Moon

The moon is whole

I stare my pain into it

It absorbs it like a sponge

Expunge

It stares back at me

Like a wall

I can’t scale

Opaque

Its craters feel familiar

An abyss in my heart

Wallowing in empty

Cavernous

The moon is comforting

Rising over me

My heart levels

Calm

Illumination reaches me

Its glow softening

A glimmer communicates

Hope

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

FMHEO

The Victoria’s Secret fashion show was on television last week.  As much as I’m into fashion, I opted not to watch this year.  I really wasn’t interested in being reminded how short my legs are and I definitely don’t need to see how beautifully and miraculously Miranda Kerr’s belly bounced right back to perfect after she just had a baby.  Unlike mine.  Three and a half years later.  Anyway.  I also didn’t want to influence my husband to watch it.

Talking with a friend later that night about how insecure this fashion show in particular probably makes most girls feel, I suddenly thought, FMHEO.

For My Husband’s Eyes Only.

Certain things that we as women do should be for our husbands’ eyes only.  For example, appearing in lingerie.  Those models – while extremely beautiful, while technically working, while technically selling a product – should really only reveal their lingerie-clad bodies to their husbands.  Notice I did not say boyfriends or fiancés.

Unless their name is Jayson Emerian, no one should be seeing me in lingerie.  That includes bra straps dangling outside a shirt or tank top, or the top of my underwear peeking out when I bend over.  Nor should Jayson be seeing any other woman’s bra straps or underwear or any other part of their FMHEO body parts.

If you’re not married yet, think FMFHEO instead – For My Future Husband’s Eyes Only.  If you’re a guy, think FMWEO – For My Wife’s Eyes Only.  And so on.

We are made in God’s image.  We each have the body God designed for us.  And He loves us just as we are.  But our bodies are not for flaunting, begging desperately for any attention a man will throw at us.  God gave us brains to recognize that and prioritize what should be most important to us and act accordingly.  He gave us a personality to draw others to us.  He gave us a smile to catch peoples’ attention.  He gave us a laugh to bring joy to others.  He gave us a heart to care, and hands and feet to put that care into action.

You want attention?  Walk with confidence.  Chin up, eyes forward, shoulders back, long stride… and fully clothed.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

Grateful for...

1.      Sipping peppermint hot cocoa on a gray, sprinkly day. 

2.      Airplanes to connect me to a family far away.

3.      Silas-isms and James-isms that make me shake my head and laugh.

4.      Facebook. Don't judge me.

5.      My husband's work ethic.

6.      Friends who pray for me.

7.      Birthday cards in the mail.

8.      Reconnecting with friends I haven't seen in 20 years.

9.      Fancy shoes.

10.  The self-esteem my parents instilled in me from the very beginning.

11.  Feeling passion for my work.

12.  Baking blueberry muffins with my boys.

13.  Fleece bed sheets.

14.  “Baby, It's Cold Outside.”

15.  Stacy and Clinton.

16.  The feel of a book in my hands.

17.  My healthy body.

18.  God's protection over my boys every single day.

19.  The typing class I took in 10th grade.

20.  Pretty Bergdorf Goodman display windows, and my NYC friends who post pictures of them on Facebook and tag me.

21.  In-laws who sacrifice for us.  Time and again.

22.  Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey.

23.  My niece, Sarine, even though she’s far away.

24.  Extra-long, scalding hot showers.

25.  Fuzzy socks.

26.  Full moons.

27.  Camping with friends.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

Get Out Of My Way

Driving home from Costco today, a car flagrantly ran a stop sign in front of me.  The car ahead of me slammed on his brakes, and so did I.  Then, instinctively, the palm of my hand lay into the horn for a solid 11, 12 seconds.

It. Felt. So. Good.

For some reason, people in Fresno don’t honk their horns.  I don’t know if they’re too polite, too mellow, or just too slow.  But I miss it.  I miss honking the horn for every little thing:

HONK!  Put the makeup away, girlfriend – the light’s green!

HONK!  Get out of my way, Grandma!

HONK!  I don’t care if your car broke down!  Call a tow truck and move out of my lane!

When I visited New York City last year, I slept near an open window listening to the charming sounds of the city, horns honking and all.  It reminded me of home – I miss the frequent horn honking in Boston.  There’s such a sweet satisfaction to it.

I’ve become much less aggressive since moving here, and have learned to honk less.  But I’m not gonna lie, it felt great to honk today, and to keep honking for maybe a few seconds longer than actually necessary.  It’s there to be used and I used it.  And I’m not even sorry.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

My mother-in-law often says, “Garbage in, garbage out.”  I’ve found this to be quite true, and I realized recently how much garbage I’ve been taking in.

Confession #1:  I listen to “secular” music.

As a Christian, I’d love to be able to say that I only listen to Christian music.  Especially living in Central California, where there is an abundance of Christian radio.  However, I love music of all kinds (except hard core rap and country - shudder).

Music affects me in such a profound, visceral way.  Maybe because my father is a singer, and I grew up hearing his deep, beautiful voice singing traditional Armenian songs.  Music moves my soul and evokes so much emotion in me that life would be unpalatable and bleak without it.

We bought a new car a few months ago (a minivan – aren’t you jealous?) and it came with three months of satellite radio.  Jayson and I have been enjoying this immensely (Jay = channel 23/Grateful Dead; Me = channel 19/Elvis).

And so, although I have a terrible singing voice, I sing all the time, usually along with whatever I’m listening to on the radio in the car.  Adele, Pitbull, Hot Chelle Rae, Foster the People, Maroon 5, Alexandra Stan, and, of course, (don’t judge me) Britney Spears.

I’m singing along, “I-I-I wanna go-o-o all the way-ay-ay something something the night… I-I-I wanna show-ow-ow all the something something something through my mind…”

What words am I missing?  I looked them up.  These are the lyrics:

I wanna go all the way

Taking out my freak tonight

I wanna show all the dirt

I got running through my mind

Hmmm.  Wonder what she’s talking about?  And I’m actually singing these words?  Garbage in, garbage out.  Oh, right, I didn’t really THINK about it – I’m just innocently (and ignorantly) singing along.  Right?

No excuses from me.  Although the only dirt I got running through my mind is the dirt in my house I need to clean, the dirt on my car I need to wash, and the dirt on James’s face that seems to be perpetually there.

Confession #2:  I will probably continue to listen to “secular” music.

I have to be honest.  I like some of it.  I don’t want to cut it out completely.  Do I have to?  If it’s not FOR God, then it’s necessarily AGAINST God because it doesn’t PRAISE Him.  I guess I know that ultimately I should apply this principle to everything in my life, but I’m either too lazy or too undisciplined or too spiritually immature or too weak to do this.

I will try to avoid Britney’s song, at the very least.  Actually, I also cut off Foster the People’s “Pumped Up Kicks,” as those lyrics are disturbing (All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you’d better run, better run, outrun my gun.  All the other kids with the pumped up kicks you’d better run, better run, faster than my bullet.)  These are words I would never say, nor do I want my children to hear them coming from my mouth.

Time to be a little more aware of what I take in, and what I put out.  Sorry, Brit!

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

Overflowing is Right...

I was a late bloomer, physically speaking.  I was always short and skinny, small, and looking younger than I actually was.  Being obsessed with Madonna didn’t help, as there was no way I ever thought I would be able to fill out a bustier the way she did.  I even stuffed my bra once.

Be careful what you wish for.

I developed much later than my friends, toward the end of high school and even into college.  With my 20^th high school reunion coming up in a couple of months, I’m nervous that my former classmates may think I’ve had some, shall we say, enhancements.  (I’m happy to note, for the record, that I have not.  If I did, my height would be the only thing about me I’d want to change.  But, alas, that’s not yet possible – without stilettos, anyway.)

Suffice it to say there was a bit of an awkward transition in my early 20s trying to get used to my “new” body.  Some embarrassing and inappropriate outfits ensued, but I learned.  I know now what works and what doesn’t, and I’m still somewhat self-conscious about it (as evidenced by the sequined pink top noted in my last post).

This afternoon I was on the Internet and came across photos of the New York City red carpet premiere of Sarah Jessica Parker’s new movie, “I Don’t Know How She Does It.”  The article focused on actress Christina Hendricks, who also stars in the movie.  She was wearing a pink satin Vivienne Westwood dress, and the title – in large, bold, capital letters – was, “CHRISTINA HENDRICKS SHOWS OFF MASSIVE CLEAVAGE ON RED CARPET.”

I sat mortified, staring at the computer, utterly dumbfounded.

I’ve spent years trying to cover up, figure out, work around, minimize, and detract from what other women are splashing across the red carpet for the world to see.  I know there’s nothing new under the sun.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about that headline.  Who – I mean, WHO – on earth would want that headline splashed about them?  If it was my name instead of hers, I would DIE of shame.

I need to find a turtleneck immediately.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.

Full to Overflowing

I can’t tell you how many times I have heard Christians say that they don’t need to go to church.  That going to church doesn’t make you a Christian.  I believe that corporate worship is crucial and necessary to spiritual growth.  But this post is not going to debate that topic.  I just want to share my experience at my church this morning.

I woke up with a heavy heart, this being the 10^th anniversary of 9/11.  I made a deliberate decision not to be sad today, because we are a country of fighters.  So I searched for the brightest, cheeriest item of clothing in my closet to wear to church – a pink sequined top.  Maybe the pink disco ball look is not 100% appropriate for church, but it made me happy.

We went first to Sunday School, where I was filling in for the preschool teacher who was out of town.  The morning started with worship, and just singing those three or four songs really stirred my heart.  We sang a song that I hadn’t sung or heard in a long time – Step by Step by Rich Mullins.  This is a personal favorite of mine, and it was on the cd we gave out as favors at our wedding almost ten years ago.  It brought back happy memories.  I walked out of the room feeling filled with the Holy Spirit, ready to pour it out to the students in my class.

I had three students in my Sunday School class – all boys, ages three or four.  We read the story of how the angel Gabriel appeared to Zacharias to bring him news from God that his and Elizabeth’s prayers for a baby would be answered, and they would have a son (John).  The boys loved when I made a “shoop” sound and zipped my lips to show that Gabriel took away Zacharias’s speech when he didn’t believe the angel’s message.  When we reviewed the story the boys were able to repeat to me most of the important facts, and their excitement filled my heart.

Church began with more worship – our Praise Band plays twice a month during the main worship service.  The songs were meaningful, and the instruments so effective at conveying the power of the lyrics.  There was a short electric guitar solo that stung my heart; the piano was beautiful in its simplicity; the shimmer of the cymbals pretty and effective; and the violin – my favorite instrument of all – pulled at my heartstrings.

Our pastor preached on 2 Corinthians 1:1-11, about being comforted in our sufferings.  About our church reaching out to show mercy and compassion to our community.  About being confident in the comfort of a God who raises the dead.  It was powerful, passionate, convicting.

And so I left church full.  Full of worship.  Full of God’s Word.  Full of the Spirit who will remind me this week of the conviction I felt today.  Who will prompt me to rethink my lack of mercy on others.  Who will comfort me in my day-to-day afflictions.

The ironic thing, though, is that I walked out of church full.  I don’t go to church to take.  I go to church to give – to worship, to praise, to honor, to thank, to adore – I should walk out empty.  But that’s how good our God is, and that’s how much He loves us, that He doesn’t leave us empty.  And that reminds me of today’s Children’s Message.  When Jesus is in our hearts, our hearts cannot be empty ever again.  That hole gets forever sealed.

Full to overflowing.  Thank you, Jesus.

OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.