair color, muscle tone, etc., it takes work.
Why do I think that beautifying and maintaining my spiritual life will be painless and require little to no effort?
If this temporary physical shell that I’m inhabiting takes so much work, how could I ever believe that the eternal spiritual would thrive without any attention?
I call myself a follower of Christ. I try to live like he did. I fail miserably at times, but I start over and try again. I pray throughout the day, little 1-2 sentence prayers to stay in constant communication. But when was the last time I actually set aside time to meditate and have uninterrupted time with my God?
If I am plucking my eyebrows more often than spending a few intentional moments with my Savior, I am missing it.
Just as the cool antibiotic ointment soothes my laser induced burns, time spent nurturing my spiritual being is like salve to my weary soul and heavy heart.
Are you finding the time and resources for physical maintenance while allowing your spirit to starve? Or, are you the exact opposite? I would love to hear your routines and practices for not only maintaining, but thriving from the inside out.
Even A Girl Like Me 