The disciples saw Jesus in the flesh, but there came a day when he returned to his Father, and they no longer could see him. Faith, at its core, is believing without any seeing. When Christ was no longer in their midst, the disciples’ faith remained.

And so does my own faith—even when it’s clouded by doubt, anxiety or fear. A life full of ups and downs and twisty curveballs has taught me that faith isn’t the same as absolute security or certainty. Nor does faith hinge upon signs and wonders. Authentic, saving faith isn’t just believing what we cannot see; it is acknowledging that what we can’t see with our eyes is still there—seen with our hearts—and is all we will ever need.

When I speak about making peace with your body, reclaiming the beauty of Creation, glorifying God with your body, recognizing your worth transcends the number on the scale, embracing your God-given, made in His image desisgn, I get cheers and head nods. Amen, Sister! Yet when I start to question a woman’s diet program or “healthy” weight loss, things can get a little murky and sometimes even a tad tense. I get it. I have nothing but empathy for anyone out there who celebrating how his/her low-carb program has helped him/her shed the weight or any person whose doctor is congratulating him/her for reclaiming her health. But none of this is the answer to peace. That’s what this recent conference focused on: PEACE. Peace doesn’t come with diets, weight loss, or doctors patting you on the back for taking charge of your health. Peace comes when you don’t even stop to consider how much or how little you eat, when you savor a delicious “treat” as much as you might savor a kale and quinoa salad. I knew I was closer to achieving food freedom a few years ago when I realized I could choose to eat a low-fat pile of vegetables or a cheese-laden, greasy piece of pizza without much consideration and certainly no guilt or complicated thought process.

Listen, I know there are many women who have successfully lost weight with reset plans or eliminating certain food groups, etc., but I will never be an advocate for any form of dieting/healthy lifestyle plan, etc. Your body is so wise. It doesn’t need a reset or a cleanse or a detox (your liver and kidneys are detox masters). If you’ve gained some weight during quaratine, so what? We just freaking lived through a pandemic. Your body will eventually reset and figure things out. Even if you keep some softness, who cares? Your weight is the least interesting thing about you. Why would you ever measure your success or your worth in inches or pounds lost? 

The irony is the last 15 minutes of this Q&A ended up revolving around a woman’s weight loss success story and then me responding with my cautionary tale against diets or any form of weight loss. Here we were: Two women, no doubt from different walks of life, who could have been sharing our faith or talking about how to minister to others suffering from mental health, and all we could talk about was weight and chocolate (I eat it whenever I feel like it; she doesn’t but she said she still enjoys little bits now and then).  This lengthy digression about food and diets just proved my point. As women, we have so much more to talk about and so much work to be done in the vineyard of the Lord. Let’s not waste it on arguing about the “virtues” of the latest diet or weight loss success story.

Diet culture is so insidious. The weight loss and health industry bank (literally) on people wanting to lose weight or tone up or feel at their best. The industry also hinges upon you failing because if we all could achieve perfect physical bliss and FINALLY feel completely at home and comfortable in our bodies for the rest of our lives, then we’d never need a new plan or another reset. The industry would become obsolete and would stop making money. It preys upon you not feeling thin/strong/healthy/good enough. It depends upon you constantly seeking change and being convinced that any icky feeling or digestion issue isn’t caused by anxiety around food or your weight but by the food and your weight itself. 

Another beautiful woman asked me if I’d heard of some reset program. She even held up the book that outlined the plan. I told her I stay away from any such program. I said this was because of my eating disordered history, and it is to a certain extent. But I’d encourage anyone to stay away from a “reset.” None of us needs a drastic reset that tells us what or what not to eat. Maybe the best reset would be getting to bed at a reasonable hour, praying more, seeking help for subterranean feelings of anxiety and/or depression, being more creative, connecting more with loved ones, moving your body in a way you love and for the joy of it, and drinking enough water each day. Why do we pigeon-hole health into only what we eat and our BMI?

Someone once told me how well she slept once she started one of those reset programs like Whole 30. She said she collapsed into bed each night and fell into a deep sleep. I wondered if part of her zombie-like sleep stemmed from the fact that she was no longer eating enough and was depleted and exhausted from a lack of proper caloric intake.

One of my kids asked if it would be healthy to only eat cookies every day, day afer day. “No, that wouldn’t be healthy, but neither would only eating kale.” We have to stop demonizing some foods while elevating others to an almost virtuous and holy level.

Again, I am not trying to demonize anyone who is lured into following some plan or doctor who’s been on Dr. Oz and promises to have the secret to weight loss success. It’s so hard. I’ve been lured in even though I work hard to stay away from triggers and have worked with an anti-diet nutrition (which I highly recommend). I get it. I really do.

One of the conference participants pointed out that it didin’t look like I had a “weight problem.” I too quickly quipped, “I don’t!” because pridefully I wanted to “prove” you don’t have to eliminate entire food groups from your eating to be at a so-called weight. But the truth is you can’t tell if someone has a weight problem simply by looking her and gauging her weight. A “weight” problem is anyone who spends an inordinate amount of time tracking calories, macros, calories burned, or celebrates weight loss as a significant humanitarian accomplishment and weight gain as an indictment against a person’s character. A weight problem is someone who thinks they are morally superior because they have the “will power” to get ripped or to lose weight. A weight problem is someone who defines health only in terms of the physical instead of recognizing it may not be “healthy” to avoid social gatherings where high-calorie foods might be served because they don’t fit into your meal plan. A weight problem might be someone who only feels at peace when they are eating “right.” Someone might have a weight problem if they use Lenten fasting as a way to prep for swimsuit season. Fasting without a conversation with God and any inkling of a spiritual conversion is just another diet. 

I don’t want anyone to have a weight problem. Life is hard enough without pouring your heart and soul into changing your body or investing a lifetime in hating it. 

I once was what would be considered overweight. I was bullied. I cried myself to sleep wishing the beautiful me wasn’t trapped beneath so many layers of skin. Then I got thin. Like so many of us, I thought thin meant better. I also thought being thin and controlling my weight might protect me from ever being hurt again. Spoiler alert: It didn’t. 

Fat phobia is real. Diet culture is insidious. Whatever the current diet du jour, it’s incredibly tempting to embrace it because it appears that it will offer us so much, and the alternative is frightening. Diets always promote something that is seemingly better than what you’re doing now (or feeling now) while offering you a sense of belonging, safety, happiness, and success. These are longings of the human heart, but we need to find a better way of satisfying these desires rather than through restricting or obsessing over what we put into our mouth. Diets make people smaller. Sometimes literally, but always figuratively. They shrink wrap you into a less dimensional and full person. They zap so much energy from you and divert it to such a small part of life.  So I’m never going to champion “better” equating to thinner or weighing less. I’m never going to congratulate a woman on her weight loss or her before and after. I will always take the longview when it comes to eating and food. Diets may work for the short-term (research shows 80 percent of people gain the weight and often a few extra pounds back 2-3 years after a “successful” diet), and they “work” for a few years because they lead others to praise and celebrate the person who lost the weight. That affirmation feels fleetingly good. But it doesn’t bring the kind of lasting peace I desire.

Diet culture is a lot like a pseudo religion. Losing weight or pursuing health/”clean” eating gives you purpose. It can also offer community and rules while promoting what feels like a virtuous morality (less carbs, no processed junk). It promises of safety, happiness, and less suffering. Yet, when you still suffer or you stop losing weight or gain a few pounds back, you feel like maybe something is wrong with you and it’s time to up the ante, to become more “religious.” Meanwhile, life is passing you by; Jesus is whispering: My peace I give you. You won’t find peace in a slice of cake, but you won’t find it in a diet and weight loss either.

Loving and making peace with your body isn’t about loving how your body looks (or how you perceive it to look); it’s about loving your body because it is. I invite you to never allow another diet or eating plan to distract you from your innate dignity and being. You are perfectly lovely just the way you are, and you have so much more to offer the world than your skin. God created you as you are. Stop questioning His taste.

—

For anyone interested, I read Intuitive Eating: A Revolutionary Anti-Diet Approach a few years ago, and it changed my life. It made me see just how dangerous dieting is and how my body truly is amazing and worthy of trust and respect.

{If you also subscribe to my newsletter, I apologize that this will be a repeat!}

 The Catholic Moms Summit is going strong and has brought together tens of thousands of moms from all over the world for the biggest gathering of its kind EVER. It’s been an amazing experience so far! If you haven’t registered for FREE yet, it’s not too late. If you’re already registered or if you’re interested in even more perks, please consider upgrading to the All-Access Pass, which allows you to enjoy things at your own pace, on your own, with a friend, or in your mom’s group. With the All-Access Pass, you’ll receive:

• Lifetime access to all of the Summits 83 presentations, including my talk on anxiety, postpartum depression after baby #3, and a major depressive episode several years ago. {I get real here, sisters. I put my heart out there in hopes that I might minister to someone who is suffering alone as well as to help people who love someone who is struggling with a mental health disorder.
• An opportunity to participate in several LIVE events, including my talk tonight (11/14) at 9 pm ET called Build a Better Body Image: Learning to Love the Way God Made You. SPOILER ALERT: You don’t actually have to fall madly in love with every part of your body for the rest of your life, but you do have to learn to approach your body as well as your whole self with compassion, connection, and authentic human care. None of this has much to do with how your body actually looks, but everything to do with how you relate to your body Remember, God created you. Don’t question His taste!
• Audio playlist for all 40 hours of content so you can listen on the go.
• A pass to Danielle Bean’s Embrace Joy: A 21-Day Guided Course to Balancing Your Life as a Mother (starts after Thanksgiving).

The All-Access Pass truly is a great value for your money and a wonderful way to directly support the generous presenters, Catholic organizations, and ministries that are working so hard to bring you this unique and soul-feeding event.

Get your Pass here now!

Click here for a quick video that offers a sneak peek at some of the Summit’s presenters and their talk topics.

Enough of the marketing mumbo jumbo! Thank you so much for your love and support.

Do I have your attention now? I frequently find random videos and images created by some quirky kid on my camera roll. This one cracked me up because there’s still a limit on how much TP we can pick up at our local grocery store, and what’s crazy to me is some single college kid has the same limit as I do – nevermind my monstrous grocery bill or the fact that we have seven people living in our house (including several liberal wipers). Thank God my husband installed a bidet way back in late March (true story).

Now back to the real point of all this… I actually don’t have any anxiety over toilet paper shortages. Woot-woot! Celebrate the small victories.

What I do have anixety about is, well, let’s just say it’s often along list.

So it seems fitting that I was invited to speak about anxiety, depression, and motherhood for the  Catholic Moms Summit.

To be perfectly honest, I’d much rather talk about happy things or funny things or even not-so-personal, I’m-an-empowered-women things like body image, how to stop being martyr mom, or keeping a sense of humor in the trenches of motherhood. But anxiety and depression? Nah. No thanks. Let’s keep pretending I’m a shiny happy blonde who loves every moment of life, always sees the glass as half-full, and who doesn’t bite her nails. Okay? Because that’s so much easier. 

But easier isn’t always better.

It’s taken me years – with the help of an amazing husband, some therapy (which I have difficulty admitting to), a handful of close friends, and prayer and meditation – to realize and open up about the fact that I struggle with anxiety. That struggle has led to an eating disorder, postpartum depression, and a major depressive episode. 

But my struggles have also led me to sharing my heart, writing books, speaking, ministering, and being a mom who is very sensitive to little and big feelings my children experience. It’s allowed me to grow and to claim a new level of empathy for people who – through no fault of their own – struggle a bit more in the mental health department. 

God has not wasted my pain. He’s used it to help fine-tune me to be an instrument to love and serve others. What we might perceive as an error, failure, or deeply-rooted flaw within us, is so often a gift – if not for ourselves in the moment then for others down the road.

I don’t have this anxiety or depression thing figured out. In fact, last week I was a big jumble of nerves and a whole lot of “what-ifs” were churning around in my overactive brain. I had to keep telling those voices to be still, to be quiet. We all have anxious thoughts, but people with anxiety often don’t know how to silence thoughts and keep them from taking over their lives. People with anxiety also tend to have shame about their feelings and how they handle them and handle life. Rather than recognizing the feelings and even embracing them, I have too often judged them and told myself if I were a stronger, more faithful, less broken person, I wouldn’t be this way. That shame is insidious. It seeps into your life. It robs you of joy and peace. It slips you into the murky darkness of depression where a haunting question surfaces, “What’s the point?” Of me? Of life?

Then more shame because you shouldn’t feel this way…but you do. Stop fighting the feelings, and accept them. Then move on. So often we believe something is inherently wrong with us because we don’t think we should feel the way we should – whether it’s angry or scared or even happy.

After a long history of ignorance and shaming, we are finally beginning to understand mental illnesses. Depression, anxiety, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, self-harm, suicide, addictions – these ought to no longer be taboo topics that people attempt to hide from the public eye, confuse for weakness or a lack of faith, or blame on a lack of holiness or bad parenting. Christ took on all human suffering on himself – including mental health burdens.

I’ll be sharing more of my heart at the Catholic Mothers Summit (you can register for free here; an all-access pass is also available). I hope my talk will not only minister to anyone hurting from anxiety and depression but also reach those who love people who struggle with these crosses.

Nearly every person knows someone who suffers from anxiety and/or depression (or some other mental health illness). If you do not think that you do, someone probably hasn’t disclosed that information yet. It’s time we practice compassion not only with ourselves but with others as well.

What are we so afraid of? Why don’t we want to admit that mothering is sometimes hard, that we struggle, that we have anxiety, or even sometimes clinical depression? Even in less dire situations, I am still sometimes afraid to let anyone in on my big, scary secret: I am not perfect. I am far from it. But the irony is, we all share that same secret!

Next came their mom, my lovely neighbor, with her beautiful blonde curls bouncing as she made a mad dash after her dependents (dog included).

I immediately hopped out of my car and assisted in the pursuit.

We were able to quickly wrangle the two boys and their furry friend before any of them ended up in the street. My neighbor sheepishly apologized and then thanked me for my help. I was desperately trying to keep a straight face so as to not encourage any further shenanigans from her crew because when it’s not your kids or your dog on the run, it’s really quite entertaining. Plus, I got my sprint workout in for the day.

Later that evening, the mom sent me a text once again apologizing for her runaways, and I reassured her that I’ve been there – as in totally overwhelmed and chasing errant children as well as dogs – and also that I’m always happy to help a fellow mom in need.

In fact, during coronavirus quarantine I’ve missed connecting with as well as ministering to moms in more meaningful ways. But thank God for technology – texting, Zoom, FaceTime, and email, am I right?

We weren’t meant to raise our families all alone. In reality, we weren’t really meant to do much of anything in this messy, complicated life companionless. We need each other every single day in the trenches of motherhood – whether it’s just to laugh when a friend texts a hilarious GIF or to bring a meal to a friend in need.

1 Corinthians 12:21–22 reminds us that “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I do not need you,’ nor again the head to the feet, ‘I do not need you.’ Indeed, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are all the more necessary.”

The Body of Christ is designed to be interdependent. We desperately need each other’s strengths—and weaknesses. We weren’t meant to parent in isolation or to rush to canonize our fellow moms as the “perfect parents” who make us look pathetic.

The Catechism reiterates this:

The “talents” are not distributed equally. These differences belong to God’s plan, who wills that each receive what he needs from others, and that those endowed with particular “talents” share the benefits with those who need them. These differences encourage and often oblige persons to practice generosity, kind- ness, and sharing of goods. (CCC, 1936–1937)

Your Heavenly Father wants you to share your talents as well as allow others to help you in your weakness. Maybe the grass isn’t greener on the other side; it’s just grass that needs tending – people in the vineyard doing important work. Or perhaps, some of that brown grass on our own hillsides is there to help us to grow spiritually—or maybe it’s there to give another mom an opportunity to serve us.

God is so wise. He didn’t create us to be soloists. Like a choir, together we can create beautiful music even if as individuals, it’s impossible to hit every note, every time. When we get off-key, we have backup singers to keep the song in harmony.

This why I’m so excited and humbled to be a part of the upcoming Catholic Moms Summit. along with over 60 other speakers who are ready to share their hearts – and their joys and struggles they face as mothers (all those yellowish-brown patches in their grass that you might not think exist except in your own yard). Danielle Bean, who has been both a professional and mothering mental mentor to me for nearly two decades now, is hosting this unique virtual event that will bring together Catholic women from all ages and stages and walks of life to connect personally about those things that challenge us, to share about real ways we can find joy in our vocations as moms, and what to do when that joy feels hard to find. I’ve been asked to talk about my own journey with anxiety and depression, which is both an honor and frankly, terrifying.

Best of all, it’s free to register! And if you’re not a physical mom, a Catholic mom, or if you’re perhaps now a grandmother far removed from the daily, hands-on work of being a physical mom, don’t think this event isn’t for you. The wisdom of the religious sisters participating reminds us just how universal motherhood is. We’re all mothers and daughters to someone.

The Summit takes place from November 13-15, 2020 and its mission is to help you find balance, peace, and joy. Register now!

I can’t wait to see you there!

Recently, Delphine Ang, a passionate Catholic mother in the Philippines, reached out to me about joining a global prayer challenge for moms. We had the opportunity to Zoom and chat about our own mothering journeys as well as our prayer lives.  Here we were – two different moms oceans apart with unique mothering challenges; yet, we discovered we had so much in common as far as our struggles and our joys as mothers.

Delphine shared with me her vision to support moms all over the world during this challenging time. She invited me as well as many other speakers and authors to encourage our fellow moms in their vocations. You can register for the event here. 

Here are just a few of the moms who will be sharing their hearts during this soul-nurturing event: Heidi Hess-Saxton, Emily Jaminet, Elizabeth Ficocelli, Mary Lenaburg, Kaitlyn Clare Mason, and many others, including moms from Austria, Uganda, and beyond.

I imagine we all could use a pick-me-up right about now. Mothering is never easy, but it’s become increasingly challenging during these unprecedented times. I hope you will join us for the seven-day challenge to connect with others and to lift our hearts up to prayer.

Speaking of moms and prayer, my monthly Relevant Radio interview included a conversation about praying and motherhood and offered some practical prayer tips for the weary mom. Spoiler alert: Your prayers don’t have to be perfect to count. Jesus doesn’t keep score or grade you on your prayer performance. Here’s the link to listen to the entire interview.

#praying #prayerworks #prayforus #prayworks #praywithoutceasing #praywithfaith #praywithoutcease #prayingmama #prayingmomma #prayingmother #prayingmom #prayermovesmountains #mothersprayer #MomsInPrayer #prayerwarrior #prayfortheworld #prayforourkids #prayforourchildren #prayerful #MamaMary #praymom #PrayForGrace, #PrayerMovement #prayerchangeseverything #praychangesthings #prayersmovemountains #globalprayerday #GlobalPrayer #GlobalPrayerWeek #globalprayer

Quote credit: Simcha Fisher

Consider this a friendly but firm PSA, but please start taking the coronavirus and its implications seriously. As Americans, we love our freedom. Yet, as Christians, we know that freedom (free will) can lead to stupid decisions.

My husband is a doctor. A few weeks ago he was telling me how serious the coronavirus was and how he feared we (as in our nation) wasn’t taking it seriously enough. My husband has a knack for being wise and prudent without coming off as a jerk or like he’s fear-mongering. Maybe that’s why I listened to him and then lovingly rolled my eyes even as he predicted what is happening before all of our eyes weeks ago because he suspected people wouldn’t see the coronavirus as a very real public health threat or consider the potential stress an outbreak of this scale could cause the health care system. I’m not eye-rolling any longer. Thankfully, he’s not the kind of person to ever say, “I told you so.”

Every time I pop onto social media I end up flushing with anger or anxiety. I see people still claiming we are all overreacting. Here’s the thing about overreaction: We probably should have “overreacted” weeks ago (as my husband was saying we should), but then, of course, people might have said, “Look! I told you we overreacted! Nothing bad happened.” But when nothing terrible comes to fruition, that means the overreacting probably worked. Let’s all overreact now so we can say later that we did overreact.

I see flippant posts of people ignoring – or even criticizing – the “social distancing” recommendation. Again, my husband said weeks ago we don’t really understand how this virus is spreading so rapidly and that it could very well be shedding off asymptomatic people. Researchers are now confirming this.  (See here and here.) Yet, people – even those who have traveled to extremely at-risk parts of our countries – are saying, “I’m feeling fine! Let’s get together and hang out!”

I’ve had my own children’s activities canceled, only to have a parent text and say, “Hey, let’s organize our own fun and get together more while school’s out!”

I’m actually still seeing people insist this pandemic is just like the seasonal flu when, in fact, infectious disease experts are predicting the coronavirus death toll to be six times the seasonal flu (they’re also predicting it will be far worse than the swine flu; let’s hope that’s not the case, but I wish people would stop comparing the two very different viruses); there is currently no vaccine for the coronavirus; there’s potential for the virus to mutate and get worse and thus affect a more diverse range of people; and even healthy, young people are getting very sick and ending up in the hospital.

Many people are failing to consider seeing the big picture. They seem hyper-focused on the fact that the virus is “only” dangerous to the elderly and/or those with compromised immune systems. This bothers me standing on its own. As Christians and just decent human beings, are we not called to recognize the dignity of everyone and to protect the most vulnerable no matter their age?

Imagine if children were the most at-risk and were dying every day. Would you take this more seriously then? Now take a step back and try to let that bigger picture I mentioned above come into sharp focus. Imagine your local ER is so overextended and the hospital’s ICU is at its capacity because of an onslaught of critically-ill patients with coronavirus and because many healthcare providers are now getting sick as well and so the hospital is short-staffed so when your child (or another otherwise “healthy” loved one) does have an emergency, she is triaged and then told she has to wait and may not be able to be helped.

Another argument for social distancing and staying at home rather than being on the roads is there’s less of a chance for accidents and people requiring medical care. The Surgeon General and CDC are recommending elective surgery and routine testing like mammography to be postponed. Consider that. This isn’t just about the “few” people coronavirus will infect. It’s about you and your family’s access to health care if you should really need it.

I think of my dad, who had unplanned and emergent double bypass heart surgery this week. In our town, we only have two surgeons who perform open heart surgery. What if they both became sick? What would have happened to my dad? Shortly after the surgery, we were allowed to lay our eyes on my beloved dad, the one who had always been a protector to my family. The nurses said he looked particularly good – not pasty or pallid in the least. Yet, he still looked at his most vulnerable to me, at the mercy of others’ care and surrounded by a maze of medical tubes. He always provided for our family and protected me as a child. Now it’s my time to return the favor. He’s doing well, but he’s still in the hospital. I long for him to be back home away from the germs and the churning what-ifs. Picture my own dad, if you must, when you’re trying to decide if you should bring your stir-crazy kids out to an indoor trampoline park. Don’t. Just please don’t.

I’ve also witnessed harsh judgment or empty platitudes in response to caring, faithful Catholics who have urged others to see this as far worse than the flu or have suggested that staying home even from Mass is the charitable, prudent thing to do. “We need more Mass, not less!” I’ve seen people comment on social media. I understand their sentiments. We certainly need a union with God now, but that union might have to look a little different in these unprecedented times. Our bishop has not canceled Mass, but he has given all Catholics in our archdiocese dispensation. I’m not taking my family to Mass this weekend. I didn’t take this decision lightly. I’m staying home for the safety of the many healthcare workers in our area who must keep healthy to provide care to more people than ever during these uncertain times. I’m staying home for the safety of vulnerable people. Yes, as Catholics we are obliged to participate in the Eucharist on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation unless we are excused for a serious reason. A very real public health threat is a serious reason. We may not be ill, but we are doing our part to protect others from becoming ill. (Also, be at peace: Mass is never canceled. Priests all across the world are still celebrating Mass. We just may not be able to fully participate right now.)

As Simcha Fisher bravely stated on Instagram, “It’s clear to me that most people probably ought to stay home, whether Mass is cancelled or not and *that* is a matter of humility, not to mention charity and prudence…”

People will argue that we must have faith, not fear. I agree. But we must couple our faith with prudence and not stupidity. At this time, we cannot falsely view ourselves the same as Christian martyrs who would rather die than be denied the Eucharist. Instead, we must see ourselves as people who must deny ourselves the Eucharist so that others might not get sick and/or die.

I want nothing more than the comfort of my Church and Her beautiful sacraments during this time of uncertainty. But this isn’t about me right now. It’s not about you either, your virtue signaling, your desire to look holy and brave, or even your very real hunger for the Eucharist. It’s is a great act of charity and humility to stay home and to pray for a spiritual union.

We did not choose our Lent this year. It chose us, and perhaps we must all surrender to our own suffering — a willingness to wait without the Eucharist — a carrying of the Cross.

God is for us and with us – perhaps not in a word or a host right now – but in a touch, in His presence in our home and in our hearts. Talk to him. Pray the rosary. Read the Bible. Pray for a spiritual union. Offer up your desperateness to be at Mass for all those personally impacted by the coronavirus.

 I’ve always been a fan St. John Paul II’s “Be not afraid” mantra. We need this more than ever. Yes, be not be afraid. “Open wide the doors for Christ,” but these doors, for now, might have to simply be the doors of your heart within the walls of home. This doesn’t make you a bad Catholic who is lacking in faith. It makes you a humble, prudent, and charitable one. We are called to protect the most vulnerable, to help those who cannot help themselves; staying away from the Divine Food and the Body of Christ we hunger for so desperately right now is a way to do just that. The Church’s mission hasn’t changed; it’s just going to look a little different for a while.

Yes, St. John Paul II said, “Do not be afraid. Christ knows what is in man. He alone knows it.” His plan is greater than our own, but this wisdom cannot be misinterpreted as permission or a directive to ignore what the experts are urging us to do or to criticize our bishops for making some very difficult, unprecedented decisions.

We must always put our trust in God, but that doesn’t mean we sit around and do nothing, ignore public health officials, think that we know better, or our faith is stronger, purer. If a tornado was tearing through your town, would you not seek shelter in your basement or another safe space? Would you, in the face, of a tumultuous storm, run outside, and bellow to the heavens, “My faith is in my God. I don’t need protection.” Jesus will calm the storm, but we don’t know how or when that happen.

I’m not trying scare anyone or come off as fear-mongering. I’m simply trying to encourage people to pray, hope, trust, AND to take this seriously.

Also, if I may, why not take this time of social distancing and quarantine to relish in the unplanned family time together, to embrace the simple pleasures of life? Yesterday my daughters set up an elaborate at-home spa and treated me to a relaxing facial while my feet soaked in warm water infused with bath salts. Last night I read Jesus and I to my son (something I’ve been meaning to do but have failed to make happen – totally my bad) since he is preparing for his First Communion. The kids ventured outside to shoot baskets together. I went on a run with one of my children. I wrote a long “get well” letter to my father. I’m trying to see this as an idyll, a break from our typical hurried pace and an opportunity to focus on what is truly important.

I realize my words here are laser-beam focused on the many people who appear to be taking a lackadaisical approach or confusing a strong faith with blindness to our current reality, but I also want to offer comfort to all of you who are feeling anxious in the wake of these unprecedented times, who feel stifled and uncomfortable being confined to your home without the familiar rhythm of your normal, daily routine. I want to reassure you: The sun will rise tomorrow. It’s going to be okay even if it feels like it’s not. The worst thing that ever could happen already did. God died. But He rose again. He has given us so much hope and beauty in this broken and sometimes-scary world.

I’m not going to say my own family isn’t bracing ourselves for weeks at home and preparing for long-term social distancing because we are. I’m not going to say my chest doesn’t sometimes tighten when I start to conjure up possible future scenarios, when I worry about my dad, when I think of my relatives living in Italy… Yet, I also refuse to let worry consume me and force me into a dark hole for which there is no escape. Don’t obsessively refresh your Google search on the coronavirus. Take regular breaks and deep breaths. Pray over Psalm 46:10 slowly and often, “Be still, and know that I am God.” Laugh together. My dad was cracking jokes immediately when he woke up from his surgery. I, in turn, made him laugh, and he grimaced, “Stop! It hurts to laugh!” My kids and I have been enjoying regular laugh intervals.

When the “what-ifs” start to encroach and threaten to swallow up your hope, ask yourself am I going to judge God by the circumstances and the future I don’t understand right now? Or will I instead judge these circumstances in light of the character of God? Now is a time to deepen our relationship with God and to cultivate a confidence and dependence on Him that He is with us in our anxiety even when and if we don’t see any evidence of His presence and His power, even when we cannot meet Him at His Eucharistic table.

Above all, have faith. Faith is not about believing that nothing bad will ever happen. No, the world tells us bad things happen all the time – it’s screaming that fact to all of us right about now – but what faith whispers to believers it that when it does, God will be with us.

{For those of you who follow me on Facebook and/or Instagram, you may have already read a version of this post, but I thought it was worth posting over here for my faithful blog remnant.}

A few weeks ago, I shared some thoughts about motherhood over on Instagram in response to an influx of   social media posts discussing how motherhood and pursuing passions are not mutually exclusive. When I first saw all the posts with a similar theme, I was kind of wondering what was going on. “Um, what’s in the La Croix lately?” It wasn’t until I stumbled upon some wise words from Danielle Bean (she has a new book, and I read it in one-sitting; it was that good!) when I deducted that some celebrity at the Golden Globes (which wasn’t even on my radar) must have said something about motherhood and work that sparked the dialogue. I do know the Oscars are this Sunday because I usually attend my movie-buff-of-a-brother’s annual Oscar party, but I’m in Wisconsin this year for the Women Celebrate Conference and will sadly have to miss. I suspect some Hollywood-er might make some comments about motherhood and work on Sunday as well.

We need these kind of conversations about mothers being able to pursue their passions and/or balance their work with motherhood, but we also need to keep in mind the “ordinary” mom who can’t even figure out how to squeeze in a shower, let alone write a book, train for a marathon, or launch an interior design business. The problem is the women often perpetuating the message that motherhood won’t stop you from doing great things outside of the home are women who use social media – not just to share pictures of their precious offspring with the grandparents – but as a platform for the work (passion) they feel called to do, myself included (remember, I’m a writer and speaker). So the everyday mom swipes through the images and the words about how they, too, can do it and/or how it’s really, really hard, but it is possible. ⁣
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I wholeheartedly agree: Women do not have to accept an “either/or” existence. You can still do great things and share your gifts even with children in your midst. But you don’t have to. This seems to be missing from the discussion. You can be a “successful” mom and woman without ever writing a book, completing a triathlon, launching a nonprofit, obtaining a higher degree, or contributing to the gross domestic product. You can be “just” a mom and still be a strong, intellectual, and passionate woman. ⁣Just being a mother means you are doing great things all of the time, every single day. They’re just not flashy, great things. They don’t include Oscar speeches, medals, or bylines.
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Likewise, let’s not forget the countless moms who would love to find time for their passions (or even basic self-care), but they’re just worrying about how to make ends meet and/or have no support system in place to carve out time for passions. ⁣
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Our culture’s expectations for success and happiness are pushed so high that the simple beauty of being an ordinary, loving mother is lost in a world that’s tells you have the freedom, power, and gifts to do more, to be more.  Is it any wonder so many moms are often left feeling inadequate, unambitious, or depressed if they don’t do more than “just” serve their families? Here’s the thing: The little decisions to give and to love that you make on any given day won’t get celebrated much. No one is going to see you give a sick child breathing treatments in the middle of the night. No one is going to hand you a Golden Globe for praying over children or gathering your resolve to set boundaries for a wayward child. No one’s going to give you a trophy for raising children without much support or working an extra job so you can pay the bills. People aren’t going to celebrate the countless meals you’ve prepared or the fact that your house looks like a war zone but you got on the floor and read books to your child.

But is God is celebrating. He doesn’t need great deeds. He needs a great heart, and cultivating a heart that knows how to give is a passion always worth pursuing.

⁣The onslaught of self-improvement messages is at an all-time high come January, and I just don’t want any part of it. I know that diets and “lifestyle” and “wellness” programs do more harm than good for the vast majority of people. I know health isn’t just about aesthetics or even how you physically feel. True health transcends the physical realm and encompasses mental health and how you feel soul-deep. Happiness, joy, and mental well-being cannot be measured in steps taken or macros. Life is more than the sum of your body parts or daily caloric intake. ⁣

I likewise know that given my eating disorder history, I’m more easily triggered by wellness posts, before and afters, and any post that suggests – however stealthily – that weight loss is the key to feeling safe, healthy, loved, and happy. Yet, very few people are completely immune to the triggers, and a lot of women end up embracing some new “lifestyle” change all under the guise of pursuing their health (when in reality what they’re really, really hoping for and care about is losing a few pounds and looking better in their swimsuit in a few months).

Now if I’m coming off as a totally-at-peace, body positivity guru, I’m not there yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever really arrive there, and that’s why I sometimes have to be hyper-vigilant about the media I consume. It’s an almost daily challenge to love and accept my body and to not be crazy around food or fear it or worry about how much or how little I’ve eaten.

It’s tough when after moving my body and doing something I love, I over-hear a lithe, younger woman talk about how she just finished another round of Whole 30 and to not be tempted to just give it a try. It can’t hurt, right? It’s about good health and eating real food, right? Nope. I’m not going to give up legumes or any food for that matter in an attempt to feel whole. I’ll take wellness over obsession, and any food plan that asks you to eliminate entire food groups rather than listening to your body and determining food choices from a place of intuition rather than judgment is only going to end up making you crazy around food or will eventually lead to rebound eating or binging. And do you really want to be that kind of example to your children? The kind of person who cycles in and out of plans that forbid this or that kind of food? An eater who only allows herself food during a certain window of time? Would you ever tell your toddler, “Sorry, sweetie, but it’s not noon yet, so you can eat anything yet”?

Instead of being lured by the many, many diet culture sirens that demonize certain food while canonizing others (what’s the opposite of clean eating? Dirty, sinful eating?) and dispirit anyone who doesn’t live up to a certain ideal whether physically or dietary-wise, I’m going to instead work to trust my body.  She knows what she needs and wants. Yes, “she.” My body is a part of me. She is not an “it.” She is not an object. She embodies my soul and all that I am. She deserves care, respect, and a whole lot of compassion over restriction, punishment, and obsession. She is designed to be loved, not consumed.

I’m also going to continue to work on recognizing and lauding the unique beauty in every single person I encounter and appreciate the amazing diversity of the human race. Screw diet culture. Forget the wellness industry that makes money off your constant quest to improve yourself. They don’t want you to ever really be happy and content. The industry makes more money if your desire to keep perpetually striving, tweaking, and fixing never fades. They don’t really want their programs to work for the long-haul. They want you to come running back to them again and again, head (and not-toned-enough) skin hanging in shame because you feel like you failed another plan, diet, or fitness regime when, in reality, it failed you and her, your beautiful and good enough body. Right now, this very moment, is the perfect time – not to try another lifestyle plan or diet trend – but to accept and love your body and yourself as you are and just as God created you. ⁣

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Once I made it around the first loop, I decided to keep going. When I finished six miles, I felt like I could go for another ten. I was in awe of my strength and how far my legs had taken me. I was grateful for the gift of running and wanted to run happy for the rest of my life.

Sadly, that didn’t end up happening. Not long after I started to turn running into a weapon against myself and my body. I no longer ran or exercised from a place of joy or gratitude or because I wanted to honor God for the gift of my body. I exercised only because I wanted to be thin. I didn’t seek to break out a sweat as a way to take care of my body but to punish it. If I ate what I considered was too much or “bad” food, I’d push myself harder and longer. I joined the track team, but I ran from a place of fear. Fear of failure, of not being good enough, fast enough, and thin enough. I injured my foot, but I ignored the crippling pain. I pressed on until my coach saw my foot was marbled with bruises when I took of my racing spikes and socks one day. He told me I could no longer practice with the team until I saw a doctor. Turns out, I’d been running for weeks with a stress fracture.

I eventually returned to running, and I was so grateful to be back out there that I didn’t let it become another barometer of my self-worth or a form of self-flagellation. I even ran my first marathon, paying no attention to my pace, and crossing the finish line with tired legs but also a big grin creased across my face.

Just recently, as a middle-aged mom of five I made the crazy decision to train for another marathon. At first my goal was to qualify for Boston but when a chronic hamstring injury reared its ugly head once again, I had to readjust my training as well as my expectations. At first, I felt broken. I was angry at my body for failing me. My track coach had once told me I had talent and potential, but an eating disorder kept me from reaching it.

As a young woman, I had baby after baby, and my nocturnal nurslings made waking up early to run seem next-to-impossible. We also lived in an area where it wouldn’t be safe for a woman to run alone in the dark. I began to dwell on the past, the what-ifs – what if I’d trained smarter and harder when I was still young and my hamstrings were healthy? I also found myself getting angry at all the running moms on Instagram who seemed to be able to effortlessly train without being sidelined by injury all while doing the mom thing. I wallowed and wailed and pretty much drove my family crazy.

One day my wise-beyond-her-years teenager asked me, “Why do you want to qualify for Boston so badly?”

A pregnant pause wedged its way between us. Finally, I said, “Because I know I can or at least that I could of when I was in my prime.”

“So run knowing you could, but also run knowing that we could care less if you run the Boston Marathon or not,” she said.

Inspired by my sage child, I changed the way I approached my running. Each morning I’d wake up and tell myself, “You get to do this!” instead of “You have to do this if you want to be able to run a fast marathon.” I reminded myself that running was a part of my life, but it wasn’t all my life and that people who loved me the most could care less about my running pace or the miles in my training log. I decided, too, I would carry people’s prayers and intentions along with me for the 26.2 miles. I would offer up my discomfort when the race grew challenging.

{If you have an intention I might pray for, please share it with me by emailing marathonprayerrequests@gmail.com before December 6th.}

I also made peace with the uncertainty of what the future might hold. Maybe I’d get to run another marathon; I’d have to see how my hamstrings were doing and how I felt. Maybe I’d run a fast marathon and even qualify for Boston. Maybe not. But no matter what, I made it my goal to run happy and to do it for as long as my body would allow me. I knew I could push through the pain and discomfort and hit faster paces and stick to a strict training plan with evangelical fervor, but at what cost? Did I want to run myself into the ground and really end up too broken to run in older age? Or did I want to hit the pavement slowly, steadily for the rest of my life? Did I want running to be a proving ground – yet another measure of my worth as the number on the scale had once been – or did I want running to be a playground – a source of joy, an outlet, a time to connect with good friends, and a hymn of thanks to the God who had created me?

Philippians 3:13 says, “I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize.”

I may never achieve those running goals I’ve jotted down in my Believe Journal, but I’m making peace with that and I will keep pressing on – just with a different goal in mind.

Back in October I had an 18-mile training run on my calendar the same day our local half marathon is held, so I decided to run five miles prior to the race and the register for the half as a training run. I had to tell myself over and over that this was a fun, training run and not a race. I ended up running with a dear friend for the entire way. At one point, she was feeling tired and encouraged me to keep on going, but I told her this wasn’t about me and I wanted to stick with her and enjoy the experience.

When the finish line was drawing closer, I said, “Let’s do the cheesy thing and hold hands while crossing the finish line together.” She enthusiastically agreed.

And so we did.

I ended up finishing the half nearly 20 minutes slower than the last time I ran it, but you know what? I was so much happier. I was at a better place physically, spiritually, and emotionally. I ran the race that was meant for me and made the experience more about encouraging someone else than trying to prove something about myself.

Once upon a time, I would too often view running only as a means of self-accomplishment (or when I was a teen, a form of self-punishment) rather than a way to grow in virtue. My frustrating hamstring injuries are certainly helping to humble me. Running has taught me many things over the years: patience, gratitude, and respect for this temple of mine. Perhaps the whole reason God brought running into my life was not to win or qualify for any earthly race, but to learn about humility, accepting my limitations, and celebrating others’ podium-climbing so that I can, with God’s grace, one day cross the finish line and win the heavenly prize.

Ultimately, I’m learning mile by mile that with God, no one is first or last. We are all His beloved and if I live and run like I believe that truth, then I’ll have nothing to lose but everything to gain.

***A version of this reflection originally appeared in a wonderful running program from Soul Strength Sisters called So As To Win.

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